#i pay my shit and clean her back wound

[mt-oe]

You're definitely my top fav Mizu writer I love all your fanfics 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

Could you do one of Mizu and reader already being a married couple, but Mizu still is deeply in love with reader despite the years, could be smut or not I just want Mizu to be super affectionate wodkendkend

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Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting and saying something so sweet <3 I really try my best to do well in writing and compliments like these make me so weak ///

I haven't done a fanfic about Mizu in their current time period for a long time so I'll try to do it now.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, wound cleaning, injuries, both feminine and masculine pronouns for mizu, implied afab reader

Your eyebrow twitched in irritation, hands hidden inside your kimono as you balled them into fists. 'No, no. Let's stay polite. Let's stay polite,' you thought to yourself, keeping a small faux smile. "Are you sure we can't get this for less?" you asked the straight-faced vendor who looked just as irritated at your constant haggling.

The middle-aged man in front of you grunted in annoyance, in his hand was a bundle of herbs you needed to make an antiseptic paste for Mizu. "No, 5 ryo and that's final," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Holy shit. 5 ryo for a bundle of herbs that was already wilting? What a scam. You could buy a travel pass for that already!

"Please sir. My husband really needs it now. How about 2?" you asked, giving him the best doe eyes you could without letting your irritation show. "And what do I care about your husband? The best I can do is 4," he replied in a snarky manner.

"2?"

"5."

"2 and some mushrooms?"

"I said 4 is the best I can do."

"Oh c'mon please! 3?"

"No."

"3 and some mushrooms?"

"I don't care about your stupid mushrooms!" the man snapped, lifting himself off of his seat to loom over you. "4 ryo. That's it. If you can't pay, then get the hell out!" His hand raised the bundle of herbs, seemingly about to smack you with it until a firm bandaged hand gripped his wrists almost painfully.

Looking up to curse at the offender, the vendor suddenly reeled back upon seeing your husband's orange-tinted glasses. "And who the hell are you?" the vendor asked, trying to sound intimidating.

Mizu's blue eyes narrowed at him behind her glasses, scanning his figure before letting the vendor's wrist go. She opened her mouth to respond but was immediately cut off by the feeling of your body pressing against her arm. "Mizu? Aren't you injured?" you asked in pretend innocence, glancing back at the vendor whose eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and nervousness.

Your husband grunted slightly and nodded. "You were taking a long time," she replied before looking at the vendor. A bit of slyness mixed with the polite smile you've been keeping up for the past hour. "I was about to go back but.." You looked at the vendor who was now glaring at both of you, eyes squinting as your smile widened mischievously. "This man was about to hit me all because I asked if he could sell those herbs for 3 ryo."

Upon hearing your words, her eyebrows immediately knitted together. Her hands gently pushed you behind her, approaching the vendor with a terrifyingly thick aura of anger. She glanced at the bundle of herbs in the vendors hand, tongue clicking. "These herbs look like they might as well be feed for the pigs and you threaten my wife over them?" she scowled, glare hardening. Her hand reached towards her sword, using her thumb to push the katana slightly out of its scabbard.

The vendor glared at the ronin in front of him, thinking carefully before conceding. "Fine I'll hand it over for 3. Just leave before you scare the other customers away," he grumbled, tossing the bundle over to you haphazardly. Mizu was about to have another talk with him but you decided to pull her away, grinning at the vendor.

"Thank you sir. My husband and I will surely come back," you said with a mischievous hint in your voice. "Isn't that right, love?" Your head turned towards your husband who was still looking over at the vendor menacingly. "Sure."

With that, the two of you left. A soft yet cheerful hum emanated from your throat as the two of you walked out of the busy marketplace and back to the old run down inn the two of you checked in.

Sure, it was old. The floorboards would creek with every step and the decorative textiles looked dull and worn down. The futons they provided were very flattened out from years of use and washing. But the two of you were fine with it, a cheap inn was better than having an injured person out in the wild.

Upon arriving, you immediately set down the herbs on a nearby stove, getting a flint to light it up. A satisfied hum left your lips as the sparks from the stones finally ignited a fire, fanning it out to increase the flames. The cute little sound made your wife chuckle softly as she untied her scarf and obi.

It was during times like these where Mizu was truly able to be at peace, savor her time with you. The two of you met years ago, when she had finally returned to Japan, now on a new path to try and reconnect with herself. The self she hated so much. You were the apprentice of an apothecary owner, skilled in foraging and identifying herbs. Although you could not call yourself a physician, the title only belonging to men of that time, you were greatly skilled in treating wounds and injuries.

She entered your master's apothecary in search for a treatment after accidentally making contact with a poisonous plant while she was training. The rash traveled up her arm, blisters forming, making it unbearably itchy and painful for days until she could no longer bear it. However, upon entering the shop, you were the only person there, sweeping the floors as you hummed a cheerful tune. You looked up at her, hands pausing as your eyes observed her.

A soft smile graced your lips and the moment she heard your sweet laughter—shit, she knew she was smitten. It was like time stopped for her. Despite the place being lined up with various medicines and trinkets, all she could see was you. The slight flush of your cheeks from the cold, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the slight dilation of your pupils as you stared at her (more like her rash but ok), and the curve of your pretty lips. Maybe the god of affection decided that she was capable of admiring someone again.

"Poison ivy," you chimed, pulling her out of her trance. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion then suddenly raising one up as you approached her. You lifted her arm up gently, inspecting the rashes and blisters before setting it down. "You must've been from the mountains."

She watched as you looked over the shelves, hands on your hips. A small 'aha!' left your lips as you picked a jar from the shelf. "Here." You placed the jar on the table and gesturing her to come over. "My master is away, and I don't know how much these cost, so I'll give you a discount. Okay?"

You were so beautiful she probably ended up paying more than how much the medicine actually costed.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she watched you grind the herbs and some sort of boiled concoction into a paste using your mortar and pestle. She loves the way your eyebrows scrunched together in focus, the way you licked your lips subconsciously, and the little huffs of breath you let every time you brought your pestle down onto the herbs in the mortar.

"Here," you mumbled, setting the mortar down next to her. Carefully, you helped Mizu out of her haori, eyes inspecting the expanse of the injury.

It was nothing serious. Just some abrasions she obtained from an accident while training in the morning. Her foot slipped, sending her sliding down the hill. However, the moment you saw her blood trail, the scream you let out was so loud it woke the birds up. Probably woke the whole world up while at it.

Another chuckle slipped out of Mizu's throat at the memory. It was another thing she loves about you. You're always so concerned about her, even more than she was to her own body. 'Mizu! Holy shit! Your skin is peeling!' she remembered you shout at her, looking like you were about to cry.

God, you're so cute.

"What's so funny, love?" you asked, tilting your head at her. Warm water ran down her wounds as you cleaned them. Mizu shook her head, eyes fluttering shut, lips curling up. "Nothing," she replied.

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around you, making you whine. "W-Wait! Your scabs will reopen if you keep moving, dummy!" you whined, trying your best to continue washing her wounds. She hummed in content, resting her forehead against your womb. "Just remembering my wife."

You rolled your eyes at her, washing your hands on the basin before drying it. "I'm your wife," you huffed at her. She once again hummed, agreeing with you. "My wife," she mumbled against the cloth of your kimono, pressing your womb closer to her.

A small huff came from you as you picked up the mortar from the side, scooping out the paste with your fingers. "Yeah, me." Mizu nodded, the feeling of her head moving made you giggle. Gently, you applied the medicine onto her wounds, even to those that scabbed over, giving her a blissful feeling. The cold paste on her stinging wounds felt calming. A slight menthol after-effect adding to the relief. You could feel her pressing herself closer to you, her cheek now resting over your womb.

"My wife," she repeated absentmindedly

"What is it love?"

"My wife."

"You're being silly."

Her blue eyes looked up at you with a content eye smile, admiring how hard you were working on her wounds. "And you're beautiful," she sighed out. A chuckle made it past your lips, your head shaking in amusement. "Oh please, time already passed me by. I don't look as young as I used to," you replied with a fond smile.

You could see her eyebrows knitting together in disagreement through your kimono. "As if," she huffed, almost in a growl. "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you. Maybe even more." Her hands gripped your forearms firmly but with a sense of caring. She gently pulled you down, medicinal paste smudging across her shoulder as you tried to balance yourself. Before you could protest, rough, calloused, yet gentle hands cupped your face, tracing every line and every spot.

The words in your mouth died at how fondly she was staring at you. Her eyes were filled with love and affection, heavily contrasting the intimidating stare she usually had. Your big bad husband was just a pile of goo, melting and gushing at your beauty.

"I'm starting to have wrinkles over my face, aren't I?" you joked, holding a bit of truth. Mizu hummed in agreement, a soft smile still on her face as she traced over the said wrinkles. "Especially here," she replied, tracing your smile lines.

A playful huff escaped your lips, fingers smudging a bit of medicine onto her forehead. "That's your fault. I can't help it if you keep making me smile, love."

She buried her face against your shoulder, allowing herself to take in your scent. A mix of something earthy, medicinal, and a bit of rain. "It's your fault," she mumbled against your neck in a low yet content voice. "You're too pretty when you smile."

"Oh hush, dear husband," you teased, a laugh leaving your lips upon hearing her grunt at the word 'husband'. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

"Flattery makes my wife smile," she replied with a cheeky grin. "That's more than enough." You stuck your tongue out at her, making her laugh at the playful gesture.

Silence took over the room as you continued to apply the medicine over her wounds, fanning it with your hand to allow it to dry faster. "Love?" you heard her call out. With a small hum, you craned your neck to look at her. "I'm sorry we couldn't get a better inn," she sighed.

You laughed at her words before setting the mortar down, wiping your hands over a washcloth. "It's fine. We don't need to go anywhere special," you replied, trying to get the medicine out from under your nails.

"Besides," you started, cupping her face, squishing her cheeks up a bit. "Anywhere is fine as long as we're together."

Her smile only continued to grow brighter at your words. "Maybe someday, we'll have a place of our own. With place to build a forge..and lots of shelves for my things," you added, the warm feeling in your husband's chest growing and growing with every word.

Gently, she cupped your cheeks back and placed small kisses on your face, pressing her lips on every feature she loves—which was everything. "And if we can't find one, we'll build it," she concluded.

A soft giggle of content could be heard from you as you wrapped your arms around her, making sure you weren't touching her wounds, and sinking into her warmth. "I wish we could get married," you sighed out against her chest. "Like with witnesses and all that."

Mizu could feel her heart pounding at your words, her love and affection overflowing. "I'd love a life like that. Maybe in our next."

"And what if we still can't get married in our next life?" you asked, closing your eyes as you relaxed against her skin. "Then, I'd find you and love you the same," she chuckled, eyes warming up at the sight of your body against her's. "Even if we can't get married in that one?"

"Mhm..I'll find you in every life," she started, tracing her fingers up your back. "Every purgatory." Her hands gently and tenderly caressing your face.

"And love you the same."

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 | 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞 ♡

【Synopsis】 : Your life might of been turned upside down within only a couple of hours. But you can't help but think it was the best thing that could of ever happened.

『Word count』 : 3k

-> Genre: Suggestive. Supernatural. Dark Romance

Pairing: Ot8!Vampire!Ateez x Human!Reader [Currently Seonghwa/Jongho/Yeosang]

[Warnings] : Blood Drinking. Biting. Wounds. Gore. Swearing. Dirty talk. Yeosang is mean but isn't really. Jongho can read minds. Mention of all members having super abilities. Mixture of past and present writing. Clubbing. Pet names. Jongho give the best forehead kisses. Reader talks about her abusive past. Angst but Jongie is a soother.

Masterlist | Navigation | Mini Series Masterlist | Chapter Two

Yeosang was quick to hang up the phone once he ended his conversation with Jongho. His eyes were darting all over the bar trying his best to see if he could find the young woman he saw but alas she was gone. As if she was never there to begin with. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. He swore to himself over again, racking his fingers through his washed-out green hair. He turned away for only a second, how could she have disappeared? He rubbed his jaw quickly letting out yet another huff before turning to head back towards his office but as he turned he slammed right into someone.

“Shit!” He swore this time aloud, seeing his button-up was covered in sweet liquor. Stupid fucking humans. Stupid, disgusting hu─

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you. Oh my, I’m so clumsy.” Your voice was sweet, like silk. He hates himself for remembering how you sounded. Your eyes finally caught him, but he was frozen, just staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. You were just as beautiful as the day they all lost you.

“Uh… It’s..It’s fine.” He was so caught off guard. You clearly didn’t know him. There was no recollection in your gaze. Just a simple apologetic smile that humans give one another when they don’t know each other. Were you even you? Were you just some human that looked like you? No. You had the same voice. The same twinkle in your eye that Yeosang died to see every chance he got. And….

“Well, I’m still so sorry. Here, I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.” You were being so kind to him. Kind to a stranger. Without thinking Yeosang Grabbed your wrist before you could pull your wallet out. You flinched slightly from the sudden movement of the unknown male, but you didn’t shy away from it. His touch wasn’t sending off red flags like other males who tried to touch you. No, there was something almost deja-vu like with his rough hand gripping tightly. You couldn’t explain it but it felt like you’ve been in this situation with him before.

Yeosang blinked a few times quickly, trying to find something anything to say to do. Ask for your name maybe? No, he can’t do that now in this kind of situation. So he just smiled. “No Need Pet. It was an accident.”

He let go of you roughly, which he didn’t mean but his mind was too focused on getting away from you so he could breathe and recollect his scattered thoughts. He didn’t even get you a chance to say thank you before he was off, weaving through the crowd so he could get to one of his men so they could put out a scout for you. He needed to keep you close, keep tabs on you. Needing to know who exactly you are before he says anything else to the others. Last thing he needs is someone like Mingi, Wooyoung or San having hope you are alive.

You, on the other hand, stood there for a moment. Trying to take in exactly what happened. you felt a little odd like something was unfinished. His face looked at you with such sorrow and loss. Did you remind him of someone? And why did he call you pet?

- The Past -

Yeosang had left you to wander the grounds on your own, saying he needed to finish his work before retiring to bed. You wished him a good night before heading through the halls, not before asking him directions of course. Thankfully you were on the right track anyway and only needed to take two more rights before finally stumbling into the vast kitchen. No one was here, strange? But given the lords of the manor were not awake in the day, it should make sense. No one needed to prepare food or supply lunching or tea to anyone during these early hours of the morning.

You grabbed a drink for yourself, trying not to disturb whatever order the kitchen had seemed to be arranged in. The cool water felt heavenly down your horse throat. From the screams earlier because of Seonghwa and then the tinge of pain that is still lingering from Yeosang’s fangs. It was no wonder the liquid was healing for your vocals. A mirror was situated in the corner of the room just behind the door. Most likely so maids or servers could check their appearance before being presented in front of any high socialite they may be a guest here on occasions. You glanced over at your neck to see two harsh red punctures. The blood was cleaned and dried from Yeosang tending to your wounds, but there was still some speckles of dried blood on the hem of your sleepwear. You couldn’t understand why you felt nothing upon seeing the marks. No fear, no sense of uncomfortableness or pain. Just simply is. Like this was normal. Like it had been the most mundane thing in your abusive life.

You might be a little fucked up.

But who could blame you? Your parents were vial, your siblings were useless, and your soon-to-be was a pig. You were alone until they showed up. Until they swept you off your feet─literally─and stole you away into some fairy tale. that’s what it felt like. Like you had fallen down the rabbit hole into wonderland just like the books you’ve read had suggested. Would that make you Alice then? Maybe you’d be more of a mad hatter?

“I think you are more of the white rabbit. Soft, cute.” You jumped, turning around to see a gentle-looking but broad beefy man. Jongho… did he, did he just read my mind? “I sure did honey. You have quite a lot in there for such a young sweet thing hmm?”

“H-how….” All these questions started running through your head. How could he read your mind? Do all vampires have this ability? Have all of them been about to hear your thoughts since you got here? Jongho was suddenly in front of you, using his super-speed to cage you between the door and his warm body.

“Slow down with the questions, honey. To answer them. I’m the only one out of us that can read minds.” That made you sigh slightly in relief. “Vampires when turned or born, gain one ability. For example, I can read minds. Seonghwa can bend water. Yunho has healing abilities. And the list goes on.”

“What does Yeosang h-have…” You gulped, feeling Jongho's body so close to yours. His one hand is perfectly perched on your hip while the other lies spread against the door. You try not to make your mind wonder if he is going to bite you like the others. Or the way his lips would feel on you. Any part of you.

You notice a darkness swirl in his eyes, watching you intensely. “He should be the one to tell you…” he didn’t let you say anything else as his head dipped to your neck kissing along the wound Yeosang had left prior. His cold tongue glided over both puncture marks, tasting the little bit of dried leftover blood that had been left behind. “Your mind wanders so quickly doesn’t it honey?”

“What was it? About wanting to know if I’ll bite you. Or touch you? Maybe…” He snapped his head up, looking you straight in the eyes, like he was looking directly into your soul. Your heart was racing and you knew he could hear it. He could hear everything, from your jagged breath, shacking limbs and your sinful thoughts that you were so desperately trying to shoo away. “You wanna know how good I could fuck you? Hmm, who knew our sweet little rabbit was so naughty.”

“T-that’s not true.” You knew lying was not the best thing to do considering he can literally read your fucking mind. But you had no idea what else to say. He just chuckled, clicking his tongue lightly before closing the gap between you, making your bodies flush against one another. His nose rubbed along your neck inhaling generously. You smelt amazing to him. Like lilacs and summer rain showers. Or how a forest smells fresh and light in the early hours of dawn. He could just have you in his arms, inhaling your scent for hours and would never grow tired. He wouldn’t admit it, nor would he linger too deep in your mind either for the same reason. That he was definitely falling in love with you. Unlike his friends, he was a romantic. A dirty, filthy, romantic. And he wanted to do everything and anything to you, for you, with you. Anything for you to call him, yours.

“Such a sweet little white rabbit. So kind, even though the world has been nothing but hardship for you.” His words made a lump form in your throat, not thinking if this vampire could indeed read minds, he was not only able to see your dirty fantasies but your dark past too. Your pain. The memories you wish more than anything to erase. You didn’t want to life you were given, always praying for a new start. Or a quick death. Whichever came first you didn’t mind. But maybe now you could have that new start. One filled with love, devotion, and gratitude. Like the relationships in the stories you’ve read. One were you could feel equal even though they were all beasts. They were more human than the humans you already knew. “Let’s get you back to bed hmm?”

Jongho’s words sounded more like a question but you knew he meant it in more of a statement. Wanting you to not grow tired from the crazy event you had only hours been through. “I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried.”

“Why?” He didn’t mean to bluntly ask but he was worried. Sure he could just read your mind and find out. But he wanted to hear the emotion behind the words. He needed you to say it aloud.

“Last night…” You took a breath, relaxing a little into Jongho’s hold, as he kept you firmly between the door and his body. “It was not the first time I’d seen blood. Or death. To be fair. For a moment. I thought I was going to die tonight. And I wasn’t afraid.” You hiccuped feeling a tear break from your left eye. “I wasn’t scared of death. In fact, I was ready to welcome it. And it made me realise how much I’ve lived in a loop of pain. Waiting for something to either kill me or help me.”

It was Jongho’s turn to take a deep breath, rubbing his thumb into your hip, trying to comfort you as you spoke. “I’m glad you all came to save me. Even though this might seem crazy. And I have only known you all for less than a day. I have felt more at home here than I have my entire life. So t-thank you.”

Jongho’s undead heart broke at your little sob. You were so young and yet you had been through so much. He knew then and there he was going to protect you, shield you. Even if it meant getting himself injured or killed. He dropped his hand from the wall so he could cup your face. Your glossy, watery eyes stared up at him with so much agony. He sighed. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Okay, Honey. You are safe with us. You might not understand this yet but we… We have cared about you for a while.”

He wasn’t about to pour out all the confessions of you being their mate. And how they are all mated to one another and you were their missing piece. That was for another day. For now. All you needed was reassurance. A kind hand to hold. a broad chest to hug. “Come on now. Let’s actually get you back to bed now.”

He walked you back to your room where a lightly snoring Seonghwa was. You thanked Jongho again and he said ‘There is no need to thank me’ but yet you still said it again. Gave you one last smile before kissing your forehead with such gentleness. Softness like nothing you’ve ever felt. He was gone before you could even whisper out a goodnight.

[chelseeebe]

mercy on me

18+. no smut but minors are not welcome on my blog. themes of fighting and violence. eddie munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n!

a/n: hey all!! i don’t think i really like this on reflection but it has been a couple weeks since i last posted so wanted to squeeze something out before my life gets crazy<3 shoutout to the person on tiktok that made an edit of eddie to strangers by ethel cain bc that’s what spurred this entire thing

eddie’s addicted to the pain, the sting of the punches, the utter thrill of it all. but maybe it’s time for him to realise that that wasn’t the only thing worthwhile to him.

eddie tries to live a good, clean cut life, he’s got a nice job that pays pretty well for hawkins, basically has full reign of the trailer now that wayne has a girlfriend, and shit, he’s even got friends. but something, some terrible voice in his head, keeps him coming back to this.

stood circling the burly man, wondering when, not if, he’ll end up on the floor.

it comes quicker than expected, a fist to the stomach knocks the air from his lungs, doubling over in pain.

eddie doesn’t let him knock him down without a fight completely, throwing a jab at his opponents chin.

only to be quickly forgotten by the man’s fists connecting with his jaw and the searing pain rushing through his face.

the floor is cold, the ceiling just as eddie remembers it.

the kids carry him back to the trailer park, holding his weight on their spindly little bodies.

erica pounds her tiny fist on the door, a routine he’s done a thousand times over, waiting for the disgruntled, yet completely gentle face to appear on the other side.

you do, as expected, groan when your eyes lay on the bloody mess that was his face, ushering them inside and rushing to find your abused supplies.

eddie staggers in, heading straight for the sink to spit the metallic liquid that had gathered in his mouth. clutching onto his ribcage as the kids stand watching. he finally collapses onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a guttural groan.

“jesus christ,” you remark, trundling him over to the sofa, “what’s wrong with you?” dabbing the cold fabric on his eye, a stern frown on your face.

“you should see the other guy,” he chuckles, quickly interrupted by a sharp hissing sound, your usually timid fingers brush over his wounds, harshly this time.

you knee his legs apart, sliding in between to get closer to his face. eddie loves it, no one had ever been so tender and careful with him before. using your time to care for him. it was perhaps the most intimate he’d ever been with anyone.

“i don’t wanna see you in here again,” running your thumb over his split lip, “you gotta stop doing this.”

“what? you don’t like me visiting?” looking up at you with your damn chest in his face, smirking only slightly so you wouldn’t see and scold him further.

“i’d rather you came to visit me without any blood on your face.”

your hand trails down to his neck, rubbing the tiny lilac marking on his collarbone that really could be either or.

“who’s the lucky lady?” you remark, full of sarcasm and what eddie hopes is a hint of jealousy.

his hand travels up, resting above your fingers still lingering on the mark, “you, if you want,” brazen in his flirting, ignoring the two kids still stood in your living room.

your eyes roll back, snatching your hand away to continue cleaning his lip. though he thinks he sees a hint of a smile, buried deep somewhere beneath your disgust and annoyance.

“alright,” you sigh, throwing the last bloodied cloth onto the pile on the table, “all done,” stepping from between his legs to tidy the mess he’d inadvertently made.

“thank you,” he says, with all sincerity, “no one else is gonna look after my good looks like you do,” quirking his lips to the side in a brazen smirk.

you scoff, throwing the bloodied cloths into the trash, “you’d be more good looking if you stopped getting your ass beat.”

and maybe one day he will, all this fighting has to pay off somehow. eddie’s just waiting for the day he remembers to also block punches, not just give them.

-

eddie’s just about to venture over when he sees you rushing out of the door, slinging your bag hastily over your shoulder as the door bangs shut.

“where are you going in such a rush?” he calls, sauntering over without a care in the world.

“school, i’m late,” speed walking past him to the bus stop that sat just outside the entrance.

“wait, i can drive!” producing his keys to jangle about in the air.

you stop, turning on your heel before nodding, “yeah, you can actually,” bounding over to his beat up van.

eddie slides into the drivers seat, knowing he’ll probably be late to work for this, but he doesn’t mind.

you drop your bag on the floor, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat, “i’m really late,” looking at the watch on your wrist, “so if you could drive as fast as you can, that’d be great.”

“yes ma’am,” he laughs, not like he didn’t owe you much more in compensation anyway.

you turn his music down which normally eddie would hate, but it’s you and there’s not a chance he’d ever cross the one person still kind enough to look after his dumb ass.

his tires screech, pulling up outside the tiny community college that sat just outside hawkins. once upon a time, eddie had planned to go there, learn something useful for once. but high school hadn’t been easily done, being held back from graduating once or twice had squashed any dreams of ever going to college.

“what time d’you finish?” he asks as you collect your things, not wanting to hold you any longer.

“my last class is at five,” you rush, hopping out of the van.

“i’ll come get you,” reaching over to open the door for you, “five,” echoing your words.

you pause, looking back at him before nodding, “alright.. see you later,” slamming the door shut with your hip before you scurry off into the building.

eddie sits, watching you disappear before the sudden realisation that he was now also really fucking late dawns on him.

-

sure enough, he’s parked outside at five on the dot. talking his way out of staying any later to make sure he was here when you got out.

you look exhausted walking through the crowd, slightly shocked to see him waiting though it quickly extends to a smile. grateful to not have to squeeze onto the rusting bus alongside everyone else.

he reaches over, opening the door before you get the chance, dumping your bag on the floor and releasing the most exhausted sigh he’s ever heard.

“good day?” eddie asks wearily, unsure of whether to even go there or not.

you hum, “not really.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“nope.”

turning to flash him a tight-lipped smile, elaborating no further.

eddie doesn’t dare push it, “alright.. y’hungry?”

your eyes narrow, turning his radio down once again, “only if you’re paying.”

he nods, cackling as he starts the engine.

a free meal was the least of what he owed you.

-

it takes everything in him not to just sit across from you and stare. you usually crossed paths in extenuating circumstances but now he has the chance to actually get to know you. noting the tiny cross necklace that sat on your chest, the pins on your bag and the way your name is scrawled over the front of all your books.

it’s endearing in a way. he’d put you on some kind of pedestal, this holy being that cured all his ails only to find that really you were just like him. with messy handwriting and tattered clothes.

eddie had lived at the park for years before you ever moved in, turning up one day a few years back with nothing but a small suitcase and the clothes on your back.

your grandmother owned the trailer you now lived in, the sweetest old woman that always seemed to have candy to spare, or a cigarette if things were really bad for him.

you’d taken it over when she died, with really nowhere else to go and a blossoming nursing career, you’d had no other choice.

he admired you, from afar at first, too in awe to say anything until you were practically forced into tending to his wounds.

as much as you grumbled, he could tell you didn’t really mind all that much. caring was just in your nature, which couldn’t be said about many people in hawkins.

“where’s wayne nowadays? i don’t see him much anymore,” unashamedly reaching over to steal his fries.

“he’s got this fancy new girlfriend up in loch nora,” pushing his plate towards you, “spends most of his time there,” shrugging it off, eddie preferred the quiet if he was honest.

“oh. well, must be nice on your own.. can do whatever you want,” raising your brows.

he knows what you’re hinting at but he doesn’t really know why. surely it was not only obvious to you but also to everybody else in the room that he’d jump at the opportunity to be with you.

“hm.. i guess,” leaning over to talk directly to you, complete tunnel vision, “there’s this one girl though,” clicking his tongue, “she keeps ignorin’ me and like.. i drive her to school.. take her out for dinner.. still nothin’,” hoping maybe now you’ll have got the hint.

“oh yeah?” quirking your brow, “she sounds nice, you’ll have to introduce us,” sitting back against the booth.

“i think you’d like her, i know i do.”

you don’t honour him with a response, rolling your eyes like you always did when he’d pushed his luck too far.

instead, you take his hand into yours, pulling it closer to inspect his bruised but healing knuckles, “they look better.. you’re not fighting again are you?”

eddie shakes his head, “not this week.”

you drop his hand though your fingers still linger around his, “i know you don’t care but i really hate that you do this..” swallowing harshly as your eyes meet, “you’re so much better than that,” with full sincerity, “if you ever want me to take you seriously, you have to stop that shit.”

he blinks, a harsh truth that perhaps he needed to hear. the club had been something he’d fallen into as a juvenile teen, a way to express his rage at the world without ending up in jail. it had escalated from there to what it is now, a humiliation ritual that occasionally lead to an extra couple hundred dollars in his pocket.

“yeah,” eddie gulps, “yeah. it’s enough, i get it,” shrinking in defeat. he wanted that more than anything, for you to look at him without that dismaying gleam just once.

he was getting older, bruises didn’t heal as fast as they once did, his bones ached and his head pounded for days. on top of all that, he wanted you to see him as something other than the dope that stumbled to your door.

if giving up fighting was all he had to do to get that, then he’d do it.

your lips curl, smiling gently over the empty plates, “plus, you’re so much better looking without a black eye,” dropping his hand to lean back in your chair all smug.

now he doesn’t want to get too cocky, but knowing, hearing, that you were even remotely interested in him was enough to boost his ego higher than any petty fight ever could have.

-

“you comin’ tonight?” tommy laughs, lighting his cigarette. they stand in the courtyard of the garage, sun beaming down on eddie’s tired shoulders, he just wants to get home so that he can contemplate maybe sneaking over to your trailer later.

“ah.. no,” shaking his head, rubbing his oily hands on his jeans instead of the rag in his back pocket. your words echoing in his otherwise empty head, he deserved better, he was better than this.

“thousand dollars on the line tonight man.. be a shame if you missed it,” tommy pushes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

shit.

a thousand fucking dollars.

he could take you somewhere real nice with that, god knows you deserved it. maybe he could help with your school bills, books or something.

“shit..” eddie inhales, your words suddenly seeming pretty inconsequential now, “against who?” slotting his own cigarette between his lips.

“new guy, billy something,” tommy shrugs, “i think you’ve got a pretty good chance you know?” goading him further, really leaving him no other option but to accept.

eddie puckers his lips, contemplating whether it’d be worth it to piss you off again. at least when he stumbled in, he’d have a thousand dollars to soften the blow.

fuck it.

best case scenario, he’d be grovelling for your forgiveness with a thousand bucks in hand. worst case scenario? well. probably best not think about that.

“alright, shit.. i’ll be there,” already willing to bet that he’ll be eating his words later, too far gone to really care anyway.

-

eddie more than eats his words. damn near swallowing his teeth by the time he’s helped up from the floor.

billy, as he had learned, was not one to be messed with. on reflection, eddie hadn’t ever really stood a chance against him and maybe if he’d thought for a little longer than two seconds, he wouldn’t now be dropping in and out of consciousness.

erica does her usual pounding of fists on your door, though this time her worry is palpable, making even eddie fear for how his face must look.

you open the door, looking exhausted, too tired to deal with his shit after a long day at school.

“what’d you do?” taking his weight from the two kids holding him up, “what the fuck? you told me-,”. cutting yourself off, not allowing yourself to get too angry in front of the petrified looking children.

you sit him down on the couch, moving faster than he’d ever seen you before.

dabbing the cotton on his face with a quiet, disappointed sigh. you look more hurt than anything else, like all your well meaning words had meant nothing to him.

“oh god eddie, this is really.. this is bad,” pressing the cold cloth to his bloodied cheek bone. you look back towards the ragtag kids that had dragged him here for the hundredth time, “you two get going.. it’s late and i don’t want your mom at my door again,” still patting the sore area. they didn’t need to see you patch him up yet again.

lucas and erica nod along in synchronicity, shuffling towards the door with the heads hung back towards eddie, “is he gonna be okay?” wary to leave him in such a state.

you nod, smiling softly at the two, “he’ll be okay.. promise,” shooing them off, “i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

they nod, hesitant to leave though they do eventually trail out of the door, leaving you and him alone.

rather quickly, your smile becomes a scowl, tilting his chin up towards you without so much as a word. you were pissed, eddie could sense that much.

“hey..” squeezing his eyes shut as the sharp sting of the cloth prods his eye, “i’m sorry,” his words small and defunct now. not sure how else he can truly convey his feelings, apologies running on deaf ears.

you don’t reply, purposefully not meeting his eye despite his desperate attempt to just get you to look at him.

“yesterday i told you that i couldn’t take you seriously until you stopped this and now..” exhaling angrily, “were you even listening to me?”

“yes,” eddie nods, “i was,” hissing through his teeth at the sharp sting in his cheekbone, he’d be lucky if nothing was broken. your words had resonated so much so that they rang through his ears as he lay on the cold floor.

you sigh again, the same sigh wayne used to give him when he’d arrive home in the back of a cop car. making clear your thorough disappointment in him.

he doesn’t speak again, allowing you to sort the mess that was his face out before he ruined whatever slim chance he still had. he would t blame you if you turfed him out this instant, never to speak to him again.

silently going about your routine, a pitiful glint in your eye that he hopes he’ll never see again. if it wasn’t obvious before, it was crystal now.

“i’m trying to be good.. i am,” looking at you through hooded eyes. fuck, he hurt. not just his broken skin, but his chest ached. repeating the image of your hurt eyes again and again.

“i know,” you breathe, breath catching in your throat, “you are good, i know you are..” sighing softly, “you’re also stupid,” tracing your careful fingers over his cheek.

eddie wanted to do right by you more than anything, feeling like maybe that was actually possible now.

“i know it probably doesn’t help now..” he groans, gazing into your glassy eyes, “but i wanted to take you out with the winnings.. nice dinner or somethin’.”

you frown only grows further, “eddie.. i don’t want your money,” finally meeting his gaze just to glare angrily back at him.

his pathetic shoulders shrug, skin running cold as your fingers leave his face. the couch dips as you sit next to him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“i won’t do this again,” a serious, unsettling tone, “if you want to fight then you can, but you can’t come crawling back here every time..” reaching over to trace the cut in his lip, “i’m not gonna sit back and watch you almost die every week- not anymore.”

eddie nods, understanding now more than ever that this had to end. if not for his health, then for you. it’s not as if he liked narrowly avoiding death week in week out, it was the adrenaline. the only time in his life that felt worthwhile, drawing a crowd, people that wanted to see him, albeit to see him end up on the floor.

“i’m sorry,” meaning it, genuinely. “i know that you think i’m not serious about this but i am- really, i think you might just be the only person in the world who’s opinion i care about,” you were at least the first person to get through his thick skull.

“then start acting like it,” putting your hand over his bruised and bloodied knuckles, leaning over to touch his cheek again, tender movements that make him shiver.

eddie’s eyes break from yours for the first time this evening, descending to your lips almost on their own, “i really wanna kiss you,” mumbling into the abyss.

your thumb traces over his bottom lip, narrowly avoiding the still throbbing cut, “you can.. if you promise me that you’ll stop ruinin’ your pretty face for me.”

he nods, allowing you no time to back out before he leans in, clutching at your waist as your lips connect, eagerly pulling you closer with every last bit of energy he could muster.

the black wife beater is torn around the collar, exposing the purple tint to his chest, the dried blood that had wept down his neck. it doesn’t mean much now but eddie feels terrible that this is how he looked for your first kiss.

he was really in no position to be doing this, adrenaline pumping through his veins, mostly keeping him upright.

his body wants more, disappointed in himself for not being able to do this properly. after months of off-handed flirting and this was all he had to show for himself?

you’re doing all of the heavy lifting, fingers knotted into his loose, knotted bun, sighing softly as your lips lock. his chest instinctively knocking into yours, as you lean further back on the couch.

any other time and he’d have been clambering atop, doing everything he’d ever dreamed of. an unfortunate lead up of events that had left him too exhausted to treat you as you deserved.

if that weren’t enough incentive to get his shit together, he’s not sure what else ever would be.

you pull back, eyes drawn to the corner of the room, “grandma’s watching us.. i can’t,” falling into a fit of giggles as you nudge him back upright, eyes flitting to the portrait of your grandmother that hung on the wall.

his eyes follow, giving a strained laugh, clutching his ribcage as he does so, “ow fuck.”

“alright,” you stand, nodding down the corridor, “you can have my bed.. i’ll take the couch so i can keep an eye on you tonight,” stern but still confusingly comforting.

eddie stands, not without a chorus of complaints, shuffling after you to grab onto your fingers, “stay with me,” spinning you around gently.

you nod silently, bundling him up the corridor to your room. your trailer was a hell of a lot tidier than his, now that wayne was more of a passing guest than a resident, he’d really let the place go to shit.

he stops in the doorway, turning to face you with your fingers still interlocked, “thank you.. again,” running his thumb over the back of your hand, “i mean it.”

you nod, reluctant but still somewhat sincere, “please don’t prove me wrong about this,” your eyes a glaring warning, one he’d never forget.

there are no words in the english language to truly convey to you how badly he wanted, or needed, to prove you right.

so eddie just grips your fingers a little tighter, as much as his bruised knuckles allowed, leading you back into your room in silence, vowing to treat you as you deserved.

[cheri-2047]

Have you done Cynos new quest? If so, may I request a Tighnari x Reader oneshot where the reader also takes part in the duel at the end (as the traveller or something). Even tho they won they still got injured (but pretended to be fine as to not appear as weak) and after everything settled down and they went back to the city Tighnari takes care of them? Basically some fluff, comfort kinda thing? Sorry if it sounds kinda complicated :')

Thank you and have a good day/night!!

THANKS FOR REQUESTING !! So sorry this took long btw 😔

so uh… I didn’t actually do the story quest cause I stopped playing when lyneys banner was over 💀 BUT I will write like Tighnari tends to ur wounds (that you got after a commission)

Tighnari x injured reader

TAGS: fluff/comfort, blood/wounds

CHARACTERS: Tighnari, mentions of Paimon

A/N AT THE END !

You opened the door to you and your boyfriends shared home, covering the blood stains on your shirt with a bag of things you got payed for in the commission.

“you’re home!”

tighnari walked up to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He raised an eyebrows upon seeing some blood on your shirt,

“what’s th-“

“I’m going to bed, I’m a bit tired.”

you said, before paimon interrupted “heyyy! You haven’t even promised paimon her snacks for helping you when you got in-“

“kitchen paimon, top cabinet”

you slumped your way to your bedroom, not wanting to sleep with tighnari tonight so he wouldn’t see your wounds.

as you removed your shirt, you winced, looking at the loosely wrapped bandages around your torso.

“shit….”

you unwrapped it, carefully and slowly. meanwhile, back in the kitchen, paimon was running through the cabinets.

“aha!”

“finally! Paimon deserved this!”

she drooled at the sight of the chips, tighnari finding it odd how she actually helped In a commission. He heard your distant grunts, your curses, everything no matter how much you tried to stay quiet.

“paimon, how was the commission?”

he asked, hoping she’d give some info.

“Traveler got stabbed pretty badly by a hilichurl camp! Then traveler told paimon to stay quiet and they’d give me their snacks from inazuma!”

Paimon exclaimed, completely disregarding your agreement with her. “oops…. Uh.. don’t tell traveler”

she snickered, while stuffing her face with some dango you had left over.

“thank you paimon.”

and just like that, tighnari left the room.

you were struggling to tend to your own wounds, trying to not stain the sheets or anything, when you heard a familiar voice.

“tsk. You’re hopeless.”

Your boyfriend sat next to you and grabbed a cotton, adding some liquid to help disinfect it.

“Paimon told me everything. Don’t bother to hide it.”

he held your hand tightly before disinfecting the wound. It hurt a lot.

“agh-! Nari-“

you winced, holding his hand tightly

“almost done.”

you tried to not yell in pain, knowing tighnari’s ears are quite sensitive.

“I need to stitch these, drink this first.”

he suddenly pushed a drink to your lips. It was a drink to help you get sleepy so you wouldn’t feel much pain.

as you were being stitched up, nari held your hand tightly and placed a scarf nearby to your mouth to bite for pain.

he winces whenever he sees a particularly deep wound/scar, hoping the anesthesia is still strong while he treats them (yes he also injected some to you after he made you drink a sleep thing)

when he’s finished, he changes you out of your clothes. He obv doesn’t touch any intimate areas

the moment he changes you to comfier clothes, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“oh traveler….dont hide things like this from me.”

he stays up all night to care for you.

the next morning, he does everything. Cleans dishes, makes sure you don’t move at all and most important (and the scariest thing…) he needs to hear what happened from YOUR mouth.

he reassures you that even if you’re injured, it’s okay to ask for help.

the entire day(every day until you’re better) he pampers you.

the end

A/N; CAN U TELL I RAN OUT OF IDEAS IN THE END 💀 my bad, and also thanks for the request ! Ask for another if u want it rewritten lmao. Anyways I also realized that I actually may have mischaracterized him cause I realized how little info I know abt this man AS IF I DONT LITERALLY COSPLAY HIM 💀💀💀 anyways that’s it, thank u !

[purpleknighty]

Do I Wanna Know?

Pairing: Agent!Haerin x Agent!Fem!Reader

Summary: Now a rouge spy, fleeing from the old agency you once worked for, you find yourself at a familiar doorstep you never thought you’d see again.

Warnings/tags: violence, mentions of blood and injuries, small angst, enemies to lovers(?), reader and haerin are off and on, heavy emphasis on communication, misunderstandings(?), tell me if I missed anything else

Tonight has been shit, nothing has worked out in your favor, everything keeps getting worse and worse.

At first, you assumed it was very badly timed coincidences. You walk into a bar for starters, college students being the loudest customers there. 20 minutes into enjoying your drink, a suspicious group of men walk in, eyeing you up and down.

They whisper among each other, stealing glances at your seated frame, but you feel their eyes on the back of your head.

You keep calm, waiting to see who makes the first move. The men do, and as they itch closer, you realize they look like agents that you use to work with.

Fuck that.

You pay for the two drinks you had, a gin tonic and a strawberry sunset, bolting out the doors with the group falling after you.

It becomes an annoying game of cat and mouse, the racing after your car, the unnecessary shooting, the rookie mistakes they keep making, it was all just headache inducing.

That same group purposely took a different route to corner you, five guys in black suits coming out to bring you back to headquarters.

You denied their request upon getting out the car, not caring about how wanted you are within the agency, how much of a target is on your back or how much money the higher uppers are offering these stupid rookies to bring you back.

You could give two shits about it.

Your refusal results in an all-out-brawl, which was very unfair in your case, five guys all jumping one person? Now that’s just plain dirty. You win through experience but you don’t leave the battlefield unscathed, one of those bastard had slashed you with his knife, adding another wound that needs to heal.

At this point, wounded, bleeding and tired and the clock passing midnight. It was best to go home and clean up before resting.

But somehow, your body goes on autopilot. Foot pressing on the gas, hands turning the steering wheel into a familiar place, onto a familiar road and oops, now you’re standing at a familiar doorstep.

This is a bad idea. You should turn back around. It’s all the blood loss getting to your head.

Despite the voices telling you to not follow through, you do it anyways. Knocking with your free hand as the other presses a flimsy cloth over your cut to stop the bleeding.

You wait a few seconds before doing it again, ignoring how slowly you’re starting to become dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

Passing out in front of your enemy’s(?) doorstep isn’t a good look on you or anyone.

As you’re about to give up, grumbling curses under your breath, the door opens. A set of cat eyes stare through the cracked door, suspicious but upon seeing your silhouette, the door flys open.

There, she stands in all her sleepy glory. Hair slightly disheveled, sleep shorts with a tank top on adores her body and cat eyes that still make your heart flutter and chest tighten.

Yup, it’s definitely the blood loss now.

“What happened?” She breaks the silence, dark eyes sinking in your injured frame. White shirt now stained red from your blood and others, dark jeans covered in dirt from all the times you were thrown into the ground of that god-awful alleyway.

A dry chuckle leaves your lips, causing you to cough up. “You know,” A half-smile finds its way onto your face. “Being hunted all night, the fun stuff.”

Haerin huffs, making sure the coast is clear by looking down her hallway. Seeing no one but you and her awake at this hour, she gently pulls you in.

“Let’s..” She pauses, eyes lingering on you. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can get out of my house.”

Wow, such a friendly welcoming.

You hiss at the pain, hands gripping the armrest at your sides. You can never get use to this, snitches. No matter how many wounds you have received as your time as an agent, you will never get use to getting snitches.

Your head falls back to lay on the headrest of the office chair, a sigh of relief can be heard, aware this painful procedure is done and over with.

“How did this happen?” Haerin speaks softly, fingertip lightly circling and messaging around the wound as to not hurt you.

You ignore the groan that threatens to spill from your throat, ignoring the feeling of desire everytime you look at Haerin.

You know you can’t have her but that’s what keeps pulling you in, what keeps making you come back.

You run a hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. “Rookie agents were sent after me. Found my ass in a bar downtown.”

You watch Haerin’s brows frown, almost like she’s lost in thought before collecting herself and standing up from her kneeling position.

“Why are you here? You are a target, coming here makes me an enemy as well, you know?” The cat-eyed girl looks back over her shoulder, only to shake her head at seeing you once again, this time bruised and wounded.

“I work for the same agency that’s after you, Y/n. A hefty amount of money is being offered to whoever can successfully bring you back, dead or alive.”

The raven haired traces her pointer finger over the barrel of your pistol that lays unsupervised on her desk, petite fingers are quick to grab the gun, now your own weapon is being pointed at you.

“I could kill you right now. You’re tired, open, and vulnerable. I could end this nuisance and bring you back to headquarters myself.”

She’s right, Haerin could kill you right now and you wouldn’t have the energy to fight back. Your knife is too on her desk but she stands right next to it which puts you at an disadvantage, and she knows you have a big slash on the side of your stomach, another disadvantage to you.

Your life on the line, the barrel to your gun in point blank range to your face, you should be scared.. but you’re not.

You can’t stop thinking about how the moonlight makes Haerin the most beautiful woman alive, even more than she already is. Cat eyes that keep you hooked, a smile or grin or smirk that makes you weak in the knees, or a laugh that makes you wish things were different.

You wished you and Haerin met under different circumstances.

Maybe then things could’ve worked out better between you two.

“Then kill me. You have the opportunity, Haerin. Take it.”

She sighs, arms dropping, a small smile graces her pretty lips.

“You’re so stupid, dingus.”

God, you love when she calls you that.

Miss it even.

A dorky smile breaks out before you can stop it, eyes filled with so much emotion for the cat-eyed woman. You just hope the dimmed moonlight doesn’t expose too much.

Then a harsh jolt of pain flashes up your spine from a simple gesture, reminding you of the real reason why you’re here, why you’re sitting in Haerin’s apartment to begin with.

It ruins the mood greatly.

You go to stand up, abruptly becoming lightheaded and close to losing your balance. Haerin’s eyes widen in worry, rushing to your side as you try to re-focus your vision.

“Sorry,” You murmur, seeing the slight mess you made. “Stood up too quickly.” Haerin frowns, eyes glancing up to your face then back down to your cut.

She bites her lip before speaking, “Stay.” She says it so softly that it scratches your brain in a way that just feels right. “You’re injured.. stay for the night.”

She shyly finishes, not sure if her hands on your arms are there to keep you or her steady, you don’t mind the warmth though.

The request feels tempting, is this how Eve felt when the snake whispered for her to eat the forbidden fruit?

Inner conflict arose, your heart tells you to do it, take her up on her offer. Once in a lifetime opportunity, but your mind says no. It’ll feel good in the moment, but will it help you in the long run?

Haerin is already breaking protocols, giving aid to someone the higher ups deem to be an enemy. If they catch wind of this.. Haerin might be outcasted, thrown out of the agency and ending up in the same situation you’re in.

A wanted agent, a criminal who’s on the run from an organization that’s wants you dead.

Yeah, this was a bad idea after all.

You forcefully have to pull yourself away Haerin’s grasp, choosing to ignore the look of disappointment that comes across her face.

“Where you going?” She breaks the silence, voice quiet, watching your back muscles flex as you reach out for your ruined shirt.

“Leaving.”

Cat eyes stare daggers into you, brows now stuck in a permanent frown.

“Why? I said you can stay for the night.” The feeling of annoyance seeps into your veins, wondering why Haerin’s starting this now.

“No reason. I’m just getting myself out of your hair.”

She stops you from grabbing your gun, the small puddle of annoyance expanding from the action. A sigh of frustration slips pass your lips, running a hand through your hair.

“Haerin.”

“Stay, Y/n. You’re injured.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before.”

“Well, I’m stopping you now.”

Your eye twitches, why won’t she let you leave? She’s let you walked out on multiple occasions, but why now? Why stop you now?

You scoff, now isn’t the time for your emotions to get in the way. You shove past her, grabbing what belongs to you from her desk and making your way through her bedroom door.

But Haerin isn’t one to give up easily (one of many traits that you love about her) and forcefully grabs onto your forearm, halting you for putting your shoes on.

“Haerin- I swear to god—“ But you stop upon looking back at her. Now there’s a clear look of sadness, dark brown eyes are slightly teary and her grip tightens on your skin.

She looks so small and fragile, so vulnerable and soft. Even through your shoving and pushing, Haerin has always been gentle and patient.

Never one to swear, even when upset or angry. Always polite and quiet.

You still can’t fathom why she chose to become an agent with her shy and timid demeanor.

“Please..”

Her voice cracks, trying to push back the sniffles and tears that threaten to fall.

“Stay.. please..”

Her pleads and begs get muffled and drowned out by your lips. Her broken voice echoing through the empty walls of her apartment, almost as if it’s haunting and taunting your very existence.

Your hand finds way to the back of her head, burying itself in her silky locks. The other placed on her waist to pull her closer, needing her scent to linger on your skin.

This kiss feels different, like there’s a hidden message behind it. A message Haerin can’t express with words but can convey with body language.

You pull back when oxygen becomes a problem, your warm breath fanning over her lips and your heat engulfing her into a comforting embrace.

“I’ve missed you..” She whispers, finally spilling. Her palms rest above your chest before scrunching the ruined fabric in her grasp.

“I’ve been worried after everything happened.. I got even more worried when Headquarter started sending agents after you..”

She pauses, observing you quietly as she continues to talk.

It’s one of those rare moments when Haerin talks and never stops.

“Was it really that bad?”

You shrug, not wanting to think about how chaotic your life has been since and focus more on the woman in your arms.

“I broke protocol, and I mean a bunch of them too when I was working. The higher ups have always been strict about their rules.”

She nuzzles into your neck, the act resembling a cat. Your heart speeds up, pumping and butterflies forming.

“You went MIA for months..” You crack a small smile at her voice.

“Had to keep a low profile. Didn’t wanna die so early into my retirement.”

You go to move, which prompts the brunette to cling on to you tighter. God, she’s gonna be the death of you.

“Relax, kitty.” You press a reassuring kiss to her temple, the brief smell of her shampoo easily evaporates any worries you might’ve had for the night.

“Just going to take my shoes off, I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiles into your neck, looking up at you through her lashes, cat eyes instantly turning you smitten. A faint blush creeps over her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears.

Attractive, ethereal, magnificent, beautiful.

Kang Haerin makes you feel alive.

You let your emotions win once again that night, choosing to bask in what it would feel like to fall in love with Haerin without death knocking at your front door.

And honestly.. now you don’t wanna know.

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Apple Pie

——————

hi my angels!!! Apple pie part 2???!!! Now listen… there’s no smut PLEASE don’t be upset. I really wanna make this a series i have a lot of stuff planned out especially for the next chapter </3 i hope you guys like it.

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU WERE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW/DARK CONTENT OR ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH MY BLOG. MUAH.

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of cleaning and bandaging wounds, accidental injury and mentions of blood. Leon is lowkey obsessed but hates it, so he shut it down.

Word count: 2,444

————————————-

Nine o’clock.

Does he show up early? Does he come a minute late?

Leon stares at himself in his mirror, sighing when he feels he doesn’t look.. acceptable.

Was he a creep?

Like, hey, you made me a really fantastic pie, and you watered my lawn while I was out of town, and now I watch you from my living room while you’re in your kitchen.

It’s weird. Yet he found so much comfort in you living this ordinary life, baking pies and watering plants and checking on your strawberry bush daily as if they’d grow overnight. You were simple, and oh, how he craved simple.

His arms tugged at the t-shirt he slipped on, just a plain blue one. But he couldn’t help but run his fingers over the forming scabs on his wrist and arms; with you a distraction he had forgotten he had come home from a mission. He groaned in frustration as he tugged the t-shirt off, slipping on a black long sleeve. It was going to have to do.

Shit, he had no flowers to give you? Nothing? He leaned himself back, peering out his bedroom window to see you in your kitchen still, swinging open the oven door and the smoke piling out, making your glasses fog up as you attempted to reach for the dish inside without sight. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he grabbed his keys; just a quick trip to the grocery store for some flowers for you.

————————————-

White roses? No red, pink? Tulips? No..

He stood clueless in front of the flower cart, looking at all the neatly wrapped bouquets before him as he rubbed the back of his neck in confusion.

“What’s she like?”

An older woman asks Leon, leaning heavily on her cart for support as she looks at him. Leon cleared his throat as he looked at the tiny woman, shrugging as he laughed defenselessly.

“That’s the thing, she’s my neighbor. I hardly know her.”

The older woman couldn’t help but smile cheerfully at Leon as she walked over to the cart, handing him the mix of yellow roses and white daisies. She nodded her head as she tapped his hands

“She will love those, trust me. I was young once being given roses by a handsome man.”

Leon watched the woman walk away, tapping the flowers against his arm before he walked to the register, the teenager giving him a dead-tired stare as he scanned the code for the flowers.

“Twenty-four seventy-nine.”

His monotone voice almost caused Leon to convulse as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the one hundred dollar bill and a fifty. He hands the money to the young man, who stares at him, confused

“An older woman is walking around here; you’ll notice her, you’re the only register open. Please pay for her groceries with that money.”

The teenager sighed as he slipped the bills under the register, looking back to Leon’s

“Receipt?”

And before Leon could even respond with his quick no thanks the kid cut him off, sighing as he started scanning the following customer's items

“Great. Have a good one.”

———————————

Leon’s hands were so overly sweaty, and why? He cracked his neck as he parked in his driveway, his eyes shifting to his dashboard to see it was nine ten. Shit. He practically ran to your door, his fist colliding with the white door. He squeezed the flowers in his hands before the door opened, your apron around your waist as you smiled at him. You were a mess, but he couldn’t help but admire it.

As he walked into the house, the instant smell of food hit him. He saw your eyes shifting back and forth to the flowers as you untied the apron from your waist before he awkwardly handed you the flowers.

How did he know? You held the flowers in your hands as he followed you into the kitchen, where you had dirty dishes thrown around, but all the food was prepared and ready.

“It’s funny because I tried to grow daisies for almost three years and I gave up because I stopped having the time for them.

You laugh as you grab the slim glass container, leaning over your sink and turning it on for the water.

“Yeah?”

Leon asked as he leaned against the door frame, his eyes tracing your every feature as he looked you up and down as you were so distracted with the flowers.

You set the vase on your window seal, smiling at the gorgeous flowers.

“Well, thank you Leon, they're beautiful.”

Leon nodded his head as a you’re welcome as you pointed to the table

“Please sit, let me serve you.”

Leon stared at you, confused as you pulled the pretty white plates from your cabinet.

Serve him?

Leon walked towards your dining room, how cute you set up all the glasses and silverware.

He pulled his chair out to sit down, noticing the slight creak of the chair as he scooted himself closer to the table. His ears pick up the sound of you hissing, your feet tapping against the floor from burning yourself. His head leaned back in concern before you walked out of the kitchen, two plates in your hand. He never really noticed what you wore, the light denim jeans and the baby blue t-shirt, that gorgeous gold necklace around your neck that he would surely ask about later. He didn’t mean to stare, you leaned over the table and placed the plate in front of him before you walked to the other side of the table, sitting down. Your foot brushed against his leg- did you mean to do that?

“Do you cook like this every night?”

Leon was shocked at your cooking capability just by the apple pie alone, but the plate in front of him was set so perfectly with mashed potatoes, chicken and a mix of fresh vegetables, it’s probably from the garden you mentioned.

“I usually eat at work, actually. A lot of my vegetables were just harvested today, so you just got lucky.”

You always eat leftover noodles from work, always too focused on other things to prepare yourself dinner most of the time. You don’t know what came over you but you knew you had to cook Leon dinner. Maybe he looked too tired, or perhaps you just felt bad for him, you didn’t know.

The silence between you two was slightly awkward, your eyes occasionally glancing up at Leon who seemed to really be enjoying his food.

“What do you do for work?”

The question made Leon’s chest hurt as he swallowed the chicken in his mouth, wiping his mouth with the napkin. How does he answer? Yeah, I work for the D.S.O. against counter-terrorism. Did I mention I've fought literal zombies?

“I’m an agent for the local police department.”

Good save.

“Oh wow, really? Guess that explains your wrist?”

Leon frowned in confusion before he looked down, seeing that his injuries were just past his wrist.

“Right, I never feel them so thanks for pointing them out.”

Leon chuckled as he followed your actions, sipping his wine. He almost choked on the red liquid as you reached forward, grabbing his hand, your soft fingers tugging up his sleeve.

“It’s swollen around the area, see?”

His eyes follow your finger as you trace the red around the wounds, the cool air finally hitting them made them hurt worse than he thought it would. Leon just nodded his head as you stood, grabbing his plate and walking to the sink putting the dishes back.

“Don’t move!”

You call out from down the hallway. You opened the closet door, clicking your tongue before you hummed in satisfaction at the sight of your first aid kit. Your body turned the hall and walked into the dining room, smiling at Leon as you sat down the first aid kid, clicking it open.

Leon wasn’t a man who bandaged his wounds unless it was vital. A little road burn or a small burn wouldn’t kill him, just wash it with soap and it should be good. You stood beside him, your glasses resting against the very tip of your nose as you poured alcohol onto the small wipes. You gave him a friendly glance before you began wiping at the red skin, Leon clearing his throat in discomfort as you continued to wipe at his skin. You placed the wipe down onto the table and grabbed at the antibiotic ointment, squeezing some onto your pointer finger and rubbing it against the edges of his burn. You hummed a soft tune to yourself as you began wrapping his arm in the white bandage, smiling as you finished, pushing your glasses up your nose.

“All done.”

Leon’s fist clenched and unclenched as he looked at the bandage, he couldn’t help but let a slight smirk grow on his face as he looked at you.

“What, you’re a doctor now?”

Your eyes rolled as you shoved everything back into its container and shut it, your body turning to walk away.

Why did he suddenly feel so angry? His chest bubbling with an unnerving pain as he pressed his fist into the table, the noise of you rambling on about something filled his ears and it became muffled as he stared down at the table, he stood up, pushing his chair in before he stormed down your entryway and clear out the door.

You shut the closet door the same time Leon slammed the front door, the pictures on your wall shaking causing you to run down the long hallway, looking into the dining room to see Leon not in the dining chair. You took a few long strides to your kitchen, peering out to the window to see Leon walk into his house, his window shaking as he slammed his door too.

You stared at all the dishes in the kitchen, scattered everywhere. Your hands were shaking, why? Just clean up. Don’t cry, you don’t even know him? Why would you cry, You don’t even know Leon and he didn’t know you. You stared out your front window, stuck in your own mind as you scrubbed viciously at the dishes, a hiss leaving your lips as you looked down at your white sink, now painted with your blood.

“Fuck..”

You whispered as your shaking hand dropped the knife, running towards the bathroom.

—————————

Leon’s door slamming made even him flinch. He couldn’t even pinpoint his anger, his fingers ripping off the bandage on his arm, throwing it into the small trash can in his bathroom as he turned his shower on, his breath heavy as he tugged his shirt over his head, dragging his pants down his legs. His face was flushed a deep red, he briefly caught a look at himself in the mirror. His arm glistened slightly from the medication you rubbed into his skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he still struggled to catch his breath, stepping himself into the shower, an instant sigh of relief poured from him as the hot water trickled down his skin.

His mind was racing, his head dipping into the water and wetting his hair. He stared at the water swirling down the drain, he was too scared to close his eyes. He was always afraid to close his eyes. Leon never sleeps and when he does he wakes up angry, and frustrated.

Leon slipped on the plaid pajama pants, his hand combing through his hair as he looked up in the mirror. His eyes scanned the scars on his chest and torso. His footsteps were slow as he walked toward his living room. He can sit on the couch forever, his eyes hooded as he watches the random news channel. No matter what was on the TV, he couldn’t help but look over at your window. His throat felt like it was closing as he watched you staring out your window, he almost jumped up when he watched you wince and run off out of his view. If he knocked on your door right now, you’d slam it in his face. And somehow out of all the things invading his mind, you were again the main focus.

——————————-

Waking up the following day was more challenging than usual, the deep gash in your hand wrapped tightly. It’s already nine, you were thankful you had the day off. You somehow pulled yourself out of bed, still in your pajamas. You never really were your own first priority. You opened your front door, hair still messy as you filled your watering pot to the brim. You set it down carefully by your bushes, dragging your hose towards Leon’s lawn. You were still half asleep so you were just stuck in your habits, your finger pressing into the hole of the hose as you watered his bushes, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes.

———————————-

Leon grumbled incoherently as he sat up, that sore pain in his spine making itself well aware as he did so. The noise of running water made his brows frown as he walked into the kitchen, turning his sink on. He kneeled down and rubbed his face with the cool water, a quick breath of sudden adrenaline leaving his lips as he held at his sink. His eyes squinting as he sees you, standing in your pajama shorts on his lawn, rubbing at your tired eyes. You did cut your hand, the bandage getting a bit wet as you moved your hose around his yard.

“Jesus Christ.”

Leon mumbled as he pushed himself off his counter and to the front door. You obviously didn’t hear him walking onto the porch, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you.

“Good morning.”

Leon’s voice snapped you awake, the hose splashing up at you, misting your face. You pushed your finger back into the hole of the hose as you cleared your throat. Was he always this handsome? Leaning against the frame of his porch, his arms against his chest and his muscles being shined on perfectly by the sun.

Yet he could say the same about you, your hair tangled so slightly, the cute cat sweater lifted so slightly, your stomach showing.

“Hey, Leon. I’m sorry, I guess I’m into old habits.”

You laughed as you pressed your foot into the hose to cut the stream. Do you ask him about why he stormed out? The way he was looking at you made you want to just run back into your house, close all your blinds and just go back to sleep.

“Stop watering my lawn.”

Leon’s voice was stern, his hands dropping to his sides as he walked back into his house, your face yet again meeting the auburn door.

[bravetimetravellingaussie]

And it feels like home

Chapter 1

Summary: Peter Parker is minding his own business when along comes the merc with a mouth, shenanigans will ensue

Warnings: foul language, it's got deadpool in it? I think that works as it's own warning

Possible spoilers, Spider-man: No Way Home, and Deadpool and Wolverine

"Where are you getting the guns from?" Spider-man stood on the edge of a towering building, holding onto a a thin white piece of web, from the end of which hung a flailing and terrified criminal.

"Agh!! Shit shit shit shit shit! I don't know! I don't fucking know! Shit! Please! Come on man, let me go!"

"If you say so." Spider-man let go of the web for a second, letting the man fall a couple of metres before catching the web again.

"OKAY LOOK MAN I'LL FUCKING TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT TO KNOW JUST PLEASE PUT ME BACK ON THE GROUND BACK ON THE GROUND PLEASE DONT DROP ME!"

"Thought so."

Since the disappearance of Peter Parker, the man behind the mask didn't have to put in any effort to make himself sound older. He also scarcely had to ask the same question more than twice. He rarely had the patience to ask a third time, and he could barely find the willpower to restrain himself from violence by the fourth.

It scared him sometimes how much he yearned for an excuse to punch people these days.

Peter Parker shifted the sleeve of his suit to check his watch as he slung through the city on his way back home after a long night of doing what he hoped was good enough to be considered superhero work.

3 am.

Peter groaned. He could feel how tired he was going to be for the rest of the day already.

"I fucking hate Mondays."

"Welcome to McDonald's, how can I help you?" Peter could barely keep his eyes fully open they were so dry.

"Hi, Tom, I'd like someone to drop a skincare routine that actually works for me and to get a job that pays well enough for me to move out of my mom's house so I can have fun time in the night time with my boyfriend without her screaming at us to shut up already. I'd move in with my girlfriend but she's abroad right now and she's having some friends house sitting for her. I'd understand if she didn't trust me with her plants or something, but she doesn't even have plants! I think she might just not trust me. I got her shot one time and I don't think she's over it yet, even though she never got shot because of me, because I went back in time and fixed that."

Peter glanced at his name tag that had 'PETER' written on it in bold letters. Then he looked back up at the man wearing leather from head to toe. It might have been red originally, but Peter couldn't help but wonder if it had been stained red by the multitude of wounds the man had all over his body, bullet wounds and stab wounds, slashes a gashes. The worst of which seemed to be the man's freshly amputated hand.

"McDonald's welcome help you how?"

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, your customer service voice is so soothing and therapeutic. Shame they don't let you speak in your mother tongue, they know it'd be too much for the world to handle." The man leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his head in his hand, kicking one leg up.

Blood dripped from the man's wrist down onto the counter, but Peter was so sleep deprived all he could think about was how he was gonna have to clean that up.

"Alright! I'd like a big meal, big mac with fries and coke. I do mean the drinking kind, unfortunately, damn that Feige guy, Blind Al has a bone to pick with him after the bullshit she had to go through for Deadpool and Wolverine." The man chuckles. "You know how it is."

Peter would have said, no, I really don't, but for all the weird shit he'd encountered in his life, this was just about the strangest.

"I'd pay for this, but I don't carry my wallet in my work pants. I think this is gonna have to be on the house, you'll do that for me, wontcha Tommy, my bestest friend in the whole wide multiverse?" The man didn't want for an answer before taking the paper bag that had just been placed on another counter and running out of the store, waving at Peter through the glass once he was outside.

"Sir, that- sir that wasn't... That wasn't your order, sir- that was not your order," one of Peter's coworkers said quietly beneath her breath as she stared after the man in red.

Everyone else in the McDonald's seemed to have been similarly entranced. Somewhere a child was crying.

"I'm taking a sick day," Peter said to no one in particular.

[saintrvckwell]

Till the end (ellie williams x reader)

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of brutal madness, ellie finds a moment to confess what she fears the most.

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst, soft moments of ellie and the reader

words count: 3.3k

a/n: oh yeah. i’m still alive. and finally wrote something that does not have ten thousands words wow? owed you something nice, tried my best to achieve that. it's short, but (i hope) comforting, at least. seattle ellie deserves the whole world.

"For all that it's worth, I would have loved you till the end."

‣

Ellie never wanted you to become a part of this. Her complicated, unresolved issues with Joel, her own inner fight with the guilt of not dying for something she considered to be the purpose of her life and repayment for those she had lost along the way. Nor be part of the inevitable outcome that Joel’s actions had caused.

Ellie never wanted to scar the only pure, untouched safety net she had in her life. 

But when she stood upon Nora’s body she had previously beaten to death, sourcing the information she came for to Seattle in the first place, she could no longer escape. To the person she was becoming, to Joel whose eyes were slowly fading away from her memory. From the look, you gave her when she came back to the theatre and Jesse let her in.

With the bloodstains on her clothes, and bruises on her arms, she handed Dina the map and you couldn’t help but notice how fragile her whole body has suddenly become. 

You didn’t say much, knowing there wasn’t anything that could fix the way Ellie felt, that could find the parts of herself she already lost while avenging someone whom she couldn’t even face after the heinous act she just committed.

Joel never wanted her to lose the remaining bits of innocence she had within her. He never wanted her to taste the ugliness of the world the way he did. Yet here she was. Convinced she had to finish this, no matter what was it going to take. How much was it going to cost. 

Jesse and Dina stood aside with a bloodstained map, marking Abby’s supposed location while you carefully grabbed Ellie’s wrist, wishing to take her to the back and clean her wounds. She couldn’t even look into your eyes, avoiding it the whole time you walked through the seats, all the way backstage. 

You sat her down on the couch, letting her take the clothes off while you went to search for some useful supplies. Back there, Dina and Jesse were upstairs, sitting by the radio, contemplating a good way of finding Tommy and the easiest route to hunt down Abby and be done with this whole thing. 

The minute you walked in, Jesse couldn’t help himself. “That was definitely not her blood.” 

Two days in and you already noticed how much this had cost her already. 

You didn’t comment, still searching through the cabinets. 

“Maybe we should just pack it up and leave,” Jesse whispered. “Right in the morning. We were in deep shit yesterday already. After this, they must be patrolling for us. We should just find Tommy and get the fuck out of here.” 

“And go where?” you dared to ask, shifting your attention to him. 

“Back home?” Dina shrugged his shoulders, joining the conversation.

“See,” you closed the cabinets and stood up, finally paying both of them your full attention. “She doesn’t have that anymore.” 

None of them would dare to argue about that. 

Jesse meant well, you were well aware of that. After all, Ellie was the reason he came to Seattle in the first place. But even though he was determined to help his friend, Jesse would never understand the full reason and justification of the way Ellie felt—why she was doing all of that.

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Ellie can’t see the sense of right and wrong right now. And the more you tell her how stupid and dangerous this is, the less she will listen to you..” 

“So you’re supporting this?” he wondered, disgruntled. 

“No,” you replied. “But I know that I can either give her shit and go home or stay and make sure she’s not going to lose the only parts of herself she has left.” 

You found what you were looking for, parts of that. Combined with what you packed before you left Jackson, you had nearly enough to fix all of Ellie’s injuries. Without uttering another word, you left Dina and Jesse to their own thoughts, not feeling the need to add anything else. As much as you understood their need to go back before things get significantly worse, you knew she would not go. 

And you would never forgive yourself if you just left her here, all alone. 

Especially after what happened a few minutes later. 

She was sitting on the old sofa by the time you got back to her, facing you backward. Before you even tried to whisper her name, you were stopped by a sight that immediately caught your attention. Most of her clothes were lying on the floor, soaked in blood and dirt. She sat there, half-naked, with her back displaying endless bruises, cuts and wounds. You couldn’t count all of them even if you tried. 

Ellie knew you were already there, but didn’t dare to look at you—not after you saw that. She was too weak to face you. Not because she was afraid of seeing the sadness and worry in your eyes; she had already gotten used to seeing that in the last two days.

More than that, Ellie would never be able to face a disappointment, not from you. Not from someone who was there for her. Who never asked why she stopped talking to Joel, why she begged you to switch patrols so she could avoid him. 

You were the last person who could see the good parts, despite digging through blood and tears to find them. And after Joel, she couldn’t afford to lose that. 

“Ellie?” you whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

She wiped her tears away and nodded, giving you space to continue. 

“Is it alright if I clean your wounds?” 

You felt the need to get her approval.  

Doing her absolute best to stop those sobs from escaping her trembling lips, she covered her mouth and nodded again, giving you what you had asked for. 

You sat down quietly, right behind her, with your bucket, cloth, and nearly empty first aid kit you brought from Jackson. First, you cleaned the rest of the dry blood on her shoulders and lower back while she sat still. She let you help her, repeatedly wiping away the tears that were now heavily streaming down her bruised cheeks. 

Most of her wounds needed just some cleaning to prevent any further infection. You took your time with each one of them, making sure you were not hurting her anymore. She felt how delicate you were with your touch, how carefully you were trying to help her ease the pain.

The softness and care you had allowed her to forget about what she did out there for a second and enjoy the comfort you provided. 

A long exhale left her rosy lips. She found her mind drifting towards that the day; and the events that inevitably followed. She set her mind on leaving for Seattle the minute she left that place, despite Tommy’s desperate attempts to talk her out of it. Even when he decided to head out there first in order to protect her, she couldn’t appreciate the good thought. The pain clouded her judgment.

That day, when Tommy left, she fought with you for hours. It was the first time you saw Ellie since the horrific incident at the lodge. She was standing by your fireplace, announcing that she was leaving for Seattle and she was hoping (more like counting on the fact) that you were going to cover her ass while she quietly goes on her revenge quest.

And being the person you were and having the amount of love you had for her, of course, you would not let her go alone. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she stopped the minute she heard that proposal. “This isn’t your fucking business. And I’m not making you a part of that.” 

“I’m not asking for permission, Ellie,” you whispered, stepping closer to her. “I’m going with you, end of conversation.”

It went on for another twenty minutes when she was trying to talk out of you joining her. She was harsh, calling you a naive idiot more than once. But you knew that all those words, all this pain were coming from the same place of sadness she was trying to suppress. You would never hold any of this against her. 

Eventually, as she understood, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, how harsh she might have been to you. You were determined to go and there was nothing Ellie could change about that. 

Thinking about it now, weeks later, she felt guilty for the way she spoke to you. You were the last person who would deserve such treatment, given how faithfully you stood by her this whole time.

Throughout most of the days on the road, Ellie was withdrawn, immersed in her own thoughts. She wasn’t talkative but if she happened to say a word or two, she was taking out her own frustration on you.

After everything she said over the past couple of weeks, you had a full right to turn away at any point and head back home. But you didn't. 

You always stayed, despite how unbearable it was at times. Ensuring her that you were not going to walk away, in Seattle or anywhere else.

And now, as you were sitting here, cleaning her blood-stained spots and washing away the shame and guilt she had been wearing around, Ellie knew how high the stakes were—how petrifying was the thought of losing you. Despite her numerous attempts to chase you away, despite the fact that you never really established where you stood when it came to the other, you meant a lot to her. More than she was willing to admit. 

“Ellie, this one’s really deep. I’m gonna need to sew it,” you whispered, grabbing the needle and the thread, interrupting her thoughts. 

She didn’t respond, just left you to do your thing and stayed immersed in her head. 

“It’s probably gonna hurt a little,” you warned her before sticking the needle through the skin of her shoulder. 

“It won’t. I don’t feel anything,” she mumbled; for the first time. 

The response forced you to stop for a second and rethink what you have just heard. You didn’t know whether you should ask for more information. Instead, you finished your job and within a few minutes, the open wound was gone.

Ellie suddenly felt the coldness wrapping around her as soon as your hands left her body as you handed her a clean t-shirt from your backpack. 

“You should get some rest,” you whispered, standing up and grabbing the bucket with blood-soaked clothes. “I still have your snacks in my backpack, in case you were hungry.” 

There was no reaction from her. She put on the shit and stayed in the same spot, still not willing to face you. 

Part of you wanted to rush over and comfort her. But knowing how withdrawn she was lately, you didn’t want to drive her away any further. So you stood there for a second, with a bucket in your hands, and watched her, wiping away the tears from her puffy, red cheeks. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” 

It was the moment you reached for the doorknob, halfway out of the room, when she suddenly uttered that pleading statement. The walls she had been so determined to build around her aching existence were slowly falling to the ground, leaving her on her own.

There was a thought in Ellie’s head. Thought that appeared when she was gripping the iron pole, beating the words out of her enemy’s weakened body. Nora was on the verge of her own strength, not having any more power to fight Ellie, so she gave her friend up.

She handed Ellie what she came for in the first place, leaving her space to strike for one last time—finishing what she started, ending Nora’s prolonged suffering. 

And the moment she did that—hitting the one last punch, she saw you. She saw the thought of you in her mind and froze. She glanced down upon the lifeless body—but saw you. Saw you lying in your own blood, dying by her own hand. And for the first time, she feared the person she was becoming. Facing the outcome. 

Making you collateral damage of her revenge quest was a risk of its own. But being capable of hurting you on her own what was she feared the most. 

For a second, you had to process what you just heard. It wasn’t until the sobs that left her trembling mouth you felt the need to turn around and take a look at her. 

She was now standing right in front of you, finally daring to face you. 

Daring to face her what she feared the most. 

“I’m scared.”

For weeks now, she was quietly suffering, mourning in her thoughts. Now the pain crawled on the surface and she could no longer avoid it. For the first time, she let you see all of that—see the desperation in her faded green eyes and realize how long she has been suppressing all of this inside. 

“What are you scared of?” you whispered and took a step closer to her. 

She took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of her sobs before she continued, still looking into your eyes: “Of what I did.” 

You knew Ellie was not always as tough as she tried to portray herself. But seeing that right in front of you, seeing her falling down felt like a shot coming through your chest. 

“What did you do, Ellie?” 

There was a curiosity in your mind, followed by fear of what you might get. 

“I made her talk.” 

It was somehow enough. Enough to understand that the desperate need for a feeling of consolation was growing with each strike Ellie hit and with each toll it took on her.  

“Ellie—“ you took a step closer, reaching for her but she swiftly pulled away, shaking her head. 

“I’m scared,” she repeated, daring to look into your eyes. “What if I might—“

“No,” you stopped her without hesitation, knowing where this was headed. “You won’t.” 

Brushing her tears away, she suddenly looked down. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of.” 

There was a genuine worry in her voice, fear of her own self. But after all those years, after everything you’ve encountered together, you trusted her enough to confidently proclaim that she would never hurt you. 

You trusted her. But she didn’t trust herself, that was the core issue.

Which you became aware of the second she bursted into tears. 

Ellie was never quite an emotional person; she mostly tried to deal with everything on her own and as quietly as possible. Until now.

“I can’t lose you.” 

And there it was. 

The revelation between uncontrollable sobs made you come closer. 

“But I’m afraid it’s gonna happen anyway and it terrifies me to death.” 

She came to terms with the fact that you might never become hers, long before this. For all those years, Ellie yearned for you in silence, realizing she will accept any kind of role in your life, as long as she is part of it. Only now she was realising how dangerous this wish had become.

Because suddenly, there was a price. 

She was never more honest in her life than right now, displaying all of her worries in front of you. Displaying how important you were for her. For a moment, you thought, if there, perhaps, was more to her words. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Ellie,” you whispered, slowly reaching for her hand, again. “That's just not gonna happen,” you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

“You don’t know that,” she mumbled, trying to pull away her hand but you stopped her. 

“I do. As long as I have a say in it,” you objected, stepping even closer. “No matter what you say, what you do. I’m not leaving. You can yell at me, for all I care—just like you did in my living room. But I told you then and I’m telling you now. I’m not leaving you, now or ever.” 

At that moment, Ellie suddenly didn’t know which thing she feared more. Whether it was the idea of losing you by her own force or knowing that despite her capacity to hurt you, you were never going to walk away.

Ellie couldn’t pull you into her darkness—but at the same time, she couldn’t leave you. You were her home, her whole world. Or at least, what was left of it. 

“Can you stay?” she pleaded, reaching for your other hand. 

You nodded, letting a fleeting smile slip onto your lips as you pulled her closer, wrapping both of your hands around her neck. She was hesitant at first but the second her body crashed against yours, she gave in. There was a sigh of relief escaping from her lips as she buried her head into your shoulder; tightly gripping your waist.

Making you realize how starved she must have been for that hug.

You stayed together in that little dressing room, lying together in the dark with Ellie’s hand caressing your cheek. You promised yourself to stay up and alert to watch over her but found yourself falling asleep in her arms. Now she was lying in front of you, studying your appearance, her mind drifting away to different ends. 

She wondered. About her. About you. 

She wondered if things were different, if perhaps, there was any other ending for you—one less threatening. She wondered if she would, under different circumstances, find the courage to finally confess. She wondered if the two of you would have a shot at having a relatively normal life together, despite the world you were living in. 

She wanted the best for you, and nothing less. She wanted to protect you. From the heinous world outside, and sometimes from herself as well. Looking at you, lying so peacefully next to her, she couldn’t help but think of Joel’s words. 

Perhaps now more than ever, Ellie was facing her own moral battle. There was someone in her life, someone for whom she would quite frankly walk to the edge of the universe and back. Someone whose life was carrying more value than her own. Feasibly, now she had a chance to understand the nature of his actions. 

When she had her own something to fight for. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was your voice that pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw your eyes.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered, concern in her voice. 

“No but you should’ve,” you chuckled. “I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re still breathing.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been doing that for the past couple of weeks. Now it’s my turn.” 

You felt her hand, still resting on your cheek. There was a look in her eyes that you could not quite define. In the darkness surrounding you, the two of you were staring into each other’s eyes.

Before she filled the silence with her voice. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, slowly drifting closer to you, her breath dancing on your lips. 

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, curious. 

“If things were different,” she whispered, guilt in her voice. “I would’ve given you a lot more than this.” 

Most of the time, Ellie struggled with her words. But now, it was crystal clear. In her own way, she made sure you knew how important you were.

For her.

You leaned closer, grabbing Ellie’s hand and intertwining your fingers. Only then, you looked into her eyes again and smiled, reassuring.

Message received.

“This,” you squeezed her hand, “is enough for me.”

“So, you think you can love even the least I can offer?” she whispered.

There was a smile on your lips. Smile that eased Ellie’s worried mind once you moved closer. “Been doing that for quite some time, already.”

She wanted to give you the world, that and so much more. In Ellie's eyes, that was what you deserved. She wanted to make sure you were going to be happy, despite the circumstances life had both given you.

Both of you were hoping for something else, for so much more.

Yet, you would never walk away. No matter the conditions you were under, you had each other. And that was enough. Enough to stay. Enough to do more than that.

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 7

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: M | 8.6k | TW: violence | Contains: lian content, interrogation, misunderstandings and a situation that changes everything fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Seven: Landslide

Reuniting later that night with Lian is surreal.

The three of you are back at your place, something you can tell puts both men at ease, but you don’t have time to question it. 

She’s been forewarned that you’re still sick and recovering, but this doesn’t stop her from bounding up onto your bed to give you hugs and kisses. She spends the next half-hour showing you all the pictures she’s drawn in your absence and even fixes the messy braids her dad has bestowed upon you. 

“You know what?” she says suddenly. You watch as she carefully sets down the drawings on her dads shared nightstand, then anxiously tucks a stray piece of her inky black hair behind her tanned ear, “I thought you left me.” Your heart shatters. “I thought you weren’t coming back like my first mommy.”

Heart shattered??? No, your entire being is crushed to a pulp.

“Never, Lian,” you swear to her as you pull her in for as tight a hug as you can manage in your recovering state. “I promise I’d never leave you. Not willingly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to do everything in my power, you know, whatever it takes, to make sure our family stays together,” she nods lightly at your statement, though she begins to pick at the seams the duvet you’re under. “I like it when we’re all together,” you say with a genuine smile, poking at her lightly until she finally gives in and smiles back.

“Me, too.” The little girl squeezes you with all her might before Jason and Roy come in to dress your wounds. 

“Lian, go finish the picture you started for her the other day while we get her cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” 

Jason presses a kiss to her forehead as she slips down the tall bed.

They gently lay you down on the king-sized mattress and clean your healing wounds with delicate precision. You don’t know what to say and it seems like they’re clearly in the same boat.

“I should’ve been paying more attention,” you lament with a weary exhale. “I didn’t mean to put anyone through this shit.”

“Stop it. No one blames you,” Jason grumbles as he gently checks over your head wound. “It could’ve happened to any of us.”

“We all really missed you,” Roy cuts in before you can retort, hoping to cut off another pissing fest before it starts. His soft hands trail up and down your exposed legs comfortingly. “It was really hard coping without you.”

Your brows furrow together, suddenly remembering how much Roy had been struggling so much before your accident.

“I’m sor-“

“Don’t,” Roy warns lightly. His light green eyes flash with an unreadable emotion briefly before he slowly goes back to trailing up and down your legs. “You don’t owe anyone an apology, baby.”

You’re in your comfy clothes, one of their over-sized shirts and your short, cotton shirt as you watch the two of them watching you. It’s like they’re scared to take their eyes off of you for fear of missing out on any more time with you.

“Besides,” Jason starts as he finishes off cleaning the wound from your feeding tube, “it’s not like we didn’t try to deal with shit while you were…”

You watch as he trails off, swallowing deeply before forcing himself to put the kit away. 

“Even if you didn’t, it’s clear that we need better coping mechanisms to be more supportive of each other as a family, anyway,” you say. “I was wanting to bring it up before… you know,” your hands wring together anxiously until Jason and Roy each take one into their grip and squeeze gently. 

“Of course, babe.”

“We hear you,” Roy says. The redhead leans down to kiss your hand delicately, then your lips, then Jason’s.

You bask in their presence for a while, simply glad to be back in their arms again.

Though you feel as if it’s been mere days, the idea that it’s been almost a month has steadily been eating into you. You can’t even begin to imagine how either of them are feeling after not having you be there for them for that long. The whole situation is so fucked and you know this is only the beginning of, well, everything. 

“We did end up talking about it a bit with Bruce,” Jason’s deep voice cuts through the quiet room. “Technically, I was ambushed into talking to him, but we really tried to work through our shit so we could be strong for you while you recovered.”

“That’s good,” you say with a smile, knowing he’s pushing himself to be open right now. Whatever talk they had must’ve worked at least somewhat.

“That and Roy made sure to keep up with his therapy,” Jason boasts in Roy’s stead, who bashfully ducks his head in response. 

This makes you smile even more.

“Even got Jay to join me for a bit one during one, baby,” Roy says with a wink, though it slightly lacks his usual enthusiasm. If you’re this worn out you can’t imagine how they must be feeling. “Maybe when you’re feeling better we could all do a group session.” Logically, you know he’s talking about group therapy, however, your body suddenly feels the weight of going nearly a month without sex. You can’t help the heat that stirs across your cheeks at his words, something he notices with an easy smirk. “Calm down, princess. Jaybird’s outlawed sex for at least another week.”

You pout. “So this means I’m barred from the field, too?”

“How can you even think about shit like that when you were still a vegetable this time yesterday?” Jason says as he comes back into the room and joins the two of you on the bed.

“I resent that description,” you retort, glaring at him half-heartedly as he snuggles up beside you.

“Resenting the truth never did anyone any good,” Jason says. He looks pointedly your way before placing a chaste kiss against your still blushing cheeks. “And you need bed rest for at least a few days before you can even think of training again, let alone getting back out there.”

“Not to mention, you still need to process everything that just happened,” Roy begins as he lightly rub at your shoulders. “Believe me, Jason and I wish we’d done the same when we went through all of our shit.” 

Jason concurs, “You really don’t want to blow past this now and pay for it later, babe.”

You know they’re right, but you only have one thing on your mind…

“It’s hard when all I can focus on is this fucking case,” you say with a sigh.

It’s always been abundantly clear that time’s never guaranteed and can’t help but feel like you’re steadily running out of time to uncover the mystery. Not to mention, you want to act on the visions you’d seen while you’d been unconscious, though you can’t deny you’re somewhat hesitant to follow them after the shit-show that happened last time you did.

“Well, focus on healing first. Roy and I have continued looking into leads for the court,” Jason says. Meanwhile, his hands begin to trail over the areas of your body that Roy isn’t currently touching until you feel absolutely pampered.

“You have?” you ask and they nod in response. It’s what happens next that lets you in on the fact that they found something. They look at each other, not just a normal look. No, this look 100% reads like they’re wondering if they should tell you what they’ve found or not. You squint your eyes at Jason, then at Roy. You’re not going to give them the choice. “Tell me what you found,” you demand, leaving no room for argument- or, so you think.

“You should take it easy for at least today,” Roy argues gently. Now, they’re both look at you with evident concern.

“I will,” you say, smirking when they seem to relax, “after you tell me the lead.”

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes in what you know is thinly veiled amusement. As much as he claims to hate your stubborn nature, you know he also secretly loves it.

They stay quiet for another beat before Roy goes to grab his laptop from the living room.

Jason’s eyes have yet to leave the side of your face, so you shift to face him, still in his arms. “I missed you,” your name leaves his lips as a breath, “so fucking much.”

You curl further into him, reveling when he pulls you in for a soft kiss. It’s chaste and gentle, yet you can’t help but curl your toes at the intimate contact.

“Jason,” you whisper once you pull away. 

Your half-lidded eyes meet his own briefly before you’re pulled back in. Though he’s being remarkably gentle, he dares to deepen the kiss, leaving you to moan gently against his smooth lips. 

“You almost done over there, etai yazi?” You hear Roy ask as he makes his way back to the room. “Oh, damn,” Roy sputters at the sight that meets him. His verdant eyes glint mischievously as he comes upon the two of you tangled together in your sheets. “What happened to waiting a week, Jay?”

Jason regrettably pulls away, though his calloused fingers remain caressing your jawline. It’s as if he’s debating pulling you back already.

“Guess I couldn’t help myself,” Jason replies, his deep voice reverberating every molecule of your being.

In an instant, Roy drops the laptop at the edge of the bed before climbing over to join the two of you. The redhead kisses at your shoulders before maneuvering your head to the side to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss that you have no choice but to smile into. He pulls away with a smirk, wiping your wet lips with his thumb before carefully leaning over you to give Jason an even more obnoxious kiss.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like everything’s finally how it’s supposed to be for once. “I love you both so much,” you sigh and nuzzle against their protective embrace.

The three of you know you only have so long before Lian comes back, leaving you to get back to business quickly. This time, they don’t take as much convincing before they spill everything.

“We have a lead on a guy who may know something about The Court,” Jason says. “We don’t know his name, but we know that he hangs around the some shitty bar by the harbor.”

Roy interjects, “And that the dude has an owl tattoo on his chest.”

“Say he likes to act like a hardass, but underneath, he’s just another Bristol cuck. Shouldn’t take too much to get information about the next Court meeting out of him.”

You mull the information over in your head but can’t help but go back to how they got the information.

“Who told you about him?”

They both look instantly guilty.

Bingo.

You sigh, feeling an argument coming on. Well, either that or a headache. “I thought you were both done with that drug lord shit. You promised me to drop all those contacts when we made things official, did you not?”

They both look guilty enough that you already have your answer.

Roy speaks first, “We did, baby. You’re right and we feel really bad about it but-“

“The circumstances were dire,” Jason finishes right where Roy left off. “You weren’t gone, but you weren’t here. We sat around for weeks not knowing if you’d,” he sighs as if unable to finish his sentence. 

“We didn’t know if you’d ever wake up, baby,” Roy laments as he moves to take one of your hands into his own. 

For a moment, you think about pulling away from him, but you don’t. Regardless, you’re still pouting and your displeasure over the whole situation is very much evident.

Soon, Jason’s taking your other hand into his own. No one says anything for a moment, something you’re grateful for. The past day has been a lot to deal with mentally, this added on to it is like the icing on top of the cake.

“Well, now I know neither of you are going to give me shit for tagging along.”

Checkmate.

They glance over at each other and you watch the brief conversation they share through their eyes alone. Finally, they look back at you.

“Fine, but you’re not coming in,” Roy answers for both of them.

“I have to stay in the car?!” you question incredulously. 

Un-checkmate.

“Babe.” Jason rubs gently at your hand in lieu of a further response.

A beat, then you answer. “Fine,” you agree, albeit pettily.

You hear her determined patter before you see her. Seconds later, Lian rounds the hallway and into your room with her picture triumphantly displayed in front of her.

“Look!” 

Without warning, she leaps onto the bed to shove the paper in front of your face. 

Your eyes cross as you stare at the image that’s now three inches in front of your face. You gently take it from her hands with a smile and place it on your lap to get a better look. The figures are crudely drawn, but it’s clearly a picture of you and her daddies at a tea party. Hearts and flowers, coupled with a random sun in the corner, grace the page, leaving a thrumming warmness to fill your chest.

“Thank you, chickie,” you say, causing her to giggle at your nickname for her. “I’m going to keep this with me forever.” At this, you motion her over and she gently settles in your lap so you can kiss her forehead. 

You never made art for your parents, let alone received anything like this from Lian before. It warms your heart in a moment where you feel entirely vulnerable, weak. Through this picture alone, your little girl manages to make you feel important and loved. The good outweighs the bad and you find yourself feeling stronger through her tenacious presence alone. 

“I’ll make you some more, mommy. I’m a really good drawer and I used all my new colored pencils to make it extra pretty for you,” she babbles on about her drawing process, along with how Grandpa Alfred got all the new art supplies for her, while she’s in your arms. 

Meanwhile, Jason and Roy look at the scene in front of them like it’s the cutest damned thing they’ve ever seen.

“I love it so much. Definitely makes me feel a lot better.” She beams at that. Your words are simple, but you hope they convey just how much it means to you. You place the drawing on the bedside table, mindful of your injuries and the little girl, before addressing her, “Wanna stay and hang out with mommy and daddies? We can do whatever you want.”

“Really?!” she exclaims, bouncing in your lap. You wince slightly at the movement and exhale shakily in response. Roy joins you on the bed to collect her into his own lap so she can’t hurt you on accident. She pouts a bit at the recent development, “I don’t want you. I want mommy.”

Roy gasps, pretending to be hurt when she tries to crawl back over to you, “Etai yazi, you’re hurting dad’s feelings.”

“I don’t giffa duck,” Lian attempts to curse as she squirms out of his hold. The kid is nearly home free when Jason scoops her up.

“Mommy is hurting, remember?”

“But, daddy,” she pouts in Jason’s arms.

“No cursing either,” he says.

“I didn’t!” she exclaims.

“Lian,” he warns her with what she refers to as his ’scary eyes.’

She huffs, crossing her arms in his hold, “Fine.”

Jason can’t help but smile a bit, though he quickly schools it so she doesn’t get the idea that cursing is funny. See, situations like this just prove that being an adult sucks. A five year old incorrectly cursing like a sailor? Shit’s fucking funny. Can you laugh at it? No, because then you’d be a bad parent, encouraging bad behavior. See? Sucks.

“Be gentle,” Jason reprimands her lightly as he places her back on bed. 

You open your arms and she slowly crawls over to cuddle between you and her dad. This time, she treats you like she treats her favorite blankie, petting you softly in apology with little kisses on your hand.

“I’m sorry,” she pouts again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She’s adorable.

You smile softly before assuaging her worries, “It’s alright, chickie. So, what would you want to do tonight?”

After it’s been decided that Lian wants to watch the new Superman show, Jason sets about creating a tea party very similar to the one in her cute drawing. He leaves and quickly returns with a tray filled with steaming tea cups and snack cakes that make your stomach grumble. Before you can try to reach for them, Jason shoots you a pointed look as he reveals the hidden bowl of soup behind them.

“You heathens be careful, alright?” Jason warns. “I’m not cleaning these sheets again.”

However, Roy just snorts and digs into the tea sandwiches with fervor with Lian soon following in his example.

You, on the other hand, are supposed to be on a liquid diet for the next few days while your body slowly gets used to you incorporating solid foods back into your diet. This means that soup and tea are all you get. It doesn’t make your cravings go away in the slightest, however. You watch enviously as Roy and Lian scarf down the snack cakes that are calling your name.

“Maybe if I just have a little bite,” you try, but Jason just hands you the soup he’d made from scratch with Lian for you. During which, Roy had been cuddled up against you while you dozed in and out of consciousness.

“Let’s just stick to soups and smoothies for at least another day, babe,” Jason insists and rubs your palm gently as if to apologize. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you woke up.” He holds a distant look in his dark green eyes, reminding you of the pain you’d caused in your absence.

You pout, crossing your arms petulantly as you allow him to feed you. The soup is flavorful yet gentle on your upset stomach. 

“Do you like the soup, mommy?”

Your heart fills with warmth as the liquid slides down your sore throat. 

“It’s amazing.” You uncross your arms to ruffle lightly at your hair. “You’re an incredible soup chef,” you praise her.

“I’m the best soup chef in the whole entire world,” Lian agrees. She goes to retaliate by ruffling your hair, too but Roy holds her back, nearly spilling his food on the duvet in the process.

Jason shoots him a glare that begs him to fuck up the clean sheets, but Roy’s too busy reminding Lian to be gentle to notice. You, on the other hand, drink in the adorable sight as Jason offers you another spoonful.

“Thank you guys,” you say genuinely. “For all of this. It feels good to be back.”

“Feels good to have you back,” Roy responds.

“And let’s keep it that way,” Lian adds sassily with an adorable pout you know she’s picking up from you. 

Cute.

“I promise.” And you mean it. 

You refuse to let anyone come between you and your family ever again. 

Not this time.

•••

You haven’t been sleeping well ever since the coma. 

It seems like every time you shut your eyes, the visions that you can’t make sense of are growing stronger and stronger. It’s getting to the point that you’re lucky to catch three hours of sleep, if that. Regardless of the lack of sleep, you’ve been doubling down on recovery and training. You’ve worked hard enough that you’ve not only made some insane progress in your overall healing but also in getting back in the field.

Yes, you’d been in a coma but you weren’t crippled. Far from it, in fact.

With Lian being off with Alfred for your bi-weekly date night, it was something neither had any logical reason to refuse. Especially not after you’d voiced feeling left out on missions. 

This is how you end up a week and a half later at the sleaziest dive in Gotham- The Stacked Deck.

The brick building itself is completely rundown, complete with a flickering neon sign gracing a dented pole that someone had obviously run into a few decades prior. Outside, C-list villains and gangs of motorcyclists loiter around the weed-covered, decrepit parking lot. 

Roy insists on taking the minivan so you can sit this one out, something you and Jason fight against, after all, it would only draw unnecessary attention to your crew. Eventually, Jason concedes, which is how the three of you end up cramped into the busted minivan sans a license plate. 

When you pull up, all eyes easily fall on the out-of-place vehicle, though everyone goes back to minding their business as soon as Hood and Arsenal emerge in full uniform from the beat-up mom car.

They’re on a mission to find out any information they can on the Court’s whereabouts from the contact they’d tracked down while you’d been in a coma. He was the only possible tie they could find to the elusive owl society, but, luckily, he’d been described as the type to squeal. 

You, on the other hand?

Yes, you’re donning Cardinals vinyl red garb. However, you’ve still been banished to the car. You sigh as you lean up against the peeling window tint. Part of you wonders why you begged to come along if all you were going to be doing was sitting in a locked car. Hell, even dogs have more rights than this shit, you think bitterly. 

It’s hot as fuck outside even though it’s well past midnight and you sincerely regret your decision to suit up. You wait a few more minutes in the heat before you give up. Luckily, the shitty car is old enough to have window cranks, so you’re able to crack the window a bit without the keys. This minuscule action, however, ends up drawing more attention than you’d expected. Okay, no worries, you tell yourself as you see movement coming closer out of the corner of your eye. Just play it cool.

You remain facing forward, refusing eye contact with a bulky-looking dude that sidles up and knocks on the window you’re attempting to crank shut as nonchalantly as possible.

What the fuck is wrong with men?

You keep staring at the dashboard in front of you and try to ignore them, but the man keeps knocking and is soon joined by his gaggle of friends.

“Guess I missed the Halloween memo, huh, sweetheart?” the burly man says, tugging at his leather vest. He then throws the cigarette in his mouth to the ground and stomps it out in, what you assume is supposed to be, a menacing action, but you merely roll your eyes under your mask.

The eye roll stops as soon as your eyes land on the huge owl tattoo that peeks out from behind his ratted white shirt.

Holy shit. There’s no way…

This is the dude Jason and Roy are after! 

He landed right in your fucking lap and you know you’d be stupid to let this opportunity pass. Just because you aren’t necessarily in the mood to pummel these chauvinistic pigs into the pavement, but it doesn’t mean you won’t.

His buddies exchange a few words, but everything said is ultimately muffled by the glass separating you.

You can’t imagine what’s holding your partners up, but you know that you can’t wait much longer. You refuse to risk your only lead when you know damn well that you can handle these punks on your own.

You’re soon startled from your thoughts when one of the assholes shoots a bullet and ends up shattering the side mirror.

“That’s it,” you mutter in frustration as you unlock the door. You slowly slink out of the car, closing the door effortlessly behind you as the men take in your shorter form.

“I’m sorry,” one spouts as you slowly twist one wrist, then the other to stretch them out, “is it supposed to be scary? Because all I can see is you shaking that ass on me in that tight number you got on there, girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the closest man to the left of your target snorts. “No parking zone sweetie, but you can park here,” the man gestures to his dick with a sinister smirk, “all night long.” 

The men all get a decent laugh, thinking their joke is so fucking original or something, but you feel like gagging and noton account of the putrid smell only dives like this can produce.

“Ever seen a gun this big before, doll?” the man with the owl tattoo finally chirps up again as he taunts you with the gun that ruined Roy’s car.

You round on him slowly, putting more distance between yourself and the car, tilting your head ever so slightly as you do. 

Nervous laughter erupts from the group like they can’t tell whether to take you seriously or not. Guess they’ll find out soon enough. 

“I don’t need guns,” is all you respond.

The men around you ‘ooo!’ as they punch each other jokingly and close in on you, but you don’t give them a chance to do much more before you attack.

You start with the men closest to you, crossing your arms to grab them before uncrossing them and sending the men’s heads into each other’s with a loud thump! They crumple to the ground in front of their awe-struck friends. When the remaining men finally look up from the men on the pavement to you, you shrug nonchalantly. You don’t allow them any time to recoup before you rush forward and knock two more to the ground through the sheer force of your body alone.

Without missing a beat, you spin around to roundhouse kick one of the bikers who’d been attempting to tackle you from behind. He stumbles to the ground where you deliver a swift kick to his head, knocking him out instantly. The other two men on the ground, you deliver the same fate as you duck and dodge nearly all the haymakers being sent your way.

Five down, five to go.

Your new focus is on dodging the barrage of bullets that are now being sent your way. You flip onto and over the roof of the car to gain some sort of barrier as you wait out their reload.

They start yelling, whether it’s directed at each other or you, you’re unsure. One sound you are sure of is the sound of an empty round.

When you hear the tell-tale signs of empty clicks, you storm out from behind the car, taking the men by surprise as you send the biker closest to you barreling into the distracted group of reloading men. Everyone, except for your target with the owl tattoo, scatters to the ground like bowling pins.

It’s then that your target takes aim at you. 

You’d been expecting as much and seamlessly do a backflip, then cartwheel into a front flip to avoid his bullets. Once you come upon him, he’s out of bullets once again. You use this as the perfect opportunity to kick the offending weapon out of his beefy hands.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Instead of responding, you sock him in the face with a jab, followed by an uppercut, before spinning around and crouching to duck the fist of one of the remaining men. The fist originally sent your way ends up landing against your target and sends the man with the owl tattoo sprawling backward.

You waste no time in using your crouched position to stick your leg out and trip the man. As soon as gravity takes hold, you pop back up, spinning around to land a sickening punch on his face before he can make contact with the dirty ground. 

You’re panting slightly as you stand.

The three remaining men you’d knocked to the ground mere moments prior were back up and on their feet. It seems they realized guns were futile and resorted to switch blades. 

Pathetic.

Your body moves with practiced ease as you manage to avoid their blade’s short reach. Before they can even realize you’ve retaliated, you grab the underside of two men’s wrists and push them backward with enough force to send them tumbling. If there was any doubt before about you not being physically ready to go out in the field again, you know it’s been sufficiently crushed with how you’re handling the situation at hand. Not that any of these men posed any sort of challenge outside of the sheer number they shared as a group. 

The only standing man growls anomalistically as he snarls down at you, “You dumb fucking bitch.”

“No one’s ever accused me of being dumb,” you respond airily as you bolt to the side to avoid his heavy fists. You block his cross, sending back one of your own and managing to land directly on his dirty cheeks. 

“I’m gonna kill you!” he screams as he interlocks his hands over his head and rushes toward you to bring them down atop your head.

You don’t even try to stop him. No, you just step slightly to the side, leaving him off balance as his hands make contact with nothing.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice the man with the owl tattoo slowly crawling for the door to the bar.

That’s a no-no.

You’re playing too much. You know you need to stop fucking around and put an end to this dumb shit before your only lead can get away.

The determined biker lets out a war cry as he and the remaining two men charge at you. They get a few good hits on you, but ultimately, you knock them each out before bolting over to your escaping target.

His grubby hand is clasped around the door and threatens to open it. He eyes your advancing form with fear and falters slightly as he tries to turn the knob, but you’re on him too fast. Your heel makes contact with the door and its frame, effectively preventing the man from opening the door. His eyes follow up the shiny expanse of your leg, which you use as the perfect opportunity to throw his already weak form off balance. 

“Fuck!” He lands on the ground with a pained curse but you’re not letting him off the hook just yet. You pin him with ease and he soon gives up on struggling and moves into the bartering phase of getting your ass handed to you. “LET ME GO! What do you want?” he asks breathlessly. His bloodied face is evidently panicked as he attempts to look beyond your mask. “You want money? I’ll give you money! Name your price!”

You chuckle lowly, “I don’t want your fucking money. I want answers.”

“Answers,” he nods enthusiastically. “I got those. I got answers, sweetheart. I-“ 

You cut him off with a stark slap across his beaten face. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you growl, “I’m not your sweetheart.” 

“You’re not!” he agrees enthusiastically. “You’re right.” He’s trying way too hard to be agreeable. It’d be funny if you weren’t thrumming with excitement for the information you were about to get. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Promise. Is that an option? Can we do that?” he babbles, practically squealing when you tighten your grip on him. “Please! Anything, just let me go,” he whines pathetically.

You lower yourself in one fell swoop so that your vinyl-covered is against his ear. “Ever heard of The Court of Owls?” 

He stops struggling in an instant, looking around with greater fear than before. Maybe everything Damian had said really was true…

“Are you trying to get us both killed?” The man looks up at you through his wince.

Your eyes narrow, disregarding the warning. 

“What do you know?”

•••

When Red Hood and Arsenal emerge a few minutes later, they find you leaning up against the car with one of your legs posted against it, surrounded by the knocked-out motorcycle gang. 

You notice them falter briefly in their step as they take in the scene

“The fuck happened out here?” Red Hood asks you incredulously. Meanwhile, Arsenal’s busy lamenting the shot-out side window and subsequent bullet holes in the car’s body.

“Someone pissed me off,” you reply simply.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Hood responds wryly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off as the three of you climb back in the car, “what took you guys so long, anyway?”

“We didn’t find The Court of Owl’s dude, but we did find an ex-Cadmus scientist, babe,” Arsenal says.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” The redhead nods, turning around in the passenger seat. His verdant eyes rake up and down your form greedily as he bites lightly at his lower lip without seeming to realize it. “You look good, princess.”

“Code names, Arsenal,” Jason warns, but even you voice your discontent.

“It’s just us in the car,” you come to Roy’s defense. “Should be alright, right?”

“Fine,” Jason gives in with a sigh. With this, he turns off his voice modulator before zipping out of the parking lot and onto the desolate road.

“Cool,” you say, meeting his eyes cheekily in the rearview. 

He rolls his eyes mirthfully before completing your inside joke, “Cool.”

You allow yourself to roll up your mask past your nose, regretting it when you catch a whiff of your b.o. and wince. “Gross,” you wince.

“Yeah, but what caused the grossness was hot, so it all kinda cancels out,” Roy says, tapping at his head. “That’s logic.”

“It’s… definitely something,” you snort when he reaches around his seat to smack you on the thigh.

“You sound just like Jason sometimes. I swear I’m dating two of him.” 

You stick your tongue out in response, but it only causes the redhead to unbuckle and stumble into the backseat to chase after it. You merely bat at Roy, offering him a chaste kiss instead. 

“So, did you guys leave the interrogation to me, or did you actually get any info?”

“You got the info for the court meeting?!” Roy asks, sounding impressed.

You hate how surprised they both seem. Like you’ve somehow been incapable in past interrogations when… oh, yeah, you were the only one getting answers. You don’t know if it’s because you haven’t been sleeping well recently or if you’re just coming down from the adrenaline of the fight, but all you can think about is how their response is straight bullshit.

“The information we came here to get? Yeah,” you reply as you shake your head in frustration. You can’t believe either of them, let alone their lack of faith in your abilities. “You know, I love how I keep having to prove my worth to you guys in the field, and by love, I mean hate,” you finish with a glare. 

Now, you have the information. What you still don’t seem to have is respect from your partners.

“Hey, that’s not what we meant at all.” 

You ignore Jason. “Just because I got hurt doesn’t mean I don’t have what it takes. Like you said,” you turn to Roy beside you, “it could’ve happened to any of us.”

“Baby,” Roy starts to caress your vinyl-clad arm, but you shake him off.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “No, baby. Not right now.” You sit up straighter in your seat, looking between Jason’s blank stare in the rearview and Roy’s concerned face beside you. “You guys believed in me, even when I didn’t, so why doubt me now? Why continue to make me pay for something caused by random chance when I keep proving-“

“You don’t have shit to prove to us,” Jason cuts you off, cooly.

You huff, crossing your arms and slinking back into your seat.

“What’s this actually about, baby?” Roy questions gently.

You’d been working your ass off to get back in the field, but you can’t deny you’ve been scared. You’ve had brushes with death before, but nothing like that. It was too close and maybe you’re the one doubting yourself. 

They seem to understand, though, at the very least with how supportive they’re being. Well, either that or your words and Connor’s have finally gotten through to them.

You feel Jason’s familiar gaze on you in the mirror but you refuse to meet it. 

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you finally admit.

Jason’s eyes flicker over to Roy in the rearview, finding his eyes already there to meet him. You follow their nonverbal conversation with your eyes, biting back the eye roll because you do honestly find the way they can communicate like that really cute.

“Like you said, you’re the one who ended up with the info,” Roy says as if it’s obvious. “You haven’t even been in the field for that long and you’ve definitely showed us up time and time again.”

Through the mirror, you watch as Roy’s eyes encourage Jason to say something.

After a beat, Jason clears his throat awkwardly. “You, uh, do really know how to hold your own,” Jason adds gracelessly. Regardless, Roy still nods encouragingly, leaving Jason to blush and turn his focus back toward the road. 

“Whatever you decide to do, baby, we’re here for you but don’t think for a second that you’re not cut out for this shit,” Roy looks at you pointedly, “because you are. You’re a badass, sexy,” his arms trail up the outside of yours, “intelligent, freaky as fuck programming mastermind-“ Roy trails off. “I forgot where I was going with that and now I’m just hard.”

You know he’s just trying to make you laugh, so you allow yourself to give in.

“I love you guys.” 

You’ve never felt so grateful to have the two of them by your side, especially right now, when you’re feeling so unsure of yourself and your abilities.

Pretty soon, you’re pulling up to the manor. As soon as you arrive, two of the tires pop. Alfred immediately gets to work right after he sends the three of you off to change into civies. Meanwhile, Bruce eyes the vehicle, well, what’s left of it, with distaste. He’s wearing his suit, though he removes the cowl when the three of you approach. 

“I have a loaner car for tonight, but feel free to keep it,” Bruce says as he looks over the lemon. “We’re having the luncheon this Sunday, so you can just bring it back then.”

Roy glares. “My girl runs just fine, thank you very much.” He runs his hands protectively over the ruined exterior as if to prove it.

Bruce moves on swiftly after this, obviously not understanding the bond between Roy and his shitty minivan. “So, I take it your interrogation tonight went well?”

“Technically, two interrogations,” Roy corrects.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “You guys never told me what you figured out.”

“You led your own investigation?” Bruce turns to you, seemingly impressed by the recent revelations.

Jason crosses his arms. “She’s really good at it, as it turns out,” Jason says with a hint of malice. You can’t tell if he’s salty thinking about your intimidation over Deadshot, or if he’s protecting you from Bruce’s comment on account of how you reacted to his and Roy’s comment in the car earlier. “She’s more than capable of holding her own even after everything.”

Okay, definitely the latter. You can’t help but beam at his support, finally feeling like you’re on the same team again.

“What, like it’s hard?” you respond playfully. Bruce easily holds up his hands in faux-surrender, though looks thoroughly impressed. You turn to your partners before asking, “So?”

“Well, we found an ex-scientist from Cadmus in the bar being used as a footrest.” You can’t help but quirk a brow at Roy’s odd recap. “Told us that the Winter Rose Ivy sold carries a symbiotic protein, which she conveniently left out when you were beating her ass.”

Symbiotic?

Could that mean…?

Maybe your hunch over the origin of your visions in the subway tunnels had been right.

“The data I gathered during my own analysis of the stem you brought in from Cadmus seems to support that as well,” Bruce adds.

So, there was no doubt that the Cadmus scientist had been telling the truth.

“So, whatever they’re concocting is both water soluble and symbiotic?” That doesn’t sound good at all.

“Not to mention the stolen microwave emitter,” Roy says grimly. Before you can even ask, he shakes his head, sending his red hair sprawling in front of his eyes, “No, he doesn’t know where the machine is. Says he didn’t have access to that level of information but that another team was running hypotheses on the matter.”

“And you still don’t believe in killing these fuckers, Bruce?” the raven grumbles. Everyone turns to Jason. “Still think everyone deserves a second chance- mercy?” he scoffs. “We’re talking about a large scale attack on, well, who knows what and we’re just supposed to sit here and shove our thumbs up our asses until it comes? Why don’t we prevent-“

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Jason,” Bruce says tersely. 

“If not now, when?” Jason’s arms spread out like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “When millions of people are being murdered by The Court, no, by him.”

You gulp.

One look at Roy proves he’s ready to step in at any time should any issues arise, but Bruce is already walking away. He throws you the keys, which you catch easily as he tugs his cowl over his head.

“I refuse to sit here and debate ethics with a man who's killed for pleasure.” It’s cruel- blunt and Bruce’s words do nothing to stop the anger already brewing over in Jason. “I’d hoped being around her morals would’ve smacked some sense into you by now, but it’s clear you’re a lost cause.”

“I’m a lost cause?” Jason tries to act as if he finds the situation funny, but everyone can clearly see the tears pooling behind his emerald eyes.

“Please,” Bruce looks unimpressed, “there’s only so much redemption one man can accomplish before he diminishes it all with repeated, skewed antics.”

Roy steps in before Jason can manage a step forward.

“Yeah? Well, I refuse to sit here and take this hot and cold shit from you. You forgive me one day, are disappointed in me the next. You hold me at arm’s length for cleaning up the streets like you never could over some bullshit antiquated sense of morality. I am necessary evil, sure, but it doesn’t make any of the things you do any less evil either, Bruce.”

It’s not Bruce anymore when he smacks Jason across the face.

The resounding sound, coupled with your gasp, lingers as silence overtakes the room.

Seconds tick by. Maybe minutes, you’re not entirely sure.

Your body thrums with an intensity usually saved for battle. 

Everything’s fucked.

“This is not up for discussion,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Well, it would leave no room if it were anyone but Jason. “You follow my rules or face the consequences.”

Jason laughs darkly, keeping his head turned from the original impact as his shoulders slowly shake before slowly turning to face his father again. “Still the same old Bruce, yeah?” Your eyes are still wide not quite believing what you’ve just witnessed. “Keep your fucking car. I don’t need shit from you. Never have, never will,” Jason spits.

With this, Jason spins on his heel and storms out of the cave. Roy makes to follow him, then stops. He opens his mouth, finger poised at the ready, but the words never come out. Instead, he just shakes his head, red hair flying in front of his face before throwing a dirty glare over his shoulder and following after Jason.

Your feet, however, remain planted.

“I always kind of hoped your ways would rub off on him,” he says with a light sigh. Bruce isn’t even looking at you, he’s just blankly watching after Jason’s retreating form. You don’t say anything, still completely stupefied by everything that transpired. “Just make sure his way doesn’t rub off on you. You’re better than that.”

You don’t recognize the man in front of you. Regardless, he seems similar enough to the descriptions Jason always warned you about and you never believed. You still can’t necessarily bring yourself to believe his words even still. Call it naivety, call it stupidity, call it excusing it all… but you feel frozen. It’s as if two completely different versions of Bruce are trying to combine into one right in front of your very eyes, yet your mind still resists their complete merge.

You’re shaking. Your entire body continues to thrum as if electricity is coursing through your veins as you just stand there. You want to leave, you want to comfort your love, you want to ask your dad why he- just why, but you just stand there. 

“If you’ve forgiven him once, surely you’ll forgive him again,” you say, but in a way, you’re asking. You need to know if he’d be able to drop you so easily for not following his code perfectly. You need to know if your place in the family is a conditional circumstance. 

You don’t want to know, but you need to. 

Would he really be able to keep you at arm’s length and all the other like he did Jason? 

“Forgiveness, when asked upon so many times, isn’t asking for forgiveness- it’s asking for acceptance,” he says lowly. “I refuse to give that to him.”

His cruel words finally spur life back into you.

You have your answer whether you like it or not.

Regardless of how Bruce would treat you, you know how Jason treats you. Even all those years ago when he disappeared, he was still there for you, still protecting you. You want to do right by Bruce, but you need to do right by Jason.

Bruce seems to think you’re leaving and makes to walk away but you stop him with a firm grip on his forearm. He looks down at the contact briefly, quizzically meeting your eyes. 

“So, per your words, Jason’s accepting this disgusting behavior from you? Because I can’t count how many times he’s told me he’s forgiven you, Bruce,” you say. The words are coming out of your mouth before you even realize it. “If you ever touch him like that again, especially in front of me, it won’t be his forgiveness you’ll be begging for.”

You place the Rolls Royce keys into the open palm of his gauntlet and pick up the minivan keys instead. 

Alfred’s already replaced both tires at this point and that’s good enough for you. You quickly help him remove the tire jack before peeling out of the manor garage, heart pounding intensely all the while.

When you pull around, Jason’s nearing the end of the manor driveway with Roy following closely behind. You can hear their loud voices as they traverse the infamous Wayne gravel that you yourself have stormed down, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Roy looks pissed, Jason looks like he’s disassociating. 

Roy shoots you a grateful look when he notices you. Probably because he would’ve had to sneak back in for his metal baby later had you not pulled up in it.

What do you even say to Jason? “Sorry that the man I look up to…” No. 

You can’t.

You view Bruce in a different light after tonight- Jason as well. It makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Logically, you know everything will go back to normal, that you’ll show up to the luncheon and Jason will avoid his father just as much as Bruce avoids him. You know that a month from now, Bruce will make a half-assed apology that devolves into him lecturing Jason over the same things and Jason will sit there and take it because, at the end of the day, he loves and looks up to that man as much as you do. Though Jason will never admit it, his actions leak it.

“I’m sorry. I understand what you mean now.” You go to say more, but he cuts you off.

“Enough,” Jason barks, leaving your mouth to click shut in an instant. Roy sits in the back, wanting to touch Jason, but he shrugs off his touch every time. He slinks down slowly in his seat, crossing his arms menacingly as he does. “Someone change the subject before I talk myself into going back there and starting an all-out war with the cunt,” he growls.

Change of subject? You can do that. You’ve had something on your mind for a while and, you can’t deny that you also want to get the slap out of your head. Regardless of your parent's carelessness surrounding you growing up, neither cared enough about you to ever lay a hand on you. Today honestly shook you to your core.

“I think that the symbiotic nature of the serum explains why I’ve been seeing all these visions,” you hesitate slightly before continuing. “It could also be the reason why I’ve been feeling so sick recently.”

“You’ve been feeling sick?” Roy questions slowly, almost cautiously. You already know he’s thinking back to the first pregnancy scare. Well, it’s about as good a time as any to tell them about the second scare, especially now that you think you know what caused it.

“When we were in those test tubes, I woke up. I heard what the scientists were saying.” Your face scrunches up as you try to remember as much of their conversation as you can. You sigh, “That there were two subjects in my tube.” You glance quickly in the rearview to see their shocked faces. “Obviously I thought, you know,” you trail off uncomfortably. “I took a pregnancy test, though. It came back negative, which just further proves I’ve already received a dose of their new serum or, at the very least, some sort of variation of it. If it causes me to see Joker’s thoughts, imagine what that could do on a wide-scale attack.”

Just like you thought, they both freeze up before acting way too nonchalant. 

“Oh.”

You can hardly keep yourself from rolling your eyes. “Guys, that’s not the point,” you huff. “I think it all has to do with the new serum. It’s possible that, at the dockyard last year, Poison Ivy had already sold them a stem and I was the lab rat, just like Two Face said my contract stated.”

“You’re saying you think your contract is back on?” Jason asks dubiously. You’re glad, at the very least, that he seems to be more present again.

You sigh, “I’m saying, I don’t think it ever ended.”

Having to deal with psychopathic killers hunting you down for a large insurance scheme was hard enough when it was just Joker, Two Face and your parents. Now Cadmus and, seemingly, The Court of Owls, along with Joker and his new lackey, was something entirely different.

How are you going to survive this again?

“They’re coming to collect what they never got, then,” Roy surmises. “It’s actually starting to somehow make sense. If they tested out the new serum on you at the dockyards, that would explain why I never felt strong effects like you did after being in the tube. Do you think it has to do with multiple doses?” Roy asks.

“That could explain why the effects of the injection at Cadmus seemed to strengthen my visions,” you say with a shake of your head as you pull into the apartment garage. “Whatever this concoction is, it’s extremely dangerous. Especially in their hands.”

“It’s him,” Jason says with disgust. “He wants control.”

“Or to drive people mad,” Roy supplies as he helps Jason out of the car. Jason surprisingly lets him and you lightly jog to catch up to their longer gait.  

Whether or not Roy was calling you crazy, you didn’t know. What you did know, however, was that you can’t deny how heavily these visions have weighed on your psyche.

“Well, if you both fully believe me now, then maybe it’s time we test my visions again,” you say. “We need to go back and collect a sample of the subway water. Maybe we’ll be able to find Joker’s accomplice, too.”

Anything to get the upper hand… You definitely don’t need a repeat of last time happening. Not when the enemies are this powerful and the stakes even higher.

You refuse to lose it all. 

You refuse to go down without a fight.

A/N: ik I said i'd upload this friday, but i had a really good day and wanted to share this early :D i'm thinking of changing my upload dates to mon/tues EST as a heads up too btw

be sure to check out my fic update for more info on what you can expect for this month :p

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[artficlly]

me & the devil (one-shot)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x saloon girl!reader

The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel has always attracted bad men, and Bucky Barnes happens to be one of them.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of guns, swearing, sex worker reader, lots of talk of sex work, vague mentions of past non-con and abuse, lots of angst, sexual tension, breaking law, bank robbery, lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 11.2k (whoops)

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've been working on. i started this a month back while watching west world. i love westerns, rdr and all thinsg cowboy so this was so fun to write. i was thinking of maybe a part two just due to how long this got lol. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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It was still morning when trouble walked in. In the two months you had been working at The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel, it had taken you only days to figure out who was trouble and who wasn’t. There was an energy to them, something more clinging to their bodies than the grime and grit of the wilds. The saloon would fall into a hush, an unspoken knowing between all within. It wasn't just the guns on their person, but the way they held themselves. A swagger and a smirk, bruises on their knuckles, a twisted nose from a fight long forgotten An essence of something deeper, a whisper that hissed in warning. 

That intensity screamed danger, and all those inside knew to obey it or face its wrath. 

“Them boys look like trouble.” Charlotte hummed, echoing your thoughts entirely. The two of you stood leaning back against the bar, examining your new patrons. There were three of them, young and deadly. They had that energy and that intensity. With just a flick of your eyes, you could read it – fatality written into the dirt under their nails to the subtle splatter of blood along the cuff of a shirt. 

“Maybe that’s reason to steer clear for once.” You muttered back to the woman, your fan fluttering as you eyed her with a frown. “The last lot didn’t even pay you.”

Danger didn’t often walk into Silverton, but when it did, it always stopped by The Diamondback for one final drink and fuck before facing the open wilds. Danger had different faces; some returned, some didn’t. The three men who now took up a table in the back were certainly new to you. 

“The ride was payment enough.” Charlotte giggled as she batted her lashes. “Them boys always have a lot packing.”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. "Yeah, and half of em’ don’t even know how to use it.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” Charlotte announced with one of her coy smiles you had grown to know so well. She strutted off in the direction of the group of men, hand dragging across shoulders and cleavage pronounced in her posture. The men looked at her up and down like a meal – predators and prey. You often couldn’t tell the difference between the two – who was prey and who was predator. Considering how much coin Charlotte would often fish from her corset after a day’s work, maybe she was the predator. You had learned a lot from her in your short time at The Diamondback. 

After a moment of consideration, you turned to face the bar. The barkeep, Crowley, had his eyes fixed on the trio. With a tut, he returned to cleaning the glasses lined along the bar. You were barely able to hear his low voice over the piano. “I swear that girl ain’t got no fear.”

“I guess that’s what comes from workin’ in a job like this long enough.” You replied simply, abandoning your fan on the bar as you snatched up one of the clean glasses. 

“I swear I seen them boys' faces on a poster up north in Rustler’s Grove.” Crowley muttered, eyeing you disapprovingly as you slid the glass in his direction. “You drinkin’ this early already?”

“Be a gentleman, won’t you?” You replied with a beam, elbows propped onto the bar. “Whiskey. The stuff from the back, not that watered-down shit for the guests.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Crowley grumbled, abandoning his post to rummage around for your request. You took the brief moment to cast a glance back across the room. 

Charlotte was now perched on one of the men’s laps; he had a darker complexion, and curls of dark hair were escaping from under his hat. You noted how one of his hands gripped Charlotte’s upper thigh, squeezing the exposed flesh. Her hand explored his chest as he whispered in her ear. Across the table, his two companions seemed deep in a hushed conversation, completely oblivious to the table of men eyeing them suspiciously nearby. 

You ripped your eyes away, instead putting your focus on your hands, which you had clasped tightly together. You never wanted this life; you assumed no whore truly wanted this life. Instead, you all stumbled into it one way or another. A broken family, a dead husband, a lost soul – each of you had a story that led you down this path. All you could do was put on a smile and tell yourself that you liked it, pretending that you had some kind of freedom or power over your situation. 

Your eyes fluttered upwards, watching Crowley through your lashes as he returned and poured the liquor into the glass. “You’re thinking too much again; all you’re gonna end up in is a whole world of pain.”

You considered his words, turning them over in your mind before speaking. “That’s what the drinks for.” You hummed with a weak smile. “No thinking if the whiskey drowns it all out.”

Crowley offered you a hollow smile, more of a grimace, as his weathered skin pulled tightly at the corners. “Damn right.” 

You shot the whiskey back in one swallow, with a moment of silence following as you allowed yourself to feel the burn in your chest. It was a familiar sensation, one you had relied heavily on to get through the past two months. 

“Whiskey this early? A woman after my own heart.” A deep, husky voice spoke from beside you. Trouble. There he stood. It seemed one of the trio had escaped Charlotte’s clutches; if it had been to talk to you or simply drink at the bar, you could not know. You couldn't help but notice the intensity of his gaze as it bore into you. He was taller than the other two and broader, with large shoulders and a chest that seemed to fill out his shirt in all the right places.

Your eyes quickly swept back across the room, seeing Charlotte still occupied. A few of the other girls circled nearby like vultures, searching for the coin they knew was just under their nose. 

“Buy me another one, then we can talk.” You replied easily, plastering on a sickly-sweet smile. You wondered if he saw through it and whether he knew how much you hated yourself. You knew it was foolish to think so.

The man silently motioned two fingers at Crowley, and your glass was quickly refilled. You swirled the amber liquid, eyeing the man as he examined you in return. He seemed to live a rough lifestyle, with skin weathered from the sun, sand and dirt clinging to flesh and clothes alike. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, and there was a scar above his left eyebrow. Strings of brunet hair poked out from beneath his hat, paired with piercing blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. The muscles in his chiseled jawline flexed as he swallowed back the liquor with a stoic look. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip as you watched his adam’s apple bob. He had a rough, handsome charm to him, despite everything telling you to run. It always seemed to be that way with troublemakers. 

“How’d a girl like you end up in a place like this?” He hummed, placing his glass back on the bar. You smile at him from behind your own glass, keeping eye contact as you finish the liquor with ease. Whiskey made you comfortable, and whiskey made you fun. Most of all, it made you forget. 

“How do you think most girls end up in this place, hm?” You reply boldly, watching as Charlotte ascends the stairs with her new client in tow. “Sad stories, bad stories. Every whore has a sob story; do ya really want to hear a sob story?”

“You’re new here; ‘least you weren’t around when I was last in these parts,” he chuckled in response. Another round of liquor was poured into your glass with a quick flick of the man's callused fingers. 

“New…” You hum, your fingers tracing along the sticky, dark wood of the bar. The man’s attention was fixed on your every movement. “How new do you consider... new?”  

“I was ‘round here about a year ago now.” His gravelly voice replied, and another shot of liquor was swallowed. Your eyes briefly danced back across the room, a table of patrons shouting over a game of poker stirring your attention. The man next to you didn’t even flinch as a glass was shattered and chairs screeched as they tumbled to the ground. 

“I guess I am new.” You finally spoke, sending another perfectly empty smile in his direction. He ran his tongue over his teeth with a chuckle. “What’s your name?” You ask.

“James. But most people just call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” You hum in thought, drinking yet another shot of the amber liquor. 

“You wanna head upstairs, sweetheart?” He asks, watching as Crowley abandons his post behind the bar to clear out the poker table, the group having resorted to whipping out their guns. You ignore the chaos, shrugging with a simple smile.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” You say as you hook your arm around the back of the bar, stealing the bottle of whiskey while Crowley was distracted. Bucky followed your movements with a grin, following you up the stairs wordlessly. 

—

Finding an empty room was easy; most of the girls had unspokenly claimed a room they reused throughout the day. The rooms in the Diamondback were modest, as expected for a small town. A double bed with fresh sheets, a chair next to an unused fireplace, and a dresser near the door with a bowl and pitcher of water placed atop it. 

Your back was turned to Bucky, and you could hear the creak of the bed as he sat down. You dared to look up through your lashes, meeting his eye through the mirror that sat atop the dresser. Bottle of whiskey forgotten, you turn to face the rugged man. You can't help but feel a little weak in the knees under his intense gaze. A hand runs over his stubbled chin briefly before removing the worn leather hat from his head. His hair, a rich, dark brown, emerges from beneath, his hand running through the messy strands.

You step forward, carefully taking the hat from his large hands. The remnants of sand and dirt prickle your fingers as you brush the pads over the fabric. You had come to learn how much the men who frequented the Diamondback valued their hats; there was an unspoken lore or story attached to each one. With his hat delicately placed on the bedside table, you return to Bucky’s side. 

With the whiskey doing its work, you smooth your hands over the dark fabric of his shirt. Your hands looked so small, delicate, and clean next to him. You found him handsome; if you were younger, you probably would’ve been intrigued or charmed by his looks as well. You knew to avoid trouble like him, but under different circumstances, at a different time?

The thoughts bubble in your mind as you seat yourself close next to him, breath fanning across his skin as you lean in. Your movements are slow and deliberate. You test his response with a quick peck of your soft lips against his before quickly closing the distance. He was so rough in comparison to you; his body was sturdy as a rock. His lips were chapped from days spent in the sun, and his stubble was coarse against your smooth skin. 

His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you closer as you licked into his mouth. A breathless chuckle rumbled in his chest, his lips hungrily consuming yours. Your hands explored lower, feeling the defined muscles beneath the dark fabric. Your hands wrapped around his suspenders and guided them over his broad shoulders. 

Bucky pulled away, his mouth instead traveling towards your neck. You tilted your head, feeling his hot breath across your skin. Squirming in his hold, your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met your ear.

“As much as I appreciate it, sweetheart, I’m just lookin’ to chat.” He breathed. You were so concentrated on his hot breath and his squeezing hands that you could not understand what he had said. You opened your eyes, heavy lidded as you gazed at him in confusion. 

“To chat?” You question, your faces still pulled closely together. 

“Maybe I do wanna hear your sob story, darlin’.” He hummed through a smirk. You felt heat rise in your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your system as you realized he was laughing at you. With one strong push, you wrenched yourself from his grasp with a huff.

“Don’t waste my time.” You hiss at him with a scowl, shooting to your feet. 

“I’ll pay you for your time; don’t worry. I ain’t lookin’ to put you out of business.” Bucky defended himself, raising his hands in the air as if in surrender. You hesitate near the dresser.

“You want to pay to talk to me?” You question him, your skepticism clear in your tone. There were always men trying to get out of paying what they fucked; you’d seen all the different types of scams. Some would run, some would get violent, and some would promise to ‘save’ the girl from this place. You could imagine trouble like Bucky running that type of scheme, saying it was just a chat to get out of payment. 

“I ain’t got many other people to talk to; why not a pretty lady?” He hummed, leaning back onto his muscled arms to view you properly. 

“If you’re messin’ with me–” You began to grumble.

“I ain’t, darling. Just wanna talk.” 

You stared at him for a beat, weighing your choices. Go downstairs and let another grubby man get his hands on you, or stay up here and chat with a handsome troublemaker who may or may not pay you. With a sharp exhale, you retrieve the bottle of whiskey and take a swig from it. “Fine. Alright then.”

Bucky watched your actions with an amused expression, his body language cool and collected against your outward annoyance. He reached over to his leather coat, which he had abandoned next to him on the bed, retrieving a box of cigarettes and matches. 

“You have a real sad look to you.” He commented as he placed a cigarette between his lips. “Standing down by that bar like you don’t wanna be here, I bet it attracts a certain type.”

“What do you mean?” You question him as he strikes the match, taking a long drag once the cigarette is lit. 

“The type of men you attract,” he begins to explain. “Type’a of men who want a girl who don’t want it. Cruel bastards, you know.”

You pause at his words, recounting all of the men you had serviced. Charlotte usually attracted the young ones, the boys who wanted a story to brag about to their friends. The men you attracted were older and quiet. They came to you, drawn in by your melancholy. The whiskey burned your chest as you took yet another swig. Memories best left buried. “And are you a cruel man?” 

“No, well, some might say, but not in that way. I ain’t a mean bastard with a fantasy of being with a girl who don’t want it.” 

“What type of man are you?” Your voice is low, a sense of unease crawls under your skin at his words. 

“What do you think?” He asks, his body growing still. Predator and prey. A part of you enjoyed the thrill of watching him assess your every move. Another part of you was terrified, screaming that you knew trouble and should know better than to get tangled up in it. 

“A dangerous one. An outlaw.” When you say those things, you mentally brace yourself for him to take offense and respond badly. Instead, to your surprise, he chuckles, eyebrows raising in delight as if you had hit the bullseye. 

A gleam tugs at his lips, the chuckle catching in his chest as he takes another drag. “An outlaw, eh? What do you know about outlaws?”

“I know the type.”

“Hah. I suppose you do, workin’ in a place like this.” He comments, hands gesturing to the room around you, the cheap linen and scratched wooden floors. Somewhere down the hall, you could hear Charlotte putting on one of her shows, the paper-thin walls barely covering the moans. “Places like this breed evil; I suppose that’s why I frequent them so often.”

Your back met the dresser as Bucky stood, his frame towering above you even from a few steps away. It only took a couple strides for him to be in front of you, plucking the cigarette from his lips as he took the whiskey from your hand. Smoke engulfed your senses, and the sense of danger grew with his closeness. 

Whoring was a risky line of work; like he said, saloons often bred evil. You weren’t a stranger to a man who got too aggressive, leaving bruises and blood in his wake. Bucky didn’t seem angry; he seemed amused by you, if anything. But you had to remind yourself that he was an outlaw, and most outlaws weren’t strangers to bloodshed. 

“Are you… Are you gonna hurt me?” You asked, your voice weak as you pressed yourself harder into the dresser. He gave you a look and coughed a little, as if bothered by your assumption, as he downed the whiskey. 

“What? No. I just wanna talk. I might be a bad man, but I ain’t the type to hurt a defenseless girl.” 

You visibility deflated as he backed off a few paces, placing the whiskey next to his hat as he ran a hand through his hair with a tense expression. You exhaled a sharp breath, watching the conflict cross his face. Maybe he didn’t mean to scare you; maybe he just needed someone to talk to. You’d heard of big, bad men who couldn’t be vulnerable to anyone. They were so afraid of betrayal that they ended up isolated in a room full of people. 

You could imagine Bucky like that; you almost felt sorry for the handsome man. He just wanted to talk; that couldn’t hurt, right? Your skirts swept across the creaky wood floors as you strode beside him, seating yourself between him and the bottle of whiskey. His azure eyes assessed you with a look of mild surprise.

“What… What do you want to talk about?” You finally cut into the silence. 

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? How you ended up in a place like this?” He questioned, taking a seat beside you. Your thighs bumped together through the fabric, yet you didn’t lean away. “I always see girls like you in these places – gentle women who fell off at some point. Most of the time, it ain’t even their fault. I guess that’s what happened to you, sweetheart.”

You contemplate his words, plucking the still-smoking cigarette from his lips. He doesn’t protest as you inhale the smoke, tilting your head in thought. “It ain’t a happy story.” You confess.

“Don’t need to be. Sometimes I just need a reminder that whatever god is watching over us is just as cruel as us men can be.” His arms brushed yours as he leant over, retrieving the whiskey from beside you. Careful not to exhale smoke directly in his face, you turn your head to watch out the window as you wonder where to start. The sky was so blue outside, just as blue as Bucky’s eyes. It was alluring in a deceptive way; the summer heat beat down on Silverton relentlessly. Sometimes you were glad to work inside instead of out in that brutality. 

“My momma died when I was young. Cholera.” You begin, “Broke my daddy’s heart. He was a doctor, good one before momma died. I guess not being able to save her broke him. He fell into drink, gamblin', and whorin’. Barely made his appointments, so I had to help him run the office, cleanin’ up and sometimes stitchin’ up the fools that came in when he was too drunk to do it himself. Eventually he couldn’t afford to feed me no more; he could barely care for himself, let alone a child.” You pause to extinguish the last of the cigarette on the bedside table, the scorch mark joining a collection of older ones. Ghosts and memories of the place you sat in.

“So, my daddy, he sent me away to live with my uncle and aunt. They had a homestead not too far from here; my uncle and cousin were ranchers and moved cattle mostly. I liked it out there in the open; I would go ridin’ and watch the sun rise and set. My aunt would worry I would get robbed or worse, ridin’ alone out there. I was still a girl, really. I didn’t care nor really know how evil this place could be.” Bucky hummed in acknowledgement as you spoke, fingers brushing off some ash that had fallen onto your skirt. 

“I would help out on the ranch too; I liked that work. It felt like real work. Good, rewarding work. I liked the animals, playing with the dogs and ridin’ the horses to move the cattle.” Your gaze pulled away from the window, instead turning your head to watch as Bucky took another long drink from the whiskey.

“Then, my uncle died. Gored by his own bull one morning, I tried to save him, but he lost too much blood. It was all so sudden, weren’t nothing we could do. My aunt, she couldn’t bear to live there no more, decided to sell the place. She said she couldn’t take me wherever she was going with my cousin. They were using the money to buy a new ranch back east and couldn’t afford to keep me on no more. She said to write to my daddy and continue working as his assistant until I found a man to marry.” 

“What happened to your pa?” Bucky asked, the liquid sloshing in the bottle as he swirled it in his hands. You took a moment to shamelessly stare at the way the veins bulge over the muscles and tendons. 

“Don’t know.” You finally admit with a sigh. “Never replied to my letter. Either didn’t want me back or is buried somewhere and no one thought to tell me. So I went to the nearest town to find a job; ain’t no one want to hire a woman ‘cept for in this place. I decided whorin’ was better than starvin’.”

“Real shame. I bet a sweet girl like you could’ve made it in one of those cities back east. Married some big shot, lived life comfortably in one of those fancy city manors.” Bucky hummed. You knew the type of places he was talking about – massive manors filled with staff and shiny, expensive things. Hell, you could imagine Bucky having robbed a place like that while the inhabitants were out at social evenings with the rest of the upper class. 

“Maybe. I don’t think I could ever live in a city.” You confess with a shrug. “I like the open air, the emptiness of it all. I don’t get to see it much in this place, but I remember what it was like when I used to go ridin’ all those years ago.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed across your face. “I understand what you mean. I don’t stay in places long, get cold feet. I live in the open; I like traveling without being stuck in one spot.” 

“How did you end up livin’ the way you do?” You ask hesitantly, watching his thoughtful expression flicker into a more somber one. 

“It ain’t much of a clear story like yours. Absent pa, my momma had it rough raising us kids by herself. I got caught up in bad business, thievin’, killin’ and such. Once I got into it, I didn’t know how to get out. I made friends with similar stories; we all wanted to stay doing what we do so we could look out for each other. All of us just wanna stay out in that open; just keep headin’ west, knowin’ we’ll be buried in a place civilization has yet to meet.” His words were brief, and it was obvious to you that he had more of a connection to the outlaws he surrounded himself with than he did with his own blood. 

“Don’t you ever want to settle down some day?” You ask.

“Nah. Once you got the west in your bones, you’re lost to that life.”

You consider his words in silence, drowning out the sounds of other girls working in the surrounding rooms. You understood what he meant; it felt like you hadn’t left those open plains since you first discovered them. You missed riding without a care, the wind tangling your hair as you navigated the emptiness of it all. 

“Well. When you’re out there ridin’ in the empty, you’ll think of me? Some sad saloon girl who just wanted to ride out in the open?” You ask, eyes dipping behind your lashes as Bucky flashes you a genuine smile. 

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

—

Bucky and his friends hung around longer than both you and the other girls expected. Men like them usually only hung around for a few days or less. From Crowley’s muttering, it seemed the law didn’t show interest in them. Either that or the boys were keeping their heads down. 

Most mornings Bucky would come visit you, his two friends switching between drinking and sampling the other girls. Bucky’s eyes never seemed to stray from you, always finding you at the bar with a ‘hey sweetheart’ muttered with the scent of whiskey and leather. You started to enjoy his company, the stories and thoughts the both of you shared. 

Every time he visited, he would pay, neatly stacking the coins on the dresser. He always gave double your rate, a rugged smirk and wink sent your way as he slipped out the door. You found yourself waiting and looking for him each day, lingering near the bar until he and his friends sauntered in. 

Today was no different than any of your other meetings. Half a bottle of whiskey down, the two of you were talking about thoughts and worries you’d never thought to voice. The summer heat was worse than usual, and the saloon was crowded with working men slick with sweat and tempers to match the scorch outside. 

You sat now perched on the windowsill; the window cracked open despite the lack of wind. With your skirts and petticoat bunched up to your thighs to fight the heat, you dangled your legs through the air nonchalantly. A cigarette hanging from your lips as you carelessly stared out at the stretch of blue skies beyond. Bucky had carefully placed his hat on the dresser; his coat peeled off as he watched you from across the room. 

“Do you know what time the law go on their lunch break?” Bucky asked into the silence. Often, when a lull presented itself, the outlaw would break the quiet by questioning you about your clients or the townspeople of Sliverton.

“One o’clock, sometimes two if they’re dealin’ with trouble.” You respond easily, exhaling smoke out the window. It took you a beat to think about his question, your eyebrows drawing together. “Why?” You question.

It was an obvious conclusion to be suspicious: why was an outlaw asking about the law’s schedule? You’d noticed how Bucky’s interest often peaked at the mention of the law, the bank tellers, and sometimes even the gunsmith. You had mentioned how the manager of the bank was a cruel man, often leaving the girls with bruises. The group of you would draw lots when he came in, that or hope he would get too drunk to perform. 

As for the law, they often mixed business with pleasure. During their lunch break, they would often call down the girls to the sheriff’s office to work while they drank over a game of poker. You had been invited a couple times and mentioned it to Bucky off-hand a few days ago. 

“I heard some rumors about a bounty in this area, wanted to stop by when they weren’t… busy.” Bucky replied, a small amount of guilt growing in your chest at your unspoken accusation. The two of you had been open with each other these past weeks. 

“A bounty?” You question. “What are you doing gettin’ involved in that business?” You look over at him. The outlaw chuckles under his breath, his callused hand sweeping through his hair as he leans back further in his seat. 

“Takes an outlaw to catch an outlaw sometimes, sweetheart.” 

You chew on his words for a moment, shrugging with acceptance after not much thought. You could see what he meant; only outlaws were generally cocky enough to risk their lives for coin. That, and they would probably know where another might hide, having lived in their shoes. 

“You do that work often?” 

“Sometimes,” he hums in reply. “Only when we’re tight for coin.”

You swing your feet down to the wooden floors, your bare skin sticky against the warm wood. Once more, heat envelops your figure as your skirts descend to your shins. Bucky watches with interest as you put out your cigarette, stalking towards where he sits. 

“If you’re short, why are you out here spendin’ double on me?” You ask softly, pausing in front of him. His eyes dart upwards, examining your face with a gentle look.

“Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices for a pretty lady.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. Normally compliments made your skin crawl and your mouth turn sour, but Bucky had grown on you. Your hand moves towards him before you can think, resting gently on his shoulder. 

“I might regret sayin’ this but… I ain’t worried about the money. I do like our chats for other reasons than the coin.” You stumble over your words, a smug smirk growing on Bucky’s face. 

“Now, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be putin’ ya out of business talking to a fool like me–” Bucky doesn’t get to finish his words, much to your disappointment. Instead, you jerk back in surprise as the door is thrown open. 

In the doorway stands one of Bucky’s friends; you recognized him from his time in the saloon. His face was pink from the heat, and messy blond hair poked out from under his hat. A boyish grin spread across his cracked lips. You noted how large his stature was, nearly taking up the entire door frame. His chest must have been muscled beneath his dirt-stained shirt, his forearms bulging where the fabric had been pulled back to his elbows to combat the heat. 

“I see why you spend so much time here, Buck. She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” Steve comments. You swallow thickly, glancing at Bucky, who sighs through his nose in annoyance. Any tenderness has left his expression, replaced with cold annoyance. 

“This is Steve.” The outlaw explains to you, getting to his feet. “What is it?” 

You recognized that name; Bucky had mentioned Steve over the past weeks. Steve had been one of his childhood friends who had followed him down the path of an outlaw. Bucky had told you how the two would pickpocket so they would have enough to eat. They had robbed and shot their way west; they fucked their way too, apparently. Bucky had mentioned how the two of them enjoyed their ladies, sometimes taking them at the same time in the same room. 

You couldn’t help but let your mind linger on that thought as you studied the blond man. His eyes were looking you up and down eagerly, lingering on your pronounced breasts due to your corset.

“Sam… er, Sam needs to talk.” Steve finally responds, hesitant and careful with his words, as if he didn’t want you to know the true meaning behind his interruption. As you look back over at Bucky, who has crossed over to the dresser, he nods at Steve in silent understanding. 

You bite your tongue as the two outlaws share an unspoken conversation, Bucky returning his precious hat to his head. As usual, you watch as he stacks double your rate on the end of the dresser, a secret, cocky smirk sent in your direction as he slips into the hallway.

“Why is he payin’ you that much? You got gold between your legs or somethin’?” Steve questions, having glanced at the pile left behind. You simply huff at him, slamming the door shut in his face. Through the door, you can hear him bellow out a laugh. 

—

It was a lazy Thursday afternoon when the first shots were heard. Silverton was not unfamiliar with a bit of violence; the occasional exchange of bullets was easy to grow accustomed to. That Thursday was no different, you’d thought, that was until the bullets grew more frequent. Shots rang through the town, sending people scattering into nearby buildings or braving the streets with revolvers in hand. 

That increase in sound blasting through the swelteringly hot afternoon was what made you pause. You were upstairs fixing your updo after a client. Placing the last pin between your strands, you moved to walk cautiously into the hallway. Glancing over the staircase railing, you look into the main bar area. Silence had fallen over the saloon, with chairs and tables empty as if the last patrons had fled. 

Your eyes land on Charlotte, who stood next to the bar, exchanging a worried conversation with Crowley. Quickly, you glance back down the hallway, noting the girls and guests who peeked their heads from their rooms in similar morbid curiosity. 

It felt wrong to linger upstairs listening to the massacre below; instead, you found yourself opting to join Charlotte and Crowley. As you descend the stairs, carefully lifting your skirts so as not to trip on them, Charlotte peaks up at you. 

“Somebody’s robbin’ the bank.” She quickly explains, catching your nervous expression. A bit of relief floods your veins. As loud and violent as that could be, the robbers weren’t likely to hang around for a drink. 

“Sounds like a slaughter out there.” You grumble in reply, finding your usual spot by the bar. Crowley looked mostly unphased, shining his glasses with a faint shake of his head. “You think they’re gonna get away with it?”

“Old man Billy ran by and said they ambushed the sheriff's office before they headed to the bank.” Crowley cuts in, placing the now-clean glass down. “Guessin’ there's still a few of them alive if they’re still shootin’. Pretty smart of them robbers to get them while they were on lunch break.”

A pit of dread grows in your stomach, your eyes glancing to the clock above the bar. Quarter past one. 

“Were any of our girls down that way?” Charlotte asks with worry, but your focus was instead turned to the dusty road outside. You hoped, if not prayed, that if you caught a glimpse of those robbers, it would not be Bucky and his friends. You couldn’t help but feel a crawling guilt, the possibility that maybe you had been duped into giving an outlaw information. You could not handle the deaths of so many on your shoulders. You knew if your careless words had caused it, it would be squarely your fault. 

“No, thank God. Law sent word they didn’t want girls today. Maybe they knew somethin’ was up.” Crowley replies, but you are hardly present in the conversation, instead shifting closer towards the window. You knew it was dangerous, but the pit of worry and guilt was growing in your stomach; you just needed confirmation.

Charlotte let out a sudden and piercing scream as one of the saloon’s windows shattered, a stray bullet richoeing and landing in one of the tables with a thud. “Get away from the windows!” she shrieks at you. 

Only as your brain recognizes the danger do you move away, rigidly walking to Charlotte’s side once more. The woman grabs at your arm, beginning to tug you behind the bar as you cast one last glance out the windows. 

Nausea crawls in your stomach, and bile rises in your throat as Charlotte tugs you to the floor behind the bar. Amongst the gunshots and dead bodies, you saw the group of masked figures emerge from the bank onto the streets. Just a brief moment, a glance, and your world was left spiraling as your breathing grew faster and ragged. Any other person may have looked at those figures and been oblivious, but you had spent weeks tucked away in the upstairs room with Bucky. You could recognize him even with a mask on, with his muscled form and leather hat. Bucky was out there, standing over dead bodies with a shotgun in hand. And it was all your fault. 

Conversations long past swirl in your mind; how many times had Bucky shifted the topic to be about the law, the bank tellers, or the townsfolk of Silverton? How many times had he tricked you into revealing information that wasn’t supposed to go beyond your ears? So many times clients had confided in you, and you had just passed on the information like it were some inside joke between the two of you. 

Charlotte flinched and trembled beside you as the gunshots and shouting grew louder. You could only stare at the clock above and spiral. Crowley remained in place, cleaning glasses with a cold expression as if he alone could ward off any evil. 

Outside, the voices grew louder and angrier. 

“Well, it ain’t me who shot the doctor!”

“He can’t ride like this!”

“You better be fuckin’ right about this Barnes or we’re all dead!” 

Charlotte's hands dug into your arms, pulling you closer as the wooden planks of the boardwalk outside grew alive with the sound of stomping boots. Crowley’s glass cleaning paused as the saloon doors were slammed open in a hurry. Crowley’s mouth opened, meaning to speak to the men who had just stormed in. No words came out; instead, the spray of blood, chunks of flesh, and skull decorated the surrounding area as a bullet was fired directly into his skull.

Beside you, Charlotte shrieks once more as Crowley's body slumped to the floor with a hollow thud. You clamp your hand over her mouth, shushing her as you pull her closer. Your body is trembling, and bile is still stuck in your throat. You try not to focus on the way that Crowley’s brain matter had sprayed across your skin, dewy drops of crimson like a mist. You could feel the moisture, smell and taste the copper in the air. All you could do was try to keep as quiet as possible as the armed outlaws prowled only feet away. 

The next thing to catch your attention is the sound of groaning and hissing, the unmistakable sound of someone in pain. Chairs and tables screech as if they are being pulled together while bullets still rain outside. You try to blindly piece the scene together in your mind, trying to understand why the outlaws had gathered here with lawmen so closely on their tail.

“They can’t hold them off for long out there. One of the law got away; we reckon he’s headed up Deadwood way to get back up.” A woman's voice shouts over the chaos. 

“Where’s your girl then, Barnes? Better be worth it.” A male voice snaps. Through Charlotte's panting and the gunshots, you can hear the thunder of boots storming up the stairs. 

“Someone get me some fuckin’ whiskey.” The injured man speaks through gritted teeth. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, hoping whoever goes to retrieve the liquor doesn’t spot both you and Charlotte quivering in the corner. You press your back harder against the bar, pulling Charlotte closer into your side as she lays her head across your chest while silent sobs shake her body. 

“Barnes! Hurry up!” The woman shouts up the stairs in annoyance, only to be met with no reply. The gunshots outside began to slow, the law seemed to be losing this shootout. 

Heavy boots fall closer, a large figure rounds the corner of the bar. To your horror, he spots the two of you immediately, and even worse, it’s Steve. You recognize him quickly, with his sunburnt cheeks and blond hair and a mask still tied around his neck. His expression was one of relief but also of worry. When you last saw him, he was all smirks and flirting. You imagined it was probably a sight to see both you and Charlotte trembling behind the bar, covered in the contents of Crowley’s skull. 

“She’s here, Buck.” Steve called out, your blood turning to ice. 

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have been afraid of Steve or Bucky. Foolish, you now realize. It was foolish to get so close to danger and not feel her power. You didn’t know what these outlaws wanted from you, but you weren’t going to give it easily.

Steve stepped over Crowley’s body, and you shake your head. Beside you, Charlotte began to sob loudly, her nails digging into your skin. Between her panicked breathing, you could’ve sworn she was chanting, ‘Please God, I don’t want to die.’ under her breath. The woman you had once known was gone, in complete submission to fear. No more coy smiles and soft touches; no more fearlessness in the face of dangerous men. Charlotte was terrified, and so were you. 

“Don’t touch me.” You warn Steve, but he ignores your request. His large hands wrap around Charlotte’s waist, tugging her away. She let out a terrified scream, grabbing and scratching at your arms in an attempt to hold on. Steve’s arms proved stronger, finally wrenching Charlotte away and ushering her away. 

Steve’s attention now turned to you, a gruff sigh leaving his nose as he noticed your defiant look. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, pretty girl.” 

You shove his hands away, the two of you briefly struggling before Steve finally finds a grip around your waist and hoists you to your feet. 

“I said don’t fuckin’ touch me!” You shout at the blond, shoving and hitting at his chest. He grumbles in annoyance, trying to grasp your arms to stop the movement. Behind you, Charlotte is making a noise somewhere behind a sob and a scream as one of the unfamiliar men drags her out from behind the bar. 

You back away further from Steve, still shoving and pushing him away. Only when your back meets something warm and solid does he stop his advance. Spinning around, you stand face-to-face with Bucky. His scent is the same: leather, but this time with a dash of gunpowder. Small blood splatters decorate his skin and clothing. As he grasps your wrists to stop your struggle, you unconsciously note how his knuckles are bruised and split. 

“No...” is all you manage to utter, Bucky tilting his head with a frown as tears begin to streak down your face. You had been foolish enough to trust him and his rugged, handsome looks. You had blindly answered his questions without a care for the consequences because he had been kind and mysterious. He had told you himself he was an outlaw, a bad man. Now how many lives weighed on you too? Even Crowley’s blood was on your hands, literally and metaphorically. 

Bucky’s hand reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from your cheek, his frown only deepening as you flinched away from his touch. 

“As touchin’ as this is, we don’t have the time for this, Barnes.” The woman’s voice from earlier spoke up. Now that you are standing, you could look over to see her. She had a wicked look, messy red hair, and a cut across her cheek. A rifle slung across her shoulder, a revolver, and a knife at her hip. She assessed you with a look of annoyance, a scowl painted across her sharp lips. 

With an annoyed grunt, Bucky obliged the woman’s request. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he tugged you back onto the main floor. You tried to ignore the hole in Crowley’s face as you were forced to step over his body, your shoes slipping in the pool of slick blood gathering on the wood floors. 

“What do you want? You comin’ in here to kill us all too?” You ask, your voice raspy from the tears. Charlotte lingered near the staircase, still sobbing, as a younger man growled in annoyance at the sound. 

“You think I’m here to kill you after everythin’, sweetheart? No. I need your help with somethin’.” Bucky questions, sounding a bit dismayed at your sudden fear. You swallow hard, trying to contain the tears that continue to freely stream down your face. 

“Crowley is dead.”

“Yeah, well, that was unfortunate.” He grumbles, displeased. 

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” You snap at him.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I need ya to stitch up my friend here.” Bucky shrugs off your insult, instead tilting his head in the direction of a bloody sight. Your body shakes with each step, and you feel as if you are only held upright by Bucky’s firm grip, guiding you to a set of tables that have been pulled together. On top lies a man, older and with greasy black hair. Blood stains his shirt, and there is an obvious bullet wound in his lower abdomen. Sweat beads line his brow, his eyebrows drawn together as he battles the pain. You stare at him speechless, watching as Steve returns from behind the bar with a bottle of whiskey. 

“Here ya are, Stark.” The blond mutters, shaking his head, as the injured man eagerly chugs the liquor down. For the pain, you think. He’s drinking it for the pain. You try to attach yourself to thoughts and knowledge you recognize, distracting the noise in your brain in the hopes that your hands and legs will stop trembling. You can barely think, and Bucky wants you to stitch him up?

Charlotte’s wailing doesn’t help your case, nor does it seem to quell the tempers rising in the room. Stark speaks up between gulps of whiskey. “Someone, for the love of God, stop her wailing or shoot the damn woman!” 

The younger, twitchy man makes a loud noise of agreement, revolver in hand, as he points it directly at Charlotte’s forehead. Charlotte’s sobbing becomes uncontrollable, curling in on herself as she wraps her arms around her middle in defense. Your breath comes short, and your shaking hands grip Bucky’s bicep for comfort as you watch in horror.

“Her daddy was shot–” You suddenly blurt out, capturing the attention of the younger man. “He was shot in front of her; this type’a stuff upsets her. You understand?” Your tone was desperate, near begging. You don’t know why you said it, but you hoped maybe the man would have sympathy for her. Charlotte had confided in you about nightmares once; you didn’t know who else knew about the darkness in her life. The young man stares at you for a moment, his hand running over the non-existent stubble with an irritated sigh. 

“You women are so fragile.” He mutters, raising the gun and striking the metal across Charlotte’s face. You gasp involuntarily, ducking your head so your cheek is pressed against Bucky’s chest. Charlotte’s wailing finally comes to a stop; instead, she only sniffles quietly as she holds a hand to her face in shock. 

“Leave it, Parker.” Steve growls, prowling across the room, placing himself between Parker and Charlotte. Parker throws his hands up in surrender, instead stalking across the room to where some of the other nameless outlaws had gathered to keep watch. 

Stark growls in annoyance from the tables once more, the mixture of pain and whiskey elevating his rage. “Trust pretty boy Rogers to be a fuckin’ gentleman. I’ll shoot the bitch myself even with this bullet in me.”

“Barnes.” The red-headed woman warns, sensing the rising tension and passing time.

“What do you need to stitch him up?” Bucky pressed with questions more urgently; it was clear time was running out and stalling would end in bloodshed. 

“I can’t–” You mutter over your panicked breathing. 

“Your pa was a doctor.” Bucky interrupts. “You told me yourself that you used to stitch fools up when he was too drunk to do it himself.”

“It’s been years–”

“What do you need?” Bucky’s voice was more firm, demanding even. You note how the other outlaws lingered nearby, twitchy and ready to pull the trigger at any moment. If you continued to stall, you would surely die. So would Charlotte. You would just have to stitch Stark up as quickly as possible, and then danger would finally leave your home. 

“Clean water, cloth, and a sewing kit too.” You gasp out. “They’re upstairs in my room; the sewing kit is in the dresser.”

“Good girl.” Mumbles to you lowly, your stomach twisting as the gravelly sound. Bucky’s gaze raises to meet Steve, who quickly bounds up the stairs to retrieve the objects. 

“Must be the end of times if we’re trustin’ a whore to stitch me up.” Stark grumbles from below, you sigh heavily through your nose, trying to calm your shaking hands. Beside you, Bucky tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, as if trying to comfort you. Somehow, it gives you the courage to breathe again.

“You’re gonna want to lay off that whiskey.” You instruct Stark with a small sniff, fishing the bottle from his grip and wiping your tear-stained face. “You don’t wanna be chuckin’ that back up with a bullet in your gut, trust me.” 

Stark barks out a pained, drunken laugh in response. “Alright, little lady.” His eyes swept over to Bucky. “She always this commandin’? This why you like her in bed, Barnes?” 

Bucky lets out a sound resembling a snarl, but Steve's arrival bearing the requested items muffles any retaliation. You willed your hands to stay steady as you approached Stark, who was still writhing in pain on the table. Your father had called it ‘the calm’ or even ‘God's will’ when a doctor could quieten his worries to have a steady hand while stitching. You’d never believed in his spoutings until that moment, burying the anxiety of the situation as you instead focused your attention on the injury before you. 

With the bloodied shirt pulled up, you turned him slightly to inspect his back. No exit wound. A sharp sigh left your nose as you realized you’d have to dig around and find the bullet yourself and pray it hadn’t burst into more than one piece. Wetting some of the clean cloth, you use it to wipe away the blood from the skin, giving yourself a better view of the entry. Stark tenses and squirms involuntarily beneath your touch, hissing through clenched teeth. 

Your eyes flicker upward toward Bucky and Steve, catching their attention. “I need help holdin’ him down; he’s not gonna stay still even if he wants to.”

Stark seems irritated by your assumptions but keeps his mouth shut. The men are quick to assist you, with two men holding down his legs while Bucky and Steve take his arms and chest. You keep your eyes downcast as you easily unlatch Stark’s belt. 

“Bite.” You guide the injured man, placing the leather belt between his teeth. You’d heard stories of men biting through their own tongues, even shattering their teeth in the height of pain. Best not to take the risk. 

You take the bottle of whiskey, splashing the liquor over your hands before pausing before the wound. You glance over at Stark’s face; there is a look of determination in his eye as he nods for you to proceed. 

Stark’s body reacts instantly to the liquor, jerking against the hands that held him in place. His groans and screams are muffled through the belt as he bites down, his face growing red. Your hands are steady, and your fingers are nimble and quick as you blindly dig through the wound. Muscle constricts around your fingers, hot and sticky against your skin. 

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you search, drowning out the muffled screaming and the puffing of the men as they use all their might to restrain Stark’s squirming and jolts. Your fingers dig deeper, and a small worry grows in your gut that maybe you might not be able to locate the bullet. Blood spills from the wound, slippery copper sliding down his side and splashing onto the tables below. Your heart is in your mouth, the screams growing worse–

Your finger brushes something solid and hard; the object is slippery and small in comparison to the muscle and organ. It takes a few tries to grasp it between your fingers, with the sleek metal proving difficult to grip. 

A sharp sigh of relief leaves your body as you successfully fish it from the wound, the metal clattering to the table. Thankfully, you note that the bullet is also whole. Blood paints your skin; all you can do is wash it away with the water while Stark pants in relief. 

“How much longer?” The redhead woman asks; she has moved to linger near the doors. Outside, a few men hover with guns, as if expecting more law to turn up at any moment. 

“It is small; it won’t take long to stitch.” You explain, your hands remaining steady as you begin to thread one of the larger needles. 

The woman nods. “Make it quick.”

You follow her demands, quickly dousing the wound once more with whiskey. Stark groans, his head lulling from the mixture of drunkenness and exhaustion. If he were one of your father’s patients, maybe you would’ve comforted him and told him it was nearly over. But you were reminded of Charlotte still sniveling by the stairs, Crowley’s head blown open, and his body still slumped behind the bar. 

Empathy evades you as you dig the needle into his flesh, your mouth set into a line as you easily pull the skin together with each stitch. Stark continues to jerk and shake, his body still held steady by the outlaws who watch your movements with interest. 

Within minutes, you have tied off the thread, successfully putting Stark back together again. The outlaws seem silently relieved, if not surprised, by your efficiency as you wrap one of the clean strips of cloth around his middle like a bandage. 

“He will be able to ride?” Bucky asks as you turn back to the bowl of water, cleaning your bloodied hands. 

“The stitches will hold as long as you don’t ride too hard.” You respond, not quite meeting his eye. “If the wound keeps bleedin’ or starts festerin’ don’t give him whiskey. You can find yarrow and greasewood herbs out in the wild; they’ll help him best.”

The redhead woman makes a sound at your words, swinging around to face you. “What does a whore know about herbs? Your doctor daddy taught you that, or ya tryna poison us?”  

You pause your movements, biting your tongue at her harsh tone. “I read it in a book.” You admit sheepishly. 

The room is silent before Stark surprisingly roars with laughter, clutching his wound as he wheezes with pain at the sudden movement. “A whore that can read? Now that is a treat. What’s next? You can do arithmetic?” 

You ignore his quip, instead drying your hands on the remaining cloth. Your father had made sure you could read, though that was before he spiraled into an early grave. Your cousin had helped you as well, the older boy providing you with stories and adventures to consume. You missed the simplicity of those days, riding the horse and moving the cattle without a care for the real world. 

You were pulled away from your thoughts as Bucky gently touched your arm, seemingly having forgotten your new-found distaste for him. You flinch away from his touch like a skittish animal, sidestepping as you quickly depart his side in favor of Charlotte’s. The woman was still crouched near the staircase, shivering, with a large bruise developing across her cheek and her lip split and bloody. 

You can feel Steve hovering nearby, his expression cold as he watched you usher Charlotte to her feet. You knew his irritation wasn’t with you or Charlotte but rather with Parker, who had struck the woman. 

“Is she going to be–” Steve begins to question as you guide Charlotte up the first few steps. You look back, scowling over your shoulder at the outlaw. 

“Don’t.” You hiss at him, watching as he nods in meek surrender. 

Charlotte is slow to walk; her footsteps are clumsy as she shivers and whimpers in your arms. The redhead woman watches the both of you with an expression of distaste. Below the men gather their wits and guns, Stark teeters in place as he gets to his feet with a cocky expression. His gaze follows the woman's, dark eyes landing on the both of you, lingering a few steps up. 

“Hold on there, little lady!” Stark booms up, his words still slightly slurred from the liquor and exhaustion. Charlotte freezes in place, hands clasped rigidly on your arms. You glance back at Stark, hoping he means to just announce their departure instead of demanding your skills once more. 

“There ain't no doctors out in the wild; what am I supposed to do if this wound splits open? Get one of these fools to stitch it up?” He asks, his mouth curled into a cruel smile. The outlaws shift their weight, as if they are also unsure as to where this is going. 

“Find another town to terrorize?” You suggest tugging Charlotte so she is positioned behind you, hidden from their view. 

“Nah…” Stark drawls, staggering a few steps, a revolver swinging on his finger. “I think… it would be easier if you just came along with us.” 

“What?” Bucky and the redhead woman bark in unison before you can react. Your grip on Charlotte tightens, blocking out the bickering between the outlaws below as you tilt your head to whisper to her. 

“Run.” You mutter, dragging Charlotte up the stairs behind you. You had no plan other than to escape. There was no point in fighting out the front door, instead you would have to risk climbing out one of the upstairs windows–

A shot rings out behind you, and Charlotte's body suddenly becomes a dead weight. You can feel the spray of moisture across the back of your neck, but don’t dare turn to see the sight. 

“Did you really need to do that?” Steve shouts from somewhere below, the sound of unfamiliar, wicked laughter carrying up the stairs. Your heartbeat is so loud you can’t hear anything else, only the distorted voices of the outlaws below. Your mouth tastes like blood as you top the stairs, gripping the railing as you turn to race down the hallway.

A pair of hands grasp around your middle, tugging you backward. A scream, louder and more violent than any of Charlotte's, leaves your throat as you thrash in the grip, scratching and kicking as the chuckling man carries you down the stairs. 

“You sure you want her, Stark? She seems like a handful.” The unfamiliar outlaw carrying you asks. 

“Don’t look so pressed, Barnes. My aim’s good enough not to shoot your girl. You got a real thing for her, haven’t ya?” Parker remarks with a grin. 

Sobs escape you as you struggle in the crushing grip of the outlaw, any sense of your father’s mythical ‘calm’ or ‘Gods will’ leaving your body. Animal instinct takes over; Charlotte was dead. Crowley was dead. In a blind panic, you bite down on the arm of your captor, the man yelping in pain and dropping you instantly. 

Your knees bite with pain as you slam into the hard, wooden floors. After stumbling to your feet, you turn to resume your escape. Your attempt is short-lived, as you are stopped by a familiar body. Leather and gunpowder. You bury your head into his chest, exhaustion and fear taking over as you silently beg Bucky to protect you.

“See! She’s got the spirit. We’ll make an outlaw out of you yet.” Stark remarks with another cruel laugh. “And if your stitching proves useless, you can always prove your worth with what's between your legs.” 

The redhead woman lets out an annoyed grumble at that, and over the cackling of the men, you hear her march out of the saloon to ready the horses. 

“Come on,” Bucky mutters to you, guiding you towards the door. You dig in your feet, nausea rising as you watch the men mount their horses through the windows. 

“I don’t want to.” You sobbed quietly. The brunet outlaw sighs, his movements hesitating as if he were conflicted. 

“I can’t do anything to change Stark’s mind–”

“And when you deem me useless? Are you going to shoot me like Crowley, like… like Charlotte?” Your voice quivers and shakes; your vision blurred from the tears streaming down your face. You had hated this place; you had felt its evilness and oppression. But it was your home; it held your friends. You weren’t ready to leap into the unknown or trust these men who had hurt you. To trust Bucky, who had tricked and betrayed you.

“This is not how this was supposed to go.” Bucky mutters under his breath, then, without asking, scoops you over his shoulder to forcefully carry you from the building. Through sobs, you squirm, his shoulder digging into your stomach as you watch the saloon slowly be ripped away from you with each step. 

“Put me down.” You gasp at him as he finally exits the building. “Bucky– Bucky please just put me down–” 

The outlaw obliges, dumping you on your feet next to a horse. “Get on.” He instructs. 

You shake your head, pushing at his chest. “No.”

“Get on the horse.” He demands once more, guiding you towards the horse’s side. 

You begin to push him away harder, with the other outlaws watching as you sob between hitting and struggling as Bucky tries to persuade you to get on the horse. His patience seems to quickly grow thin, and the watchful eyes of his peers grow equally impatient with hateful sneers. 

His hands move quickly, grasping your wrists and tugging you closer to his chest. You freeze as he lowers his head, his hat brushing your hair as he whispers in your ear. 

“If you don’t get on, these boys are gonna tie you up and drag you behind. We don’t want that, do we now? So what is it, all tied up or sitting pretty, sweetheart?” His gravelly, low voice sends a shudder down your spine, your eyelids fluttering shut briefly. 

“I’ll get on.” You mutter back quietly, pulling back. Bucky nods, pleased, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. 

“Good choice.” 

With a shuddering breath, you grip the horn of the saddle, swinging your legs over to mount the horse. It had been months since you last rode, but the muscle memory remained embedded deep in your mind. Bucky was quick to mount up too, his body sliding in behind you while one of his hands lazily wrapped around your waist, reins in the other. 

The band of outlaws were quick to move once everyone was situated, with fearful townsfolk peering out their windows as the herd moved past in a cloud of dust. You tried to ignore the dead bodies that lined the street, their blood staining the loose dirt. You couldn’t let your brain slip into a dark place, thinking of Crowley and Charlotte still warm in the saloon. A nauseous feeling of dread consumed your being as you noted the blood still splattering up your arms and dress, the rocking motion of the cantering horse beneath you not helping. 

You found yourself leaning back into Bucky, the only sturdy thing nearby. Your head lay back against his shoulder as you looked up at the blue skies above, the heat beating down on your exposed skin. 

The pace only slowed as the outlaws felt they had traveled far enough to evade any lawmen acting as backup. The heat had grown unbearable the further you drew from civilization; these wilds were not the ones you had frequented as a teen. There were no rivers, forests, or grass. There was only dirt, sand, and heat. These were what men meant when they spoke of the west, pure, untamed country. 

Bucky had hardly spoken, leaving you alone in your grief and sickness. He held you steady as you silently cried. Even when you could cry no more and your eyes rolled back from the heat, he continued to hold you steady, ensuring his horse kept an even gait. 

The silence was finally broken as Steve slowed his horse, falling in step with the two of you at the back of the party. 

“She ain’t looking too great, Buck.” The blond commented, leaning in his saddle to inspect you closer. You shied away from his eyes, pressing closer to Bucky. 

“It’s the heat.” Bucky murmured in response, his gaze fixed ahead. The redhead woman had slowed her own horse, glancing back at the interaction with interest. 

“Here.” Steve says, retrieving a waterskin from the pack on his saddle. Unscrewing the top, he passes it to Bucky, who in turn offers it to you. You groan, pushing the offer away. At that moment, you’d have rather become one with the bleached bones of the desert. 

Bucky huffs sharply, lifting the waterskin to your lips. 

“Drink,” he commands. “You lost too much energy crying and wailing back there.”

As soon as the earthy, warm water graces your lips, a survival instinct kicks in, and you greedily take a few gulps before finding the strength to push the waterskin away. Bucky seems happy enough with the amount you have taken, passing it back to Steve. 

The blond man shakes his head while screwing the top back on. “I don’t know what Stark was thinkin’ Buck; I don’t think she’s gonna make it out here.” 

Bucky seems to sigh at that, giving Steve a sidelong look. “She’ll be fine.”

Steve shrugs, nudging his horse forward to catch up with the redhead woman. Through your squinted eyes, you make out the two of them exchanging some hushed words. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Steve don’t know what he’s talking about.” Bucky reassures you, one of his large hands patting your thigh. 

“What if he’s right?” You question, your voice cracked and raspy. 

“There’s no need to worry.” He says it with a hum, accompanied by a small squeeze of your thigh. “I’ll look after you, pretty lady.”

[harry-on-broadway]

Loving You Always: A Tying You to Me Extra

Word Count: 5.8K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

***

It was the countdown Quinn noticed first. One of those widgets you could add to the home screen of your phone. There wasn’t a picture or description, but 34 days were left when she first saw it and she quickly tried to calculate what the date could mean. 

It wasn’t the end of Harry’s tour and the date didn’t correspond to any notable birthdays or anniversaries. Unless it was something new Harry had up his sleeve, she had no clue what it could be. 

“Big plans for the summer?” Quinn tried hard to sound casual when she brought it up later that night. Harry was chopping vegetables for a stir-fry as she heated oil in the pan. He paused, a thoughtful smirk on his face, and Quinn could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head as he thought of a sarcastic retort. 

“Well, I’m just making a quick trip over a castle in a couple of days. Have a few more shows here and there but nothing too exciting.” He looked up from the cutting board and flashed her his trademark grin. 

“Nothing else though. No other shows? No filming or fashion things? Like say in 34 days?” Harry’s eyes were back on the vegetables, and at the mention of the date, his hand slipped, the knife nicking the tip of his finger. 

“Shit.” 

“Oh, Harry.” Quinn spun around behind her grabbing a clean paper towel, doubling it over before pressing it against the small cut. “Hold that there,” she said, turning back to toss some of the cut vegetables into the pan. “Is it still bleeding?”.

“No, it wasn’t too bad. Just startled me more than anything. But that’s what I get for letting you distract me.” 

“I distracted you?”

“Yeah, you’re interrogating me when I’m chopping vegetables,” Harry teased. 

“Your hand slipped. I’m sorry, but how is that my fault???” 

“You’re getting all in my business asking weirdly specific questions that make no sense.” 

Quinn flushed, feeling only slightly guilty that she’d been so nosy. “I’m just trying to…plan some things out.” 

“Oh? Like what?”

“I don’t know, lunch?”

“You want to plan a lunch…34 days from now.”

“Yeah.” Quinn held his gaze, unrelenting. 

“You’re something else woman.” He shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. “Inflicting pain on your poor boyfriend, on his well deserved day off. Keep this up and we’ll see if I get you a rin–” Harry blanched, and then cleared his throat. “But, uh, to answer your question, it’s a work meeting that I can’t miss so I’ll have to pass on lunch that day.”

“With Columbia?” The words came out faster than Quinn intended, as she tried to process the words that had almost come out of Harry’s mouth.

“Yeah.” Harry looked at his finger. “Looks like it’s not a serious wound. I’m going to wash up and then I can chop some more if you need it.”

“That would be great.” Quinn’s voice sounded strange to her own ears. “I think we might need more broccoli and carrots.” She went back to pushing vegetables around the pan, paying careful attention and trying to distract herself from the thoughts currently racing through her mind. 

The countdown was the furthest thing from her mind as she fixated and the single word Harry had almost said – ring.  

Rings had been top of mind since he’d given her that trinket after Christmas. While it mostly lived upstairs in the jewelry tray he’d made for her, Quinn had been known to pick it up and put on her left ring finger when she was alone, savoring the physical and symbolic weight of it and praying that a real one would be coming soon. 

Harry returned to her side, chopping and tossing a few more veggies into the pan before pulling dishes from the cabinet. He made no mention of his earlier remark while they ate and it didn’t come up as they cleaned up the kitchen or watched a film after dinner. In fact, Quinn had nearly forgotten about it by the time they were getting ready for bed, until she saw Harry fidgeting with his phone. 

She almost brought it up again, wanting to investigate further, but thought better of the impulse. Harry didn’t take kindly to prying and, after more than six years, she knew the best way to get him to open up was to let him come to her. When he climbed out of bed to fill his glass of water she snuck one glance at his phone and saw that the countdown had disappeared. 

“Lights out?” Harry asked, standing by the switch. 

“Mmhmm,” Quinn said, flicking on her bedside lamp. She opened up her book and watched Harry over top of the pages. He was nonchalant, shuffling across the room, climbing under the covers, and giving her a kiss before turning onto his side and quickly falling asleep. 

Quinn turned a few pages not retaining any of the words. Maybe Harry’s slip of the tongue earlier meant nothing, but as she turned off her light and curled up next to Harry, thoughts of rings, dresses, and weddings danced through her head. 

***

“Jeff, have you seen my parents?” Quinn asked. She’d been doing laps backstage for the last hour and hadn’t managed to locate them. Seeing as this was only their second time at Wembley, she was slightly concerned. 

“Can’t say I have,” Jeff said. “Tommy, have you seen them?” Tommy shook his head and went back to his ongoing conversation. “Sorry, Quinn, Maybe they went out to their seats?”

“Maybe…” Quinn said, unconvinced. “Thanks.”

She headed towards the exit of the room that served as the main hub backstage, preparing to do another lap when she saw her mom, dad, and brother, Alex, being led towards her, escorted by Harry. 

“Oh my God, where were you guys? I’ve been looking all over for you!” Quinn exclaimed, trying not to sound as concerned as she felt. “Did you get lost?”

“I’ll have you know we knew exactly where we were going,” her mother chided. “Harry was giving us a backstage tour, dear. No need to worry.”

“I could have done that, Mom. Harry’s busy. He’s supposed to be onstage in…” She glanced at her watch. “Like 45 minutes.” 

“It was no problem,” Harry said cheerfully. “Nice way for me to calm the nerves before the show.” 

“If you say so…” Quinn glanced at her father, hoping to get him on her side, but instead saw a weird mix of emotions across his face. “Dad, are you alright?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed. You see the stadium on TV and it doesn’t look that big but in person…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. 

Quinn shot Harry a look, silently seeking an answer from him, only getting a shrug in return. 

“As Quinn so kindly reminded me, I should probably head off and start getting ready,” Harry said apologetically. “But make yourself at home and I’ll see you all later.” He planted a pert kiss on Quinn’s temple and made his way to his dressing room. 

Quinn’s father sniffed and blinked rapidly as her mother cheerfully patted his back. Quinn looked over at Alex who, just like Harry, shrugged. 

“Well,” Quinn said. “I guess we can go to the green room and maybe grab some food? I think Anne and some of Harry’s family are already there.” 

Quinn’s parents set off in the direction she pointed and instead of following them, she hung a few steps back, pulling her brother alongside her. 

“What the hell is wrong with Dad?” she whispered. 

“How am I supposed to know? You know how weird he gets when he’s jet-lagged.” 

Quinn stared at Alex. Something was wrong and she hoped it had nothing to do with Harry. He’d met her parents on numerous occasions, joined in on phone calls and Zooms, and even made an appearance at Christmas one year. As great as that was, the unfortunate fact was that it didn’t feel like nearly enough time, and a small part of her wondered if her parents resented that they didn’t get to see her or Harry as often as they should. Her parents had never expressed any reservations, but maybe something had happened. 

Alex continued to walk behind their parents but Quinn grabbed his arm pulling him back. “What went wrong on the tour?”

He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful before shaking his head. “Nothing I can think of.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” 

Quinn looked defeated. She didn’t know why but she thought her dad’s weird behavior could be connected to whatever weirdness she’d seen on Harry’s phone, but she remained answerless and even more confused. “Well, if something does happen, you’ve got to let me know.” 

Alex nodded and they started walking to catch up to her parents. After a moment, he spoke up. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you this, Quinn, but I really like Harry. Like obviously no one is ever going to be good enough for you, but he’s a decent guy. And I’m not just saying that because we got a free trip to London because of him.”

“Oh, well that’s good to know.”

“I’m serious, Quinn. He’s exactly the kind of person you deserve to be with and I hope you see that.” 

Quinn stared blankly. She and her brother were close, but they weren’t close in the share-your-feelings-all-of-the-time way. “Thank you,” she replied cautiously. “Um, I’m pretty fond of Harry myself.”

Alex chuckled. “Funny you say that. Harry said the exact same thing.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, you two are really meant to be.” Her brother quickened his pace leaving Quinn behind, stunned. 

That night as Quinn brushed her teeth she watched Harry in the mirror. He was snuggled beneath the comforter, having showered before they left the venue. His curls were untamed, the clip that usually held them back discarded on the nightstand by his glasses as he squinted at the paperback book in his hand, a sure sign that he was more tired than he was letting on. 

She formulated her plan as she rinsed her mouth. 

“Big day today, huh?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed it.” 

“Mmm, yeah.” Quinn rubbed some lotion onto her hands, trying her best to appear nonchalant. “My parents were raving about how amazing you were and how incredible the venue was. Did they mention anything to you when you gave them that tour?”

If she’d have blinked she would have missed it, but Harry stiffened, his relaxed posture vanishing for a split second before he recovered. “No, they didn’t say anything like that. Your dad was just hung up on how everything’s backwards here.”

“Yeah, that does throw him. Nothing else?”

“Nope.” 

Dammit. She’d thought she’d figured it out but was back at square one. 

“Love, not trying to rush but how much longer are you going be? I think I’m ready to head to bed.” 

She met Harry’s sleepy, tired eyes in the mirror and instantly forgot about her hidden agenda. “I’ll be in in a sec, baby.” 

***

The day had finally come. The final show of the tour. 

Quinn wasn’t sure she’d ever see this day. Over the past two years, the concerts had been a permanent fixture of her life and she measured time in relation to them, able to rattle off exactly what she’d been doing if you named a city and date. And now it was all over. 

It was the perfect night. The weather had miraculously cleared up despite a scorching, stormy morning and the crowd was even more energized than usual. She’d had a good idea of what the night had in store, thanks to Harry’s nervous chatter, and when Harry finally emerged onstage for one last time, she’d been able to relax and cut loose, jumping and dancing around the pit with the rest of his family and friends, singing at the top of her lungs. 

The one surprise of the evening was when Harry returned to the stage and sat down at the piano. He started playing a melody that sounded familiar, something she’d heard echoing through the halls of the house when he couldn’t sleep. A version of the melody that she’d heard nearly every morning he was home, seated at the piano coffee in hand, playing as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. She finally had her answer now as to what it was for and she wiped tears from her cheeks as she listened to him play what was clearly a very personal piece for the nearly silent crowd. 

As she made her way backstage, trailing behind the larger group, she felt…weird. Happy but sad, excited but scared. Tomorrow would be the start of her “normal” life with Harry. No tours, no odd work hours, no time zones keeping them from each other. It was everything she’d dreamed of, so why was she so apprehensive? This break was a good thing. Harry had accomplished more than he’d ever imagined, and after a nice, well-deserved break, he’d be onto his next chapter, personally and professionally. 

While they hadn’t explicitly discussed what would happen between them after this leg of the tour had ended, they’d occasionally danced around the subject. Like on those nights in between shows when they’d found themselves tangled with each other in bed and the connection felt next level, when she felt Harry murmuring secrets only he could understand against her skin. Or the unspoken words that passed between them when she’d let go of his hand and his fingers would linger just a little too long before letting her go. 

They were heading towards…something. She just didn’t know what or when or how. But they’d get there. 

Back in the present Quinn gnawed at her lip, trying to fight back the tears. It had been easy to hide them throughout the day as she’d all but avoided Harry, giving him the space he needed to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. He’d been emotional all week and she wanted to be a solid support for him at this time, which meant limited tears of her own. Sure that her eyes were dry, she gave three quiet knocks on the door, and waited for Harry’s soft response before turning the knob. 

He was sitting on the sofa, shirtless with his head in his hands. His hair was damp and the air was thick with humidity from the shower he’d just taken. The ends of his hair dripped down the towel draped over his back. He looked up, hearing her footsteps, and ran his hand through his hair sending more droplets down his broad back. He opened his arms, and Quinn slipped onto his lap, looping one arm around his neck and using the other to tilt his chin up. 

“You did it, baby,” Quinn said. They were alone in the dressing room but she still spoke softly. “You did it.” 

“I did,” Harry said simply. “It’s done.” 

“And you should be so proud,” Quinn whispered against his lips, before kissing him.

“Still hasn’t sunk in yet,” Harry said hollowly. “Feels like I’m going to be back on the road tonight heading to the next stop. Feels weird to just…be.”

“I need you to listen to me, H. Two years is a long time and you’ve given so much good to the world in that time. You’ve brought joy and happiness and love and peace to millions of people and you’re going to continue to do that for years to come. But now’s your time to rest, to do something for yourself. You’re allowed to relax.” 

Harry looked up, a fresh set of tears welling in his eyes. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he choked out. Quinn tried to wipe the tears from his face, but her vision soon blurred with her own as they sat there crying in each other’s arms. “Thank you for always being there for me and for letting me be exactly who I need to be. I love you in ways I can’t describe. I–” He swallowed and looked like he was about to say something else, but a new sob wracked his body. 

“It’s OK, Harry. I love you too,” Quinn whispered, kissing his cheek and his forehead and his jaw before landing on his lips again. “Do you need a minute by yourself before we join everyone else?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. Let me pull myself together and throw some clothes on.” Quinn busied herself on her phone as Harry dressed and stowed his towel in the laundry basket. A few moments later, she felt his hand on the small of her back. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question and Quinn nodded. 

He held the door open for her and when he exited behind her. He took one last look around before sighing heavily. “Let’s go,” he said. “I’ve got a bottle of tequila with my name on it.” 

Tequila and spirits of all sorts flowed at the afterparty, a gathering filled with Harry’s family and closest friends who had flown in for the occasion. Everyone was fighting for a moment with him, a chance to say how proud they were, how incredible the night was, all statements that brought out his bashful side. His cheeks growing red and his eyes watery as he sucked in his cheeks and tried to keep the tears from falling. 

Quinn kept a respectful distance, following closely, but not intruding on his space. He’d been unusually clingy since they’d left the show, holding onto her tightly, and not letting go until she’d urged him to catch up with his friends. She could tell he was reluctant and he kept looking over towards her, and with each glance she’d give him a nod of encouragement, letting him know that it was OK to follow his own advice. To rest and have fun. 

As the night wore on, Harry grew more comfortable and compliments were traded for drinks, everyone around him offering him shots or glasses of different colored liquids. Quinn was still hovering, but was caught up in her own reverie celebrating with the group that had become an extension of her family as well over the past two years. 

When the sun began to rise and the party started to end, Quinn felt a pair of hands on her hips. Without turning around, she knew it was Harry, able to recognize him by the feel of his hands after all these years. “I guess we should maybe head out?” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “Head home?”

Home aka their villa they’d be spending the next few weeks in. Anne and the rest of the family had made their way over earlier in the evening, and were planning to stay for a brief, post-tour vacation as well. 

Harry slung his arm around Quinn and they watched the sun come up on the horizon. He let out a shaky breath, and without looking, Quinn knew he was crying again. 

“I wish I could bottle this moment,” he said. “Don’t ever want to forget it.” 

“You won’t. And the best part is that you’ll make many more memories down the road.”

“I mean, this, now with you.”

Quinn looked at him puzzled. “Well, we’re going to have more memories again too. Unless you’re also planning to dump me at the end of this tour.” 

Harry laughed, a short chuckle at first followed by a heartier bellow. “Fuck,” he said when the laughter had abated. “It’s hard to believe that’s what happened the last time a tour ended.” 

“Would you like me to book my ticket back now or later?”

“Hate to break it to you love but you’re stuck with me.” 

“Oooh, really?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got some big plans for us.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmhmm,” Harry said. “We’re going to take a nap. A nice long one. Maybe a couple a day.”

“Go on…”

“Sex. Can’t forget that.”

“Of course.”

“Some fine dining. My own recipes and some restaurants.”

“Can’t wait.” 

“Pool time, walks by the beach, heading into town to go to the museums. We’re going to do it all.” He planted a kiss on her temple.

“I want to do everything with you, H.” 

“I want to do everything with you, Agent Q.” 

Quinn felt a flutter in her chest. Harry’s use of that first nickname he’d given her had grown less frequent over the years in favor of more romantic or even cheesier ones. But that callback to their start had her filled with love and affection. 

“Car’s here,” Harry said. “After you.” He opened the door and let Quinn slide in, pulling the door shut after him. 

Harry chatted pleasantly with the driver in Italian, and Quinn felt the flutter in her chest travel down her body. Hearing the language flow smoothly off his tongue did things to her she didn’t understand. However, there was little she could do about those feelings as they fell into bed, snoring side-by-side within minutes. Hours later, Quinn awoke, feeling Harry hard against her thigh and when he stirred, he had her pressed against the mattress in minutes, whispering hushed proclamations of love as he rocked into her, before they finished and fell asleep again. 

When they roused in the late hours of the afternoon, they were greeted by Anne who had taken the liberty of preparing dinner and they enjoyed the family meal, Harry smiling from ear to ear the entire time. In exchange, Harry offered to do the dishes, shooing Quinn away when she offered to help. 

From her spot on the couch where she nursed her second – or maybe third – glass of wine, Quinn observed Harry and Anne, and the easy way he chatted with his mother. She couldn’t tell what they were discussing but Anne was focused intently on her son as he talked. Quinn could tell by the way his back moved that Harry was discussing whatever subject passionately as Anne nodded along. Harry was a man of few words – he was always warm but he never used two words when one would do, so his sudden talkativeness was a little strange, but Quinn just attributed it to the emotional week he was coming down from, and when he came into the living room, hands still warm from the soapy water, she cuddled into his solid frame as they settled in to watch a film. 

The rest of the week was equally relaxing. Quinn and Anne took turns doting on Harry, making sure he was comfortable at all times, refilling his drink and getting him whatever he needed. Harry, in turn, organized outings and activities for everyone. Boating around the lake, shopping around town, and a wine tasting at a local vineyard, followed by lengthy dinners until everyone left Italy to head back home one by one, leaving Quinn, Harry, Anne, and a few select family members remaining until it was finally Anne’s turn to leave. 

“I’ve loved having you here, mum. What time do you need to be at the airport?” Harry asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 

“Harry!” 

“What?” He looked at Quinn. “I don’t want her to miss her flight! And she’s probably sick of us by now.”

“You don’t have to rush her out the door. Let her finish her toast!”

“He’s fine, dear,” Anne said, gently, with a teasing glint in her eye. “I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“See,” Harry said as if her statement proved his point. 

“Anne, don’t listen to your son. You’re perfectly fine to stay a few more days. That’s what we were planning on anyway.” Quinn turned to Harry, who had grown very pale. “Right?”

“Well, yeah, but I just figured we’d enjoy the…privacy.” 

Quinn flushed. The presence of family members in adjacent rooms had never stopped them from “enjoying privacy” in the past. In fact, they’d grown pretty skilled at having a near silent quickie when the need called. What was his problem? “Harry, our calendars are basically empty for the next six months. Your mother is welcome to stay. Anne, please, stay as long as you want.” 

Harry’s eyes bounced between Quinn and his mother. “Well, it’s just–”

“I already booked my flight, sweetheart, so it wouldn’t make much sense to change it now,” Anne said to Quinn. “But I really appreciate you wanting me to stay.” 

“Oh, OK,” Quinn said, defeated. “Maybe next time.” She collected the empty breakfast plates from the table. “Anyone want more coffee?” Both Anne and Harry declined, and as Quinn turned her back to deposit the dishes in the sink, she completely missed the silent look of thanks Harry shot his mother. 

Quinn studied Harry closely in the days following Anne’s departure. All of the weird behavior he’d displayed over the last few months had become non-existent and he was just Harry again. No shutting his phone as Quinn approached. No furtive glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. No hushed phone calls in other rooms. All of that had been replaced by his normal behavior. Grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to him as they walked into the village for coffee and pastries. Pressing a kiss against her neck as he read the page over her shoulder. Kisses good morning and goodnight. Smothered in affection, Quinn forgot about all of the questions she’d been harboring throughout the summer and resolved to just soak up this uninterrupted time with Harry. 

A few days later, Harry suggested they have a night in and try out a new recipe, a tortellini dish he’d apparently been dying to try. Quinn didn’t know what was so special about this pasta, which looked nearly identical to the pasta they’d eaten two nights ago, but she held her tongue after seeing how happy Harry looked standing behind the counter in his apron. 

She had to admit, the pasta was delicious, and having Harry by her side made it even better. When their plates had been emptied, she stood, figuring dish duty was only fair in exchange for Harry having cooked. She dropped the dishes in the soapy water with a splash. 

“Just leave those dishes for now. It’s a beautiful sunset tonight.” 

“Oh-kay…” Quinn dropped the sponge in the sink and dabbed her hands on the dish towel.

“Figured we shouldn’t waste the night. Thought we could enjoy another glass outside?” Harry held a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. 

“Sure. When in Rome, right?”

“Give or take 100 kilometers.” 

“Since when are you Mr. Mathematics?”

“Since I grew concerned that you don’t know your Italian geography.” 

Quinn playfully smacked Harry’s arm, before leaning into his side. “Well let’s go then! That wine’s not going to drink itself.”

They sat side by side on the garden swing. Quinn kicked her sandals off and pulled her feet under her as Harry poured them two hefty glasses. Quinn turned to look at Harry and raised her glass. “To a successful tour and even more successful celebration of all your hard work.”

“Our hard work,” Harry gently corrected. “You were as much a part of everything as I was.” 

Quinn blushed. “A successful celebration of all of our hard work.” She paused. “Here’s to more amazing moments and just as many simple ones.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Harry said softly, touching the rim of his glass to Quinn’s. “Cheers.”

They both took a sip of the wine. 

“Wow, that’s good,” Quinn said. “Is this from the vineyard?”

“Not quite,” Harry said slowly. “It’s a Chardonnay. Cellar No. 8.”  

Quinn frowned, trying to figure out why that particular wine was familiar. “Have we had that before.” 

“Just once.” 

“When?”

“Um, it was the night we got dinner at that Italian restaurant near your office. I met you on your dinner break.” His voice had the slightest tremor to it. “It was a couple days after we ran into each other again. I was going to ask if you wanted to give us another try.” 

The memory came to Quinn in a flash. “And instead I asked you to get my boyfriend a ticket to the Met.” She laughed. “Jesus Christ, do I know how to ruin a moment or what?”

Harry laughed and pulled her in for a hug. “It wasn’t ideal, but I wouldn’t say you ruined anything. Everything between us happened at exactly the right time. It’s meant to be. I mean who knows, if we’d gotten back together that night, we might not be sitting here now.”

“That’s very true.” She laid her head against Harry’s chest and closed her eyes. The moment felt perfect. 

“Quinn, I want to marry you,” Harry said, jolting Quinn to attention. 

“What?”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to call you my wife. And I guess I want to know if you’d be alright with that…” He trailed off, losing all bravado the more he spoke. Quinn stared at him, truly speechless for the first time in her life. “Please, for the love of God say something, Quinn.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Umm, yeah,” Harry laughed nervously. “Not really something you joke about.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Am I sure?” Harry laughed a full belly laugh. 

“I mean, I’m kind of a lot. And not in the best way. I mean, I overthink everything, I always manage to spoil your romantic surprises and ruin the moment…”

“You don’t say?”

“See! Are you sure?”

“Quinn, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. When I think about what I’ll remember 60 years from now, yeah, I’ll remember touring the world, but what will really stand out is you. The way I can hear your laugh in the crowd when I make a terrible joke. The look on your face when I play you a new song. The way you curl up next to me when you’re really tired. The way you’ve trained me to get rid of all the green Skittles. Your determination, your dedication to us. The love you show me every day. That’s what I’ll remember, Quinn.” 

“Yes, Harry.” Quinn cleared her throat. “I want to marry you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.” 

“Are you sure?” Harry laughed as Quinn shoved him. 

“Yes, I have never been more sure of anything.” 

“Well, alright then.” Harry shifted in his seat, lifting up onto one side to reach into his left pants pocket, producing a velvet box. His hands were shaking ever so slightly, causing Quinn to reach out and steady them gently. “Thank you, love,” Harry said with a sniff.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Quinn said with a small smile. 

Harry slowly opened the box to reveal a diamond ring nestled in the cushion, earning a gasp from Quinn. “Did I pick well?” he asked. 

Quinn tried to think of a joke, something quippy to say to play down the litany of emotions she was feeling in the moment, but for what felt like the first time in her life, the first time in their relationship, she played it straight. “Yes, it’s perfect.” She took his face in her hands and pulled him to kiss him slowly, doing her very best to memorize everything about the two of them at that moment. 

“So I picked really well then…noted,” Harry said with a breathless laugh, running his hand through his hair. He blinked hard and Quinn could see a few tears fall. “Shit,” he said. “Thought I was all cried out but apparently not.” Quinn reached up to wipe the tears away, and as she pulled away, Harry caught her hand and kissed her fingertips, her palms, her wrist, pulling her close, until she was nearly on top of him, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“This is really hard sometimes, but having you next to me makes it so much easier,” he said. 

“Well, good news, I’m not going anywhere,” Quinn managed to get out before another wave of tears overtook her. 

“That’s the best news I’ve gotten all month,” Harry replied, kissing her again.

Quinn looked down at her hand, now resting against Harry’s chest, fully appreciating the sparkling ring on her finger. “How did you manage to plan this?” she asked. 

“I’ve been working on it for a while,” Harry admitted. “Started looking at rings after our stay at Jeff’s. When I finally realized that I was the person I needed to be for you.”

“That was like three years ago. Harry, are you serious?” 

“What can I say, I’m really good at keeping secrets.” He chuckled. “The rest of it slowly came into place after.” He chuckled. “I was terrified you were onto something when you saw that countdown on my phone.”

“What was it for?” Quinn asked. “The day has already passed so it couldn’t be for this.”

“You were counting?”

“Of course,” Quinn exclaimed. “You really think I’d see a mystery countdown and not try to figure out what it was for?” 

“I had to meet the jeweler in between tour stops and didn’t want to forget.” Harry laughed. “But honestly, I don’t even know how I could forget. This is the only thing I’ve been able to think of for months.”  

“Really?”

“Really. I kept coming up with plans and then scrapping them because nothing felt right. A proposal during lockdown didn’t feel right, and after things reopened we were both so busy so I figured I would do something simple. Like I’d ask you on the waterfront or while we went for a walk. Or I’d spell it out in Scrabble tiles or whatever it would take to make it the perfect moment so you could have a great story. I was telling my mum about it and how I wanted to do it while we were here and she just told me to stop worrying and that I’d find the perfect moment. And that’s what happened tonight. We were sitting there, eating dinner and it came to me. Any moment when I’m with you is the perfect moment.” 

“Stop it,” Quinn sniffed. 

“I’m serious.”

“Well then, I’d have to agree. Everything is perfect when we’re together.” 

Harry wrapped his arm around Quinn and they sat next to each other, taking the moment in and enjoying each other's company. Sitting next to Harry, feeling his chest rise and fall, Quinn couldn’t remember the last time they’d been able to be so present with no worry about what was to come tomorrow. Sure, they’d need to call their families and then there’d be a wedding to plan, but for right now it was just her and Harry and everything was as it should be. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

“Quinn?” 

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” 

***

talk to me! || story inspo

taglist: @rivercran @daydreaming-laur @oh-honey-styles @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac @tbslhrry @andwhenshesays @hslllot@luvonstyles @woody32271 @ambee789 @very-berry-harry @last-saturday-night @confusedbansheee @kakaym @daphnesutton @bableliketable @lauloupi@kkrenae @sing-me-a-song-harry @soup-sex-and-sun-salutations @sweetwanderlust05 @deepestsweetsarbiter @kahluamystery97 @thurhomish @honeybluebirds @daydreamingofmatilda @indierockgirrl @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @mleestiles @theekyliepage @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes

[set-phasers-to-whump]

A&E

prompt: stitches

whumpee: river cartwright

fandom: slow horses, slough house

hi here's the follow up to this fic. i hope you enjoy!

He ends up, eventually, in the crowded waiting room of an A&E, a bloody towel pressed against the wound in his shoulder and Louisa sitting beside him, looking equal parts peeved and concerned. 

He hadn’t even asked her to come—he’d found himself at Slough House, it being the nearest building to where he’d been, and he’d intended on making use of its first-aid kit and letting that be that. Except she’d been there, and she’d taken one look at him and insisted upon emergency medical help. 

And, to be fair, he’s not exactly against it. His arm really fucking hurts. 

They sit there in silence (well, silence between the two of them. The rest of the room is horribly noisy) until, at long last, River’s name is called. 

Louisa follows him—he’s not sure whether that’s allowed, but she flashes her Service ID and no one asks any questions.

Or, not any detailed questions. He’s able to explain that it was a knife which did this, that he has no idea who or where his assailant is, but when the nurse starts pressuring him for more information, Louisa says, “MI5. He can’t answer that,” and the questions stop. 

Though, honestly, he doesn’t have much else to say. He doesn’t know anything. Lamb had asked him to go poking around this abandoned office building for some unknown reason, and for lack of anything better to do, he’d gone. It’s not even his fault this time. He had hardly gone running headfirst into trouble. It had found him, all on its own. 

He’s thinking about these things to distract himself from what he knows is coming. This being the removal of his coat and shirt and the tending-to of the gash on his arm with sutures. 

The nurse cleans the skin first, which could be worse. It stings, but not terribly. And then she goes in with a syringe of local anesthetic and River turns his head squarely away from the action. He does not want to see this. 

It’s a very strange sensation when the nurse begins stitching. He can sort of sense it, but there’s no pain. This emboldens him to take a look, but as soon as he catches sight of the needle poking its way in and out of his own skin, he very quickly turns away again. 

Louisa catches his eye, raises her eyebrows in a silent question. He shakes his head slightly, I’m fine, and she sort of smiles. 

The nurse finishes the stitches and tells him about how to properly care for them. River tries his best to pay attention, but notes Louisa typing something on her phone. She’ll remember, if he doesn’t. 

The nurse also cleans up the blood from his face and his hand, places adhesive strips across the gashes there, gives him more instructions. 

And just like that they’re done. He’s given a prescription for painkillers, hardly stronger than the ones he’s got at home, and the next thing he knows they’re out in the parking lot and Louisa is looking at him. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, feeling like she’s expecting him to say something.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she replies, a little stiffly. “C’mon, let’s get to a chemist.”

“You don’t have to come with me. I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Tough shit, I’m coming with.”

River shrugs lopsidedly. He doesn’t mind Louisa coming, actually. He doesn’t want her to come with him if she doesn’t want to, but if she does—

Well, he’s hardly going to turn down her company. 

“Alright, let’s go, then.”

They set off, and Louisa lightly bumps his uninjured shoulder with her own. The brief contact is nonetheless meaningful, and River returns it, leans into her perhaps a bit too heavily so that she has to push him back up. 

“Thanks,” he says, again.

“You already said that.”

“I know, but I really mean it.”

Louisa looks at him in a way that makes him feel, despite everything that’s just happened to him, quite content. “You’re welcome,” she replies, and they continue on.

thanks for reading! i am once again doing my best to sound british with not a clue as to whether it's successful lmao.

[kyohaku-kannen]

˗ˏˋ 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 'ˎ˗

𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐃 through the city in search for a specific teen. His gold eyes scanned across the area while he jumped from building to building. Faltering he came to a stop on top of a roof and looked down into the alleyway bellow. Leaning on the walls of the alleyway was a woman with h/c hair. Raising an eyebrow he slowly sunk into his shadow.

"Ahah..I should have been paying attention..." The woman muttered out as she held her side before letting out a small laborer breath. Her e/c eyes glanced around and took notice of a black cat sitting not too far from her. Raising an eyebrow she tilted her head before holding out her hand slowly. The cat walked over and brushed itself against her hand. Smiling slightly she winced as she forced herself to stand.

"It's...it's not that bad.." The woman sighed out then struggled to make her way through the alleyway. She was nearly home anyhow and normally at this time at night no one would be wondering the area she lived in.

'And my phone is dead...'

Finally she made it to her home and unlocked her front door. As she stumbled into her home she noticed the same black cat from the alleyway. Smiling softly she let the cat inside and locked her front door.

"Heh..aren't you adorable..." She muttered looked down at the cat. Glancing away from the cat she made her way to her bathroom. Heaving out a small sigh she managed to get her first aid kid and sit herself on the toilet. The cat rested near her legs, gently pawing at her leg.

"Hmm I'll just need a moment.." The woman muttered as she tried to get what she needed to clean her wound. Black spots began to fill her vision and this caused her to frown.

"After a little nap..."

'Hm blood lost...thought the red stuff was suppose to stay inside.'

"What attacked her...?" He muttered out as he finished cleaning and bandaging the h/c haired woman's wounds. Once the woman had passed out he was quick to work on the woman's wounds in order for her not to die. Thankfully the wound wasn't bad enough that he'd need to take her to the hospital.

Meaning she'd live.

'Better question would be why am I helping this random woman.'

He grumbled then picked the woman up from the toilet seat. Walking out of the bathroom he looked around the house. He wasn't sure where the woman's bedroom was but he did need to lie the unconscious woman down.

'If Wukong ever heard of this he probably wouldn't shut up about it.'

Stopping near an opened room door he realized that it was the woman's bedroom. Walking into the room he made his way over to the woman's bed. Gently he lied her onto the bed then pulled the blankets over her.

'Although I'm sure Mk would be happy..too happy.'

Shaking his head, he was quick to leave the room and head back towards the bathroom. Stepping into the bathroom he briefly glanced around the bathroom before he began to put up the first aid kit.

Though he wouldn't mind messing with the woman, it seemed like some good entertainment.

✦

"Hmm.." Y/n hummed as she tilted her head to the side, with her arms crossed. The black cat that sat on her counter simply looked at her before also tilting their head.

"I don't..remember getting you." She stated and watched as the cat simply tried to paw at her arms. Shaking her head she simply decided to keep the cat, she'd been meaning to get one anyhow. Although the issue she had now was not having cat food. That and possibly needing to go the the hospital for her injury. Her gaze shifted from the cat and to her clock that hung above her calendar.

"Oh shit I'm late for work!" With this she quicky -as quick as she could with her injury, got ready for work. Before she could really rush out her front door she felt something land in her shoulder getting a startled yelp from her. Looking over she could see the black cat resting in her shoulder. She wanted to leave the cat but the look the cat gave her.

'Damn you cat and your all might adorableness!'

Giving in she simply made her way out the door with the cat lazily lying on her shoulders. The walk on the way to work was eventful to say the least. The nice old couple she had for neighbors greeted her and happily gave her new cat friend a snack on their way.

"I should name you.." Y/n muttered to herself then she frown in thought.

'I should probably ask someone else for naming this very well distinguished cat..before I name him Sir Butler-'

Slipping her way inside of her work building she quickly went to go clock in for work. Clocking in she flinched having heard someone suddenly say her name.

"Hey Y/n you got a new scar- is that a cat?" Y/n looked over her shoulder to see her close friend. There stood a woman with amber skin and black curly hair that past her shoulders and dark brown eyes. She wore a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black dress pants along white socks and black flats.

"Yep I kinda woke up and they were in my house and they wanted to, come with me I guess." Y/n shrugged and this earned a hit to the face with the black cats tail. Y/n gave the cat an offended stare and Y/n's friend spoke up once more.

"Hm well I guess your lucky we're allowed to bring pets in." Her friend shrugged before she then stood next to Y/n patting the black cats head.

"Yes because our boss is awesome." Y/n grinned before making her way to the break room.

She needed some coffee.

"Oh Li weren't you suppose to be leaving today to go visit your parents?" Y/n asked as she began to make some coffee. She was so thankful that everyone at her job was so kind. The break room was often filled with many snacks for everyone to take.

"Yeah but turns out they kinda wanted to surprise me with a visit. I ended up making them stay with me instead of them staying at the hotel they had booked." Li said with a bright grin. Y/n continued to happily chat with her friend as they both made their way to their desks.

'She acts like nothing happened yesterday...or does she not remember much?'

"Gah-" Y/n was wacked in the face with the black cats tail once more.

"Sir Butler!"

"Sir Butler?"

✦

It was surprisingly easy to sneak away from Y/n and go visit Mk and Bai He. Macaque looked around the park that Y/n had decided to wonder off to. He was actually having fun messing with Y/n and being around her, mostly for the free food he'd get. He practically almost always went with Y/n to work and it was very entertaining to also mess with Y/n's co-workers. Mostly bothering Li, it seemed like she could just tell whenever he was going to cause trouble.

"Don't you dare." Li said as she glared at Macaque who happily sat on the counter. Looking down at Li's coffee cup he glanced back at Li. Staring directly at Li he used his tail to swipe the cup off the counter and Li tried her best to catch tbe cup.

The best part is Y/n never believing that 'Sir Butler would do something so terrible'. Or at least that was for the first week before he started lying directly on her keyboard when she was working or massacring her coffee cups.

"Please give that back." Macaque perked up at the familiar voice and hit Y/n's face with his tail to get her attention. Y/n moved her head away from Macaque's tail and was about to protest at the others actions before she heard the sound of someone in distress.

"Please just give it back-" Y/n frowned and quickly turned to follow the voice. As she got closer she could hear the sound of laughter. Finally she made it to the laughter and could see some kids holding up a black plush cat.

"Please give it back-" A little with black hair that reached her shoulder with bangs. She wore a beige jacket over a white shirt and a pink skirt along with white shoes and a pink hairband. The girl looked close to cry at this point and this made Y/n frown further.

'Hell no.'

"What are you going to do cr-" Suddenly one of the three kids bothering the little kid stopped mid sentence. The plush was no longer in his hand making all four of them glanced over to where it could have gone. Y/n now stood behind the three kids with a stern glare and the plush in her hands. Before she could say much the kids were quick to run off.

"Here." Y/n spoke with a soft smile as she handed the girl her black plush cat. The girl wiped away her tears and happily took her plush cat back.

"Thank you." The little girl smiled and Y/n wondered rather or not she should leave now.

'hell no, I'm not leaving this little girl here alone-!'

"Do you want to go get some ice ream?" Y/n asked as she crouched down in front of the girl with a warm smile. The little girl gave a small nod.

✦

"How did you meet Macaque?" The little girl; Bai He asked as she tilted her head lightly. Both Y/n and Bai He sat on a park bench with ice cream in hand. Macaque sat in between the too having Bai He gently pat his head. Macaque perked up at Bai He's question with brief panic, he really should not have been surprised the little girl recognized her.

"Oh well he kinda just popped up one day, although it's nice to know he has a name." Y/n said with a smile as she looked down at Macaque.

"Does he belong to you?" Bai He tilted her head in confusion before it dawned on her.

'She doesn't know he's not actually a cat.'

"No, he just drops by often." Bai He spoke, giving a half lie. Y/n nodded with a small smile and Macaque sat wondering if he should soon actually tell Y/n himself. Even so he silently thanked Bai He, rubbing his head against her hand.

-✧-

Y/n waved off Bai He with a smile as she left the others house. There was no way she was going to let the little girl go home alone. That being said she made sure that Bai He got home safely. Amazingly enough though it seemed like Bai He's mother worked at her job as well. They had conversed for a while after that, before she had actually left.

Looking up at the sky she noted how the sun had practically all but left the sky.

"Macaque.. you have a unique name, I guess Sir Butler is gonna have to be a nickname now." Y/n smiled over to Macaque who lazily laid on her shoulders. As she walked past an alleyway she went to look ahead once more but in front of her was a hand. Her eyes widened and she let out a muffled yelp, as she was pulled into the alleyway the hand over her mouth.

"Fuck!" Y/n grunted as she was thrown against the ground. Macaque had fell off her shoulders at the sudden force and Y/n was quick to take him into her arms. Looking up her eyes widened at who was in front of her. She went to speak but her eyes caught something that shined in her assaulters hand.

"Hold on buddy." Y/n said to Macaque as she quickly got up and began to run down the alleyway in order to get away from the other.

'Why is he attacking me...we were friends right-!'

Her assaulter..was another close co-worker friend of hers. But she couldn't think of any reason as to why the other would suddenly attack her. Turning a corner she halted as she realized it was a dead end.

"Ah-!" She yelped as she was suddenly pushed forward and onto the ground. When she hit the ground she accidentally dropped Macaque. Y/n went to grab him but suddenly shouted in pain as she'd been suddenly stabbed in her side.

"This will be easier if you quiet down whore.." Emerald green eyes looked down at her. Y/n looked up at her 'friend' in fear, the other looked down at her so coldly. Grunting she quickly punched the other in the face. This caused him to stumbled away from her taking his knife with him. Y/n placed her hand over her wound and quickly glanced around the alleyway looking for any sort of weapon.

Perking up she took notice of a thick iron pole on the ground. Rushing over she grabbed the iron pole and could hear the other running behind her. With one swift swing she turned to hit the other only for him to duck then punch her in the stomach.

"Not a good idea bud." Y/n and her co-worker looked over and they barely could see anything before a loud crash could be heard. Sitting up quickly Y/n glanced over and saw her Co-worker unconscious and on the ground.

"Wh-What.." Y/n muttered before her legs suddenly gave out.

'I nearly died-holy crap!'

Macaque looked at Y/n who slowly turned to look at him. This time he was no longer a cat and that seemed to have startled her. Although what surprised him was that she didn't seem to fear him.

"Thank you.." Y/n muttered out and Macaque simply grinned.

"Don't thank me, it would be a real shame if my favorite owner suddenly died." Macaque began as he walked over to Y/n before crouching in front of her.

"I wouldn't get to mess with you any longer~" Macaque hummed out and he watched Y/n stare at him with confusion before her eyes suddenly widened. Moving back she pointed at him and shouted-

"Sir Butler!?" Macaque chuckled at this then picked up Y/n, earning a startled yelp from her.

"The one and only~"

"I cant believe it, you under stood me with entire time! Do you know how many coffee mugs I lost because of you!" Y/n shouted out as she hit at Macaque's chest although not putting much effort into her hits.

"I know, your expression every time was hilarious~"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Random one-shot idea I had and I might make another part to this. Thought it would be funny if Macaque found Y/n injured instead of Y/n finding him injured. :D

[sensei-venus]

I have to get my wisdom teeth removed soon and I'm scared. Could you maybe do something with poly hawk and moon taking care of reader after she gets her wisdom teeth out and she's really loopy and frightened by a lot

(Unedited) (I tried really hard on this, but letting y’all know, I don't have wisdom teeth. Idk how or why but I don't so I don't have to worry about them.💀) (Mentions of blood & teeth pulling)

“Whyyyyy am I-here???” Reader moaned out around the multiple cotton balls that were shoved in her mouth. She whimpers and looks around the dentist's lobby. Her hand travels up to her face and over her cheeks.

It's quickly pulled away by Moon who just gently shushes her. Moon wants to laugh just a little but she knows Reader isn't all there. It wasn't right to laugh at the poor girl.

Hawk looks over at the two girls before signing the last of the paperwork from the dentist. He had to sign a few forms about the aftercare for Reader’s mouth. She had all over her wisdom teeth pulled in one sitting.

“Moonnnnyyy why does my face feel funny?? Can we get food? Pleeeesssd?” Reader starts to tear up as Moon starts to help get her standing. Hawk grabs the small aid kit the dentist staff gave him a long with pamphlet on how to take care of her gums, and a small prescription for some pay meds. Hopefully, Moon would keep the disoriented girl busy in the car while he ran into the local pharmacy to pick up her new meds. He watched as she struggled to move with Moon out of the lobby. He walked behind them just in case Reader tried to take a tumble.

Their girlfriend was still outing of it from the anesthesia.

Hawk slowly helped get her into the car with the help of Moon by his side. They struggled as she tried to borderline escape them. Trying to get out of the vehicle from the other side. He was quick to lock the door with his keys.

“Sweety calm down. We can get you yogurt when we get home. It's nice and cold and will feel so good on your gums.”

“My gums?? What's wrong with my gums?”

Hawk got into the car and started the engine. Keeping his eyes on the road he tried his best to listen to their conversation in the back seat. Moon sat next to the other girl stroking her thigh.

Suddenly Reader started to whimper and cry, making Hawk look back in the mirror.

“Why is there bloodddd?! Where are my teeth? Hawk, they took my teeth.”

“Babe, they pulled your wisdom teeth, the nice dentist said they had to go because they were starting to hurt you remember?”

“They stole my teeth!!” she sobbed as Moon tried her best to hold back a laugh. Hawk was in the same boat trying to keep his own laughter down. He coughed into his hand. His eyes go back to the road ahead of them. Luckily the trip to the pharmacy wasn't that long and Moon was able to talk Reader out of going inside with him.

Doing his best he grabbed a few extra ice packs and picked up her painkillers. He hoped that those would be enough to get her through the next week or two as she healed.

The ride back home was perfect besides Reader's occasional mumbling.

When they where finally back hike everything started to settle down. Reader was ushered in front of the tv in their room with a newly frozen ice pack and her first round of painkillers. Moon brought her the fluid and bottle she needed to clean out her raw and open gums. She helped remove the nasty blood and spot-soaked cotton balls from her mouth and the old gaze.

For once Hawk was happy that he had seen and dealt with a lot of nasty shit in karate. Most of the wounds and gross cuts he suffered in karate were nothing like this. But still, he felt trained enough to help wash Reader’s gums out. She moaned and tried to jerk away from him at first. But with some help, he was able to get her mouth and gums rinsed out.

Moon shivered as she caught a quick glance at the girl spitting out the gross red-tinted water into the small bowl they gave her.

“I love you guys~” Reader said as Moon stuffed a spoon full of half-frozen yogurt onto her mouth. Her eyes fluttered as the cool food passed over her sore gums. She slumped into the mound of pillows behind her.

Hawk grabbed the tv remote and scanned though one of their streaming apps. He found one of her favorite long movies and clicked it on for her. Lazily she opened her eyes a little and watched the intro startup. She smiled a little at the sound of the intro music and narration coming through the speakers. Moon spooned another mouth full of food into her mouth and cuddled up next to her.

Hawk felt a small smile creep onto his face. He pulled one of the blankets from the bottom of the bed and placed it over the two girls. Slowly he drifted over to them, sliding in next to Reader.

He sighed one last time as Reader cuddled onto his side. Her head rested on his chest as they watched the movie.

It was definitely going to be a long few weeks, but at least they had a crap ton of organic yogurt and painkillers.

[specialagentlokitty]

Castle x reader - my badass hero

FRANK CASTLE X BADASS READER ONS OMS OMG PLEASE LIKE SPIDEER READER AND ROMANCE PLWASE HOKY SHIT - @nyxiethesimp 💜

Walking into the precinct, you were aware of all the gazes on you, and you pushed the man forward you were holding.

“You win again.” Beckett said.

Grinning under the mask a little bit, you jumped on a desk and sat in it, swinging your legs back and forth.

“You called for help, I helped, it’s what I do.”

“You’re a vigilante, last time I checked that is illegal.”

“Yeah but I’m on your side, so, in a way isn’t that a win for you Detective?”

She hummed a little bit, slapping you in the back of the head with some files.

“Get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You jumped of the desk, holding your hand out your shot a web at the flask that was sat on the table and waved it in the air.

“Later!”

“Hey come on!” Beckett yelled.

You headed back to the elevator and stood in it, giving her a little wave as the doors closed.

Leaning against it, you waited for the doors to open again, and you grinned even more as you stepped out, handing the flask towards the man gawking at you.

“No way…”

“Heya Castle. Take this back to Beckett for me.”

He took it without a work and watched as you made your way towards the doors.

“Wait! Wait! Come on!”

Castle tried to chase after you, and just a he got outside he watched as you went swinging into the distance.

He just stood there in awe.

Of course Castle knew where to find you, so later on that night he made his way to the top of his apartment building.

“You could just come inside, like a normal person.”

You shrugged a little.

“It’s more fun this way.”

“Right, right. So… am I ever going to get a tour of the city like that?” He grinned.

Castle walked over, placing his hands on your shoulders and frowned as he pulled his hand away.

“You’re bleeding, are you alright?”

You swatted his hand away, turning around to look at him.

“It’ll heal in no time, get outta here.”

“I live here!”

You grinned a bit, standing up, pacing back and forth.

“Yup, and it’s so easy to break into your building, nice clothes by the way, probably should get some locks though.”

“You didn’t..”

You laughed, jumping over him, landing on the other side.

“Nah, I didn’t. I did take some food from your fridge though, being a vigilante don’t pay all that well you know.”

“Are we at least going to take a look at that wound?”

“Nah, I gotta go, later.”

Jogging over, you pulled the bottom part of your mask up and kissed his jaw before running towards the edge and jumping.

Castle rolled his eyes and made his way back down the stairs.

He knew you broke into his apartment most nights, it’s why he always had extra food.

But he had never seen you bleed before, and it did worry you, despite how he knew you could look after yourself.

So, he kept himself glued to the TV, watching the news waiting for you to appear.

And when you did you were in a clean suit, no sign on injury as you helped the NYPD tackle a few thugs who had been targeting stores.

He sat there, popcorn in a bowl in his lap as he watched you dodging attack after attack.

He was practically on the edge of his sit, these guys didn’t seem to be playing around.

But soon you got them down, stuck in a trap of webs that you had made, and after some small talk with the officers you were gone.

He carried on watching the news, and soon enough he heard a small clatter come from his kitchen.

“Seriously! Just knock!”

“Shut up!”

He chuckled.

Castle sat there, waiting for you to come through, and after a short while you did, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of shorts.

“You’re going to run out of suits you known.”

“It’s fine, I’ll make more.”

You stood next to him, taking some popcorn from him as you stood watching the news.

“Ah. No. You’ve done enough. Sit.”

Castle quickly changed the channel.

You sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder, and when he was sure that you weren’t looking he reached over, trying to get a look at your injury.

You quickly brought your hand up, grabbing his wrist, tilting your head back in order to look at him.

“Don’t.” You warned.

“Just a look, please?”

“It’s fine.”

He sighed, moving his hand away from your shoulder, placing it on your head instead.

“All I’m saying is that you need to be more careful. Or even better stop.”

“I thought you liked a badass, crime fighting vigilante Richard castle.”

“Not when you come over bleeding and injured.”

“Eh, get used to it.”

Castle sighed, turning to face you.

“But you shouldn’t, you can get a safer job.”

You turned to him, standing up.

“Castle it’s not that simple, I got given this power for a reason, I need to use it. Somebody has to protect these people.”

“That’s what the police are for, come on you work with them anyway, why not work with them?”

You scoffed, shaking your head a little bit.

“You’re just like them you know, you just want me to follow their rules. When we met I saved your ass when they wouldn’t. When I revealed my identity you swore you would keep it secret and support me.”

“I do support you (Y/N) but come on!”

“I’m not going to listen to this crap.”

You began to walk away and he rushed over, taking your hand and you spun around, webbing his hands together.

He raised them, giving you a small smile.

“I’m sorry, okay? Just stay?”

You sighed, pulling the webs from his hands and you pushed him away from you as you went to go lay down on his couch.

“Next time I’ll leave you in the wall.”

“Noted.”

Castle walked back over and sat next to you, and he smiled as he looked down at you.

He took your hand in his to hold it, and he could feel the small scars along your skin.

Small battle wounds, and he didn’t mind them.

It reminded him of who you were, what you could do.

That you were a badass superhero, his badass superhero

[dietmountaindewbae]

vi. stitches

alex turner x reader

word count: 4186

summary: Alex (humbug) gets in a fight, he pays you a visit seeking your help.

warnings: blood, pain k!nk, bdsm.

song recommendation: stitches by orgy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆ 

New York Fashion Week was coming up soon, you couldn't sleep well for the past few days you were working non-stop on the designs that you'd been perfecting since your year in college began, you were scared that they would be a total disaster but your teacher the one that convinced you to help her design the dresses promised you that you wouldn't disappoint her ever, she had noticed your desire for revolution in the industry of fashion, edgy and kinky, but yet an innocent exterior, the best designer pushed the boundaries of what's acceptable and they take risky chances she had told you, a leap of fate.

The night was calm, only a record of Cocteau Twins played on your computer, you were almost falling asleep in your sketches until two hard and loud knocks in your window woke you up, you jumped like a scared cat, and you glanced at your window.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" You whisper-shouted.

"Uhm... surprising you?" He slurred, "Now, can you open the window please?" You noticed his black eye and bloody nose, and with no doubt, you opened the small window in your room and let him in, he fell on the small couch you had in your room.

"What the fuck happened to you?" There was blood coming out of the cracks of his forehead, "Alex, tell me who did this to you?" You quickly grabbed the first aid kit from your bathroom and rushed over to your room, beginning to clean his wombs.

"Some junkie" He groaned when you pressed down in the wound, "Fuckin' hell be more careful!"

"Well I'm not a fucking doctor, aren't I?!" You spat back, "Now be quiet before my neighbor hears us" You cleaned out the blood from his nose and threw away the tissue, at least he didn't break it this time but if he kept being such a dickhead with you, the odds of getting it were high.

"Is not like we're shagging or anything" God, how drunk was he? you could smell all the whiskey he had, he was utterly shitfaced, you raised his chin to check what other places he had more bruises, his nose was bleeding too, and he had a bruise on the right side of his face just below his jaw, you put your knee in between his legs you could reach deeper into his nose trail, he pulled you closer to him grabbing your hips, you exhaled loudly, "I can't believe you still wear your cross necklace after all of the things you and I did, remember?" He let out a deep chuckle, you were done with his attitude, and you grabbed him by the neck so he could look at you, "Still have trouble sleeping, love?" He said, choking up.

"Listen, if you keep this shit going I swear that I'm going to fuck you up, and even worse than that junkie, so either you shut the fuck up or I'll quick you out"

"Make me" He answered back with a cocky grin, you furred your eyebrows, this time you were done.

"That's it-" He pulled you in to sit on his lap and began to apologize over and over again.

"I'm sorry, alright? I'll stop" He said with honesty, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I know I'm not like this"

"You gotta stop drinking Alex, I'm serious" You understood why he was mad, almost half a year ago his heart got shattered, and since then he lost himself, bottled up his emotins and drank them until the bottle was empty, he kept this attitude for a long time, he began to change a lot and in the way, he stumbled across you, you knew he wanted to change and that's what you helped him to do, he let his hair grow out from that coconut hair cut you called, and let it grow out a bit more, he began to dress in leather jackets, and black boots, and a bit less tight jeans, he looked incredible, but he didn't feel that way, he had a fall out after you, even though he broke things off, he still wanted to get involved with you, and you tried to stay calm and take care of him no matter what he did, but he kept drinking and dissapering for days, you knew it wasn't like him, and it wasn't your intention to break his heart after he tried to come back with you weeks after the break up, but you didn't want to be with him, not until he got better, but you kept helping him whenever he came back to you when he was drunk, you couldn't deny him ever, and truth was he helped you out in so many ways, but in the times he wasn't there you had time to think, this relationship that you had with Alex wasn't going to end up well, or not until you knew what he wanted, it was you or the booze.

He was like a dog, that scratched your door whenever he was lost, "It's not that easy to do when the only thing that makes me feel good is whiskey"

"Did I ever make you feel good Al?" You questioned.

"What do you mean?" He said, "Of course you did, but you rejected me"

"Because you couldn't stop drinking, and you were gone for days, do you know how it feels to not be able to sleep because you weren't there? I didn't want to repeat that"

"I'm sorry" He repeated.

"I know you're fucking sorry, you said sorry so many times, but you never do anything about it" You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to stop them from crying, he grabbed your hands and hold on to them.

"I felt so scared to lose you, I didn't know what else to do" He confessed, "And I tried to find a way to fix things, I didn't want to keep hurting you because I loved you and I still do... I'm so lost without you" He was disorientated, so he fell on that bar stool again, trying to figure out why he always had to fuck everything up, he didn't do it, it was the effect of the alcohol that had him like this, he wasn't conscious of what he was doing, and if he was gone he dropped by Matt's he was like his brother, he opened the doors of his house to cuddle him in, but Matt was the reasonable one, he made Alex realize how much did he fucked things up, even if it was rough to him, since that moment Alex tried to get you back, but when you said no, he fell again into that black hole.

"So what's it gonna be then, me or the drinking?" You were giving him another chance, one last ultimatum, and he knew he wouldn't waste it for anything in this world, and this time he was going to do things right, he pulled you by the hair and kissed you needily, he deepened the kiss, he missed terribly the taste of your kisses, the feeling of your soft lips, he felt all of his wounds stitch-up, you wanted more each time he kissed you back, your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears, you got up from the couch and walked back to your bed, he was fast to take off your hoodie and your panties, but what he liked the most is what was under it, he reached for your hands and pinned them together on your back, he momentarily tied them up with his belt, he had something bigger in mind.

"Mind if I use these" He grabbed a piece of long white fabric.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to use it anyway"

"Well, now we're going to use it" He ripped them into three pieces, "I'm gonna make you feel so good," You began to wonder what was going up in that clever mind of his, and the answer was satisfaction.

"What are you up to Turner?" You sat on your legs, already dazed, and soaking for him, he never looked at you with those eyes, penetrating your skull, you could almost imagine all the possibilities.

"You'll just have to wait for me a little longer" He moved your mirror, aiming it at your bed, he walked towards you grabbing your arm, and walking you to the mirror, you wanted to kiss him very badly, but he grabbed your wrists and pulled you against his chest, his hand ran from your collarbone down to your chest, he kneaded them roughly. In contrast, he kissed that spot he knew will send you away, and your legs began to feel weak, at that moment he had a better idea in his head, he pulled up the chair that you were sitting on a few minutes ago putting it in front of the mirror, you sat obediently, he didn't ask but you knew you had to, "Spread your legs" You opened them as far as you could.

He let you free, took out the belt, and replaced it with the white fabric, he began to tease you with the leather of his belt folding it in half, it was cold against your skin, and the next thing you know he hit your inner thigh with it, instead of you complaining you moaned, you followed him with your eyes and he switched to the other side smacking it as hard as the same time, you couldn't handle it any longer, you tried to untie yourself and reach down to rub your clit but he smacked your hand away.

"Unsatisfied little girl?" He ran the belt thru your collarbone, "You want more?"

"Yes," You whispered, "I want more, Alex" You knew his games, you knew that calling him Alex when he was like this, he felt he had power over you, and you liked it, you liked feeling the leather against your skin whenever he hit it, his hand reached to your neck, he kissed your lips teasingly.

"I want you to keep looking at the mirror the whole time, alright?" You nodded, "It's a yes or no question, not a nod, I want to hear it"

"Yes, Alex" He smiled and pecked your lips once more, his finger went down to your sensitive area that was throbbing for him to touch, you saw how his fingers went in and out of you first, how his thumb rubbed your clit in circles making your legs shake, moans fell out of your mouth each getting louder, you saw in your eyes how you were pleased and needy for more, each time he went deeper inside you, he went faster and slowed down when he felt you were getting wetter, "You're fucking crazy"

"About you" He went faster, and you saw the veins in his hand that made you go insane, "And you're crazy for me too" He stated, his voice raspy and deep but yet sweet, his fingers reached deeper inside you hitting that spot that made you cry out his name, but when he took them out you complained, you saw his finger covered in your wetness and he tasted them, humming at your taste, he pushed the chair back allowing to get in between your legs, "Babe, this time I want you to look at me for a moment," He said sweetly, he smiled a strand of hair that fell, he rolled it behind your ear, "Remember the letter I gave you?"

"Of course," You smiled at the thought, "I framed it" He glanced at the frame that was right next to a figure of Mother Mary.

"I meant every single word in that letter, My mouth hasn't shut up since you kissed it, the idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain" He determined, "And I will always choose you,"

"I promise to help you when you need it the most, I love you," You said with despair, "I love you so much, the days I wasn't with you I felt how my heart shuttered, but when I'm with you it blooms" He cupped your cheeks kissing you tenderly, and lovingly, it was unlike any kiss you shared, "Promise me these kisses you've given me will be like this every day"

"I promise" You felt relieved, you didn't have to worry about him anymore, he promised to stay with you, it was like you could breathe after a long time of feeling sick, you felt cured, "Now where were we" He smirked, he kissed your inner thigh getting down on his knees and put your legs over his shoulders, you looked in the mirror, saw your nipples hard, and your skin filled with goosebumps, his hair made you feel tickles, you wanted to touch it, pull it and run your fingers across it, but it was almost impossible, he parted his lips and gathered up spit to lather you up, it was hot against you, his tongue went in circles on your clit and he spread his spit to blow some cool air on you, you gasped and arched your back throwing your head back.

"I can't wait to feel you inside me, fucking me so good" Your words were torturing him now, but they turned you on as you looked at yourself in the mirror, hot and tight for him, your eyes were dark, filled with lust and tearing up from the pleasure.

"You love looking at yourself like this, don't you?" You were the one who ended up fucked up, but you were glad you did, you needed it... you needed him, "You get so fucking wet for me, dirty little fuck"

"I want you so hard Alex, fuck me... fuck me everywhere" You cried out, in his mind, a plan was beginning, he took your legs off his shoulders and got you up, your legs around his torso he bend you over on your wooden desk, cheek pressed against the rough area, you heard the zipper of his jeans open but he went to move the mirror, he wanted you to watch everything he did to you.

"I want you to look at me thru that mirror, I want you to see how I fuck you, how you come in my cock, how I moan your name, how you moan mine" Giving you a hard smack in your ass, and grabbing it possessively, he slipped inside you and your eyes rolled back, you gasped each time he pushed himself inside you, felt yourself self spiraling down a hole, he made a mess of yourself you could see it so clearly, and you saw him enjoying every part of your body, his eyes were focused on the mirror and then they looked thru you with a smudge smile that made you feel wanted, his lips were parted making obscene deep noises, he pushed himself deeper your mouth fell wide open, your walls getting tighter, then he pulled you forward, you could see your reflection, his lips attached to your neck as if he was a vampire sucking your blood, you were speechless you wanted to say something but you couldn't he was fucking you so good all you could do was whine, scream and moan.

When he had enough of the table, he dragged you to your window you could see your reflection, your eyes shut Alex making you his, the sound of your skin colliding against his, his fingers traveling down to your heat circling, pressing it down, "Alex, what are you gonna do with does pieces left, huh?" You breathed out.

"First you're gonna cum for me, and then you'll see" He covered your mouth with his hand, and kept going harder surely living your ass red but you liked it, you liked seeing the after results from the hard sex he was giving to you, you had never felt so hot, he made you feel ways no man could ever make you feel, you knew you could die for him, it was so easy to fall into his arms, he comforted you, and he made you feel better than ever, he buried himself inside you reaching and pushing that button that made your legs shake uncontrollably, your covered his dick in your cum, just like he wanted, for a moment you thought you were done, he untied your hands and you fell forward gripping the frame of your window, trying to catch your breath, "I think that's enough for you" He pulled out of you, you sat in your window frame, still trying to compose yourself.

"No...n-no, I can... handle more" He looked at you, he was still fully dressed with his eyebrows frowned.

"Really?" He walked closer to you, and you said yes with no hesitation, "Beg for it" Getting on your knees you cupped his hands and ran them over your body, you took his hand down to your heat, even if it was sensitive you craved for more, you took his pulsing cock inside your mouth, he groaned pulling your hair so you could look at him in the eye, you were begging with them, hopeless but he stands firm trying to not let you get to him but he pushed your head making you gag around him and then let your head free.

Your tongue brushed the tip, and went in slow circles just to build him up, "Pretty please baby?" You asked sweetly, he smiled at you and brought you up kissing you passionately, you felt relieved, he laid you down in bed taking the remaining pieces of fabric and your wrist, he tied it to the corner of your bed and did the same to the other one, lastly, he sat on top of you.

"Be good to me" He said.

"Always" You answered, he covered your eyes the fabric was a bit transparent allowing you to see a bit but not too much, your room was pitch black except for the natural light of the moon that gave you some clarity, you felt his soft hands caressing your bruised warm skin, he quickly took his jeans and boxers in one drag, you heard the sound of the denim hit the floor, you wanted to rip his shirt off but you were helpless, he threw his shirt away you couldn't see it but you felt the need to run your hands over his chest, you could imagine his body a picture that you could easily draw with your eyes closed, he put his hands on either side of your head, you kissed his wrist and smiled, he took you by surprise when he opened your legs as far as you could, he aimed himself at your entrance and thrust his hips forward, he lifted your lower body grabbing your waist roughly and he got on his knees, you felt him deep inside you, writhing his cock as best as you could because he felt so good but you stopped as you had to be patient and keep your promise, even if it was hard to stop yourself but you didn't want him to stop.

He pushed his hips back and slammed his cock inside you, you moaned trying to unleash yourself but it was helpless you felt your skin fill with shivers, trying to concentrate on the pleasure and not the struggle, he sent you flying when he hit that spot once more, you felt how your cum was dripping down to your leg, you felt so sensitive feeling him so deep, stroking your walls it was just a few thrust until he made you cum again, you also felt him close but he changed the position, your legs up together, and he kept fucking you senseless, "You're a dirty cunt, coming all over me cock, I'm gonna cum all over your face" You groaned when he speeded up, going faster each time he pushed his dick inside you, tears rolling down your cheek.

"Please come all over me, I wanna taste you" Even if you were tired you felt it again, forming in the pit of your stomach, but this time every time he thrust you could picture vividly your skin against his it made you feel so turned on you couldn't handle it anymore, Alex was in awe, impressed by how loud were your moans and the praises of his name, that filed his pride he rubbed your clit in circles, and you came in hot on the bed, you cried out and yelled, he slowly pulled out of you and took your blindfold off, "Alex?" He was impressed, with what you did but you didn't know what just happened.

"I love you so fucking much," He said with a chuckle, "Fuck babe" He ran his hands thru his messy hair, "You made a mess"

"I'm sorry I couldn't... I didn't..."

He covered your mouth, and you were drowned in embarrassment, "It's ok... more than ok! That's the hottest thing I've ever seen you do or like the second I don't fucking know, let's make a mess..." He stared at your eyes which were almost as wild as your hair, "Lioness"

"Fuck off"

"Bet you don't want that" He pulled your blindfold down covering your eyes again, he put his leg in between yours, propping his cock inside you, and put your other leg on his shoulder for leverage, pounding his cock inside you, he felt himself closer but he wanted more from you, "I want you to come again, do that for me doll" You were gasping for air, he was being so rough, but you loved it, there were so many emotions that you were feeling, you didn't know if you could handle more, yet you wanted to feel it all at once like a wave.

"Alex, I-I...can't" He licked his thumb and rubbed your clit in hard circles, pressing it down, you grasped the leashes feeling it again, you couldn't compose yourself anymore, he kept pounding your cunt slow but deep, you were fueled with satisfaction, he could see it.

"I know you can do it, relax babe" He slowed down, and his thrusts began to slow down but still reached to press those buttons one last time, you gasped for air, feeling your heart speed up and slow down, you were dizzy the waves of pleasure washed over you, your mind clouded with lust, he quickly pulled out of you, taking your blindfold off now it was your time to help him, you took him in your mouth once more, he grabbed the bed frame while he pushed his hips to fuck your mouth, you gagged and gasped until he came in your mouth, he didn't even have to ask for you to swallow, "Good girl" He untied your wrists, you felt your whole body trembling, and even that didn't stop you from fetching your sketchbook.

"Thought that you were tired, babe" He cupped your cheek and kissed it.

"Fashion never sleeps"

"But you and I do" It's true, but he gave you inspiration for another piece, never the less he grabbed your book and took it away from you, "You have to sleep, darlin'"

You frowned, you knew he was right, "I know but I have this idea on my head I have to draw it, it's gonna be quick, I swear" He handed it over to you, and he laid down your chest and saw you draw the new piece, you had the idea of a skirt and a shirt that had ripped pieces of white fabric, maybe the top could be a long sleeve that reached to the hand, maybe it could go with boots, but you could figure that out later, when you finished you smiled at it, Alex loved to see how you carefully drew every last detail, you were patient and that was what he loved about you the most.

"Brilliant" He took a closer look, he knew how special you were, "Are you sure these are sketches?" You answered with a chuckle, he flipped thru the pages until he ran across a drawing, it was the profile of a man with long hair, he flipped to the next page and saw a full drawing of his face, you had a vivid picture of him, of his defined jaw, and nose, his big brown eyes, his bushy eyebrows, and his thin and broken lips that you yearned to kiss, he didn't have words.

"You like it?" You asked, you didn't like how quiet he was for the first time.

"I fuckin' love it... you made me look good for the first time" You groaned, and rolled your eyes.

"Don't be like that Alex, you always look good"

"Now it's me turn to draw you" He sat like a little boy with a big smile, and he began to draw your eyes.

"Make me look pretty"

"You're not pretty, darlin'" Your eyebrows pushed together, "You're gorgeous"

A/N:

Hope you didn't think I would actually write smut to a Shawn Mendez song, and I also hope that you listen to the song it's very moody. love u <3, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the intensity wasn’t too much for you, anyways let me know if you would like more chapters like this.