#i lived in dread waiting for it to happen while hoping it wouldn't

[firelily-mermaid-jedi]

I love Fitz. I love Simmons. I don't love FitzSimmons.

Since I'm in a ugh mcu mood, another hot take: Fitzsimmons should've remained friends.

[hannieehaee]

content: badboy!wonwoo (he's actually a cutie pie he's just v careless with his safety T-T), established relationship, break up, angst, fluffy ending (it's always fluffy endings here or i die), mentions of shady work, mentions of bruises, etc.

part 2

wc: 1191

a/n: thank you so much to the person who requested this!! im rlly bad with angst so this was hard haha if any of u want a smutty continuation pls lmk <3 i was gonna finish w smut but i wasnt sure ;-;

masterlist

"how can you expect me to care about you when you have such little regard for yourself?"

those were some of the last words wonwoo had heard from you last time he saw you.

he had, once again, arrived home late, blue and grey from yet another altercation he'd found himself in. he had promised you he'd leave his shady past behind. that he'd take care of you and you'd exist happily together, never having to worry for the other's safety.

it had taken you a while to break, begging him to put you out of your misery and either leave you or promise you a life in which you wouldn't be terrified every time he stepped foot out of the door. living without you was just unconceivable for wonwoo, which left him with only one choice.

he managed to keep his promise for about a week or two, happy to arrive punctual at home every night and find you waiting for him, more than ready to shower him with your affections.

he hadn't meant to break his promise. nothing broke him more than the look in your eyes as he entered your shared home, two hours late and with twenty missed calls from you. his skin was once again covered with bruises, disheveled hair and exhausted state to match. he hadn't thought this would be the end. that despite of his pleas to please stay, you'd still pack your bags, eyes filled with tears as you cried at him that you couldn't stay and watch him slowly kill himself like this. what you hadn't realized was that nothing could kill him more than your absence.

~

it had only been two weeks since you left him. two weeks since his last genuine smile graced his face. two weeks since he was able to sleep. and most ironically, two weeks since he'd gotten into some type of life-threatening altercation. his bruises had healed by now, taking longer than usual now that he didn't have you to tend to him like before. he still kept up with you, watching you from afar as you cruised through life. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, hoping to respect your decision to leave and take his heart with you, but your absence was too much for him. if he couldn't have you, he'd at least watch you from afar, dreading what he had lost. so that's what he did, and thats what he was currently doing right now.

you were attending some party, he'd found out. which meant he needed to be in attendance too and watch over you. he felt dejected as he watched you have fun with your friends, sad that maybe the breakup just hadn't been that big of a deal to you. maybe you were truly better off without him. maybe he needed to leave you alone and allow you to enjoy life without a burden such as jeon wonwoo.

he wanted to leave, he truly did, but his body wouldn't let him. he just wanted you back into his life so badly. everything had turned bleak the moment you left, making him just a shell of himself. he wanted to approach you and get on his knees (in front of all the wasted party goes, even) and beg you for forgiveness. he wanted to cry out to you how much he loved you, that you were the light of his life, that he'd leave it all behind for you. but he was too much of a coward to do that. so, he prepared himself mentally in order to leave, sparing one last look your way before disappearing into the crowd. except you were gone. in his distracted state, you had left. your friends were still there, but you were the sole disappearance. wonwoo knew he should've just left you alone, but he couldn't live with himself if something were to happen to you.

he frantically looked for you for a good five minutes before finding you in some empty balcony, sitting down against the rail with your legs hanging from it. he could only see your profile, but was able to spot the shine of your cheeks, a clear indicator that you'd been crying. he once again couldn't help himself when he spoke up.

"baby?" he was slow at approaching you, not wanting to surprise you too much.

you jumped a bit anyways, "wonwoo? what are you doing here?"

"i ... i wanted to see you. i'm sorry"

you had gotten up, now facing him but keeping yourself closed off, arms wrapped around yourself and eyes not meeting his, very much unlike your usual affectionate self.

"wonwoo ... you can't keep doing this. i know you've been following me around. you need to leave me alone."

"i .."

"do you think this is easy for me? i love you. so fucking much. i just cant watch you get hurt over and over. i cant wait home late not knowing if you'll actually come back," you'd began ranting, your emotions getting stronger by the second, "every time you leave it's like i have to hold my breath, and i cant breathe until i have you back to me safely. i can't do this anymore. i love you, i-"

wonwoo couldnt take it anymore. he walked the rest of the way and held onto you. he lightly grabbed you and placed you in his arms, engulfing your shaking form against his chest. you'd begun crying halfway through your speech, your words becoming slurred and you shook and sniffled throughout. wonwoo couldn't physically handle seeing you in such distress without wanting to take it away. so he held onto you. what surprised him was that you held him back. you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him as you sobbed against him, crying that you loved him.

"i love you ... so fucking much," pulling away, he made sure to look into your eyes as he spoke, "i can't exist without you. i'll stop- i stopped. i'll leave it all behind for you. we can leave. together. i'll do anything for you, just- please. please come back to me. i love you."

"wonwoo ..."

"i mean it! i'll keep you safe. i'll keep us safe. we can start new. just us. you'll never have to worry about me again, i promise. just need you back. please. i can't do this without you, i-"

like in any other cliche, you pulled him into you, kissing his words back into his mouth. but he didn't care. he kissed all emotions right back into yours, letting all the sadness he had in him dissipate against your lips. you kissed until you became lightheaded, sighing against each other's lips even when you were out of breath, refusing to pull away. wonwoo was finally the one to pull away, almost losing his mind at the way your lips chased after his.

"let me take you home? i love you. wanna take care of you."

and with that, you walked back into his life, hand in hand, with the promise that his love for you would keep him safe.

[xomakara]

Wanted Dead Or Alive

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | A handsome cowboy is injured while tending to a wild horse he's rescued miles from town. You're on the run, and can't afford to stop on your way to your destination – but you can't ignore the wounded man when you see him, and decide to help him despite the personal risk.

PAIRING | Mingi x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | Cowboy!Mingi, Heiress!Reader, Western au, non-idol au, smut (with some plot), consensual sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), slight fingering, dirty talk, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, etc), praise kink, bathtub sex, bed sex, gunfights, mentioned abuse

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 7,929 words

TAGLIST |  --

NETWORKS |  @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Excuse me, while I go bathe myself in holy water.

You can't help but spur the horse forward, your heart thudding in your chest. It had been hours, but the adrenaline was still running rampant in your system, your stomach clenching with dread.

You could hear the sound of hooves, and your body was tense and tight as you pulled the reins, hoping the sound wasn't heading toward you.

It had all started when you woke up with your ex-husband's hands around your throat, a wild look in his eyes. He'd seemed desperate and he had looked at you with an unfamiliar expression as he tightened his grip.

The memory of his hands squeezing the air out of your throat, the burning in your lungs as he tried to squeeze the life out of you. The memory had tears springing into your eyes, and you swallowed them back, forcing the panic away.

He had almost succeeded, if not for the fact that you were more desperate to live than he was for you to die.

You'd fought him with everything you had, and with the steak knife that you hid under your pillow, you stabbed him in the hand so that you could breathe.

And then you ran.

You had a small fortune that you'd stashed away, and you had a bag packed for days like this.

It wasn't enough to keep you safe for very long, but it was enough to get you where you needed to go, and it was enough to keep you warm, and fed and hidden from prying eyes.

You had planned to slip out of town under the cover of darkness and disappear. You'd heard that it was possible to disappear entirely, to leave the country, and you were prepared to do it.

You had no ties, no one waiting for you, nothing to keep you in town except for the fear of being found.

The sun is rising over the horizon, and you know you should probably stop for a rest, but you don't think you can.

You want to keep moving until you can't anymore.

You know there are men on your trail. They're not smart enough to keep up with you, but you know they're going to follow you for as long as it takes.

They'd followed you to this little town, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you again.

And they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

You know it was the money they were after.

After all, your family had a lot of it, and your husband had known about it and had wanted to get his hands on it for some time.

That's why he married you.

Sure he was rich and everyone knew it. But with the way that he spent it, he was drying out his funds, and he knew that if he didn't find some source of income, he'd be destitute within the year.

He wouldn't tell anyone, oh no, that would damage his reputation.

Instead, he'd taken a loan and used that loan to buy the nicest ring that he could afford.

And then he'd gone and found himself a rich wife.

He'd been careful in his planning. He'd been charming and he'd made you feel things you'd never felt before. He charmed his way to get your parents' favor, and they'd approved of him almost immediately.

The wedding had been the biggest social event that had happened in town in a long time.

But it didn't matter how well the two of you were liked, because your ex-husband didn't know how to stop spending, and now people were beginning to talk.

And they were beginning to ask questions.

You had been his perfect cover, his perfect alibi, and now that he was losing his power and prestige, he wanted to keep the one thing that was left to him.

And that was the money.

You didn't mind giving him the money, he'd been good to you, and he'd loved you, and had cared for you. But when the love turned to abuse, and the care turned to control, you decided you were better off without him.

So, you left him. Divorced him.

And now he was coming after you, and after the money.

He would not stop until he got what he wanted.

And neither would the men that were chasing you.

Your horse had been galloping for hours, and you were starting to slow down. Your body was sore, and your legs were cramping, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

You could hear them getting closer, and it made your blood run cold.

Your eyes scanned the horizon, looking for a place where you could stop. Somewhere you could hide, maybe.

There was a corpse of trees not too far from the road, and you veered towards them, hoping that they were thick enough to hide you from the men who were pursuing you.

And then you see him.

Tall and handsome, leaning against the side of a tree, holding his side. His head is tipped back, his face twisted with pain, and you feel your heart drop at the sight.

You pull your horse to a stop, your hands trembling. You're afraid. You're so scared. But you can't just leave him there, bleeding.

He's a big guy, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, but right now, he looks so small.

He opens his eyes, and his gaze finds yours. His eyes are dark, and you can see the pain in them.

He lifts his hand, and he waves at you.

"Hey there, little lady." Voice hoarse and gravelly. "Looks like I could use a bit of help."

You couldn't help but dismount your horse and carefully walk up to him. "What happened to you?"

His face twists and his shoulders rise as he inhales deeply. "Long story short, I got shot trying to round up some horses for Ol' Man Kim. A bullet got lodged in my side. I ain't sure if it went clean through, but I need a doctor. I can't make it to town."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "I can't take you into town, Mister. I can't afford to draw attention to myself."

He gives you a strange look. "Why would that draw attention to yourself? Do you have a criminal record or somethin'?"

You shake your head. "No. It's a lot more complicated than that. It's a long story."

"You can make it short like I did mine."

You laugh softly, your heart skipping a beat. He has a nice smile, and he's even more handsome when he laughs. "Okay. Well, long story short, I'm on the run. My ex-husband is trying to kill me for my money. And some other guys are after me. I can't stop here or else I'm putting myself at risk. I have to keep moving."

He studies you for a moment, his dark eyes boring into yours. "If you're willing, I could be of some assistance. I'm good with a gun, and I can keep you safe."

"But you're injured, mister."

"It's just a flesh wound. I can still use a gun. If you're worried, I can ride along with you, and when we get to the next town, I'll find a doctor. Until then, I'll watch your back. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "Why would you do that? You look like the type that would rob me instead."

"Nah, I may be a cowboy but I don't harm women and children." He reaches out his hand, palm up, a kind smile on his face. "I'll protect you, Miss. And when I'm healed up, I'll help you get to wherever it is that you're going."

You swallow, unsure if you should trust him or not. But he seems like a decent guy, and you could use all the help you could get.

"I don't know..." You bit your bottom lip. "I can't afford to pay you right now..."

"That's alright." He smiles again, and it's a reassuring smile. "I don't need any money. Just some help."

You hesitate, your heart racing. "Okay."

He grins. "Well, alright then. What's your name, miss?"

"Y/N."

"Mingi. A pleasure to meet ya."

"Likewise." You nod and walk towards your horse, taking hold of his reins. "You think you can get up on your own, Mingi?"

"Sure thing." Mingi grunts and pushes himself away from the tree, his hand clutching at his side. He takes a few steps, his face twisted in pain. He staggers and nearly falls, but you're quick enough to catch him before he hits the ground.

You grunt and strain to keep him upright. "Easy there."

He looks down at you, and you can see the embarrassment and pain in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Just lean on me, and we'll get you up on the horse. We're not going very far, and I think I saw a doctor a few miles back."

Mingi nods and takes a deep breath. You can't help but notice that his hair is messy and windswept, and his clothes are rumpled. Despite that, he was still very handsome.

You put your arms around his waist and help him climb onto the horse.

"Thank you." He says, his voice soft.

"You're welcome." You reply a small smile on your face.

You can't help but notice the way his broad shoulders taper into a narrow waist. He has the build of a man who does hard work for a living, and his dark brown eyes are bright and clear. He's the first man who's been honest and kind to you in a long time.

As you climb onto the horse, Mingi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You feel safe and secure, and you can't help but notice how his arms feel around you.

His scent is warm and masculine, and you feel yourself relaxing into him.

"We should get going." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Right," Mingi says and nudges the horse forward.

As you ride away, you can't help but notice the way he tightens his arms around you, and how his lips brush against your ear.

You shiver, and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you, and the safety you feel in his embrace.

For the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful.

You arrived in the small town that you passed a few miles back and the first thing that caught your eye was a doctor's office.

Mingi had been quiet the whole ride. The pain must have been intense. You pulled your horse to a stop and quickly dismounted. You helped Mingi off the horse and slowly made your way into the building, his tall frame leaning on you.

"I need a doctor! Now!" You shouted and looked around the waiting room.

"Please wait your turn." A woman, who looked like a nurse, muttered as she sat at a desk looking over some papers.

"Ma'am, please get the doctor or help me." Mingi softly said, the woman looking up at him. Mingi smiled down at you, his face pale. "My little wife here is worried and I'd hate to see her cry."

The woman blushed, and got up from her desk, quickly hurrying down the hall.

"Wife?" You questioned.

"She'll give us priority. Trust me." He softly grinned at you. "It's easier to get what we want this way."

"How's that fair to the other patients?"

"Life's not fair, sweetheart."

"You're lucky that I find you charming." You huffed.

"You find me charming? Well, aren't you sweet?"

"Shut up." You softly chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Sir, ma'am, follow me." The nurse came back into the waiting room and ushered you down the hall and into an examination room.

After some time, Mingi was patched up, and per the doctor's orders, you had to stay a few nights in town. You were worried about the men that were following you but Mingi assured you that you would be safe.

"So, where are we staying?"

"With a friend of mine."

"Friend?"

"Yep. He'll take good care of us. He owes me a favor and it's his fault that I got shot in the first place."

"Is it Ol' Man Kim, you mentioned before?"

Mingi nodded. "Just don't call him old. He's only a year older than me but I like to mess with him. We grew up together and we've always had each other's backs."

"He sounds like a good friend."

"He's one of the best." Mingi grinned, the pain meds kicking in.

"Alright, well, we better get going then." You sighed and helped Mingi get out of bed. "The doctor said that the medicine will probably make you drowsy."

"I'll be fine. Let's go."

You helped Mingi back to your horse and got him situated on the saddle.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

"Kim's place. It's not far from here."

"Alright." You mounted your horse and started heading out of town.

You rode for a few hours, the sun beginning to set. You were about to suggest that you should camp somewhere for the night, but Mingi told you to continue straight ahead.

"This is a long stretch of nothing, are you sure we're heading the right way?"

"Yes. Keep going, the house should come into view soon."

"Okay." You said, keeping the horse moving.

It was growing darker, and the air was getting colder.

"Mingi, we really should stop and rest. We can continue tomorrow."

"Not yet. We're almost there. Keep going."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright."

You continued to ride, the sky turning darker.

"I'm getting worried, Mingi. It's getting too dark to ride safely."

"Don't worry. The house should be coming up soon."

"Okay."

The moon was high in the sky and the stars were shining brightly.

You were about to give up and insist on making camp when a large house appeared in the distance.

"See? Told you."

"Well, I'll be damned." You sighed.

"It's not much, but it's home."

You followed Mingi's directions and guided the horse to the front door.

"Who's there?" A man opened the door, pointing his rifle at the both of you.

"Calm down, you old fart. It's just me." Mingi waved his hand at the man.

"Mingi?" The man lowered his rifle and squinted his eyes at him. "What the hell happened to you, man?"

"Got shot trying to wrangle up your horses, that's what." Mingi joked before looking at you. "This little lady here helped me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name, Miss." The man smiled at you.

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet ya. Name's Hongjoong. You can call me Joong."

"Joong, this little lady needs our help. She's running from some bad people." Mingi leaned his head against your back, his voice sounding groggy.

"Bad people?" Hongjoong questioned, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Yes. My ex-husband is trying to kill me." You explained. "He's hired people to come after me. I've been on the run for months now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Y/N."

"Thank you."

"Mingi, why don't you take Miss Y/N and get settled in while I bring your horse to the stable."

"Okay."

Mingi helped you down from the horse, his arms wrapping around your waist as he slowly lowered you to the ground.

"Careful." You softly spoke, helping him down from the horse.

"Thank you, darling." Mingi smiled.

"You two, get inside and get warmed up. I'll take care of the horse." Hongjoong took the reins and led the horse to the stable.

You helped Mingi inside, the two of you entering the large ranch house. You placed Mingi on the couch before taking a look around the house. It was simple but cozy, and it smelled like vanilla and pine.

"Make yourself at home. Joong won't be long." Mingi leaned back against the cushions.

"Thank you." You smiled and went back over to him, sitting on the couch next to him.

You studied his features, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. He looked so peaceful, and you couldn't help but admire his beauty.

"What are you thinking about?" Mingi suddenly asked, opening his eyes and looking at you.

"Nothing. Just how handsome you are." You admitted.

"Well, thank you, darlin'." He smiled. "You're pretty yourself. Real pretty."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you decided to stop and help me. I owe you my life."

"You're welcome." You smiled and leaned back against the cushions.

"So tell me your story," Mingi muttered. "Why is your husband out to get ya? Is it just for the money or is there something else?"

"It's a long story, Mingi." You sighed, a frown forming on your face.

"I got all night, sweetheart." He smiled, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. "C'mon. Indulge me, please."

You rolled your eyes. "You're lucky you're hurt. You're being very cheeky."

Mingi laughed, his dimpled cheek pressed against the cushions as he closed his eyes. "I am indeed. Tell me about ya. About yer marriage."

"What's to tell?" You shrugged, leaning back against the sofa and closing your eyes. "I met a man I thought would take care of me. He charmed me and my family but in reality, all he ever wanted was my money. Because he was on the verge of being broke." You began, re-living the memories. "At first, he treated me nice and it was wonderful, until it wasn't. It was his love language, lavish gifts, and trips. And then all of a sudden, what I thought was love turned into abuse and control. He wanted to spend my money on everything. When I said no, things went badly and his abuse became physical."

Mingi reached out a hand to you and put it atop yours, giving a little squeeze. "That bastard. I know his type. Those were the men I robbed and stole from. The greedy ones that hurt women." He let out a sigh and laid his head back. "I was an outlaw, for a long time. Joong and I were always looking out for each other. He was the brains and I was the brawn. But, a couple of years back we fell on some rough times and realized we weren't as invincible as we thought. When Joong's mama passed, she left him this property. We went legit and bought some cattle. Things are good now but we were still doing odd jobs. Helping friends and such." He smiled.

You studied him. "You two seem close. Friends can be good to have."

Mingi smiled at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "Joong and I are good at taking care of ourselves. Never needed anyone else until now."

"Until now?" Your eyebrows raised.

He shrugged a shoulder, an eyebrow lifting. "You never know what the future holds. Better to be prepared."

Mingi chuckled and stretched his limbs.

"I like the way you think." Your lips turned upward as you spoke to him.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence. Mingi's presence brought a feeling of ease to you. A moment later, Hongjoong came through the front door and removed his boots at the entrance.

"Hey, Joongie." Mingi greeted with a sleepy smile.

"How are ya holding up?"

"Better now." Mingi looked at you with a smile on his lips.

"Hey now, don't be all flirty up in this place-"

"Don't get jealous, Joong." Mingi cut him off.

"Me, jealous of you? Hell no." Hongjoong made his way over to you and sat down on a loveseat opposite the sofa. "So Miss Y/N, you got some crazies after you? What for? You some kind of heiress to a fortune? I can't see you doing any sort of wrong."

Your face reddened a bit as the men watched you. "I uh...well you could say that. My parents are wealthy, yes, and I was married to what I thought was a wealthy man...but he was on the verge of being broke. He only wanted my money so he could fund his extravagant life. Over time, he changed and became abusive. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore so I divorced him. Stabbed him in the hand with a steak knife and ran away. Now he's sent thugs and goons after me. As long as he can get his hands on my money, he doesn't care if I'm dead or alive."

"Unbelievable." Mingi sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Well, I have to hand it to you, Y/N. Most women wouldn't have the strength or gall to stand up to an abuser or their spouse." Hongjoong admired you.

"I have to get out of the country. That was my plan all along." You sighed. "Get out of the country and try to live quietly, like normal. Not to offend, but men like you aren't exactly low-key."

Mingi chuckled. "Good point."

"And now you're saddled with the poor cowboy you've rescued and stuck at a ranch house on the outskirts of nowhere."

'What if they come here?" You bit your bottom lip.

Hongjoong shook his head. "You don't have to worry. Mingi and I are more than capable of handling a few thugs."

"Right." Mingi smiled at you. "Now, how about some food and bed? I'm starved, wounded, and exhausted."

"As am I."

"Okay, you two." Hongjoong stood. "I'll get dinner started, so rest up."

"She's in there!" You heard yelling. "We'll kill her if we have to! Bring her here, now!"

You were thrown on your back, a male body covering yours as you blinked your eyes awake. The tall cowboy covered your body as best he could with his own, a rifle aimed and firing out the window into the night.

"Stay low," Mingi growled in your ear, a primal protective tone. He aimed the rifle once more as shouts and screams pierced the air. More gunshots and the air turned electric. He spoke to you in a hushed tone. "Do you know how to handle a gun?"

"Yeah." You had been forced to learn back with your husband and his controlling nature. You would never use a weapon to harm, though.

Mingi looked to see that you nodded, reaching over he dug in a side drawer of the dresser next to his bed and handed you a pistol.

"Just in case. Try to stay low until it's clear. But if it's an all-out war, don't be afraid. Protect yourself. I don't mind dying for something worth it and you're something worth a lot in my eyes. I promise you, you'll come out alive and whole."

You turned and locked eyes with Mingi. Mingi held eye contact for a second before hopping out of bed.

"You ready?" Mingi moved to the window and looked out over the land surrounding the home, the firelight casting an orange glow.

You swallowed your anxiety and nodded to the cowboy.

"Okay." Mingi readied his weapon and hopped up onto the window, gun first, and fired. He took cover in the window frame, a thump sounded like a body landing, but you weren't sure. You held the gun ready, gripping tight to it tight as sweat lined your palms.

There was no more yelling. Only the crackling of the fire was audible. Mingi sighed heavily. His head dropped and then you watched his chest inflate and fall quickly as his nerves calmed down.

"You good, Darlin'?" He turned his eyes to meet yours.

"I'm...okay."

"Good." He nodded. "Remember to stay low. I'll draw their attention away, then you run like hell. Head to the stables and get on one of the horses. Head to town and find Yunho, the sheriff. Hongjoong and I will be right behind you. Okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

"Good girl." He gave your knee a light squeeze. "Stay low and quiet."

Mingi disappeared. You took a few breaths, listening to the silence. You then dropped the window and began to make your way through the house and to the stables. You heard the sounds of horses stamping the ground and snorting. You looked over and saw Hongjoong climbing through the window.

"He okay?" Hongjoong whispered, moving his head out the window and seeing Mingi wasn't following you.

"Yes." You looked at him, sadness lining your eyes and fear welling in your voice.

"Hey, he's tough. The guy has been in much worse jams and walked out unscathed. This time isn't going to be any different. Trust me." Hongjoong had his revolver out, keeping his eyes focused on any movement outside. He hoped his words were true and the Mingi was alright.

A second later you heard Mingi's boots hit the floor. You were relieved. He moved quickly to the window.

"Four men dead."

"Is that all of them?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes. They rode in fast. Just the four men. Heard one of them saying that there's more on the way."

"Damn, you're ex-husband wasn't playing around," Hongjoong grumbled.

Mingi approached you. "Darlin', let's go."

Hongjoong looked at you. "Go with Mingi. I'll hold down the fort. This is my goddamn house after all."

He clasped Mingi on the shoulder. "Just go and get her safe."

"Yeah." Mingi nodded.

Hongjoong loaded the pistol and cocked the hammer. "This ain't goodbye forever, Miss Y/N. I promise." He saluted the pair of you with two fingers, a genuine smile on his lips. "Be safe, you two."

"Take care, Hongjoong. See you on the other side, my friend." Mingi then took your hand and led you to a horse already packed with bags. He then picked you up by your waist, lifting you as though you were nothing more than a pillow. His strength never failed to impress you and excite you at the same time. You tried to situate your skirts appropriately but decided to tear a good portion of fabric from the hem for easier mobility.

You felt Mingi swing up behind you on the horse and place an arm around you. "Hang on. We're heading on to town to get Sheriff Yunho and let him know what's going on. Then we'll head on to the next town over." Mingi clicked his tongue and kicked the horse's flanks gently with his boots and the pair of you raced off the property. You were overwhelmed and felt as though things were starting to go wrong, again. Would the nightmare ever stop? Was there no safety in the world for you? And now, you were putting a new man and his best friend into the situation. Men who weren't bound to you in any way. 

Men who owed you nothing. Who have both saved you already, when they barely even knew you. How could you thank someone for something like that?

After stopping in town and telling the sheriff what had happened and disguising yourself in men’s clothing, you and Mingi were on the road to the next town over. With Mingi behind you and one hand on the reins, you gripped the saddle and tried to focus on breathing. Your heart wouldn't slow down, and Mingi could sense how anxious you were.

"Talk to me, darlin'." Mingi patted your arm and leaned forward a little to listen.

"Oh..." You hadn't noticed until now just how tense your shoulders were.

"It's gonna be fine." Mingi's voice was warm and comforting, the complete opposite of the situation at hand.

"How can you say that?" You looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with him, tears already lining your waterline.

Mingi's breath hitched a moment when he met your gaze. It was an intense moment the two of you sharing, his large eyes drawing you in, pupils dilating ever so slightly. You were breathless when his face lowered to yours, his mouth suddenly pressing to yours in a firm yet gentle kiss. You relaxed as the shock melted away and leaned into him, Mingi's arm sliding over your waist and pulling you against him.

Your hand lifted and rested upon his broad chest. You could feel his heart thrumming away against his ribcage. A soft growl vibrated his throat when his lips parted against yours, allowing the hot sweep of his tongue to dance with yours. You were enjoying the moment, but the stress still lingered and ate away at you.

You were caught completely off-guard by Mingi's actions. Especially considering how you had only met him just a day earlier.

"Mingi..." You gasped a little, a redness spreading over your cheeks as the cowboy pulled back and smiled.

"I promise everything will be just fine, Y/N," Mingi muttered. "We'll be in town soon and on the next train out of there. Then we'll be off far west. Free from that bastard and his goons."

"You're going through all this trouble, and danger, to protect someone you don't even really know." You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling bad for endangering such a kind and wonderful man like the man behind you.

"Hey." Mingi reached over and brushed a stray tendril of hair from your face. "You're the real deal. I can tell, just by meeting you and hearing your story. Besides, this is me getting away from the life that Hongjoong and I led until just recently. This is redemption in a way, to help a pretty woman and save a good soul." Mingi moved one hand up your neck, fingers sliding along your skin making gooseflesh ripple along the trail.

"But the cost-"

"I think I know the price better than anyone. I was an outlaw, Y/N. Threw in my hand with the wrong people when I was a young idiot. Was lucky to be alive, and eventually met up with Hongoong. So I've seen all there was to see and can read people well. And, it's never too late to change and to choose the right people to surround yourself with. I've realized that I have to help others – the right way. And, besides, if I have to be in a sticky situation, I'm glad it's with someone like you."

You looked up to see Mingi staring down at you, his hands touching your waist.

Mingi grinned a bit as you seemed surprised. You were lost in his gaze for a moment, before coming back to your senses.

"Thanks."

Mingi stroked your cheek softly, admiring the details of your face for a moment, taking note of a certain spot he wouldn't mind having a chance to mark later on. Your face had a healthy dusting of sun-kissed skin that shined. Mingi stared in awe. He's known many a beautiful woman, but you were special. "Come on, darlin', we should keep moving. Should be in town soon enough."

You rode together the remainder of the way in silence. Your mind races over how the last day has unfolded, the danger the beautiful stranger was putting himself in, and the feelings stirring up in you for him. A few hours ago you didn't know him. Now you wanted to protect him and save him from danger. Was there something else driving you? Something hidden deep inside that only this kind-hearted stranger was capable of revealing?

Your mind drifted off and before you realized it, you had arrived in town. It was early morning and the streets were quiet, save a few people starting their day. After tying the horse to a post outside of the inn, Mingi gathered his rifle and your pack then helped you to the inn. After booking a room for both of you, Mingi gently grabbed you by your arm.

"Let's take it easy today, stock up on supplies, and then board the train tomorrow. Better get some rest while we can."

You nodded. Mingi rubbed your arms as your eyes fell. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to you." His expression softened as your eyes opened and focused back on him. "Not unless you want me to."

You smiled lightly and followed Mingi upstairs to the room you both had booked. Mingi kept the rifle close to him while entering the room, scanning the area, double-checking the closet and any potential hiding places, and making sure the window was locked, before relaxing his shoulders.

"I could use a bath right now." You said as you stood next to the bed.

"My thoughts exactly." Mingi smiled lightly.

"You'd like to bathe too, I presume?" You asked him, turning to the cowboy who was removing his gloves.

"Only if it's alright with you. No worries, I'm fine to wait for another day." He rested his gun and belongings at the foot of his bed. "Wouldn't be very polite of me to invite myself. And I don't want you thinking less of me." Mingi sat on the edge of his bed and started taking his boots off.

You wanted a bath but also a partner to be with. Even after all those kisses on the road, he was still respecting you, and wanting to make sure you were comfortable with him. What a rare and wonderful man you had stumbled upon.

"Well...I'd rather like someone to...bathe with me..." The sentence slipped out as a shy request, barely above a whisper, but Mingi heard and immediately looked over his shoulder with a sweet grin.

"Is that so?"

You nodded timidly and brought your bottom lip in between your teeth as his gaze made your nerves fire up. Mingi smiled, biting his lips as well in thought and lust.

"Well alright, Darlin."

You watched Mingi cross the room and follow you to the door leading to the tub in the corner of the room. "Shall we?" Mingi gestured, his palm opening outward and he held his other palm and wrist to you.

Your hands grabbed onto his and he gave a soft reassuring squeeze before releasing a hand, opening the bathroom door, and letting you inside. The tub was large and sturdy-looking and would easily fit two people. Your back faced Mingi while you started to get undressed, as he slowly shut the bathroom door.

You kept your eyes forward, hearing Mingi undo his belt buckle, and let his gun holster drop to the floor. His shirt followed the rustle and whooshing of cloth hinted at what was happening. He stood behind you, pausing and waiting.

"You still want my help, darlin'? I'm not going to push you into doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather me keep the rest of my clothes on, just say the word."

You turned with wide eyes, biting your lips at his naked chest and broad, sturdy shoulders. Mingi held a knowing, charming grin on his lips as he teased a single button open on his trousers.

"Yes." You breathed, hypnotized by the delicious sight of a gorgeous and almost nude Mingi. "Mingi...I..."

"Shh..." Mingi closed the distance between you and met your mouth, claiming your lips once again, his hand gripping your side firmly. You placed a hand over the larger, muscular one that rested upon your side. It felt incredibly soft and so strong. Your free hand started to play along the band of the loosening trousers. Mingi grunted lowly, moving your hand to slip inside the waistband of his trousers.

Your fingers gripped gently, a needy moan escaping him as you got a taste of his size.

"Fuck..." He muttered, pulling back and kissing along your neck. He groaned, then tugged your shirt up over your head and you pulled your hand back from his waist. He tossed the shirt to the side, a hand rubbing along the delicate curve of your hip and tugging down the waistband of the trousers you were wearing.

"You sure about this, Darlin?" Mingi whispered against the shell of your ear.

"Very sure." You muttered back as you kissed his neck.

Mingi hissed as your mouth sucked softly, his skin vibrating beneath the skin of his throat. He continued to lower your trouser hem, the palm of his hand skating over the naked skin of your thigh, leaving behind a trail of tingles in its wake. 

"Fuck, Darlin..." he breathed, eyes latching onto the sight of your naked hips. Your hands skated down his toned belly and played over his trousers once again.

"Lower.." he asked, his lips pecking your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek.

You complied, fingers brushing and kneading over the growing heat. Your hand pulled his length out, fingers brushing the smooth and hardened skin. Mingi released an exhale, as your thumb grazed the swollen tip of his cock, massaging the fluid that leaked from his throbbing tip.

"Christ..." He buried his nose in your hair, grunting. "We're not even in the bath yet. Fuck.. Y/N.."

"Mmm?" You teased lightly, still stroking the solid flesh gently and slowly.

He chuckled, the hand at your hip brushing gently over the juncture of your thighs, then dipping down to stroke your intimate entrance. You cried out, pressing your body tight to Mingi's while his lips attacked your throat, sucking at your collarbone.

He turned your body around, your back pressing against his front, and slowly steered you towards the waiting tub. Mingi took a seat in the steaming hot water, stretched his legs out, and carefully lifted you into his lap. You moaned at the feeling of Mingi's cock prodding your backside as he brought your hips closer to his own. Mingi growled lowly and purred as your behind settled into his lap, grinding down a little and humming at the hard, thick rod nudging your tailbone.

Mingi laughed through a moan and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your head before you felt his tongue playing with your skin. "Ready?"

"Yes." You muttered back in a gasp. "Mmmmmm..."

"No worries, Darling. You'll enjoy what I do to you." Mingi purred.

"Promise?" Your back arched in pleasure, his thumb dipping low and swiping against the delicate bundle of nerves nestled amongst the folds of your sensitive clit.

"Mmhm..." his finger slid around your inner folds, coating the digit, and he plunged inside, his lips sucking softly on your neck.

"Oooh god..." Your back arched, mouth agape, and hips bucking into the sweet feeling of Mingi's skilled hands pleasuring you.

Mingi hooked his chin on your shoulder and grinned, loving to see the effects his ministrations were causing you.

"Look at you, Darlin'." He gave a harder rub of his finger against that little nub hidden at the peak of your heat. He bit back a moan feeling you clench against his thick finger that was currently prodding your sweet wet center. He shuddered and your hips squirmed. Mingi lifted and lowered his fingers until both sank inside the hot core and massaged. Your back was arched, and a whimpered sob of utter bliss was loud and clear.

"Mingi..." The name came out breathlessly and your hands reached back to grip his forearms, the pads of your fingers gripping tightly as you turned and your eyes locked with Mingi's. Mingi pressed closer to you, lips trailing back up to the side of your neck, and claimed another hungry kiss. Your moans vibrated, Mingi growled in pleasure as he removed his fingers and snaked around you, turning you so that your legs ended up straddling his waist. Mingi sat back, the ends of his hair soaked, strands curling against the nape of his neck and temples as he watched you lower yourself on his cock.

"Just like that, beautiful. God, you feel fantastic." He muttered, reaching up to brush his lips back over yours. "How do you feel, darlin'? My size okay? Any pain? Need me to go softer or harder?"

You bit your lip, marveling at the sweetness the cowboy was treating you. Your insides squeezed, your muscles contracting and pulsating around him. A cuss of pleasure came from him as he slid up a little more, hands taking your waist, guiding you to lean back against his wet chest. The suds and bubbles moved away, exposing more of the heated contact to the cooler air.

Your nails scraped gently up Mingi's thighs and you sank further, feeling a slight resistance, but still feeling wonderful.

"Oh god, Mingi."

"I know, darlin'..." One hand rested on your hips under the water, the other cupping your breast and kneading, enjoying the warm mound beneath his palm. "Tell me, darlin'. How does this compare to your ex-husband? Be honest..." He breathed, burying his face into the back of your neck, kissing the hot skin.

"He never filled me like this...so good...so full...God..."

He ground his teeth a little, groaning through his teeth as he nipped your earlobe, keeping his eyes trained on your back and sides. You moaned, not caring how much noise you were making. Mingi leaned into you and stole another hungry kiss before whispering, "No worries, you can scream as loud as you like with me, darlin’. I'll take you harder and fill you even more."

"Yes, please. Fuck, Mingi...." Your breathless and heady voice caused Mingi's self-control to break. He thrust a little harder and gripped you tightly.

Mingi snaked an arm around the front of you, grabbing your wrist and pushing his weight to the back of you. With each thrust the water began to slosh, threatening to spill from the edges of the tub and onto the wooden floor. "Mingi-" 

The thrusts turned rough, yet there wasn't any pain. You reached out, searching and grabbing, anything, needing something to hold onto. Seeing what you needed, he repositioned you so that your breasts were now pressed against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, rocking against him. You didn't care if the water had gotten everywhere by now. Your pussy throbbed and clutched. He felt so big and you were impossibly full with him, the way his thickness was lodged inside and caressed every inch of your walls.

"Is this all you need, darlin'?" He asked. His words came out short and clipped as he panted.

Your response was only a loud mewl.

His hands pressed tight against your back, keeping you close, and the arm hooked beneath your bottom increased its grip.

You bounced upon his lap, your movements jagged, unable to do anything more. All you could do was cling to Mingi.

"There, Darlin...such a good girl for me..." He mumbled through a moan. His voice was gruff and it made your skin prickle.

"More..." you moaned back.

"Yeah? I'mma need to move this elsewhere to give you more, Darlin'." Mingi spoke against your shoulder, peppering a kiss to soothe you. His cock felt so good inside you. "Don't worry, Darlin'. I'm not done with you, yet. We still have the bedroom, and I need to have you ride me." Mingi purred while his mouth searched your body.

A throaty chuckle erupted from Mingi as he heard your cries for him.

You yelped and whined, surprised as his arms maneuvered you, and lifted you right out of the tub. The world blurred around you, Mingi's wet flesh clinging to your own. A second later, you felt yourself land upon the cool sheets of the mattress. The fluffy bedding was a welcome feeling as Mingi's wet frame pressed to you, your lips reconnecting once more.

"We didn't wash up..." You let out a small moan of contentment against the warmth of Mingi's neck, the skin dewy and soft.

"Guess not, but I certainly enjoyed a bath with you nonetheless, Darlin’." Mingi purred against your shoulder, flipping to lay on his back and bring you on top of him. He spread your legs further and gripped your hips in both his palms as you slid down on him. "Damn...Y/N..."

"You said you wanted me to ride you, didn't you?" You smirked, settling back on him.

"Oh...that was one of the best ideas I've ever had...aight, show me what ya got..." He placed one hand on your waist while the other was laid above his head, his grin impossibly wide and goofy as his eyes met yours. "By all means, show me, darlin'."

Fuck, bathtub sex was good but being atop such a fine specimen like Mingi...this was even better...and a whole other level of sensual.

"Mingi...my god..." Your breath caught, eyes slamming shut and rolling into your skull as you sunk deeper and began riding him with more passion.

He cursed under his breath. "Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect." He smiled, watching the view from under. Mingi was lying there, watching you move above him and he groaned.

"So hot...the way you are riding me...damn." He was straining with how good you were feeling. Your pussy squeezed around Mingi's thick cock, and your hand slid along his broad chest and down his sculpted torso. You trailed along his muscles, and Mingi watched you explore his body while you bounced atop his erection. He loved this.

"Look at you, Y/N.." Mingi smiled.

"So big.." you were stretched in a way you had never been before. "So full..." You whined, completely lost in him.

His hands wrapped tighter around your hips as he helped bounce you up and down his cock.

You continued riding the cowboy for a few more minutes. Mingi brought a hand up, running his thumb along the wet folds of your pussy and you whimpered, gasping when he started circling your clit. "Mingi.." his name came out louder, turning to a wail as you were right on the verge.

"Do it, cum all over me, let me feel it, I'm getting close. So close, darlin’." Mingi barked back, a growl emerging and his hands gripped hard as he pounded up and into you.

"Ooooh, yes!"

He sat up quickly, kissing you again as he thrust deeply until he could go no more, releasing. He jerked, pumping every last bit into you before easing down onto his back with an exhausted and spent laugh.

You collapsed over him and snuggled in closely.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Mingi agreed and he looked down at you and your naked form, which was intertwined with his. You snuggled in closer and were amazed at his energy. "Better than with your ex-husband?"

You let out a laugh and you pulled his hands and wrapped them around your waist. Your hands ran across his skin and his face had an easy smile, those chocolate eyes softening. You pushed yourself closer to him, which he welcomed. "Most definitely."

"How would you feel if I stayed with you to protect you and ensure you arrived wherever you wanted to go? I promise to make sure you aren't in any trouble. That's if you would like the company."

A smile spread over your lips, and you nodded your approval. You'd love nothing more than the company of a handsome man with a good heart such as Mingi. He smiled in return placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose and held you tighter, drawing the covers of your bed over the both of you. You smiled a little as you looked at him. The night air filled with a beautiful silence. It was comfortable. Neither of you spoke, but eventually, Mingi whispered into the dark:

"Y'know what Darlin'? I reckon we can manage life together just fine."

You giggled and nodded. "I have a feeling you're right about that."

[storiesfromafan]

MIA - Buck x Reader

A/N: so I am back with part 2 to Rumours. Not sure how I feel about this...but it will have to do haha. I will do a part 3, and that will be it.

Forgive me if any information is wrong, as I had to change a few things around to suit the story. As well as any spelling and grammer mistakes 😅

Tag list: @strayrockette (you asked for angsty, hope I met the requirement...maybe lol)

October 8th 1943 was a day you wouldn't forget. Starting with waking to this foreboding feeling gnawing at the back of your mind. And with every minute of the passing morning your stomach sinking further and further. Something was to happen that day, which usually meant death, injury and despair with a mix of grief.

Earlier that morning the 100th had flown out on a raid. It was like they normally would, no one would have guessed the out come of their return. You had spent the morning doing inventory and getting everything ready for the 100th return. If this raid was like any other, there would be some injured men coming into your medical. The Doctor's were waiting, ready for whatever was to come. While the other nurses prepared for what they would see.

When the transport vehicles rolled out, maned by men who were use to everything traumatising and disturbing. You might see the men when they are wheeled in, but to see them as they are pulled from their plane, you don't think you could stomach that. You had over heard a few men telling other female nurses the gruesome details, every stomach churning missing limb and exposed insides. And you can't forget the blood.

Standing with the other nurses and Doctors, with baited breath, you all waited. Ready for action, to help and save lives. You heard the vehicles come flying down the dirt road, the muffled noise of men talking before the cries of those injured. When the doors burst open and the first few men were brought it, you all sprung into action.

You didn't think, you just acted. Moving to help a man who was covered in blood, you looked him over assessing his wounds. He had a few large, deep cuts but none were in any areas of major arteries. But he did had a broken leg and dislocated arm. The sounds he made was hard to listen too, it pulled at your heartstrings. But you kept on moving, doing your job.

When you were done with him you moved on to the next, and then the next, till all that had came in were seen too. Hours went by, it was late morning when you had started, and it was now evening when you finally stopped. Done with your work. Clothing covered in blood, body drained and exhausted. But you felt satisfied, knowing all men were alive. Yet the night would only tell how the worst would fare.

Stepping out of the medical building, the evening breeze hitting your face. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the fresh air into your lungs, a stark contrast to that of the sterile space you had been in. Rolling your shoulders back, you stretched your arms and hands, enjoying how your body creaked and cracked. Your ears took in the faint sounds of the base. Enjoying the sounds around you, unlike what you had listened to, which had been filled with cries, moans, groans and machines for hours.

If only you had been warned not to open your eyes, you could have lived in ignorant bliss. For as soon as you opened them you were greeted to the sight of one Major Egan. The usual boyish charm and cheeky nature gone, replaced with sadness and anguish. That foreboding and sinking pit in your stomach surfacing after being pushed away while you worked. Today was a day you had dreaded. A day that you prayed to never meet.

“It's B-Buck...” Bucky managed to get out, voice hollow and strained. “H-his plane...it-it went down...”

Hearing those words laced in pain, as Bucky did his best to keep himself together. It was like standing there, telling you, made it finally sink in, how real the situation was. The chances were Buck had gone down with his plane, possibly dead. Or he managed to evacuate and was now in enemy territory, which meant death or becoming a prisoner. No matter what way you thought about it, there was a chance of Buck not returning.

You felt the air in your lungs hinder. Breathing in all aspects getting harder. Your chest tightening with the dread you were feeling. You could feel tears rising in your eyes. Bucky looked up from staring at the ground, and upon seeing your reaction to the news, swiftly moved to grab your arm. He led you to a bench near by before helping you sit, then taking the spot next to you.

Everything seemed to fade away, leaving you with an ache in your chest. You couldn't form any words, yet your mind was running wild with them. So many questions that you wanted to ask. Bucky watched you as you stared off into the distance. He understood what you were going through, processing the terrible news. He had been in the same position as you hours before.

Bucky cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that seemed to be sitting there. “I...I thought you should hear the news from me...” his voice was low, trying to be as calm as he could.

You nodded, still having trouble to speak. But the silence between you too wasn't uncomfortable, for you both understood the other right now. Maybe you both needed the other, to work through this moment. A moment that could have come at any time. Bucky knew that, and you both knew Buck knew it. It was part of their job, knowing at any minute they are up in the air, and then the next they would be coming down. With a slim chance of survival in this war.

With time Bucky spoke to you, telling you to clean up and take it easy. Mentioning how he would be having a drink by the planes, if you wanted to join him. Still you hadn’t spoken, but nodded your heard slowly. With that, you shakily got up from your seat and headed back to your room. It was when you were behind a closed door, back resting against the wood, and sliding down to sit on the floor. That was when you finally let your tears free. You broke down, heartbroken and longing to see Buck, even for just one more fleeting moment.

True to his word, you found Bucky that night on the wing of a plane. You had been in your room for ages trying to stop your tears, and only finally was able to get it under control. Not wanting to be alone, you had decided to seek out Bucky. You made your way up to the base of the plane, looking up at the intoxicated man who sat with his feet hanging over the edge of the wing.

“B-Bucky...” you spoke, voice horse and not sounding like yourself. A result from your crying. “Are you alright up there?”

He swayed a little, his head turning down to look to you. “F-fine...I guess" he sputtered.

“Maybe you should come down...” you said concerned for his well being.

Bucky just nodded his head before slowly and a little unsteadily, getting down. With his feet on the ground, you moved to sit you both in front of the plane. The ground was hard, and a little cool, but you both would be fine. Silence filled the space around you, but both happy to take comfort in each other.

With time Bucky began to speak, reminiscing on moments with Buck. He told you how they met and became friends, what they had both gone through up in the air. How he was like a brother to him. And how they both liked being around you, recalling when they first met you. And what he thought about you, and Buck's reaction to you.

“We both liked having you around, you know?” Bucky questioned. “It was nice to have a dance partner that could take a joke" he laughed.

You smiled softly, for the first time feeling happy hearing his words.

“Buck...Buck liked having someone to talk to that was level headed, like him. He told me how close you both were, and I was happy he had you. And when those rumours made the rounds, he was Hell bent on putting an end to them" he chuckled. “Had me wondering...”

You looked at Bucky in confusion. “Wondering what...?”

“You know" he said tilting his head, when you continued to look at him the way you were he went on. “You know...if you and Buck were – well you know”.

You sat up straight at his insinuation. Bucky thought you and Buck were seeing each other privately, and engaging in inappropriate behaviour. “N-no, not at all" you replied quickly.

“But you do have feelings for him, right?” Bucky asked, looking you in the eye. “He came back after speaking to you, he didn't say it but I could tell something went down between you both, right?”

You averted your eyes from his. Deciding there was no reason to hide it, you nodded your head. Out of all the people on the base, Bucky and Buck were to two you could trust. And it looked liked you only have Bucky left.

“I knew it...I think he cared for you. But with Marge, he was devoted to her...” Bucky thought out loud. “Watching you both, I could see something there...but you're both so good, to do anything to hurt someone...”

You didn't understand what the Major was getting at. Deciding it was time for him to get to bed, you voiced it. “Alright Bucky, I think its time you get some rest”.

You moved to help him up, but Bucky protested, almost having a child like fit. But with a little bit of talking to him, you were able to talk him into it. With his arm over your shoulders, you helped get Bucky back to his room, before leaving him at his door. Reluctantly you headed back to you room. Once in bed you had wanted to sleep, but it was something that you got next to none off. How your sleeping pattern would be from here on out.

The course of the next few weeks seemed to be following a steady path. But, once more, you are struck with bad news. First Buck, now Bucky. His plane going down and with that, the last of your hope for everyone else. You cried and thought of the Major, but no where near as it had been for Buck.

Lost to war were two strong men. Who didn't deserve what they got. No more mischievous and anger inducing moments with Bucky, whom you would gladly have one more dance with, only to have him make you laugh. No more electrifying discussions with Buck, were you would enjoy looking into his stormy blue eyes, that caused butterflies to swarm your stomach. Now it was an empty pit, with a chest to match.

A/N: one of my favourite moments was Buck dancing with Meatball 😍

[slaymybreathaway]

Batwife (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

"The Batman" 2022

Warnings: mentions of nudity

Word Count: 776

Masterlist

"The city's favourite couple are saying 'I do' this morning at Gotham Cathedral. Billionaire Bruce Wayne and Oscar Winning actress Y/n L/n made their first public appearance as a couple nearly 3 years ago at the premier of y/n's movie The Gravedigger," one reporter said.

Every news station in the city waited impatiently outside the cathedral for them to emerge. It was the event of the decade, the closest Gotham would ever get to a royal wedding.

Just then, the newlyweds emerged from the Church. Y/n was wearing a simple silk wedding dress with colourful flowers adorned on the lace sleeves that covered her arms. Bruce was looking sharp in a black suit. The handkerchief tucked neatly in his breast pocket was a bright yellow. Many fans speculate that the burst of colour was added by his new wife, the actress being famous for her making block colours fashionable again.

As soon as the doors of the Cathedral were opened, they were bombarded with flashing cameras and intrusive questions.

"Y/n, many speculate you are marrying for money," one particularly pushy reporter asked.

Bruce tried to get his new wife to ignore this statement but y/n turned around and spoke straight into his microphone. "I'm more than capable of making my own money, thank you," she said and followed her husband into the wedding car.

♡ 5 years later ♡

Y/n Wayne sat in living room watching, no studying the news. Every night she did the same, waiting for the headline she dreaded 'Masked Vigilante Found Dead'. Thankfully it hasn't happened yet.

Then, Alfred brought her a cup of coffee. "Here, I assume you won't go to sleep until Master Bruce comes home," he smiled slightly.

"Am I that readable?" she asked and took the cup "Anyways will you tell me when he does get home, please?"

Alfred agreed and y/n went back to watching the news.

An hour later, y/n was on the verge of falling asleep when Alfred came back in. "Master Bruce has arrived," he announced.

Y/n yawned. She got up, put on her robe and got in the elevator down to what her husband called the 'bat-cave' but she referred to it as the glorified basment.

When the elevator stopped y/n could see Bruce writing down the nights events.

"Dear Diary, it's Halloween today and I had to dress up like a bat. All the other kids made fun of me and stole my candy," she joked and walked over to him.

Bruce smiled "I told you not to wait around for me anymore honey," He closed his notebook and brought her face to kiss him.

She watched as he took out his camera contact lenses and placed them on the scanner.

Y/n knew that he wouldn't listen to her properly while watching the footage of tonight so she decided to mess with him.

"I went to a Halloween party tonight,"

"Mhm, that's nice honey. What did you wear?" he asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Barely anything," y/n whispered in his ear.

No reaction whatsoever came from Bruce's face, he replied with another automated answer "Great, hope you didn't get too cold,"

Y/n crossed her arms in frustration. "You should've came. To the party, I mean. If I attend another social event alone people will start to rumour your death,"

"Well, it seems like crime never ends in this city," he said, his head still stuck in the monitors.

"Yeah but marriages do," y/n mumbled.

Bruce broke out of his trance and turned to face his wife. "What?"

Y/n's expression broke into a smile. "The fact that I had to mention divorce for my husband to even make eye contact with me,"

He sighed "I'm sorry, my love. It's just, this thing," he gestures to the screen.

"Maybe I can help?" y/n asked, already knowing the answer. Bruce didn't want her involved in the whole 'Batman' thing because she worries enough about him without her knowing the amount of danger he really is in.

"C'mon, with most women, if their husband stayed out half the night and comes back with eye makeup on then he's cheating. My situation is... A little different. Just, please let me help you," she looked up at him pleadingly.

He sighed. "Alright come here," he wrapped his arms around his wife as he showed her the 'He lies still' card.

[inneedofsupervision]

Hey Mister Villain

Finally, I can present you the long-awaited Sequel to No Spilling Secrets. I recommend reading No Spilling Secrets first, as that is relevant for understanding the context of this story.

Summary: After getting out of the claws of Clint, Bucky, and Sam, Peter can finally take a rest. Or can he? A single glance at Mr. Stark is enough to let the teen know his mentor waits for an explanation, and it better be a good one. He really should have thought about how to get out of this one, didn't he?

Read on Ao3

"Care to explain why you hacked Friday, Peter."

Oh fuck.

"Not the words I would use, but that sums it up well enough."

The words had tumbled out before Peter could stop himself. At least May and Steve weren't here to catch that slip-up. Mr. Stark merely raises an eyebrow, leveling the teen with a glance. The man is still waiting for an explanation that Peter is more than dreading to give to his mentor. Heck, Peter endured the dishing out of the bird bros and Bucky. He couldn't fold now just because Mr. Stark came off as a little intimidating. Speaking of Mr. Stark, said man stands stern-faced in front of him, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at Peter in a voiceless dare to keep silent. 

Okay, cross that. Mr. Stark is more than a little intimidating. 

But still, Peter has come too far to spill. His mentor wouldn't let him live that down, not after creating a whole archive of Peter's embarrassing moments. It is pouring fuel straight into the fire.

Mr. Stark steps closer.

With one hand casually placed in the pocket of his three-piece suit while the other pulls down his glasses, the man glances over the rim. Peter gulps. He has to lean his head back to meet his eyes. Mr. Stark studies him for a moment, and Peter wonders what exactly the man is searching for when the sound of the man sniffing catches his attention.

Mr. Stark straightens, pushing his glasses back up.

"These three didn't manage to, but I know how to make you talk, Parker. Don't let it come to that." Peter lets out a huff in protest when his mentor suddenly pushes him, causing him to lie flat on the bench. The teen stares up at the older man in surprise before Peter's face contorts into a grimace as he finally registers Mr. Stark's words.

"You saw all of that?" Peter asks, hoping Mr. Stark would break out into that smug trademark grin, laughing as he pats him on the shoulder and tells him he was only messing with him. Mr. Stark, of course, didn't give Peter that. Instead, he is met with a slight tilt of the head as Mr. Stark gives him an unimpressed look. 

"This is my tower kid. What did you expect?"

The vigilante lets his shoulder sag in defeat. Of course, Mr. Stark watched the whole spectacle. Where is that hole in the ground to bury yourself? It's never there when you need it.

A finger flicks against his forehead.

"Don't go all kicked-puppy on me, kid. You wouldn't be in this predicament if you hadn't cracked the tower's system and left a security breach as wide as the Brooklyn Bridge. You bought this on yourself."

"Maybe that wouldn't happen if there was a better security system," mutters the teen under his breath. 

"Excuse me, what was that?" Peter's mouth shut instantly at the look Mr. Stark was giving him. How many times did he manage to piss his mentor off today? According to Mr. Starks expression, it was at least one time too many. Sensing that this wasn't going in a favorable direction, Peter made a drastic decision. 

He needs to escape. 

Now.

The man standing in front of the bench raises an eyebrow as the teen suddenly angles his legs up, bringing them close to his chest and bending his back, body forming an alarmingly accurate globular form. Without his trademark suit, the kid always seemed so inconspicuous it was easy to forget his powers and traits, counting in that inhuman flexibility. The kid tilts sideways, beginning to roll down the bench with an easiness that left the man wondering if Peter had done this before, the thought of that being a possibility alone giving him a mild headache.

"What- kid, you are not some overgrown roly-poly. What are you doing?"

Skillfully ignoring the bewildered tone of his mentor, Peter tenses his muscles while bracing for the fall, tilting his arms to avoid landing on his still-bound wrists. Mr. Stark takes off his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, tired of Peter's antics, before pocketing them in his breast pocket.

"Kid, you're not getting away without talking about this."

The older man rolls his eyes as Peter ignores him, the latter robbing his way forward on the floor, apparently on a mission to put the two super-soldiers in their team to shame. But it still wasn't quick enough. Peter wriggles forward as if his life depended on it, blatantly ignoring the pair of shoes moving at the same pace next to his head as Mr. Stark walks reversely next to him, hands folded behind his back as he looks down at the teen with mild amusement.

"Having fun, kid? How's the air down there?"

The engineer shakes his head when he doesn't get an answer, not even a sarcastic or snappy remark from his mentee. The latter keeps wriggling with a determined look towards the door still ten meters away. "And Rhodey calls me stubborn. Peter, kid, come on. Stop being silly." 

"Upfh!"

A tiny yelp escaped Peter's lips when he fell forward, courtesy of the polished dress shoe that pulled on the leg he had put on the ground in an attempt to stand up, only to fall flat on his stomach. 

"Come one, Peter. This starts to get boring, doesn't it."

The teen doesn't need to see the man know that Mr. Stark is most likely rolling his eyes at him as he continues ignoring him, only to further shuffle forward on the floor. 

"Friday, be a dear and give me and Mr. Parker some privacy."

Peter couldn't decide what let his heart beat faster, Mr. Starks words or the faint click of the door locking shut. 

"Mr. Stark!"

The boy's eyes widen as the dress shoe from before pushes under his stomach. He gets flipped onto his back, gazing up at Mr. Stark standing above him with a raised eyebrow and a corner of his lip turned up in unsuppressed smugness. 

Peter sucks in a breath at the sight.

"Mr. Stark, you look like a supervillain right now."

The man's lips qurik up as he strokes his clean-cut goaty. 

"If it takes a supervillain to end this nonsense, I might as well adapt to that role."

"Mr. Stark, no!"

It doesn't take a lot for the man to kneel and grab the squirming boy's wrists, pinning them over his head with one hand.

"Are you ready to talk, Spiderman?"

Peter feels the adrenaline kicking in as his lips twitch upwards in anticipation, his eyes focused more on Mr. Starks free hand than the man's face. Mr. Stark notices the glance at his hand. 

"You see this, webslinger?" asks Mr. Stark with a cold-toned voice that Peter hasn't heard the man using with anyone other than the press on a few occasions when reporters ask some too-invasive questions. He had even pulled the purple-tinted glasses back out and put them on, jumping at the chance to act like an actual villain, and Peter could only stare up at the man, feeling flabbergasted. 

Sure, Mr. Stark could act playful. 

But those mods were usually portrayed through a headlock with an easy way out, hair ruffling, and tons of jokes and banter. Occasionally, Mr. Stark tickles him during movie nights when Peter gets a little too sassy for the man's liking, ending with the teen nearly rolling down the couch giggling. Those moments usually last only a few seconds before Peter crawls back on the couch with Mr. Starks arm thrown over his shoulder, leaning against the man's side. Therefore, it was hardly surprising that Peter was a tad perplexed at the threat of getting tickled by his mentor. The latter seemed overly confident in getting Peter to talk, which results in the teen being curious and absolutely terrified at once. At least Mr. Stark didn't have super hearing, or he might have known just how effectively nervous his words alone were making Peter, going by how his heart was racing behind his ribcage. 

Unaware of the conflicting emotions Tony has caused to tumble around his mentee's head, he continues playing his villain act with a worryingly amount of perfection. The man holds his free hand up for the teen to see, moving his fingers down one after another in a quick motion like some cheap magician before pulling a bunny out of his top hat.

"This is the only tool needed to get you chirping, Spidey," continues the man, looking at his hand as if it were some weapon he had built and was particularly proud of. It leaves Peter gulping heavily.

"You might ask yourself why this," Mr. Stark waves with his hand, "is the way to break you. Well, let me elaborate, my wall-crawling little friend."

Peter opens his mouth to interrupt the cliche of the villain explaining his evil master plan in front of the bound hero. He gets silenced by a raised eyebrow and quickly clamps his lips shut, letting Mr. Stark have his moment.

"I happen to stumble over some interesting information about you, Spiderling. Some would even say it is a bit of a weakness."

Oh gosh, Peter didn't like the way Mr. Stark was grinning down at him at all. The hairs on his neck begin to rise at the sight. Although his subconsciousness was aware of the lack of a threat, Peter's brain couldn't stop the funny feeling of anticipation from accumulating inside him, leaving his muscles tense as he could do nothing but wait for something to happen. It feels like just before his spidey sense kicks in, but without the wave of anxiety rolling over him. At this point, Peter wishes Mr. Stark would get over it, but the thought of asking the man to do something leaves the tips of his ears red in embarrassment. He feels like a child all over again, becoming flustered over something silly, like the prospect of getting tickled.

"From what I gathered, there are parts of your body which, despite your genetic altering, are rather-" Mr. Stark leaves a short pause between the following words as his lip twitches upward into a smug grin, "delicate."

Mr. Starks free hand shots downward. 

Peter presses out a squeaky "noho!" while bringing his legs up to his chest to block the attack, eyes squeezing shut on instinct. 

But nothing happens. 

Peter lingers in that curled-up position, opening his eyes slightly to squint over his knees. The teen meets the highly amused grin of Mr. Stark, who wears the same expression as he does when he gets the affirmation of one of his more advanced calculations being correct, an expression of pure smugness. 

"A bit skittish, are we?"

Before Peter could even think of an answer, Mr. Stark's hand found a way between his pulled-up legs and his middle, fingers digging without hesitance into his stomach. The sudden attack caught Peter off guard, the laughter pouring out instantly.

"Mr. Stahahark! Thahahahat's plahaying dihirty!"

The man tilts his head at his mentees' words, the latter trying to press his knees closer to his middle, but that did little to hinder the man from tweaking his sides, grinning at the little shriek it earns him. 

"Oh, I didn't know this counts as playing to you. Might as well as much as you are enjoying yourself."

"I'm nohoht enjohohyinh anythIHIHng!" 

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes and switches spots, his fingers working quickly on the teen's stretched-out underarms. Peter kicks his legs out at the ticklish jolt when blunt nails softly scratch over the fabric of his shirt that does little to protect his sensitive armpits. His laughter changes into cackling, and he tugs on his bound arms, actually managing to bring them down. 

He only hears the click of a tongue, having shut his eyes when his armpits got attacked. He rolls on his side as soon as the tickling stops, trying to escape the attack, but gets stopped by a hand on his shoulder, effortlessly pulling him onto his back again. Not a second later, two hands are shoved up into his underarms, and begun to explore the spot, meticulously working on searching for weak spots. As soon as he found them, Mr. Stark kneads with his thumbs into the muscles, letting Peter jump with a squeak before bursting into another wave of loud laughter.

"NOHOO PLEAHAHASE! MR. STAHAHAHARK. Nohohot thehehere! I- I canahahan't ahahaha. I cahahahn't staAHAND ihiht, pleahashe nohohho!"

"That's unfortunate, as I don't show mercy to any of my enemies. And you, Spiderman, earned the privilege to stand on the top of my hit list."

He grins down at the teen who has his arms pressed to his side as much as his tied wrists allow it, body wriggling from side to side to avoid his hands, but Tony's fingers are following, never leaving up to pinch and flutter over all the places that bring out the sound of panic-laced giggles. 

"No! No! Nonononono! ACK NOHO MR. STAHAHARK, NOHOHOHO!"

"Hm? What's this? Spiderman has a ticklish belly?"

Peter manages to sends a glare at his mentor. "I doho nohoht! J-just l leahaheve ihit alohohohne. Mr. Stahark, I sweaAHAHR, I- ohmygohohod dohohohnt!"

Peter lets out a high-pitched squeal as a finger dips into his belly button. His laugh goes silent for a few seconds, during which he arches his back as the ticklish feeling overwhelms him before he deflates into a heap of hiccupy giggles, begging Mr. Stark to do anything but please let his belly button alone. The man smirks down at the blushing teen. Tony would lie if he said he did not find Peter's reaction absolutely endearing. 

"Now, that's just adorable. I almost feel bad having to end you."

"Youhuhu ahahre eheh- evil!"

"I beg to differ, Spidey. This -" Tony worms his finger into Peter's navel, wriggling it around teasingly and earning himself a snort followed by feet drumming against the floor behind him as the kid trashes around madly 

"isn't evil. I'll show you what's really evil."

Out of breath and lying on his side, Peter, at first, didn't register what was happening, too busy to get back to pumping air into his lungs. When he finally glances up at what Mr. Stark is doing, the man is already gathering his feet in a headlock and pulling his tie around his ankles. Peter's eyes widened. He was about to yank his legs out of the hold, and he certainly would have managed to, but at that moment, Mr. Stark had already tightened the piece of clothing, successfully binding his legs. After giving it a closer thought, Peter's panic begins to subdue. A tie was no match for his strength. He could easily snap it if he wanted to. 

"Before I forget it, that tie is a Christmas present from Pepper's parents."

Mr. Stark broke out in loud laughter at the sheer look of betrayal Peter sent his way.

"You are a monster, Mr. Stark."

Peter regrets the words as soon as his mentor grins at him before pushing him over, forcing the teen to lay on his stomach and pull his feet facing upward onto his lap.

"Finally, you are aware of the gravity of the situation, Spidey."

While talking, he let a single finger run down the arch of Peter's foot, grinning at the teen's toes curling up and the whole-body jolt the action brought. He repeats the action on Peter's other foot, getting the same reaction, which only encourages the man to let all his fingers, at once, drag over the wiggling soles. The feet in his lap squirm just as the rest of the teen trashes on the floor like an angry caterpillar, laughing his head off, occasionally shrieking when Tony pulls his toes back to scribble under them. 

"NO! Nohohot the toes! Pleahase, anythihing buhut thahat."

Mr. Stark let up, giving the teen a short break.

"Not the toes, you say? Do you mean these toes? These ticklish little toes right here?" He takes one of them between his fingers, shaking them a little while speaking, but that is apparently enough to throw Peter into a giggle fit and try kicking him. 

"Well, then I have to let these toes be. And tickle these instead."

True to his word, Mr. Stark left Peter's right foot in peace, only to jump onto the left one, resuming his relentless attack.

"ACK! I sahahaid NOT the toehes!"

"And since when do I listen to what my enemy tells me? Huh, Spidey, since when do we do that?" he teases the kid, letting up from his feet to pinch above his kneecaps. Peter shrieks and kicks his legs out as he laughs loudly, managing to roll onto his back. He quickly sets his legs up to press his soles against the gym floor, preventing Tony from getting a hold of them.

"You're trying to be smart about this? Well, what do you do about this then?"

Without pausing, Mr. Stark takes hold of the teen's wrist and softly but firmly presses them against the teen's chest to get them out of the way before pulling his shirt up, revealing his tummy. 

Peter's eyes widen. He couldn't move much with his feet sticking to prevent whatever Mr. Stark was planning. He had an idea, but surely Mr. Stark wouldn't do something as childish as that.

Right?

Peter screams before hysterical giggles take over after the first raspberry is placed on his stomach.

"Nahaha, stahahahap. Nohot fahair, ihihihi thihihs isn't fahahahahair Mr. Stark!"

"Anything is fair in a fight with your enemy. Even this."

Mr. Stark places another long-lasting raspberry, making sure to shake his face into Peter's stomach as that elicits just the most adorable squeal he had ever witnessed from the teen.

"Now, what do you say, Spidey? Are you ready to fess up?"

Mr. Stark takes in the sight of his red-faced mentee with something akin to fondness. Peter's hair is messy from shaking his head from side to side, his chest heaving from laughing, and a wide grin spreads over his features. The teen surprises him as he squints at him from a position on the ground, a determined look on his face.

"Is that all you've got?"

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow.

"Well, you brought this on yourself."

His head rushes down again, sending the teen into another ticklish frenzy. By the end of it, tears of mirth are gathering in the corner of Peter's eyes, which were Tony's clue to give up. Apparently, Peter didn't think his mentor would give up just yet, as he couldn't believe it when his hands and feet were free to move again.

"You're letting this go?" Peter stares wide-eyed at his free hands before directing his puzzled look at Mr. Stark, who flattens the wrinkles in his suit. 

"As you are so determined to not let a word lose about it, I will let it slide." He sighs at the bewildered expression Peter sends him.

"I trust you, Peter. Whatever you have done must have been important, and I trust you would tell me if it wasn't, alright?"

Oh wow, now Peter feels like an idiot. 

"Ehm, Mr Stark?"

The man in question glances at the teen, the latter rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes cast on the ground. Peter pulls his legs to his chest, biting on his lips as he wraps his arms around his knees, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground. He made such a big deal out of nothing, and now he has to admit to that and no other than Mr. Stark too. 

His fingers tighten into the fabric of his pants before he finally finds the courage to confess to the man.

"I did it because I was embarrassed."

The words came out mumbled as Peter pressed his face into his knees.

"I didn't quite catch that, Peter."

Using his name and not some nickname meant Mr. Stark had caught onto the mood. The man slowly steps closer, making only a bit of a show of sitting beside Peter and muttering about his joints.

Peter licks his lips, glancing at Mr. Stark before directing his eyes onto a stain on his jeans before repeating himself.

"I was embarrassed. Do you remember that folder, emh, the- the one where you let Friday save all that dumb stuff that I did? In the lab? Well, I know you like to tease me about that, and I usually don't mind, and I don't want to come off as whiny. I know everyone teases everyone on the team, and that's cool, yeah. But, you know, sometimes, I-" Peter stops to take a deep breath. Mr. Stark keeps sitting next to him, listening in silence, and while Peter is thankful for it, he still can't look at the man.

"Sometimes I get this fear that you'll show that stuff to the others, and they'll make fun of me. I know that shouldn't bother me. I'm not a little kid or anything. But this stuff that happens in the lab, I don't mind you seeing me do dumb stuff because, well, that's you Mr. Stark, and I trust you, like sure you'll think I'm silly, but when it's you, I kinda don't mind that? But if the others know I blow up the lap three times a week, that makes me kinda uncomfortable because everyone always calls you, Dr. Banner, and me the smart ones, but what will they think of me when they see all the messes I produce daily? I'm supposed to be smart and not blow stuff up and- and stumble over stuff when I'm literally Spiderman and yeah, I guess I'm insecure about that. I'm really sorry I hacked into Friday to prevent more footage from being taken, Mr. Stark. That was dumb, and I should have known that it was a bad idea, really."

Peter lifts his head, finally meeting Mr. Starks eyes, who had been patiently waiting for him, witnessing him stumble over his words. 

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark." Peter's voice grew quiet, close to a whisper. 

He watches Mr. Stark running a hand over his face, a sigh escaping the man, and it causes Peter to tighten to hold on to his knees. He is taken by surprise at the weight of an arm thrown over his shoulder before he gets pressed into a warm body, melting into Mr. Starks side as the older man pulls him closer.

"Peter, I want to apologize for making you feel that way."

Peter opens his mouth to protest but gets cut off by a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Uh uh, broadcast break for the Spiderling." The teen huffs in light amusement, and Tony takes it as his sign to go on. 

"I want to apologize for taking it as far as it causes you to feel like you had to do something on your own rather than talk to me about it. I would have never shown it to anyone, but I should have considered that it could make you uncomfortable. I'll delete everything and stop Friday from saving further videos, alright?"

"You would do that for me, Mr. Stark?"

"Of course. I might be an asshole most of the time,"

"Language."

Tony raises an eyebrow at the rude interjection. His hand slips down to poke the teen in the side as a warning, which earns him a giggle.

"but I want you to feel comfortable and know you can trust me. That you can trust anybody on the team, okay?"

Peter nods with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes?"

Peter grins up at the man.

"I'm really glad you're not a villain."

Mr. Stark squints at him before a sly smirk appears on his face.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Peter. We still haven't talked about the consequences of you creating a giant security breach."

Before Peter could crawl away, Mr. Stark had already slung an arm around the teen's middle, and for a third time that day, Peter's laughter echoed throughout the gym, this time a little brighter than before.

[spaceofentropy]

Thank you, @ihni , for the baton! Without further ado, here's my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race!

It's a little fic (that I'll post on ao3 later, when I'm awake and cosplaying as a functioning human) and that is very cleverly (not really) titled...

A Pirate's Life For Me

Billy's always known he wasn't lucky in life and this, right here, is the culmination of it all.

Not even two months at sea, working his ass off for a meager pay in the hopes of earning enough to exstinguish the debts his father and Chrissy's father put on their shoulders before dying, and his ship gets captured by pirates.

Worse: captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who has a reputation as a great swordman and a ruthless bastard who doesn't leave survivors.

Billy did his best in the fight, but he's just a farm boy turned deck swabber, his swordmanship goes very little further than "the handle goes into your hand, the pointy part goes inside the enemy". So now he's kneeling, hands raised, on the deck of the Panthaira, along with the rest of the surviving crew and passengers.

Well, with all the survivors except Captain Loman, who's huddled against the main mast. The Dread Pirate Roberts is crouched in front of the captain and talking to him in a low voice while the captain clearly draws his last breaths, shirt painted a vivid red with the blood gushing from the puncture wounds in his chest. Loman was a petty tyrant, so Billy is not exactly bawling his eyes out at the prospect of the captain being gone soon. It's just the principle of the thing that counts. The Panthaira has been captured, and, to put it mildly, Billy is fucked.

There are too many pirates keeping them under threat of more stabbing, and also no damn place to go even if he were able to escape the ship. They're in the middle of the ocean, nothing but water in every direction for hundred if not thousands of miles.

So Billy stays where he is.

And looks either at the back of the Dread Pirate Roberts or at the slow rising and falling of Loman's chest.

He waits and hates how his arms are getting heavier and heavier by the second. Soon, he'll be dead and, back home, Chrissy will have to mourn her best friend too, not just her parents.

Captain Loman's chest at last goes still and Roberts extends a careful, gloved hand to close the man's unseeing eyes, before turning towards his prisoners in one swift, elegant movement.

Robert's dressed all in black and wearing a mask, just like the stories say. He has long brown hair tied in a low pony tail, and dark eyes that sweep the crew and passengers of the Panthaira like he can weigh the wort of each of them with just one look.

Billy lets his hands fall down, tired of this charade. If he's gonna die anyway, what good comes from obeying? Might as well die with some feeling left in his arms.

Someone shouts at Billy to raise his hands again and he just ignores him. Roberts is walking their way, his steps slow and his attention pointedly fixed on cleaning blood off the blade of his sword.

Somewhere behind Billy, a woman starts weeping. One of the crew members pleads for his life. Another offers all the money he's got to be spared.

Bunch of cowards.

Roberts stops in front of Billy, ignores everyone else.

"You're not pleading," he says in such a voice and cold tone that the people around them fall silent, too scared of what's happening.

"I don't plead."

"Aren't you scared, boy?"

"To death."

Roberts grins. It makes the moles on his cheek dance.

"Should I bestow on you the sweet mercy of death, then, or not?"

Billy licks his lips and grins back.

"You should let me live, sir."

"And why should I make an exception?"

That's the true problem. Both Billy and Roberts know it, judging by the predatory look in his eyes.

Why, indeed.

"True love?" Billy tries.

Roberts laughs.

"She must be an exceptional lay, to make you believe someone will let you live only so that you'll be able to bed her again!"

"Wouldn't know, I've never wanted to fuck my best friend. Is there truest, purest love than the one that's never been tainted by lust or carnal needs?"

The Dread Pirate Roberts laughs even more and then shakes his head.

"Unbelievable," he says in a stage whisper. "What's your name, boy?"

"Billy."

"Well, Billy, I find myself in sudden need of a personal attendant." Roberts pauses for a beat, cocks his head to the side. Predatory is now an understatement for the look in those dark eyes. "Do a good job and one day you'll be able to return home to your best friend. Do a bad job, and your friend will never see you again. Are you interested in the position?"

Billy grits his teeth and never lets his gaze waver from Roberts.

The decision is so simple he doesn't even need to think about it. He nods and Roberts smiles.

Billy doesn't know what's in his future, but he'll do all he can to survive whatever Roberts throws his way and then return home. His best friend is waiting for him.

And with this, my installment of the race is done and it's time to head over to @liverditty in an hour for his contribution! I can't wait to see what he created for this beautiful event! In the mean time, thank you for reading, fair tumblr users, and thanks for organizing this, @harringrove-relay-race ! ❤️

[p1nkpeanuts]

Hello hello I'm your friendly neighbourhood ghost and I am a collector of spooky tales, folklore, Urban legends, cryptids and spooky experiences and I was wondering if you want to share your favourite one?

I hope you are having a wonderful day and I really love the blog vibes 💕

Okay but get ready cause it's a doozy!

So I used to live in a party house with a bunch of friends for like 3 years. It was a pretty normal house, except there was one "bedroom" that could literally only fit a twin bed and it had no windows, and we would hear noises from it every now and again. My one friends bedroom was right next to the room and he heard the most, sometimes scratching on the wall, sometimes voices.

It started escalating with more noises around the house, things like footsteps (sometimes running), lights turning on and off, and things going missing around the house. We were all skeptics, so we thought maybe someone was squatting in the attic, so the bravest of us (definitely not me) took a look up there, and no one to be found. We had no explanation.

One day while cleaning out the garage I found a huge old oil painting of a Buddhist temple (which was kind of odd because we live in a prairie province in canada) in front of a sunset. It was gorgeous and the owner we were renting from had no knowledge of it but said I was welcome to keep it, so I hung it up in my bedroom. That's when it all started to go sideways.

One night most of us were asleep except for the newest member of the house family. She was hanging out in the kitchen when all of a sudden she heard a constant knocking on the coffee table in the living room. She went to investigate, but as soon as she walked into the room it stopped, and all the cupboards in the kitchen slammed closed all at once (worth noting: none of them had been open before she got there) waking up the whole house. My friend ran to my bedroom in fear. We all stayed up together for a while waiting for something else to happen but that was it for the night.

A few weeks went by and my friends dad was staying with us for a week. While he was with us he slept in her room while she slept on the couch in the living room. I was checking the mail when I got home (I worked late) and woke her up by accident. While we talked we heard some sounds from right below us (right below us being the creepy tiny windowless room in the basement). I said "wouldn't it be crazy if I could get a response with a knock". So I knocked to the tune of "shave and a haircut" leaving out the last two knocks, and it knocked back, completing the tune. We both freaked out but at that point we had grown used to the antics of our otherworldly house tenants.

As time went on less and less people lived in the house till eventually I was the last tenant. I had plans to leave soon as I couldn't afford the rent and it was genuinely unsettling being there alone.

On one of my final nights there, I was alone playing some video games in my bedroom. I had all the lights on in the house ( for my own comfort), and I felt genuinely ok. Then I felt a sudden sense of dread, and all the lights in the hall switched off, leaving me in darkness with only the light of the TV. I heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking up the stairs, approaching the open door to my bedroom. They stopped right outside my bedroom, and I could feel a large menacing presence staring at me. I started to cry from fear and called my girlfriend at the time. I was a mess on the phone and she tried her best to calm my fears, but it just wouldn't leave. Then the next moment the lights all switched back on, and I felt the pressure in the room ease. It was gone. That was the last night I stayed in that house. I slept at friends' places till my lease was up and packed my things during the day. The only other night spent on the property, a friend and I camped out in the backyard.

I've only gone back once to get my mail, but the worst choice was keeping the painting. I put it in to storage for years. There is more to the story but I'll leave it there for now. Hope you enjoy my tale of terror!

[zablife]

Michael's Wedding Gift

Requested by @peakyswritings for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

A/N: For added effect play "A Heart Made of Yarn" by Franz Gordon while reading.

The new Mrs. Shelby nuzzled her cheek against the course hairs of Tommy's chest, eyelids shut tight to keep in the tears that threatened to overspill. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "I don't understand why he isn't allowed to come to the party?"

Tommy moved to sit up in bed and his wife scrambled to find a place at his side. What had she done that was so wrong, inviting his cousin inside for tea when he arrived unannounced? He was the only relative to congratulate them in the month they'd been married.

As Tommy caught sight of the tear rolling down his wife's cheek, he softened. "If I'd known you wanted him here, he would have been invited, but Michael is going back to Boston in the morning. It couldn't be helped," he answered, brushing the tear away with the pad of his thumb. A deep chuckle rose from inside his chest as he asked, "What's so special about Michael anyhow? We're expecting at least fifty other guests who will be more than happy to coo at your gorgeous gown from Paris."

Mrs. Shelby sniffled as she replied, "It's not that. He was kind to me," she recalled, thinking of Michael's warm, brown eyes and unassuming nature which made her feel at ease around him. She learned that he was relatively new to the family business which gave them something to bond over. He wasn't brash, but shy and quiet like her and the kinship they forged was something she held dear despite the short time spent together.

"There will be other parties, love," Tommy assured her with a kiss to the top of her head. She held to that promise, dreading the evening before them because she understood the Shelbys could be an unforgiving lot.

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

As Mrs. Shelby greeted the arriving guests, she shifted nervously in her high heels and nuzzled closer to her husband's side. Despite the warm summer evening, there was a distinct chill radiating from the glacial stares of Tommy's friends and family. Apparently, not one found her worthy of the great Thomas Shelby, MP OBE. Sensing his wife's nervousness, Tommy gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she willed herself not to give up so soon.

As she turned to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she locked eyes with Tommy's man Isaiah. He swaggered toward her purposefully as he deposited a key into her hand.

"What's this?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"A wedding gift, compliments of Mr. Michael Gray," he said with a bow.

"A car?" she asked incredulously.

"You must have made quite an impression," Isaiah remarked.

"I wouldn't say that, but he was understanding of my situation," Mrs. Shelby replied, staring at the key which sat heavy in her palm.

"Whatever you say, ma'am," Isaiah agreed, turning his back to her.

"Isaiah, wait. I was wondering something," she asked with genuine concern. A thought had been plaguing her mind since tea. She hadn't wanted to make Tommy's cousin self conscious asking about his obvious limp, but she couldn't reconcile it seeing that Michael was far too young to be a war veteran. "I was hoping you might know what happened to Michael's leg?"

Isaiah's eyebrow twitched with a hint of mischief and he bowed his head to whisper, "Reckon Tommy don't want you to know, but his cousin's a nutter. Blew up the wishing well in his village with dynamite when he was a boy and got caught in the explosion."

Mrs. Shelby's hand flew to her mouth in panic. Surely the man she'd been speaking with a day earlier wasn't capable of such things. "My God," was all she could utter.

Isaiah gave a nod as guests filed past them, unaware of Mrs. Shelby's distress as he continued the grizzly tale. "That's not all. He got a taste for it after that. Set fire to the little farmhouse where he lived and the family who took him in burnt in their beds," he said, lips curling into a wicked sneer, delighted by the reaction he received.

Then he added one last threat for good measure. “Stay on his good side, Mrs. Shelby. Perhaps convince your husband to bring him back from his exile in America? Michael wasn’t pleased about that,” he said ominously.

Mrs. Shelby felt her heart racing and palms sweating as she looked around wildly for Tommy. As she spied him coming closer, she grabbed for him with trembling hands, a way to anchor herself in a sea of confusion and terror.

"There's my lovely wife," he beamed. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked seeing her ashen face.

"Can we go?" she begged, desperate to be rid of the unpleasant company. "There's something I'd like to show you," she said, holding up the key.

"Of course," Tommy replied, placing an arm securely around her waist.

"Michael's given us a wedding gift," Mrs. Shelby announced, gesturing toward a beautiful new Bentley parked in the drive. "What do you make of that?"

"It's a very nice automobile," Tommy conceded through clenched teeth, shoving his hands into his pockets hastily. "Shall we join our guests now?" he urged, turning to leave.

"Tommy, is Michael...dangerous?" his wife called to him, his foot frozen on the top stair. Before she had time to dissuade herself, she ran to him and confided everything Isaiah told her.

"People like to make up stories because Michael was away for many years, but it's nothing more than idle gossip,” he explained with a wave of his hand.

"Tommy, I must insist you take this seriously. Tell me you haven’t sent Michael to Boston to punish him. That he has no reason to quarrel with you,” his wife urged, voice bordering on hysteria.

Tommy's hands clasped her face between his large palms, icy blue irises fixating on hers in a hypnotizing stare as he promised, “Of course not, it’s only business," he swore. "Do you believe me?"

She nodded slowly, placing a hand over his. Her Tommy wouldn't lie or make false promises. She had complete faith and trust in her husband in that moment. She took his arm as he offered it out to her and walked confidently into dinner, knowing he would protect her from harm.

It would be the last time she was seen alive. The next morning as she placed the key in the ignition of her shiny new automobile, the engine suddenly exploded, tearing and twisting the metal into an unrecognizable ball of flame. As the smoke billowed up to the heavens, Tommy raced to the wreckage, finding a note on his doorstep left by his embittered cousin.

"Congratulations, Tommy. I understand why you eloped with this beautiful creature and left us all to fend for ourselves. Tell me, has she ever looked more lovely than she does now?"

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

Tag List:

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

@thegreatdragonfruta

@flysafepapi

@the-makingsofgreatness

@noforkingclue

[after-the-end-times]

THE HOPE OF IT ALL

G 💙 750 words 💙 '92 US Election 💙 on AO3

💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

As the 1992 election results started to roll in, The Party were glued to the tv in Steve and Eddie's apartment.

It had been a long time since they'd had a Democrat come this close to winning the Presidency. They all lived for too long under Reagan and then George H W Bush and now they were all watching to see if Bill Clinton could keep Bush from getting a second term.

"Do we really think he's gonna-"

"Shhhh!," Dustin cuts Robin off, "What did I say about jinxing this! No. Predicting!"

Robin mimed zipping her lips closed while she pulled her foot onto the couch. She gave a quick kick that sent him flailing onto the floor.

"Hey! I'm trying to win you an election here and that's how you act! Hmph! And not even a thank you for my effort!"

Robin pointed at her zipped together lips and shrugged faux sadly.

"Ok!," Steve stood up, stopping the inevitable slap fight, "I'm making more popcorn. Who needs another pop?"

Everyone raised their hands as Steve stepped gingerly through and around everyone sprawled on the living room floor. Eddie met his eyes and got up to follow him into the kitchen.

While they hoped it'd be a shut out (Clinton's popularity amongst both Dems and some Republicans was pretty high) they wouldn't know for sure until all the polls closed and the numbers came in.

And until then, they tried not to let the worry gnaw through their stomachs.

They were silent as Steve unwrapped bags of popcorn to put in the microwave and Eddie grabbed cans from the fridge.

Eddie lined the pops up on the bar top between the kitchen and living room and spoke through the opening, "Hey Will, can you hand these out?"

He waited to see Will and El standing to grab them before he turned back to Steve. He stepped up to Steve's back and wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't tell Dustin I said so," he said lowly against Steve's shoulder, "but Clinton's gonna win."

He drags his mouth along Steve's shoulder and mutters into hair, "He's gotta win. We can't do four more years of Bush. Four more years of him not caring about people, our friends, dying."

Steve emptied the last popcorn bag into a bowl and turned in Eddie's arms and hugged him close.

"We're not jinxing," he whispered back, "we're hoping. How can we get change without hope?"

They held each other a few more minutes until Robin came in. She passed the bowls of popcorn across the counter to Lucas and turned back to Steve and Eddie.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the ceiling above their heads, "We're gonna get this. It's gonna happen. And things are gonna get better. They have to. I just can't get this churning dread out of my stomach. Cause what if-"

Before she could put that thought out there, they pulled her into their hug and held her tight. She knew that no matter what happened, they'd have each other, but it was still terrifying. That what-if.

With one last deep breath and hard look between the three, they smoothed their expressions to hide their anxiety and rejoined the kids.

Except. It was finally 8:30 and hope was on the rise. As were the shouts and, yes, predictions getting yelled around the living room.

Because the midwest was going blue. State by state: Michigan, Ohio, and then their new home, Illinois. Blue!

Even southern states were going blue, which none of them could believe. First Georgia and then Tennessee!

Some states were still going to Bush, of course. Big ones like Florida and Texas.

Steve handed $5 over to Eddie when their home state of Indiana stayed red.

But then at 9.30, the tentative hope everyone held tightly to their chests exploded into cheers and whoops when California and Pennsylvania went to Clinton.

"WE WON!", the kids screamed while they jumped up and down.

Steve and Eddie kissed hard and pulled each other into a tight hug.

Robin jumped on top of them from the couch, "I told you! I told you we'd win! Ha!"

The phone on the wall immediately started ringing. Steve pulled away and pushed his way through the wall of bodies to reach it.

Through the space between the kids' heads, Eddie saw Steve answer the phone grinning so hard his eyes did that scrunchy thing he loved so much.

In the instant, he was filled with so much love.

For Steve.

For his friends, here and gone.

For Wayne, who he needed to call if that wasn't him on the phone already.

And even, honestly, surprisingly for all his fellow citizens who came together to bring them this hope and possibility of a better future.

~fin~

[quinncupine]

Hello Quinn, I’m relatively new to your writing but I’m literally obsessed!!! I have a request for you, how about Deku x fem reader where he’s out on patrol and calls his s/o to check on her but she doesn’t answer and he has this guy feeling that something isn’t right so he goes home to find someone had broken in, what happens next is completely up to you you have my trust lol, sorry if this request is a little weird but I live for worried Izuku lol

I think we all know by now that I love throwing my characters into scary traumatizing situations, so this one was fun to write!

Home Invasion

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Word count: ~4,900

Warnings: gun violence, burglary, cursing

Quinn’s Masterlist

Izuku stared out at the bright lights that reflected millions of colors across the glittering buildings. Night time in the city was always beautiful. It was one of the reasons he loved night patrols.

As he made his rounds in the sector, his mind kept wandering back to you. What were you doing right about now? Since he was stuck on the night shift this evening, he wouldn't be there to witness your nightly routine.

He'd come to memorize your exact routine each night. Izuku chuckled as he imagined you putting on another spot of tea before you went to clean your face, humming whatever old song was stuck in your head as you danced around your shared apartment. You were probably in your pajamas by now and though he'd never voice it, he'd hoped you were wearing those Deku pj's Ochacho had gotten you as a gag gift last Christmas. It embarrassed him each time you put them on, flushing his face to near boiling every time he saw them. But he loved the way you looked in them.

The night had been quiet and his body was itching for action. Chilled fingers twitched along with his jittery form as he leaped across to the next rooftop. He always preferred to travel by rooftop during patrols. It was always easier to get a feel for whatever mood the city decided it was having that night. Plus it made sneaking up on unawares criminals much easier.

But it seemed as if all the villains in the city decided to take the night off during his patrol. That rarely ever happened. Especially with his special brand of luck.

With a sigh, he glanced down into the empty alley and made his way onto the next block. He hopped onto a ledge above a lonely intersection, watching one car lazily make its way through the light and down the next street.

He had time to make a quick call. To ease a bit of the boredom.

Fishing the cracked phone out of his pocket, he dialed your number and waited for you to answer. He was almost certain you were still awake, but a guilty thought crept into the back of his mind that maybe you decided to go to bed early tonight since he wouldn't be back until the wee hours of the morning.

The phone rang a few more times before it went to your voicemail where your chirpy recorded voice asked him to leave a message. He hung up, worried that he did call while you were asleep. He didn't want to bother you, especially this late at night.

Pocketing the device, he headed for the next block. As he landed on the next building, he couldn't help the nagging sensation in the back of his mind, demanding his attention. He knew your routine. He knew it down to a tee. Something about it didn't sit right with him. Of course, there could be a million possibilities of why you didn't answer, but usually, in Izuku's case, it always seemed to end in the worst-case scenario.

His boots dug into the gravel of the rooftop he'd stopped on. The low hum of the ventilation hid the crunch under his boots. He used the cover to lean against the metal and pull his phone out again. It couldn't hurt to just try one more time. As long as he heard from you that everything was okay, then he would be okay. He could always apologize for waking you later.

When the call went straight to voicemail this time, he stared down at the phone. Something wasn't right. That familiar sense of dread filling the pit in his stomach practically screamed it over and over at him. Something wasn't right.

Izuku pulled up the location app you both had installed on your phones. He pinpointed yours, and sure enough, you were home. Maybe you had just put it on silent, or maybe you were just busy with something at the moment.

He impatiently rapped his fingers along the cold metal surface of the unit as he thought through his decision. The apartment78 was outside his patrol route this week. From his position now, it would take him at least ten minutes off route. That nervous hole growing in his gut was only urging him more and more to just at least stop at home to check. You two could laugh about how silly it was later.

Mind made up, he turned back around and launched himself into the air, leaving a small ring in the gravel. If he boosted his speed with his quirk, he could make it there and back in time to finish his route.

The night had been a quiet one. You were used to them of course. Every couple of weeks, Izuku would have to work the graveyard shift so you wouldn't see him until the morning. After a nice relaxing bath, you slipped on your pajamas, hoping that when Izuku did eventually make it home, he'd see you asleep with his likeness plastered all over you. It always made him melt into an adorable blubbering puddle which you took too much pleasure in.

After setting the teapot on the stove, you headed into the bathroom to finish washing your face. Humming a tune, you turned on the faucet. The water felt nice, especially after a long day. You could feel yourself relaxing the longer you splashed your face.

Over the sound of the sink, you heard a door close. With a handful of water brimming past your cupped palms, you froze, glancing at your phone on the counter. Izuku wouldn't be home yet unless something drastic happened, but normally, he would at least call if there was an issue.

Dropping the water back into the sink, you grabbed a towel and patted your face dry, then turned off the faucet. Before you stepped into the hallway, you slipped your phone into the waistband of your pants.

"Izuku? Didn't your shift already start? What are you doing home-" Your words died on your lips as you turned the corner into the living room, locking eyes with a masked person in a hoodie. The ski mask was lifted, revealing a pudgy face and wide saucer-like eyes.

The man was holding a large sack, half filled with contents from around the room. A burglar. You'd walked in on a burglary.

Two pairs of shocked eyes stared at each other for a few tense seconds. Your heart had gone into overdrive, nearly hammering itself right out of your chest. Your feet unconsciously backed up, but the man dropped the sack with a loud crack and pulled out a pistol, shakily aiming it at you.

"Don't move!" he cried out, eyes nervously darting around the room.

He didn't expect to be caught red-handed. His thick fingers trembled, shaking the barrel so badly you were sure if he did decide to shoot, he had a pretty good chance of missing. But you didn't want to take that chance to begin with.

You raised your hands in surrender. "Look, I don't want any trouble." You tried to keep your voice steady so as not to spook him. "Take whatever you want, as long as you leave. Just put the gun down alright? I won't fight."

That much was true. You weren't a hero like Izuku. You wouldn't try to bust your way through a fight. You only had your wits to keep you safe from a bullet and a shaky trigger finger.

The room was silent as the burglar nervously thought it over, the gun never wavering from his target. At last, he lowered it slightly, glancing down at his sack of stolen goodies.

A small bit of relief rolled through you as you thought he'd just take his prize and leave, but then a loud ringtone buzzed from your waist startling you both.

"What is that? What are you doing?" He took a heavy step forward, barrel pointed back at you. "Drop it! Drop it now!"

You couldn't help the panicked yelp as he waved the gun wildly, threatening to shoot. With slow motion, you lifted the phone out of your waistband and carefully placed it on the floor, face up. You could see Izuku's goofy grin lighting the screen as the phone vibrated loudly on the floor, demanding attention. After another ring, the phone went dark, along with your hope.

"N-now kick it over here!" He cried out, obviously getting more and more frantic with how this evening was turning out.

You couldn't say you were any more happy than he was.

Sliding your foot out, you gave it a little shove. The phone twirled across the wood floor until it came to a stop between the two of you. The man narrowed his eyes at you as he took a few more steps out to reach it.

As he bent down to grab it, you debated on the odds of running. If you just got outside, you could escape to get help. Or he could have a much better aim than you thought. The chances of him hitting his target weren't low enough to tangle with. If only there was a way to warn Izuku. But right now, your only means of communication was currently in a panicked criminal's hands.

The man examined your phone until the shrill cry from your kettle in the kitchen startled him so much that he dropped the device. You heard the crunch of your screen the moment it hit the floor, and you were afraid he'd destroyed your phone. Destroyed your chances of calling for help.

He cursed as he swiveled in the direction of the kitchen, trying to find the source of the noise.

"It's just the kettle," you said quietly, not wanting to startle him any more than he already had been.

A nervous gunman was an unpredictable gunman.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go," he whispered as he stormed into the kitchen, keeping the gun trained on you as he moved the kettle off the stove, silencing the pot and filling the apartment with more tense silence.

You watched him, heart hammering in your chest as you tried to figure out what he was going to do. You'd seen his face. His mask was still sitting above his brow. He hadn't made any attempts at hiding himself. You weren't sure if he just hadn't realized it in his panic or if he knew he'd be screwed either way. But with the way he was staring at you now, you were sure this wasn't going to end in your favor.

"He said it'd be easy." The man rubbed his forehead with his free hand, before running his palm down his face. "Shit!"

"Please, if you leave now, I promise I won't say anything."

At least not until you had your phone back. Then there would be nowhere for him to hide once Izuku got wind of it. The only problem was getting to it with that barrel still staring down at you.

"No!" He yelled, pulling the rest of the mask off to rub his head with the side of the gun. Sweat had built up in his damp hair. It dripped down the side of his face, pooling under his chin. "No, no, no! You've already seen me. I'm screwed. If I mess something as simple as this up, then they'll-" he paused as if the next part was too terrifying to say aloud. "No! I've gotta fix this somehow."

An icy dread filled your veins. Everything he just admitted was what you were afraid of. You were the only witness. All he had to do was just get rid of the witness. A short-term solution to a long-term issue. It was a terrible plan. One that had major consequences for both parties, but he didn't seem to be in the listening kind of mood.

That familiar ringtone broke the taut mess of emotions hanging in the air. You glanced at the phone jingling against the floorboards with its merry tune. A stark contrast to your feelings at the moment.

He moved quickly out of the kitchen, back to where your phone lay innocently on the ground. The burglar lifted his boot and in one hard stomp, killed your only chance of calling for help. The buzzing stopped as your poor phone was crushed underfoot.

"Get on the floor! Put-put your hands on your head!" He charged toward you so quickly you sucked in a breath, stumbling back a few steps. "Don't make me tell you twice!"

Unsure of what else to do, you stiffly obeyed. Kneeling on the floor, you locked your hands behind your head, trying your best to regulate your heavy breaths. Panic was building in your throat. Tears blurred your vision. Fear flooded your thoughts. Thinking was nearly impossible as he pointed that gun just inches from your head.

The man wiped at the sheen of sweat building on his forehead and blinked hard. "I-I don't want to hurt you…but I can't…I can't go back to jail. If he knows I messed up again then-" He groaned, smacking his face.

"You won't!" you pleaded, holding in a sob. Anything to make him stop pointing that gun at your face. "Please, this will only make things worse."

"I just needed to pay off some debts." He seemed to be pleading right back, a wobbly tilt to his voice. He was just as scared as you. "It was supposed to be easy money. No one was supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to be here."

The man must not have done very good research before he attempted this little caper. You supposed the only reason he'd gotten caught was the work trip you were supposed to be on this week had been canceled. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. It was a last-minute change that threw him for a loop. And now it seemed you were paying the price.

"I can't-argh!" He twisted away, smacking the butt of the gun against his head in frustration. "Shit, shit, shit!"

The criminal stalked back and forth, seeming to debate about what to do next. As he paced, he only occasionally threw a sparing glance your way. Your stomach churned every time he looked at you. If you could just get past him without him looking. If you could just get through the door before he realized. You definitely didn't want to stick around to figure out what he would ultimately decide.

As he turned his back once more, you tensed your legs, ready to spring into action. With one quick motion, you dashed for the door on the other side of the room. He spun around when you were halfway across the living room and screamed. The gunshot nearly deafened you as it splintered the vase beside you.

You shrieked, stumbling back into the wall, trying to distance yourself from the shattered pottery. It was a gut reaction but it was the wrong choice. Your hesitance gave him the opportunity he needed to place himself between you and the door, raising the gun with his finger on the trigger.

There was no time to think. You knew he was going to shoot. He was too spooked to let you go now. Not after the attempted escape. So you did the only thing you could.

You ran.

Backpedaling as fast as you could, you flung yourself around the corner and down the hall. In your panic, you dove into the first room you came across which happened to be the bathroom. Once you crossed the barrier, you twisted and kicked the door shut, practically throwing yourself into the wood as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you twisted the lock, he slammed himself into the door. The knob shook so hard you were worried he would tear it right out of the door. The bathroom was small and with not much space to work with, you backed up, nearly tripping on the rug in front of the bathtub. Your breathing was too rapid to gain control so you bent over, struggling for air that just wouldn't come. Panic had nearly engulfed your entire being.

The door shook a few times as slammed himself into it over and over again. Whatever the door was made of, it held up surprisingly well under the assault.

But it wouldn't hold forever.

You'd sealed your fate by running. There was no way he'd let you live now. And why would you trap yourself in the bathroom of all places? It was windowless. No means of escape. It just happened to be the first door offering meager protection in your panicked state. If only you'd had the sense to make it to the bedroom where the window led out onto the fire escape.

"Come out now!" He screamed from the other side. "There's nowhere to run!"

Your legs hit the porcelain of the tub. Stepping into it, you crouched low and hugged your knees. Yes, you'd successfully trapped yourself, but you did have one thing going for you. He shot at you. One of your neighbors must've heard the commotion. At least you hoped so. All you had to do was wait him out and hope the door held until help arrived.

The kicking stopped. A part of you prayed that he'd finally come to his senses and fled while he had the chance. Silence filled the bathroom, ringing loudly in your ears as you held your breath. Tears leaked onto your knees, soaking your pajamas. You stared down at one of the masked faces of Deku adorning your knee. You needed him right now, but how in the world was he supposed to know that? The knowledge that he wasn't coming was turning your panic into full-blown hysterics.

There was a small click from the other side of the door. You didn't even have a chance to react as a bullet shot through the thick wood, impaling itself in the tile above your head. With a scream, you threw yourself flat against the tub, hoping it would provide at least some protection. A second shot tore through the curtains.

"Help!" you cried as loudly as you could. "Help!"

A third shot shattered the side of the toilet bowl, spilling water everywhere.

You curled tighter into yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

Expecting a fourth shot, you covered your ears, but instead, a loud thud shook the floor outside. Freezing, you listened in the terse silence, the sound of your breath too loud in your ears. It seemed too good to be true…had someone finally come?

Izuku landed on the sidewalk in front of the six-story walkup. In the darkness of the late-night air, he saw only a few windows glowing with life. His eyes scanned the side of the building, searching out the right floor and- there. The faint glow from the living room drifted through the curtains. So he knew he wouldn't be waking you up, at least.

He entered the lobby, shoes squeaking in the quiet emptiness, and jogged up the stairs that lead to the fifth floor.

The building itself was pretty old. A single elevator sat permanently out of commission, much to the ire of the other residents. Most of the rooms could use a fresh coat of paint…and probably a few other repairs. But rent was cheap and with opening his own agency only a year ago, his savings would take a while to grow back.

You didn’t seem to mind. Working yourself to the ground trying to make your own path with your career. While the place itself was a bit old and rundown, it was what you two joyfully called home because it was where each other was. And that's all you could really ask for in this life.

Izuku had made it to the third floor when he heard the distinct sound of gunfire from above. It was muffled, but there was no mistaking the sound, especially in his line of work. That sense of dread floating in his veins seemed to pool right into his stomach as he boosted himself up the last two flights.

When the door came into view, he stopped, taking in the sight with dread.

The door was slightly ajar.

Someone was inside.

With you.

A second shot fired off and one of the neighboring doors peeked open. An elderly man popped his head out of the door looking rightfully alarmed. Izuku caught his attention with a finger to his lips and motioned for him to go back inside.

He made his way to the edge of the door and glanced inside. From his viewpoint, he could see the living room. There was a shattered vase on the floor, a black bag full of various things you two owned, and then there were the remnants of your crushed phone. But no signs of you or whoever fired that gun.

Another bullet fired further inside, and your scream was what got him moving double time. His quirk sparking around him like furious lightning, he launched himself past the living room. The commotion came from the hallway, and when he rounded the corner, he saw a man dressed in all black fire, another bullet into the bathroom door.

The bullet had barely left the chamber before Izuku slammed into the man with full unmerciful force. Both men collided with the wall at the end of the hall, cracking the plaster. An agonizing cry came from underneath him as the man curled around his arm, bent at an odd angle. He didn't put up much more of a fight as he groaned, glaring up at Izuku.

"You broke my arm!" He screamed as if Izuku was the one in the wrong. "Dammit!"

But the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and with no fight to serve as a proper output for his fury, he slammed the wall beside the intruder's head with a boiling cry of outrage, making a fist-sized hole in the wall. Walls, he could replace. Heads, not so much.

At the sudden violent outburst, the man stiffened, blinking the rain of dust out of his eyes. He snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide with terror.

Once Izuku took a few breaths to calm himself down, he wrenched the criminal off the wall, only to slam him belly-first into the floor. Pressing a foot down on his back, he used a set of zip ties from his belt to secure the writhing mess of a man beneath him. He didn't care to be gentle as he nudged the criminal on his side and tied his hands tight, ignoring the sobs spilling from his mouth. He moved down to his legs and tied those two. Just to be sure, this bastard wasn't going anywhere until Izuku decided what to do with him.

"No, no, no," the intruder cried weakly into the floor, struggling with his binds. "It wasn't- argh- it wasn't supposed to go this way. It's all her fault!"

He glared down at the whining mess struggling to free himself. "You'll pay for your mistakes. If you hurt her at all," he squatted low to make sure he was listening. "I swear you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

With that, Izuku turned his attention to the bathroom door, now decorated with a few bullet holes. He made his way over until he stood just outside it, trying to hear any signs of life within. It was silent and that perhaps scared him more than anything. Just what would he find in there after this disaster of a night?

You were everything to him. If something were to happen to you, he honestly wasn't sure what he'd do. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not in the safety of your home. Not when Izuku-Deku- is supposed to be watching your back. Not to someone as perfect and as kind as you.

Shaky fingers gripped the knob and turned, only to be stopped by the lock. When he called your name, a slight wobble to his voice, he only heard silence for a few terrifying moments before the subtle sounds of movement came from inside.

"…Izuku?" you asked quietly, sniffling and not entirely trusting. "Is that really you?"

"It's me. I'm here. Everything's okay now. You're safe, I promise." He leaned his head against the wood, trying to tamper down his own racing heart. "I'm so sorry."

The door unlocked and swung open so fast, that he barely even registered it before you crashed into him with a fierce hug, squeezing as tight as you could manage around his bulky frame. The fabric of his uniform twisted in your grasp. You buried your face as deep into his chest as you could and let out a shaky sob. In one long breath, you let all your fear and terror out.

"H-How'd you even know to come?" you asked, voice muffled by the cloth but unwilling to let go just yet.

His arms curled tight around you. A secure embrace you were grateful for and melted into it. You felt him trembling almost as much as you. He had been just as terrified as you were, maybe for different reasons, but still the same fear.

"I…I don't know." He admitted into your hair. "I just…I had a feeling."

And he would forever be grateful to the fates for whatever reason they decided to give him the instincts to come. But at the moment, all he cared about was that you were here, alive, and safe in his arms.

"I'm glad you did," you spoke softly, your emotions finally reigning themselves in a bit. "I don't even want to think about what would've-" you paused, your mouth not quite able to form the rest of the sentence.

He didn't want to say it either. Just thinking about the worst-case scenario had him shuddering at the thought. What if he had ignored his instinct tonight? Would you even be alive after he would've eventually come home hours from now?

Sparing a glance at the man who was too absorbed in pleading his case to the floor, he twisted you around so you wouldn't have to look at him.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Izuku gently cupped your red puffy face in his hands. Those giant green eyes laced with concern as he searched for any sign of pain.

"I don't think so." That much was true, at least in the physical sense. But you did a quick cursory check of your limbs and, finding them still intact, you grasped his wrists. "Thank you. You saved me. He would've- I might've-" stammering out the words, your raw voice dissolved into a puddle, and you pulled him in for another tight hug.

As you hicciped into his uniform, he could only hug you tighter. A light kiss to the crown of your head, and he leaned in to whisper, "I will always be there for you. I promise."

"You won't leave?" you murmured, voice vibrating directly into his heart.

"I won't leave," he assured you, gently swaying from side to side. "I'll stay right here by your side for the rest of the night. For the rest of your life if that's what it takes.

He felt your body sag in relief. Your fingers curled into the creases of the fabric. You let out a deep, slightly shaky breath.

It wasn't a lie.

He would stick by your side for as long as you would let him. You were the light of his life. The thing he looked forward to each and every day. The man would give anything up to make sure you stayed happy, healthy, and alive.

As you fought back the adrenaline slowly seeping from your body, he wrapped an arm around your waist, that look of concern still adorning his freckly face.

"Do you need to sit?"

"Maybe," you admitted, dropping your head into his shoulder and trusting he would have your weight should you stumble.

He led you to the couch where he could still keep an eye on the hogtied criminal down the hall and helped you ease into the cushions. You patted your knees and frowned. Your pants were dirty, smudging the print of his masked likeness.

"They're dirty," you muttered, poking the print. "And they were my favorite."

Izuku, despite the situation, blushed as he stared down at your pants. "They were?"

"Yeah. But I suppose as long as I have the real version with me, I can manage." You leaned back, taking his hand and curling yourself around his arm as he stood vigil over you while you waited for the police. "You're a good hero Izuku. And you just keep proving it. There isn't a doubt in my mind that you'll be Number One someday."

As you closed your eyes, you didn't catch the red dusting his cheeks, but you did hear the way his breath hitched in his throat. You smiled something small and wobbly as you scrubbed the last of the tears from your face. Finally, you let yourself relax a little, knowing you were safe with him. There was solace in knowing he'd always be right there by your side.

[deiaiko]

#19.3 Unravel

It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.

Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.

They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.

Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"

Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"

"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"

"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."

"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"

"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."

"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.

Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.

"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"

Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arm ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday. 

Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.

Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"

"There's always a chance–"

"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."

Grace fell silent and went still.

Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"

"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"

"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.

Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."

"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.

Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"

"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.

Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."

Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."

Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.

Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.

Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.

Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."

Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.

When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.

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[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

AAAAAAAAA I HOPE YOUR REQUESTS AREN'T CLOSED YET

I'd like to please request for fuegoleon and nozel with wife s/o where they have been busy with work for awhile and even forget a special day like maybe her birthday or their anniversary or maybe a date that they promised to take her to buy stood her up and it's the last straw and s/o is very sad and quiet and the boys are afraid that she's had enough of them and wants to leave? Happy ending please

Hurt/comfort fic that goes both ways like the guys comfort s/o and s/o also assures them that she wouldn't leave them

Oh some hurt-comfort my beloved~ The thing that I really love about this request is that it's very human. The guys live a busy life and forgetting happens. They're only human. But there is love and healing in communication. Anyways, I do hope that you like this! ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x f!reader, Nozel x f!reader Fanfic type: Headcanons Genre: Hurt-comfort Warnings: Angsty themes, the guys are tied up with work and don't show appreciation to reader, there is a happy end tho Total length: ~1.7k

Fuegoleon

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand that your husband was a busy man. It really wasn’t. That much had been established from the very start. A good portion of the fate of the kingdom lied on his shoulders, and it had been one of the things that had made you so proud of him.

But… you had expected that he would make time for you. That you’d be… maybe not the centre of his universe, but that at least he’d continue to put effort into your relationship even after marriage.

And he had, for some time, but… lately… over a long time of ‘lately’… Work had been much more important. Long days, meetings, missions, reports, everything that at this point seemed more like an excuse to be everywhere but home. Especially granted that when he got back, he withdrew himself.

Which made you think that, that wasn’t the man you married.

But your anniversary was coming up, and you had, in passing, talked about it a month back, so perhaps it’d serve as a start of a new chapter for you two. Because, up until now, he had never missed one.

Up until now.

As you sat there, in your shared bedroom all dressed up after having waited for hours for him to come home and go… somewhere… He hadn’t. Not as much as a word, or a message… Nothing. And it really made you think about the life you were living.

Because though you didn’t want to be alone, at least you’d be free to look for someone else if you weren’t committed to anyone. It was a thought you had never imagined to even occur to you at the start of your relationship, or marriage, for that matter. But not there was something so… beckoning, in it. It was sharp and almost sickening in its disappointment.

But it was also tempting.

The room door opened, and your husband entered.

You glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. Not even as his eyes turned to you, and he just stood there, in silence. In the silence that now echoed in the room around you.

Until he took a step, and another one. Those heavy, almost apprehensive steps, and crouched down next to your seat while putting his hand onto your leg.

“Honey?” He asked while searching for your gaze, which you didn’t give. Too many emotions. Too many harsh syllables, but most importantly, too much silence. Because what were you going to say anyways.

He waited for a while, looking at your outfit, your posture, slumped forward, but most importantly he looked at your eyes. He looked at how you looked into nothingness.

You were making decisions, he knew as much. Thoughts were swirling in your head, and these thoughts he didn’t like. They filled him with dread, as he could imagine what they must’ve been. He could, but he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry for forgetting,” he finally spoke through the silence. “I’m… I haven’t been performing well as a husband lately and I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“It’s not about ‘performing’,” you replied, because the word ‘performing’ sounded too much like he was putting on a show. “I don’t want someone who goes through the motions. I just want you to be there.” Tears started collecting in your eyes, because the clutter of emotions in your heart was trying to get away from the confines that were you.

He got up enough to sit on the arm rest of the chair and wrapped his arms around you in a warm, gentle embrace. “I want to be there for you,” he whispered. “And I’ll promise to do better, because I… do love you and I don’t want to lose you,” he spoke, and in his tone you could sense a hint of dread. Because the idea of really losing you shook him.

You leaned in to his embrace, because you could feel the regret of what he had failed to do. But most importantly, you could feel the love that was radiating from him.

“Don’t leave,” he still whispered against you hair.

And you placed your hand onto his leg while nudging him with your head. “I won’t,” you promised him.

It was a ‘down’ of your marriage. But you’d make it through. You were certain about it. Because he wasn’t, and you weren’t, the type of a person to just simply give up.

And, you knew that you’d both try. You’d try to tell him when you needed time with him, and he’d try to arrange it. Or then you could, at the very least, talk about your emotions. Feel heard and understood. Because your husband would.

You knew that he would.

You were in it together, and he was right there, now that you needed him.

Nozel

Nozel had a bad habit of shutting himself away from you when he got busy. He always had had it. And he had explained that it was because he didn’t want to burden you with his worries. That he didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary stress and worry. Which at the beginning you had deemed sweet and caring.

But… now that you were married, and he was going through something that seemed like an endless busy season at work, you wondered if this was the life you had really signed up for. Because you had, during that time, asked him about his day, asked about work, and it had just turned into him shutting down even more. It was like he was avoiding you.

Though you knew that not to be the case, because he did have a schedule, and after glancing at it, not a single thing in there seemed to be crafted. All of it was ‘meaningful’. But still, you really would have wanted to at least… just to hear about him. Spend an evening, and hour a day, by just chatting. Connecting. Being husband and wife and it just wasn’t… doing it.

And it made you wonder if Nozel had, at its most core level, married you just out of necessity or tradition. That he had found someone that he could marry, but not that he really wanted to be with you. Just that it was tolerable.

It was a bitter thought. A very, very bitter thought which didn’t reflect the man who had bared open his soul to you, to reveal a kind and caring man underneath all the layers.

But that wasn’t how you felt now. It wasn’t how you had felt for a long time, and it… didn’t feel like he appreciated you. Though he had promised to take you on a date.

Tonight.

You had gone to buy a new dress, new lingerie and did your hair. Placed a Silva hairclip into your hair and deemed yourself to look like you were fitting to the title of ‘Lady Silva’.

You sat into a chair, and waited. And waited… and waited… for him to come home and pick you up.

Only that he didn’t.

He didn’t come around until hours later. And you still sat there, in that chair, but now anticipation had turned into a swaying sea of turmoiling thoughts.

As he just stood there. In the entry way.

“We… were supposed to go out on the 14th?” He said, which sounded almost like he was trying to reason something out, correct a misunderstanding.

Only that as he had spoken it out, he realised that it was the 14th.

It was… the 14th…

He closed the door behind him and walked over to you, as if a ghost, as you just stared blankly ahead of yourself.

He crouched down, but he didn’t try to meet your gaze. Instead he just stared blankly ahead of himself as well.

“I’m…” he whispered through the silence of the room. “I’m… sorry…” it sounded like those words would always be as difficult for him to utter. But he did, utter.

However, as you stayed silent, wondering what exactly to reply, because you didn’t feel that ‘it’s okay’ was the right thing to say, your silence… it terrified him.

He knew that he wasn’t … good when it came to expressing himself. He knew that he had sharp, ragged corners and that he was difficult to love, but it… It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have loved you.

What terrified him was that he had made himself harder to be loved by you. Perhaps even too hard to love, to be loved, by you. “I’ll…. I’ll make it up to you.” He promised in a way that only a repenting man can.

And in that promise, in his tone, in his eyes that were still down, as if deeming himself unworthy of gazing to you.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” he continued, without thinking, but meaning well.

“I don’t want something you can buy,” you replied, breaking your own silence.

And he stayed silent. Repenting even harder.

“I want to be with you. That’s why I married you, and I’ve been just feeling like I… don’t…” you didn’t want to say ‘matter’, but it seemed, from his hunched shoulders, that he heard you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time with a more definite tone as he got up and wrapped his arms around you, pressing your head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t…” he tried, but confidence failed him. The words he didn’t want to utter, got stuck in his throat, but instead he pushed out different ones. Ones that spoke out his fear. “Don’t… leave…”

You could feel his heart thumping in his chest as a faint, passing tremor passed through him, as if trembling.

Yes… trembling.

“I’m right here…” you whispered back, because you were there. Yes, thoughts that had made you question your relationship had swirled in your head, but it wasn’t like he was doing something… less than necessary, with his time. He was working. And he had opened up so much during the time you had been together. So… he was trying.

And he was there, now, when you needed him. Which is what count.

“I love you,” he professed with a whisper, but one that resonated with your heart strings. And that made you have faith in you two, again.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Him and I

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Summary: Daryl and his wife get separated at the fall of the prison but both manage to escape with another member of their crowd. After the reader and Glenn find Abraham and their group, almost after accepting they'll never find the rest of their families, they stumble in to Terminus. Will they be reunited or will the current state of the world impede them once more?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drugs, violence, swearing, mentions of loss, feeling of anxiety/dread.

A/n: This fic is directly based on a request (that tumblr ate) by @bringinsexybackk69! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get back to this, it's honestly just been so hard for me to write things that aren't blurbs and with the lack of TWD content, it's been dry over here. Thank you for your patience, I adore you! This is not entirely canon since my memory is faulty and I can't currently watch TWD so I'm going off of vibes and vague memory.

When we got to the prison, we thought it was going to be the end all, the place we could stay for as long as we chose to live, where we would raise children, form new bonds and relationships, just overall be safe and enjoy life.

But we thought the same thing about the farm and we all know what happened to that dream.

When the prison fell, I assumed that I would never see any of my family again, my closest friends, my husband. I woke up, alone, on the floor of the prison after Daryl shoved me in a cell and told me to stay put. It took nearly an hour for me to fight my way through walkers to get out into the air and that's when I saw the tanks and Hershel.

My heart broke.

When I found Glenn, I had a little bit of hope that we'd find people the longer we looked around the prison but the longer we looked, the less we found and the more dangerous it got. We were trapped and we couldn't wait around for people to show up. So we left.

"Glenn, where would Maggie go? If something happened, where would she go?" I ask Glenn frantically as we walk side by side, gun by gun, down the rural gravel path, my feet kicking frustratedly at stones with every step we take.

"I don't know, Y/n. We never thought we'd ever be away from each other ever again." Glenn is more frustrated than I am, jaw tense and fists clenched at his side. Without us, I'm convinced he wouldn't last, he's so emotional and gets so easily frustrated whereas I am the opposite.

Cool as a cucumber.

Just like Daryl taught me.

Daryl and I met at the farm.

I stumbled, quite literally, upon them with my arm bit and my whole body sore from carrying my own weight at least a mile or two. I'd say that our first impressions were kind and that we fell in love at first sight but it wasn't and we didn't. He, with the assistance of Hershel,  chopped my arm off to prevent the infection from spreading and inevitably saved my life.

We were all shocked to see that it worked.

Daryl would take care of me, bring me things from the forest like little flowers that he claimed to remind him so much of me even though he'd joke that I'm nothing like a flower. He'd bring me food while I was resting in bed, he'd offer to take me on walks- overall, he was an angel and it was hard not to fall in love with him.

He'd tell you that he fell in love with me when I nearly fell in the well three weeks after my amputation.

Don't ask.

We were inseparable from then on in. He was my right hand man (pun so much intended) and he taught me everything I needed to know. I learned how to hunt with one hand, cook, skin animals, fend for myself because he always wanted me to feel and be capable if anything were to ever happen to him.

He's the most selfless, kind hearted, protective man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

When the farm was overtaken by walkers and we had to run, it was the first thing to really test mine and Daryl's relationship but also to test my lack of two arms. It was difficult for me to keep up and it was even more frustrating for Daryl to take care of me while saving the asses of everyone else.

"Are you good?" Daryl asks me, spinning around on his bike to look back at me with a worried expression, brows tugged firmly together in fear. He checks me out once, doing a once over to make sure I'm a-okay and when I nod, he loosens up a bit.

"I'm okay. Just a little spooked." I'm trembling like a leaf against him and he finally steps off his bike and moves to wrap his arms around me without another word.

He holds me tightly to his chest, cradling my head as softly as he can as tears flow freely from my eyes, my arm aching in a phantom pain from all the stress of wishing I was more capable, wishing Daryl didn't need to take care of and comfort me all the time.

"I got you, okay? I'm here."

When we found the rest of the group and found the prison, it was like we were drawn to it. We had to clear it out, we had to make it our own, make it safe. We had a baby on the way, Lori was nearly due and with the loss of a few of our people, we needed to regroup and have a place where we could just be.

But it fell, it went to hell, like everywhere else had since the world fell.

When we Glenn and I escaped, it wasn't exactly a match made in Heaven. We weren't the most compatible to work together, always bickering and fighting over the stupidest shit and ruining plans, just like siblings.

But after days and days of walking and arguing, we found Abraham and it was as if everything just got better. It was no longer the two of us and, after all those years of not seeing him, it was strangely nice to be reunited with him on the road.

"Abe?" The ginger's head snaps around at my voice, turning away from his two friends with wide eyes, gaze locking on mine as I grin ridiculously, my feet carrying me towards him without another word.

"Well holy shit, where did you come from?" He chuckles heartily and I feel tears springing behind the lids of my eyes. "I missed you, kid."

Abraham and I were stationed together in the Middle East for too long, learning the ins and outs of each other and becoming true best friends. When we went home, we kept in touch but when the world fell, we became a background thought in each other's minds.

So the fact that we found each other, a state away from where we grew up, it's still remarkable to this day.

Glenn and I felt better once we were with a group of people, especially since we were genuinely going to kill each other had we been stuck, just the two of us, for any longer. It was nice to meet Rosita and get to know her interesting relationship with my old friend, their oddly sexual relationship keeping the rest of us up in the middle of the night.

It made me miss Daryl, meeting all these new people- I had no one to judge people with. Glenn was no fun and always played devil's advocate and Abraham was who I wanted to judge. Daryl would've gladly sat with me and made me laugh while pointing out Rosita and Abraham's obnoxious issues with PDA or making fun of Eugene's mannerisms and nerves around Rosita.

It was alienating, how much I missed him.

My other half.

"Glenn, I don't know why you think Maggie would go to some random, probably overran 'survivalist' camp. But I think we have a better bet just wandering around looking for them." Abraham looks at me with a funny look, reaching out to shove at my shoulder as an attempt to get me to lay off Glenn but I just shake my head. I lean over Glenn's shoulder, looking at the ominous note that 'Maggie' left him and I can see the hope written on Glenn's face.

"I just have a feeling, you have to go with me on this." Glenn spins around on his heels, holding the note up in his hands with a stern, hopeful smile. "She left me a damn note, Y/n." I look back at Abraham, Rosita and Eugene and they all give me a simple shrug which forces a complaint sigh out of me.

"What you say goes."

Terminus obviously was not what we thought it was, tossed into train cars like animals and expected to turn over our weapons. Abraham called bullshit first, not daring to turn in his weapon before asking a few more questions but it was those few more questions that got us thrown into our makeshift jail in the first place.

I had accepted at that point that I would never see him ever again, that Daryl and I would never be reunited and never spend the rest of our lives together like we so desperately wanted to. 

But when he stumbled into the train car two days later to my surprise, eyes falling on me and arms immediately tossing around me, it was shocking. I didn’t even think that he was real, the way his arms felt around me, after days of not having him near me- it was an out of body experience. 

“Are you really here?” I ask, tucking my face in the crook of his neck, gripping onto the back of his shirt as if he’ll vanish from my grasp if I let him go even the slightest bit. He clings to me the same, hoisting me up into the air as I spot Abraham watching us with a proud smile on his lips that makes my stomach flutter with happy butterflies.

“I’m really here.” He whispers, rubbing my back soothingly as he sets me back down onto the floor, looking down at me with kind, protective eyes. “Fuck, I missed you.” His hands reach up, cupping my cheeks in his hands, ignoring the looks that everyone else in the car is giving us. “Where have you been?” He asks, finally taking a look around at the people around us with a relieved breath.

“With Glenn.” I huff, seeing Glenn, who has his arm around a relieved Maggie, sends me the finger from across the trai car.

“I’m so sorry.” Daryl mutters with a laugh, wrapping his arms around me again, tugging me to his chest with the plan of never letting me go.

“Never leave me alone again.” 

"What're you thinkin' about?" Daryl’s voice snaps me out of my memories, my head turning to look at him as he sets a hand on my shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. "I can see the smoke comin' out of your ears." He teases with a wink, sitting down beside me on the log that I’ve plopped on and I lean into him, letting him wrap an arm around my shoulders. 

"Thinking about when the prison fell. When we were apart."

"Why the hell're you thinking about that?" He asks, brows furrowing and a look of worry passes across his expression as he tugs me back into him, clinging to me once more just like the day that he found me. "Worst days of my life."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

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[sinukiyo]

I just finished this 12000 word Novelette and while I’m still thinking of where to post it, here’s a little excerpt❤️

Description:

They say death is inevitable, but what happens when death himself falls in love with the soul he's meant to collect?

In a world where Death personified walks among the living, he finds himself drawn to Evelyn, a young woman who has lived a tragic life. But when Fate intervenes and Evelyn's time comes, Death must confront the true nature of his power and the sacrifices it demands.

One night turns into one promise, then one chance to escape together, to leave behind a life bound by tragedy. Can they silence Fate’s whispers?

Tags: @wyked-ao3

PROLOGUE

Evelyn was the first human to look me in the eyes and live.

Evelyn. I hadn't known her name then, only that she was a child the first time I came to her parents' house. She was small then, all wide eyes and messy hair, sitting by her father's side, oblivious to what was happening. I'd almost forgotten that day—almost. But here she was now, grown but still so small, sitting beside her mother's bed, her dark hair falling loosely around her face, framing her in a way that made her look like a portrait lost in time.

She was beautiful, but not in the way mortals are usually beautiful—no, there was something about her that set her apart. Her face was pale, lips trembling, her hands shaking as she clutched the edge of her mother's bedsheets. The room itself reeked of stale air, the faint scent of roses long gone from the bedside flowers. Rosa, the mother, had been gone for hours now; the first signs of rigor mortis had begun to set in. Her body lay stiff beneath the thin blankets, her face drained of color, the gray creeping in like the dawn of a cold winter morning.

But her ghost—her soul—stood next to her daughter, translucent and shaking, her eyes wide in disbelief. The same face, but now untethered from flesh, her form flickering like a candle struggling against the wind. The tears on her cheeks shimmered like glass, falling soundlessly as she looked down at her own body, and then at the girl beside it.

"I'm sorry Evelyn, I'm so sorry," she whispered, though her daughter could not hear her.

Fate's whisper had led me here, echoing throughout the realm to bring me this family—this widow, this child. When I entered the room, the soul saw me first, as they always do. Her lips parted and dread settled into her features as if she had known this moment would come but hoped, foolishly, that it wouldn't. I didn't speak at first—there was no need for words in a moment like this. I simply walked toward her and stretched out my hand.

"It's time to go."

She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment, her gaze flicking between me and the body on the bed. Then, slowly, she turned to look at her daughter. Evelyn. The girl was crying, her sobs quiet, strangled. Her slender shoulders shook with every breath, eyes red and exhausted.

"I can't... not yet. Please," Rosa begged. "Just a little more time."

I've heard that request countless times. Always the same words, always the same desperation. Time. Humans always wanted more of it. Always asking for what I could never give.

"I can't," I said.

Rosa cried harder then. She covered her face with her hands, her fingers trembling. "Please," she whispered again, but the plea was hollow.

I waited. I have patience—eternity teaches you that. I let her mourn, let her cling to the hope that maybe, somehow, this could be undone. But we both knew the truth. This moment was final.

When she was ready—though no one ever truly is—she finally took my hand. It was cold, as it always is, but she held it tightly as if it were a lifeline. Together, we began to walk toward the door.

But then... a voice.

"Take care of her. Take care of Mother."

I paused, my steps halting mid-stride. The voice was soft but clear. I turned, slowly, not because I didn't know who had spoken, but because I didn't expect it.

The girl—Evelyn—was looking at me. Not through me, not past me, but at me. Her red-rimmed eyes, still wet with tears, locked onto mine. I felt something unfamiliar then, surprise. Mortals don't see me. Not unless I want them to. And I hadn't revealed myself to her.

I frowned, tilting my head as I studied her. The way her breath caught in her throat, the faint trembling of her lips, the pallor of her skin—none of it held the look of someone imagining things. No, she saw me, truly saw me, and she wasn't looking away.

"You can see me," I said. Not a question.

She nodded once. Her fear was there, yes, but there was something else in her eyes too—something deeper. Defiance.

I smiled then. "Interesting," I murmured. "At least your departure won't be difficult. Most people can't see death coming, but you will. I trust that you'll be ready by the time we meet again, Evelyn."

Her eyes widened a fraction, but she didn't speak again. She just stared at me, her breath shallow, as if trying to make sense of what I had just said. But the moment passed quickly. I had no more words for her.

And we were gone.

[joestvr]

༺✮ atashi no kimyona jinsei // あたしの奇妙な人生 ✮༻

༺✮ summary: five years after the fall of diavolo, you, y/n romano, who was sent away to japan at 11 to further your studies—find the courage to come back to naples after living out your schoolgirl & gaijin university student facade in morio-chou to see how your clan’s worsened—as well as become the “donna” of your father’s gang, il terrore, while your older brother is the real leader behind the scenes, just using you as a front. with plans to murder your clan, you seek the particularly handsome young don of passione for friendship. with your tyrant father’s intervention, your friendship with the don turns to something you never saw coming.

★ 1 // il terrore

★ 2 // bella

★ 3 // viva romano

★ 4 // morte al romano

★ 5 // sorellina

★ 6 // amore

a/n: me pretending this chapter isn't short af

tw for whatever idk

1 week later

After a week of trying not to kill yourself or packing your bags and fleeing Italy, rotting in your bed and rethinking your life decisions, you finally forced yourself to get up.

In a daze, you took a taxi and made your way to where Trish was staying. AKA: Giorno's mansion and Bucciarati gang household.

You rung the doorbell and prayed Trish would answer it, and she did not. It was Bucciarati... He was quite handsome, you noticed this from the first time you met him. Charming, too.

"Ah, Donna Romano." He smiled charmingly, inviting you inside.

"Please, there's no need for honorifics." You stepped inside the beautiful foyer. It was just as Trish had described.

You wondered if Giorno would buy a house like this for you after marriage.

"Bella, it is, then." He kissed your hand and looked up, "Trish is just upstairs."

"Thank you." You squeezed his hand and nearly ran up the stairs in excitement.

You burst through her room and shut it, locking the door. "Triiishh~"

"Babe, what happened?" She stood up from her bed and hugged you.

"Bucciarati's kinda hot! That dark hair, eyes, and charming smile~" You giggled and sat down in bed with her.

Her smile faded into a cringe as she put her hand on your shoulder. "Babe, please don't say that again. Bucciarati's like a father to us."

"He could totally be a DILF then! Isn't he so cute?" You said through your laughs.

"Gross."

You chuckled and hugged her more.

"Y/n, are you okay? You seem a little..." she furrowed her eyebrows, "Are you high?"

You stopped laughing. "What the hell? No!"

"You must be high off of insanity, if not a certain substance..." She mumbled incoherently.

"I'm just trying to be positive." You replied increduosly.

"Is everything okay?" She replied, starting to get concerned. You always acted delirious like this when you were-- more or less, depressed.

You shrugged. "Um, I'm getting married off, so..."

"WHAT?!"

★★★★★★★

On your way out, you noticed Giorno waiting by the door. You felt a sense of dread, he had probably known about the arrangement by now, but you hoped he wouldn't mention it.

"Giorno." His name left your lips with a sigh as you stared into his beautiful emerald eyes, feeling solemn. You put on your heels and coat, picking up your purse, a little too close to him for comfort. The tension was thick in the air, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"Bella. Everything okay?" He said in his usual smooth, charming voice, with a sincere smile. His tall figure towering over you, his golden hair was down, curled in intricate ways, the familiar scent of his cologne making you crave more, the setting sun's light hitting his face so perfectly.

What was this feeling?

"Yes," you said in a raspy voice after a moment of silence, looking down.

"Do you need a ride? I don't mind."

"No, thank you, I can just walk." You shook your head, moving a few strands of hair from your face, then tried to walk past him.

"Please, I insist." He pleaded, taking your hand, making heat rise to your cheeks and look up at him. His warm calloused fingertips brushed over the bandages that covered your hands, and he looked down, a pained expression coming over his face at the sight. How embarrassing, you thought, wanting to cry.

You immediately pulled your hand away, frightened at his sudden touch, at a loss for words.

"Sorry." He noticed your tense demeanor and took a step back, not wanting to make you uneasy. That's a sight for sore eyes, you thought. Vince was never like that.

"No... I—You can take me home..." You mustered out nervously.

"Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He said with such a tender and caring voice, you would melt. When has Vince ever treated you like this?

"Maybe this won't be so bad... Being with Giorno." 

"It—It's okay, I really appreciate it." You managed to smile, avoiding eye contact with him.

He grabbed a key and opened the door for you, letting you go first.

He went to the garage and opened it, revealing the most gorgeous burgundy Lamborghini. You bit your lip and squealed, your apprehension suddenly fading away.

Your second most beloved interest besides fashion: Cars. You loved cars as much as you loved fashion, which said a lot.

"What a beautiful car, GioGio!" You smiled wide, looking up at him.

He smiled back down at you. "Not as beautiful as you, amore."

"Waaah... He's mega rich... He really is a Don..." 

He unlocked the car, the winged doors going up, allowing you to sit inside the luxurious passenger seat.

He got in and started the car, pulling out of the driveway with ease and driving smoothly.

After five minutes of silence, he sighed deeply and kept his eyes on the road, and spoke up. "Y/n, if you are not happy with this arrangement... I will gladly break it off. I don't want to force you into anything." His tone was serious, but so loving.

"No, Giorno, I— I don't have anything against this..." You mumbled earnestly.

"Please, amore," he pleaded, "I would never do anything to force you into this engagement and I will not be angry if you're not comfortable going through with it. I understand if you don't want to, we don't know each other very well."

You shook your head. "I'm willing to give this a try. We can get to know each other."

"As you wish." He nodded.

A few minutes later, he stopped at a red light and looked down at your hands, then back up at you. "May I ask what happened to your hands, Bella?"

"...Just an accident while cooking." You responded gravelly, then cleared your throat.

"Are you sure? Doesn't look like it." He pried, frowning.

"Don't worry about it." You murmured.

"I should heal this for you. My stand ability—"

"No, it's fine, really." You interrupted.

"Very well then." He muttered.

The car ride was silent until he arrived at Alexander's estate.

"Thanks... Giorno." You forced a smile and quickly got out.

You opened the door and all the lights were off, it was also totally quiet. You had an eerie, sinking feeling as you took your shoes off and quietly walked inside.

"Alex...ander?" You called out, "Alima?"

You walked slowly into the living room, your heart dropping as you saw a trail of blood slowly traveling across the floor.

You came closer and gasped.

Alexander. Alima. Leo. Elena.

Slashes across their chests, their backs... You looked down at your hands and they were suddenly covered in blood, your katana stained with blood in your right hand.

"No..." You whispered, "This isn't real..."

"No! Cheri Lady..." You called out your stand, only to hear her soft giggles as she morphed her appearance to yours, face and clothes stained in blood.

"This is your future, Y/n." She said, grinning, "Isn't this what you want?"

"No! This is all but an illusion..." You whispered, your vision spiraling. You felt wetness running down your cheeks, but they weren't tears.

You wiped your cheeks and saw the blood flowing from your eyes. A side effect of something Cheri Lady's abilities rarely allowed you to do—A premonition. A look into the future.

"Your hatred will drive you to a dark, dark place, Y/n... The grudge you've held in your heart for so many years is fueling your yearning for vengeance..." She laughed more.

"No, Cheri Lady!" You cried out.

"This is why I've allowed you to have a glimpse into the future, Y/n. Don't you remember the last time?" She laughed deeply, "You saw your handsome friend—Josuke-kun, was it? Murdered by that killer. And your other friends, too."

"I-I—I prevented Yoshikage Kira from killing my friends, y-you showed me how everything would play out..." You stuttered anxiously.

"Now, here you will." She opened her arms and smiled at the scene before you.

"I—"

"But wait. Isn't the rest of your family what you want?"

You turned and you found yourself in the Romano populated neighborhood where all of your extended family lived. Blood smeared on the windows and walls of each house, bodies with slashes across their backs and chests littered each house. The influence of your longing for a normal life—the grudges you aimlessly held in your heart over the years desperately whispering, "Make this your reality. They're nothing to you."

"Come back to reality, Alexander's come back home." She interrupted your psychological turmoil, then vanished. Her giggles echoed in your head.

You turned around, seeing Alexander standing by the door taking his jacket off. "Y/n."

"Alexander." You muttered, regaining your composure.

"Another glimpse into the future, sorellina?" He smiled almost mockingly. Just like his father.

You shook your head and went to grab a tissue to wipe the blood running down your cheeks.

"You should talk to Vince, cuore. He's a mess."

You stopped. Oh shit.

You totally forgot about Vince.

"Ok." You replied, raising your eyebrows.

"I told him about your... engagement. Stupid motherfucker punched me in the face." Alexander hissed and took off his hat.

Yikes.

"Yikes." You remarked.

"He said it's my fault, how I'm just Father's puppet, I don't care about you, blah blah blah." Alexander rolled his eyes.

"Maybe he's right." You shrugged.

He frowned then went back to a normal expression. "Anyway— after we roughed each other up, he started tearing up. The poor guy felt so bad after your argument."

"Ok." You nodded.

"He really wants to apologize, but he can't imagine you with another guy besides him."

"Ok. I don't really give a fuck, so..." You shrugged.

"God, it's like talking to an unemotional psychopath whenever I'm with you." Alexander scowled.

"Ok."

"Where's my wife?" He asked.

You shrugged again. "Dunno. Housewife stuff. It's not like she has a job to go to...her university degrees are collecting dust on the mantel."

"Why don't you get a goddamn job and stop wasting my money all day? Or maybe go to grad school and do something with your life?" He retorted condescendingly.

"Should I make dinner, my handsome and kind brother?" You said mockingly.

"No, I'm afraid you might cut yourself again." He leaned in and mumbled as he took your bandaged hand and glared down at you coldly.

"You don't know anything." You muttered as you met his gaze, eyes beaming a slight red from your stand's instigation.

He gripped your wrist tighter, not letting you pull away. "Those eyes, sorellina... What do you see?"

"I see you dead at my feet." You murmured, a smile creeping up against your lips.

His expression darkened and he shook his head. "Just me? Or the entire clan, too?"

You smirked in response, staying quiet.

He let go of your wrist, shoving you away. "You traitorous, conspiring—"

"Ah, ah, Alexander, I see the truth behind your meaningless lies. No need to curse me." You interrupted, your hands shaking for the release of spilling blood.

"Maybe I should kill him."

"You shouldn't have come back here, Y/n. I can just see that murderous look in your eyes. It's sickening, waking up every day and seeing you plotting on all of us." Alexander replied, rubbing his eyes.

"It's because of you, Alessandro. You made me this way."

He sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "I'm not some man you can use your pretty face to manipulate, Y/n. I'm not Vince, nor your little boytoy the Don."

"Don Giovanna is lucky to be betrothed to me. I'm the most sought after woman in Italy." You smirked more.

"Dio mio, Y/n... Your arrogance is painful to listen to." Your brother winced at your arrogance.

"But I'm the most beautiful woman around, na? I know how those mobsters speak of me when I'm not around." You retorted pridefully.

"You don't know shit about how our organization works, Y/n. You're just a pretty face among a crowd of lustful men." He grew more intimidating as he leered over you, making you a little nervous.

"S-Stop it, Alessandro, I'm not a child anymore." You retorted, taking a step away from him.

He grabbed your collar. "Why do you think they bow down to you so easily, hm? Because they respect you?"

Sweat started to form on your forehead and you put an innocent, fearful look on your face. Alexander couldn’t stand it.

“Get out of my face,” he murmured, shoving you to the ground roughly as he let go, “I don’t know how you turned out this way…”

“And how exactly did I turn out?” You inquired.

“Manipulative and conceited. Get the fuck out of my sight.” He snapped.

You got on your feet dizzily and smirked, walking upstairs.

“M-Me? Manipulative? How could you say that…” You whispered to yourself, making a false hurt expression.

You were more manipulative than you’d like to admit, but so what? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have some control over other’s emotions.

Your judgement was clouded. It was hard to tell what was good and bad, everything was just a blur for you.

The influence of your hatred had driven you this far.

Murdererous intent, bloodlust, invasive thoughts-- You were just one more argument with Alexander away from going to the Romano estate and slaughtering everyone.

You sighed shakily, running a hand through your hair.

"Whatever." Your conflicted expression faded into an unaffected one.

"I did this to myself."