#“so that's what you've been doing all year last year?”

[fertile-void]

doing them all again.

1. Favourite song of all time - currently - somehow the wonder of life prevails by Mark kozelek

2. Go-to karaoke song - I don't really sing karaoke but it would be soak up the sun or welcome to the black parade depending

3. Tattoo you'd get of lyrics - My first tattoo was "second is the rest" from smog's "drinking at the dam." I also have a stick and poke of "ys" on my ankle.

4. Music tattoo that isn't lyrics - Nothing comes to mind that'd be important enough to tattoo.

5. Song that makes you cry - The instrumental swells in first weeks - gem club

6. Song you love you hate to admit - I don't hate to admit liking anything. There are artists who I don't exile from my mind because of shitty things they've done in their personal life, because I don't believe in that, so I would not love talking about that with dogmatic people, but personally I don't hate to admit liking anything.

7. What song makes you think of your parents - mom would be lady of shalot by loreena mckennitt, dad would be nothin' by Townes van zandt, anything by Paul desmond or cactus by ferron. stepdad would be don't stop believing by journey

8. Best song to play at sexy times - Jupiter 8 by Sharon van etten

9. Top 3 bands or artists - 1. Bill Callahan 2. Joanna Newsom 3. Dory Previn or Sun Kil Moon

10. What band were you obsessed with as a child - I really liked Queen. Yeah they're still great.

11. Best live show you've been to - Colin Stetson

12. Band you've never seen you're dying to see - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

13. Album you'd frame and put in your house - my own. Recorded the Celtic originals I wrote with my bandmate between 2017 and 2020, and it is taking forever to mix and get set up because she had kids, I had deaths, life got insane etc and it's not our main gig, but it will happen eventually and that's the beauty of it being a side passion for both of us. And when it does, I will hang it up :)

14. Music related home decorations - Ross and I were in alela Diane's "of love" music video and we were on the ad, so I printed that and it's in our music corner. We also have an original portrait of us painted by Mickey Avalon in our bedroom.

15. Song you're obsessed with at the moment - love takes miles by Cameron Winter

16. Song ruined by an ex - none. My only serious ex is still a really good friend of mine, and "situationships" that were even deeply unhealthy have kind of just faded from my being, I don't hold onto resentments. So I can still listen to songs that once made me spiky and sad. Love is all by tallest man on earth would have applied about 11 years ago though.

17. Song to listen to go pump you up to do something difficult - Caravan by Joe Stilgoe from Whiplash lmao. "Get over yourself stop bitching and just do it" motivation really works on me.

18. Song you can't help dancing to - curtains?! by Timber Timbre

19. Greatest love song of all time - I can only answer this subjectively like anything but my faves would be thunderbolt's goodnight or change of time by Josh Ritter, or what comes after certainty by bill callahan

20. Band tshirts - I don't think I have any anymore tbh. Merch at shows are too gd expensive

21. Best album of all time - my favourite is Benji by sun kil moon. I think it's a one of a kind masterpiece with nothing remotely like it.

22. Band with the most interesting story - idk, Charlie Manson

23. Do you create your own playlists? How many? - yes, and a lot. I only listen to my "found post 2025" and my wedding playlist that I add relevant love songs to currently though. I'm at a point lately where the entire past needs to be compartmentalized honestly. Thinking about any part of the past other than my love with Ross is too painful, there's just been too much loss over the last 2 years.

24. How many hours a day spent listening to music - idk. Not too much. When I drive and cook mostly.

25. Any activity you can't do without music? - no. I value silence a lot.

26. What song do you always associate with a movie or TV show - obviously many, but Springsteen's I'm on fire has a way of making it into really good evocative scenes consistently

27. Which artists wardrobe would you steal - Anais Mitchell always has great clothes that look comfy and casual still

28. Most underrated band or artist - idk. There are so many.

29. Most overrated artist - not to be that person, but Taylor Swift. milquetoast songs af. She's skilled at marketing and doing mediocre and bland impressions of what will sell at any given moment in time though.

30. Do you sing along in the car/shower/other places? - yes, I like singing

🎵🎸🎹 music ask game 🎵🎸🎹

what is your favourite song of all time?

what is your go-to karaoke song?

if you were to get lyrics tattooed on you, which would they be? (or tell about what you already have!)

if you were to get a non-lyrics music tattoo, what would it be? (or tell about one you already have!)

is there a song that always makes you cry, no matter what? what is it?

is there/what is a song that you secretly love but you hate to admit it?

is there/what is a song that always makes you think of your parents?

what do you think is the best song to play during sexy times?

who are your top three all time favourite bands or artists?

what band were you obsessed with as a child? do you still like them?

what is the best live music show you've ever been to?

who is a band or artist that you've never seen that you're dying to see?

what's an album cover that you would frame and put up in your house?

do you have any music related home decorations?

what is a song you are obsessed with at the moment?

is there/what is a song that has been ruined for you by an ex or a former crush/situationship/relationship?

what song do you listen to if you need to pump yourself up to do something difficult?

what's a song that you absolutely cannot help dancing to?

what do you think is the greatest love song of all time?

do you have any band t-shirts or other clothing items and what are they??

what is the best album of all time?

what band do you think has the best or most interesting story? (toxic breakup, bandmates in love, etc)

Do you create your own playlists? If so, how many do you have?

How many hours a day would you say you spend listening to music?

Is there any activity (walking, housework, studying, etc) that you cannot do without music?

Is there/what is a song that you always associate with a movie or tv show?

which musical artist's wardrobe would you like to steal for your own?

Most underrated band or artist?

Most overrated band or artist?

Do you sing along to songs in the car? In the shower? other places?

[hrtwayne]

Safe & Sound || Alexia Putellas

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Lionesses Wife!Reader

Summary: Where Alexia and her wife knew that adopting a child and a teenager would have its difficult moments.

Note: Chapter inspired by Taylor Swift's "Safe & Sound"! (English is not my first language)

Warning: Mention of Abandonment Trauma and Lots of Comfort!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

Alexia left training at the Barcelona training center, exhausted but with a smile on her face. The day had been long, but the anticipation of returning home, where her wife and their two daughters were waiting, was what truly mattered. The past few weeks had been challenging since she and Y/n decided to adopt Claire, a fourteen-year-old teenager, and Mia, an energetic little girl. The adjustment phase was delicate and required a lot of patience and dedication from both of them.

Alexia picked up the girls from school and drove home, noticing that Claire was quieter than usual in the back seat. Mia, as always, chattered nonstop about the day's events, but Claire's lack of response left Alexia worried. When they arrived home, Claire went straight to her room, while Mia was excited about helping set the table for dinner.

A few minutes later, Y/n arrived home, bringing the pizzas and the burger that Claire loved so much. Seeing Alexia in the kitchen, she smiled and approached, placing the boxes on the table.

"Hey, love. I brought some pizzas and Claire's favorite food," Y/n said, kissing her wife on the cheek before noticing the worried look on Alexia's face. "Is something wrong?"

Alexia sighed, feeling the weight of the day on her shoulders.

"I think something's up with Claire," she replied, feeling Y/n's body tense against hers. "She seemed down today. She's usually pretty talkative with Mia, but she seemed distant."

Y/n frowned, concerned. Claire was a strong and resilient girl, but she also had her insecurities, especially after going through so many changes. Y/n knew she needed to be patient and sensitive at this moment.

"I'll talk to her, okay? Don't worry," Y/n assured, leaving a kiss on Alexia's forehead. Just then, Mia came running down the stairs, full of energy.

"Sweetie, don't run down the stairs, you could hurt yourself," Y/n warned, trying not to smile at her youngest daughter's enthusiasm.

"Sorry, Mom!" Mia replied, not losing any of her excitement, before turning to Alexia with a curious look.

While Alexia and Mia started setting the table, Y/n calmly went upstairs, heading toward Claire's room. She gently knocked on the door.

"Claire? Can I come in?" Y/n asked, hearing a soft "yes" from the other side.

When she entered the room, she found Claire sitting on the bed, hugging her knees. The room was quiet, almost as if it reflected the girl's state of mind. Y/n approached and sat beside her, extending her hand.

"Do you want to talk about what happened today?" Y/n asked, keeping her voice soft.

Claire hesitated, her eyes avoiding Y/n's. After a few moments of silence, she finally gave in, resting her head on Y/n's lap. The athlete began stroking her hair, waiting for her daughter to feel comfortable enough to open up.

"It's just that..." Claire began, her voice trembling. "I never imagined I'd be getting all this attention, you know? I've been through so many families... I've always been afraid that something would happen to me or Mia, that we'd be separated. Even though you're so good to us, sometimes I feel like I won't last long here. That at some point, you'll change your mind about me.

"Y/n's heart ached as she heard those words. She knew Claire's past experiences still haunted her, but she was determined to make sure that would change.

"Oh, my love," Y/n began, her voice full of affection. "I know you've been through a lot, and I understand your fear. But you need to believe me when I say that nothing will separate you and Mia from us. You're our daughters now, and nothing, absolutely nothing, will change that."

Claire sniffled quietly, still fighting back tears. Y/n continued, her voice firm but gentle.

"There's no way we'd ever send you back, Claire. You're ours, and we're yours. Never, at any point, have we thought of anything other than taking care of and loving you both. We'll always be here for you."

Claire finally looked at Y/n, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She sat up and hugged her mother tightly, nestling into her arms. Y/n held her in a protective embrace, feeling the tension slowly dissipate from her daughter's body.

After a few minutes, Claire finally relaxed, a small smile beginning to form on her face. Y/n wiped the tears from Claire's cheeks and smiled back.

"Now, how about you wash your face and come down for dinner? I brought your favorite burger," Y/n suggested, kissing Claire's forehead.

"Thank you, Mom," Claire said with a shy smile.

Y/n left Claire's room with a lighter heart. When she entered the kitchen, she found Alexia and Mia finishing setting the table. Alexia looked at Y/n, who nodded, indicating that things were better.

"Ready for dinner?" Y/n asked, as Mia hurried to sit at the table.

Claire came downstairs shortly after, still a little shy but visibly more at ease. She joined the family at the table, and the atmosphere in the house began to fill with warmth and comfort as dinner progressed. Laughter and light conversation filled the space, dispelling any remaining tension.

After dinner, Y/n and Alexia put the girls to bed. Mia was the first to fall asleep, curled up in her blanket, while Claire, now calmer, also drifted off with a grateful smile on her lips.

When the two finally retreated to their own room, Alexia snuggled into Y/n's arms, feeling the peace that only that moment of intimacy could provide. Y/n stroked Alexia's hair and sighed softly.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" Alexia asked quietly, still with a hint of uncertainty.

"Yes, we are," Y/n replied firmly, holding Alexia closer. "We'll overcome any challenge, together. They're our daughters, love. Forever."

Alexia smiled against Y/n's chest, closing her eyes as she felt the love that connected them as a family.

[aurumalatus]

assassin!xiao au in which he doesn't like you, and you're not quite sure why.

you've only met him once, though you've heard his name millions of times—he's a legend for trainees like you. the last of the yakshas, an elite team that had been wiped out in an unfortunate mission-gone-wrong years ago. he only works alone now, and he doesn't really talk to anyone else except zhongli.

that is, until one night.

as confusing as the headquarters is, you can't be blamed for getting lost once or twice. so you accidentally wander into the wrong barracks, and xiao awakens to find you tiptoeing through the hallway.

"what are you doing here?"

you flinch at the sudden voice, turning slowly to meet sharp, golden eyes. he's blinking sleepily, but all you notice is the split lip, the scratches over his arms, the dried blood over his knuckles.

"you're hurt," you gasp quietly, ignoring his question, stepping toward him on instinct. he moves back, retreating further into the shadows of his room, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and hiding them from your view.

"you're lost. the trainee barracks are on the other side of the building."

and usually, you would take his directions and be on your way, but you find your stare fixed to his wounds. looking closer, you find scar after scar, tracing them over his pale skin.

you've taken enough medical courses to know that he hasn't been caring for his injuries properly. the thought makes you frown.

"you should bandage those."

he leans against the doorframe, a single brow raised.

"no need. just part of the job, no one should be bothered by it."

you scoff internally. how annoying.

sure, there's a certain level of desensitization that's necessary for this line of work, but forgetting about the value of your own life is a mistake—that's how you get yourself killed.

but xiao looks completely unbothered by it all, so maybe he truly doesn't care.

still, he's being short with you, and you know you shouldn't be talking to him so informally like this, but his apathy irritates you for reasons that even you don't know.

you take another step toward him. he doesn't budge, but his shoulders tense—he's awaiting your next move.

"it bothers me when people don't take care of themselves," you huff, matching his tone. "i mean, you're still a person when you're not on the job, aren't you?"

xiao's eyes widen almost imperceptibly, flinching. clearly, no one's ever spoken to him this way. and maybe you shouldn't have been the first, considering your rank compared to his, but you really couldn't help yourself.

he's still staring at you, and you don't look away. instead, you fish in your pocket, pulling out a roll of gauze and shoving it at him. he takes it, still in shock.

he doesn't say anything in reply. you don't expect him to.

"goodnight," you murmur over your shoulder, finally turning to leave. "bandage those before you sleep."

and though it's unlike him, xiao finds himself watching you walk away, all the way until you disappear.

[alotofpockets]

Every scar has a story | Lucy Bronze x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Your scars don’t make you weak, they show you how strong you are.”

Woso masterlist | Words: 700

-----

You had known Lucy since you were kids, the two of you instantly becoming friends in school. Lucy had been your closest friend from the very start, and even a year on the other side of the world to study in the U.S. couldn’t change that.When Lucy returned to England and joined you at Leeds University, your friendship deepened in ways you hadn’t expected.

At Leeds University your friendship with Lucy turned into a relationship. Despite countless people telling you that your relationship from such a young age wouldn’t last, the two of you have been going strong for over ten years now.

You had both grown a lot since your university days, but were always able to grow together and adjust where necessary.

The growth you've seen Lucy go through with her career has been incredible. You watched her play with the boys back home, and join her first all girl’s team. You watched her go pro. Win with both club and country. Earning more trophies than could possibly fit in your apartment, or the new one when you’d move when she joined a new club.

But you've also watched her get injured more times that you'd like. Minor muscle injuries, but also hamstring injuries, and her worst enemy, knee injuries. Over the years, she had more surgeries than you could count on one hand. 

Lucy was a tough one though. Of course she was, tough was literally in her name. Even during her many recovery periods, she kept a smile on her face for the most part.

But you also knew that beneath all that toughness, she struggled sometimes. Whether it was physically or mentally, no injury really went without struggles. By now you had learned what she needed when she was struggling with her injuries, and you could always be the person she needed in those moments.

She could have been doing well for months and then out of nowhere she’d have a night where she was struggling again. 

Tonight was one of those nights.

Lucy said she was going to change and be right back, but she had been upstairs for almost thirty minutes now. You went up to check on her and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were unfocussed, and her finger was absentmindedly moving over the scars on her knee. She didn’t look up when you entered the room, but she knew you were there.

 “Sometimes I hate looking at them,” She spoke barely above a whisper. “They make me feel weak.”

Hearing her say that broke your heart a little. She was the strongest person you knew, and she thought she looked weak?

You crouch down in front of her, placing your hand over hers, stopping the tracing she was doing. “Your scars don’t make you weak, Luce. They show you how strong you are.”

You give her hand a soft squeeze. “Every single one of them has a story. A story that shows the proof that you fought, healed and came back even stronger.”

Lucy searched your eyes, trying to figure out if you were just saying that to make her feel better, or if you actually meant it. So you kept going. “You’ve overcome so much, and you’re still out there playing at top level. You’re still winning. Luce, you are the strongest person I know.”

The only thing she could find in your eyes was sincerity. She stayed silent for a moment until her lips curled up slightly. She pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You chuckled, “Part of the job description, remember?”

Lucy let out a soft chuckle. “Right, I forgot I was talking to my personal therapist. How much for the session?” She jokes.

You pretended to calculate in your head. “I think a kiss and a cuddle should cover today’s session.” She smiled and kissed your lips. Then she pulled you in even closer and let the both of you fall back onto the bed. 

“Thank you.” She said into the otherwise silent room. You pressed a loving kiss to her cheek. “No need to thank me, I’ll always be here for you.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also support me by leaving a tip 💗

[thanklessindubai]

Long, slender fingers fanned out behind the nazi's head and then cluched at his face, covering his mouth.

"Rest."

He stumbled back into Armand, suddenly lethargic. Arching back until his head rested on Armand's shoulder. Eyes wide with terror.

"Let's see what's inside..."

Jason. Not just a Nazi, but one of those 'The South Was Right' mother-fuckers. Shot at his side hoe and got away with it because he was wealthy. Tried to strangle his wife with a charging cable when he changed his mind on the drive to rehab (she didn't press charges). Part of a number of cells over the years responsible for various hate crimes.

Armand felt vindicated in trusting Mina with the selection.

He dug deeper. Back to the beginning and through a nerve.

He whispered in Jason's ear, "You've been looking for me, haven't you, Jason? The operations, the barroom brawls. But I come for everyone in the end... And take you to the place where we're all alike. All one at last. One with you. It's alright, now, it's over. The isolation. The shame. No such thing as confusion or loneliness anymore. Your troubles are all so small."

He let go and Jason turned around slowly, staring dumbfounded at Armand. Tears streaming as he became overwhelmed.

"Whaddo I do with..."

Armand placed a finger to his lips to shush him. "You don't need any of that. We're all waiting for you. Be one with me."

"I'm sorry."

Jason was bawling now, face screwed up, shaking in a truly labored burst of emotion like he hadn't been capable of in decades. Sobbing quietly, he embraced Armand with enthusiasm.

Armand cradled his body gently and whispered, "No pain." Fangs descended. He bit down and began to slowly drain the life out of this terrible man, lazily feeding until the body grew limp.

“Just choose one, make sure he’s trash, lead him out,” she said. She maybe should feel bad that she leas leading people out so her vampire husband could kill them. But Mina had lived through World War 2. She knew what these sorts of bastards wanted back. They would happily see someone with Armand’s skin color dead

Mina moaned as he kissed her neck. To turn around and drag him into the backseat was tempting but Mina was in hunting mode.

“I’ll be back”

She slipped outside and went to the bar.

It was annoyingly easy getting one. He had no issues cheating on his workaholic wife, said all the right nazi things to get Mina to agree he was a good mark and let him outside for what he thought was a quickie.

Mina led him to the wall and felt her stomach roll when he told her to to face the wall as he unbuckled his belt

“Fuck off, nazi,” she whispered

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. body harm. heavy torture. waterboarding. trauma. crude language. hurt/no comfort. explicit suicidal thoughts. self mutilation/harm mentioned.

simon riley x reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

He didn't want to get out of bed that day, and the Captain calling for a private meeting just as he dared opening his eyes gave him enough reason to know he was right.

Putting on his uniform was as easy as ever. Really, he hardly ever took it off, anyway. It took about twenty seconds to put on his boots and he was off.

It was cold outside.

The night before had been stormy, so if Johnny's lungs weren't used the damn weather by now, he would be cursing the gods for it. It was so cloudy that he just truly wanted to grab a coffee, and sleep again.

Hell, even breakfast before a meeting would do.

His pace wasn't rushed, the sun slowly coming up. As soon as he spotted Simon walking over to the Captain's office as well, seemingly unaware of his presence, he couldn't help but smirk and slow down. He did his best to keep his boots from making noise, holding his breath. He got closer, and closer.

Then, promptly bumped nose first on the back of Simon's head.

"Argh!" he grunted, holding his nose. Simon made no sound at all and just kept on walking. Johnny knew damn well the cocky tilt on the Lieutenant's head as they got near the Captain's office. "Bastard. Could've warned me, instead of making me nearly break my damn nose".

"Why? It's funnier like this" Simon said, the timber in his voice so amused it made Johnny roll his eyes, not really upset at all.

"To you, maybe".

"And that's how it's supposed to be, Johnny".

The conversation was cut short as soon as they approached the Captain's door. He was arguing with someone on the phone. It was clear he was trying not to make much noise, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Simon and him shared a look, and waited for a moment before knocking on the door.

"Get in" the Captain's voice cut through the silence, hanging up the phone before standing up, looking at the two men with a hard expression.

"What's going on?" Simon questioned, standing right next to Johnny, their shoulders brushing.

"We've got a mole" the Captain said, his teeth clenched. Johnny watched as he paced behind his desk, his shoulders hardened.

"A mole?" he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing. "Who's the bastard? We'll drag him to the—"

"Goddammit, Johnny. It's the fucking lass" the Captain snapped.

In that moment, the room went colder than the freaky weather outside. The three men stared at each other for one long second.

"We've five lasses" Simon started, the trembling in his voice so evident that Johnny wanted to reach out, and grab his arm to stabilize him. He didn't, as he was trembling just as badly. "You better give me a name right now, or I'll start breaking your shit".

"If it weren't yours, do you think I would be calling you two idiots?" the Captain growled out. He opened his mouth, ready to continue, but Johnny spoke first.

"Is this some kind of ridiculous, fucked up joke?" he blurted out. He just couldn't think. He just couldn't believe it. "She's been here for nearly ten years. Capt'n, there must be a mistake. And you, you can't possibly believe this shit!" he blurted out at Simon, turning to look at him.

Simon was as stiff as a wooden board.

And he was so damn angry it nearly made Johnny shit his pants.

"Is there proof? Do you have it on you? Is it positive?" Simon questioned, the words flowing, barely controlled. Johnny's mouth fell open. "How can you be sure?"

"LT!" he gasped in surprise, his heart pounding in his throat. He felt like throwing up.

"Answer me" Simon demanded the Captain, ignoring him.

It took them two hours to go through the evidence, more than once. You've been sneaking information, your fingerprints, a few hair strands here and there. It all fit. It was almost as if you weren't even trying to hide it at all.

"Isn't it too simple, too easy?" Simon said, not for the first time. "Price, you gotta admit it's at least suspicious. She's not stupid".

"Capt'n, the lass' a smart one. Not even the lamest bastard in this damn base could pull a mistake this big" Johnny added. Needing to sooth himself, he discreetly placed his hand right next to Simon's on the desk.

The slightest curl of the Lieutenant's pinky across his made him take a deep breath.

"That's your pussydrunk heads talking to you. This is unmistakable and we can't risk it" the Captain shook his head, pointing at the evidence in front of them. They both went quiet at that, too troubled to feel offended. "Take her downstairs. We'll do as I ordered, in five. You either do it yourselves, or I'll call someone else" the Captain said. Simple as that.

If the Captain saw Simon snatch his hand back from Johnny's grip before they both stormed out of his office, he didn't say.

What was there to say, anyway?

An empty box suffered all of the Lieutenant's anger as soon as they stepped out. Snapped in half with kicks and thrown to the other side of the hall, alarming a few soldiers that, just taking a look at them, turned away instantly.

Johnny couldn't possibly do anything to make Simon feel any better if he was just as angry and appalled. Hurt, and incredibly confused, mostly. They didn't exchange a single word as they reached the mess hall, their boots heavy against the floor.

Simon's steps faltered when they saw you sitting at the usual table. Johnny clenched his jaw and walked forward, forcing Simon to do the same.

They both watched as you sipped on your mug, no doubt waiting for them to have breakfast. He saw you take a bite of the bread, your eyes brightening as you turned to them, recognizing their footsteps easily.

It's been nine years, after all.

Johnny's heart trembled at the sight. Anxiety and pain bloomed in his chest, but he forced himself to swallow it down. They had orders.

"It's so darn late!" you complained, your voice a little muffled around your mouthful, looking amused. Ridiculous. "Where were you? Come on, let's eat".

Beautiful.

It had been too easy. You didn't resist their touch at all, raising an eyebrow. Johnny heard you nearly choke when you noticed their grip wasn't playful, asking Simon what was happening, you feet dangling between the two of them.

Johnny's grip was tight, fighting to keep his expression blank, but it got fucking difficult the moment you realized where they were taking you, screaming, fighting, and struggling against them, demanding explanations.

The room had been used for many years, even before they got here. It either reeked of shit, piss or blood and bleach. It's never been pleasant.

The Captain was already waiting there.

He kept silent as Simon punched you on the stomach. Kept silent as you begged and pleaded, trying to meet their eyes, their hands tying you to the chair.

The Captain had ordered not to explain anything at first.

And it was fucking hard.

To see you get punched.

To be the one to gag you, despite your attempts to bite down on his fingers. To be the one who made you choke on your fears, on your pain.

Your panic.

Simon's eyes were detached, stuck within himself, the trembling in his hands barely noticeable, but Johnny saw it.

He felt it in his own hands.

Every time the Captain ordered him to yank on your hair. Every time he pressed that disgusting wet rag against your face and poured the water on it. Every time his gray eyes met your pleading gaze.

With each of your screams.

He saw Simon flinch with every one of them.

After the Captain kicked your lights out, the three of them had a serious conversation. Simon and Johnny were quiet, both of them staring at the Captain as if he had grown a second head right in front of them.

"No. I'm not doing that shit".

"Neither am I. Are you out of your fucking mind, Price?"

"Now, lads, I'm not asking. If you don't do it, I'll grab another two. We need information and the evidence is clear" the Captain cut them off. He didn't look happy about it, but he didn't seem too worried, either. "Tomorrow. That's an order".

Simon and Johnny sat on the stairs that night, with you right behind the door, both of them smoking silently. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny's tears, and when Simon turned away, neither said anything.

Your screams were a stab in his heart. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

When Price told him what they were going to do because you "wouldn't open your mouth", he had wanted to kill Price right there, but the evidence was too big, and it didn't matter what he thought. He was but a soldier. Price gave the orders, and it wasn't his place to question them.

Not too much, anyway.

But that didn't mean he had to like them.

Had it been anybody else, Simon wouldn't have hesitated. He would've dragged the dickhead to the basement himself.

But you?

Price had ordered him to go slow, to make you suffer as the nails were ripped off slowly enough to make you pass out, but he couldn't.

He couldn't go against his orders, but he could do them his way.

If it's done quick enough, the pain concentrates and dissipates faster, leaving only raw, throbbing fingertips behind.

That's the best he could do.

As you pushed your head against his chest, pleading and screaming in pain as Price asked you questions you didn't seem to hear, another nail would come off.

"Give him their names. Please" he whispered, low enough for only you to hear, but you were too gone with pain to pay attention.

Price would order him to go on, and Simon would grit his teeth, and do it as fast as possible.

Every scream made him want to crawl into the tiniest cave, and rot for the eternity.

If you were truly a traitor, he didn't care. He wanted you to break yourself free and steal their guns so you could end them right there. He wanted you to win and take revenge, dance on their bodies for all he cared.

When you said it was done between the two of you, he was glad his back was facing you. Otherwise, you would've noticed the trembling of his lips under the balaclava.

Orders. He had to follow orders.

When the toenails started coming off, your screams reached a deeper pitch. It was as if it wasn't you anymore, you looked like a whole different person. Simon pressed his head to your leg, panting, whispering and begging you to say their names.

"Please" he would whisper, gripping your ankles in hope to ground you away from the pain.

When he was two toenails into the second foot, deep cuts along the arch of the two of them, Price's radio went off. He went out of the room.

Simon stopped, looking up at you, but you were slowly passing out just from the little break you were allowed without Price in the room.

Johnny was shaking, his shoulder tense as he looked straight to the door in front of you, from where Price bursted inside the room again.

"Follow me" Price said, his mustache shaking. It didn't take long for Johnny and Simon to follow.

The last time he had been this angry, he had nearly killed himself in the middle of his room.

You were innocent.

Simon was faster than Johnny only for a second.

He punched Price so hard that he could hear a finger breaking, but he didn't give a single fuck.

He knew it wasn't Price's fault.

Still, it felt damn good.

Yells could be heard all across the base, confused soldiers who knew nothing of the situation yet would just stare at each other.

"They caught him trying to escape" Price raised his voice again. "He's been detained and has already confessed. He claimed he was—"

"I don't fucking care!" Simon snapped, gripping Price's desk hard enough to break the shit out of it. "Bring him here, goddammit. I'll put a bullet through his brain".

"You know damn well I fucking can't—"

"The fuck am I here for, then? I'm done with this fucking shit hole" he yelled, not interested in whatever Price had to say anymore.

Johnny and him rushed downstairs, panting, shaking. Price didn't leave his office, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

Simon fell to his knees and untied you as quickly as he could, watching you blink your eyes open, your gaze distant.

"I'm so fucking sorry, love. You'll be okay, I fucking promise you that. Fuck, I'm so sorry... I'll carry you, hold on. Hold on..." he whispered, sliding an arm under your legs and carrying you bride style.

He was struggling with his own anger, unable to control his body as he normally would, bumping his shoulders on the walls as he rushed upstairs.

"Watch her head! You're gonna fucking drop her. Let me help—"

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny. Don't fucking try me right now".

If Johnny was hurt by his words, he genuinely didn't care right now. He would get over it.

When he finally reached the clinic, he snapped at however was available to get their fucking arses up.

He knew it wasn't the right thing, but he couldn't afford to be respectful. Not right now. A few medics surrounded you immediately, but one of them started pushing him out.

They kicked him out of your room.

They fucking kicked him out.

Away from you.

"You've two broken fingers, and she doesn't need you. You ain't going in" the head doctor told him. Simon's eyebrows furrowed, his lips curling in a snarl behind the mask, but she was having none of that. "Shut it, you big brute. Now do as I say, or I'm kicking you out of my clinic".

Johnny sat next to him, but Simon wouldn't look away from the door to your room. He sat quietly, not even blinking as the doctor helped him with his fingers. They didn't even hurt.

He didn't matter.

It took you two days to wake up.

As soon as he was allowed in, he barely left your side, only to take a piss or grab a coffee. He would watch the doctors check on you, acting like a dog ready to snap and bite their heads off every time your fingers flicked in your sleep when they touched you.

"L.T. You gotta get some rest" Johnny mumbled, a hand on Simon's shoulder. It was only the two of them and you there. As it should be.

"Not interested".

"Its been four days since you've eaten anything".

"Good for me. Was planning on going on a diet, actually".

"Simon".

"That's my name".

Smack.

Simon finally looks away from your face to look at Johnny with wide eyes, the back of his head burning. "The fuck was that?"

"That's what you get for being a dickhead" Johnny replied, his eyes fixed on you. "She's safe here. Come on, we gotta be fed and rested, so she can kill us when she wakes up".

It took Johnny a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag Simon out. They ate in silence, and slept.

Only a couple of hours.

The moment Simon heard your first scream, just in the back of his mind, he got up to his feet, rushing to the clinic. He wasn't certain if it was his mind or if it was truly you.

When he saw you on the floor, crawling away from him, he felt both relieved and terrified. He sank to the floor instantly, his hands in full display, hoping to ease your fear.

"No, wait. Please. Please. You're okay" he said, his eyes wide, taking in your expression. He will never forget the way you were looking at him, as if he wasn't Simon. Not anymore.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to approach you anymore, didn't know how to even begin.

"W-we were tricked" he explained, at a complete loss. "A mole planted evidence against you, but we found him a few days ago, when we brought you here. I'm so—"

"You're sorry" you crackled, and it felt like a stab to his heart. "You're sorry".

It didn't matter what he did, you refused to listen to him.

"Please. I didn't want to do it. I'm so sorry" he pleaded, his hands flat against the ground. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Johnny and I. You won't forgive us and we know this. Fuck, you should never do so. Lovie... please".

When you started sobbing, shaking and keeping yourself away from him, Simon broke down as well.

He moved slowly, taking his mask off, and leaving it on the floor between the two of you. He didn't dare looking at you, tears or not, but he wanted you to stop being scared at him.

He would've preferred you stabbed him. He would've preferred you made him eat glass and then shot him between the eyebrows.

But scared? He wanted to bite his own fingers off to make sure he would never hurt you again.

Simon was embarrassed. Ashamed.

He had followed orders, but he should've pressed Price harder. He should've helped you somehow instead of just doing as he was told.

The space between the two of you felt disturbing and too big. He wanted to hold you, to kiss your face, and never let go.

He didn't dare trying to convince you.

But you've been clear. It was over.

All he had left was his regret.

by implied I meant fucking obviously. i couldn't leave johnny out, i love him sm. but if you don't like it just picture them as rlly close buddies, then. they might kiss, but who doesn't kiss their buddies, am I right?

i was gonna wait until tomorrow, but i finished way faster than I thought I would, and I'm hyped as hell, so here you go. a gift!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold

[aliceramblez]

Telemachus x Goddess of Joy!Reader (HCs)

pairing: epic!Telemachus x fem!reader

tags: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, telemachus is a dork, athena ships it, flower language, and some lore for the actual goddess of joy

artwork by Gigi on YouTube!

It's all happens one day when you're still very young.

After a particularly stressful day working alongside your sisters to please Lady Aphrodite, you can't handle the pressure anymore, so you travel to the island of Ithaca to clear your head.

It doesn't register in your brain that you've been crying until you hear a boy's voice calling out to you asking if you're alright. It's a mortal, obviously—a boy who appears to be your age, at least physically.

“Why are you crying?”

“I... I'm tired of trying to make others happy. I just want to be the sad one for once.”

You know you aren't supposed to mingle with mortals, so you keep your responses vague in hopes of satisfying his curiosity while not giving too much away.

But it wasn't like you were lying—as Goddess of Joy, you are expected to bring happiness to the hearts of everyone around you—Aphrodite included—, and it can sometimes take a heavy toll, especially since you haven't been using your powers as long as other Gods have.

The boy stares at you for a moment before running off somewhere in the field of flowers you've been sitting in, only to come back with both a small puppy and a pink peony in hand. He hands you the flower with a smile.

“My mommy says it's okay to be sad sometimes, so don't beat yourself up over it. I think this one would look pretty on you, though!”

You take the flower, give it a look over, and then turn back to the boy with a smile of your own. That's when the puppy leaps on top of you and starts slobbering you with kisses, much to the boy's dismay but your delight.

Since then, you decide to pay Ithaca visits more frequently whenever you aren't busy, successfully meeting up with the boy again and again to play.

You finally learn who he is—Telemachus. The prince of the land and son of Odysseus, progidy of Athena. Whenever he talks to you about his father, you can see the pain in his eyes of having to be sitting around waiting for a man who may never return. You decide to use your powers once in a while to help cheer him up.

It isn't until his thirteenth birthday that he finds out who you are.

“You're a Goddess, aren't you?”

It catches you by surprise, but it's not unexpected. Telemachus is smart, so it wasn't like he wouldn't find out eventually. After revealing your true self, all he does is sit down and listen, just like he did when you met all those years ago.

“I'm sorry I never told you. I... I liked being your friend without the pressure of a title between us. I didn't want you to treat me any differently.”

Telemachus doesn't do anything other than pick up a flower from the field you're both sitting in. A purple orchid which he tucks behind your ear with a smile, making you stare in awe.

“Goddess or not, you're still my best friend! I'd think you'd know me better than that by now.”

“Haha, I do... what even gave it away?”

“You're always showing up outta nowhere and people seem much happier whenever you're around, but like, in a super quick way! Besides, there's no way someone so pretty isn't a goddess...”

It's immediately clear that last part wasn't meant to come out because pink is now covering Telemachus' cheeks, causing you to flush as well.

More years go by and you begin to share stories with him about the Gods in Olympus—how Zeus is a womanizer, Poseidon looking scary but actually being a secret softie, and of course all the beef you have with your ‘boss’, Aphrodite.

He's always so eager to listen to whatever you have to say because of his dream of becoming a noble warrior, and will also comfort you whenever you're in a bad mood.

You try doing the same when more years pass and there's still no sign of his father. You offer to use your magic to help, but he says all he needs is a friend willing to listen, so that's what you become.

Whenever the suitors are giving him a hard time, you use your powers to make them be as sickeningly sweet with one another as possible, that it sometimes looks like they're in love. You and Telemachus get a crack out of it every time.

It's you who goes to find Athena when Telemachus is fighting Antinous, begging her to come help because there's really nothing you can do on the matter. She really doesn't need much persuading, though.

You can only thank the Gods that he's fine all things considered, but seeing him all battered up with cuts and bruises all over his body breaks your heart. You're immediately by his side with a washcloth and fresh clothes so that the wounds don't get infected despite his protests.

“I-I'm fine, really! Ow!”

“You will be fine once you stop moving!”

Athena chuckles in the background as you turn to her. She's giving you a knowing smirk, causing you to look away with a blush adorning your cheeks.

Once they start their training together, you're there cheering him on from the sidelines, which kinda backfires because according to Athena “we don't need any distractions”. You apparently fall under that category, and Telemachus is covering his face all the time but you swear you can see red on the tips of his ears.

Once Odysseus finally returns home, you're surprised to see Telemachus make his way to you as you're sitting in your usual spot.

He sits beside you and seems to be fiddling with something hidden in his robe. You can't see what it is from your angle.

“Aren't you going to spend time with your father?”

“He's with my mother right now. Something tells me they're going to be a while...”

“Right, I almost forgot. She must be overjoyed! But... are you okay? I saw what happened in there and...”

“Hey, I'm okay. Athena's training paid off. I'm tougher than I look, ya know?”

He then proceeds to comically flex his muscles with a wiggle of his eyebrows, causing you to laugh at this adorkable human being. You thank the Gods that you were born in the same time period as him, because now you can't think of a life without him in it.

That's when you notice the nervous fidgeting again and he's even started to advert his gaze after the little joke he pulled off. It's strange considering he's never been the shy type—when he's got something on his mind, he'll speak up no matter what.

“Are you sure you're okay, Telemachus?”

“Y-Yeah, I'm fine! I just... wanted to give you something. As a thanks for everything you've done for me.”

And before you can say anything, he's pulling out a flower from behind his back and placing it behind your ear. You can only barely register what it is before it's out of your sight: a red rose.

“You're the most amazing person I've ever met. A-And not just because you're a Goddess! You've always been there for me even when I don't ask you to, and have my back no matter what. You're just really nice, and funny and kind... I-I..”

You can't take it anymore and before your mind registers what's happening, you're already kissing him.

As you pull away, both your faces are as red as tomatoes and you can feel the smile on your face turning large and goofy. Giggles erupt from you both.

“I love you...”

“I love you, too...”

“And I love how long it took you two lovebirds to admit it.”

Athena's owl is gazing at you both and it almost sounds as it's chuckling while you two hide your faces in each other's shoulders.

Coming to Ithaca was the best decision you could've ever taken.

[ashwhowrites]

Oooh! I caught them this time! Yay!! I always miss ur requests! I’m so excitedddddd! 🤩

Can I ask for a Steve Harrington x reader fic w/ breeding kink? Like maybe he and reader have been together for a min and they’re out w/ Dusty and between watching him with the younger boy and maybe smiling and waving at a random baby reader is kinda watching him dreamy. So once they get a sec alone he’s like what? And she just smiles and is like “ur gonna be such a good dad”. And it DOES something to Steve. He plays cool and questions her like oh u think about that huh? And she’s like of course, I can’t wait to have ur babies. And Steve is like alright goodbye, drags her out and takes her home and smut breeding breedy smut.

Please and thank youuuuu 🤤 I love ur writing and def love ur Steve. I’ve never requested before and the anticipation is killing me already lol!!

Last one from my drafts :( none of this is proofread, apologies if it's a mess. I hope you find this and are still interested!!

Baby talk

It was common for Steve to hangout with Dustin. It was sorta babysitting in a way but Steve didn't feel that way. Y/N loved hanging with with her boyfriend and enjoyed when Dustin tagged along. It warmed her heart seeing Steve take care of Dustin and the friendship they had.

At first she thought it was sweet and adorable. But now that they've been together for over two years, thinking of their future together and growing more serious by the day, seeing him interact with all the kids sparked something inside of her.

~

It wasn't a surprise to see Dustin in the backseat as Steve pulled up to her place. She smiled at the young boy through the window before she entered Steve's car.

"How are my boys doing?" She asked as she clicked in her seatbelt, leaning over to greet her boyfriend with a soft kiss. Dustin pretended to gag behind them before he greeted her.

"Good. Dustin was telling me all about Hellfire....again," Steve said with a tight smile. A look in his eyes that Y/N could easily read as annoyed. She giggled and turned her attention to Dustin as he began to talk about it all over again, Steve peeling off down the road.

It didn't take long to wind up at the small restaurant, Steve as the gentlemen he was rushed out of the car to open her door. She thanked him as she slid out of the car, grasping his hand as they walked in, Dustin a few feet behind.

They settled at their table, a small giggle catching their attention. The couple turned their heads and saw a mom with a toddler at a table near by. The boy was clapping and there was a gummy smile on his face. Y/N returned her attention back to Dustin but Steve was in a trance. The little boy kept his eyes locked with Steve as he waved. Steve smiled and waved back.

All throughout their small lunch, Y/N couldn't look away from Steve as he entertained the toddler. The toddler loved him and Y/N couldn't blame him, she'd stare at Steve all day too. Which she has done and which she has been doing for the past hour. A dreamy look in her eyes as he made faces to the toddler.

Steve noticed his girlfriend's stare. Every time he looked back at her, she was already looking at him. A small smile on her face. Dustin filled the car ride with another story, but Y/N's mind was racing. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Steve, but damn she wanted to have his babies the second they got home. She wanted to be claimed by him and bounded together for life. To have the pride of bringing a baby into Steve's life.

She was lost in her daydream that she didn't notice Dustin got out of the car until the door slammed.

"What's up with you? You've been smiling all day," Steve laughed, giving her a quick look before he pulled off down the road.

"Nothing, just seeing you with that little boy. You're going to be such a good dad," she replied honestly. She thought the words would make Steve a little nervous, but he seemed to have an opposite reaction.

Steve felt his face burn and a twitch in his jeans. He thought about kids but hearing his girlfriend admit she noticed he would be a good dad excited him. He tried to not make it a big deal, playing it cool as he looked back over at her.

"Oh! You think about that?" He asked

"All the time. I can't wait to have little Steve babies," she joked even though she meant it. But Steve didn't crack a smile or laugh, he had this focused look on his face as his foot slammed down on the gas petal.

"Steve! You're speeding!" She scolded, looking at the speedometer.

"I don't care. I need to get you naked in my bed now," his voice was deep and serious. Her playful attitude shifted as she felt her thighs clench.

"Oh?" She teased, her hand moving to land on his thigh. She slowly slid it up, enjoying the way his breath hitched. "Do you have a secret kink you are hiding from me?"

Steve rolled his eyes at her teasing, but he couldn't help but melt in his seat as her hand moved closer to his covered cock. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white as her hand landed over his growing hard-on.

"Look at that," she whispered as she leaned over to his ear. Her hot breath fanned his neck as he harshly swallowed. "I should've known."

Steve somehow pressed harder against the gas, the car zooming down the street as he headed in the direction of his house. His breathing was heavy as she rubbed him over his jeans, teasing him the whole way.

He could barely think as he pulled into his driveway, moving fast as he raced them both out of the car, Y/N barely keeping up as he yanked her into the house. As usual the house was empty, leaving them alone.

Steve didn't waste a second before his lips were pressed against hers. She moaned into his mouth as his hands moved to undo her pants, slipping them off. He placed his hands under her thighs, making her jump as she wrapped herself around his body. He moaned into the kiss as her warm cunt pressed against his jeans. He stumbled into his room, blindly searching for his bed as he dropped her on the mattress.

Their lips disconnected as her back landed against his sheets. She propped herself on her elbows as he stood over her and removed his shirt. She moaned as his hairy chest came into view, her hands already reaching forward to run her fingers through it. She loved Steve's chest hair, it added so much manly potential to him and it drove her insane.

Steve reconnected their lips as she played with his chest hair, he showered underneath her touch his cock growing harder. He softly pushed her down, climbing on top of her as they were messily made out. His hands skimmed up her body, his fingers teased the band of her underwear. Her stomach was rising up and down with every fast intake of breath.

His tongue met hers and she couldn't help but whine. His fingers slid into her underwear until he met her soaked cunt. Her hands moved into his hair as she braced herself when his fingers easily slipped inside of her.

Her insides burned as he fingered her, he moaned as her tongue worked against his. She made his head fuzzy and all he could focus on was how badly he wanted to fuck her until she was screaming under him. He wanted to cum inside of her, paint her walls and put a baby inside of her.

Needing air, she pulled back. Her eyes rolling in the back of her head as Steve's skillful fingers worked inside of her. Steve looked down at her, his eyes full of lust as he watched her body.

"Steve, please," she whines, her eyes fluttering open. She moaned at the look in his eyes, they were dark, needy, and desperate. She loved having all the power over him, that she had him wrapped around her finger.

"What do you want, baby?" He asked, his voice thick with arousal. He kept his pace, loving how she sucked him in and coated him with her wetness.

"Fuck me. I want you inside of me," she moaned, "I want you to fill me."

Her words edged Steve on, his fingers curling up as she withered under him. "Yeah? Your sweet pussy wants to be stuffed full of daddy's cum?"

Y/N's body reacted to his words, easily showing him he said the right thing. She tried to speak but nothing came out but choked whines. He leaned down and softly kissed down her body, removing his fingers as he became eye level with her dripping cunt. Her hands lost its grip on his hair, reaching for the sheets below. He slid her underwear down her legs, tossing them to the side.

She twitched as she waited for his next move, impatiently. Steve took his time, his cock was suffocating in his pants but he forced himself to deal with it. He grabbed her ankles and placed them on his shoulders, she squealed as he used his fingers to spread her pussy open. He drooled at the sight, leaning in as he pressed his tongue flat against her. He licked up and down, coating his tongue. Her throat was dry as her sounds all cracked. She dove her fingers into his messy hair, forcing his head further against her.

He groaned at the taste on his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he sucked on her clit. He loved hearing her sounds and knowing he was the only one that got to see her like this. He was the only one who got to taste her. And he was going to be the only one to put a baby in her.

"Yes, Steve, fuck," she praised, her hips rocking against his face as she felt an orgasm approaching. Steve just needed a small taste of her, a smirk on his face as he pulled away. Leaving her and her cunt begging for more.

She wanted to groan in protest but knew how to behave. Steve had no problem giving her anything she wanted if she was good about it.

"Pretty pussy is pulsing for me. So needy. Sweet girl is in heat huh? Craving my thick cock to satisfy you?" His dirty words made her shiver. She began to whine pathetically, her mind all mush as she reached for Steve's skin.

He stepped back to strip the rest of his clothes. She fought to keep her eyes open, looking at his naked body from head to toe. Her eyes zoned in on his throbbing cock. He began to softly pump it, the action making her head spin. She could study his body for hours. She's had sex plenty of times with Steve but his cock amazes her every time. He was thick and veiny, and she clenched her thighs as she replayed what it feels like inside of her.

"Come on daddy, breed my little cunt," she said as she spread open her legs. Desperately needing him to slide inside of her.

Steve was quick to position himself on top of her, holding his throbbing cock against her entrance. He guided himself inside of her, instantly moaning as her cunt began to suck him in.

"How long have you been thinking about having my babies? How long have you been wanting my cock raw inside of you?"

Y/N hated that he asked questions because she couldn't think of a single word. All she could give as a response was moans and whines as he begins to pound her. Her nails gripped his neck, holding his head as he moved perfectly inside of her.

"I've been fantasizing about pumping my sperm inside of you every single day. Jerking myself off as I picture how perfect you'd feel around me raw and bare. And fu-ck, better than I imagined," he moaned out his words as he moved his hands on the sides of her head, using the leverage to push himself deeper.

"Daddy's cum- starved breeding whore" he growled

"Oh fuckkkkk," she whined, the nickname brought her closer to the edge. "Close, please."

Steve moved one hand down their bodies, easily finding her clit. Her thighs shook as her clit burned with need.

With how turned on she was in the car ride, she barely could hold it together as his cock and fingers on her clit brought her to a new level. She clenched around him and Steve knew she was close.

"That's it, milk me sweetheart. I know you want it. I know that slutty pussy wants my hot cum painting your walls. All my sperm emptied inside of you."

"Jesus Steve," she breathlessly laughed. She's never heard his mouth so dirty but fuck it worked well. "You're so fucking hot like this."

"Yeah? Want me to fuck you raw every day until I get you pregnant? Have you whenever I want you. Don't even need to wear panties, stay bare for me. Let me slip in when I feel the need to empty my balls inside of you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes. Please please. I need to cum," she begged. Even if she wanted to wait for an answer, she wasn't able to. Her body snapped and she came.

Steve shivered as he felt her cum on him. He puffed air out of his nose as he focused on his release. Her hands skimmed down his back, landing on his ass as she pushed him further inside of her.

"Come on, daddy. Fill me up. I want your cum, every last drop. Breed me, give me a baby. Show everyone how well you filled me up. How I belong to you."

A shiver ran up Steve's spine at her words, firing his body up as he gripped her hips and pounded himself harder into her. Her head was thrown back as she tried to handle the new pace. Her cunt was aching but he felt way too good inside of her.

"Fuck gonna fill you up until your belly is swollen. Not going to-" he moaned, "stop until...fuck...until I breed you."

He felt his orgasm building, desperately chasing it as the bed squeaked underneath them. His body was beginning to sweat. Drops dripping down his neck and Y/N craved to taste it on her tongue.

"Right there, yes, yes, fuck yes," Steve moaned as he came. His body shook uncontrollably as he emptied himself inside of her. He panted as he rested his head against her forehead, catching his breath as he continued to push himself into her. His eyes bored into hers as he let her cunt milk him for everything he has.

He collapsed on her body, still inside of her, as he finished. His heart raced as he continued to catch his breath. Their sweaty bodies sticking together as they both sat in silence. Both feeling his cum resting inside of her.

"God, I love you," he whispered against her skin. He shifted to see her face, leaning in to softly peck her lips. "I can't wait to marry you."

Her heart swelled at his words as she reconnected their lips.

[coveofsecrets]

“𝙷𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚙𝚜”

-> Platonic! Yandere! Whitebeard Pirates x reader

-> Warnings: small descriptions of violence, attempted kidnap, implied reader having an abusive family, drugging (didn’t actually happen), tugging on self’s hair, possible ooc-ness since this is my first time writing for Whitebeard pirates

-> Word Count: 4.5k words

-> This was HEAVILY inspired by @rollinouttahere-writes’s vampire Ace au!!! Most of the ideas/hcs(?) here is from them. I just felt really inspired from their au, so I wanted to write this!!! If anything seems historically inaccurate, please let me know! Also, even if it says Whitebeard Pirates, it’s… mainly just. Thatch. I love him too much <3.

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"Eat up."

A bowl is held out to you; one full of thick liquid and solid things, contents sloshing inside of the container as it’s moved towards you.

"I haven't cooked human food in a long time, but I largely remember how to make it, so it shouldn't be too bad."

The person holding the bowl of soup gestures in your way, silently asking you to take it.

Honestly, it doesn't look bad.

In fact, it looks delicious.

Filling, too.

An orange color, bits and pieces of meat and vegetables peeking through the liquid, soup bubbling due to the soup’s warmth…

Your stomach rumbles.

The one across from you tilts his head, lips pulling into a fang-bared smirk as his black eyes raise in knowing mirth.

Despite the aching in your midsection, you look away from the man, pushing the soup away from yourself- a bit too rough, with how some of it has spilled out.

"No thanks," You grit out, poorly concealing your distaste for the vampire. "I… have rations in my bag."

A laugh is all that comes as a response, the soup pushed towards you to the point it invades your vision.

"Not to be rude, but your bag looks near to empty," He points out, "Whatever you've got in there won't last you to the next town."

He's right.

He's right and you know it.

He's right, you know it, and you know that he knows.

The only things being a half-eaten apple and a reusable water bottle in your traveling bag, it doesn’t take a genius to guess there’s not much in there.

...you wanna rip your hair out.

A scowl making its way onto your face, you practically bare your teeth at the one before you.

"So? I have no reason to accept food from you, Thatch. For all I know, this shit could be drugged! Hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised, because all you’ve ever done for me is make my life more difficult than it needs to be!”

Well, Thatch is not the main aspect of your headache.

Rather, he's a part of that problem.

A ginormous, powerful, and vampiric problem.

To frame what’s been going on, it all started a long time ago (a year), in a run-down establishment you managed to find for temporary shelter (a gas station off to the side of the street), where you met a man who had the look of a person with nobody to call his own family (he seemed lonely), standing in wait to sacrifice a part of what was to his name (he was waiting for the customer in front of him to stop arguing with the cashier).

Since you also needed to sacrifice a part of your dignity, you were behind him.

Thus, with the two of you bored, interaction sprouted- quite beautifully, in fact. A stem of a topic took place, leaves of conversation forming, and flowers of bonds blooming.

It was nice.

Ace, as he called himself, was nice.

Being one of the first people you talked to after moving out, that guy was... pretty cool.

A warm fire, heating up your palms and sending its head across your body, letting you find comfort from the stormy winters outside.

Until the fire turned hot, scathing, forcing you to pull your hands back before the skin burned off from the muscle.

"Thirteen?" Ace echoes, "That's a young age to be traveling. Do your parents know about this?"

To that, you stiffen, and the man seems to piece together a bit of your situation, moving on from his question.

“You don’t have to answer that, but… going exploring at a young age probably isn't good for you. Lots of people would love to hurt a young thing like you.”

You sigh, "I know, I know… but, I just… can’t necessarily find anybody to travel with? I mean-” A laugh is forced out of your throat. “I don’t think any other thirteen-year-olds are exploring the world. Plus, l've been fine so far, haven't l? I'm in one piece."

Ace's eyebrows furrow. "Haven’t you been only going around for a month? That's too little time to make any sort of assumption. I'm not saying you should go back to your parents, though.”

Oh.

You feel your shoulders droop.

Well that's nice to hear.

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s best to stick with a group, for now.” He reaches a hand up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And assuming you don’t exactly have anybody to travel with, how about traveling with me for a bit? I’ll introduce you to this group I’m with. They’re pretty groovy, been with them for a few decades-”

Decades? This guy doesn't look a day over nineteen.

"-and they’re absolutely wonderful.” As he speaks about his buddies, you notice how Ace’s tone has gotten softer- warm, like the sun retreating into the mountains to offer the people underneath it respite from its fiery wrath. “We’re like a family, always taking care of each other and making sure we’re not too reckless. Pops makes sure it’s that way.”

Pops???

"If you stay with them, you'll be safe. I'm sure they'll treat you nicely. Whaddya say?”

Expectantly, Ace looks at you, a kind smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

The only thing you can answer with is silence, as you ponder his proposal.

The Whitebeard Vampires…?

Vampires??

You've heard about certain groups that go around.

Traveling groups, to be more specific.

Some are wannabe hippies who only do drugs and preach about love and acceptance as a joke, others are dangerous gangs that hurt defenseless people in order to fulfill whatever sick desires they have.

The Whitebeard Vampires, though…

You can vaguely remember hearing about them every now and then; small whispers among townspeople, newspapers bored (usually old) individuals read, and WANTED signs brought up on TV.

So really, all you know about them is that they’re popular, and also illegal- any other information is now up to you to imply.

Vampires... mythical bloodsuckers, right? I don't exactly know what the 'Whitebeard' stands for, but ‘vampire' could imply something more sinister, like blood…

All of a sudden, the smile on Ace's face doesn't look friendly anymore.

No longer the setting sun, it is now the star that rises from the mountains, preparing to enact scathing hot violence for the denizens of its green empire.

Yeah, no. I'm not taking any chances.

Hesitantly, you smile.

"I, uh, appreciate the offer, but I'm good!" Is your answer.

Your newly made acquaintance’s face falls.

You feel as if a mistake has been made.

Before you could remedy the situation, though, Ace is quick to speak.

“Listen,” Your name is huffed out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep on travelling alone. Being absolutely straightforward with you, I’m worried. I mean, any sensible person would be. Imagine seeing some eight year old out by themself- you’d be worried, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess, yeah, but I’m not eight?”

Why is he insisting after I said ‘no’?

Ace sighs, “You’re right. You’re not eight, but to me, somebody who’s a lot older than you, you seem that way- and seeing you all alone, it’s worrying. Staying with the Whitebeard Vampires is the best choice for you; you haven’t been travelling for long, and you’re likely unaware of the dangers out there. You could get kidnapped, or maybe worse. You’re lucky to have been safe so far, but who knows what could happen later? Hell, right when you leave the store?”

This is uncomfortable.

Deciding that turning him down politely won’t work anymore, you decide to be firm in your response.

“Listen, I really do appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Plus, as much as it was fun talking to you, I barely know you, so why would I join some group I don’t even know about?” As you speak, the previous calm you felt is erased, stress taking over once more.. “You’re making me uncomfortable, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop.”

The older one’s mouth snaps shut.

For a moment, you feel relieved, but it’s soon burnt away when his expression turns steely, lips spreading into a thin line and eyes narrowing in a way that seems like he’s thinking of something you won’t like.

Before he could say anything, though, the customer in front of him finally, finally stops arguing with the cashier; he’s next in line to come up, and he turns back to the cashier, leaving you relieved that was the end of that.

Alas, God is real and he hates you.

Not even five seconds of stepping out of the store pass when your wrist is snatched and, all of a sudden, you’re being yanked across the street.

Wha-?!

The lights of the gas station blur by you, and you can barely see who is dragging you along in the dead of night.

You’re in an unfamiliar place, with nowhere to go home to, and you don’t even know who has you in such a tight grip.

You don’t know anything.

All these unknown variables, uncertainty in this very situation, unknown whether you’ll live or not, what might happen if you live, what might not happen if you die…

What’s going on-!

Your heart is seized by the cold hand of fear, and you’re not able to even think as a scream rips itself from your throat-

“STOP!”

You plant your feet firmly into the ground, trying to take your hand back from the thief.

Who is-?!

Your thoughts, an intelligible mess of screeching banshees, can’t do anything for you.

They can only drown in the sea of variables, flailing around to grab onto something, only for your thought’s oxygen supply to run out, running on the little rationality it has left.

All you can rely on is your body, activating your flight or flight, forcing your veins to feel as if they are pulsing. They beat and thrum against your skin; begging, pleading with you to escape the muscles that trap them and flee.

Flee, far away from the threat.

Flee, far away from the man who’s kidnapping you.

Flee, far away from…

“Don’t panic, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll just take you to see the Whitebeard Vampires, and you’ll see for yourself that it’s okay!”

The voice makes its way into your mind, a clear bell within the roar of screams in your head.

Recognizable, known, recent.

Ace?

His tone, calm and encouraging, does nothing to ease the fear running across your spine- in fact, his tranquility is only making everything worse.

I was right about my bad feeling!

The grasp on your heart only becomes tighter, stomach dropping to the pits of your midsection, vision becoming blurry with the terror you’re supposed to feel.

Uncaring of anybody who might turn to see the spectacle playing in this gas station, a sob escapes your lips.

“No, no, no! I don’t wanna!” You almost shriek, “I don’t wanna see your crew, I don’t wanna! Let me go- LET ME GO!”

Another fruitless yank from your side, another fruitful tug from the other side; you’re almost sent stumbling, having to catch yourself before face planting.

Ace, his voice a bit more rough now, continues to speak against your fright. “It’ll be okay, really! Cmon, just give it a- chance-!”

With a grunt, he tugs on your arm again, and you can’t do anything but follow.

“It’s for your own good,” Your name is said through a bite, “I’ve got food inside, so you’re not gonna go hungry!”

What the hell is he saying-?!

“Does that matter?!” You cry, “Let go, let me go-! I don’t wanna go-!”

Before you could prepare to tug at his arm again, somebody shoves the two of you apart- an old man, you think, coming to your rescue.

He turns, yelling at Ace; the words are unknown to you, as you took the opportunity to escape.

Ever since then, you’ve met all sorts of people from that gang of his.

A samurai looking as if he’s from the Edo period, a doctor dressed as if he time traveled from the Black Plague, and a swordsman seeming like he was there when the British colonized India.

Without fail, when they found you- whether by individuals or them in a group- they have tried to recruit you into the same group Ace is in.

Threatening, coaxing, or storytelling; many tactics were implemented to try and take you in as one of them. The storytelling almost worked on you once.

Grand adventures the Whitebeard Pirates go on; exploring land nobody dared set foot on before, collecting treasure that shines brighter than all of the stars in the sky, and experiencing freedom unbound by any rules or regulations…

If it weren’t for the fact that they seemed like a dangerous bunch, you would’ve joined.

And, also, if they weren’t vampires.

…yep.

Apparently, the name Whitebeard Vampires was meant to be literal.

Whitebeard for the name of their leader, and Vampires for the fact that everybody in that crew is a one of those bloodsuckers.

You learned it from that fancy, British-looking guy a few months back… what was his name again? Vest? You don’t really remember. All you could focus on was the revelation that the mythical beasts you’d wet the bed over as a child were real.

Snapped out of reminiscence, Thatch’s voice brings you back to reality.

“Listen kid, I know that our methods may seem…�� The vampire pauses. “Unorthodox, but it comes from a place of concern.” His tone is, for a creature such as him, surprisingly soft.

Almost fatherly.

It… it almost reminds you of, when you were young, how your dad would crouch down to be eye-level with you, gently explaining why you should or shouldn’t do something.

“All we know is that you refuse to go to your home, and we’re not going to question it, but we want to see a kid like you safe and happy.”

…you feel small.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know if I’m happy out here.”

A pathetic defense from you, but Thatch takes it as a real one.

“You’re right, we don’t. All we know is that you’re some kid who’s sticking it out on their own. You could be happy, but my crewmates have noticed how they see you suffering, whenever they find you. Throwing up, blood on your face, or a bone broken… isn’t that reason enough to be worried?”

In front of you, fire crackles, shadows flickering across his face.

Through that dancing, one expression remains clear:

Worry.

“We’re not trying to harm you, kid. We’re just trying to help. I’m just trying to help, especially now. I mean-” A small chuckle, “I don’t think you’re going to make it far with that injury of yours.”

It doesn’t take a genius to guess he’s talking about the nasty gash on your leg, caused by the chance encounter with a humanoid wolf thing.

You bring your leg close to you; a pathetic attempt to hide your injury. “shut up,” you mumble, “I can make it just fine.”

The cook raises a nonexistent eyebrow. “Really?” He leans forward. “Just a few minutes ago, didn’t you collapse when trying to stand?”

To that, you say nothing, letting silence occupy the both of you for a bit.

Soon, Thatch sighs, “Listen, just… take the food, kid. We’re not trying to harm you.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

You feel so, so small.

The man speaking gently towards you, stern yet kind, can’t help but make you feel as if you’re a child learning how to regulate your emotions for the first time.

You hate it.

You hate it so much.

Who does he think he is, treating you like some sort of kid? Some sort of- of- dependent, needing an adult to hold their hand and keep them safe from all the dangers of the world!

You’re not like that.

You’re far from that!

You’re independent, you’re strong; hell, you’re not home right now because of your strength!

So who does he, the man who’s been making everything miserable for you, think he is, huh?!

“Ever since I’ve started travelling…” Your voice, a low growl, soon rises to a yell. “You lot have been nothing but trouble for me! First, I have to deal with randoms trying to kidnap and sell me for profit, then constant injuries ‘cause of falling down and breaking something, and now, I have to deal with you lot?! For the past year, everywhere I go, you guys are always there! All I wanted-” a rough wheeze, “All that I wanted was just to get away from my parents, but you just have to fuck everything up!”

You’re not sure why you’re being so emotional right now.

Maybe it’s due to the throbbing in your leg that’s travelling all the way to your head, or the stress of the trip that’s only built up from its starting point.

Either way, you’ve opened your lips, and now, Pandora’s Box can’t be closed.

“I hate it- I hate it all! I hate how you’ve made everything worse- I hate you! I hate you and your stupid crew, and I’d wish you all would go die!”

If you were in less of an emotional state, you would’ve noticed that the forest has gone quiet due to your volume.

“Out of the frying pan, and into the fucking sun, I guess! First I had to deal with parents who won't respect my basic rights, and now I have to deal with vampires who want to suck my blood?!”

Like a pressure cooker that’s exploding, you continue to yell at Thatch, uncaring of any consequences that might follow.

He deserves it, after all- he and his stupid crew deserves it, for making your life a living hell!

“I thought I’d be happy, y’know! I thought- I thought that after getting kicked out-”

The event is fresh in your mind.

Painfully vivid, you can remember being in the house you’ve grown up in, with your parents in the living room you’re so used to; you all were screaming at one another, throwing things, calling each other names, and exchanging fists until you were thrown out, told to never show your face here again.

No matter how long it’s been, the memory still hurts when you think about it.

Like the tears in your eyes, it still stings.

“-that I’d be fine, that- that I could stick it out. But now… now, I have to deal with everything that wants to kill me!”

At this point, you’re screaming at the vampire.

The horrible vampire, who says nothing as you break down in front of him- who looks at you with such warmth, eyes full of kindness for the screaming teenager in front of him.

The evil creature, who’s lips upturned are nothing if not compassionate, treating your problems as if they are real.

The monstrous thing, whose expression reminds you of your mother’s.

“Not just your stupid crew,”

You violently jab a finger in Thatch’s direction.

“But everything! Faeries, centaurs, and other people, too!”

A sharp pain comes into your scalp.

You’re tugging on your hair.

“I thought- I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking!”

What am I even saying?

What’s coming out of your mouth, is now indecipherable to your ears.

Covered up and muffled by the heavy weight of your stress, brain muddled by all of it coming to crash down on you all at once, you don’t know what you want to say.

All you do know is that you want to scream.

So you do it.

You scream, cry, and wail at him with all of your might, screeching your grievances towards the monster that dares sit by you, as if he’s your friend!

As if he deserves to act like somebody that has your best intentions in mind, when in reality, all he wants to do suck your blood and then throw your corpse out to the rest of the mythical beasts that exist, letting them rip your remains apart.

He’s no different than those other monsters.

He’s no different than the faeries that try to steal your life, no different than the centaurs that want to make you a flattened mess of broken bones and burst organs, and certainly not any different than the rest of his kind that wants to drain you of your blood.

He’s no different.

So you throw everything you have at him.

You throw all of your insults, your trauma, your stress onto him.

Maybe it’s to make him understand what you’ve been through because of him so that he and his crew stop harassing you.

Maybe it’s because you need somebody to listen to your woes, to hear you out on all that’s been harming you since you’ve started to travel.

You don’t know.

All you know is that by the end of your fit, you’re a mess.

A weak, exhausted, vulnerable mess, able to be toyed with by the demon in disguise.

Yet, to your surprise, nothing happens to you.

Nobody roughly grabs you, hurts you, or even so much as laughs at you.

The only thing that happens is that the smell of soup wafts over to your nose, making an excess of saliva build up in your mouth.

“Seriously?”

Your voice stuffy as you speak, you lift your head up; Thatch is sitting next to you, the bowl of soup held closer.

To answer, the vampire warmly- gently, like a cool rain of shower dabbing your skin- smiles at you.

“That breakdown of yours probably took a lot out of you. It’s good to regain your energy.”

…you hate how much he reminds you of his parents.

Before everything went bad, at least.

When your dad would give you those carefree, easy grins, hoisting you over his shoulders to let you see over seas of people; your mother right next to him, laughing with your amazement of the scenery before you.

You miss them.

You miss them a lot.

Even if it was, in a sense, your own choice and fault you got kicked out, you can’t help but want to go back to your old house.

To experience what was already experienced, to feel the warmth you’ve felt before, and most importantly…

To be loved, like you were once before.

What’s done is done, though, and the actions you’ve taken have led you to your predicament.

Stuck with a vampire, who probably drugged your food so he can kidnap you and suck your blood later.

But…

…For these past few hours, he’s been nothing but kind.

At any moment in time, he could’ve just killed you- snapped your neck and drained you of your blood- with your bad leg and exhausted state, you wouldn’t even be able to run.

Thatch didn’t do any of that.

Throughout your tirade, he smiled kindly at you as he listened, not interrupting once, even when you slandered he and his crew.

Hell, he even made you food.

The vampire, who can’t taste human food, decided to make something edible for you.

He’s from the same crew as all those other vampires, but… maybe you should give him a chance?

Maybe.

Possibly.

…

A quick ‘screw off’ flying off your mouth, you snatch the food from Thatch, contents inside shaking with your hands.

Hopefully it doesn’t take like shit.

He did say he hasn’t cooked this kind of thing in a while…

Hesitation grabbing hold of your phalanges, you have to force yourself to move past it, lifting the wooden bowl up to your lips so the liquid can shyly touch your lips.

…huh.

The broth dances over your tongue, blessing its taste buds with the faint taste of chicken as slides down your throat, soothing the strained muscle with a sweet lullaby, your belly warming up from the gentle fire it carries-

…huh!

This is… this is one of the best meals you’ve ever had!

Mm!

And without a second thought, you scarf the thing down.

Practically chugging the dish, you allow the chicken to go down with little chewing, the other fruits (tomato? Lettuce??) adding a lovely harmony to the lullaby.

Oh, how delicious!

Truly, this is wonderful cooking; cooking that should be brought to the best chefs in the world and praised for its superior taste.

Off to the side, you hear the cook laugh, a ‘slow down, you’re gonna choke!’ leaving him.

You find yourself caring less about his warning.

All you can care about is this dish from the Gods, granting a blessing of survival and flavor to you, allowing you to live and enjoy what you’re eating.

Whatever god out there exists, thank you.

Within too short of a timeframe, you finish your soup. Your stomach is filled and pleasantly warm, your body once again able to produce energy for you.

Yet, all that energy is transferred to the action of closing your eyes, exhaustion washing over your body.

That breakdown you had must’ve taken a lot out of you…

“How was it?”

A hand wraps around your shoulders, and you’re pulled close to Thatch, the person’s chest used as a support pillar for you.

You hum, “It was good…” hands coming up to try and push against him, not appreciating the close contact. “Really good.”

…you can’t… push away.

You’re too weak.

Within the swamp of your mind, something sharp pricks into the mud.

You could be too tired to push away, but… it’s odd.

You have nothing to fight with.

No energy.

None.

The pricking turns into a full-on stab, creating a hole within your consciousness.

I have no energy.

“Why am…”

The words die on your tongue, syllables too heavy to force through your teeth.

Oh no.

This isn’t normal.

The lack of energy isn’t normal.

The way you can barely speak isn’t normal.

The way everything around you has become blurry, Thatch’s face nothing more than a mesh of colors, isn’t normal.

He did something.

He did something.

He did something to your food-

You feel yourself shift, the white coat of the cook all you can see.

He-!

Your teeth grit. “You…!”

“Shh…” Thatch interrupts, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m not… hurt y… didn… ythi…”

What the hell…?

Whatever he’s saying is gibberish from the sea floor of your hearing; all the while black dots slowly accumulate your vision, brain begging to leave the cage of your skull-

No-!

No matter how much you fight, you fall unconscious, pliant to whatever Thatch plans for you.

-

“Damn…”

Looking down at your form, Thatch winces.

“You’ve really been through it.”

Sunken eyes, broken leg, permanently-knitted eyebrows…

How did you manage to live this long?

The cook hums, holding you a bit tighter against himself.

Facing so much danger, all on your own… he didn’t even need to drug your food. You just- fell asleep after eating his untouched cooking, because you were that tired.

And starving, possibly.

…god. He hates that thought.

Though, he supposes that doesn’t matter now.

From now on, you’ll be safe in Pops’ care.

Never again, will you have to think if you’ll have only a singular meal today.

Never again, will you have to worry about whether or not you’ll survive the next day.

Never again, will you have to recover alone from the mortal danger you faced yesterday.

Not as long as you’re with Pops.

[leashybebes]

seventeen, or forty, or nine! :^)

here is number 9 - bookstore AU. went for more of a meetcute vibe than either of them working in a bookshop but *handwave*

Buck's tried three book stores, two of which got him blank looks, and one an apology about being out of stock and an offer to order in. Karen's birthday drinks are tomorrow night, so that's a bust. He's already got her actual gift, but he saw the book title in a list of queer non-fiction recommendations that he was browsing the other night for…reasons he's kind of feeling his way around the edges of, and it jumped out at him immediately. The reviews are kinda mixed, but the title is too good to pass up, and he knows Karen will get a kick out of it even if she doesn't wind up loving the book itself.

His final stop is Skylight Books in Los Feliz and in the crowded shop, with shelves of all heights and at all angles, it takes him a second to find the queer section mainly because - as he belatedly realises, a big, bulky guy is blocking the sign as he stands with his arms folded, scanning the shelves. Buck ducks towards it, sees the title of the book, a single copy whose cover proudly proclaims Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America. And then the title is obscured when the guy reaches out his big hand and scoops it up, and Buck blurts, "Wait, wait, no!"

The guy looks at him, eyebrows up, dark blue eyes a picture of puzzlement and Buck's reasons for scanning those lists of queer literature and movies and history crystallise sharply. He's gorgeous. He's so tall and so broad and his eyes are so pretty and his jaw is so stubbly and strong and Buck wants to taste it. He also really, really wants that book.

"Hi," Buck says breathlessly. "I'm really sorry, but I need that book."

The guy glances down to the book, back up to Buck.

"I hate to pull playground rules, but finders keepers, man."

"No, wait, you don't understand, it's a birthday present."

"Same," the guy says, starting to step around Buck and towards the checkout. Buck's heart sinks at the imminent disappearance of both the book and the guy.

"No, no, c'mon, the birthday drinks are tomorrow, you've got time to find another copy, right?"

"That's a coincidence," the guy says. "My friend's birthday drinks are also tomorrow. Sorry."

"No, wait, like - look, I saw the book on this list of like - interesting queer non-fiction, and uh, my friend - well, my friend's wife originally, but my friend too now, she's so cool and so interesting and I think I gotta ask her questions about like. Being queer. So this would be a really great segue into talking to her about how I'm like…ninety percent sure I'm bisexual - " Some reflex takes over and Buck does a quick up and down glance of the guy's body. " - ninety nine percent sure, okay, so like. You gotta help me out, man."

The guy blinks, something amused in the small curve of his lips. "No dice, buddy. No one gave me a coming out book shield, so. You'll do fine."

"Aw, c'mon, please! Karen's so cool, and I - "

"Wait, Karen Wilson?"

Buck blinks. "Uh. Yeah? What the hell?"

"I used to work with Hen."

Buck's head is filled with static, running through a mental rolodex of people Hen or Chim have ever mentioned as predating him at the 118. There's always the chance this guy is a pharmaceutical rep, but he definitely has more of a firefighter's build. 

"I work with Hen right now!" Buck says.

The guy looks him up and down, tilts his head. "Wait. Are you the - the disaster magnet probie?"

"Yes!" Buck says, way more pleased than he should be. "I mean, not anymore, I haven't been a probie in years, but uh. That's me! Evan Buckley!"

"Tommy," the guy says, and holds out the book. "Going on what I know, there's a non-zero chance the store collapses in on us if you don't get your way, so. Here you go. Good luck with the bisexuality."

"It, uh - it could be a joint present?" Buck suggests, his mouth taking over. 

Tommy's eyebrows go up again. "Little early for that, isn't it?"

"Get coffee with me, then," Buck offers, his heart in his mouth. He's asking out a guy. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen and if he crashes and burns he's going to have to see him tomorrow at Karen's birthday drinks and - 

"Sure," Tommy says, half-smirk broadening into a smile that lights up his whole face. "I'd like that, Evan."

[seat-safety-switch]

Every so often, I hear constituents complaining about me. They march on my palatial strip-mall office and demand reforms. They ask when I'm up for re-election. Folks, I'm here to tell you that you didn't elect me at all. I'm not actually a real-ass politician. Come inside, it's cold, and let me explain. Christophyr, fire up the Mr. Coffee, these sons of bitches deserve a decent brew after what their actual politicians are putting them through.

It all started a couple years ago, on a night much like tonight, when I noticed that big corporations are really sloppy with how they pay their invoices. A friend of mine was skimming tons of money off the Mercurial Office Supply Corporation by simply showing up and asking to be paid for plumbing work he didn't do. Stood to reason, maybe they'd be sloppy with how they'd pay their bribes too. I noticed that they gave a lot of money to the local re-election campaign, so I decided to run for office too.

Now, running for office is expensive. That's part of how they keep the common man out of it. You've gotta get all those signatures, take all those meetings, give all those speeches. Don't have time for that, because I'm busy playing with remote-controlled cars in the parking lot behind this office most of the time (Helen cheats, don't trust her to not cork a battery pack,) and the rest of the time I'm calling big-business donors and asking for re-election funds. You wouldn't believe how easy it is: just prattle off some low-tax nonsense, talk about "innovation," and mention that you sure would like them to send you ten thousand dollars. Then they do it, without even checking if you're actually a sitting politician.

Now, is it fraud? No. Politicians write the rules, and if they were going to jail just because they did a little thing like "take money from shady mega-corporations and then not do what they want," then every single one of them would be in jail. Nobody is ever really happy with what they buy with the corrupt blood money, but they throw it at the thirsty politicos just in case it helps tilt things just a little bit in their favour. Lots of gambling problems in the C-suite, I'm telling you. And it's not even really a lie. I really do need that money to run for re-election: I'm the treasurer of the local small town's parent-teacher association, and competition is fierce. Nobody ever asks what my actual position is before handing over the cash, for some reason.

I hope this has been educational for all of you in the enraged, violent mob that is tweaked about some other politician's horse hockey, of which I have no control or knowledge. Please enjoy the rest of your coffees in the parking lot.

Actually. One last thing before you all leave. We've got this election coming up, and getting some small-dollar donations from all of you will really secure my grassroots bona fides. Why, you wouldn't want to be giving that money to my opponent, who will probably torture and maim your children. Whoever that opponent is, I don't have time to read the newspaper anymore. Christophyr, pass out the collection basket.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who offers free cleanings for people who are physically unable to clean their home when he’s on leave; people with mental illnesses, disabilities, addiction, anything and everything in between that stops them from taking care of themselves and their environment

he's seen it all; entire rooms filled to the ceiling with rubbish, rotten food overflowing in fridges, used needles and burnt spoons scattered on every surface, conditions no one should have to live in

bc it's what he grew up in

a house that was little more than a crack den with cigarette smoke stained walls and a whole back room you couldn't even open the door to, it was stuffed so full of junk and rubbish. he had the entire place bulldozed when it came into his name but he knows not everyone hates their home the way he did; they just want it to actually feel like home again

so ghost takes his empty days and his iron stomach and methodically goes room by room, house by house. he doesn't mind the sludge that coats his gloves as he empties sinks or the dead rats at the bottom of years' old piles of trash, doesn't blink at the smell of decayed food or abandoned cat litter trays and doesn't for a single moment let the people who live there feel ashamed

he doesn't let them apologise or try to help; most of the time he gives them some money for a meal and tells them to head for the nearest pub or cafe. he knows what it's like to be confronted with the state you've let yourself live in, the shame of other people seeing it and how awful it feels to know that even if given the chance to start over, it would still probably end up this way bc sometimes you just can't do things like clean; sometimes it’s just too much to maintain

sometimes you need the help, no matter how bad it feels to accept it

it often takes days to clear a house, sometimes even just a single room, but to ghost there's nothing more worthy of his time

not when he sees the teary-eyed mothers seeing their carpet for the first time in years; the grandparents who can finally look out their windows, the kids who can run around without fear of stepping on something sharp

ghost doesn't leave them once their houses are done either; he keeps track of the worst ones, of the people who will always need his help and makes sure to check in as regularly as he can. sometimes to just pick up the things that have started to spiral out of control, other times just for a tea that he knows hasn't been shared since the last time he visited

he makes sure they all know they're not alone

🧼💀

going back and forth on if i want soap to ask ghost to join him for leave but ghost declines without giving him a reason so soap think he just doesn't want to be with him. until he finds out he does these cleanings and asks to help bc it reminds him of his nan's house when her dementia started eating away at her and not only stopped her from cleaning, but from recognising her kids and grandkids and made her not trust them to let them in the house to do it for her

or

an au where soap is medically discharged and falls into heavy depression after losing both his meaning in life and his body; being so ashamed and hateful of what he's let himself become but also not caring enough about himself to try and improve it

ghost finding out about this vet from one of the other people he cleans for. they'd noticed the rubbish steadily piling higher in the windows and recognised the signs from their own house; they wanted to pass on ghost’s kindness, give the peace of mind they now have to whoever lives inside

it's a fight to get soap to agree, let alone let him through the door; he hates ghost for offering, hates himself for needing his help to begin with. but ghost meets his stubborn anger beat for beat until he burns himself out and just can't work himself up enough to care anymore

soap refuses to leave, especially when ghost offers to pay for lunch, his pride refusing any more coddling when he’s already accepting this charity, but he also can't bring himself to help; his body too broken and his mind too flooded with exhaustion and pain. so he just lays in bed, rubbish mattress high around him, and tiredly watches ghost through the door as he tackles his filthy home

and for once, it's not enough for ghost

it's not enough to know soap will have a sate place to rest, a clean bathroom to shower in, a kitchen he can actually use

bc he knows a clean environment won't be enough to help soap heal

he knows how aimless he feels without the military structuring his life for him - it's why he started these cleanings in the first place - but soap doesn't have the end of leave to look forward to

this is his life, forever

and it's clear soap doesn't want it

so ghost slows down, takes longer than he needs with each task and each room, draws out the cleaning for as long as he can as he tries to bring soap- no, bring johnny back to life

soap doesn't make it easy; he's so full of self-hatred and shame and grief and there's a large part of him that doesn't want to get better

but ghost keeps trying and he keeps coming back after he finally admits the house is as clean as he can make it

he comes back for tea and then for coffee when soap finally gets enough energy to care about drinking something he actually likes. he comes back to meal prep a week's worth of food every sunday and for dinner the first time soap wants something bad enough to cook it himself

he comes back to discuss the dismal footy match from last night. to be dead silent when soap's having a migraine and put damp cloths on the back of his neck. to wash his sheets after his nightmares make him sweat through them and he’s so untethered he thinks he might drift away. to pretend he's strong arming him into seeing his doctor for a medication change instead of holding his hand through the trauma induced anxiety attack and flashback to the injury that landed him his discharge

he comes back when the anniversary of soap's discharge comes around and soap quietly confesses he doesn't think he should be alone

and he's there the morning after to give him a glass of water and smile when johnny asks him if he feels like going for a walk

[bluemoviegirl]

UNDER THE SAME SUN

joel miller x reader

summary: After a year of surviving alone in a brutal world, you finally find refuge in Jackson, Wyoming—but adjusting to community life proves just as challenging as the horrors outside. When you’re assigned to work with the town’s most gruff and unapproachable man (who happens to be really attractive, you'd never admit this though), Joel Miller, the two of you clash instantly. But as tensions rise and walls begin to crack, you realize there’s more beneath his hardened exterior and he sees sides of you he'd never expected—and maybe, just maybe, he’s exactly what you need to feel alive again.

wc: 4.1k

a/n: hii im rosa, really excited to share my first fic with you guys!! please comment what you thought of it. i'm still working on where i'll take the story so if you've got any cool ideas do let me know! <3

It’s about 20 years since the world fell. You’ve been through hell, as has everyone of course. After wandering alone for a year, you finally made it to Jackson, Wyoming—a place whispered about in rumors as a well-fortified, truly safe settlement. Survival had taken its toll, and after so much time alone, you’d grown accustomed to talking to yourself—or, at times, forgetting to speak altogether.

Now, two months in, adjusting to life among real people has been... an experience. The first month, you barely left your home, more focused on settling in than socializing. Not that anyone could tell—you hadn’t made the place feel like yours in any way. Your small one-bedroom apartment was as bare as the day you arrived, furnished only with the essentials. A functioning kitchen, a hot shower (which felt like the biggest luxury of all), a somewhat comfortable couch, and a simple king-sized bed with a closet across from it. It was enough.

Tommy Miller one of the community's leaders, came by to visit a few times the first month. Just checking in on you and bringing over things like soap and firewood. It was time for you to get out there and you knew it. Honestly you thought going to sleep every night would’ve been harder, with PTSD and all. But the bed was comfortable and you just snoozed away every night. That’s just nights though, during the day, when you were more alone with your thoughts, it became difficult. It's why you forced yourself to socialize with others. Else you’d get real bad anxiety doing just about anything. The thoughts of being back out in the infected world would come rushing in and you’d feel like you failed them all over again. That was in the past, why can’t you just forget about it? You tried to pick one of your old hobbies back up a week ago; drawing. But it didn’t last long before you started sketching the infected and that freaked you out so much you had thrown your notebook into the fireplace.

Today felt different, it was the end of November and it felt like another fresh start. You had made a couple of friends, which to your surprise, was something that actually came easily to you. So you decided to go to the bar. Not much for the drinks but for the vibe, all the people gathered together, laughing, chatting. It felt unreal it made you feel a joy you hadn’t felt in a while. So you came there often, quickly befriending the bartender, Knox. He was a big tough guy, probably around 60. His long beard had a thin braid in it which always made you wonder whether he braided it or if he had someone waiting for him at home. He didn’t speak much about himself though, always chatting away with everyone about anything and everything. Knox would sneak you an extra drink here and there if you laughed at his jokes hard enough.

You had felt a bit embarrassed going back to the Workshop to ask if they could get you a new sketchbook twice in the same week but you really wanted to get back into drawing. But now you were sat at the bar, slightly hunched over your sketchbook and you were doodling away. Nothing major or complete but at least the drawing was actually calming you a bit. A couple people had stopped by to chat with you and you soon felt as if you already belonged here. It wasn’t long until most of the bar stools were all occupied.

You’d noticed Tommy Miller taking a seat, two barstools from you. He was swirling his glass a bit, not looking particularly joyful but not too worrying. You contemplated making small talk but you were feeling like a social butterfly today.  “Hey, Tommy.” You said as you put down your pencil and closed your sketchbook. He looked up from his glass at you as he smiled. “Oh, hey! Didn’t see you there.” You shook your head, your hair had covered up your face from the side as it had fallen over your shoulder so of course he didn’t. You tucked your hair behind your ear and tugged a bit at your earlobe, a habit you always had when talking to people. Nervous tick you’ve done since you were little. You smiled back at him. “That’s okay. How are you and Maria?” When you just arrived at Jackson, you had taken a mental note that Tommy and Maria Miller were a married couple. They’re both community leaders and you thought it to be cute. Did they know each other before, or did they meet after? It gave you a sliver of hope that maybe things would work out like that for you too. Tommy’s eyes immediately light up a bit.

“We’re good, yeah. Real good. And you? I haven’t, uh, seen ya much around.” You felt a bit of a flush coming on your face, feeling a bit embarrassed with how anti-social you’d been for two months.

 “Yeah sorry- I was settling in. Getting used to all this-“

 You motioned to the place around you. He chuckled back at you.

“F’Course, it’s somethin’ to get used to, that’s damn sure.”  

We had a moment of silence, both not knowing what to say or whether we’d turn back to our own business.

 “I’ve heard good things about ya already. You must be leaving good impressions on people huh.”

He tells you, as he sips his beer.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. I mean, I try. Being alone for a year with no one to talk to, means I can barely stop yappin’ now that there’s actual people that’ll listen.” You chuckled before asking him a question.

 “I was actually wondering, when I could get started on a job here? I would really like to give back to the community.”

 You’ve been wanting to give back to the community since you arrived, feeling guilty eating their food, using their hot water when you’ve given nothing in return.

 “Oh yeah, we got plenty to do around here. It’s really your pick but, I don’t know if you’re handy but we could use your help on repair. We’re a man short-”

 “I’d love to help.”

 He looked you up and down, you didn’t really look like you’d be good with a hammer. Besides from maybe, smashing in an infected head.. But it couldn’t be that hard. Yes, you did look like the typical girl, you still wore your jewelry from before the apocalypse which consisted of 2 rings on each hand, a couple bracelets and a locket necklace that always hung around your neck, you weren’t particularly buff looking and people would probably peg you as a flowers and baking type but you didn’t mind living up to that stereotype. Before Tommy could continue the conversation, Tommy’s head turned to the entrance door.

“Speaking of things in need of a fixin’.” Tommy grinned as he watched his friend walk in.

The man stepped in with his broad shoulders and a steady, purposeful gait. His dark hair, was peppered with gray at the temples, and a scruffy beard covered his jaw. His eyes, a deep brown, scanned the room with a quiet intensity, as if constantly assessing everything around him. His worn jeans and flannel shirt were well-suited to the rugged life he'd lived, and his stance—confident but reserved—made it clear he wasn’t someone to be easily approached.

"Joel," Tommy greets him, and the man offers a curt nod in return. You watch as Tommy claps him on the back, and they share a brief conversation as the man takes the stool next to yours. His back is to you, he didn’t glance your way. Joel.

You go back to your sketchbook, feeling a bit dismissed. But then you hear Tommy mentioning your name to Joel. “You two met yet?” Tommy looks at me and back at Joel. You shook your head no as you reached out to shake Joel’s hand. He sure took his sweet time to turn and shake yours back. He glanced at you for a moment before looking back at Tommy, obviously wondering where Tommy’s going with this. You couldn’t deny it though, the man was attractive. Maybe a good bit older than you- wait, why are you even thinking about the age difference.. Maybe it’s been too long since you’ve actually seen a man that caught your eyes.

“I was just tellin’ her we needed another set of hands for repair. She said she’s up for it.” Tommy said to Joel. “M’fine doin’ it myself.” Joel said, shooting down Tommy’s idea. And yours as well, you were perfectly capable of helping with a repair. Tommy shook his head no, “I ain’t letting you go to the outpost by yourself. We have rules here, y’know that.” Joel seemed well familiar with the rules as he gave no emotion back besides a slight frown. Joel turned to you and glanced you up and down quickly, his eyes either lingering shortly on your chest, or the gold locket you had hanging around your neck.

“You sure you capable?”

“Yeah I-“

“Y’know how to use a rifle?”

The interruption surprised you and you must’ve taken too long to answer cause Joel filled in the answer for himself.

“M’ fine doin’ it myself.” Joel said as he turned back to Tommy, who was rolling his eyes. You weren’t great with rifles really, always hated using guns. You were good with a bat, which sounded a bit silly so you stayed quiet. “Just go together tomorrow morning, scope out the place and see if you guys are able to get some work in. She’s tougher than she looks.” Tommy said, smiling to you. You appreciated him sticking up for you but it also made you feel a bit weak.

Normally you would’ve let it go, you’d have found another job to do. But something about this Joel guy, and the stoic demeanor he gave, it annoyed you. Like you needed to proof yourself, which made you feel even sillier. Proof yourself to a man? Please. But maybe, you and Joel could get along and he just needed some warming up to. You were a tad low on the friend department anyway.

---------

Though the next morning, you regretted even thinking that. It started with gathering the horses. You weren’t able to get up on your horse, and he just sat on his horse, watching you struggle. When you finally got up, you swore you saw a slight curl tugged at the corner of his lips but it disappeared as soon as you went to look again.

You two were riding next to each other in mostly silence. You had spoken a few times but would never get a response. The only sounds you could hear were the horses and the snow crunching underneath their hooves. Should you make small talk again?  You were someone who could talk anyone’s ears off but Joel didn’t exactly give off the vibe that he’d be open to that.

“So how do you know Tommy?” You say, the words spitting out before you were even done deciding.

Joel didn’t look at you as he replied.

“Was at his birth.”

You knitted your brows and stared at his face which just had a blank expression on them, opposite of yours cause that answer had your gears turning. At his birth? What?? Your silence said enough to Joel, you didn’t get it.

 “Tommy’s my brother.” ... “Oh.”

“You always this chatty?” Joel muttered. “You always this grumpy?” you shot back.

You felt annoyed that that was the only reply you could come up with. “Did you just make a joke?” You grinned just the tiniest bit, was Joel Miller making jokes? The man who had been riding his horse silently for an hour and didn’t even glance your way once?

“Didn’t think you had that in you.” You commented.

Joel’s hands tightened briefly on the reins, but he didn’t say anything. You could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth twitched. His brows knitted together ever so slightly as he glanced to you and back to the road ahead.

“So how much longer?”

 Joel didn’t answer.

“What are we even repairing?”

Still no reply. When you’ve given up on small talk he finally replies to your question.

 “Floorboards of one of the outposts.”

 “Ah, is it moldy or something?”

 “No.” His voice was flat, almost bored.

“They warped?” “No.” “Well, something’s wrong with ‘em if we’re going all the way out here.” He sighed like this was the last conversation he wanted to be having. “Just needed fixin’.” “Vague and unhelpful. Got it.

Y’know,” You hear Joel sigh again when you start a new sentence. “I had that a while ago, the cabin me and- the cabin I was staying in, the entire floor started warping cause, I assume, water damage? Mold? I don’t even know. I once tripped over them badly, hit my face so hard I still have the scar.”

You were rambling, he made you nervous. You didn’t get why, you met the man yesterday and he’d maybe looked at you like, 3 times all together. Yet you still wanted to chat with him, maybe even see what he’d look like if he ever smiled.

“The scar at the end of your eyebrow.”

He spoke before thinking, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he froze for just for split second before going back to regular Joel, you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already staring at him. The detail he mentioned was really specific—something he'd only know if he'd actually observed you right? A brief look of regret crossed his face, and he seemed to wish he hadn't said it at all. Maybe the scar was just that obvious. It was tiny though, just at the end of your brow, a little above it. It was a scar that blended in with your face, your hair usually covering it anyway. You remember the aching pain you had for days every time you’d move your eyebrows, which was something you did a lot. You were always very expressive.

“Yea. Didn’t think it was that noticeable.” You reply softly as you rub the back of your neck.

“It isn’t.”  His voice firm.

It isn’t. Yet, he noticed it even though he’s barely looked you in the eyes. You shake off the thought.

---------

You two finally arrived at the outpost. The outpost was a small, rugged place, tucked away on the edge of the wilderness. Wooden walls creaked in the wind, patched up with scrap metal and makeshift barriers.  There was a worn-down feeling to the place—like it had seen its share of hard days. You both hitched your horses and you waited for Joel to lead. He stayed vigilant, like he was the entire ride, checking every corner, making sure nothing slipped past him—especially any signs of infected.

“Gather some of the wood.”

He said, nudging his head to the pile of wood a couple feet away.

“Yes boss.”

 You mumbled quietly as you rolled my eyes, stuffing the urge to mockingly salute him. Joel had entered the outpost and you followed shortly after you bring the wood outside the outpost, not knowing what you’d walk into.

“Watch your step.” Is what you heard seconds before slipping and falling into Joel’s arms.

As you slipped over something wet, and stumbled backward, you felt his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. One hand gripped your arm, steadying you, while the other slid around your waist, pulling you against him. Your heart raced as his touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, fingers pressing firmly into the curve of her back. The close proximity made your breath hitch. “Shit!” You yelped. You had almost fallen completely backwards, which would’ve been okay if there wasn’t a smashed in infected body behind you.

“I said, watch your step.” Joel said, a bit softer  but still annoyed.

 Your hands had gripped Joels arm when he had wrapped it around your waist when you slipped. As you realize the two of you were still entangled, you quickly stood up and Joel let you go as he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t expect there to be a pool of blood and a literal infected.” You said, not glancing at the infected, you hated seeing them.

“Yeah, must’ve forgot to mention it.” Joel replies gruffly.

Douchebag.

 You now got a chance to really look at the interior. It wasn’t much. You finally understood why the floor needed repairing, the wood was split and to your surprise, very warped.

“The wood is warped.” You say, crossing your arms, remembering Joel said no when you asked if it was warped. He just didn’t want you to be right, did he? Jackass. He just shrugged as he kneeled down, he starts lifting some of the floorboards. It doesn’t take much for them to release from the ground, so it seems.

“Shouldn’t we get rid of the infected body first?”

“Be my guest.”

You scoffed at his reply. You really didn’t want to get near it but you also didn’t want it stinking up the place even further. You sigh, extra loud, turning your head to Joel to make sure he heard you. He ignores it.

You decide on grabbing a shovel and shoving the infected away.  You noticed Joel raising a brow when he turned to look at what you were doing, but he soon turned back and said nothing as he continued removing the floor. After what felt like ages, you got the infected body out and cleaned up the area.

“How’d the infected get in here?” You said as you walked towards Joel’s eyesight.

“Dave was here a couple days back. Managed to kill the infected before realizing the man himself was already bit.” Joel said, he spoke calmly about this Dave, as if he didn’t care as to whether the guy would live or die.

“So where’d Dave go after he was bit? Seeing I’ve only dragged one-” You motioned the number one with your finger, “-body out of this place.”

Joel looked up at you, clenching his jaw for a moment.

“Dead. Now, are you going to help remove any of the floorboards or gonna continue chattin’ my ears off?”

You weren’t even saying that much.

“Yeah yeah, calm your horses.” You mumbled.

 Joel narrowed his eyes before going back to the floorboards. You walk to the other end of the room, and decide to start there. You roll up your sleeves, ready to show you’re actually capable of doing stupid repair. You grip one end of the floorboard and pull it up, as hard as you can. But there’s no movement, like, at all.

For a second you feel like you’re on a prank show, you glance over to Joel who had lifted at least half of the floorboards out already. Yet you weren’t strong enough to even lift one? Come on. You kept pulling, teeth gritting, muscles (what muscles?) flexing. Yes, you had survived being by yourself in the apocalypse for over a year but you never really grew very strong muscle. You survived by being careful and quiet, not looking for the danger, so you rarely fought.

 “Fucks sake.”

 You grunt, sitting on the floor and looking over at Joel, who was already looking your way.

“What’re you doin’? I ain’t got all day.”

“I’m trying!”

Joel mumbled something as he walked over.

“Move.”

 He said as he started gripping the floorboard where you were holding it. Joel was being tough but when he couldn’t get the floorboard to budge either, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah yeah, mr. Strong. Lift it up then.” You grinned.

His narrowed eyes met yours briefly before turning back. He was obviously using all his strength to attempt to get it out.

“You’re gonna pull a muscle.” You say, making sure to fit another jab in there to annoy him.

You enjoyed it a bit too much, seeing him struggle after he so obviously judged you for not being able to lift it.

Just when you laugh a little too hard, the floorboard suddenly pops out, of course, hitting you in the head and causing Joel to stumble a bit. “Fuck!” You, who was previously sat, is now laying back, leaning on your elbows as the floorboard had just hit your forehead real hard. Your hand immediately rose up to your forehead and you looked back at your fingers. Blood. Joel’s eyes widened a bit, obviously not meaning to do that.

 “My bad.” He mumbles, in a gruff acknowledgement.

He kneeled a bit closer to you as you sat back up, he was looking at the wound, both your faces just inches apart. You had a little wound on the left side of your forehead, yes it was bleeding and yes it might look bad, but it wasn’t anything worth worrying about, Joel thought so at least. He was inspecting the wound but didn’t look worried. He honestly looked like he couldn’t care less.

“Is it bad?”

“S’fine. You’ll live.” He said before standing back up, and walking to his bag. He walks back with a band-aid. It’ll have to do for now. You take it from his hand, your fingers grazing. “It’s getting late, we’re headin’ back.” 

You nod as you felt your forehead throbbing. You felt the urge to cry, you didn’t but you wanted to. Today was just a shitty day and you’d spent it with a shitty man.

On the ride back to the settlement, you were quiet. Thinking about how today felt like a bit of a fail, you had gotten like 2 floorboards out and the rest was done by Joel while you had sat there with a throbbing forehead. So much for proving yourself.

--

Joel and Tommy were sat at the bar, their usual spot if they had something to discuss.

“Y’need to get me another partner for the repair.” Joel said before taking a gulp of beer.

Tommy just looked at Joel in a way of saying: ‘Seriously’?

“M’serious. She keeps on talking a mile a minute. Can’t even focus without her asking some annoyin’ questions”

Tommy finally let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “She really that bad, or is it just you bein’ you?”

Joel shot him a look.

“Pretty face, empty head Tommy, I’m tellin’ you.” Joel has his elbows leaning on the bar as he looks down at his glass and back up at Tommy.

“I’d love to relieve you of your ‘torture’ but I ain’t got anyone to fill her shoes right now. After losing Dave like that- Not many people are willin’.”

“People are scared ‘cause one man died from an infected? You’ve softened them up.”

“Dave wasn’t just ‘one man.’ He was a good leader. People trusted him. And now he’s gone. You should know better than anyone what that kind of loss does to people.” Tommy says, obviously feeling the impact it left on him when Dave died. Joel clenched his jaw but didn’t argue.

Dave was one of the community leaders, known to be real good around infected. So when he died, it scared folks.

 “You’re doin’ another repair job with her, whether you wanna or not. It’s a week from now, Maria said it’d be a good idea if you actually tried to get to know her. She’s more than a ‘pretty face’ and who knows, you might actually like her.” Tommy said, putting emphasis on Joel’s previous ‘pretty face’ comment, a cheeky smirk tugging at Tommy’s lips.

Joel let out a dry, humorless laugh.

Tommy smirked, clearly enjoying this too much. “Alright, fine. Maybe not like her. But at least tolerate her.”

Joel scoffed as he gave Tommy a narrowing glance as Joel chucked the last bit of beer down before standing up.

“Doubt that.”

And with that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, already dreading next week.

[aonemanarmy]

The battle for the madman's soul was over – Jenova could feel it. There was never any doubt in the creature's mind that it would emerge victorious, for what hope did a pitiful human stand against a being older than their own galaxy? It was impossible and had Jenova been capable of feeling emotions in the same way that a human being could then surely a feeling of triumph would've been present, but all the creature felt was a cold sense of satisfaction.

'At last you accept the truth.'

Resist as he might Sephiroth was still Jenova's and Lucrecia presented the creature with an opportunity to seize back control. All because the foolish scientist sought to dredge up old memories and traumas that left the otherwise perfect tool vulnerable to outside influence.

Truly the woman hadn't learned a thing. Now her mistakes were about to offer up Jenova exactly what the creature needed. Jenova only needed to continue to press the woman, who in turn would push Sephiroth further into letting his guard down. When that happened then Jenova would strike.

'Willingly you offered up the child upon the altar of science for the sake of your own hubris. In return you gained the knowledge which you so coveted, so it is quite selfish of you to try to take back what was freely given. Besides, is a broken man worth sacrificing all of that precious knowledge that you've desired? All that you had longed to possess all those years ago?'

While Jenova's focus was upon Lucrecia the madman was left to try to sort through his own tangled thoughts and the gnawing feeling that something was off. Truly, it disturbed him that any part of him was second guessing his initial judgment as the last time that had happened had nearly led him to ruin. Still, that small voice he'd thought long dead quietly nagged at him – the boy he'd once been and that had longed for a mother continuing to linger and cling to a hope that would never come.

He hated it.

“The vessel is unimportant so long as it allows me to do what I will.” He responded to the woman's query about his current form not being his 'true' body. It was surprisingly observant for her since Sephiroth hadn't thought she would've noticed given that they'd never met – at least as far as he was aware. “What I construct now is far superior to what once was.”

Whether Lucrecia understood what he meant or not was hardly of any concern to him. The woman may have claimed to be his mother but regardless of who she was he knew that she could never fully appreciate the great work he was set to accomplish. Any time now he would emerge from stasis like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon and enter into the world a being beyond mortal comprehension – a god made reality.

What if it's true...? 'That quiet voice spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence, as if hesitant to make itself known. What if she really is her?

Sephiroth scoffed at the voice, finding himself growing irritated by its' persistence. It should be dead and he wanted it to stay that way, since what sort of god had any use of something so pathetic?

She is a liar and if by some chance that were not true then she is scum. Sephiroth countered, seeking to drive the small voice back. It would mean that she willingly discarded us, sacrificed us for her own ends. If what she says is true, then she is no better than that wretched little man that tortured us each and every day for the sake of his research – no, she would be worse since no mother would do such a thing.

Had Lucrecia spoken the truth than all she earned would be Sephiroth's ire and she would deserve it. It was the only suitable reward for her betrayal.

“I have always been alone in this miserable world.” Sephiroth said coolly, walking past Vincent and Lucrecia toward the mouth of the cavern where the reddened sky could be seen just beyond the surface of the falling water. “As it was, so shall it be.”

'Yes, let this farce be put to rest.' Jenova's wordless voice drifted back inside Sephiroth's mind, the creature eager to press the gap in the man's defenses. 'Show her your work and see how openly she will cast aside all pretenses of being any different.'

Sephiroth silently lifted a hand and pointed beyond the waterfall, bidding Lucrecia to step beyond the cavern of her self-imposed prison and into the outside world once more. Once she did so would she be able to bear witness to the true extent of the madman's suffering and the vengeance he sought to take upon the world that had gleefully destroyed him long before he'd ever been born.

Only then could she possibly understand.

Perhaps Sephiroth had seen her actions more of a ploy or an act of ignorance. He certainly had the right of it. So much of what Sephiroth had endured were due to terrible experiments that were kept well under lock and key. Hardly anyone alive understood what all was involved. It had only been Gast, Hojo, and Lucrecia when Sephiroth’s creation had been executed; and now only Lucrecia was left alive. Her expression remained soft and comely at Sephiroth’s question. He didn’t have to believe anything she said… even if it pained her. She knew this was merely the result of her actions.

A pained smile crossed her lips in response to Sephiroth’s words. “I cannot easily die, no… and neither can you. But it’s not completely impossible, either.” She stood silent, observing Sephiroth with keen interest. “This… isn’t your true body, is it??” she mused allowed. She had sensed something was off about Sephiroth, but perhaps he had separated his spirit from his physical body. In other words… she had felt he had physically died, even if Vincent had denied it at one point. Yet, here he stood, seemingly alive and well. But was it truly him in the flesh? A slight sense of guilt came over Vincent as he didn’t want Lucrecia to know that her son had been killed; and now he was rebuilding his body to become something akin to a god of sorts. She knew her son was long gone. Thus, it pained Vincent to see her persist. He too had held the belief that there was possibly some ounce of humanity in Sephiroth. But deep inside, he knew that was long gone. Now he stood and watched Lucrecia suffer through the same fruitless endeavor. Only he knew she would never give up. After all, it was only natural for a mother to yearn for her son, no matter how far gone he was. Though he stood before her, he was many galaxies away from her.   “In theory,” she quietly began as she continued to address Sephiroth’s question. “A strong will of another can break the chain of immortality. If it can bind you to life eternal, then so too can it break it. And your will is strong…” Her words fell solemnly, knowing Sephiroth had the strength and will to tear her down. It was simply a matter of testing it out. …perhaps she was forever a scientist after all. A mixture of anger and sadness loomed over Vincent’s face as he watched their interactions. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent Lucrecia from desiring this suicidal request. He knew the suffering that came with being denied release. And yet… ‘Why do you care..?’ Lucrecia shook her head. “…It may seem meaningless to you,” she spoke thoughtfully. “I know I cannot turn back time. And I know you’ll never see me as a mother… I don’t deserve it. You deserve peace. I just wish I could give it to you… somehow.” She stayed her arms for a moment before slowly lowering her arms. Sephiroth wouldn’t even draw comfort from killing her, simply because she was nothing to him. It was one thing to be hated, but it was another to be nothing. Even in that, Hojo still managed to make an impression on Sephiroth. And she… utter nothingness. She truly meant nothing to Sephiroth, and never would ever mean anything. Lucrecia lowered her head. “…Is it wrong for me to give up?” Vincent lifted his head when he heard Lucrecia’s voice crack. Even if she was merely asking the question, he could tell she had already chosen to end the battle for her son. Her hazel eyes eventually landed on Vincent’s, brimming with tears afresh. The sight tore his heart once again. Not an ounce of hope was left in her. “Jenova’s right… It’s no use.” At this point, Vincent didn’t have a heart to encourage her any longer and didn’t give a response. He could practically feel Jenova triumphantly taunting Lucrecia. Without waiting for a response, Lucrecia gave Sephiroth one last look. “…I’m sorry… for everything.”

[randomshyperson]

Hey there! I really loved the ones you did for Wanda, so i was wondering if you'd be down to do one for Natasha with Touching 35, Hugs 17 and Hands 13 (if you're ok with it going that way).

If not, it's totally cool, love your works :)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

prompt: linking hands together during sex, hugging from behind, kissing their bruises and scars | words: 1.686k | warnings: (+18), shower smut, bottom!natasha, language, mentions of violence.

-&-

The only sounds in the surroundings were running water and the news coming from the corner television that Natasha probably left on.

You closed the bedroom door behind you, making just enough noise to announce your presence without startling her - Not that you believed it was possible to sneak around with a black widow.

Natasha left the bathroom ajar and your gaze met hers in the reflection in the mirror. She smiled at first, no sound coming from her lips, neither of greeting nor of pain even though she was treating significant cuts scattered across her body. The purple marks on her back and chest were almost completely visible through that sports tank top she was wearing, and you sighed as you leaned against the door.

She held your gaze. "All it takes for you to show up is a near end of the world, huh?"

The teasing made you smile. You crossed your arms, knowing that if you didn't keep your hands busy, you would touch her. And you needed to know if Natasha wasn't mad at you first.

"Well, at least now I know that I can't leave you alone for five minutes without that leading to the eventual destruction of all mankind." You say, an undertone in the sentence that makes Natasha frown slightly. You sigh before adding; "I just said goodbye to my brother. We both agree that it's best to always have an Asgardian on the team." 

Natasha swallows hard and looks away. She's a master at hiding her emotions, and she does a great job of disguising the news that would easily be the best thing she's heard in weeks. She gives you a small chuckle, looking at you in the reflection. "You two think too highly of yourselves, you know? We took care of half of Ultron's army while your brother was taking a bath in a cave." 

You chuckle, joining in the comfortable push and pull you've always had ever since you first met her, so many years ago when Thor first came to Earth. 

"Is that so?" She hums in agreement, her body language betraying her and leaning towards you. "Because I heard you spent half the time in handcuffs." She raises an eyebrow. 

"Your intel is incorrect," she counters. "Ultron knocked me out, but I had my hands free." You laugh at her irony, shaking your head in disapproval. She smiles, mimicking the gesture before taking a deep breath.

An exchange of glances and the mood in the room changed completely. You looked at her so intently that Natasha thought it best to go stare back to the mirror. Finally, you spoke. "You could have called me." It was a whisper, too gentle or sad to be accusatory. She sighed softly. "I would have kicked Stark's ass in a second. Blown up a few things, or even charmed a few minds. But I would have been here. And you definitely wouldn't have been unconscious." 

She rested her hands on the sink, somewhat tense and visibly tired. "It wasn't anyone's fault." She counters seriously but keeps her tone as friendly as she can. "It's the job, malysha (baby). We go and fight, and come home with a few scratches. I knew how important your mission was. I won’t call you if it isn’t a matter of life or death. I was sure we could handle it, and in the end, we did."

But your gaze was on the large bruise on her shoulder when you replied with a "Few scratches, huh?" 

She gave you a sad smile and with a nod, you knew what she was allowing. 

You can touch me. 

You uncrossed your arms and moved slowly. Natasha sighed as she felt your hands touch her elbows, and then her shoulders until your arms wrapped around her. She was overcome by a sudden urge to cry - all the stress of the last few weeks, all the fights. And all the missing you burning feeling in her chest. She sighed, sinking into the warmth of your embrace for a moment. You kissed her neck and stared at her through the reflection. 

"Let me take a look." You asked and she opened her mouth to retort with a "You don't have to" but you were already hushing her gently, wrapping your arms around her waist to spin her around and have her against the counter. She bit her lip to hide her own reactions, eyes watching you carefully undress her.

The tank top came off first and she could see the darkness in your expression as you took in the new display of bruises. Then her combat pants and she removed her socks as you set the items aside in the corner.

Close again, you traced some of the more superficial bruises on her torso on your way to removing her bra.

Natasha said nothing, the cool air of the room making her body tremble just before it warmed again beneath your touch.

When you bent down to pull her panties to the floor, she let her fingers play with the strands of your hair for a moment.

“You’re such a charmer,” she murmured teasingly. “You’ve barely gotten here and there’s already a naked girl in your room.”

You chuckled, throwing her panties in the corner with the other clothes. "Don't be silly, this is your room." You replied in the same tone and tugged on your shirt, which got stuck in the attempt and Natasha was happy to help between one giggle and another.

She didn't steal any kisses, but you forgot to ask. You were busy exchanging complicity looks and giggles as she pulled your belt and pants away, and you stumbled out of your Asgardian boots.

Finally, you were both naked and under the shower. She turned it on and didn't wait for the water to heat up before pushing you under, and you didn't pull her along in sympathy for the number of bruises she still had.

But the light, teasing ,and joking mood changed as your fingers traced her new scars.

The water did most of the work, of course - Natasha still needed a lot to get used to the mystical side of life, and the existence of gods like you, but she would certainly never stop being enchanted by your abilities. Her body relaxed under your enchanted touch. The water drops would do the healing, but you ran your hands and lips over as much of her skin as you could, slowly as if you were idolizing every inch of her. When you finally got to your knees again with your lips on her thighs, Natasha was already panting, her legs shaking. 

"You're such a tease." She comments with her eyes narrowed, the hot water and the affection of your touch had completely relaxed her. She was aroused, of course, but it was warm, comforting somehow. 

You giggle mischievously, the bruises are completely gone now. The mystical, silvery glow of the water you manipulated to heal her had also completely drained down the drain, and now all that was left was you and your affections.

You looked up, slightly mesmerized by the beauty of the woman in front of you.

Your lack of action made Natasha look down, a smile playing on her lips. 

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm ready for you."

You let out a shuddering sigh but resisted just long enough to tease her. "You always want me on my knees, Natalia. Is it because I'm royalty?"

She giggled, her dominant hand tangling in your hair and before she pulled you up, she growled an affectionate "Come here you dork."

Despite the urgency, the kiss was tender. At least at first, filled with the longing you felt for each other. Then Natasha's tongue slid to your bottom lip, never asking permission before increasing the urgency of that kiss, and you were grateful that her fragile human body was healed and allowed you to press her roughly against the wall.

She moaned into your mouth, fighting for dominance in the kiss before being overpowered by the sudden friction of your knee against her core. With her hips moving of their own accord, it didn't take long for her to break the kiss with pleading moans, full of need. You never denied her, you never could. She didn't even need to ask and you already moved your knee away to sink your fingers into her, being rewarded with the sweetest sounds and breathless sighs.

The hot water dripped against your back, and the closer Nat got to the climax, the more her body writhed. Natasha liked to kiss you when she came because she knew it drove you crazy to feel her shudder and whine into your mouth when she did it. One of her hands grabbed your face to control the kiss as your fingers danced inside her, filling her completely in a back-and-forth motion that was driving her mad. On instinct, she dug her nails into your back, and you grunted in slight pain, before using your free hand to hold hers against the wall. The brief restraint pushed her over the edge and all it took was a twist of your wrist and she came, whimpering into your tongue.

You kissed her chastely a few times until she could respond properly. She was still throbbing deliciously against your fingers when you pulled back to suck your fingers clean.

Natasha looked at you with dilated pupils, the hand that had been on your face falling to your shoulder next to the one you released.

"I think very highly of you, too, you now. “ She confessed with a rusky worn-out tone. “Just don't get too cocky."

You smile, shaking your head at your girlfriend's post-orgasm state.

Not that you've decided on a label.

"Making you come is all I need to get some compliments, then? Good to know."

"Shut up."

"With pleasure. I happen to have plenty of other ideas to occupy my mouth with."

She shakes her head, a goofy smile on her lips. "Idiot."

"And all yours, baby."

[xoxoavenger]

Hi, I saw your post about wanting some bycky requests I may have one.

Could you please write some Bucky x Fem!Reader where the reader is Tony's daughter? You can choose the plot, I kinda like imagining her being a cop or something like that tho

Feel free to ignore if you don't like it ♡

thank you for getting the ball rolling! I always have reader be adopted, just to have the story be more inclusive (and also to help make the age gap less crazy lol) and I also made reader a SWORD agent instead to fit the storyline, but this helped so much, thank you!

Win

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!Reader

summary: Bucky's running for Congress, and he needs a win to help make some change. Y/N's just trying to support him the best she can.

word count: 2799

warnings: reader is adopted, age gap (MCU is in 2027 everyone so by my math reader is like late 30s, Bucky is mid-fourties, but you can imagine it however you want there's no specifics), if you're new here reader calls Bucky 'James' bc i like that and think it's cute, Bucky has some issues, written pre-Thunderbolts movie release so there could be some future inaccuracies

masterlist

Bucky knew he could never actually retire.

It was a nice thought, but in practice he hated how fucked the world was, how much he seemed like part of the the problem. It's why he's running for Congress, so he can make a difference in a way that doesn't have anything to do with violence.

He's in a deep in paperwork when she walks in, pantsuit ironed to perfection and a folder of papers he's sure are for him in her arms.

"Mr. Barnes," She smiles, and Bucky's never been more happy to see her. "I've brought some papers from Media, most of them about you smiling more. I told them you shouldn't lie before you've even gotten into office, but they refused to see how smiling could be this big of a problem. So clearly, they don't know you very well." Y/N Stark is a ray sunshine in Bucky's office, and he doesn't know how he got her.

SWORD agent Y/N Stark, adopted by Tony Stark after Nat saved her from the Black Widow program just before meeting Tony in 2008 while she was in Budapest, believing that Y/N had been the last of the Red Room. Y/N had been just 16, and Natasha wasn't in the greatest place to be a guardian. To be fair, neither was Tony, but at least she also had Pepper. Y/N changed her last name before she turned 18, since her parents had given her up as a baby and she didn't like her past defining her. Bucky had first met her when fighting at the airport in 2016, and after they went into hiding Bucky had talked Steve into sending Y/N a package just like Tony had gotten, and she had called. They began dating in secret, as she helped SHEILD rebuild itself as SWORD, and was granted entrance into Wakanda to visit him as he healed from the trigger words. They were finally getting back to where they had been before the snap, when Bucky had disappeared and Y/N had lived five years in grief.

But now Bucky was trying to figure out how to get her to retire and work with him, because he thinks a change might be exactly what he needs to make him feel better. The more he learns about politics, the more he doesn't know how to make the change he wants to.

"Well," Bucky leans back in his seat, stretching his back. He's been sitting all day, a harsh change from his life before, but he honestly likes it. It feels nice to not be conditioned to fight at every second, to be able to relax even just a little bit. "I hope you told them I'm not doing that." He says lowly, and his fiancé rolls her eyes with large grin.

"How did I end up with a hundred and three year old grump?" She asks, walking all the way in and dropping the papers on his desk. Bucky reaches up and pulls her into his lap, pushing her jacket back because he loves to see the leather vest she wears that holsters her gun over the white button up blouse.

"It's actually a hundred and ten." He says. He knows that she knows this, that she knows his actual birthday even if everyone likes to pretend that he wasn't frozen and used by HYDRA for years which makes him actually in his late thirties, maybe early forties.

"Ugh, old man." She says, but her smile is painted on, almost like the opposite of her.

"You love it." He leans his mouth up, and she leans down to give him a quick kiss. This isn't enough for him, and he leans back in to chase her lips.

"James, people actually work in this office. They don't want to see a couple macking in the middle of the day." She says as she gets off his lap, which makes Bucky upset.

"Macking?" He questions, because she's always using these words that he has no idea what they mean.

"Come on, grab your papers and let's go." She doesn't explain the word, instead holding out a hand that Bucky only grabs onto, not letting her pull him up and out of his seat.

"I can't leave yet." He wants to, he really does, but he has so much work to do. The election is coming up faster and faster, and he feels his opportunity to change things slipping through his fingers.

"James," She whispers, yanking on him to no avail. She frowns, and he wishes for a moment that he could just stop everything and go home with her.

"I can't lose." He tells her softly, and she just nods, even though she doesn't fully understand.

"Okay." She lets her hand slip out of his, and Bucky wishes that he could go back to those nights they spent in Wakanda. They were so unrushed, so calm. "I'll see you at home, then." She calls over her shoulder as she exits the room, a smile on her face even though he can hear the hurt in her voice.

"I'll bring dinner." He says, knowing that he always drives past her favorite restaurant. He needs to make it up to her, but she's shaking her head with her lips tight.

"I won't count on it. Maybe we can go out to dinner on the weekend." She says, and he nods in understanding. He's late to get home a lot, but this is important to him. Doing this without Steve, without Y/N's name or money, it's almost like he has to prove that he can make it in society.

"I love you," He says, and when she responds he turns back to his work. It's the last thing he wants to do, but he refuses Y/N's offers to get him a full team with a full New York office. He's going to do this on his own.

He can do this.

~

When Bucky loses the election, he wishes he could say that he saw it coming.

He knew about the people calling him unfit, knew about how a lot of people thought he was emotionally unstable despite his record of therapy. The people who never forgave him for his crimes, the ones that he was under mind control for, the ones he doesn't even remember committing. But for a second, he thought that they could look past that and see the good he was trying to do. Y/N calls as soon as the news is announced, but Bucky is already packing his shit up and leaving the the office.

When she gets home, his metal arm is disconnected from his body and hidden away somewhere. In his right hand, he has a stiff drink, and he's staring at the tv, on a low volume but playing the news.

"James," She whispers, slipping her shoes off and walking over to him. "I'm so sorry, babe." She tells him, walking onto his couch and folding a leg under her as she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I wanted to do something." He says, eyes glassy. He doesn't even look at her, but he's not really looking at the TV anymore. "Ever since I fell off that train 1945, my life hasn't felt like my own. I haven't done anything to help anyone. All I've done is watch my own life pass before my eyes, watch the families of people I killed," A tear falls, and his face scrunches as tries to hold it in.

"You helped save the world." She says, not mentioning the fact that Bucky doesn't seem to think that she was a good thing. He's clearly in a dark place right now, and her bringing herself up isn't going to help anything. All these comments from people who have nothing better but to hid behind a screen have him slipping back to before he went to therapy, and Y/N hates this. "You saved those hostages when everything was going down with the Flagsmashers. You are a good man. You have done good things. You can't let these people who think they know your past get into your head."

"I just feel so helpless." He finally looks at her, and her heart breaks. "I saved the world, but did I really make a difference? I didn't sacrifice myself like your dad did. I can't lift Thor's hammer like Steve. I'm not Captain fucking America. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could do this one thing. This one fucking small act. But my life doesn't change. I can't be the White Wolf, because I'm already the Winter Solider." His voice cracks, and Y/N pulls him into her arms. She wishes people could see Bucky Barnes the way she does, the way he loves, the way he cares.

"You would have made a great Congressman." She tells him honestly, pushing some of the long hair he's been growing out away from his face. "And I'm proud of you for trying. We'll find a way to get you to make a difference the way you want to. This wasn't your path, but that doesn't mean that you aren't destined for change." He smiles through his tears, and they share a chaste kiss before Y/N helps him to the shower.

~

Three weeks later, Y/N wishes she could say she was surprised when she sees Bucky standing in the middle of New York, staring at the Void that Y/N had been sent out to collect data on.

"James?" Y/N screams over the wind, and Bucky's eyes widen. Even if he didn't hear her voice, he would have known because she's the only one that calls him by his first name. She's done it since they met, and every time he asks why she just laughs and doesn't answer the question.

"Oh, fuck." He mutters, causing everyone to look over at him.

"What?" Alexi asks loudly, never one for subtlety.

"What on God's green earth do you think you're doing here?" She asks, walking up to Bucky. She feels the need to slap her fiancé, hit him with the new ring he got her, but she controls herself.

"Y/N," Bucky starts, turning around and looking at her. The metal arm is reattached, his tactical suit on. When she left his morning he was still asleep, but she did know that something was different lately. This problem they were having with a super human who had insanely terrifying void powers, and they had basically no information about them. She had been so busy that she didn't have time to figure out why Bucky was acting different; she naively assumed that he was healing after his loss. He walks closer to her, trying to keep their conversation private.

"I swear," She looks beyond mad, and Bucky knows everyone is watching them. "I have too many thoughts right now to fully articulate how I'm feeling." She tells him, and he knows he deserves this.

"I meant to tell you," He truly did, but he just never felt like there was enough time. This was conversation that required more tact than he thought he had at the moment. It's not that he was trying to lie to his fiancé, but he knew he wasn't actively telling the truth.

"Are you gonna introduce me to your new friends?" She asks sarcastically, waving at them all around Bucky's body. She recognizes Natasha's sister, Yelena, but that's about it. As she scans the rest of the group, however, she sees another face. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me." She says, watching John realize that she's locked in on him.

"No, no, no, Y/N, please, just let me explain," He grabs her around the waist when she starts to march over to him, because while he would never underestimate her he also knows that John is a different person with the serum in him.

"John fucking Walker, James? Really?" She yells, loud over the quiet, deserted street.

"James?" Yelena repeats with a small smile, and Y/N turns her murderous glare to the ex-Black Widow.

"Who the fuck are you people?" She asks, letting Bucky turn so he's facing the team and on Y/N's side.

"We're the Thunderbolts!" A large Russian man in a red yells, smiling widely. Y/N blinks, then looks at Bucky.

"That's not our name." He says to her, as if that actually matters.

"Oh my God," She whispers, because she's not sure what's actually going on anymore.

"I am Yelena. We've heard a lot about you, Y/N Stark." Yelena says with a smirk, and Y/N forces a tight smile. She puts emphasis on the last name, because even though they only knew each other briefly, Y/N had met Yelena in the Red Room once or twice.

"Thanks for the introduction. As for the rest of you, except off brand stars and stripes over here, could you please tell me what this is?" She asks, because she figures her fiancé isn't going to tell her now.

"We're a team." A girl in a completely grey suit says.

"Like the Avengers!" The man in the red suit yells, and Y/N turns to Bucky.

"No." He disagrees, and she just nods, eyes closed. "I swear to you, Y/N, I have tried to tell you, but I didn't know if you'd understand. I just, I needed to do something." And she gets it. She knows that he's been having this issue, and she knows it had to have been hard for him to tell her.

"I'm still mad at you." She says with a sigh.

"I know." He smiles, putting a hand on her back and pulling her forward to kiss her forehead. "Now, you should get out of here. We can take care of this." He gestures to the giant Void that was looming in the distance.

"I have to do my job, James, I can't just,"

"You can join us!" Red suit says once more, and Bucky turns to glare at him before Y/N can say anything. She jumps in, not wanting to deal with the threat that is probably going to come out of Bucky's mouth.

"I have a job. But this seems like such a great group." She says sarcastically, aiming it at John, who scowls.

"I am not that bad." He argues, and Bucky has to grab her arm to ensure she won't jump him.

"I don't think anyone has lost a job faster than you fucked up being Captain America, you absolute shit stick." She tells him, which clearly strikes a nerve.

"You wanna talk about losing Captain America? Are we sure Bucky here was your first choice?" John has that smirk that Y/N wants to slap right off his face, but she's not sure he wouldn't kill me.

"Are you kidding me?" Yelena yells over them, and Y/N knows she should feel like a scolded child, but she just feels rage at John Walker. "There's a goddamn Void behind us that is eating people, and you two are fighting over the fact that he annoys you?" She looks at Y/N, who is somehow even more angry

"Yelena, I don't know if you're mad at me because N,-" Bucky is placing his right hand over her mouth, knowing exactly what Y/N was about to say and how she was going to single handedly take this team down. Everyone was very volatile, and he knew that the slightest thing could set them off.

"Please, just let me handle this? I'll see you at home." He is not above begging, and he knows he has to in order to get her home.

"I was sent here for a reason." She argues, because she's not gonna let her man stop her from doing her job.

"By the time you get what you need, we'll have taken care of this. So just go home,"

"Do not tell me-"

"Y/N, please." He finally looks at her with big eyes, and she is trying to hold her ground.

"This is my job, James. Ya know, the job that pays for our apartment." She's not mad anymore, because she knows Bucky just wants to protect her. But she won't back down without a fight.

"What if I pick up dinner?" He sweetens the pot, and she sighs.

"If you're late, Barnes," She threatens, leaning up to kiss him. He smiles at his win.

"I won't be." He has no way of knowing if he'll be late or not, they both know this, but it's the thought that counts. She gives him one more kiss and then walks away, listening to the conversation between the Thunderbolts.

"Who woulda thought Bucky had a sugar mommy." John says, and while Y/N can't see it, she hears Bucky's fist meet his face and Yelena's laugh.

"You deserved that." The Russian man says, and Y/N couldn't agree more. 

//

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