#- voice permanently gives out. really i try to bottle it and let it all go but then i ultimately become extremely avoidant and isolate -

[qumiiiquinnquin]

my anger is hitting astronomical levels lately and i hate it

[bueckersgirl]

Intertwined*

Paige Bueckers x Fem reader

Summary: Y/n and Paige have been broken up for a month now, and when a party comes around where they both find themselves at, feelings are revealed and its clear that they both can't seem to forget about each other.

WC: 3.2K

Warnings: 18+, smut, minor angst

(sidenote; im so obsessed with this picture UGH.)

➽───────────────❥

God— Y/n could feel her stare from across the room as she tried to keep up a conversation with her friend, Micheal. It was getting harder and harder to avoid Paige and her intense stares all night but y/n refused to give in because she knew that’s exactly what she wanted- for her to acknowledge her. Y/n wasn’t in the mood to speak to Paige, there was no need to really and she truly only came here to celebrate her friend's birthday then leave. 

It has been a good month since the pair had last spoken to each other, and the image of Paige banging on her front door,  begging for another chance was something permanently scarred in her mind. Y/n didn’t let her in, she refused to, and told Paige to go home and forget about everything they ever had. 

Y/n cared for Paige a lot- she truly really did. A part of her still does whether she wants to or not. Paige just screwed up a lot and no amount of apologies she’d give would make a difference. 

If it wasn’t for Micheals birthday tonight, she’d be at home in her bed instead. But, Michael had been her childhood friend for years and she wasn’t just gonna not come just because Paige was friends with him too. 

“You look stunning tonight, Y/n.” Michael spoke, grabbing her hand and giving it a small peck, causing her to smile sheepishly and mumble a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Y/n took a peek down at her glass, noticing it being basically empty as she chewed on her bottom lip, “I’m gonna go get a refill.” 

She slowly moved away from Micheal, making her way to the kitchen, and she felt her expression drop as she did so. Y/n felt exhausted the entire night keeping up the image that she was happy and acting as though Paige being there didn’t bother her but she didn’t want her to know how badly things were affecting her.

Once she was in the kitchen the music from the living room died down a bit while she searched the fridge for a new bottle of champagne. 

“Ma.”

Her eyes shot open once she heard the voice she hadn't heard in weeks, causing her to suck in a deep breath before she continued to pour her drink into her glass. Y/n was positive there was no way she’d be able to handle a conversation with Paige, especially not tonight. This was not the right time or place to try and work things out. 

“Paige, no.” She told her softly as she took a sip from her glass. 

She kept her eyes down at the kitchen floor, noticing Paige’s figure making her way closer to hers. “We’re not doing this tonight, please.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“You have been seeing me this entire night, Paige.” She was directly in front of her now. She felt as if she was trapped under her frame and was too tired to push herself off. 

Paige sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Properly see you. Like this. Not just from across the room.”  

“It’s been hard though because of you trying to avoid me all night.” 

“Paige, I don’t want to avoid you. I just don’t want to cause anything on Michael's day.” She sighed, placing a hand onto Paige’s chest to move her out of her way. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I can’t stay in the kitchen forever.” 

“So that’s just it, huh? You can’t even look at me anymore?”

Y/n shut her eyes while sucking in a deep breath before turning back around as her eyes made her way up towards Paige’s body, scanning her body, seeing she was dressed in one of her red huskies jerseys with a pair of sweats. Once her eyes finally reached her face the urge to look away grew stronger as Paige’s stare felt more intense and intimate with each second that passed by.

“See? I’m looking right at you, now. Was this what you wanted?  Are you pleased?”

Y/n was quick to notice Paige's expression fall at her words and she watched as she put her hair in a messy ponytail. “No, Y/n I’m not pleased or happy. I haven’t been pleased with anything since that day.”

“Paige, don’t start this.” She shook her head as she indulged in the rest of the champagne left in her glass. “You know I did what was best for the both of us whether you like it or not. Our relationship wasn’t healthy, it was bound to end eventually.” 

Paige scoffed, while her eyes trailed over her. “Bound to end eventually, seriously? Look I know I fucked up a lot. Like a whole lot. I'm not proud of it, I know how badly I hurt you and it pains me everyday when I think about how we ended because I know things could’ve been different if I just stopped fucking up.” 

“I tried playing it cool and shit acting like this hadn’t affected me.” She sighed before walking over and looking down at her, “Seeing you tonight, so beautiful, so gorgeous and talking to Michael and the rest of our friends as if  you moved on so much, it’s been killing me horribly. Because I haven’t moved on, y/n. I haven’t at all.” 

Y/n felt her heart pounding at Paige's words. She wasn’t even sure if what she was saying was the truth but a part of her hoped it was. Y/n hadn’t moved on either even though she’d try convincing herself she did, she knew she hadn’t. 

She opened up her mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by Michael coming into the kitchen. He stopped before looking at the pair and letting out an awkward laugh. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, and y/n gave him a small smile in response. “Everything’s okay, Mikes. Just came to get a refill and ran into Paige so we catched up a bit. I was actually just leaving to go find you.”

“It was nice talking to you, Paige.” Y/n whispered as she slipped her way past her, feeling Paige’s fingers lightly brush against her shoulder.

She hated how badly her body got goosebumps just from feeling her touch again. 

————————————

It had been two weeks since the party and Paige still lived in y/n’s mind. It was hard enough trying to forget about her but not only seeing her but speaking to her as well made y/n’s mind wander more than usual. 

Y/n had been laying down on her couch the last few hours binging a few movies while eating some snacks. She was slowly beginning to fall asleep but a knock to her door woke her up. 

Rubbing her eyes she made her way towards the door and took a peek through her doorbell. 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Sighing she undid all the locks before opening it. Her breath was quickly stolen from her seeing Paige standing there with a cupcake and a mini bouquet of white roses in her hand, and she could sense the desperation radiating off her.

“I got these for you—I remember how much you loved the cakes from Sweet Mary’s.” Paige mumbled, before handing them over to her. “I’m sorry for just randomly showing up over here. I just had to speak to you.” 

She took them from her and whispered a soft, “Thank you” before moving out of the doorway. “Please, come in.”

Y/n wasn't sure why she didn’t just tell Paige to go home again instead of letting her in. She’d never admit it, but a part of her missed her company. She just hoped that this didn’t end badly. 

Paige stepped inside, taking off her slides and leaving them by the door as Y/n made her way towards her vessel in the kitchen to place the flowers in. “Are you thirsty? I can make some coffee or tea if you’d like. I also have a bit of wine if you’d prefer that instead.”

“No–no, I’m okay. Thank you, y/n.” Paige spoke, before following y/n to her living room where they sat on opposite sides of the couch. “Thank you, also for uh–letting me in this late.” 

Y/n watched as Paige swallowed thickly and turned to her, “I’ve been missing you so badly, Y/n, you truly have no idea. I’m sure at the party it was obvious enough but  I don’t want to play the victim, and make excuses for what I did because that’s stupid. I’m so, so, so sorry, y/n, for everything. For hurting you, for not changing, for letting my career get in the way of us, and making you feel unseen. After I gave myself these two weeks to properly think, it was clear that I need you back in my life. I’m a mess without you, ma. I truly don’t want to keep handling everything without you by my side anymore.” 

Y/n sat quiet for a few seconds not sure how to properly express what she wanted to say. She could tell Paige was miserable and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“Look.” she began, noticing how Paige dropped her head into her hands, before giving her the chance to finish and letting out shaky breaths. “I know from the outside looking in on things you’ve assumed I’ve been handling things fine. I can tell based on what you said to me at Michaels birthday. But I actually haven’t been dealing with this that well either. I’ve missed you as well, you’re all my mind has been thinking about the past month. And no matter how hard I try to deny my feelings– I really miss you.” 

Paige slowly lifted her head back up as a large grin took over her face, “Can I scoot closer to you, please?” she asked, and y/n was quick to nod in response. 

“God– you have no idea how badly I’ve missed sharing the same space as you. Just getting the chance to be this close to you is so fucking rewarding.” she spoke as she ran her fingers through y/n’s hair while she laid on her lap. Paige’s hand came up to her cheek, it was clear at first she was hesitant but she eventually stroked y/n’s cheek gently and let out a relieving sigh. “I’ve missed touching you.” 

Y/n turned her head and kissed the palm of Paige’s hand. “I’ve missed touching you too.” she spoke, before lifting her head up and running her nose against Paige’s jaw. “Please don’t hurt me again.” 

Paige wrapped her arms around her waist tightly and whispered softly into her ear, “I promise, I’ll never hurt you again my sweet girl.” Before Paige got the chance to say any more, y/n was quick to lean in and press her lips against hers, molding them together as she held onto Paige’s shirt tightly. Paige took the opportunity to roam her hand down y/n’s body again just like she did before. Finally getting the chance to feel her bare skin against hers was something she’d been craving for what felt like years. Her hand slid under y/n’s shirt and cupped her bare breast with her hand, earning a light moan from her against her lips. Her other hand slipped into her shorts, but was quickly taken aback when her hand was met with y/n’s bare ass cheek–instead of the cloth of her panties. 

She pulled back from the kiss and looked at y/n with furrowed brows. “You aren’t wearing underwear?” 

Y/n’s cheeks flushed pink as she shook her head in response and licked on her bottom lip. “I uh–take them off before I go to sleep now. It’s something I’ve been doing recently.” 

She watched as Paige’s pupils dilated, and soon both of her hands were now cupping her ass as she lifted them up from the couch and walked towards her room. “I forget how strong you are sometimes.” y/n muttered, causing Paige to chuckle before dropping her gently onto her twin-sized bed. “That seems like something pretty hard to forget, ma.” 

Paige hovered on top of y/n’s spread out figure and ran her fingers against her bare thigh. “Take off your shirt for me, ma. Wanna see those pretty tits again, been too long.” she asked and y/n was quick to comply, taking off her blouse earning a light grunt from Paige’s lips.

She held them both in her hands as she lightly massaged them, “Fuck, I’ve missed touching these pretty lil’ things so bad, baby.” she whispered before bringing her mouth down and sucking on one of them, and pinching the other one using her thumb and index finger as y/n let out a loud moan. 

“Feels good, hm?” Paige mumbled, removing her mouth from her breast and attaching them to her neck, nibbling onto the skin, making sure to leave a visible mark right underneath her jaw. 

She slid down y/n’s shorts eagerly and moaned at the sight of her bare pussy on display for her. “Ima take care of you tonight, ma. Just like I used to, gonna help you feel real good.” she spoke, taking two of her fingers and shoving them into y/n’s mouth and muttering a low, “Suck.” 

Y/n was quick to suck on her fingers like her life depended on it. She remembered how much Paige loved when she’d take them down her throat–so she was quick to do so. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Paige praised, shoving a third finger into her mouth. “Suck my fingers real good, ma. Imagine it was my strap in your mouth again.” Y/n moaned at the thought of having the strap back in her mouth–missing the way Paige would fuck her face with it or the times she’d aggressively fuck her when she’d misbehave, leaving her pussy sore yet throbbing and begging for more. 

“Such a good girl. Sucking my fingers so well.” she said, slowly taking her fingers out of y/n’s mouth as a string of saliva followed, then bringing them down to her dripping pussy. “Always get so wet for me, didn’t even need the spit, could easily slide my fingers right in, just like this.” she spoke as she slid two of her digits nice and slow inside, watching them disappear inside her entrance, before taking them out, licking her wetness clean from her fingers and letting out a moan at the taste.

“God–sweetest pussy I’ve ever had. Could have this taste in my mouth everyday and be satisfied.” 

“Paige.” “Yes, ma?”

“Please lick me.” 

Paige leaned down and gave her a peck on the lips. “Anything you want.” she whispered, grabbing y/n’s thighs and putting them on top of her shoulders. Paige was a sucker for teasing, and on any other occasion she’d make y/n work and beg for it. That was the usual for them. It was rare for Paige to give in this easily and early but fuck–she hadn’t gotten a chance to properly taste her in a month.  

She was quick to attach her mouth to y/n’s needy clit and start licking. She gained so much pleasure just by eating her out, it was like a gift on Christmas day for her. “Been so long since I had this sweet lil’pussy in my mouth.” Paige lifts her mouth up a bit and licks, causing y/n’s mouth to fall open in disbelief at the soft, sucking sound and gently smacking-noise as her lips sucked onto her clit. “God–it’s so fucking good.” she groaned under her breath, and y/n swears she’s on cloud nine. The feeling of Paige’s hot breath combined with her wet tongue was sensational. 

“Come on, ma.” she squeezed her thighs with her long fingers before pleading, “Back and forth yeah? Rock a bit for me, want you to be riding my face a bit.” Y/n was quick to do so, feeling the warm tip of Paige’s tongue press against her. “Fuck, feels so good, I’ve missed your tongue on me so badly.” she moaned, before Paige gave her a warm, long lick, causing her to cry out softly.

“Yes–yes, that’s right baby.” Paige muffled, giving her clit a short, sloppy sounding lick, making y/n buckforward again. “Shit, good fucking girl. Ride my tongue, just like that.” she spoke, having her tongue still buried between her folds, as y/n let out louder moans from the pleasure. Paige began kneading her thighs firmly as she licked deeper and deeper with each sound of y/n’s breathless moans escaping her swollen lips.

Y/n felt her abdomen clench and release, causing her to let out a fluttery sigh. “I’m close, so-so close.” she whispered urgently, as Paige hauls her more tightly against her mouth and presses her tongue more firmly against her needy clit. Y/n inhales sharply and her mouth falls open when her center starts to splinter into pieces, “I’m cummin–fuck.” And before she knew it, she was making a mess on Paige’s face. She pants, caught in place, as Paige rubs her thighs and lifts her face up, revealing her mouth and chin, glistening in her pussy juices. 

Paige then leans down and kisses her, and y/n immediately tasted herself on her tongue. The two just stayed like this for a while before y/n pulled back from the kiss. “Now–my turn.” Y/n climbs her way off the bed and stands in front of Paige’s frame. “Let me make you feel good now.” she spoke, lightly shoving Paige back against the bed into the same position she was just in. Paige took off her sweats, leaving her in just her underwear and y/n was moaning already at the sight in front of her. 

“I’ve missed having you in my mouth.” she says, licking a stripe against her clothed clit, earning a moan from Paige’s lips. “Ima make you feel good too, promise.” Y/n quickly pulls her underwear to the side, revealing her wet and glistening folds, ready for her to dig in. 

Y/n’s quick to start licking as if she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in years. Paige kept a firm grip on her hair, yanking and pulling on it lightly with each feel of her tongue against her. Y/n loved looking up and watching the sight of Paige falling apart above her. Paige’s body grew more desperate with each deep, sloppy lick to her clit as y/n spit down onto her, earning another moan from her lips. Y/n could tell she was close by her pants and breaths, and she was determined to taste her cum on her tongue. After a few more licks and sucks to her clit, her legs shook and she was cumming. 

“Mmmmm” y/n dragged out, as she licked her lips clean and offered Paige a cute smile. “So tasty.” she mumbled as Paige grabbed her hips and dragged her body on top of hers and kissed her lazily.

 “I’ve missed this so badly, y/n.” 

“I’ve missed this too.” she muttered, gently kissing her jaw before pecking her nose. “At least now you don’t have to miss it anymore.”

“And why’s that hm?” she asked.

“Because I’m yours again.”

[luvismenu]

satisfied — knj oneshot (bday special)

pairing: roommate!namjoon x fem!reader

warnings: e2l type shi, nicknames, unprotected sex, eating out (fem! receiving), riding, nipple play, big dick!namjoon, overstimulation, creampie, porn without plot

note: dedicated to @deluluisdasolulu ♡

wc: 1.6k+

♡ — permanent taglist: @wnteraezz @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @jkvias @blaricee @blluee28 @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine

"you. fucking. suck."

"i. don't. care."

unbelievable.

your roommate, kim namjoon, thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it. and what annoys you the most is that he always fucking does.

"you can't just bring a bunch of people here and ruin the place and then wait for me to clean this shit up," you grit out, barely holding your frustration.

it's his birthday.

but that doesn't mean you're gonna clean up his mess. you were at work all day, and now you come home to this...

god, there's trash everywhere.

"my birthday wish; clean up this mess for me," he says with a fake pout, plastered on his stupid annoying face.

"no fucking way."

"that's not a nice thing to say to the birthday boy," he frowns, as if he's the victim here.

oh, the fucking audacity.

"i was at work all day, and i had to fucking stay late to finish some stupid paperwork, and now all i want to do is rest. i am not cleaning up your birthday mess, kim namjoon." you cross your arms tightly, trying to keep your voice from raising further.

"aw, miss little angry is stressed," he coos, walking over to the fridge, pulling out a beer bottle like everything's normal.

"it's either you clean up or i'm..." you pause, thinking for a second, "i'll call the cops on you!" you let out a frustrated sigh.

what are you even saying? cops?

"cops?" he chuckles, walking over to you with the beer bottle, towering over you now. his shirt is half unbuttoned, hair messy. he looks you up and down before taking a long sip of his drink. "what, you tryna scare me now? hm?"

oh god, why is this making you horny?

"i-i... you should clean," you stammer, your voice softer than before as you desperately try to get a grip on your mind.

he grins.

he fucking grins.

and not the sweet kind of grin. it's that evil, cocky grin.

but for some reason, you can't seem to get any more words out. he looks hotter than usual today. probably because you haven't had sex in a while.

or maybe because you never noticed how incredibly hot he looks when he's not being a complete pain in the ass.

he leans down, his face close to yours, your noses almost touching. "you look so tired. miss little angry had a bad day, hm?" he tilts his head, teasing you.

"fuck you." you grit out, which only seems to satisfy him more.

"you're so cute when you're all riled up, you know that?" his eyes flicker to your lips before returning to your eyes. "almost too cute to stop me from bending you over and having my way with you."

oh lord have mercy—

no. no. no. you can't give in to his stupid tricks. he's only doing this so you'll clean the whole place. you can't give in. you're stronger than this.

"nice try," you say, pushing him back, forcing some distance between you two.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you better start cleaning, birthday boy," you say, pointing to the mess of beer bottles and food wrappers. and god, you hope that's not a used condom lying on the floor.

he sighs dramatically. “yes, ma'am.”

before unlocking your door, you spin around, feeling one last wave of anxiety. "wait. please tell me nobody fucked in my room," you scrunch your nose in disgust.

"oh yeah, there was a foursome going on in your room. it was really fun to watch," he says, taking another swig from his bottle.

"what the fuck!?" you exclaim, ready to throw hands.

"relax!! i'm joking,” he laughs. "i may not know much about boundaries, but i don't let people trash your room. little miss angry needs her safe space, right?" he flashes you a grin, almost as if he's mocking you.

you scoff, shaking your head as you finally head to your room, leaving him to deal with the mess.

after your relaxing shower, you spend at least 30 minutes in your room, trying to calm your nerves. you hear some hustle and bustle from outside your door, and you assume he's actually cleaning up.

you feel a little bad.

maybe you were a bit harsh?

it's his birthday, after all.

you baked him cupcakes last night, which took a lot of work since you've never baked before. they weren't perfect, but it still counts—one of the reasons you're tired, since you didn't sleep much.

but it was worth it, considering that all the cupcakes are gone, not even leaving one for you.

you hope he ate most of them.

you open your door after what seems like an hour, finding a tired, shirtless namjoon on the couch. the sight makes you feel something.

wish he could ruin you and—

what?

you're clearly not in your right mind right now.

you walk over to the couch he's sleeping on. he looks up at you, taking in your form. it's the usual shorts and t-shirt, nothing sexy about it. okay, maybe a little inappropriate because you're not wearing anything under those. your perked nipples are visible through the t-shirt, and you notice how his eyes darken.

“good job,” you say, scanning the room.

“thanks, although you forced me to do it,” he sits up on the couch, your stomach right in front of his face, but there's still a little space between you two.

“it's your responsibility,” you say with a smirk.

he looks up at you, returning your smirk, “yeah? can I ask for my birthday wish now?”

“fine, what do you want?” you ask.

he stands up, making you stumble back a little, but he pulls you closer by placing his hands on your hips. leaning into your ear, he whispers, “you.”

and that's it.

you give in.

"oh my— f-fuck!!"

he's got you sprawled on your bed, arms wrapped around your thighs, head moving up and down as he eats your pussy like it's his last meal.

"you taste so fucking good” he gasps as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue rolling on the sensitive nub. your hand grips his hair urging him closer as you grind against his face

"f-fuck joon, mm so close" you moan, your head thrown back on the pillow from the intense pleasure.

he continues eating you out, his tongue doing wonders to you as you let out shameless gasps and moans.

one of his hands travel to your breast, squeezing it gently. he uses one finger to play with your nipple, rolling and pinching it. you reach out to your other breast, mirroring his actions.

the dirty wet sounds of his eager mouth on you fill the room.

“cum on my face, baby, do it.”

and you do.

you come on his face and he licks up every drop of you.

he sits up with that cocky grin on his face. he takes in the sight of you all spread out and breathless for him.

"we're not done yet, come here," he pats his lap, stroking his already hard length, "ride my cock like the good girl you are."

do you even wanna say no to that?

he helps you settle on his cock, and you wince a little at the stretch.

he is so fucking big.

"you sure you can take it?" he chuckles

"yes, i can," you breathe out, letting him slide deeper into you, and a loud yelp escapes your lips. he groans at the tightness.

"it's okay, baby, go slow," he says, his hands firmly on your hips. you nod, trying to pace yourself.

you move slowly, taking all of him in, and oh fuck, it feels incredible.

your hands grip his broad shoulders as you start bouncing on his thick length. his eyes are drawn to your bouncing tits, and soon enough, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, sucking and licking it greedily.

"mmfh joon s-so good!" you gasp as you keep moving up and down on his cock. your walls wrap tightly around namjoon's cock, the squelching sounds and messy moans filling the room.

"f-fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his grip on you tightening. he lifts his hips slightly, hitting the perfect spot.

"r-right there, mmfh joon, more!" his cock hits the spot over and over, making you lose control, your body weakening from the overstimulation.

"gonna come for me? hm? already?" he rasps as he slows down, gently placing you on the bed without pulling out. you nod weakly as he continues pounding into you.

"hold it for me, baby, not yet."

you can only hope your neighbors can't hear you because the noises spilling from your mouth sound straight out of porn—loud and messy.

"joon p-please, i wanna cum," you cry out. it’s too much. he’s too much. you need to cum.

"fuck! yes baby, cum with me," he growls as his thrusts grow faster.

"oh y-yes fuck!!" a choked moan leaves you as you release, your legs shaking slightly.

"gonna fill you up, baby," he hisses before thrusting two final times, shooting his cum deep inside you. your mouth hangs open, and your chest rising and falling repeatedly.

he pulls out slowly, collapsing beside you and tugging you close to him.

“happy birthday to you i guess," you breathe out, a smile playing on your lips, and he chuckles in response.

“miss little angry not so angry anymore, hm?” he teases, a grin on his lips. you chuckle, playfully slapping his chest.

“miss little angry satisfied.”

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.9

Chapter Summary: Joel nurses you back to health and you come to a startling realization about your future together.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of some injuries, fluff, protective Joel, soft Joel, little bit of angst, lots of feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After arriving back in Jackson, you ended up spending nearly three weeks in the infirmary. Your injuries were worse than you thought. From what you could remember, Bill said you had some internal damage along with several fractures and sprains. The cut in your leg was infected, but fortunately Eugene's group did manage to successfully trade for the rest of the antibiotics before everything happened in Salt Lake City.

You ended up sleeping quite a bit in those weeks, but Ellie told you later that Joel hardly ever left your side. She had said she would get into arguments with him, trying to convince him to take turns at your bedside so he could go home and rest, but he refused.

"I don't know which one of you is more stubborn - you or him," Bill mumbled to you as he gently removed the IV from your arm. You chuckled, your eyes finding his broad form outside your bedroom talking quietly with Tommy, just out of earshot.

"Definitely him."

You were grateful Bill let you go home, but he insisted on doing house visits twice a day until you were on your feet. Most of your superficial wounds had healed but you were still very tired and weak. Bill could see improvement every day, and he said that's all that mattered.

On his way out, Bill stopped to check in with Joel, no doubt updating him on your condition and any medicine he would have to administer for you. You watched his face as he listened intently, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the bottles Bill handed him. You had to stifle a giggle when you saw him squint at the label and hold it further away from his face.

While Joel and Bill continued to talk, Tommy slipped past them and into your room, giving you a grin as he plopped down in the chair next to your bed.

"Lookin' good," he said, making you laugh and then wince, gingerly touching your ribs.

"Liar," you said, and he chuckled, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the scabs and yellow bruises with a sigh.

"Just wanna let you know, we cut off all trades with 'em," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone.

"I figured. I know they had a lot of things we could use - "

"We'll find those things somewhere else. Not worth it," he said, cutting you off.

You nodded and cast your gaze to the side.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he replied, tapping his foot on the floor. "Maria said she was gonna stop by later after work, you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, although you honestly couldn't tell these days. It seemed like you fell asleep at the drop of a hat.

"How's Ellie?" you asked him. Whenever you asked Joel, he frustratingly just gave you the most basic information. She's fine. She's in school. Think I saw her with a couple girls the other day.

"She's adjusting real good. She's been stayin' with Julia, but I'm not sure it's a permanent solution for either of them." He eyed you carefully as your gaze drifted over his shoulder at Joel, who was walking Bill down the steps to the front door. "You got any ideas?"

"Me?" you asked, looking back to him now and raising your eyebrows in surprise. You knew what he was implying, and he just nodded.

"I would love it if she wanted to stay here, but I'm pretty sure Joel wouldn't like that, and I really don't want to push him right now. He's so stressed, Tommy. I can see it in his eyes. He's not sleeping well, and I'm worried about his blood pressure -"

"Have you talked to him about it? About the kid?" Tommy asked, and you shook your head.

"No, but he made his feelings pretty well known when she first got here."

"Lots happened since then. He might surprise you," Tommy said, standing up with a grunt. You frowned and opened your mouth to question him further when Joel walked through the door, his gaze falling on his brother.

"Just headin' out, don't worry, I know she needs her rest," Tommy said, sneaking you a wink as he headed towards the door. You thanked him for visiting and listened to them walk down the stairs, their voices fading the further they got until the door closed and all that was left was Joel's heavy footsteps slowly coming back up. He reached the door and leaned against the frame as he gave you a small smile, but you could see how exhausted he was. His eyes looked bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.

"Come here," you whispered, and he quickly pushed off the wall to come to your side.

"What'dya need, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing at the cup next to your bed, making sure it was still filled with water. "Hungry?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, but he looked at his watch and mentally did the math.

"You'll have to eat somethin' soon with your meds, what can I make you?" he asked, and you shook your head again.

"Can you please just lay with me for a while?"

He hesitated but you reached out to drag your fingertips against his wrist, urging him closer to the bed, and he gave in.

"Alright, only for a few minutes," he said, rounding the end of the bed and collapsing onto the covers with a groan, sliding his eyes closed in relief.

"I wish you'd rest more," you murmured after you gingerly rolled yourself onto your side so you could look at him. "I'm worried about you."

He chuckled and turned his head to the side to look at you in disbelief.

"You're worried about me? You're jokin', right?"

You reached out to lightly brush a stray curl away from his eyes, choosing not to reply. You knew it would be a losing battle anyway.

"Can't rest," he said, staring at you with his eyes all soft. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to rest again."

"Why?" you asked, your brow furrowing.

He shook his head, his eyes still pinned on yours and you watched them slowly fill with tears. You gave him a look of concern and inched a bit closer to cup his face, the pad of your thumb swiping over his rough beard as you waited for him to open up.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice thick as he tried to hold back his tears. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault -"

"I keep lettin' you down. Over and over again," he continued, a tear slipping down his cheek. "And I just wanna tell you that I understand now. 'Bout all of it. Why you're so scared 'bout havin' a family or gettin' married. And it's fine, I won't bring it up again, alright?"

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" you asked, searching his face for answers.

"I can't - " he paused and took a deep breath before trying again. "I can't take care of us. I thought I could but it's clear I can't when all this bad shit keeps happenin'. But if you'll still have me, I'll be right here, okay? I'll take whatever you wanna give me, I don't care 'bout any of that other shit anymore. I just want you."

"Slow down," you said, trying to wrap your fatigued mind around what he was saying. Your grip on his jaw tightened before you continued. "You never let me down, do you understand me? You are the only fucking thing that kept me going the past few years. Without you, I would be dead. I would have died that very first day. I owe you my life, Joel. How do you not see that?"

He just shook his head, refusing to accept what you were saying, so you kept going.

"I should have just been honest with you, but it took me a while to figure out why I was so scared about - "

"You don't need to explain - "

"Let me finish," you said, and he clamped his mouth shut. "It's not you, Joel. Well, it is. But not for the reason you think."

He frowned, blinking back tears as he waited for you to continue.

"It's because I love you so much that it scares me." You could feel your own tears forming now, but you tried to push through. "If something were to happen to you out there and I was left all alone, I don't know how I could go on." You swiped away a few tears that fell as you spoke. "And I'm terrified of getting married because if you die, that day will haunt me, Joel. Every single year when the anniversary comes, I - "

You stopped for a moment, your breaths coming in short gasps. He tried to shush you and pull you closer, but you shook your head.

"I'm not strong enough," you finished with a small sob. This time, you let him pull you into his chest while his big hands cradled the back of your head, patting down your hair, soothing you.

"Does that make sense?" you blubbered, pulling back to look at him.

He nodded slowly, his eyes raking down your face.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Thought I wasn't gonna get you back after they took you. Thought I lost you forever."

The two of you sat in silence for a minute, lost in each other's eyes, the truth finally spoken and swirling around the quiet room as you both clung to the other, just grateful to be alive.

"But you did get me back," you finally said, breaking the silence. "You did that. You saved me. Again." You ran your finger gently over his bottom lip and he gave the tip of your finger a little kiss.

"You might think you can't keep me safe, but in reality, you are the only reason I'm still here." The puzzle was finally piecing together in your mind as you spoke.

"That's not true," he said immediately. "Every situation that's put you at risk could've been avoided if I had protected you more. I wouldn't have to save you if I didn't put you in harm's way in the first place."

"But this is the world we live in, Joel. None of us will ever truly be safe ever again. And it's not because of something you did. It's just a really shitty hand we were all dealt and now we have to figure out a way to make the most of it and survive." You paused for a moment, something in your brain finally clicking as the words came tumbling out.

"We can't let fear run our lives," you said softly.

He looked at you, your gaze fixed on the wall behind him as what Maria said so long ago finally made sense. It was like you were seeing through the fog. Like a weight was lifted off your shoulders and you could breathe deeply for the very first time.

It took you and Joel to finally have a raw and honest conversation, but you thought you understood what she meant now.

"You okay?" Joel asked, clearly confused. You let your gaze fall back to him and you grinned.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly, then tugged him forward so you could press your lips against his, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to hold him against you.

You weren't afraid anymore.

A few days later, you woke up to the sound of the front door downstairs swinging shut. Your eyes snapped open and you strained your ears, trying to listen to the muffled words through the closed bedroom door.

"Told ya to be quiet, she's tryin' to sleep," you heard Joel say.

"Sorry, the fucking wind took the door from me and this stupid backpack is so heavy. Why do I even need to go to school? Who cares about this stuff anymore?"

"I do, 'cause it keeps you out of trouble and outta my hair."

"Ha, yeah right. You know both those things are impossible, old man," you heard Ellie scoff.

"How the hell old do you think I am?"

"The way you can barely read the instructions on the back of that pasta box? You don't want me to answer that."

You grinned as you listened to the two of them bicker amongst themselves. You weren't sure when it happened, but at some point in the past several weeks, Joel and Ellie finally seemed to have a breakthrough in their relationship. You wanted to ask, but you didn't want to draw attention to it. The two of them were so alike in so many ways that you knew if you pointed it out, they would pull back and stop making progress. So in the meantime, you just enjoyed listening and watching them whenever you got the chance.

With a small grunt, you pushed yourself off the mattress and swung your legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to catch your breath before reaching out and using the end table to support your weight so you could stand. Walking was getting easier; the worst part was still the healing gash in your thigh. Bill said the knife one of Amy's men used must have cut through some muscle, so you were slowly building your strength back up by taking very short walks around your bedroom every day.

With small, careful steps, you managed to get to your bedroom door and open it quietly, listening to Ellie helping Joel make spaghetti in the kitchen while she told him about her day. You stopped at the top of the stairs and peered down.

"Ellie?" you called out softly.

You heard a spoon clatter on the counter and Joel's heavy footsteps jog to the foot of the stairs. He looked up at you with a towel in his hand, worry etched across his face. Ellie quickly joined him and looked up at you with a grin.

"What's wrong? Why're you up?" Joel asked, taking the steps two at a time.

"Nothing!" you said with a smile as he reached the top and wrapped an arm around you gently to help steady you. "I just wanted to see Ellie."

"I thought you were asleep," she said, bounding up the stairs.

"C'mon, let's get back to bed," Joel urged. You sighed and allowed him to lead you back to the bedroom, but you chose to sit on the edge of the bed instead of getting back under the covers like he clearly wanted you to do.

"Come on, tell me what's going on out there. Joel's not much of a gossip," you told Ellie with a wink, and Joel huffed somewhere behind you, fixing the sheets.

"Well, Maria wants to get married the second you're back on your feet. Says she wants to do it before she starts showing," Ellie started, and you felt the mattress dip with Joel's weight next to you.

"Yeah, she told me that already. What else? How's school?"

"It's alright. I met a few girls, we hang out sometimes."

"That's great!" you told her, happy that she was acclimating well. "How's Julia?"

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes at the mention of the older school teacher who graciously let her live with her.

"She's nice, but she's just got such strict rules. I've gotten into it with her a couple times when I was late for curfew," Ellie admitted, looking down at her fingers twisting in her lap.

"It's important that you listen to her, y'know. She's just lookin' out for you," Joel said softly, and you had to tuck your chin against your chest to hide your smile. He was so sweet with her now, like he had known her his whole life, and it took some time getting used to hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ellie said sullenly. "I just get so bored. She spends her evenings planning her lessons or knitting. Knitting! It's so quiet over there, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well, why don't you move in with us?" Joel asked with a shrug. Both you and Ellie froze, your eyes widened in shock. You slowly turned your head to the side to look at him, unable to form words.

"What?" he asked, swiveling his head back and forth when neither of you said anything.

You were about to respond when Ellie jumped up excitedly, about to wrap her arms around Joel's shoulders, then stopped herself.

"Really? Can I?" Her eyes darted between you both, a huge grin plastered across her face.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly with a nod. "Yeah, of course you can." You tried your best to blink back the tears that were quickly forming.

The three of you heard some hissing coming from downstairs and Joel leapt up, muttering about the water for the pasta as he clattered quickly down the steps, leaving just you and Ellie.

"Holy shit," she said, still grinning.

"Uh, yeah, 'holy shit' is right," you said with a chuckle.

"You didn't have anything to do with that?"

"Me? Nope," you said, quickly shaking your head. "Although it was on my mind, I just never found the right time to talk to him about it."

"Wow," she muttered, sitting on the bed next to you. "Guess he doesn't hate me, after all."

"Told you," you said, nudging her shoulder with your own.

You sat in silence for a moment, deep in thought while you listened to Joel muttering to himself in the kitchen. A smile played across your lips at the sheer domesticity of it. A feeling that you never thought you would get to experience just fell into your lap when you least expected it.

"I never got a chance to ask," you began, and Ellie turned her attention back towards you. "Does anyone else know?"

She shook her head.

"When you were passed out in the truck on the way back, Joel told me he had to tell Tommy and Maria but then he got so distracted with you at the infirmary that I guess he never got around to it."

You hummed and nodded, wondering if Joel truly forgot or if he changed his mind. Either way, you knew it would have to come out some day, but you had hoped it would be on Ellie's terms.

"And what did he tell Tommy? About the Fireflies?"

"The truth. Well, mostly. Just left out a few things. He told him they were working on a vaccine and that they kidnapped you, obviously."

"But how did he explain why they took me without telling him they really wanted you?" you asked, your pain killers making it tough to keep up.

"I told them they took people to experiment on," she said. "I thought that's what they were doing, anyway, at first."

You chewed your lip for a moment, eager to learn more but careful about pushing her too far.

"How did you guys find me?" you finally asked. You had tried to get the story out of Joel multiple times already, but he kept dodging the question, and the curiosity was getting the best of you.

Ellie's body stiffened next to you. She straightened her back as she took a sharp inhale of breath.

"He didn't tell you?"

You just shook your head slowly.

"Well, we, uh, went back to my aunt and uncle's house," she said, dropping her eyes to her lap. "He figured out they were the ones who called the Fireflies to come take you. Or, I guess me, but whatever."

"Oh," you said softly. You hadn't expected Ellie to know about any of that.

"It's alright, Joel told me after you were taken. That you thought they might've sold me off," she said, as if reading your mind.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry," you said, but she just shook her head.

"It's fine," she said, but you could see in her face she was hurt. After a moment, she added "it worked out in the end, right? I found you guys."

You gave her a tight smile as you felt the swell of emotions rising up your chest, squeezing your throat. You cared for Ellie so deeply that you were almost inclined to agree with her. Even though you were just as happy to have her in your lives, it still made you sick to think about what she had to endure to get there.

Then, you realized Ellie never elaborated about their return visit. You glanced over at her and wanted to ask, but decided against it. She looked upset enough, and if it was anything like you saw at the hospital, you preferred not to bring it up.

Joel startled you both by appearing silently in the doorframe.

"You girls ready to eat?"

Girls. The way he said it warmed your heart.

"So long as you didn't burn it," Ellie said teasingly as she stood up from the bed. "I'll bring some up for you," she said to you over your shoulder as she headed down the stairs.

"C'mon, lemme help you get back in bed and I'll get your tray," Joel said, but instead you held out a hand to stop him, making him look at you.

"Thank you," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands.

"For what?"

You smiled at him and he lifted an eyebrow at you, amused but curious.

"For giving me a family."

It took a few weeks, but your bones eventually healed and you were able to get back to work. Maria would only schedule you for half days and you argued that you could do more, but by the time you got home after only four hours, you had to admit you were exhausted.

Bill told you it would take some time for you to feel like yourself again, that it was completely normal and that you would need to build your strength back up. You had to constantly remind Joel you needed to start doing things for yourself, but he would still do whatever he could to keep you from getting up too much.

Joel heard you sigh from the bathroom and within seconds he was in the doorway, buttoning up his dress shirt with a tie draped loosely around his neck.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you said quickly as you continued to stare into the mirror and fidget with your hair. "I can't get my hair to look the way I want it."

"I think you look beautiful," he said, sauntering over with his shirt still untucked to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, gazing at you in the mirror while he planted a quick kiss to your neck.

You sighed and tilted your head to the side, encouraging him to explore your neck more. You arched your back just a bit, pushing yourself back into his hips, causing his arms to stiffen around you.

"No funny business," he murmured against your skin, and you grinned.

"Not even a little funny business?" you teased, and you felt him chuckle lightly against your back.

"Nope. We're gonna be late," he said, pulling back suddenly but giving you a small tap on your ass with his palm before he walked away.

You glanced at the time and gasped quietly. He was right. Tommy and Maria's rehearsal dinner was in ten minutes, and even though it was just a handful of you at their house, you still didn't want to be late. Maria spent too much time planning this wedding and the last thing you were interested in doing was setting off the short fuse she had developed over the past couple weeks.

Quickly, you put on some old lipstick and fixed your dress before turning off the bathroom light. Joel was just finishing up knotting his tie, leaning forward a bit with his lips parted as he watched himself carefully in the mirror above your dresser and you had to resist the urge to push him down on the bed right then and there.

Ever since your energy slowly began coming back, so did your desire for Joel, but he was adamant about waiting until you were feeling better, which just left you feeling crazier by the day. You weren't sure if it was because you were finally on the mend, or maybe it had something to do with your breakthrough with him, but you found yourself feeling a lot needier than usual.

"Ready?" he asked you before running his fingers casually through his curls once more and walking over to you. You nodded, your lips pressed together as you glanced down at the blue shirt and navy slacks he picked out.

"You look good," you told him, your tone suggestive. He smirked and took your hand, leading you out of the bedroom.

"Ellie, we're leavin'," Joel called out to her, ignoring your compliment. "There's leftovers in the fridge!"

"Okay!" she called out, the sound of her music softly flowing through the floorboards as you made your way downstairs.

"Should we bring any pain killers in case you start gettin' sore?" Joel asked.

"No, I'll be fine."

"You sure? 'Cause-"

"Alright fine, we can bring them," you relented, just eager to get out of the house at this point. You pocketed them in your small purse and the two of you headed out towards Tommy and Maria's house, luckily arriving with two minutes to spare.

"How are you feeling?" you asked Maria as she greeted you with a warm hug.

"Me? What about you?" she said with a laugh.

"Oh, I'm fine! I want to hear all about you and what the future hellraiser is putting you through."

"She ain't fine," Joel said behind you, turning his head away from his brother. "Bill said-"

"Bill said I need to work on building up my strength. To me, that's fine," you told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"You two are so alike, it's scary, you know that?" Maria asked, leading you into the kitchen for a drink. You smiled and waved when you saw Carrie and Jake, along with Eugene and another woman who you thought was named Tina, but you couldn't quite remember, rounding out the rest of their wedding party.

"So really, how have you been feeling?" you asked her, taking the glass of wine she offered you.

"Nauseous, but it's getting a little better. And tired. Oh my god, I'm so tired all the damn time, it's crazy!"

"Oh, wow," you said, taking a sip before adding "you aren't even showing yet. How far along did Bill say you were?"

"I'm close to the end of the first trimester, thank god. He says that's when the nausea usually goes away and I should get some energy back," she said, checking the oven briefly before straightening back up. "But enough about me. How are you two?" she asked, nodding subtly towards Joel in the living room with Tommy and now Eugene.

"Better. Much better. We had a good talk after we got back, and I think we're on the same page," you said, glancing around the room at the others, making sure they were out of earshot.

"What page is that, exactly?" she pushed with a smirk.

"He's okay with not getting married or having kids," you replied with a noncommittal shrug. She narrowed her eyes at you and you frowned. "What?"

"Is that what you really want, though?"

"Well," you said, glancing around once again before lowering your voice. "I've come around to the whole marriage thing, but I don't really know how to tell him. I feel like I keep jerking him around and I don't know what to do."

"You need to be honest with him," she said immediately, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I just made this huge fuss -"

"It doesn't matter. This is your life, you have to do what's right. He might be confused at first but you know he will be so fucking ecstatic he will forget all about it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," you said, glancing over your shoulder to watch him laugh with Tommy, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "I just need to figure out how to tell him."

"And kids?" she asked, causing you to whip your head back around.

"I'm not there yet. But maybe one day," you finally admitted, making her squeal out with excitement and causing the rest of the guests to look your way.

"Sorry! The chicken just came out perfectly!" Maria said with a giggle. You laughed with her as you locked eyes with Joel and he raised a curious eyebrow at you. You shrugged and gave him a quick smile before turning back to Maria.

"Alright, enough of that. What can I do to help?"

"You sure you ain't in any pain? Maybe you should take somethin' before bed," Joel said as he watched you wince when you leaned over to take your heels off.

"I'm okay, I promise. It's the damn shoes," you explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing your calf. "Was I this annoying when you were hurt?"

"Worse," he said with a grin before sitting down next to you and taking your legs over his lap, his own fingers taking over, rubbing the sore muscles and doing a far better job.

"Thank you," you said breathily as you closed your eyes and leaned forward so your head was resting on his shoulder. You sat in silence for a moment, his strong hands digging into your calves, content to be in your shared home with Ellie safe and sound, right down the hall.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Something's different," you said softly, your eyes still closed.

"What'dya mean?" he murmured, his lips pressed against the top of your head.

"I feel... safe," you said, opening your eyes a bit and staring at the wall across from your bed, his fingers still working your legs.

"That's good, baby," he whispered.

"No, I mean..." you paused, searching for the words, not sure how to say it. "I mean I'm not scared anymore."

His fingers paused as he absorbed your words, trying to figure out what you were saying.

"That's... good," he repeated, not quite understanding. You sighed and tilted your face up to look at him, your arm stretching up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. Another time, you thought. You'll figure out how to explain it another time.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, your fingers raking through his hair as the hand that was once on your calf slowly migrated up past your knee and to your thigh. Greedily, you nipped at his bottom lip and leaned backwards so you were flat on the bed, Joel partially on top of you while your lips moved faster, leaving quick, desperate kisses against his mouth.

"Hang on," he whispered, but you kept going, your heart slamming in your chest. Now that you felt him on top of you again, it was sparking a fire between your legs.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked jokingly, pulling back a bit and pinning your wrists into the mattress, your chest heaving.

"Please, Joel," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded.

"C'mon, you know you ain't ready yet. You're still healing," he mumbled sweetly, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I am ready," you promised, but he just shook his head.

"We got a big day tomorrow," he whispered in your ear before sitting up, his weight no longer pressing against your upper half. "Let's just go to bed."

You pouted as you sat up next to him and he grinned.

"Ain't gonna work on me, sweetheart."

Then, an idea occurred to you. You shrugged and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as you slowly unzipped your dress, letting it pool at your feet only when you were in the safety of the small room. You turned around, hand on the door, only wearing your underwear as you took in Joel's slack jawed expression, his eyes slowly raking up and down your nearly naked frame.

"I'm gonna shower," you said quietly, his eyes still glued to your body. "You wanna join me?"

You could see the conflict in his face, trying so desperately to hold back and keep a clear head.

Finally, he forced himself to shake his head. You pouted again then shut the door, but not before sliding your underwear down your legs first, giving him a little show.

The water had barely gotten warm enough to step under the stream when he ripped open the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. You looked at him and smirked.

"I thought you said -"

He silenced you with his mouth covering yours, pushing you up against the cool tile while his knee slotted between your legs and his hand slowly drifted down your stomach. You gasped and smiled against his mouth when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed him.

"You need me that bad, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, and you nodded.

"Yes," you whined, arching your back off the wall, your wet body pressing up against his as his fingers dipped inside you and dragged them back out, smearing a mix of your arousal and water expertly over your clit.

"Can't be too loud, now," he reminded you, swallowing your breathless moans as his fingers circled faster. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding on tightly as he brought you to the edge way too quickly, months of not being touched by him finally coming to a head.

"Joel," you whispered, burying your face into his neck as you felt the muscles in your stomach tense. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up just in time. Your legs went lax, your arms and Joel the only thing keeping you upright as you felt the coil in your belly snap, your sounds muffled against his skin and the water beating down around you.

"Better?" he asked when you finally found the strength to hold yourself back up. You nodded, your eyelids drooping, but you still slid your hand down his stomach. Right as you were about to wrap your fingers around him, he stopped you.

"Not tonight," he said, and you frowned. "It's late. We gotta get to bed."

If you weren't so exhausted, you would have put up a bigger fight. You leaned into him as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, your eyes closed, blindly letting him direct you under the water to rinse before he got started on your body, his strong hands spreading the soap over your skin in circles.

He helped you get out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel as he dried your hair, his own body dripping water all over the floor. You lazily watched him work, a slow smile creeping across your face. He noticed and raised an eyebrow at you.

"I like it when you take care of me," you explained, and you swore you saw a little bit of pink dust his cheeks. He led you to bed, tucking the cool sheets around you as he brushed your damp hair away from your eyes. "Want you to take care of me forever," you mumbled as your eyes slid shut. He smiled, then his hand froze as his lips pursed in thought.

I feel safe.

I'm not scared anymore.

He finally understood what you were trying to tell him, and his heart began to flutter excitedly in his chest.

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[ddejavvu]

Omg omg bodyguard!anakin taking care of you when you get carsick in long car rides!!! He lets you sleep on him and brings a lemon for you to sniff when you feel sick and a water bottle too :( and he gets mad at your driver if he’s going too fast on the windy roads :((

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

okay wait i did this within the star wars universe so they are not in a car but they are in a speeder <3 thank you for your prompt and please send me more anakin requests <3

--

There are two words that Anakin Skywalker never expected to be saying in a moving speeder: Slow down. But they come out venomous and rough towards the pilot that's steering you through a narrow canyon, over a less-travelled route to your destination. He's perhaps taken the mindset of bodyguard a tad too serious, and he's ordered your pilot to steer clear of any populated areas to avoid potential danger. It means, though, that you're not rewarded with the straight-shooting lanes of the city that you're used to, and instead you're hurtling through winding passageways and bobbing up and down through any available gaps in the rock face.

"I can't go much slower than this," Your pilot has clearly never been spoken to with such malice, but Anakin has little time for pleasantries as he pulls you tightly into his side. He keeps his grip pointedly off of your stomach, not wanting to aggravate it any more than the ride already has, his hand resting on your shoulders rather than your waist.

"Unless you want sick on the back of your head and a demotion from the Princess's personal staff, slow down." Anakin snaps, hand rubbing broad strokes down your back.

"No, it's-" You choke on a barely-concealed gag, breathing heavy where you're hunched into Anakin's side, "It's okay. It's not his- fault."

Anakin chooses to ignore the way you so easily spare your pilot; he thinks that if he were on your permanent staff he'd live every day making sure you never had to suffer from things like motion sickness again.

"Anakin," You breathe against his shoulder, somewhat of a pant as you try catching your breath without turning your stomach again, "I'm sorry. I know this is not what you signed up for."

"Shh," He hushes, reaching down to dig through the bag that you'd helped him pack. You'd been nervous about getting sick on the way so he'd loaded every nausea remedy he could think of, including a citrus fruit to relieve your symptoms.

"Here," He unwraps the cut fruit from its container, his palm molding around the curved, bumpy skin as he brandishes it beneath your nose.

"Breathe this in," He instructs you, voice calm and soothing despite your iron grip on his leg. You do as you're told, and he makes it easy for you by keeping the citrus close to your face. You find that you really don't have to do anything around him; he's always got it covered.

"That's better," You mumble, head hung and stomach still upset but not churning as it was before. He rubs that same soothing hand over your back and you relax further into his hold, no longer imminently afraid of spewing vomit all over the nicest man you've ever known.

"Give me your hands," He murmurs, carefully re-wrapping the fruit so that the juice doesn't stain anything, "There's pressure points on your wrists, and if I squeeze them, you might feel better. Can I try?"

"Mhm," You squeeze your eyes shut, holding back tears as the speeder tilts to the left, your stomach once more violently angry with the movement.

Anakin's hands are soft but firm as he takes your wrists into his grip. His large thumbs roll pressure against a spot just beneath your wrist, the thin skin there bending to his will. He massages them carefully, craning his neck up to fit his chin over the crown of your head where you're slumped against him.

"Is that working?" He asks, once more in that same smooth, careful murmur. You nod almost imperceptibly but he feels it against his shoulder, and he has to fight himself to not press a kiss to your scalp while he's nestled into it.

"Okay. Close your eyes, Princess." He instructs, teeth clenching as the speeder winds down a narrow passageway. He doesn't want to disturb you, but he wants to snap something fierce at the pilot. Next time, he'll drive.

"Try to sleep the rest of the way. I'll keep pressure on these," He breaks his rhythm against your wrists to press steadily into them, "And I've got bags if you need to be sick. Okay?'

"Okay," You whimper against his shoulder, and the sound strikes him deep in the chest. He wishes he could ease your pain, he hopes his impromptu acupressure is enough. You're more than happy to take his orders, and Anakin is acutely aware of every single rise and fall of your chest as you slowly doze off against his shoulder.

He wants the ride to be over, because he wants your pain alleviated, but he lets himself indulge in the thought of doing this all day. Of being stuck to your side for eternity, your bodyguard, healer, and pillow all at once.

Once the speeder is docked safely at your sanctuary he lets the pilot disembark with one last scathing glance, and settles into the seat. He can't bear the thought of waking you, even if you would be happier in your bed as you sleep off the nausea, because he's happier here, with your face squished against his shoulder blade, and your hands in his own.

If he has to spend all night in the cramped speeder bay, he happily will.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey how are you hope you ok

I got a request for Tommy Shelby if that ok

So basically you and Tommy are dating and one day in a meeting you was having theses really bad stomach pains and you thought nothing of at than when u got home and I got worse and than u went to Tommy crying in pain still and he said you might be in labour ( u don’t know u pregnant) than he calls polly and then u gived birth to you boy or girl up to you and then next day every one was  Shock and yh hope that make sense u don’t have to do it x

Dear Anon,

Thank you for waiting! I changed things up a bit and I apologize for any mistakes as I'm editing on mobile at work. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: childbirth, mentions of Hugh stress and poor eating habits. Peaky related themes and magic.

Dating Thomas was a life changing decision in more ways than you had originally realsied. Your whole life plan had been derailed by the constant ups and downs. 

Every new accomplishment and high was met with an even more dangerous low. You were along for the ride while managing your position at the book shop you owned. Long days and fun nights occupied these past few months so much that you realised that your period was late. 

Very late. 

You thought about it for a while and realised it was probably what used to happen when you were a teenager. High times of stress would stop it altogether. You had no other symptoms that women had told you about. No weird cravings, or morning sickness. Just lots of drama and stres.

You pushed the thought from your mind as you went about your usual routines. 

________6 months later____

You had come to the realisation that you must be barren. A fact that was difficult to come to terms with, however Tommy had said he wasnt interested in children any way. 

Looking at your self in the mirror you noticed a bit of weight on you and made a mental note to try and correct it by skiping meals for a while. Nothing big to worry about in comparison to another rival family causing chaos. You’d only just gotten sorted from being held captive a week ago. 

You already had so much on your shoulders at the book shop, orders were piling up and you were spending more and more late nights and early mornings. Tommy’s men escorting you and staying by the door while you worked. 

The multiple attempts on your life did nothing but add to the list of reasons you couldnt sleep at night. You were slowly falling apart. 

Cramps set in about mid day and you finally gave up. You called Tom letting him know you couldnt make it to lunch and went right to bed. Taking a much needed nap you woke up to even worse sets of pain. 

You grabbed your hot water bottle and tried to curl up on the couch with a book. Struggling through the sets of pain you began to wonder if something else was wrong. Wasn’t there an organ that could explode in your stomach? 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

____________________________________________________

Sitting across the table from the old woman, Polly thought back through time. Her eyes were dark and she had told her lots of things about her life that night. Gave her the curse of knowledge, knowing all too well that the girl was too weak to fight fate. And Polly had tried, every step of the way to fight it. 

It didnt surprise her that she was once again stuck at that wooden table. That the woman reflected on something said ages ago. 

A child. 

Polly’s heart sunk when she thought about the two children that were permanently out of her reach. A child? At this age. Not likely. 

The dream took a turn and woman shouted at her. 

“Go to her now before its too late.” And image of your face came into her mind and suddenly she was awake. The womans cold scream still echoing in her mind. 

Getting her clothes pulled on she quickly called Thomas. 

“Need to get to her place now” She said trying to pull on her boot at the same time. 

“Pol - why? What’s wrong?” The sound of panic in his voice made her reconsider your place within the family. 

“Just go, I’m on my way now.” She hung up the phone not wanting to waist anytime. On the drive over she thought about you and what this ment. 

There was no way of making sense of the situation. All the things she was told never made sense as a girl and wouldnt likely start to make sense now. She sighed defeated. She liked you well enough. Smart, kept Thomas in line, a bit soft hearted but she could see that changing the more you saw of the world. 

She parked and ran up the steps of your building. Opening the door she ould hear your soft cries as he tried to comfort you. 

“Pol what’s wrong with her.” 

“It’s a child.” Polly said moving into the kitchen seeing what supplies they were working with. 

“Fuck off.” You said a tone of disbelif. Coming back into the room she watched your face cycle through the many stages of panic. 

“Accept it so we can get on with it.” Polly said to the both of them. 

“How?” 

“Part of the prophecy. Flashbacks got me up in the middle of the night.” She watched as Tommy fell under the weight of her words. 

“Alright, love.” He kissed the top of your head. “It’s not going to make sense. So just let it happen.” You looked at up him your fear fading in the warmth of his gaze. 

“I dont think I can do it.” You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“It’s already happened. Pol saw it. That means you certainly can. Just have to make it from here to there.” 

After that you followed instructions, Polly was professional but couldnt help but feel a fondness growing for you. This was also a side of Tom she hadn’t seen since he was a small boy. He did everything without thought, never letting you out of his grip. 

“Tough girl.” He kissed your temple. “You can do it, gotta push again” 

Like many times before. Polly pulled a small little babe from their mother on the living room floor of a dingy flat in Birmingham. 

You collapsed against Tom and Polly went to work ensuring the child was alright. Smallest little girl she’d ever seen. Born too soon, quiet as a mouse as she looked up at her great aunt. Her heart was strong, and Polly knew just by holding her that this child, was significant in something bigger than all of them put together. 

She handed the girl off to her parents. Leaning back against the sofa sitting next to Thomas. He handed her a cigarette from his breast pocket. 

Taking a long drag, she realized she should give them space to enjoy the moment. Her bones had no interest in moving as the night, and previous months took a toll on her. 

“She predicted this? Why didn't you say something?”  Tom whispered stoking the cheek of his first child. 

Polly almost snapped at him, before registering his tone of voice. She’d never seen him this vulnerable. 

“She told me a lot of things, I was small at the time. None of you were born yet. It’s not specific stuff-” 

“Thank you.” You said with tears in your eyes. “I -I Don't know what to say.” 

“You shouldn't say, anything love. You're family now” 

_________________________________________________

You were the most exhausted you’d ever been, but a family meeting was unavoidable. That night was the last night you spent in your apartment. He’d carried you to the car the next morning to take you to his place. 

You watched him move around the massive kitchen. He got you a cushion before letting you sit at the head of the table. A cup of strange tea was placed in front of you as the family started to pile in. 

Ruby slept in your arm and you tried to relax as the family came close. You were friendly and warm with everyone but this was the first time they were seeing you as a permanent fixture in the family. 

“That must have been so scary love. Your body hid it so well” Emse came up to you putting her arm around you in a makeshift hug. “Look at her. So small. Pretty like her mum.” She sat close to you and you knew that it was because of her natural distaste for family meetings. Her posture told you if anyone got smart she’d chew them out. 

Arthur and John started to congratulate Tommy loudly and your stomach turned when they set on you. She was so small you didn't feel comfortable passing her around yet. What if that offended people? 

“Look at that! Next Shelby made a grand entrance like her da” Arthur kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling. “Good job, love.”

“Thanks,” You said softly. 

“God I hope she’s just like you Tom. Finally some payback.” John came over and lowered his voice once seeing her. “Fuck she’s so small. You can call us any time if you need anything. Got a truckload of baby clothes for ya.” 

“Really though, love. Call any time.” Esme said and you hoped more than anything you would get closer to her. 

The meeting started and Tommy made a grand speech. It didn't take long before Polly was rushing you back up to lie down in bed. When you woke up there was a ring on your wedding finger and a note on the bedside table. 

Gone to London for business. Be back tomorrow. 

You went back to the massive set of diamonds on your finger. It was talked about but you hadn't had the chance to think about it yet. 

There was a soft knock at the door and Esme poked her head in. 

“Staying while he’s away, do you need anything, love.” Without knowing what to do you just stuck your hand out at her. 

She looked at the ring. 

“When!” She whispered.

“Just woke up and it was there.” You whispered back in disbelief. 

“Such a Thomas thing to do.” She laughed and sat on the bed next to you. You both talked for hours and you were grateful she let you doze off and nap. 

You and Ruby fit right in.

[drabbles-mc]

Far From Over

Gilly Lopez x OC Josephine Costa

Chapter Index

For Day 30 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: holding hands / human shield / "Don't let go"

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, blood/injury

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: We did it! We made it! Last day of whumpril, babyyy!!! Thank you for everyone who came along for the ride. Special shout-out to @narcolini for being the other half of this insane whumpril journey with me, and for also giving me the idea of this entire dynamic. What better way to end whumpril than to come up with a new OC to torture? Iconic. And in true Tay Fashion there will be more for these two. Trust.

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @darqchilddaydreamz @proceduralpassion @camelia35 @danzer8705 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When she’d shown up to the clubhouse, Josie had already known that it was going to be a bad idea. Going into it there was no hiding the fact that it was going to backfire on her, coming and pushing that door open when weeks before Gilly had told her that she should, for all intents and purposes, consider it permanently locked. So she had prepared herself for it to be messy. She had prepared herself for the worst case scenario, or rather, what she thought was going to be the worst case scenario.

She’d been preparing herself to get reamed out by Gilly, yelled at in front of the guys from the MC for having the audacity to show up after everything she’d done. She was ready for everything about that. What she hadn’t been ready for, though, was being thrown into a fucking shoot-out.

Getting into a public spat with Gilly was now officially the least of her problems. All of that worrying about what he was going to say when he saw her, how he was going to react to it all, and he wasn’t even there. She hadn’t had the time or the courage to ask where he was, but now she was wishing that she had. It was too late now—there were too many other larger problems to deal with.

“Come on,” EZ’s voice snapped her to attention, putting a temporary pause on the trembling that was wracking her entire body. “I need you with me.”

She nodded, following him even though she had no idea what he actually needed from her, if she was really going to be any help. Telling him no wasn’t really an option at this point. He flagged down one of the other girls that was there, one Josie remembered working behind the bar when she used to actually be allowed into the clubhouse.

The woman tossed Josie one of the bottles that she had been holding. By some minor miracle, Josie managed to catch it before following her and EZ back through the clubhouse and towards the steps that would take all of them up to the roof. Josie was standing at the back of the pack, and as she watched the other two start climbing up, she found herself rooted to her spot. She was trying to will her legs to move, but she couldn’t.

It was only when EZ reached the roof and turned around to help Josie and the other girl up onto the roof, that he realized only one of them had even started coming up. Looking down, he saw her, fear in her eyes as she stared up at them.

“Josie!” he snapped, waving for her to come up. “Fucking come on, we don’t have time for this.”

There was just enough edge to his voice to get her feet to start moving one in front of the other. Tucking the bottle under her arm, she braced herself against the wall and started to pull herself up to him. When she was close enough, he held his hand out to her and helped safely pull her up onto the roof, keeping her as low as he could.

“Got your lighter?” EZ asked once she was lying on her stomach along with him and Cielo.

Josie swallowed hard, nodding as she stuffed her hand into the pocket of her jeans. Of all the reasons that she should’ve quit smoking, she never thought that being off the hook for having a lighter on her would’ve been one of them.

He was holding the end of his bottle close to her as he waited. When she finally pulled the lighter from her pocket, she pushed the bottle away. “Not so close to my goddamn face, Ezekiel,” she said, trying to shout and whisper at the same time.

“Sorry,” the apology was more compulsory than it was sincere, but it was something, and that was more than anyone could ask for given the current situation.

Once the flame caught the fabric, EZ shot up onto his feet and threw the bottle as far as he could. He stayed standing for a few beats longer than he should have, somewhere between admiring his work and trying to figure out what the next best move would be. He stayed up too long, though, and when the gunfire picked up again, this time they were aiming directly for him.

Josie didn’t think twice about it as she reached and drove the bottom of the bottle in her hands into the back of his knee, causing him to drop to a kneeling position. She heard him curse, and she was ready for him to snap at her, but when she saw the look on his face she knew that he understood exactly why she had done what she did. The mild throbbing in the back of his leg was better than a bullet being buried in his sternum.

“Next one,” he said, motioning for Josie to hand him the bottle.

They did it that way a few more times over. Josie was lighting the bottles for EZ and Cielo, allowing them to aim and throw. When they were starting to get down to their last few, Cielo went and dropped back down, intent on getting more bottles to throw.

When it was just the two of them waiting for Cielo to come back, EZ couldn’t help but to ask, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”

Josie let out a shocked laugh. “That’s your fucking question right now?”

“I just—”

He was cut off by the string of bullets that came flying up towards them, far too close for comfort. Both he and Josie were cursing under their breath as they scrambled back towards the opening that led to the clubhouse stairs. EZ was all but shoving Josie down them first. Both of them saw Cielo about to climb back up and they both frantically told her to back away and give them room.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Cielo asked as EZ’s boots hit the floor.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He motioned for both of them to follow him. “But come on, get in here—stay away from all the fucking windows.”

There were a few moments of stillness, silence that no one could manage to take comfort in. Josie was slumped down on the floor, her back against the bar as she listened to the eeriness of it. She’d heard a term for it before, one that Gilly had said at some point in the past, most likely referencing something that wasn’t nearly as intense as the phrase called for.

Pressing her forehead against her knees, it hit her and she whispered to no one but herself, “Riot quiet.”

“What?”

Josie lifted her head, not realizing that Cielo had been sitting so close to her. Looking over, she shook her head. “N-nothing. Sorry. Talking to myself—trying not to freak the fuck out.”

Just as Cielo was about to say something else in response, there was a thudding sound on the roof. Everyone froze, looking upwards as they heard the series of thuds making their way across the roof. EZ and Angel grabbed their guns, making their way towards the hatch that would lead down into the clubhouse. They remained silent, guns pointed and at the ready.

Every logical bone in Josie’s body was telling her to stay put, but she still found herself pushing herself up off the floor, trailing behind them. She wasn’t close enough to be in the thick of it, but she was close enough to listen to everything that was going on. She heard the creaking of the hatch open as everyone shut off their flashlights, heard the sounds of someone coming down the steps.

Her fists were clenched, pressed tightly against her own chest. It felt like everyone in the clubhouse was holding their breath as EZ turned his flashlight back on.

“Get that fucking light out of my eyes!” Gilly’s voice boomed through the cramped space that they were all packed into.

Without even realizing it, Josie let out a shuddered sigh of relief. She leaned back against the wall, trying not to let herself crumble to the floor. She could hear them all talking in the background as Gilly got the rest of the way inside, him and Coco both coming down from the roof, but she couldn’t really make out any of the words that they were saying. She was too wrapped up in just listening to the reassuring thrum of Gilly’s voice, somehow getting something out of it even though he had more anger in him at the moment than anything else.

As the whole crew of them made their way back to the main part of the clubhouse, they passed right by Josie, who still had her back against the partial wall that had separated the main expanse of the clubhouse from where they had all been standing and ready to nearly blast Gilly right back up onto the roof. She watched them all as they walked by, Angel and EZ, then Gilly, then finally Coco. None of them were saying much of anything now as they watched Coco and Gilly take stock of the entire situation.

Gilly turned to look around the clubhouse, try and see just how severe all of the damage was. It was only then that he saw Josie, pressed back against the wall like she was trying to fade right into it to avoid being seen by him.

“Josie?” he said it like a question even though there was no one else that it could possibly be.

“Gil—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he cut her off.

She scoffed, the relief that was coursing through her now balanced out by her frustration. The situation they were in wasn’t Gilly’s fault. That was true for the shoot-out and their breakup, but he was still the easiest person to take it all out on.

Her fear got set on the backburner for a moment as she said, “Trying not to die in a fucking shoot-out, Gilly. What are you doing?”

“You wouldn’t be in a fucking shoot-out if you just stayed the fuck away like I—”

“Hey!” EZ cut them both off. “Sort this shit out later.” He focused on Gilly. “Come on. Grab a fucking gun.”

Gilly looked over at the table where everyone had piled their guns. Confusion took over his entire face as he looked around to the rest of the members of his club. “Where the fuck are the rest of the guns?” When no one had an answer for him. He shook his head. “Fucking unbelievable.”

Josie watched as he grabbed one off the table. She couldn’t help but to look around at the other men in the room, trying to piece together if any of them really had any fucking clue what was going on. She wondered if any of them even had a semblance of a plan or if they were all feeling just as lost and confused as she was, but they were just better at hiding it.

The room because quiet again as everyone reached for their own guns, getting ready to dive into the next wave of whatever the entire situation was about to play out to be. It felt like the room was split clean down the middle between those who were ready to do something even if they didn’t know what, and everyone who was too confused, too lost and scared to even think about doing anything. Josie wished that she felt more in control of anything than she really did, herself included.

“Alright,” EZ’s voice cut through the quiet of the room, causing everyone to turn and look over at him, “we’re gonna—”

His sentence was cut short by a tirade of bullets tearing through the walls of the clubhouse. Everyone was screaming, crying, dropping to the floor either out of fear or because they were buckling underneath the impact of a bullet. Everyone that had grabbed a gun turned and started firing back, not even bothering to wait to get up to the windows so that they could actually aim.

It was hard to tell which bangs were from bullets going out, and which ones were from bullets coming in. Angel and EZ were already up against the windows, finally in a position to aim their shots. Gilly was coming up behind EZ, ready to perch his gun on the sill right beside him, all of them so controlled in the face of so much chaos.

Josie tried to leech some of the certainty off of them, find just a shred of it in the middle of everything, but she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking in front of her as she watched them. All the times that she’d been with Gilly, been at the clubhouse, she’d never had the misfortune of being caught in the midst of anything like this. All good things really must come to an end, apparently.

She was already halfway back down to the floor, trying her best to get low and out of the line of fire when she felt something tear through her shoulder. She got half a scream out before she clamped her hand down over her mouth, stifling the rest of it as she fell ungracefully the rest of the way to the floor.

Gilly’s head snapped around when he heard the short sound of pain she let out. His anger battled with his concern, the myriad of conflicts he was feeling painted clear as day all over his face. Turning back around, he fired two more shots before shoving his gun into Coco’s chest and walking over to where Josie was sitting on the floor.

Her eyes were shut tight, so she didn’t even see him coming over. Her head was pressed back hard against the bar behind her, like the pain and pressure against her skull would distract her from the pain shooting through her shoulder and down her arm. It didn’t help, but she couldn’t stop.

“Come on,” Gilly reached, grabbing onto her good shoulder, “you gotta get behind the fucking bar.”

“I can’t—”

He cut her argument short. “They shoot your leg?”

“No but—”

“Then you can fuckin’ move. Come on.”

For abrasive as he was being with her, he was still keeping her alive. It was more than he was obligated to do at that point. Josie knew that, too, so she kept her mouth shut as she used her good side to grip onto Gilly’s arm, allowing him to pull her out of the shock that was beginning to settle into her bones as he got her into a crouching position so that they could scurry behind the bar. He kept himself between her and the window, a shield between her and anymore bullets that might stray lower than they bargained for.

When they were finally behind the bar, one of the few actual barriers the clubhouse afforded them, Josie collapsed back to the floor again. There were a few comments on the tip of Gilly’s tongue about it, but he reminded himself at the last minute that this shit was his life, not hers. Normal people usually couldn’t just push through taking a bullet to their shoulder—of all the things that he could hold against her, that wasn’t one of them.

“Lean forward,” he finally said, “and let me see.” There was a deep frown on his face as he looked at her, concern bubbling up in the midst of the gunfire and other things he should’ve definitely been worrying about instead. “Seriously, Jos, why the fuck are you here?”

She winced in pain as he touched near where she’d been shot. “It’s really not the fuckin’ time for this conversation, Gilly.”

“You’re the one who showed up and put yourself in this mess so really—”

“Fuck you,” she snapped, immediately cringing afterwards as another jolt of residual pain went through her shoulder. “If I had known that you were all gonna be knee-deep in shit I wouldn’t have shown up.”

“Shit aside I told you that you have no reason to fucking come back here. This is what you get, Jos, because you never wanna fucking listen.”

“Getting shot is a fair punishment to you? For showing up for a fucking conversation since you blocked my goddamn number?”

“What the fuck is there to talk about?!” He was yelling and angry, but he was still moving Josie’s hand so that it was covering her bullet wound, applying pressure through her hand with his own.

“Eva’s wedding!” she snapped back at him, not wanting to even mention it now because it felt so stupid and small in the face of all they were dealing with, but she knew Gilly well enough to know that he would be too stubborn to let the topic drop before he got his answer.

Her reply caused him to lean back, weight shifting to his heels as he studied her face. Part of him felt like she must’ve been joking, but he knew that there was no way her brain was working well enough in the moment to come up with a lie like that. The whole scenario truly was just as absurd as it sounded.

“You’re right,” he conceded, “It’s not the fucking time.”

In direct opposition to everything that was happening to her and around her, Josie let out one short laugh. “Told you.”

Gilly shook his head at her but he didn’t say anything in response to her quip. Instead, he reached for her hand that was in her lap. He couldn’t deny that he did feel a bit of sympathy, guilt even, at the pained expression on her face as he lifted the hand on her bad side to put it over the other that was already there. He pressed them together, trying to encourage her to do the same before pulling his hand away. He went to stand up, put himself back in the fight, when she reached and grabbed onto his hand, not caring about the jolt it sent through her, the way the pain made her grip on him that much tighter.

“Gilly—”

“Look, the bullet is still in there, but you’re gonna be fine,” he said with a nod, sounding sincere with her for the first time in far too long. “Just, just keep the pressure, okay?”

“What about you?” she asked, her hold on his hand not loosening. Despite all that she’d done, she still cared. She knew that even before this mess, but now it was a fact that she couldn’t push back form the forefront of her mind.

Gilly wouldn’t ever admit to the fact that the pain in her face, the worry in her eyes, almost made him soften for a second, almost made him backpedal just the tiniest bit. But he held his ground the best way he knew how. “I’ll be fine. Always,” he sighed and shook his head, “always fucking am.”

She knew that she had no right to try and make him stay there with her. He didn’t owe her anything at this point, and he never passed up an opportunity to drive that point home to her. Regardless of the mess that they were stuck in together right now, a mess that she really shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place for countless reasons, the current circumstances didn’t change the fact that his loyalty in the moment belonged to his club. Still, even though all of those facts were so salient in her mind as she looked at him, she still didn’t want to let go of his hand, didn’t want to let him go back into the fight.

Every day for weeks, Gilly had been wishing that things were different. He wished it now, too, but for other reasons entirely. He wished they were different so he could try to say something that would air just enough on the side of humor to be reassuring to her. They were long past that now, though. Too much damage had been done.

“Just, just lock your fingers,” he did it for her as he spoke, “like that, and press. Don’t let go, don’t stop putting pressure on that.”

If things looked more hopeful than they did, he would’ve tacked on a comment about how when it was all over, he’d find someone to dig the bullet out of there for her, but he had never been a good liar and he wasn’t certain that they were all going to walk out of the mess that they were in together. Instead, he just pressed her hands a little harder, knowing that whatever pain she was feeling from it would be far outweighed by the benefit of slowing the bleed.

When Gilly finally backed up, getting ready to go and rejoin the rest of his club, Josie almost reached out for him again. She managed to stop herself, thinking that she owed him this one thing, this one time of listening to him if nothing else. All the shit they’d been through, shit that she had put him through, she could give him this. It was a lingering thought in the back of her mind that it might be the last thing that she would be able to do for him.

She watched as he disappeared back around to the other side of the bar. She shut her eyes again, feeling her tears for the first time in the middle of all the chaos. Her face was soaked with them, with sweat, but she’d been too distracted by the rest of it to even notice. But now it was just her, the other girls hiding out behind the bar, and deafening sound of her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to listen to what else was going on. She could hear the guys cursing, giving directions to each other, but once again none of the specific words really sank in with her.

What she did notice, though, was how the sounds of the bullets were beginning to slow. The lack of gunfire should have been something that provided comfort, but it didn’t. Even with as far-removed as Josie had been from this side of club business, she was smart enough to know that just because the firing stopped, it didn’t mean that the fight was over. Whatever the mess was that she had accidentally thrown herself into, it was far from over.

[khaothanawat]

i know i’ve seen people say it’s weird that nueng doesn’t, as of episode 7, seem upset that his mother was shot, but i don’t think it’s that weird. or: i don’t think he’s not upset. he’s just either hiding it very well, or completely compartmentalising by giving himself over to the fantasy escape of the island. or both.

like. i feel like the show has, over and over again and since episode one, made it so clear that nueng is a master of hiding his own feelings (unless he’s drunk pleeeaaase kssjdjjd). we saw him do it with ben in the dance hall, right before he decided to poison himself (hhh). my man ate food that was way too spicy for him and kept a perfectly straight face the entire time 😭

equally, it does also seem like nueng’s also keeping his feelings completely bottled up and letting himself instead get lost in this escapist fantasy the island offers him. he said it all out loud in episode 7 - i’m a different person here, i’m free from the weight of the expectations that are placed on me back home, i haven’t been happy in a very long time but i can be happy here… his focus on what the island offers him in comparison to the life he had (and just casually disregarding that the life he had would probably look very different to the life he’d be going back to, without either of his parents.) he was upset the entire journey to the island - and then he locked it up completely.

i mean, he’s out there trying to earn money as a fisherman because he’s never earned his own money before! he’s trying to work out how to put sheets on a bed! it’s not reality and he knows it, but i think that makes compartmentalising his feelings about what happened to his mother so much easier. he can just enjoy his time with palm, enjoy pretending to be a normal teenager (bc omg he’s a teenager) who doesn’t have people trying to murder him and his entire family. how else would you even really cope with that?

i think dating palm is also clearly a part of that. i absolutely believe he has feelings for palm, but i also wonder if he’s operating with a little bit of a #yolo mindset and just trying to make the most of his time on the island and live while he can. he’s never dated anyone!! he was so so lonely before he had palm!!! he’s got so many things he’s trying to escape from!!!! but none of it is permanent in his mind. that’s what he says to palm: while we’re living on this island, can you be my boyfriend?

i wonder if the fact that he’s not sleeping is also a sign of where he’s at - the show has shown us this a few times in the past two episodes. ostensibly it’s because he needs his music; we’ve seen him a number of times listening to classical music, particularly at school which was rough for him, so i suppose that’s an escape too. it’s like the spicy food though - he could hide his reaction to the pain from his voice and his face, but his body still betrayed how well he was actually coping.

the thing is, though, is nueng even really being honest with palm? does he genuinely need to buy a phone just to listen to classical music? don’t be such a zoomer nueng - go find a radio or something omg.

i just think that if i was planning to hitch a ride off of an island, becoming a fisherman with access to a boat and/or getting myself a phone would be a pretty smart call.

or else, getting myself sent to a hospital miles away would probably also do the trick, i guess.

[otaku-trash]

Chapter 2

Main Master List

Tha Gang’s Soulmate Masterlist

Previous Chapter

The shrill cry of an infant is what brought Y/n out of her dreamless sleep. Cracking her eyes open she sees two large purple beady eyes staring back at her.

Staring at each other for a good minute or two she signs, “You know this is why I don’t use an alarm clock.” she said as she picked Kaji up, getting ready to nurse him.

“I thought we said to start trying to bottle feed him?” a soft voice said by the door.

Looking up Y/n sees Mrs. Takashi standing in the doorway wearing her signature warm smile. In her hands is a tray of food she planned to deliver to Y/n personally as she had done every morning since Y/n was emitted into the hospital.

Casting her eyes to the nursing infant Y/n lets a soft smile stretch across her face. “I know but I…I just.”

“You aren’t ready yet.” Mrs. Takashi says with a knowing look on her face. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed she places the tray on the bed side table. “You know when I first had my daughter and had to stop nursing her it was hard too. It’s how we as mothers bond with them. It will get easier. Just don't force yourself or Kaji into changing into formulas, do it gradually.”

Giving the older woman a thankful smile Y/n finishes feeding the infant before passing him to Mrs. Takashi for his daily check up.

“I’ll be back with him in no more than an hour, so eat your breakfast, shower and freshen up young lady.” Mrs. Takashi said in a feign stern voice.

Giving her a small smile Y/n nods her head giving a gentle kiss to Kaji’s forehead before getting up and headed to get herself ready for the day.

Turning the shower water to be warm she undresses and steps into the shower. Starting with washing her hair with her floral scented shampoo and conditioner. Moving on to scrub the dirt off her body she stops at her stomach where the permanent scar is.

It wasn’t the one where she had her c-section and helped bring a life into the world, it was the one where she tried to take a life. Shaking out of her dark thoughts she rinses off her body and changes into black leggings, a dark gray tank top, maroon cardigan, finished off with Timberland ankle boots.

Taking her tray she takes it to the couch to eat over the coffee table.

………….

“What school are you bastards from!?”

“Yeah get the hell out of here! Both of you!”

Two voices were heard from outside of Takemichi’s classroom. Watching as the classroom door is pulled only to reveal Mikey. Leaving a shocked Takemichi.

“Hey. there he is. Come out and play with us, Takemichy.” Micky said as if he didn’t just walk into a school he doesn't go to and interrupt the teacher in the middle of a lesson.

‘What the hell. This dude is totally insane.’

Walking outside the classroom with Draken and Mikey not far behind him. The third years are left scattered all over the floor.

“Hey uh. What is all this?” Takemichi stutters, shocked to see the display in front of him.

“Well this is a school so I schooled them.” Draken joked amused with his own joke.

“Alright you wimps line up and lay on your stomachs and don’t leave any gaps in between you wimps. This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me.”

‘Yeah the Tokyo Manji Gang is insane’. Takemichi thinks to himself with a deadpan look on his face. As he sees Mikey and Draken walking across the backs of the third years.

Throwing his arm around Takemichi’s shoulder, Draken leans his head down to Takemichi’s level. “So have you been behaving yourself?”

“You only just saw me yesterday.”

“So are you free today?” Mikey asked without care in the world

“I don’t think you understand Mikey. I’m in school right now.”

The two older boys keep trying to convince him as a small crowd starts to form around them. Not really caring they continue to pester the younger boy not seeing the amber eyed girl stocking up on them.

“Hold on.” Hinata said strongly.

Making a beeline towards Mikey she lifts her hand and swings it down to his cheek. A deafening silence covers the hallway as Hinata grabs Takemichi’s wrist and tugs him along.

“Come on, Takemichi, you can’t let guys like this bully you.” she said strongly, but Takemichi could see her shaking. Feel it even since she still had a strong grip on his wrist.

Grabbing her wrist, Draken stops her. A vein bulging from his forehead. “Hey you got a death wish. Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think you can just go up to everyone and pull that stunt and just get away with it?”

Not meeting his eyes she shot back, “No, who do you think you are. Coming to a school that you don’t even go to. Takemichi has been coming home all beaten and bruised every night because of guys like you.”

Grabbing Draken’s shoulder in a harsh grip Takemichi demands, “You take your hand off of her.”

“What did you say? I must have heard you wrong.”

“I said you take your hand off her you dumbass!”

“Oh my you must have forgotten who you are talking to.” Draken said threateningly

“Aw. And here I thought you and I would have been great friends, but instead you decided to die.” Mikey said, turning to give Takemichi a stare that could kill a man.

“Just promise me. Just promise me you won’t hurt her. You won’t lay a hand on Hinata!”

“I do what I want.” Mikey said as he raised his fist getting ready to punch Takemichi. Only to stop centimeters away from his face. “Sike.” He says giving the younger boy a childish smile.

………….

“I am so sorry. I completely misunderstood the situation.” Hinata continued to apologize profusely

“It’s no problem.” Mikey waved off. “But that was one hell of a slap.” he complimented.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Really it’s fine it’s good to fight for people you want to protect, but you should be careful with who you slap.” he advised the pink-haired girl.

“Yep. See ya later Takemichi.” Hinata waved to her soulmate as she started to head back into the school.

“Wait, are we still going to visit my sister to have dinner?” Takemichi questioned

“You go hang out with your friends. I'll call the hospital and tell them we won’t be coming by tonight.”

Turning around Hinata jogs the rest of the way to the school doors. Leaving two curious gang members and a nervous fourteen year old.

Tilting his head out of curiosity Mikey asks “You have an older sister Takemichy?”

Stiffing slightly, Takemichi turns to face the two older boys. “Yeah she’s older by two years. She’ll be seventeen in January.”

“Great, let's go visit.” Mikey turns to head out the school gates.

“Wait what!?”

“You heard him Takemichy lead the way.” Draken demanded not sparing the younger boy a glance.

“You said you were going to visit her right?” Mikey asked. Glancing back at Takemichi he gives him a closed eye smile. “Then let's go. You wouldn’t want to keep her waiting would you?”

………….

“Takemichi, I wasn't expecting you. it’s good to see you, and you brought friends again.” Mrs. Takashi greated the young boy. Turning to the unknown boys Mrs. Takashi greets them with a warm smile, “Hello you must be new friends of Takemichi. I’m Kiyoko Takashi, but Mrs. Takashi is fine.”

Bowing, the two gang members greet the older lady respectfully. “Hello Ma’am.”

Turning to Takemichi. “Go, she is all packed and ready to go. Honestly she couldn’t be any more impatient to get out.” she chuckles.

Mikey started to walk forward along with Draken but was stopped when Takemichi stood in front of them with a stern expression.

“What’s with the face Takemichy? You look constipated.” Mikey said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Pressing into his lips into a thin line, “When we go into her room don’t stare and don’t ask questions. She’s just starting to get better and I don’t want her having an episode because the two of you wanted to meet her.'' When he received a nod from both Draken and Mikey, Takemichi turned and led them through the different halls.

Stopping in front of the familier dark oak door Takemichi gives it a gentle knock receiving a soft come in. Pushing the door open he gently mutters, “I brought friends this time I hope that's okay Onee-chan.”

Y/n waved a hand in the air without turning to face the door, she answered while changing Kaji’s dipper. “It’s fine the boys can help take the stuff home.” she said, turning around with Kaji in her arms.

When she turns around, Draken and Mikey both stand frozen when they see the tattoo on the side of the young mother’s face. Their eyes then travel to the infant that rests in her arms. Glancing at each other Mikey decides to break the awkward tension that started to fill the room.

“Hello mother-chan.” he greeted with a closed eyed smile.

Blinking at the strange men that came into the room, Kaji points at them, “BAKA!”

Gaining an irk mark on his forehead Draken yelled, “Who are you calling baka you snot nosed brat!”

Blue eyes widening Takemichi takes small steps back not going unnoticed by Mikey who opened his mouth but stopped when he heard a crash come from behind him. Turning he finds Draken lying on his back inside a bathroom shower and a furious mother on the opposite side of the room. Following Takemichi’s example he starts to take quite steps backwards away from the angry mother’s path

“I think he was calling you and your friend baka you piece of shit.” Y/n says taking slow threatening steps toward Draken who stood up and was dusting himself off.

“Shit.”

The room froze. Everyone turned to the infant that was propped up against pillows in the cot.

“No. Nope. Nopety. Nope. We are not going down that rabbit hole. Your father is going to kill us. Wait, not us, me. Damn it.” Y/n said as she picked Kaji up and started to pace the room with him at eye level.

“Is this normal?” Mikey whispered to Takemichi.

“It was worse before she became pregnant with Kaji. She’s mellowed out now.” Takemichi responded.

“I’d hate to see what she was like before she had the bra- Kid.” Draken said as he rubbed the back of his head that was still throbbing from the fall.

“Onee-chan.” Takemichi muttered. “Onee-chan,” said a little louder. “Onee-chan” Takemichi yelled startling the three other teens in the room who turned to stare at the blond boy. “We should start heading home before it gets too late.”

“Right, let's go.” Y/n said as she grabbed Takemich’s wrist and started to drag him towards the door.

Taking a deep breath that went unnoticed Y/n trys to regain her composure. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what the shock that passed through her ment, but it scared her. You normally only get one soulmate not multiple.

She thought that she was only going to be with Kaji’s father, not others. Plus she wasn’t as innocent as her younger brother thought she was. She knew how to survive when you run into gangs on the street. It's how she met Kaji’s father.

She knew how to fight and she knew how to sell and buy without getting caught, so when the president and vice president of Toman showed up as her brother's friends it concerned her. Especially from the horror stories she's heard from Kaji’s father about the new gang.

…………

“Did they really leave us to take the luggage?” Draken asked, pissed that he already met his soulmate and the first impression she has of him is of him calling her son a brat. Not getting a response from Mikey he turns to look at his friend only to see him in a slight daze. “Oi! Mikey.”

“Text the guys. We are going to have a small meeting after we drop the Hanagaki’s off at their home.” Mikey said as he made his way to the closest bag and headed towards the door.

“Are we going to tell them about the brat?”

“We probably should. If we don’t Baji or Angry might say something stupid.”

“I think they will still say something anyways if the brat pulls another stunt like that.”

“Yeah.” Mikey smiled. “But that was pretty funny.” Mikey chuckled.

Gaining an irk mark on his forehead Draken started to chase Mikey out the rest of the way passing the three Hanagakis without even noticing.

Not taking her eyes off the scene in front of her Y/n turns her head towards Takemichi. “Is this normal for them?”

“I have no idea.” Takemichi sighed. Looking up at his sister he catches a small smile stretching across her lips as she strokes Kaji’s hair, luring him to sleep as she watches the older blondes goof off with one another.

Turing to face his two new friends Takemichi thinks, ‘How could this guy be a part of such a cruel gang? He seems too innocent to kill them.’

[deanosaur666]

The Woodchipper

[Revised on 5/27/2024]

Clyde arrived at his buddies’ place in the early evening. His truck bed was filled to the brim with liquor bottles.

“Hey, Clyde’s brought the booze!” Donnie shouted from the porch.

“Hell yeah.” Clyde pulled a bottle of vodka from a pile in the passenger seat.

Amadeus peeked out through the screen door. “Wow, what a truck!” He approved.

“Sixteen foot bed!” Clyde said. “Bought it off a sheikh.”

Donnie pulled a wheelbarrow through the front door, and they loaded the liquor into it.

Soon, empty bottles of liquor littered the floor. Amadeus hummed along to the old records Donnie was playing, between gulps of rum.

“You know, guys,” Donnie said, tossing a now empty bottle of brandy onto the ever growing pile, “I’ve got something cool to show you.”

Donnie led them into his backyard.

“Wow!” Clyde said. “That’s the biggest woodchipper I’ve ever seen!”

“Well, it's the biggest I could fit in my backyard.” Donnie smirked, “This thing can shred anything. Wanna give it a try?”

They quickly began running everything they could find through the woodchipper, from neighbor’s garden gnomes, to marble busts, to car wheels, to suitcases full of $100 bills, to pure gold bars. A pile of shredded debris quickly grew to massive proportions in Donnie's backyard.

“What a beast!” Clyde said.

“It even roars.” Amadeus said.

Donnie grinned and rubbed his hands as the Shroud of Turin and an ancient Babylonian tablet slid into the machine’s maw on its conveyor belt.

“You know what would be really rad to put in this?” Amadeus said.

“What’s that?” Donnie asked.

“A baby.”

“Dude.” Clyde said. “You’re right. That would be so cool.”

“Let’s go find one.” Donnie said.

Clementine Blake was a child prodigy. At 7 months old, she could not yet walk or speak, but had written three books that permanently changed the fields of science, math, and politics. Her work helped end 3 famines and eradicate 5 diseases. No one knew her biological parents, but many believed she would be the one to lead the human race to a new golden age.

Betty Blake, her adoptive mother, was taking Clementine on a walk, in a stroller. Clementine was busy writing her next book, glancing up every now and then to look at people who passed. That was when Donnie jumped out of the alley and snatched Clementine out of the stroller. Betty screamed and ran after him, but he quickly jumped into the back of Clyde’s truck, which sped off into the evening.

Ozias Ozbek was in his garage, disassembling a sewing machine with a screwdriver. He was wearing overalls with no shirt. His bare chest glistened with sweat. But that part’s not relevant to the plot. He had reduced the sewing machine to about 200 pieces so far. He wasn’t going to do anything big with it once it was disassembled. He would just organize the small pieces and put them in bins, like he did with everything else. This was his hobby, disassembling things into small pieces, simply for the sake of doing so. By day, he worked as a mechanic, making sure things were put together properly. In his time off, he only wanted to take things apart. He didn’t appreciate others criticizing his choice of hobby. After all, he wasn’t running around at night killing people, so no one should have reason to complain.

As he was searching his toolbox for a smaller screwdriver, he heard his phone ring.

“Ozzy, it’s Betty!” The voice on the other end bawled. “Someone took Clementine!”

“I’ll find her immediately.” Ozias put down the phone.

“If I had a baby...” Ozias thought, “where would I take it?” Ozias turned a screwdriver in his hand, deep in thought. “That’s it! I’d bring it to a woodchipper! That would be the fastest way to break it down into its constituent parts!” He paused.“Come to think of it, I recently repaired a large woodchipper, owned by Donnie Dixon. Maybe he knows something about this.”

Ozias opened his closet. The mask inside stared at him. The suit that hung beneath it had gathered dust. The mask smiled at him. "It's my time, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ozias said. "This night belongs to you now."

Amadeus held the screaming baby in Donnie’s backyard.

“This is gonna be so cool,” Amadeus said, “turn it on.”

Donnie flipped a switch, and the machine started roaring. The sound from the giant machine was nearly deafening. The three of them stood together, watching the glorious machine.

“It sure roars!” Amadeus shouted.

“All right,” Clyde said, “ready to throw it in?”

“You bet.” Amadeus responded. He pulled his arm back like a pitcher about to throw a fastball.

The machine began to shake. Then, a blade came loose from the woodchipper. It flew from the machine and sliced Donnie in half.

“Wow!” Clyde said.

The whole machine then collapsed into pieces. Ozias stepped out from behind the mess, holding a screwdriver and grinning through his mask.

“It’s the Night Disassembler!” Amadeus yelled. “He disassembled the wood chipper!”

Ozias laughed. “And now, I will disassemble you two.”

Amadeus threw the baby into a bush. "Not so fast!" He pulled out an anti-tank rocket launcher. "Don't take another step!"

"Why not?" Ozias grinned and stepped forward.

The weapon in Amadeus's hands fell into pieces.

Amadeus turned and ran.

"Try this on for size!" Clyde pulled a large artillery cannon out from another bush, holding it above his head by the long barrel. "I'll turn you into paste!" Clyde swung it downwards, towards Ozias.

The machine crashed into the ground. But Ozias was already behind Clyde.

"Weapons bore me." Ozias said. "I imagine you'll be more interesting to take apart."

Clyde's clothes burst into individual threads. "Yikes!" Clyde bolted.

Clyde jumped into Donnie's speedboat, as Amadeus started the engine. In just a few moments, they were speeding across the lake, away from Donnie's home.

“Donnie was bragging about this boat earlier!” Amadeus shouted. “It can do 50 knots!”

“He’ll never catch us now.” Clyde said. “Unless he can swim like a seahorse.”

After a few minutes, the two of them caught their breath and began to relax.

“Hey Clyde, check and see if he’s got anything to drink in here. I’m thirsty.”

Clyde found a cooler in the back. As he was about to open it, something caught his eye. A loose screw was rolling around to his left. His eyes followed it to another, and another.

“Oh no.”

[moemoemammon]

Ok. I need to get this idea out to someone. Solomon and mc are messing with potions for class and he accidentally gives mc a “youth” potion that makes you look younger. It turns mc into like a 4 year old for like a couple of days. What do you think would be the demon brothers (any) reaction to babysitting their master? What would they do? Idk i think it would be a little funny.

You’ve Gotta Be KIDding me, MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

He'll be exchanging words with that sorcerer bastard later. You can bet on that.

Lucifer doesn't take kindly to the idea of MC having run ins with magic in general, but at least this seems to be on the tamer side of the magical spectrum. And he had to admit, it's sort of amusing.

He intentionally watches you try to handle things on your own. Be it reaching for things too high up, stubbornly carrying things too heavy for your tiny arms, or making messes when you try to tidy up, Lucifer waits patiently until you ask for help (or until he can't take it anymore).

Treats you like he always does, despite your size. He doesn't talk to you like a child, or try to force toys and nap times onto you, but may or may not tease you when it's only the two of you. After all, you may look like a child, but that doesn't mean you are one. It's still funny to harass you a little, though.

"As independent as you may be, please refrain from trying to climb up onto the counter. If you need something, ask one of my brothers, or myself. If that isn't obvious enough, perhaps a 'time-out' is in order?"

Mammon

When Mammon recovers from laughing for twenty minutes, (and also making threats on Solomon's life) he then decides to take a billion pictures of you. Now calls you 'munchkin' and variations of it.

And if you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he is now. You're ACTUALLY helpless and vulnerable. I mean, you'd hardly make an appetizer for a random demon! So Mammon's gotta keep an eye on you. Maybe even a toddler leash-

Unintentionally treats you like an actual child. His older brother mode kicks in, and he finds himself taking care of you as naturally as breathing. Mammon? Being responsible?? It's more likely than you think.

He hands you a cup of juice before you can say 'I'm thirsty'. He'll slide over some sliced up fruits before your stomach has a chance to growl. You're tired? No kidding. That's why he's got a blanket and pillow on the sofa for you.

"Where do ya think you're goin', short stack? Nowhere without ME, that's where! I already told ya, if there's somethin' ya need, just tell me!" "Huh? I'm spoilin' ya too much? S-so what if I am?!"

Levi

Solomon came in with a child in tow that looked a hell of a lot like MC, and this man nearly had a heart attack. There's no way... did those two have a secret love child?! Th-that's just-!! Oh, it's only MC.

WAIT A MINUTE...TH-THIS IS....! ISNT THIS JUST LIKE 'DETECTIVE C*NAN'? Uwaaah... Just look at you! You're still just as smart as before, but you've become super small! Talk about the ultimate gap moe!!!

Levi isn't a big fan of the idea of tiny, sticky hands touching his things, so he's glad you've still got your normal brainpower. That being said, he finds himself talking to you normally. Maybe even easier than before!

It kinda throws him off that you guys can't do the things you'd normally do together. Your fingers don't have their usual dexterity so playing games is a challenge, and your attention span is a little shorter so these TSL marathons are killing you. But have no fear, Levi knows a ton of other things you could do together! He won't let something like this spoil his time with his dear Henry!

"If you can't use the controller, let's try something that doesn't need one! I've got a new Ruri Hana VR game with REAL motion and voice tracking! If you say the spells out loud, you'll cast them in game! Ah, and it auto-adjusts to the player's height, so there's nothing to worry about!"

Satan

HES DOING HIS BEST NOT TO LAUGH. SATAN WILL HANDLE THIS WITH POISE AND GRACE, BUT MAN....

Watching you struggle to enter the House of Lamentation in your oversized RAD uniform nearly sent him to the stratosphere. He inhaled tea when you almost tripped over your blazer and had to get a couple of slaps on the back from Asmo.

Does his best to find a cure for your 'little' problem, but the most that can be done is waiting it out. In the meantime, would you like him to read you a story? Large books are probably difficult on your tiny hands.

Constantly catches himself treating you like a tot. He's not trying to, but he can't help himself when he sees your round eyes staring up at him, or when he watches you try to climb up onto an armchair.

"Up we go- There. It must be hard for you, having to climb up into the chairs like that. I've got a stool if you'd like to use it? Though, I don't mind if you sit on my lap, too." "Hm? I'm embarrassing you? I-I didn't realize how overzealous I was being. Ehem...."

Asmo

Oh that Solomon and his silly spells and potions, always making trouble! It's just one of his many charm points! And seeing as there are no permanent consequences from this harmless mishap, Asmo's enjoying it to the fullest.

Can you blame him? You're SOOOO cute~! So tiny and adorable! Why would've know that was possible?? Look this way, MC! He wants to take some pictures of you! Lowkey uses you as a photo op prop

He used to work part time at a daycare, you know? Asmo's great with kids! But that also means he's treating you like one. There's personalized snacks, cute little nicknames, and he's already gone and bought you a week's worth of clothes. Nobody tell him it'll only last a day-

He can be a little annoying with the baby talk and all the little activities he's planned for you, but you can tell he's enjoying himself.

"MC, look~! I've got plenty of ribbons to decorate your hair with! I'll let you choose your favorites, and then we can set out in town!" "Hm? Where are we going? To the playground, silly! You must be dying for a play date after being stuck in this dreary house all day, right?"

Beel

He was kinda teetering between whether or not he should throw Solomon across the yard like a football when he saw him carrying a teeny MC, but all was forgiven when he learned it was an accident.

Has now designated himself the permanent MC carrier. Your feet will never touch the ground so long as you're a child. And it's no problem for the likes of Beel, when you're as light as a feather! That makes him a little more conscious about being careful with you though-

Be it piggybacking or carrying you in his arms, he hasn't released you since he's spotted you. And don't think he's forgotten about feeding you. Beel's also taken your meal prep upon himself. You'll prefer things that've easy to eat, right? Though it kills gum to give you smaller portions than usual.... it feels cruel...

Somewhere between babying you and treating you as usual. He speaks normally to you as he always does, but prioritizes your needs over everything else. He wants to make sure you're well taken care of until this potion wears off.

"You're sure you've had enough to eat? I know I gave you a snack earlier, but... to think you really can't eat as much as before.. I'll talk to Solomon again. It must be torture to have such a tiny stomach, I'll do my best to get you back to normal."

Belphie

There's obvious opportunity here, and Belphegor won't let it go to waste. (No not for murder)

He's getting a kick about your new mini mode. How's the weather down there? Do you need him to pick you up so you can reach the high shelves? Don't worry, he'll get you a sippy cup.

When the teasing has settled down, he pays attention to a more pressing matter: you're now the perfect side for cuddling. You're a living hot water bottle, not too big, not too small, tiny and soft and adorable. Er, he won't mention that last part though.

Anyway, Belphie thinks a little kid like you should go on and take a nap now. It's exhausting having such short legs and wandering around the house all day, right? He gets it. You look tired and he knows the solution.

"Ah, you're just as cozy as I thought you'd be... Though, it feels kind of weird holding you like this. It's like holding a stuffed animal, but you're not nearly as cute." "Pfft, what's that face for? Sorry, sorry, I was only teasing."

[duskholland]

Ritual || Boxer!Tom Smut

boxer!tom x reader — smut.

summary ↠ with the championship fight less than two weeks away, tom adopts a series of frustrating pre-match rituals.... based off the request ↠ ‘boxer!tom refuses to have sex for two weeks before a big match then he wins a belt and becomes the top boxer and his s/o patches him up like she does after every match, but it quickly turns into really intense victory sex with dom!tom’ I changed a couple bits but this is pretty much the same :)) warnings ↠ this gets very, very smutty. for that reason, 18+ pls !! extended nsfw warnings are beneath the cut but this spirals into v intense smut. so just. watch out pls. word count ↠ 8k a/n ↠ I almost died when I wrote this. truly. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body. sheeeesh. anyway uh... this was a lot of fun to write! I found out so many fun facts about sports psychology whilst researching this, so thanks boxer!tom for enlightening me on the fun world of pre-match-rituals. enjoy!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

extended nsfw warnings: fem masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of vibrating egg, edging and denial, dirty talk, reader definitely has a pain kink (...): biting, spanking + hair pulling, face-fucking, dom!tom, rough sex™️, shower shenanigans, doggy-style, unprotected sex — please wrap before you tap if you do this irl thank you very very much !!

*:·ﾟ✧Ritual ✧·ﾟ:*

Thump. Smack. Thump.

Tom’s fists rain down over the punching bag, and there’s a metallic clicking sound as the object goes spinning in the air. You watch as he pirouettes around the bag, dodging its movements between swings, getting in hit after hit after hit. He slowly works his way around the object, his face screwed into an expression of empowered determination as he alternates which bright red glove he uses to pound against the fabric.

You sigh, loudly, the sound dying in the near-empty gym. There’s just something about Tom in the days preceding a fight that makes you squirm.

He’s different. Still the man you know and love so effortlessly, but heightened in the most attractive ways. His senses pull sharper, his jaw carrying a firm line to it, his eyes like roaring fires. As Tom pounds his fists against the bag, his sweaty brown curls stick to the top of his forehead, contrasting the bright pink tones staining his cheeks. You watch the muscles in his arms tense and flex, pale skin on display due to the tight black vest that clings tightly to his torso. You know if he turned around properly, you’d be able to make out the sunken lines of his abs, packed rigidly with muscle.

You bite your lower lip, stifling a moan. You find Tom attractive enough under normal conditions, let alone when he’s like this: eyes glowing with determination, body burning with passion as he takes swing after swing at the punching bag like he’s got a personal vendetta against it.

“Having fun?”

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to look at Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s sports psychologist. A frown instantly springs out across your mouth, and you reach up to begrudgingly take the bottle of water he offers you.

“I hate you,” you grunt. You sit up a little straighter before leaning back against the wall. You’re waiting for Tom to finish his workout, sitting on one of the benches in the gym. You’d started out the session sparring together, but you’d called quits after twenty minutes against him. Unlike Tom, you don’t have the biggest fight of your career in two weeks—and, honestly, you enjoy watching him like this more than you enjoy trying to keep up with him in the ring.

Harrison frowns as he drops to sit beside you, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m wounded, love,” he says, smirking at you. “What have I done this time?”

You roll your eyes. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Haz.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow, tutting. “You know this is for the best, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Fuck the best.”

When Harrison had joined Tom’s team at the start of the season, he’d come boasting all the new sciences of a young university graduate. He’d suggested Tom adopt a series of rituals to help him focus before a big match—small things, initially, like taking cold showers and limiting the time he spends on his phone. Yet, as the competition has progressed and Tom has risen further and further up the ranks, the rituals have grown more intense, more focused. It’s reached the point that now, two weeks before the big match, Tom has reached his final form. As instructed, he visits the sauna every other day, receives daily massages from the most esteemed sports therapists in Europe, drinks multiple cups of pure, fresh herbal tea a day. There are no distractions—his phone is permanently on silent, he’s cut out naps, he’s eliminated music. No distractions, no impurities, no sex.

No sex, because according to Harrison, nothing gets adrenaline rushing and frustration festering like an extended period of denial. No sex, which is a problem, for you, because Tom has never looked as fit as he does now, launching himself at the punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. His biceps flex and bulge and you have to cross your legs as you tighten your grip on the water bottle.

“He’ll win,” Harrison mutters, lowly. You glance towards him, taking in the sight of the older man with his face doused in the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym. “He’s good. Got the best form I’ve ever seen.” He lowers his voice, glancing at you shrewdly. “Don’t distract him, alright? He’s on fire.”

You grumble something incoherent beneath your breath before sighing and sitting up straighter.

“It’s fucked that you get to decide when I get laid, Haz. You know that, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, cheeks blushing a light pink. “Uh, well, I didn’t actually know that he’d go through with that part of it,” Harrison admits. “But if it works, don’t knock it. He wants to win.”

You sit back, resting your shoulders against the wall as you groan. “I want him to win, too,” you say. You look down at your fingers, playing with some of the rings sitting behind your knuckles. “I think it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

Both of you look back at Tom, who’s ditched the gloves. You watch him talk with his coach, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he nods, looking focused as he listens to the pointers and tips. You release a relieved sigh as Tom’s coach pats him on the back and walks off, leaving Tom to pick up his towel and his bottle before sauntering over to you and Harrison.

“Hi.” Tom tosses his stuff onto the bench before reaching for your hands. He pulls you up easily and quickly, causing you to squeal as you find yourself in his arms. He’s hot, his entire body flushed with the sweaty, adrenaline-filled afterglow of a good, long workout, and you laugh as he dives down to kiss your neck, soft curls tickling you. “Missed you, darling.”

He works his way up your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your chin, and then, finally, your mouth. It’s light, but then you push against him eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan happily as you enjoy the feeling of Tom, his skin warm and flushed, his pulse vibrating against you, and his mouth, coming over yours again and again.

“I’m right here,” Harrison mutters, speaking up from behind you. You groan, give Tom a final kiss, and then begrudgingly pull back.

“Sorry,” you call out, stepping closer to Tom as you turn your head to look at Harrison. Tom’s arms come around your waist, and he holds you nearer, humming as he presses his face into your shoulder. “You can always leave.”

Harrison rolls his eyes as he flips you off, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Y/N,” Tom mumbles, voice fond. “Harrison can stay if he wants to stay. I was thinking we could all go get dinner or something.”

To your relief, Harrison is quick to shake his head. He pulls on his jacket as he looks between you and Tom, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as they twinkle with amusement.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave you both alone. I think Y/N’s had enough of me, anyway.” He’s teasing, and you all know it, but you still throw out an easing pout as you shrug.

“Night, Haz,” you say, leaning further into Tom, who echoes your sentiments. As soon as Harrison’s gone, Tom spins you in his arms, his brown eyes bright and glowing with adoration. He kisses you again, and you sigh as you melt further into him, the spark in the pit of your stomach roaring back to life as Tom’s tongue teases your lower lip.

“Come shower with me,” Tom murmurs, hands roaming your back. He pecks the side of your mouth a few times as you hum.

“I can’t,” you find yourself saying, though it pains you considerably. Tom abruptly stops his kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, pulling back to stare at you. He looks a little bit like an injured puppy, eyes wide with hurt. He squeezes your waist for emphasis.

“We’re in the two-week window, Tom,” you remind him. You reach up, lightly cupping his very hot, very sweaty face, in your palm. “You know we can’t.”

He groans, then dramatically lets his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you let him pout and rub his back.

“I love you,” he says, after a moment. He pulls back, kissing your neck briefly before sighing. “Thanks for putting up with this.”

“It’s okay.” You bite your lip, tilting your head to the side as you examine him carefully. “It’s kind of hot. You get so frustrated.”

Tom just narrows his eyes, staring at you with an expression mixed between amusement and frustration.

“Go on, champ,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “Go shower so we can go home, yeah?”

Tom begrudgingly steps back, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he’s going to try and change your mind again, but he doesn’t. As much as you know he wants to drag you into a steamy cubicle, his desire to win his match is stronger.

“Be back soon, darling,” he says. “Don’t miss me too much.”

———

The days burn by slowly.

About a week in, you find yourself snapping. You always try to adopt pseudo-chastity with Tom, feeling a little guilty every time you sneak your hand between your legs and chase the highs he can only dream about finding. Yet, you end up reaching breaking point and giving in to temptation one evening, alone in your flat. Tom’s out late at the gym, at the point in the regime where he’s spending most of his days hauled up in the large building, and you just can’t help yourself: you’re so horny.

If you asked him to get you off, you know he’d agree, never wanting to deny you anything. Tom loves you, loves watching you fall apart for him, loves the power trip that comes with knowing your pleasure is in his hands, but you’d just feel too mean. His refusal to have sex in the lead up is as much psychological as it is anything else—you know he finds energy in the ritual, finds aggressive, fiery hormones in the fourteen days of denial. You’d never want to put him in the position where he got tempted to break, no matter how badly you want to cum.

So, you decide to take care of your ache yourself. Or, at least, you try to.

You start off strong. Teasing yourself over your panties, drawing your fingers over the front of your covered sex. You let your eyes flutter shut as you think about Tom, recounting some of the last few sessions you’ve witnessed at the gym. You think about him, his biceps flexing and curling, the subtle curves of his long, slender fingers, his mouth. His features blur, and you find yourself moaning as you dip your fingers beneath the soft cotton and start to stroke your folds. You circle your clit for a while before dipping down to your entrance, touching the pool of your arousal and groaning as you wet your fingers. As your arousal starts to build, you tease your clit, accompanying the action with your other hand after a while. It feels good—so, so good—as you tease your g-spot with your fingers, keeping your thumb on your clit, edging, and edging, and edging, and—

You can’t cum.

A frown settles on your face as you start to grow frustrated. You try to change things up, slowing your movements, letting the high ebb away before trying again. Instead of reaching climax like you crave, you find yourself resting on the edge instead. You’re aroused, your cunt throbbing, your clit tingling, but you can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating.

You’re so caught up in your irritation that you miss the loud slam of the front door, too absorbed in the sounds of your wetness to hear Tom’s yell of greeting. Your eyes are shut as your boyfriend enters the bedroom. You’re not aware he’s home until you hear him tutting, his voice stacked full of amusement and lust. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself looking at him, wide-eyed like a deer stuck in the headlight.

“T-Tom,” you whimper, your movements stilling. You have your legs spread wide open, two fingers buried in your heat, your other hand draped over your bud. A shy smile finds its way across your lips as you batter your eyelashes at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your boyfriend, drowning in a black hoodie and tight blue denim jeans. His hair lies in fresh, air-dried curls, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tom repeats, imitating your tone. He pushes himself away from the bedroom wall, walking towards you like a lion stalking his prey. You whimper when he reaches down to touch your leg, sliding his hand over your shin teasingly. His eyes glint as he hears you, gaze fixed on the spot between your legs where your hands have stilled. “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” he teases, smirking. “Keep going. Just because I can’t have fun, doesn’t mean you should have to suffer too.”

You bite your lip, recognising all too well the teasing glint in his eye.

“I can’t,” you admit, shifting around on the mattress as Tom kneels on the end of the bed. Both of his hands are on your legs now, slowly, teasingly, dragging his touch up your shins. Your breath hitches as he slowly works his way up, dipping his head so he’s able to kiss each of your knees, his lips warm and tender.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

He’s lying down, settled between your legs, slowly kissing up the inside of one of your thighs. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to your centre.

“Can’t get there,” you mutter, slowly pulling both of your hands away from your mound, leaving you exposed. Tom leans up, raising his eyebrows until you offer him the fingers you’d had buried inside your entrance. He hums as he sucks on your fingers, the sight of him making you moan softly. “I get so close, but I can’t get over the edge.”

Tom licks at the tips of your fingers before releasing them, smirking slowly. “What a shame,” he drawls, sounding the opposite. Both of his hands go to the soft sides of your thighs, and you let him pry your legs apart. He’s so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm breath fanning out across your bud, your folds, your entrance. “Looks like neither of us can cum this week, hmm?”

Before you can reply, Tom drops his head and buries it between your legs. You cry out, sensitive from your edging, your clit throbbing as you feel his tongue, warm and wet, circling the bud. His hands push your hips back down, holding you firmly in place as he moans, drawing his mouth all over your sex.

“Stay still, darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He glances up at you, a wild look in his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me have a little taste.”  

Your eyes roll back, and you try to lie as still as possible. Tom’s fingers slip into your cunt, exploring your passage, curling up against your g-spot as you whimper.

“So good,” you moan, already feeling your climax twitching in the pit of your stomach. One of your hands goes down to grab at his hair, digging into his curls and keeping his face exactly where you need it, and the other fists the sheets. Your chest rises and falls, your heavy pants mixing with the sounds of Tom’s fingers, fucking your wet heat, and his tongue, teasing the life out of your tender clit. “Please, please.”

“Hmm, you don’t want to cum, do you?” Tom’s words are coupled with a gradual slow in his pace, and you feel your orgasm drifting away as he stills his fingers. He laps over your clit a final time before sitting up a little straighter, looking at you straight on as his chin glistens. “If I don’t get to cum, it doesn't seem fair that you do either, does it?”

His voice is hypnotising, and when his free hand goes to rub warm circles on your inner thigh, you find yourself nodding, transfixed.

“I- I guess.”

Tom smirks, dropping his lips so he can kiss your clit, lightly.

“Are you going to wait for me, sweetheart?” He asks, pink lips puffy and inflamed.

You bite your lip. “Tom,” you whimper, frowning when he lets his fingers pull away from your heat. You watch as he licks his digits clean, still with that wide, confident smirk on his face.

“Hm?” Tom kisses your thigh. “I can make you cum, if you really want to, darling. Just thought it might be nice to do this together.” He rolls both of his hands over your legs, battering his eyelashes at you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just think about how good it’ll be to wait until next Saturday.” He pushes himself up your body, anchoring himself with a strong arm either side of your head as he suspends himself above you. Tom kisses you, roughly, but only for a moment, letting your lips pull apart when he feels you trying to slip your tongue into his mouth. “Let’s do this together, yeah?”

You hum, thinking on it for a moment, but the scent of his cologne and his fresh shampoo scramble your mind. You find yourself nodding, distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes when he grins. “We’ll do it together.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses you, grinning against your lips. “This is going to be fun.”

———

If you’d thought the sex ban was difficult to cope with in the first week, it only gets harder in the second. After giving Tom the green light to have his way with you, he seems to channel all his frustration into you—or, more specifically, into making you as frustrated as possible. He teases you, makes you squirm, beg, cry, letting his mouth wander over your sex or his fingers explore you, any time, any place he feels like it. He never allows you to roll over your edge, just watches, usually smirking, as you try to convince him to let you climax, only to kiss you, softly, and pull away each time.

It happens in the locker room—he pushes you up against the metallic lockers and slips his fingers into you, whispering gentle words with sinful intent.

“Gonna stay quiet for me, darling? Cunt feels so desperate... So tight, so hot. Fucking snug around my fingers, aren’t you? Shh… I know, I know. Feels good for you too, doesn’t it?”

In the showers, when you’re both hot and steamy—Tom drops to his knees and slings one of your thighs over his shoulder, nuzzling his face into your heat.

“Wish I could taste this pussy for the rest of my life, love. Tastes like paradise.”

It even happens in the gym, when he pushes a vibrating egg into you and enjoys teasing you, never warning you before he ups the pace of the bullet, watching with that signature mischievousness on his face.

“Don’t get all shy now, love… I can see the way you’re squirming for me. Bet you’re making a mess in those panties, hmm? Yeah… You can’t hide from me.”

It drives you crazy—beyond crazy. If you thought you’d been mad at Harrison before, you’re practically incandescent with rage by the time fight night comes around.

As your frayed arousal combines with the nerves of the big night, you find yourself alone with Tom, half an hour before the most important match of his career. Your priorities have shifted, your mood sobered by the situation.

“Visualise it,” you murmur, voice soft. You roll your hands over Tom’s shoulders. “Think about how good it’ll feel to hold that belt in your hands.”

Tom hums. He’s sitting on one of the hard wooden benches in the locker room. You’re kneeling behind him, occasionally dropping your lips to kiss the top of his head. After months of supporting him before a fight, you know exactly what he needs: you, touching him, grounding him. He doesn’t like distractions so near to the fight, which is why he has his eyes closed. Whenever he opens them, it’s only to look at the bright red gloves settled in his lap. You know that he appreciates you, even when he’s unable to vocalise it, too lost in his thoughts.

“You’ve trained your whole life for this moment, Tom. You deserve it.”

It’s a mantra. Harrison had taught it to you. Small words of affirmation, repeated softly over the lead-up, speaking them into existence. Tom hums, listening intently.

“You’re going to win,” you speak, your own eyes shut. You focus on the feeling of his shoulders, packed firm with muscles between your hands. “You’re going to win, and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Tom shifts, his posture straightening a little, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve let your inner thoughts interrupt the ritual.

“I don’t think that’s on Harrison’s script, darling,” he mutters, voice amused.

You reach forward, drawing one of your hands over his forehead. Your fingers play with his hair, and you scrunch up your nose as you chastise yourself for your deviation.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Just fucking horny. Your fault.”

“Mm, sorry.” Tom grunts when you pull on his hair a little harder, and you repeat the action. “Fuck, love.” He groans louder and tilts his head to the side, exposing the pale column of his neck. “Give me a hickey?”

You oblige, dipping your head so you can rest your lips on his neck. “Where?” You ghost your lips over varying points on his skin, teasing him with light nibbles.

“There,” Tom mutters. One glance at his face confirms he’s still got his eyes shut. When you give in to his desire and start to suck a deep hickey to his skin, he grunts and reaches up to grab at your hands, squeezing your fingers roughly. “Shit.”

“There you go,” you say, voice soft as you pull back.

“Thanks, love,” Tom mutters. “Want to wear it in the ring. Good luck charm.”

You bite your lip, your centre throbbing as you listen to him. You kiss the mark, stained dark against his skin.

“You’ve got this, Tom,” you whisper, redirecting your lips to his ear. His neck prickles with goosebumps when you kiss his earlobe, softly. “You’re going to win, then you’re going to come back, and we’ll celebrate together. Okay?”

Tom’s still holding your hands, firm and eager, and you smile against his neck when he squeezes them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll win. I’ll do it for you.”

You kiss the back of his head, his soft curls gentle against your cheeks.

“Love you, champ.”

He coaxes one of your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palm.

“Love you too, darling.”

———

The atmosphere sharpens when Tom gets out to the ring.

It’s a big match. The press is here, the fight streamed live to thousands of people across the world. As Tom strides into the ring to take on his opponent, you settle at the side of it, looking up through the ropes with Harrison by your side.

Tom starts off strong—a few hard jabs here, some quick punches there. He dodges and rolls, his bright red gloves raining down over his opponent. Yet, both Tom and his rival are the best of their class, so it’s a nail-biting half-hour spent with your fingers crossed, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he throws everything he has into the ring.

When they break halfway through the match for a few minutes of respite, you’re quick to slip up into the ring and assist Tom’s trainer as they patch up his injured hand. Tom doesn’t say anything, his teeth frozen in the hard white mouth guard, but he squeezes your hand before you step out again, and you know he’s still in there.

The second half only gets more intense—both of them knowing how close the match is, and adjusting accordingly. Tom and his opponent are more reckless, more brutal, and you watch your boyfriend take risks he’d promised to never try to take. It leaves you an anxious mess, but you can’t help but watch him in awe.

Tom’s time in the ring is a performance, beautifully violent, elegantly composed. Spit sprays, sweat drips, blood rolls. He’s loud—very vocal, his sounds almost brutish. His eyes glint black, brown curls stiff with sweat, face on fire. You find it incredibly attractive to watch him in his element, not just because he physically looks incredible, but also because he’s so utterly committed to his trade that everything else fades away. His passion burns, scorches the ground, ripples over his opponent, and in the end, Tom rises, and his rival sinks.

It’s close, and though you have the suspicion that your boyfriend might have snagged it, you hold your breath until it’s confirmed. Your grip on Harrison’s hand is so tight that he curses, but you don’t release it until the MC yells Tom’s name as champion and thrusts his arm triumphantly into the air.

The arena explodes. Your ears ring as you clap and cheer, tears of pride pooling in your eyes. The first thing Tom does is turn around, looking at you with an expression of elated shock on his face. Then, after accepting the belt and speaking a few hurried words of thanks into the microphone of the leading journalist, he comes straight to you.

“Tom!” You exclaim, shaking from emotion. It’s a blend of adrenaline, pride and nerves, cooling your body, making you quiver. Tom reaches down from the ring and grabs both of your hands, jerking you up to him. You dodge past the ropes, almost tripping in his haste, but he grabs you.

Still with the bright stage lights blinding the ring, Tom sweeps you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hot hands burning into your waist. You release a loud noise of surprise, taken entirely off-guard but rolling with the punches. Tom pushes you back against the ropes of the ring as your hands curl into his sweaty hair, and your brief hope that they’ve stopped broadcasting live is set aside as Tom comes closer, caging you in with his buff arms. It’s messy and dirty, his tongue twisting against yours, lips firm, intense, but it’s everything. As you let go of the tension you’d been harbouring all evening, another very prominent emotion burns to the surface: arousal.

“I fucking did it,” Tom breathes finally, forehead pushed to yours. He sounds so proud of himself that it makes you smile, tears reappearing in your eyes as you nod.

“You did,” you confirm. You pull on his hair and push him back so you’re able to see his eyes, dark and hungry. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, and then kisses you again, with so much intensity it knocks your breath from your lungs. When he pulls back, he uses one very hot hand to cup your cheek, holding you tightly.

“I have to do some interview shit,” Tom says, grimacing. He tilts his head at the championship belt, which now lies on the floor of the ring, discarded. He’s smirking as he brings his gaze back to you. “Meet me in the locker room? Ten minutes.”

You nod.

“Don’t be late.”

———

You wait for Tom in the team’s locker room, taking the time to lock all of the side doors that lead out from the room. His team has been around the two of you for long enough to know that it’s best to give you a wide berth in the few hours after Tom’s won a match, but you can never be too sure. Once you’re finished with that, you go to the liberty of pulling off your shoes, your jumper, and all the jewellery you’d put on for the night.

Then, you wait.

You wait, and you think about how magnificent Tom had looked as he’d fought, arms flexing, jaw set firm in a focused grimace. You rewatch the scenes of him thrusting the belt into the air, yelling elatedly. You think about how fucking mad he’s made you feel over the last two weeks, edging you and denying you, over and over again. It feels as though you’ve been permanently aroused for seven days straight, and now is no exception: just from spending all evening ogling him, you can feel your arousal wetting the front of your panties.

“Fuck,” Tom exclaims, suddenly bursting into the locker room. You turn around to watch him sling the championship belt over his shoulder as he hurries to flick the lock on the main door, knowing the routine as well as you. When he gets it, he turns and stalks over to you, picking up into a jog. “That took so fucking long,” he groans. He throws the belt away and pulls you from the bench, pushing you until your back bumps up against one of the metal lockers. Tom grins, his nose pressing to yours as he smothers you, hands back on your hips, forehead to yours, breath spreading over your face. “Couldn’t wait to get back here and see you.”

You draw your hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex.

“Just see me?” You ask, ghosting your lips over his.

Tom tightens his grip on your waist. “No,” he mutters darkly. He kisses you, only for a second, but very hard. “Couldn’t wait to get back here, rip your clothes off, and finally give you everything you deserve.”

“Everything I deserve?” You raise your eyebrows, running your hands lower. “I think you deserve more, baby.” You smirk against his lips. “You just won the biggest fight of your life.”

“That’s true…” Tom steps back, only for a moment, and you watch as he reaches beneath the waistband of his gym shorts and grunts. A second later, he pulls out the hard protective cup that shields his lower half from injury in the ring, and he groans, loudly, his forehead pressing to yours. “I’m so fucking hard, darling,” he whines. He steps closer, and you feel him, stiff as a rod, pressing into your thigh. “Need to get it out of me.”

You nod, your head moving back as Tom runs a hand over your throat and tilts it to the side. His lips attack your neck, biting hard kisses to the side of your throat that make you moan, your pulse feeling strong between your legs.

“Shit,” you curse. “Get in the shower.”

Tom sucks a harsh hickey just below your ear before pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows. “The shower, eh?”

“Yeah.” You step out of his hold and start to tear off your clothes, your skin rippling with heat. “Gonna suck you off.” You fling your t-shirt to the ground and roll down your jeans, watching as Tom does the same. “Then… Then, you can fuck me… Shit, I’m definitely going to need you to fuck me.” You throw your bra aside and then push down your panties, the waistband rolling in on itself due to your speed. “I’m so wet, Tom.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Tom says, eyes taking in your bare form. “Been dreaming about feeling you again, love.” He finally pulls down his boxers, and his hard cock springs out. “Two weeks is far too long. Get over here.”

Tom grabs your hand and tugs you into one of the wide shower cubicles. Both of you curse as he turns the valve and the water comes out freezing cold, but the stark contrast to the raging fire burning up your insides is nice.

You kiss him for a while, as the two of you get soapy and Tom washes away the grime. His skin is soft beneath your hands and the noises he makes as you massage his dodgy shoulder would be erotic enough without the presence of his cock, hard and leaking precum, resting between your thighs. You make out for a while, savouring every moment and enjoying the fact you’re now able to kiss him for longer than two seconds without worrying about exciting him too much. It’s still just as intense as before, but less hurried, and more passionate—Tom’s fingers pushing your damp hair out of your face, water droplets rolling down your figures. To be so bare in front of him and have him so ravenous for you makes you want him more than anything.

“Get back,” you murmur, pushing his shoulders. Tom obeys, his body pressing against the yellow tiled wall. You run a trail of kisses down his torso, paying attention to both of his pecs before his abs, then his v-line. Your knees bend, and you kneel on the floor, kissing up his thighs briefly before finally taking him in hand.

“Fuck-” Tom yells. His hands wind into your hair, flat palms grasping at your skull when you drag your tongue over his tip. “Been so long, love, I won’t last long at all.”

You hum as you tenderly lick over his head, absorbing his salty precum and moaning at the taste. “I know,” you say, your hand slowly tugging his length. You give his tip a chaste kiss as you blink up at him, smiling innocently. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to cum down my throat.” Very slowly, you envelop his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head gently. You pull back after only a few moments, needing to add, “Want you to fuck my face, Tom.”

Your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your cheek, his voice strained from the way your hand is pumping his lower shaft. “Are you sure? Might not be gentle.”

“Yeah.” You nod your head too. “Want it rough. ‘M so fucking horny, and so are you. Want you to make my throat ache tomorrow.”

Tom curses, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so sexy,” he whines, slapping your cheek gently. “Thank you.”

You consider telling him that it’s almost as much for you as it is for him, but then you decide that the sight of his cock, flushed red, leaking precum, is your number one priority. So, you loosen your hand on his member and remove it completely, then soften your jaw and start to take him in your mouth, deep-throating him like you’ve ached to do for two weeks.

Tom’s fast to use his leverage on your head, guiding you with shaking hands. Both of you know that all you have to do to tap out is press his thigh, so you let him use you however he needs. Tears pool in your eyes as he fucks your mouth hard, his tip hitting the end of your throat until you gag. The lewd sounds mix with the pounding of the shower against the tiles and Tom’s grumbled groans that spiral up into the air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says, voice raspy and light. “So good, sweetheart, fuck. Such a pretty mouth. Feels so bloody good.” He breaks off for a moment, and you feel him shifting around on the wall, indicating he’s near his peak. “So messy too, fuck. Missed this. Watching you on your knees, gagging on my cock.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you deeper, groaning loudly as he does so. “Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Gonna cum all down your throat. Shit, shit-”

Tom stops moving your head as he yelps, one of his hands curling into a fist and hitting back against the wall as he cums suddenly. You swallow around him, pulling up until your lips are at his tip, and your hand goes up to pump the rest of him through his orgasm. His entire body shakes, releasing the pent-up frustration that comes with so long in denial, and you take joy in the light whimpers he deposits into the air as you suck on his tip, cleaning him up.

“Holy…” Tom grabs your hair and pulls you back up, slumping against you instead of the wall as he pants. After taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls back to look at you, his thumb coming up to play with the beads of his cum that stain the corner of your mouth. “Made a mess,” he coos, pushing his seed onto your tongue. You grin as you suck his thumb further into your mouth, delighting as he curses. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart. You really are.”

You release his finger with a pop, shrugging. “How was that?”

Tom groans again, the sound almost orgasmic. “So good,” he mumbles. “Been so long, darling. So, so long.” He kisses your face, dusting your cheeks in light, loving kisses. When he pulls back, his eyes are a little darker. “Bet you’d like to chase that high too, wouldn’t you?” He accompanies his words with a sly hand, slipping down between your legs. When he feels your slick, so pronounced it’s coating your inner thighs, he tuts, smirking. “All this for me?”

You nod, whining breathlessly as he slips two fingers up to toy with your bud. You feel like a livewire—strung out and pulsing, white-hot. Unlike him, you’ve had some stimulation over the last two weeks. Just, you’ve also been cruelly pulled away from the edge, every single time.

“Just for you,” you agree. Your face drops forward, and you find yourself biting Tom’s broad shoulder as he curls two fingers into you with ease.

“You’re so hot in here,” he mutters, “and so wet, too. Fuck, love. You’re dripping down my hand.” When he angles his digits up to caress your g-spot, he strikes it immediately, and you moan noisily. “There you go, baby. Shh. It’s okay.” Tom fucks your tight heat, gradually unravelling you. “I’ve got you.”

Your moans come out strangled, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your high builds quickly. It won’t take much to push you over the edge, and as much as it pains you—

“I don’t want to cum on your hand, Tom,” you manage, your voice betraying you by splitting into a whimper. “Want to cum on your cock.”

Tom slows his fingers, but he keeps thrusting them into you, just too slowly for you to peak. You groan, your centre pulsing as he keeps you burning near the edge, his lips on your neck again. He gently kisses up to your ear, mouth feather-light.

“Are you sure?” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Feels like you want to cum.” When Tom adds his other hand, two fingers gently stroking your tender bud, your knees almost give out. “Can feel you clenching around me, Y/N, naughty girl.” He kisses just below your ear. “If you want something, you know how you need to ask for it.”

You’re all over the place, your eyes squeezed shut, sweat breaking out over your forehead, your cunt clenching and releasing every other second. You’re so close you can almost taste it, but you try to exercise self-control.

“Please, Tom.” It takes everything in you, but you manage to stand up straighter again, looking at him straight-on. His eyes dance dark with power and lust, his smirk unmoving as he thrusts his fingers a little faster. “W-Want you to fuck me. Been waiting so long, don’t want to fall apart if it isn’t with you behind me. Please, please, please, please-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, and finally, Tom pulls his hands away. He runs them both through the stream of water before reaching back to clumsily turn off the valve.

“I fucking love you,” he tells you. “Couldn’t deny you anything. Not really.” Tom takes your hand. “C’mere.”

Tom carefully pulls you over to one of the wooden benches. After draping a towel over the wooden slats, he pushes you down onto your hands and knees, his fingers spreading your legs. You whimper as you feel his cock, hard again, refracted in the interlude he’d constructed with his hands working you into insanity. Your knuckles clench around the slabs of wood, and despite already feeling the ache in your knees, it only spurs you on. You love the pain, love the visible, throbbing reminders of Tom, and he knows it just as much as you do.

“Look so pretty like this, darling,” Tom says, voice drifting through the air. Both of his hands go to your ass, roughly massaging your skin until his right hand slaps down across you, stinging bright hot. He repeats the action when you moan loudly, the slapping sound ringing out through the air. Each time his hand falls over you, you only grow hotter. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered in water from the shower, you’re burning up. “G’nna let me take you like this, eh? Fuck this tight little pussy, like I know you’ve been dreaming of.”

When Tom lines his tip up with your entrance, you find yourself clinging to the edge of the bench with your fingers.

“Yes,” you beg, backing up against him. You feel like you might dissolve into a mess of arousal, tears, and desperation if he doesn’t satisfy you soon. “Please.”

Tom runs a hand up your back, fingers drifting over the line of your spine. He drops his lips and kisses the lower part of your back, so delicately it makes you quiver.

“Okay,” he says. “G’nna give it to you good.”

He enters you quickly and easily, and you almost lose it from the first thrust alone. You’re so slick that Tom’s swift in pulling back and then slamming back into you, his hands holding your hips back and in place as your arms wobble and your figure loses control. You drop your head between your arms, the blood rushing to your skull and making you feel light-headed as he rocks into you, over and over again, giving you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Tom,” you gasp, your breaths heavy and inconsistent. It feels indescribable—the final denouement of your time apart. Each drag of his cock through your heat has you reeling, your walls quivering and clenching and trying desperately to keep him in, keep him nudging your g-spot, stimulating your passage. You’re moaning louder than you’ve ever moaned before, the coil in your stomach building and building without warning or direction.

Behind you, Tom seems to be enjoying it just as much as you. His libido strong and healthy and his body pumped full of pre-match adrenaline that it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he’s being so hard and purposeful in his movements. His groans are like music to your ears, small grunts of affirmation that he too has missed the paradise that unfolds when you join together.

“So fucking tight, angel,” he rasps, again letting his hand fall over your ass. He soothes the skin with his palm, and then he repeats the action two more times. “Feel you clenching me every time I do that.” He pinches your hip with his other hand, and you find yourself biting your forearm, embarrassed by how loud you think you’d moan if you were able to. “You love it rough like this, don’t you, darling? Mm… I know you do.”

It’s a dizzying blur of skin on skin for a while, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge on multiple occasions. It’s as if your body is holding back though, waiting on Tom to near it too before you’re able to fully let go. Almost sensing this, he reaches down and shoves his fingers in your hair, roughly tugging you up until your back is pressed against his front. The angle pushes him deeper, and your eyes flood with tears as you find yourself unable to comprehend just how good it feels.

“Y’like that?” He rasps. Tom drags a hand down to your clit, able to access it better now that he’s holding you so much closer. His pace is slower, but he’s going forcefully, his head hitting your g-spot every time. “Fuck, darling, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, your chest heaving.

“Yeah,” you moan. His name pours from your lips like a prayer, rising in desperation as you slip back down, hands grabbing at the slats of the bench as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Come on,” Tom urges. “Do it. I want to feel you squeezing my cock so tight, like you always do. Always makes me lose it, doesn’t it, love? Shit, you’re so perfect. Go on. I’ve got you. Get my cock nice and wet, and I’ll fill you up. You’d like that, eh? Feeling me cumming inside this pretty pussy? Come on. You know what you have to do.”

It slams into you, pouring down over you in waves that submerge you entirely. You feel boneless but also rigid at the same time, your jaw slack as your vision blurs. Pleasure ripples out from your centre, dousing your aching cunt in relief that feels so sweet, only growing richer and more fulfilling when you hear Tom grunt and feel his cock pulse in you. You come together, bodies moving in sync, perfectly, despite the time apart, and it’s so good that it takes you out of it completely.

You’re so absorbed in your climax that you end up drifting, opening your eyes a few moments later only to find yourself lying on your back, staring up at the bright white lines of the locker room ceiling. Your eyes blur with tears, but just for a moment, because then Tom’s palm swims into vision, drifting above your head until he finds the right angle that blocks out the light.

“Hey, darling,” he coos. He brings one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Are you okay? Lost you for a second.”

A very lazy, content smile finds your lips.

“Yeah,” you say sluggishly. You ache all over, but it feels incredible. You’re buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a session like this—after you’ve let him dismantle you completely. “Are you okay?”

Tom nods, his wet hair flying everywhere. “Fantastic,” he confirms. He glances down your figure, then offers you a soft smile. “I’m going to take you home, run you a really, really nice bath, and then we’re going to cuddle.” He drops your hand and instead cups your face in his palm. You nuzzle into it. His eyes are so soft as he gazes at you tenderly. “You’re so lovely, Y/N. I love you.”

You smile softly. “Love you too.”

Tom leans over you and kisses your lips, very gently, before shifting his mouth all over the rest of your face. He goes from one cheek, over to your forehead, down your nose, to the other, before circling back to your mouth. By the time he reaches there, your smile has grown to a grin, and you feel grounded enough to reach up and loop your fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he says, speaking earnestly, “for always being here for me. For supporting me, and putting up with all my crazy ideas, and being incredible, always. You are my inspiration, and I love you more than anything.”

You feel your heart throb in your chest, and you have to focus really hard on stopping the swell of emotion from leaving through your tired eyes.

“Any time,” you say, nodding to emphasise your point. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever you might need, I’ll do it.”

Tom’s warm brown eyes meet with yours, and the smile on his face shows no sign of leaving.

“All I need is you,” he says. His lips come down to yours, softly, just resting there. “All I’ll ever need is you.”

—

———

:)) I rlly like this tbh. I hope you do too !

please let me know what you thought by hitting up my askbox or dropping a comment/rb...? thank you thank you!

masterlist and taglist can be found in my pinned post :D

[harcove]

hiiiii! <33 i dont know if you are taking any requests but can you write a leon x reader in which the reader gets bitten? (i love drama lmaoo)

love uuuuuu<3333

Okay so I do have like a bunch of other stuff to finish in my inbox, but I tend to not do things in order of when I get them, I do them in the order of whatever I get done first (since I start them all whenever I get them and work on them over time) and whatever I'm getting the most inspiration for at the moment, and this baby right here: chefs kiss right now. I LOVE angst so much, it is my favourite thing to write.

Also I'm always open for requests! It's just a matter of when they get done, since like I said above, and also my final year of uni just started so oof. ALSO: Decided to do RE2 Leon oop... I hope that's okay!

I LOVE YOU TOO! Here you go bb,

Warnings: angst, blood/gore, injury, character death

Length: 2.8k (I- oop.)

Request: in the ask!

RE2 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not you.

Your hand squeezed your thigh with as much strength as you could muster. It wasn't that it was hurting too much yet, you were still running off the shock and adrenaline from the events moments before that the pain hadn't yet settled. Dark blood oozed between your shaking fingers and coated your hand like you had just decided to dip your hand into a bucket of red paint. It was hardly sanitary considering the situation you were in, dirty and sweaty, having been going through the sewers earlier.

The undead man who had done the deed lay a few feet away with your survival knife Leon had given you stuck in his temple. You could see your own blood and flesh on his face, in his mouth. It was unnerving, and you usually wouldn't have noticed such a detail, except that it was your skin. Your blood. Your body.

You inched yourself towards the corpse and used the tip of your foot to make sure it wasn't still going to get back up. When it did nothing after a few pushes, you deemed it safe enough to take your knife back. With a few hard tugs, it dislodged itself with a squelch and you fell back against the wall behind you, exhausted.

The sudden sharp pain that run up your leg into your spine and made you arch your back for a moment as you stopped breathing forced you to pay attention to the wound on your leg. Hesitantly, you moved your shaking fingers away from the bite on your leg to take a peak.

There wasn't really a point to looking at it, you realized moments after you laid eyes on it. It wasn't going to fix anything, and there was nothing for you to assess. A bite was a bite, and you knew what it meant. Leon and you had seen what happened to Marvin. You yourself had seen a friend turn after being bit before you had gone to the RPD. So you knew.

The skin near the bite was incredibly hot to the touch, and even without touching it, you could feel the heat coming off your skin. Your jeans sported a hole where the bite was and you wondered if there was anything in your bag to cover it with. It was ugly to look at, and scary.

You let out of deep sigh as you closed your eyes. There wasn't much you could do but sit there. Leon was somewhere inside the NEST, and you were at the entrance. You weren't sure if you wanted Leon to find you dead or alive, but all you knew was that this was not something you nor him could fix.

It felt like hours had passed when Leon had shown up. But in reality, it had only been about half of an hour. Whatever was in the bite, whatever the virus really was, had done a number on you as you felt sweat bead at your forehead and slowly trickle down the side of your face. The furrow in your brow from the pain almost felt like it was permanent.

"Y/N!" He called out when he spotted you. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure. The way his shirt had been ripped on the sleeves, and the bandage you could see just beneath his shirt and RPD vest. He was caked in blood, sweat, and dirt too.

And yet he was a welcome sight for your tired eyes.

He quickly slid onto his knees and if you weren't in so much pain yourself, you would've winced at how harshly he landed on the hard floor, but it didn't seem like he was affected by it.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said breathily; he reminded you of a little puppy, and it made you want to squeeze him close to you, "what happened, what-"

Your hand squeezed your leg unconsciously and he looked down when you did so, his beautiful blue eyes resting on your bloodied hand and whatever you were covering up. His eyes looked back up to you almost hesitantly, asking to look. When a half-smile was your only response, he looked back down and focused on your leg.

His hands gently pried your fingers off your leg and he carefully let your hand go on your lap, giving them a squeeze.

"I'm..." he seemed at a loss for words, you would've been too, "I have to... Cut this away to see it better, okay? It's..."

Carefully he used his own survival knife to cut away at the pieces of your jeans, which were dyed deep red around the wound, so he could see it better. Your hand came up to his shoulder as he did so, peeling the bloody fabric away from it as much as he could without hurting you, and you squeezed his shoulder so tightly, fighting the urge to scream in pain. But he didn't seem to notice, or care, about the harsh grip you had on his shoulder.

"Oh. God..." it was said softly, almost as if he had no air left inside him to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's really ugly, I know," you tried to make the situation less dire, but it didn't seem to work, because Leon just looked at you with his big eyes, full of so many negative emotions.

"It's not..." even Leon didn't know what he was doing to say as he trailed off. He began searching through his pockets till he came up with a bottle of antiseptic that looked half empty.

"It's gonna be okay," he finally spoke again as he started to open the bottle, but your hand reached up and seized his own holding the open bottle above your leg.

"Don't use that," you pushed it closer to him and further from your leg, "you can't afford to waste that."

"I'm not wasting it."

You hadn't heard him sound so sure of his words, so... Angry. You hadn't known the boy long, but that was the first time you'd seen him react that way to anything. It made your push your lips together in a thin line, but you kept your hand on him, stopping him from using the antiseptic.

"I'm pretty sure we both know how this ends," you prompted slowly, "I don't think an antiseptic is going to fix it."

"The vaccine is here somewhere, it has to be," he stated firmly, "we just need to find it. It's going to be okay."

It wasn't that you didn't trust him, or that you didn't believe him. But how long was it going to take to find a vaccine? And how did you truly know you were going to find one? You didn't even know if it would work.

You didn't have much say when Leon moved to put your arm over his shoulder, and looked at you, counting to three before he helped you off the ground.

It worked initially: you had managed to stand up with the help of the rookie cop beside you, who kicked the zombie that had done the deed further from you two when you had gotten up. But it didn't last long, as pain shot through your leg and seemed to spread through your entire body. You could barely keep yourself upright even with his help, your body felt too weak to even function.

"Leon, I can't," you cried, falling back against the wall, "I can't."

"Damnit," Leon cursed under his breath, looking around him urgently before he left you against the wall to open a door across from the two of you.

He was missing for less than a minute when he came back out from the room and quickly came back to you. One of his arms reached under your legs while the other went to your back.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

Ever the gentleman, even when you were definitely dying.

"My hero," you smiled softly but it came out as more of a grimace as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

You supposed training to be a police officer meant he wouldn't have trouble carrying fully grown human beings.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. There was a bed right across from the door, and a desk close to the door. Someone must've used this room as not just a study but a place to sleep. Like a bedroom.

Leon gently placed you on the bed in the room, being careful on how he placed you, and never taking his focus away from your leg.

"Okay," he breathed out pulling back, "I'm going to go find the vaccine. And then we're going to get out of here. Together."

It was a wonderful thought. It was the dream, right? For everything to be okay, for you to be fine, and for the two of you to get out of Raccoon city and away from this mess. Together.

And yet you knew it wasn't going to happen, you knew you weren't getting out of there. You knew you were dead. And it was a scary thought to have to face alone because you wanted so badly to live. To live with him.

He would've been out that door had you not reached your hand out and grabbed his hand as best you could, squeezing it as hard as you could.

"Don't," your voice cracked as you swallowed hard, the ache in your chest only growing when his pained expression met yours, "don't leave me. Leon..."

"But I need to..."

It was blatantly obvious to not only yourself but also to him that there wasn't anything he could do. Not anything he could do in time for you. He didn't even know what he'd be looking for exactly, but he'd go find it if he could. He'd do anything to help you. To save you, and keep you near, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was a cold hard truth, and one he so desperately wanted to avoid.

But he couldn't.

Not when he looked at you, and really looked. Not just second glances over your form and your leg that lasted seconds as his blue eyes frantically moved like they were trying to find something they couldn't. No, when he really stopped and stared at you, he couldn't avoid it.

Your skin was ashen and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your eyes somehow looked like they had sunken in a bit, and looked dull compared to what they usually looked like. The way you breathed was alarming, it was shallow and sounded tiring, and then some moments it would speed up only to slow down moments later. You were in pain, and you were hardly there anymore.

"Y/N..." Leon's voice cracked, and you never thought you were going to see him cry. He held your hand back tightly and noted your fingertips felt cooler, "This isn't happening. Not to you."

"I should've paid more attention..." you said softly, "I don't... I don't want to die."

"I should've been here, I should've..." he exhaled through his nose, "damnit!"

"I'm not letting you blame yourself," you sternly interrupted him and squeezed his hand as best as you could, "not now. Not ever. None of this is your fault..."

Leon said nothing as he took to the ground beside the bed, kneeling right beside you. His face was close to your own as he leaned forward, his hand still holding your own tightly, which he brought up to your chest where your intertwined hands sat.

"Just..." you knew what you wanted to say but you didn't want to make the hurt worse, "just... promise you won't forget about me? And promise... Promise you're going to get out of here. Alive."

"I could never forget you," he said hurriedly as if he was offended you would have even thought he could forget you, "even if I wanted to, I could never..."

There was something there, between the two of you, that was trying to lay itself bare, but something was stopping it. There was something unsaid, simple words that were hard to say and had so much meaning, so much weight. But neither of you could say it.

If you did, not only would it be the first time, but also, the last time.

With your remaining strength you slipped a ring off your finger; it was an old thing, something that you had for a while and you didn't even remember why you got it or where you got it, but you always wore it just because. It had no sentimental meaning, but now it did as you pushed it into his hands. The look of confusion on his pained face made you smile slightly.

"So you always have a piece of me," you said, "and if you ever try to pawn that off I will come back and find you, Kennedy..."

His eyes trained themselves of the silver ring in his hands, it was so plain, just a band. But it was yours. It was you. It was all he could keep of you, he realized because this wasn't going to end with your life. Pocketing the ring, he took your hand again.

"I might just sell it then if you show up," he tried to make you smile, which it worked, but he also felt the need to reassure you, "I won't get rid of it. Ever."

"Good to know," you let go of his hand again and pulled out the gun in the holster that he had found for you in the station, inside was a round of ammo that you wouldn't need. Pulling out the ammo, save for one of the bullets, you gave him the rounds.

"What? What are you-"

"I'm not... Going to need this," you said, slightly out of breath from the pain you were in, "and I know they fit Matilda. But I'm keeping the gun, and one of the bullets."

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant by your final sentence and he frantically began to protest.

"Hey, wait, no," he shook his head, "no. I can... You don't have to... Let me."

It was the idea that you would have to shoot yourself that made him uncomfortable. The idea that you would need to take your own life upset him. But if you didn't want to turn into one of them, he would do it for you. He would... He...

"We both know you can't," you justified, "and I don't want you to. I could never ask you to. So, you go. You leave Leon, and you find that virus. You get out of here, and you live. You don't do anything stupid or reckless, and you make these bastards pay."

You were adamant, and you left absolutely no room for argument. Even if he wanted to argue, he couldn't. And he wanted to argue. But denial would get him killed, and you wanted him to live. And some part of him wanted to live for you.

"Alright," his voice didn't waver this time as he spoke, "Alright."

He placed his head against yours for a moment when he stood up and squeezed your hand a little tighter in his own when he grabbed it again. Softly, you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and ushered him to leave. It felt like he was walking on hot coals the whole time as he walked out the door, he regretted it when he looked back at you at the door, like he was waiting for you to get up and go with him. It just made closing the door behind him a lot harder.

He hadn't really been keeping watch of the time since he arrived in the RPD. He didn't really realize how fast or how slow time was going. But at that moment, outside that door, he really felt the way time flowed. It was impossibly slow, agonizingly so, and it was deadly quiet. Something that happened in only moments felt like it had taken an eternity.

He was used to the sound of a gun by now. It didn't make him flinch anymore. But this time it did. It made his stomach clench and his jaw tighten, his body stiffens. He hated how it sounded more than he ever had before.

The piece of metal in his pocket weighed heavy as he ghosted his hand over it.

Leon was going to find who did this. He was going to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. But most of all, he was going to make them pay.

[teamatsumu]

Wolf, Partner, Gloves...

Summary: HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 8,143 (i know, man. holy shit)

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, mentions of trauma.

Main Masterlist

Your earliest memory to date was a fuzzy one involving snow and glass bottles.

You remembered the shocking cold as it drifted over your skin, finding tiny crevices to slip through your heavy fur coat. You couldn’t remember how old you were exactly. Maybe seven? Eight? But you could remember the glass bottles, all filled with some murky liquid that the men were drinking. They were talking loudly in fluent German. You could understand them, of course, having lived in the country all your life. But they were discussing someone you didn’t know. They ignored you mostly. The only reason you were there was because Baron Strucker wouldn’t let you out of his sight.

You remembered the gunshots, which came quickly after the men had finished their bottles and decided to line them up in a distance and shoot at them. It was an open field, just behind the HYDRA base that was your home. There was no one around to stop them. It was their property. You jumped every time the loud noise sounded, but the men only laughed. They were used to the sounds. You hid behind Strucker’s legs, but he only urged you forward.

“Only a few more years, little one.” He spoke, voice softer than any other man there. “Then you’ll be shooting bottles too.”

And he had been right. Two years, to be exact. You were shooting bottles at age nine, with an accuracy that could rival the adults. It made Strucker proud, and you lived for the validation. You loved it. Loved the praise he gave you, loved that he called you his ‘best project’. You would kick it up a notch, train at that young, ripe age where everything you learned was ten times better than any soldier HYDRA had in the field. You sought that proud grin on Strucker’s face like a drug.

You’d realize later in life just how fucked up that was. But not then. Not as a child. Not as a teenager. You seemed to glide through HYDRA’s ranks. Did it make the others jealous? Sure. But they knew they had no chance. You had been instilled into HYDRA since you were a baby. Their personal experiment that answered the question: what happens when you train someone to be a soldier from the moment they can walk? You had Strucker with you every step of the way, molding you into the perfect soldier. Of all the humans that worked for HYDRA, you were the strongest.

Humans being the key word. You were no match for the enhanced ones. You weren’t dumb enough to try and rival them, of course.

You ran your first solo mission when you were just 16. It had been a fairly easy, and frankly dumb, target. When you complained to Strucker about not giving you tougher missions, he complied with a proud and sly grin. The next one was harder, but still not at the level you wanted. Strucker only gradually increased the difficulty level, saying it would have better outcomes in the long run. You didn’t question his judgement.

Age twenty seven. You reached peak physical fitness. You knew this was the best form you’d ever been in and would ever be. Strucker knew this too. So he came up with the best solution to make sure you were a permanent asset to HYDRA. And that was to put you in cryo, and only have you out when you were required. 

You had no problem with it, of course. You didn’t have to be wiped. You had no other loyalties besides HYDRA. So what was the point of wasting time and resources in the complicated procedure of memory wiping? You didn’t need it. You were only to be simply put in and out of cryo. It was a win-win.

It was only after the cryo started that you moved to the really tough missions. Missions that would actually leave you a bit bruised. You still completed them though. You still gave HYDRA the one thing they needed. Absolute compliance.

You ran your first mission with the Winter Soldier in December of 1972.

You knew about him, of course. He was a very popular topic in HYDRA circles, being the only successful super soldier trial since Steve Rogers. He wasn’t kept in the same base as you, but word got around about his work. He was a damn good asset for HYDRA. And had he been a normal human and not an Enhanced, you would’ve even been jealous.

But now you were just excited. You had never worked with an Enhanced before, let alone someone as good and as popular as the Soldier. You couldn’t wait to run a mission with him. Maybe you could pick up some tips. As far as you'd heard, he wasn't just strong beyond belief, but smart and stealthy beyond belief too. 

It turned out to be a bit of a disappointment though, because the Soldier ignored you like you were just an annoying fly in his way. 

You were watching him now, a bit of a pout forming on your mouth. You had expected some helpful pointers, maybe some cool stories about the missions he'd worked on, but it felt like sitting next to a brick wall. He was so silent that oftentimes you'd forget he was there, despite him being absolutely huge in stature.

Maybe that was the secret to being stealthy; staying incredibly quiet. In that case, you were screwed. You were the most talkative person you knew.

"Y'know, this is a two person mission." You quipped, staring at him. He didn't reply, didn't even flinch. He gave no indication that he'd heard you. His face was blank, hands working expertly to assemble the sniper before him. 

You were both sat on the roof of a large factory, right next to its huge chimney. Thick, black smoke bellowed from it, mixing into the pale blue sky. You didn't have to really be quiet, because the factory made tons of noise on its own. You'd be okay as long as the building kept humming. 

You were both facing the lone road that ran through the desert and right next to the factory. According to your mission intel, a black jeep with an open roof was to drive past this factory in less than fifteen minutes. Your target would be in the backseat. Both you and the Soldier were to take a shot each, one for the target and one for the driver. It was a two person mission because the window to mess up was nonexistent. In that time frame, one person could only make one shot. So to take down two people, you needed two shooters.

So here you were, sitting on a roof with the Winter Soldier, though he was more like a statue at this point. Did he even understand English? Did you have to speak Russian instead? 

"You need to start setting up."

You were jolted from your thoughts at the voice, raising your eyebrows in surprise. You couldn't help your grin. 

"He speaks!" You cheered, making him turn his head sharply and glare at you. 

"Keep it down."

You shrugged, and finally reached for your own gun. You placed it on the stand, angling it down. "It's not like anyone can hear us. We scoped the place out. There's only twenty people here. And they're all inside."

He shook his head, a small line forming between his eyebrows. This was the first emotion you were getting out of him. Annoyance. You weren't too perturbed by it. You could be pretty annoying. 

The shooting went as smoothly as it could. Two silent shots later, the car was swerving off the road, turning over its head a few times before stopping with a groan. You and the Soldier were already making your way down to the last part of your mission: getting confirmation that the target was in fact dead. 

You hummed under your breath as you walked around the wreckage, pursing your lips at the smoke coming out of it. If you were right about the damage and the impact of the sweltering heat, it would catch fire in the next twenty minutes. That would be so much better. Burning always helped destroy evidence. 

"Cover your face." You heard the Soldier say. He was leaning into the car, voice slightly muffled by the black mask covering the lower half of his face. 

"It's not like anyone is going to recognize me." You countered. It would've been better precaution to just put it on, but it was hot and you were lazy. 

The Soldier turned around to glare at you, trudging over to the black rucksack containing your belongings. You watched him rummage around and pull out your own white face covering, holding it out, challenging you to see what happens if you didn't take it. 

For a second, you were tempted to say no just to see what he would do. Would he lose his temper? Would be nice to get a little emotion out of him. But you decided to not test him more than you knew you already were. Silently, you took the mask and fitted it in place. 

"Could've done that myself." You muttered loud enough for him to hear. He didn't respond. 

After you'd shot both targets again for good measure, the Soldier started gathering your things so you both could leave. You looked over the car once more, freezing when something golden caught your eye.

"Oh, cool!" You reached in through the window, unpinning a small badge on the lapel of the dead man. You pulled it out to look at it in the light, nearly squinting at how it reflected the sun. The Soldier had stopped rummaging to glare at you some more. 

"Put that back."

You ignored him, tilting the badge to try and see what the symbol on it was. 

"It's like some kind of animal." You held the badge out for him to see. "What is that? Is that a wolf?" 

His glare intensified, if that was possible. He turned back to what he was doing, lifting the rucksack onto his shoulder. You gave him an annoyed look. 

"You're no fun." You pondered over the badge. "Yeah, it's definitely a wolf. I'm keeping it."

His head snapped towards you. "No, you're not. Put it back. We don't take things from crime scenes."

You pouted. "C'mon, just this once! It'll be like a souvenir. Our first mission together!"

Of course, you weren't planning on keeping the pin. You weren't stupid. You knew how investigations worked. Taking something from a scene was pretty damn idiotic. You just wanted to get a rise out of the stone cold soldier before you. 

He ignored your words, walking over to you and grabbing your wrist. He took the badge from you with his other- metal- hand, giving you a stern look. 

"We. Don't. Take. Things. From. Crime scenes."

You rolled your eyes, watching him lean in to repin the badge on the lapel. "Okay, dad."

You saw him visibly stiffen, turning around to walk away from you and to the motorbike you had both ridden here. You followed him silently. 

"It was a cool looking wolf." You mumbled as you sat behind him and he turned the engine on. "Admit it. If you'd seen that wolf pin in a store somewhere, you would've bought it."

You caught a glimpse of his eyes when he turned to look over his shoulder, ensuring there was no one else around. His eyes had glazed over a bit, as if deep in thought. He looked almost confused. You wondered what was going on with him, but let it slide. He was a little weird in general. So you didn't dwell on it too much. 

In retrospect, maybe you should've dwelled more. Because that was the first word. 

Wolf. 

……………….

“Does the Winter Soldier get wiped?” You asked Strucker the next day, when you were back at the base. He gave you a look.

“You are the only soldier in cryo we have who doesn’t get wiped, my dear.” He replied, turning back to the table. An oil lamp illuminated the many papers and complicated sketches on his desk. You watched him work, ignoring the scientists around you who were preparing your cryo chamber.

“I hope he didn’t cause any problems.” He mumbled next, not looking up from his desk. You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. You had been wondering about the Soldier for a while now, unable to shake his stoic demeanor. Of course, it made a little more sense now. He had probably been wiped and prepped before he was sent out to the mission with you. It explained his lack of emotion and engrossment in what was happening around him.

“What if you didn’t wipe him?” You mused out loud, pushing yourself up onto the table and looking down at Strucker.

“That would be disastrous.” He replied. “None of us want that, little one. Trust me.”

You nodded. “So will he go back to Russia now?”

Strucker hummed a bit as he thought, still engrossed in whatever he was doing. “I don’t think so. He’ll be running his missions from here for a while. Most of them with you, I think.”

Your eyebrows perked up in interest. “He’ll get wiped here?”

You’d never seen anyone get wiped. From what you’d heard from the workers around you, it was a tedious process and involved some very specific techniques carved out for every subject. You were curious to see how it worked. And Strucker seemed to notice.

“You can sit in on one of them.” He offered. “It’s a fascinating process.”

You nodded eagerly. The base you had grown up in was relatively free of advanced HYDRA experiments. Strucker never brought anything down here, instead opting to disappear for months, sometimes years, to work on a project elsewhere. The Winter Soldier being here was probably one of the most exciting things to happen in a long while.

You were still thinking about the Soldier when you stepped into cryo. He was your last thought before the darkness took over. And when you next came to, your first fleeting thought was the last conversation you had with Strucker. You blinked, feeling firm hands drag you across the room and sit you down. Cryo always left you disoriented for a while. You would take an hour or so for yourself, eating, talking to people, letting them catch you up on everything that had happened while you were asleep. The doctors would run a few tests and give you the all clear before you were up and about again.

You learned that this time, you had been in cryo for only a couple of months. An emergency mission had come up, apparently, and Strucker needed you and the Asset to work it.

That excited you.

You were led into a room at the lowest level of the base. It was already crowded with soldiers, scientists and doctors. Near the centre of the room was a large leather chair. As you walked in, they were strapping the Soldier to it.

You audibly gasped. Were they about to wipe him? Strucker was across the room from you, giving you a little smile and a nod. Yes, this was it.

Nothing in the world could have prepared you from what came next. For the screams that erupted from deep in his chest. So raw, so guttural, that they shook you to the very core. You watched him strain against the straps that held him down, as current zipped through the metal bands around his head. His foot twitched, jerking like an animal being slaughtered. He screamed through the rubber guard in his mouth, screamed until he was red in the face, until he was sweating, until the veins in his neck and forehead nearly popped. He heaved afterwards, as a man in a lab coat started saying words in Russian, random words you recognized but made no sense. You were rock still, terrified at what you had just witnessed, feeling ice run through your bones. The very breath was knocked out of you when you realized that no one in the room had even flinched. Not even Strucker.

You walked out when they started briefing a now blank-faced Soldier about the mission. You walked until you had escaped the confines of the four walls, breathing the cold air outside deep into your lungs. The stone balcony was just wide enough for you to stand in. Cold snowflakes hit your skin and hair as you furiously tried to blink away your tears. All you could think of was: what the fuck did I just witness?

Was it like this every time? Was this what wiping was like? You had just assumed it was like swallowing a pill. Everyone around you talked about it so…. so casually. Never in a million years could you have expected that. And what was with those words? Why did they announce them like they meant something?

You knew the answer almost as soon as you asked the question. They were trying to force him to give them something that you gave them willingly. Absolute compliance.

You didn’t have any more time to dwell. The door behind you creaked open, a guard informing you that you needed to get briefed for your next mission. You numbly nodded your head towards him, telling him you’d be right in.

Your last thoughts were riddled with questions. If they had to go through all this trouble to demand compliance, that must mean the Soldier was resisting very hard. But why? Why was he resisting? You did everything HYDRA asked you to do without any of this wiping or brainwashing crap. So why was he so against it?

You felt a very strange, repulsive sensation rise in you. Something was very wrong. You just couldn’t pinpoint where exactly it stemmed from.

……………………

You couldn't look at him the same way anymore. Everytime your eyes caught his, you would imagine the gut wrenching screams and it would make your throat close up all over again. 

Prior to leaving for the mission, you had run into Strucker at the base. You hadn't looked him in the eye as he gave you a few last minute instructions. As a parting note, he handed you a small, rectangular black box. You popped it open, seeing it contain a syringe filled with dark blue liquid strapped to the base. You gave him a questioning look. 

"This will be a long mission. Unpredictable. If it crosses a month, inject this into the Asset's arm. Intravenous. Got it?" 

You nodded slowly, closing the box and gripping it tightly in your hand. You'd tuck it into your belongings later. 

After the briefing, you realized that this was no simple mission. This was a pursuit that was going to take you through many countries, and maybe even overseas to America. Seven targets. Unlimited resources and unlimited time. It was clear that HYDRA expected no screw ups. You had to take this slow. 

Intel told you that your first stop was a couple of days away. Currently, the Soldier was driving with you in the passenger seat, going over everything that you had witnessed in the last few hours in your head. You two had yet to say a word to each other. 

"Do you know me?" You finally asked. 

Stupid question, really. He had been wiped. Very thoroughly, by the looks of it. He shook his head in response, making you sigh. 

"We worked a mission together a couple of months ago. A simple sniper job."

He nodded slowly, though his face showed no recognition. He was as blank as ever. You played with your fingers, thinking about how messed up it was that a few random words could impact a brain so thoroughly. 

"My name's Y/N." You offered. You had this sudden urge to know more about him. To know who he was and where he came from and why he was forced into working for HYDRA if he was so against it. The frustrating part was that you'd get none of that information from him. Because he remembered nothing. 

He only nodded again in acknowledgement, and you let yourself fall silent. It wasn't any use. He didn't know you. 

Your first stop was a small town on the outskirts of Germany. It was midnight by the time you got there, and true to intel, a small safe house was waiting for you on the exact coordinates you had expected. 

You pursed your lips as you walked into the house, or room, more like. It was designed like a dorm, with beds lining both walls and a door on the far side opening to reveal a bathroom. There was a fireplace in one corner, and a few dusty, empty shelves and drawers. You dropped your bags on the bed closest to the fireplace. Cryo often left you weary and cold. You'd take advantage of this warmth for tonight. You then realized you were with someone who had it ten times worse though, so you turned to look at him. 

He was already shoving his bag under the bed across the room from you. His back was to you, pulling off his gloves and placing them on top of the bedside table.

"Um-" What do you call him? Soldier? You cleared your throat, making him turn to glance at you. 

"Do you want this bed?" You gestured. "It's next to the fireplace."

He shook his head and went back to what he was doing, sitting on the bed and pulling off his boots. You sat down and mimicked his movements, lost in thought. 

"What- what's your name?" You asked. "What do I call you?" 

He stilled, one foot bare and a shoe in his hands. He didn't look up, lost in his own thought. You glimpsed confusion drift over his face, though you couldn't be sure under the dim lights. You heard the voice in your head berate you slightly. 

Of course he didn't know his name. What a silly question was that? You shifted a little, regretting your words, mind whirring to try and fix this. 

"How about- um, Partner? Because we're mission partners. Is that okay? You can call me Partner too. I don't mind. It'll be better, in fact-" You stopped when he turned to look at you, face a little less blank than usual. It frustrated you that you couldn't pinpoint how he was feeling. 

"Partner is okay."

You didn't know it then. But you already had your second word. 

Partner. 

You nodded jerkily, pulling off your boots and walking to the fireplace. The basket was stocked with wood, thankfully, and within a few minutes, you were able to build a steady fire. It illuminated the room, filled it with a warm, orange light that lit up the Soldier's face where he sat. If you hadn't already been staring at him, you wouldn't have caught his shiver. 

"Come here." You gestured, holding your own hands over the fire. "Stand in front of it. C'mon. I know about cryo. I know you're cold."

He didn't move though, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you, as if something was clicking. 

"There was-" He seemed to struggle, lost in his thoughts. "There was a badge. Golden."

Your mouth dropped. Involuntarily, you walked closer to him, nodding enthusiastically. 

"Yeah! A pin. A wolf pin. On our last mission. You wouldn't let me keep it." You smiled at the memory. He seemed a lot softer this time around. You didn't know why. Maybe it was the high pressure situation at that time. Right now, you were both relaxed and danger free. 

He nodded again, flinching a bit as he thought. Then he shook his head more firmly, turning and laying on the bed. 

"Go to sleep. You only have four hours."

You were slightly taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. But you weren't surprised. Those words. Those words had a very strong hold. 

But he remembered. 

You walked back to the fireplace, feeling it warm up your limbs. 

"You can remember other stuff too, you know." You commented, just loud enough that you knew he was listening. "Like the wolf-pin. You can remember other stuff too, Partner."

He didn't reply. He lay rock still. He didn't even move when you walked back over to him, shaking open the rough blanket on the bottom of the bed and draping it over his body. 

………………. 

Two weeks later, you finally found your first target and put him down. It had been easy enough. He didn't have security, and his house was quite secluded from the rest of the town. He had immediately realized why he was getting killed though, as soon as he saw you two. He automatically guessed you were from HYDRA, and he took the bullet with his head held high. 

"Wonder what he did to piss HYDRA off." You mused, standing over the bleeding body. Partner was behind you somewhere, wiping off all finger and boot prints. He didn't answer you. 

"What did you touch?" He asked, making you look around the place. You pointed to the kitchen counter. He promptly wiped it down. 

"Should've worn the gloves." You admitted, making him glare at you a bit. You two had had an almost-fight on your way over there, because you told him you didn't feel like wearing gloves and you'd just wipe everything later. He had countered that you couldn't keep count of all the places you had touched, and they were bound to miss something. Your defense had been that you weren't that stupid. 

Turns out you were. Because you couldn't remember any other place you had contact with. You looked around once more, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Partner sighed and walked to where your bag was, rummaging through it and pulling out a pair of black leather gloves. He handed them to you. 

"At least put them on now." He ordered. It reminded you acutely of your last mission, when you had refused to put on a mask and he had forced you to do so. And you still remembered what your response had been. 

"Okay, dad."

He stiffened immediately, and you knew in an instant that he remembered. 

"Something you've said before?" He asked, to which you nodded and grinned. 

Over the last two weeks, Partner had slowly become a little less stiff than what you both were used to. You'd often tell him stories about himself, raving about how he's a legend in HYDRA circles. Since he didn't know this information, he didn't think it was a big deal. He'd often have tiny flashbacks though, triggered by small objects of everyday use. He'd snap out of it quick and move on. But if it was something from two months ago, from your first mission, you'd confirm his memory. 

It was almost a nice routine. It felt normal. 

You also now understood why Strucker wanted you to inject him with whatever chemical a month into the mission. With time, maybe all of Partner's memories would come back. 

You complained as you pulled the gloves on, saying they were too loose and smelled too leathery. Partner only sighed tiredly and didn't reply. It was the origin of your third word. 

Gloves. 

The end of one month was slowly approaching, and as the day got nearer, you felt more and more uneasy with Strucker's instructions. You still had the black box with the syringe, tucked safely away from danger. You knew for certain, that Partner wouldn't stop you from injecting anything in him, especially not HYDRA's explicit orders. He would comply without question. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't look at that blank, dead look in his eyes anymore. He was just starting to get a little life back in him. When he was freshly wiped, he was barely human. 

You liked him like this. 

November 24th. Officially one month since your mission had begun. Your insides were eating away at you. You had never in your life disobeyed an order from Strucker. He was your mentor. He had raised you. Everything you had ever done, you'd done to make him proud. This was extremely uncharacteristic of you. And it was getting harder and harder to do. 

"You're very quiet." Partner commented, making you snap out of your thoughts. You two were staking out Target #4, sitting outside a small bar he frequented. He was still inside, despite it being very late at night. Things were slowly dying down, and eventually, he'd be walking home on his normal route. You two had mapped out his routine over the last few days. You knew exactly the spot where you'd attack. 

You shrugged and sighed, not knowing how to explain to him why you were silent. It was an unsurprising observation. Of course he'd notice that you were quiet, considering that you normally didn't shut up. Even someone whose brain was currently mush could tell the difference. 

"What did you do?" He asked. 

You gave him a look. "What d'you mean?" 

"You're too quiet." He shifted in his seat, playing with the steering wheel in front of him. You gave him an indignant look. 

"So you mean that just because I'm quiet, it means I've done something stupid?" 

He gave you a dry look. "That's exactly what I mean."

You found it kind of funny, that this was the reputation you'd made in his fucked up head. You felt a bout of laughter erupt in your chest, barely holding it back. 

"I'm not stupid." You muttered. Partner didn't reply, but the very air in the car was so thick, you could practically hear him say 'uh-huh, sure'.

"I'm not stupid." You said again, making him raise his hands. 

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it." You couldn't help your grin by now, and it split through your face.

That was the night you first saw Partner smile. And that was the night you found your fourth word. 

Stupid. 

The syringe lay forgotten in the bag on the backseat. 

………………….. 

As days passed by, you started seeing the reason Strucker gave you the syringe. Many times a day, Partner would kind of space out, eyes going blank. He'd start to mutter to himself, eyes trying to focus on whatever he was doing. During Target #6, he slipped up greatly, and had it not been for your quick reflexes, the mission could have come crashing down at that very moment. He was slowly losing his grip on the world around him. And it filled you with fear.

You couldn't afford to have this mission fail. Because the blame would come on him. You were too loyal. Strucker wouldn't dare question your intentions. They'd think there was something wrong with him. They'd have to reevaluate him, put him through horrifying trials all over again. He might get taken back to Russia. 

You couldn't let that happen. Not until you had his full story. Not until you could answer the questions in your head and clear your doubts. 

And deep inside, you knew one of the reasons you didn't want him to leave was that you'd become strangely fond of him. He was your first ever mission partner. There was a strange allegiance between you two. A bond that can only be formed between two people who were forced to have each other's backs. 

So after exactly 42 days since your mission started, you gave him the injection. And you could see the effects next morning. He seemed more focused, more resilient, and even though he still remembered the last month and a half, he didn't seem as out of focus as he had been. He also started ignoring you again and kept his attention on the task at hand. You had to admit, that part stung you. 

It took you two whole months to complete the mission. When you returned back to base, you felt a little trickle of sadness enter you at the fact that your time with Partner was ending. You didn't have a chance to say goodbye to him. He was whisked away immediately, and Strucker took you back to his office to debrief you and ask for the mission report. 

You didn't see him again for six years. You were either not out of cryo at the same time, or you were both running missions on your own. But you did not let even a second of your time out of cryo go to waste. Not a single one. With every extra second that you have, you researched the crap out of the Winter Soldier. 

You went through over fifty shelves in the archives, chronologically backwards from the current date to when the organization was first founded. It was on shelf number 53 that you finally came across the file that you were looking for. The file that made your heart stop. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

If you had been horrified of Partner's treatment at first, that was nothing compared to the detailed notes HYDRA had on him. The more you read, the more you felt a wave of panic rise up, mixed with a strange anger and pain that you'd never felt for these people. People you considered yourself to be one of. Yes, you were HYDRA. You were part of this organization, no matter how much in that moment you wished you weren't. 

Then came the entire detailed account of how they'd brainwashed James Barnes. The words they'd used, how they'd conditioned him to react to them. How he was bound to think a certain way and act a certain way when they were said in a particular order. You couldn't help but think about how Partner had reacted to certain words associated with his memories over the two months you two had a mission together. 

And that's when you made a list. A list of words that you knew held meaning. A list of words you'd seen him react to. Trigger words, just like the ones HYDRA had concocted, except that their effects were the exact opposite. 

You felt yourself spending most of your free time with James Barnes on your mind. You'd reminisce on the two months you had spent together, on the little things that seemed to give him more character than just a hollow shell controlled by HYDRA. You prayed, day in and day out, that you'd get another mission with him. This time, you had an idea about what you would do. 

That lucky day finally came in the summer of 1979. A fairly easy, but long mission, where you had to travel to America. Strucker trusted no one with the Winter Soldier except you. Mistake on his part, because you couldn't be farther from a trustworthy person. Yes, over the last half decade, you had dug through too much gore. Your life had been one sugar coated lie. Strucker had sheltered you the best that he could, to make sure you always remained under his thumb. You had been told that the work you were doing was revolutionary, important, righteous. 

No wonder they had to subdue James Barnes so much in order to force him to work for them. No sane person would work for them willingly. 

You closed your eyes and let the wind hit your face, feeling it move through your hair. The road was more or less empty, which meant Partner was really speeding up the bike you two were on. The goal was to get to the ship that would carry you overseas. There were a few HYDRA operatives waiting for you to get there, and they would take care of the rest. You held on to the seat under you, enjoy the feeling of freedom that came with being out of the base that had begun to feel less like a home and more like a prison. You watched Partner's hair whip around in the wind, a beautiful chestnut colour. They were damaged around the roots, slightly frizzy, due to being in and out of cryo for so long. Of course he didn't take care of it. He couldn't even take care of himself. You felt your heart squeeze. 

When you stopped at a gas station an hour later, you voiced your thoughts. 

"Your hair is all over the place." You spoke up, watching the bike slowly get filled with fuel. He glanced at you before looking back to what he was doing. He had returned to the cold, Soldier mannerisms, and it hurt you. It felt like a connection that had been lost. You briefly thought of your memories together, of the words that signified said memories. Would they work on him? 

Now was not the time to test them out. 

He climbed back on the bike when he was done, waiting for you to do the same. You hesitated. 

"Here." You pulled off a blue hairband from your wrist, offering it to him. He stared at it like it was an alien specimen. You rolled your eyes. 

"It's for your hair, silly." You stepped forward, watching him flinch. When he didn't pull away more, you gently ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face and to the back of his head. Then, you tied it up. 

"Hairband." You whispered, wondering if it could be the next word. The look on his face took your breath away. A slight confusion, mixed with something else entirely. You wondered how many years had it been since James Barnes had felt a touch that wasn't rough or hostile. You couldn't be sure, and you didn't know if he could be either. 

Hairband. 

You couldn't help but grin at the little ponytail, all the way from the bike, across the docks, and until you boarded. He softly muttered at you to stop, but with no real conviction. He wasn't as cold as the last two times after being wiped. You wondered if he thought you were familiar. He couldn't possibly recognize you, of course. But maybe some part of him told him that you were comfortable. That you were safe. 

The thought cheered you up. 

It was during this long travel overseas that you discovered three more potential words for the Soldier. And each of them had an associated happiness behind them, a warmth, that you knew he would remember. 

Tea. Because you had insisted he drink tea even though he didn't want to do anything but brood all day long - as he often did. Winter Soldier things. He had made a face when he took his first sip, and comically, it was the most emotion he had ever shown. You had choked on your own tea, collapsing into laughter until you were red in the face. By then, he was also smiling. 

Lightening. Because the Captain of the ship had driven you into a storm that threw you slightly off course. The entire ship had shifted and groaned, furniture that wasn't nailed to the floor sliding around. You yelped when the table before you slid, some dishes moving off it and onto the floor. Partner cursed and rolled his eyes, trying to keep as much stuff in place as possible. He looked to be in a usual, sour mood. You stilled when the room lit up through the light in the window. So did he. The sliding furniture didn't seem to matter anymore with how the sky lit up with little webs of current, moving from the heavens to the sea. It lit him up, lining the contours of his face. 

It may have been the first time you realize just how beautiful he was. He didn't look like the Soldier anymore. Or the Asset. Or Partner. He was James. He was…. what was his name? Bucky. 

Something stirred inside you. Something warm and fuzzy that you'd never felt before. When James turned his head to look at you, your heart stuttered. 

The mission was the last thing on your mind by the time you set foot on American soil. But you managed to regain enough focus to actually complete the job. It took you merely a week and a half, and when you were done, you felt the bitter disappointment that accompanied the realization that your time with James was about to end. 

The night before your scheduled ship ride home, you both set up lodgings in a small, HYDRA safehouse. It was designed almost the same way as the first one, except that in the hot summer evening, there was no need for a fireplace. The air was still and stuffy, but you couldn't focus on that. You were too caught up in trying to muster up the courage for what you were about to do. 

You looked back at James, who was pulling off his jacket and toeing off his boots. His back was to you, so you had full view of every muscle in his back that stiffened when you said the first word. 

Partner. 

He was rock still for two seconds before turning around to look at you. You knew in an instant, that he recognized the word. That it had survived the rigorous wiping HYDRA had subjected him to. The rest of the words followed, tumbling out of your mouth. You had memorized them, said them over and over it your head until they were all you knew. 

Wolf. 

Gloves. 

Stupid. 

Hairband. 

Tea. 

Lightning. 

His face crumpled with every one. The last few were still in his memory, but the previous ones weren't. He breathed deep after the last word, eyes screwing shut as he battled the storm within. 

"I know you." He whispered. Your lungs felt like they were ready to burst. You stepped closer to him. "I know you."

You nodded. "You do."

You were close enough to reach out to him, to touch him, slowly, softly, until he was used to the feeling of soft hands that didn't want to tear him apart. His eyes were coated with tears, just as yours were. 

"I'm so sorry." You sniffed. "For what they did. For all of it."

He collapsed in your arms that night, and you held him for hours, while he shuddered through the onslaught of broken memories, while he tried to figure out who he was. It was like a dam broke, and too many thoughts came pouring out. 

You didn't move even when the sun started rising, cracking through the windows to illuminate your room. You were lying flat on the floor, arms and legs pliant. James was next to you, in the same position. You both stared at the ceiling. 

"We should go." His voice was hoarse, yet it still contained more story, more personality, than any sentence he had ever spoken. You realized that this was the James Buchanan Barnes they remembered in history books. 

"We should." You voiced, but neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to return, because you knew what would happen when you'd get back. The thought of James taken away from you again made your heart squeeze so tightly, you had to turn on your side just so you could breathe. 

He turned his head to look at you, eyes soft and sleepy. 

"We need to get up." He said again, more looking to encourage himself than you, at this point. Still, neither of you moved. 

"We do." You agreed, again. His face was so close to yours, you could see the tiny flecks of gray in his blue, blue eyes. 

"We'll see each other again." He whispered. His breath hit you. Your eyes fluttered. 

"We will."

His lips were soft when they met yours. Unsure. Hesitant. Afraid. When you responded by tilting your head, he seemed to sink into you. He was so warm, and safe, and comfortable. Kissing him felt like everything falling into place at exactly the right time. His stubble scratched you a bit, heightened your senses, and you felt like you could drown in him. Right there, on the uncomfortable floor of a HYDRA base that you should've left a while ago, you had your first kiss with Bucky Barnes. 

And right there, on the uncomfortable floor of a HYDRA base that you should've left a while ago, they found you hours later, wrapped up in the super soldier's arms. They pried you apart, shouting something in English. You already had tears in your eyes. You caught one last glimpse of him before he was taken from you, one last touch, before his fingers parted from yours. Was it over? Was this the end? 

You didn't see him for years. Strucker was so furious with you that he shut you up in cryo with no intention of ever letting you out. He was shipped to Russia, and that was the last you heard. When you came to next, it was 2014, and HYDRA had fallen.

You felt no remorse as you watched your home burn to the ground. On the contrary, it filled you with a sick satisfaction. This was the least they deserved after what they did to you. After what they did to him. 

You saw him three years after that, in the middle of chaos. In Berlin, you saw him face off a hundred soldiers. From the shadows, you watched him take on Tony Stark, and Black Widow, and a few other Enhanceds that you didn't recognize. Him, in nothing but a red henley and no weapons. Him, with a rigid walk that you could recognize with only one eye. 

He was in Winter Soldier mode. 

Over the last few years, you had been tracking Zemo, catching on to what he was planning and knowing he'd lead you straight to the man you wanted to see the most. You were cautious and stealthy in a way only a very trained assassin could be. And now you were finally here, in the middle of a hurricane of flying glass and bullets in Berlin where James was held in captivity until Zemo triggered him. 

What he didn't know was that you had trigger words of your own. 

You jumped into the fight before James could leave the building, knowing you had to stop this. He was out of control, and it was only making things worse. You fought back the urge to collapse right there, at the very sight of him. You had yearned to see him for so long. But not like this. This wasn't the person that you had fallen in love with. You came here to see Partner. You came here to see James. Not the Soldier. Not the Asset. 

He attacked you without hesitation, and you let him, dodging his blows the best you could as you opened your mouth to speak. 

Wolf. 

Partner. 

Gloves. 

Stupid. 

Hairband. 

He screamed, metal arm connecting with your front and knocking all the air from your lungs and sending you sprawling on the floor. Pain bloomed in your chest, and you were sure you had just cracked a rib. He stumbled a bit, hands clawing at his head, eyes screwing shut. They were working. Even after so long, they were working. You forced yourself to stand again, running towards him until your body collided with him, until he went down, and you with him, in a mess of limbs. He was breathing heavily, jaw clenched. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw the recognition bloom in his eyes. 

Tea. 

Lightning. 

His face crumpled, eyes searching yours. You heaved yourself over him, straddling him so he wouldn't move. You held his metal arm down with both of your own. It struggled only feebly against you. 

He was crying, sobbing, already going limp under you. Another word popped into your head. A word that you had never used before. But you knew, even without using it, that he would recognize it. Your tears dripped from your cheeks and onto his own, trying to breathe through the searing pain in your side. In the distance, Captain America and two other people were running full speed towards you. You knew it was over. Finally, finally, this nightmare was about to end. Him and you didn't have to suffer anymore. It was all going to be okay, and looking at you through tearful blue eyes, he knew it too. 

You mustered every last bit of strength you had to give him a smile, and say the final word. 

"Bucky."

………………… 

Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, freight car. 

Wolf, partner, gloves, stupid, hairband, tea, lightning, Bucky.

…….......................

As always, feedback is appreciated!

[emerald-chaos]

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Whumper 4, caretaker 5 caretaker (doesn't know it's blood)

Is that ok?

Whumper 4: “Let's see what's more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?” / Caretaker 5: “Let me help you.”

Yeah, of course that's ok :) I'm guessing that the parenthesis was supposed to go before the 'caretaker' and they don't know about the blood? well, I hope that's it because that's what I wrote haha, but if it wasn't, please feel free to send me another ask <3

Also, some content warnings because this one ended up a little intense: implied noncon (didn't mean to write it like that but the vibes are there so), noncon drugging, a very creepy and intimate whumper... there's comfort at the end though!

-

Whumpee should’ve known there was something weird about Whumper. No one could smile that big and talk that kindly without wanting something in return. They just never thought it’d be this.

“Come on, now. I don’t have the whole night. What’s your choice?”

All Whumpee does is close their eyes and shake their head, too overwhelmed to force any words out of their quivering lips.

“Whumpee, it’s not a hard one,” Whumper huffs, and they can hear the annoyance in their voice but they can’t convince themself to say the words. “Do you need me to repeat it to you?”

They don’t, the sound of Whumper’s offer still echoes inside their head, loud and clear.

But Whumper takes their silence as agreement.

“Here’s your choice: you can take these pills and be the entertainment of my party tonight, or I can go snatch someone else to do it. You’ll only stay if you agree, and if you don’t, I’ll let you walk away and never see me again. It’d be a shame though, because everything is ready for you. I’ve been watching you, and oh Whumpee, you are just so… perfect. But, in case you say no, I can always go after someone else. Say… Caretaker? I’m told they are a friend of yours.”

Their heart pounds in their ears, so loud Whumpee is almost surprised Whumper can’t hear it too.

“I can go get them if you want me to. Can’t promise they’ll come out in one piece after my guests finish playing, though. Not like I can promise you. You are far too precious to be permanently damaged, you I can promise to keep somewhat safe. Caretaker on the other hand, not so much. Who knows what those troglodytes could do to them if I give them a free pass?”

Whumper’s laugh fills the basement Whumpee woke up in only minutes ago, bouncing off the walls and making Whumpee’s skin crawl. How could they trust the mysterious stranger who offered them a ride? Why hadn’t they been more careful? Now here they are, locked in a basement with someone twice their size and no hope of escape. If only they’d been more careful–

“Well?” Whumper says, drawing Whumpee’s attention back to those narrowed eyes, glinting with cruelty.

“W-what will you do to me?” Whumpee whispers through the thick layer of fear enveloping their world. “If, if I say yes… what then?”

Their smile is almost as horrid as their laughter. Whumpee shrinks against the wall, pulling their knees closer to their chest. “If you say yes my love, the pills will start working in a few minutes. I will give you a nice new outfit while the drugs do their job and then when you are barely able to walk, I’ll help you up the stairs. Everyone will be so happy to see you, Whumpee.” Their eyes burn, but no tears fall when Whumper scoots closer and touches their hair, gentle fingers brushing back sweaty locks. “And then we will have fun. You’ll barely remember it afterward, but I will remember it forever. You might be left with some sore spots but all temporary. Well, almost all temporary, won’t promise one or two marks for you to remember me later. Maybe a few scratches, some of my friends are remarkably fond of knives. But the point here is that you’ll make anything we want you to, and that’s the real fun.”

“And if I say no?”

“If you say no, I’ll go after your friend. Kidnap them, just like I did you. And when they awake, they won’t be given the choice I’m giving you since it wasn’t them I really wanted. I’ll take them upstairs, and we’ll make them hurt. Scream. Cry. Maybe I’ll record it and send it all to you so you know what fate you chose for them. Now, what's your choice, Whumpee? Tell me.”

As they speak terrible word after terrible word, Whumper’s fingers continue to play with Whumpee’s hair. Twisting and brushing and caressing. Always so soft, so awfully soft in comparison to the nightmares they spit into Whumpee’s brain.

“Let's see what's more important to you. Your dignity, or their safety?”

A tear finally escapes, only to be brushed away by Whumper’s touch.

“But don’t worry. If you make the right choice, It won’t be all pain, baby. It’ll be about those big scared eyes and that delightful little quiver on your lip. About how gorgeous you will look when you’re barely able to walk, and how you will cling when you can’t think straight. And I’ll be there the whole time. I’ll take care of you.”

Whumper is right.

In the end, it isn’t a hard choice.

Whumpee closes their eyes and nods at the same time a soft, broken “okay,” slips out of their lips. It doesn’t feel like the lock of a door they were expecting. It feels like taking a step into the void, and knowing there’ll be thorns waiting for them when they fall.

Still, it’s with Caretaker’s smile in their head that they force themself to swallow when two round pills touch their lips. They don’t open their eyes until a bottle of water is held for them to drink from. It is only when there is no more chance for them to break and plead to be let go, even if they want to, desperately, that they let their eyes flutter open.

Whumper is waiting for them with a wide smile when they do.

“Let us begin then.”

And so they do.

Whumper brushes Whumpee’s hair and gently applies makeup to their face. When they ask Whumpee to undress and give them new clothes, they don’t hesitate to obey, and only when Whumper is closing their zipper for them do they realize how faint they feel.

When they are placed in front of a mirror, Whumpee looks at the shiny clothes but forgets what they looked like as soon as they are led away. By the time the door is opened and music first hits their ears, they are leaning against Whumper to keep standing.

They try to climb the stairs. Narrowing their eyes to concentrate, they raise their foot, but the world is filled with blurred colors and too-quick movement, and the only reason they don’t fall is Whumper’s fast hands holding them up.

Whumpee is almost grateful when Whumper chuckles and whispers against their hair. “Easy there, baby. Let me help you.”

They rest their head against Whumper’s heart when they are picked up bridal style, and stay that way until the lighting changes and voices fill the air.

They are placed on the floor, and with Whumper’s help, manage to keep standing, even though the floor refuses to stand still under their feet.

And then there are hands on their hands, squeezing and hurting, and Whumpee tries, they try so hard, but instead of the firm no they want to say, only a moaned “n-hng, I, I, d-don, wha-what’s hap-happe–,” comes out.

And then the world slips away, and though their body still moves, they are barely there anymore to see it.

-

When Caretaker’s doorbell rings, they don’t hesitate to jump out of bed and run to the door. They’ve been sending Whumpee messages all night without response, and concern rings louder than sleep. Only when they open the door and see the sunrise do they realize how early it already is.

And then their gaze slides to the figure leaning against their doorframe, head bowed and shoulders slumped, and their heart misses a beat.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker calls, reaching out their hand.

But before they can touch sparkly clothes they’ve never seen their friend wearing before, Whumpee cowers away. Caretaker retreats, but their heart races even faster.

“Whumpee, what’s wrong? Where were you, did something happen?”

Whumpee looks up, and Caretaker doesn’t need an answer to know what happened. Wide pupils, half-lidded eyes, smudged makeup and parted lips tell them all they need to know.

“Oh, Whumpee.”

There are stains all over their clothes, too. Is it spilled alcohol? Is it vomit?

“Oh, Whumpee,” Caretaker sighs again, taking a slow step in their direction, feeling a sad, involuntary frown settling on their forehead. “What did you do?”

Whumpee follows their steps with their eyes but keeps still. It is only when Caretaker comes close enough for touch and extends their hand that they wince and shrink into themself again.

“Honey, I can see you’re not okay,” Caretaker says as calmly as they can. “Let me help you.”

Another step, and this time all Whumpee does is close their eyes and let out a low whimper. Caretaker sighs again as they help Whumpee wrap their arm around their shoulders and lead them inside.

Whumpee is almost a dead weight in Caretaker’s arms as they help them get into the bathroom, to seat on the toilet and lean back against the wall.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Caretaker asks, crouched down in front of Whumpee.

“I, I, I don– don’t, W-Whum-per. They, they, they did... something.”

“Who’s Whumper, love?”

But all Whumpee does is shake their head no as tears stream down their cheeks.

“Okay, you can tell me later. Can you at least tell me what did you use?”

The look Whumpee gives Caretaker is so utterly lost, that they nearly start crying as well.

“Don’t… kn-know. Pills?”

“How about a shower, and then we talk more, huh?” Caretaker tries, nodding encouragingly. Whumpee swallows, but doesn’t nod along with them. Instead, their eyes dart around the bathroom, searching for nothing.

With a reassuring squeeze on their knee, Caretaker gets into the shower and turns on the faucet. As the water warms up, they take one look at Whumpee’s slumped form and walk over to the mirror.

Clutching the cold porcelain of the sink, Caretaker looks up at their own image in the mirror – tired and disappointed, but also patient. Worried.

“You can do this,” they mouth to themself, “Whumpee needs your help.”

With one last sigh, they turn their head to Whumpee and take a step in their direction. And then a step back, when something grabs their attention at their peripheral vision.

Caretaker stares at their image in the mirror again and feels their heart stop when they see their sleeve stained red. The sleeve where their friend’s arm had just touched.

It isn't alcohol or puke on Whumpee’s clothes.

It is blood.

“Whumpee,” they call, dropping to their knees in front of them. Whumpee jumps and meets Caretaker’s stare with wide, scared eyes. “You are bleeding. Are you hurt? I need you to tell me where you are hurt, Whumpee.”

But all they do is breathe faster and faster, pure helplessness on their face.

“If you can’t tell me, I need to find the source of blood on my own. I’m taking your shirt off, okay?”

Caretaker doesn’t wait for an answer, and Whumpee doesn’t give them one.

They don’t fight Caretaker’s hands when they pull the shirt over their head, even when a pained hiss leaves their lips.

Caretaker holds their breath when they see Whumpee’s bared skin.

Bruises color their entire torso, as well as long crisscrossing welts. Their arms are covered in small, rounded marks that look dreadfully like cigarette burns. Cuts, deep and superficial litter everything, some already closed, some still weeping blood. There’s barely any smooth skin left.

“What happened to you?” Caretaker breathes, searching for answers in Whumpee’s terrified eyes. “Who did this?”

All the answer they get is a soft sob and a cold forehead hitting their shoulder as Whumpee falls forward and nuzzles into their neck.

Caretaker hugs them back, careful not to touch or press on sore skin, feeling their stomach churn when their fingers bump into more cuts along their back.

“I’m here now,” Caretaker whispers against their hair, tears of their own rolling down their cheeks, “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again, Whumpee. You are safe. You are safe.”

They stay like that until the bathroom is foggy from the warm water falling from the shower and Whumpee’s shoulders stop shaking, but when Caretaker helps them undress and oh-so-carefully cleans the wounds, there’s only drowsiness and chemicals behind the fear in their eyes.

They have no idea what they'll do once Whumpee comes to. Or what they'll do to whoever Whumper is if they get the chance.

-

Prompts from this list. Still taking them but I can't promise how fast I'll write it haha