I don't want there to be anybody left out there, who doesn't know the look of my gaping cunt, I don't want to have friends or colleagues who don't know all the things I did, who don't know my complete destruction, my humiliation and how much it gets me off. Sandra sure was vocal about what she wanted, as she talked into the camera, that Old George, the homeless man who fostered her abuse over the last couple of hours, held towards her face.

I want to do it all - I want to further ruin my body, ruin my cunt, hell - even ruin my health if I need to. I want to expose everything, I want there to be nothing private left, I want to be available - to everybody, without any further limits. This weekend, the next few days - they will destroy everything I've worked for, every ounce of decency in my and show the world what I really am - Sandra Wilder, sex toy, nothing but a wide-open cunt, a cum bucket, a dumpster for the most defiled, for the most vile.

With this the camera panned down along Sandra's mostly naked body, only covered by the remains of her partially ripped dress, and towards the background: She was sitting with her legs spread as far as seemed possible, masturbating furiously with what seemed to be an empty wine bottle that she jammed into her sore cunt, while pulling on her nipple ring with the other hand. All this happened in the street light of the railway station, where she was half-propped on a dirty bench. Graffiti, grime, and dirt shaped the scene - that and the curious looks of multiple on-lookers, who in a fascinated way watched Sandra's wild performance.

It was around 11pm on a Saturday night - so not too many were around and honestly - most people who were still around were not the ones to complain about a mostly naked girl performing lewd sex acts. What a day it had been for Sandra, the star of the scene, the new-found local celebrity she had become over the last 24 hours, give or take a few. Stepping back to the previous night, Sandra found herself after being paraded naked throughout the whole city in the early morning hours back at her own place, where she invited the four homeless men who supported her repulsive acts and who made sure to share every little detail of her self humiliation on her social media channels - she wanted to be famous, after all.

So there they were, entering her cozy apartment, where she so graciously invited them. And boy had she invited them, after all the terrible things she had done to herself that day and that night, even those disgusting men were more than happy to settle down - and she insisted, that they take the king size bed. And again, they were happy to oblige, having had planned something special for Sandra anyway.

See, Sandra had over-performed in this night: She had inserted every terrible thing they had found on the street and in dumpsters into her cunt and asshole, she had let them run a train on her (or rather - she begged them to), she had allowed them to fist her in public, she had exposed herself to hundreds of people while drugged-out in broad daylight in the park. But, travelling home, still with the broken needles stuck in her cunt, she had insisted that she doesn't want her exposure and humiliation to end, just because the night was over.

So, it was not the bed for her that night - that would have offered far too much privacy for dear Sandra Wilder, instead she insisted to sleep out on her lawn chair on the balcony. It was a warm summer night, so she would not need a blanket - no, she would not even need any clothing, she demanded. So, out she went, followed by the wide-eyed men, who could barely believe what they saw: Yes, they saw Sandra humiliate herself all over time, but on her own balcony, with neighbors and friends potentially looking on, that was nearly too much to grasp even for them. Sandra, however, was not satisfied: See, it was not the first time she was naked out there, some of her neighbors might have seen quite a lot of her already in the past. So for today, this did not seem enough, it still seemed to good, to clean, to normal for how she wanted this night to end. But worry not, she laughed, she had something prepared - go to my room, you will find everything you need there, prepared on my nightstand.

And off one of the men went, only to come back a minute later with more than a wicked smile on his face: Carrying he was some zip ties, a dildo that seemed far too big for Sandra's tiny frame, and more importantly: a speculum. What are you waiting for, she demanded with a voice loud enough to attract attention at this time of the night - but that's what she needed, hoping soon some lamps around her own well-lit balcony would come on, investigating the noise. Spread me open, she urged, plunging down with her legs spread wide on her lawn chair.

You, tie my legs to the railing of the balcony, so there is no hiding, she told one of her tormentors, who laughingly complied with her wish. In the meantime, she started fucking her own cunt with the dildo - it still being sore from the needles she had jammed in their earlier and now carelessly thrown on the balcony floor. When she was satisfied with the abuse she had given her stretched out cunt, she pleaded George to insert the speculum as deep in her as possible, and then to open it as far as he could. Making sure to capture every moment of this amazing performance on Sandra's phone, he happily complied.

What a sight she was. It was still dark outside, but the light on Sandra's balcony illuminated her perfectly - showing off her trim body, but more importantly: her grotesquely opened up cunt. The speculum inside her prevented it from closing up, providing every onlooker insight into her once most private places. Yes, this is what she needed, her cunt to be stretched and destroyed, her health to be at risk, and her reputation to be ruined. Everybody should know what she looks like naked, and even more - every single spot of her body and the inside of her cunt should be public knowledge.

When she awoke it seemed to be the middle of the day. Scared and terrified she immediately reached down to her cunt, only to find it still spread open, hurting from the uncomfortable position and sore and red and swollen she found her own cunt. - She was satisfied, not knowing how many people must have seen her, how many people must have taken videos and pictures of her situation. As soon as the men realized that Sandra had woken up, they came storming out to her balcony. You want even more, don't you? The rotten men surrounded her, while making sure she was still visible from the street and garden - and she just nodded. Give me your worst, as I said. The men didn't need to be told twice - here, prop her up a bit more, I want her cunt to be facing up, George demanded, and the boys helped. So now she was here, grotesquely spread apart, her cunt facing upward, perfectly exposed to the world.

With that, one of the man leaned forward, hovering over her spread open cunt and started - spitting into it, with the others cheering him on. And round and round they went on, making sure to hurl up as much spit as they could muster, spitting it into Sandra's wide open cunt, while she had started to violently rub her clit, begging them for more. They hadn't seen her that excited yet, despite all the crazy acts she had performed. When they deemed the spitting not enough anymore, George leaned forward, with his nose right over her grotesque cunt he started to spit mucus and snot into her waiting cunt - and so did all the others. When they were done with this humiliation, they all were nearly as aroused as Sandra, who was still masturbating like a possessed woman, was.

It would be a good day, they all agreed - but first they needed some food. However, they were not in the mood to get it themselves - what else did they have a little plaything like Sandra for. While slowly untying her, they told her, they wanted to send her down to the bakery on the corner. But Sandra begged: I cannot go - I am so full of your snot, of your filth, of your spit - please, I need this shit to stay inside of me, I need it - I need it to infest me, I need your snot and your mucus in my cunt. And the men agreed - it would not be fun, to just make her get dressed and go to the bakery. Where would be the creativity there?

First, they decided to remove the speculum from her overstretched cunt - not that it would really close up all too well on its own after the last 12 hours of fucking and violating it, but it would be a start. What's next - the girl loves pain anyway, doesn't she? So let's give it to her. Somebody get some safety pins, they are in the bedroom, first drawer, Sandra urged, while the men carried her inside, careful not to spill Sandra's cunt filling. Bring me the safety pins, George repeated her request - we are gonna make sure her cunt is nicely shut.

With that he jammed the first safety pin through her stretched out cunt lips, only to repeat it at the second side. And again, and again, and again, until four safety pins were jammed through her most sensitive part. Oh, she did feel the pain, but the ecstasy she felt was even more intense than the pain. She looked at the monstrosity of her once pristine cunt: Sandra touched her lips, swollen red, pierced not only by the rings she had in there already for ages, but now also by safety pins, knowing to be filled up not only with the remains of cum from the day before, but with the spit and snot of those homeless junkies. God, what a way to begin the day.

In the meantime, the men were excited to pick up something fun for her to wear, looking at her various short dresses, mini skirts, half transparent tops, and low cut blouses. What they did not find however - oh, Tom yelled towards Sandra, who was still gleefully pulling at her engorged cunt lips. Sandra, bitch, where you keep the underwear, we want to put something revealing on her - but Sandra just shook her head. Silly, I threw it all out - underwear, this topic is over for me. You're gonna keep me half-naked or naked, remember? Clothing is from now on only made to parade me around as risky as possible, clothing is only here to accentuate my body and to keep me from being constantly arrested and jailed. No, no underwear for me, nothing decent for me anywhere - my body is public property.

The men still could barely believe what they found with Sandra - the most sex-crazed plaything in history. And, she added, we will go shopping today, we need clothing more extreme, it just cannot be that with some of those things my cunt might be hidden from the public! And the men agreed - for her outing to the bakery they needed to pick something... fun. Yes, something fun indeed, they thought rummaging through the wide array of what you could barely identify as clothing. Satisfied, they came to a conclusion: a completely sheer babydoll dress, that was obviously meant to be worn only inside, with the curtains closed, and even then it might still be considered provocative.

But now it would have to fit for Sandra's trip to the bakery: It barely covered her ass or her cunt, even standing up without moving and without the wind of the street. Not that it might have covered much to begin with - the boys just hoped it would be enough to not get her arrested. Honestly - deep inside they knew that there was quite a high chance she would get arrested - her nipples were at prominent display, highlighted by the rings in them. Her cunt - oh what a sight it was, there was no hiding the abuse it went through, with all the needles stuck through her cunt, that still could not prevent all the slime from leaking out of her. But she was insisting it would be perfect for her trip to the bakery - and off she went, leaving the men back to rummage through her belongings.

Sandra had her first orgasm just while reaching the store - dozens of men stared at her on the way there and what's even better: she knew all of the people she passed, they all knew her by name, they all knew who she was and could barely believe what they saw, a virtually naked Sandra with slime dripping from an abused cunt, where a day before a pretty, pristine pussy would have been visible. Cumming in front of the bakery, she takes a deep breath before stepping inside.

In the meantime, the dirty men went through her belongings - carefully she had prepared for somebody to not only abuse her body, but to take over all of her life. They easily were able to log into her bank account, with all the information they needed neatly written down with instructions, to take everything, to spend everything, to make sure she would have nothing left in life but sex, exhibitionism, and her body. All the social media feeds were by now already filled well with pictures and videos of her abuse, the boys having made sure that everybody who knew Sandra Wilder, would now also know her inside out - quite literally, as the pictures of her spread cunt made sure. And what amazing pictures they were - the ones with the used needles stuck into the tender flesh next to her cervix. The one of more than five used, dirty, rotten condoms sticking out of her abused cunt. The video of her lapping up a piss puddle at the tramway station, while cum was dripping out of her cunt. Yes, she was a celebrity now.

When she came back, the boys immediately saw that she had not only brought back some food for them, but that she also must have received quite a fucking and more. The safety pins were gone from her cunt, her babydoll was wet and soaked and stained, and cum was dripping down her legs. Somebody must have had fun with her, they all agreed. Sandra would have been pleased, had she known, that all her bank accounts were already empty and that a letter of resignation was sent to her employer - attached to it a multitude of pictures of the night before.

A long and perverted day lay between her nearly naked trip to the bakery and what happened that evening at the railway station. Nearly naked, at a dirty bench at the railway station she was masturbating furiously with an upside down wine bottle, neck first she jammed it repeatedly into her cunt. Now, the curious on-looker might assume that the bottle started out empty, or that Sandra was just on some drugs and acting wildly, but neither was the case. Sandra was as sober as they come (and boy, did she come) this late evening. The bottle, however, had a bit of a history.

Sandra had come to the railway station together with the four homeless men she had chosen to be her supporters for the weekend - and probably for the months or years to come. When she had arrived there, oh my, what a sight she had been: see, they had bought a dress today, quite sheer and far too short - it actually was less of a dress and more of delicate lingerie. But who is keeping track? Either way, it definitely was not meant to be worn outside, even less so on a saturday night in a seedy railway station. So, obviously she drew a crowd quite fast.

When she sat down at one of the benches, putting one of her long legs up, thereby spreading her legs quite a bit, the curious onlooker got quite the surprise, if he was so inclined to look between Sandra's long, tender legs: Her pussy - was more of a severely abused cunt, it was spread wide open. Now, this was not just the consequence of the fucking she had received over the day, not even the consequence of the fisting she had received at the little city beach earlier. No, it was part of a more delicate plan: Sandra's cunt lips are pierced, with silver rings being drawn through them. Now, not caring about pain or any level of decency anymore, she had come up with a special something for the show she wanted to provide.

Drawn through those rings were thin rubber bands, nearly invisible to the on-looking eye but strong enough to do their job. With the ends tied around her respective upper legs, those bands were tugging hard at her rings, pulling her cunt open with every step she took - now with the transparent "dress" she had on, she was quite a sight during the bus ride, and quite a few unknown hands found their way to her dripping cunt, with one daring guy even shoving a couple of rough fingers deep inside of her.

But now she had arrived - sat there with her cunt spread open in the most vulgar way imaginable, and started to slowly caress her clit that was sticking out proudly. Soon, she drew quite a crowd - now, this was not the crowd that you usually would enjoy, randy man, drunkards, junkies, homeless and wanderers. Soon they formed a circle around her, making sure no police or security might wonder in, as they watched with rising curiosity and arousal what was transpiring in front of their eyes. More and more furiously Sandra began to masturbate, as more and more people watched. You all will get your chance to fuck my cunt, if you even deem it good enough for you. If you don't - well, you can have my asshole, it might be in a better shape, Sandra grinned at the evil and vile looking men around her.

With this, George and Tom came forward to help her with the show she had planned. Tom had found an empty wine bottle in a dumpster, that he handed to Sandra. Of course, every halfway sane woman would have been disgusted - the bottle was dirty, ants were running around it, and it overall would have seemed quite off-putting to most. But Sandra gave the rim a quick lick, only to immediately push it into her wide open cunt without and concern for her physical well-being. After a few minutes and to wild cheering of the crowd, she ripped the bottle out, turned it around, and began shoving it wide end first into her abused snatch.

Moaning, she finally succeeded and continued to push it all the way to the hilt, until just the neck of the bottle was still outside her cunt. With this she waved to one of the heavily tattooed and honestly quite dirty onlookers, to come and help her out. Here, fuck me with this bottle until I scream. And scream she did after just a few moments, as she came crashing down in one earth-shattering orgasm.

With this, she pulled the bottle out of her cunt, nearly prolapsing herself, as the wide bottle pulled at her tender flesh. Passing the bottle to George, she offered to the men - who wants to fist fuck me? I want all your dirty hands inside my cunt, rip me apart and spread me open until I will never enjoy a normal cock again.

Now, the men did not need to be told twice - the first guy eagerly stormed towards her, first trying to seek to push three of his deformed and dirty fingers into her - only to find that indeed, Sandra's cunt would be able to take his whole fist. What was supposed to be a fist-fuck turned into him more or less punching his fist into her cunt, bottoming out at her cervix, over and over again - and he was only the first of nearly 20 men to do so.

In the meantime, George was busy as well - pissing into the wine bottle she gave him, before handing the bottle to another lost-looking man, telling him to do the same. After that they watched Sandra's cunt being destroyed further and further, as the men did their best to showcase their cunt-fisting capabilities - and Sandra came over and over again, as these unwashed, dirty fists kept pounding away at her wide-open cunt.

Time to wash her cunt a bit, George laughed, moving forward, pushing the fist-fuckers to the side, and having Sandra look wild-eyed (and wide-spread, indeed) at him. As her loose cunt gaped open, George waved the wine bottle now mostly filled with piss at her: Time to wash this cunt for what's about to come next, he laughed while the rest of the crowd erupted in laughter as well. Who could imagine something like this - a beauty like Sandra, with her tender soft body, her long legs, and her angel-like face willingly being abused, fisted, exposed to the world, and now a piss-filled wine bottle would be jammed into her cunt? Now, that is a sight to behold. And with this, George jammed the bottle inside her, only for her to take over and to start fucking herself with the bottle, in the process pouring the stale piss deep inside of her, having it of course run out of her cunt and down her legs in the process.

Now, with her freshly piss-washed, still-gaping cunt, Sandra was finally happy with the crowd she had drawn. Throwing away the bottle and slowly getting to her feet (she did not bother with shoes these days) she motioned the men to follow her - and so they did. Gleefully she staggered towards the train station restrooms - the male ones obviously. And as she entered, the terrible smell of shit, of stale piss, and god knows what else filled her nostrils. Feeling like she was in heaven, she ran towards the row of pissoirs, only to drop down there on her knees. NOW the show could begin.

And she wanted to show these men - the most vile men of the city possibly - that she was worse than all of them combined. Did you guys know, I am a trained dancer? I can do the splits, she exclaimed, before finding one of the bigger puddles of piss. Watch me! And with these words she carefully lowered herself into a full split, spreading her pussy lips until they hovered over the dirty, unspeakably filthy floor or rather - the puddle of disgusting piss.

Now I will need some help - gentleman. And as one guy reached out to her to help her get back up she shook her head violently - no, not for that. Push me down, handsome! Push me down, drag my cunt through the piss, why the hell would I want to get up? The guy could barely believe it - did this beauty really want her cunt, her exposed cunt, to be dragged through old stale piss and dirt? And oh she did. As he pushed her down, she reached down, making sure to spread her cunt open - she did not want the outer lips to get dirtied, no - she wanted the tender flesh of her abused cunt to soak up as much of the filth as possible. Dragging her cunt lips through the dirt and piss she was in heaven, what could be more vile? Her cunt was ruined, in every sense, worthless to anyone with the slightest rest of dignity.

This went on for a few minutes, until Sandra was satisfied with what she had done. Honestly, most of the men at this point did not know whether to be disgusted or aroused, they had never seen something like this. Now, who would want to fuck this cunt? Over-stretched, dirty, full of piss and ruined in every way. That she explained to them, but she had more to offer. Kneeling down in front of the dirties pissoir she could find, she started to lick the outer rim, making sure to catch every drop of stale piss, every dried-up stain there was. Turning around she begged the men - for fuck sake, finally start fucking my asshole at least!

And they agreed - that's the least they could offer to her. So while she kept licking at the urinal, licking up the piss, they started to bang her asshole. These dirty cocks, unwashed for days or weeks probably, entered her body with ease and with a full disregard of her comfort. More than once her face was pushed into the urinal itself, leaving her nearly chocking, lapping up the piss and the stale dirty water in it. No, she did not make them use condoms, of course, she thought to herself - what would be the fun of using condoms? No risk in that, no fun in that - the dirt and grime on the cocks that pounded away at her asshole made it interesting, the risk of ruining her own health by having these drug-abusing, potentially sick, homeless guys making her asshole their toy - that's what she was in for.

Now, George knew, that she had planned more. Her cunt was not done for the evening, oh no - the grand finale was still planned. George and Tom stepped out, walking from restroom to restroom, their hands in leather gloves, carrying a bag. And after a few minutes they found their way back to Sandra, who was orgasming from having a cock in her ass and a fist in her cunt, while her head was hanging in the urinal.

They had collected her present - her present of choice. Now see, the men had gone from restroom to restroom, finding the worst filth they could find. Used condoms. A piss-soaked rag. More syringes than they could count. And even more used condoms, some of them already stuck together - they knew the drill, all these things would need to find their way into Sandra's cunt, and she would insist to be ruined like this. They waited until everybody was done cumming in her ass, until Sandra turned around to sit down on the cold, wet tiles of the dirty toilet. Leaning back, spreading her legs, she knew what was to come and so did her lovers. Give me the needles first, she demanded - and somebody spread open my cunt as far as you can. And that they did - after all the fisting it opened easier, revealing the tender ring of her cervix that received such a thorough pounding.

I need - uh - I need all these needles to be shoved right there. Punctuate the flesh inside me, ruin me, oh please ruin me so thoroughly. Gooood, I wonder which junky shot up heroin with this, I wonder where these rusty dirty needles are from, she moaned. And George did his job - one after the other he jammed the dirty, sometimes rusty, sometimes wet needles deep inside of her cunt, pushing it as deep into her tender flesh as seemed possible. Sandra was crying half from pain and half from joy, as she orgasmed over and over again. Oh god the humiliation, oh god the risk - how will I even survive this? She screamed begging for more.

There, close your legs now, with the needles inside you, one of the man told her. And so she did - it would make the pain tenfold worse, risking one or more of the needles to break and to make it nearly impossible to ever get them out again. Like this she even managed to walk around the dirty bathroom, screaming from pain and cumming without a break. Exhausted, she plopped back down, and asked for the needles to be removed again. George managed to get most of them out of her, however, with a slight worry, he realized that some might have broken at the tip, leaving metal splinters and the tips of the needles lodged within her tender flesh or even shoved inside of her uterus - as the cruel man had pushed two needles right through her cervix. Oh well - that would be fun to explain to a doctor, how did a used needle end up inside of Sandra's uterus?

But Sandra did not care, or rather: She did. That's what she had hoped for, the ultimate destruction of her cunt. And now - and now, how many used condoms did you find around here? George had not counted - it was not one of his strengths, but he guessed it must have been around 20. That seemed enough, and obviously Sandra wanted to do the favor herself: Give them to me. Now some of them were obviously filled with old stale cum, some were coated outside with slime and dirt - just the right filling for her abused cunt.

Now, with the remains of some of the needles still lodged inside her abused cunt, she started pushing the used, dirty, infested condoms deep inside of her, making sure to not lose any of them. She counted herself - 22 used condoms were as much as she could fit inside of her gaping cunt. The remaining three she took in her mouth, licking them, savoring the disgusting taste, making sure every last drop of filth would make it into her belly.

Now - that was the show for the evening. Holding her cunt as far shut as possible, she staggered to her feet - it was time to go home, to settle down on her balcony, with the cum-filled, disgusting condoms staying in her cunt over night. But first, she needed to make it home - and it would be quite a walk, she knew. Smiling, she and some of the boys left the railway station, with a naked Sandra leading the way.


He did not want to let go. Did not want to move away.

Moving away, stopping kissing her, meant facing everything else. Seeing his ring on his finger, remembering Helen’s words, looking into another face that did not believe his curse would end their life.

It also meant looking into her eyes and accepting what he had done, what he had let himself feel again. After all he had lost. Choosing to have something else to loose. It meant facing all the pain it would take to back away again, to hurt her yet again. Or even worse, accepting to take her with him, to do another round and try his luck to get back out a second time.

But this time, she was in too. And taking them both out would be tempting fate.

He felt her hands about to snake around his neck and everything seemed to crumble.

He backed off almost as if he was burnt.

~***~

Her brain was tumbling in the wind somewhere and had only left her a few brain cells to pass the same realization over and over again.

John is kissing me. John is kissing me. John is kissing me. John is kissing me.

And what a kiss it was.

It wasn’t a gentle pressure on her lips, a rose petal on the water. It wasn’t the kiss the prince gave in the fairy tales. It was hungry and emotional and raw. Teeth, tongue, lips, she could barely remember which ones were hers.

It felt like a hello and a goodbye all at once.

It felt like a yes and like a no.

And then it stopped as quickly as it started, leaving her panting and lost, hands still half-way in the air. The ghost of lips on hers and of hands on her face. She finally focused on John that looked even worse. His eyes were wild and hurt, looking at her like he couldn’t believe what he had done. On that she felt the same.

“John.” She breathed out, embarrassed at the shake in her voice.

The moment she saw his eyes glance to the side, she launched herself, barely managing to catch his forearm as he attempted to leave. Again.

“John. No.” Since he stayed quiet, she kept going. “I- I have no idea what just happened, well, what it said or meant at least… But you cannot just- You can’t leave after that!” Her mind was still reeling to stay grounded, to understand, to remember. “I don’t care if you say it was a mistake or anger or a reflex but- You need to tell me.”

His brown eyes met hers again. They reminded her of the second time he had cooked for her and his eyes had lighted up for a few seconds before going back to himself. Hope, content…. Vulnerability.

“John… Please…”

“I can’t.” He sounded so defeated that she didn’t know what to do or say. “If I let you close, you’ll die. They won’t let me get out a second time.”

“John. I can help-“

“You cannot.”

“Then you don’t know me very well do you?”

Thought were flying free in her head and it was harder to catch them by the second. Everything was leaving until all that was left seemed to be that they just shared. The gentle slide of his knuckle on her cheek broke any semblance of sentence she had prepared. His eyes were not on her lips or her eyes, they seemed to scan her entire face, commit it to memory.

“People I care about don’t stay alive for long.”

“John-”

“Are you sure?” It didn’t sound like a question, more like a warning.

She let herself smile, wondering how much he had changed since she had come to Italy. She was a fighter, not a little frightened woman anymore. And he had lived in that world of his, hunted by every single assassin in the business.

“You know me; I can’t afford to get out without saving someone else along the way.”

This time, he simply pulled her into his arms. Protective. Warm. He didn’t have to ask for her to answer it as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, standing on her tip toes. They let themselves enjoy the moment, strip back to their beginning as unplanned roommates in a messy apartment. When they never really touched each other yet kept themselves in one piece.

“We’ll have to talk about that kiss someday, John.” She pointed out, glad of the cover her position gave her, hiding the red of her face from him.

He simply hummed and she smiled.

Yes. This was enough after all.

~***~

As an apology and out of necessity, John helped her move and burry the corpses. Francesco came out with puffy red eyes to help the duo dig and to thank them for helping out. Again, he was simply unable to look at her in the eyes.

It’s with a heavy heart that she finished filling the last of the hole. A glance toward the house proved her that her friend had watched her all the while when she saw him move away to join Gina at the dinner table. A sign escaped the doctor for the fifth time since they had started.

“They will get over it.”

She turned to John, a hint of anger in her eyes. “That’s rich of you to say.” Her eyes moved back to the cottage, yearning. “I enjoyed my time with them. They were nice to me, patient… I took care of them too in some way. It will hurt to leave.”

“You want to stay.”

A smile. “I can’t. I miss my house and New York and my friends and family. I miss people being rushed and taxis almost running me over when I cross the street. But I will miss the horse rides and the smile of the young girl at the market as well as them both, no matter how much they hate me.”

“I don’t think they hate you.”

“Come on. Trust is won by drops and lost by litres. They will not trust me again, at least not before I leave for New York.”

He nodded this time, grabbing the tools to place them back by the shed. “You should go to sleep; we need to leave tomorrow.”

“Will you stay?”

“What?”

“With me. Not in that terribly uncomfortable chair of course. The bed they landed me is not really a double, but you’d have space.” Realising how her proposition could be heard as, she started fidgeting. “We’d have enough space to not even touch each other! I’m not- Sleep! Sleeping as in sleep- Not- Oh my lord.”

Her rambling made her unable to hear him as he got closer and she jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder. “It’s ok. I’ll be there.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, she nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

When he turned his back and started walking away to the bag of guns they had looted from the goons, she wasn’t worried about him running away. He wouldn’t. Not this time. And if he did, she was willing to hunt him down as so many were already doing.

“Amelie? Shit- Sorry I know that’s not really your name but-”

She turned to face Francesco with a tired smile. “Hey. It’s ok, call me whatever you want.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. I did enough hurt here anyway.”

He was looking at her a was she wasn’t completely comfortable with. “It could have been worse… All I see is that you lied about your name and shot a man to help us out. That man was worse.” His eyes hardened. “He wasn’t a doctor; you were burning with fever you could have died!”

His outburst took her by surprise. “I am fine, the fever-”

He stepped into her personal space to take her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “You could have died! Dios Mio, Amelia! He could have murdered half a nation in cold blood I don’t think I would be as mad! Do you even know how you looked like? Half-dead on your bed? Calling out names no one knew and begging for forgiveness?” He kept going as she was about to answer. “And I don’t know who this Larry or Wagner are supposed to be, but I will kill them, for whatever they did that made you ask to-”

His shoulders slumped and his hands felt as they were only staying on her shoulders with gravity. She raised a hand to place it on his cheek, raising his face toward her. “Fancesco… I don’t remember what I said, but they are gone now. I lived a lot I wish I hadn’t. I saw a lot I probably shouldn’t have… But I’m better now. I pulled trough. I’m stronger than I ever was and-”

When his hands framed her face to make sure she would watch him, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. It almost hurt.

“I’m not whatever he is or whatever you are. I barely know how to shoot a can or disarm someone. But what I know I am not is someone that can watch the woman he loves suffering and begging for someone to end her life while someone claim to be a doctor to stay by her side.”

“Francesco I-”

“I know I can’t offer much but-”

“Francesco I can’t stay I-”

“For me! For Gina! For Luna or the rabbits or sheep I don’t care, just stay!”

“I lied to you for months-”

“I don’t care!”

Panic was slowly filling her. Not that he would ever raise his hand on her, but the situation was getting out of hand really fast. She might have known he was harboring feelings towards her, but never imagined them to be this strong. Especially after she had shown her true self.

“Francesco.” She stated softly, holding his cheek again, this time more to make sure he wouldn’t try anything rash by holding him back. He looked like what she had felt only a few hours prior. When John was about to leave her again and asked her if she wanted him to. “Francesco, I consider you my friend. You helped me out, you cared, you still do and I can’t thank you enough, but I have to go home now. My family-”

“We could visit them! You don’t have to go back there, you’re happy here!”

“I’m lonely here, Fran-”

“I’m here! You don’t need to be alone…” He was subtly pulling her closer but she stood her ground and pushed him back a bit, more out of pity than anger. “I’m here for you Amelie.”

“You’re a friend, Franc. A very good friend, but I can’t leave my family alone, my friends alone. I’m a doctor and I want to go home.”

This time, he sighed. Her heartbeat quickened in fear when he moved closer, but relaxed as his lips touched her forehead.

“You know I love you.”

“You know I don’t love you that way.”

“Yes…”

“I’ll come visit.”

“You better. Gina will kill me if she learns I scared you away for good.”

“It takes a lot more to scare me.”

“I know.”

“Also, Gina is way scarier than you.”

He chuckled, pulling her into a hug that she wholeheartedly answered in kind. It felt odd, this friendship. But no one could force romance, and being friends would be enough for him.

“I’ll miss you Amelie.”

“I’ll miss you too, Fancesco.”

In the back, leaning against the stabbles’ wall, John watched them both. There was no jealousy in his heart, she wasn’t the kind to give her feelings out easily. Their embrace just made him sad somehow. He could see how much both of them hurt in similar way. Leaving each other.

He could relate.

He just did not know the last meeting was a goodbye beforehand.

~***~

“John, I swear to all that is holy, if you even think about putting that blanket and pillow on the chair or the floor, I will kick your ass so hard you’ll arrive to New York early.”

He wasn’t used to her holding her ground as she currently was. Hands on her hips in a too-big T-Shirt that barely covered her shorts – not that he would point it out – and her hair that had grown, tied in a messy bun for her nightly routine. She was fluming, and he knew that she wouldn’t bulge no matter what he would try.

“I won’t ask again. Put back the pillow and blanket and get into the damn bed.”

That had the merit of being clear.

With a sigh, he put the couch cushion back in his place and the still folded blanket on the armrest. Turning to her he wondered when. When had she made him go back to his unburdened self. The John that went out for groceries and liked to read books and sit on a couch to drink coffee before the day started. The question remained as he slipped under the covers, at the side closest to the door, careful to stay as close as he comfortably could from the edge.

The mattress dipped and he heard her sigh contently.

“Goodnight John.”

After a small pause, he closed his eyes. He bid her goodnight the same as she did and fell into a restless sleep.

On her side, the doctor wasn’t sleeping, far from it. No matter what she tried, her closed eyelid apparently only had one movie in stock: Kiss land and what-the-heck-do-we-do-with-that-John. She became increasingly aware of his warmth that she could feel on her back. Of his smell that only contained a small lingering bit of his usual cologne. It was horribly distracting. While, a long time ago, she could move around a room without him even stopping snoring, she didn’t think getting out of that bed would go unnoticed. After her outburst, there was no way she would be allowed to sleep on the floor or the chair or even the uncomfortable half-a-place couch. She was stuck.

It did not help that the last time they had been in that situation, she had awoken, drooling on his chest, holding to him like a koala. Or maybe that was just her imagination running it worse than it had been. She just didn’t think that after his kiss, they would react the same if they woke up over each other… Okay… Mostly her over him.

Her feelings were not especially clear at the moment. She had barely gotten to know the man before Italy, and then hadn’t seen him in months while the entire world was trying to get his head. Then a small come and leave that did not really make her believe he cared much about her more than her passing being a hindrance, one less ally in an unforgiving situation.

But now? He had asked her if she wanted to stay with him. He had kissed her and it had been desperate, true.

And it was really messing her up.

She reached for the alarm clock and turned it to check the time. Eleven PM. Gosh she was old… Old and stuck since turning around in bed was not an option for someone in her situation. Great. Bloody great. Maybe if she only managed to change her mind.

She ended up giving a disappointed sigh and turn around.

John’s reflex was all that stopped her from falling off the bed as she came nose-to-nose with the object of her thoughts.

“You can’t sleep.” He pointed out as she tried to calm her breathing.

“You kind of scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Gosh he looked good. “No need to be.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Now how the heck was she supposed to sleep since on of his arm was now swung over her waist, unmoved from his previous save. Slowly, she let herself remember her way here, to Rome, to the Continental, to Tina, to John. They would talk tomorrow. Now she needed sleep.

She scooted closer to him to enjoy the safe feeling he always gave her and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight John.”

He answered in kind with a soft voice and she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

~***~

“Tell me again why we have to go to the village?” Asked Fancesco from his spot next to Gina on the back seat. “Don’t you two have to leave as fast as you can?”

“I need to stop my memberships, Franc.” She answered, looking at the fields with nostalgia, trying to burn them into her memory. “I don’t plan on people coming to you two to ask why I didn’t pay the second payment or something.”

“But why is he here too? You said he might be searched for.”

“John can take care of himself.”

This time, only a sigh answered her.

“Which one?” Asked John from behind the wheel, back into his farm-doctor ensemble with an added worn baseball cap and sunglasses.

“Just leave me at the other corner, I know the way.”

She was dropped by as asked and turned to the driver again, handing him a list and a card. “Here’s the groceries list, please to bring them both there and help them with the flour bag. I’ll join you there in an hour or less.”

“You’re sure?” He simply asked, taking the items trough the window.

“I’m a big girl, John. Anyway, I have high doubts about being hurt there. I have friends that I believe to be high-grade.”

On this, she turned around and started walking, hands in her pockets. The sound of the engine slowly moved away to mix with the others in the nearby street. Adjusting her bag, she started jogging. Better start her muscles before whatever Angelo would have prepared.

“Hey, you, Bella!” Called a man sitting on his porch. “Why don’t you come give me a kiss?”

She ignored the catcalling, keeping her steady rhythm.

“Bella, come on!” Added another one, younger. “You don’t have any headphones on, don’t try to make us believe you can’t hear us!”

“Oh, no.” She finally answered without even slowing down or turning her head. “I though I was very clearly ignoring you. My bad.”

The following shocked silence was worth more money that she could make. The following footsteps were not as welcomed. A hand closed itself on her shoulder and she began. Groin, plexus, throat. Bent, Empty, Close. The old man fell on the sidewalk and she looked for the second opponent. Not one, they were three. Four if she counted the wheezing form at her feet. The street was too wide, too well-known for them. She ran.

The small jog had done its job and the sprint wasn’t too damaging. She could see the cross of the church right beside Angelo’s place. She wouldn’t make it fast enough. Oh well-

John turned the corner on foot, almost making her stop in shock. But she knew that stance. She had seen Angelo do it. Grabbing his extended hand, she felt him twist on himself to improve her momentum.

When the sole of her shoe connected with the closest man, his jaw cracked soundly. The high kick usually gave her trouble, especially to end up on her feet. John’s hand on her waist annulled the problem in its entirety. A punch on the second man’s ear brought her back to herself as she crouched down to sweep the last man’s feet, a smile making its way to her face as he fell on his back loudly. There was no doubt John could have done all of it without her, but him letting her fight by his side was a gift she hadn’t foreseen. She felt… Equal.

“You know Angelo.” He pointed out.

“Yeah. I need to get to his place to say I’m leaving… He will be disappointed.”

“Maybe.”

The duo went on their way, leaving the four bruised men on the ground, shocked, and very, very confused.

To be continued...


Derek looked over worriedly at the motionless teenager sitting next to him in the Camaro. Stiles was silent. Stiles was never silent. There should be arm flailing, and the rapid bounce of words hitting his eardrums with relentless energy. Now there was nothing. Zilch. Nada. Stiles was silent.  Derek cleared his throat uncomfortably.  Amber eyes locked onto his face.

“Thank you Sourwolf” the whispered words were solemn and heartfelt “I don’t know what I would have done if they had taken me away from my Dad” the rest of the sentence was mostly muttered under his breath but Stiles had to know that he would be able to hear them. Before Derek could even respond, Stiles seemed to remember something, Derek could see the curiosity creeping into the kid’s eyes as Stiles turned his body to face him and he perked up a bit. “Did they have communication devices in their ears? What did you hear just before we left?” he asked his eyes gleaming.

Derek actually smothered a grin “Some guy threatened them with the Hulk if they didn’t let you go” Stiles perked up even more “Seriously?” he gaped “Wow ultra-cool dude”

“Stiles” Derek’s tone was familiar in its long suffering grumpiness “Don’t call me Dude”. Stiles actually laughed and Derek’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction behind his sunglasses.  He could smell the stress, anxiety and adrenaline easing off in the kid. He might be following the Sheriff’s order to watch out for the boy but he had always liked the sarcastic little shit anyway. He was much more entertaining than Scott, who really should have been a Were Golden retriever not a wolf. Despite Scott’s so called morality and puppy dog eyes, Stiles was more loyal and utterly ruthless when it came right down to it. He would have made an excellent Beta. He would make an even better Alpha.

Derek was angry, he was always angry but when the kid was still trying to deal with the fact that he had been kidnapped and beaten by that psychotic old bastard Gerard Argent and no one had come to save him especially not his damn best friend, he now had to deal with some fucking interfering secret agency and their not so fucking secret superheroes trying to take him away from his Dad. It made Derek really, really angry.   Derek knew the agony of losing family. Stiles had suffered through that once with his Mom, there was no way in hell Derek could sit back and watch Stiles lose his scary father. Anger boiled in his veins like lava. Those interfering assholes wouldn’t want to see him angry, there would be teeth and claws and throats being ripped out.

Derek pulled something out of his jacket pocket and threw it Stiles, “Ring your Dad and tell him we are on our way” he growled. Stiles gaped at him as he found his own phone back in his lap. Stiles gave a surprised chuckle “That Hawk guy didn’t even see you move Der Bear, you must have scared the crap out of him”, there was gleeful vengeful satisfaction in the kid’s tone and Derek hid another smile. He didn’t even cuff Stiles’ head for the stupid nickname.

“Dad” John Stilinski closed his eyes with relief as he heard Stiles’ voice. He didn’t care that both Parish and the God of Thunder were sitting in his office with him whilst they waited for the rest of the SHIELD/Stark circus to arrive.

“Stiles honey, are you ok? Are you with the Deputies that were despatched? Did anyone hurt you? What did Stark do to you?” The rapid fire questions were getting increasingly desperate yet didn’t allow Stiles a chance to answer. Thor watched with interest.  Parish raised one eyebrow in surprise, the Sheriff was normally imperturbable even when Stiles had a mishap. His actions against the Argents were the result of a cool manipulative highly intelligent and ruthless strategist. The Sheriff’s reaction to Stiles call was so out of character that Parish knew there was something major behind it, and had he mentioned Stark as in Tony Stark? Another Avenger and the team mate of the Alien blonde bombshell who was sitting next to him enjoying some pop tarts.  What the hell was going on?

Derek heard the Sheriff’s reaction and wondered if Stiles’s behaviour had finally rubbed off on the man. Derek had assumed that when he was tasked with looking out for Stiles it was protection against the supernatural. The Sheriff hadn’t told him anything about problems with the Avengers for god’s sake but when he was making his way through the cemetery to Mrs Stilinski grave after he had been notified by the Sheriff that Stiles was going there and he was to keep an eye on him, he had overheard Stark’s words and Stiles’ response. He had seen the same shade of eye colour in Stark and Stiles. He didn’t know what the actual story was, but it didn’t really matter. The Sheriff was Stiles’ father and the kid adored him. Shit Stiles had lied to the damn man for months about the chaotic and dangerous supernatural insanity in Beacon Hills just to keep him safe. Whatever Stark’s reasoning, and wasn’t the guy supposed to be some sort of genius, turning up with his pack of lycra clad assholes and allowing them to frighten the kid was a big mistake. One the Iron Man was going to live to regret if he wasn’t already, judging by the Sheriff’s tone of voice. The Sheriff was freaking dangerous and he didn’t need any gimmicks, superpowers or secret agencies.

“Dad, let me get a word in” Stiles gave a weak laugh, appreciating the irony of what he had just said and he heard an answering snort of amusement from his Dad. “I’m with Derek, you know Derek Hale? He got me out of there” There was a pause then Stiles offered “Stark wasn’t alone, he had some of the Avengers with him and the Black Widow, she tried to make me go with them Dad, well they all did towards the end but Mrs Oakley was there and she and Derek stopped them” there was a sound suspiciously like a sob before Stiles carried on “Derek’s bringing me to you Dad, and they are following. What are we going to do?”

The Sheriff listened to his son’s voice become more fearful as he relayed the events and his rage grew.

“Stiles, you are safe with Derek. No one is going to take you away from me. You come straight here and we will deal with this kiddo”

By the time Tony had parked his roadster in the Station parking lot, Jarvis had supplied full information on Mrs Eleanor Oakley retired teacher, widow and great grandmother extraordinaire, the disturbing story of Derek Hale’s life to date and Bruce Banner had interrupted their conversation and told him in no uncertain terms that he would be a complete moron if he allowed anyone to take Genim away from the Sheriff unless the kid was in imminent and present danger from the man.

He glanced curiously at the madly abandoned white SUVs that he presumed had something to do with Coulson and his gang. He was incredibly pissed off at everyone right now, especially SHIELD, the vehicles that the rest of the team had used were all parked and they were waiting for him outside the entrance. That sweet ride the Camaro was empty, with no sign of its hot growly driver or his young passenger with the Stark DNA.  Another presumption, but they could paint him yellow, give him dungarees and call him a freaking minion if the kid wasn’t already crying on the shoulder of his infamous assassin alternative father. Damage limitation time. Well he was good at that, he could have the board of Stark Industries bending over backwards to tie his shoelaces if he put his mind to it, but then again they loved the fact he made them money. He had to take the personal out of this. He had to find a way to get them both to be reasonable. Hmmm. Let’s see how that conversation was going to start. “Well Sheriff my team mates decided to kidnap the kid, frighten him half to death and then follow him to his father in the hopes of intimidating the man they believed had put the kid in danger because he was the infamous Scimitar. Oh Genim what’s that, you didn’t know that the man who brought you up saved your unborn life after being contracted to kill your Mom, one of many in a highly successful murderous career?” That was so going to go down well. Like a helicarrier with defunct engines. And Pepper thought the explosions in his lab were bad! He was so gonna need his suit for this conversation.

But first, there was the little matter of his team mates. The three Sweethearts waiting for him outside the Sheriff’s station, one of whom was shuffling his feet and looking at him sheepishly. The faint flush of shame across Steve’s cheeks reduced Tony’s ire slightly as did the memory of his scolding at the hands of the indomitable Mrs Oakley but Romanov and Barton were well past due for a Stark diatribe.

Natasha’s face was calm and expressionless, one eyebrow raised as Tony walked towards them. Barton still had a defiant little smirk on his face but his eyes were assessing.

“What the hell did you trio of moron’s think you were doing? Did you deliberately set out to destroy any hope of a relationship with the kid?” Barton snorted and Tony turned to glare at him, “Christ Stark what relationship? You pissed the kid off royally asking him for a hug for his old man”

Before Tony could retaliate, and by god he really wished he had even just his gauntlets so he could blast the birdbrain when Steve interrupted. “It wasn’t like that Tony, it wasn’t planned, but did you see the way the boy’s body language reacted to the potential threat, there’s something wrong, you know there is. When Natasha called it, it seemed like a good idea to just get the boy out of the situation to allow us to assess the danger properly” Tony could hear how earnestly the man with a plan believed what he was saying but he was watching Romanov. Barton interjected suddenly “Tony, Scimitar is dangerous, don’t care how long he’s been inactive, the guy is dangerous. Your relationship with the boy, well I hope it works out but we can’t in good conscience leave your son with the guy” Barton’s sincerity was obvious but Tony hadn’t moved his eyes from the still silent redhead who hadn’t taken her attention off him. He liked Clint, he was entertaining and snarky, and kept most of his feelings to himself. Tony was sure that Clint was worried about his son in the clutches of Scimitar, there was obviously history there but right now, Tony was fixated on Natasha Romanov. Fucking spies and their fucking manipulations. Tony asked coldly “Tell me Clint did you agree this course of action with Red here, because Capsicle wasn’t aware of it was he until it happened” Clint’s eyes flickered to Natasha and then back to Tony. He didn’t say anything but his face tightened fractionally. Not that Clint would ever leave Natasha floating in the wind. Tony’s eyes were cold, and still glued to the Widow but he was aware that Steve had stiffened and was throwing an incredulous but increasingly angry glance at both Hawkeye and the Black Widow. Captain America drew himself up to his full height and coldly demanded “Did Fury put you up to this Agents?” Clint’s mouth dropped open as if he was going to say something then his eyes flickered to Natasha. “Fuck Nat” he muttered under his breath but he didn’t respond to the question.

“Steve, I am going in there alone, I have bridges to build and a frightened teenager to apologise to, so you keep this pair here and find out what the fuck is going on.” He felt Steve’s hand clasp his shoulder as he walked past them towards the entrance. The murmured apology from the man was acknowledged with a slight nod.  Tony stopped right next to the Widow without looking at her. “If Coulson has harmed my child or the Sheriff in any way including emotionally or you don’t tell the Captain here what your instructions were, I am calling in Bruce, and you can explain this all to the Other Guy. Then I am going after Fury”


He wakes up screaming.

It was less than a year ago that he survived a beating that nearly killed him. His last few months in prison, freedom was so close. He was on high alert at all times, just wanting to make it out alive. He barely slept. Not that sleep had ever come easy locked up. They never turn off the lights there, people yell all night long. But he held it together, he kept it together, and he got out.

And last night, well in this moment, his brain isn’t letting him remember last night. His brain is punishing him for relaxing. For letting his guard down. His brain can’t keep up, isn’t explaining to him where he is. All he feels is the adrenaline boiling in his veins. His flight or fight response has been activated and it’s all fight.

Hands are touching him. To restrain him. To stab him. To assault him. Fight Fight Fight. He snaps and grabs his assailant by the throat.

But his vision clears and reality crashes into him. He is in Betty’s room. He has her shoved against her headboard with his hands around her neck.

He lets go and scrambles away from her out of the bed to the other side of the room. She looks absolutely terrified. Of him. Fires inside him rage. The fighting for his life response is replaced by ugly self loathing, blistering anger at himself. He needs somewhere for the fire to go.

He punches her wall until the drywall cracks and his knuckles bleed.

“Jughead, STOP,” he hears her hoarsely call out. He stops but doesn’t turn around to face her.

“I’m sorry, Jesus. Betty, I’m so sorry.” He leans his forehead to the wall and tries to control his breathing. But memories from last night crush him. Betty’s flushed face, touching her again, her touching him. The tenderness. The heart splitting tenderness she showed him, and she allowed him to show her.

Yesterday was the most beautiful dream. And even though he had actively tried to fight against it, he couldn’t help it, hope had snaked its way into his head and heart. Nothing concrete, he didn’t allow himself to fantasize about anything tangible. But he went to bed last night with the hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the last time he fell asleep with the love of his life.

He hears her get out of bed and walk toward him. Before she can get too close he turns to face her and puts his hands up.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warns her. She stops and looks scared but determined. More memories from yesterday slam into him and he can hardly bare it. She’s standing in front of him in her tiny sleep clothes, her cheeks pink, her hair slightly tousled. She’s a goddamn Angel and he’s a monster. “This,” he hisses, “is why I didn’t want you near me ever again. I am fucking ruined.”

“No.” Betty is shaking her head, “No, this isn’t you. I know you’ve been through unimaginable trauma,” she stutters but Jughead cuts her off.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.” Watching his back all the time, from a Ghoulie, or a guard, or a traitorous Serpent. Walking around knowing any second someone could jump him. Stab him. Kill him. He knows these feelings and this anxiety will never leave him. “I will never get over it. This is who prison made me. This is who I am now. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He pulls on his jeans and makes to leave.

“Don’t you dare leave me again.” He can hear the rage building in her voice. “You’re going to quit without even trying? Without even trying to get better for me?”

“I just fucking strangled you!” he explodes. “If anybody else put hands on you like that, I’d kill them and happily go back to prison for the rest of my life. Do I need to say it again? Prison fucking ruined me. What, you think I need some therapy? All this shit inside me, it makes me dangerous, and volatile. And I think you were on a pretty good fucking path before I showed up again. I bet before I got out no one was putting hands on you first thing in the morning.”

“Why is it so easy for you to walk away from me?” she asks delicately, with shame and disappointment in her tone. And it cuts through him, because doesn’t she know? Nothing has ever been harder, but he also has never loved anything more. He almost falters when he looks into her eyes. There are still traces of fear, but what he mostly sees is sorrow. But then he sees the red marks on her neck, the marks from him.

“I’d rather never see you again than have anything close to what just happened ever be repeated.”

Betty steps closer to him. He tries to keep her at bay with a warning look. But since when did he ever have any control over Betty Cooper? She brings her hands up to hold his face and he wants to jerk away from her, but she’s always been able to disarm him.

“You need help,” she says, but not accusatorially. “I know that. I understand that. Today, I’m going back to Brooklyn. I’m going to work my job. I’m going see my friends. I am not going to get back together with the boyfriend I broke up with the second I found out you were getting released.” That statement makes him want to look away, but she holds him firm in her hands. “And you are going to go to F.P.’s. You’re going to let him help you. You’re going to see a therapist. You are going to start a life with the money from the book advance. You are going to work on yourself. Hell, maybe even try dating. And someday, maybe soon, maybe not so soon, you’re going to come find me. And I’m going to be waiting for you.” Her gaze seers into his.

“I don’t want you to wait for me,” he challenges. Betty doesn’t deserve this. Just like she doesn’t deserve a serial killer dad and a control freak mom. She doesn’t deserve waiting around for her excon boyfriend to get enough therapy so his PTDS doesn’t make him attack her. It makes him sick.

He watches her jaw set in defiance and he knows she’s going to fight him. He doesn’t want her to wait around, but it’s something else too. And he owes her the truth. “And what if - what if I never get better?” he whispers.

Her features stay strong as her eyes search his face, she’s still cupping his cheeks. “Yesterday, when I picked you up, I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know what I wanted. It was an out of body experience. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. But I know now, just like I knew when you told me not to wait for you six years ago. I can’t, Jughead. Maybe when you’re out there getting better you’ll meet someone. You can try to date. You can see what it’s like trying to be with someone who’s not your soulmate.” She takes a breath and steps closer to him. “When you were in prison, I tried. I lived like you were died. Like there was no chance we would ever see each other again. I dated, I had a boyfriend, and Jug, I tried with him. I really tried. But there was always this little piece of me that wasn’t in it. I decided the piece must have died with you. But now you’re here, and I’m alive again.” Her eyes shine as she speaks.

“Betty, I’m not the person who left you. I’m so much worse.” He feels defeated.

“Jughead, do you still love me?” she asks in a hushed tone. His throat closes up because how can she even ask him that? He wants to tell her she's everything, but he fleetingly thinks she’ll probably read his book soon enough. Instead of confessing out loud, he simply nods.

“Why don’t you understand? I love you as much as you love me.” His heart flutters and his hands shake and he can’t stop himself from placing them on her hips and rubbing his thumbs against the bare skin of her waist. With his touch her whole body releases tension and he can’t believe she’s finding comfort in him after what just happened.

“I’m going back to New York,” she states again. “I am going to live my life, but part of me, a big part of me, will always know you’re out there. And even if I try my best I know I will always be waiting for you. So, please,” she pleads, tears are rolling down her cheeks now. “Please, come find me.”

He can’t speak. His hands move from her waist to her back as he pulls her to him. They hug and feel each other's heart beats rattle their bodies. He wishes he could promise her a future. He wants to give her anything and everything, but he’s so, so scared. He’s scared he’ll become a statistic and end up in prison again. Scared he’ll turn to alcohol like his father did so many times in the past. Scared this violence inside him will never leave and he’ll always be a powder keg waiting to go off. He’s scared this is the last time he’ll ever hold Betty Cooper. He never wants to let her go.

But, eventually, he’s the one that untangles them. If he stays one second longer, he may never leave her, and they are both not ready for that.

As he goes to leave, he hears her strangled voice. “Jughead, if you really still do, could you - could you say it out loud?” She’s blinking back tears again. “I just haven’t heard it in so long.”

He’s suffocating for a moment, there is no air in his lungs to get the words out. Because all this terrifies him. These feelings and these words, they keep him tied to her when he knows he should leave her. But they hum through him, the words that were his mantra in prison. His heart is in his throat and he can’t deny her. He looks into her eyes.

“I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

She inhales lips parted. He opens the door and leaves.


Tony was not sure how long he remained there on his knees - long enough for the tick on his back to act up and his legs to cramp up in protest. He also wasn’t one hundred percent sure as to how he had managed to get himself to the kitchen, but there he was, with a drink in hand next to the kitchen sink.

Tony sighed, leaning his elbows on the table as he dropped his head with a defeated groan. He could not believe what a mess he had made of things. And, the worst part, he had no real idea how to fix this. Would Stephen be amenable to pretend nothing had happened tonight? Could they go back to being - probably somewhat strained - friends again? He could probably come up with some halfway decent excuse that they could use to justify tony’s reproachable behavior, but Tony was not optimistic enough to assume their relationship would be the same as before.

And, truly, that’s what hurt him the most. In but a second he had managed to destroy one of the most precious relationships he had with one of the few people that had befriended Tony not only because of what he could do for the Doctor but rather because he simply enjoyed spending time with him. It was one of the few healthy relationships he had left, and he could not bear the thought that he had ruined it for good.

“Tony?” Asked Carol as she quietly walked into the kitchen, a worried frown on her face.

Tony jumped a mile high, having assumed he was alone in the compound. “Jesus, Carol, warn a guy next time.” He said as he clutched at his chest, thankful that he hadn’t been holding his drink for he was sure it would be shattered on the floor otherwise.

“Sorry,” She said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you were in the compound - thought it was just me tonight.”

Tony tensed slightly. “Yeah, I… just got here a minute ago,” Tony said without looking at his friend. “I didn’t realize you were coming back tonight.”

“I wasn’t supposed to come back for another week, but I finished my mission early, so I figured I’d give myself a treat and come home early. Is it alright that I decided to crash here? I… well I got to New York and I realized I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, but I should have-”

Tony stopped her nervous rambling by placing a warm hand on her shoulder. He looked at her, feeling truly touched by her genuine concern of having overstepped a boundary. “This is your home too - for as long as you want or need it.”

She gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate that.” She stepped closer then to envelop the man in a hug. “Now, you wanna tell me what’s up? You’re not looking real swell tonight.”

Tony could not help but tense in her arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She snorted. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said as she leaned her chin against his shoulder. “But don’t pretend you’re okay. I know you, Tony - and I know I haven’t known you for long, but I

know

you, so… if you wanna talk, I’m here.”

“Am I breaking up a moment, because if so, I am so sorry,” Hope said from the kitchen door, looking slightly nervous to be standing there.

Tony and Carol whirled around, both clearly surprised. Tony looked up at Friday “You know a little warning every time someone is about to scare the shit out of me by stealthily walking into the room would be nice, baby girl.”

“Sorry, boss. I saw no risk of threat,” Friday said with a hint of humor in her voice; never let it be said that his children did not have the power to find pockets of space where it was safe to tease him.

Tony shook his head but smiled at his newly arrived guest nonetheless. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, Ms. Van Dyne”

“Hope,” she corrected softly with a small smile - a small reminder of their last conversation. “I… um, well I was hoping to speak to you actually. I had so many things in my mind I forgot to call. Sorry about that,” she said with a small grimace.

Tony softly moved away from Carol’s embrace in order to approach Hope, offering her his hand. “It’s alright, no harm done. How can I help you?”

“Um, I am not sure actually,” she said, her voice sounding watery as she slowly approached the kitchen. “God, it’s silly, I shouldn’t have come.”

Carol placed her hand atop the other woman’s offering her a small smile. “Listen, I don’t know you very well-” that was an understatement, she had only seen the woman twice and had filled in the gaps with the profile sheets Tony had provided “- but I think I can speak for Tony and I when I say it’s okay; we are a team now. That means we’re there for each other, no matter how small or silly your issue may seem to you.”

Tony swallowed hard, feeling Carol’s comment strike him to the bone. It had never been like that with the old team; the most he had been able to hope for was not to be too terribly judged if he ever dared have an issue.

He shook the pain off, plastering a smile on his face as he nodded in agreement. “C’mon, I’ll make you ladies some tea if you want? Or something stronger?”

“I will have some of what you’re having,” Carol pointed to Tony’s scotch glass and the man nodded.

“Make that three,” Hope said with a sigh as she heaved herself into a seat on the kitchen Island.

“So, I take it we’ve all had shit nights then?” Tony asked as he poured two drinks and slid them towards each woman.

“I spoke with Scott today,” Hope explained taking  a gulp of her drink. “Thank you, by the way, for convincing them to let me do that.”

Tony nodded. “How did it go?”

“He doesn’t remember anything - well anything other than what we already knew-” she said as she took another big gulp before covering her eyes with her free hand. “I just… it’s very frustrating. I

know

 she’s trapped in there - I know it - but there’s no leads and Scott just… I know it’s not his fault. He genuinely tried to help me today,” she said, mostly reminding herself of that fact.

Tony sighed and walked around the table to sling his arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. “I am sorry, Hope,” he said honestly. “Would you like me to look at the math for the tunnel? Maybe I can help somehow there.”

She gave him a watery smile. “My father will never agree to that, but I’ll try to bring some of our research here next time I come so we can look at it together.”

Tony nodded, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Don’t lose hope yet,” he teased, feeling a spark of warmth fill him as she chuckled, looking a bit more relaxed.

“Alright, enough about me, why are you two having bad nights?” She asked, taking a second to look at them both.

“Ladies first,” Tony said as he turned to look at Carol, who chuckled.

“I had to deal with a Kree emissary on my last mission,” she revealed, leaning on her elbows as she stared at her drink. “It was… I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I lived with them for six years where I had no idea who I had been before. I was just Vers. I trained with them, I laughed with them, I went to battle with them -

I was one of them

 - and I know I was never really a part of them, but…” she swallowed hard, shaking her head. “A part of me will always hate them, but there’s also a part of me that was… is… one of them. And I don’t know if that makes me just as much of a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” Tony defended immediately, reaching over to tilt her chin up so she would look at him in the eye. “You are

Carol Danvers

, a former member of the US Airforce that was captured and used in a heinous way for six years. Whatever crimes you committed while under their influence were not done by choice and yes, you may have Kree blood running through your veins now, but that doesn’t have to define who you are.” Tony moved his hand up to her cheek to wipe a tear away.

Carol choked back a sob and leaned into the touch, holding Tony’s hand there with her warm hand.

Hope, for her part, also reached out, and squeezed Carol’s free hand, giving her a reassuring smile as she said “haven’t you been kicking ass around the universe saving everyone and anyone for the past twenty years? If anything, you’re a hero.”

Carol snorted, chuckling despite herself. “Sorry, I am not usually this… “ she shook her head.

“We’re here for each other right? You said it not even ten minutes ago,” Hope reminded her.

Carol nodded, smiling softly before turning her gaze to Tony. “Right, so now that we’ve spilled our guts it’s your turn mister. What happened tonight?”

Tony groaned, burying his face in his hands as he walked away from hope to stand at the head of the Island, not quite looking at either woman. “I… fucked up.”

“That’s not much of an answer,” Hope said dryly as she picked up her drink. “What happened, Tony?”

“I kissed Stephen,” Tony half whispered, sounding strangled. “And I am pretty sure that, with that, I managed to ruin one of the few good friendships I have made in my life.”

Carol half gaped at him. “Wait, did he… what did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t… well he did absolutely nothing, really. He just stood there, frozen, looking like an old computer with a virus,” Tony said as he picked up his drink and knocked it back. “God I’m such an idiot.”

Hope grimaced. “Maybe he was just surprised?”

Tony snorted “please don’t try to make me feel better about the fact that I forced a kiss on my

co-worker

.” Tony groaned again. “God, what is wrong with me? I mean, for fuck’s sake, we’re supposed to work together for the Avengers and I went ahead and just-”

“Okay, no, stop, don’t do that to yourself,” Carol said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You are making this bigger than it has to be. What did you do exactly? Did you step away as soon as you realized he wasn’t reciprocating?”

“Yes, of course, but-”

“Then you took the cue and didn’t pressure him. I mean, yeah, it may get a bit awkward but to be fair, when I first saw you two together, I thought you were a couple. So it’s not like you kissing him is a crazy out of left field idea, Tony. Just… apologize next time you see him, and I can help you by always being in the room when he’s there to make it less awkward if you want.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. “A time machine would be great right about now,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Anyway, I am gonna give him some space and apologize next time I see him.”

“And, I know this is not exactly helpful, but you have us now too, so it’s not like

all

 your friends are gone,” hope teased. “Also, you have that Colonel of yours who keeps making heart eyes at Carol.”

Tony guffawed as a blush crept up Carol’s neck. “Oh, come on, you didn’t think no one would notice,” Tony said with a smile, sending Hope a thankful look for her prompt change in topic.

“Okay, listen, we’ve only gone on

one

date so neither of you can breathe a word about this to anyone.”

“Have you kissed yet?” Tony asked, as bluntly as ever, his eyes shining with childish excitement.

Carol couldn’t have blushed harder if she tried. “Oh god, I can’t talk about that with you. You’re his best friend!”

“So? He knows in explicit detail all the dark and kinky shit I got up to when I was younger. Why can’t I know about his new - and most precious - paramour?”

Carol couldn’t help but snort, smacking him softly on the arm. “You’re awful.”

“Did you get to second base? Did he even try to get to second base or was he a prude and kissed you chastely goodnight?”

Carol covered her ears. “I am not listening anymore.”

Tony suddenly straightened, his eyes turning neon blue. “We have an intruder,” Tony said as he moved away from the table, his suit quickly forming around him.

Neither woman questioned him, both getting up immediately to follow behind him, Carol’s hands glowing brightly as she summoned energy from within her. Tony flew quickly through the compound, reaching the main entertainment room in record time. He had felt the disturbance before Friday had had a chance to warn him thanks to his new connection to the network, but it was no less worrying to know someone had managed to get that far into the compound undetected.

He brought his hands up as soon as he was close enough to devise a feminine shape in the shadows. Whoever it was, she didn’t look to be armed, but Tony had learned long ago that that meant little. With a mere thought, the lights flickered on, shining a bright light on a short, lithe woman with lovely, brown, wavy hair. Tony frowned, sure that he had seen her soft features before.

Suddenly, it hit him.

“Laura Barton?”

The woman turned at the sound of her name, grimacing softly. “Bishop,” she said almost too quietly for Tony to hear. He was sure he would not have heard her without his new enhanced body.

“I looked for you,” Tony said, tilting his head as he let the suit retract back into his skin, though he was sure his eyes were still glowing bright neon blue. “You disappeared almost as fast as Rogers and co. did. I thought you were with them.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen Clint since he left to help his precious Captain America,” she hissed out, her jaw clenching involuntarily. “I knew trouble would come if we stayed, so I took the kids and went into hiding.”

Tony frowned. “How did you even know where to hide? You deleted all your tracks. You disappeared from

every database.”

She smiled, looking a little proud despite herself. “I know you met me as Clint’s wife, but I had a life before him you know? I was Laura Kate Bishop once, before I became Laura Barton.”

Tony stepped slightly closer, curious now. “And who is Laura Kate Bishop?”

“She used to be SHIELD’s top agent before she retired. She is also the only agent at SHIELD that could ever best the Black Widow at hand to hand combat,” she said, her eyes gaining a faraway look that made Tony’s heart ache. “I admit, I am a bit rusty now.”

“I must admit, if you’re not here because Clint sent you, then I am at a loss as to why you decided to come out of hiding to break into the compound,” Tony said slowly, not willing to drop his defenses.

She grimaced. “Sorry about the break-in,” she said immediately. “I didn’t want… anyone to see me aside from you, not yet.” She sighed. “And you’re right, I am not here because of Clint, and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Tony nodded. “Why did you come out of hiding Laura?”

She bit her lip, and began pacing slowly. “When Natasha released SHIELD’s information, a lot of people I knew got hurt. My information was leaked too, but I had Clint so we tried to rationalize it, and ignore the fact that someone out there could get their hands on my info and eventually find out my connection to him. So, when Clint left, I ran. I wasn’t stupid though, I kept tabs on what was happening. I got myself a copy of the accords to know why exactly everything had gone to shit.”

Tony didn’t say anything, knowing the woman needed to get this out of her chest or she would implode with the rage and hurt so clearly visible on her face.

“I’ve been tracking your movements since the scuffle with the rogue Avengers, because I wanted to know… I needed to know if I could trust you,” she said quietly, looking at Tony with sad eyes. “My… Clint was wrong to join Steve Rogers, and I told him not to go but he wouldn’t listen. And because of that, now my family has been dragged into this mess. And I don’t want them to grow up in hiding, feeling ashamed of who they are, not knowing who to trust.”

Tony nodded, but sighed. “If you’re here to ask me to get him a pardon, you should know that I-”

“I told you already, I am not here because of Clint. He made his choice, and he should pay for it,” she corrected, her eyes burning with anger. “I am here to help you,” she explained, turning slightly to open her bag to pull out the Accords. “Like I said, my family’s already been dragged into this, but if we have to stay in this mess, then I am going to do it on my terms. I know something is coming - I can see it from the way you are frantically rebuilding the earth’s defenses. And I want to help you protect the earth.”

Tony gaped at her, finally noticing she was holding the accords alongside a pen. “But… what about your children?”

She smiled sadly. “After a lot of video surveillance and character analysis, I realized there was no safer place for them than with you - that is here, at the compound. With your help, I can keep them safe and let them have as normal a life as possible.”

Tony couldn’t help but feel touched at the trust she was placing in him. She had not allowed herself to be swayed by Rogers or even her husband. She hadn’t blamed Tony for that altercation from the get go; rather, she had gone digging, trying to find the objective truth in order to make her decision. And she had chosen to leave behind all that she knew and found comfort in to rely on Tony.

“I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep your children safe,” Tony vowed quietly but honestly. “You can all stay at the compound, and, if you truly want to join the Avengers, then I will have my lawyers come over later this week so we can tailor a contract for you to sign, okay?”

She nodded, giving him a weak smile before tentatively stepping closer. Tony noticed the hesitance, but he also noticed the warmth in her eyes and he knew exactly what she was silently asking for. He didn’t have to think twice; he closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a comforting hug similar to the one she had given them once upon a time in her farm when she had seen him looking broken and bruised.

“I am so sorry you and the children were dragged into all of this,” Tony whispered into her hair. She did not answer, simply wrapped her arms tighter around him and allowed herself to weep.

Stephen’s brain went back online much after Tony had already left, running away via the portal Stephen himself had made him. He looked towards the now empty space, grimacing as he berated himself for taking so long to react.

But it wasn’t exactly his fault, not really. The kiss had really come out of left field for him. Yes, he and Tony flirted a lot, and yes he was half in love with the man, but Tony flirted with

everyone

, so that wasn’t much of an indicator. More importantly, as much as he loved the man, Stephen had never allowed himself to consider the possibility of reciprocation or the possibility of a relationship.

He had buried any and all feelings deeply inside of him and had locked that door with thrown away the key because this was worse than a bad idea; this could break them.

Neither he nor Tony had a very good track record when it came to relationships but, most importantly, their jobs added a dimension most relationships would never have to deal with. Stephen was the sorcerer supreme, he could not afford to be bogged down by… well by love. He had to be above the rest, putting the safety of the world above all else. He had to be willing to sacrifice anything and everything if it meant keeping the earth - and the stone - safe. And how was he supposed to do that if he was in love?

They would both be less effective if they allowed themselves to be bogged down by love.

Not only that, but they also had the team to consider. Tony was effectively leading the new Avengers, and Stephen was meant to be aiding him in that task, but a relationship between the two could damage the team interactions if things went south.

There were so many reasons to say no to a relationship between them - so many logical reasons that dictated they stay away from one another - and yet Tony had kissed him. Tony had thrown caution to the wind and he had taken a shot - and Stephen wanted

more.

God, how he wanted. He wanted to press the man close and never let go. He wanted to protect him, to love him, to

consume him

and damn the consequences.

Stephen groaned and shook his head, slowly making his way to the training grounds. He couldn’t make a decision when his emotions were so unfocused and raw. What he needed was a clear mind and some distance from the situation; only then could he make the right choice, both for himself and for Tony.


H.Jisung

| X516.06.13 |

It was beginning to get more and more difficult to stay awake. It seemed as though when one was awake, the rest were sleeping. It was a never ending fatigue that always lingered in every aspect. Physical. Mental. Emotional.

What made it worse was that as much as Jisung wanted to speak with Felix, his mind was plagued by what Greed was taunting him with, driving his energies elsewhere.

He knew what Greed wanted in the end and Jisung wanted to keep Felix as far away from it as possible. Felix wasn't the type to be treated like a doll. He wasn't the type who could be controlled like that. It would break him.

It would be everything Jisung didn't want for the one he loved.

° ° ° ° ° ° °

L.Felix

| X516.06.13 |

With the snap of the Sin's fingers, all the clothes Greed bought was neatly put in Felix's closet. The quick clean up kind of impressed the boy.

"Are you sure you don't need help dressing your wound?" Greed asked.

Felix nodded, wanting some space now. "I've got it. Thanks though...for today."

Greed grinned. "Anytime. Have a good night, Lixie."

The older left the room, closing the bedroom door behind him which allowed the blonde to relax. He was happy to be alone. To be able to think for a second.

Greed seemed like he was sort of fooled, but maybe I should try someone else? Things might go quicker?

...

So Jisung made a deal with the Sin because he didn't want to lose me? They all did?

What were they promised though? Because I doubt they would've agreed to some sort of possession.

"I didn't think you'd ever be back." Lust said, entering the bedroom without knocking.

Felix closed his eyes a laid back on his bed.

So much for being alone.

"To be honest, I didn't either." Felix replied, flinching when cold fingers lightly touched the cut on his side.

"He showed you?" Lust asked curiously, Felix avoiding eye contact as he nodded.

Something felt different...off about the Sin. While Lust was always a little coy, there was an unusual air about him now. A bit of pride or smugness as if he knew something Felix didn't. As if he held all the power here but was playing innocent.

"He did." Felix replied, wondering if this might be his chance to get some real answers before the Strawberry Moon.

"Then I guess he really thinks he stands a chance." Lust mumbled with a slight smile.

"I told him he was up on my list for who I might pick." Felix admitted. "But if I'm being honest, I think you're higher."

Lust grinned, amused. "Flattery won't get you very far with me, Felix. I know what you're trying to do, but I'm not like my brothers. If you want answers, you'll have to...how shall I put it..."play nice"."

Felix stiffened a little, wondering if Lust was mocking what Chan had told him or if it was just a coincidence?

"I have my times of patience, but I'm starting to lose it with you." Lust continued to say, moving closer to the blonde on the bed. "I'll give you the answers you want, but you'll have to indulge me first. I've tried being nice, but I'm getting a little bored."

Lust moved quickly, trapping Felix on the bed before he could run away. Jeongin's body was a lot stronger than when they first met back in college, and Lust's powers only seemed to multiply that strength.

Maybe this wasn't the best option? It doesn't seem like he'll let me go though.

"Don't be scared. I won't hurt you." Lust cooed, Felix slightly meeting the other's gaze.

Were his irises always a dark pink?

"I just wanna have a bit of fun." The other purred, making the other shiver as his breath tickled his ear.

The younger's hands began to roam under Felix's shirt, his skin heating up with every touch or glide of his fingers. It sucked the warmth from his body, his skin aching for warmth that the other seemed to possess.

Meeting the other's gaze more directly, Felix let himself get lost in the way the pink irises almost pulsed a lighter pastel in tune with his heart beat.

So pretty...

"Hmm...don't get too spaced out on me." Lust tutted with a chuckle as he moved Felix's hand away from cupping the Sin's face. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in a different space? Or perhaps with someone else?"

Felix didn't have time to really think, his mind too focused on the warmth the other was providing his cold body, his eyes closing. Jeongin's touch had never felt so...addictive before.

"F-Felix?"

Opening his eyes, the blonde felt a little giddy seeing the once pink irises were now their familiar dark brown.

"Innie?" Felix breathed out, letting out a low groan when the younger's hand slipped under the waistband of his pants. "H–Help me. It...it's so cold..."

The younger looked distressed for some reason, Felix unable to wrap his mind around why that could possibly be.

Doesn't he want this too?

Doesn't he love me?

"I-I'm sorry. I can't control..." Jeongin's voice strained as if struggling to hold something back. "I'm so sorry."

Felix let out a moan as the younger's hand palmed at his growing erection, the older practically melting at the touch.

Reaching up, Felix let his fingers tangle in the other's hair.

So soft...

Pulling the other down, Felix connected their lips, a shiver running down his spine as he desperately chased the warmth from the other's lips. Jeongin's lips seemed hesitant to move at first, Felix doing all the work for a while until the younger seemed to have a wave of confidence to take the lead.

Letting the other's tongue slip past his lips, Felix allowed the other to explore his mouth, a moan escaping him as he felt the other gently squeeze his hard member.

"Felix..." The younger breathed out, pulling away far enough so that Felix couldn't reach his lips. "Look at me...please." His tone was gentle, Felix obeying in hopes the younger would continue on. "Do you really want this?"

Felix nodded quickly, his eyes traveling elsewhere.

Strong fingers gripped under the older's chin, turning his attention back to Jeongin. "Look at me, Felix, please...Do you want me to continue?"

° ° ° ° ° ° °

Y.Jeongin

| X516.06.13 |

It was nice to be back in his own body, but he wished it was by his own free will. He was still a puppet for the Sin to use...to manipulate. He wasn't really in control, he was just the face of all that was happening to his precious friend.

Felix was out of his own headspace, his whines and moans doing nothing to help Jeongin's sanity. This was something he'd dreamed about before, just not like this. The only thing that made him feel less guilty was trying to get some sort of consent from the older, even though it didn't really matter. Lust was going to make him keep going regardless and Felix was already under his spell.

Holding the other close, Jeongin tried not to think too deeply about what was happening. He hated how good it felt being inside Felix. How it felt as though the older was made for him.

Jeongin wanted to hate the way Felix was grinding his hips down in the younger's lap, but it was impossible. Felix was a sin of his own kind and Jeongin was falling deeper and deeper into the temptation.

"Need more..." Felix breathed out, frustration in his tone. "Please Jeonginnie...want you..."

Raising himself up and letting himself fall back down on Jeongin's cock, Felix let out a frustrated whine. It was obvious the older wanted Jeongin to move, but the younger was still hesitant.

"What are you waiting for?" Lust asked, his voice taunting the younger. "Aren't you gonna give him what he wants?"

You did this to him.

"I only heightened what was already there." Lust chuckled. "You might want to start moving before he moves on to someone else. Something tells me he's getting rather...impatient."

A particular move by the other had Jeongin letting out a surprised moan, Felix's walls clenching around him in a tempting way.

Felix looked utterly blissed out and needy, a light sheen of sweat glowing against his skin as he continued to roll his hips down.

"You've wanted this for so long." Lust continued to taunt. "I'm feeling rather kind right now so don't let this opportunity go to waste."

I don't want to hurt him.

"You're only hurting him the more you sit there like a statue." Lust argued, Jeongin hating the way Felix looked so desperate for the younger to thrust into him.

Curling his lips in, Jeongin gave an experimental thrust up, a satisfied moan leaving Felix's lips. Moving his hips in a slow, hesitant pace, Jeongin listened to the older's moans. It filled him with a little more confidence that the older wasn't in pain, but a guilt still lingered in the back of his mind.

Was he taking advantage of the older? Would Felix hate him after he snapped out of it?

"Mmm...feels good." Felix moaned, his lips capturing Jeongin's in a desperate kiss.

Speeding up his thrusts, Felix's moans became louder and higher pitched, music to Jeongin's ears.

I shouldn't be enjoying this.

This is wrong.

This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Feeling his hips growing sore from their current position Jeongin laid them back down, Felix wrapping his legs around Jeongin's torso as the younger continued to thrust into him in a rhythmic way.

Felix felt so good around him...looked so beautiful under him. He looked so helpless, so meek as his hands grabbed at the younger's biceps.

Changing the angle of his thrusts, Felix let out a moan that was much different than the others, Jeongin stopping his movements. The higher pitched sound was much more raw than the others and seemed to be punched out of him, the older even seemed surprised.

A smirk tugged at Jeongin's lips, feeling a bit happy to have found the younger's sweet spot. Ramming his hips forward in a quick motion, Felix let out another pleased noise, Jeongin now focused on hitting that spot.

The sweet sounds coming from Felix were neverending as Jeongin felt himself drawing closer to his release, his thrusts becoming more erratic and rough. He was still feeling guilty, but the pleasure was becoming more and more addicting. He wished this wasn't the way things were, but spending this moment with Felix was everything the younger wanted.

He wanted Felix to be his. He wanted to shower the other with care and praise. He wanted to be by Felix's side for the rest of their lives. He wanted to protect and love the older as much as he could.

Feeling a tightness in his stomach, Jeongin gave one final thrust, filling the younger with his cum while Felix spilled over his stomach.

Collapsing on top of the older, Jeongin muttered out apologies like a matra.

He couldn't believe he did that. He couldn't believe he didn't regret it much either.

Looking up at Felix, Jeongin found the other had his eyes closed, asleep already.

Unable to help himself, Jeongin leaned up, letting his lips press against Felix's forehead.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

1.) Purple Hyacinth

2.) Blue Violet