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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

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MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - As The World Caves In

tags: @mayasaurus--rex @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger @astrobees @woowwwee // six // eight // masterlist

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Word Count: 8,489

Summary: What feels like the final night alive, recovering from Dex’s latest attack feels almost impossible while trying to save everyone. The world continues to cave in around Ex while subconsciously adopting Matt’s old moral code, finding light in the dark.

You fell to the ground with your back against the poles with a loud wince. You could feel your body trying to repair itself as the pain began to sting, sharp enough that you wanted to scream. Your head fell to the side and you saw Karen clutching Matt in her lap, crying quiet pleads.

You groaned as you scooted across the floor to get to them.

“Oh my god.” She gasped when she saw what happened to you but you disregarded her. You managed to climb to your knees near Matt’s other side. “Y/N, you-“

“Mhmm.” You cut her off with a fast nod. “It’s- It's okay.” You tried to answer but as soon as you opened your mouth, the blood spilled out and down your chest. You coughed roughly and the knife shifted in your stomach and practically scratched your lung, which caused you to whine.

Matt groaned at the noise you made and tried to push himself up, reaching out for you. You pushed his hands away to ensure he couldn’t touch you and grabbed the knife with one hand and the posts with the other. You took a few deep breaths and yanked it out quickly, screaming at the sudden action.

You slammed both hands over the gash and pressed hard, trying to set off your healing. As the pain climbed, you leaned against the poles again and tapped your head against one. You counted off the times you hit, hoping to keep your head off the pain at the center of your abdomen but it refused to be ignored.

“Y/N?” Matt said weakly as Karen helped him to sit up.

Your eyes closed tightly and you were bombarded with Dex’s anger from whatever alleyway he ducked into. You pushed it away, throwing it back at him, and blocked him out entirely. He wasn’t your responsibility anymore.

All units, 10-34. Daredevil reported at Clinton Church. Mobilize level three.

Dispatch, code 11. Emergency services en route.

Dispatch, 10-54 at Clinton Church. This is a multiple casualty incident.

“We’ve-“ You said weakly and you hauled yourself up. Your stomach still leaked blood but it wasn’t filling your mouth like moments ago. “We’ve gotta move.”

“No, Y/N.” Karen tried. “You can’t-“

“He’s gone.” You said sharply, yanking off your mask and pulling down the zipper for your top. You threw both materials across the level towards your other set of clothes before fiddling at your belt for your gauze. “PD will be here any second. We don’t have time.”

“He killed him… Y/N, he killed him.” Matt said softly as he got to a kneel.

“Yeah, I know.” You answered tightly, more focused on what to do next than what already happened. What you failed to stop. What was seared to the inside of your eyelids.

The knife burying itself into Father Lantom’s chest.

You crossed the balcony to your pile as you undid the top half of your suit. You examined the wound for a second before covering it. The skin was red and angry, edges of it already caked with dried blood and the center was still a gaping wound. You clicked your tongue in disappointment before covering it and taping your gauze down.

“You two have to go. Now.” You spoke plainly, already planning your next fifteen moves. You gathered your suit and all its accessories in your hands hastily after you changed, every small extension pulling on that hole in your center.

“No. No. I can stay here. I can- I’ll tell the police everything.” Karen said quickly.

“Tell them what? That ‘Daredevil’ murdered a priest and Exodus was too late?”

“That it wasn’t Daredevil.”

“And how do you explain how you know that? Ray didn’t even believe you when you said it. That kind of sentiment got you fired, remember?”

“I really think I should stay.”

You muttered complaints to yourself as Matt told her what he knew.

“Your partner?” Karen said to you, though you didn’t acknowledge her. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I know.” You pushed past them with your suit in hand. “Don’t worry. I’m still gonna kill him.”

You stopped for a second to pick up your bloodied knife and shoved it at the back of your belt.

“Wait. No, Y/N, wait.” Karen reached for you but you kept moving, scrubbing your suit material against your chin and nose to clear the dried blood off.

With as much determination as your body could muster, you moved quickly. You tapped your foot at the edge of each stair until one board came loose. You lifted it and shoved your vigilante persona under it before hurrying out the side door. You were greeted with an insane amount of police presence. Everywhere you turned, you were blinded by flashing red and blue lights.

“Oh thank God!” Maggie sighed as she found you.

“Hey.” You breathed and stepped back quickly as she tried to hug you. “Sorry, I just-“ You lifted your shirt enough to show her.

She frowned slightly and reached forward, helping clear some of the remaining wax and blood from your cheeks.

“Is he…”

“Alive? Yeah, barely. I don’t know how he’s gonna get out.”

Your eyes scanned the scene behind her as you pressed on your scar, making sure to set your implant back to only listen to your communication frequencies. You glanced around and found two familiar figures pushing through the crowd. You nodded for her to follow and you jogged to catch up with them.

“I’m assuming command.” Ray told the police captain, but it clearly wasn’t his idea. The captain gave a rundown of what he already had in the works.

“Sorry I’m late. How far out is ESU?” You asked as you joined the duo and strapped your bureau-issued bulletproof vest into place before fitting your jacket back on. Dex looked at you as if he’d seen a ghost and you didn’t bother hiding your smirk. Clearly, you were in better shape than he anticipated. He probably thought he had killed you, or maybe he was surprised he chose not to.

Maybe, you realized, leaving you alive wasn’t the plan. Maybe that was his choice… But why would he leave you - the most immediate threat towards him and Fisk - alive?

“Excuse me.” Maggie said from your side. “I saw Daredevil leaving the church.”

You glanced up and saw the look on Dex’s face. Your fist tightened at your side and you had to turn away to keep yourself from starting a fistfight with Dex in the middle of the street.

“When?” Ray asked and put a hand on your arm. When you looked over, you saw the question in his eyes so you gave a small nod and turned back to the conversation, forcing that rise of anger to the pit of your stomach to burn your wound.

“Moments before you all arrived. He headed that way.” She pointed down an alley across the street.

“We got two other DOAs in an alley a block from here.” The captain agreed.

“I’m aware of that.” Dex cut in firmly and your brows raised in challenge. “Daredevil came back to the church.”

��Doubtful.” You shook your head and took a small step to put yourself between Maggie and Dex. “I just came from the backend and I didn’t see anything.”

“I saw him myself.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot of moving parts right now. It could’ve been anyone. Doesn’t make sense for him to come back anyways. What’s left for him here?”

While Ray talked some more to the captain, Dex turned to fully face you and took a step closer, an intimidation tactic to emphasize his size against you. Admittedly, you were smaller than him, but he had yet to truly beat you so it seemed like his size did him no favors against you. You simply tilted your head up and smiled with hands folded neatly behind your back.

“You better watch it.” He said lowly as he dragged you with him to follow Ray into the church. You heard a small noise of protest from Sister Maggie but you were quick to shake your head and hold a hand out for her to stay where she was.

“I swear to you, if you even think about touching that nun, I will kill you. I don’t care who’s looking.” You answered in the same low tone as you yanked your arm away. “No suit to save you from a bullet to the head this time.”

“Just do what you’re told, and I’ll let her live.”

“You say that like you’re in charge.” You scoffed. “We both know Fisk has you on a tight leash.”

“You think you’re funny?” He sneered.

“Hilarious, actually. Besides, you won’t find them.”

“I don’t have to. You will.”

You rolled your eyes and kept your pace moving forward. Dex moved a bit faster to lead beside Ray and once he wasn’t beside you, your eyes drifted towards the hall that led downstairs. You could feel them downstairs. You could hear their conversation. Matt was pissed that he lost his chance against Fisk for Karen. Karen was afraid of what Matt had become. Both were scared of what would happen to you.

“I can’t believe we left her up there.”

“She’s fine, Karen. We need to worry about ourselves right now.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Y/N’s gonna do what she can to protect us but we can’t leave it completely up to her… We need to figure something out.”

“And your just okay with her up there alone? With that psycho?”

“No. I’m not, alright? But I can’t do a damn thing for her with a target on my back!”

Ray suddenly stopped in front of you and you nearly collided with him. “What are you gonna do if you get them?” He asked tightly.

Dex glanced over at you and you simply shook your head.

“I did not sign up for this shit.” Ray insisted.

“Yes you did.” Dex answered firmly before turning away.

“Search the living quarters.” Ray instructed ESU before pulling you a couple steps away. “Y/L/N, don’t bullshit me right now. I know you took off from the SUVs earlier. What do you know? Why is he looking at you like that?”

“I know he’s the one parading around in Daredevil’s suit.” You answered quietly and you could tell Ray was trying not to react. “I know who the real Daredevil is, and I know who Exodus is. He knows who Exodus is, but her and I keep getting in his way from getting to Daredevil. Or to Karen Page.”

“The girl, Exodus. She was here tonight?”

You simply nodded as a hand went to your bleeding wound.

“Is she still here?”

You nodded again.

“Where?”

“Right in front of you.” You admitted as the main doors were pushed open and Sister Maggie was escorted in.

You walked down the aisle and knelt beside her while she prayed.

“I’m so sorry.” You said gently when she faced you, eyes brimming with tears. The sight was enough to bring a lump to your throat. “I tried but..”

“You have to stop him.” She pleaded quietly.

“I’m trying. I don’t know how without killing him.” You admitted as tears welled in your eyes. “If he’s willing to go that far, one of us to have restraint.”

“Y/N…”

“I trusted him. He saved my life, I- I need him to get to Fisk.”

“Just do right by Matthew, please.”

“I’m doing what I can. I promise.”

A hand under your arm pulled you to your feet. You were quick to yank yourself free and spun to see it was Dex who grabbed you. You felt your temper snap and you shoved him by his chest as red sparks seemed to appear at the point of contact. He nodded slightly with an annoyed expression as you shoved him away again.

“Y/L/N.” Ray tried to reach for you but you had moved to push Dex again.

The man caught your arms and pulled you closer.

“Dex!” Ray said firmly and tried to get his arms between you two.

“You need to stay out the way.” Dex said lowly, tightening his grip on your arms.

“You need to stop this.” You answered weakly. The intensity of the night had began to wear on you, draining your capacity to maintain control so tears from just moments before fell down your cheeks and you felt just a sliver of remorse from him. “Please..”

He smirked slightly as he let go of your arms, allowing you to quickly recover your composure and run a sleeve across your eyes. “You’re real pretty when you beg.” He tapped a finger against the bottom of your chin and stepped around you to talk to Maggie.

You turned to lunge at him but Ray caught you by your waist and pulled you a couple steps back. You fell into him when you felt the pressure against your stab wound and you grabbed his arm for support. Dex brushed past you, ensuring to knock into you with his shoulder. Maggie was behind him but she stopped beside you to put a hand on your arm in question. You forced yourself to stand tall and nodded, putting yourself between her and Dex as you and a small team headed towards the basement.

When you all got down, there was no sign of Matt or Karen that anyone could see. You felt the thumping panic from beside you but when you turned, all you saw was an old stone coffin. Looking closer, you saw a collection of blood at the corner. You stepped to it quickly and snuck a hand under your bulletproof.

Your hand came back slick with your own blood and you leaned against the stone, smearing your blood over the existing stain. Dex and Ray came over and Sister Maggie was at your other side with a gentle hand on your back. Dex looked down and shone his flashlight at the blood before looking back to you.

“Don’t forget you stabbed me.” You muttered as you righted yourself with a groan and pushed the light out of your face. “Blood’s mine.”

“That makes two knives I put in you then, huh?” He nearly smiled.

“Two knives that didn’t kill me.” You turned to face him. “So you’ve got nothing to brag about.”

“What about the rectory?” Ray asked Maggie, hoping to keep moving and get clear of the church.

“There’s also a door to the roof. I’ll show you.” Maggie ushered Ray away but Dex hovered at your side.

“What?” Your eyes darted between his but you couldn’t find an answer. But you did find an unmistakable softness in the way he looked at you. “Why haven’t you killed me, Dex?”

“What?”

“You've had so many chances. The Bulletin, your apartment, tonight. But you haven’t. You just keep toying with me… Why?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s funner this way, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s something else… Fisk tell you to keep me alive?”

“Yeah, sure. Are we done?”

“Even if he did, you could easily lie and say that you had to kill me so that’s not it… You make a deal with Ray?”

“No.”

“Hattley?”

“No.”

“Then what?” You asked loudly, thankful no one else was in the room. Well, other than your friends hiding in the coffin. “Why am I alive, Dex?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke shakily but there was no denying the feeling he was trying to hide. Your eyes went slightly wider as your jaw fell open. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“How long have you-“

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about and I would’ve been dead.”

“I just missed.”

“Three times?” You scoffed.

“Who cares?”

“You don’t miss.”

“Whatever. Move.” He grabbed you by your arm and pushed you towards the direction Maggie led Ray.

A small smirk crossed your lips as you understood something. Dex may be in the palm of Fisk’s hand, but you still held a certain power over him. Regardless of the manipulation you could utilize through your abilities, if you just bat your lashes the right way and put the right plea in your voice, he’d be at your feet. Unintentionally, you got Ben Poindexter to catch feelings for you. The man - potentially - was in love with you.

Checkmate.

Once Matt knew Dex and his team were gone, he lifted the stone lid and let him and Karen out. There was a heavy tension in the air as they waited. Waited for the FBI to come back or for Dex to try and finish what he started. He knew if it was the latter, Y/N would help to stop him. But with her latest injury to her abdomen, he didn’t know how long she would last before Dex got the best of her. And with her challenge of why he kept her alive, Matt doubted Dex would do so again. Even if it was just to prove a point that he could.

He and Karen talked for a minute about what was happening, why she was on Fisk’s radar. She had been with Y/N when Fisk’s friend Wesley was killed. Y/N used her signature weapon on him, and Karen emptied the clip into his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“You always treated me like I was.. innocent. It was nice. It was nice that you thought of me like that.” She explained with a sniffle. “And I knew how you felt about, Y/N, about what she did - what she does - as Exodus. I just… I couldn’t.”

“I don’t blame her for it, not anymore.”

“But at the time, you did. That was the same night she told me who she really was and all she kept saying was that she killed him. That it wasn’t me. And- and she kept saying that you wouldn’t want her in your life anymore. She risked everything by telling me because she didn’t want me to- to- to feel like I was a bad person…. And I treated her like shit afterwards.”

“She was protecting you. She’s always been protecting all of us.”

“She ever tell you what happened after we thought you died?” Karen asked gently, but she had a feeling that she knew the answer already.

“No, she uh… She won’t talk about it.”

“Billy Russo, he almost killed her.”

“Her boss from Anvil? Why?”

“Something with Frank, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “She almost bled out in that fight and y’know what she told me when I went to see her after it?”

Matt’s brows raised as a silent question.

“That she wanted to die, right up until she realized she was gonna… Nothing mattered to her without you. She was so angry up until then… I don’t know what snapped her out of it but she needs you by her side.”

“I’ve put her through so much, I just…” He trailed off, a heavy burden of guilt settling in his stomach.

“She’d still choose you, over everything. If you haven’t figured that out, then you’re an idiot.”

Matt knew Karen was right, but that didn’t mean he thought he deserved it.

“What were you gonna do to Fisk?”

“Hmm?”

“Tonight.. You said you had him.”

“I was gonna kill him.. Your turn to judge me.”

“No. No, I’m not. I get it. Trust me… It just makes me sad, for you.”

“Sad..” He nodded slightly. “Does it make you sad to know Y/N does?”

She gave a small scoff in response. Clearly she didn’t hold the two to the same standard of morality.

“It has to be done, Karen.” Matt said simply. “I shouldn’t have gotten in her way before.”

“Okay, you’re gonna have to listen to me here.” She said quickly as she crossed the room. She knelt in front of him and told him the story of her brother, the crash that killed him when she was driving. “There is no way to come back from it.”

That line reminded him of what Frank and Y/N once told him, when he was willing to let Frank take out the Blacksmith.

You cross over to our side of the line, you don’t get to come back from that.

“What if it is the way back?” He countered. “For me… I can’t let Fisk go, not again.”

“Killing anyone - even Fisk - it will change everything that you feel about yourself. I think Y/N would agree with me.”

“She wanted to kill him. The first time we fought him, that night with the shootout on the bridge. She had him, but I stopped her. She told me that he wouldn’t stop… He’d figure us both out and come after people we loved, that there’d be a trail of bodies left behind to get to us. Karen, that’s exactly what happened.”

“No, Matt, I understand but-“

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. We can’t stop him with the law. We tried. Look where we ended up. Y/N has to go along with it and her partner is trying to kill all three of us. We can’t win like this.”

Back at the street, you were standing with Ray. You were leaning against one of the parked cars and were gently rubbing the stab wound. You could feel trails of heat following the path your fingers took, serving as bridges to try and mend the tissue.

“What happened?” Ray nodded to your hand.

“Knife.” You said honestly.

“From?”

“Daredevil.” You glared in Dex’s direction.

“Agent Nadeem, Agent Y/L/N.” You heard from down the street. Turning in the direction of the familiar voice, you were more than relieved to see a friend. “Detective Mahoney. I’m taking over the murder investigation from our side.”

“Brett, hey.” You smiled.

“You’ve looked better.” He joked and gave you a quick hug.

“Rough night.” You nodded.

“Remind me to talk to you about your Homeland friend.”

“Great. What did Madani do now?”

“Long story, but basically, Billy Russo.”

“Not exactly a conversation I thought I’d have anytime soon.”

“She’s toying with the guy.”

You shook your head with a sigh and a nonchalant shrug before turning the conversation back to Ray. Talking about your other recent homicidal ex-fling was probably the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you listened as Brett talked about the inconsistency of witness statements and what the FBI was claiming.

Thank God the NYPD has at least one detective with a brain.

“This is our crime scene.” Ray said and you jammed an elbow into his side. “We’ll let you know if we need anything.”

Once Brett left, you gave Ray an annoyed look. He shrugged you off so you rolled your eyes and left. You wandered the scene until you found Dex and another agent having a standoff.

“Enough.” You got between them and pushed them apart. “There’s too much going on for you two to have a pissing contest. Neither of you are helping.”

“Tell that to him.” The agent said, pointing a finger at Dex.

“Keep talking like that in front of everyone and the next thing to come out of your mouth will be your teeth. Understood?”

The agent backed down and his shoulders slumped forward. He ducked his head and turned away, merging into the busywork of the surrounding agents, FBI and NYPD alike. You turned back to Dex as Ray came and joined you.

“We’re not gonna find them.” You spoke simply. “Not tonight at least.”

“She’s right. They’re in the wind, all of them.” Ray agreed and you wondered if he didn’t get what you had admitted about Exodus or if he just didn’t want to say it in case Dex didn’t know. But hadn’t you said multiple times that Dex knew? “I’m gonna release ESU and open the scene to forensics.”

“No. No way.” Dex argued, almost desperately. “You get the NYPD to go to every house in the neighborhood. Door to door. We do not stop until we find them!”

“Dex, they’re gone.”

“Fine, call it off. Then you can call Kingpin and tell him you’re the reason Karen Page is still breathing.”

“Can I do it?” You offered with a slight raise of your hand. “I don’t give a shit what he tries to do to me. I mean, can't really make my life worse…”

“Shut up.” Dex rolled his eyes. You simply scoffed and left to check on Maggie.

“These guys doing okay?” You asked as she met with you a few steps away from the gurneys.

“I’m sure they’ve had better days.” She answered simply.

“Yeah, haven’t we all… Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, Y/N…”

“Sister, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” Ray said, suddenly at your side.

She looked to you and when you gave a small shrug, she nodded to Ray.

“Do you know the suspects?” He asked.

“As far as I’m aware, the only one you’ve identified by name is Karen Page. And yes, she and I are acquainted.” Maggie answered simply.

“Do you know where she might’ve gone?”

“I thought you believed the suspects were still hiding in the church.”

You turned to Ray while biting back a laugh.

“We do. I do. I meant where on the church grounds.”

“Can I ask you a personal question, Agent Nadeem?”

“Okay.”

“Do you consider yourself a moral person?”

Ray paused and glanced over at you. You gave a shrug in response. Problem with being two different people meant everyone was asking your opinion for different things.

“I like to think so.. I try to be.” He answered.

“My good friend died here tonight, protecting Karen Page from evil.” She looked past you towards Dex. You looked over your shoulder to follow her eye line, finding the man involved in a tense conversation. “If you’re the kind of man you claim to be, do you really want to help it find her?”

She gave you a polite smile before moving back to the people from inside. You were tempted to follow her and see if she would go back into the church, but you knew it’d be smarter to stay street level. Staying out front gave you the chance to see the K-9s being brought in.

You knew your blood was all over the church. Your suit was hidden under the stairs to the top deck. Those dogs could lead every single officer at the scene right to you. You quickly followed Dex and the dogs inside. They searched the altar first, alerting towards Dex. The handlers didn’t seem to believe it so they led the dogs towards where you left Matt and Karen.

You turned the corner to see Dex taking the dogs towards the orphanage, being led by one of the novitiates. When the hall was clear, you let out a deep sigh of relief. Maggie nodded for you to follow and you did without hesitation. She led you down and you found Matt and Karen in a hushed, anxious conversation.

“Pushing Y/N and Foggy and me away.”

“I’m not pushing anyone away. I told you, I’m trying to protect you guys.”

“I think you’re just trying to protect yourself.”

“Alright, we don’t have time for this right now.”

“No, look-“

“You wanna talk about this right now? There are people upstairs trying to kill us and-“

You rolled your eyes and crossed the room to stand between them. You put a hand on either of their chests and gently pushed them apart. Matt reached forward and gently found your shoulder, the other hand wrapping around your wrist. His hands tightened around the extra material of your jacket and he pulled you against him.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“You act like I died.” You teased quietly and he chuckled against your skin. “You guys doin’ okay?”

“Are you?” Karen asked when you pulled away from Matt, though he kept a hand on your lower back.

“Still alive so…” You shrugged. “Dex is starting to panic, which could be good or bad. Nadeem’s trying to get this called off but Dex won’t budge. I’m trying to figure a way to get you guys out but with the dogs, I don’t know.”

“I didn’t leave you up there. I’m sure as hell not leaving you now.” She offered honestly before looking over your shoulder. “Neither will Foggy.”

“Foggy…” You spoke to yourself while Karen continued her conversation with Matt. “That’s it, Foggy.”

“Yeah, that could work.” Matt agreed.

“I’m a genius.” You breathed with a smile. “Okay, sit tight. I’ve gotta make a couple calls.”

You practically ran up the stairs and past Maggie. She hurried to catch up with you. She asked you a couple questions but you kept moving. You gave vague responses but kept majority of it silent until you got outside and to a quiet corner.

“Foggy.” You breathed in relief when he answered. “I need your help.”

“I could use yours, too.” He confessed.

“Fisk?”

“Yeah. He sent some crappy endorsement letter he wants me to read to the press or else he’s gonna get the loan pulled and my family in jail.”

“Great, yeah, I’ll do what I can. But I think mine is a bit more urgent.”

“Okay? What is it?”

“You’re still Karen’s lawyer, right?”

“Oh God.” He sighed.

“I need you to get to the church, like now. We need to get Karen into NYPD custody.”

“Why not call Brett?”

“He’s already here but so is the FBI. Basically, Fisk sent his Daredevil to come kill her. Me and Matt stopped it. Now we’re all stuck here until someone’s in custody.”

“Shit… Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Fog. I owe you. When you get here, talk to Brett. Let him know the gist.”

“Got it.”

You felt it before you saw him. Turning around, you saw no one. Not until you looked up did you find him perched on the roof. With a small smile, you replaced your phone to your ear as a cover.

“He’s on his way.” You spoke quietly. “This is gonna work.”

“I know.” His voice sounded in your implant. “It was your plan, after all.”

“She was right, y’know. You’ve been pushing us all away. I’m just stubborn enough to push back.”

“Seriously? You wanna talk about this right now, too?” You couldn’t see his expression but you figured he had a small smile.

“No… But we do need to talk about it.”

“Okay, fine. We will, sweetheart. But at some time when your partner isn’t trying to kill us.”

“Stay hidden.”

“Stay safe.”

“Stay alive.”

After a few minutes of you inside the church talking to Ray, Foggy arrived. You sighed in relief and practically ran down the aisle to hug your friend. He embraced you the same way before taking a step back to give you a once over. You nodded that you were okay as Ray made his way to your side.

“You called him?” Ray looked to you. “What is he doing here?”

“He’s Karen’s lawyer after all.” You shrugged.

“That doesn’t matter unless she’s still here.”

“Ray, I need you to trust me.”

“Truthfully, I’m just killing time.” Foggy reasoned, looking over to Sister Maggie.

“For what?” Ray asked before following Foggy’s eye line to Sister Maggie. “Why do you keep looking at her?”

“Ray..” You tried. “Just a few more seconds, please.”

“What did you do?” He turned to you again.

“After everything, you didn’t think I was gonna let Dex or Fisk get to her. Did you?” You smiled as Foggy nodded.

“Agent Nadeem, Agent Y/L/N. I’m here for my client.” He said proudly and led you two towards where Karen was coming out of.

“This is why I'm here, to surrender my client.”

You stepped around Foggy to stand near Karen. Your hand hovered at your gun, ready to pull it if any of the agents got the wrong idea.

“Good.” Ray nodded, though you could see the hesitancy in his eyes.

“To the NYPD.” Foggy corrected.

You backed away with a small smile as Brett came around with a small collection of officers. He gave you a nod of confirmation and you returned the gesture. You saw Dex coming from across the church so you hurried to put yourself in between him and Brett while he insisted that she was the FBI’s suspect. You kept your body in front of Dex as you stood beside Ray, but that didn’t stop him from trying to push through you.

“She’s a federal suspect.” Ray tried calmly.

“She’s a suspected accomplice to murder. That’s state law.” Brett replied confidently.

“And she’s here to surrender to the NYPD.” Foggy added.

“Shut up.” Ray pointed to Foggy.

“As one of two attorneys here, he’s just trying to-“ You began before Dex grabbed your arms and moved you to the side. “Hey!”

“These feds know the law. She’s our suspect.” Brett answered, refusing to back down. “They can file a writ and maybe talk to her later.”

“I will not let you take her.” Dex said tightly, stepping closer to Brett.

“You and what army?”

Dex turned towards you but you took a small step closer to Brett’s side, showing your allegiance was to Karen. To your friend. He offered a slight sneer before Ray got involved.

“What part of our crime scene do you not understand?” Dex pressed and you rolled your eyes.

“Enough.” You said firmly. “Detective. Agent Nadeem. A word?”

When neither man moved, you grabbed them by their sleeves and pulled them away.

“You need to stand your people down, Y/N.” Brett said when you three got some space.

“Talk to him.” You gestured to Ray. “All I wanted to say was that you cannot let her out of your sight.”

“If we take Karen Page into custody, she’ll be dead before she reaches HQ.” Ray explained quietly. “Don’t react. Just keep her the hell away from us.”

Brett nodded but looked over at you.

“Not everyone here wants the same thing… I can’t let another friend die, Brett. I can’t lose anything else to Fisk.” You said honestly.

“We clear?” Ray tried.

“Crystal.” Brett nodded and headed back.

You stepped around them to block Dex, a hand at his chest to push him back as Ray announced that Brett would take her. Ray tried to calm Dex but he wouldn’t. You reached behind you and pulled your knife, pressing the tip against his abdomen, just below where the bulletproof ended.

“One more step and I will gut you, right here.” You warned lowly. Dex looked down and saw your bloodied knife against him. “I don’t care who sees.”

“You messed up, Ray.” Dex said with a small step back. You slowly tucked the knife away as he glared at you. “You really, really messed up.”

You mocked him quietly before he turned around. You let out a small sigh and turned to Ray.

“Thank you.” You said honestly. “I know that wasn’t easy.”

“It was the right thing.” He nodded. “Would you have done it?”

“Done what?”

“Gutted him.”

“I don’t know… If it kept the people I cared about safe, then yeah, maybe.”

“Does that include…”

“Yeah, it includes them.” You nodded. “It’s complicated… Can I get out of here? I mean, without Page there’s no reason for us to obsess about this place.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. You look like shit anyway.”

“Huh, I wonder why.” You mocked and he gave you a small smile. “See you tomorrow for debrief?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s gonna hit the fan so call me if anything else goes sideways, okay? I know some people that can help.”

He gave you a small nod so you headed to leave. You turned when you were nearing the exit and found no one looking at you so you hurried over to the stair you stashed your suit under. You gathered the material and all your accessories and held them against your chest. You zipped your jacket up around everything and shoved your hands in your pockets before finally leaving.

You made your way across town to your apartment. You threw your suit onto the stairs that led to the roof and headed into the bathroom.

Stripping off your jacket and bulletproof, you stood in front of the mirror and flipped on the light. You washed your hands first, watching the white sink stain red with blood. Your face was next, a dark bruise under one eye and a busted lip stared back at you. Your knuckles were red and busted, bruises covering the joints and spreading up your fingers. You flexed your hands and winced at the sudden pain, but you realized that you hadn’t been wearing your brace. The wrist pain was basically nonexistent, which was a relief. You shook it out before ridding yourself of your bloodied shirt.

The material was stuck to the gauze it bled through and the wound has dried against some of it, so removing it meant reopening pieces of the injury. You let out a yelp as the fabric came off and a new stream of blood trickled down your stomach.

“Сукин сын. Клянусь, я буду - я ненавижу его. Боже, я его ненавижу..” You leaned your palms against the sink and looked at the wound in the mirror. (Son of a bitch. I swear I’m gonna- I hate him. God, I hate him.)

You could see that your body was already trying to repair itself. The deepest part of the stab wound was still red and angry, blood puddling in it and threatening to spill over with every breath despite the fact that you could still taste it. But the outer edges were a lighter pink, some still stuck with thin scabs. You groaned to yourself as you pressed the edges and the blood stream got a little thicker.

“Not bad, Dex..” You commented as you reached for a towel.

You gently wiped the blood from your stomach before getting the kit from the cabinet. As you were fiddling through it, you heard the hall door to the roof open. Usually you hated how loud that door was, scraping against the tile out in the hall, but you were thankful for it that time. You knew someone was up there.

You stitched yourself up and replaced some gauze while you swished some mouthwash to help with the metallic taste. From there, you shut off the light and went into the bedroom. You changed into more flexible pants that would be able to tuck into your boots, which you threw into the living room to put on later. You threw on a black compression shirt as you wrapped your hands and headed to the pile of suit that laid crumpled on the stairs.

You pushed through it to find your Bites and your mask. You fit the devices to your wrists and hung the mask around your neck. You grabbed the pile and took it to the closet under the stairs, where you threw it near the chest while you fumbled through the collection of stuff. You found your set of old knee pads and slid those on. You pulled the vest overhead and fastened the straps under your arm. You tucked your belt through the loops, loaded you gun and knives into place, and grabbed your staffs. From there, you locked the doors shut and sat on the floor to put your boots on before heading up to the roof.

“It means that Matt is gonna kill Fisk.” Karen said hesitantly as you joined them.

“No.” You said with a quick shake of your head. “He’s not. Moving on.”

“We put him in prison. Look what happened.” He said plainly, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“It’s not gonna be the same this time!” Foggy argued. “They’re gonna throw him in some supermax hole-“

“Oh come on.” Matt groaned.

“-where he can’t compromise anybody.”

“I know you’re not that naive.”

“It’s called having faith in the system.” Foggy reasoned. “Something you used to have.”

“It’s called facing the reality that some people are so rich and powerful that the system simply can’t handle them. That they actually are above the law.”

“That’s the bullshit men like Fisk want you to believe.” You cut in. “Nobody is above the law.”

“The only thing powerful enough to take down scumbags like him is the law.” Foggy added.

“He’s twisted it into something that actually protects him.” Matt frowned.

“Yeah, but that’s just federal law. What about state?” You looked to Foggy.

“We make a state case so strong, Blake Tower can’t deny it and we force him to take it to the grand jury.” Foggy nodded happily.

“Fisk has been five steps ahead of us at every single turn. He’s never gonna let that happen. You should know that, Y/N.”

“It’s not up to him!” You countered. “I’m not letting you throw yourself away because of a spook like him.”

“Gimme a break.”

“No, because this is bullshit. This isn’t who you are and we all know that.”

“Are you really the one telling me something?” He scoffed. “Killing Fisk was your idea. And you want to kill Poindexter. How is it any different?”

“Months ago! I wanted to kill Fisk months ago!” You shouted. “And you were the one who wouldn’t let me!”

“Well I was wrong.”

“You really think you can just kill one man and come back like nothing happened? It’s never just one! You don’t come back from that!”

“Maybe it’s the way back for me. If I can get rid of Fisk for good, maybe I can-“

“No!”

“Maybe you’re right, Matt..” Karen cut in, earning an incredulous look from you. “Just hear him out, okay?”

“Ты, должно быть, шутишь.” You mumbled and stepped away to take a breath, your hand on your hips as you paced a short area. (You’ve gotta be kidding me.)

“Fine. But I'm telling you, it’s not gonna work.” Matt laughed bleakly. “You wanna give the law another try? Sure. I’m all ears.”

“Simple. Step one, we work together.” Foggy nodded. He turned towards you and reached out his hand. You sighed and accepted it, letting him bring you back to the group and to your place beside Matt. “Step two, we come up with a plan. Step three, we execute that plan.”

You and Matt chuckled, but you could tell his was sarcastic.

“That’s genius. You come up with that yourself?” He joked and you jabbed him with your elbow.

“I’m still working out the details.” He answered in the same sarcastic manner.

“Well what about..” Karen tried. “What about we find ourselves another witness? Someone who will flip on Fisk.”

“Someone who knows the details of Fisk’s criminal operations.” Foggy agreed.

“I can do it.” You offered. “I’m a solid agent. I’ve seen some stuff and heard more from Dex. I-“

“No.” Matt said quickly.

“I’ve got nothing to lose.” You ignored him.

“Matt’s right.” Foggy said gently. “You said it yourself, Y/N/N. Fisk blew your credibility when he outed Matt and you went off on him.”

“Okay, but I can just-“

“He could just throw you under the bus and then anything you say won’t matter.” Matt interrupted. “An investigation will be launched into you and-“

“Okay, first, don’t sit there and act like you know my bureau.” You cut in. “Second of all, I can give the name of every compromised agent on that team. Throwing Ex around won’t mean shit. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“No.. No, we find someone who has everything to lose.”

“They all either worship him or are terrified of him. None of those agents wil-“ You started but the look on Matt’s face clued you in. “He has a wife and son, Matt. If you ask him to do this, you’re taking responsibility for them too.”

“I know… But I need you to come with me.”

You heard vague chatter through your implant, only picking up a few words.

En route… Nadeem… shoot to kill…

“We have to go.” You grabbed Matt. “We have to go, now!”

“What? Where?” He asked, though he didn’t hesitate to follow you.

“He’s going after Ray.”

Your friends called after you two until you were too far to hear them. You and Matt ran across the rooftops, hopped across alleys, climbed up fire escapes, and rolled through landings all the way across town until you got to Ray’s street. You pulled your mask up and tapped it on as you got closer.

“You go around back.” You told him quietly. “I’ll take the two out front.”

He nodded sharply before sprinting off. You pulled a knife from your belt and crept around the hastily parked car to see one of the agents on the porch. You hurried over and threw your shoulder into his back, throwing him against the side of the house.

He turned and raised his gun but you jammed your knife between the bones of his forearm, the tip poking through the other side. He screamed out and dropped the gun with a loud clatter. Keeping hold of the knife handle, you knelt down and twisted his arm over your head. He shouted in pain while you grabbed a staff with the opposite hand. You swung it to knock him to his back before jamming the exposed knife tip into the wood of the patio.

He turned to try and free himself but you spun to get your feet between you two. You kicked a foot forward and connected your heel with his nose, the impact rendering him unconscious as the blood streamed down. You knelt on his hand and yanked your knife out, barely tucking it away before the shots were fired over your head. Your arms came up instinctively and your head snapped to where the bullet came from behind you.

Two shots came from inside but the man dropped to the floor. You flicked a blade out of your staff and slid across the porch to be in front of the agent. His gun pointed down but you swiped the blade across his legs, causing him to buckle. You put your feet together and sat at the edge of the stairs before kicking your feet against the wound and his kneecaps, knocking him to the ground. He shakily raised his gun again so you flipped the staff in your hand and bounced it off the headlights of the SUV behind him. The butt end hit his hand as it was spinning back and the blade buried itself into the grass. You climbed down the stairs and pinned his arms with your knees.

As you charged both Bites, you alternated your punches. The man tried to flip you two over but you gripped his shirtfront and yanked him hard to throw him to the side. He kept rolling while you got to a kneel. Both wrists glowed a menacing red and you fired, landing two sharp shots - one to the base of his throat and the other to his forehead.

You hurried to your feet and grabbed your weapon from the lawn. You flicked the blade away and tucked it into place before trying to get the door open. When it didn’t open, you took a step back and threw your shoulder against it. The frame splintered but it didn’t budge. You pulled back to try again but you heard the lock click as it opened from the other side. Your hand had just reached your gun but you saw that it was Matt.

He motioned for you to be quiet as he stepped to the side. You entered quietly and he pointed to an agent creeping up the stairs. You connected a wire between your Bites and stuck your foot between the bars to use the edge of the step. You threw the wire around his neck and dropped with a twist, tightening the wire around his throat as you yanked him through the banister. You pulled your wrists apart and the wire retracted while Matt knocked the man unconscious.

You pressed yourself against the wall near the stairs and Matt stepped behind one of the pillars. He pulled apart the gun from the most recent takedown and tossed it aside while the next man came creeping through. Once he was passed the wall, you came out and kicked him in the side. He was thrown against the pillar and Matt came around from behind to knock his head against it. The man staggered away and you moved in, grabbing Matt’s hands.

He pulled back before leaning away slightly and spinning you, allowing you room to cartwheel your legs and knock both feet into the agent’s jaw, one after the other. He fell through the coffee table and you landed easily beside Matt as the last agent came and pointed his gun at you two.

You almost smiled before you threw a sharp roundhouse to knock the gun from his hand. The impact threw his arm to the side and when he spun slightly, he ran right into Nadeem. Ray used the end of his gun and knocked the agent out. You moved to talk to Ray but he pointed his gun at your chest.

Your hands went up in surrender as you stepped closer to Matt.

“Obviously we’re here to help you.” Matt said simply.

“I sold you out to Fisk.” Ray admitted, as if he wanted you and Matt to attack him.

“I know you didn’t want to.”

“But I did. So maybe you’re here because you want to be the one to kill me before Fisk gets around to it.”

“We’re here because we need your help.” You said, making sure to stick to your accent. “We can get your family somewhere safe, but you’ll need to trust us.”

“I can’t trust anybody.”

“I trust you.” You nodded. “You helped me save Karen Page tonight. I know you’re a good man, Agent Nadeem.”

Matt reached over and tapped your hand for your attention. Your gaze turned quickly and you saw his fingers give a subtle gesture to his mask.

“Ты уверен?” You asked quietly. You weren’t necessarily against the idea, but giving out your identity was always a shot in the dark. (Are you sure?)

“Ты ему доверяешь?” He replied in the same quiet tone. (You trust him?)

You nodded slightly and gave a small sigh. “После тебя, мальчик-дьявол.” (After you, Devil Boy.)

He gave a small smile as he pulled his mask off. You watched Ray’s expression, feeling the shock radiate off him like electricity. You thought of what you could say, but really, there was nothing. You wouldn’t apologize for keeping his secret because you always owed that to Matt first, no matter what the situation. You wouldn’t even apologize for who you were once your mask came down.

“Your turn.” Matt turned to you and you sighed once again.

You nodded and closed your eyes, slowly pushing your mask up to sit at the top of your head. You took a deep breath to brace yourself before opening your eyes and seeing Ray’s hurt expression. Your reveal shocked him more than Matt’s but he also seemed to feel betrayed.

Of course he did.

“I tried giving hints.” You spoke in your usual voice. “I think I even said she was right in front of you.”

“I didn’t think you meant literally.” Ray answered, his voice near a whisper.

All you could do was shrug.

“Now you know why Fisk wanted me..”

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derangederensimp · 2 years

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Uzui’s Fourth Wife: Chapter 9

Previous part | Masterlist

He couldn’t even bare to look at himself, any type of reflection he fled. His crow never returned to him that day it happened. He would’ve preferred death but that would’ve gotten you killed in the end. Riku took a form slightly different from what he looked like as a human. His hair still dark as the night his eyes instead of hazel burned a bright yellow with lines as pupils. Through his will, he maintained all his memories of being a human, but with those memories brought him pain. He would never allow you to see him again, he vowed to himself that he would never let you get close to him again.

But with Riku maintaining his awareness of who he was he held great malice against Muzan plotting a way to kill him. Muzan kept his distance from Riku even after turning him into a demon because he still feared he would hold onto his humanity. But Riku played the part, acting as though he didn’t remember a single thing. He wouldn’t hunt people tho, only eating the blood of animals but luckily Muzan didn’t keep and eye on him to know something was different.

Riku was ashamed, disgusted, and horrified of what he became. His parents would never see him again, his sisters would never see him again, and you, you’d never see him again either. Eventually you’d forget about him, live your life with Uzui to the end. At least that’s what he hoped for. His chest ached at the thought. Would he eventually forget your face? How beautiful you are and how angelic your voice was to him? He shut his eyes tight bringing his knees up to his chest rutting his face into his hands. “If I was just stronger I could’ve defeated Akaza. I could’ve went on as a demon slayer and kept her safe even from afar” Riku mumbled to himself.

“Oh Riku don’t bum around and cry. Fight me. We can train for eternity” Akaza said, crossing his arms.

“Lady Y/n you must rest. Lord Tengen said to not let you get up!” Naho whined pulling on your clothes to try and stop you from walking. Her feet dragging across the wood “Sumi! Kiyo! Help me. Her will power is too strong” Naho yelled. Sumi and Kiyo stood at the open doorway “lady y/n you will not get through us!” Sumi huffed, pointing at you.

“Girls, girls let her be. Some fresh air would do her good” Uzui lowly said, his head peeking around the corner as he held his hands behind his back. “First you say don’t let her go and now you're saying to let her go. Make up your mind!” Naho groaned, releasing you from her grip. “I appreciate you three tending to my wounds. I just want to go out and walk the estate” you smiled softly. “Now Uzui what do you have behind your back” you furrowed your brows.

He knew you hated surprises but he was hoping to leave these with you while you slept but he should’ve known you’d be up on your feet in no time. Pulling the bouquet of your favorite type of flowers from behind his back. Your cheeks flushed pink as he handed the flowers off to you. Taking a deep breath to smell them you smiled widely “Thank you, are you trying to butter me up for something” you raised a brow. “Me? Butter you up? No. Just thought you’d enjoy some flowers being stuck in this room.

He was trying to butter you up but only for the purpose of him needing to tell you what some of the demon slayers have gotten sight of. His stomach bubbled with anxiety, you were healing but how would you take the news that your lover turned into a demon. Even if you were supposed to marry Uzui soon that didn’t change your feelings for Riku and Uzui knew that. He wasn’t going to force or fight your feelings for him or fight your feelings for Riku away. He just hoped one day you’d love him the same way he loved you.

He bit his tongue at every opportunity to tell you what happened that night but every time he’d try to speak you’d look at him and smile and not wanting to see you break he held in what he needed to say.

You held onto his arm walking through the estate enjoying the scenery. Talking to one another trying to gain more of a friendship than anything. You asked about his life growing up, his siblings, how he met the other wives, and he asked you similar questions but truthfully already knowing the majority of the answers. Stopping at some low hanging trees you sat onto the grass. “I haven’t seen Riku’s crow spying on me in awhile. I hope everything is ok” you said aloud.

Uzui’s face twisting into a frown before he sat beside you. “I know I can't make you promise to not get upset but please do not run off. You are still healing” he spoke.

Your heart already sinking to your stomach as your chest tightened. Uzui grabbed your hand placing something cold into your palm. His hand hesitates to move off of yours. You stared at him but he looked away skidding his warm palms off yours. Looking down at your hand you saw Riku’s necklace, one that you recall he would never take off.

Pain ripping through your throat as your mind reeled for an answer “Where did you get this…? WHERE DID YOU GET THIS TENGEN?” Silence, he didn’t know where to start, your mind already putting the pieces together. Riku was really there that night, why couldn’t you remember it? Did you really lose that much blood? Why did you have his necklace that was passed down generation to generation? Your hand shook as tears threatened to stream down your cheeks.

Uzui sat there holding his hands together trying to gain the courage to talk. “Y/n, Riku gave it to you before he left. When you got taken his crow was still watching you and told him, I was too weak to protect you and put you into danger. Once he arrived we searched for you and when we finally did you were in a cave bleeding while a demon named Akaza made a wager. Riku becomes a demon and you get to live. Riku agreed to these terms and Akaza let him take you back to the butterfly estate before he had to return. Riku didn’t leave your side till the nurses patched you up and assured him you’d be fine. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop so I didn’t hear what he said to you while you slept but he rested his necklace onto your chest and then he left. There has been sighting of a new demon amongst the uppermoons..”

The last sentence ringing through your ears before your vision began to go blurry with tears.

The dreams or nightmares you’ve been having were true. It would always start off with you running through a dark area, getting hurt and Riku showing up. Each time he’d carry you back to your bed addressing your wounds before laying beside you pulling you into his arms, your nose filling up with his scent your chest heaving into relaxation knowing you were safe but then he’d tell you “it is time for me to go my love. Please stay safe and keep this safe for me okay?” Riku said, putting his necklace into your hand. A soft smiling across his lips before he peeked your forehead and stroking your cheek one last time. “Are you coming back?” You asked but no response as you watched him walk through the doorway. Your calls for him no longer reaching him.

“It’s been quite awhile since we’ve had an Alpin in our possession. You know your family is quite strong willed and regardless of my orders no other demon can go against they somehow always did. I hope with you I’ll break that.” Muzan said, tapping his foot on the floor as he stared Riku down.

“Such a stubborn bloodline” Akaza chimed in.

Riku kept his head down, there was no point in fighting. He knew regardless of his lineage he was still no match for Muzan, there was no point right now to go against him and with the threat still lingering if he tried anything they’d go after his family next. “Isn’t it a shame you can’t have your crow spy on that scum of a human you hold so dear” Akaza teased, making Riku snap his head to him.

“There we go” Akaza grumbled, getting into his fighting stance. Muzan just sat there resting his head into his hand watching Riku get onto his feet, his eyes glowing more and more yellow. Muzan watched bored as Riku and Akaza destroyed the remaining parts of the hideout. The thought lingering in his mind if he would finally achieve a blood art that his ancestors would always achieve. Muzan now just had to figure out how he could remove Riku’s humanity.

Your eyes felt heavy as you slowly blinked, Uzui held you close to his chest as he walked back to the estate. “You're awake, I’m glad. You need to apply a towel to your eyes when we arrive. His warmth was comforting as you drifted back into a daze.

Your mind going to a much simpler time. It was a rainy day making you stay in your room moping around from the gloomy feeling. The floorboards creaking the closer Riku walked towards you, his steps through the window were always too quiet till he approached you in hopes that he wouldn’t startle you. Picking your head up from your pillow a wide grin grew on your face as he sat beside you. “Why do glum? Isn’t the sound beautiful?” He said, closing his eyes to enjoy the rain some more. “I suppose it is” you said closing your eyes as well. The sound making you feel relaxed.

When you opened your eyes again he was laying beside you his face inches away from yours. Your heart began to race when his eyes opened and he stared right back at you. “Y/n, can you smile for me?” Riku asked, putting his hand onto your cheek his thumb rubbing in circles.

Your cheeks blushed as you softly smiled, he chuckled to himself before kissing your forehead. Spending the rest of the day beside you till it stopped raining and he’d leave out the window only to knock on the estates doors to ask your father if you were able to go out for food with him.

Your father would send your ladies to you to have you dress and they were surprised you were already ready. Riku couldn’t help but smile when he watched you exit the house, holding out his hand to you to grab. Helping you down the steps you waved off your father before you walked to the village.

All the older women of the village would gossip to one another saying things like “there goes the two love birds” “when will they marry?” Making Riku’s cheeks and yours turn a hue of pink.

Once he picked the place he would want to eat at he’d pull you into the building as quick as possible and telling you which foods were amazing that you had to try. By the end of the dinner you were stuffed and ready for a nap. Riku would pay the bill and the two of you would just talk till you worked off the food coma. He loved making you laugh and loved seeing you smile. Your laugh making him feel warm inside “how is everything she does is so cute” he’d think to himself.

A single tear running down your cheek as you cherished the memory of how he looked and scared of what he looked like now. How painful this must all be for him.

Wonderful thanks to @Noburrra_ and @sighcard on Twitter. I commissioned two of my friends to draw Riku for us! He looks so good.

#uzuisfourthwife #uzui’s fourth wife #uzui tengen fic #uzui tengen fluff #uzui tengen angst #demon slayer 18+#demon slayer fic #demon slayer uzui #oc x reader fluff #Oc x reader angst #reader x oc x tengen uzui #uzui x reader

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wkemeup · 3 years

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The Only Kindness

summary: In the early days of Bucky’s captivity in Hydra, the only comfort he knows is the kindhearted doctor assigned to mend his wounds. At least when he's with her, he knows he isn’t alone. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 9.7k warnings: torture, canon level violence, unwanted sexual advances, hydra's attempts to brainwash bucky, hella angst, a/n: this is meant to sit in the world of canon and what we know eventually happens to Bucky at Hydra sooo do with that what you will. I am genuinely really proud of this one so I hope you can forgive me for the pain I cause

The first thing Bucky remembered every morning when the sting of florescent lights woke him in a cold sweat was that the arm attached to his shoulder was not his own. The realization of it hurt worse than the day before; with unforgiving metal seared into his skin, leaving behind bubbled scars and a revolting, oozing smell.

It weighed him down, slumped on his spine, pulled at his neck, and he struggled to even push himself upright. Sitting upon the thin mattress laid amongst an otherwise baron room, Bucky supposed he might have preferred the floor if not for the dark red stain at the center of the concrete.

Then, the familiar clicking of locks echoed against the walls and Bucky gritted his teeth as a stout man with rounded features and an arrogant grin strolled into the room – no, the cell – alongside two men strapped with rifles.

He clutched to the solid metal of his arm as if holding it might take the pressure off his shoulder, might subside the pain as it spread through his veins, or stop the twitching in his cheek as he tried to stifle the pain, but it was no use. He held on anyway in favor of wrapping a hand around the scientist’s throat.

“Ah, good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” Zola greeted, though there was something unpleasant in his tone. A threat, perhaps. A taunt. It was always something of the sort.

Bucky could barely muster the energy to look the man in the eye, but as he did, it was hidden under a dark, loathing glare. He spat on the floor by Zola’s feet.

“Go to hell.”

Zola jumped back and brushed at the toe of his shoe. It was amusing, at least, to see the rage boil in the man’s chest; all red faced and round and steaming from the ears. Though Bucky’s triumph was shorted lived as Zola waved a single hand at the armed guards beside him.

They lunged forward and with heavy hands, clawed Bucky into their grip by his biceps. He met concrete within seconds; the red stain laid beneath him. His knees barely had time to heal from the day before and they stung as he struggled under the guards’ grasp, raw skin and blistering burns shielded by paper thin fabric.

His face was pushed down into the stone and for a strange moment there was relief; it was cool to the touch, a break from the feverish heat on his brow.

But then, while a guard pinched at the nape of Bucky’s neck, nearly choking the air straight out of him and the other jabbed a knee to his spine, he remembered there was no relief within Hydra.

“You have a long day ahead of you,” Zola announced, a smirk growing upon his face as Bucky let out a hollowed whine. It slipped past his lips before he could smother it down. He knew then that he had lost whatever game they were playing; the win-lose of a man in chains to his captors with scalpels in their hands and venom on their tongues.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the fall; since icy waters and plummeting down to a ravine he wished most nights had swallowed him whole. He didn’t know how many times he was cut open in an unsterilized room, thrown onto a rusting metal table and operated on with cheap anesthetic. He didn’t know how many times he was strapped into a chair that set fire to his veins and left him feeling numb and empty, how many times he felt a lingering sense of dread he couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t know much at all, really.

But he knew his name. He knew his serial number. He knew Steve would come for him like he did before. He knew he’d get through this. He had to. He didn’t have a choice.

“We have much to do,” Zola announced, admiring how Bucky’s face pressed down into the concrete, how the prickles in the stone scraped against his cheek and cut at his skin— pleased to see a man brought to his knees, bowing before the greatness of Hydra. It brought Zola a sense of pride whether the Sergeant resisted or not. He would give in soon enough.

The guards didn’t loosen their grip on Bucky’s arms as they yanked him back to his knees. They didn’t give him a chance to stand either before they started to drag him from the cell.

The grip on his right arm was sure to leave bruises behind, ones to accompany the mess of blue and purple coloring his skin, but it was the pain on his left that rendered him paralyzed. It felt like his arm was being ripped straight from his body, pulled at every nerve ending until they snapped. He could hardly move.

It wasn’t until Zola made a sharp left at the end of the hall that a familiar sense of dread dropped into Bucky’s stomach. Whether it was fear, panic, resilience, he wasn’t sure, but he started to fight back as they neared a dark red door with six locks running up the side.

“No,” he gaped, barely a whisper, but it caught Zola’s attention.

Bucky thrashed in the men’s grip, using his weight as leverage despite the searing pain in his shoulder and the blood trickling down his ribs from where metal fused to flesh. His heels dug into the concrete, trying to catch against the wall to slow them down, to stop what he knew was coming.

Zola merely smiled.

It was no use, and perhaps Bucky knew that from the start, but he couldn’t be strapped into that chair without a fight. He still didn’t know its purpose but he knew it brought him pain. It disoriented him, made him forget his own name and the monsters that chained him. It forced him to remember all over again that he was held prisoner, thousands of miles away from home, presumed dead, and he couldn’t -- he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Please,” Bucky gasped and it sounded foreign in his own voice – broken. He hated it. He despised how his voice cracked, how he fell to his knees in front of his captors and begged.

Zola grabbed a firm hold of Bucky's chin, stump fingers digging into his cheeks and demanding attention. As he pulled in closer, Bucky caught sight of something strange in the reflection of Zola’s glasses.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him; hair grown and wild, unkept beard on his face, dirt and blood covering most of his skin. Amongst the scratches in the glass and the clouds of dirt, the reflection of the man looked tired, with hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He wouldn’t survive if he tired.

Bucky slumped in the guards’ arms.

“That’s what I thought,” Zola jeered, a lingering chuckle etched into the trail of his voice. He waved a hand at the guards and Bucky was placed into the chair, all dead weight and positioned like a doll.

Thick, metal bars strapped down around Bucky’s wrists, his biceps, his ankles to hold him in place. He did his best to let go of himself, to find somewhere far beyond the walls of this room, away from the men who ripped him to pieces and broke him to the bare bones. He imagined something better, safer, where he was clean shaven and in fresh clothes, where Steve was waving from the end of the street and the war long behind them, but the dream was torn from him as soon as the panels clamped against his temples.

Electricity jolted through his system and his whole body tensed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

But he could scream.

It ripped through his lungs and he was certain he’d break straight through the mouth guard and shatter his teeth if they didn’t turn off the machine soon. The sound echoing through the room was strained, broken, and Bucky might have mistaken it for nails to a chalkboard if he didn’t feel the burn in the back of his throat.

He started to lose time, unsure if it was on for seconds or hours. It was blinding. It was all-consuming. It was swallowing him whole.

“Enough!” a voice broke through. A woman’s. It wasn’t one Bucky recognized.

“No, keep it on! He can take more.” Zola.

“Are you insane!” the voice shouted again. “You’ll kill him!”

Let them.

The thought startled Bucky but it slipped from him in the seconds it took to arrive; searing pain, white hot fire washing through every muscle down to his bones. His eyes began to flutter closed, a strange sort of emptiness pulling him under, a darkness he couldn’t place, and he welcomed the escape.

There was yelling again, though this time it was coming was across the room. The machine began to power down, the whirring sounds of electricity in his ears leaving him with a numbing silence. The dizziness took hold, the hollowness, and he was surprised to find a woman staring back at him, her hands wrapped around the lever that pulled him from the fire.

“What the hell are you doing!” Zola roared, accent thick and slurring his words together. He bounded forward, attempted to push past the woman but she held her ground, hands planted on her hips.

“I’m saving his life,” she grunted back, unfazed by Zola’s finger pointing up into her face. She swatted it away, ignoring the shock upon his rounded features. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? Let me do my damn job.” She glanced around the room, eyed the men with guns aimed at the ready, barrels trained in her direction. “Give me the room.”

“Not going to happen,” Zola snapped but quickly silenced as she shot him a glare that had him cower several steps in retreat. His cheeks were burned red.

The woman turned back to the man in the chair and he slumped limply in its clutches, her narrowed eyes centering on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She held up two fingers, eyeing him carefully before she slowly moved to press them against his throat.

He winced before she could even touch him, flinching at the air itself, and she paused, bringing her hand back to her chest. She gave him a minute to watch as she demonstrated what she was trying to do by pressing the tips of her fingers to her own neck.

She tried again and this time she held his stare; calming aura nestled between the vibrant shades in her eyes, a gentle kind of patience he didn’t expect, and he hardly noticed her fingertips against his skin as she felt for his pulse, feather light and paper thin. They were cool to the touch, a comfort in the burning heat of metal surrounding him and he caught himself before he could lean into her palm.

“His heart rate is through the roof,” she said tensely, turning back to Zola and withdrawing her hand. “Unless you want your multi-million-dollar project to go to waste, clear out before he has a goddamn heart attack.”

Zola eyed her suspiciously in what appeared to be a competition of wills. She straightened her back, arms folding over her chest, and she towered over the scientist’s small frame. He glared up at her and the fury was palatable on his face; upper lip twitching, eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists.

She held her ground.

“Fine,” Zola grumbled, waving a hand to the line of men behind him until they bring their weapons down to their sides. “Give the doctor the room.”

As if she were waiting for the men to leave, she exhaled a breath like she had been holding it for quite some time. When she let her hands come back to her sides, puncture marks were left in her palms.

“I’m leaving a man behind for your safety,” Zola threw over his shoulder at he reached the door, almost like a threat.

She swallowed; jaw clenched. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe not today, but it will be.”

Then, he was gone.

The door locked shut behind him and a single guard remained by the door, positioned with his finger on the trigger.

“Finally,” she exhaled, turning back with a gentle smile on her face that felt almost unsettling to be in such a cold and unforgiving place. “Can you tell me your name, soldier?”

“Uhh,” was all that left his lips and he hardly recognized his own voice. He searched in the back of his head for the answer, felt it on the tip of his tongue, and still… nothing. He glanced back up at her with clenched teeth because he knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

But instead of a harsh hand to the side of his face or the blunt edge of a weapon to his crown, she nodded, offered him a sad sort of smile, and simply said, “that’s alright.”

She glanced down at the clamps restraining him to the chair. His skin was raw underneath, bleeding a little, and she frowned. It crinkled up into her forehead, pursed out at her lips, and he decided he liked it much better when she smiled.

“Your name is Sergeant James Barnes,” she said fondly and it sounded familiar as she said it, but it still felt distant— wrong in some way. She seemed to notice the contemplation on his face. “It’ll come back to you soon. Might take longer than the last time, but it will. They haven’t perfected the science of the chair yet, it seems.”

There was a resentment laced into her words as she glared back at the armed man standing guard with disgust. She softened as she turned back to face the man she called James. It was within that moment the anger washed from her features, a kindness replacing the hatred, and she ran her fingers on the edge of the chair before she pulled away.

“I’m going to undo these, okay?” she told him and he was surprised that she waited for his nod before adjusting the mechanics on the machine until the metal snapped open and a rush of cold air swept against the blistering skin. He hissed at the sting of it.

“Come,” she requested, gesturing to the examination table in the corner of the room. “Let’s get you out of this thing, huh?”

He was thankful for that. He couldn’t stand the sharp edges anymore or the blistering heat of the arm rests. Her touch was so gentle he wondered if it could push right through him as she bent down to help tug his right arm over her shoulders.

Just as she nearly had him positioned well enough to get him to his feet, the guard standing in the corner of the room stepped forward, gun raised.

“I wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Let me work.”

“He’s dangerous,” the guard grunted back.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” she argued. There wasn’t a trace of hesitancy in her voice, even as she turned to the man hanging off her arms. “Are you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He shook his head.

“See?” she gestured. “Now leave us be.”

The guard stepped back, lowered his weapon, and she smiled.

“Alright then, James,” she started, “think you can help me get you to that table over there? I know you’ve lost some muscle mass but you’re still pretty heavy.”

A short ghost of a laugh escape as he let himself lean on her shoulder, allowing her to guide him towards the table. It surprised him as it left his chest, the feeling of laughter, because he hadn’t so much as smiled since the fall. It hurt, almost. But it was a nice kind of hurt.

She helped him sit on the table, just high enough to give her decent leverage, and he spotted a bag filled with what appear to be medical supplies. It contained with what he would expect; a stethoscope, bandages, depressors, but there were also needles, and shiny metal tools that made him clench his hands around the lip of the table.

“I’m a doctor,” she said, noticing his stare. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Zola’s a doctor,” he muttered back feebly, sharp images of lying awake on a cold, metal table much like the one he currently sat upon plagued his mind, memories of scalpels in his shoulder and needles in his arms.

She nodded, contemplating what he said before she frowned and countered, “Zola’s a mad scientist with a God complex.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It broke a little, but it remained.

“You can call me Y/n if you like,” she said as she began digging through her bag. She found the stethoscope and placed the ends in her ears. “I’m going to press this to your chest, alright? It might be a little cold.”

She exhaled a breath on the side of it for a moment to try and warm it, rubbing it with the palm of her hand. He was mesmerized by the small details; how she positioned herself strategically between him and the armed guard behind her, how she told him exactly what she was doing before she did it, how she gave him time to prepare, how she hadn’t once touched him without asking first.

He didn’t understand her or why she was here, but he was thankful.

He nodded at her and she leaned in closer, pressing the piece to his sternum. It had a slight chill to it but he could still feel the warmth left behind from her breath. He took a deep breath in as she instructed. She took her time, slowly moving to his ribs, and then his back. He took more deep breaths, felt the pulsing of his heart steady under her touch.

“Looks good all things considering,” she told him. Her eyes drifted to the burn marks on his right wrist, fingers ghosting over the reddened marks and her lips tug down into a frown. She masked it as she faced him again, pushing out a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Might as well attend to this, too, don’t you think?”

Yeah, might as well.

He offered her his hand.

He sat quietly while she worked, listening to her hum softly under her breath. She was impossibly gentle with him, so delicate he could hardly feel it until it was gone. Her hands were a little cold but he found them soothing against the burns. The alcohol she placed on the wound stung, made him grit his teeth and grip to the table’s edge, but she moved quickly, wincing at the way he sucked in a harsh breath as if his pain meant something to her.

When she was finished, she wrapped his wrist with a bandage from her bag and gently tapped on his knee.

“Not a lot my patients would have sat still through that without some kind of numbing agent,” she grinned, praise in her voice, smile on her lips, and it sent a flutter through his chest. “You did good, James.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he’d known worse, that the pain of alcohol to his wounds was nothing in comparison to the mutilation on his arm or the electricity of the chair. So, he focused on something else, a distant memory edging its way back to the surface, something that didn’t lie within the pages of Hydra’s files.

“Bucky,” he choked out, voice a little dry. She raised an eyebrow. “My name… it’s Bucky.”

She smiled at that.

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing it on her lips, “it’s nice to meet you.”

***

It wasn’t the last time he saw Y/n.

No, he found himself under her care more days than not. It was a simple system, it seemed. Hydra would do its best to break Bucky to pieces and they’d send in Y/n to stitch him back up; glue him together with needle and thread or scotch tape and paper mâché. She did her best to heal him and while she could not cure every wound on his body, she gave him something he didn’t have before – something to look forward to.

A kind smile. A gentle hand. A voice so soft it nestled deep into his chest and warmed the hollow ache that had made a home by his heart.

Even through the pain, through the chair, through the long hours he spent overworked in a boxing ring, he knew she’d be waiting on the other side. It didn’t hurt as much when he thought of her, he realized – the only kindness he knew within Hydra.

They hadn’t attempted to use the chair on him in a while and for that he was grateful. To save him from the pain of the electricity and the emptiness that followed, but lately, to allow him to hold onto her memory. He didn’t want to forget her name, her kindness, her light within the darkest corners of hell.

He only ever saw her in short glimpses, brief moments when the guards pushed the boundaries too far and cracked open a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding or dislocated his arm again or fractured another bone. They’d drag her into his room, rough hands on her wrists that made a knot form deep into Bucky’s stomach, and give her minutes to work before they hulled her away.

He healed quickly, he came to find. Certainly faster than he should. Maybe in another world he would have been pleased with this. A perfect soldier. Always ready for battle.

In this world, it meant shorter recovery between trainings. It meant pushing him beyond his limits and testing the extent of his newfound abilities. It meant few and distant meetings with the kind doctor whose smile made it impossibly difficult to despise every last ounce within Hydra.

***

A few weeks since their first meeting, Bucky found himself dragged by his wrists on a familiar path into what looked like a room much like his own, only there were a few small comforts inside; a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a series of books piled on a small dresser.

Y/n jumped up from the desk, pen falling to the concrete as she stared back at the guards, agape. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

They dropped Bucky to the ground, his own arms too weak to hold himself up, and felt the harsh crack of concrete to his jawline. Blood dripped down into his eyes, clouding his vision with crimson pools of red, but he could hear the quick patter of your bare feet as you slid down to the floor beside him, shooing away the guards.

Hands ghosted over his shoulders before you paused, watching the way he sighed into the cool embrace of concrete. She glared back up at the guards, waiting on their answer.

“He’s weak,” one of the guards spat, thick accent spewing down to land on Bucky’s bare skin. “The fist of Hydra is an embarrassment. He crumbles under pressure. He needs to be pushed, to be taught what he is.”

Bucky couldn’t quite register the way her hands curled up into fists or how a harsh exhale burned deep in her chest, but she swallowed it the best she could as she muttered, “get out.”

A toe nudged at Bucky’s leg – one of the guards behind him – and he groaned as it dug into a dark purple bruise from the days before.

“You’ve done enough,” she pressed again, swatting away his leg as he tried to push Bucky over to his back to see his good work. "Now leave.”

“You don’t give us orders, princess,” the other guard smirked, yellowed teeth bared.

“We’ll be back for him soon,” the first one said, nudging his friend to stand down. “Make sure he’s ready to go again tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and within the echo, Bucky felt the cool touch of a breeze nestle against his skin. It was a relief, as kind as the concrete, that sat in sharp contrast to the burning heat on his skin.

“Are you alright, Sergeant Barnes?” an angelic voice called. It sounded muffled, and a bit distant, but it was one he recognized.

He nodded slowly, though the concrete scratched at his skin.

“You don’t look alright,” she countered, a touch of lightness in her tone and it came as a welcomed relief.

“You kidding? I look great,” Bucky teased, half muffled by the ground. She laughed, pressing a hand over her lips, and Bucky swore for the smallest of moments that all the pain had washed from his body completely.

He could hear her riffling around the room, gathering supplies and laying a blanket down by his side, then a pillow. She was talking to herself, words he couldn’t quite hear or understand, but they were a comfort nonetheless.

"Still with me Sergeant Barnes?"

“Bucky,” he grumbled, just as she came down to kneel beside him again. “S’my name, remember? I’m supposed to be the one with the memory problems here.”

There came that laugh again, though she tried to suppress it. “That’s not very funny, Bucky.”

“Give me an ounce of humor here, doll,” Bucky smirked. It ached in his lips where the split tore through, burned in his cheeks from the swelling on his face, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often he had much reason to smile these days. She seemed to bring it out of him.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “Think you can turn onto your back? I’ve got some cushioning here for you. I’m sorry I can’t lift you to the bed.”

“Nah, this is perfect.”

Bucky summoned as much strength as his body could muster as he pushed down into the concrete with his right hand. He started to shake as pressure burned into his left shoulder and he gritted his teeth, face contorting in a wash of pain as his smirk faded away in an instant.

She must have noticed because her hands slipped gently onto his right bicep, gently easing him to turn over the metal shoulder and lay onto his back. Her touch was so feather light, he questioned for a moment if it was even there at all, but then he felt a soft squeeze, the cool press of her palms, and he sighed.

Her hands were the only ones who did not mean him harm. She healed. She nurtured. She cared.

“What are they doing to you...”

Her voice was hardly a whisper, the shock on her face evident enough of the damage on his own. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, but he knew it was bad. It hurt to speak, hurt to even part his lips, and his vision was tunneled and dark, cast over in shadows, and somehow, she was still clear as day.

“Dunno,” he responded, recognizing the slur in his voice. “Training me for something, I think.”

She stilled; muscles rigid as she reached into her bag for something to bandage his wounds. He could see the contemplation on her face, the worry, but she swallowed it back, pushed out that gentle, reassuring smile he’d come to rely on and began to work on the cut along his cheekbone.

“It can’t be anything good, Bucky,” she said quietly, eyes flickering to the door as if she were worried about what laid on the other side. He knew the feeling well.

***

He forgot her for the first time a few days later.

The scars were starting to heal; the gashes open on his face just days before nothing but a thin discoloration on his skin. He knew the look on Zola’s face as he emerged in his cell that morning - smug and grim, eager to wipe away the decorated prisoner of war and turn him into something empty and broken. The smirk that crept up his face was unsettling, jarring, as it crinkled lined into his forehead and a vile look in his eye.

They slammed him down into the chair, locked the restraints into place, and he only spotted her rush into the room as the machine powered on. The horror in her eyes as she met his, the quick transition to rage as she turned to Zola, and the pain took over until it consumed him whole.

He lost some time because the next thing he knew, he was sitting on a metal table and the room had emptied, save for a single guard standing in the corner over the shoulder of a beautiful woman who eased a soothing gel onto the burns on his wrist.

He studied her as she worked, quietly humming to herself, telling him what she was doing before she dared to touch him in a voice so gentle it startled him. It was familiar, he realized, the delicate intricacies of her tone, the warmth in his chest when she touched him. He wasn’t afraid of her like he was the others. He didn’t flinch under her touch.

“Your heart rate is still pretty high,” she noted, her fingers pressed to the inside of his right wrist. “Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

She embellished her own, chest rising high as she inhaled, air blowing out from her mouth in the exhale. She nodded for him, something encouraging and kind, until he followed suit. But even through the tender smile upon her lips there was a sadness there, a disappointment, and it hurt him deep into his chest.

“I know you, don’t I?” he finally said after he mimicked a few of the breaths as she requested.

She smiled at that and he felt an instant relief. Something warm and gentle. Kind.

He narrowed his eyes upon the slight curve of her lips, drawing up to her eyes where he was met with a linger sense of calm, of peace, of reprieve. “Why don’t I remember you?”

She sighed, a cautious glance back at the guard behind her who seemed to be watching with the intent to overhear. Her eyes were downcast, a nervous brush of her tongue over her lower lip, and she pushed out a smile for him.

“You will, Bucky.”

He hoped that were true.

***

Bucky was barely tied together with string and tape, broken and bleeding and covered in bruises, and yet, a smile etched onto his broken lips as he turned to find Y/n stumbling into his cell. She shrugged off the grip of a guard with an aggravated huff before he slammed the door closed behind her.

She was no longer shocked by the state in which she often saw him. His accelerated healing made the brutal look of his mutilation a bit easier to swallow he supposed or perhaps he was getting used to it. It was like a mask he’d come to wear, fading in and out depending on the day, but always present. It didn’t seem to lessen the pain in her eyes as she sat down beside him, extending a hand towards his face to touch gently at the markings.

“I hate that they keep doing this to you,” she said softly, though there was a rage nestled into the crook of her tone. She shook her head, a tense breath exhaled as she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few swabs of gauze and alcohol wipes.

“M’alright,” Bucky slurred and it didn’t seem to help his case.

“They’re monsters.” Y/n dabbed at the gash on his forehead as gingerly as she could manage. Bucky didn’t mind the sting of it, not when she was touching him so tenderly, like she was handling something precious.

He’d figured out a while ago that she was just as much a part of Hydra as he was. He never dared to ask, but he’d seen the way she looked at Zola, how she despised him as an enemy. He’d seen the clothes she wore and how they were tattered on the seams, how they discolored with use, how she'd wear them over and over again while the men in the room wore pristine lab coats and freshly laundered suits. He’d seen the dark circles under her eyes, the knots in her hair, the way her collarbone began to protrude the longer he knew her.

She was a prisoner of Hydra, too.

“They’re monsters,” Y/n repeated, tears burning in her eyes and it warped deep into Bucky’s gut. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away. He wanted to make her smile again because she’d been nothing but a light for him and now, she was flickering and fading and he was certain it would destroy him completely until she uttered, “and... and so am I,” and his whole world fell apart.

“No,” Bucky shot back almost instantly. “Don’t say that. You’re not one of them.”

“I might as well be,” she said, brushing at the tears as they spilled down her cheeks. “I’m still complicit in what they’re doing to you – whatever that is. I’m still helping them.”

“They’d kill you,” Bucky argued. “They’d kill you if you tried to resist.”

“They’re practically killing you now! How is that any better?” She pressed her palms to her face, shielding herself from him and Bucky slid down onto the floor, kneeling on the concrete in front of her, and gently rested his hands on her knees. She struggled to catch her breath between the sobs. “I keep fixing you up just to send you back out there and—and—Bucky, I feel like I’m handing you over to slaughter and I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Stop, please,” Bucky begged. He could feel the splinter nestle into his heart, cracking at the edges as it tore a sliver down the center. It burned and ached and threatened to rip him to pieces worse than the foreign metal on his arm, worse than the guards on the other side of the door, worse than the chair that stole his name and his memories, because the woman who saved his life over and over again was crying and he simply couldn’t take it.

“Look at me,” he eased, drawing his hands up her thighs, along her arms, until he met her hands resting against her face. Gently, he pried his fingers under her palms and when he was met without resistance, he pulled them away from her face. “You are the only shred of good within this place. You are the only kindness I’ve known since they threw me on that table and remade me. You are the only thing keeping me going when they’re beating me within an inch of my life, the only thing I want to remember when they try to take away everything I know. Please, don’t think for a second that you’re one of them. You’re saving me, Y/n.”

Bucky wondered for a moment if he said too much as her lips parted into shock, her eyes staring at him shocked and wide. Her breaths were coming in slow and steady as she watched him, almost as if she were waiting for him to recant, but he held his ground.

“You are good, Y/n,” Bucky continued. He squeezed her hand in his right, letting his left fall down to his side to shield her from the evil from which it was born. “You're the reason I keep coming back.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” she exhaled, voice so low, so shaken, he could barely hear it. She squeezed his hand back. “I’m scared of what they're going to do to you.”

“I’ll have you, won’t I?” he smiled, because it was all he had left. There were no guarantees, no promises he could make to ease her fears. “As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m okay.”

He just wanted her to smile again, to be the woman who fought against Zola in a crowded room of armed Hydra agents and won, who was fearless in the face of evil, and gentle and kind in her touch.

Bucky realized that the more time he spent with her, the more she’d grown to care for him, the more he’d found himself missing her— the more dangerous they were to one another. If Hydra knew...

“You have me,” she said suddenly, a stroke of confidence returning to her voice, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the door and the men that laid beyond it. Bucky met her eye and she raised a palm to his cheek, slow and steady, always giving him the time to prepare before she touched him even when it wasn’t necessary, even after he’d grown to trust her above anyone else. She cupped the side of his face, smiling sweetly for him, sadly, as she said, “as long as they’ll let me, Bucky. You’re not alone. You’ll have me.”

Her thumb traced over old scars she’d mended, over raised edges and dried blood from the mess left behind by the dozen Hydra agents he’d met earlier that day. The tenderness within her touch was unlike anything he knew how to quantify. It sat in such contrast to the hands of men who battered and beat him within an inch of his life, to the torture of the chair, to the scalpel in the hands of mad scientists with god complexes.

There was something in her touch. Something that felt a lot like love.

Bucky found himself leaning in closer, wanting to close the space between them because any space at all was simply too much. He wanted to engulf her into his arms, protect her from the evils that waited for them outside these walls, take her away to somewhere warm and safe, somewhere she didn’t have to check over her shoulder when she smiled. It terrified him how badly he wanted it because he knew there were no fantasies in Hydra, no dreams, no happy endings. He knew it would be taken from him eventually, she would be taken from him, but it didn’t stop him from clinging on as tight as he could.

His lips touched hers, broken and splintered, and still, beautiful. He could taste the salty tang of her tears against her lips, her fingers curling around his long, unkempt hair and twisting along his scalp, breathing him in. There was a sanctuary within her arms, under her touch, that seemed impossible within these walls, and yet, here she was.

Tangible. Real. Kissing him as if he could be ripped from her at any second.

And he was.

The door swung open and Bucky jolted away from her. Y/n jumped back against the bed frame, her head hitting the cement wall.

In the frame of the door stood a guard Bucky had become familiar with; blonde, broad, reminded him a bit of Steve if it weren’t for the cold, dead look in his eyes. The burn mark across his jawline helped to obstructed the similarities.

The guard’s eyes lingered a little longer on Y/n, focusing on the quick rise and fall of her chest, the slight swell in her lips, the mess in her hair, before he gritted his teeth and turned to Bucky.

“Times up, Soldat,” he grunted, wasting no time as he pulled a wand from his belt, flipped a switch at the end, and burned the jolts of electricity into Bucky’s side. He barely registered the desperate crack in Y/n’s voice as she begged for the guard to stop.

Then – darkness.

***

“We need to be more careful.”

“They’ll find out how I feel for you and they'll hurt you.”

“I can’t lose you, Bucky.”

He couldn’t get the words out of his head. Familiar voices: a man’s and a woman’s. He’d heard them spoken aloud; of that he was certain. But they were distant, far away, as if he’d heard them uttered on a film screen in passing. They couldn’t be his own memories. He was a blank slate. He was empty.

A woman stood across from him, approaching him slowly as the machine powered down. It was loud in his ears, echoing enough to pulse tremors into the back of his head. He didn’t dare show an ounce of the pain he felt. He’d come to know the consequences of that, even if he couldn’t quite remember what they were.

“I’m going to help you to the table, alright?” the woman said, gesturing to the metal desk to her left. There it was again— that familiarity.

She smiled kindly at him, as if looking into the face of a man she knew, but he did not know her. She must have sensed his hesitancy because she held up her hands out for him to see.

“I just want to examine you. Make sure you’re okay. Can I do that?”

He narrowed his eyes on the woman, listening intently to her heartbeat. It was a strange sound, one he shouldn’t be privileged to hear, but he found the skill useful. He could listen for the inflections in the rhythm, pulse points and skips that told him when a person was lying.

Hers was steady. Even. He nodded.

He was surprised at how easily he allowed her to guide him to the table, how he didn’t question as he let her place a hand on his inner wrist to check his pulse, how he didn’t flinch when she approached the scars on his shoulder. It was like he knew the routine, understood the subtle intricacies in her gestures warning him of what she was about to do before she even laid a hand on him.

A relief was evident in his muscles. He felt a calmness wash over him the longer she stood at his side, recording his vitals, running a hand soothingly along his arm. It seemed personal, the way she touched him, like she was preserving something – or guiding something home.

He wanted to ask her name, why she was treating him so kindly when all he knew within these walls was the cruelty of violent men, when the guard who stood at the back corner of the room cleared his throat.

“You almost done, sweetheart?” The guard spat the pet name like an insult and the kind woman standing beside the Soldier flinched. She tensed quickly after that, mustering out a brave face as she turned back to the armed guard defiantly.

“I’ll be done when I’m done, Bronski.”

The Soldier wanted to smile, though he wasn’t sure why. A swell of pride beamed in his chest as Bronski’s smirk dissipated, replaced with something colder, darker; a bruise to his ego. The woman turned back to the Soldier, exhaled a heavy breath and offered him a short smile; calming, reassuring. The edges of his lips started to curve in response until –

Bronski crossed the room in four long strides, grabbed a tight hold of her arm and yanked her swiftly away from the Soldier. She collided against his chest, caged against him under the firm hold of his grip.

“You think you can mouth off to me, bitch?” Bronski sneered, shoving her against the desks at the far side of the room. Viles of serums and chemicals spilled over at the impact, glass shattering, and the Soldier began to stand from his position across the room, his hand curling into fists.

“Stop looking at him! He’s not going to help you,” Bronski taunted as her eyes flashed back at the Soldier, pleading at some unknown force he couldn’t quite understand, though he listened to its call. Bronski towered over her, easily overpowering her frame, and pinned her to the wall.

The Soldier took another step forward, another inch closer to what he was sure were near fatal consequences, but there was a voice screaming in the back of his head, an instinct he couldn’t drown out, a desperate need to protect a woman he didn’t know.

“You think we didn’t notice, huh?” Bronski growled, his hand sliding down her side, tracing over the curves at her waist and the Soldier felt a sudden twist in his stomach, a dead weight sinking him into the ground at the sight. “You think we can’t tell you got it hot for the asset? He’s weak. Pathetic. Why don’t you try being with a real man instead? I’ll show you a good time, princess...”

Her eyes were on the Soldier, holding his gaze though she was shaking; trembling and afraid. He didn’t like that.

“Get away from her.”

Bronski froze. He managed a slow glance over his shoulder to find the Soldier standing just a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides, fuming as his eyes flickered between the Hydra agent and the woman he held pinned to the wall.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Soldat,” Bronski spat back.

But the Soldier did not move.

“Get away from her,” he repeated, his voice low, mechanical. He could feel the rush of adrenaline building in his veins, the chaos of the rapid thumping of his pulse. He wasn’t used to such reactions, such intensity, when all he’d come to know was a crippling emptiness. It was unpleasant.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bronski taunted, a sick smirk upon his face. He dismissed the Soldier, didn’t dare to think he’d disobey direct orders, and turned back to the woman.

She tried to slither out of his hold, but his grip on her wrists was so tight his nails had dug puncture marks into her skin. She was shaking, tears burning into reflective lenses over the gentle hue of her eyes; kind eyes that should not bare such a weight.

Bronski leaned in closer, his mouth pressing against her neck, her whole body stiffening at the touch, and the Soldier snapped.

He rushed at them, his left hand clamping down around Bronski’s neck until he started to gag. Bronski released her wrists, allowing her to sink to the floor in a fallen heap. Bronski scratched at the hand at his neck, gasping for air as his skin turned bright red, then blue, but he was only met with metal. It could not feel. It could only maim.

There was a rage storming inside the Soldier, a mission he’d assigned for himself, as he threw Bronski across the room. It didn’t take much effort. The Soldier was stronger than most men. They underestimated him, believed him to be feeble and weak because he was submissive. But not now. Not when they threatened her.

“Soldat!” Bronski choked out, his voice damaged. Broken windpipe. The Soldier smiled.

Slowly, he took a knee at Bronski’s side, grabbed a firm hold of his collar for leverage, and barreled the closed end of his fist into the man’s face until he could no longer see the smirk that had pressed upon his mouth as he dared to touch his girl. He didn’t stop until Bronski was no longer begging, until he was silent, and blood caked between the panels of metal in his fist, until he heard a voice calling behind him—

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze. There was that name again...

He blinked a few times, a sharp piercing in the back of his head painful enough to obscure his vision and he dropped Bronski from his hold. A hand slid down over his shoulders, guiding him away from the body on the floor. It was that same familiar touch; one he knew well.

“Bucky, look at me.”

He did.

Her hand pressed sweetly to the side of his face, like she was trying to memorize him. He leaned into the touch, something he was sure he hadn’t done in years, and yet, within her arms it felt like the most natural thing in the world, like maybe he’d done it a dozen times before.

When he met her eyes again, he understood why.

“Y/n?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms. She molded so perfectly against him, his healer, his savior. Bucky knew they wouldn’t have much time before the Hydra infantry arrived and discovered what he’d done. He didn’t dare spare a glance back at the body on the ground.

“Y/n... I—”

The doors swung open, slamming in echoing shocks against the walls, and chaos ensued. Swarms of armed Hydra agents ascended into the room and tore Y/n from his arms, separating them as they restrained Bucky back into the chair. It was the only thing that could hold him.

“Leave her alone!” Bucky roared, that same rage returning to him in fire as two guards pinned Y/n’s arms behind her back, holding her steady as she desperately fought against their hold. “Get your hands off of her!”

Zola appeared at the frame of the door, eyes narrowing on Bucky. The room fell silent.

“Impossible.” He followed Bucky’s eyes to where the guards were restraining Y/n. “The programming should not have failed so soon after he was wiped. How?”

“He’s got a crush on the doc, sir,” one of the guards reported snidely. Bucky recognized him from the many trips he spent dragged along the hallways smearing blood into the concrete before he was dropped off at Y/n’s door.

“Interesting.” Zola crossed the room, hands grasped behind his back as he paced. His eyes fell on Y/n, studying her. “And is it... mutual?”

She didn’t respond, though when her tear-filled eyes flashed over to Bucky, he had his answer.

“Wipe him,” Zola ordered.

The machine started to power up and Bucky found himself fighting against the restraints though he knew it would do no use. Tears were openly streaming down Y/n’s face as she watched him, his name on her lips as she desperately tried to break the guard’s hold on her.

Zola seemed unbothered by the scene. If anything, he was amused, like he was watching lab rats in a cage. “Separate them. I don’t want her interfering with his programming again. We’ll make use of her when the time is right.”

Bucky tried to call her name, but the electricity had already taken hold, submerging him into the darkness.

***

The Soldier was used to his routine. Breakfast at dawn. Then training. Dinner at sundown. Sleep. It was reliable. Simple. The Soldier found a peace in that.

It had been months since he’d seen anyone outside of the two guards at his cell, the parade of uncontrollable human experiments, and the short, stout scientist. It was better this way, they told him. Less stimulation. He was important, meant for incredible things to better humanity. They needed him focused and alert.

He had little room for anything else. Focus on the mission at hand. Complete the task. Reward will follow.

Something as trivial as memories got in the way of that. The Soldier could not afford such a distraction. He was not tied down by a name or a family, by relationships or desires. He was a weapon. Made to be used. He was not capable of more.

“I want to have you looked over before we send you out for your mission today, Soldat,” the scientist said as he examined the Soldier from across the room. The man carried power within Hydra but he was small, cowardly, and he would not dare enter a room with the Soldier without a guard in place. He gestured to the door and the guard with a thick burn down his jaw moved towards it. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad. He seemed vaguely familiar, though it felt distasteful in his mouth.

A woman was pushed through the doors and into the baron room. She shook off the grip of a Hydra agent with a grunt before she realized where she was. Her eyes fell on the Soldier and he expected her to cower in fear; they all did upon seeing him. Word traveled fast of what he was capable of. And yet –

There was relief in her shoulders, a sigh. She almost smiled before Zola turned in her direction and she pushed it away into a tight frown. The Soldier narrowed his eyes.

“Get to work, Doctor,” he ordered, though it sounded more like a warning.

She nodded, stepping in closer to the Soldier though she was hesitant in her movements. She wore dark circles under her eyes, a redness within the whites. Her clothes were old, torn a little at the edges, and dirty with use. But still, she offered a kind smile as she approached.

“How are you feeling?”

The Soldier didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever bothered with his answer. He stayed silent.

“You can talk freely,” she encouraged gently as she approached his bedside. He sat on the edge of the cot, tension burning through his body as it always did when he wasn’t alone. One word out of turn resulted in punishment. He knew well enough not to tempt it.

She seemed to understand he would not fall into the trap, and she nodded in acceptance.

“I’m going to take your vitals, alright? I’ll start with your heart rate.” She held up two fingers, gesturing as she pressed them against her own neck. Seemed harmless enough, though he suspected he didn’t have much of a choice anyway. It was strange she acted as if he did.

Regardless, the Soldier nodded.

As she touched him, something seemed to break. She clenched her jaw tightly, trying to focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, but he could hear the distress in her own. Quick, pounding, uneven, and she pulled her fingers away before he questioned the slight tremble in her touch.

He wanted to ask if she were alright because something about seeing her upset was unpleasant for him. She wanted to say something, that much he could tell, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re here for a reason, Doctor,” Zola taunted from his position in the corner of the room. The woman flinched though she kept her back to him. Her eyes flickered to the Soldier as if he were an anchor. Zola smirked. “Go on. Test our programming. Why else do you think we kept you around?”

Then, he exited the room. The guard followed behind him until the Soldier was alone with the woman.

She swallowed; eyes cast down as if she were afraid to speak. For a while, she continued to take his vitals – checking his blood pressure, his eye movement, examining the mess of scars on his shoulder as they attempted to heal. All the while, so impossibly gentle, so kind in her touch, that he started to wonder if he’d felt it before.

When she was finished, she took a step back. It was only then that the Soldier noticed the reflective marks on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Why did the thought alone make his stomach twist into knots painful enough to nauseate him?

“Bucky?”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. She reached out for his hand, though she stopped herself before she could touch him. It seemed agonizing; the restraint visible on her features.

“Bucky, please tell me there’s still a of piece of you in there,” she begged. He found himself wanting to lie, to pretend to be this man she craved, just to make her happy. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why it bothered him to see her cry. She was a stranger.

“You don’t recognize me at all, do you?” Her voice was so small, so broken. She was never afraid of him, he realized. No – it seemed she was more afraid of his answer. He did not respond. He didn’t know how.

She nodded, clenching her jaw as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and the Soldier managed to break the heart of a woman he didn’t know. Another casualty in his wake.

“Excellent,” Zola sneered, appearing back in the doorway. The doctor took a step back and it surprised the Soldier when the space between them felt like an assault. Zola grinned as he moved closer to the woman. “Hydra thanks you for your service.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, just before she landed a closed fist against the bridge of the scientist’s nose.

The Soldier flinched, stunned by the woman’s brazen as she stared into the face of the mad scientist. The tears hadn’t yet dried and still – she was fearless. Zola laughed as the blood dripped down into his mouth. A guard wrapped a vicious hold around her wrist, beginning to drag her out of the room, but she turned back to the Soldier.

“Don’t give into them, Bucky! You have to fight this! You’re good, do you hear me? You’re not one of them!”

Her voice echoed in the room even as she was shoved through the door and down the hall. He listened for the last remaining vibrations of her voice, of her struggling, until it was silent. He wondered about this man she referred to, why she thought he was worth fighting for. He thought about whether he was the man she spoke of.

“Distractions, Soldat.” Zola tsked. “You are magnificent. You are the fist of Hydra. Do you understand?”

He nodded. It pleased the scientist.

Zola explained the mission he was about to embark on at dawn. He listened to the instructions, the details, the purpose – all the while wondering about what became of the kind doctor who called him by a name he didn’t recognize.

Then, when he was finished, the scientist left and the Soldier was alone— just as he always had been.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff

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transias · 3 years

Text

The Two Of Us.

Request: Hey can I request a ajak x reader where reader is a flyer but gets shot out of the sky and really injured but they can’t find them so they all go looking and makkari finds them and then speeds to ajak to bring her to reader and reader is like really injured so ajak is really worried and heals them and then when they go home they cuddle all evening. Also I absolutely love your writing keep up the good work.

Pairings: Ajak x (Gender Neutral) Eternal!Reader

Warnings: Reader gets shot.

Note: Aww thank you! I did make one minor change, I hope that's alright with you <3

〰

"Don't worry! I'll be back before you know it!" I reassured Ajak.

She shook her head, "I don't know, (y/n). I have a very bad feeling about this!"

I gently pressed a kiss to her cheek, "I'll be fine, I promise."

And with that, I flew upwards into the sky, destroying the enemy aircrafts and dodging any incoming missiles that could cause more damage.

A sudden sharp pain on the side of my stomach stops me in my tracks. I look down to see blood flowing out but I don't let it stop me. It's only one wound, it can't hurt, right?

Just when I was about to continue, more bullets strike my body. I whimper in pain as I quickly try to spread out but they follow me.

The pain is unbearable to the point where i'm losing control of my flight. I breathe heavily and close my eyes, ready to strike the hard ground.

'I'm sorry, my dear Ajak. I wish we could've had more time together.' I think. Her smile is the last thing i'm thinking about, but then I feel a pair of arms swoop in and catch me.

"Makkari?" I furrow my brows, the sun blocking my view from the eternal's face.

Suddenly we stop and I see Ajak, her face lost in a look of furiosity and anxiety.

"I know this is not the time but-"

"You told me so." I reply, chuckling weakly.

Ajak shakily places her hand on my chest, her powers quickly working on me. The bullets start exiting my body as the injuries close up.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask Ajak.

She shook her head, "I was just worried, I knew something bad was going to happen and I should've tried my best to stop you."

"You didn't know. But look at me, i'm fine. And i'm still here with you." I sit up, gently taking her hands into mine.

"I thought I was going to die out there. You were the only thing on my mind." I smile softly at her, tucking in a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Next time i'll listen to you, okay? I promise."

Ajak nods, "You all should know by now that i'm always right."

We both chuckle, I press my forehead against hers and we stay like that for a moment.

Ikaris clears his throat, ruining the moment, "We cleared it out, it's safe again."

Ajak helps me up, "Then it's time to go home."

〰

"Ajaaaaak, come to bed!" I whine, holding my arms out for her.

"Will you calm down? I'm just going to wash my face and i'll be there." She replies.

Pretty soon, she comes out in her nightgown. Her hair and nightgown blowing gently in the wind.

I can't help but smile widely and shake my head, "You get more beautiful every single day. You know that, right?"

Ajak chuckles and crawls into my arms, "So do you." She whispers into my ear.

I hold her in my arms while she cuddles into my right side, "Were you scared today?" Ajak asks.

"Of course I was. But it wasn't about dying." I reply.

She furrows her eyebrows, "What do you mean?"

"I was scared I would leave you all alone and of the amount of pain my death would've caused you." I explain. Ajak's grip on me grows a bit more tighter, "Thank heavens Makkari saw you falling. I can't imagine living without you."

"Neither can I."

#eternals #eternals x reader #eternals imagine #eternals headcanon #ajak #ajak x reader #ajak imagine #ajak headcanon

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Feeding the Weary Traveler

Mitsuri Kanroji x She/Her Reader

A/N: Warnings for this one are homophobia and a mention of physical assault. Let me know if you think I should mention anything else. It’s a relatively light story considering. I usually like to keep the sexuality of the reader undiscussed so it could be anything, but this time around reader doesn’t seem to be interested in men in the slightest. It’s only a couple of lines but just a heads up. Hope you like it! Sorry if there are more errors than usual. My internet is painfully slow and it makes uploading a chore and a half. Word Count: 6,388

Mitsuri hummed happily to herself as she surveyed the various food stalls lighting up the night around her. She wasn’t sure where she should begin, it all looked so good! She was so lucky to have stumbled upon this bustling little village, and during a festival no less! This dinner was going to be legendary! Hopefully there would be an inn nearby where she could rest between missions and take some time to enjoy it all.

Mitsuri decided that the sweet dango stall was calling her name so she made her way over there first and purchased four skewers. She chewed happily as she walked around and tried to decide what to try next. The dango tasted so good she had half a mind to go back and get a couple more.

The Hashira was about to approach a yakitori stall as she finished her last dango when her crow landed none too gracefully in the dirt beside her. She flapped her wings frantically, her little clover shaped crown slightly askew.

Mitsuri whined as she chewed the last bit of dango before swallowing it down. It looked like dinner was over before it really even started. Well, when duty calls...

She cast one last longing glance at the sizzling meats and followed after her crow out of the village’s well lit valley and into the dark mountains above. Lives could be on the line, dinner could wait.

Mitsuri scaled the rugged terrain, hopping from tree to tree. Her crow flapped erratically just ahead, guiding her to whatever demon was wreaking havoc tonight. Her fingers wrapped tightly over the hilt of her blade as the air became heavy with an overwhelming dense dread that could only be brought on by the demon’s bloodlust.

Mitsuri unfurled her blade and kicked off of the next tree branch particularly hard as a scream ripped through the craggy boulders. A few more leaps and bounds.., she did not slow, a scream could mean many things, it wasn’t over yet. They could still be alive!

Her crow cawed in alarm just as Mitsuri’s eyes locked onto a struggle in the brambles below. Almost on instinct, she cracked her whip-like blade over the demon’s grotesque form, causing it to shriek. The Hashira twirled in the air to land in front of the beast and the young woman trapped and writhing beneath it.

“Get off of her, you miserable fiend!” Mitsuri commanded, readying her blade to lash at the demon again.

The demon wailed again in anger, crushing the dirt beside its hostage’s head before tearing off into the forest in an attempt to get away from the powerful newcomer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mitsuri called after it, cracking her nichirin blade over its retreating form. The blade sliced into the tendons in the back of one of its legs, causing it to tumble to the ground. Before it could skitter off to heal, Mitsuri swung her blade around again. The specially forged metal curled around the demon’s neck and with one clean yank, it’s head came clean off.

The slayer stayed alert, scanning the area for any other nearby threats. An exhausted caw from her crow alerted her that it was safe to let her guard down. She quickly turned on her heel to asses the young woman’s condition, observing her as she shakily got to her knees.

Her kimono was ripped and dirtied. Blood seemed to be seeping through her cloth of her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and frightened while her breath came shallow and quick.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuri spoke gently, slowly moving into the girl’s line of vision. She didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already had been tonight.

“I don’t know,” she said between gasping breaths, “I, I’m alive. That’s something.” She tried to get to her feet, but something twinged in her ankle and she fell back to her knees.

Mitsuri knelt at her side in concern.

The girl would need some medical attention. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri. What’s your name?”

“(L/n) (Y/n).” She shakily replied.

“Let me help you home, (L/n)-san. Do you live in the village down below?” Mitsuri asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet, carrying most of her weight for her.

“No,” (Y/n) answered quickly, almost as if the insinuation pained her, “no, I don’t. I live here, in the mountains. My cottage isn’t too far from here.”

“I’ll help you get home, (Y/n)-san. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.” Mitsuri assured.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Mitsuri eyed the young woman sympathetically. The poor dear was still shaken, but managed to direct Mitsuri in the direction of her home while the Hashira carefully held her up, guiding her through the tough terrain.

Mitsuri frowned at the sight of the worn down shack as it came into view, this couldn’t be it, could it?

“There, I live there.” (Y/n) proclaimed, her voice laced with exhaustion. She must have been able to feel the shift in Mitsuri’s mood at the declaration because she then added, “It’s not much, but it’s home. I built it myself even.”

“Do you live here alone?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but ask, slightly horrified.

“I do.” (Y/n) affirmed, missing Mitsuri’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed shock when she stumbled towards the weathered door. “Thank you again, for saving me and bringing me back home.”

“You’re welcome but...” Mitsuri tried to find words but none would come finally she just shook her head and followed (Y/n)’s stumbling form to the door. “Do you have any medical supplies? Let me help patch you up.”

“I have some things. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be. You needn’t concern yourself. You’ve done so much for me already, Kanroji-san.”

“Your shoulder could get infected without proper care and your ankle looks sprained or even broken. Let me see what I can do. We might need to take you to the village, there’s got to be a doctor down there.”

(Y/n) shook her head furiously, wincing a bit and grasping her head soon after, “I’m not going into town for anything. I’ll invite you to do what you can here, but that’s where I draw the line.”

Mitsuri was concerned by the girl’s reluctance to go to the village, but she took (Y/n)’s offer and entered the small shack. She was surprised by how homey the inside looked once (Y/n) lit a few lanterns. Not only that, but it smelt heavenly inside.

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as she hobbled over to some kind of makeshift oven and carefully peaked inside before sighing in relief and opened it fully. “It didn’t burn! Thank the gods for small favors I guess.”

“What have you got there, (L/n)-san? It smells very good in here.” Mitsuri said, holding a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet its rumbling.

“Bread. Please, help yourself. It’s the least I can offer for all of your help tonight.”

“Really? Thank you!” Mitsuri was practically glowing at the invitation before she remembered why she was here in the first place. “Later! First, let’s check you over.”

(Y/n) gestured to another corner of the space to a wobbly, rustic shelf next to a futon so flat it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on. Mitsuri’s heart went out to this girl. She couldn’t be too far off from her in age, this was no way to live, and alone no less.

Mitsuri recovered the tin sitting atop the bottom shelf and motioned the girl to sit on the ground as she noted there were no chairs. She kneeled beside (Y/n)’s injured shoulder. A pained grunt rumbled at the back of the hermit’s throat as she painstakingly loosened and lowered the fabric around her shoulders, baring the bloody claw marks to the Hashira.

“Oh you poor dear...” Mitsuri cooed as she gently probed the torn flesh. At least it wasn’t too deep.

“It’s fine,” (Y/n) shivered and looked away, “could you wrap me up now please. Try to be sparing with the bandages if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitsuri frowned. She disinfected and wrapped the wound as Shinobu had shown her during her first aid training and managed to only use about a third of the already meager roll. “There,” she gently patted (Y/n)’s shoulder, “that’s all set. Now I just need a look at that ankle. Oh my, it’s swollen pretty bad. We’ll need to elevate it and you should really lay down.”

“I am pretty tired,” (Y/n) sighed wearily, pulling her kimono back up over her shoulders. “Could you help me up?”

“Of course!” Mitsuri eagerly replied, easily scooping (Y/n) up in her arms and standing to her full height.

(Y/n)’s hands scrambled for purchase on Mitsuri’s uniform from the sudden movement. Once she realized Mitsuri’s hold on her was solid and unwavering she relaxed a bit before pulling her hands back to her own chest and jerking her head outwards away from the pale expanse of the demon slayer’s chest. If at all possible, she was sure steam would roll out of her ears like active geysers.

Mitsuri didn’t notice anything amiss and took the few steps needed to lay (Y/n) down in the sad little bed. Then she paid careful attention to (Y/n)’s leg, tilting and rotating it while getting feedback from the girl.

“Well, I don’t think it’s broken, but you should definitely stay off of it for awhile.” Mitsuri informed, feeling anxious. “So you know anyone nearby? Someone that can assist you with your recovery?”

“I’ll be just fine, trust me.” (Y/n) had said.

“That um, didn’t really answer my question.” Mitsuri smiled a bit tightly as more worry settled in her heart. “Do you have family nearby, friends, close acquaintances?”

“If you must know,” (Y/n) weakly spat, “there isn’t anyone. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly two years now.” She finished bitterly.

Mitsuri flinched back at (Y/n)’s tone and the bedridden girl immediately felt bad. She was only trying to help after all. (Y/n) would have been dead without her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a hard night,” Mitsuri patted (Y/n)’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll just have to watch over you then.”

“Cawww!”

Mitsuri looked over her shoulder at her crow, flapping and comically sweating buckets from her uneasy perch on the windowsill.

“I can take care of myself,” (Y/n) voiced her stance once more, “besides, it looks like your work isn’t over yet. Take a couple loafs for the road as thanks. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“I couldn’t.” Mitsuri shook her head. The girl already had so little, it would be a crime to take advantage. She was already paid plenty as a Hashira, she could hold out for a few more hours.

“I insist. I make more than I know what to do with. Quite a bit gets thrown to the wildlife.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Mitsuri’s resolve crumbled like loose gravel. She was hungry, and the bread smelled really, really good. If (Y/n) was going to insist, how could she say no? Then Mitsuri straightened as an idea formed in her mind. (Y/n) startled as Mitsuri loudly smacked her hands together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tomorrow before the sun sets!” Mitsuri said with conviction.

“What?” (Y/n) blinked, watching Mitsuri pack three loafs of bread into a rucksack before giving it back to her crow to fly off with.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Mitsuri said before taking a bite out of a fourth loaf of bread. “Mmm, this is so good!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have to get going now, but I’ll be back! Keep your weight off that ankle and don’t strain yourself!” Mitsuri called as she opened the front door.

“No, wait, Kanroji-san!”

But she was already gone, the door closed tightly behind her before she ran off headlong into the dangerous night.

“And she’s gone,” (Y/n) sighed, “just who is she anyway? She’s practically superhuman,” she covered her face in the crook of her good arm, “and she’s really pretty.”

***

By morning Mitsuri was halfway through her last loaf of bread and standing before the familiar sight of the Butterfly Estate. After seeing the state of (Y/n)’s medical supplies, Mitsuri thought it prudent to visit Shinobu and procure a kit for the girl.

“Mitsuri, hello.” Shinobu greeted upon looking up from her microscope. “What brings you here today?”

“Shinobu, you have to help me,” Mitsuri immediately started in, “I saved a girl last night and she got a roughed up a bit before I got to her. Can you help me make a medical kit for her?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Shinobu smiled, “but I must ask, why not just take her to a civilian doctor? Surely they would be able to provide the help she may need.”

“She lives alone in the mountains. She seems to have a bad relationship with the village in the valley below, but I don’t know why.”

“Just be careful then,” Shinobu warned, “who knows, you might be dealing with a criminal.”

“No way!” Mitsuri gasped, waving the last couple bites of bread in front of Shinobu’s face, “Could a criminal make bread this good? I think not!”

“Please stay vigilant regardless,” Shinobu giggled before switching gears, “now, tell me what happened last night.”

Mitsuri explained the situation the best she could, detailing (Y/n)’s injuries and what supplies she had left. Shinobu helped her pack up a new med kit that would not only replenish (Y/n)’s supplies, but give her some other helpful medicines that she didn’t have initially. Mitsuri thanked Shinobu with a tight hug that forced her fellow Pillar to dangle in the air for a few moments before being lowered to the ground once more. Then she made her way off the property, running off into the woods. She had a lot of ground to cover before sunset.

After a few hours of travel Mitsuri was feeling peckish. She had unfortunately finished the last loaf of bread before leaving Shinobu’s estate and didn’t have time to replenish her snack sack that her crow carried for her. If she was lucky, maybe the festival she had stumbled upon last night was a multiple night event and she could stalk up once she checked on (Y/n).

With an excited hum, she practically flew up the mountain, making her way in the general direction she knew (Y/n)’s shack to be.

“Oh dear, was it a left at this boulder or a right?” Mitsuri mumbled to herself. The forest was more inviting in the evening light but it looked so different. Cautiously, she tried the left path and scoured her surroundings for anything that looked familiar.

Mitsuri had begun to grow a bit anxious, worried that she had taken a wrong turn. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself which was quickly followed by a few more testing scentings of the air. Something smelled delicious. She couldn’t be sure, but it was the best lead she had so far. She followed the hearty aroma and cheered to herself as the rundown, misshapen hut came into view.

The Hashira wasted no time hopping up to the door. She gave a courtesy knock and announced herself before letting herself inside. She smiled to herself as she imagined how happy (Y/n) would be to have such an arsenal of medicinal goods. That smile quickly became a shocked, open mouth of light horror upon seeing (Y/n) up and moving about her small home.

“Ah! I thought I told you not to put any weight on that ankle, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mitsuri worried. She quickly went up to (Y/n) with her arms out in front of her like (Y/n) would collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t just lay in bed all day.” (Y/n) tried to reason. “You said you were coming back so I felt the need to make dinner for you. You know, to repay you for all you’re doing for me. A little ankle pain can hardly keep me down.”

Mitsuri was touched by the gesture, it made her heart flutter with appreciation, but (Y/n) needed to follow her instructions or who knows what long term damage she would cause herself.

“It smells wonderful, (L/n)-san and I thank you endlessly, but please, lay down right now!”

“I’ve been taking breaks. I’m fine—ah!“

Ah, swept off her feet by the strong and beautiful demon slayer once again. As embarrassing as being doted on in this manner was, (Y/n) was definitely going to revisit this tender care in her dreams. Gods, she was touch starved.

“Really (L/n)-san, don’t be difficult. Let me check on your shoulder, okay?” Mitsuri didn’t even sound strained as she slowly placed (Y/n) down on the futon.

“Oh, okay.” (Y/n) fought through the fuzzy tingles, shaking them from her body as she slid her sleeve off her shoulder.

“Aw, it looks a little infected,” Mitsuri whined as she softly prodded the tender flesh, “but don’t worry! I paid a visit to a dear friend today and I’ve got everything you’ll need!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much.” (Y/n) gaped in awe at the tightly packed tin Mitsuri presented to her.

“Not at all! Now, hold still while I apply some of this cream.” Mitsuri beamed before swirling the cool salve over the cuts. (Y/n) flinched a bit but the numbing chill soon soothed the pain.

“Wow, that feels really nice.”

“Right? I can always trust Shinobu for the best!” Mitsuri proudly proclaimed as she finished re-wrapping (Y/n)’s shoulder. She then took care of (Y/n)’s ankle the way Shinobu had suggested and looked at her handiwork with pride. “There all done! Shinobu said you’ll want to keep it elevated and free of strain for at least two weeks.”

“Okay, I’ll rest where I can. Thank you.”

“No no,” Mitsuri made an ‘x’ with her arms and pouted, “none of that, you have to rest!”

“I can’t afford to rest. It’s not easy living in the mountains alone.” (Y/n) informed, her eyes shifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder at the burning embers in her ‘kitchen’, “Could you take that off the heat please?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mitsuri shot up and stole to the dingy pot, her eyes shined upon witnessing the rich, golden broth up close. “Wow, this looks amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so, the mountains are harsh but there are plenty of resources if you know where to look. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you so much! Here, let me get you a bowl as well. Food always tastes better with company after all.”

Mitsuri tried to prepare another bowl for (Y/n) but quickly discovered she only had one. It seemed like the more she looked at the place, the sadder it made her. (Y/n) seemed to notice the sudden downtick in the slayer’s mood and spoke up.

“Hey, I’ve got a tea mug I’ll happily drink from if you don’t mind my bad manners.” She laughed, provoking a smile from Mitsuri.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They ate the broth and fresh bread together as they made small talk and Mitsuri was having a great time. It was rare to get to know someone she rescued like this and being able to see (Y/n) while the sun had not yet fully disappeared she got an opportunity to have a really good look at her.

Mitsuri’s face heated as (Y/n) laughed at something she said and she silently praised the forces at hand that allowed her to make it to her in time. It felt good, so very rewarding, to know such a beautiful soul’s time was not cut short by a cruel end. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Something on your mind, Kanroji-san?” (Y/n) asked, breaking Mitsuri from her thoughts with a start.

“Oh! I, um, I was just thinking about how good your food is! You know, the village down below was having a festival yesterday. I bet you could sell a lot of what you make really quickly if you set up a stall there.” Mitsuri exclaimed before diving back in.

(Y/n)’s face soured a bit at the thought, though she sighed wistfully and a sad smile crossed her lips.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She said before taking another sip from her chipped cup.

“Why don’t you go down to the village, (L/n)-san?” Mitsuri asked, her pastel-green eyes gazed at (Y/n)’s downcast face.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a few moments, debating with herself if it was worth delving into her strife with a girl she had only just met the night before and probably wouldn’t see again. At least, she definitely wouldn’t see her again if she were to explain her situation.

“It’s not something I’d really care to discuss. Sorry.” (Y/n) curtly replied.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitsuri frowned, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It was an innocent question.” (Y/n) assured, giving Mitsuri’s knee a friendly pat before withdrawing once more.

They continued to talk about anything until the sun disappeared and the stars lit up the night sky and the lanterns were lit to illuminate the hut.

Mitsuri needed to go. The Hashira was reluctant but she wasn’t going to leave (Y/n) completely on her own just yet. She told the mountain dweller she’d come back to check on her in three days time, giggling at the girl’s surprise at the declaration. Mitsuri reasoned that (Y/n) would still need help while she recovered and although she was busy with her duties, she couldn’t in good conscious leave (Y/n) completely on her own. Especially when the girl had a tendency to skip out of much needed rest.

Mitsuri filled her rucksack to her heart’s with (Y/n)’s blessing and set off into the night. She hoped to see improvements in (Y/n)’s health when she returned in a few days.

***

The next visit went well. Mitsuri still had to scold (Y/n) for moving about, but she still, albeit a bit guiltily, heartily ate the meals (Y/n) would prepare for her upon her arrival.

Even after (Y/n) had completely healed, Mitsuri didn’t stop visiting. (Y/n) would always laugh when Mitsuri would show up unannounced, joking that feeding Mitsuri was like feeding a stray cat, she’d always come back for more. (Y/n) was happy for the company though. Very happy.

Mitsuri would also bring little things to make (Y/n)’s shack more bearable, starting with an extra set of dishes so they could properly enjoy a meal together. Before long, they considered themselves close enough to be real friends.

One night Mitsuri came by so late, she had awoken (Y/n) when she knocked on the door. (Y/n) let her in and Mitsuri nearly toppled them both over in her exhaustion.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered both shyly and with great exhaustion, “sorry for coming by so late. It’s just been a really long night and I think I’m about to crash any minute now. You were the closest to where I was so...”

“You know better than to think you ever need have an excuse to stop by.” (Y/n) lightly scolded. “Come lay down, are you hungry?” She asked, laying the Hashira down on the new futon that Mitsuri had brought for (Y/n) a couple visits prior.

“I could never say no to anything you make.” Mitsuri smiled, causing a prickly heat to swirl over (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) heated up her leftovers and presented them to Mitsuri who ate them with the same vigor she would have if it was fresh.

“So good,” she sighed happily, “really, if this is what you can make in this little hut, I would die of happiness to see what you could do in a proper kitchen.”

“You flatter me, Mitsuri.” (Y/n) smiled shyly. It still gave her butterflies to speak to the demon slayer so familiarly, but it was a good feeling.

“I’m serious, (Y/n)!” Mitsuri swore, “I still maintain that I think you would do very well in the village.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, which Mitsuri noticed straight away and mirrored before fidgeting with the now empty bowl in her hands.

“Are you ready to talk about that yet? It’s alright if you aren’t.” She hesitantly asked.

(Y/n) would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of telling Mitsuri her history with the village, but she found herself wanting to share that part of her story with the sweet woman. Mitsuri had never done anything to hurt her, but that’s what made the aspect of sharing so much more frightening. What if Mitsuri became disgusted with her? Accused her of befriending her with alternative motives? But when (Y/n) met her eyes those doubts quieted and she took a deep shutters breath before blowing it all back out in one harsh breath.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to listen? It might be better if you sleep for the night first.”

Mitsuri seemed more alert already, sitting up fully in the bed and giving (Y/n) her full, undivided attention. “No, I can listen! I want to be able to understand you better and support you in anyway I can! Tell me whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) took another breath, taking a moment to decide how to proceed.

“I was born and raised in that valley, actually. My family owns an inn that doubles as a restaurant to boot.”

“That explains a lot.” Mitsuri commented with a small smile, patting at her full stomach. That earned a chuckle and a nod from (Y/n) before she continued.

“Yeah, my mom started teaching me almost as soon as I could stand on my own. She was strict, but with food that good, she was entitled to that attitude. My father took care of the inn side of things and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking his weight in saké.” (Y/n) took note of Mitsuri’s concern and patted her hand while flashing her a reassuring half smile.

“It wasn’t ideal, but that was just life. Incredibly, the business didn’t suffer and he never treated us badly so we saw no need to address it. I didn’t know of any other way of life so I was content where I was. Until...”

“Until what, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri cocked her head to the side.

“Until my parents arranged a marriage for me to be wed to the blacksmith’s son. The union would have brought a large sum of money to my family. The whole village seemed to know about it before I did.” (Y/n) chuckled humorlessly and shook her head while Mitsuri listened, holding herself back from jumping in to ask questions.

“They would talk over me about what I’d wear, who would be invited, even as far as when I should bare a child. I felt like everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. I hadn’t even talked to the blacksmith’s son before. Even now I don’t recall his name. All I knew was that the idea of marrying him terrified me.”

“Did you tell your parents this?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but blurt, her eyebrows had upturned and creased her forehead.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s eyes shadowed over as she peered down at her lap, “I admit, the middle of town wasn’t the best place to air my reservations, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They would tell me it was just cold feet or that I was overreacting. Then I had finally had it, and two days before the wedding, I screamed at my mother that I didn’t want to be married to some boy I had never talked to and made a big scene.

She had said then, since I was making such a fuss, that I must have been handing myself out to some other boy while her back was turned and it just made me so mad. I told her there was no other boy, that I didn’t want one.” (Y/n) sighed and pressed her head back against the wall.

“I told her that the only people that I had ever thought of marrying were either the grocer’s eldest daughter or the seamstress’ apprentice who had helped me at my fitting the day prior and then my mother slapped me in front of the whole village.”

Mitsuri gasped, covering her mouth. She was no stranger to the disappointment of a parent, but her parents had never laid a hand on her for any of her failed engagements.

“She was disgusted with me and word traveled fast. The blacksmith called off the arrangement, not wanting his son to have anything to do with my... perversions I think he called them. The grocer refused to sell his produce to my family and kept his daughters inside.

My father, once greatly respected, was humiliated by me and shunned by the whole village. He was furious and drunk which made for a very bad combination as you may imagine. I was severely... disciplined and locked away.

Later that night, I could hear him and my mother discussing selling me to a brothel to be trained as a courtesan. Needless to say, once I believed they were asleep I tore through the paper wall of the room I was trapped in and packed up what I could carry before I escaped into the mountains. I’ve been surviving here ever since.”

As (Y/n) finished her story, Mitsuri sniffed loudly and hiccuped, startling (Y/n) from her memories to try to comfort the demon slayer as she cried for her. Mitsuri pulled (Y/n) into her chest with such ferocity that it cracked the poor girl’s spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve such treatment!” The Hashira blubbered. “It was awful of me to ever suggest you go back to that terrible place devoid of love and compassion.”

(Y/n) struggled to breath and patted Mitsuri’s back. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t know. It’s okay.”

Getting all of that out there, having someone to listen and not judge her for her tale, it made (Y/n) feel so much lighter. Mitsuri kept her close and rocked their bodies side to side and how was (Y/n) not going to cry when she hadn’t been treated so tenderly since she was little. Before long, they were both sobbing messes in the corner of a dingy shack in the middle of the mountains.

By the time their bout had subsided into the occasional sniffle or the loud, gross honk of mucus being sucked back up someone’s nose, the girls had migrated to spooning on the futon with one of Mitsuri’s arms wrapped securely over (Y/n)’s side while the the other alternated between lightly scratching at the nape of (Y/n)’s neck and between her shoulder blades. The fit on the futon was tight, but neither seemed to mind.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed, “the night you saved me I was out because there is a cliff that you can see the whole village from. I knew the festival lights would be up and I really wanted to feel the warmth I used to feel at festival season. Figures I’d be attacked by a demon before I even got there.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Mitsuri said, her voice coming out a tad nasally because of her stuffy nose.

“I didn’t mean for that to make you sad. I was just going to say I was glad for that night for nothing else other than I got to meet you. Thank you for sticking around, Mitsuri.”

“Now you’re being so sweet I’m gonna cry again!” Mitsuri sniffled, weakly batting at (Y/n) and making her laugh as she apologized.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Mitsuri whispered softly once they calmed down again. Then they finally went to sleep as the sun was rising.

***

“I just— mm! I don’t want her living in that rundown shack anymore. I never did! But now, I think about it all the time and I just can't stand it!” Mitsuri complained to Shinobu as the Insect Pillar tried to concentrate on the medicines she was measuring out.

“I see.” Shinobu answered simply, making a note before giving Mitsuri her full attention, “Well, if she’s as good of a cook as you keep telling me, I’m sure Aoi would be happy for another pair of hands in the kitchens.”

“What?” Mitsuri blinked.

“You know me, Mitsuri. I have a history of taking in young girls who have nowhere to go. I assume that’s why you have been telling me all of this.” Shinobu smiled mischievously, “besides, you make her sound so cute, how could I say no?”

That got a rise out of the Love Hashira.

“You—! You already have a girlfriend!” Mitsuri sputtered her face as pink as her hair at the possibility of Shinobu trying to woo (Y/n). Worse yet, the very real possibility that it would work! Mitsuri knew just how charming Shinobu could be! But thankfully, Shinobu laughed and diffused the state Mitsuri had worked herself into.

“I was only teasing, but she really can live here. I have plenty of room. I just figured you would want to keep her closer. I didn’t realize your estate was operating at full capacity.”

“Wait, say that again.” Mitsuri said, the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work backwards herself.

“(L/n)-san can live here?” Shinobu tried.

“No, after that.”

“I didn’t realize your own estate was running at full capacity. I thought you would want (L/n)-san to live with you.” Shinobu reiterated.

“Ah!” Mitsuri shrieked, making Shinobu wince ever so slightly. Then Mitsuri roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her around a little bit, “You, Kochou Shinobu, are a genius! I can’t believe I hadn’t realized sooner! Thanks for the talk, bye!”

“Take care!” Shinobu saw Mitsuri off, fixing her tousled fringe as she watched the blur of pink, green and white run out of sight around the corner. Deciding she was due for a break, she wandered down the opposite end of the hall to find out what her girlfriend was up to at the moment.

***

By now, Mitsuri knew the mountain like she knew the back for her hand. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and meats never hurt either of course. She didn’t even bother to knock before letting herself in.

“I had a feeling you’d come by today.” (Y/n) smiled as she checked over her shoulder, “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad it proved true because I definitely made too much food.”

“(Y/n), live with me.” Mitsuri blurted before shyly hiding her face in her hands. How could she ask that so suddenly? Never mind ask, she definitely didn’t even phrase it as a question!

“Huh?” Was all (Y/n) could get out before she forgot how her voice worked.

“Would, would you maybe, possibly consider maybe living with me?” Mitsuri tried again, her voice raised almost to the point of cracking with every word.

“...I wouldn’t want to impose.” (Y/n) nervously replied after a few moments, busying herself by stirring a pot that was in no need of attention.

“You wouldn’t be!” Mitsuri said with more conviction. “I really want you to come with me. I know you are proud of what you have managed to do for yourself, it’s better than anything I could ever make, but the more time passes, I can’t help but hate how you still live in this rundown, rickety, shack that I can clear in four strides!” Mitsuri demonstrated her point by walking from one wall to the other before turning back to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Please, come live with me. I love you and you deserve more than this.”

“La, la, lalala, lov, love... love me?” (Y/n) quickly turned back to her cooking as the fire cracked so loud it made her jump. Why was she acting like this? Mitsuri loved a lot of people, she obviously meant a friendly, platonic kind of love and now she had just made it even more awkward!

But then (Y/n) jolted again when Mitsuri’s strong arms wrapped around her middle and her chin rested against her shoulder. The Hashira hummed an affirmative as she slowly began to rock them side to side. Between the heat of the low fire and the heat of Mitsuri’s front pressed against her back, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out.

“Please (Y/n), live with me?” Mitsuri asked softly. She kissed (Y/n)’s jaw as she moved.

“?!??!!” (Y/n) short circuited, lost in Mitsuri’s softness. Mitsuri merely giggled and rested another to (Y/n)’s cheek, then her ear, her temple, until—

“Oh dear!” Mitsuri gasped as (Y/n) fell limp in her arms. “(Y/n), are you alright? Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t be up!”

“I, I’m not sick,” (Y/n) mumbled, smoke rolling off of her like a steam boat, “It’s just a lot of touching that I’m not really used to yet.”

“Oh! Should I stop?”

“Gods no.” (Y/n) sighed and gripped onto Mitsuri’s haori so she couldn’t back away.

Mitsuri beamed brightly before resting a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead and rubbed her back. “Come with me?” She asked again.

“I’d follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked.” (Y/n)’s eyes slipped shut as she enjoyed Mitsuri’s scattered kisses.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends! Iguro-san and Kabumaru will love you, Kyoujirou-san too! He’ll love your cooking. Just watch out for Shinobu though, she’s flirty.”

“Okay, I’ll stay vigilant.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Good girl,” Mitsuri nodded, “now let’s pack up all that you hold dear. We should be able to make it to my estate by dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (Y/n) nodded excitedly in return. She took the little pail of water from the floor and doused the low flame, “maybe you’d like lunch first though? I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

“Yes! Lunch first and then the beginning of the rest of our lives!” Mitsuri amended, skipping over to the meal (Y/n) had prepared.

As they are together (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin. Mitsuri was right, food really did taste better when sharing it with people you love. The kisses and nuzzles throughout the meal didn’t hurt either.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #kny x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri kanroji x reader #mitsuri x reader

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

A birthday gift for the ever lovely @the-blondey! 🥳

Geraskier featuring courting gifts and a side helping of friends to lovers! (1.8k)

_____

Geralt hated shopping. He usually only bothered for ingredients that he hadn’t been able to find in between towns, or to drop into the blacksmith. He picked up supplies at the inns he stayed in, or ate what he could hunt or forage in the woods. He certainly never browsed the market like this, not without Jaskier at least.

But Jaskier wasn’t there.

Jaskier was still teaching a lecture at the university, and he probably had no idea that Geralt was even in town. This whole shopping business would be a lot better if he could ask Jaskier for help, but Jaskier was the one person that he couldn’t ask for help. He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. He couldn’t even talk to Roach. She was safely stabled back at the inn.

“This shouldn’t be so hard,” he grumbled to himself. “It’s Jaskier. He likes pretty things and expensive trinkets.”

The only problem was there were a lot of pretty things and expensive trinkets on the tables, and the merchants were all claiming their goods were the best. There was so much noise, so many people. He growled under his breath and clenched his fists. It was too much. It needed to be perfect. Jaskier was too important for anything less than perfect.

He closed his eyes. Jaskier. His eyes, his scent, the wind blowing through his hair, the soft warmth of his smile. He took a deep breath. His head was still spinning but it was manageable. He glanced back at the table in front of him and then up at the merchant. The poor man was white as a sheet and he reeked of fear. Geralt hummed and then pushed through the crowd to the next stall.

Daggers.

“Hmm,” Geralt scrutinised the wares. They wouldn’t be up to the standards of witchers but they looked sturdy enough to kill a bandit or two. Most importantly, they were ornate, beautiful and glittering in the light of the sun. The blades themselves were a variety of shapes and sizes, but Geralt’s eyes were drawn to a waved silver blade with Elder engraved along the length. His Elder speech wasn’t perfect, and he struggled to read the elven language but he understood enough to know the dagger was intended as a betrothal gift.

His fingers hovered over the hilt, eyes glancing up to meet the merchant’s gaze. Unless the previous merchant, they had a gentle smile on their face. Their posture was relaxed and their scent wasn’t soured with fear. He already liked them more than the first merchant.

“May I?”

They nodded. “Of course, but I’ll warn you witcher, it’s not cheap and hardly suited for your trade.”

“It’s not for me,” he grunted.

Light dawned in their eyes and their smile widened. “Oh well, in that case you ought to know the implications—”

“I know.”

He picked up the dagger and weighed it in his hands. The balance of the blade was good. He ran a finger along the edge, hissing as it cut into his skin. Blood seeped from the small wound before it healed without a trace.

The merchant’s slight hitch in breath gave away their astonishment. “Impressive.”

“A necessity in my line of work. How much?” he asked, praying to all the gods that he didn’t believe in that he could afford it. The dagger was perfect. Anything else he found now would be a disappointment.

“More than you can afford, witcher,” they admitted with a sad smile “but I might be able to strike a deal. I have work for you, if you’re willing.”

Geralt glanced down at the blade in his hands and then back at them. “I’m in.”

____________

Jaskier was scribbling away at his desk when the doors flew open. Larissa, was standing in the doorway, out of breath and red in the face. Their hair falling from the bun at the back of their head. Jaskier looked up from his notebook, tongue still stuck between his teeth. He scratched his cheek with his quill and smiled brightly at them.

“Larissa!” he greeted warmly and placed his quill on the desk, leaving the notebook open so the ink could dry. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“You have a visitor, professor,” they gasped, wrapping their arms around their stomach as they tried to catch their breath.

Jaskier frowned. He hadn’t been expecting anyone and his open office hours weren’t until that afternoon. His students were normally better at giving him fair warning should they require him. He pulled on his doublet buttoning it up to his chin, just in case. He had been told off by the dean on more than one occasion and he was currently on thin ice. It didn’t matter how well his lectures did, one had to wear appropriate clothing. It was all incredibly dull. It made him yearn for the road, for Geralt.

He waved at Larissa, a flamboyant flick of his wrist. “Yes yes, please, show them in.”

Larissa nodded and left the room, leaving Jaskier to ponder who his guest could be. He tried not to hope, but his love was a burning fire that couldn’t be controlled and even the smallest chance that Geralt was here set his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Oh stop it, Jask,” he muttered to himself. “He’s not here.”

“Who’s not here?” came the gruff reply.

Jaskier felt his face light up and he bounded across the room just as the witcher appeared in the doorway. “Geralt!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt greeted him, a fond smile on his lips, his eyes softer than the velvet pillows that adorned Jaskier’s bed.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon, witcher,” Jaskier laughed, putting one hand on his hip and cocking his head. “Did you miss me, darling?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and pulled Geralt into a hug. “Well, I missed you and your grunting.” He pulled away all too soon and licked his lips, trying to still his beating heart. It was racing far too fast and he knew that Geralt could hear it. It was a miracle that Geralt hadn’t realised why already. “What brings you to Oxenfurt, Geralt?”

“I have something for you,” Geralt grumbled, not meeting Jaskier’s gaze. He pulled on the straps that held his sword on his back, and Jaskier would almost say that the witcher looked… nervous?

That couldn’t be right?

He’d seen Geralt take down all manner of monsters and men… why would he be nervous of him?

“Riiight, well… here I am, at your disposal!” Jaskier gestured widely and gave a little bow, winking at his witcher, trying to make light of the situation before his own nerves could get the best of him.

“It’s umm… well… fuck,” Geralt growled and pinched the bridge of his nose, then he pulled a bundle of cloth from his pocket and handed it to Jaskier.

Jaskier tentatively took the packet. It was heavier than he expected, solid under his fingers. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at Geralt. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

Jaskier nodded. That would make sense. It was a gift after all, but why would Geralt be giving him a present? It wasn’t even his birthday. He wasn’t sure that Geralt even knew when that was. “It’s not going to kill me is it?” he teased gently.

Geralt rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It might if you don’t hurry up and open it.”

Jaskier gaped. “Well now! That’s just rude! Impatient brute.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned with a low snarl.

“Ok ok!” he snapped, his hands shaking as he pulled back the cloth. His heart would stop pounding and his legs felt weak. He gasped quietly as he saw the bejewelled dagger resting in the fabric. “Geralt?”

“Look closer,” Geralt muttered, his golden eyes were watching Jaskier with such intensity that he wanted to melt into the floor. It was almost too much. Whatever was sparking between them was about to change Jaskier’s life, he was sure of it. It felt too momental to be simply a gift.

He passed the cloth bundle back to Geralt and slowly unsheathed the dagger. The silvery blade glittered in the candlelight. Jaskier stopped breathing as he traced the inscription with his fingers. It was written in Elder but Jaskier had had the best education Lettenhove could offer, and with the rumours going around about his mother’s fidelity and the elves, no one was surprised that Elder Speech was one of the languages he’d been forced to learn.

He swallowed and finally sucked in a shaky breath. “Geralt… Is this? Do you know…” he trailed off, tears were welling up in his eyes and his voice failed him, too thick with emotion.

“I know,” Geralt said softly, bringing a hand up to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier whimpered, leaning into the touch. “It’s. It’s not a proposal,” Geralt said quickly but continued before Jaskier heart could break. “More of a proposal… to propose?”

Jaskier felt like crying, honestly it was a miracle that he wasn’t already. He’d loved Geralt for years, decades even. He’d given up on Geralt ever loving him back a long time ago, and now Geralt was… courting him?

It was archaic, a tradition found only in the depth of the library of Lettenhove and Oxenfurt. He felt like he’d stepped into a fairytale.

“Am. Am I dreaming?” he stammered. It felt like the only logical explanation.

“Don’t think so,” Geralt said with a shake of his head.

Jaskier nodded, then spun round on his heels with his hand buried into his hair. When he met Geralt’s gaze once again he narrowed his eyes. “And you’re not joking?” he asked, waving the point of the dagger in Geralt’s face.

Geralt chuckled and gently lowered the dagger with his hand. “No, Jaskier.”

“Oh cock!” Jaskier swore and then clapped his hand over his mouth. “You really mean it?”

Oh praise Melitele! Fuck it, praise bloody Lilit too. Praise any good that was listening in.

“I mean it,” Geralt reassured him with a heavy sigh. “and I’d really appreciate an answer?”

“Fuck, bollocks, shit!” Jaskier whined. “I mean. Yes, on all the gods, Geralt. Of course, it’s yes! Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you?”

Geralt winced, his smile faltering. “Sorry, it takes me more time. Never even thought I could, not until you.”

Jaskier giggled, fucking giggled, and placed his hand on Geralt’s cheek. “Oh darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I would have stayed by your side and loved you in whatever way you allowed me to, even without shiny trinkets and nearly proposal.”

“Hmm,” Geralt smirked “shall I take them back?”

“Don’t you dare!” Jaskier shrieked and ran from his witcher, keeping his new engagement dagger safe and sound. “It’s mine now, Geralt!”

Geralt laughed and ran after him, only stopping when he had Jaskier trapped against a wall. The dagger remained in Jaskier’s firm grip, forgotten as their lips crashed together.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

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king-finnigan · 4 years

Text

5 times Jaskier got sick and 1 time Geralt did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist!

CW: being sick, vomiting

***

He sneezes, and Geralt looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you getting sick?”

Jaskier scoffs, shakes his head, and continues prodding at the fire. “No.” He sneezes again. “Okay, maybe.”

“Hmm.”

He frowns. “Ooh, now that’s a ‘hmm’ I haven’t heard before. What does it mean?”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks away, as Jaskier sneezes again. “It means I’m not going to take care of you if you get sick.”

Jaskier sneezes again. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He rubs at his eyes, which are slightly swollen from all the sneezing. “I’ll just firmly tell my body not to get sick, then. That always works.”

“Hmm.” He recognizes that one as a slightly amused ‘hmm’, and he smiles in triumph. Over the past few years, it has become a bit of a personal challenge to make Geralt laugh or smile as much as possible, and, while low on the tier list of ‘how amused is Geralt of Rivia?’, an amused ‘hmm’ is better than nothing. At least it’s better than an unamused ‘hmm’.

Like the one he gets, now, when he suddenly dissolves into a bout of coughing. “It’s fine,” he chokes out when he finally regains his breath. “Not getting sick.”

“We’re stopping at the next inn. You’ll stay there until you get better, and I’ll get some contracts.”

He wants to whine, tell Geralt he’s fine and he’s coming along with these contracts, but when he starts coughing again, he can’t help but admit that the Witcher is right. Though, when Geralt leaves him behind at the inn the next day, he finds himself wishing Geralt would stay.

II.

He’s performing ‘Toss a Coin’ when he sneezes. The audience laughs, and he plays it off as a joke, making fun of himself, so the audience won’t, before he continues with his song. After he’s done, he graciously accepts his payment and a pint of ale, before he saunters over to the corner of the tavern, sitting down opposite Geralt.

“You sneezed,” is the first thing the Witcher says to him.

“Hello, Jaskier, what a lovely performance, Jaskier, thank you for paying for our dinner tonight, Jaskier,” he says in a mock-gruff voice. He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Really, Geralt, we talked about your conversational skills.”

“You sneezed.”

He dramatically lifts his hands. “So what? People sneeze all the time! It’s dusty in here, Witcher.”

“Your voice is rough.”

“Yes, that’s what you get for performing for three hours straight. You’re welcome, by the way.” He plonks his full coin pouch on the table, gesturing at it, eyebrows in his hairline.

“You’re snotty.”

“Well, now you’re just being downright insulting, Geralt. After all these years of me traveling by your side, and you have the audacity-“

“Jaskier. I can tell you’re getting sick.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine.”

Geralt looks at him, blinking slowly, almost lazily. His expression is almost bored, but Jaskier can tell from the little muscle that’s pulling at his lips, that the Witcher is getting annoyed. “Hmm.” Now that’s an ‘I don’t believe you for shit but I’m tired of arguing’-hmm, he can tell.

“Alright, maybe it’s not fine.” He points at Geralt. “But don’t you dare leave me at an inn again, like last time.”

“Why not?”

Cause it hurt my feelings, and I would love for you to take care of me when I’m sick. “I don’t want to miss out on any contracts and potential inspiration.”

“Hmm.” An ‘I can tell you’re lying’-hmm.

He simply changes the subject, for now, and hopes he doesn’t get sick in the next couple of days. He thanks all his lucky stars when he doesn’t.

III.

He tries to keep quiet as he leans one hand against the tree, the other on his stomach as he retches, emptying the contents of his stomach in the leaves. He must’ve eaten something bad, or caught a stomach bug. He decides it doesn’t really matter, though, as another wave of nausea rolls over him. He gags again, trying to not make any sound.

Of course, it doesn’t work, and he soon hears Geralt’s voice behind him. “Jaskier.”

He closes his eyes, trying to keep down the bile that rises in his throat. “I’m fine.” The clipped and strained sound of his voice begs to differ.

“Hmm.” A ‘not even Roach would believe that’-hmm. Then: “Are you done?”

He holds up a finger, chokes down one last gag, before he stands up straight, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m fine, let’s go.”

He turns around to find Geralt frowning at him, confused. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No. We’re not going anywhere but back to camp.”

He sighs. “I’m fine! We can go to the next town, don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. Once again a ‘hmm’ he can’t identify. Strange. “Come on, Jaskier.”

He sighs, but follows Geralt back to camp, laying down on his bedroll when the Witcher motions at it. He does have to admit, laying down makes him feel a lot better, and pretty soon he finds himself dozing off to the rhythmic sound of Geralt sharpening his blades.

When he wakes in the morning, the Witcher gives him a piece of… some sort of root. “Ginger,” the Witcher explains roughly. “Helps.”

Jaskier shrugs and eats it. It doesn’t taste entirely pleasant, but it does make him feel better, and by midday, he’s ready to set out on the road again.

IV.

“You’re limping.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Hmm.” Another ‘I don’t believe you’-hmm. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Jaskier stops walking when he no longer hears Roach’s hooves on the dusty path behind him, and he turns around. “Nothing! It’s really fine, there’s nothing going on. I appreciate you worrying, though, it’s very endearing.”

“Jaskier.”

He sighs, then shrugs. “Okay, maybe I got a cut on my leg last week that healed badly. So what? I assure you I’m perfectly fine, Witcher.” He starts stammering when Geralt dismounts Roach, stalking towards him. “A- and there is absolutely no reason for you to walk towards me, in- in a vaguely threatening manner- Geralt!”

He lets out an angry huff when the Witcher bends down, yanking the leg of his breeches up. “Hmm.” An ‘I’m very angry right now, but not at you’-hmm. “It’s infected.”

He shrugs again, pointedly looking everywhere but the reddened skin that surrounds the cut. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about, r-really, and-“

He scrunches his face in confusion when Geralt lays a hand against his forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Get on Roach.”

“Geralt, as much as I have longed for you to say those three words for the past ten years, I assure you I’m perfectly fine.”

“Get. On. Roach.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright! Melitele’s tits, Geralt, if I’d known you’d kick up such a fuss over a simple flesh wound, I would’ve been more careful.”

“Hmm. You should be.”

He sighs, rolls his eyes, as he climbs on Roach. Geralt climbs on the horse behind him, and Jaskier tries to fight the furious blush that starts spreading across his cheeks at the feeling of Geralt’s chest against his back. They set out to the nearest town, where the Witcher gets a room at the inn and drags him to the herbalist for something against the infection.

The ointment the old lady gives them works wonders, and within two days, the infection has cleared.

It’s hard to breathe. Harder to move. Opening his eyes for more than two seconds isn’t even an option, anymore, and every time he does manage to pry his eyelids apart, the world is swimming around him, making bile rise in his throat. He’s hot. No- he’s cold. But now he’s hot again, and he’s sweating, but he’s also shivering, and good gods, what did he do to deserve this?

He sighs when he feels something cold and wet and rough against his forehead, seeping away some of the heat. He doesn’t know whether the droplet that slides down the side of his head is sweat or water, but he decides it doesn’t matter when a bout of coughing wracks through his body.

He’s tired, he’s so bloody tired, but he can’t fall asleep when the temperature keeps changing from hot to cold to hot again, when his lungs keep constricting in his chest pathetically, making him cough and wheeze, desperate for any gulp of air he manages to suck in. The shivering becomes uncontrollable, unbearable, even though he’s sweating, still. He finally manages to pry open his eyes, finding the room around him blurry and dark. He looks around, desperate for anything recognizable, anything that doesn’t give him the feeling that he’s floating in a vast ocean of his own goddamn sweat. Finally, he finds something silver, to his right.

“Geralt,” he manages to croak out, desperately gasping for breath soon afterwards.

“I’m here.” He could cry at that familiar voice, and he might actually be, when he feels another droplet slide down the side of his head.

“I feel like shit.”

“Hmm.” And amused ‘hmm’. But slightly worried as well. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“It hurts.” It does. Everything hurts. His muscles hurt, his lungs hurt, his head hurts, his eyes hurt. It fucking hurts.

Someone wipes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, knuckles trailing down his cheek lightly, and he figures someone else must be in the room because Geralt would never be this gentle with him. It’s already a bloody miracle he’s still here, really. “I know, Jaskier. I know. Try to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Will you be there? When I wake up?”

“Hmm.” That’s a ‘yes’-hmm.

He sighs, his lungs aching. “Good. Cause I don’t want to wake up at all if you’re not there.” His eyes drift closed again, and he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness.

---

When he wakes up, he finds Geralt next to the bed, stuffed into an entirely too small chair, asleep. No way the position he’s in is comfortable – his neck craned at an awkward angle, his back barely supported by the hard wood. But he’s there, just as he had promised to Jaskier.

The bard smiles, and reaches out, pushing at Geralt’s knee. The Witcher wakes, amber eyes widening when he sees Jaskier. He immediately bends forward, laying his hand against Jaskier’s forehead, eyes studying his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better.” He smiles. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.”

He laughs softly, eyes drifting closed again, sleep pulling at him limbs. “That, you did.” He shivers, the heat of the fever no longer keeping him warm. “Geralt, I’m cold.”

“There are no more blankets.”

He pouts, reaches out, eyes still closed. “You’re warm.”

He hears a long-suffering sigh, then the creaking of the chair. Footsteps across the room. He feels the dip of the bed behind him, feels strong arms closing around him, and he sighs in content, before frowning. “Won’t you get sick?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

“Okay,” he whispers, before falling asleep in Geralt’s arms.

---

By the time they finally leave the inn, several days later, neither of them has mentioned what happened, and Jaskier doubts either of them will.

+ I

He doesn’t think much of it when Geralt coughs a few times. He does find it strange when it happens more and more in the next few days. He grows suspicious when a fine sheen of sweat appears on the Witcher’s forehead, even if he says he’s fine and tells Jaskier to stop fussing over him like that, he’s just hot, is all. He’s had enough when red spots start to litter Geralt’s skin.

He forces the Witcher to go to an inn, and he’s glad he did, by the time they reach it. Geralt’s hunched over Roach’s neck, sweat dripping from his brow, his skin so spotted with red he almost looks sunburnt. Jaskier barely manages to get him up the stairs, and immediately drops him on the bed, where Geralt lays very still, staring up at the wooden ceiling, breathing heavily.

Jaskier helps him out of his armour, uncovering more and more red spots as he works his way down to Geralt’s boots.

“I’m fine,” Geralt rasps to him. He doesn’t believe it for shit.

“Yeah, no you’re not, Witcher. Looks like you’ve got yourself some measles.”

Geralt scoffs, though it sounds more like two pieces of sandpaper rubbed together. “Witchers don’t get measles.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, taking a washcloth, wetting it with some water from his waterskin. “Well, you did, so I suggest you change your views on that, Geralt.” He sits down on the side of the bed, gently laying the washcloth over Geralt’s brow, softly pressing it down. “You’re burning up,” he whispers.

“It’s fine.”

He smiles. “Go to sleep, Geralt. Get some rest.”

The Witcher sighs. “Hmm.” A ‘fine, alright, I’ll listen’-hmm. “I’m cold.”

Jaskier laughs softly, climbing over Geralt, laying down on his other side, hugging him to his chest. “Better?”

Geralt shakes his head frantically, weakly pushing at him – the fever’s clearly already taking a toll on him. “You’ll get sick,” he rasps.

“I had the measles as a kid. I’ll be fine, Witcher.”

“Hmm.” A content ‘hmm’. Then, suddenly: “Thank you, Jaskier. I love you.”

Geralt’s breathing evens out, as Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on his Witcher. Geralt is fast asleep, breathing deep and steady, face relaxed from its eternal frown. Jaskier smiles, laying down again, pulling his Witcher closer. “I love you too,” he whispers. Of course, Geralt doesn’t hear him, but he’ll say it again when he wakes up.

He’ll say it a million times if he has to – and he would mean it every time.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #500 followers celebration #5 + 1 things

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butterfliesinmyguts · 3 years

Text

us against the world

* proofreading in process*

summary: after living outside the walls for a more peaceful life, eren comes visits you every once in a while. but after months of nothing, you begun to fear the worst

warning: angst, 18+ smut, and it’s just kinda sad.

“ he turned y/n..” I sighed letting out a relief, he isn’t dead but “ what do you mean turned?” mikasa looked away. Mikasa is absolutely stunning, from the way she hold self to her soft face. I miss seeing her everyday, mikasa and I were the best of friends- we still are she comes and visit for every now and then to clear her mind. It’s calm by the sea now and days, miskasa sipped the tea and continued. “ he has this idea.. that it’s him against the world..”

“ yeah but his always been like that..” I fought for him, “ it’s different, Sasha...” miskasa clenched her first in pain, “ she's dead and he laughed y/n... laughed in our faces.” my heart fell as tears poured from my eyes, she couldn’t- why would he let that happened.

a long time ago eren told me something as we lied in bed together- it was after they caught marylans. “ come back..” he begged me. explaining to me he wanted to see you more, “ you can come see me whenever, and I can protect myself you’ll never see the end of me..”

I expected a giggled from him but he turned away, worried I pushed against his naked chest and grabbed Erens face making him look at me. the look in his eyes, they didn’t glow anymore, “ I've seen things... horrible things, so please come back y/n please”

after a long night, mikasa explained to me that she’d be in touch soon, and that I may need to prepare to fight again soon. those words scared me, miskasa made me promise that if she came back with bad news that I would come with her no questions. I agreed hugging her ever so tightly, I couldn’t help the tears that spilled as I watched her horse disappeared.

the next day, I used my old ODM gear to practice- putting it on was it work out in itself but it felt like home. my muscles screamed at me, as a ran all the way back home- just to tend to my garden. I picked this amazing sweet fruit I found a while ago, it was bright red and had a green topping to it. I wouldn’t eat the green part by the rest was so good. noticing my bucket was full I stood up.

“ y/n..” my heart dropped, whipping myself around my eyes widen to “ Eren!” he smiled towards me, whist leaping into his arms. Nuzzling my face into his shoulder, I inhale his scent. his musks was missed, his shirt could only stay unwashed for long... it’s been too long. “ oh how I’ve missed you!” I cried, as I heard him exhale as in relief. “ I couldn’t get you out of my mind..” pulling away to look at him, my palm on his cheek.

I saw scars under his eyes, he used his titan form? why. rubbing his cheek, I felt wet..pulling away bleed covered my hand, as I remember what miskasa told me. the warmth and happiness feeling quickly leaving.

“ let’s .. get you clean..” my hand grabbing the bucket while the other guided him into my cottage. “ you know I remember how to get there..” Eren joked, I felt his thumb soothe the top of my hand.

letting inside him, Eren’s eyes never left me as he set down at my table. placing the bucket full of berries on the counter and full another bucket in the sink to collect warm water. staying busy kept my thoughts still- trying to avoid the heavy tension in the room. my eyes look towards him, his built body leaned back with legs parted as his legs bounced against the wood, turning away trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

Eren is impatient, in fact, he is extremely impatient. by now I’d be pushed against the table or if he was being really needy we wouldn't even make it inside my cottage and id end up being fucked into the dirt. but it's been so long, he looks so different.

turning his cheek I saw a gush slowly heal, but bleed still covered his ear. dipping the towel and the warm bucket I began to clean him off.

I felt his eyes watch me, as I got rid of the blood. he pulled closer to me- my skin got tense under his touch, trying to push my thoughts aside, I continued to tend to his wounds. Eren's lips tickled your neck making you freeze. “ why are you so stiff?” I shrugged, I don’t even know why I’m acting like this. maybe it’s because he knew Sasha was going to die and I didn’t do anything about it or maybe because you know that if it came down to you or his goal -you’d quickly be added to the pile of bodies. my stomach turned in knots as his large hands massage my back, his lips moved against my skin. “oh eren..” I whined pushing our foreheads together.

Eren is the only guy that can make me feel numb but just one touch. When we kiss I feel so dizzy, and when we make love I feel in a pure daze. I remember when we first joined the survey troops, how we had an agreement to come to each other vent about our days. eren days were way more stressful than mine with hange poking at him and levi on his neck but those moments made me fell for him, he wanted to save everyone, his selflessness. I’m in love with him, but I can’t shake off the pure horror I feel around him. I quickly push-off, almost tripping of the bucket of water, and leaned against the sink. while washing my hands off I notice that I was painfully shaking, looking up in the mirror eren watched my hands in confusion. Eren knew you had panic attacks, but that was after fighting titans or close calls. private moments like this are something that you've always said relaxed your nerves.

as eren reached for them I push him off. “ what the hell y/n” walking back my hands shook more, “ why are you being like this? “ he yelled in confusion.

you couldn't even look in his eyes, it hurt so bad. it hurt so bad that know that you may have to fight someone you loved, someone you imagined a future with. walking outside your cottage, watching Eren tend to the garden. he’d run to you kissing your lips while rubbing your stomach- you guys would fight over baby names. this wasn't your future anymore, it was never going to happen.

“ because I’m scared of you eren..” the atmosphere changed, his hardened face turned soft and for a second I swear I saw the bright blue that used to cover his eyes. my chest caved in, and I began to cry. my skin burning from the hot tears pour down my cheeks as I fought to breathe, Eren watched me shaken.

“oh baby please..” leaning in kissing my cheeks, “ no!” my voice cracked, my hand pushed again Eren's chest as his heartbeat against my palm“ please just let me hold you” as his arms started to warp around me my whole body trembled. “ I know what you did!”

silence tore the air, as we glared into each other. his fist tightens and eren eyes fell down staring at the wooden floor, “ I didn’t know it then, but now I understand- you know what going to happen next.. huh?”

nothing “- and you don’t care about us you don’t care about nothing but your goal of killing everyone..” waiting for pleading for him to fight my words. be he didn’t even look up, my sadness and pain quickly were replaced with distraught. how could he? I grabbed his face, making him look at me.

our eyes bore into each other, the man I love, the man I give myself to complete, wasn't in front of me anymore.

“ I hope you know, when you try to kill me- I will look at you like your nothing but a piece of trash..” my hand slapped against his cheek, as his eyes give me nothing but tiredness. “I hate you eren..” my heels turned, walking towards the shower leaving him there with his thoughts.

closing the bathroom door, I sighed letting the tears fall. I didn't wanna fight him, I couldn't. I didn’t mean those words, I could never hate him.

discarding my sweaty clothes off and started the water. stepping in the shower my worried washed away, the bar of soap cleanses the dirt and sweat from my body.

I knew when the moment came down to it, and my blade was to his neck I wouldn’t be able to do it.

my arms went to my chest as the bathroom door opened, it was eren turning to pull my eyes away my hand scrubbed my skin but I couldn’t help but to watched his figure pull off his clothes and step in then shower.

“Why are you in my shower..” eren frowned, “ a word please?” I looked him up and down trying to not squeeze my legs together. facing him, he looking me up and down, and his member leap led with joy-of course.

rolling my eyes and turning away I continued to wash my body, erens a hand came up to my shoulder. before I could push him off, his finger kneed into my skin, my nerves relaxed under his sudden touch, it's been so long since I felt Eren's touch, “ oh..” I moaned as he continues to loosen all those muscles.

I watched the wet ground as feet became into eren feet came into my view, unkept. “ you could clean your feet” turning to face him, closing his eyes he chuckled“ when was the last time you di-“

cutting me off his thumb trailing my lips, he only did that when he wanted to kiss me. “ since I was last here with you.” pausing I remember when he was here, we took a bathe in the sweet-smelling soap eren brought back for me, we got drunk until we couldn’t stand, and we held each other like it was the last time.

I can’t lose him, I don’t want to fight him. I love him, there has to be a way, a way to keep him here with me. deep in my thoughts eren studied me, “ it doesn’t have to be this way...” my thoughts left my mouth.

“ look this is going to happen... I can’t stop it-“ eren nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself. his body rocked against mine, “ yes you ca-“ I began my hand starting toward his face. “ no!” his voiced rumbled. “ this has to happen, but please y/n I can’t think of this right now..”

his hand begun to massage my neck making my eyes flutter. “ I haven’t seen you in-“

“5 months” we both unison, I longed for eren. no matter what he did, what he said, nor what he thought. Eren was on my mind all the time.

“ So can we please..” his lips pecked mine, hold my face close to him with one hand on my neck and the other roaming my body. “let’s just be here together and forget everything else..”

nodding, he took me in with his lips. Oh, how I missed his lips, my stomach had butterflies in them- I was utterly mesmerized by him, even if I wanted to punch him, kick, and scream why! why are you doing this eren, what about our future together? my lips melt against his, as our kiss deepen

coming to terms with what was going to happen wasn’t going to be easy. fight the man you loved, I could only imagine how Armin and mikasa felt. “ stop thinking..” eren awakened me, his digits slipped inside me.

throbbing around him, I lifted my head up and ride his fingers. “ I’ve missed you so much y/n...” gasping I looked down watching curl and twist his finger in and out of me. oh god, my fingers were nothing compared to him.

“ how long has it been since you came...” my eyes low turning my neck to his face. eren started at me, waiting for an answer. thumb pressing against my clit, shallow I stared at his lips. I wanted them all over me- I wanted him all over me.

“ ah - a month ago..” eren moved his thumb drawing circles again me, I remember fucking myself imagining they were eren- wishing and waiting for him to walk in and finish for me. I missed him so, pushing our lips together eren hand gripped my breast, it was sloppy. eren tongue was tangled in my throat as he fucked me with his hand. pulling away to breathe, i groaned using his forearm to hold myself up.

“ it could never compare..” pulling his fingers out of me, my knee dropped and eren arms held me up. his fingers in my face covered in my wetness, he licked them. “ this hand..” eren hips push against my ass feeling his cock throb as he grinned against me. I felt myself pulsing, aching for him“ my body” I shivered, I need him now.

his lips found my ear lobe, “ you don't know how bad I need you y/n” my eyes fluttered in pleasure, his word took hold of me, I'm drowning. eren fingers started again drawing circles on my clit, “ ahhh er-en”

“ nothing compares to you”

“ my hand doesn't even come close to your pussy...” pushing deep into me. I was speechless, “ my pussy...” letting out I sigh I leaned against him as his cock slowly pushed in and out of me. eren hands gripped my chin, making me look into him. those deep green eyes watching my face twist and turn all because of him, what he was doing to me. he loved it, smiling at me. “ tell me it's mine”

my hands clenched against his forearms, I wanted to watch him fuck me- trying to look down is three fingers tighten around my chin giving me a stern look.” tell me its mine y/n” I didn't want to give in, it was his. my pussy belonged to him, pushing are lips together I let our tongues fight against each other as he stopped to focus on our lips. I soften a bit letting the lips slow down against his, I let my right hand let go of his arm so I can run my fingers through his hair.

it's so long, so thick. his lips were so rough, I took it upon myself to lick them and pull away to look at him. he held me tight against him, he was truly beautiful. eren pushed his lips together, trying to savor the feeling of buzzing.

“ eren ill always be yours...” his cheeks redden as his cock twitched inside of me, “y/n it's always be yours”

we decide to wash off leading to an intimate moment of us taking care of each other. Eren's soapy hands bathe my body as I took care of his after we moved to my bedroom . I pushed him against the door giggling against his lips. “ my silly girl” he mumbled as my lips started to trail down to against his neck then chest.

his hand let go of the towel around his waist giving me the best view ever, his cock bumped again me as I dropped to my knees in mercy. looking up at him, his body tense, his face flushed.

my hand moved to his cock, and he dam near jumped. looking back up at him, his lips were about to bite off his upper lip. moving slowly I created a rhythm, my hand fucking his shaft as my lips kissed his tip, panting eren abs clenched. “ y/n ... your..” he moaned deeply “ fuck ah” I open my mouth taking him in.

gripping his thighs, I widen my mouth pushing him deeper down my throat. eren whimpered, grabbing my hair pulling me off, his cock bounced and begged for release. looking up at him, he pulled me up. “it's been too long...’ rolling my eyes I nodded, as he back me up to fall against my bed.

eren crawled on top of me as I watched him. his abs were tight and the smirk on him was present. eren was beautiful, my fingers played against his skin. So warm he is so warm, “you breathe taking y/n” my eyes flickered to met his deep green ones. our lips hovered on top of each other, as my legs parted wider for him as my hips started against him.

“ uhh”eren groan, his breath blew on my lips. guiding himself Eren starting pushing inside me, my eye rolled back and I saw black spots.

eyes watched my body, his eye watching my face twist and turn in pleasure. “ let it out y/n” a loud moan leaving your mouth. It’s been too long, his cock stretched you out, you remember when you were molded perfectly for him back when you are in the survey troops.

due to the extended stay away, you were all tight again. Eren grunted, “ so tight, let’s get you back again okay baby..” whimpering you nodded, hating how easy he had control over you.

pulling his hips away he smashed into me, “I need you” he groaned as I wept into his neck, inhale him, even panted in my ear his hands caressing all around my body. “ eren- aw..h please!”

“ tell me you need me..” my eye rolled into the back of my head, I did. I needed around me, I need him by me. with me, grabbing his face I met his hips with mine eren moaned, “ eren need you..” my legs shaked, as we rocked together.

“I love you y/n” my mouth ajar, I felt everything. eren meant it, his hand hugged my skin. pulling me completely into him. “I love you I love you I love you” he chanted, my walls hugged eren as tight as they could, his name slipped through my lips, and then I soft “ never let me go eren” as I came around him.

my skin buzzed and my chest met his, my nails dug into his back as I whined. “ fuck yes y/n” my body calmed against him as he continued to dive into me.

the slick sound of him pulling in and out of me, make me twitch. I turned to the side, as I was met with his hand- the hand he bites was deeply scarred. I knew it hurt, so kissed his hand. kissing it all away, the pain. “ oh ah..” eren body came closer to me as moaned against me, his lips rolling against mine.

“I wanna make it go away eren..” his moan grew louder as I held him tighter. “ let it go please..” with one final thrust he finished in me, his howls played in my ears as my finger pushed his wet hairs from his face. “ I love you eren..”

after falling into each other, you laid there with each other. catching up about everything, even the things you didn’t want to hear- he told you about his dream and you listened to the same way he did to yours. you both promise that in the next life you find each other- “ us against the world..” you mumbled as eren widen eyed, “ always no matter what that what it’ll be..”

that night you fell asleep peacefully as eren held you tight in his arms. the night fell until dawn, as the sunlight slowly beamed into your room. eren hadn’t slept, how could he with you by his side. this is the calmest he has felt in a while. a snore left your lips, as drool spilled out on his chest- eren blushed pushing your hair out of your face, eren sighed. he knew what had to come.

he knew what he had to do, he knew that meant going against you. there was no other way. It always ended this way “ I’m sorry..”

author notes:

thank you so much for reading, let me know if you liked it. also my request are open!

#attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #eren yaegar #eren jäger #eren x you #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren attack on titan #snk x reader #snk eren #snk fandom

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softnoblecyno · 3 years

Text

A Spoon Full of Sugar (pt. 3)

part 1, part 2, part 3 (you are here!), part 4, part 5, part 6

Geralt/Jaskier, ~300 words, rated T

i wrote this very fun fic for @thewitcherbog’s fic train event! my very wonderful partners are @slightlycrunchy @wolf-and-bard @professorjaskier @damatris and @kueble, in order! the rest of the parts will be posted soon, one per day! i hope you enjoy!

also on ao3

—

“Geralt?” Jaskier squeaks.

Geralt shakes his head, coming back into full awareness after both his sneeze and his previous, injured haze. When he stills, his gaze locks onto Jaskier’s stomach. He’s staring at a button on Jaskier’s chemise. It’s just a bit smaller than the entirety of Geralt’s head. He blinks hard. Slowly, his eyes rise up until he meets Jaskier’s. He doesn’t look surprised, not exactly. More… stoic. Like the calm before a storm.

“Jaskier,” Geralt speaks slowly, enunciating each letter clearly. His voice trembles with rage, barely contained. “You told me that was Swallow.”

“It was!” He scoops the witcher into his hands and raises him to eye level. Geralt hisses at him. “It- it mostly was! It’s possible I used the wrong flower, but you were so hurt, Geralt! Do you even know how worried I was? We didn’t have any other options. And- and look! You’re all better now, aren’t you? You��re not pale, and your wounds are all healed up-”

“I’m six inches tall!” Geralt’s outburst isn’t anywhere as threatening as it usually is. His voice sounds about the same, but the loss of his imposing figure cripples his intimidation abilities. Geralt must realize at the same time Jaskier does, because he snarls to himself and kicks Jaskier’s thumb. It doesn’t hurt, but Jaskier whines anyway.

Geralt paces around his palms, cursing to himself. Jaskier can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can guess just fine. Still, Geralt truly does look better. He’s no longer sickly. He looks like he usually does- well not entirely- the furious body language included. His clothes and medallion shrunk with him. His armor and swords, however, lay unchanged beside Geralt’s bedroll. They’ll have to come back for them after this is solved, and until then all they can do is hope nothing will be stolen.

Well. At least it’s possible for Jaskier to carry him to town now.

Jaskier stands, jostling Geralt, who falls on his ass.

“Hey!”

read the full fic on ao3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #witcher #witcher fic #witcher netflix #my writing #jaskalt

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theyscreamjade · 3 years

Text

But You’re Mine

Alright, Peeps! I'm going to do it, I'm gonna write Deku smut, Please go easy on me! I tried my best! I think I’ve done something...and I’m rethinking my shipping choices.

_____________________

"Hey, baby!" You said happily while he stayed focused on his papers. Izuku stared closely at the large pile of papers on his desk while trying to comprehend a villains' motives to target a playground. A bunch of kids was nearly killed by his actions and he couldn't why a shark-looking guy would even want to be there. You tapped his shoulder, making Izuku jump as a sudden reaction.

"Hey? Is everything okay?" You asked as Izuku shook his head. "It's okay, Baby. What's up?" He asked. He wasn't expecting your presence since you usually waited for him back in the apartment you two shared, It wasn't unusual to see you. It was just a random occurrence. "I was hoping you'd accompany me to lunch? My treat!" You offered with a smile as Izuku frowned a bit. "Oh, I'd love to baby but I'm wrapped up with this. Maybe next time?" He asked while a frown formed on your face. This wasn't the first time he's rejected a meal with you but it was starting to get old. "You said that last time.." You whined a bit as he stood up, placing his hand on your cheek.

"I promise, We'll have a wonderful meal together. Just you and me, no work or anything." He coaxed while you smiled softly, feeling his touch. "Just let me make this a safer place for us." He whispered, leaning close to you as he rubbed his nose against yours. You giggled softly, closing your eyes while his lips touched your forehead softly. Soon after, you exited the office and headed towards the doors. "Hello Y/N," Shoto said, catching your attention as he stopped walking. "Shoto! How are you?" You asked, smiling.

"I'm fine, yourself?" He asked, giving you a soft smile. "I'm good, I was going to grab something to eat. I asked Deku he said he's busy at the moment," you explained as Shoto nodded. "I was going to talk to him since he's busy. I'll wait to speak to him." He said before you gasped softly. "Why don't you join me? I found a yummy spot. They have the best food ever! I hear they have yummy soba that they can make cold for you." You offered. Shoto couldn't deny the hunger he had, even hearing about the soba made his stomach growl loudly. You laughed softly and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the headquarters while you two headed to the restaurant.

Who knew Shoto could make such great company? Once you two ate, he offered to pay but you pre-paid when you walked in. So, as a sign of thank you, he took you to the mall that was next door. Once inside, he offered to buy whatever you wanted. This took a while because you are such a sweet being and didn't want to blow his bank account. At first, you offered that he buys you a teddy bear or something. When you pointed to the bear, he'd ask if it came in a bigger size to match with the amount you paid for in the restaurant. This included clothes and other things until he saw something that even interested him.

You arrived home, waving bye to Shoto who made his way home which was walking distance away. The door slammed open as you shoved the giant stuffed panda through the door. You always loved panda's ever since you were a little so you were now an owner of a giant stuffed panda. Izuku looked over in confusion, seeing you roll it in and sat it in the room. "There!" You said as he walked over. "Hey, Is this where you disappeared off to?" He asked curiously. "Yeah, Shoto and I went to the restaurant and he brought me this. Isn't he cute?" You asked, not noticing the hurt look on his face.

"That...That must've cost a lot." He said before you shook your head, facing him. "Nah, Shoto wanted to make it even between us. I paid for the meal and he wanted to repay me for it," you said as Izuku smiled. "Well, I guess I'll make dinner for one tonight." He said as you giggled, "I'll make your favorite, I just need a shower. That was a workout." You commented while walking to the bathroom, leaving Deku behind who was trying to hide his slight jealousy.

. . .

You and Shoto became friends fast, the friendship developing fast as it became extremely obvious. You found different things to do and if Izuku was supposedly too busy, you just called Shoto who always offered his time. Most of the time, you never called and just called Shoto instead. You didn't want to interfere with Deku's work. Paparazzi started to get suspicious of why the number one hero's lover was doing with the number three hero. Rumors quickly spread like wildfire while you two didn't mind, it wasn't true.

It was nearing midnight, Deku was working back at the headquarters again, you assumed since he usually came home around this time. To avoid having to make half a meal again or even having a spoiled plate of food like yesterday, you called Shoto. Thankfully, he enjoyed the meal and thanked you for calling him since he worked hard earlier that day. You hummed quietly, scrubbing the dishes in the sink. A stinging pain rushed to your hand as you gasped, snatching it from the soapy water. Blood began to drip from your hand as Shoto rushed over. He took your hand and quickly examined it before grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinets.

The cooling sensation from his touch while he rubbed ointment in your wound before wrapping it. You smiled before frowning playfully, not hearing the door close. "You've gotta kiss it to make it better~" You instructed as Shoto looked at you rather confused. "What will that do?" He asked before you smiled. "Increase the healing." You said as he lifted your hand and kissed it before the sound of glass shattering was heard behind you two. You two snapped your attention to Deku who gripped the bear tightly before he tossed it aside.

"Hey! Babe, I didn't think y-" "Y/N, Can we talk?" He asked, stopping your words before grabbing your hand. He didn't pull or shove but his energy read complete anger. Once in the room, the door was slammed shut as he faced you. "So, Is that why you never call or visit anymore? You're busy with Shoto?" He asked, walking towards you. "Yeah, You're always busy and he works later at night so..I-I-I just assume.." You trailed off, your body slammed onto the wall as his hand pressed on the wall, inches away from your face. "Why is that? Does he satisfy you better than I can?" He asked as you swallowed your spit.

Your normally cute, soft baby boy was making your body weak from his dominant actions. "They think you left me for him...but what they don't know that you're mine. All fucking mine, Baby, and no one can have you. " He growled, his head inching close to your ear before he bit right underneath it. You let out a soft gasp while he sucked the tender flesh harshly, arcing your back as he scooped you up. "Baby, wait.." You tried to speak before his lips slammed against yours, pinning you to the wall. He broke the kiss while you pant harshly, lust engulfing the two of you. "Shoto's out there.." You said as he smirked. "Good, He'll know you're all mine baby." He growled, prying you from the wall.

Your body bounced against the bouncy bed while Deku snatched his shirt off while you followed, revealing your bra. He climbed on top of you, kissing and marking your neck, trailing down to your breasts. His scarred hands snatched the meaningless piece of fabric off your body before his lips latched onto your nipple. Your eyes closed while your back arched, receiving a hand into your panties. His tongue swirled and sucked while his fingers teased your clit, making moans slip from your mouth.

"I-Izuk-Ahh" You moaned, trying to speak. He pulled from your breast, kissing your lips again as his fingers slipped inside your sopping wet core, your velvet walls grasping him. Your toes curled while he started pumping into you, your hand wrapped around his wrist wanting him to slow down but he refused to show a sliver of mercy. Your moans were muffled from the kiss even though he could hear each one from those sweet lips of yours.

Suddenly, his hand snatched away as he grabbed your bottoms along with your panties. "D-D-Deku, Baby. I-Ahh~" You moaned aloud, his tongue slipping into your core. You honestly prayed that Shoto was long gone by now. Your eyes rolled back while his tongue worked unimaginably, sending chills through your body. Your hands covered your mouth to avoid the embarrassing fear of Shoto hearing the deed within the same walls as him. Your hips wiggled and grind with his movements before your hands snatched to his green fluffy hair while he toyed with your clit. You were nearly shaking when he pulled away, making your desperation overflow your body.

"Look at your baby, You're desperate for me and only me. He can't do what I can do.." He growled, snatching your hips to you. His tip rubbed against your clit, coating him in your warm juices. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for a ride of your life before Izuku lifted your head, locking eye contact with you as he slid himself deep inside you. Your hand gripped the sheets, feeling him slide deep inside you. Your mouth agape open while he slammed himself deep inside you, inching himself deeper with each thrust.

"You're all mine baby! No one can have you! You're all mine. Mine and mine only, You look so beautiful when you're moaning my name~" He grunted, breaking the contact and pinning you to the bed. His right hand held your hip while his left kept your legs open in a brutalizing missionary position. "I'm the only one that can make you feel this way. You're my gorgeous babydoll." He growled against your ear while showing his hidden possessive side. Your hands moved from the sheets to his back, scratching it harshly while a rush of pleasure overpowered you. Your body began to shake as Izuku did something he has never done before, he pulled back and rubbed your clit feverishly.

"DEKU!!" You cried out as your squirt suddenly, spraying on him like a waterfall while he watched astonished by you. You panted, shaking as he came right after you, coating your walls before he pulled out. A few minutes would go by before you spoke, your hand over your face. "Y-You know nothing was going on between Sho and I, Right?" You questioned as he blushed softly. You couldn't help but giggle as he laid beside you. "I'd never leave you, Deku," you whispered, hugging him as your face pressed against his chest. "I know...I was just scared he would. I haven't been the best boyfriend lately and I was afraid that he would take you away from me. I hated seeing you so happy with him when it could've been me...and the media made it worse." He confessed while you smiled softly, your bandaged hand touched his chest.

"But I understood, I have since we started dating. You're the number one hero and you should do whatever you can to protect your citizens." You said, smiling softly while nuzzling into his chest. "You're my number one hero and I'll never want anything else." You added, earning a smile on his freckled face.

"How’d I get so lucky to have you?."

#my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia scenarios #i hope you like this #bnha izuku midoriya #izuku headcanons #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x black!reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x you

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.

Three minutes past check-in.

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.

“Hi.”

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.

But that’s not the worst of it.

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.

“You let me know if you need a break.”

Still, there’s no response.

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.

For that, Bucky owes him everything.

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.

You’d killed them all.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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brutal-nemesis · 3 years

Text

E&T: Return of the Blep

It’s back but also not! (no i wont explain it you’ll see what I mean) Thank y’all for bullying him so much yesterday, it was a wonderful way to end the erabus!

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: mouth whump, noncon surgery, lab whump

Erebus wanted to back away, to run, to hide, to resist, to fight. But doing so only made it hurt more when he lost, and he knew he was going to lose. So when the guards came to get him the next morning, he let them grab him and guide him down the hall. He promised himself he would be strong, no matter what awaited him, he could face it...right? He had to. He had to.

But as soon as Erebus laid eyes on the metal table, with its leather straps and bright overhead lights, his legs gave out. This was real. Right there, right on that table, he was going to be tied down and… he started to struggle desperately against the men dragging him, panic destroying his resolve to go quietly. He would not just let them do this, he was a person, he wasn’t a lab rat, he couldn’t let this happen. “Stop resisting,” one of the men growled, but Erebus hardly heard him through the haze of terror that had settled over him. Frustrated with Erebus’s squirming, the guard punched him square in the stomach. He gasped for breath, going limp long enough for the men to hoist him onto the table and strap his limbs down.

“Hey!” Neteri rushed over from her worktable, fuming. “Did you just hit him?”

“I’m sorry ma’am he was being difficult-”

“Well, I’d think two trained guards shouldn’t have a problem with one boy.” She got as close to the offending guard’s face as she could, somehow looking threatening while standing on her tiptoes. “You do not hurt him unless I explicitly tell you too. He is my experiment, my property, and there will be hell to pay if you mess that up in any way. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” Seeing the guard’s regret, she stepped back.

“Good. Now out of my sight.” Neteri turned to Erebus the moment the guards had left, her fury melting into concern. He couldn’t stop shaking, the table was so cold and he was so helpless and he was her experiment and what the hell was she going to do to him-

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, Erebus,” she said softly, sitting down on the table next to his head. She took off one of her gloves and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry he hit you. I know you’re scared, but I promise today won’t hurt that much. I’m just going to give you a new tongue so you can talk again, won’t that be nice? Though there are a couple conditions you have to agree to first.”

Erebus froze. She...she was going to give him his tongue back? But why? Hadn’t she cut it off as a way of saying that she...wanted him? Unless...she did that instead of severing his vocal chords so it would be easier to reverse? Part of him started to hope that things weren’t going to be so bad after all, but he doubted that would be the case. She was pretty upfront about how she thought she owned him, like anyone could own a person, and she certainly didn’t treat him as an equal. Still, being able to talk would make this situation a whole lot more bearable, depending on what her conditions were.

“Basically, I just want you to cooperate and be honest with me, and those sort of go hand in hand. If I ask you something, I want you to answer it, and I want you to tell the truth. If something’s bothering you, I want you to speak up.” Erebus made a face at that one. He had a very long list of things that were bothering him, and he doubted she’d take the collar off him or let him go just because he asked. She chuckled. “No, I can’t guarantee I’ll fix whatever it is, but I do want to make you as comfortable as possible within what I want. There’s no harm in asking though, because the worst thing that’ll happen is I say no. And if I messed up a procedure in some way and it hurts or something feels off, I need you to tell me. So can you agree to do that?”

Erebus considered it for a moment and then nodded. He didn’t have much of a choice, and he’d gladly voice his thoughts and complaints if it meant he’d have the ability to do so again. Neteri smiled and gave his head a final pat before getting up and putting her glove back on. He felt her pull another strap over his forehead, tight enough that he couldn’t move it at all. Despite his best efforts to remain calm, his breathing started to quicken again. He hated being immobilized on a table like this; he was just so completely helpless and vulnerable. She could do whatever she wanted to him and he would just have to lie here and take it. Neteri noticed and gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’re still nervous, huh?” Erebus tried to nod, but the strap around his head prevented it, so he bit his lip and looked away. He wanted his tongue back, but...he wasn’t exactly excited to have her messing around inside his mouth again, and he doubted it was going to be painless. “Well…” Neteri thought for a moment, looking around her lab. Her gaze landed on something he couldn’t see, and when she returned to his line of vision, she was holding a small jar and a brush. “I don’t know how much this will help, but it’s all I can think of, so hopefully it’s good enough.” Erebus’s fear gave way to confusion as she climbed up onto the table, standing over him. She started to paint something on the ceiling, but, upon realizing he could kind of see up her skirt, Erebus squeezed his eyes shut. At one point she planted a foot on his chest, probably in an effort to reach higher up, and he couldn’t help but cough at the extra weight. “Gah, you messed me up. Oh well, he has a little scar now I guess.”

When he felt her step down off the table, he opened his eyes again to see that she had painted...something...on the ceiling. It just looked like a potato with ears and a tail. And a beady little eye with a splash of paint under it, likely from when she stepped on his chest. At first he was sort of confused as to what the purpose of the strange drawing was, but the longer he stared at it, the cuter it looked. Its simplicity was sort of endearing, and soon he found himself enjoying the sight of the round little rat. Wait, was he really being comforted by a stupid little drawing on the ceiling when Neteri was about to operate on him? Though...it was all he was going to get, wasn’t it?

Seeming to think he’d calmed enough, Neteri pried his mouth open and shoved some sort of rubber block between the teeth on one side of his mouth, forcing him to keep his jaw open wide. Holy Drottkia, she was starting, it was happening, there was a knife moving towards his mouth. He whined and tried to keep still as she made an incision along the stump of his tongue. He figured it was probably to make the reattachment easier, but the reminder of the pain he’d felt when she cut it out the first time was enough to bring tears to his eyes. No, no, this was going to fix it, he would be able to talk again, this wasn’t that day all over again.

At the sensation of something cold pressing against the wound, and Erebus couldn’t help but feel a little spark of elation. He really was getting his tongue back. But as Neteri started her healing spell, he realized the operation was far from over. Both of her hands were in his mouth, healing magic lighting everything ablaze. The feeling of his tongue was starting to come back, each nerve reattaching with an agonizing spark, every pain circuit firing all at once. He tried his best not to scream, but it was difficult not to with his mouth stuck open like this. After what seemed like an eternity, the magic finally stopped flowing. Neteri pulled her hands, and the rubber block, out of his mouth, allowing him to close his aching jaw. Having a tongue in his mouth again felt so strange, even if he had only been without it for two days. Neteri opened his mouth again, gently examining his tongue one last time before nodding and stepping back.

“Okay, it looks good! So just...go ahead and talk. About whatever. I need to see if it works right, you know?” Erebus opened his mouth, but his mind drew a blank. What was he supposed to say after...that? Neteri looked at him quizzically. “Is something wrong? Does it still hurt?”

“I…” Why couldn’t he think of anything to say?! He’d wanted nothing more than the freedom to voice his thoughts the past few days, but now that he could, he was coming up with nothing. In his defense, he hadn’t exactly been expecting her to ask him to monologue right away.

“Seriously, Erebus, you can say whatever you want. I really don’t care. If you want to yell at me and tell me how much you hate me, feel free! I won’t, like, punish you or anything. And I’m not one of those people who’s like ‘I said I wouldn’t punish you but I was lying and you should know better’ or whatever, that’s so dumb. I’m not here for mind games, I’m here for body games.” There was a pause. “That came out wrong. Incredibly wrong. I don’t mean-”

“Shut up.” The words bubbled up out of nowhere, and he let them come. “You never shut up, and you’re so…awkward. Enough that half the time, I wasn’t sure what I would even say if I could talk. And now that I can, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, there’s been a lot I’ve wanted to say over these past two days, but I don’t remember any of them, because what the hell-?” Erebus stopped, suddenly realizing what he’d just said and who he’d said it to. He felt himself go red as he cautiously glanced at Neteri.

For a moment, he couldn’t read her expression at all, but a smile soon crept across her face, and before he knew it she was laughing uncontrollably. “Oh-hahaha-oh man, Erebus, Erebus, you,” she paused in an attempt to stop her laughter, “I was worried you weren’t going to be able to be honest with me, what with you having been a prince and all, but that was just-” she giggled one last time and took a deep breath, “it was unexpected. Good, but not what I expected out of you at all what with your sad little eyes.”

“I-I don’t have sad little ey-”

“Yeah, you do,” Neteri cut him off as she unbuckled the strap around his head. “But for real, how does it feel? Talking doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“It...feels fine. Talking feels normal, and it doesn’t hurt at all, but it just feels kind of...different? I didn’t think I’d forget what my own tongue felt like, but I guess I must have.” He ran it over his teeth. Something was definitely off, it felt rougher somehow.

“Well, seeing as that isn’t your tongue, that’s not exactly shocking.”

“Not my...wait, what?!”

“Yeah that’s part of the tongue of a gluttony demon. You didn’t think I was going to just put yours back, did you? What would have been the point of cutting it off in the first place?”

“What’s the point of putting a-a demon tongue in its place though?”

“Erebus,” she leaned down over him and placed a hand on his cheek, “I’m just going to tell you right now, you’re gonna have to get used to it. Because it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen

#i wrote something #erebus & terror #erebus #neteri #mouth whump #noncon surgery #lab whump #yes that is rat zander he's canon shut the fuck up. my king #can we get some :P out in here #this mans can lick halite again rejoice fuckers #hopefully no one is too upset about mans getting his speaking rights back #yeet we getting into the fuckin Experiment hours now i am pleased #fuck can't believe i have to start writing dialogue for erebus again #no more just him sad little eyes. he do got sad little eyes tho #oh uh and because im mean if you ever want to ask mute!erebus a question you still can because it's funny #just like. specify. that you want that #erebus is finally strapped to the table. where he belongs <3 #erebus really said shut the FUCK up neteri #god im excited for them to have like actual conversations i enjoy their dynamic too much #there WAS gonna be a bit more to this but i decided to move it to ch8 so that can have some angst #because it's not gonna be all that whumpy so like. gotta spread it out #and then people who arent comfy with the surgery bit dont have to pick around this as much

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demxters · 4 years

Text

When There Was Me and You-Part 1

jj maybank x reader

summary: When the reader finally awakens from a coma, JJ Maybank’s world gets turned upside down.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident (?), descriptions of a panic attack

series masterlist

my masterlist

a/n: i’m so excited to share this with you all! i worked on this all night so i hope you guys enjoy! i’m not sure how long this series will be yet, but i hope to get the next part out soon!

(not my gif)

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

JJ felt like he was in purgatory. The constant beeping of the heart monitor was currently the only thing giving him hope. It’s been three weeks, 504 hours, 30,240 minutes, and 1,814,400 seconds (he may or may not have begged Pope to do the math) since he’s last heard your voice. His sweaty hand was firmly grasping yours, afraid that if he let go you would slip away. JJ didn’t dare go further than the hospital cafeteria while you were there. The Pogues and your parents had to practically drag him out of there every other day to get him to shower, get a change of clothes, and eat some food. And every time he left, he made sure that whoever was watching you promised to call him for even the slightest change in your state. Because the hospital only allowed one overnight patient to stay with you, your parents were kind enough to give that privilege to JJ.

“JJ, it’s my turn to take over,” Kie’s voice breaks the unbearable silence.

He lets out a shaky breath. He goes through this routine every time he has to leave your room, even if it was just to use the restroom. He squeezed your hand, and silently counted to 10 in his head.

10…

He places a kiss to your palm.

9…

Then one on your wrist.

8…

Another in your hair,

7…

On your forehead,

6…

The apples of your cheeks,

5…

Your chin,

4…

The spot behind your ear that you loved so much,

3…

And finally your lips.

2…

1…

JJ’s lips leave yours, his tears falling onto your cheeks. He wipes them away and leans his forehead against yours. “I’ll be back before you know it, my love,” he whispers. “I love you.” He turns to face Kiara who’s patiently waiting by the door. “If anything changes, anything at all-”

“I know, I know. Call you right away,” Kie says.

JJ nods, walking past Kiara and giving her a hug. He buries his head into her neck and mumbles, “Thank you for being here.”

At this Kiara feels her eyes begin to water, her heart aching for her two best friends. “Of course,” she whispers to him.

JJ lets Kiara go and gives you one last look before walking out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. On his way down the hall, he sees your parents sitting a little ways outside your hospital room with their heads pressed together as they spoke in hushed whispers.

Your mom notices JJ walking their way and nudges your father who looks up from the catalog in his lap. “JJ,” your mom says, with a small smile.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, Mr. Y/L/N,” he greets back with a small nod, shoving his hands into the pocket of his shorts, stopping in front of them.

Your dad stands up and shows the catalog that was in his lap to JJ. “We’re thinking of ordering Y/N a bouquet. Which one do you think she’ll like best? Y/M/N thinks that she’ll like the lilies, but I completely disagree. I think she’ll like roses.”

JJ doesn’t even have to look down at the catalog to know which flowers to get you.“Sunflowers,” he states. “You should get her sunflowers.”

“That’s an excellent choice JJ,” your mom says. “Are you heading out?”

“Only for a little while,” JJ says. “Just for a quick shower and a change of clothes. I’ll be back before the nurse’s rounds.”

Your dad sits down, clearing his throat. “JJ, thank you for being here for us, for her.”

At your father’s words JJ feels the need to cry once again. He harshly swallows the lump in his throat. He can only bring himself to nod before walking away to his bike in the parking lot.��

As JJ rode home, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he spoke to you. If only he hadn’t let you go. If only he had begged you to stay. But he didn’t. And he has to live with knowing that what happened to you was all his fault.

_____

“JJ, I have to go,” you say with a laugh as the blonde haired boy pulls you back into his chest.

“Noooo,” he whines. “Just stay with me tonight, please.” He places an arm around your waist and uses his other hand to keep you firm against his chest.

“You know how my mom gets,” you say with a sigh. You slightly push back on his hand, his grip loosening a bit, and rest your chin on his chest looking up at him. “I promise, tomorrow it’ll be just you and me out on The Pogue. No John B constantly pestering us to keep the PDA to a minimum, no Kie and Pope bickering, and no Sarah constantly bugging us about reapplying sunscreen. Just us.” You give him a quick peck on his chin then move your lips to his.

JJ immediately reciprocates the action, his lips moving with the familiar rhythm of yours in a kiss that you have both shared a thousand times before. Barely pulling away, JJ mumbles against your lips, “Fine. But promise me you’ll text me when you get home.” He gives you a stern look, one similar to a parent scolding their child.

“Of course I will.” You knew JJ would be on your ass about it if you didn’t. You unwrap your arms from around his neck and quickly give him one last kiss on his lips. You laugh as he leans forward trying to capture your lips with his once more. You walk backwards towards the front door of the Chateau and blow him a kiss, exaggerating the noise when your palm hits your lips. “I love you!” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

“And I love you, baby!” JJ responds back with a laugh, pretending to catch your kiss and stuffing it in his pocket. He watches you go, with the biggest smile on his face, wondering how the hell he got so lucky to have someone like you to love him in his life.

_____

JJ walks into the Chateau like a man on a mission. The longest he’s ever spent away from the hospital since you were admitted was thirty minutes, and he plans to keep it that way.

“Hey.” JJ hears John B’s voice say the second he pulls the door to the Chateau open. “How is she?”

JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “The same.” He harshly tugs at the roots of his hair. “The doctor said the wounds on her ribs are healing fine and that he’s confident she’ll wake up within the next week or so.”

“But you think it’s bullshit,” John B responds before taking a sip from his beer.

“I don’t know what I think anymore man,” JJ says, his voice wavering. “All I know is that I want her to wake up. I just want everything to go back to the way it was.” JJ’s voice breaks towards the end of his sentence, tears openly streaming down his face, unable to keep it all in anymore. He’s been breaking down more and more as each day passed with your absence.

“JJ-” John B starts.

JJ doesn’t give him the opportunity to finish. “I need to go shower.”

_____

JJ fell asleep in the guest room waiting for your text when it happened. The first time his phone rang, he ignored it thinking it was spam. The second time it rang, he declined the call without even opening his eyes. The third time it rang, he forced himself to open his eyes, slightly squinting from the brightness of his screen. The second he read the caller id he knew something was wrong. Your mother never called JJ. The only reason why she had his number was to help him plan your surprise birthday party last year. A sick feeling fills his stomach as he answers the phone.

“Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Oh, thank god,” your mother lets out a sigh of relief. “JJ, it’s Y/N.”

JJ feels his heart rate quicken in fear. “What’s wrong?” he frantically asks. “Is everything alright?”

He hears your mother let out a choked sob before she responds. “She got into an accident on the way home,” she releases a shaky breath before continuing. “Some drunk idiot was on the road and…” She trails off letting out another sob. “And he hit her head on. When the paramedics got to the scene, Y/N was unconscious. She’s in the ER right now but we haven’t had any news about her condition.”

JJ can barely process the words coming from your mother’s mouth. It’s as if his body began moving on autopilot as he tells your mom that he’ll be there as soon as he can. As JJ pulls on his boots, he accidentally knocks into the dresser behind him causing various objects that were sitting on top of it to topple off. “Fuck!” JJ lets out in frustration.

Hearing the ruckus from the other room, John B is awakened from his slumber and stumbles down the hallway and to JJ’s room. “JJ? What the hell is going on? It’s nearly one in the morning,” John B says with a groan, leaning on the doorframe.

“It’s Y/N, man. Sh-She got into an accident and she’s at the hospital and-shit!” He says as his foot got caught in one of his loose articles of clothing that was scattered on the floor.

John B is suddenly wide awake when he hears that you’re in the hospital. He swiftly turns around running back to his room and grabs his car keys off his dresser.

JJ nearly bumps into John B on his way out of his room and questions, “What are you doing?”

“Coming with you, of course. You know you can’t drive in this state right?” John B knew just how reckless JJ could be and with your life at stake he knew JJ wasn’t in the right headspace to drive.

JJ just frantically nods, quickly making his way to John B’s van. Sitting in the passenger’s seat as John B makes his way towards the hospital, JJ couldn’t help but wonder if this was all his fault. If only he had driven you home then maybe you wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. Maybe it would’ve been him who got hit head on instead, and you’d be safe on the passenger’s side. If only he had not taken no for an answer then you’d still be here, safe in his arms where you belonged.

“Dude, she’s going to be ok,” John B says, feeling the anxiety reeking off of JJ in waves. He noticed that JJ hadn’t stopped bobbing his leg up and down ever since he sat down in the car.

JJ doesn’t say anything. He just stares out the window, hoping that everything’s going to be ok.

_____

A series of knocks coming from outside the bathroom snaps JJ out of his thoughts.

“JJ!” he hears John B hollar. “JJ hurry your ass up! She’s awake!”

JJ shuts off the water, standing rigidly still for a moment.

“She’s awake,” John B says, slightly softer. “Y/N’s awake.”

JJ is out of the shower and changed in record time. He steps out of the bathroom with his hair still dripping, droplets of water visible on his dark blue t-shirt. “Damn it!” JJ says, running out of the Chateau, John B hot on his trail. “I said I’d be there. I promised her I’d be there when she woke up!” He slams his hand into the passenger side door of the van.

“Hey!” John B scolds, standing face to face with JJ. “Calm down, man. What matters right now is that she’s awake. Now get in the van.”

JJ practically throws himself into the passenger’s seat, his heart racing at the thought of seeing you conscious again. To finally see your y/e/c eyes staring into his and to just be in your presence once more…

_____

“Where is she?” JJ shouts, walking into the ER. He sees your mom standing by the front desk with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says with a quieter tone.

Your mom looks up from where she was staring at the floor to meet JJ’s stare. She lets out another sob before walking over to him and engulfing him in a hug, squeezing him tight.

JJ hesitantly reciprocates the hug. When your mother finally pulls away JJ asks again, “Where is she? Is she ok?”

She swallows down another sob. “She’s with the doctors right now. There’s no news on her current state. Why don’t you come with me to the waiting room? Y/D/N is there waiting for word on her condition,” your mother says putting a hand on JJ’s back and leading him to the waiting room.

Your father looks up at the sound of the approaching footsteps and gives JJ a slight nod when he walks into the room.

“Any news?” your mother asks, sitting in the seat next to your father.

“No, not a word.”

JJ settles himself a couple chairs down from your parents. He’s not sure if he leaves the space for them or for himself. The silence is deafening, leaving JJ with nothing but his thoughts to run a mile a minute. You were going to be ok, he tried to convince himself. You had to be. His girl was a fighter and you would get through this. JJ rested his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he held in the tears that threatened to spill. He couldn’t lose you. Not when you were the only thing he loved more than anything in this world. You were his rock, his anchor. You kept him from spiraling out of control. Whenever he found himself acting impulsively, you always crossed his mind. He always tried to think about the consequences and how it would affect you. And though there were times he couldn’t help himself, you were always there to take care of him, to keep him safe, to love him. Without you, everything would fall apart. He would fall apart.

The sound of two knocks on the waiting room door catches JJ and your parents attention, causing the three of you to stand up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?” the doctor says, stepping into the room.

“That’s us,” your father answers, stepping forward with your mother.

JJ silently stands to the side, listening to the whole ordeal.

“I’m Dr. Kavanaugh,” he introduces himself, giving them a hand to shake. He then turns to JJ, with his hand still extended. “And you are?”

“He’s Y/N’s boyfriend,” your mother answers for him.

“Ah, nice to meet you,” Dr. Kavanaugh replies, still waiting for JJ to shake his hand.

JJ reluctantly takes his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“So, what’s the news Doc?” your father asks. “Will she be ok?”

Dr. Kavanaugh looks to your father before giving his reply. “The good news is, her condition is stable. Other than the bruises on her ribs and the cuts on her face, her body’s in good shape.”

“Oh, thank god,” your mother says as your father wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“So what’s the bad news then?” JJ abruptly asks. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, he was just tired of the doctor taking his sweet time to tell them what’s wrong. “You said that was the good news, so what’s the bad?”

Dr. Kavanaugh turns to JJ before letting out a sigh and looking back to your parents. “The bad news is, she’s currently in a comatose state.” He pauses before continuing. “We don’t know how long she’s going to be like that or when she’s going to wake up. The best thing we can do for now is watch over her and look for any signs of complications.”

A coma. The love of his life was in a coma. It felt like the walls were closing in on him as JJ suddenly began hyperventilating. He was lightheaded and unable to comprehend what was going on around him. He pushed his way past your parents and the doctor ignoring their calls for him to come back. He stumbles down the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. The only thing that was running through his head was the thought of you being in a coma. That they didn’t know when you were going to wake up, or if you ever were. JJ feels himself crash into another body and almost falls to the floor, but the person hoists him up by his elbows.

“Woah, JJ, you good?” John B’s voice sounds like it’s miles away.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” another voice says. Female. JJ identifies. The voice is female.

John B moves JJ to one of the chairs that are lined up in the hallway and steps aside so Kiara can bring JJ back to reality.

Kiara crouches down in front of JJ, holding onto his knees to keep herself steady. “Hey, JJ, can you hear me?”

JJ slightly nods, his mouth too dry for him to respond.

“Good,” Kie’s voice soothes. “Now I need you to breathe with me ok? Can you do that?”

JJ nods again, beginning to follow Kiara’s instructions to breathe in and out.

“That’s it, there you go,” Kiara says. She waits for a moment, letting JJ regain his senses come back to them. “You don’t need to talk now. Just let us know whenever you're ready.”

JJ blinks a couple of times before finally being able to see clearly again. He sees Kiara crouched in front of him with a reassuring smile while Pope, John B, and Sarah stand behind her with looks of concern on their faces. JJ swallows, before telling them the news. He chokes up as he begins to tell them what happened, starting from when you left the Chateau, to the accident, and finishing at where you are now.

Pope takes off his hat, putting his hands behind his head as he tilts his head back trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. Kiara lets out a small gasp as she starts to cry. Sarah buries her face into John B’s neck, sobs shaking her form. And John B just stares blankly at the wall, trying to stay strong for the rest of them. But JJ doesn’t miss the small tear that escapes from his right eye.

At the sight of all his friends breaking down in front of him, he begins to break down too, his sobs becoming loud gasps for air. JJ buries his face in his hands and whispers, “It’s all my fault,” over and over again.

Kiara is the first to move, capturing JJ in a tight hug as the others are close to follow. The five friends hold each other, sobbing for their best friend and the uncertainty that’s to come.

_____

John B dropped JJ off in front of the hospital so he could go in first while he looked for a parking spot.

JJ walked through the hospital dodging other patients, visitors, and nurses as best as he could as he made his way to your room. He could see Kiara standing outside of your hospital room with a faint smile on her lips.

The door to your room was open and he could hear your faint voice talking to your parents and the doctor. God, how he missed your voice. JJ makes his way inside the room to see you sitting up and sipping some water out of a straw. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice slightly shaking at the thought of you being awake again. He takes in your appearance thinking you look as beautiful as someone possible could from coming straight out of a coma. There’s a slight tinge of pink on your cheeks that have been pale for the past few days and your hair looks like it’s been groomed, probably by your mother. He takes another tentative step into the room, unable to help the smile that comes across his face. “Y/N,” he states this time.

“JJ-” your mother starts, but he cuts her off.

JJ’s eyes well up with tears as he makes his way to the foot of your bed. “Thank fuck your ok,” he says with a small laugh getting a look of disapproval from Dr. Kavanaugh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I know I promised I’d be here but I had to run to John B’s to shower.” He pauses and smiles at you again. “God, I missed you.” A look that JJ can’t decipher crosses over your face. He thought you’d be at least a little more excited to see him.

You look to the doctor, then to your mom, as she nods and encourages you to speak. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to be here but…” you trail off trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know who you are.”

Your mother looks down at her lap, while your father puts a hand on JJ’s shoulder whispering to him, “JJ, come on, I need to speak with you outside.”

JJ shrugs your father’s hand off his shoulder and steps away from him. This had to be some kind of sick joke. “Very funny guys,” JJ says with a dry laugh, turning from your parents, to the doctor and then back to you. “Y/N, if this is your way of getting back at me for all the pranks I used to play on you then it worked. You got me good. Now come on, drop the act.” He desperately looks at you as the look of confusion on your face only grows.

“JJ,” your father whispers to him again.

“No,” JJ whispers. “No, this can’t be happening.”

You push a strand of hair that fell in your face behind your ear before looking at JJ once more. “I’m really sorry,” you say softly. “But should I know you?”

JJ felt a sharp pain in his chest at your words. Those five goddamn words that broke his heart.

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