Ok Ok So.

To Love the Enemy

Imagine catching the eye of Klaus Mikaelson.

Tagging: @midnightseance​ Author’s Note: So I finally convinced my sister to watch TVD and I’ve been rewatching some episodes with her- specifically the episodes that had the best Klaroline and some of the saddest scenes. This idea spawned from the reawakening of my intense dislike for vampire!Elena. Whoops. Sorry Elena lovers, I don’t think this one will be for you. It’s not total Elena bashing, but I’m not exactly her biggest fan. Warning: Don’t pay too close attention to the order some events are mentioned. I forgot some things and what not. Lmao. 

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Wait now I want a part 2 of Family First or just how everyone else would react or even how Bucky told them he needed help in the first place like how do you explain that????

I hope this gives you some closure 😊 We may come back to the family in the near future and see how they are getting on with public life.

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || part one || part two || prequel blurb

Family First [Behind the scenes story]

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mentions of dead bodies WC: 1.9k

“Sir, I believe someone is trying to bypass my mainframe.” Friday announced as she interrupted the weekly team meeting. “Correction, they have bypassed my mainframe.”

Tony leapt up from his seat at the head of the table and to the control panel of the door, every electrical system was connected to Friday so he double tapped the screen to extend it to full sized. His fingers danced furiously over the screen trying to find what the hackers were after and found the bug in the personal files of his team.

“Shit.” Tony sighed. “Friday, I’m putting you to sleep until I can remove the bug.”

“Manual override complete, goodnight Mr Stark.”

“I need everyone to call your families, get them here ASAP.” Tony ordered as he tossed a basket onto the table. “Until Friday’s clear, don't use your cell phones, hand them over guys. We are going old school. Where did I put those flip phones? Frid-oh.”

“Why do we have to call our family?” Clint asked. “What were they after?”

Tony sighed and gripped the back of his chair as he stood behind it. “They stole the details of your next of kin.”

Bucky’s chair screeched as he stood up abruptly and he looked at his cell phone ringing in the middle of the basket. “I need to take that.”

The restraint in his voice wasn’t missed by some of the team but Tony just shook his head. “Can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t understand.” He growled and Steve stood up to place a calming hand over his shoulder.

“Just give us a minute.” He said as he pulled Bucky away from the table to talk quietly in the corner. “It’s y/n isn’t it, on the file. I thought it was me.”

“It was but she’s my wife, Steve.” Bucky sighed, his eyes flicking back to the phone that was lit up with another call. “And now I might have put her in danger. I need to answer that call.”

“Ok, how about I grab Sam and we go and pick up the girls together, get them somewhere safe.” Steve planned and clapped his best bud on the shoulder.

The plan was set but the second his phone rang with a ringtone, the phone number saved to override silent mode, he lost all thoughts of everything except saving you. Steve tried to block him from reaching the basket on the table but Bucky threw him to the floor and jumped across the table, grabbing the phone and putting it to his head instantly.

“Are you okay?” He rushed as he turned his back on everyone else but the silent room left most of the team able to hear you too.

“Bucky, someone’s here.” His gut clenched at the panic he could hear in your voice, how you sounded when you were being brave and putting on a smile when you were really holding back tears.

“I need you and Sarah to go down to the basement. Lock yourself inside and don’t come out for anyone but me, Steve or Sam.” He said as calmly as he could while he left the room, ignoring the stares he was getting from his team as he sprinted his way to the hangar.

“What’s going on baby?”

“Someone hacked us, they stole almost every piece of information on each of us.” He admitted as he lashed out punching his fist into the hangar wall beside him. “I’m so fucking sorry, I think they know about you, about Sarah.”

The line went silent for a moment and his hand trembled as he looked to make sure the call was still connected. “We are going to go treasure hunting downstairs ok sweetie.”

“That’s not daddy is it?” Sarah’s quiet voice was just picked up by the microphone and he almost crushed the phone as he heard his baby girl’s scream, swearing he would kill everyone that stepped foot in his house.

“Daddy’s coming, Sarah.” He promised as the line began to crackle, knowing they were almost in the basement where it was safe but no cell signal. “I love you both so much. I’m on my way.”

“We love - too.”

The screen of his phone cracked as his fist held it too tight waiting for the hangar doors to open and the rest of his team caught up except Steve who had stuck by his side.

“You have a family.” Natasha stated as she followed him through the narrow gap of the hangar door and towards the quinjet. “And Sam and Steve know.”

“Yes.” He growled and turned to see the others looking at him expectantly. “Can we not do this now?”

“On board, now.” Tony ordered as he pointed to the jet. “You can explain on the way.”

Everyone strapped into the seats except the super soldiers who stood at the top of the ramp, ready to dive out the second they were close enough.

“We need an address.” Natasha said as the quinjet was ready for take off.

Bucky strode over to the panel and entered his home address, set in the countryside where he foolishly thought it would be away from the drama and threat.

“Hmm, pictured you for the suburban Brooklyn type.” She commented as her and Clint piloted the jet towards the address. “Three minutes ETA.”

“Get talking.” Tony said as he crossed his arms.

“Leave it Tony, it can wait until after.” Steve asserted, his own arms crossing as tensions rose.

“I want to know who I am saving.” He countered.

“What does it matter, saving people is what we do.”

“She’s my wife, y/n, and Sarah’s our daughter.” Bucky confessed, not wanting another fight in the team over him. “We met in Bucharest.”

“When you were still Hydra. Is she Hydra? Is that why you kept her a secret?” Tony asked, stepping closer with every accusation and Steve just caught Bucky before he could attack.

“She’s not fucking Hydra!” Bucky growled as he pushed Steve away. “She has nothing to do with any of this, that is why I kept her and Sarah secret. I thought they would be safe.”

Bucky saw his house coming up ahead and hit the button to release the ramp. He had either explained enough that the team would help him or he was going in alone, but nothing was going to stop him getting to you. Steve stepped up beside him and watched the familiar land pass by beneath them.

“You don’t have to get in the middle of things again, I can handle Tony on my own.” Bucky said.

“I’m with you till the end of the line pal.”

“Need a lift?” Sam asked as he stepped up beside them and grabbed the back of their clothes. “Or do you want to face dive again?”

“Let’s go.” Steve nodded and the three of them jumped off the ramp.

“I have some bad news.” He murmured quietly as he ran his hand up and down your arm and kissed your forehead.

“You got blood on the carpet.” You tried to joke but your voice failed to hold any humour.

“That too.” He said, the ghost of a smile tipping up at your attempt. “There’s some more people I want you to meet.”

“Who else came with you?” You asked, worried about even more people knowing but grateful for their help nonetheless. You watched him chew his lip and knew it was bad before he even answered.

“Everyone.”

You took a deep breath and nodded as you realised there was no escaping this and maybe, just maybe, it might be a good thing. Your finger brushed over his cheek and cleared the speck of someone's blood that had landed there and you sighed as he captured your lips, all the fear and doubt evaporating with it.

“I don’t know what I would have done…” he whispered as he took in every beautiful feature he loved about you before doing the same to his daughter who had cried herself to sleep in his arms.

“You don’t have to think about it baby, you made it in time, you saved us.” You said softly as you cradled his face.

“Oh sorry.” Steve came to a halt as he saw the three of you curled up on the floor. “I just wanted to make sure you found them.”

“Can you take Sarah?” Bucky asked as he gently shifted his sleeping daughter.

Steve hooked his shield onto his back and lifted her up easily and you were grateful she was sleeping for this next part. You didn’t want her seeing the bodies that littered your house as you walked through, even you felt your stomach turning as you spotted the first one at the base of the stairs.

“Oh god.” You gasped as you saw his lifeless eyes and spun away, burying your face in Bucky’s chest.

“Close your eyes, doll.” He soothed as his hands gripped your hips and he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as you screwed your eyes shut and focused on listening to his soft murmurs in your ear. “You can open them now.”

You blinked as the bright afternoon sun blinded you and it was hard to imagine that it could still be a beautiful day despite the horror that lay only yards away inside your house, the weather had no right to be so perfect. Your feet touched down on solid ground and you could see half a dozen shadows before you even turned in Bucky’s arms. You knew who each of them were, just because you were a secret in their lives, Bucky never kept anything secret when he got home. You had heard gossip and stories about every one of them and it felt like you should already be friends, but they didn’t know you.

“Hi.” You offered a small wave with your greeting and you looked at Steve with Sarah curled up in his arms. “Thank you for saving us.”

“It’s no problem.” Tony smiled and shrugged as Steve and Bucky looked at him, rolling his eyes as Bucky’s stare lingered longer. “What?”

“Ignore him, we do.” Nat grinned as she stepped forward and held her hand out to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She gave a little laugh as she let your hand drop. “Can say the same, but we will change that now, won’t we?”

You weren’t quite sure where you stood with her, the politeness came with an edge of passive aggressiveness. Thankfully Sam stepped in and pulled you into a hug.

“Forget her, she’s just upset that she was the last to find out.” Sam joked. “I’m glad you’re all okay.”

“Thanks to you.” You said as you looked around the group. “I would offer you something to eat but…I think we are going to be renovating.”

“You’re welcome to stay at the Compound in the meantime. There’s plenty of room. And, then you can tell us your real secret.” You frowned at Tony as he pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and popped them on his face, feeling Bucky stiffen behind you. “How have you put up with Bucky all this time? No seriously, I need to know.”

“That’s something we all need to know.” Sam laughed and the tension disappeared so fast you thought you imagined it.

You bit your lip as you tried not to laugh. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Prequel Blurb

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Fuck now I have no reason to be exited on Saturday 🥹😢

Enamored [47] - The End

A.N: And the last chapter❤ I cannot thank you enough for your wonderful support throughout the story my loves, ILYSM ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Everyone finds their home, sooner or later.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 5700

Series Masterlist

The morning of the ball was nothing if not complete chaos.

It felt as if nothing would be completely ready by the time for the ball to start, even though you had basically stayed up until dawn to make sure you hadn’t overlooked anything. You barely had any time to eat or sit down during the day and instead spent the whole time either in the ballroom or in the yard but now that you were looking at the result—

It looked absolutely amazing.

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🥺

👉🏻👈🏻

Hands That Heal - Ch.5

Bucky Barnes x mechanic!fem!reader

Chapter Summary:  Things finally get heated with you and Bucky, once you help him overcome his insecurities. Chapter Warning: 18+ only, smut, oral (f), fluff Word count: 2138

Series Warnings: 18+ only, canon-typical violence, swearing, fluff, misogyny/degrading comments from some men, smut.

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 coming soon

RECAP: “And where am I meant to fit?” You asked as you put your hand on your cocked hip.

He shuffled back and opened his arm out, giving you the space needed to lay in front of him. You didn’t waste any time filling the space and your head rested on his warm arm while his metal one curled over your waist. There was no way you were going to be able to focus on the movie as you felt the tips of his fingertips teasingly caressing the soft skin of your belly where your shirt had shifted and slowly inch their way down. 

“Bucky?” You asked with a breathy voice you barely recognised and his fingers froze where they were. “Please, don’t stop.”

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

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This is so fucking good 😭

Set Up Series Masterlist

Set Up Series (completed) :

Summary:  You’re close friends with Lizzie Olsen, she invites you to her birthday party where it’s very clear her and Scott are intending to set you and Chris up.

Part 1: The Set Up (1.9k)

Part 2: Coffee Date (1.9k)

Part 3: Dog Sitting (3k)

Part 4: Let’s Make It Official (2.4k)

Part 5: Dresser Drawer (2k)

Part 6: Caught (2.3k)

Part 7: Meet The Fam (3.6k)

Part 8: The Key (1.3k)

Part 9: First Fight (3.7k)

Part 10: Say Yes (2.4k)

Chris Dating a Muslim

Chris Evans x Reader

AN: As always, I like to add a disclaimer that I, indeed, am an ignorant American and do not mean to insult anyone or perpetuate stereotypes. I simply try to be inclusive and educate myself while doing so. Deepest apologies if I have offended anyone, though this time I've gotten research directly from a source thank you so much, anon.

Requested: Yes, but it has been a hot minute

For starters, Chris would be so respectful.

If you were Hijabi, he'd never once even think of seeing you without your hijab before being married and if anyone on the streets or in town even looked at you funny for it he'd absolutely shut it tf down

Giving them dirty looks and staring holes into them as they snickered at you from afar.

maybe even a harsh, "What're you fucking looking at"

He doesnt want to be rude, but the ignorance levels in America for anything and everything they don't understand is enough to send him over the edge and piss him off.

like come on, your looking at heads of lettuce and some rando is pointing and staring bc he can't see your hair-- go to hell

also, never ever pressuring you to do anything you are not ready/willing to do before marriage, he understands and respects you totally

though as soon as you're married, gloves are coming off. He'd be super sweet and gentle for a while, worshipping your body and letting you know how much he's been wanting to do this and slowly warm you up to him just totally taking over in bed

he'd try his damnedest to differentiate between halal and haram, but at first he gets them confused so bad that it's comical

He'd point to some sausage and look at you with furrowed brows as he slowly debated which term to try, "Hal-" he'd say slowly, gauging your reaction before shaking his head and trying again, "haram."

You'd give him a nod and a giggle, as he spoke to himself, "Right. Haram, bad. haram, bad..."

Oh oh oh, okay so as we know he loves his beer. However, I think this would bring him to feel weird about his intake, maybe even getting him to cut it out completely.

You'd talked before about how you don't drink alcohol but that does not mean he had to stop, but he didn't like drinking it in front of you on top of him saying how he needed to stop anyway, so badaboom, beer is gone.

I know for a fact that when I’m gonna finish all of the fics that you wrote I’m gonna cry !

Lost and then Found pt. I

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven’t seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren’t as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought.

Words: 8.6K Author’s Note: Major trigger warning! There will be a bit of talk about non-consensual pregnancies and some failed pregnancies from said attempts. Also I didn’t want to post this, but this upcoming week is going to be stressful for me and I honestly don’t know how much writing I’ll get done. Please read the bottom note for help on hopefully part 2 of this.

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The Surrogate Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Series Summary: Natasha, Clint and you have been inseparable since you joined Shield all those years ago. When Natasha mentions how much she wanted to be a mother you make it your mission to give her that opportunity. The hysterectomy in Widow training left her unable to carry a child but her ovaries remained. Using her egg, and a sperm donation from Clint, you carry the child and have to deal with all that comes with it - mostly a very protective mother. But, just because you are the surrogate for Natasha’s baby but that doesn’t mean you can’t find love for yourself. Canon timeline and deaths. Series Warnings: 18+ only, pregnancy, birth, infinity war, death, fluff, smut Word Count: 11k Status: COMPLETE Set after Civil War, just before Infinity War and after End Game.

Part One ꕥ ➴ Natasha and the team leave you behind in Wakanda for your safety so you have to find a way to pass the time, like visiting Steve's friend, Bucky.

Part Two ⁂ ꕥ ➴ Your regular visits to Bucky have you growing closer but you hold back from letting yourself feel anything more than friendship until a visit from Nat changes that.

Part Three ⁂ ➴ After months of peaceful living with Bucky he is called to arms as the fight with Thanos comes to Wakanda.

Part Four † ➴ Upon your return from the Blip you find out the true cost of the war and the sacrifices that were made to bring everyone back.

⁂ = smut † = death ⨮ =angst. ꕥ = fluff

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

“Y/N.”

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would’ve done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren’t forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father’s life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother’s.

“Dad.”

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father’s abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn’t particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father’s face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn’t and who was to say that it wouldn’t happen to you too?

“Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?” He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father’s voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn’t composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn’t afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

“I know, I love you too.” You didn’t know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn’t done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would’ve said.

“I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug.” If you hadn’t been so worried that you might die soon you might’ve found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn’t mind it. You didn’t mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn’t mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It’s funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

“Remember when I taught you to drive?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn’t learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. “There’s no use learning to drive when your mother’s here, sometimes me, and the metro, it’s useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun.”

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother’s features and the amusement playing on Foyet’s, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

“I’m a terrible driver.” You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn’t seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn’t been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn’t miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

“You’re good enough.”

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

“I think that’s good enough, right, Y/N?” The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of…mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father’s stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn’t smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn’t hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

“Don’t touch me.” You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn’t expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Wow, you’ve got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner.” He chuckled to himself like he said the world’s funniest joke, and you glared.

“Leave them alone.” Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. “How about this, how about you go hide, I’ll give you a head start, and then I’ll come find you.”

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. “No.” You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother’s flesh, yet, you couldn’t just leave your mother. You couldn’t leave her to die.

“Ah, come on. You’re a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren’t you guys supposed to be fun?” His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn’t have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father’s height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn’t think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy’s girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the ‘bad guy’ in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn’t think you would ever be able to ignore that.

“Y/N, go.” Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother’s lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. “Mom, no.” it came out shaky, and you didn’t have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn’t been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That’s how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley’s ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother’s lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl’s cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. “Go, baby. I’ll be okay.”

No, you won’t. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother’s arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother’s hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn’t care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

“I- I love you.” It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

“I love you too.” Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn’t feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father’s nightstand. It hadn’t been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother’s quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

“Y/N!” A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother’s body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack’s old room- eye’s scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn’t have much time until he was coming after you.

“I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are.” He sang out. He must’ve taken your mother- your mother’s body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn’t difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn’t it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

“I think I’ll lay your body right next to your Mom. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So you can be together?” He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack’s door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn’t known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn’t have given the man much thought. You wouldn’t have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that’s what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father’s team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could’ve been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family’s suffering once and for all. You weren’t sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren’t there before.

“You bitch!”

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn’t look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that’s for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother’s dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn’t hear anything that was going on. That he didn’t hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn’t dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn’t died now. If anything, you might’ve made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That’s why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn’t really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn’t want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that your mother was dead. It wasn’t fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

“Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me.”

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn’t realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek’s. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed…feral.

“Y'N, it’s me. You’re safe. it’s me, it’s Derek. Put that gun down.” It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn’t hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother’s body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“He’s dead. Y/N, he’s dead.” The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who’s blood was that? Was that your mother’s? Was that Foyet’s? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?’ He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man’s waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

“Y/N!” Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn’t been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn’t see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn’t even been home very often. Then, you didn’t have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

“I’m fine.” You took a hand, running it through the boy’s ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

“Let’s get you checked out, yeah?”

I’ve Done It Myself// Shelby Sister

Summary: They offer to cut his eyes but there’s no need

‘Fucking Bastard’, I muttered as I stormed into the kitchen. ‘What’s up with you?’, John hollered. I completely blanked out his words. I was steaming. Steamed could physically be coming out of my ears and I wouldn’t be surprised. My Brothers knew not to bother me when I was in this mood.

I stormed passed them into the betting shop. I walked over to the side cabinet and grabbed a peaky hat with the blades sewn in. ‘What are you doing with that?’, Tommy shouted to me as I walked out the door. I didn’t reply.

I’d been with Oliver for about 6 months now. Both of us being 19 we were still young but in love. Well at least I’d been in love. I’d been out at the book shop when I heard two girls muttering in the corner. They were pointing and staring at me as they spoke. I didn’t keep my mouth shut.

‘What you gorping at?’ I said as I approached them. They trembled abit as I walked over. ‘Please don’t take offence’, one of the girl said. ‘Offence to what?’ I questioned. ‘Your boyfriend been spouting tales about you down at the Garrison’, the other informed me. ‘Tales of what?’ I questioned again. ‘About what you do for him. In an intimate setting’, she stuttered. My mouth dropped. ‘He also said you weren’t the only girl he was with’. I thanked them for telling me and stormed off.

That led to me taking a Peaky cap from my brothers’ betting den and storming to the Garrison. Meanwhile, at the house, Finn had ran into the kitchen. ‘Where’s y/n?’ He asked his brothers, out of breath. ‘She’s just stormed in and out again. Didn’t say a word’, Arthur replied. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Tommy questioned. ‘Oliver’s been spouting tales about her in the Garrison. Really bad ones. Says everything she’s done with him. And that she’s not the only Lass he’s with’, Finn rambled out. They all stood up and started walking to the Garrison. They all had the same thought on their minds, ‘I’m gonna cut him’.

Without knowing my brothers were hot on my tail I burst through the Pub’s doors. I saw him sat there laughing with his friends. ‘Do you fucking know who I am?’ I questioned him. He looked at me smugly, ‘what are you on about?’ He let out a breath as I dragged him out the booth and pushed him to the wall. Little did I know my brothers had walked in and the pub had gone silent.

‘Fucking cheating on me’, I spat in his face, ‘fucking boasting to everyone about what I do to you’. I laugh in his face. ‘At least I could get you off’ I shouted. I grabbed the Peaky Cap from my pocket, brought the razor to his eye and cut his eye. I forced my knee into his groin then dropped him to the floor. ‘You’ll get much worse if you carry on. Don’t fucking mess with the Peaky Blinders’, I spat on him then walked away.

I saw the looks on my brothers faces, ‘don’t worry boys. I’ve already done your job’.