Fandom Melting Pot

   Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

   Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

   The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

   Scum. All of them. 

   You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

   “Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

   “When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

   “I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

   He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

   Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

   His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

   You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them. 

   Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

   You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

   Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

   Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

   Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

   “Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

   You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

   Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

   He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

   You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

   You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled. 

   “There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

   Like a moth to a flame.

   “How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

   Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

   The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine. 

   A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

   The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line. 

   Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,” 

   Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

   You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

   The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

   The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

   Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here. 

   Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

   So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you. 

   The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business. 

   “Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

   You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

   Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup. 

   Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse. 

   Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

   You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose. 

   You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out. 

   Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you. 

   This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

   Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

   “Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

   Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though. 

   You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features. 

   “You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

   His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

   You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

   You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

   “Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

   “Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

   Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

   He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

   “I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

   “I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

   And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short. 

   It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

   What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

   And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone. 

   You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop. 

   You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

   You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited. 

   You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped. 

   “You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

   You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face. 

   “Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

   You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

   You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it. 

   You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

   Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

   You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,” 

   “You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

   Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

   “Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

   “Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

   “Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

   “Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself. 

   “Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

   He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

   “You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

   When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute. 

   “Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail. 

   He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness. 

   Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

   He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

   “No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

   “No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

   You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation. 

   You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

   “No,” 

   “Yes,” 

   Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark. 

   “I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

   You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

   Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,” 

   You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

   Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

   You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

   You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

   You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

   “It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

   “What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

   “Couldn’t,” 

   A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

   “Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

   His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

   “I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

   You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

   He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

   “Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

   “Yes,”

   “Then what?” 

   “I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

   “Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

   “It doesn’t,”

   “Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

   He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee. 

   “Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

   “I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

   You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

   “I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

   “I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

   “Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

   You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

   “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

   “Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

   “Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

   You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

   The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

   Then his lips crashed against yours. 

   You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you. 

   “So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

   His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning. 

   You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

   Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

   “Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

   The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily. 

   Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands. 

  The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him. 

   You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts. 

   His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

   Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

   “I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

   The light went off.

   You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,” 

   Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,” 

   He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

   You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

   “Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

   “Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

   The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line. 

   Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

   “Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

   You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God. 

   “Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

  Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

   “Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

   Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area. 

   Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face. 

   A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

   “Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

   “That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

   “But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

   Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

   You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t. 

   “Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

   You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

   You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears. 

   He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

   But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

   He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

   Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours. 

   “Swallow,” he ordered.

   But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

   “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

   He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard. 

   He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

   You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold. 

   At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

   “Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

   You nodded again.

   “I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

   “Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

   Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

   “This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

   You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

   You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

   Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

   He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

   “Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

   The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

   “Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

   He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

   “Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

   He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself. 

   So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

   Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

   “There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

   Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

   “Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

   You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

   When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

   Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time. 

   You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

   His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

   Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

   He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

   Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

   You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

   He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

   “Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

   You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body. 

   “Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

   He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy. 

   He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him. 

   He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

   “What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

   At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

   He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

   “Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

   A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

   Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

   He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

   Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth. 

   You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

   You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core. 

   “What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

   You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

   He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

   You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

   “Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

   You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

   “Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

   “Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

   You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

   “What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

   You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

   His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

   “’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

   “Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

   You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

   He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

   Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

   He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

   He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

   He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

   You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

   “I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

   You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

   He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

   He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

   “Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

   He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

   “Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

   His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

   You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?” 

   He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

   “Then cum,” 

   He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

   Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

   He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind. 

   “Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

   He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him. 

   You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word. 

   And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

   Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

   His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

   “Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

   He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

   “Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

   He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

   You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

   He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course. 

   After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

   He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

   “I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

   Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

           After Finn had composed you enough to convince you to move again, it had been Bellamy that walked by your side on the way back. He let the rest of the group run ahead and fell back to keep you company. He’d glanced down at your trembling hands and took note of your spaced out look. You were stuck in your head. He could relate to that. Especially considering the first time he’d used a gun it’d been to assassinate the Chancellor.

           “Hey,” he mumbled, his voice soft and laced with concern, “you saved my life back there.” He instinctively raised his hand to place on your shoulder, remembering how he’d comfort Octavia when she was distressed but he knew about the glares you sent his way when he demanded chaos and violence and decided against it. “I’d have been panther dinner if you hadn’t –” his brain racked around looking for a word other than shot to ease you, “done what you had to do. And now, we have enough food to feed the camp,”

           You’d barely taken notice of his presence, only barely listening to his attempt at comforting you. It wasn’t that you were scared per say, just that you knew this wasn’t going to be the last time you’d have to kill something, or rather, someone, and that reality had finally caught up to you.

           “Thank you,” Bellamy whispered, effectively pulling you away from your thoughts.

           “What?” You asked almost in disbelief that he’d managed to say anything remotely kind.

           A small chuckle escaped his lips and you furrowed your eyebrows at the unwelcome feeling that stirred in your stomach, “You gonna make me say it again?” He teased.

           You turned your attention back to the crunching leaves underneath your steps and shrugged your shoulders, “You’re welcome,”

           “Even though you did steal the gun from me,”

           “Ah, there he is,” you’d unintentionally spoken aloud, not that it mattered to you. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t actually the jerk you’ve been playing,”

           His smirk faltered at your words but he shook the words from his head and regained the superior role he was always playing around others. He opened his mouth to reply in what you were sure was a condescending way so you held up your hand to silence him.

           “Leave me alone,” you warned, dropping your hand back to your side, “I have Jasper to worry about now and I’m really not up for dealing with your behavior,”

           You trudged faster and caught up to the front where Jasper was being dragged to camp. You’d stayed by his side almost the entire time he was recovering and ended up pulling your knife out when Murphy threatened Jasper with death. As if Jasper had chosen to be in so much pain that he couldn’t help but vocalize it.

           You’d grown impatient with Clarke and her lack of knowledge but you couldn’t hold it against her. It’s not like you knew much about the problem either. But you had been observant enough to recall that there was a substance on Jasper’s wound, potentially meant to help him. Clarke agreed, recalling seeing the same substance and when she asked you to join them in retrieving said substance, you could hardly say no. You wanted to stay with Jasper and protect him but there was no way they were going to leave without you.

           Somehow, you’d managed to get separated from the group. The four of you had run into Grounders and you, stupidly, ran in a different direction from the group hoping that it would be enough to distract them. You knew they needed to get the seaweed to help Jasper and you weren’t going to let anything get in the way of that.

           They’d managed to follow you through the trees, their spears always just barely missing you and you fought against the natural instinct to freeze whenever the wooden sticks flew too close to your body. You couldn’t risk them interrupting what Finn, Wells and Clarke had set out to do. If you came back to the camp only to witness Jasper die, you’d never forgive yourself and seeing Monty’s face everyday would only remind you of the mutual best friend you would no longer have to confide in.

           When your legs burned with exhaustion and your lungs stung whenever you inhaled, you thought it had been the end. The spears could only miss so many times and you shouted in pain when the sharp object sliced through your side and another grazed your thigh. Your sprint had slowed to a pathetic limp and your hands clung to your bleeding side, the pain not helping with your erratic breathing.

           Just when you thought everything was over, the sound of a horn blowing caused the trees to stop moving and the Grounders dispersed, heading in the opposite direction. For a second you feared the horn had something to do with Clarke and the others but when a yellowish fog slithered through the forest coming towards you, you knew the bellowing was a warning of the mist that you assumed had been the cause of the burning sensation in your throat. Not that you could differentiate from the two previous pains but you weren’t going to let the fog encase you to find out.

           Your weak legs could barely keep ahead of the fog but you nearly yelped with relief when the opening of a cave came into view and you threw yourself into its mouth, not concerning yourself with the wild animals that may be residing there.

           The fog grazed against the entrance of the cave and when it brushed up against your boot you knew you weren’t deep enough in shelter. You lifted yourself onto your elbows and crawled backwards into the darkness, ensuring the fog didn’t follow you. Your elbows scraped against the rock and you flinched whenever a pebble dug into your body.

           Your hand flew to the blade at your side and gripped it in the direction a shuffling noise came from. You squirmed over to a large boulder on the side, hoping its shadow provided a bit of protection so you didn’t have to confront whatever was coming towards you.

           Your grip on your makeshift blade tightened, the sweat working against you and you feared the liquid would cause the weapon to slip from your grasp. You took a deep breath and hoped your heartbeat was just that loud for you and not audible to the predator heading in your direction.

           “B-Blake?” You croaked, taking in the figure approaching the mouth of the cave.

           He faced you, his weapon slowly dropping at his side and his eyes widened. “(Y/N)?”

           He sheathed his blade as you did the same and he sat on the heels of his feet to meet your level, “What happened? Weren’t you with Clarke?”

           You nodded and accepted his hand, standing up to gaze at him, “Grounders,”

           “Grounders?” He asked, like he was unaware of their existence.

           You just nodded and limped in the direction he came from, “They spotted us but I had to make sure Clarke and the others got what they needed for Jasper,”

           “So . . . ?” Bellamy urged, waiting to see where the story ended.

           “So, I caused the necessary distraction. They chased me down until they heard the horn blow then they just . . . left,”

           “And the fog came,” Bellamy finished.

           You nodded and stopped in your place at the sight of a girl – a child – resting on a rock and waiting in anticipation. You’d seen her around camp but never caught her name. You turned towards Bellamy and raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why would he allow a child to join a hunting party? As stubborn and dumb that Bellamy could be, you didn’t take him for the type to let a child experience all of this.

           “I-I’m Charlotte,” she spoke up before Bellamy had the chance to explain.

           You faced her again, a soft smile plastered on and you limped over to her side, the adrenaline in your system now depleting and making way for you to actually feel the pain of the gashes on your body.

           “(Y/N)!” Bellamy stepped alongside you and stretched his arms out to offer help but you dismissed him, waving off his attempted altruism. That didn’t stop him from eyeing the blood seeping through your clothes.

           “I’m (Y/N),” you responded, trying not to hiss at the stinging when you tried to sit down.

           Bellamy was right there to alleviate your weight and make descending easier. You couldn’t ignore the way his strong arms gripped you and how the warmth emanating from his body caused you some comfort. You shook your head. No way. You weren’t going to let your thoughts wander to the tyrannical leader that was Bellamy Blake.

           “How’d you get stuck with him?” You asked Charlotte, adding a teasing tone to your words.

           The creases between her eyes softened and she seemed to accept your joke with the slight curving of her lips, “I followed him,”

           “Why on earth would you do that?” You quirked up an eyebrow and Bellamy shook his head as if annoyed.

           “I-I wanted to hunt. To be strong,” she admitted and you took notice of how she flinched at her own words.

           Your eyes scanned over her quickly to make sure she wasn’t injured and nodded before shifting your position, not being able to withhold the gasp of pain that seeped past your teeth. Bellamy sat in front of you and looked at Charlotte.

           “I’m gonna need you to be brave right now and help me out, okay?” he softly spoke.

           Charlotte nodded and how she trusted in Bellamy brought up that same uninvited feeling that you had the last time you spoke to him. You shoved down the – what was it? Butterflies? You nearly shuddered from the thought. No butterflies. Not for Bellamy. Absolutely not.

           “Absolutely not’ what?” Bellamy questioned.

           “Hm?” You retorted innocently and shook your head, “Oh, nothing,”

           He gave you a side glance before returning to Charlotte and you let out a deep breath in relief. God, you were an idiot.

           “I’m gonna need you to distract (Y/N) over here while I bandage her up,” he instructed and Charlotte agreed to her role.

           Charlotte faced you as Bellamy sauntered over to his bag up against a wall and stuck his hand in its opening, scouring around for the little cloth he had.

           “So, what did you do to get put in the Sky Box?” Charlotte asked and you almost laughed and her childlike ignorance.

           Bellamy glanced at you from what he was doing for a second before getting back to it and you gripped your throbbing thigh as everything was beginning to register.

           You sighed, “Well, if you must know, I got caught stealing medicine,”

           “Why?” She sat up straighter and appeared genuinely interested.

           You shook your head at the memory, a sadness pulling at you from the depths of your chest, “Someone I cared about needed help,”

           “So you stole for them?”

           “Yeah.” You sighed again, “But it was too late. By the time I came back to the room, she was gone,”

           Charlotte’s gaze fell and you mimicked the action, fighting the creeping feeling trying to take over.

           “Keep going,” Bellamy told Charlotte when he met your side and instructed you to lift your shirt.

           “Like hell, Blake,” you scoffed but winced at the pain from the action.

           “Exactly,” he said and moved your hands away before beginning to wrap the elastic cloth around the gash.

           “So do you like being on the ground?” She asked when she saw you wince again.

           “Of course. Don’t you?” Anything to distract from the pain.

           She nodded, “It’s . . .”

           “Free,” you finished and she weakly smiled. “There’s a field near the camp that a friend showed me. It’s full of these beautiful butterflies that glow in the dark, I’ll show you when we get back to camp, yeah?”

           Her eyes lit up at the idea and she nearly clapped her hands in excitement. Bellamy tightened the knot around your wound and your hand shot out to stop the cause of the pain that arose from the action. Your fingers gripped the back of Bellamy’s hand and your thumb caressed his unknowingly. He looked up from your hold and you met his gaze for a split second before retracing your hand.

           “Ease up, will ya?” You teased, trying to suppress those damned winged animals in your stomach that threatened to cause a heat to rise up in your cheeks.

           “S-Sorry,” he muttered, quickly moving on to the next wound before stopping mid-action, “These come off,” he instructed, pointing at your pants.

           You nearly choked on his words, “W-what? No way, Blake. You’re working over those,”

           “What’s your favorite color?” Charlotte asked desperately trying to regain your attention.

           “(Y/F/C),”

           “Favorite animal?”

           “(Y/F/A),”

           She seemed to have run out of questions that were actually going to distract you when Bellamy spoke up, “Do you miss the Ark?”

           You shook your head immediately, knowing that you’d rather take your chances out here  than go back up there. “No,”

           “Why?” Charlotte spoke up.

           “I just wouldn’t want to go back. Yeah, it’s hard down here but it’s beautiful. The smell of the rain, the trees, the rivers. All of it.” You motioned around you as if it were a perfect example, “Besides, there’s no one waiting for me up there,” you whispered under your breath.

           Later on in the night after Bellamy had calmed Charlotte from her nightmare and her light snores were audible again, Bellamy went to check on your bandages.

           “I’m no Clarke but I think I did damn well,” he joked while making sure you weren’t still bleeding.

           You chuckled lightly and nodded, “You’ll be giving Griffin a run for her money soon enough,”

           He scoffed with that signature smirk plastered on and he leaned up against the wall across from you, his eyes merely scanning over you again and again. He could feel the words dancing on the tip of his tongue but he wasn’t sure whether or not it was an appropriate question to ask. You hadn’t further elaborated on your arrest and there was probably a good reason for that but he couldn’t help himself, his curiosity won out.

           “When you told Charlotte earlier that you’d stolen medicine, you never mentioned who it was for,” Bellamy pointed out.

           You tore your gaze from his and focused on your fiddling thumbs, trying to find something – anything else to zone out on.

           He could tell you were internally squirming away from the question and he stuttered over his apology before you cut him off.

           “My mother,” you stated. “She . . . she was pregnant. Again,”

           Bellamy raised his eyebrows at your revelation and he clung on to your words.

           “You of all people should know how that would’ve worked out,” you said, entranced by the bit of torn skin around your nail, “She got help from Abby and they handled the situation without, you know, catching any attention because she would’ve gotten in trouble regardless.” You squirmed in your position but finally managed to bring your eyes back up to meet Bellamy’s gaze, “She couldn’t live with what they did. She was put on anti-depressants but there were days where I couldn’t let her out of my sight. She wasn’t depressed. Or at least, her guilt was the root of her depression. No medication would just make her guilt go away on its own,”

           Bellamy shifted his position, his arm resting on his raised knee and he leaned in, observing how you shivered from the cold.

           “One day, it was bad. Really bad. And she was out of medication so I figured that was the issue. I was a lot younger back then. I stole some medicine for her but when I came back to the room I . . .” your words trailed off as the images surfaced again and you physically moved away from the sight before you. The knot forming in your throat caused your words to come out choked and you cursed yourself for letting the building tear cascade down your face, “I found her hanging in the room. I was caught because I called someone to help her but it was too late.” You brought your sleeve up to your cheek and wiped away the salty tear.

           Bellamy was left in silence. For once, he’d been rendered speechless and the regret that overcame him for his selfish curiosities made its presence apparent.

           “I’m sor-”

           “It’s fine.” You turned away from him and rested on your side, closing your eyes and forcing out the last few tears that had built up.

           A few hours later you awoke to find Bellamy’s jacket wrapped around you, keeping you warm from the harsh cold of the night. You ripped the coat off of you and moved to give it back to him when you noticed his shivering form. You cocked your head to the side a bit at the sight.

           If he was cold, why give you the jacket?

           The gnawing feeling took control of your better judgement and you scooted over to his sleeping body, wrapping the jacket around his shoulders and laying down close enough to have some yourself. Not that you’d need it very much at that point, Bellamy’s body heat alone had been enough to keep you comfortable throughout the night. Which would probably explain why you were practically plastered to him by the time you woke up the next morning.

           Two days later you were screaming at Bellamy, pleading with him not to kick the box out from under Murphy’s feet. The sight alone had triggered everything you’d suppressed over the years and despite agreeing that Murphy deserved punishment, this certainly was not it.

           Your brain refused to see Murphy’s body; instead, choosing to opt for the image you’d witnessed all those years ago. The contrast of the scene was significant but that didn’t stop you from seeing the bright LED lights above you, illuminating your mother’s dangling body right next to your bed in the plain white room.

           You were switching in and out from your memory to your present. LED lights were replaced with torches, Murphy was replaced with your mother, everyone kept coming in and out, Clarke’s screaming personified the panic and terror you were currently drowning in.

           “Bellamy, please!” You plead, unaware of the waterfall’s worth of tears on your face. “Don’t do this!”

           He ignored your line of vision. He kept his gaze down, his focus on the box under Murphy. But when the crowd began chanting for Murphy’s ‘just’ punishment, he couldn’t ignore his people’s desires. With one quick, hard kick he displaced the box and you screamed in horror at the scene.

           Thank the Gods for Finn. Clarke had her arm wrapped around you, her hand patting your hair in an attempt for comfort but all you could focus on was Bellamy’s guilt-ridden expression.

           Just days earlier, you’d spared Bellamy the weight of taking Atom out of his misery. That was your cross to bear now and you’d hated that you’d do it again for the monster that stood before you. The Bellamy from just those few hours ago was not the same person standing next to Murphy. The Bellamy from before would never be able to deal with that death on his hands. The Bellamy from before watched as you wept for your mother and the Bellamy before you resurfaced those same painful memories that you’d been stupid enough to share.

           You’d been in the tent with Charlotte after her confession and traded glances between the three of them – Finn, Clarke and Charlotte – once you’d managed to get yourself under control. Your jaw tightened when Bellamy addressed you directly but you kept your attention in the opposite direction, not wanting to face him and bring out the anger boiling under the surface.

           Later on in the forest once you’d run away from the mob, you’d ran into Bellamy who offered his help. You begrudgingly accepted, knowing that Charlotte should get all the help she could get.

           You sauntered around in tense silence, avoiding Murphy’s makeshift mob and kept your eyes peeled for the small blonde. Darkness surrounded you once Murphy passed with all the torches and you were once again ignoring Bellamy as he quietly tried to speak to you.

           “Shut up!” You spat at the man behind you.

           “(Y/N), please. I’m so sorry, you have to believe me,” he plead.

           “I don’t have to believe anything,” you retorted, ignoring how close he was to you.

           “I didn’t do it to hurt you or scare you. They made me do it and I had to give them what they wanted or they would’ve killed him themselves,”

           “So, you get to kill Murphy for your people but I have to spare Atom for you?” You hissed back, annoyed at his cowardice, “They listen to you! If you and Clarke had been on the same page the riot would’ve stopped instantly! I don’t care what excuses you have, you’re a coward, Blake,”

           Bellamy flinched at the mention of Atom but you didn’t regret it. You’d shared the most personal aspect of your life with this man and then days later he managed to do the one thing he knew you couldn’t bear to experience again.

           You walked in silence until you’d caught up with Clarke and Finn at the edge of a cliff where you joined them in defending Charlotte. You stood in front of the group, your hand outstretched to keep the trembling child behind you and out of harm’s way. Or so, you thought.

           Clarke had managed to get into Murphy’s grasp, his knife digging into the soft flesh of her neck.

           “No!” Charlotte cried from behind you, catching your attention. “Please don’t hurt her!”

           You spat at Murphy, a hatred you’d never felt brewing inside you for the idiotic man. “She’s a fucking child!”

           “No one else is getting hurt for me,” Charlotte mumbled behind you and you twisted to face her again, only to realize she’d taken a few steps backwards towards the edge. “I’m sorry,”

           “Charlotte!” You screamed, falling to your knees and hurling over the cliff in an attempt to catch her. Your fingers grazed her flailing her and your desperation caused you to lean too far over the edge, the majority of your weight toppling you over and losing your place on the ground.

           “(Y/N)!” You heard your name being called.

           You hadn’t understood what was happening until after someone caught you midair, their tight grasp wrapped around your calves. Your heart stopped as the never-ending world expanded below you. You weren’t even able to see Charlotte hit the bottom and you weren’t sure if that was better or worse. On one hand, if you hadn’t seen it then it didn’t really happen. On the other, if you had seen it, you would never be able to unsee it and it would be just another page added to your existing trauma.

           You heard yelling erupt from behind you where the others were helping pull you back up over the edge. Your eyes stayed glued to the nonexistent ground below you. Would it really have been so bad to see the bottom? You couldn’t help but wonder.

           You winced at the bruises that would surely form under their grasps, acknowledging the pain growing. Acknowledging your continued existence. And also acknowledging the quick second that you wished it had ceased.

           You were thrown into strong arms that held you with such ferocity towards his chest. You shivered in Blake’s grasp, letting his comforting coos and petting hand soothe you. You gripped onto his upper arm, your head resting against his chest and your lap in his as he gripped you tightly, double and triple checking that you were truly there with him and he hadn’t lost you to the cliff.

           It took you a bit of time to be able to talk to Bellamy again. You still held him accountable for his actions against Murphy and you just needed the time to sort everything out after that eventful evening.

           Jasper had been there for you, as usual. But you didn’t understand why he grew tired of the conversation whenever Bellamy’s name was brought up. Blake had been the source of a lot of your pain and there was no denying his pertinence in the group but Jasper’s impatience grew every time the name was brought up.

           You concluded that it had been because the topic was more of a ‘girl talk’ kind of topic and luckily, yet not so much, you’d become closer to Octavia and Raven. Raven seemed like she’d dismissed your emotions, especially considering everything going on with her and Finn but Octavia was Bellamy’s sister so of course you couldn’t talk to her.

           That was, until you hadn’t spoken to anyone in nearly two days. You’d done your tasks in complete silence, not once complaining about the lack of food and barely acknowledging when you were relieved of your duty with Raven.

           “Okay, what’s up?” Octavia confronted you, her arms crossed before her, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

           You side-stepped her and headed towards your tent, “I can’t tell you,” you mumbled.

           Octavia reached out and grasped your arm, “(Y/N), you know you can tell me anything, right?”

           You eyed her quickly before motioning towards your tent with your head. She followed quietly and you opened the tent for the both of you to enter.

           After she took a seat she looked up at you, “Okay, spill,” she demanded.

           You sighed, suddenly aware of how alert you were. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and goosebumps erupted all over your skin. You fought the urge to keep your pain to yourself and told her everything that’s been brewing in your mind for days now. How you shared the darkest part of yourself with her brother only for him to recreate the scene that had you so disturbed all these years later. How his excuses bothered you to your core and how you hated that he was a leader his people wanted rather than needed. How his words had struck a chord with you that you weren’t sure you could forgive. How you toppled over the side of the cliff just to be saved by her brother. How vulnerable you felt in his hold. How confused you were because of the constant shifts between kind to cold and back again. It was all too much for you.

           After nearly an hour of crying and wiping tears and choking on your words, Octavia hugged you.

           She slowly pulled away from you and attempted to tuck some hair behind your ear, “You know why it bothers you so much, don’t you?”

           “Because I was dumb enough to trust him,” you retorted.

           A sad smile rose on her lips and she grasped your hands in her own, “(Y/N), you have feelings for-”

           “(Y/N)!” Raven called from the other side of your tent and you pulled away from Octavia to open your tent. Raven looked from you to Octavia and back again once registering your red eyes, “Am I interrupting something?”

           Octavia stood up and rested her hand on your back, “No, we were just wrapping up,” she said and you threw her a glance that let her know you were thankful for listening.

           “Are you sure?” Raven asked, her concern for you genuine but you only nodded in response.

           Turns out, she needed some quick help with the radio to the station and you helped to the best of your ability.

           “You know you can talk to me too,” Raven spoke up after a while.

           You shrugged your shoulders, never prying your gaze off of the machine in front of you, “You have a lot going on,”

           “That doesn’t mean I can’t listen to whatever’s bothering you,” she responded, twisting around the screwdriver in her hand. “You’ve been really off these past few days and everyone’s taken notice. They told me what happened with the little girl. How you almost died trying to save her. I know it’s probably a lot and my problems with Finn can be ignored for a few minutes to listen to you or cry with you,”

           You nodded, a numbness from earlier returning. “Thanks, Raven, but it’s a little bit more than that. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?”

           She hesitated but nodded all the same and you returned to your tent to find Octavia missing. You spun around, fully expecting to see the brunette hanging around your tent, waiting for your return. Minutes passed and you still hadn’t caught sight of her. You tried to suppress the unsettling twisting feeling creeping up from your stomach, knowing Octavia had a tendency to sneak off and do her own thing.

           It’d only been when you saw worry etch across Bellamy’s face that you cursed yourself for ignoring your gut feeling.

           You joined the search party, not because Bellamy had asked you to but because if O was in trouble, there would be hell to pay for whoever had her. But when you finally came across her, you’d managed to observe the way the Grounder looked at her. A crease between his brow when he registered the injuries on her body, how his eyes scanned over her with concern. Those were not typical signs of an abductor. At least, not a sane one. But then again, who said anything about him being sane?

           You got to O before Bellamy did and you helped her stand, shielding her body with yours just in case the Grounder decided to attack. And he did. Finn shoved you out of the way and managed to get himself stabbed in the process.

           You picked up Finn by his ankles with the help of O while Bellamy grabbed his torso and brought him back to the camp. You stayed by Raven’s and Clarke’s side when they performed the surgery after Raven had proven her uselessness. She was too shocked, too close to Finn to snap back from her grief fast enough to assist Clarke.

           You’d never assisted in any kind of procedure before but somehow seeing Clarke pull the blade out of Finn’s side had caused your stomach to turn exponentially more than when you’d pulled your own knife out of Atom’s neck. Maybe because Atom was supposed to die, Finn wasn’t.

           Raven had just finished setting up the radio to the Ark and Abby was helping Clarke through the procedure and you cringed at her voice. It’d been years since you heard her soft tone ring in your ears. She was a good person. She’d tried to get you off the hook about the medication but the Ark’s surveillance had been enough to get you locked up.

           The racketeering of the drop ship caused Clarke to take out the blade too quick for comfort but you didn’t nick the artery that Abby had warned you about and that was success enough for you. You’d let Clarke take a break and offered to stitch Finn up, already aware of the sloppy work she’d done on Jasper and you didn’t want the same butchered scar for Finn.

           You’d been so caught up in the procedure on Finn, you hadn’t noticed the group building in the upper level of the ship. Octavia was shoved down the ladder and you caught her as she stumbled down just as Clarke and Raven stood up in panic. Something was wrong with Finn. He was foaming at the mouth and seizing. These didn’t seem like the normal symptoms of a stab wound.

           You sauntered over to the weapon, grabbing the blade off the counter and held it up to the light, deciding against smelling it as it would only reek of blood.

           “It’s been poisoned,” Clarke muttered and you stormed behind her as she made her way up the ladder, pounding on the latch to catch their attention.

           Miller opened the door and Clarke didn’t wait for his permission to enter. She swung it open the rest of the way and you followed her only to be stopped in your tracks at the sight before you. So this was what they were trying to protect Octavia from. The ungodly sight before you caused your hand to fly up to your mouth when your body heaved and the little contents in your stomach tried to make their way back up.

           Clarke snatched the blade from you, her anger and desperation overcoming her better judgement and you hissed as the weapon sliced through your open palm. Clarke whizzed around, her eyes landing on the fresh wound created from her recklessness.

           You looked up at her, a panic that you’d slowly begin to make peace with building. She met your gaze, her mouth open and bottom lip quivered.

           “(Y/N) . . .” She took a step towards you but you instinctively took one back despite knowing you had no reason to. “I’m so sorry,”

           “What?” Bellamy asked, not understanding the act she just committed. When he was met with silence, he repeated himself only louder, “What?”

           Your mouth twitched at the gash but you shook your head and grabbed, what you’d hoped, was a clean rag to tie your hand with. “It doesn’t matter,” you spoke to Clarke, “just get what we came here for,”

           She nodded once, not needing anymore convincing before turning to face the Grounder and holding the knife up to his face in display, “Where’s the antidote?” She interrogated.

           “Antidote?” Miller spoke up from behind you, delicately grasping your hand to assist in tying off the knot.

           “The blade’s poisoned,” you whispered, suddenly aware of Miller and Bellamy’s gaze drilling into the wound on your hand.

           That night had been long. Raven was lucky enough to bring Finn back from the brink of death and you ended up hurling when Bellamy drove the screw into the Grounder’s palm. In his defense, he’d given you all the option to leave. Your disgust with him grew after that. You knew Finn needed the antidote as soon as possible and now, depending on how lethal the poison was in doses, you did too. But torturing him was not going to give you the answers everyone desired so you didn’t hold back from yelling at everyone. You didn’t get to finish your rant as the poison made its way through your bloodstream and your vision went hazy, a pain emitting slowly from your center. You held out your hands around you, looking for something to grip onto before collapsing on the floor.

           It’d been Bellamy who caught you. You hadn’t found out until after you woke up, the antidote already making its way through your system. You’d been in and out all day. Your company switched from O to Jasper and Monty and if you hadn’t been imagining it, Bellamy himself.

           You were aware of his presence when he sat beside you, it was his words that you couldn’t quite make out in the haze of it all. He’d whispered words too quietly to be heard and you almost didn’t want to hear them. Your stance on Bellamy was on the fence and if he spoke confessed anything even remotely kind or humorous you knew you’d be back on his side. Convincing yourself he was just human and he had everyone’s best interest at heart.

           You woke up and managed to stay up the next day, the pain of hunger pulling you from your sleep.

           “There she is,” Octavia cheered but her tone was laced with hurt.

           You opened your eyes as best you could, bringing your hand up over your eyes to cover the blinding light. You didn’t say anything, only sitting up slowly from the uncomfortable floor of the drop ship and shook your head slowly, giving your body time to adjust to everything.

           You finally looked back up to Octavia and she furrowed her brows at you, holding out a hand and placing it on your back when she realized your attempt to stand up. “Take it easy,” she warned but you waved her off, stumbling under your weight.

           She gave you a look, “I told you. The poison weakens your muscles. It took Finn an hour before he could stand without falling over,”

           That would explain your body’s drowsiness. “How is he? Finn?”

           O let you lean against her as she led you towards the exit of the dropship. “He’s fine now. Just relaxing.” She shrugged her shoulders.

           “Raven? Clarke?” You stopped yourself before you uttered her brother’s name.

           She caught the slip, giving you another second before deciding you weren’t going to ask about him, “Clarke and Bellamy are out getting supplies that Jaha said would be around here. Raven’s not doing too well,”

           “What happened to Raven?” You asked, your concern for your friend winning out over your curiosity for the potentially life-saving supplies.

           “She broke up with Finn. He’d been mumbling Clarke’s name in his sleep after getting the antidote and it – it broke her. She knows she’s not what he wants,”

           Your heart dropped for your friend. You hadn’t known Raven long but her strength inspired you and knowing how torn she was going to be over someone she was so in love with – you shuddered at the thought. That was why you could never fall in love. The heartbreak of unrequited love would break you harder than you could imagine.

           You were pulled from your thoughts when a manic Jasper crashed into the both of you, “Grounders!” He shouted, his eyes crazed as he pointed to an empty spot on the field, “They’re here!”

           You looked up at Octavia, an eyebrow raised at his statement but she was too busy looking over the rest of the camp and you followed her gaze to a zombie-like pack of kids trudging through the dirt with the same crazed expression Jasper had.

           “What’s going on?” You muttered to her.

           She snatched a bag of nuts from Jasper’s hold and twisted a nut in between her fingers, “I think everyone’s high,”

           You returned your gaze to the crowd and nodded. Yeah. Everyone’s definitely high. Some, like Jasper, were on a bad trip while others had far off looks plastered on their faces.

           “(Y/N),” Octavia called, pulling your attention back, “I need a favor,”

           You didn’t hesitate to agree but you waited at the entrance of the dropship, making sure no prying eyes were curious about what was going on. You jumped at the sound of Octavia landing on the ground and you hesitated for a second before wrapping the Grounders hand up to stop the bleeding and threw an arm around your shoulder. You ignored the eyebrow raised in your direction and trudged to a hidden opening that O had come upon a few days prior. Once he was out of sight, you sighed in relief.

           As much as you hated to admit it, O had been right about your body being weak. Helping her escort the Grounder – Lincoln, you’d come to learn – had taken it out of you and you went back to the dropship to relax on the makeshift bed they’d made for you.

           When you finally laid down on the sheets, an uproar sprouted from outside but your exhaustion won out and you stayed put, straining your ears to hear the commotion. Bellamy had returned. And Clarke too, of course.

           Your curiosity for the commotion going on outside almost convinced you to get up again but you couldn’t even if you wanted to.

           “She’s awake,” You heard Octavia mumble from outside and you looked up at the curtained entrance just as Bellamy broke through.

           The sight before you caused your breath to catch in your throat. He looked tired. No, not tired. Exhausted. Whatever happened out there had taken it out of him but you weren’t surprised to be met with a fatigued smile from him as he plopped down beside you.

           There was a silence that passed between you, a comforting stillness that brought about your own fatigue. Bellamy looked up at you from behind the slight curls in his hair and you restrained yourself from brushing the strands out of his face.

           “About time, Sleeping Beauty. I thought we’d lost you there for a second.” Bellamy chuckled, noticing how your fingers inched closer to the hand he’d placed beside you on the ‘bed’.

           “It’s gonna take a lot more than a poisoned blade to kill me,” you muttered back, your eyes closing from the intensity of the lights in the dropship.

           “I don’t know about that, seems like you’ve had a death wish since getting her,” he joked but the smile never rose to your lips.

           “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” You nodded, thinking back on how you’d almost died nearly everyday since landing on the ground but was pulled from your thoughts when you felt fingers brushing lightly against your own. You looked down to see Bellamy’s fingertips barely sprawled over your own. You closed your fingers around the ones Bellamy had rested on your hand and followed the evident veins up his arms, guiltily admiring his physique until your eyes met his expecting ones. “And it’s always you that catches me,”

           Bellamy had offered you company in the cave, had pulled you back up from the edge of the cliff and last night, had caught you before you collapsed onto the ground.

           This time, you did brush away the strands blocking his eyes but you didn’t allow yourself to linger there, already trying to ignore how your body seemed to liven where you two were touching.

           You pulled both your hands back and wrapped them around your legs, trying to rest enough to regain some strength in your muscles. Bellamy shifted in his seat and handed you a gun and you’d been surprised you hadn’t seen him holding it before. It was too big to hide and easily spotted. You’d have to work on your observational skills.

           “Take this,” he said, handing you the weapon.

           You grabbed the gun and looked at Bellamy confused. Were you supposed to know how to work this thing? He chuckled at your expression and gave you a quick crash course on the gun’s anatomy and its uses.

           “Always act as though it were loaded,” Bellamy instructed and you rolled your eyes.

           “I know that,” you retorted.

           He shrugged his shoulders and observed how you handled the weapon, “It’s never a bad thing to remind someone. I figured you deserved one, you come out on rescue missions and hunts enough to need it,”

           You nodded and weakly smiled at him, “Thank you,”

           “No problem.” He twisted around, grabbing something out of his back pocket, “I also grabbed this for you,”

           He handed you a torn cloth and you raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Am I supposed to know what this-”

           “It was Charlotte’s,” He quickly spoke up and the silence returned before you ripped the dirty cloth in half and tied the other half on the handle of the gun, making sure it wouldn’t be getting in the way.

           You tied the other part onto your own gun in a different spot as to differentiate between the two and ignored the light squeeze on your thigh, a reassuring touch. A thank you.

           Fortunately, or rather not so, the next day was Unity Day and the Chancellor insisted on its celebration on the ground so you didn’t see Bellamy or anyone else for the rest of the day as they all went hunting and gathered supplies for the party tomorrow.

           It wasn’t until Finn popped into the dropship that you finally convinced yourself to stand up with his help. You didn’t let him speak, simply holding him in your arms and squeezing him close to you.

           “We thought you were a goner,” Finn chuckled and you pulled back to look him in the eyes.

           “I was the goner? I don’t think so, bud.” You joked and pulled away completely, bending over to strap the gun Bellamy had given you over your shoulder.

           “You need any help?” He offered.

           You lightly shrugged a shoulder but nodded. You didn’t need the help but you weren’t going to turn it down just in case. Finn placed a hand on your waist and you let yourself lean on him ever so slightly, allowing him to pick up some of your weight as you tumbled out of the dropship.

           “How are the preparations going?” You asked him, letting your eyes roam over the field of scurrying people.

           “They’re going. I’m set to go out hunting with Clarke later,”

           You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to fight off your curiosity but the silence that passed between you was abnormal and tense. Like he knew what was coming. “So . . . you and Raven . . .”

           He sighed, tightening his grip on your waist in response. The question made him tense, his discomfort visible enough for you to regret asking but he answered all the same, “Yeah, she – uh – she broke up with me,”

           You elbowed him lightly as Clarke came into view and made her way over to Bellamy, “She loves you so she’s willing to let you go.” Your eyes remained glued to the man radiating a confidence that you’d be ashamed to admit was calling out to you, “Just try not to show how relieved you are too quickly, yeah?”

           Finn cracked a smile and shook his head, “I’m not the one drooling over people,”

           You quirked up an eyebrow and pulled your head away to stare at him in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

           He chuckled loud enough to catch Bellamy’s attention and when your gaze met, you smiled at him.

           “That’s what I mean,” Finn retorted.

           “Oh, so I’m not allowed to smile at people now?” You gripped Finn’s shoulder tightly, feeling a weakness slither up your legs.

           His grip on your waist tightened and held you closer to him to allow yourself the chance to relax a bit, “People?” Finn questioned, “You sure he’s just ‘people’?”

           You instantly shook your head and rolled your eyes, “What else would he be?”

           He held up his free hand in surrender, “Nothing, apparently.”

           Finn instinctively loosened his grip on you as Clarke walked over to the both of you, Bellamy at her side.

           “Feeling better?” She asked, eyeing the spot where Finn gripped your side.

           You weakly nodded, “Barely, my legs are still weak but he basically insisted I get some fresh air,”            

           Clarke’s gaze fell as did her tense shoulders and you eyed her suspiciously. There’s no way she would think there was something going on between you and Finn. Not after how obvious it was that he would literally die for this girl.

           You merely chuckled to yourself and Clarke walked over to your free side, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and lightly lifted you up to ease the pain in your legs. You smiled at her and Finn dropped you from his hold, his shoulders pulled back as Bellamy eyed him up and down.

           “Here, let me help,” Bellamy offered, taking Finn’s previous spot but you pulled closer to Clarke.

           “Thanks, but I think Clarke’s got it,” you quickly said and wobbled down the ramp.

           You’d missed the way Bellamy flinched at your rejection and nodded, pulling Finn aside to discuss something with him.

           “Why are you doing that to him?” Clarke croaked up once you’d gained some distance from the men.

           “Doing what?” You hunched over slightly as Clarke unzipped Jasper and Monty’s tent.

           “Reject him like that.” She moved the makeshift door aside and you stepped in, tipping over the subtle lift on the floor. “You know he’s got eyes for you, don’t you?”

           “What? Why does everyone keep saying that?” You harshly retracted your arm from her shoulder and sat on the floor after greeting your friends.

           “Jasper!” Clarke nearly shouted and he faced her, “If you had to guess who had a crush on (Y/N), who do you think it would be?”

           “Bellamy,” Jasper and Monty answered at the same time.

           You shot them both a look and rolled your eyes, “No, he doesn’t, Griffin!” You fought back, resting on Jasper and massaging your leg just for Jasper to take over.

           “Yes, he does, (Y/N),” Jasper responded, mimicking your eye roll, “and you like him too,”

           “If we don’t stop talking about this right now I’m sacrificing someone to the Grounders,” you threatened, staring daggers at your friends.

           Clarke sighed and said her good-byes before stating she was going to leave the camp with Finn and you waved her a meager good-bye. You turned your attention towards the stressed-out boys to find them working on a contraption of some kind.

           “What’s this?” You asked.

           “We’re making moonshine for Unity Day tomorrow,” Monty spoke up and you stood up slowly with his assistance.

           “Can I help?” You offered, “I do happen to know a thing or two about machines,”

           They shared a glance but agreed to let you help. Not in the way you had intended though. They were sending you out on scavenger hunt, looking for tools or scrap parts that they needed. At one point, they’d sent you to get something you had never heard of but they insisted that Bellamy would know what they were talking about and he could help you find it.

           “Don’t do anything stupid!” Jasper teased as you stepped out of the tent, your legs nearly yours again.

           “Does setting your tent on fire count as stupid?” You shouted over your shoulder only to receive a quiet ‘yes’ from a distressed sounding Monty.

           You chuckled at them and headed towards Bellamy’s tent. You didn’t call out to him, thinking he’d gone with Clarke and Finn on the hunting trip. You were wrong as hell.

           You pulled the tent flap aside and stopped in your tracks at the sight before you. It was strange, really. It was almost like you’d gone deaf for a few seconds as your mind tried to process what you were seeing. You flinched at the unwelcome feeling erupting in the pit of your stomach. It was different than the sensation from before. This one made you want to throw up and runaway rather than run to the source as it had previously.

           You flinched again as your presence was noted by the two having sex. Raven hopped off of Bellamy and flew to grab her underwear near the bed. You’d been frozen enough to see more than you were comfortable with and muttered one apology right after the other as Bellamy began to stand up, his thin sheet wrapped around his exposed hips and you lurched away.

           You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew that you needed to be completely and utterly alone. No interruptions. No pitiful eyes staring at you as you tried to understand why your chest ached and your stomach twisted hard enough to elicit nausea.

           Just. Alone.

           You tried to casually make your way out through the crack in the wall, thankful that Octavia had shown it to you previously. You slithered through the opening and waved at the guard on the wall, stating you were sent out to join Clarke and Finn. The guard nodded and you made it passed the trees, letting the dense forest engulf you and provide a solidarity you wouldn’t have had at camp.

           You didn’t know how long you walked and you didn’t care. At this point, the fatigue in your legs wasn’t due to the poison. Your feet ached with a throb and once you were sure your screams wouldn’t be heard from camp; you collapsed on the floor and rested your back against the nearest tree.

           You hugged your legs to your chest and threw your head back, looking up at the leaves on the tree. The first sob came against your will. Your body racked with the motion and you bit your lip hard enough to break the skin. No. Why are you crying? Stop.

           The second sob arrived harder than the first and you let the tear fall with no intention of hiding it. You had nothing to hide. No one to hide from. So you let the third one come at the intensity which it pleased. Your throat constricted in pain as the ache throbbed in your chest and exited through your tear ducts.

           Get over yourself. Stop crying. What would that do? Nothing. Not a damn thing.

           Your tears wouldn’t stop the vision from haunting your mind, the scene playing over and over again. You wished you hadn’t seen the expression of pleasure he had plastered on his face at the sensation of Raven – well, you know.

           Your vision was obscured by all the tears and you weren’t sure when you’d stood up and started punching the tree that provided you such solace mere seconds ago but you didn’t stop until the skin on your knuckles were torn open and the pain from your chest had travelled its way to the blood that you splattered all over nature.

           “(Y/N)?” You heard your name being called from behind and you lifted your name at the intrusion, your first still connected with the trunk.

           You whipped your head around to see Octavia at Lincoln’s side, the expression of concern on her face apparent. She grabbed Lincoln’s hand and dragged him over to your side where you finally dropped your hand back to your side, letting the blood drip down your fingertips onto the floor.

           “What are you doing?” She nearly yelled, grabbing your hand delicately in hers. “What happened?”

           You sniffled and dragged your sleeve across your face in a pathetic attempt to dry the tears. “Nothing,” you croaked out.

           Lincoln shifted in his place, watching as more blood slithered through your fingers.

           “Don’t give me that bullshit, (Y/N). Something happened,” she chastised.

           You turned to look away from away, ashamed at the extremity of your actions at the situation, “Nothing important, Octavia.” You tried to pull your hand out of hers but her grip tightened last second and you hissed at the pain.

           “Those tears are ones of the heart,” Lincoln uttered and your gaze flicked to his, glaring at his bold truth.

           “The heart?” Octavia questioned before a look of understanding shadowed her expression, “What happened?” She further instigated.

           You sniffled again and looked down at the wound on your hand, “Raven . . .” there was that scene again that refused not to repeat in your mind.

           “Something happened to Raven?”

           I wish.

           You shook your head at the thought and took the first fulfilling breath in over an hour, “Raven was . . . she was with Bellamy . . . and I caught them-”

           Octavia pulled you into her arms before you could finish and a relief washed over you at not having to verbalize your pain. You let her hold you and caress your hair as more sobs racked through you. The three of you stayed like that until you could compose yourself with the setting of the sun.

           “We should get back,” you uttered but Octavia shook her head.

           “No, we can stay out here with Lincoln if you want,”

           You eyed her, “You know they’d send a search party out for us,”

           “Good!” She yelled, “Let him worry!” She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head, “God, what an idiot,”

           You thanked Lincoln for his patience and grabbed O’s hand, letting her and Lincoln lead the way back and you thankful for their presence because you hadn’t kept track of how to get back. You weren’t even sure where you were.

           The sun was nowhere to be seen by the time you guys made it back. Octavia said her good-byes to Lincoln a few miles earlier and the rest of the way was full of consoling. When the light from the camp was visible, you could tell havoc was ensuing and you tensed, preparing yourself to face the consequences.

           O led you back in through the crack and you hid amongst the dimly lit walls until you’d both made it her tent where you snuck in and turned on a lamp. Octavia let you lay down in bed with her, her arm wrapped around you and holding you close.

           After a few minutes of comforting silence, she spoke up, “You’re probably hoping for the other Blake sibling,”

           Despite your numbing pain, you laughed and snuggled closer to her side, “No. You’re the sibling I want right now,”

           She smiled down at you and ran her fingers through your hair until a loud shuffling beside her tent alerted her and you two sat up. You quickly wiped at your face just in case and winced at the forgotten gashes on your knuckles.

           “(Y/N)?” You heard panic in the tone and you looked up to find a concerned Jasper staring at you.

           “Jas, I-I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was gonna leave but I was so caught up in everything that I didn’t think to stop –”

           “What happened to your hands?” He asked, his eyes glued to your fists and you hid them at your side, “They’re here!” He shouted and you shot your attention to Octavia who looked cool as a cucumber. “Bring bandages!”

           A stomping hard enough to shake the ground emerged until you could see almost everyone’s head peeking through the entrance of Octavia’s tent. Jasper took a step in when Octavia confirmed it was okay and he stood in front of you, his hands encasing your face momentarily before throwing you into his arms and you were surprised at the weight that lifted at his actions. Maybe you could lean on Jasper more than you had assumed.

           Clarke shoved through everyone, a panic set in her features but Octavia grabbed the bandages from her and offered you her hand, waiting for you to willingly place your hand in hers.

           You shook your head, “I’m fine,” you whimpered out but submitted all the same at O’s glare.

           Your grip on O tightened as the thundering voice that’d calmed you on so many occasions erupted from the crowd. “Back up!” He shouted, making way for Finn and Monty to step through.

           “Hey, what happened?” Finn asked, searching in your eyes for answers you were unwilling to give him.

           You avoided his gaze and looked up at O, panic set in your features as the lie swirled around in your head.

           “We went hunting together,” she coolly said, wrapping the cloth over your hand, “Got back a lot later than we planned,”

           Short and sweet. Good.

           He didn’t have to speak for you to know he had finally entered the tent and Jasper, Finn and Clarke didn’t miss the way you tensed in Octavia’s hold.

           “How’d you get those cuts then?” Bellamy asked but you kept your gaze locked with O, desperate for her to take the reins.

           “She . . . fell. Still weak from the poison, it messed her up,”

           Your free hand gripped around Jasper’s and he blocked your body from Bellamy’s sight. Your discomfort was evident on your face and if suspected you of lying, which he did, he wasn’t going to drop the subject any time soon.

           Jasper wasn’t tall enough to conceal you completely from him and despite him clearing his throat and asking you direct questions, you never once looked up at him. “Give her some space,” he ordered, sending Monty, Finn, Jasper and Clarke out of the tent.

           Jasper stood his ground but after Bellamy glared at him, you reassured Jasper it was okay and he begrudgingly left. Then, Raven entered and it wasn’t your grip that tightened but Octavia’s and you winced again.

           “Sorry,” she mumbled, loosening her grip and tucking the bandage under itself before motioning for the other hand.

           Bellamy didn’t look behind him when Raven spoke up, his eyes scanning you up and down to double check for any other wounds. He knew Octavia had been lying but he also knew the reaction he’d get if he pushed.

           “Get out,” Octavia ordered, her tone cold and demanding.

           Raven gripped your hand and Octavia pried it from your body. Octavia never minded Raven, she just didn’t particularly like her either.

           “O,” You grasped her forearm and pulled her back from her defensive stance against Raven.

           She stood still a few seconds more, her glare speaking volumes louder than her words would but eventually brought her attention back to wrapping your hand up.

           “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you liked-”

           “Sorry?” You tilted your head to the side slightly but remained focused on the way Octavia worked with your hand. “For what?”

           You could feel Raven look up at Bellamy for some kind of backup but his attention was fixated on you. You almost wished he’d look at her, the feeling of his eyes boring into you was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

           “What you saw earlier, it’s not what you think. I was just stupidly trying to get over Finn because of everything that happened between us and-”

           “Are you over him?” You interrupted, your voice monotone and you let your pain dissipate for a numbness to take over.

           “N-No,” she muttered.

           “Then I guess it was pretty stupid, huh?”

           Octavia nodded, not looking up at either of them, “Seconded,”

           Raven flinched at your words but stayed strong in her defense, “(Y/N), please. I’m sorry. If you would have told me you liked Bellamy I wouldn’t have-”

           “Why would you think I liked Blake?” You spat, finally snapping your attention to her, ignoring the wounded puppy look Bellamy had plastered on. “Why would you think I felt anything towards him?” This time you faced Bellamy directly but his gaze was enraptured on your shoes, “I couldn’t give less of a fuck about him,”

           He glanced up at you through the strands of his hair and you scoffed, mostly at yourself. How could he, in all your rage, still somehow make you want to leap into his arms and let him comfort you?

           “(Y/N) –” Bellamy finally spoke again.

           You turned your attention back to Octavia who had finished with your hands and you walked over to the exit after thanking her, “You’re both adults who can do whatever you want.” You took one step out of the tent before Octavia offered to let you spend the night with her. You nodded and faced Raven, “I’ll let you get back to getting over Finn,”

           Raven’s expression fell and she walked out of the tent without saying another word. And then there were three.

           “Run along.” Octavia motioned with her hand and you kept your gaze down to the ground.

           “O,” Bellamy warned but she kept her disposition and crossed her arms, “can I just get a minute?”

           Octavia looked over at you and against your better judgement, you nodded.

           “One minute,” she uttered, leaving the tent and closing it behind her as if that would do anything to provide privacy. “Clock’s ticking,” she shouted.

           “What do you want, Blake?” You spat, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting your hip out to the side. A glare on your face fierce enough to scare off the gods.

           “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now but please just listen, you don’t have to say anything,” he waited to see if there was any protest on your behalf but after a few seconds of silence he went on, “I’m sorry you saw what you did but you’ve taken it completely out of context. You don’t know what happened,”

           “Of course, I do,” you retorted, “Selfless, altruistic, Bellamy Blake had to save a damsel in distress, didn’t he?”

           “(Y/N), please,” you flinched at the sound of your name leaving his lips, “it didn’t mean anything,”

           “Does it ever with you?” You questioned, “I’m almost convinced your goal is to screw everyone in camp just to boost your ego. Does it make you feel good inside, Blake? Do you feel like top dog with all these women in your bed?” You scoffed. “Or is it just you asserting your superiority over the camp?”

           “That’s not-”

           “Maybe it’s that you just can’t say no?”

           “No, (Y/N), please don’t –”

           “Maybe you’re just lonely?”

           “(Y/N), don’t-”

           “You’re just like everyone else. Pathetic,”

           He shook with fury, his hands balled into fists by his sides, “Why do you care?”

           “Why do I care?” You shouted back, “Because I . . .” you took a step back from Bellamy and stared down at the bandages around your hands, evidence of the pain you were so desperate to get rid of just a few hours ago, “I- I don’t know. I don’t know why,” you whispered.

           Bellamy’s anger disappeared as quickly as it’d come and his expression softened as he held out a hand towards you, “Yes you do,” he responded, closing the space you’d just created, his breath grazing against your cheek. He lifted his hand up and trailed his fingers down the side of your face.

           You fought the urge to lean in to his hold and immerse yourself in what was Bellamy Blake. You desired his warmth and words and hold and simply everything he was. The good with the bad and everything in between.

           Your hand trailed up his own and you closed your eyes at the feeling. Your grip around his wrist tightened and you opened your eyes to glare daggers at the man above you before chucking his hand to the side. “Leave,” you ordered with venom.

           He furrowed his brows at your reaction and lifted his hand up again, “Why? Why can’t you just admit it?”

           “Admit what? That I thought you had a soft spot for me just to find you screwing my friend?” you hissed, “Because if that’s it then there you go. You had me fooled, Blake. Good for you. Thanks for fucking with me; now go mess someone else up because I’m done riding this rollercoaster with you.” You turned your back to him and bent over to take your shoes off, an indicator that the conversation had come to a close. “Why would you want me to confess to anything anyway? If I say the words would that end the game? Because I’m tired of playing it,”

           “That’s not why I want you to admit it to yourself and you know that!” He shouted.

           “Actually, the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not sure about you.” You turned back around and looked over his shoulder, motioning to the exit, “How about this, you go and figure out what you’re so desperate to hear me say and why you wanna hear it so bad. Then you get back to me when you figure it out. Until then,” you pointed to the entrance.

           His expression fell and you really wished you hadn’t looked down at his lips at that moment. You held fast in your stubbornness and watched with a yearning as he let your words sink in and left the tent only for Octavia to enter a few minutes later.

           “That was more than a minute,” you complained to her and she smiled sadly.

           “You needed it,”

           “Did I?” You questioned, throwing your pants off and scooting over in Octavia’s bed to make room for her.

           She copied your actions and let her hair loose from its braid before lying next to you and resting her hand on your face where you cupped her hand in yours.

           “Yes,” she muttered, “Listen, (Y/N), I know Bellamy’s an idiot but –” she shrugged her shoulders, “I know he likes you,”

           “And he’s told you this?” You urged.

           Octavia shook her head and you scoffed but she interrupted your self-pity, “He doesn’t have to. It’s how he looks at you. He always asks about you. You should’ve seen him when you were sick, he was a mess,”

           “A mess?” You hadn’t realized you’d repeated it back to her.

           “Mhmm. If it weren’t for the camp needing food for tomorrow, he never would’ve left your side,”

           “That might’ve been better, maybe I wouldn’t have caught him with Raven,” you replied.

           “Yeah, I can only defend him for so long,” she joked, looking up at you as you shared a pillow, “I’m not saying you have to forgive him. You can feel whatever you want. I’m just saying he’s clueless and he’s head over heels for you,”

           “Then why sleep with Raven?” You asked, as if she were him.

           “I don’t know, babe. Raven was trying to get over Finn . . . what if Bellamy was trying to get over you?”

           You lied on your back and sighed, “That doesn’t make sense,”

           “Not much ever does,” she said, dancing her fingertips along your arm and you faced her again, a small smile plastered to your face, your smile lines deepening with the dim lighting in the room.

           “I love you, O,”

           She smiled back at you and rolled her eyes, “I love you, too,”

           You two talked for hours that night about Lincoln and your life on the ark. You listened to her share the despair at hiding under the floorboards of her room, never getting to leave the room. You understood then how free she must be feeling. Not only does she not have to hide anymore but she practically had no parental supervision. She was free. And in love.

           The next day, you’d been stuck to Octavia’s side like glue. Even when you were sent out hunting and Bellamy insisted on going with his sister.

           The hunt was tense. No need it to be any quieter than it already was due to all the tension in the air. At one point, Octavia turned around pretending to grip at the air.

           “What are you doing?” Bellamy asked.

           “Feeling the tension,” she responded and you couldn’t help the snicker.

           Bellamy’s eyes flickered to you and the only reason you noticed was because you’d given in to throwing a few glances his way too.

           “You got a knife to cut through that tension?” He asked, once realizing the affect her joke had on you.

           You flinched at his voice, hating it and still wanting to hear more of it. But you smirked all the same at his words.

           “Well, actually –” she brought her blade out from her side, glinting it in the air and she opened her mouth to respond when you shushed her.

           She threw you an offended look but you merely held your hand up before bringing a single finger up to your lips and then pointing down at what had caught your attention. Bellamy and Octavia turned their heads in that direction and their eyes widened.

           “A deer,” Octavia gasped.

           “A doe,” Bellamy corrected and O rolled her eyes.

           You threw your gun over your shoulder and grabbed the spear tighter, making sure to stay close to the ground and hope it wasn’t a windy day. Not that you’d paid much attention to that up until that point.

           Bellamy had gone to take a step closer but you paced your hand on his chest, catching his attention. Your skin burned where you connected with him and you reluctantly pulled back and motioned to the stick he was about to step on.

           You slowly moved closer, careful of your steps. You observed as the animal drank from a stream and you almost felt bad about what was going to occur. But it was that or your people starve. You took a slow, deep breath and raise the spear above your head and threw it with all your force. Octavia shouted as your aim hit its mark and you all made your way over. You couldn’t look at the animal as you retracted your weapon and let Bellamy carry most of the weight back to the camp.

           As soon as the doe was dropped onto the ground you dropped your spear and went over to Jasper only to her footsteps erupt from behind you.

           A grip on your arm twirled you around and you raised an eyebrow at a red-eyed Raven.

           “What?” You asked, too lazy to cross your arms.

           And like the doe, you almost felt bad for her. She looked like she had beaten herself up overnight. The dark circles under her eyes highlighting her pain and the weakness in her voice tore a sympathy from you.

           “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish you would’ve told me that you liked Bellamy. I wouldn’t have even considered it if I’d known,”

           You sighed, looking down at your boots, “D-do you like him?”

           She almost chuckled at the question, “Gross,” she drawled out in typical Raven fashion and you felt the familiar tug at your lips.

           “Then why?”

           She shook her head, “I was in pain, he was in pain. We were just using each other. If anything it only made everything worse,”

           You jerked your mouth from side to side but ultimately nodded. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt you. Raven was almost, if not more, loyal than a dog to its companion. You couldn’t hold it against her. She didn’t know. Hell, you still didn’t know.

           She sighed in relief and threw her arms over you, holding you tightly to her. “Thank God,”

           For the rest of the day you helped everyone set up preparations for the party that night. You ran into Bellamy a few times but looked away and walked the other direction whenever he’d open his mouth to say anything.

           “I’ve done it!” Jasper shouted, a cup in his hand.

           “WE did it,” Monty corrected and you chuckled.

           “What did WE do?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at them.

           “Take a sip and find out, Princess.” Jasper handed the glass over to you and you brought it up to your nose to take a whiff, “I wouldn’t do that, just take a swig,”

           You rolled your eyes but tipped the glass over once the firepit had been ignited and you gagged at the taste. “That’s disgusting,” you retched but fought to swallow the liquid anyway.

           “Maybe. But it’ll get the job done,” Jasper said, wiggling his eyebrows and he refilled your cup before announcing to the camp at the miraculous concoction.

           The camp erupted in screams of excitement and they made their way over to the tent to get their share. You knew Octavia had planned to hang out with Lincoln tonight, not giving a damn about Unity Day and all. You just wished you could’ve gone with her. This party felt forced but maybe that was necessary. Everyone was stressed with adjusting to the new lifestyle so maybe getting drunk and just acting like kids was exactly what people needed.

           You walked over towards the fire, entranced how the flames danced. Jasper took his place beside you and grabbed your hand with his free hand.

           “Wanna dance?” He asked and you quirked an eyebrow.

           “Really?”

           He nodded, “Raven connected the radio to the Ark’s system so we’ve got the entire playlist at our disposal,”

           You laughed and nodded as Jasper motioned for Raven to start the music. You finished your cup and set it down before joining Jasper around the fire and let the music move through you. There was nothing sensual about the dance, it was a lot of head banging and moving in circles, screaming the lyrics out with Jasper. You were laughing too hard half the time to actually be saying the words and after you downed your third cup, things began to go fuzzy.

           “This rocks!” You motioned to the drink and threw Jasper a thumbs up as he feigned jazz hands.

           “I know!” He shouted over the music, the light of the fire glistening off the sweat on his face.

           You raised your cup in the air, the alcohol giving you a bravery you didn’t know you could attain. You moved your hips to the beat of the song, the music slithering through you and you closed your eyes, letting it consume you. The heat from the fire struck your face but you didn’t mind the warmth, you welcomed it. It was as though you and the flame were one, your strength, luminosity and heat flaring up for everyone to witness. And boy, were they witnessing.

           You’d earned a few hoots from the crowd and laughed at their crass or, rather, yours. You didn’t care who watched you move sensually. The music had controlled you and the liquid in your body let the music do as it pleased. So much so that you didn’t stop when you felt a body pressed against your back and ass. You glanced behind you and noticed a boy you’d seen from around camp. You’d never spoken to him before but he was cute enough so you threw your arm over your shoulder and led his head to your neck, letting the little butterfly kisses peppering down your shoulders excite you.  

           He handed you another drink and the heat from the fire and his body made you thirsty so you were downing them faster than you probably should have. You rested your head on his shoulder behind you and closed your eyes, your body coming alive for the first time since the Ark. When was the last time you’d been touched? You could barely remember. All you knew was that you weren’t opposed to how his hands slithered around your waist and rested on your lower stomach, his hands inching slowly towards his goal.

           You opened your eyes as the hands were ripped from your side and the presence of his body was yanked away. You turned around abruptly, tumbling slightly as you tried to process what you were seeing. Bellamy had the blonde boy by the collar and he was seething, barking orders at the poor boy to resume his position on the wall for guard duty.

           Bellamy faced you, his anger evident but you just laughed, finishing your cup and stumbling over to Jasper for more. He’d tapped out of dancing a long time ago and you sat on the ground beside him in his makeshift circle alongside Raven, Monty, Clarke, Finn, Harper and Miller.

           “Having fun?” Raven teased, watching you sway in your seat to the music.

           “I feel so good.” You nodded and they all laughed at your boldness.

           “What are we doing here?”

           “Playing a game. You wanna join?” Monty offered and you nodded.

           “Please,” you jumbled out.

           “Alright, then you’re up,” Monty said just as a presence sat down beside you, “Truth or dare?”

           “Dare,” you answered instantly, your eyes partially closed.

           “I dare you to pirouette to the fire and back,” he was starting you off easy and you groggily got up, stumbling over yourself.

           “Easy.” You raised your hand above your head and spun around, heading towards the fire.

           “You’re not spinning!” Miller shouted after you and you stopped in your tracks.

           “Are you sure?” You hollered back, looking around you, “Because everything’s spinning for me,”

           Everyone erupted with laughter but you finished your dare, needing a break midway as you fought the feeling of bile coming up.

           “Who’s next?” You asked, leaning on Jasper until the world stopped spinning.

           “Truth or dare?” Finn asked Bellamy.

           Bellamy looked up at him and shook his head, “I’m only here to watch,”

           “Then you’ve gotta leave the circle, only participants are allowed,” Clarke chastised, fake guilt plastered on.

           “Fine. Dare,”

           Bellamy completed his idiotic dare and despite his attempted straight-faced expression, you could tell he was enjoying himself. He was living the childhood he should have had. One care-free full of idiocy that would eventually become something to laugh about later.

           “Truth or dare?” You asked Jasper and he smiled.

           “Truth,” he responded.

           “Have you ever had a crush on me?” You asked bluntly.

           Jasper laughed but nodded, “Right before we became best friends,”

           “Aww, Jas. I wish you would’ve told me,” you teased.

           “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Truth or dare?” He asked you.

           “Truth,”

           “If you had to date someone here, who would it be?”

           You could feel Bellamy tense beside you but your drunken state paid no mind to it, “Myself!” You responded, “No one’s gonna treat me better or worse than I will,” you joked and Jasper rolled his eyes.

           An hour passed of your idiocy and you went from drunk to just buzzed and excused yourself from the circle to go back to the fireplace and you stood in place just admiring the flame. You took a sip from your cup and closed your eyes, the slower music now playing causing you to sway your hips ever so slightly before stumbling and hitting a warm surface.

           You looked up to see Bellamy looking down at you, concern etched in his features. “You okay there?” He asked and you nodded. “Well, don’t let me stop you,”

           You straightened up and smiled at him, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him against you as you gently swayed to the music. He tensed in your hold but managed to relax when you rested your head against his chest.

           “You smell good,” you muttered more to yourself than him.

           His chest rumbled when he chuckled and you snuggled closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you rested your arms around his neck.

           “You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

           “Yes,” you responded curtly, nodding your head in an exaggerated manner.

           You two let the silence linger, its comforting ambiance enveloping you in all it had to offer. Bellamy eventually rested his head against yours and held your hand to his chest, swaying to the soft background noise of the crackling fire.

           You hadn’t noticed everyone had turned in for the night so you and Bellamy were the only ones outside, except for the guards, of course.

           “(Y/N),” Bellamy spoke up, his whispering voice breaking the silence.

           “Hmmm?” You asked, not quite strong enough to open your eyes.

           “Please don’t hate me,”

           You stopped abruptly and stood there, processing his shaky words. You pulled your head up and stared groggily in his eyes. “What?”

           He fought the instinct to look away from your gaze. There was something about it that always made his knees go weak and don’t get him started on your smile. He’d caught himself fantasizing about that smile that was burned into his mind on multiple occasions.

           “I just – I wouldn’t be able to handle if you hated me right now,” he confessed and your gaze softened, whether it was because of the alcohol or the warmth building in your chest, you didn’t know.

           “I don’t hate you,” you admitted, “I don’t particularly like you right now but I don’t hate you,”

           Bellamy smirked at the teasing glint in your eye and he shook his head, pulling you back into him and enveloping you again.

           “Have you figured out what you want to hear me say so badly?” You asked after a few seconds.

           “Have you figured out what you don’t want to tell me?”

           “You mean that I can’t look at you without seeing you screwing Raven?” You hissed as the memory resurfaced that dull ache you’d drank away.

           “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

           You shrugged, “I don’t see why you would be. It’s not like we’re dating,”

           “I guess not, huh . . .”

           “Nope,” you said and pulled away from Bellamy, nearly tripping over your own footing. “I think I should get to bed,”

           You didn’t give him the chance to reject the idea, you merely turned away from him and stumbled towards your tent, your hands stretched out in front of you prepared to catch you in case you stumbled again.

           “At least let me carry you there,” He offered but you ignored his hand.

           You lost your footfall and prepared to hit the ground but the impact never came and you felt your body get lifted into strong arms. You huffed, looking over at Bellamy who kept his eyes forward as if he wasn’t carrying you to your tent right now.

           After the short trek, he ducked inside your tent and placed you on your makeshift bed and took off your shoes.

           “You don’t have to do that,” you slurred out, watching him as he placed your shoes at the foot of the bed.

           “No, but I want to,”

           “You want to undress me?” You asked, a scoff at the end.

           He winced and shook his head, “Not necessarily. But I would do anything to get you to stop ignoring me,”

           “Well it’s gonna take a lot more than that to get me to start talking, buddy,” you said and slowly sat up, “Hey,” you tapped Bellamy on the shoulder and he looked up to see your panicked expression and how your body began to retch.

           He quickly shot up and lifted you up before running outside your tent and holding back your hair. Had you not been so drunk, you might have felt embarrassed. He rubbed your back until you were done and helped you back into bed, spreading the sheet over your body and making his way towards the exit.

           “Bellamy?” You called out, stopping him in his tracks. “Thank you,”

           Bellamy stood there, a small smirk dancing on his features.

           “What?” You asked.

           “That’s the first time you’ve said my name,”

           You smiled and let your eyes close for the final time that night.

           It’d been difficult to face Bellamy after that. When you awoke the next morning the memories of the previous nights affairs hit you harder than a truck and you cringed at your actions. You beat yourself up at feeling him hold your hair back while you threw up the alcohol in your system. God, he’d never let you forget it. If you even spoke to him again. What were you thinking dancing with him? You looked down at your hand, a small smile forming on your lips at the remnants of how his hand felt encasing yours.

           No. You were mad at Bellamy and dancing with him that way was the exact reason you were so upset. He’d led you on for so long, led you to believe he had interests other than the ones he’d showed to a few other females when you’d first landed. He didn’t stop you from fantasizing about his lips pressed against yours and the desperation and longing that you’d feel radiating off of him.

           Maybe, just maybe, he truly didn’t know he’d been leading you on. That would be better than him willingly stringing you along.

           You couldn’t stay in your tent for the rest of the day so you threw on your shoes and unzipped the flap on your tent.

           “Ah! (Y/N), my good lady, how are you feeling?” Jasper’s voice boomed and he threw his arm over your shoulder.

           You squinted at the harsh light of the day, “Like I just deep-throated the sun,”

           Jasper raised his eyebrow, “You sure it wasn’t someone else you were deepthroating last night?” He motioned to Bellamy who was sauntering towards you.

           You lightly elbowed him and rolled your eyes, “I’m not interested in him like that,”

           “Sure, and the sun doesn’t rise in the west,”

           “It doesn’t.” You chuckled at his confusion.

           “It doesn’t?”

           You shook your head and looked over to the figure who had cleared his throat. You both faced Bellamy who eyed you nervously and handed you a cup of water.

           “For the hangover,” He explained and you tight-lined your lips and nodded in thanks.

           Bellamy eyed Jasper, an expectant look on his face.

           “I think I should go . . . anywhere but here, really,” Jasper said and you argued with him to stay but you pried his arm off of you and shrugged, “Meet me in the upper level of the dropship when you’re done,”

           “Jasper!” You shouted as he abandoned you to the lion’s den.

           I’m sorry, he mouthed.

           You sighed and faced Bellamy, “So,” you started, waiting to see where he wanted to take the conversation.

           “So,” he responded back, “how are you? Headache?”

           You shook your head and hesitantly brought the cup up to your lips, “Nope, just the burn of the sun and a dry mouth.” You held up the cup to display the solution to one of your problems.

           He nodded and you two stood there for what seemed like ages before he spoke again. “Listen (Y/N) –”

           “No,” you interjected, holding up your hand, “I actually wanna say something,”

           Bellamy appeared taken aback but agreed all the same and waited.

           “I’m sorry,”

           “What?”

           “Yeah, it was dumb to be upset about what happened. I know you don’t really care about anyone other than Octavia so thinking that you might-” you bit your lip, trying to look for a better word but realizing there probably was none, “like me was stupid. It’s just that everyone was telling me that you were interested in me but I think I was under a different impression when it came to what kind of interested you were.” You shrugged your shoulders and looked up at Bellamy whose furrowed eyebrows indicated he didn’t understand what was happening.

           “What are you talking about?” He stopped walking and stood in front of you.

           “I’ve just kind of realized that you don’t really notice when you flirt and that mislead me to think you liked me but that’s kind of my own fault,”

            “I know when I’m interested in someone,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

           “Yeah but you treat everyone the same way. There’s always teasing or flirting when you talk. That’s just how you are Bellamy and it’s ok. I just didn’t know that yet,”

           “No, (Y/N), that’s not what-”

           “I think I’m gonna go help, Jasper,” you said and brushed past him, making your way to the dropship.

           “So, how’d it go?” Jasper’s teasing voice erupted once you’d closed the latch behind you.

           “How’d what go?”

           You didn’t have to see him to know he rolled his eyes, “Fine, act like nothing happened between you and the chief last night,”

           “It didn’t,” your voice fell flat and you sat next to him to help.

           “Dude, we all saw you guys dancing together.” You tensed at the memory and he sighed, “I know what he did was messed up and I’m not gonna defend him-”

           “Good then don’t,” you huffed.

           “But all guys are idiots. Raven straight up told you she was using him to get over Finn, it hasn’t crossed your mind that Bellamy might have tried to do the same with you?”

           “Nope.” You handed him a rag and avoided his gaze, “It doesn’t make sense, I never rejected him,”

           “Never to his face,”

           “What?” You placed your hand on your hip.

           “He doesn’t get how close we are. We touch all the time, we laugh all the time, we’re best friends. He might not get that,” Jasper tried to reason, “Plus, Finn has a tendency to be touching you a lot too,”

           “You had me and then you lost me,” you admitted, watching as Jasper stopped what he was doing and dropped his hands at his sides.

           “When you were sick, you walked out of the dropship in Finn’s arms. Even Clarke was jealous enough to take you away from him,”

           “Jealous?”

           Jasper scoffed and resumed his actions, “You can’t seriously be this naïve,”

           “Jasper, you’ve known me my whole life. Yes, I can seriously be this naïve.” You both chuckled and he threw the rag back at you.

           “I’m just saying, he probably thinks you don’t like him. Especially now that you keep blowing him off.” Jasper stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking over his work and nodding his head in approval, “Alright, we’re done here. Let’s go get some food,”

           You smiled and cleaned your hands with the rag, placing it back on the chair once you were done using it. Jasper slowly opened the latch and descended down the stairs and just as you began to descend, you felt a hand on your ass.

           You looked down with curse words on the tip of your tongue and found Jasper staring at a suspicious looking Murphy.

           “Go back up,” Jasper whispered to you and your gaze flickered to Murphy’s feet where a corpse now lay.

           A soft cry escaped your lips and you grabbed the bar above you but Murphy aimed the gun at you and you froze, shaking your arm in fear as you held it up and landed next to Jasper just for him to slowly make his way towards the door.

           “Let her go, she doesn’t know what’s happening here,”

           Murphy scoffed and the sound shook you to your core, “We both know that’s bullshit. He deserved it,” he tried to reason and you shook your head in scared agreement. “He hung me,”

           “Murphy,” Jasper held one hand out in front of him and motioned for Murphy to drop the gun, “it’s okay. He deserved it,” Jasper repeated.

           Murphy wanted to believe him, you could see it cross his face for a split second but he shook his head, “No, you know what’ll happen to me if Bellamy finds out,”

           “If Bellamy finds out what?” Bellamy’s voice erupted over the walkie Jasper had hidden in his pocket.

           “Give me the radio,” Murphy threatened and took a step towards Jasper but you instinctively did the same and he raised the weapon at you again.

           You felt pathetic as the tears found their way down your face. You didn’t want Murphy to know you were terrified, he would indulge in it. But the way the barrel of the gun stared down at you caused you whimper.

           Jasper took the opportunity to bring the radio up to his lips and inform Bellamy of what was happening in the dropship. Your eyes widened as Murphy hit Jasper across the face with the gun and threw you onto the floor when he made his way to the button that would effectively hold you both hostage.

           You flew to Jasper’s side and held him in your lap. Murphy kept the gun aimed at the both of you as he spoke into the walkie. You’d spaced out his words, unable to pry your tearful gaze from the barrel centered on you.

           Murphy looked you up and down sadistically, his sly grin worrying you further. Minutes later, Murphy pressed the button to open the drop ship then grabbed you by your hair, yanking you up to your feet. The cold of the metal pressed against your cheek made you bite your lip to prevent from shaking.

           Jasper stood still in his place, unable to leave you behind but you nodded. If either of you was going to die today, it wasn’t going to be Jasper. He hesitated still but when Murphy pressed the barrel deeper into your cheek he walked out and Bellamy walked in, alerted at the sight before him.

           “Let her go, Murphy,” Bellamy warned, a venom in his voice that he couldn’t possibly back up.

           “She stays,” he replied and tightened his hold on your hair causing you to hiss in pain.

           Bellamy held up his hands, showing he was no threat, “Okay, okay,”

           “You son of a bitch,” you huffed and Murphy chuckled.

           “Bellamy was right, you’re a feisty one.” Murphy whipped you around, his malicious grin plastered wide, “Too bad such a dirty mouth is attached to such a pretty face,”

           You weren’t sure where your bravery arose from but you hacked up everything you could and spat it directly into his face.

           Murphy closed his eyes and shook his head. The pain erupted beside your eye and you were thrown onto the floor from the impact of the gun.

           “Murphy!” Bellamy shouted, “I’m the one you want, let her go!”

           You brought your hand up to the source of the red liquid dripping down your face and flinched at the sensitivity. That was definitely gonna need some tending to.

           You weren’t ready for the second blow to your face but the sting on your nose from Murphy’s boot threw your head back and you laid there immobile. You didn’t pay any mind when the blood pooled in your mouth, only attempting to hold your nose to try and calm the fire burning there.

           Murphy lifted his hand at you when you went to wipe the blood and you flinched away from him, earning a chuckle.

           “I swear to God I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Bellamy seethed.

           Murphy cocked the gun to your fetal positioned body, “You think so?”

           Bellamy tensed, “What do you want?” He yelled and you swayed your attention to him from the ground.

           Bellamy glanced at you, noticing your slight movement but his eyes told you to stay down. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if Murphy laid another hand on you and you both knew that wasn’t the smartest move currently.

           Murphy motioned towards the belt on the ground, “Pick it up.” Bellamy kept his eyes on him as he did, “Now tie it,”

           Your vision was hazy from the initial wound on your head but when you could finally make sense of what you were seeing, you whimpered.

           “Bellamy,” you cried but he didn’t tear his eyes from Murphy.

           “Don’t move,” Bellamy instructed but you sat up against the wall of the ship just for Murphy to threaten you.

           “I would listen to him, Princess,”

           You glared at him through the blood but stayed seated on the floor.

           “Now throw it over the bar,”

           Bellamy did as told and you slid your leg up quietly, making sure not to catch any attention.

           “Now let her go. She has nothing to do with this,”

           Murphy chuckled, “Oh but she does, Bells! You care about her; therefore, she’s of complete use to me in this little predicament of yours.” Murphy glanced over his shoulder at you then grabbed your arm and yanked you up, squeezing your cheeks in his hold and showing you off to Bellamy, “How could you deny yourself this, Blake?” He mumbled, pressing his nose to your neck and taking a deep whiff, “I can barely do it myself,”

           Your eyes widened at his insinuation. Murphy was a murderer but surely he wasn’t a rapist. Right? Please be right. The sob racked you before you could stop it.

           “That is, of course, unless you do everything I say,” Murphy muttered, letting his lips graze your skin ever so lightly.

           Bellamy’s jaw ticked but he didn’t hesitate to step onto the box at his feet and hang the noose around his neck.

           “Good.” Murphy tossed you towards Bellamy, “Now you tie that around his hands,”

           You looked at the rope at your feet and picked it up, looking at Bellamy through your tears. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I can’t,”

           “You will,” Murphy urged and at this point your sobs were uncontrollable.

           Bellamy looked down at you and nodded his head, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I promise. Just do as he says,”

           “Bells, I can’t,” You could barely force yourself to keep looking at Bellamy with that rope around his neck and all its implications. How did you get here? Why would Bellamy agree to be put in this position? And you would have to participate in Murphy’s sadistic ways. No. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

           “You can,” Bellamy whispered, his eyes red and brimming with tears.

           “Hurry it up!” Murphy yelled.

           “Go fuck yourself, Murphy!” You shouted.

           The bullet shot through your abdomen and you fell hard.

           “(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted but failed to register much of anything else.

           Bellamy moved to take the rope off but Murphy was quicker and kicked the box out from under Bellamy’s feet. Bell fought against the rope, twitching and twisting, grabbing the rope from under his neck but the lack of oxygen weakened him and his body flailed just as a loud noise erupted from behind you and gunfire ensued.

           Stomps vibrated past your head and you heard a scream just as your head was lifted off the ground.

           “(Y/N)!” Jasper shouted through a horrified sob, “Stay with me!”

           You were hazing in and out, barely registering the soft smacks hitting your cheeks. People were racing up the ladder but Clarke shoved through them all and yelled at everyone to leave the ship so she could attend to your wounds. The chaos drowned out her words and Jasper lifted you up into his lap, pressing against your wound to keep from bleeding out but his touch was difficult to register against you. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like anything.

           “B-Bell,” you muttered, groggily moving your head in the direction you’d last seen him and weakly pointed. You had to make sure he was okay. You couldn’t let the last time you’d see him be him hanging.

           “He’s fine,” Jasper responded, petting your hair and drawing your attention back to him. His eyes filled with tears and you meekly smiled at him.

           “I love you, Jas,”

           “No. No, no, no, no, no,” he begged, cradling you against him. “Don’t say that,”

           “Octavia, get everyone out of here!” Clarke yelled over the commotion then faced Jasper, “I need you to move out of the way, Jasper,”

           “No!” He shouted, tightening his grip on you and your quiet grunt caught his attention. He looked down at you then back to Clarke before nodding and dropping you slowly onto the floor.

           You were lifted up again and the shift pulled a shout of pain from your lips.

           “Gentle, Bellamy!” Octavia hissed and you smiled despite the stinging in your stomach.

           “Bell?” You asked through hooded eyes.

           Bellamy sniffed but nodded down at you, “I’m here, (Y/N),”

           “You’re okay . . .” you smiled up at him and coughed from the warm liquid building up in the back of your throat.

           Bellamy shot Clarke a look and placed you delicately on the same table Finn had been operated on a few weeks prior. Clarke ran to your side and lifted your shirt up, her hands feeling around your back.

           “There’s no exit wound,” she mumbled and Bellamy’s hand gripped yours tightly.

           “Which means?” Jasper asked from over her shoulder.

           “We have to get the bullet out.” Clarke whirled around and looked at Jasper, “If you’re gonna stick around, make yourself useful and get my supplies from upstairs. Pour alcohol on them first,”

           Jasper nodded and shot up the ladder. Clarke faced you again and glanced at Bellamy.

           “I’m not leaving her side,” Bellamy erupted as Clarke opened her mouth.

           “Then you’re gonna have to hold her down for this,”

           “O, keep everyone under control,” Bellamy instructed and she left the ship not a second later.

           The sound of Jasper’s boots hitting the metallic floor when he jumped off the ladder made your head spin. He dragged over a table and placed Clarke’s tools on it.

           “All sanitized,”

           Clarke grabbed an instrument off her makeshift tray and centered her attention on your paling complexion, “I’m sorry about this,”

           She motioned to Bellamy who positioned himself above you and held down your arms while Jasper did the same to your legs. Clarke dug her instrument into your body and the invasion erupted a blood-curling scream from you.

           “Clarke!” Bellamy yelled.

           “She’s bleeding too much, it’s impossible to see!”

           The instrument scavenged for the bullet and your body ignited with a searing and unusual pain. Your hips arose to try and escape the source of the torture and you thrashed about, the screams clawing their way through your throat. Jasper jumped onto the table and pinned your hips down, using all of his weight to assist Clarke.

           Your hazy vision blacked at the edges and you fought against the instinct to close your eyes. You didn’t want it to be the last time. It had become an arduous task mere seconds later and your body lacked the strength to continue.

           “(Y/N)! (Y/N), stay with me!” Bellamy shouted from above you, his voice cracking, “You can’t leave yet. Not yet,”

           You wanted to agree. Not yet. This couldn’t be the end for you. You had so many things left to do, a whole life ahead of you that was yours for the taking. But then you slumped in their hold and let unconsciousness overcome you.

           “Bellamy . . .” Clarke whispered, taking her hands away from your body and she looked up at the boy with tear-filled eyes.

           He never took his eyes off you, the weight of the earth crashing onto him, “No.” He shook his head with your hand held up to his lips, “NO!” He slammed his hand down next your head and glared up at Clarke, “Do something!”

           “Bellamy, she’s –”

           “Do something, Griffin!” He shouted over her and the stream of tears down Bellamy’s face caused her to nod.

           She returned her hands to your body and within seconds pulled the bullet from where it was lodged. She discarded the metal to the side and cleaned you up, taking a peek into the wound.

           “Doesn’t look like any organs were hit.” She grabbed the needle and thread and plunged it into your skin, pulling it out and through until the wound was sealed and the bleeding stopped.

           Clarke collapsed onto the floor and Jasper crawled off your body to sit next to her. He hadn’t really done anything but exhaustion overcame him still. Bellamy stayed perfectly still for nearly hours, your hand placed gently upon his lips.

           Eventually, after Clarke and Jasper had left to bring back some food only to find out Raven had been hit as well, Octavia crawled into the ship and sat beside her brother.

           Silence filled the room and she sat there quietly, waiting for him to be ready.

           “I hurt her,” Bellamy whispered, his eyes glued to your sickly features.

           She placed a hand on his shoulder, “No, Bells. She knew –”

           “Don’t lie to me, O.” He sniffled and his distant look made his sister uneasy. “I know she cried to you. Why else would you be so mad at me?”

           O sighed but nodded, “She-she was heartbroken,”

           He barely nodded, “That’s the last real memory she has of me. Of me hurting her,”

           Octavia didn’t know what to say, how to comfort her brother. So, she let the silence encompass them again.

           “It was stupid. Sleeping with Raven, I mean. She needed to get over Finn, I needed to get over (Y/N). I didn’t think twice about it. I just knew I had to stop obsessing over her and I-I thought sleeping with someone else would do that. I figured I just needed a lay, that that was the reason she was stuck in my head,”

           Octavia let her brother confess his sins to her, maybe it’d help him feel better.      

           “But then-” a dry chuckle escaped Bellamy’s lips, “-then she saw us and just the look she had on her face.” He shook his head and the sob racked through his body, “I fucked up!” He shouted down at (Y/N), “I’m sorry! I fucked up, I know! Please, please just come back and I’ll let you move on. I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do whatever you want but you have to wake up!”

           “Bellamy, I don’t think she’s gonna –”

           He whipped around and stared down at his sister, “She’s gonna wake up,” he hissed but Octavia knew it was a reassurance intended for himself and nodded.

           “I was actually going to say that she wouldn’t want you to let her move on. She wanted-” Octavia flinched at her word, “-wants you.” She stood up and began walked towards the exit, “Don’t let the chance pass you by if you get another one,”

           He didn’t see his sister after that. He knew she was with Lincoln and for once, he was happy about that. It’d been two days since the botched operation. Everyone had tried to convince Bellamy that you were more trouble than you were worth at this point, with the threat of Grounders constant but it became quickly apparent that anyone who spoke against you would feel Bellamy’s wraith.

           The looks of pity sent his way were worse. He’d much prefer judgement than pity. Pity meant he had lost something and he hadn’t. Your body hadn’t gotten cold and although weak, he could see the rise and fall of your chest. That was all he needed to fight for you.

           He returned to the dropship to find Jasper sat beside you, his head hung down. At the sound of Bellamy entering, he lifted his head and rolled his eyes at him.

           “Don’t you have an army to train?” Jasper hissed.

           Usually, Bellamy wouldn’t let such simple word bother him but he flinched at the accusatory tone held in Jasper’s tone. “They’re fine without me,”

           Bellamy took his usual place beside you and grabbed your hand again, letting the soft touch bring him some comfort.

           “It’s your fault, ya know,” No question about it, Jasper was informing Bellamy.

           “I know,”

           The answer took Jasper aback but his gaze remained hard, “If you hadn’t messed up so hard she wouldn’t have come to me to talk about you,”

           Bellamy took the beating, knowing he deserved it. “You don’t think I know that? Like that’s not what’s been eating me alive since this happened?” The memory of Murphy with his hands all over (Y/N) ignited his anger all over again. “I would’ve gladly taken that bullet,” he hissed, “she doesn’t deserve this. Any of this,”

           Jasper eyed him suspiciously but upon recognizing the pain hidden behind Bellamy’s eyes, his tone softened, “Well, you couldn’t really have known. Besides, I’m the one that told her to meet me here.” Jasper’s eyes scanned your body up and down, “She didn’t know she liked you. It was obvious enough but she was in denial,”

           “Denial?”

           Jasper nodded, “She couldn’t admit she liked you. That’s why you bothered her so much. That’s why what you did hurt so much. I think that’s when she realized how she felt about you. When did you know?”

           “Know what?”

           “That you love her,”

           Bellamy let Jasper’s words sink in and it was a while before he spoke up, “The night she was poisoned,” he admitted, “She cares with everything she has. Everyone should be a little more like that,”

           Jasper’s defenses fell and he nodded, “Caring has gotten her in trouble on multiple occasions,”

           Bellamy nodded, remembering how (Y/N) had stolen to save her mother and how she nearly killed herself trying to save Charlotte.

           “You know, if you’d just said something about how you felt then-”

           Bellamy shushed Jasper and his eyebrows rose in offense. He opened his mouth to speak again but Bellamy waved him off and stared at the hand he was holding, hoping to whoever was up there that he hadn’t imagined what he felt.

           Your finger twitched in his hold and Bellamy’s eyes widened, squeezing your hand back just for you to reciprocate the action. Jasper followed his line of sight and he stood up in shock when he witnessed your response.

           “Clarke!” Jasper shouted, running from the ship to come back with a cup of water.

           Bellamy smiled, watching as you stirred for the first time in days and the weight that had been on his shoulders lifted piece by piece. He could see your eyes shift under your eyelids and his heart stopped when you finally opened them.

           “B-Bellamy?” You croaked.

           Bellamy threw himself into your arms, tears streaming down his face at the sound of your voice. “(Y/N), you’re awake.” He ran a hand down your cheek and studied how your weak gaze focused on him.

           You noted how his cheeks were stained with tears and you tried raising your hand to his face to find it in his hand. You gripped his hand lightly and smiled at the disheveled looking man.

           “How long have I been out?”

           “Two days,” he responded.

           “That explains the hunger,” you joked and Bellamy stood up swiftly.

           “I can get you some food.” You tightened your grip on him as he attempted to walk away.

           “Stay. Please.” You tried not to look away from Bellamy’s gaze and he slowly took his place again, nodding. “How do you feel?”

           He chuckled, “How do I feel? You’re the one with a gunshot wound,”

           You retracted your hand and placed it on your chest before looking up at the ceiling, “I saw you hanging, Bellamy. I was so scared,” you admitted, tears beginning to build up. “I thought you were going to die,”

           Bellamy shook his head and the memory of the pressure around his neck caused him to flinch, “I’m fine, no serious damage. Just some bruising. I promise I’m okay,”

           You turned your attention back to him and a tug pulled at your lip, “I thought I’d lost you,”

           “Never.” Bellamy gazed down at you, his words holding a finality about them.

           “Promise?” You choked out and he grabbed at your hand again.

           “If you stay then so will I,”

           Clarke had told you to take it easy for the rest of the day and Miller caught you up on all the issues with the Grounders. You’d spaced out after that. You couldn’t defend yourself, let alone anyone else. You’d be a liability in this upcoming situation.

           Days later, you were up and working again. Or, whatever Bellamy passed as working. He’d given you the easy job of inventory at your insistence that he at least let you do something. The job barely took an hour to do each day and that was all the criteria you had to meet. You wanted to help with hunting but Bellamy always had someone watching over you to make sure you weren’t doing something you weren’t supposed to.

           Eventually, when Bellamy denied you another simple task, you snapped.

           “You can’t control me forever!” You yelled, your impatience reaching its peak.

           Bellamy snapped his attention back towards you, “Like hell I can’t! Clarke gave clear instructions to take it easy and that’s what you’re going to do!”

           “I can do more! I’m needed on watch or for hunting and I feel decent enough to do it!”

           “Decent isn’t good. It’s mediocre and not good enough. You’re not going on another hunt for a long time,”

           “WHY?” You shouted.

           “Because!”

           “Because what, Blake?”

           His frustration grew evident on his face, “Because-Because . . .” his loud tone further riled you. “Because I can’t lose you,”

           You froze, all the building anger completely dissipated at once. “What?”

           Bellamy screamed in anger, throwing a useless bullet across the room and you jumped, watching as it hit the wall.

           He ran a hand through his tangled hair and dropped his head, “I can’t lose you. Not after what happened,”

           Despite feeling roots take place in your spot, you trudged out of place and walked over to Bellamy’s distraught figure and placed a hand on his shoulder only for him to grab your hand and bring you against him.

           “Just stay here. You’re safest here,” he tried to reason, his hand coming up to your head and petting your hair.

           “Bellamy, I’ll be fine,”

           “Please don’t argue with me on this. You’re not fully healed yet, you need to get better before you get out there again,”

           You brought your arms up and wrapped them around his torso, pulling him closer against you. His warmth had been something you missed since all those days ago in the cave. It was welcoming and brought a comfort you couldn’t deny yourself any longer. No stubbornness could cease you from allowing yourself what he had to offer.

           “I know what happened was scary,” you started and despite feeling him tense, you continued, “but this is part of our new life. Hunting, fighting, death. We’re too busy to really live, just surviving day by day. And I have to help,”

           “No,” Bellamy said and pulled away.

           “Bellamy,”

           “No!” Bellamy whipped around but you’d already seen the tears on his face.

           You grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, “It’s not a big deal-”

           “I love you, (Y/N)!” He shouted, “And I cannot lose you!”

           You were planted in your spot, his words sinking deep into you until they absorbed into your very being. “Bellamy,”

           “Don’t. I don’t wanna hear about how you wanna throw yourself into the front lines even though you just escaped it!” He shook his head, “I don’t know if you have a death wish or something but –”

           “Kiss me,”

           Bellamy stopped mid-rant and glanced down at you, bewildered. He scanned your face hesitantly then closed the space between you, his hand snaking around your back and the other resting on your jawline. He pulled you into him and you ignited when your chest pressed into his, his warmth radiating a comfort and safety you immersed in.

           He gazed down at you, his hand guiding your chin up slightly parallel to his face. “Say it again,”

           “Kiss me.” You whispered against his lips.

           He leaned down and hovered his lips above yours, taking in everything you were, and pressed his lips against your own. Your body livened at the contact and you sighed out. His plump lips trailed along yours, twisting and adjusting as you pushed further into it, wrapping your hand up to grasp his and bringing the other behind his neck to engross him further.

         They were strangely soft, his lips; not the chapped mess you’d thought they would be. You danced in sync with his motions, the two of you pulling at each other as though the worst would happen if you were to pry apart. So, you stayed like that, melting into each other, your desperation and longing transmitting through the place of contact.

         When you two finally did pull away, it was by millimeters and the only thing you could hear was both your breathing. Bellamy had a broad smile crawling onto his face, his teeth fully exposed and his eyes closed, like he was stuck in the previous moment.

         “I love you.” He panted out again and you mirrored his smile before placing a delicate peck on his lips.

        “And what exactly does that mean?” You challenged.

        “It means, I’m yours.” His thumb grazed across your bottom lip. “If you’ll have me, that is,”

        You could roll your eyes at this womanizer but decided to relish in the moment instead, “I don’t like to share, Bellamy,” you warned, ignoring the quick pang of memory from before.

       “Neither do I,”

       “Then it’s settled,”

       “Wow, you’re so romantic.” Bellamy chuckled and this time you did roll your eyes.

       “I’m yours,” you tried again, feeding him the romance he desired and judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he’d eaten it up.

           Lincoln stealthily made his way over to the bloodied, unconscious body sprawled on the ground. He scanned her face, moving a new dread off the dry, red spot on her cheek.

           You smiled at his gentleness, knowing how his rough but soft actions felt on your own cheek with similar but not the same tenderness behind it. You’d grown up with those calloused hands comforting you and you couldn’t thank Lincoln enough for being your salvation. So, when he spoke of the Sky People who had taken up residency near his hideout, you’d agreed to stakeout the area with him but when his eye caught the sight of an amused butterfly, you’d warned him endlessly of the consequences, begging him to get over his mistaken fondness of the blue-eyed beauty.

           Of course, he’d given you one of his deep chuckles and a side-eye that warned of your ignorance and you knew no matter your argument, it would fall upon deaf ears. The same stubbornness that made you the warrior you are was the same stubbornness that spared your life as a child. The shudder that ran up your back from the memory of those cold nights caused you to stumble forward and you cursed yourself at the snap of a twig underneath your weight.

           Lincoln stiffed and you gruffed, acknowledging the mistake was your own and it wouldn’t happen again. He eased the girl onto both shoulders and you waited until he was a few paces away before turning your back to the weak glow of orange emanating from behind the walls.

~

           It’d been a few hours since Lincoln and his interest had met and it had gone surprisingly well considering she tried to run away, like, a hundred times. You liked her enough. You understood Lincoln’s interest in her beauty. If he hadn’t essentially called dibs, you might’ve made a pass at her yourself.

           “Be careful, Lincoln,” you warned as he made his way back from chaining her back up again. “They’re murderers,” you hissed, “everything we hate,”

           “She is not her people, (Y/N),” Lincoln barely muttered back in rebuttal.

           “She is her people, they are her!” You spat, reckless of the attention you may catch from curious Mountain Men. “You have let your emotions drive you long enough! You risk banishment for a stranger!”

           “You were your people and yet you are nothing like them!” He shouted, his nostrils flaring and his steps moving towards you. You couldn’t help but to look away from him at his intimidating stature.

           You ignored the ache of a pit building in your throat and you managed to pry your gaze to his, “Lincoln,” you croaked, “you know nothing of her, she doesn’t understand us or our ways. Anyone from Tondc would be better suited for you.” You took a step back to create some distance as the tension in the cluttered space rose, “And you wouldn’t be killed for it,”

           It took Lincoln one step to close the distance you’d created in three and the strain in your throat intensified. You hated when he used his height to intimidate you. It wasn’t fair and he knew of your annoyance with it.

           When his hand rose you flinched, an instinct created thanks to his father, but the blow never met your face. Of course, it didn’t. Lincoln was not his father. The rough tips of his fingers dug into your back and pulled you into his chest, his arms enveloping you into himself and prying you from the tree you’d been leaning on.

           “You worry too much, Mouse,” he whispers and the older, wiser, brotherly tone that he used put you at ease.

           “You will put everyone in danger. Nyko, Octavia . . . me,” you pleaded.

           You gently pulled away and trudged over to the mess of pencils he made by his open journal, picking each stick up one at a time off the rocks next to the opening.

           “(Y/N), I would not take this lightly if I believed there was any danger invol-”

Snap.

           You held up your hand just as Lincoln silenced his voice. Where? Where was it coming from?

           Another crack of a twig snapped your attention to the left and you waited for consistency, an increase or decrease in volume and footfall. Were they riding on horses or on their feet? If they caught Lincoln with a Sky Person he would never give her up for your safety. That’s not his character.

           You faced back towards Lincoln and pulled your sword from its sheath, “No danger, huh?” You growled, already heading towards the source of the noise and not checking to see if Lincoln was behind you.

           You flew through the trees, watching your step and landing lightly as you went. You crouched down as the sound approached and you used the darkness of the ground and trees to disguise yourself.

How many were there? Three? Maybe four? And they weren’t your own. The footfalls were too heavy and sloppy.

           The spear flying through the air swiped your vision and broke your concentration. It wasn’t aiming at you though. Aim would have been too lousy for your people had you been the target which means –

           The force that hit your chest toppled you off your feet and slammed your back against a nearby boulder. The breath was knocked from your lungs and the pain shot through your back and the base of your head, causing your vision to blur momentarily.

           The weight on your chest held you down and the forearm pressed against your throat had you gasping for air. You blinked away the pain and tears, your arms attempting to weakly grasp at the arm suffocating you. You clawed at the thick arm and despite your meager attempt, the pressure lifted slightly.

           Breathe. In. Out. Ignore the sting in your back. Breathe.

           Your grip tightened around the closest neck and you dug your nails deep, earning a hiss of pain from the source. You focused on the figure above you, looking all over the man who had your life in the palm of his hand. You pulled your hand back, balling it up into a fist and scanning for any available space you could find to drive your hand into. His body was too close to yours to make any real damage hitting him on his abdomen and jabbing his arm would hardly cause him to release his hold on you. You searched for his neck but in the midst of the struggling it wasn’t a reliable shot.

           Higher. His jaw. No. Higher. Lips. Higher. Nose. There.

           You pushed your shoulder up against his weight, creating enough distance for you to cock your head back and – stop.

           His eyes. The dark brown hue of his orbs caught you by surprise. Why? You’d seen brown eyes before. Almost every one of your people had them. But not like him. Not attached to the person whom they belonged to.

           You hadn’t noticed the lack of struggle on both your ends when you caught him already scanning your face up and down, landing on its opposite orbs. He raised an eyebrow slightly and bore his gaze into your own, demanding a hidden knowledge that yours refused to share.

           “Wh-who are you?” He whispered, his breath lightly brushing past your cheek.

           Your chest rose with the intake of your breath and with the added space, you reeled back and slammed your forehead against his cheek, cursing at the pain exploding on your face and for missing your target.

           “Bellamy!” A voice cried out from behind him and you used the distraction to thrust your knee into his abdomen and roll him off of you only to be thrown against the ground again with less mercy than previously administered.

           “Shit,” you muttered in your tongue.

           “I’ve got her!” he shouted, flipping you over and forcing your hands behind your back.

           “Finn!” Another voice erupted from your surrounding and you lifted your head just as an arrow landed a few feet away from your head.

           They missed on purpose? You looked around for the shooter only to be met with the sound of Lincoln’s horn penetrating throughout the area.

           The steady footfalls around you cease and retreated to find shelter from the burning mist that would approach.

           “Acid fog,” The man you come to know as Finn mumbled. “We need to find shelter!”

           “What about her?” a third man in the group hastily asked.

           “Leave her out for the fog to claim!” a woman’s voice now.

           “No. We need her, we have to find Octavia,” Bellamy, or who you presumed was Bellamy, retorted.

           “We can’t leave her out here, the fog would kill-” a heavy force knocked your captor off your back and your arms were yours to reclaim.

           You shot off the ground, ignoring the dull throb in your back and arms and searched the ground for your sword. There. You kept your eyes locked on your weapon and kicked someone’s feet out from under them as they reached for your property. You faced your opponent and lifted the sharp metal from the leaves to see Lincoln with his blade lodged into the ribs of a pale, black-haired boy and a woman and man nearby with spears through their chests. Not Lincoln’s doing. Looks like some of your people managed to get in a last attack before running.

           “Go!” Lincoln shouted, his voice deep and menacing to the others who didn’t understand your language.

           “They seek Octavia!” You shouted back, driving your shoulder into a boy who’d planned to attack your brother. “Give her to them!”

           “(Y/N), I said go!” He grunted from the pain of a fist meeting his face and you hissed at the attacker.

           “If you will not give her up, I will,” you warned, turning away from Lincoln and running towards where she was being held.

           The burn in your legs didn’t stop you from pushing through until the sight of the opening was visible. If he made it out of this, he was going to get hell from you. You slid into the opening and snatched up the key from its spot below Lincoln’s sketches before shoving it into the writhing girl’s chains and freeing her from her ‘captivity’.

           “Leave,” You growled, despite knowing she wouldn’t understand you.

           Her bright blue eyes bore into yours and you recognized the demandingness of its stare. Her eyes flicked up past yours and centered in behind you. You galvanized from your spot and shot out to grab the collar of her shirt, bringing your dagger up to the vulnerable skin on her neck.

           Just as you assumed, one of the men from before had followed you into the hut.

           “Octavia!” He shouted; his body slightly crouched in anticipation for your movement.

           “Bells!” Octavia called back, moving forward only to be stopped by the blade digging deeper into her neck.

           You cocked your head to the side in amusement. There was love between the two but not a longing, that much was evident. They shared similar traits in action but not much in resemblance. Possibly family? Distant?

           You brought the blade higher up into the artery that would end her life in seconds if sliced, “Out!” You growled, your head motioning to the entrance. “Leave, Sky People,”

           It took the man, Bellamy, a moment to catch on to your demands as he noticed your focus on the exit.

           “We’ll go,” he stated, his hands up in surrender.

           He took a step back and you took its equal step forward, pushing Octavia out with you. He left the cave and waited at a distance for his beloved to be set free by you. Once out in the open, the dark clouds looming above the sky caught your attention.

           “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself, realizing a storm was quickly approaching and Lincoln was still left out with no shelter.

           You shoved the girl to her rescuer, threatening in your native tongue that if they returned you wouldn’t hesitate to slice off each of their fingers and make them eat it. Then, turning your attention behind them, dashed once again into the calling trees.

~

           An hour. It’d been almost an hour since you started searching for Lincoln. Tried to bring him back to shelter and keep out of the storm but it was no use. The rain was coming down hard at this point and you could barely manage to see your immediate surrounding area.

           Lincoln was gone. Probably stolen by the Sky People. No assumptions. You had to check for yourself. You stumbled through the reckoning rain and towards the cave you shared with your brother. When you came upon it empty, your assumptions were no longer just that. They had taken him.

And you were going to get him back.

~

           You let your memory take over, letting your hands confirm posts you left behind to mark your path and feeling the leaves of the tree the glowing butterflies called their home. You were almost there.

           You were drenched. Cold. And covered in mud. But you didn’t mind. The mud was a good replacement for the paint that had been washed away in the rain and the way the water soaked your hair must have helped to make you look menacing and unpredictable.

           You lifted your feet despite the pull of the mud and the burn of your calves and only stopped the struggled when your hand came in contact with a drenched, wooden wall meant to keep you out. You let your hands lead the way, feeling up and down for a crack of any sort that you could expand or wiggle through but when you stumbled across a wide-open door, you thanked the universe for its mercy. They must’ve been so afraid of the storm they forgot to lock up after themselves.

           You fought against the perilous winds and threw your body towards the one shelter they had that could withstand the intensity of the weather. And you knocked. Hard.

           You grabbed the sword strapped on your back and slammed it against the metal container before the people inside realized it was a pattern and not a causation of the storm.

           “Sky People!” You screamed, though your voice was barely audible through the whistling of the wind and you struggled to stand up straight any longer. “Release him!”

           You kicked and banged and shouted for attention. All of this because Lincoln was fond of an outsider. Hell would be a merciful debt for Lincoln to pay.

           The sounds of your desperation were lost in the chaos but much to your appreciation, the metal contraption began to open. You didn’t wait. You shot through the side once wide enough and tumbled onto the cold ground, hissing as pain shot through your shoulder.

           “Who the hell is that?” You heard a girl shout before your arm was harshly gripped and your body forced to stand up to meet your enemies.

           A girl, pretty and menacing, stood before you, her eyes red with tears as she clung to the side of the boy from earlier who now lay still and pale in the middle of the room. You observed the body, noting the sloppy sewing and smirked. Pulling the dagger out would not be a problem, the problem would be the poison laced on the tip of Lincoln’s blade that now made its home in the boy’s bloodstream.

           Unfortunately, the girl yelling from your intrusion caught the attention of the others in the contraption above and you barely had time to dodge the fist thrown your way once he’d landed on his feet. You used his force to redirect his punch and used his weight against him, toppling him over onto his side and shoving your knee on his neck, suffocating him. You quickly looked back at the girl, knowing just from her defensive stature that she may be a threat but never got looked away for too long. After all, the man that lay under your knee was struggling to get out of your grasp and once he was out you could move on to whoever came next.

           Look back.

           You accounted for the girl’s distance, noticing it had shortened minimally. You smirked as the flailing body slowed its actions and grabbed your dagger from your boot, displaying its presence to the daring woman. Once the struggle stopped you stood up, your lungs still burning from before and your hair soaked to your face. You did your best to stare daggers at the motionless girl before you, warning her that if she moved that would be it for her.

           But where were the men from before?

           You scanned the room, taking in the aura of its immediacy and keeping an eye out for anyone hidden in the shadows. But there was no one. Only the girl guarding the boy – Finn’s – body. That’s when you finally heard the commotion coming from above. He must be there, amongst all the screaming and hollering.

           You turned your head towards the source of the noise but resisted the urge to go to Lincoln. Instead, you turned back towards the girl who so fiercely protected a man she clearly loved. And you took a step towards them.

           She didn’t hesitate to grab anything she could from the surface of a table nearby. She held it up and towards you but your attention was drawn towards the sickly-looking man on the table. He’d been the one to pin you back down after you’d managed to get away from your first attacker. The natural disdain you’d feel for an enemy was not present though. When he thought the fog was coming, he made it clear he would not leave you for dead. This man, this dying man in front of you, was a man of peace. And if Lincoln taught you anything, it was that your people could use more peacekeepers.

           So, you sheathed your knife back into your boot and raised your hands, tiptoeing over to Finn. The girl raised her makeshift weapon higher and you stopped in your tracks, knowing if it came down to hand-to-hand combat, you’d be fine but that wasn’t what you wanted. A trickle of liquid made its way down your face and you weren’t sure if it was from your sweat or the soaked hairs on your head but guessing from the heat in your face, you’d assumed the first.

           You kept your gaze on her, every now and then looking back at Finn. He’d been merciful and now you wanted to do the same for him. Eventually, she caught on to your gazes and stepped further in front of him. You didn’t have time for this, the paleness of his skin, his shortness of breath, he didn’t have much time and you were sitting here wasting it on his lover.

           You huffed and charged towards her, your dagger was sheathed and did not need to be pulled out for this battle. She swung a piece of metal and you dodged it, grabbing her by her wrist and kicking the back of her knee and the crash her body made onto the floor had been harsher than you intended but it would get the job done.

           You released your grip on her and headed towards Finn. He looked worse up close. The brims of his eyes were dark and puffy and he was covered in sweat, the liquid soaking through his locks. You pushed the strands away from his face and rested your head against his chest, trying desperately to hear the beating of a heart but chaos of the storm drowned it out. You made your way to his head, lifting it slightly and placed your hand on the side of his neck and sighed when you felt the familiar thumping.

           The girl had already gotten up but stood in her place as she observed your actions. She could tell you were no threat. No enemy checks their opponent’s well being before taking their life. You were helping.

           She took a glide towards you, “Do you know how to help him?” she asked and you flinched at the strength of her tone. She may be okay with your helping but that didn’t mean the others would be.

           You raised your sight up to her and pulled your hand away from Finn’s neck. You raised an eyebrow at her. Were you going to speak back? Lincoln would not approve if they knew you were both capable of speaking English. Not knowing their tongue would be the only thing keeping him alive if they were trying to figure out how to save their comrade.

           You pointed to the wound, “Poison,” you muttered in your language.

           She nodded quickly, like she couldn’t stop and flew back to his side, grabbing his clammy hand in hers, “Yes. Yes, he’s sick! We- there- you have to have something that can help him!” she cried, the desperation that controlled her made her sputter her words out almost incoherently.

           “Lincoln,” you uttered and she furrowed her eyebrows.

           “Lincoln?” she shook her head, “You mean the guy upstairs? I-I can take you to him but you have to save Finn,”

           It wasn’t something you had to consider before deciding. You already knew that was your intention. You wouldn’t just leave him to die after his consideration for you, though your people would have your head for helping those that burned down their village.

           “Lincoln,” you spoke a bit more hastily after hearing the yelling from upstairs intensify.

           The girl gripped your forearm and it took all your self-control not to rip it from her hold. Instead, you let her lead the way up the ladder, “You have to help Finn,” she stated before opening the door to the above level.

           You didn’t say anything, only looking back at the body she was pointing to and nodded.

           She turned the latch and crawled up through the opening but held her hand out to keep you from following her. Your sweaty hand gripped the ladder tightly and you watched as she stood up, catching the attention of her people.

           “Don’t freak out,” was the first thing she said but you could tell from the ruckus and groans that Lincoln was in pain and your patience began to wear thin. “She’s gonna help Finn,” she croaked through tears and dropped her hand, signaling for you to join the ranks.

           You stepped up slowly, not wanting them to think you were a threat. But when your eyes landed on the bloodied body of your brother, the cry that left your mouth was involuntary.

           “What have they done to you?” You yelled, rushing towards him only to be stopped midway by a blonde girl and thrashed about by a man that stood guard nearby.

           You landed hard on the ground, pain shooting up your arm and the dull throb that you barely took notice of came back at full force.

           “What are you doing?” The girl from below yelled at the man.

           “What the hell is she doing here? Why would you let her in?” He screamed back at her but she didn’t stand down, the fire in her eyes burning stronger than before.

           She came to your side and the blue-eyed beauty, Octavia, also assisted in helping you up.

           “Raven, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” A blonde girl spoke up and you glared at her.

           Raven, the girl who brought you up here, mimicked your action, “She’s capable of saving Finn,”

           And that was the end of the argument.

           They brought you towards Lincoln and the open wounds on his body elicited the same fire Raven was fueling from. They let go of you and you stood on your own, your hand gripping the base of your elbow in pain but it must have been nothing compared to Lincoln’s pain so you dropped the display of weakness.

           You took a step back to assess his wounds and your heart stopped at the metal stabbed through his hand. You croaked and couldn’t stop the tear trickling down your face. You were tempted to throw yourself at him and embrace him but it would only cause him pain.

           “Who did this?” You asked him, the menace in your voice clear.

           Lincoln could barely lift his head from the pain and fatigue. “Who did this?” You shouted at him, the tension in the room rising as your breathing grew louder and deeper.

           Your face grew red with heat and you cursed yourself for the tears threatening to continue spilling over around these cruel people.

           “(Y/N), go,” Lincoln hardly managed to command and the lump in your throat returned.

           “Lincoln,” you whimpered, not caring about your audience as your hand grazed lightly over his body, resting on the screw in his hand and gripping it, “why have you let them do this?” You pulled the screw out and he groaned in pain.

           “Let them?” Lincoln challenged despite his position.

           “Let. Them.” You growled, not standing down from him probably due to the fact that he was chained up. “I warned you about them!” You spat, turning around and glaring at everyone with the bloody weapon in your grasp. “They are menaces. They know nothing of peace! Look at what they have done to you! And for what? An antidote that you refuse to give them! You have let this come upon you.” You scanned the crowd, ignoring those you figured could not bring themselves to torture someone this way, “Now, who did this to you?”

           “What are they saying?” The blonde girl asked the others, as if they would know.

           “I don’t know,” a dark-skinned boy with black hair said, “But I’m not gonna sit around to find out.” He took a step towards you and you lifted the screw up, ready to jab it into his eye if he wanted to overcome you.

           “Miller,” A menacing voice warned, stopping the boy in his tracks and you turned towards the leader, or who you had assumed was the leader.

           Your hand wavered slightly. The boy from before. Your first attacker. The one whose eyes would be a blessing to remember but a curse to own. There was a fear and desperation behind them earlier, an emotion that you could feel from him and for some ridiculous reason, wanted to save him from.

           Now, he feigned the stature of a leader. His voice, deep as it was, dropped a few octaves and the fear and desperation from before were cloaked in a dangerous glare that warned his comrade. But you knew better. The danger was only a cover, not a replacement. His fear was still there.

           “(Y/N),” Lincoln mumbled, a drop of bloody saliva seeping out of his mouth.

           “(Y-Y/N)?” The leader spoke up, his hand raised to show his submission, “Is that your name?”

           You scoffed, facing Lincoln again and swallowing your anger before dropping down to the ground and finding his bag of ointments, “Which one is the antidote, Lincoln?” You asked. You and Lincoln learned to use multiple poisons to avoid others from healing their people so quickly. Some antidotes would only make the symptoms worse, so only the correct one is the answer without harming Finn any more than he already was.

           Your hands sprawled over the bottle of vials, grabbing all three antidotes in the pouch and bringing it up to his face. “Which one?” You growled only to be met with silence and judgement, “Lincoln, I do not have time for this. You do not have time for this. You need to be healed back home. Tell me, now.”

           Lincoln glared at you through drooping eyes, his exterior hard and near impenetrable. “Leave, (Y/N). They will not spare us after their friend heals. Get out,”

           You shut your eyes in frustration, your tight grip on the vials nearly smashed the glass under your fingers but you refrained. The tears began spilling again and the anger subsided to make way for agony. Your knees grew weak and you dropped in your place, crashing onto the floor and feeling fatigue begin to take over from the trek to the camp. “Please,” you plead, your voice cracking in weakness and you wanted to remain strong. To intimidate your enemies and show them that you were not to be underestimated but Lincoln’s stubbornness was an obstacle you needed to break through. They would kill him if you didn’t.

           “The purple one,” he stated after seconds passed of silence and tension spreading in the room.

           You looked up at him, your gaze thanking him more than your words ever could and grabbed the purple vial and handed it to Raven. She sighed in relief and grabbed the glass bottle before hurrying downstairs to be followed by the blonde girl.

           “Now let them go,” Octavia tried to command but her wavering voice and small figure spoke otherwise.

           “Or get rid of them,” Miller spoke up from the shadows of the room.

           Your head snapped up to Lincoln, looking at the contraption holding him in place. You could easily release his hands from their binds but he had chains on his legs and that wasn’t an option without the key.

           Looks like you were just going to have to kill them all on your own.

           You stood up and faced Miller, shielding Lincoln’s body with your own. You drew attention to the screw in your hand and he flashed his gun. This is the first time you noticed they were in possession of those kinds of weapons.

           Octavia stood in front of you when Miller took a step forward. “Bellamy, they saved Finn’s life,”

           “After almost taking it!” Miller shouted and you took a small step back, feeling Lincoln’s body behind you.

           “You are the murderers!” You shouted in your tongue, spitting at the ground where Miller stood.

           He brought his gun up and pointed it at you just before the one who is called Bellamy, punched him in the face. “You dumbass, you could hit Octavia.” He scolded. “But he’s right. We can’t just let them go. They’re gonna bring their people here and-”

           “Our people already know your location, fool. Your ignorance will be your death!”

           “(Y/N)!” Lincoln shouted, seeming to catch the attention of the entire camp had the storm outside not been occurring. He dropped his voice down to a whisper, “Do not make things worse out of pride,”

           You sighed, hating how right he was, and lowered your defenses, dropping the bloody screw and hearing it clash against the floor. Octavia turned around to face you and despite her assistance, you kept your gaze on her cold and unwelcoming. She peeked over your shoulder at the wounded man behind you but you held your ground, not moving even when the longing in her look was evident.

           Bellamy took a few steps towards you and after acknowledging his sister, slowly stuck his hand out in your direction.

  You watched how his eyes never met yours, how his throat strained at the guilt mingling in his voice and how he looked down at his phone expectantly, his gaze roaming back and forth from the floor to his screen.

  “Who are you waiting for?” You twirled the liquid around in the glass, your elbow rested on the hand wrapped around your own waist.

  For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Elijah looked up at you and there was an honesty, a hidden pain behind his gaze that triggered the reality of his words in your soul. You exhaled the little breath you withheld and a tight knot formed in the pit of your throat. He wasn’t kidding. You fought the sudden overpowering ache in your chest and forced yourself to blink away the tears threatening to spill over despite never being afraid to cry in his presence before and the glass slipped from your grasp.

 You were sure the shattering of the crystal was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the household but no one came and it dawned on you that they knew that this was coming. They knew what was happening and they had been ordered to stay out of it.

  “Why?” you croaked through the pain in your throat.

  His phone lit up. Your attention shot to the device on the side table and the name sprawled across the screen clenched at your heart.

Hayley.

He pried his sight away from the black screen and his flared nostrils mixed with the red rim of his gaze spoke volumes louder than his words ever could.

“For her?” You cursed yourself for emitting so much vulnerability in your tone, “You’re leaving me for her?”

“I-I love her,”

“You love me!” You shouted, stepping around the shattered glass that lay around your barren feet. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“(Y/N), I – ”

“Does she cloud your judgement so much? So much so that you forget the promises you’ve made me?” You clamped your hand on his jaw and jerk his face towards yours. If he was gonna do this then he would have to bare witness to your pain.

“She clouds nothing!” Elijah yelled, the pain in his voice constricting his words.

Your eyes studied his own, observing how his gaze never landed on yours and danced across the room. You felt the beginnings of stubble under your fingers and the smell of him, of his scent, was among the many things you were to miss.

“You’re lying to me, Elijah,” You hissed, the tears no longer contained by your lids, “I know when you’re lying,”

Elijah gripped your hand painfully and pried it from his face, “You believe what you choose to despite me telling you what’s true,”

“It’s not!” You shouted, ignoring the pain shooting up from the sole of your foot.

Elijah looked down, already smelling the cause of your pain and unlike his usual mannerism, ignored it and held strong in his words. He was showing that he cared nothing for you anymore. You were no longer his concern. And that went into effect immediately.

His glare bore into yours and a ferocity that replaced his pain urged him on despite how much he knew he was hurting you. It had to be done.

“You have ‘til the end of the night to find somewhere. If not, I’ll personally escort you off the premises,”

Your glare softened and disbelief took over, “E-Elijah,”

He bent over ever so slightly so he was at your level and you took a step back to make up for his intimidation, “Get. Out.”

~

Four years. It’d been four years since you’d last seen Elijah.

That night you called Damon and he offered you his home with open arms. Very un-Damon like but you sighed with relief when he did. Your family was back in Mystic Falls and although they’d be the logical option to move in with, your brother had a wife and you didn’t want to intrude on that.

The first year was hard for you. Everything about everything reminded you of Elijah. The kindness in your friends, the suits on Damon, the morality of Alaric. It was all too much for too long. Then Bonnie came up with a solution, temporary of course. She offered alleviation. A numbness without a cold. You would feel nothing but a dull ache while you sorted your pain out. Eventually, it worked.

These days, Elijah was the last thing on your mind, truly. You’d moved on, lived your life and stuck with Damon as a weird duo but you’d retained your mortality, until you were ready to give it up anyway. Or so he offered. But you weren’t sure. You couldn’t trade all that you currently had for immorality.

And as you sat on the chair outside The Grill, waiting for your food and drink, the reason for your hesitation waddled out of the restaurant, her eyes looking for your familiar figure. Your smile met your eyes as you outstretched your hands, repeatedly closing and opening your fists to motion for her to come to you. Her laugh brought a joy to your ears you’d long thought you’d lost but she rejuvenated you.

“Where’s Daddy?” You asked, not waiting for a reply. “Where’d he run off to?” You continued your chatter with her, not noticing the figure walking up to you.

“(Y/n) . . .” a voice emerged from behind you and your heart twisted in your chest.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around, afraid of seeing who you thought it was. Or worse, not seeing him at all. Your body shook but for what you didn’t know. Was it agony? Anger? Excitement? You didn’t have enough time to ponder its reasoning before he spoke your name again and you slowly turned around.

And seeing him now hurt just as much as when he’d kicked you to the curb.

“Elijah,” you whispered, afraid at how weak your voice sounded.

You watched as he looked you up and down slowly, not in a way to objectify you but like he was taking you in all over again. Like the first time he’d ever set eyes on you.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked before a tugging on your leggings caught your attention and you looked down to see the toddler’s hands reaching out for you.

“Up!” she demanded and you contemplated it momentarily, afraid you’d honestly drop her from how hard your body shook but you seceded and picked up her light figure, resting her on your hips.

Elijah observed as your motherly instincts took over and a tightening in his chest that he’d felt throughout the years came back with a ferocity. It was too late. Unless . . .

He watched how you almost hid the girl from him, as though you were afraid he would notice something about her and the tightening twisted into physical pain at the thought that crossed his mind but he couldn’t help but ask.

“I-is that . . . I mean, is she,” but he couldn’t find the words, rather he pointed to you and then to himself. Normally, he wouldn’t even have considered the idea but Klaus managed to have a child with Hayley so anything could be possible, he thought. He hoped.

You twisted the child away ever so slightly and shook your head, “She’s not yours if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He smiled sadly at the child and stared down at you, of course she wasn’t his. That’d be more ‘good’ than he deserved. Especially considering how he behaved the last time he saw you. But he needed you gone, needed you safe. And you were.

The ache pulled at his stomach and made its way up to his throat, cramping it up. He’d waited too long to come back for you. How foolish he was to think you’d wait for him.

“She looks like you,”

You nodded and jumped up to raise her higher onto your hip, “I get that a lot,”

Moments of silence passed between you before you cleared your throat and shook him from his fantasies.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I have business to attend to,” he whirled around and took elegant but hasty strides away from you.

Oh God. Don’t go.

“Elijah,” you whispered, knowing he heard you despite the hush of your tone but he didn’t look back. He never looked back.

~

“It’s too late, Klaus. I’ve lost her,” The words burned Elijah’s throat as he spoke them.

“That’s not possible, Elijah. The woman’s in love with you,” Klaus responded, bearing no mind to the pain that his brother was living through. “You snap your fingers and she’ll come crawling back to you I know it-”

“She has a child, Klaus. A daughter.” Elijah whisked back the drink in his hand, staring menacingly at the lit fireplace.

Klaus raised his brow, “How old is the child?” He asked, the same curious tone that Elijah emitted not too long ago.

“Three, maybe four,” he responded.

Klaus’ eyebrows raised even higher, “Could it be-”

“She’s not.” Elijah silenced his brother in his retort. The topic would no longer be discussed.

“I see,” Klaus rested lazily back in his seat, “That’s too bad, Hope could do with a cousin her age,”

“This is your fault,” Elijah spoke, no specific emotion prevalent in his words.

Klaus let the silence go on for a beat too long, not knowing what he could say to calm the heartbreak of his elder brother. “You know she wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t broken her heart, Elijah. She’s a stubborn one. She would’ve stayed for the war and then you’d have truly lost her forever,”

Elijah chewed on the inside of his cheek, the resentment he had for his brother at a point he wasn’t aware it could reach, “I already have,”

~

By the time you pulled in to the driveway you were practically a mess, only holding it together for a few more moments before you were going to implode.

“Let’s go,” you said, unbuckling her tiny body from the new car seat you bought and walked her over to the front door before looking at the man standing beside you and waiting for him to pull out his keys. When he gave you a sheepish smile, you rolled your eyes and knocked on the door. 

The seconds of silence that passed gave you the opportunity to immerse yourself in the pain you’d avoided for years now and if the door wasn’t opened soon you wouldn’t be able to hold it together for much longer.

“Mommy!” The door creaked open and she ran up to her mother and jumped into her arms.

“How was she?” she asked and you smiled, hoping the man beside you couldn’t see the pain in your action but he knew you too well to not notice.

“She was great. We went for ice cream and took a walk around the park then played on the swing set.” You chuckled at how loving she was towards her daughter. She watched as her husband entered the house looking as exhausted as ever.

“Thank you for watching them both.” She giggled and gave you one of her world renown smiles.

You nodded, “Of course, you know I love her and am obligated to love my brother as well,”

“No! Stay Aunty (Y/N)!” The toddler demanded and you smiled lightly at her.

“I’ll visit again soon, I promise!” You stuck out your pinky for her and she twisted her own miniscule one around yours.

“Pinky promise,” she said and smiled goofily at you.

  You threw your legs over the side and hurried towards the only source of light in that room. Just as you reached the window, a loud clunk could be heard and you could see him there, hunched over in pain. Throwing open the window, you jumped out and gripped onto his upper forearm and dragged him inside.

  Luckily, you weren’t the only one with a social life, as your mother was going to be out with some friends for the evening and you knew she wouldn’t be back until late.

  You didn’t bother closing the window behind you, too concerned with Spider-Man’s collapsed body on your floor. Your eyes darted around the room, looking for anything to help him, as if the answer was going to be scrawled on one of your walls, or hidden on your dresser. You darted and grabbed the towel you had hanging from your closet door and laid it under him so the blood didn’t stain the carpet.

  You wiped at your soaked brow with the back of your hand and examined his hunched over body. Where was the wound? Where was his source of pain? Your hands scattered around his body, feeling for an abnormality somewhere, not that you were very familiar with his body but still, you figured you’d know a gash when you felt one.

  “Stop moving,” you whispered, your stomach slowly making its way up your throat.

  He squirmed still, rocking back and forth and you gripped his arms to steady him.

  “Where?” You finally asked when you’d trailed over his entire body and didn’t find anything.

  He couldn’t speak, his breath was short and when he tried to force words out only grunts of pain escaped. Your hands continued searching, hoping they’d missed something from before. Where? Where is it coming from? Your blood pounded in your ears and you blinked away the dripping sweat from your eyes. You encased one bicep in your hands and squeezed lightly all the way down then repeated the same process on the other arm. You pressed against his torso, putting pressure on his chest then made your lower, pushing around his abdomen until Spider-Man let out a loud cry.

  There.

  You looked around for a zipper of some kind, pulling his gloves off to rip off the sleeve with a pocket knife you had in your room when he mumbled some words under his breath and his tight suit slacked a bit, allowing you to find where the fabric disconnected.

  You grabbed the lax fabric around his neck and pulled down, the suit loosening with each tug. You pried it off his skin and stopped at his waist once you saw the deep purple bruise forming on his side. Your frozen hands pressed lightly around it, afraid you’d make it worse with touch but you tried to cool the area.

  It was only when his breathing became increasingly shallow did your body go into overdrive. A broken rib was extremely painful and shallow breaths were common but this wasn’t that. He could breath through the pain, he was strong. But he could barely get a whisper of air in his body before choking on it.

  You blinked away the sweat again, only for your vision to clear and the liquid to trail down your cheeks, “I don’t know what to do,”

  You gripped his hand in yours and squeezed, “I don’t know,” you choked on the tears.

  He squeezed back and you saw the pain through his mask.

  “I’m so sorry,” you cried.

  You blinked away the fresh tears only for the stillness in the air to return. Spider-Man was no longer moaning or groaning, he was simply there, frozen in time. He began to disappear for a silhouette to take his place and his bruise seemed to glow from the inside. You tried to clear your vision but after the first few blinks you knew you weren’t making it up. You could see his organs. The wound itself showed the most intensely and you could see where his broken rib dug deeply into his lung.

  You wanted to gag at the sight but you couldn’t look away and the you fought the overwhelming urge to be still. But the warmth grew from your stomach towards your head and hands and your hand was being led by a force that wasn’t your own towards the wound. The warmth overcame you, became you and leaked out of the tips of your fingers as they came in contact with Spider-Man’s purple skin. You watched the lung retract from the lung and take its place in alignment with the others while the puncture closed. Your hand didn’t pull away until the purple from his skin dissolved and he was able to take in his first breath.

  You pulled back and the sounds of the cars below and the neighbors around all coming to life simultaneously. Spider-Man’s ragged breathing evened out and he gulped in as much air as he could, noticing the pain in his lung now absent, as if it had never been present.

  His hands flew down to his bare side and he pressed against the area. He tapped around hastily, waiting to see if the pain returned, “How did you do that?”

  You sat at the edge of your bed, your hands holding up your exhausted body, “I-I don’t know. It just happened,”

  Your elbow buckled lightly under you and a strong hand caught your upper arm to keep you in place, “Hey,” he whispered, lifting you up completely and walking around your bedframe to place you in the center of your bed, “Rest,”

  Your eyes fluttered shut but your hand shot out as he pulled his own away and you gripped it tightly in your hold, “Stay,” you begged, your body starting to lose to its exhaustion.

  Your frozen fingers thrummed with heat at the contact and you smiled at the dip in your mattress beside you. You forced your eyes open and looked up groggily at the sitting figure.

  “Where have you been?” You asked.

  The ache in your chest disappeared for the yearning to take its place. He was there, right there. So close to you and you didn’t understand how he wasn’t as enthralled by you and you were by him. Maybe it was because he was a superhero. But you doubted it.

  Your body seemed to be on edge, craving his touch so desperately you had to physically refrain yourself from pulling him down to you. How could he not feel these urges? It’s like they weren’t your own, that the urges belonged to him and it wanted to return back to its original owner.

  “I was just doing normal patrols when I saw-”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know,” You interjected, not having time to entertain his lies as you knew your body was beginning to give out.

  He sighed and looked over his shoulder, down at you, “Yeah I know.” He turned around and reached out to run his thumb across the side of your face, his eyes gazing upon your face and you smiled.

  “Why did you come here?” You asked, careful about your tone of voice because you didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

  “I don’t know. I was hurt and the first person to come to mind was you,” he admitted.

  A weak smile tugged at your lips, “So you feel it too then,” you said.

  “Every second of the day,” he whispered, and you sat up slowly despite your body demanding rest.

  You grabbed the hand he placed on your cheek and kissed his open palm then placed it back before leaning in, “Why won’t you tell me?”

  He pulled his hand away and you watched in agony when it rested back at his side, “Please, don’t,” his voice cracked.

  You eyed him up and down, the sight of his bare chest catching you off guard. You’d forgotten you took off the top part of his suit to heal him. You wanted to argue with him, to demand that he tell you who he was but instead you sat up completely and motioned to his side.

  “How does it feel?” You asked, not looking directly at him.

  He looked up and the eyes of his mask widened slightly for a second, “Oh,” he whispered to himself and stood up to drag the sleeves back up his arm. “Great,” he simply responded and you could see how flush his chest was before he covered it up.

  “Good.” You nodded and stood up to walk to your window and motioned towards the fire escape, “I’ll be seeing you around,” you said, hoping he’d get the hint and get out.

  You didn’t want him to leave, of course you didn’t. But you had to know who he was and his secrecy only made being with him harder. You shook your head at the thought, you can’t be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you. He never really mentioned building a relationship with you, probably because you didn’t give him the opportunity to, but still.

  Spider-Man trudged over to you and stood closer than you’d like, looking from your open window down to you and back again.  You motioned outside with your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. He watched you for a moment, taking in your tired but seething expression and slowly bent closer to you. You gulped at his close proximity and he never took his eyes off you as he closed the space.

  The window beside you slammed shut and you jumped, managing to catch a glimpse of his cloaked hand retracting from the sill, “Don’t make me leave, (Y/N). Please, I want to stay.”

  You twitched at how beautiful your name sounded rolling off his tongue and you sighed but nodded. You wanted him to stay too. The problem was the price to stay was honesty and he didn’t seem to be willing to pay it.

~

  “How’d you do that earlier?” He asked, his hand grazing along the top of your desk.

  You shrugged, vaguely recalling how your body moved of its own volition as if it knew what to do before you did. “I just did,”

  “And have you always been able to do that?” His hand stopped over a picture of you and Peter hung up on your wall.

  “No, just since we met,”

  He brought the picture closer to his face, his fingers tracing over the people in the photo. You knew the picture well. You didn’t have to look at it to know exactly what Spider-Man was seeing. It had been mid semester and just as the leaves were turning their seductive shade of red, you were growing closer to Peter than ever before. One day, as it had turned out, you and Peter showed up wearing matching burgundy sweaters and jeans and MJ thought it was hilarious enough to take a multitude of pictures of the occasion. Peter had his arm around your shoulder and your hand was wrapped around his waist and the two of you were smiling gleefully towards the camera.

  You grabbed the picture out of Spider-Man’s hand and looked over it, outlining Peter’s face with your finger and you stuck it back onto your wall. You couldn’t ignore the feelings for Peter that were still ever-present despite having met your soulmate. You felt guilty about it. You knew your mind should be wrapped up in all that was Spider-Man but over the course of week you’d spent more time with Peter than Spider-Man your heart warmed every time you thought about the brown-haired teenager.

  You’d hoped Spider-Man hadn’t noticed the way you stared longingly at the memories that flooded through your mind. And from the way he pulled back and sat on your chair, you figured he hadn’t.

  “So, who’s that?” He asked and heat rose to your face. Dammit.

  “Uh, that guy? That’s Peter,” you simply said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “And Peter is . . . ?” Spider-Man urged.

  You sighed and crossed your room to sit on your bed, “He is – was, my best friend,”

  “Was?”

  “Was,” You repeated and ran a hand through your hair, “We were so close at the time and I wished it would be like that again but we’ve . . . changed.” You picked at the bed of your nails, doing anything to avoid eye contact, “There was a point in time where I thought I loved him,” they slipped out.

  Your eyes widened and Spider-Man stood suddenly from his seat, “Love him?” He practically shouted.

  “Platonically! Just friendly love!” Liar. “Not like in love,” More lies.

  When you focused back on Spider-Man he’d practically closed the space between you two and his hand gripped the mask around his neck, his thumb under the fabric and stretching it upwards. Your words ceased his actions and he slowly lowered his hand back to his side.

  “Platonic?” He asked, his body half-turned away from you and his gaze centered on your window.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, he was my best friend. Of course I loved him but we’ve grown distant over time and although I still care about him, I don’t think it’s what it used to be. Especially not now.” You shrugged your shoulders.

  “What’s different about now?” He faced you again, his head cocked slightly to the side.

  You stared at him then, wondering why his intrigue with Peter. Was he jealous? He had no reason to be. Well, yeah you guessed he did. But he shouldn’t know that. If you hadn’t let it slip about your feelings for him you never would’ve gotten yourself in this situation.

  “What about you?” You asked, curious on his answer.

  “Me?” He asked, his finger pointing to his own chest.

  “Yeah, tell me something about you, it’s the least you could do after I saved your life,”

  “Which we will further discuss,” he urged and you sighed but agreed, truth be told, you hadn’t really processed much of what happened earlier anyway.

  “So about your life . . .”

~

  Spider-Man visited you every night that weekend. Some nights later than others but visited all the same and everyone around you knew something was different.

  “Is love in the air?” Liz teased, catching you spacing out with your hand rested on your cheek.

  You avoided looking down at her and nodded your head, doing your best to avoid Peter groveling over his lover. “Something like that,

  “Brad really that impressive?” Liz asked, chewing on a grape.

  “Brad?” You asked and then shook your head quickly, “Oh, Brad, uh yeah. He’s super. . . something,” you didn’t even try to find a pleasant word to describe him as that was not who was on your mind.

  “Something good?” She wriggled her eyebrows and you rolled your jokingly.

  “Decent,” you responded, trying your best to keep this conversation short.

  It’d been hard enough to act like the world and its new vibrancy hadn’t astonished you in more ways than you could imagine, but now your mind was stuck on the reason why that was. You were falling hard for a man you didn’t even really know and although the thought was disturbing, it was almost a seductive mystery.

  “You sure it’s Brad who’s got you all distracted?” Ned spoke up from beside you and he followed it with a quick, “Ow!” before rubbing his shin.

  You eyed him and raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with Brad?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” MJ chimed in, setting her tray down next to yours and your face flushed with heat when Brad walked up with her.

  “Hey,” he kindly waved and sat in between you and Ned.

  “Okay,” Ned muttered, side-eyeing him.

  “Can we talk?” He asked, gripping your elbow and you looked at MJ who had her eyes glued to where Brad was grabbing you.

  “Uh, sure,” you responded and twisted around to face him.

  “Alone.” He glanced at everyone and you stood up quickly to walk towards the exit of the cafeteria.

(THIS IS YOUR WARNING RIGHT NOW, IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH A BIT OF AN AGGRESSIVE THEME PLEASE SKIP OVER THIS PART)

  “Are we okay?” He asked once you’d stopped and turned around but you could feel everyone’s eyes on you.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be okay?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

  “You’ve just been a little distant since the movies on Friday. You haven’t returned most of my texts and the ones I get are so half-assed that I know you don’t want to talk to me,” he admitted.

  Your heartbeat rang in your ears. Please tell me this wasn’t really happening. Seriously? Did he think you guys were in a relationship? You’d only really been on one date with him and the other was more of a hangout anyway so you’re not sure what has him so confused about your situation.

  “Brad. . . you know we’re not dating, right?” You motioned to the both of you.

  He leaned back, his thumbs hooked under his backpack straps. “Well, yeah, I just figured you’d want something a little more than just a few dates,”

  You chewed on your lips to find the right words to say without hurting him. Brad had been kind, that much was true. But if you were being honest with yourself, you only viewed him as a friend. You only ever could view him as a friend. You weren’t attracted to him in the way that lovers are and he didn’t stir up your insides at the sound of his name. He just wasn’t it for you. He wasn’t your other half. You knew who that was. Sort of.

  “Brad,” you said, resting your hand on his shoulder to let him down gently, “Listen, we tried it. We gave it a go and there was no spark, for either of us,” you tried to convince.

  “Speak for yourself,” he mumbled.

  “What I’m saying is, you belong to someone else and so do I. That’s why it can’t work, that’s why it’ll never work. Why go on for so long just to make our future heartbreak inevitable?” You tried to sympathize. Tried to explain that there was no point in being together for when you met your respective soulmates you knew you’d have to break up. He just didn’t know that you’d already met yours.

  “But we can still try, just for now.” He plead with his eyes and gripped onto the hand that you rested on his shoulder, pulling you into him closer than you were comfortable with.

  “But that would just be-”

  “Don’t say it would be a waste. You and Parker don’t have the same Indicator and I watched you grovel over him so I know it doesn’t matter to you.” His hand wrapped around your waist and you tried to politely pull back, “Just give me a chance, (Y/N),”

  “Brad, please let me go.” You attempted to take a step back without causing a scene in the middle of the cafeteria.

  Brad’s grip on you loosened and he pulled back, noticing the shift in your body language, “I’m sorry,” he muttered, tucking his arms into his pockets and looking down at his shoes, “I’m sorry. I just hoped you would feel something by now but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,”

  You took a cautious step back and nodded, looking everywhere but at the boy in front of you. Your mind danced around with the next words that you should carefully say. You didn’t want to tell him it was okay because it wasn’t but you didn’t want to make him feel like trash for it because there was a genuine tone of regret in his voice. Doesn’t make it okay.

  A shoulder crashed into Brad’s, causing him to stumble lightly and Peter looped his arm through yours, “We’re gonna be late for class,”

  You nodded and let Peter pull you away from the sticky situation and towards your classroom. Peter didn’t speak to you the entire way but you were sure you preferred it like that considering you could see him practically seething. His face was red in anger and his hand gripped the straps of his bag so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  “Peter,” you spoke up after you’d both sat down at your desks, “I’m fine, really,”

  Peter glanced your way and you noticed how his jaw tightened when his eyes landed on your face. He was still replaying the scene from earlier over in his mind.

  The vibration of your phone pulled your attention away from Peter and you looked at the multitude of messages pouring in from MJ.

Are you ok?

Yeah I’m fine it’s not that serious. I think he just tried to plant a kiss on me.

What an idiot. I’m gonna kill him

  You smirked at your phone and shook your head.

Not if Pete does it first

  Peter watched you tap away at your phone and when the bell began to ring, you shoved it in your back pocket.

  “I’m sorry I was mad,” he whispered to you towards the middle of class. “How about I walk you home after school?”

  You bit your lip and faced forward, eyes glued to the whiteboard but nodded at his offer.

~

  “You want anything to drink?” You asked over your shoulder, watching as Peter scrolled through the menu of channels on the television.

  “Water?”

  “Are you asking or are you telling?” You shot back, your hand gripped loosely on a bottle.

  “Telling?”

  You giggled and grabbed the drink from the fridge and walked back over to the couch, “So what are we deciding on today? Some action? Some horror?”

  “What about romance?” He mumbled.

  “Romance?” You looked at him strangely and plopped down on the couch beside him, “Since when are you into Romance?”

  “I’m a sucker for a rom-com.” Peter crinkled his eyes and smiled broadly.

  “Yeah, when Liz is around,”

  “Liz?” He asked, as if bewildered.

  “Yeah. Liz.” You grabbed the top of the control from out of his grip and turned on the usual show that you two watched together.

  “What does Liz have to do with anything?”

  You gave him a side glance with a jeering look in your eye, “Liz has everything to do with your sudden interest in Romantic Comedies,”

  He snatched the remote back and threw it in the air lightly before catching it. “No, she doesn’t,”

  You sat straight in your spot and glared at him, “Yes. She does.” You reached over Peter as he kept the remote out of your reach and gripped his shoulder to balance yourself.

  You were practically in his lap at this point. You stretched onto Peter, pushing his body lower into the couch while you focused on trying to get the remote back. You threw one leg over his side and gripped his elbow, hating the way the fabric scratched at your skin.

  “Give it,” you ordered, your frustration beginning to reach its peak.

  “Why?” He spoke from under you, watching as you crawled all over him to get your object of desire.

  You pulled his arm down and just as your fingertips grazed the cold plastic, Peter jolted his arm back and brought you down with it. You almost squealed at the sudden movement but your mouth quickly shut and a flush rose to your cheeks when you noticed you were mere inches away from Peter’s face.

  You froze and your heart rate accelerated when you felt his breath brush against your cheek. You took in this picture, knowing it wasn’t going to be something you forgot anytime soon. How his hair was parted, the brown of his eyes, the way his lips called to you, how his eyes focused on your lips, the heat his body radiated that warmed your chest and thighs. All of it.

  “Peter,” you breathed out and he slowly leaned upwards, his eyes glued to your parted lips the entire time.

  Your breaths deepened and you instinctively pressed your chest against his, resting your hand on his shoulder. But what about Spider-Man? Would you be doing this if he were here? Probably. Because the way that Peter was looking at you right now made your stomach turn in anticipation. Besides, you guys weren’t together anyway. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t willing to do what needed to be done.

  Your hand trailed up from his shoulder to his neck and his warm skin sent a thrill through you. Literally. Your fingertips warmed up until the sensation consumed your body and the pull from him grew to an intensity you’d only felt a few times before. His half-closed eyes centered on your lips and his hand gripped the exposed skin that your shirt failed to cover in this position. Where his hand met your side tingled at the touch and you could feel his desire for you. It was a desire that hid relief somewhere in between. The world slowed around you and every slight injury on his body lit up only to your eyes, showing papercuts and chapped lips and you ran your hand along each glowing section, the skin healing immediately under your touch.

  You looked back up to him and your body leaned forward, feeling the beginning of his lips pressed against yours.

  Then you jerked back.

  “It’s you!” You stood up and took a step back away from him. “You’re Spider-Man!”

  “What?” He shook his head and focused on your hardened glare.

  “Don’t play stupid, Parker.” You growled and took another step back as Peter shot up off the couch with his arms outstretched towards you.

  “(Y/N), please, I can explain,”

  “Oh my God!” You ran your hand through your hair and gripped tightly, “What about Liz?”

  “What about Liz?” Peter echoed after you, his eyebrows furrowed together but the pleading look still ever-present.

  “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me you were Spider-Man? Because you wanted to keep Liz as Peter but have me as Spider-Man?”

  “What?” Panic crossed his face as he took another step towards you, “No! That’s not it at all!”

  You paced to the kitchen, your heart in your throat and the pull to Peter now more painful than ever. “Then what is it? You just wanted me on the side? You liked having two girls at once? Does it thrill you, Parker?” You shouted.

  “(Y/N), please just listen,” his voice cracked and his gaze followed you as you paced back and forth.

  “Get out!”

  “W-What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “I said, get out!” You grabbed Peter’s backpack and shoved it against his chest and opened your front door for him.

  “(Y/N) . . . please, it’s not what you think,” he plead his voice barely above a whisper and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze from his shoes, knowing he’d see the pain behind your eyes and how they rimmed with red.

  The twist in your throat made your words painful and you stared at Peter’s shoes, just as amused with them as he currently was, “I’ll see you around, Parker,”

  “(Y/N) . . .” But he didn’t say anything after that and you watched in agony as he crossed the threshold of your apartment and you locked the door behind him.