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nickfowlerrr · 1 year ago

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the truth is this

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: fluff, kissing, very slightly edging on heavy petting, mention of an erection, no smut but still 18+ only.

words: 2.9k

notes: loosely based on these prompts: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. and "is that really all 'A' is to you?" thank you so much to @anthony-sharma for the request! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"So you're telling me you didn't notice the way she was looking at you just now?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about," Bucky rebuffed, his brows furrowing in agitation.

"Well I do know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you and her finally pulling your heads out of your asses and realizing you like each other."

"No shit we like each other, Sam. She's one of my best friends."

"Is that really all she is to you?" he questioned pointedly.

Bucky stopped in his retreat as he took in Sam's words. He instantly knew his answer, but still told himself had to think about it. Because although his thoughts were flowing with all of the things you were to him, all things that went way beyond the scope of just friendship, he was still too scared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Sam watched as Bucky swallowed hard, his jaw tightening and brows furrowed even more. It looked as if he was blinking away his thoughts when he finally looked back at Sam. An annoyed look taking over his features once again. He didn't say anything, just grumbled in response before he continued out of the room.

For nearly three hours after the little confrontation he had with Sam, Bucky raged with himself in the privacy of his own room. His head was swirling and he could barely keep track of what part of him was winning the argument until a knock came on his door.

Not just any knock, your knock. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was expecting you, he had just lost track of time with the internal struggle he had been trying to sort out.

Something changed, though, when he heard you. All thoughts of not acknowledging his feelings, in part to not wreck what he already had with you, went right out the window.. kinda.

He could accept the true depth of his feelings for you, but he'd be damned if he spoke them aloud until he knew that there'd be no shot at hurting your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Sam's words came back to him as he considered that you didn't. The way she looked at you...

How had you looked at him? Were all the signs there and he was just blind to them? Well, he'd be sure to pay close attention tonight. See if he could see what Sam saw.

He got to the door and opened it for you, greeting you with a smile as you walked into his room and instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. When you pulled back ever so slightly, peering up at him with sparkling eyes, Bucky swore he felt himself get weak in the knees.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing to him. He'd do anything to get one out of you, though he really didn't have to try all that hard. Your usually stoic demeanor, or resting bitch face as Kate had called it, was rarely ever broken; but as the rest of the team noticed long ago, Bucky seemed to have a knack for breaking it quite easily.

It was like you just couldn't help your smile when he was around. You'd always get more talkative and seemed a lot more approachable than when you were alone. It wasn't like you were a mean person, far from it, you just had a bit of an intimidating presence most of the time. You were a quiet person and weren't typically the most open. It wasn't something you put on, it was just your natural disposition. One of the reasons you and Bucky had gotten so close so quickly was because he was one of the only people to not have been put off by your introversion; he wasn't hesitant to talk to you, in fact, the moment he had seen you, he just had this feeling that you and him would get along swell. And he was right.

He'd gone up to you and introduced himself, and you gave him your name with a small smile in return. You and Bucky had a lot in common and though it took you a little while, you soon found yourself more comfortable around Bucky than you had been with anyone else...ever.

You guys could talk for ages and never bore, or you could sit in each other's silence comfortably for hours on end, not needing anything other than each other's company.

Neither of you realized how close you had gotten or how you appeared inseparable until it started getting pointed out by everyone else.

Repeatedly.

Over and over again.

Whether it was playful jokes at your mutual expense during meetings, or pestering whispers in your ears by your friends trying to bring your attentions to what everyone else could already see, to what everyone had seen from the very start of your and Bucky's friendship: That it was so definitely more than just friendship.

He wasn't sure what it was about Sam's comments this time that finally had him taking it seriously. Maybe it was because he felt it too. And truthfully, he always had, but maybe he just couldn't keep pushing the thoughts away. Maybe... maybe it was because he knew deep down, the love he felt for you was way more than just platonic. Maybe he finally realized that he was well and truly in love with you, and maybe he had a bit of hope burning bright that you felt the same way.

Bucky collects himself as he gazes into your eyes, feeling like if he stares too long he'll lose himself to you completely. But he really doesn't think he'd mind one bit. You pretty much have him already.

"So," you breathe as you begrudgingly pull away from his warmth, "did you decide? Movie or tv show?" you ask as you step past him further into his room.

He shuts his door before turning and following you to the kitchenette where you easily find the stash of candy Bucky keeps for your "movie" nights.

"Uhhh, you pick," he says as you pass him once again, heading to the couch and throwing your stockpile of sweets on the coffee table before you as you get comfortable.

"Okay," you agree, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the titles to find something at least halfway decent to put on.

Your eyes flick over to Bucky and you realize he's still wearing the clothes he had on earlier while you're in your pajamas, like you always are on movie night.

"Why are your clothes still on?" you ask as you peer up at him from your spot on the couch.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat as his heart nearly stops beating entirely, heat rising to his cheeks. In the same moment your eyes widen as you hear yourself and your breath stutters for just a second. Why did you say it like that? you chide yourself. Wishful thinking, some other part of your brain snickers. You push the thought away. Inappropriate.

"Huh?" Bucky asks, though he heard you full well.

"I mean, you're not in your pajamas," you clarify.

"Right, yeah, I uh, I was a bit distracted before you got here," he admits as he absentmindedly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm gonna change, you put something on. I'll be right back."

Bucky changes his clothes quickly and returns to you just as you find something to put on.

You watch him enter the room and laugh as you note that you're kinda matching now. You're both in gray sweats and as you wear a black long sleeve v-neck, Bucky has on a short sleeve v-neck in the same color.

Bucky notices as you do, "I swear this wasn't on purpose," he chuckles as he settles down next to you.

You titter as you start the movie and adjust in your seat to get more comfortable. And by more comfortable, you really just meaning scooting over to be closer to Bucky.

Bucky watches you as you move to be closer to him, smiling to himself as he realizes you're trying to be cool about it, trying to not make it too obvious. It's cute, but he really doesn't mind. In fact, the closer you are the happier he is. Your thigh brushes his as you keep a bit of space between your upper body and his chest.

Bucky fights off the urge to grab your legs and pull them into his lap but he can't fight the urge he has to pull you in closer.

His arm comes around your right side as he pulls you into him. You look up at him in a bit of surprise, but he doesn't return your gaze, he keeps his eyes set on the screen before him.

You blink in wonder before you look back at the screen too. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at his unexpected action and settle into his hold, scootching closer as you recline against him and let his hand rest on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

You feel like you’d been dropping hint after hint, purposefully, these past two weeks after a long night of talking with Sam and Nat when you were finally able to put a name to your feelings; the realization you had entirely fallen for your best friend was maybe a bit pulled out of you by them but it was true nonetheless.

You’d stopped holding yourself back the way you normally did when it came to touches and hugs lately, hoping maybe Bucky would get the hint and you wouldn’t have to say it outright.. at least not first.

Admittedly, you could feel the tiniest bit of awkwardness - or maybe tension was the better word, between you and him at the moment. Not entirely unpleasant, but still it was there. At least it had been for a minute. But soon as Bucky settled his hand on your hip, that all faded as soon as it appeared. It was completely comfortable, it felt right, being this close to him. Though, truthfully, it always felt right when Bucky around.

As you fought your smile and Bucky’s hand gently squeezed your hip unconsciously, your heart warmed. Maybe he was finally picking up on what you were trying to do and hopefully the reason why.

Sam and Nat had been sure to let you know it was obvious that he felt the same for you, but still you were nervous to come right out with it.

Slow and steady, you remind yourself. No need to rush things anyway. You’d rather him come to the same realization you had on his own time, not yours.

But god, you hoped he really felt the same.

Bucky takes a peek down at you once he feels your eyes are off of him. He smiles to himself at how perfect this is. How comfortable you both are with the more intimate touches, despite neither of you bringing it up. It just feels natural.

So natural, he isn't really thinking much when he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he catches himself doing it, he zeros in on your reaction to it. It's not like he hadn't done it before, but any time he had it was usually in parting, as customary for you guys as a hug.

This was clearly more intimate. A show of affection he wanted to give you, no other reason than that.

He admires the soft fluttering of your lashes and the way you lean further into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

For half a second, he sees you worry you've made a mistake as he pulls his arm from around you but when he gently takes hold of your chin and turns you to face him, time seems to stand still as you gaze at one another.

You wait with bated breath as you search his bright eyes that are gleaming down at you. He can hear the change in the rhythm of your heartbeat and as he lets his eyes flit to your lips, he swears he hears the sharp intake of air you breathe as your eyes fall to his own lips before returning to his stare.

The next thing he knows, Bucky is holding your gorgeous face in his hands before he leans in closer and takes your lips in his. It's slow and gentle as he takes his time savoring your first kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers your hands on his as you return the kiss, and it quickly turns a bit more fervent. Like you've both been waiting forever for this exact moment to happen.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn and move closer to Bucky. You're not thinking as you straddle his lap, the kiss only growing deeper and more intent with each second that passes.

Your hands leave Bucky's as you move them to stabilize yourself without full on sitting in his lap, one hand behind his neck and the other on the couch behind him. Bucky's own hands find their place on your hips before he pulls you down, forcing you down on his lap.

You moan into his mouth as he grabs a handful of your ass and you feel him growing slightly beneath you.

You have to break the kiss to breathe, both of you panting heavily as you press your forehead to his, nose to nose as you breathe one another in. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you laugh breathily, gripping his neck as you shake your head in disbelief.

You place a soft kiss to his lips once more as he holds you to him.

"Sorry," Bucky begins, though he looks to be the furthest thing from it as he smiles that charming smile of his. "I just.. I think I've wanted to do that for a while now. It just felt right."

"You don't have to apologize," you smile softly in turn as you play with the stray hairs curled at the nape of his neck. "I think I've wanted you to do that for a while now. And it did," you breathe with a nod, "it definitely felt right."

"I wanna do more of this," he murmurs against your lips after he places another kiss to yours.

"Me too," you agree with a peck of your own. "I think I wanna make out with you," you muse.

One side of his mouth slants up in a smirk as his hands run up your sides, "I think I want you to make out with me, too," he says, amused before going in for another kiss. You both smile into it and you swear your heart is near bursting as your tummy flutters in your happiness.

"There's something I need to tell you first," he says seriously as he parts just slightly from you.

His hands rubbing up and down your back keep you from worrying as he effortlessly soothes you.

He maintains eye contact as you wait for him to continue.

"I think, - no, I know," he corrects himself. "I love you," he breathes your name as part of his confession.

You move your hand from the couch and gently hold his stubbly cheek instead, thumb rubbing over the skin of his cheek softly.

You smile again, holding his eye as you lean into him before you kiss him slow and deep, trying to get all of the things you're feeling across to him, but most namely, the main one. The love.

You part from him gently as he follows you, mindlessly chasing your lips before catching himself.

He blinks up at you as you perch over him slightly.

"I love you, too, Buck," you nearly whisper as you caress his cheek. "This doesn't change anything, ya know," you add.

He furrows his brow in slight confusion at your words.

You laugh lightly at his expression before continuing, "You're still my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Wouldn't expect it to," he smiles.

It's quiet between you for a moment before you speak again.

"Promise," you urge softly.

"Promise?"

"Promise nothing's gonna change that," you say as you look down at his chest, moving your idle hand to play with the chain you find there.

"I promise, hey" he says sincerely as he puts two fingers under your chin and has you meet his eye once more, "I promise."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," he reassures you before suddenly turning you both and flipping you on your back as he leans over you. You gaze up at him a little breathless as you titter.

"Okay," you whisper your trust, your arms reaching up to wrap around his thick neck, pulling him down closer to you.

"Okay," he echos before brushing his lips against yours once more.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Bucky spend the rest of the night completely wrapped up in one another. Talking, touching, just being with each other. The way you were always meant to. It was comfortable, easy. And you couldn't ask for more as you felt entirely whole and at peace in his strong arms promising to never let you go.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #best friend!bucky x reader #friends to lovers #another day another drabble that turns into a oneshot despite my best efforts #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

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The One I Want: Part 3.5 - Jake POV

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: This chapter is written in first-person (warning you now so don't come for me later if it bothers you pretty please) Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues.

Note: These Jake POV chapters are not necessary to read to understand or follow with the rest of the story!

Words: 1115 (i told ya it'd be shorter)

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake:

“If she doesn’t end up going for you, send her my way,” Javy whispers so only I can hear.

Turning sharply, I whack him upside the head. I tell myself it's mostly so Javy stops looking at you the way he is, but I know it’s also a way to release my frustration at realizing my brain is only the slightest bit faster than my instincts. My brain just barely held me back from instinctually snapping ‘mine’ the second you walked into the place and I saw the look on my friend’s face. But thankfully it did. Because you’re not mine. Not really. Not at all.

You don’t notice the smack, and Nat and Bradley have seen the same interaction enough to know it’s not genuine. Although, this time I can’t fully say that it isn’t. Their eyes find you and you blush under all four pairs; mine included, of course, since I can’t seem to manage to keep them off of you anyway. I don’t try anymore.

“H-Hi,” you say with a lick of nerves.

The look on your face screams ‘too much; too many people; too many eyes’, and I would instantly feel like an ass if it weren’t for the fact that when you agreed to meet them, you seemed happy about it. After a month and a half, you were finally willing to learn more about my life, integrate yourself into my world, and I wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass me by. But seeing you now, in the aftermath of putting my excitement above your anxiety, the guilt creeps up on me.

“It’s good to see you again,” Nat says, carefully wiping away the deer-in-headlights expression off your face. Your shoulders settle and, albeit tentatively, you smile. The same smile I thought I would’ve grown immune to by now, but no. It still kicks my heart into overdrive in a way no other has.

And that’s the problem. That’s the thing not allowing me to surrender in my efforts to open you up to me. I just want more; crave it; each day contemplate how I can coax new pieces of you to the surface.

There was a brief period in those first three days when I prayed that what I saw in you was merely a challenge. A beautiful woman who doesn’t want me is rare, as ridiculously vain as it is to say. But it’s the truth. I know the game of cat and mouse well. The playful back and forth that inevitably ends up with the woman in my bed. And damn, did I want to play. But what I had allowed myself to assume was a need to conquer grew into genuine interest. It grew so quickly, in such an all-consuming manner, that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I still don’t.

Instead, I act on impulse, and that usually leaves me doing what I must, asking what I must, to get to know you. At times, successfully. Others, not so much. Never before has the phrase ‘one step forward, two steps back’ applied so heavily to my life.

You ease yourself into the kitchen and Javy takes it upon himself to give you his name and wrap you up in a hug; muscled arms irritatingly just barely bigger than mine squeezing you tight. It’s returned, though much less enthusiastically.

When his arms have been around you far too long for my liking, my fingers fist in the back of his shirt and tug until he releases you.

“I’m Bradley,” my final friend—potentially my new best friend if Javy keeps his shit up—offers with a wave.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you reply.

I feel my lips curve all on their own at the rising confidence in your voice. You entered, took a moment to adjust to the room and the people occupying it, and then found your footing. A familiar adapt-to-survive skill I am slowly learning you possess.

My friends smile, then look at me. Which is fair, considering the silence filling the room is my fault. I told them not to ask you too many questions. Not to pry into your past. Not to be too curious about your plans while you’re in the area. I left them with nothing and nowhere to go.

“How was your morning,” I ask.

“Good actually. I got a job.”

I stand a little straighter. “You did?”

I know I'm coming off a little too eager at that information, but it’s the first indication you’ve given that says you intend to stick around for a while. So far, you’ve not made an effort to find friends, you haven’t bought yourself anything that can’t fit in a backpack, and, until now, hadn’t found a job. It was a developing pattern that kept me in a state of wondering if I’ll wake one morning to find you gone. But if you got yourself a job then that has to be a good sign of things to come.

You nod. “It’s not much. Just cashier at the gift shop across from the beach, but at least I’ll be able to start paying you for last month's rent.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You don’t have to pay me,” I say. Because it’s true. Having you around, knowing I come home to someone every day, is enough. And the reality of it is, I don’t need the money.

With a raised brow, Nat smirks, and I wonder if it’s too obvious. If I’m too obvious.

“I’m paying you, Jake,” you state with an edge of harshness that has ‘two steps back’ repeating in my brain. And before I can think to argue with you, you’ve muttered something about taking a shower and have disappeared into your room.

When I look back to the small group at the side, my brows dip in irritation. Nat is still smirking. Bradley is shaking his head. And Javy’s lips are pinched tight to hold in a laugh threatening to burst.

I sigh as I lean my weight against the countertop of the kitchen island. “What?”

“‘Oh, don’t worry. You don’t have to pay me,’” Bradley mocks in a voice much higher pitched than mine.

“You’re making fun of me for being nice?”

“No, No,” he corrects, glancing between Nat and Javy before once again meeting the glare in my eyes. “It’s just interesting. It was only two months ago that you were expecting Brit to pay rent and she had your dick inside of her a few times a week. She never even got a discount, but this chick lives here for nothing.”

A beat passes.

Then Javy’s laugh finally breaks free.

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tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @rosiahills22 @oliviah-25 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x plus size!reader #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

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ladykailitha · 4 months ago

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The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 2

I'm so glad that people enjoyed the first part of this so much. I hope you like sexy times and long chapters, because this has both.

I should point out that this is mid to late 80s and Eddie's cell phone is an actual fucking brick. Rich rockstar and all.

In this part we get Eddie sliding into home, finding out Steve's real age and how he got into the bar past a bouncer known for spotting fakes.

Part 1

Mature 18+ only!

Eddie was doing what he did best and that was absolutely shred on stage. He was back up vocals because Jeff truly had the pipes. Something they didn’t actually learn until they were half way through their first record.

He had no delusions that if he had remained lead singer, that they would have gotten absolutely fucking nowhere.

He was also keeping an eye on his little canary. Bright yellow in a sea of leather and chains. He just wanted to bite those cheeks. Face or ass, didn’t matter which. Though he would be very happy indeed to sink his teeth into that amazing ass.

Too soon and not soon enough they were saying goodbye. As they walked off stage, Eddie saw Chrissy come back up to Steve. Most likely telling him to stay a little longer.

Eddie was 97% sure that little Canary gave off queer vibes, but that little teeny-tiny doubt was all it took from going over there and bending him over the bar and fucking him wildly.

In the dressing room as they were putting away their guitars, Chrissy came bouncing into the room, bright smile on her face.

“You fucking owe me big time, lover boy,” she told Eddie. “His name is Steve, he’s twenty-two and he’s a local.”

Eddie leaned back against the sofa cushion and draped one arm over the back. “That’s all very interesting Chris, but that doesn’t help me get laid.”

She held up her hand. “I’m getting to it, babe. Pretty boy’s drinking his sorrows because Daddy kicked him out for being caught with his boyfriend.”

Suddenly Eddie was on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees.

“Who told you that?” Gareth asked, twirling a stick between his fingers.

“Monty, the bouncer,” Chrissy replied, looking smug. “Steve is a regular and Monty knows him.”

Jeff raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well enough that he would know the dude is queer in small town Bumfuck, Indiana?”

“That’s what he said.”

Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The worst thing that would happen is that he blows you off and you blow town. Everyone knows you’re gay anyway, it won’t hurt shit if he says anything.”

Jeff and Gareth exchanged concerned glances.

“I’m with Brian,” Eddie said, “and not just because I find the dude hot. He’s not going to start shit surrounded by all my fans and if he’s just out for drinks there’s nothing wrong with me having a couple with the guy.”

Gareth and Jeff sighed.

“You were going to do whatever you wanted to do anyway,” Gareth said. “And even I could tell he had a hard time keeping his eyes off you and I’m in the fucking back!”

Eddie cackled. “Damn right.”

Steve was enjoying his second Tequila Sunrise, when the lead guitarist slid into the stool next to him.

Steve turned in his seat to look at him. “Wow, as I live and breathe, Eddie Munson in the flesh. You know you’re better looking in person then you are in pictures.”

Eddie cackled and ordered a beer. He turned to face Steve as the bartender pulled his beer and set it down in front him.

“Cocktails are an interesting choice,” he murmured after taking a sip of his beer. “I would have pegged you for the bottle beer type.”

Steve raised an eyebrow over the top of his glass. “Beer’s great unless you want to get drunk fast then it’s shit. Especially in this hick town.” He took a sip. “Plus it tastes better.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Fair point. I stick to beer so that I don’t get drunk off my ass, falling off stage is never fun regardless of the height involved.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience,” Steve said with a huff of laughter.

Eddie hummed around the lip of his bottle and took a sip. “Yep! In the early days of the band, took a header off a stage at some festival, right into the crowd. I’m not sure who got hurt worst, me or the poor people I landed on.”

Steve winced. “That’s rough. At least you were able to come back from that, don’t think most people could.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with a smile.

They continued to talk. Steve knew the signs. The way Eddie was leaning close, the way he would let his hands gaze his skin, the flirty language. There was no doubt Steve was going home with this one. Well hotel, anyway. So he slowed up on his alcohol intake.

And if the bartender’s smirk was any indication, Eddie was doing the same. It seemed that neither one was interested in drunk sex.

Eddie was going to kill Monty and Jeff was never going to let him live it down. Because there was no way this guy was twenty-two. Sure, he knew how to hold his liquor and when to slow down, he had to give him that, so clearly he’d been drinking awhile. But he talked like a high school student.

He just hoped his little Canary was only naive and not actually fucking under age.

“Shit,” Eddie said after draining the rest of his third beer in two hours, “I could kill for a smoke.”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Steve said, leaning close, “if you’ve got one to share.”

Eddie eyed him up and down. “What no room in those pants for a pack of smokes?”

“I mean I could,” Steve said cocking his head to the side, “But it would leave much room for anything else and I kinda need my wallet more than I need a pack of smokes on me at all times, so...”

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, darlin’, I can see why that might be a problem.”

He hopped off the stool and Steve dutifully followed him out the back. He pulled out a couple of smokes and lit them both before handing one to Steve.

“So how did you get your fake ID past the door gargoyle?” Eddie asked after taking a drag and blowing straight up into the air.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “What gave me away?”

Yup. Jeff was never going to let him live this down. God damn it.

“For all your big talk,” he huffed, annoyed, “you don’t sound like someone who’s been around long enough to be the age on your ID.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve had the same ID since I was sixteen. Both of them. I have a cousin Scott who was nineteen at the time and altered it for me.” He pulled out the fake ID and handed it to him.

Eddie squinted in the dark and realized that if he hadn’t been told it was a fake he wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But there slight smudges where there shouldn’t be that just tipped it over the edge into fake territory.

“Okay,” he groused, “that is a pretty good fake. But Monty is known for his eagle eye in spotting a fake, so what gives?”

Steve grinned as he took back the ID. “Scott is my cousin on my dad’s side and Monty’s my cousin on my mom’s side. He knows my parents are shit so he pays the owner under the table when I go out to drink here. Which I keep to a minimum for his sake, mainly I use it to buy beer in out of town gas stations.” He pulled out his real ID and handed it Eddie. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”

Eddie blinked at Steve for a moment in shock. He looked down at the real age and god, the sigh of relief he bit back was immense. Nineteen. His little Canary was nineteen.

“Sorry for doubting you,” Eddie murmured, handing the ID back.

Steve shrugged again. “I get it. I’ve been told I have kind of a weird face when it comes to age, I could look anywhere from sixteen to thirty depending on the lighting and what I’m wearing.” He took his first drag of his cigarette and blew out of the side of his mouth, flicking the ashes on the ground.

Eddie stared at him owlishly for a moment before he dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it with the heel of his boot. Then he surged forward and grabbed Steve’s face to mash their lips together.

Steve’s fingers slackened and the cigarette fell from his fingers and rolled away. He brought his hands up to get his hands on those curls like he’d been dreaming about all night. Eddie moaned as blunt nails scratched his scalp. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him in close.

This time it was Steve’s turn to moan. They pressed together from chest to knees and he could feel everything through the thin layer of his clothes.

Eddie’s hands roamed down his back and straight to those delicious looking ass cheeks. He wanted to taste them as surely as he could taste the ash on his lips.

All the buildup, all the tension all night was culminated in this first kiss. Eddie was heady with it. The alcohol in his system burning away in the face of his desire for this man. Because young as he was his little Canary was a man, no doubt.

A man who clearly wanted to take this elsewhere and Eddie wanted to let him.

“Just, just,” he panted when he pulled away. “Just let me tell someone we’re going back to the hotel, okay baby?”

Steve nodded a little kiss drunk and a lot breathless. “Should I just wait here for you then?”

Eddie nodded and then dashed back into the bar. He was barely gone two minutes before he was back out and dragging Steve to his car.

When they got to the car, Eddie pushed him up against it to kiss him again.

“Someone’s eager,” Steve teased, his hands skirting the stripe of skin between Eddie’s pants and shirt.

“Baby, you have no idea,” he growled, diving in to kiss him senseless.

Steve moaned as every nerve in his body lit up with every lick of Eddie’s tongue, every kiss of his lips, every touch of his hands. He felt like he was on fire.

Eddie pulled away long enough to unlock the car. He opened the door and practically shoved Steve into it, before he ran around to the other side of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“Hold on, baby,” Eddie purred as the engine roared to life, “you’re in for a ride.”

“God I hope so!” Steve said breathlessly, pressing back against the leather of the seat.

Eddie cackled, pulling into traffic. “Oh honey, you have no idea.”

Hands were everywhere by the time they finally got into the hotel room.

Steve had stayed in some pretty swanky places growing up, traveling with his parents but fuck it was nothing this decadent.

All the fittings were brass and the tops were marble. In the middle of this was a large king size bed with black bedding and white throw pillows. If he wasn’t trying to get the two of them naked as fast as possible, he would have belly flopped on the mattress and buried his face in the pillows.

But all thoughts of that went out the window when Eddie’s mouth starting kissing down his throat as the only thing going off in his head became: YES! YES! YES!

Steve’s shirt was the first thing to come off as Eddie kept trying to get at more of Steve’s skin. Then Steve’s pants and shoes were next, leaving him naked in the face of the very dressed rock star.

Eddie picked him up and threw him on the bed. He tossed off his jacket and then tore of his shirt. He hopped on the bed and crawled up Steve’s body like a predator on the prowl. Steve moaned as Eddie kissed him deeply.

“God,” Steve groaned. “I need you to fuck me, so badly.”

Eddie grinned, his hands moving down Steve’s chest and sides to land on his hips. “Is that right, little Canary? You need to be fucked?”

Steve nodded, his capacity for speech having flown away with his ability to think of anything but getting to be fucked by a rock star.

Eddie scrambled off the bed and took off his boots and pants. Then he dug around in the nightstand before he pulled out what he was looking for. A small tube of lube and a pack of condoms.

Steve’s body shuddered with the thought of being absolutely wrecked by this beast of a man. Eddie looked good in his clothes, but so much better out of them. He was still as lean and tight as whipcord, but his body was toned with well-formed muscle. And then he pulled his hair back and suddenly Steve wanted to leave hickies all over that column of his throat. Because God! It was just as sinful as the rest of him.

“Shit,” he hissed. “You’re the reason people think gays are going to hell. You’re as gorgeous as sin. Fuck!”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and threw back his had in laughed. “Baby, that was quite the line.” But before Steve could even think about frowning at being laughed at, he dived back in to kiss his mouth. “If I’m sin, little Canary, then you must be heaven sent.”

Steve wanted to protest that Eddie’s line was worst, but again all thoughts went out of his head when Eddie put the first condom on Steve. His hips bucked with the touch even if it wasn’t a sexual one.

“Now who’s the eager one, baby?” Eddie purred.

Steve moaned the loss of his hands as he watched Eddie sheath his dick in the second condom. He tossed the foil packets away and then popped open the cap of lube. He coated his finger with the liquid and circled Steve’s hole.

Steve let out a little whine at being touched but not enough. It wasn’t enough. Then Eddie breached the ring of muscle and holy fuck, it felt so good.

“You like that, little Canary?” Eddie teased, working his finger in and out of him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, trying not fuck himself on the digit.

“And you’re going to continue feel good, aren’t you?” Eddie murmured into Steve stomach. “Because you’re going to be a good boy and tell me if anything is uncomfortable or hurts, right?”

Steve nodded.

“Use your words, little Canary,” Eddie said, pulling his finger out of him.

“Yes!” Steve cried, though he would have said anything just so that Eddie would come back with his finger.

“Good boy.”

But when he brought his finger back, he added another and Steve nearly careened off the bed. Eddie held him down with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he purred. “I’ve never been with anyone so responsive before, baby.”

“So good for you,” Steve babbled. “Want to be so good.”

“And you are,” Eddie assured him. “You are so good for me.”

Shortly after the second finger, a third was added and Steve was muttering pleas and inanities as Eddie continued to work him open.

“Please, Eddie!” he cried. “I need you!”

Eddie removed his fingers and lined himself up. He grabbed Steve’s hips and slipped right into him.

Soon it was an uncoordinated mess of Eddie fucking Steve and Steve working himself to get off.

“So close...” Steve whispered.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and together they finished him off. His body arched off the bed as he released into the condom. He fell boneless, to the bed as Eddie chased his own completion.

Soon after he was releasing ribbon after ribbon into the condom. His hips shuttered and then stilled as the last of his orgasm floated through his system.

He pulled off Steve’s condom first and then his own, making sure to tie each off before throwing them away.

He cleaned them both up with a wet hand towel from the en suite bathroom and then tucked a sleepy Steve into the bed.

He crawled in behind him and pulled him in close. He kissed Steve’s shoulder and the man muttered back sleepily something that sounded a little too close to, “Love you, too,” for Eddie’s liking.

Not because he didn’t want Steve in love with him, but because he was half way there himself.

This boy was going to be trouble.

Steve absolutely doesn't remember saying those three little words the next day.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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sophrosynesworld · 5 months ago

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Community Service (pt.1)

Class 1A has gotten a bit cocky with all the pro hero work they've been doing. To reconnect with their local community, each pair of students must complete 50 hours of community service before the end of the semester. And as luck (or curse) would have it, you've been paired with Katsuki Bakugo.

"Community service?" Mineta whines as our project outlines are handed out. The neatly printed papers detail our upcoming group assignment, while murmurs of discontent spread through the room like wildfire.

"It makes sense," Todoroki replies. “Locals should see us helping out. It’ll help them see us as heroes, not just normal teenagers.” He glances around, noticing a few classmates exchanging skeptical looks and hushed comments about the project.

"I don't care about a bunch of stupid idiots who can't help their own damn selves," Bakugo mutters under his breath, slumping further back into his chair with his hands stuffed into his pockets. I pity whoever's partnered with him. Stifling a laugh, I refocus on our clearly annoyed teachers.

"The committee feels that you are forgetting the main reason for being a hero: maintaining harmony and peace," Professor Mic reverberates. A few eyes glance at Bakugo, making him sink even lower in his seat.

"This isn’t a bad thing," Mr. Aizawa reassures us. "I've already assigned partners. You’ll need to follow the listed directions and get your papers stamped afterward. Take the rest of today to plan your volunteer options."

I glance down at my own paper, scanning the list of assigned partners. My eyes land on my name paired with Bakugo. Great. I look over at him; he’s still slumped in his chair with a scowl etched on his face.

Around the room, reactions are mixed. Midoriya is enthusiastically discussing the project with Iida, their heads already bent over their papers. Uraraka and Tsuyu exchange excited smiles, clearly happy to be working together. Meanwhile, Mineta groans loudly when he sees he's paired with Sero, who just shrugs.

"Looks like we're partners," I say, trying to stay positive.

"Just stay out of my way,"

"We need to work together if we want to get a good grade on this," I insist.

"Whatever."

Present Mic claps his hands to get our attention again. "A good day as a hero is carrying groceries for an elderly person. You shouldn't get used to saving the world every day."

With that, he dismisses us to start planning. Bakugo stands up abruptly, grabbing his backpack and pushing past me. I quickly grab my own bag and pull it over my shoulder, following him out the door, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.

"What kind of community service should we do?" I question, trying to engage him.

"I don't care," he snaps, not bothering to look back. "Just pick something and get it done."

"How about we go to the local animal shelter and walk dogs? I think I saw that on the list." I reach into my half-open bookbag and pull out the paperwork, trying to walk and read.

"Yeah, whatever," he says dismissively.

I slow my pace until I come to a stop. Bakugo doesn’t even glance back; he just turns the corner and heads out the front doors. Why did Mr. Aizawa pair me with him? I question my teacher's thought process for the hundredth time.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to refocus. Complaining won't change anything. Maybe Mr. Aizawa is testing me. Despite Bakugo's attitude, I know he can be a capable partner when he wants to be.

Just maybe, this could be an opportunity for both of us to grow.

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #fanfic #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo katsuki #class 1a #my hero academy fanfiction #enemies to friends to lovers

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disfrutalakia · 2 months ago

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Translation below of Matt and Pac talking about the topic of werewolf Mike. (happened at Matt's stream around 30:35 and goes until 38:50 at the the vod "em busca de mistérios" from september 12th)

Matt - Pac, I don`t know if you about a thing that is being said around here, we only talked on the first day but I need to say it cause I think it will be interesting for you, even if you already know

Matt - I was finding out some things, some mysteries around the city, cause you know there are weird things happening around here, but a thing stood out to me and I think it's going to stand out to you too

Matt - I think, I think it was Bia who sent me to those places, but I discovered that your friedn Mike, your friend who wears green, is cursed, I don't know if you know that

Pac - That he is a… werewolf

Matt - Shhh, careful, careful don't say it outloud

Matt - They see everything

Pac - I heard about it, but he swore to me that it wasn't true

Matt - But here's the thing, does he know that he s cursed? Sometimes he just doesn't know and thinks it's a lie

Pac - Yeah, cause it makes sense, if he turned into a werewolf he wouldn't remember it I think

Matt - Exactly, exactly. And there were some very long nights I don't know if you noticed there were some days with very long nights

Pac - Ah it all makes sense

Matt - Where the day wouldn't arrive

Pac - It's true I remember

Matt - And while the nights were long, I was solving this mystery where I had to go to certain cords and discover an enigma and in that enigma I found out Mike was cursed and the places that I went were not at all friendly, I had to open chests with blood buckets, yeah it wasn't very cool so I'm not kidding, not kidding at all

Pac - I'm worried, I've known Mike for years and I never saw him turning into a werewolf… I think

Matt - Do you think it's the city?

Pac - It could be

Mike - Or do you think he always had that curse?

Pac - If he did, it would be difficult, I would have noticed it at some moment and this for me is completely new, maybe it's something in this place, in this city, I have no idea

Matt - Maybe this is something to do with Bia? A joke from her? I don't know if she has that kind of power, to curse someone.

Pac - I don't know, Bagi was saying something about this earlier, when we were at a house that was Bia's camp, Jotinha (JVNQ) knows a bit more about it

Matt - Ah the arkanya field right?

Pac - I think so

Matt - I went there, it's a place you can't enter

Pac - yeah, yeah

Pac - With a shield

Matt - It has some kind of spell that doesn't let us enter

Matt - Yeah, I went there, I went there.

Matt - So, I spoke with Bia, she came to speak with me and she said I have to take care of Mike or else she will never trust me again, but I only spoke with Mike once in my entire life how am I going to take care of a guy who barely knows me?

Pac - [laughs] it's different yeah. I think it has something to do with Bia, probably, at least for me it's connected

Pac - Mike is still "blind" to it, he is skeptical, he thinks that it's just a tale, a rumor

Pac - Have to investigate him, maybe spy on him, to see if he will transform

Matt - Yesterday I went to his house and left a note for him to speak with me, but I don't think he contacted me, I think he ignored it, so I think he already doesn't trust me and thinks I'm joking with him, I don't know, have you spoken with him recently?

Pac - I saw him today, but he awake for just a little bit then he went to bed, but we talked about the werewolf business and all that, he doesn't believe in it very much

Matt - He didn't believe?

Pac - No, didn't believe, but at the same time he says he doesn't believe I saw him howling after

Matt - Wait, you saw him howling?

Pac - Yeah, yeah he howled

Matt - Damn, then our job is going to be hard, if he doesn't want help how will we help him?

Matt - I will need your guys' help, help from his friends, cause I'm not his friend

Pac - I want to help him, cause if this is really true and he is a werewolf, I want to help him to not be a werewolf

Matt - Exactly, cause in any full moon he can turn into a werewolf and he can be a danger to us and for himself

Pac - Yeah, he might not be able to control his emotions, the stuff he thinks I don't know

[notices invisible Guhzera]

Matt - I feel like we are being watched [laughs]

Pac - Something tells me we are being watched

Matt - Maybe not, actually I don't think so, I think it's just a sensation

…

Matt - But Pac, can I trust you to help me get Mike's trust?

Pac - Of course, of course, I'm here to help Matt, truly

…

Matt - And there is another problem, every time I'm awake, Mike is sleeping, how can I speak with him if he is always asleep? or if he isn't sleeping he could be alrady turning into a werewolf, I don't know

Pac - Yeah, good thing it's day

Pac - I think we can wait for him to wake up, try to speak with him and then maybe investigate this more, observe his house to see if we notice anything weird

Matt - But knowing him, do you think we are capable of convincing him at some moment?

Pac - I think it depends, I don't know

Matt - Damn

Pac - It's hard cause I never had a situation like this with Mike, you know?

Matt - Exaclty, and I don't understand why do I have to be the one to take care of him? Why me?

Pac - Maybe Bia thinks you are more prepared?

Matt - I don't know if she is testing me and I don't even know if I want her to trust me and I to trust her, but it's weird

Matt - The phrase she said was like "the cursed boy you must protect or else I will never trust you" that's what she said to me

Pac - So probably Mike has some kind of curse and Bia is involved and you are the only person who can help him Matt

Matt - No, we have to help him

Pac - Yeah but I think you are going to have more answers in the end, I don't know

Matt - No, I don't have it anymore, I don't have the book that I read saying he was the cursed boy, someone probably stole it

Matt - It's good that you trust me already at least, this is the first step, I was afraid of you not trusting me either and think that I was trying ot mess with you friend

Matt - But I SWEAR i only want to help

Pac - No, I trust you, I was already hearing that rumor and makes total sense what you said

Pac - I'm here to help and if you need to talk with Mike or something, call me

Pac - I think that perhaps he will cooperate if this is really a curse, and pay attention (voice cuts off) the forests, alone, it's the perfect place, it makes sense

Matt - Yeah, yeah, my only fear is him only believing when it's already too late and he would have done something wrong already

Pac - Me too

Pac - It's better that we think on it

Matt - Yeah, exaclty

Pac - But that's what I needed to speak with you about, now we can enjoy life

#arkanis #arkanis matt #arkanis pac #arkanis mike #mentioned at least #translation

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 year ago

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KISSES

Pairings: George Weasley x Reader Summary: you wake up George with kisses Warnings: none Note: yes, i'm still doing Kinktober, I just want to write some pure fluff to make up for those ungodly imagines i'll be writing very soon. - very short

the golden sun blinded you as you opened your eyes, waking up from the deep slumber as you slept next to your boyfriend, George

you had been invited to stay at the Burrow for the holidays to not only meet the family, but to spend Christmas there.

you had arrived back from Hogwarts yesterday and met his whole family, except Charlie.

Charlie's coming in a few days

his family was great, his mum, Molly seemed to love you, bringing you into a big hug as soon as she saw you

although she was very skeptical about your wishes for the future, saying it might not line up with George's

you understood where she was coming from, a worried mother who wanted the best for her son

other than that you had gotten along well.

Arthur was just happy to see George happy.

he had asked you a lot of questions about yourself and what your family was like- which wasn't at all like theirs

and in the end- George protesting to his mother, convinced her to let you sleep with him in his and fred's room with him, not in Ginny's room

so here you were, laying beside George as he faced the other way, his back facing you as he snored lightly

you shifted in your place, turning to his side of the bed. You looked at his back and counted the freckles and moles until he moved, turning onto his back.

his snoring got slightly louder but not frequent, his snores were always far apart, they wouldn't be everytime he breathed

you looked around his face, the way his mouth was slightly agape, the slightest bit of drool coming out of the corner of his lips.

his eyebrows were slightly furrowed his nose slightly twitched.

you smiled at his sleeping state and moved closer to him

the golden light hit his face perfectly, almost making his fiery red hair glow and his pale face shine

he was always the most perfect thing in your eyes, so gorgeous and pretty

so god damn beautiful

you leaned in kissed his cheek, wiping the bit of drool away with the blanket softly

you slowly moved your hand up, sliding it across his chest as you leaned in again, placing another light kiss to his cheek

soon enough, you were lightly pampering his whole face with light kisses with a smile on your face

he hummed in his sleep as he moved closer to you

you whispered sweet things to him even though he couldn't hear you

"I love you, Georgie" you mumbled, pecking his soft lips

"so much" you muttered, kissing the tip of his nose

you noticed a lazy smile come onto his face as you raised a hand to his hair

you continued kissing his face as he slowly woke up, humming deeply

he snaked a hand around your waist and you looked at his slightly open eyes as he began speaking

"isn't this a nice way to wake up" he smiled

"morning, Georgie" you dug your face in his neck, slightly embarrased

"goodmorning, Love" he chuckled huskily, his morning voice making you grin

he lightly pushed you away from his neck before kissing your cheek

he looked at you with a small smirk before pampering your face with kisses, just like you did to him.

--------------------------------------------

#george weasley imagine #fluff #cute #george weasley #oliver phelps #gn reader #oneshot #imagines #blurbs #short imagine

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zepskies · 2 years ago

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Never Say Goodbye - Part 11

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,900 Warnings: Angst, peril, fluff. Oh yeah, and more kidnapping.

Part 11: Soul Bond

You had nothing.

Absolutely nothing on where the Yellow Eyed demon had taken Sam. You and Dean had been working on it with Bobby at his house for hours, but out of hundreds of ancient books on the shelf, not one had the answer on how to locate the demon.

And over the past month, none of the omens that were typically associated with demons revealed anything either.

You and Bobby were frustrated. Dean was pissed.

Until he got a call from Ash—the resident hillbilly tech genius at Harvelle’s Roadhouse. He had something big, but not something that he could share over the phone.

You all needed to get your asses to the Roadhouse.

It took a fair amount of convincing, but Dean reluctantly let you come with him and Bobby in the Impala to Nebraska. About four hours later, you arrived to scorched earth where the Roadhouse once stood.

The building had been all but burned to the ground. Only part of its wood frame remained. You covered your mouth with a hand against the smoke fumes as you carefully stepped through the debris to find any sign of Ash, Ellen, or her daughter Jo. According to Sam and Dean, Jo was just a little younger than you, but she was shaping up to be a great hunter herself.

Right now though, you were glad that you hadn’t found her. Bobby shook his head at the carnage, while Dean stopped short. He found Ash’s charred arm, identifying him by his watch.

He grimaced. “Oh, Ash. Damn it.”

He glanced up at you and Bobby. You didn’t need the bond to know that Dean felt helpless. And he was thinking the same thing you were.

What the hell do we do now?

The three of you headed back to the car after Bobby called this in to 9-1-1.

“What the hell did Ash know?” Dean said. “We’ve got no way of knowing where Ellen is, or if she’s even alive. We got no clue what Ash was going to tell us. Now how the hell are we gonna find Sam?”

“We’ll find him,” Bobby said.

Just then, Dean flinched as images flashed painfully through his mind. You gasped as his pain echoed in your own head, making you press a hand to your temple not unlike how he was right now.

“What’s going on?” Bobby asked. He looked between you both in confusion, and an edge of concern. “What was that?”

You looked over at Dean with a frown.

“It started with you,” you said.

He gave you an apologetic look before he answered your uncle. “I don’t know. Headache?”

“You get headaches like that a lot?” Bobby asked skeptically.

You laid a hand on Dean’s back, as you sensed he was still reeling. He shook his head.

“No,” he admitted, catching his breath. “It must be the stress…but I could’a swore I saw something.”

“What do you mean, like…like a vision?” Bobby asked.

“What, no. Like what Sam gets?” Dean asked.

“Like what Sam gets?” you echoed. “Sam gets visions?”

Your hand dropped from his back as you regarded Dean sternly. He gave you a more sheepish, apologetic look.

I’ll fill you in later, he said through the bond. You frowned at him. Even now, he was still keeping things from you.

“Not like that. I’m not some psychic,” Dean said to Bobby.

And then it him again—a piercing pain that resonated through his skull, and through the soul bond into yours. Both of you clutched at your heads in pain. It actually brought Dean to his knees against the Impala while you nearly lost your footing in the gravel road. Bobby came to your side first, holding you up right while his free hand went to stabilize Dean.

You didn’t see what Dean saw, but in his vision, he saw Sam. And he saw a large old bell with a tree engraved on it. An oak tree, Bobby helped confirm.

“I know where Sam is,” Bobby said. “Cold Oak.”

“Where the hell’s that?” Dean said.

“Back home,” Bobby said. “South Dakota.”

The only thing you could do was drive.

Well, Dean did the driving. Bobby was out for a nap in the backseat. You sat in the passenger seat and tried to soothe Dean’s worry.

“We’re going to find him,” you said. Dean glanced at you with a frown.

“That’s not all I’m worried about,” he said.

“What else?” you said. His lips pressed into a line, and his gaze was firmly on the road, but you knew him by now. You sensed he was thinking about the pain his vision caused, and that you had felt it too.

“It’s just the bond, Dean,” you said. “We’re both fine—”

“Yeah, well, next time we might not be,” Dean said. He let go of a sharp sigh. “Damn it, you should’ve stayed home. When we get there, you’re definitely staying in the car.”

You huffed, crossing your arms.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you muttered.

Dean shot you a warning look. “Hey, don’t you get snippy. This is serious. It’s dangerous beyond freakin’ belief.”

“I know, okay! I’m not an idiot,” you retorted. “And by the way, thanks for filling me in about Sam’s psychic powers. Talk about the 11th hour.”

Dean made a sound of frustration as his eyes rolled heavenward.

“Look, it’s Sam’s thing. Not mine,” he said. “Not my secret to tell.”

A valid point, though at the moment, not one you cared about.

“The one thing I asked from you was not to lie to me, and you can’t even do that,” you snapped. “Omission is still a lie.”

Dean kept his eyes on the road while his mouth was set in a firm line, choosing to stew in silence rather than raise his voice at you.

You felt his anger, still twisted with worry for his brother, and it shot a lance of guilt through you. You knew you weren’t making things any easier here…

But you were angry too. So you sat back in your seat and looked out your window instead of at your boyfriend for the next ten miles.

Dean hated to stop for any reason, but he eventually pulled off the highway at the nearest pit stop to gas up the car.

You got out of the car with your purse at the same time Dean did, but he grabbed hold of your arm as soon as you tried to get by him.

“Where’re you going?” His question sounded more like a demand. You gave him an odd look.

“To the bathroom,” you said. A bit of snark colored your tone. “Unless you want to reupholster your seats.”

Dean didn’t appreciate your attitude. He set the gas handle to fill up his car automatically and signaled to Bobby to keep an eye on it.

“You don’t have to come with me. I’ll be right back,” you said. But it was like talking to a brick wall.

Dean followed you into the gas station, through the snack aisle, all the way to the women’s bathroom. His shoulders and spine were tense, his gaze alert.

“All right, I think we can part ways right here,” you teased, trying your best to be less snarky this time. Dean wasn’t laughing.

“Just make it quick,” he said.

Fine, Dad, you thought in annoyance. You could tell he heard it by the way his lips pursed. With a frustrated sigh, you went into the restroom by yourself.

You realized Dean was just trying to keep you safe, but that sort of overprotectiveness really did remind you of your dad, and how he’d wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap since you were a little kid. And that was annoying as hell.

Once you’d used the restroom, you set your purse down on the counter and washed your hands at the sink.

A creaking sound echoed from your left. You paused, wondering if Dean had cracked the door open on top of waiting outside for you. But when you didn’t hear him, you shook your head and finished washing your hands.

Briefly you looked up into the mirror—and you saw him.

You jolted with a gasp as a tall man with eerie yellow eyes smirked over your shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he drawled.

You whirled around, but before you could scream, the man grabbed your shoulder. The moment he touched you, you felt cold and darkness climbed into your mind, washing everything else away.

Dean’s fists clenched in the pocket of his jeans. He frowned, both impatient and annoyed. What the hell was taking you so long?

He had half a mind to go in there and check on you. But just as he was about to ask you mentally what the hold up was, he felt a tendril of your fear through the bond. Then, your terror.

Sucking in a breath, Dean drew his gun from the waistband of his jeans and burst into the women’s bathroom.

Your purse was sitting on the counter, the faucet in the sink was still on, but you were nowhere to be found. He called your name as he entered. You didn’t answer.

Dean looked around, and his panic rose when he knealed down and found traces of sulfur on the bathroom floor.

“Damn it!”

Dean sprinted back to the car, where Bobby had already filled up the Impala with gas and had been waiting. Once he caught sight of Dean, he perked up in alert.

“What happened?” he asked. “Where’s—”

“Yellow Eyes got her,” Dean said. His expression was pained. “He took her right out from under me, goddamn it!”

Dean raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. Bobby came around and rested a hand on his shoulder. The older man was also worried about his niece, his insides gone cold and his heart squeezed like a vice. But he knew that Dean didn’t need to see it right now.

“It’s okay. We’ll find her,” Bobby said.

“It’s not okay, Bobby! I shouldn’t have brought her out here. Fuck.” Dean rubbed a shaking hand over his mouth. You were in the hands of a demon, and it wasn’t some low-level backup dancer either. It was the demon.

One horrific scenario after another played through Dean’s mind—on a loop. It threatened to turn his stomach.

“It’s my fault,” he said. He felt that down to his bones. “And Sam too. I was distracted when he needed me…and now who knows what that sick fuck is gonna—”

“Dean, calm down. We know where Sam is. We can at least get to him first,” Bobby said. “Yellow Eyes obviously wants us, mainly you, chasin’ your tail…which in a way is good for us.”

Dean shot him an incredulous look. “How?”

“He sees you as a threat,” Bobby said, his gaze knowing. “To whatever he’s got cooked up for Sam.”

You woke up lying on a dusty ground with dead leaves in your mouth.

You spit them out and groaned at the dull ache in your skull. What the hell…

When you were able to look up at your surroundings, you were disconcerted to find you were in the middle of the woods. Where that was, you had no fucking idea.

“Evening, sunshine,” came a droll voice. You gasped as you realized who it was, and what exactly had taken you. You whipped around and found the Yellow Eyed demon watching you, smirking lightly in amusement.

You scrambled to your feet and put as much distance as you could between him and you, which was only about a few feet, considering the small clearing he’d brought you to.

You were freezing, missing the jacket you’d left in the car. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and a demon, the demon, was watching you. This was the thing that had killed Sam’s girlfriend, and Sam and Dean’s mother. This was the creature John Winchester had bargained with for Dean’s life.

You were terrified.

But you tried to channel Dean’s focus under pressure. You couldn’t feel him, so you assumed they were far from the gas station in South Dakota. Though you also didn’t know how much time had lapsed between then and now.

“What do you want?” you asked, hating how tremulous your voice was. “Why’d you bring me here? Where’s Sam?”

Yellow Eyes crossed an arm and rested his chin in his other hand.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he mused. “Which one’s most important to you?”

You blinked, took a breath to steady yourself (though that didn’t really work), and you forced yourself to think.

“You could’ve killed me,” you said. “But you haven’t yet.”

He shrugged.

“Still could,” he pointed out. You swallowed. Fair enough.

“Separating me from Dean is…you probably want him going crazy,” you reasoned. And thinking of Dean made you ache.

This is exactly the kind of thing he’d feared, you realized. And if we make it through this, he’s going to be pissed.

Mainly at you, probably. And that thought intensified your guilt.

But the only real question you had left was, “Where’s Sam?”

The demon straightened and took on a new smile, one you decided you didn’t like.

“You really want to know?” he asked. He moved towards you, but you moved in the opposite direction. Cat and mouse.

You somehow managed to keep a stubborn tilt to your chin. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Lippy.” He nodded. “That’s cute.”

In a few swift, inhuman steps, he crossed the distance and took your throat in his hand. You gasped and grabbed at his wrist, but he didn’t squeeze. He just framed your jaw with his hand and looked down at you like he was considering breaking your neck. Just for fun.

“Do you want to see Sam?” he asked, tilting your face up to him. “I’ll take you to him.”

You worked to find your voice. You were trembling. “Why?”

He looked mockingly surprised.

“Why? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You stared up at him in fear, breathing shallowly, but you wanted to know his motivations. Why would he help you?

“I’ll put it like this. I’ve got a little bet going,” the demon said. His thumb drew back and forth along your jawline. A tear streamed down your cheek.

“Right now I’ve got two main contenders: a bear and a lion,” he said. “I’m rootin’ for the lion. At the end of this little trial, we’ll see which of my children comes out on top.”

He finally released you. You gasped and rubbed your throat—not because he’d hurt you, but because his touch felt cold. Like the clammy hand of death.

You let out a shaky breath.

“So either Sam wins, or he dies,” you concluded. The demon smiled.

“You want to help Dean, right? You want to matter in his life, beyond being a convenient bedwarmer,” he taunted. You glared back.

“The question is: do you think you can make a difference?” Yellow Eyes paced behind you, like the devil on your shoulder.

If this was your chance to help Sam, then you would take it, even if it cost you. You cared about Sam too, and you refused to be the reason Dean lost another member of his family.

“Take me to Sam then,” you said.

The demon appeared at your side. He dropped an icy hand on your shoulder, and your world fell into darkness again.

This time, it cleared faster. You gasped as if you’d been holding your breath. You felt dizzy and wrong, but when you next opened your eyes, you faced a dark, empty town bordering on a wilderness. The demon had disappeared.

But you heard a shout. Your head snapped to the sound, and you saw Sam! He was fighting someone just a few yards away: a young Black man in what looked like an army uniform.

“Sam!” you called out, and you raced towards them. Sam was kneeling on the ground, nearly spent, maybe even hurt.

But the other man was behind him. As you got close, your eyes widened as you saw the knife.

You had no time to think, you just had to stop him.

You jumped onto the attacker’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck. You managed to pull him back with your weight alone, though you struggled to stay on as he grunted and stumbled back.

He soon twisted and threw you off—hard onto the damp ground. So hard that you hit your head on the gravel, and your vision sharply cut to black once again.

Sam was exhausted. Pain radiated from his dislocated right shoulder, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard your voice. He saw Bobby and Dean in the distance, coming from the south. But your voice had come from the opposite direction.

“Sam, watch out!” Dean shouted.

Sam twisted to look behind him, but his eyes widened at what he saw.

He saw you grappling on Jake’s back. Sam scrambled to his feet and grabbed the crowbar he had given up earlier, just in time to watch Jake all but throw you to the ground. Anger burned in Sam’s veins.

He used his left hand to once again slam the crowbar across Jake’s face—twice, three times more. Even with Jake’s superhuman strength, it managed to push him back a few steps. But he still didn’t go down. His obstinate face and his solid stance said he wasn’t giving up. It was him, or Sam. One of them wasn’t walking out of here alive.

Jake took one step forward.

And then he found three bullets in his chest.

Slowly he looked down. Blood spilled from his wounds, and Jake stumbled and fell back into the dirt. The light drained from his eyes as his heaving chest stilled. Sam could only stare at him in shock, until Dean ran up at his side.

Dean debated one more shot to the head, mostly out of anger and relief that he’d made it in time…

But after a moment, he lowered his gun and looked over at his brother. Sam gave him a grim, thankful look.

Dean returned it, but his expression soon fell. He looked past his brother, where Bobby was kneeling down to your sprawled body on the ground. You were out cold. Dean sheathed his gun as he and Sam also went to your side. Dean’s insides went cold, but he quickly checked you over with his eyes and his hands.

“Baby, can you hear me?” Dean called to you, but you didn’t respond.

Overall, you didn’t seem hurt anywhere else but the knot probably forming on the back of your head. But you’d been missing for hours. You’d been with Yellow Eyes all this time…

Dean took your face in his hands and was gentle in raising your head from the ground. He didn’t find any blood, but he still had to hold his fear and desperation inside as he called your name, trying to rouse you.

He held the side of your face, brushing his thumb against your cold cheek.

“Come on, sweetheart. Open your eyes for me,” he muttered. For a moment, all three men waited with bated breath.

Then, you inhaled more sharply and started to wake up. Dean let out a deep breath, sharing a look of relief with Sam and Bobby. He brushed your hair away from your face and pulled you into his arms. You were slow to come around, but then you opened your eyes.

When your gaze found his, you smiled at him. “Dean?”

“There she is,” Dean said with a grin. “There’s my girl.”

He carefully checked the back of your head again.

“I thought we said no more heart attacks,” he quipped. You just sighed and held onto his jacket, too relieved and spent to volley back. Dean looked down at you and tried to hide the true depths of his concern (and lingering worry).

“You okay?” he asked. “Did Yellow Eyes…are you hurt?”

You met his eyes again, and though tears swam in yours, you shook your head. But you smiled at Bobby when he set an almost fatherly hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you replied.

“Did you crack your head again?” Bobby asked. You tried to sit up, and Dean helped you.

“Don’t think so. Damn.” You winced at the ache at the back of your head. Dean also grimaced; you hoped he couldn’t feel this too. “Maybe I’ve got a weak skull.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Sam said. “Jake was strong.”

You looked over at Sam and saw how he was holding his right arm. And he had a stream of blood drying down the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked him in concern.

“It’s just dislocated,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, let’s fix that before we go.”

He released you once he was satisfied that Bobby was supporting you, and then turned to his brother. It wasn’t pleasant, and you had never seen this done outside of the movies, but in a quick countdown from three, Dean set his brother’s shoulder. On two, Sam’s strangled yell rang out throughout the ghost town.

You winced and gave Sam a supportive rub of his back.

“Okay, Sammy.” Dean laid a hand on Sam’s good shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Absolutely,” Sam agreed with a grimace.

Dean helped you to the Impala, despite you telling him that you were fine. He wasn’t babying his brother like this. He just gave you a look, and he eased you into the Impala’s backseat while Sam climbed into the passenger seat.

Bobby went on ahead in his car, while Dean proceeded to drill both of you on what happened. Sam explained his part—being kidnapped, ending up in this town with a handful of others his age who had been sought out by the Yellow Eyed demon. It had turned out to be gruesome survival of the fittest, in which they were picked off one by one, then forced to fight each other to make it out alive. Sam and Jake had been the last ones standing.

There were some details that Sam was leaving out, you noticed, even though you didn’t know exactly what they were. Like why this group had these powers to begin with, and why the demon wanted them to fight one another to the death.

But right now, you were too exhausted to pursue your usual curiosity.

“Why did Yellow Eyes take you?” Sam asked, glancing at you over his shoulder to the backseat. Dean’s expression tightened.

“Maybe he wanted to distract Dean, but it was more than that,” you explained. “He wanted to help you win, Sam. He figured I’d be a monkey wrench in the game.”

You want to help Dean, right? You want to matter in his life, the demon had taunted.

And you’d played your part. You were glad you had though. If you hadn’t thrown yourself onto Jake, who knows what he would’ve done to Sam…but you did regret one thing.

“Dean,” you said softly. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about…about today. You warned me this was dangerous, and I was stupid about it.” You let out a shaky sigh. “Not to mention a selfish jerk. I promise, it won’t happen again—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dean said. He reached back and grasped your knee. His eyes flashed to yours through the rearview mirror.

Your lips trembled. A few tears escaped and rolled down your cheeks, but you were quick to brush them away and grab his hand.

You were just grateful that he didn’t seem to be angry at you. Nor did you sense that from him through the bond. What you felt most was his concern, his desire to soothe you, and his goal to get you and Sam home.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not mad,” he promised. “You’re safe. Sammy’s safe, we’re all good.”

Sam’s head turned towards you, offering a smile as well. You tried to smile back at both of them. You sniffled, squeezing Dean’s hand one more time before you let go so he could concentrate on driving. He still kept an eye on you through the rearview.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded, but you also couldn’t hold back a long yawn.

“All right. Get some sleep, baby. We’ll be home soon,” he said.

You nodded and relaxed in the backseat of the Impala. You always got sleepy in moving in cars…

Dean smiled as he watched you fall asleep out of the corner of his eye. Poor girl. Been through the ringer.

The same could be said for his little brother. He looked over at Sam, who had dried blood down the side of his face. All of you had made it out of this in one piece though, and Dean was as surprised as he was grateful.

He noticed Sam rub at his aching shoulder.

“You get some sleep too,” Dean said, though he held back a yawn of his own.

Sam looked over at his brother in concern. Dean almost looked as bad as him, even with Sam’s injuries. Dean looked like he’d been through hell. Likely from the stress of trying to find Sam, and you.

All thanks to Yellow Eyes.

“Dean,” he said, earning his older brother’s attention. “He knows we’re going to find him. We’re gonna kill him.”

Dean’s mouth raised at the corner. “Damn straight.”

“Have you thought again about what comes after?” Sam asked. “Last year, you seemed to think there was always going to be something out there to hunt.”

Dean hesitated. Again, he glanced back at your sleeping form.

“Yeah, well. That was last year,” he muttered. Before their dad died. Before he got a taste of what losing you and Sam felt like.

“I’m gettin’ tired of this,” Dean admitted.

Sam smiled a little. There was one thing he had agreed with John about. He wanted better for his brother. He wanted Dean to have a home too.

With that thought hovering at the surface, Sam let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He didn’t remember drifting off.

But when he next woke up, it was still dark outside. Sam blinked and yawned. “Dean, how far are we—”

When he looked over, it wasn’t Dean in the driver’s seat.

It was Yellow Eyes.

Sam jolted in his seat and leaned back in shock. He turned and saw you in the back, still sleeping, but it was Yellow Eyes next to him with a grin. Sam was dreaming.

“Hey, Sam,” the demon said. “Congrats on winning my little beauty pageant. I was always rootin’ for you.”

Sam seethed with barely controlled rage.

“You’re the one who’s going to lead the troops,” said Yellow Eyes. “You’re gonna be the Million-Dollar Man, Sammy.”

“Cut the crap,” Sam said hotly.

“You’ll be like a prince in the new world order, you know,” the demon continued. “You and your family will be safe…well, what’s left of it anyway. You’ll all be set for life, my friend.”

Sam glared back at him. “You think I’m an idiot?”

After a moment, the demon rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “That was a tough sell, even for me.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but the demon beat him to it.

“How about this. You’ll do exactly what you’re supposed to,” Yellow Eyes said. “You’ll follow orders, like a good soldier. Or, I’ll eviscerate Dean like a kid’s piñata.”

Sam knew that wasn’t an idle threat. But he swallowed his fear and stared defiantly into the demon’s face.

“Good luck,” he retorted. “You should’ve learned from our dad. Winchesters don’t die easily.”

Yellow eyes smirked. “Bold move, considering I got your daddy. Hook, line, sinker.”

“It took a shitty deal for you to even get a hand on Dad,” Sam snapped back.

After a moment of consideration, Yellow Eyes conceded that.

“Okay,” he said. But then, his eyes shifted towards the rearview mirror. Sam followed his gaze—to where you were sleeping peacefully in the backseat. Sam’s insides chilled.

“Now, I know Dean’s pretty protective of his things,” said Yellow Eyes, his lips curving. “But after today, I think we both know. Even he can’t be everywhere at once.”

He watched Sam hesitate.

“I wonder, just how much pain can be communicated through a soul bond?” the demon mused. “Do you think he’ll taste her blood in his mouth? Or will he eat a damn bullet just so he doesn’t have to hear her scream…and cry…and beg for death.”

Sam’s glare was fierce…

But he wavered. He looked out to the miles of dark, open road ahead. In his mind, he considered all the ways they could fight, and all the ways the demon would be able to get to you.

“I’ll break him, Sam,” said Yellow Eyes. It was both a warning and a promise. “Then I’ll break you.”

Sam took in progressively deeper breaths, stealing himself.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to Dean, or to you. He couldn’t take away his brother’s happiness. Not when Sam knew what it was like to lose it.

Sam looked back over at Yellow Eyes. Defeated.

“What do you want me to do?”

The demon grinned.

AN: *Cue Law & Order "dun dun"*

Not what you were expecting, was it? We've got a few more twists and turns to go before the big finale...

Keep reading: PART 12

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indianamoonshine · 1 year ago

Text

࿐ folklore | joel miller x reader songfic | track 1 ❅ epiphany

summary | while out on patrol, there is a crack in both joel and the ice.

rating | this particular chapter rated t. minors are still not allowed to interact.

warnings | mention of drowning, death, and hypothermia. angst. revelation of feelings. joel is an emotional vault but tommy knows better.

TAGLIST | @stagerightlauren @paanchusblog @lunxramour @casualanxietyblob

࿐

“Keep your helmet. Keep your life, son. Just a flesh wound. Here’s your rifle.”

Joel remembers the first time he saw someone drown.

Wasn’t even a year after the outbreak. He’d been traveling with Tommy and some strangers they met on an abandoned interstate. The way of life had yet to become something of an instinct for them. During this time, they were more prey than predator, and they had little to no knowledge of life outside the south.

The Miller boys had only seen snow once or twice in their lives. No one in their family had ever moved outside of Texas being as big as it was. Tommy had gone into the service, but Iraq had a climate similar to the desert back home. Snow and ice were something of mythical elements they read about in stories and saw in films.

This is why they didn’t see it coming.

“Crawlin’ up the beaches now. ‘Sir, I think he’s bleeding out.’ And some things you just can’t speak about.”

One of the men they’d been trekking across the midwestern landscape with (Joel can’t remember his name even if he tried his damndest) miscalculated the snowfall. It’d been only seconds before the lake he stepped across crumbled beneath him and claimed his life. Ever since then he’s been cautious of frozen bodies of water — even a little frightened of them — but it didn’t stop him from taking the risk every time.

Joel knew for a fact you weren’t a hunter even if he’d only known you for a few months. It didn’t take a damn genius to come to the conclusion that you were far better off as a farmer or…anything other than this. You know how to handle a gun (you had to in order to survive this long) but it wasn’t your strong suit. You were a little off-kilter and fuckin’ jumpy.

How you were still alive he hasn’t the slightest.

Joel had been staring at the back of your head for hours. Tommy led this patrol so he hung back for stalkers. The infected weren’t as active in the winter, especially in such wilderness. The climate causes them to shut down or somethin’ — he didn’t know the science. Just knew that they weren’t around as often when the snow fell.

But while the infected were occasional, winter brought upon other challenges.

Like the freezing temperatures that chilled his bones and bit at his appendages; the snow that clouded his vision and made it difficult to start fires or walk the miles he needed to; and the ice that made fools out of men.

Tommy had crossed it fine, the lake. It wasn’t very big but underneath Joel knew of a bitter current that had little to no forgiveness. The patrol goes in this direction once in awhile, though not often in the wintertime for this very reason. Joel, being as skeptical of lakes as he was, made sure to note its raging waters in the summer. As a survivalist (cynic), he was already prepared for disaster.

For this reason, he waits until Tommy gives the two of you the go-ahead to make a decision.

“It’s good to cross!” Tommy shouts from the other side. He waves a hand to usher you forward.

Joel can see it plain on your face that you’re terrified. You’d only patrolled once before now, but he was certain you were used to the unforgiving climate after so many years of survival before Jackson. He also recalls you mentioning being from the midwest, so he assumed you had enough knowledge of these conditions to accept Tommy’s decision.

You take a deep breath, something changing in your face. He realizes then that you’re good at faking bravery — you just chose not to.

They say fear is an evolutionary response to potential danger.

Joel wishes you had listened to that gut instinct.

“With you, I serve. With you, I fall down.”

You’re barely two feet across the sheet of ice before it crackles beneath your weight. Joel barely has time to register your expression of terror before he’s falling to his knees to crawl upon the lake’s mirror.

“Shit - Joel!” Tommy yells.

Joel doesn’t answer, focusing on shifting his weight just right so that he doesn’t plunge into the depths himself. He can see your shadow beneath the ice, a struggling form that pounds furiously at the frozen sheet above you. He can’t even imagine the panic you must be experiencing now but he attempts to settle his nerves because…

He’d get you out of this. He had to.

It was because of Ellie. She had taken a liking to you in the past year. You were kind to her — showed her how to bake lavender cookies this summer. You welcomed her into your home like you would any member of your family, tutoring her on all kinds of subjects that Joel couldn’t — nor shouldn’t. Ellie needed a woman in her life. You’d become that woman.

It took Joel too long to meet you. He found that he liked you quite a bit himself.

But it was because of Ellie, right?

Yes. Ellie.

He didn’t ever think about the way your eyes shone during golden hour — how they twinkled with a natural aesthetic he didn’t even find in nature. He rarely thought about the length of your hair — how you preferred to keep it braided during the warmer months and down in the cooler opposites. He wasn’t at all distracted by the snowflakes that landed upon your nose while they saddled the horses before going out this morning or how the frigid air blushed the apples of your cheeks.

While he hadn’t known much about you (he’s wanted to — yearned to, but he’s a goddamned pansy) he knew you were something special. Something sweet in a world riddled with rotting flesh and melting tar.

Besides, you were far too young to die.

Yes. Too young to die.

He convinces himself this is why he immediately jumps into action. He’s careful in his ministrations to rescue you, every ounce of strength he has to be clever rather than urgent. Joel figured his decades of fighting would get the job done quickly and with level-headedness. But when he finally manages to grab you from an open pocket within the ice — forty feet from where you initially fell — his hands are trembling.

“Joel! Is she breathin’?!” Tommy yells frantically.

“Watch you breathe in. Watch you breathing out.”

Joel grunts with exertion, dragging your limp and sopping body across the ice and onto the snow covered banks. Once the two of you are out of danger, he finds with horror that…

No. You’re not breathing.

This is when he starts to panic.

“Something med school did not cover. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s mother.”

He thinks of Sarah. It’s an inopportun time to be doing so but he can’t help but see her lifeless body when he looks at yours. The same thing had happened when Ellie drowned before they found the Fireflies in Salt Lake City. Youth quickly deteriorates before him, the Grim’s mangled hand on his shoulder.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No.”

Joel is a stubborn man and this might be why he’s lived as long as he has. He’s lost too many people. He won’t loose you — not before he had you.

With fumbling hands, he rips away at your drenched clothing which already stiffens from the extreme temperature to check your pulse. He discovers in horror that you have none.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

“Joel! What’s goin’ on, dammit?!” Tommy screams from across the river. It sounds muffled, like he’s underwater himself.

“Holds your hand through plastic now. ‘Doc, I think she’s crashing out.’ And some things you just can’t speak about.”

He begins CPR after unzipping your coat with frantic hands, the heel of his palm inching into your chest the way he’s done so many times before. After a few minutes, he starts mouth to mouth.

It’s not the way he first wanted to touch you.

Instead of a kiss, it’s the attempt at a breath of life.

Your body jostles beneath his endurance, of his precarious attempt at saving your life. Your mouth hangs open like a fish, lips already turning blue, and skin blanching. Images of Sarah — and of Ellie — plague his vision. He thinks of Tess’s body sponging her own blood as she lie dead in the courthouse.

After about five minutes — it felt like hours — he feels the muscles in your legs twitch. You garble, ice water expelling from your lips and onto your chest before gasping for air.

Precious air.

“Jesus,” he whispers in relief, tugging your body close to his chest.

You continue to pant in his arms, body still rigid in shock, before two of you sag in one another’s embrace. Your arms lie limp at your sides from lack of strength. You’re not even shivering — not even crying.

Joel pets your hair, his palm cradling the back of your head. “You’re alright, darlin’. You’re fine…” he whispers.

You nod weakly, eyes slipping shut.

You’re alright.

࿐

Tommy sees something defeated in Joel when the medics take you.

Fortunately, they hadn’t been too far away so it was only an hour before they reached Jackson. Joel had instructed you to take off your clothing and wrap yourself in the wool blankets they’d brought along. The patrol was intended to be much longer than this so they were well prepared for any inconveniences.

Even death.

��Only twenty minutes of sleep but you dream of some epiphany.”

This was what you’d been the verge on when they galloped to the gates with thundering hooves. Accounting for the weather, it should’ve taken them three hours to get back - it usually took two during the summer when rain was their only concern. But Joel rode Old Beardy hard; Tommy was concerned the damn thing would fall over from exhaustion.

But they made it in the knick of time. Joel shouted for help while you slump against his back, your horse Bucephalus galloping alongside of his like the loyal steed he was. You were mumbling something incoherent against him and he shushed you as he slid you off into his arms.

“Help!” Joel’s tone broke something down in Tommy’s chest cavity. “I need a goddamn medic!”

They’d been quick to take you. Joel’s fingers lingered against your shivering form as he passed you along to Kevin, one of the younger boys in town. They exchanged a few words before Joel urged him with a stern growl to get going.

“Just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you’ve seen.”

When she’s gone, he rubs his hands down his face and sags against the horse barn. His chest heaves with heavy breath, eyes shut tightly as though he’s seeing ghosts long gone.

Tommy didn’t have to imagine.

Sarah. Ellie.

“With you, I serve. With you, I fall down.”

Tess was more likely to be the answer. After all, Tommy knew his brother had feelings for the woman. She was rough around the edges, but Joel usually liked them that. He did back then, anyway. His first wife — a spider in every sense — was difficult to say the very least. Joel liked a challenge.

“Watch you breathe in. Watch you breathing out.”

You weren’t anything like them. This is why Tommy finds it so strange when Joel takes a moment to collect himself, clears his throat, and turns towards the horses like it never even happened.

“Almost lost her,” he mutters.

Yes. Tommy knew then. This wasn’t about Ellie. This wasn’t even about Sarah. He was no father figure to you.

This was different — you were different.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel x reader #joel tlou #folklorefic #mw1

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x-reader-things · 1 year ago

Note

Omg hi!

I saw that you wrote for star wars rebels and thought that this was my shot!

Could i get an imagine of where Ezra has a partner(non binary reader) and they get captured after a big fight, and when they come to save them they are EXTREMELY hurt, like, burn scars, black eyes, cuts littered everywhere on their body, and how he would react along with the other ghost crew and a week or so after ish?

The ghost crew is platonic btw, but i don't know if i want Ezra romantic? Just fluff and cuddles and a really worried Ezra :)

Feel free to ignore this and remember to take care of yourself!

This one got carried away from me ty for requesting this, oml-

It was really fun to write it- I literally stayed up until 4 : 30 something or 4 : 40 something writing most of it, got 3 hours of sleep, and began to write it again I love this piece sm-

Sorry for the long wait too, and I hope you remember to take care of yourself as well!! And if this isn’t exactly how you imagined it I apologize as well, but still, I hope you enjoy!!

“—Builds character, apparently.”

The Ghost Crew x Reader [Platonic], Ezra Bridger x Reader [Romantic, mostly - recently established relationship]

Summary ; In which you get captured and tortured after a… lovely argument with your partner. Only to be found and brought back home a week later. Fun times.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; reader get’s tortured, descriptions of violence [not too graphic], injuries, anxiety - typical canon violence for Star Wars Rebels and Star Wars in general. Also not much of a warning but touch starved Ezra!! I love him sm- also hurt comfort things too-

Word Count ; 6.6 k [my longest one so far- :00]

——————————————————————

Thinking back on it now, the argument was so small. So trivial.

So… Minimal.

Compared to now, that is. It was just a stupid thing blown out of proportions. A stupid little spat that you got in with your partner, Ezra.

Well, it’s not that stupid.

It was about him using the damn Sith holocron to get stronger. You didn’t mind that he was using it at first, sure. It helped him. Especially after what happened to Kanan. Kept him calm. Kept him strong. Kept him believing in the Force.

After all, in your minds eye, Sith and Jedi were really just two sides of the same coin.

It didn’t make too much of a difference to you, besides in methods of how each group manipulated their abilities they got from the Force, respectively.

But now, a couple years since then - and about a few months into… whatever your relationship turned out to be - he was depending on it too much. He was taking it’s teachings to the next level, which in turn made him more powerful. Which was a good thing, in some cases. It saved your asses more times than you could count, recently.

But Ezra was… much, much angrier than before.

Power hungry, almost.

And after Kanan found out he was using it - all because Ezra was dumb enough not to hide it quickly or put it away, and too oblivious at that point to even sense that Kanan was literally at his cabin door - Ezra rounded at you.

Blamed you for Kanan figuring it out. Blamed you for spilling his secrets. Blamed you for Kanan getting angry at him for his decision.

And you knew he wouldn’t actually say those things if he was really himself. You knew that he was beginning to get corrupted by that red pyramid of a holocron. You knew he was literally losing nights sleep due to nightmares, which made him more paranoid and skeptical about everything.

But damn, if it didn’t hurt like hell and make you even angrier than he was at that point.

You snapped at him. Told him you kept his secret from everyone. Told him you’d never, ever, spill any secrets of his or anyone else’s, even if you were being tortured for the truth. And you told him that you couldn’t believe he’d even accuse you for such a thing as that. You blamed the holocron, even took Kanan’s side for it - something you rarely ever did when it came down to Ezra unless of it was something serious - saying that Ezra’s gotten angry.

Too angry.

And you honestly didn’t really think you could handle it anymore. Or him in general, for that moment. So you left. Before he had anything else to say, and before he snapped out of that stunned daze that stared right into your eyes, almost completely disbelieving into the very depths of your soul. It was a heat of the moment kind of anger that made you do such a thing.

You offhandedly mumbled something about a mission you had to get to anyways, just as you quickly walked away from him, glare set on your face, hardening any kind of other emotion that threatened to come pouring out of your eyes (stars, you hated angry tears).

All of which happened about a week prior to where you were now.

Starving in a jail cell.

An imperial jail cell, locked away from everyone and everything.

—————————————

Another cough racked out of you, a wheeze accompanying it. You must have a cracked rib or something. Karabast, everything burned.

The mission you went on was supposed to take a couple days. And Hera gave it to you as a solo-operation. You needed it anyways, to cool off from the heated and stinging argument you had with Ezra before leaving.

It was simply get a few supply crates for medical purposes for the fleet. With how big the supply crates were, it should last the fleet about half a year at most - a few months at the very least. And honestly, the fleet could take anything it can get, at this point.

The crates were located in between the planets of Batonn and Denash, two planets in the Batonn sector.

You were warned to be careful. Earlier that year all three planets in that sector were taken back over by Grand Admiral Thrawn - some guy you’ve only recently heard of through transmissions from Fulcrum in the past few months - during the Batonn sector insurgency. You would be able to cloak one of the Phoenix squadron ships (since the Phantom would be in use for another mission at the time) so you wouldn’t be able to be detected by any of the imperials, or any of the imperial fleet, there.

Once cloaked, a secret message would be transmitted to you via a comm channel that only you and the disguised transporter would know about, in order to make the exchange for the medical crates. All hidden behind a few of the moons that orbited between both Batonn and Denash.

And you were careful.

At least, you were.

Clearly, the other disguised transporter wasn’t, and the plan was found out a little too late for you to realize that - especially a good few minutes after being bombarded by heavy blaster fire from the imperial fleet’s artillery. You’d think you’d realize that the moment you didn’t see the medical crates outside and connected to the transporter for an easy attachment pick-up, but no. You just had to give them the benefit of the doubt, didn’t you?

And now, here you were.

A week later.

Severely burned, bruised, and dehydrated.

And yet still somehow keeping a level head.

At least. You think.

“I told you, I have nothing to tell you.”, you spat between ragged breaths, another stick of something electric being shoved into your side again. You grit yourself teeth and strained, keeping your groaning and screaming to a minimum. You learned pretty quickly that running your vocal cords raw weren’t going to do you any good like that. Despite having to repeat yourself over and over to the imperial scum in front of you that you literally didn’t know a damn thing about what they wanted to hear from you.

Something something, plans for Lothal and it’s liberation (terrorist attack, which is what the Empire called it), and other boring stuff like where was the other rebels.

Now obviously, you weren’t going to just hand over the second part of their questions on a silver platter that easily. You never would. Not even if someone tried using the Force to get you to spit it out. You wouldn’t reveal that integral part of information, no. That’s where your friends were, that’s where your family lived, that’s where Ezra was.

You sure as hell weren’t going to give them that information for their satisfaction.

As for the first part of their questions, however, you legitimately didn’t know anything about it.

Sure, you’ve heard talks of it. Plans of getting together to actually plan it out, once the fleet was big enough. But you didn’t know specifics. After those couple of things, your knowledge of the subject was dwindled down to just some things you heard in passing conversations back at Chopper base. That was it.

And clearly, for the past longest week ever, the imperials didn’t believe you when you told them that truth.

That it wasn’t even fully planned. That they had nothing to worry about (yet). That you didn’t know anything.

A gloved hand lurched up and roughly grabbed your jaw, digging into the ever worsening bruises that littered your jaw and cheeks, forcing you to look at whoever it was. Through the swelling of your black eye that’s been getting worse for the past couple of days, all you could see was the blurry outline of the same soldier that always questioned you, looked at you and hurt you like you were the scum of the galaxy.

“The more you lie, the worse this gets”, he sneered, another jabs of burning and electricity stinging through you at his words. He shoved your face to the side as he let go of you, your head smacking into the metal slab that held you up and kept you captive in this horrific torture machine.

Another strained noise tickled the back of your throat. Another whimper of pain that you stifled to keep your sanity. At the very least, you could do whatever Ezra taught you to do best.

Annoy the hell out of these bucket heads.

“What’s that saying about insanity? Oh right”, you coughed before wheezing out a bit of forced laughter, a smirk forming over your mouth, irritating the cut lower lip that was beginning to scab over. “If - if you do something over and over again, and continuously get the same results, that makes you insane. And uh - buddy it’s been about a week, hasn’t it? You haven’t gotten anywhere—“

The restraints were unclipped from your wrists and ankles. Confusion wracked your mind before a hand grabbed at your neck and forced you back harshly on the metal slab. That time, you couldn’t stop the loud shout that sprang out from you at the sudden movements.

“Wha—“, you grunted before you can even squeeze out a sentence, a strong fist connected with your abdomen, making all the airbrush out of you at the action. You couldn’t even begin to process the pain you were in besides the electrical burns. The adrenaline and the numbness to it at that point was still ringing true in every nerve in your body.

Before the imperial soldier could even land another hit on you, or another burn, the hilt of a Lasan Bo-rifle hit the back of them at a pressure point, instantly knocking them out.

Wait.

Bo-rifle from Lasan?

You coughed and wheezed for more air the moment the soldier let go of your reddening neck and smacked onto the ground, and you were even firmly planted on the ground yet, or strapped down onto anything. So you were about to smack onto the ground yourself when you found no energy within you to keep yourself there. Gravity acted too fast on you.

“Woah, easy there kid—“, a rough voice sounded, almost distant in your ears, until a couple of purple furred hands caught you before you fell, steadying you on your shaky feet. “You alright there?”

“Zeb?”, you croaked out, looking up and squinting at who caught you. Purple fur, blurry yellow eyes, some semblance of a scowl - yep that was Zeb.

Once Zeb got a proper look at you, he grimaced with a flinch. “Oh - Karabast, kid, what did they do to you?!”

Burn marks everywhere, bruises everywhere, scratches everywhere, rips in clothing, tattered, messy hair, more sunken eyes than usual, looking dryer and skinnier. Karabast, you look worse for wear.

“Oh, yknow”, you chucked wryly, still keeping up the act of being as calm as you could. “A bit of torture, a bit of starvation and dehydration - builds character, apparently.” Zeb rolled his eyes, brow furrowed in something a lot less like annoyance and much more like worry.

Odd, you think. It’s only been a week since you were kidnapped. How worried could they have gotten?

“Spectre-4 to Spectre-2, come in.”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“Specter-2 to Spectre-4, Whaddya got for me, Zeb?”, answered the crackling voice of Hera on the other end, a faint sound of blaster fire behind her somewhere.

“I found them, I found Spectre-7”, Zeb said immediately into the comm.

“YOU FOUND THEM?” , came a chorus of four other voices loudly into the comms, along with the surprisingly relieved beeps of Chopper. You and Zeb flinched at the sound. Your ears weren’t as sensitive as the Lasat’s were, but damn if that sudden noise didn’t make you flinch.

Your’s and Zeb’s shared reaction caused him to look back at you as opposed to the comm in his other hand. One arm was held onto one of your biceps, which was one of the only thing keeping you from falling next to the puffer-pig dung heap on the floor. You were so much lighter than before. That was not a good sign.

“They’re not lookin’ so good.”, he said honestly, swiveling his head around just in case of any stray stormtrooper coming your guys’ way. No one answered back right away. At least, that’s why you and Zeb thought.

Comms shorted for a second.

Imperials know they’re there, trying to get you back, trying to cut off communications with one another.

“Zeb”, came another voice. Younger than Hera’s, definitely not either of the other guys. Sabine, you guessed, mind still swirling from the burning feeling of the metal, electrifying rods being stabbed into your sides, just enough to cause burns rather than cuts in the skin. “ZEB!”

Zeb exclaimed in irritation at the loud and sudden noise of the comms crackling back, deciding best that it probably wasn’t a good idea to just sit and wait for the others to find you two while under blaster fire. “WHAT!? What is it—!?”

“Talk to me, Orrelios, how bad are they??”, urged Sabine, seemingly referring to your injuries.

You grunted at the sudden lurch of being pulled into the hallway by Zeb, stumbling over your shaking feet as he didn’t stop for a second, even at the sounds of your own discomfort, the ones you wanted to keep at bay for a while now.

The lasat pulled you aside into an empty corridor once the blaster fire began to reach you guys. With a sigh of irritation, he picked you up from your knees and held you up - almost like a kid, which you still kind of were to some degree to him - and spoke into the comms once again. You laid your head on his shoulder with a groan and a wheeze, earning another concerned side-eyed glance from Zeb.

“Look, you’ll see them when we get back to the rendezvous point, just get there, got it!?” He said sharply into the comm, shoving it back into its place on his belt.

After that, conversations on the comms were just crackles and buzzes of the other members quickly trying to communicate with one another, blaster fire covering the most of it up, along with your hands at your ears. It was all just a blur at that point, really.

—————————————

Just before reaching the rendezvous point that was agreed upon, Zeb let you down to your feet again, still keeping a stabilized hand on your shoulder as you walked - hobbled, really - over to where the rendezvous was. He figured you didn’t want anyone to see that he carried you here like a child all the way there from that corridor. Karabast, you even vocalized that.

“Tell anyone you carried me like a kid and I will steal all of your snack rations from the extra food we found, got it?”, you slurred out, arm loosely wrapped around your middle as you heave a coarse cough afterwards, still trying to recover from being tortured just before Zeb found you.

“Got it.”, Zeb said to you with a small, relived chuckle. Although, that relief was short. How the hell are you still acting normal after all of that? Your normal, sarcastic-like-you-spend-way-too-much-time-with-Ezra self? Although, the sarcasm seems to be the only remaining constant with how you were from a week before, at that moment, so the Lasat can take what he can get. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

You arrived at the rendezvous point not a minute later, being met with a very worried sick Sabine and Hera. Hera immediately took you from Zeb’s side, an arm wrapping under one of yours as she led you back onto the Ghost. Sabine held onto your bicep of the other arm wrapped around your abdomen and stomach, keeping close by, and Zeb hovered close behind as the four of you quickly boarded the ghost.

Ezra, Kanan and Chopper were the ones in charge of the escape.

Once you were confirmed to be MIA, with chatter around the imperial gossip chain leading to fulcrum about six days into your stay at that imperial facility before it got to Chopper base, the plan was made almost in record time.

It was agreed upon that the two Jedi’s were to help escape, not fight. Not after the whole debacle with the old Clone Wars Y-Wings mission days prior to that, when Ezra’s use of the dark side got into his confidence and a little out of control during that mission - which lead to the unfortunate destruction of the Phantom.

Ezra was wholeheartedly against it, and so was Kanan.

But to Hera and the other two, it was their best bet. The moment Kanan and Ezra would’ve been found in that imperial facility would’ve made things a whole lot harder to get you out of there.

The Jedi staying behind on the Ghost was their best bet to get you out of there with as minimal attention as possible.

Well, as much as they could despite being rebels, of course.

No sooner than the doors to the Ghost closed once you were all loaded onto the ship, the freighter was immediately put into hyperdrive. Not directly to Atollan, of course - just somewhere away from that cursed place around Batonn and Denash.

The four of you all breathed a sigh of relief, you still wheezing and coughing from everything and trying to catch your breath. At this point, though, you’re pretty sure you have a cracked rib somewhere. Breathing hurt. Not just around your neck, but your sides too.

“Well, that was something”, you strained out with a forced chuckle, earning some pained looks from Sabine and Hera once they looked at the state of you.

Stars, you looked like hell.

Beeping and warbling from Chopper joined you soon afterwards, the Astro-mech flying towards you, around the loading dock that everyone who wasn’t a Jedi was in. Chopper nudged onto your leg, moving its head from side to side, almost like a nuzzling manner that your would see from a loth-cat. Zeb chuckled at the sight a bit, earning a quick zap from Chopper, and what could’ve been a curious catering of curse words and what you picked up to be “don’t tell anyone about this”, in droid language. You moved your arm from around your waist, giving Chopper a quick pat on the head, taking your hand back as he rolled away, the sounds of two sets of footsteps bounding closer on the metal of the ground scaring him off to the side.

You looked up slowly, eyes barely meeting Kanan’s, nor Ezra’s.

Well, it’s not like Kanan could actually see you. But he could hear and sense you. And the pain you’re in, despite you not being able to feel it all just yet. And he could tell you were fighting the whole time. Not giving up even the slightest bit of actual information that could help the empire. He was both equal parts relieved and absolutely horrified at that.

Force knows what kind of injuries littered the skin of your body.

Ezra, on the other hand, could see you. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what he saw.

A gulp and a shaky, quiet breath followed after he finally got to see you. A week after that stupid, stupid argument. His eyes were wide, cerulean blues scanning over each and every injury and bruise that came with your battered appearance.

You were his partner.

What did those damned imperial asshats do to his partner!?

“Hey, there’s my favorite Jedi’s!”, you forced out, your voice cutting through Ezra’s thoughts, another smile cutting through the scab on your lip even more.

Kanan gave Ezra a small pat on the back in encouragement, and Ezra wasted no time on jumping over the railing of the top deck, feet firmly planting on the lower deck of the loading dock before he enraptured you into a tight hug that almost knocked you back down onto the ground.

Hera, Sabine, and Zeb were smart enough to back away once Ezra had landed on the lower deck.

You grunted from the force, a pained wheeze accompanying it. ”Easy, Ez, pretty sure you cracked my ribs even more”, you say, sarcasm and a joking lilt covering whatever kind of fears you were feeling right then. Ezra just barely loosened his grip on you, a hand coming up to gently hold onto the back of your head as the other clutched you close around your shoulders.

His eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowed downwards as his chin pressed onto your shoulder, for another reminder that you were there. You were with him. You were in the Ghost.

You were safe.

He was still reeling at hearing the sound of your voice after not hearing it for about a week. Perhaps the longest week ever.

To say that he freaked out the moment he realized you missed your check-in time with Hera was an absolute understatement. He was already antsy during the first two days of your mission. Especially since you guys both said nothing to each other after the argument, you having left not too long afterwards. He already got a bad feeling that wouldn’t stop coursing through him - no matter how hard he tried to will it away - the moment you left him alone after you offhandedly mentioned your task once the argument ended.

And when you missed the check-in time? And the days after that?

He couldn’t sleep at all.

Went through one too many scenarios through his head that made him anxious to no end in sight. Not even Hera or Kanan could help him through that one.

He grew irritable when he was told to wait for further instructions on the matter of your disappearance. He wanted to go out and find you - maybe pay a visit to whoever the hell kept you away from the base for so long. Man, even Sabine and Zeb were willing to join him on that endeavor before the transmission from Fulcrum came through. Once Fulcrum said your name and stated the now-debunked-as-true rumors of you being captured in an imperial facility for questioning, all thoughts of his previous idea flew out the window.

He remembers how the air left his lungs when Zeb’s voice crackled through the comms to speak to Hera about finding you, Kanan and him being tapped into the frequency just incase anything else happened while they were on the Ghost, waiting for the rest of the Spectres to come home with you in tow with them for the escape. It was difficult to breathe for a few seconds.

Zeb found you.

And then, of course, he remembers the fear and anger that rushed in at what Zeb said about your state of being. What he wouldn’t give to have beat up whoever thought was a good idea to torture people for information - especially whoever thought it was a good idea to do that to you. Everyone knew immediately what Zeb was referring to when he said you didn’t look too good. You were injured. And from Zeb’s tone of voice, the injuries were bad.

And now, here you were. Held in his arms, safe back on the home you called the Ghost, with him being absolutely unable to bring himself out of the hug. He can breath easier now, now that you’re at home.

“Ez, ‘m fine”, you said with a laugh. Still trying to remain calm. “You can let go of me, y’know?”

Ezra shook his head no stubbornly, eyebrows furrowing inwards a bit more for just a second at the idea, knowing damn well he got a roll from the eyes from you. That wasn’t going to change his mind about holding you at all.

“Ezra seriously my ribs are starting to hurt—“

He loosened his grip enough to pull away from you, not before pulling a surprising move and lifting you up into his arms. One arm still clung around your shoulders, and the other hooked underneath your knees. You gasped in surprise at the action, but the gasp was a little to sharp for your body’s reaction, so immediately afterwards you coughed away from him and into your elbow, trying to catch your breath, your other arm slung around Ezra’s neck instinctively.

After a bit more of you catching your breath after a few seconds, Ezra sighs shortly in relief, and makes his way towards the ladders with you, still in his arms. The adrenaline was still there for you, just slowly waning, enough for you to get tired enough not to protest Ezra’s actions.

“What are you doing?”, Hera asked him once he started climbing out the ladder to the deck above the loading dock. The arm around your shoulders was helping him climb, your arm strong enough to hold yourself up, while his other arm stayed hooked underneath your legs.

“Gonna help with their injuries.”, he told Hera curtly.

“We have a team of medics at the base to—“

“I know.”

Ezra’s voice was sharp at that answer, even just the slightest bit of annoyed, stunning a bit of silence out of Hera at his reaction. The rest of the crew watched as he disappeared back into the Ghost with you wrapped up in his arms.

For a second, Hera took a step towards the ladders, having half a mind to follow the two of you, before Kanan’s voice called out to her from the balcony.

“Let him help. They’ll be fine with him. Think they both need some time together after the past week we just had.” He explained to her calmly. Hera only stared at him for a long minute, before looking at a random part of the Ghost below them both, sighing at his words.

He was right.

You both needed this.

—————————————

“You really said that to the guy?”, Ezra asked incredulously, voice the softest it’s ever been around you. He was busy cleaning off the dried blood from your visible cuts, having already just cleaned, bandaged, and put burn salve on the electrical burns all over your middle and sides. The burn salve was long over due for them, and you visibly relaxed when the burns were finally covered in the soothing, cooling substance. That should take away the sting that ebbed away at your nerves.

“Hey, it really was the definition of insanity in there!”, you said with a chuckle as you defended your word choices. Which, granted, prompted you to get choked by the guy before Zeb stepped in, so it probably wasn’t the best word choice, but still. It was better than nothing. “Couldn’t help it, Ezra. I spend too much time with you to not say something, yknow.”

That comment coaxed a small smile out of Ezra, a gentle hum of a chuckle already being pushed through him. But it still wasn’t enough to make him laugh all the way. At least it got him to smile, though, even for a little bit.

He was cleaning off a couple of the cuts on one of your hands, attention staying on that hand as he let the small smile turn the corners of his mouth upwards.

“There’s the smile I missed for the past week”, you said, your other hand coming up to cup the left side of his cheek. Your thumb lightly grazed over the two shallow indents of scars left by the inquisitors a couple years prior, and he leaned into the feeling of your hand on his cheek, stopping his small mission of getting you patched up himself, and relishing in your touch. Even if it’s for a few seconds before he got back to work.

One week without any knowledge of how you were doing was enough to make him realize how much he really, really missed you during the longer missions. He missed your hugs, your talks, the banter. He’d give anything to prevent another week like this one from happening again.

One week without him around was enough to make you worry. What kind of lengths he’d go through to get anyone back. To get you back. That is, if he fully turned to the darkside of the Force. Sure, two sides of the same coin with the light side of the Force and everything, but it still harbored some level of fear in you. Luckily, though, it seemed like Kanan knocked some sense in him. That or your disappearance and subsequent torturing - but honestly you’re hoping it’s not the latter. You’re just glad he’s ok. That he isn’t hurt. That he’s here and he’s safe, and that you protected the secrets of the Ghost and Chopper Base without breaking to anything the imperial facility threw at you. That was an accomplishment in its own right. And you were glad that you were able to keep those secrets safe.

And that you were able to keep Ezra safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a thumb swiped over the split cut that was on your lower lip. Ezra just barely grazed it, but it still hurt, and made you wince a little bit at the touch. Only by a smidge.

To cover that up, however, you decided to joke around a bit.

“If you wanted a kiss you could’ve just asked”, you said, snickering a little at Ezra’s eye roll, and the red that began to tinge his ears. He closed his eyes and shook his head with a chuckle, and your smile grew. That got him to laugh.

His hand moved to hold the side of your neck, just below your jawline. Part of his hand still rested on it, more so at the corner, and just underneath the skin of your ear. The touch was careful, and his thumb lightly brushed against the bruising on your jaw. He gently pulled your head closer, and his forehead lightly bumped against yours, his nose lightly nudging against the side of your own, all in an attempt to get more calm and comfortable.

And it worked.

He took in a breath, and let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving after a couple seconds of the breath.

“Sorry about the argument”, he mumbled the apology, eyes tilted downwards, focus on the ground. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Hey”, you cut him off, knuckle from your free hand coming up, gently nudging his chin up so he could look at you, eyes that swirled with the power of the Force onto yours, that only caught the reflection of the light in the room, and the reflection of Ezra in front of you. “That was just a stupid argument. That doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does!”, he exclaimed in a whisper, irises boring into yours. You swear, you could see your own soul reflected through them. ”I went out of line and blamed you for being careless and—“

“You really think that argument has any affect on me right now?”, you ask, raising a brow. “Karabast, I was literally tortured, I would love to go back to when that argument was the most of my worries.”

That was only last week that that argument happened. So trivial, compared to the events that unfurled.

So trivial compared to the burns on your sides, the ache in your ribs, the twinges of pain from your bruises and the black eye that plagued your left eye.

It hurt emotionally, sure.

But what you wouldn’t give to go back to that being the only kind of pain that swirled in your mind.

Before even you realized what was happening, through the haze of the loud thoughts that made up your mind at the moment, Ezra’s other hand disconnected from the rag that cleaned up your dried blood, and reconnected with your other cheek on the other side of your face, away from the black eye. He nudged away a stray tear with one of his knuckles, and brushed his thumb over the swell of your cheek once more began to slowly tumble out. Mainly from the one eye you could actually see out of properly, the one eye that went wide after you mentioned the torture you endured, the one eye that let that tear go loose, providing other tears with enough confidence to start falling as well.

“I was tortured, Ezra.” Your voice went quiet, strained.

It was only then that you realized just how horrified you were.

Strange, how some feelings of anxiety didn’t pop up until way later, once you were actually processing whatever kind of traumatic event you just went through. Other times the anxiety bubbles up pretty quickly, during whatever you were going through - even if it was just a normal, calm situation that somehow made your anxiety act up. But this time, it took you a week to actually feel the damned fear that wouldn’t actually allow you to sleep very much throughout the time you were being held at the facility.

Then again, you were also doing your best to keep a level head the whole time. To keep yourself from spilling anything. To keep yourself sane.

Maybe it was the fact that you were finally in the comfort of your own home, in front of your partner no less, that made you feel comfortable enough to grab onto the bad feelings again, rather than to just force them down until they were too much for you.

Your eyes blurred Ezra out of focus due to the burning tears that bubbled up behind your eyelids. You screwed them both shut, and gulp with a shaky breath. Ezra furrowed his brow again - this time, however, they were pointed more upwards than downwards.

Still keeping his hands in the same places on your neck and cheek, he lifted his head from resting against yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, staying there for a couple seconds, just to linger. Mainly for his own comfort, to remind himself you were physically there with him, and also to remind you of that as well.

After that he wrapped you up in another hug, gentler this time. One you leaned into, your forehead coming to rest on his shoulder, near the crook of his neck. The hand on your cheek moved to the back of your head, lightly pressed into your hair, and his other hand on the side of your neck, just under your jawline and ear, moved to your back, pulling you forward for the hug that you graciously accepted.

He nudged his nose onto the crown of your head, placing another soft and comforting kiss there. “Took you that long to figure it out, huh?”, he murmured, voice soft with an air of humor. Just the slightest lilt to make things much less strenuous than they seemed.

“Shut up, Bridger”, you sniffed, lightly punching his arm, a chuckle spilling out between the both of you. The hug tightened just a little bit, the hand you punched Ezra’s arm with holding onto the sleeve of his orange jacket he always wore.

“Sorry, sorry”, he apologized, laying his cheek down on the top of your head. “Had to joke about this somehow, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh, followed by a sigh, quiet and exhausted. “Right…”

A silence fell over the two of you. Ezra let out a sigh through his nose a couple minutes into it. “You’re safe now, ok? You know that, right?”

The message was quiet, a soft mumble only meant for your ears. The tension in your own shoulders began to ease a little, much like his minutes beforehand.

Your arm moved from his jacket to around his neck again, pulling the hug even closer, just to be nearer to him. Just for more comfort. For your peace of mind to remind yourself that you’re home.

You’re safe.

You’re with Ezra.

Things are fine for now.

Everything will be alright for now.

Just for right now. Which is all you could ask for at that moment.

“I know.”, you mumbled back. You sigh out of relief, of being there with Ezra, in the comforting arms of home, in the surprisingly comforting metal rooms of home, deciding against breaking the hug for the time being.

Until Ezra broke it himself.

“Oh c’mon, Ez!”, you complained. “I was just getting comfortable, dude!”

“You were falling asleep on me”, he responded back, grabbing the rag he was using to clean off the dried blood from your injuries strewn about your skin. He stood up to get more water for it, along with a cooler ice-pack for the nasty bruise on your eye.

“Like I said, I was just getting comfortable!”

“You can get comfortable and sleep on my shoulder after I’m done taking care of your injuries - and after we’re sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You groan, leaning back on your arms as Ezra gathers the supplies you need from one of the medical kits that came from the medical crates you were supposed to get from your mission beforehand. “Stars, you’re just as stubborn as Chopper - like friend like droid, y’know?”, you say with a playful scoff.

Ezra laughed. It was less of a chuckle now, more genuine. Good. You liked it when he laughed. “I could say the same thing about you, y’know—“ you interrupted him with a indignant noise, absolutely appalled that he would ever compare your stubbornness to the astro-mech. You were the only one allowed to do that, how dare he?

“I’m not that stubborn—“

Another laugh bubbled out from Ezra, and you couldn’t help but smile at it. It was a noise that never failed to brighten your day, even in the darkest of hours.

A chuckle made it’s way out of your throat again as a smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and you shook your head a little, the banter between you both continuing. Just like normal.

Just like home.

Maybe some things were definitely worth getting tortured over.

If you could keep the base safe, the Ghost safe, and Ezra safe, you’d do it all over again, no matter what.

You’d always protect your home from the Empire.

Even if your home wasn’t always protecting you.

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dangraccoon · 25 days ago

Text

Foolish

Day 22 ~ bleeding through bandages ~ "oh, that's not good" ~

Cody

Word Count: 2418 Content: blood, mild gore, injury, blood loss, coughing up blood, ignoring medical advice, cody is oblivious to obi-wan's very obvious feelings, description of removing shrapnel from one's own wounds

A harsh cough clawed its way through his lungs and up his throat. He covered his mouth with his arm as he hacked. Pulling it away–once he felt as though he could actually breathe again–he saw the little red flecks.

Clone Marshal Commander Cody, Commander of the 7th Sky Corps and the renowned 212th Attack Battalion was not a fool. He wasn’t stupid enough not to notice when he was injured, nor was he unaware of the extent of his injuries. He was a big believer in getting help–especially of the medical variety–when needed.

But that did not stop Cody from having a to-do list that would span from Kamino to Mandalore to get through with relative speed. It did not stop his need to ensure that the medics had enough help and could save the brothers who were worse off.

No, he would seek their medics out soon–the pain in his side would force him onto an exam table whether he liked it or not–but right now there were more pressing things for him to worry about.

“Patch, do you have enough hands for triage?” he asked, tapping away at his datapad.

“Yes, sir,” his chief medical officer nodded. “And we’ve got shinies earning their first aid stripes as we speak.”

“Good. Send the status list as soon as you’ve got it. How are our supplies?”

“They’re holding for now. Probably going to need a restock next run ashore.”

“Understood. Have those shinies keep a running inventory if they’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Are you injured, sir?” Patch said, eyeing the commander.

His CMO knew him a bit too well. “Nothing that can’t wait or I can’t wrap on my own, Patch,” he said with a well-practiced ease.

Patch’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Your personal kit stocked, or did you need an extra roll of bandages?”

“I’ve got my own,” he waved him off, starting to head off to his next task. “You’d need them more anyway.”

After he’d checked in with a few other officers–hiding his grimace behind his helmet–he finally found himself in his office, blessedly alone.

He groaned as he went through the practiced motions of removing his armor, biting the inside of his cheek as he pulled away the soaked fabric of his undersuit. Trying to position himself in a good way to see how those few minuscule fragments worked their way into his skin punched the air out of his lungs. His hand pressed against his side as he fought until his breath returned.

“Kriff,” he hissed as he opened his desk drawer. He found the small jar he’d been looking for, scowling as he opened it. He was running shorter on bacta than he realized.

He angled the lid of the canister to get a better look at his wounds. He would say that most of his good ideas were executed on the battlefield, but he was decently impressed with himself about affixing a small mirror to the bacta container.

He pulled at his aching flesh near the wound. He could just see the sharp, twisted bits of metal that were making themselves at home in the scarred skin of his abdomen.

Leaning back across the desk, he huffed out a quiet “damn it” as he strained to reach into the bottom drawer. His hand finally found purchase on the handle, sliding it open to reveal the contraband he sought.

Half a smirk pulled at his lips as he grabbed the neck of the bottle of ship-made moonshine.

He’d known about the still some of Ghost Company had set up in their quarters and while it was obviously against regulations, Cody couldn’t care less about it. He’d told them as much once they found out he knew. As long as they didn’t report for duty drunk and the still itself didn’t explode, how much harm could it reasonably do?

Right now, however, Cody was grateful for it as he pulled his knife from his belt. Boil and Waxer might’ve given him a share in a fancy bottle they’d swiped from the garbage at 79s, but the stuff still could burn the hair off a loth cat. He twisted off the cap, pouring it over his knife. It was going to sting like a bitch, but he could rationalize not taking up the medics’ time for something he could easily do himself.

He leaned back into the awkward position he needed to access those damned pieces of shrapnel. He pressed his finger against one fragment’s edge, pinching it between his fingernail and the side of his knife.

He breathed in deeply, then out and pulled, hissing at the slight tearing he inflicted on himself.

He pulled the other three pieces out with relative ease, then slathered the open wounds with bacta and wrapped his abdomen with bandages tight.

He shook his head a little, trying to clear the residual adrenaline from his mind, then went about cleaning up. He dropped his torn undersuit shirt down the recycling chute, put his supplies back in their spots, and pulled open another drawer in his desk to retrieve one of the shirts from the extra sets of blacks he had stashed.

Once he put his armor on and his blacks covered the arching wound, he finally felt as though he could go about his business as usual.

He was only able to check two more tasks from his list before he wandered into the one person he knew he couldn’t fool.

“Ah, there you are, Commander,” General Kenobi smiled warmly. “I’ve traversed half the ship looking for you.”

“Apologies, sir,” he said simply. He may not have been a fool, but Cody knew he was a terrible liar. He couldn’t lie badly if he didn’t say anything about it at all.

Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed the slight shift in the way Kenobi eyed him, but Cody knew better; he saw the minuscule falter in that charming smile, the way the curiosity in his eyes deepened with suspicion.

Cody didn’t drop the polite smile he’d affixed to his face, even as he could feel the nearly imperceptible whisper of his general’s inspection of him through the Force.

“Yes, well,” Kenobi continued. “I believe we have a debrief to go over and a strategy meeting to attend. Shall we?”

“Yes, sir,” Cody nodded, walking side by side with his general.

“Have the medics finished their headcount?” the general asked. Cody knew where he was going with this, but he supposed playing dumb was the only reasonable course of action.

“Yes, sir. Got the report a few minutes ago,” he said, pulling the list up on his datapad, and handing it over to him. “Two men were lost, and most others had minimal injuries. The worst cases have already been taken care of, and that new batch of shinies have patched up practically everyone else.”

“The worst cases have been taken care of,” Kenobi repeated, his countenance was soft and friendly, but made of durasteel. Here came the hit. “I suppose that explains why only the top half of your undersuit is clean, why you reek of bacta and that still Boil and Waxer think I don’t know about, and why you’re so protective of your left side, to the point where you’re walking on my left.”

“Observant as always, General,” Cody hummed.

“Yes, I seem to be getting better at reading your tells, haven’t I?” he deadpanned. “Why didn’t you see Patch?”

Cody almost sighed. “Patch isn’t hurting for patients, and as I said, it’s been taken care of.”

“And you think I’m concerned about our medic keeping busy in the middle of a war?” Kenobi nearly growled. The mask was slipping. “Cody–”

“There is nothing to be concerned about, sir.”

“Oh, I’d beg to differ,” Kenobi snarked with a glare.

“I’m a grown man, General Kenobi, I can take care of myse–”

Before he could finish the sentence, Kenobi grabbed his arm, dragging him behind the closing doors to his side. He pinned Cody between himself and the back wall of a storage closet.

Cody was not a fool, but he could admit where his statements may have been… ill-advised. And given the way Kenobi scowled at him, he was certain he was about to hear a list of all the ways he’d fucked up that conversation.

“I know you can take care of yourself, Cody,” Kenobi scolded. “But I am concerned about you, whether you feel I should be or not. I want to be concerned about you!”

Cody may have been a fool. He struggled to process what his general might actually be admitting to as he continued.

“It makes me crazy when you tend to your own wounds because it means that no one knows how hurt you actually are,” Kenobi huffed in a humorless laugh. “And then you pretend as though nothing even happened? I know you were too close to those grenades, I know you were hit, and I know you forgot to clean your vambrace.”

His vam–…oh. Oh, right. Damn.

“You preach to our men about accepting help when it is needed yet after every battle, the second you can hide away in that office of yours and ‘take care of it’ before anyone can call you on your hypocrisy! Maker, Cody, just– just let someone care about you.”

Cody was definitely a fool.

Kenobi’s shoulders rose and fell with the short huffs he breathed as he recovered from his outburst. He finally pushed himself upright and out of Cody’s space to turn away from him, and Cody missed the proximity immediately.

Kenobi’s eyes slid shut as he took a deep breath.

“Apologies, Commander,” he said after what felt like a small eternity, his voice still with the edges of his anger. “That was an… inappropriate outburst. Please, see the medics about your injuries before they get any worse. Don’t have me make it an order.”

The general was about to open the door when Cody stepped toward him.

“General, I’m s–” he was interrupted by a harsh cough, worse than the one he’d forgotten to clean up after before, his arm coming up to break the expelled air once more.

“Cody?” Kenobi said, all the previous frustrated tone vanished.

Cody continued to fight his own lungs for the ability to breathe again. Something wasn’t right. His right arm wrapped around his side to put pressure on those jagged little cuts. Hints of the syllables he tried to pronounce came out in gasps. “Ca– can’t–” he stammered. The coughing subsided, but the breathlessness persisted.

As Kenobi began to come to his side to support him, Cody tried to grasp at one of the shelves, his right hand painting it with that rich red that he could feel leaking from his side.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Kenobi hissed, hauling Cody against his side. “You’re going to the medbay, now.”

As they moved, Cody’s feet stumbling below him, Kenobi barked orders into his comm. Patch and another medic met them partway with a gurney, Patch muttering some sarcastic remark about not needing a medic that Cody couldn’t quite parse out as the oxygen mask slipped over his face.

He should be focusing on the steady supply of that precious gas being pushed into his lungs, but all he could seem to notice was Kenobi.

His general moved with them of course, taking in all the information Patch rattled off, offering his own insights when Cody didn’t answer.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” the other medic called as they arrived in the medbay. Fluke, his brain supplied his name.

Patch had run off for specific supplies as Fluke pulled away the armor in his way, throwing it carelessly behind him. He didn’t hesitate to cut away the flexible midsection of his kit, nor the black undersuit beneath it.

“Kriff,” he hissed as Patch came back with a scanner. “Patch he used bacta, he’s already knitting back up.”

“Damnit,” Patch snarled. “How far’s it gone?”

“Maybe 60, 70 percent.”

“Kriff. Cody, we’ll need to open your chest if this scan shows you missed one of the frags.”

Cody had just enough presence of mind to roll his eyes.

“And I thought 16-year-old Anakin was stubborn,” Kenobi snarked, but his voice held just a slight shake that should have rattled Cody. “He looks like he’s going to pass o–”

“–at’s fine. – have to kno– –yway.”

—

Then Cody opened his eyes. He knew he was in the medbay. He must not have gotten all of that shrapnel like he thought he had. He knew he must’ve been in a tank after they got it out if the way he smelled was any indication. He knew that he’d be berated by Patch–he supposed it was a slight comfort that Fluke was new enough that he didn’t quite have the nerves to growl at stubborn COs, though he was sure he’d find his way soon–and by the General.

“Welcome back,” the General said from his side, nearly startling him.

“General,” he croaked in greeting. He moved to sit up but hissed as his side ached. “Guess I… missed a piece?”

“Two, actually.” Kenobi watched his struggle with a slightly bemused smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve learned any lessons, have you?”

Cody huffed out what could generously be called a chuckle. “Me? Never, sir.”

Despite his exasperation, Kenobi smiled as he shook his head in disbelief. “Before the war, for a decade, I was sure it was raising Anakin that would send me to an early grave.”

“Bit of a handful, sir?”

“Cody, stop trying to talk,” Kenobi smirked. “Your throat’s probably killing you right about now and we don’t need you to make it worse.”

Cody would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of sticking his tongue out in protest.

“I know better now,” the general continued. “No, what’s going to kill me is you. And your crazy brothers.”

The haze of anesthesia and bacta still clouded his mind, so Cody, very smartly said “What?”

Kenobi chuckled. “It won’t be the war that kills me, my dear,” he hummed. “It’ll be the stress of worrying over you, you foolish man.”

Cody felt his face and neck heat.

“I care for you, Cody,” the general whispered, gently taking Cody’s hand in his. “Quite deeply.”

Cody blinked as he struggled to put the words together. “You… about me?”

Kenobi smiled, warming Cody’s face even more. “Perhaps we’ll reopen this discussion once you’re not on pain meds.”

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