#as much as i want to help out the fandom it still feels like shit having other people leech off of you?

[geminiwritten]

desperate measures ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: based on this song but a little more angsty than i had originally planned (the avengers are struggling to infiltrate an underground crime ring and decide that bucky should go undercover to seduce one of the kingpins' daughters, and you aren't happy about it)

notes: bucky is back, baby!!! but i fear i may have forgotten how to write him? i don't know, i had big plans and then feel like i really struggled toward the end, but i persevered! let me know what you think, please!!!

word count: 6329

The Avengers have protected the entire world against aliens, robots, and superhumans. They’ve defended continents and countries, defeating threats that should have been impossible to beat. So, you would think that taking down one of New York City’s biggest underground crime ring would be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

It’s been four months since representatives of the Attorney General's office and the FBI’s Deputy Director came knocking, asking Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for help on a matter that would normally be handled by detectives. Steve and Tony were hesitant at first, but Natasha and Clint convinced them that with their espionage backgrounds, this would be an easy assignment for the team. Also, wrong.

Four months of reconnaissance, undercover work, and meeting after meeting with agents from the Bureau but still nothing.  There are suspects, crimes, and witnesses, but the operation is so tightly run that no one on the outside has any information on how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“We need to get inside,” Clint says, resting his palms on the glass tabletop and shifting all of his weight forward. He is standing at the head of the table in front of the interactive display flashing through numerous headshots of mean-looking thugs.

“We know that much,” Steve sighs, sitting beside where Clint is standing. “What we don’t know is how.”

Everyone looks defeated and bored, because you’ve been having the same meeting every week for the last fifteen weeks with almost no new intel to discuss. After the first month, you started tuning out, instead using the two hours to daydream about the brunette super solider sitting across from you.

You’re not sure when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, all you do know is that you are in love with him, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not that you’re at all subtle with the way your eyes trace his features, cheeks turning pink when he meets your gaze with a little smirk.

If you’re being completely honest, you’ve both been dancing around your feelings for each other for months. You’re constantly with each other, talking and giggling, working out together and finishing mission reports together; practically inseparable, but always being careful. You’re too scared to cross that line, because neither of you want to put that kind of pressure on the team or leave yourselves vulnerable to heartbreak.

Physical pain, you can do, but you’ve let yourself fall so hard and fast for this man, you can’t imagine surviving the impact when you hit the bottom, so you’ll just keep falling.

“I have an idea,” Nat says, standing abruptly and walking quickly around the table toward Clint. She uses her fingertips to enlarge one of the holographic images, the Petrov family portrait. “Sasha Petrov,” she points at the eldest daughter, “she’s a weak link, we can exploit that.”

You scan the stoic faces of the Russian family now on display. The Petrovs are allegedly one of the two ruling families of the crime syndicate, led by their patriarch, Alexander Petrov; a man the FBI would do anything to pin down.

“Holy shit,” Tony smacks both hands against the table, “Romanoff, you’re a genius.”

“Wait,” Steve frowns, “what am I missing?”

“Sources report that twenty-four-year-old Sasha Petrov is outgrowing her family's conservative lifestyle,” Nat reads from the tablet in her hands, “she has been photographed at various nightclubs and house parties, clearly unbothered about keeping a low profile.”

“So?” Steve asks, “What credibility does some tabloid article have?”

“Our sources are reporting the same behaviour,” Tony says. “She’s out almost every night, she’s been seen staying at friends’ houses, and missing events.”

“The Petrovs are one of New York City’s wealthiest families,” Nat explains, “for their eldest daughter to skip society events is a huge statement.”

“She’s rebelling,” Tony states.

Steve nods slowly, “So, she’s a liability, but how to we exploit that?”

Tony’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, “What is the number one act of rebellion that a daughter can do to piss off her father?”

“Date a guy he hates,” you reply before anyone else does.

“Exactly,” Tony turns toward you, “bonus points if you can tell me why daddy hates your new boyfriend.”

“He’s older, has long hair, only wears black, probably has a tattoo, and he rides a motorcycle,” you respond, sitting back in your chair with a proud smirk.

“Exactly!” Tony repeats louder.

It’s almost as if a lightbulb flashes above Steve’s head, but he doesn’t look nearly as pleased as Natasha and Tony. “Bucky,” Steve says, “Bucky is your idea?”

Nat nods, “Barnes is our weapon.”

Clint’s eyes grow wide, “Wait, you want to use Barnes to seduce the mobster heiress?”

Your heart sinks right down into your stomach, your gaze moving back over to the Petrov family portrait. The eldest daughter is tall and gorgeous, with long blonde hair, flawless fair skin, and honey-coloured eyes. Her lips are full and puckered, and all you can think about is those lips on Bucky.

“No,” you speak before you can think, quickly looking toward Steve for backup.

He nods once in agreeance, “Y/N’s right, I’m not sure Bucky can-”

“I can do it,” Bucky interrupts. He doesn’t look shocked or at all blinded-sided the way you know you do. He seems calm, leaning back in his seat with his left ankle resting on his right knee and his hands fidgeting with a pen in his lap.

Bile rises in your throat. He wants to do it? You know you haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your feelings for him, but you had yourself reasonably convinced that he felt the same way.

Sam chuckles, breaking the tension in the room, “You’re going to turn Barnes into a heartthrob?”

Bucky cracks a smile, “Just a bit of minor surgery.”

“Actually,” Nat says, “I think you’re already perfectly ready for this assignment.”

Tony holds up a finger, “Do you have a tattoo, and if not, are you willing to get one?”

“No one is getting any tattoos,” Steve interjects, “but if we are doing this – if we’re sending Bucky in solo – we need to plan it carefully.”

Your eyes dart back to the gorgeous blonde in the family portrait behind Nat, and you feel sick. You completely tune out of the conversation happening around you and sink back in your chair to focus on keeping your lunch down. Your mind races to come up with some brilliant excuse that could stop Bucky from doing this, but the only thing you can think to say is I love you, please don’t.

After barely a minute of listening to them discuss how to get the mobster’s daughter to fall in love with Bucky, you decide you can’t do it. You push your chair back and quickly leave the room, slipping out the door before anyone can protest your departure.

Once in the hallway, you slow your steps and let a couple of tears run down your cheeks. You feel stupid, of course, but you can’t help it. You know you shouldn’t be this emotional, Bucky will only be doing his job, but he’s supposed to be yours. You don’t want anyone else seeing him the way you see him or touching him the way you want to. If the plan works, this woman might genuinely fall for Bucky, and the idea of that makes you want to kick and scream.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice echoes down the hall, startling you.

You keep your back to him as you hurriedly wipe your cheeks. His footsteps grow louder as he approaches, not saying anything until he’s right behind you. “You alright?” he asks.

You nod, turning to face him with your eyes cast downward, “Yeah, sorry, just-”

“Don’t bother,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, “I’m not stupid, and neither is Barnes. I know you’re worried about whatever is going on between you two, but this is work, and it’s the closest we’ve gotten in four months. It might not be ideal to send one man in alone, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You finally look up at him and sniffle, “I know, I just don’t like it.”

He sighs and pulls you against his chest, hugging you tightly for a moment. “If you don’t like it,” he says before stepping back, “then stop crying and do something about it once this is all over.”

Your brow creases and you look up at him curiously, “Do what?”

He shrugs, “You’ll figure it out.”

You watch him walk back down the hallway and return to the meeting room, but you can’t find the will to force yourself to follow. Instead, you turn around and continue on your way back to your room.

Two hours pass before you hear signs of life filtering through the compound once again. You’ve since changed into your comfiest pair of sweatpants and curled up on one of the lounges by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the common area, book in hand.

Sam and Steve are the first to appear, still deep in discussion as they head into the kitchen and begin raiding the fridge. Clint, Nat, and Wanda are next, also seemingly unfinished with their conversation as they take up residence on the lounges in front of the television. Only Nat notices you curled up near the window, offering you a smile that says ‘we’ll talk later’.

You manage to tune out most of their voices and focus on your book, reading quickly to try and get to the part where the main characters finally get together. You’ve been stuck on romance novels lately, craving that which you lack in real life.

“Hey,” Bucky startles you, suddenly appearing beside you.

You smack your hand against your chest, “Jesus.”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “just me.”

You roll your eyes and curl your legs up further to make room on the lounge. He takes the offer and flops down, half of his right leg covering your toes, but you don’t mind. In fact, you like the physical contact, however small.

“What are you reading now?” he asks, snatching the book from your grasp before you can object.

Your cheeks begin burn immediately, heart racing as you watch his eyes scan the pages that you’d just been reading. The smile on his lips slowly fades as his eyebrows rise, blue eyes darting from side to side until he finishes two entire pages.

“So, this is why you’ve always got your nose in a book, hm?” he asks, his own cheeks now a pale shade of pink.

You take the book back and jam your bookmark between the pages where the lead male is jerking off to fantasies of what he wants to do to the lead female. “It’s not all porn,” you defend yourself weakly, deciding not to add that this is one of your more PG-rated novels.

“I’m not judging,” he says, “we’ve all got needs.”

You want to agree wholeheartedly and tell him that you need him, and more importantly, you need him to not agree to this stupid mission with the supermodel Russian heiress, but you can’t. Instead, you simply nod and tuck your book between your thighs.

He clears his throat, “Anyway, I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say, “just sick of those meetings.”

He frowns, “Are you sure?”

You open your mouth to lie again but hesitate, noticing the way his eyes dart toward your lips every few seconds. There’s nothing wrong with voicing your concerns about the assignment, right?

“I’m just not sure,” you finally say, “for a first effort, this feels kind of last ditch.”

“First effort?” he repeats with a chuckle. “This is far from our first effort, Doll.”

“I know,” you sigh, struggling to find the right words, “I guess it just feels a little drastic, sending you in alone. Couldn’t the FBI handle this?”

He rests his flesh hand on your knee, “I appreciate the concern, but I think I might be able handle this better than an FBI agent, and I speak Russian.”

The warmth of his touch and the fact that you can smell his coconut-scented shampoo is turning your brain to mush, and you struggle to remember your argument. All you want to do is throw your arms around his neck and beg him not to go.

He leans forward, “What are you really worried about?”

“You,” you reply, “I-I’m worried that you’re going in alone.”

He sighs and leans back, “You don’t need to worry about me, Doll, nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.” He stands up from the lounge as he says, “I promise.”

You’re too shocked to speak, or even move, until he’s in the kitchen with Steve. You can feel your pulse in your ears, fast and loud as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Was he trying to get you to say something? Does he want you to cross that line?

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing your book and then starting another. After a quick dinner with Natasha, you decide to have a bath and try to tame your thoughts, but it’s useless. All you can think about is Bucky, in fact, you ‘think about him’ twice while in the bath and end up getting out even more flustered than when you got in.

You lay on your bed in your towel for almost an hour, wondering whether you should go and confess your feelings to Bucky or just wait and let him do this assignment with a clear head. Nat told you at dinner that he will be going undercover for the first time tomorrow night, and that Clint and Tony are working overnight to prepare his fake identity in time.

Eventually, you decide that it’s too late and you shouldn’t bother him, so you put yourself to bed. You stare at the ceiling spiralling through thoughts for twenty minutes before picking your new book up again and by 3AM, you’ve finished it.

The night rolls into dawn, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t had more than thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep. At 5AM, you decide that it isn’t too early to be making noise, so you change into your gym clothes and make your way downstairs. You work out for two hours before you see anyone else, and by then, you’re exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, standing in front of where you’re sitting on the blue foam floor mats.

You’re supposed to be stretching, but you’re fairly sure you were falling asleep right before she came in. “Yeah,” you mumble, “didn’t sleep much.”

“I can tell.” She sits beside you, “Are you really that worried?”

You sigh, “I don’t know.”

She places her towel and water bottle on the floor beside yours before sitting down opposite you, legs crossed. “You don’t know if you’re worried, or you don’t know what you’re worried about?”

“The second one,” you mutter.

She nods slowly, allowing a moment of silence before asking, “You don’t really think he’s going to fall in love with this woman, do you?”

You sigh and rub your tired eyes, “No, I don’t think so. I know he’s not stupid.”

“And you know he’s in love with you,” she states.

“Is he?”

She rolls her eyes as she uncrosses her legs, stretching them out either side and leaning forward slightly. “Don’t be dumb, you know he is.”

“Then why hasn’t he done anything about it?”

“It’s Bucky,” she says, as if the answer is obvious.

“So?”

“So, you need to make the move, because he’s being as forward as he knows how, but he hasn’t done this kind of thing in over seventy years.”

You frown at her, not because you’re confused, but because you’re annoyed that she’s right. Maybe you haven’t both been ‘dancing around’ your feelings, maybe Bucky has actually been trying to make a move but you’re the one keeping it friendly.

“But please wait until after we’ve put Petrov and his buddies behind bars,” she adds, “because we need Barnes to be focused.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, “How do we even know that this woman is going to fall for him?”

“Based on her previous relationships and assuming Barnes does everything I tell him to do, we shouldn’t have a problem,” Nat replies as she pushes up from the ground. She offers you a hand, “Now, please go get some sleep so you’re not crying your eyes out when we send him into the lion’s den tonight.”

You take Nat’s hand and collect your things before sluggishly making your way back to your room. After a quick shower, you fall into bed and out of consciousness in less than a minute, dreaming of nothing but that darn brunette super soldier.

Funnily enough, the name of the exclusive nightclub Bucky will be meeting Sasha Petrov in is called the Lion’s Den. It’s just south of Manhattan, somehow hidden from the busy streets and can only be found if you know exactly where to look for the entrance.

The whole team is working tonight. Wanda and Sam will be going into the club with Bucky so he doesn’t look like a complete loner, and as emergency backup in case anything should go wrong. Clint is the eye in the sky and Nat is patrolling the streets, looking out for anything suspicious since crime seems to follow the Petrov family around. That leaves you, Steve, and Tony set up in a nearby office building with all the surveillance technology to watch from afar.

“I just need to send word to the Deputy Director before you go in,” Tony says over the comms.

He has his tech set up at one of the desks closest to the window on the fourth floor of the office building. The FBI had assisted with securing this vantage point, shutting down the whole building for ‘overnight maintenance’ just in case any sad nine-to-fivers decided to sleep in their offices.

“We’ll take a little detour,” Sam says, his voice right in your ear even though you know he’s over a block away.

You’d all separated about two miles away from the club, taking different routes and transports to get to your respective posts. Bucky, Sam, and Wanda had decided to walk, giving the rest of you enough time to set up and be in position for whatever might happen when Bucky enters the club. He has very strict instructions from Natasha on how to approach Sasha. Apparently, they’d be practicing all day while you had been sleeping.

“How long until you’re at the door?” Nat’s voice comes through your comms.

“Eight minutes,” Wanda replies.

“Bucky, you good?” Nat asks.

“I’m good,” he says, the sound of his voice making your chest ache.

You can’t stop wringing your hands as you look out the huge window to the street below. There aren’t many people walking by, but the few that you do spot all seem to be heading in the same direction; the Lion’s Den.

The sound of your pounding heart thrums in your ears, drowning out the conversation between Bucky and Natasha as they recap everything that she’s told him to do. You're not sure you’ve ever felt this nervous in your life, but you’re not entirely sure what for. Nothing bad has happened yet, and Bucky is fully capable of defending himself if something does go wrong.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice breaks through the white noise that your anxious brain was creating, “are you okay?”

You turn to face him, “Yeah, sorry, I-”

“You’re really pale,” he says, pressing his hand to your forehead, “have you eaten today?”

“Not really.”

Steve glances back at Tony, who is worrying at his bottom lip as holds his phone to his ear, no doubt waiting for the Deputy Director to answer.

“I told you to stay behind,” Nat states.

You frown, even though she’s almost half a mile away right now, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N?” Bucky says.

Your heart leaps in your chest, “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he pauses, and you try to calm your breathing, “I’m going to be okay.”

Tony snorts and pretends to gag before turning back to his computers and sitting in one of the empty desk chairs, obviously no longer worried.

“I just-” you hesitate, ��I can’t let this-” you huff and pull your comm out of your ear, “I can’t let this go.”

You take off running through the open plan office area until you reach the door to the stairwell, shoving it open and leaping down the stairs as many at a time as you can manage. Once you reach the bottom landing, you pull your phone out of your back pocket and hang up on the incoming call from Steve before opening the tracking app that Tony installed on everyone’s phones. It isn’t always active, only during missions.

Bucky’s location pings a quarter mile down the street. You exit the building and turn in his direction before taking off in a sprint, your lungs burning with every breath. It only takes a minute until you can see the three of them up ahead, on the opposite side of the street, and it only takes about ten seconds for them to notice you. They all stop, probably trying to figure out if you’re a threat or not, but after another few seconds, Bucky recognises you.

Your energy wanes and your pace slows to a jog. You look behind you to check the traffic before crossing the road, but when you turn to check the traffic up ahead, Bucky is already right in front of you.

You practically crash into him, but his hands catch your waist and hold you still, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath, “I can’t let this go.”

He isn’t angry, but you can’t quite place the expression despite how close you are to him, your body pressed against his. “Can’t let what go?”

You take a deep breath to try and appease your burning lungs, “I got you right where I want you, and-” you take another breath, “I’ve been pushing for this for so long.”

His brow furrows, “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

Your chest finally stops aching, and you look up at him through your lashes, “Kiss me, just once, for luck.”

His frown disappears, and you worry for a moment that you shouldn’t have crossed that line, but then his hands move to cup your jaw and he closes the distance between your lips. Your hands find purchase on the nearest part of him, fisting the hem of his shirt as one of his hands slides down your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. You part your lips and he sighs, pressing his body impossibly closer to yours.

He tastes like spearmint and cold air, and his lips are so soft that you have to wonder if you’re dreaming, but then he startles and pulls back. Panic washes through you as you watch his face, his eyes no longer on you but cast across the street at Sam and Wanda.

“I’m sorry, Doll,” he says, before placing another quick kiss on your lips, “I have to go.”

Without the warmth of his body, the night air is biting. You instinctively wrap your arms around yourself and turn back the way you came, your mind racing. Did you just fuck everything up? Surely not. Bucky is still going in, and it’s not like one little kiss is going to completely derail this mission. Right?

It takes you a lot longer to get back to the office building than it did for you to leave, but thankfully, Bucky is already inside the club and Steve and Tony are too focused to berate you.

You sit in one of the spare desk chairs and watch over Tony’s shoulder, refusing to put your comm back in. You don’t want to hear what’s happening, you want to remain in blissful ignorance instead of listening to the man you’re in love with chat up some mobster’s supermodel daughter. Bucky can be incredibly charming when he needs to be, and according to Steve, he was a major ladies’ man back in the day.

After an hour or so, you slide your chair over to a spare desk and lay your head down. You feel useless and a little stupid, but mostly, just tired. You know the team are annoyed at you and just waiting until tomorrow to reprimand you, but technically, it’s their fault that you did that. They pushed you toward desperate measures.

The next thing you know, someone is gently shaking your shoulder and interrupting your dreams of Bucky. The images of him standing over you while you wait on your knees for him to finish in your mouth quickly fades, and you open your bleary eyes to see Steve.

“Hey,” he whispers, “time to go.”

You sit up slowly, “What happened?”

Something about his expression is off, and you wonder why he’s being so gentle as he wraps an arm around to help you stand. It’s almost as if you’re a child and he’s trying not to wake you for the fear that you might not go back to sleep.

“Steve,” you say, pulling away from him and standing on your own, “what happened?”

He takes a deep breath and steps back, “Bucky did really well, that’s all. Nothing happened.”

“Yet,” Tony adds.

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t baby her, Steve,” Tony says before turning his attention to you, “Barnes took Sasha home.”

They both watch you carefully, waiting for the explosion, but you know you’ve already given them enough to deal with today, so you muster every ounce of your self-control to stay calm.

You swallow thickly, “Okay. Let’s go.”

You pick up one of the cases by Tony’s feet and continue walking toward the stairwell. As soon as you begin descending the stairs, tears start to fall down your cheeks. You try to focus on your feet through your blurry vision, making sure you don’t trip until you reach the bottom landing.

Natasha pulls up with the car and Clint jumps out to help load the trunk. You climb into the back, buckle your seatbelt, and press your head against the cold window. The car rocks as the others climb in, and normally you would love to make fun of Steve and Tony squished in the back with you, but not tonight.

The drive home is long and awkward. Wanda calls in and Nat answers via the Bluetooth, immediately informing her that you’re in the car so that she doesn’t go into too much detail. However, she does let you all know that it went better than expected and Barnes will report back in the morning. He’s taken Sasha to the apartment that Tony set up as a part of the fake identity.

If you’re being honest, you hadn’t even thought about this part. You knew he would flirt and touch her, and they would probably kiss, but you completely forgot about sex. How? You have no idea, especially considering that every time you close your eyes, you’re picturing him naked.

You feel sick and you know you won’t sleep tonight, but most of all, you feel like an idiot. You almost jeopardised the entire mission just because of your feelings. You want to apologise to the team and tell them you’ll never do it again, but you can’t stop crying and you can’t make that promise right now.

When you finally get home, you start dragging your feet toward your room, but Natasha stops you. “Hey,” she tugs on your hand, “want to watch a movie?”

You frown, “It’s really late.”

She shrugs, “I’m not tired.”

After a quick shower, you change into your pyjamas and meet Nat in the living area. She is already curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, flicking through Netflix, so you join her silently and rest your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t ask what you want to watch, she just picks a random comedy from the late 90s and snuggles up beside you.

Your whole body is tired, but your mind won’t stop racing. You can’t stop picturing him with her, wondering what they’re doing right now, and regretting what you did right before he walked into that club. Obviously, it hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to you, because you know you couldn’t possibly have gone off to sleep with someone else after that, but you have to keep telling yourself that it’s a good thing. He’s doing what he needs to do to finish the mission, it doesn’t matter how sick it makes you feel. He’s doing his job.

An hour passes but your nausea doesn’t ease, nor do you feel at all like you might fall asleep. Nat is still awake too, and you know it’s not because she isn’t tired but because she’s worried about you. When the first movie finishes, she stretches her legs out and declares that she’s going to make a coffee, so you too unfold your legs and shuffle into the kitchen with her.

“Is Tony going to be mad?” you ask, your voice thick from crying.

Nat sighs, “I don’t know. I think it depends on what Bucky reports in the morning.”

Your stomach swirls angrily, threatening to eject whatever is left of the small amount of food that you ate almost eight hours ago.

Nat finishes making her coffee and holds it in both hands, watching you with worried eyes as fresh tears streak down your cheeks. She opens her mouth to speak again but the sound of heavy footsteps interrupts her. Both of your heads turn quickly toward the door, and for a second, you think you might be hallucinating.

“Bucky?” Nat says, confirming she can see him too. You’re not that crazy.

He doesn’t look at her, he doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on you, his breaths coming and going quickly as if he ran all the way from the city. The only thing you can feel is your heartbeat, radiating through your whole body like a drum beat, pounding in your ears.

“Okay,” Nat says slowly, “I’m going to go, but- uh,” she looks toward you, “forget what I said before, Tony might be mad.” She puts her half-drunk coffee in the sink and moves quickly out the door.

Silence blankets the room, save for Bucky’s laboured breathing. He still looks gorgeous, despite his dishevelled clothing and flushed skin. His hair is out, though you distinctly remember it being tied back before the club, and there’s a smudge of pink lipstick on his shirt collar.

“What happened?” you ask, though you’re not sure you really want to know.

He doesn’t respond, he simply takes four long strides to reach you and cups your jaw before pressing his lips against yours. You don’t react at first, partly from shock and partly because he doesn’t taste the same, but when his hand slides down your throat the way it had before, you kiss him back.

He takes half a step closer, pressing your bodies together as his tongue slides past your lips. You sigh and lean into him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his pants to pull him closer. He shivers at your touch, instinctively arching his hips toward you and tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls back for a breath, he murmurs against your mouth, “Couldn’t do it.”

You push up onto your toes to kiss him again, to which he enthusiastically obliges. His hands wrap gently around the base of your neck and his fingers tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging softly as your tongue laps at his.

This time, you break away for air, “What do you mean?”

He sighs and relaxes completely, his body no longer pressed against yours but still close. His hands find yours and gently pull them out of his pants, though it seems to take a lot of self-control for him to do so.

“I thought I could do it,” he says, “because it’s work, and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

You drop your gaze to the collar of his shirt, the smudge of pink lipstick.

“She was-” he struggles to find the right words, “well, she was really into it, but I couldn’t even kiss her.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, trying not to appear satisfied about the fact that you practically ruined the whole assignment.

“She didn’t seem to care, though,” he adds, “and it wasn’t hard to get her to come home with me.” You drop your gaze again and try to pull your hands out of his grasp, but his grip tightens and he tugs you closer again. “I could barely look at her, let alone touch her.”

He crooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “So, to answer your question,” he says, leaning toward you, “nothing happened.”

He closes the distance and kisses you again. Your mind goes blank, clean of any thoughts or worry, completely consumed by the way his lips feel against yours and the way his hands are moving down your body.

Your heart throbs, threatening to burst as you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

You can feel his mouth curl into a grin, feeling more teeth than lips against your kisses. His hands brace themselves against your back, one splayed between your shoulder blades and the other on your lower back, holding your body against his.

“I am yours,” he mutters, “my body, my heart, all of it... yours.”

You can’t help but giggle, happiness creeping through your body for the first time in twenty-four hours. You feel high, as if Bucky is a drug and if you ever have to be away from him again, the withdrawals might kill you.

He gives you another quick kiss before taking a step back and shedding his jacket. He dumps it on the counter and looks back at you, “There are a lot of things I want to do with you right now, but I am way too tired to do them properly right now.”

Your stomach does a little anticipatory somersault, but you too are finally feeling the ache of exhaustion and need for sleep. You take one of his hands in yours and drag him toward the lounge where you and Nat had been laying. You pick the blanket up, sit down, pull him down beside you, and throw the blanket over both of you. He quickly kicks his boots off and shuffles around until he is lying beneath you. With your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you fall asleep in mere seconds.

The sound of whispered chatter wakes you up, and you blink blearily against the bright morning sun as you try to sit up. Bucky is still asleep, but over the back of the couch you can see your other teammates gossiping in the kitchen.

Natasha notices you first, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You carefully push yourself up and rub your eyes, mumbling, “Morning.”

"Did you two fuck on my lounge?” Tony asks bluntly, pausing in the middle of the kitchen with the coffee pot in one hand and a mug in the other.

You frown, “No.”

“Good,” he says, beginning to pour the coffee into his mug, “so, all you did was ruin our one shot at real insider intel.”

A pebble of guilt sinks to the bottom of your stomach, weighing it down despite the butterflies still dancing around about the fact that Bucky is finally yours.

“Calm down, Stark,” Bucky grumbles, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open. He sits up slowly and looks up at you, a little smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

“Oh, excellent,” Tony walks halfway toward the living room, “you’re both awake so I can yell at you both for-”

“I took her phone,” Bucky interrupts, gesturing at his jacket on the kitchen counter, “it’s in the pocket. You better be quick though, because she’ll probably realise pretty soon.”

Tony’s eyes grow wide, “What? How did you-”

“She was really drunk,” Bucky shrugs, “I convinced one of the bartenders at the club to come home with us and then I snuck away when the two of them were preoccupied.”

“Oh, my God,” Nat says, a wide grin plastered across her face, “Barnes, you’re a genius.”

“That’s why you were flirting with the bartender,” Sam chuckles, “man, I thought he was more into you than her.”

Tony hurries back to the kitchen bench and plonks his mug down with a slosh before rifling through Bucky’s jacket. He finds the phone quickly and beckons Steve with him as he disappears out the doors. Wanda and Sam begin regaling Nat with stories about last night and Bucky turns his attention back to you.

“Good morning,” he says, offering you his hand and yawning widely.

You can’t help but yawn too, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head in the crook, enjoying the smell of his cologne mixed with sleep and warmth. He kisses your head, and you move to kiss his neck before spotting the pink lipstick stain and pulling back.

“How about a shower?” you ask. “Then we can burn this shirt.”

He frowns, and you stretch the material out just enough for him to peer down and see the mark. “Oh,” he chuckles, “alright, but it’s only fair if we both take our clothes off.”

You press your lips against his, mumbling, “Deal.”

END.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Honestly, getting real tired carrying and supporting other folks around here when most of them aren't returning the favor...

[cloudd-nyne]

.

[icharchivist]

Go off queen

It's your blog and you should be able to talk about whatever you want after all

aww thank you 🥺 i appreciate it <33

i do really not like spreading negativity esp when it's on a topic i have strong feelings about, and let's say the D.A fandom especially tends to be. extreme about the way it reacts to people disagreeing with them.

And look. I'm not immune to it because sometimes i get caught up by the genuinely rancid vibe in the fandom as well, and i think those games are designed for us to have strong feelings to start with.

but it also means i don't want to go too deep into controversial thoughts because i genuinely don't want to get to a point where i'll see someone screenshot my posts to dunk on it and say i'm the reason media literacy is dead and why the fandom is so toxic (citing things i've actually seen on said blog, for instance though not directed at me but at takes i've seen taken out of context. except i knew the context so knew this was a bad faith argument.).

Like can't even dislike shits in peace in here.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

ok but i need the evrart claire essay

Okay just be warned that this is gonna be less of an "essay" and more of a loose collection of thoughts, and I don't know how fresh or novel any of these ideas are going to be when it pertains to popular Disco Elysium fan discourse because I don't really do fandom, you know?

Anyway, I think the most obvious factet of Evrart's character is how he very intentionally calls to mind a caricature of corrupt union leaders, the image of a sleazy mobster who only cares about his own personal gain but pays lip service to leftist politics and pretends to care about the interests of workers as a way to obtain and maintain his power. And I think a lot of people straightforwardly read him as such, because that's the way he carries himself and the type of character the game is riffing on. There's also the question of how much of Evrart's manipulative, duplicitous attitude is just how he normally acts and how much of it is him specifically acting that way towards Harry and Kim specifically, it's important to have in mind that your main character is a cop and that would definitely play a role in making Evrart go out of his way to be a bit more of a bastard and toy with you a bit before he decides to actually do anything helpful.

However, once you dig a little deeper into his characterization, it becomes clear that he's pulling a very interesting double bluff, because it becomes apparent that the shady mobster who only cares about his personal gain is an act he's putting on. He's very self-aware about the fact that he's playing the villain, he seems to actively revel in it, but ultimately, it seems like he does it because playing the villain is the way he gets shit done.

This is not to say he's not actually corrupt, or that he's not ALSO involved in all sorts of shady stuff and taking advantage of his position of power, but the game does make it apparent that on some level he DOES have the interests of the people of Martinaise at heart.

For example, it is textually stated that the harbor doesn't need a night watchman, and Evrart created the position specifically to provide a source of income for René. He knows the pension Rene gets is not enough for him to live on, but he's also aware that René is the sort of right-wing guy who would rather starve to death than take a handout (especially from those dirty union commies), so Evrart created a job position which pretty much involves doing nothing for a few hours every night so he could help him with his economic troubles in a way he wouldn't refuse out of principle. René hates his guts, ideologically stands against everything his organization represents, and is generally an unlikeable asshole and a fascist prick, but he's also a disadvantaged member of the community and that seems to matter more.

Even when he asks you to get the signatures to build the community center, which is definitely one of the most morally questionable things he does during the events of the game (as it will improve the community, but at the same time displace the people from the fishing village), his intentions seem to be ultimately good. Due to the very nature of his character and the act he puts on, it's purposefully hard to tell when he's being sincere and when he's being manipulative. However, if Harry's drama and empathy skills are high enough when he's confronted about it, you'll be able to tell that he's not lying about his motives for wanting to build a community center or about the fact that he intends to provide better housing for the people displaced by the project, and that he feels genuine rage about their current living conditions. It can still be said that he's ignoring their self-determination and essentially forcing these people out of their current homes, but he does seem to have good intentions and think he's doing a good thing for them in the long run, even if his methods are morally questionable at best.

In that way, the Union is an extension of him in this regard too. They're pretty unapologetic about the fact that they're openly operating as a crime syndicate, but the game doesn't give you any reasons to believe they're lying when they say they're doing it as a way to muslce out all the more dangerous gangs and crime organizations out of Martinaise, or that their involvement in the drug trade is at least partially motivated by a desire to make sure it's not controlled by more dangerous and violent crime organizations. Again, they're playing the villain as a way to fill that power vacuum and make sure more dangerous people don't fill that role (but of course, that doesn't erase the fact that, noble as their intentions may be, they're still involved in all these shady activities and turning a pretty substantial profit from them too)

Of course, on the other hand, just because the game seems to hint at the fact that Evrart and the Union are, deep down, a force for good, doesn't erase the fact that he's done plenty of bad shit to further his interests, and the game doesn't shy away from this. He's still extremely corrupt, his long-term plan to wrestle control of the harbor away from the company and turn it into a worker-owned operation (which *would* massively improve the material conditions of the dockworkers if succesful) involves endangering the lives of a lot of his own workers, he and his brother Edgar pass the position of union foreman back and forth between each other to circumvent the term limit and keep themselves in power indefinitely, and if you explore all dialogue options with the Deserter it's all but explicitly stated that they rose to power by getting him to assassinate the previous Union forewoman.

These are things that Evrart himself would probably rationalize as sacrifices that need to be made for the greater good. After all, it is implied that the previous union forewoman was also corrupt, except in favor of the company's interests, and might have even been a company plant. However, this doesn't make those things morally right. Good intentions nonwithstanding, it's clear that the Claire brothers are very "the ends justify the means" kind of people, they probably see getting the previous Union leader killed or endangering the lives of the dockworkers to overthrow the company that exploits them as "pulling the lever" in the trolley problem, which is extremely callous at best.

Here's where we get a little more into "disjointed thoughts" territory, but Evrart can also be seen as a critique of the limits of trade unionism and social democrat politics. Something that I completely missed in my first playthrough but was able to catch on during my second is that the people of the fishing village refuse to unionize, and as a result they don't get the same level of support and protection that the union provides to the people of the more urban section of Martinaise. This is apparently widely known enough for characters other than Evrart to comment on (I forget what character I learned this from, but it was definitely not Evrart). So it's clear that Evrart and the Union put their interests of the members of their own organization over those of other working class people, which is one criticism that can be leveraged against the way a lot of leftists seem to treat unions as the ultimate tool for worker class liberation.

Similarly, when Evrart tells you his long-term plans, it's clear that his ultimate goals don't involve complete worker liberation. As far as the game shows, he's a socdem who's still looking to work within the confines of capitalism. There are more radically left wing characters in Disco Elysium, but Evrart is the only one with any actual power to affect change, which kinda speaks to the lack of presence of more hardline leftist positions in mainstream politics. As someone living in Latin America, I kinda ended up seeing a bit of a lot of our currrent socdem politicians in him in that respect, I guess, but i'd need more time to articulate this thought properly, I guess.

Ultimately, I think Evrart is an amazingly crafted character. He evokes a well-known archetype of a shady, corrupt, power-hungry union leader, but he adds a lot of depth, self-awareness, and nuance to it and subverts that characterization in several ways. I think he atually serves an important role of ideologically challenging players who share the developers' and writers' political leanings. I think it would have been very self-congratulatory and autocomplacent to make the most influential leftist character in the game an unambiguously good paragon of workers' rights and working class liberation. By instead giving us someone who's an absolute callous bastard who definitely has a bit of blood on his hands, who's a socdem at best and a self-serving mob boss at worst, but can ultimately be interpreted as a force for good, and asking the players to decide what they think of him I think it brings interesting questions to the table of our commitment to material gains, what sorts of people we're willing to work with, and the sort of acts we're willing to tolerate, and makes the game a lot more thematically rich.

I also think a good analysis of Evrart is incomplete without an analysis of the ways in which he serves a a charater foil for Joyce, but I don't feel like getting into that rn.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you. 

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction. 

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.  

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly. 

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.  

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says. 

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze. 

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit. 

And yet… shockingly�� you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement. 

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge. 

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.  

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore. 

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?” 

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.  

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together. 

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth. 

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him. 

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth. 

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand. 

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his. 

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment. 

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed. 

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready.  But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own. 

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent. 

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both. 

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”  

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie. 

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case. 

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back. 

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up. 

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken. 

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it. 

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed. 

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[pale-fairytales]

I don't really like to get political but I feel a need to talk about this;

It's so funny. It's so funny to me that the people pushing for KOSA also criticize other countries who do the exact same shit (i.e., China, which from what I've heard (and correct me if I'm wrong please) censors a lot of things) and hate their guts. The fact that they're pushing for censorship directly violates one of the amendments of the constitution (which is free speech) and it baffles me that they think this is okay. But hey these are also the same people that won't do anything about gun violence or school shootings and who want to take away bodily autonomy and gay/trans rights so why am I even surprised.

For the love of god, if you can, help stop KOSA. Not just for fandom purposes, but for the fact that it impacts people who want to transition, people who want/need abortions, it impacts a way that human beings can seek out human contact in an increasingly lonely world where things are growing bleak. Not only that, but the people who are suffering from genocide (8 FUCKING GENOCIDES IN THE WORLD BTW) may not be able to get help or get the word out about their condition if a big chunk of the world can't access the content that helps said people.

And I'm sorry, but if you really cared about children's safety, you a) would do more about school shootings, b) would fix issues that put children in danger (shockingly hunger/malnutrition is still an issue in the U.S.A. just not in the same way as in a war-torn country), c) would fix the foster-care/adoption system, and d) teach parents to have some common fucking sense not to have 5-year-olds on the internet watching age-inappropriate stuff (like 5 year olds listening to Sexxy Red or Ice Spice)

Censorship is bad. It's bad because it can genuinely put lives at risk. If you're for the KOSA bill, don't pretend like it's because you care. You don't care about people—you just want to control them. Just like the people you and its instigators hate so much.

[schrodingers-romy]

Cute Aggression [Sakura Haruka x Reader]

Pairings: Sakura Haruka x GN!Reader Word Count: ~1200 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Your boyfriend is so cute you just want to bite him (and you do).

Warnings: Biting (duh), tiniest bit of suggestiveness at the end, written with aged up to adult Sakura in mind but you go crazy go stupid ig, anime watcher safe (one mention of a manga character but no spoilers), i think that's all???

Notes: Minimally edited so forgive me pls. Born of my desire to bite sakura bc he is sooo cute. here you go wind breaker fandom <3 anyway maybe if I get inspired I'll continue this. who knows.

Dating Sakura Haruka was like a dream come true for you. Finally, you were able to lavish him with the affection you were constantly holding back before in fear of revealing your feelings (and possibly ruining your friendship with him). Every time you held his hand, or ran a hand through his hair, or pressed a quick kiss to his lips, you felt a soft warmth flush through you. And, in complete contrast to how he acted years ago when you first met him, he no longer hissed and spat like a feral cat when any sort of kindness was shown to him. Now, though he still huffed and blushed at physical contact, he also reveled in it. Haruka leaned into every single one of your affections, even if they embarrassed him; and, in private, he would return them in his own shy way.

In short, you had grown comfortable expressing your adoration for him through physical touches, which is why you felt comfortable enough to do what you were about to do without thinking anything of it.

-

Haruka, though he was a bit dense, was well aware of how much he blushed. As much as it annoyed the shit out of him, he could never control the way he quickly turned from pale to pink to red at any nicety. Even though years around Furin and the affectionate weirdos who were a part of it, he would still flush often. It became worse again once he started dating you.

He couldn’t admit it (especially to the likes of Suo and Umemiya…nosy bastards…) but he adored when you were sweet with him. Before the two of you got together, you were always nice to him, complimenting him on everything from his fighting to his eyes to his kindness. But it was like the floodgates had opened after he confessed to you; now you expressed your love through both touch and words (a dangerous combination for Haruka’s heart). He liked that you were so comfortable touching him, even when he struggled to return the same actions expect in private. He liked it when you hugged him and kissed him and treated him like something precious. He avoided dwelling on his past as much as possible, but he couldn’t help but remember how a few years ago he could not have even fathomed being loved at all, much less in the all-encompassing way you loved him.

You were absolutely perfect to him, and you had given him the gift of falling in love and having that love reciprocated. That being said, sometimes you were fucking weird.

The two of you were snuggling on the couch, and you were stroking his hair and telling him how pretty he looked when he was relaxed. Haruka was slowly turning the shade of Kiryu’s hair, even as he melted into the scratch of your fingers against his scalp.

And then you leaned forward, and his eyes fluttered shut, anticipating a kiss. Instead of the soft feeling of your lips, however, he felt something sharp clamp down on one of his pink cheeks.

-

There were plenty of times when you looked at your boyfriend and thought “wow, he’s cute enough to eat.” The urge to take a bite out of Haruka ebbed and flowed like the tide; but it had reached dangerous flood levels since you started dating. According to Tsubaki, this was because of ‘cuteness aggression’, the same feeling that made you want to squish adorable baby animals like they were stress balls.

You never thought you’d act on the desire, but you had clearly gotten too used to inflicting upon Haruka your devotion through touch; therefore, you did not think this through.

He just looked so pretty sitting there, leaning his head into your hand, so relaxed he was almost purring with contentedness. His rosy face reminded you of his namesake, and the only coherent thought you had was “his cheeks look like sakura mochi” before you were leaning in.

The gentle clamp of your teeth over his soft flesh was just as satisfying as you dreamed, although you only got to experience it for a second before you let go at the screech your boyfriend let out. It took him a second to register what you did before he leapt away from the couch like a cat.

“THE HELL WAS THAT!?” Haruka yelped, scrubbing at the faint mark on his face with his hand. “ARE YOU A CANNIBAL OR SOMETHIN’?!”

You felt a surge of embarrassment, but luckily you were much better at hiding it than he was at hiding his. “No. That was just a love bite, baby.”

“A what?”

“A love bite! Because you were so cute it made me want to bite you. Affectionately.” You let a small wince surface on your face, despite your confident tone.

He squinted at you, confused. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, as if he was trying to remember if this was normal or not. “I don’t get it,” he admitted, cautiously sitting back down next to you. You almost joked that you wouldn’t bite, as if you hadn’t proven that false just seconds before.

You moved his hand out of the way so you could rub your thumb over his abused cheek, before pressing a soft kiss to it. Haruka tensed up a little, but he let out a small sigh and collapsed when he felt your lips instead of your teeth.

You felt a little bit bad, even though you enjoyed getting your teeth on him immensely. “I shouldn’t have done it to you out of the blue like that. I’m sorry.”

“’S fine, I just don’t understand,” he said gruffly.

“It’s called cuteness aggression…you know when something is so cute you just want to squeeze it or bite it or something like that?”

Haruka still seemed confused, but he gave a slow nod.

“That’s what I feel about you sometimes. I just like you so much I want to bite you. You’re sweet enough to eat, Haruka,” you murmured, punctuating it with a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

He made a sort of unintelligible sound, flushing again. After you gave him a minute to reboot, he said, “Well…I didn’t hate it, y’know. Ya just startled me, ‘s all…” he trailed off, avoiding meeting your eyes.

You recognized this behavior, and it made your eyes light up. “Awww, did you like it?”

“Shut up!” he squawked. A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “I dunno. It was too fast, jus’ startled me. Didn’t even really know what was happenin’.”

“Want me to bite you again?”

He turned away. “Do whatever you want.” Tellingly, however, he had twisted in a way so that his cheek and his neck were fully exposed to you.

“Okay,” you said softly. “I’m going to bite you again. Tell me if you like it or not, okay?”

This time, when you leaned in, you bit into the long, creamy stretch of his exposed neck. It felt different than his cheek did under your teeth, but it felt just as good, if not better.

Haruka stiffened for a second, like a scared prey animal in the maw of a predator, before he shuddered and went limp with a small whine.  

You released him after a few seconds, and admired the red mark left behind. You met your boyfriend’s gaze, taking in his glazed eyes and slightly open mouth.

“Yeah, I think I like it,” he whispered.

When you smiled, his eyes were drawn to your teeth.

[unluckilyimnot]

Friend trying to win your bf over/talking shit behind your back

Characters: isagi, sae, rin, karasu, nagi

Note : I did this for a request but I'll do it with more fandom (genshin and windbreaker), so tell me if anyone want one with a character in particular (hc / one shot...) or another fandom

Tr ver.

m.list | rules

Sae

Sae's not there to be fucked around or around people he loves

So let's just say that your friend looking down on you will only happen once 

He hates the way she interrupts you to talk about her own feelings or point of you to HIM 

Why would he care about someone else? 

"Nobody cares. Go on, Dear."

He's not scared to speak for everyone since he clearly realized she's trying to steal time and space from you specifically 

He's the type to just stop listening to her of answer her – not that he paid much attention before 

It's almost boring how quickly he reacts, but he can't accept someone hurting you when your his everything 

Rin

Same as Sae, he's not open to other people and rarely care about them 

He's less blunt though

He doesn't really like your friend for the start but he'd almost admire her persistence if it wasn't turned against you

He's lost count of how many times he just sighs at her face or side eyes her to death when she's trying to be better than you 

He'll generally put up with it if you can defend yourself but he also turned her down a lot when he's tired of it

He's impressed how quick you shut her up the second she tries to touch him though

He hates it and you can't put up with that, she can try to look down to you in front of your bf but she can't step too close in his personal space

Rin convince you to cut her off after that

Yoichi

Does realize what's she trying to do but LATE 

He really thought for a long time that she was just trying to be included and to get to know what he liked so he wasn't left out

He also told you that you were exaggerating the few first times you mention her attitude 

It honestly put your relationship in danger bc he couldn't get himself to push her away when she got a bit too close to him or he ended up listening to her more than you 

It took his friends to mention her weird attitude around you two, PLUS you yelling him to open his eyes before he finally get to realize she was like this only with him 

And how much she looked down on you on every chance she had 

He's more than quick to turn her down after that and oh gods, he's doing his best to regain your trust

Karasu

He's not buying her overly cute and harmless behavior but still let her a chance 

He also get the chance to understand why you think so low of yourself, with friends like her around 

He's careful around her, staying close to you, paying close attention to you and assuring you that you're doing enough when she tries to push you down 

He's sick to see that she's always trying to get close to him even if he brings every conversation to you, even if you're not here

He push her away before you get the chance to do so, and then insisted for you to cut her from your life 

Nagi 

He's honestly not interested in anyone but you and his few close friends, so let's say it doesn't go the way she wants to 

She can talk to him all she wants, he's not listening, he doesn't even realize it's for him 

He only thinks she's full of herself and boring to be around 

You're probably annoyed and frustrated at first, and you talk to him about it

But when he tells you that he find her so boring you can't help but laugh and let her do so much before cutting her off 

But not before nagi told her himself that she's so boring he wants to leave every time he sees her

Let me know if you liked it !!

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Frayed Edges

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | In Stitches | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He was pissed off. His entire body hurt and he was really pissed off.

Sam dropped him off at your place. Bucky didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. He told Sam he'd call him when he'd need to get picked up.

He limps up to your door, grimacing at every move he makes. The stab wound in his stomach hurt like a bitch and he needed your help ASAP.

He knocks on your door, ringing the doorbell with urgency. The door swings open and your eyes widen, "Holy shit, Bucky!" You pull him inside and he groans in pain.

Bucky takes a quick glance at your table, seeing two sets of plates set out, "You expecting someone?"

You open your mouth to reply and there's a knock at your door, "Shit," you murmur, "Go to my room. Don't make a sound. Hurry!"

He obeys without a word. As soon as your bedroom door closes, you rush to your front door and pull it open, "Hey, dad! Sorry, was in the bathroom."

"It's alright, Bug," your dad kisses your head and enters your home, the bag of takeout in his hand. You take the bag from him and head to the dining table.

"Nice! Sushi!" you feign excitement, silently praying that, for whatever reason, your dad doesn't go to your room to find your ex boyfriend, now mob boss, bleeding on your floor.

"You still like the dragon roll, right?"

"Yup!"

"Good," your dad joins you at the table.

"Um, I have to finish some online training class really quickly and then I'll join you in a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go finish up. I'll be here," your dad waves you away and you rush to your bedroom, locking it behind you.

You head to the conjoining bathroom, as see Bucky cleaning his wound. “Why the fuck did you think coming here was a good idea?!” You whisper angrily at the bleeding mob boss in your home.

“I didn’t know your dad was coming over!” Bucky loudly whispers back in response.

“Exactly! You didn’t know which is why the smart thing to do would’ve been to call or text me to let me know you planned on coming!”

The mob boss scoffs, “Well sorry, I was a little too busy trying to not to die from a stab wound!” He gestures to his punctured skin.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh, “Out of nights you get hurt, it had to be the night my dad and I have dinner together.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “My bad. I’ll make sure to schedule my stabbings at a more convenient time.”

“Idiot,” you mumble as you grab your first aid kit from under the sink, and gesture for him to sit on your toilet.

You work in a quick and efficient silence. Bucky doesn’t make an effort of conversation because he knows you prefer silence when you work.

Despite your annoyance with him, you're still gentle. You apologize for the stinging of neosporin.

He watches you with an observant gaze, a softness in his eyes. A sense of longing fills him in the pit of his stomach...or maybe that's the feeling of the needle you're sewing him up with.

Bucky still can't believe this is where life has lead you both. You help save lives, he, on occasion, ends lives. You're light, while Bucky lives and works in the dark.

He knows coming back into your life was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. He just missed you so much and was desperate to have you back in any capacity. Even if he can't have you the way that he wants.

You finish up, taking off the bloody gloves you wore and throwing them into the trash, “Stay here. Take some meds. I’ll check up on you, but please be quiet. If dad finds you, he’ll kill both of us.” You state with concern and seriousness.

He nods and gives you a shy smile, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go enjoy dinner with your pop.”

You stand with a sigh, “Just text me if you need anything. I’ll pretend it’s America or something.”

“Got it. Thanks,” Bucky says as he slowly stands from your toilet after you stitched him up.

He watches as you quickly clean up and exit your room. He listens to the distant sound of you and your dad talking.

Bucky’s shoulder slumps as he lets out a shaky sigh. He wishes it never came to this, sneaking around and pretending like he still didn’t love you.

Because he does. He always will, even if you two are now worlds apart from each other, on opposing sides, never meant to be.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 5!

i won't lie folks, these rec lists are the only reason i know what week it is. but hey, every week brings us closer to the return of 911! in the meantime, enjoy these fics <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

am i who you think about in bed? | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 6.8k | M

eddie sleeps with men that aren't buck until, well, you know. eddie's hoe phase is something so very dear to me <3 i love how this fic captures him (and that phase lol) so much!! and That Moment in the bar... unmatched

and if someone asked me if i love you (i'd lie) | forgetmyname/@kingmieczyslaw | 10.3k | E

Eddie has a concussion. Suddenly he can't lie. It would be fine if he wasn't trying his best to not confess his undying love for Buck. this is such a fun fic <3 i love the firefam's reactions to eddie's predicament!!

and longingly i long | effervescentwolf/@effervescentwolf | 14k | M

Asking for what you want is asking too much of Buck, except it isn’t really. Not when it’s Eddie. i read this fic, immediately clicked the little back to the top button, and still have it open in a tab to reread asap, that's how good this is. the hurt/comfort hits so so hard, truly marvellous!!

bobby versus buddie | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 10.4k | M

Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture. i adore how this fic captures bobby and athena and bobby's relationship with buck and eddie and also buddie <3 just a delight to read!!

buck, bothered and bewitched | bellabrady | 5.8k | not rated

Buck gets turned into a Golden Retriever. SUCH a fun fic. i really do think that animal transformation-esque fics are an untapped market... this is a brilliant example of just how good they can be!!

give me a call if you ever get lonely. | dylaesthetics | 7.7k | E

 Now that Eddie’s come out as gay, Buck helps him explore his kinks and fetishes. Not in the way you think. And later, exactly in the way you think. truly what a brilliant fic concept... hot and fun and cute <3

i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling | calvingseason | 7.7k | T

healing through shitty memes sure is cathartic. i do love a good crack treated seriously fic <3 eddie in this one genuinely had me laughing out loud!

if you say it with your hands | hammersmiths/@henwilsons | 9.9k | T

Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it. oh the joy of the literal sleeping together tag!! this is soft and cute and just perfect <3 one of my favourites to reread!

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) | HMSLusitania/@hmslusitania | 44.4k | M

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home. i've been waiting to be in the right mood to read this one - since joining the fandom last year, it's probably the most recced fic i've seen! and, well, having read it, i totally get that. a wonderfully written fic, i loved the OCs but also adored buck and christopher here <3

let me know you (bedhead and morning breath) | burnthatbridge/@burnthatbridge | 6.2k | E

Buck hasn't gotten off since the lightning strike. Eddie watches him do something about it. THIS FIC. holy shit this fic. so good, so hot, so fun, so them!!

love me most | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 11.3k | T

Eddie’s not impressed that Buck and Tommy’s first date was supposed to be dinner and a movie. He thinks he can come up with something more creative, and he takes Buck on a date to prove his point. It’s a fake date, obviously. It’s not like he’s in love with Buck or anything.) i'm obsessed with eddie's behaviour in this fic <3 such a wonderful buddie dynamic!!

no takebacks | ever_yours/@ever-yours118 | 4.5k | M

In which Buck accidentally sends a confession to Eddie, lingers in the bargaining stage of grief, and maybe doesn’t end up regretting it so much, after all. love love love buck here, so true to character!! such a fun fic <3

PTA "coup d'état" | Bookworm0303/@insertlovelyperson | 26.5k | T

Buck attends some PTA meetings for Eddie. It goes about as well as you'd expect. this fic has so many funny moments, i can't even count how many times i had to put my phone down just to laugh. i especially loved ravi!! oh, the pta shenanigans... delightful fic!!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

LIKE A LOVE SONG- JOSH WASHINGTON

pairing: best friend!josh x fem!reader

word count- noo idea yet... writing this rn

summary: you and josh have been best friends for years, and the crush youve had on him hasnt subsided. things are all fine and dandy, until one night, the cat is pulled out of the bag...

warnings: implied SMUT, hella dirty talk, voygerism, dry humping, josh being a huge tease, pet names, some mocking, reader and josh are intoxicated, biting, etc etc

notes: hey so i need this man sexually! thats it thats all, im gonna open my account up to write for more fandoms and hop around:) just testing out the waters with this one

"josh we are sooo gonna get caught.." you slurred, hiccuping with a giggle as he tugged your arm, pulling you down the empty hallway, leaving your scattered friendgroup behind in the abyss.

a glint was in his eye as he looked back at you, full of mischief and hunger, and you couldn't help but bat your eyelashes at him. he was so dreamy it was making you swoon.

you had always thought he was beautiful- like a dream come alive. ever since he had accidently bumped into you during freshman year of college, you had be under his trance.

"shit, shit i'm so sorry, i shouldve watched where i was going. are you okay?" he had asked as he quickly bent down to help you gather your spilled papers. it was straight out of a chick flick, and you had finally felt like the main character instead of the extra.

he made you feel so special, always making flirty comments (though he did that with everyone), and giving you looks that had your head spinning.

tonight was no different.

the booze in your system made you extra giddy, and you felt his grip tighten as the two of you neared an empty bedroom down the hall.

not a doubt had passed through your mind when josh asked if you wanted to escape from the group for a while- clearly a bit intoxicated, but still stable enough to make a coherent decision. not in a million years would you pass up a chance to be alone with him.

"isn't that what makes it so much more fun?" he cooed, tugging you into the empty room, slamming the door behind you with a whoosh. without a second to gather your breath he had pinned you back against the door, hand darting out to turn the lock.

"do you actually-" you hiccuped nervously. "-wanna do something with me? do you wanna have sex?" you giggled, your bluntness making him laugh.

"yes, i wanna have sex with you. i have for years. is that okay?"

your eyes widened. did this man just say for years?

"oh."

he bit his lip, eyes roaming down your body, stopping to admire every trance from under your fitted clothes. "you gonna let me fuck you? or are you too scared chris is gonna wanna join in?"

"oh shut up."

he smirked, breath hot and heavy on your skin as he placed a soft kiss on your collarbone, nipping it with his teeth enough to make you hiss in shock.

"he does, cause you're so sexy. like a porn star. you have such a tight bod. wonder if your pussy is just as tight."

his dirty talk had your face heating, brain turning to mush as you moaned, leaning into his touch.

"you know how much i've wrapped my hands around my cock wishinng it was you? too many times." you squealed as he bit down on your neck, hard, hard enough to make a mark for anyone with a set of eyes to see, but you didnt care.

"j-josh fuck i-"

"whats up baby? need some cock to make you think straight? you've been giving me those pretty googly eyes all night, thinking i haven't noticed. so naive." he cooed as you ran your fingers through his hair, back arching into his touch as his large hands traveled down to your thighs before swooping you up so you clung wrapped around his torso.

"you're so fuckin hot. makes me so hard just thinking of you."

you rutted against him, sighing at the friction it caused, sending shocks down your spine stright to your core. his lips found yours, teeth and tounge clashing, nothing nice about the kiss. it was rough and hard and full of need.

"fuckin pathetic, humping me like some bitch in heat." he growled, his mocking turning you on even more. you reached down, struggling to tug at his belt, needing it off.

the less layers between you two- the better.

you gasped as your wooden support was removed, as he took you over and tossed you down on the bed with ease- as if you were a doll. you barely had a second to look at him before he was on top of you, smirk coy as he rutted his denim clothed cock on your cunt, already soaked through your shorts and tights.

he was toying with you.

"im gonna fuck you so hard you're not gonna be able to walk for days." he murmred, lifting your hips up as he tugged at your bottoms, nearly ripping them in half.

"then how are you gonna explain to the group why you're limping around like some fawn hm? cause joshey fucked you so good and so deep and your tight little cunt couldnt take it."

[tootoomanycats]

Hi.

I think it’s a travesty that Gil-Galad has barely a crumb of fanfics or even head canons.

So I’m working on something to add to that sexy, sassy, big boy’s fandom.

I definitely have a type, and it’s men who have their shit together, have goals and a very good sense of self control but are pent up…so I can watch them snap.

This is rough draft, unedited and just thrown down to keep my idea going but dang nabbit, the thirsty folks deserve a drink!

I present the first teaser for *drum roll*

The Plan

UPDATE: 1/27/2025 First chapter has been posted HERE!

Desperation pushed you to find the guest quarters and put distance between the High King and yourself. After what you just did, you can’t look him in the eye, gods you don’t want look yourself in the eye.

Dammit, was that the same door with a potted plant you passed a few minutes ago? You were going in circles, fast pacing, and red faced from embarrassment. He knew, he had to know you were lost and still Gil-Galad followed while offering no help in your escape from him.

“How long shall I expect you to hide away this time? I was under the impression that it was too precious to waste-being as short as it is.” Gil-Galad knew that his words were sharp, their sarcasm laced like a blade with poison. He could feel his pride pulsing like an open wound after what you just did. Emotions raw from weeks of you seesawing both towards and away from him.

“How dare you!” Came your rage in a whispered hiss, spinning on your heels to glare at the tall elf who followed behind so closely.

How dare he?

Gil-Galad could feel his neck heat as the temperance of his frustration grew. He was not the one disillusioned from reality. “I believe the offense is mine to have. For I was not the one to run and cower after you kis-“

“Shush! Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Not once in the entirety of his life time, centuries long that it was, has anyone ever dared to ‘shush’ him. His posture straightened, the tips of his ears faintly hued red as frustration turned to insult.

“First you run is cowardice from your own actions, now you not only refuse to acknowledge them but have the gall to shush me?” He glared from where he stood, watching as each word cut through your panic and your eyes shamefully turned to the ground.

Gil-Galad’s pride raged like that of a wounded beast trapped behind the bars of well trained control. Had he not been kind in taking in you and your small group? Housed and feed you, treated the wounded and sick to health, all to see your worries lessen?

He had no expectation of receiving anything in return, other than a thank you for the kindness- which you and your small group had given ample times over. Nor was no expectation to have the fluttering feeling of attraction reciprocated, his only hope was to continue the friendship he enjoyed in your company.

But he did not deserve the inconsistencies of your actions and words. Spinning his minds thoughts and hopes in circles that dizzied and confused. So many times you flirted back, even flirting boldly at him, flustering him. How much he had held self control in his desires to reach out to you, feel the grasp of your hand in his. Even for you lean on him when sitting together.

Just moments ago when you kissed him so tenderly, he had been frozen, his mind trying to confirm what he had hoped for had finally come true. But before he could reciprocate the action, you fled. No more. He could take this no more.

Update post for this story here -----> Update 10/17/24

Update #2 for this story here ----➡️ Update 12/26/24

[romanarose]

The Ghost of You

Banner by my dear @commonmisery

Ghost!Joel Miller x fem!reader

TLOU 2 SPOILERS AHEAD! YOU"VE BEEN WARNED!

Join my taglist: Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: After moving into Jackson, you're put up in a house that hasn't been lived in for years. Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Can you help Joel move on to the next life to be with his daughter? Or will you keep him here selfishly with you?

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, ghost!sex, mentions of violence and the things Joels done and what happened to him. bittersweet ending. Body marking and blood but it v consensual. It's loving.

A/N: This is my goodbye to writing Joel. I've made a few statements on thi before and if you've followed me for a while you know why. I won't rehash it. But I wanted to write this idea I had talking to @multiversed-daydreamer as my goodbye. i won't say it my last joel forever but it is for along time. all other series are cancelled. I am also just largely essening my writing for p-boys but I'll still be around witing frankie and javi and marcus sometimes. You never know. My main focus rn is logan howlett, triple frontier, and my original content

This is my love letter to the Joel fandom that has given me so much love and friendship

Looking for something similar? Brother by @macfrog is Tommy saying goodbye, and The Devil's Wife is devil!Joel, similar theme of halloween by @noxturnalnymph

8.5 words

It was cold. That was annoying. How you’d wandered your fucking way out to Wyoming, you’ll never understand. One minute you were in Florida complaining about the heat, now you were being treated for frostbite in your toes.

You’d arrived in Jackson last afternoon, nearly frozen to death and had been crashing in the clinic bed ever since. The doctor, a nice older man, took care of you and a few nurses checked in overnight, and today you were cleared to get settled. Word of mouth had told you Jackson was the place to go, a safe haven, a community where people actually take care of each other. Maria Miller, the town founder, had just left your room saying she’d be outside doing paperwork whenever you were ready for the short tour. You’d get the full spiel eventually, but right now the frostbite made walking a little hard. She'd just show you her office, the mess hall, a few quick essentials and then take your to your new home.

That was when you heard shouting outside the door. One voice was Maria, the other you didn’t recognize. It was hard to hear, but you listened in with your ear pressed to the door. 

“It’s been 3 years Tommy. I know this is difficult for you but-”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Excuse me? Who was there for you when you drowned your feelings in moonshine for years? Who took care of Walker while you went off on pointless revenge missions!”

“Don’t you bring him into this. Don’t fucking do that shit, Maria, you know I had too.”

A beat of silence. “You had to do whatever you had to do to deal with what happened. We forgive you, we took you back here and the whole town in glad for it. But Tommy… Jackson is growing. We need the space-”

“You never fucking liked him! You never wanted him around! I bet you’re glad-”

The shouting began to overlap each other, voices raising until you were uncomfortable enough with the man’s temper you grabbed your gun and opened the door, pointing it at him.

“Settle down there, cowboy. Ain’t nice to yell at a lady.”

*

The next few minutes were embarrassing, to say the least. Maria explained that Tommy was her ex-husband. She didn’t go into the argument, but she assured you, not without gratitude, that firstly she could handle herself, and second that Tommy wasn’t a threat.

After Tommy left with a pointed ‘fuck you’ in your direction, you turn back to find Maria rolling her eyes. 

“He’s a good man. I promise. Good dad, works hard, takes care of his people. He just gets… well, there’s some sore spots. C’mon let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired.”

Settled into the house that felt way too big for just you, your thoughts drift to the man. He was older, 50’s maybe? Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray and tired lines around his eyes, but handsome. He was so angry, and angry at you. What the hell did you do? You hadn’t even been here a day! Fucking unreal. Men were men no matter where you went, but their temper tantrums never ceased to amaze you. 

The house was pretty empty. You’d been given a few furnishings, but the house was stripped of all character, certainly taking apart everything the previous owner had. Had the place been occupied since the world fell apart? Or had someone who lived here died? You wondered how. You wondered if they had family, or if the town was their family. 

The kitchen had kindly been stocked up pretty well, and you’d been given some toiletries so after eating, you enjoyed your first warm bath in a long time. Running water, and it was warm? Fantestic. You boiled a pan of water and tossed it into the tub for some extra heat just how you liked it.

In bed that night, that’s when things got weird. You felt a coldness wash over your body, a shiver you didn’t expect under the warm blankets. Then the window unlatched and flew open. You gasp, fearful at first, but then justify that since it’s on springs, the latch must’ve been not done right and just sprung open. No big deal. But then you felt a hand on your cheek and you froze.

It didn’t linger more than a second. The touch was fluid, but not wind, not air. There was a roughness to it, the distinct feeling of a large hand cupping your face… but you weren’t scared. Instead, you felt calmed. Relaxed.

It became routine, after a few weeks, you refused to go to sleep until you felt it, the touch of warmth on your face, and you felt safe. It didn’t take long for you to believe you had a ghost; after the cordyceps, ghosts were never far from disbelief, something you’d always been open to, but the question was who.

That would be answered soon enough. You could just ask, yeah, but you wanted to find out, in their own words. As the days progressed, you’d been given time to recover and adjust before working, so you spent a lot of time settling into your house. This was not without its encounters with the ghost. More and more, they seemed to get stronger, able to do more, communicate more. There were items shuffled around, bigger and bigger until the couch was moved.

“I don’t like it there.” You said out loud, pushing it back a few feet.

They moved it again.

“Come on, you’re being annoying.” You move, just for it to get moved back again.

You throw your hands up in the air. “Fine! At least be useful and carry the chair upstairs.” No response, no movement. “Dick.” A gust of wind through your hair and you giggle.

You scribble together a make-shift ouija board, a circle tied from some guitar string you found in a box the ghost knocked off a shelf that must’ve not been cleaned. 

Candles lit, you cross legged on the floor, you try to get information. Requests for the name came up empty, but the string moved to  “yes” when asked if they were a man.

“How old are you? Or- were you?”

5. 6.

“Old man.” You chuckle when wind brushes your hair. You’d learned this was his way of teasing.

“How did you die?”

D-o-n-t-g-o-g-o-l-f-i-n-g

“Don’t go golfing? What does that mean?”

No response.

“Was that a joke?”

Yes.

“Well, I don’t get it. You know that, right?”

Yes.

“Fine, don’t wanna talk about death I see. Fair enough, never been there myself but I heard it’s not fun. Uhhhhhh got any kids?”

2

“Go on.”

2 g-i-r-l-s. 1 d-e-a-d.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… where is the other?”

I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w

“Shit, i’m sorry about that too. Must be confusing.” Not knowing where your daughter is must be hard. “Is your other daughter with you? In the afterlife I mean?”

e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-d-a-r-k

That broke your heart. “Must be scary.”

Yes

Then, the string moved again.

N-e-w-t-o-p-i-c

a-b-o-u-t-y-o-u

For whatever reason, this makes you blush. You spend the evening telling him about yourself, sharing details and asking him the same. He didn’t like talking about his family, refused to answer any more questions. Wouldn’t say his name.

But it was the first time you’d been called beautiful over ouija board, you knew that much. 

Even after you began working, every evening you’d run home to spend time with this ghost of a man. The most people saw of you outside your day labor was a pop into the mess hall to take food home or the clinic as they checked you were recovering okay.

“Don’t see much of you.” The doctor commented. “You adjusting okay? I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

You blink in confusion. You were fine. Happy, even. Sure, you didn’t get to know anyone… but why would you? You did your part for the community, then you went home. Hell, you volunteered extra hours sometimes, picking up more than your fair share. You just didn’t want to get close, that’s all. People died, you’d learned that hard lesson early in life, and learned it over and over and over again. There was no point in making friends, falling in love. Not when it was all so fragile.

But you had your ghost man. He had already crossed that barrier, so there was nothing to fear. Nothing to lose.That night, you talked out loud to him about your day as you always did, he made little sounds knocking cabinets together or brushing a breeze on your skin to let you know he was listening. Sometimes winds rustled your hair when he thought you were funny. Then, the wind turned into a gust, and two firm hands pressed you down the hall, the message clear.

“Jesus! I’m going I’m going!” You follow the breeze bushing you. Fuck he was getting more powerful every day. Pushed to the kitchen, you’re face to face with the fridge.

“If this is a fat joke- hey!” Two distinct fingers pinched your cheek and you laughed. “Okay, tell me what you want!” A breeze, and you hear a fluttering between the fridge. When you bend down and dig around the dust bunnies, you find a piece of distinct photograph paper, and pull it out. On it was a picture of a man, 30’s, maybe 40’s if you were pushing it, his arm wrapped around a hung girl holding a trophy. They looked happy.

“Is this you?”

The picture ruffled in your hand. 

“And the girl, that your daughter?”

The pictures motion was repeated. This looked like it was from before, from long ago… you assumed the girl was the daughter that died.

“It’s so cute…” You traced the picture of your ghost, having a face but no name still. Your feel warm, a blush creeping around your skin and a deep heat settling in your stomach. He was handsome. You’d never really pictured him,, besides a few wandering thoughts here and there, but nothing stuck. You put his picture on your fridge.

At night, the image of his face danced in your head, unable to sleep. It was weird, this friendship you had with the ghost in your house, but you didn’t really care. There were worse things in this world, darker ways to cope. So what if a dead man made you happy, made you blush and grin and giggle. So what if he was the reason your hand was currently being shoved into your PJ’s. 

You’d be lying if you hadn’t touched yourself that first night, but this was the first night you pictured his body on your, his face, that beard…

“Are you watching me?” You asked, panting. That was a first too. You knew there was a possibility he watched, but you didn’t really care. Never had. Now, you hoped he did.

A pause.

Then, the liquid touch of a hand on your face. He was here. He was watching.

“Good.” You assure him, hoping he stays. “Want you to watch.” Your fingers begin to pump in your cunt, and you kick off the covers. So what if it was cold, you wanted him to see you. You thought about what it would be like to feel his face buried between your legs, what his voice sounds like, how he’d touch you-

“You can touch me, if you want. Not just my face.” It was a bold statement. Things with you and him had been friendly, close, a little flirty… but nothing so far had suggested more. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t. Maybe he just watched to watch. Maybe you embarrassed him and he left.

Then his touch landed on your face, slowly trailing down, down, until you could feel hands on your breasts. The slightest brush on lips ghost the shell of your ear, your cheek, and your heart swells. He wants to kiss you. 

“You can kiss me. It’s okay.” It wasn’t as strong a touch a his hands, but he ridgid texture of chapped lips touch yours, and ripples of pleasure flow throughout the erogenous zones on your body, far ore reach than two hands ever could. It tickles, and it feels fucking good.

“Wish you were here….” You mumble, still fucking yourself as hips bucked against yoru fingers, sopping wet sounds fill the quiet bedroom. “Never connected to anyone the way I have you.” A squeeze on your leg reassured you, and soon your tits were being messaged in a way clumsy human hands couldn’t do. It was like the rolling ocean crashing and waving and peaking on the tender flesh, a surreal experience to your touch-starved body.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then you hear it, clear as day, sharp and quick against your ear.

“Joel.”

His name. You cry it out as your pussy clenches down on your fingers.

*

After that, ghost sex was something you and Joel regularly engaged in. He couldn’t really speak much still, usually only getting out one word. Generally it was ordering you to cum, sometimes a single word compliment slipped through with a southern accent.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as you lay in bed, satiated and panting.

He thought you were beautiful when you came.

There was never another reason to go anywhere outside of your home other than to work or get food, and more and more you just got groceries and worked with what you had. You liked cooking with him ,you didn’t want to be away.

Today, as you tried to make soup, you couldn’t help laugh as he managed to speak “More seasoning” and lift a fuck ton of herbs up and into the pot. At least he was a helpful ghost.

“You can just make it next time!”

You expect to feel your hair rustle, but instead his voice speaks.

“Tommy.”

Then a knock on the door. You were so startled (people never visited you) you almost didn’t answer. No one outside that door could be worth time away from Joel, but he pushed you to answer, a desperation in his actions that matched the tone he spoke the name.

When you answered, you would have shut the door if you weren’t curious about Joel’s reaction.

There stood the man who got in a shouting match with Maria. Oh, yeah, Tommy, that’s right. But why was he here? Tommy was tall, but his posture at the moment was sunken, sheepish. When he looked at you, pink dusted his tan skin. “Can I talk t’yuh?”

You narrow your eyes. “Sorry, but the last time we spoke you weren’t exactly polite enough for me to feel like welcoming you inside, and every time I’ve seen you, you give me dirty looks.”

He nods. “I understand, that’s why I uh… wanted t’explain myself. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but I was angry. Ain’t right, still…”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

His eyes were large, brown, and wet. “This was uh… my brother’s house. He died 3 years ago.”

*

5 Minutes later, Tommy was sitting on the couch with you, cup of soup in hand. You hadn’t felt or heard Joel, but this was your chance. Some answers.

“Funny.” He pats the couch. “This was his. Was right here for years, never moved it.”

“It’s uh… a good spot. Now, I think you had some explaining to do?”

“Right…“ Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “The house has been empty since he died. My wi- ex wife, I guess, kept it empty out of courtesy but she was right. It was time to move on.”

“Did he die in here?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Tommy explained it to you. The revenge that was enacted on his brother for saving the girl, Ellie. You wondered if that was his daughter he mentioned, but Tommy just referred to her as his kid. How the woman and their group killed him, Tommy saw his brother's head bashed in, brain matter on the walls. 

The golf joke still didn’t make sense, but you’d figure it out. You learned more about Joel too, that he was from Texas, that his daughter, Tommy niece, died on outbreak day. Joel’s birthday. Joel played the guitar, he liked to swim, was an overbearing brother and loving dad. He was married once. He learned to cook to get Sarah to eat veggies so he was pretty good at it. Was a good man. The best, the way Tommy spoke.

“I know it ain’t right the way I’ve treat’n yuh. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t been handling his death well, you know? Lost my wife, almost lost my son… I ain’t been the man he raised me to be. I now you don’t… do anything. In town. That’s probably my fault and I’m so-”

“You think I stay home because I’m avoiding you?” You nearly bark out a laugh, his eyes growing in confusion. “Brother, I ain’t scared of no man, if I wanted to go to the movie nights I would have!”

Tommy processes this information, sipping on the last of the soup broth. “Oh… I guess I just assumed...”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming. Make’s an ass out of you and me. Here, gimmie.” You take his mug, walking to the kitchen to rinse it and still giggling.

Tommy follows you. “Well I’m sorry! I guess I just figured, the time’n ‘n all.”

You throw a look over your shoulder. “I stay home because I like it here. Because I’ve been alone for years, so I’m fine with it.”

“But why not-” He stops in his tracks. “Where did you get that?”

You follow his line of view and realize your mistake. “Uh. I uh. I found that while cleaning the kitchen, by the fridge. I guess I thought it was nice, so I hung it up… why? Who is it?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke Joel’s name. You had to pretend to be surprised, but even worse, you knew what you needed to do.

“Keep it.” You say, pushing the picture closer to him, breaking you a bit. You had to hide every emotion, because there was no reason for you to have any attachment to it. He didn’t know what you and Joel shared with each other. Who he was to you. It didn’t matter, because Joel was his brother. The girl was his niece. He deserved the picture.

“That’s her. That’s Sarah.” Tommy continued, confirming your suspicions as his finger trailed over the girl. 

“She’s adorable.”

“Yeah… she was. Great kid too.”

Tommy helped you wash up the dishes from making soup, you and him talking more. He was nice when he wasn’t yelling. You could understand why he was so upset at the time, and you forgave it.

You told as much as he stood in your doorway. “I don’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He nods, smiling and looking more at ease. “Promise you’ll come to the next movie night, it’s tomorrow. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“What’s playing?‘

“Scream 2!”

You roll your eyes. “Not the first one?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tommy says with a tease. “Is fucking scream 2 at the end of the world not enough for you?”

You shove him out of your door, laughing. “Fine! I’ll fucking come. But only to see Timothy Olyphant.”

You shut the door, and turn around still laughing. But what you see shocks you so bad, you’d have screamed if you didn’t cover your mouth.

It was Joel. Faint. Barely there. A dead eyed stare. Much older than the picture and his hair was longer. But it was him.

“Joel?” You say, tentatively walking towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he was looking at the door, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Your hand passes through him and when his form dissipates, you fall to the ground and cry.

*

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. He was strangely quiet the rest of the day, only a few little touches here and there. No ghost sex that night. When you are getting out of work clothes and putting something warm on for the movie, you bring it up.

“No.”

“Well, you’ve hardly talked to me. Is it because I asked Tommy as those questions about you? I’m sorry, it’s just easier that way and I wanted to know what happened to you-”

“I miss him.”

Three whole words. 

“You’re getting stronger. Did you mean to appear to me yesterday?”

“You saw me?”

“Yeah, and I hear you really good now.” You grin. “I can’t believe you’re talking this much. Maybe I’ll skip the movie, I don’t wanna lose-”

“No. Go.” a brief pause. “Please.”

“Joel Miller,” You tease him. “Are you having me check on your baby brother?” He rustles your hair.

*

So, you started hanging around Tommy more. It started as filling Joel in on his life, but really, you liked being around Tommy. He was easy to talk to. 

You lay on your side in bed, trying to picture his face as you’d done every night for months as you talk to him. Joel’s voice was clear, fully communicating with you now. Every now and then you could see a glimpse of him in a mirror or the faint frozen picture of him standing somewhere, usually after Tommy was over. 

“Walker is doing really well.” You tell him about his nephew you’ve met a few times. For a few years, Tommy was barely around after Joel’s death, most of the time he was drunk. There was an incident several months ago where Tommy passed out of the couch and Walker tried to start the stove, resulting in a small kitchen fire, and Tommy effectively lost custody of his son. Not that family court existed here, but Tommy knew he couldn’t be there. This was shortly after you moved in, and was the reason Tommy finally got sober. Things were going better now, and he’s repairing that relationship.

“You met him?”

“Yeah, he’s quiet. But he’s very polite.” Tommy said he takes after Joel. Walker and Joel had been very close before he died, Tommy adored the little boy. The little boy in question was now 8, growing up.

He sighs. “Yeah, he was a good kid. I never had a son, figured raise’n Tommy was close enough. But when I was with him… Sometimes I think back to when Sarah died, how hard Tommy fought to keep her alive… yuh know, after she died I was just, I was drowning in my sadness. There was no room for Tommy’s grief, I guess. He’s stronger than I gave him credit for, because he was always there for me. If I had lost Walker… I dunno if I could have been that strong.”

A few days later, you invite Tommy and his son over for dinner, and as you stare at Walker eating his food and laughing you can see Joel. He’s no longer a still picture, he’s moving, and smiling, and laughing too. No one else can see or hear him.

But he looks right at you.

*

You can see him now, laying on the pillow beside you as the pair of you talk. Sometimes he’s tangible, hands touching your face and you can see his tan skin through your peripheral. Sometimes it’s more faint, like he’s using all his strength to be see and he can’t materialize his touch. You don’t know how it works, but you’re happy to see his face. Joel has kind eyes, a softness in a world of blood and violence.

“You're beautiful.” And it’s your voice whispering it to him, because he is. Every line on his face, the scar on his forehead, the tired darkness under his eyes as if an eternity to sleep wasn’t enough. Every little freckle you could map on his face on days he was more clear. It was perfect. It was him. 

A sadness crosses over those pools of brown. “I really don’t deserve you…” When you open your mouth to protest, he continues. “I’ve killed people.”

That wasn’t a shock. Who hasn’t? “I have too.”

But Joel shakes his head, curls staying in place as if gravity is now inconsequential, as if he’s frozen in time with a single lock on his forehead. “No, I’ve killed innocents. A lot. Me ‘n Tommy, before… and protect’n Ellie…”

You thought about this for a while, a chill of cold reminiscent of when he first came to you makes you shiver, but when you look at him, you don’t feel the repulsion you know he expects. “You kill children?”

“No.” He says firmly, a glimmer of sadness crossing his eyes. You didn’t think so, knowing he knew what that loss was. “But that don’t make it much better.”

“Did rape anyone? Kill people for fun? Get off on it?” 

Disgust mares his features. “No, never.”

You nod. “You kill any innocent people since coming to Jackson? Settling here?”

Again, a shake of his head doesn’t knock loose a single hair. “No, but before-”

“I’m not worried about before.” You voice is soft, and you tentatively reach a hand out to caress his face. His skin was soft, softer than a man in his 50’s would be, but that’s what happens when you aren’t fully there. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. You deserve a second chance just as much as anyone does. The world out there-” You vaguely whisk your hand around. “Does things to us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not a rapist, didn’t kill kids, not one of those really, really bad people… I think you deserve to leave that all outside the gates of Jackson.”

His eyes soften, affection pooling with something more. “Thank you, darl’n I mean it. I wasn’t always forgiven in that life. Nice to know someone does in this one,”

Your heart aches for him, so you try to ease his pain. “Tommy forgives you, I know it. You heard how he talks about you.”

But he’s still distant. “Maybe. But maybe he just misses me. That’s different. Besides, there’s someone I know hasn’t.”

“Ellie?”

He nods. “She…. well, we just started talk’n, right before I died. Didn’t have the chance to find out if she ever would, you know? Now I never will.”

“She does, Joel. It’s been years, I know she does.”

But he didn’t believe you.

*

Joel’s words stuck with you, simmering in your head like the soups he helps you make. Today you were on patrol with a fairly quiet partner, so you had nothing left to do but think, think, think. Why did his words affect you so much? He was so stuck on forgiveness, even though he’d never know-

Oh.

That’s why he was trapped here, wasn’t it? Joel’s ghost remained behind because he didn’t have the closure he needed. Tommy and him had made up, but Joel died not knowing if Ellie ever did. Years of estrangement for taking her from the hospital, for saving her, for lying, and he wasn’t sorry, he told you himself. But he needed Ellie’s forgiveness. He needed to know Tommy didn’y hold resentment. He needed to know they were safe, that they were okay.

Joel couldn’t talk to Tommy. For some reason, you could hear him speak when Tommy was around, see him, but Tommy never reacted. Joel couldn’t even move things or create a breeze when he was around…

If Joel got what he needed, the forgiveness, the resolution he longed for, he could move on. You knew it. He was getting stronger every day, his appearance crystal clear, his touch more and more solid, less fluid than before. You wanted little more than to have him like that, as close to a real person as he could get, at your home you shared with him every single day, every hour, sleeping next to him, cooking with him, fucking him… part of your mind told you that you could do it.

But that wasn’t right. He’d be little more than a housewife, a sex doll, a captive. You could keep him there, to be your only friend outside of occasionally seeing his brother, the person who knew you best, someone always there to talk because what other options did he have? 

That wasn’t you. The rational part won out, and your knew what you had to do.

*

Tommy’s face was one of worry when you told him you’d seen the ghost of his brother. You’d spilled it all out, sparing the ghost sex details, but instead of shock, he just asked you if you ere okay.

“Yes! Tommy I’m fine-”

“I dunno, you’re kinda a weird person to begin with, see’n shit wouldn’t be that new-”

“Tommy!” You stand abruptly from his couch,  pulling at your hair. “I’m not seeing- I’m not hallucinating him! You don’t understand, I see him, I see him every fucking day that’s why I don’t go anywhere!”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Honey, maybe you’re seeing him because you’re alone every day.”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!!” You shout at him, and he softens. 

“I know, I know.” Tommy stands. “Maybe… maybe you should stay here a few days, maybe this is a yellow wallpaper situation, you gotta get fresh air, a new environment-” he reaches for your arm but you yank it away.

“Does the term ‘don’t go golf’n mean anything to you?”

Confusion crosses his face. “Not really, why?”

A deep breath. “He… I asked how he died, with a ouija board i made and he just said don’t go golfing. Never explained.”

Tommy’s skin paled, the freckles on his face a stark contrast against him. His face a deadly calm. “How did you know that.”

You can’t help but groan. “I told you, he-”

“ENOUGH GAMES!” The sudden shout shocks you, and you step back. Tommy must’ve realized he was scaring you, so he calmed down just a bit. “I’m serious. This isn’t fucking funny.”

Tears of frustration and sadness filled your heart, begging him to believe you. You didn’t think Tommy would hurt you, but the distress he was in was clear. “I wouldn’t joke about this… he- he said it was a joke I wouldn’t get, and I don’t. Tommy please, I’m being serious…”

Then, the realization dawned on him, clear as day. He believed you. “Holy shit. You’re telling the truth…”

“I am.” You sob. “Tommy I swear I’m telling the truth. He needs help, he’s trapped here… we need to help him…”

He was shaking. “C-can I see him?”

It broke your heart to say no. He can only appear to me, I think…He’s tired when you are over…“

Dizzy, Tommy sits down. “He was round… whenever I was over, wasn’t he? That’s why I always feel so calm there…”

You nod. “He calms me too. I don’t know how.” You join him on the couch again. “Tommy, what does don't go golfing mean?”

His face is buried in his hands, and you think he’s crying. It’s a lot, you know, it’ a lot to spring on someone, especially that he can’t hear or see him still, his own brother so close and yet so far. But you were doing this for him, so that he could move on, so that he could see his Sarah in the afterlife.

When Tommy finally looked up, his face and hands were soaking wet.

“He was killed with a golf club. We never told anyone about that.”

*

Joel stood behind you, clear and crystalline, his body practically human. He was cold, but he brought you comfort. “Something on your mind, darl’n?”

You don’t wanna lie to him, but you can’t tell him what’s happening, not yet. You want a few more days without this hanging over you both.

“Tommy left for a few weeks. Just worried.” You didn’t tell him he went to find Ellie, to go back to the farmhouse she lived in with Dina and see if she’s there, if Dina knows where she lives kows anything. To try and convince Ellie that this woman she’s never met his eeing her dad as a ghost and they need to help him move on. But hes gonna try.

A week later, the town was in a ruckus, Tommy returning to Jackson with the prodigal daughter, her girlfriend, and a little boy.

Turns out Ellie went back to Dina, begged for her back on hands and knees, and they’d been living alone out in the country for years raising JJ. They all looked good, healthy, happy… Ellie was skeptical but she agreed to come as a favor to Tommy. Everything was planned for tomorrow, but as you lay in bed with Joel for the last time, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

You wanted one last night.

Joel kissed you, languid and soft, his hands roamed your naked and prone body and for the first time, you noticed something. A tent in his pants. A ghost had gotten an erection for you.

“Joel…” You moan, feeling him rutt against you.

“I know, I feel it too.” His voice is husky against your ear, and chills flow throughout your body as you realize what this means. Joel was firm, his body fully here and he was hard. Joel could fuck you.

He went feral after that, yanking down your PJ shorts so fast your barely had time to lift your hips, but it didn’t matter. You spread your legs to welcome to fingers the plumged into your body, absolutly dripping for the man laid beside you. Joel’s breath was hot, growling and grunting as e finger fucks you open, preparing you to take his cock for the first time. 

“You’re always s’fucking wet.” He says between sucking kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he left hickies on you, you were just beyond ecstatic that he was strong enough to leave marks. You wanted him to be with you in some way permanently. “Been wish’n I could feel you since that first day, so sweet, so beautiful, always so ready for my touch.”

You paw at him, groping his body and trying to just get his massive form on top of you. “Need you.” You beg like a needy young thing, like you’d never been fucked properly before, like you needed to be filled and taken and ravaged. 

“I got yuh, darl’n…” Joel murmur, rolling over on top of you, his cock heavy- when had his clothes come off?

Knelt before your body, Joel was magnificent. His body was broad, thick, not quick as barrel chested as his brother, he held it more in the shoulders. Down his chest and stomach held scares, fat, and a trail of hair leading down, down, down to where his cock hung thick and leaking and cut. You forgot he was a ghost; he didn’t feel like one, he felt real. He felt here. Tears filled up in your eyes, and Joel leans over, his body covering yours in his cool skin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks in a gentle voice, thumbing away a stray tear. “I hope yuh ain’t scared’a me? Are yuh?”

You’ve never been more sure of saying no in your life. “Ain’t scared.” You whisper. “I just… I love you so much…” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You did love him. But that wasn’t why you were crying, not really anyway. No, you cried because this was goodbye.

Joel’s eyes, black pupils swallowing the beautiful brown with lust, grew wet themselves as he smiles down at you. “I love you too. So damn much.”

Your nails did into his back, relishing in the firm, solid feel of him. This was real. He was real. “Fuck me, please. Make love to me. I want to feel you, really feel you…”

Plush lips kissed you as he slid inside, a wave of calm relaxed your body, allowing you to take his considerable length inside you. He was big, stretching you open slowly while you accommodate him. 

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me…” He moans in your ear, desperate like he’s falling apart at one stroke. But he doesn’t. When he fucks you, it’s with more vigor, more energy than you’ve ever felt from a living person, a slap of skin from his hips meeting your thighs, his balls heavy and slapping against your ass, his fingers digging, digging digging so deep inside as you wished he’d bruise you, wished he’d cut you open and crawl inside so he could never leave you, two souls as one. To know and to be known at the deepest level. Souls and bodies barred to each other. Nothing left to hide.

He couldn’t do that, so as Joel slammed his cock into you, you begged for something else. “Mark me.” You whimper, getting a reaction of confusion from your lover, so you take his hand and dig his nails into your tender hips. “I need to know this is real. All of it.” The tears come again when you can see him want to deny you. “This isn’t forever, you know this can’t before but I- Joel I need something to be forever! We can’t get married, you can’t leave me pictures or presents or- or kids, Joel, I need to be able to remember you.”

His movements slow. “Oh, pretty baby…” He murmurs lowly. “I’ll give anything if it means you can’t forget me.” he kisses you deeply, sucking in your tongue and before he pulls away he nips your lip. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

But nothing of Joel could be too much.

A shape gasp as he dug into you, left hand bracing himself on the bed as he never stopped fucking you, rolls of pleasure coured your body like it had tha first night, swirling over your clit and dragging you screaming to the edge. And screaming you were.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You shout so loud you don’t care who hears you. Half the town thinks you’re fucking Tommy anyway. Don’t stop fucking you, don’t stop marking you, don’t, don’t, don’t go.

You could keep him to yourself. Tell Ellie and Tommy you lied, or that he went away and you can’t see him any more. Anything so that he doesn’t get what he needs, that he stays with you forever.

He’s impossibly deep inside, but in your leaking, dripping channel and into your hip. The cut of his nails goes further than they should go, but you don’t question it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him marking your flesh, of him making your insides as his as he cums deep in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him as your draw out whatever he’s filling you with, you don’t care. It’s him. 

“More, more” You cry into his shoulder, but he’s already slowing his thrusts.

“I’m as deep as I can go, baby…” He stays bottomed out inside you, but his hands withdrawal from your side as you come down. His bloody hand cups your face, dripping with your own warmth.

You sob against his cold skin, Joel wrapping you into a hug as the overwhelming emotion of what happened floods you, and it’s too much. You need more, but it’s not him deeper, not him scaring you, and not him filling you up.

It’s more time.

*

You wake up with blood on your face and your wounds cleaned and bandaged, with Joel’s body gone, as it usually is in the morning. It took until the afternoon for him to appear again.

“Sorry baby.” He apoligized, hugging you. “I dunno why I can’t control coming better.” He poked your side, and you knew he meant a double entendre but you didn’t have it in you to laugh.

“It’s okay. Last night used a lot. You probably needed to rest.”

“Yeah…” He touched the bandage he’d put on your hip with soft intent. “How you feel’n bout this?”

You smile. “Great. But Joel…” You turn around to face him, his face frowning with worry. “I gotta tell you something… I told Tommy about you…” Before he has a chance to ask questions, you spill it out. “And he went and found Ellie, she’s hear. I think… I think if you reconcile with her, with Tommy, once the air is cleared… you can move on.”

For a long moment, he stares at you, unmoving, unblinking, frozen as the picture that used to hang on your door. Then he speaks. “You know… that means I can’t see you again, right.”

Damn the tears the spring forth, damn the well of emotions overflowing your body, a trickle of a leak in the damn, then it cracks, and it all breaks. You begin to sob in his arms. “I know, I know… but it’s not right for me to keep you here! You- you said it’s dark, and you’re scared.”

“I ain’t scared when I’m with you…”

“But you won’t always be with me! I need to help you move on! It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, you need to be with Sarah, you need to be at peace knowing Sarah and Tommy love you, that they forgive you!”

He lets you cry, holding you close in strong arms as he realized what was happening. He’d see Ellie again. You were willing to give him up just so he could get his happy end.

His voice in your ear.

“Ellie.”

*

She was skeptical, understandingly. Pretty, short, in her 20’s with brown hair cropped into a pixie and looking annoyed. She sat next to Tommy with her arms crossed and practically glaring at you. 

“I’m gonna need more proof than some golf joke.”

“It was enough to get you here, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I owed Tommy for every fucking time he saved my damn life, that’s why I’m here.” She turned to her uncle. “We’re even, by the way.”

“Sure as shit are.” He sighs, then looks at you. “He here?” 

You gesture to the couch. “Yeah he’s sitting right- hey!”

Ellie swung her hand over where you said Joel was sitting, doing nothing but annoying Joel who tried in vein to smack her away, telling her to cut the shit.

“I don’t fucking feel anything.”

“That’s not how it works Ellie!” Tommy flicked her arm. “Relax.”

With a huff, she crossed her arms again. “Fine.”

Tommy looked to you, then to Joel, then back to you. “Tell her something only Joel would know.”

When you turn to Joel, he’s looking at Ellie with sadness. She looks different, a lot older, yet she’s still Ellie to him. He doesn’t turn to you. ‘David.’ He instructs, and you turn to her.

“Do you know a David?” And suddenly her skin blanches. Ever so slightly, she’s shaking, but then she turns to Tommy. “Did Joel fucking telling you that!?”

From beyond Tommy’s protests that he doesn’t know who Daivid is, did she mean David Turner, who was a local here, or David Sanchez, who died last month in a raid? Joel insists he’d never tell that to anyone, but Ellie can’t hear him.

You try to calm them. “He says he was someone you met after leaving Jackson the first time, that you did the right thing by killing him.”

“Yeah! I fucking did!”

“He says if he goes to hell, David is the first person he’s finding.”

She stops, information processing in her head that there was no way Joel wold have told whoever David was to Tommy. “David tried to rape me when I was 14.” She grits out. “I stabbed him to death and let his body burn up.”

Tommy turns to her, horrified but doesn’t speak.

You nod. “Good.”

And then, she sinks into the couch. “Whenever I had nightmares… Joel always told me David was the first person he’d find in hell. He was convinced he was going there.”

You chuckle. Yeah that sounds like Joel. “He loves you both very, very much… and the uncertainty is what’s keeping him here. I need to help him move on.” 

“So what? You’re some sort of fucking medium?”

“No, I’ve never had anything like this happen before but… He started appearing to me. Little touches, cold spots, breezes… then he started moving things, hearing his voice…. Now I can see him, he’s as clear as you are, honestly.”

Tommy speaks now. “He’s gotta know-” He tries to turn to where you said Joel was, but you can tell he’s struggling to talk to a brown cushion. “You gotta know we love you, don’t know? How can you doubt that?”

‘Tell him I do. But tell him… I don’t know if he forgives me.’

“Joel knows you both love him, but that’s not why he’s stuck. He needs to know you forgive him.”

Ellie is staring sone faced at a wall, but Tommy is looking down at his hands now, this seems easier. “Joel… those things we did… it’s been a long time. I was angry, yeah, I fucking hated you for a while but…” He shakes his head, silver streaks shimmering in the deep brown of his hair. “I got Walker now and… after he was born man, I think I got it. The things we did to survive… you were willing to do some of the worst shit out there, damning your own soul to save me. I’d do the same for my kid, if I needed to.”

‘But I shouldn’t have made you do any of it, Tommy.’

“Joel feels bad that he made you participate.”

“You didn’t make me do fuck’n shit, brother. I was a grown ass man, even if you still thought of me as a reckless teenager. I made my choices, and I understand why you made yours. You lost your baby, I know damn well you couldn’t take lose’n your brother either. I forgive you, but you also gotta forgive yourself, brother.”

Ellie pipes up. “I get it too, Joel. I told you that night, I didn’t know if I could forgive you… telling you I couldn’t… but… UUGHHHH!” She slumps down, covering her face. “Joel I was angry! I was angry and I was stupid but I was a teenager! I was just- just a kid who had these grand schemes of changing the world! But we don’t know if it could’ve worked. But I forgive you, Joel. I was always gonna forgive you, even before you went and fucking left me! I don’t know why I had to do that, why i treated you the way I did-”

‘You were a teenager, that’s normal-’

“But I think about it, every single day I think about it and what I should've said and done better but I get it now. I don’t know what you’ve been told but I got my kid now. I know you’re old man brain is probably trying to work out how two women had a baby-”

Joel laughs, and so does Ellie.

“But it’s Jesse’s. Dina got pregnant before Jesse and her broke up and he… he died. But I’ve been raising him with her the last few years… She took me back… You ask me on the porch that night if she treats me good and Joel…” Ellie sighs, smiling. “She really does.”

‘Tell ‘er I’m glad. That I always liked her, and I wanna know the kids name.’

“Joel says he doesn’t blame you for being mad at him, or how you talked to him. He says he’s glad Dina and you are happy. What’s the babies name?”

Ellie grins, pride in her eyes. “The baby is almost 4 now. His name is JJ. Jesse Joel.”

Tear fill up Joel’s eyes, fatherly love overwhelming him and for a moment, you think how sweet this is, how nice. Then you notice he’s not as clear as he was before.

“Joel!” You rush to his side and take his hand, kneeling at the couch. “Joel, I think it worked… you’re fading…” You try to grip his hand, as if holding on tighter would keep him here with you, keep him ground in this world. Without him, you weren’t sure what you’d do with your life, who you’d talk to or confide in…. But you knew, you knew above all you’d miss him. There would never be another Joel.

‘Please-’ He sounds desperate now, scared even. ‘One more time, tell them I love them, I just- I love them so much fucking much.’

Through your sobs, you relay the message. “He needs you to know how much he loves you guys. He talks about you all the time, he- you’re everything to him.” You see Ellie and Tommy holding hands, Ellie crying and Tommy looking close. 

“We love you, Joel. All of us.” Ellie says, to nowhere in particular.

‘And the kids. Walker and- fuck I ain’t never met JJ but I love him too. If, if there’s a heaven I’m gonna…’ His words start to fade, but you know what he’s saying. His strength is going fast, Joel letting go and passing on, but even still his body shook. He was scared. If there was a heaven, Joel was going, but he wasn’t sure about that.

“He says he loves Walker and JJ, he’s gonna watch over them in heaven”

That breaks Tommy, who lets the tears come now as he takes your hand too, squeezing it tight.

You look up at your lover. “I love you, Joel. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna remember you. It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna be alright, we’re doing okay. You can let go now. It’s okay to let go. There’s no one left you need to protect.. we’re safe.”

Even though he’s fading away Joel looks into your eyes. He can’t speak, his strength fading, but it’s all communicated through those eyes that say so much. One last time, he cups your cheek, and the hand that isn’t holding Tommy’s brushes over the cold fingers, feeling liquid and unstable again. There’s fear in his eyes, mixed with that tender love, but then something changes in him.

Joel looks forward, past you, Tommy and Ellie and onto something else, something more. He smiles. ‘I see her’

All his fear his gone, and his face is peaceful.

For the final time, a breeze rustles your hair, and Tommy and Ellie see it.

Joel is gone, and all you can do is sob into his couch.

*

When it finally subsides you feel numb. Ellie and Tommy have joined you on the floor, the three of you talking about the experience you shared together, something no one will ever believe. 

“His last words were, ‘’I see her’....”

Tommy whispers Sarah’s name, and you nod. 

“He’s with her now. He’s a peace. I know a better place is a cliche, but…” Ellie wipes her tears. “We all know how much he missed her.”

Everyone nods solemnly, and for a while, you stay there, talking about Joel, memories and his jokes and his cooking. It was nice to share this secret with other, and suddenly you felt less alone in it. They believed your stories of the ghost in your walls, and they liked hearing the knew things he told you. You liked learning more of his past.

Eventually, everyone had to get back to their families. You were alone, but you didn’t feel lovely. Something had shifted, a closeness to Ellie and Tommy that didn’t scare you the way human connection used to. Maybe you would go to the mess hall, see some movies. Your patrol partner was quiet, but nice. Tommy was still around, and Ellie and Dina decided to pack up their things and return, wanting JJ to have friends. It was going to be okay, and as the sun set on the day, somehow you felt it rise on your life. A new, beautiful world of opportunities for friendship and love was out there.

You stared in the mirror, butt naked, feeling strangely open and vulnerable despite being alone for the first time in months.

It all felt surreal, something that seemed impossible, that went against every logical explanation.

But when you took off the bandage on your hip to change it, there they were, clear as day. 4 crescent fingernail cuts deep into your skin, something that would scar forever.

No matter what happened, you’d always carry these with you, proof that Joel and your love for him was real.

I cried pretty good writing tht end, knowing its my goodbye. I want yall to know I love each and every reader so so so so much. You mean the world to me. every kind word lives on in me forever. I hope you'll stay for my other writing, but if not, thats okay! I wih all of you the best.

Please be kinder to each other. the fanfic writers do this for free, they do not deserve the things they've experienced here. It is a beautiful world out there.

Trust me, it feels way better to send anon love rather than anon hate. I wont be writing tlou for a minute but ill return with a tommy series !!!!

follow @romana-after-dark for dark content and @riley-blue-byron for upcoming original works!

So long, and thanks for all the fish <3

reblogs are greatly appriciated, would make a nice send off <3

@princessanglophile @missladym1981 @goodwithcheese @dancinglotusbud @glitterymanboy @koshkaj-blog @sixhours @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @fandxmslxt69 @miraclesabound