#i still can't bring myself to leave comments on fics

[suffersinfandom]

I've been thinking about getting back into fan fiction for, like, two straight years now. I don't know why I'm such a coward about just doing it.

[formulawolff]

“you taste sweeter” — m.v.

pairing -> social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count -> 3.3k (oopsies!)

warnings -> cussing, slight angst, mentions of hate comments online, desperate + needy max, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sweet moments, slight praise kink, tender max, yadayadayada

a/n -> the win in brazil today inspired me to write. it’s probably not my best work buttttt someone asked for a part ii to this fic here. i hope you guys enjoy! <3

"i'm sorry that this weekend has been a shit show."

lips press against your knuckles, carefully caressing them one by one.

"stop it," your hand darts out, cupping his cheek, "you're always so hard on yourself."

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, and you catch the hint of stars in his gaze as your eyes meet.

"i think i deserve to be a little harsh on myself. p17 is ridiculous."

you exhale, shaking your head slightly, "but you have to remember that was not your fault. you cannot control the weather, and you sure as hell cannot control what happens when the track is slick."

"i just feel terrible," he shrugs, folding his arms against his chest, "you flew all the way out here to just get drenched. you had to wake up with me at god knows what time to make it to the track. i'm supposed to be up in the fucking front and now i don't even feel like i have a chan-"

"stop it," your jaw clenches, "i wouldn't have flown out if i didn't want to be here. i wanted to be here and support you, max. there is nowhere else i would rather be than by your side."

the corners of his lips twitch into a meek smile, the dutch driver leaning in, "you're so fucking cute when you're all riled up."

"only because i hate to see you be so hard on yourself!" you protest, throwing your hands up in the air, "you are a generational talent. i wish you could see that."

"thank you baby," you can't help but notice that he's beaming now, "thank you, for being here."

"like i said," you murmur, your heart skipping a beat as you find the space between the two of you dissipating by the second, "there is nowhere else i would-"

"maxxxx! it's time for -- oh my god i am so sorry."

gianpiero's voice cuts through the space, the two of you shrinking back as he stands in the doorway the driver's room, a hand over his mouth.

"don't worry about it," max clears his throat, shooting you one more look before turning to gianpiero, "is it time?"

"it's time," max's race engineer confirms, checking his watch, "we need to get moving."

"all right," max sucks in a breath, rising to his feet, "i guess it's time."

you mirror his action, ensuring that you have your race day bag before shifting toward him. his arms wrap around your frame, bringing you in for a tight embrace.

for a moment, he's still, not moving a muscle as you bury your head into his chest. his fingers knead into your shoulder blades, strands of hushed dutch filling your ear. the words are tender, almost as if he was promising you something.

you weren't quite sure what, though.

"good luck out there tiger," you whisper, "i believe in you."

his arms pull away, the driver's lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he begins to follow gianpiero. before leaving the room, he ensures that gianpiero's back is turned, nearly bounding back toward you.

lips crash into yours, a hurried but passionate kiss. forceful enough to leave your knees buckling, yet laced with a sweetness that you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"i love you."

heat flourishes into your cheeks as he departs, looking back over his shoulder one more time before jogging down the hall, in efforts to catch up with gianpiero.

your heart flutters, a coziness seeping into your chest as you catch your breath.

max was never one to let his emotions get in the way of race day. he was always so poised, so focused on what was ahead. he was never privy to publicly showcasing his affection to you either. especially on sundays.

it never bothered you, really. you knew the stakes involved. you knew how important this was to him. you were well aware of the way people spoke about him online and in the media. lately, it had been nothing but negative energy. not only from the press and commentary, but from the fans as well.

you never overstepped. you never teetered over the boundaries he set in place for race weekends. you always ensured to keep your affection away from the public eye.

so, to witness that desperation to kiss you one last time. to hear those three words before he left. to feel him against pressed against you, reluctant to let go.

to you, that was everything.

and as voices buzzed in the air, the tension nearly electric as members of the crew paced around the garage as the rain pounded against the tarmac, max verstappen could only think about one thing.

and that one thing, was you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

droplets of water scatter about, the team rushing toward the car as a shiver runs down your spine.

max slips out of the car, nearly tumbling as he makes his way to the ground. your limbs itch, from your fingers to your toes, nearly screaming to take a step forward.

to make your way toward him.

he's drenched, the color of his suit a few shades darker as he claws his helmet and balaclava off, running a hand through his hair. his eyes scan through the garage briefly, picking through the throng.

his brow is furrowed, lips wound tight together with concentration.

you know he's looking for you.

yet, you don't move.

there was too much to risk if you approached him. in the aftermath of colapinto's crash, a red flag was issued on the track. with max's current position behind ocon and the ability to change tyres, there was a new opportunity presented before him.

the opportunity to overtake ocon from p2 to p1, therefore maintaining the lead and potentially winning the grand prix.

however, there were other factors present.

with a fresh start, the other drivers were presented with the same opportunity. lando norris in the rocketship of the mclaren would also be able to overtake as well, potentially threatening max's chance of a win. and with the current conditions of the track, who knew what would happen in the final thirty laps.

there was so much to consider. so much to speculate. so much to lose.

and because of that, you knew you couldn't interfere.

you couldn't do that to him.

to max, winning meant everything.

and to risk throwing him off over a simple hello or you're doing great? you couldn't bear the weight of knowing you had something to do that. you couldn't be the reason he lost momentum.

so, you stayed put, now blending in with the crew as they returned back into the garage, max sailing off down the pit lane, back in the direction of the track.

yet, as the dutch driver clutches the wheel, his heart thumping against his chest, he could only focus on one thing.

that bright, beautiful smile plastered across your face the moment you saw his car rolling up toward the pit.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"come here!"

he practically barrels into you, sweeping you into his arms. tears stream down your cheeks, cries of joy bubbling up in your throat as he squeezes you.

"i-i love you," he sputters, "fuck i love you."

your head tilts back, lower lip quivering as you take him in.

his eyes are tinged pink, glossy as your fingertips trace along his jaw. there's a swarm coming any minute now, ready to hoist him up on their shoulders, jeering his name. in the grandstands, there's the dull roar of the crowd, chanting along with the crew. his suit is soaked through, leaving a wet imprint all over your clothes.

yet, there is nothing else that matters but him.

"i love you m-more, maxie," you sniffle, wiping away a tear, "y-you have no idea how fucking proud of you i am."

his mouth collides with yours, a heated, heavy kiss as the rain patters. your hand wraps around the base of his neck, tangling into his hair as his mouth opens, deepening the kiss. his tongue slides along your lip, seeking entry.

you're about to let him in before he breaks away, nearly panting. a crimson hue paints his cheeks, his chest heaving.

"fuck."

"what?" you press, your brow arching.

"nothing," he shakes his head, nearly bewildered as he studies you, "you just look beautiful. so fucking beautiful right now in the rain."

your own clothes are beginning to cling to your body, damp from the stormy morning. your makeup is still intact, but smudged slightly from the kiss and the humid atmosphere. he can sense your exhaustion, but your eyes are wide, nothing but adoration swimming in their depths. drops cling to your hair, glittering as you cock your head.

"you just won a race and you're worried about how beautiful i look?"

to max, there was no other word to describe you in this moment but ethereal. a stunning ray of golden, pure light as the clouds hung low in the sky.

not just any light.

his light.

at your sentiment, his gaze hardens, the dutch driver's jaw clenching as the pad of his thumb grazes your cheek.

"y-you have no fucking idea what you do to-"

"max!" a voice cuts in, nearly grating through all the noise, "what a hell of a race that was!"

you bite down on your tongue as christian horner comes into view, along with numerous members of the crew. max's eyes dart to you, but he's swiftly whisked away, the sensation of his warm hands merely a phantom.

however, your mind can't help but replay the kiss. the way his hands roamed, desperate to bring you in closer than you imagined possible. the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the two of you floating from the euphoria. the way you swore you could see stars gleaming in his stare as you cried, overwhelmed with pride.

pride for your man.

the man who managed to go from p17 to p1 in a single race. the man who made a statement.

the man who managed to pull off the impossible.

and he was yours.

all yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

"you have no idea how much i've been looking forward to this."

sweats cling to his hips as he is snuggled against you, arms wrapped around your waist. his head rests on your chest, lashes fluttering as you run a hand through his hair. you're almost underneath him, his body nearly squishing you. but you don't mind, as you were savoring the minutes.

the final hours together before you would inevitably have to part ways, saying those goodbyes at the airport.

oh, how you dreaded that moment. more than anything.

you would have to return to work, and he would be halfway across the world, enjoying a brief break before the final few races.

at least you would have vegas together.

but that felt so fucking far away, especially with the race scheduled at the end of the month.

"what are you thinking about up there?"

max's voice is merely a whisper, catching you off guard. you flinch, his head lifting, swiveling so that you're forced to meet his concerned stare.

"nothing," you shrug, "nothing important."

"hmm," he hums, leaning in for a peck, "that's a lie. you're always thinking about something. important or not, i want to know what it is."

"i'm just thinking about tomorrow," you lower your head, careful to avoid eye contact, "i just had such a perfect weekend and-"

"it's not over yet," fingers grasp your chin, "we still have the night together."

"but we have to get up early and make sure i'm at the airport on time and-"

lips connect with yours, his body shifting so that he's on top, practically pinning you to the plush mattress. a whine rises in your throat at the fierceness of the kisses, the way they send a fiery sensation burning throughout as his tongue explores your mouth.

his mouth pulls away, drifting to your jaw. instinctively, your hips buck forward, brushing against his as places sloppy, wet kisses along your neck.

"don't worry about the morning," his mouth hovers by your ear, "just focus on me, okay?"

you nod, "o-okay."

"is this okay?" his brow furrows momentarily, "i don't want to make you feel-"

you lower a hand, fingertips brushing along the waistband of his sweats, "this is okay. i promise."

at your action, max's breath quickens, the driver finding it difficult to string the words together, "i-i just can't help myself around you. seeing you after my win today, looking so fucking beautiful in the rain. i couldn't fucking control myself."

"that kiss was very unlike you," a giggle rings through the space, "i almost thought i was dreaming."

"you weren't," the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, dimples and all, "i was right there, kissing you, wishing i could just get down on one knee right then and there."

"m-max," you stammer, the temperature of the room almost skyrocketing, "y-you don't-"

"i do," his voice is firm, "i want to marry you. i knew i needed you, but seeing you there, just waiting for me, with that gorgeous grin across your face.. it made me realize that i wanted to see that smile for the rest of my life. we don't have to rush, but i want you to know what my intentions are.

i want you to be my wife, but i don't want you to feel like you have to abandon everything to be with me. i want you to still do what you love, and i want you to still make a difference in people's lives. just how you've made a difference in mine."

"i love you," your vision is blurred, your throat tight, "i-i love you so much m-max."

"my sensitive girl," he lets out a chuckle, carefully wiping away your tears, "i love my sensitive girl. more than she'll ever know."

"i'll be your wife one day."

"one day?" he cocks his head, "is that a yes?"

"yes," you affirm, "that is a yes."

"now this has truly been a day to remember."

"is that so?"

"yes," max responds. taking your hands, he raises them slightly, so that they're on either side of your head. intertwining your fingers together he continues, leaning in once more.

"i'm going to hold on to this memory for the rest of my life. i'm going to hold on to you for the rest of my life."

"there's nowhere else i would rather be," you whisper, "i mean that."

"oh i know," his mouth ghosts over yours, "you were so fucking ecstatic earlier. it was adorable."

"i was just happy for you," your lips form a pout, "you have to remember it's been a long time since i-"

he kisses you, this time a little more hungry than the last. as his tongue slips in, between your thighs, you feel your clit throb, desperate for his touch as he deepens the kiss, squeezing your hands. his hips grind against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"m-max," you nearly moan, "please."

"what?" he coos, "what is it baby?"

"i need you," the words are breathy, "i really need you."

"don't worry baby," a hand begins to drift lower and lower, savoring your heated skin along your stomach and abdomen, "i'll make sure you're taken care of."

"p-please," your head rolls back as his thumb meets your clit, dragging in slow, circular motions.

for a second, he's thrown off his game, completely and utterly bewildered at the stickiness coating his index finger as he plunges a finger deep inside.

"y-you're this wet for me? i've barely fucking touched you."

"like you said earlier," you grit your teeth, fighting a whimper as another finger slides in, your walls adjusting, "you have no idea what you do to me."

at that statement, max's jaw tightens, the lust that was merely a few flames now burning throughout, threatening to consume him whole.

fuck, was he going to ruin you.

his fingers pull out, hooking the hem of your own sweats, "i need this off of you. now."

sitting up, you kick off your pants, fumbling with your tank top in the process. your nipples are almost swollen, hardened from the brisk air. between your thighs, he can catch the glisten of your slick cunt, aching for him and only him.

in that moment, max nearly comes undone.

"let me taste you," the words are nearly a beg, "please baby, let me get a taste."

you nod, almost a little too enthusiastically, "please do."

he situates himself so that he's between your legs, his hands roaming your soft skin, spreading you open. he lowers his head, hands cupping your breasts as his tongue flattens against your weeping cunt. the tip of his nose brushes against your clit, earning a groan from you.

at that, a guttural noise rumbles in his throat, his fingers now gripping your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

there was no word that could describe the way you tasted.

the only thing that came close was heaven.

sweet, sweet, heaven that coated his tongue.

your back arches as obscene, filthy noises flood the room, hands in max's hair, tugging at the locks as his mouth envelops your clit, sucking lightly.

"that's it pretty girl," the words are ragged as you squirm, his lips shining in the dim light, "that's it."

"m-max," there's a feeling pooling in your abdomen, a feeling you knew all too well, "p-please."

"what?" his mouth curls into a smug smirk, "what is it pretty girl? you wanna cum?"

"yes. please."

"well since you asked so nicely," you're wound up tight now, merely seconds away from release, "i'll make you cum."

his mouth reconnects with your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as it dances. you writhe beneath him, stars bursting in your vision as you cum, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he pulls back, his cock twitching in his sweats, begging to be set free as he admires the way your chest heaves, your thighs almost trembling, overstimulated from the orgasm.

he wants to go back for seconds, lapping away until you're crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. if only you didn't have your early flight in the morning, then he would eat your pussy for hours, going all throughout the night.

"good girl," sliding off his sweats, his jaw nearly goes slack as your hand wraps around the base, pumping slowly, "good fucking girl."

as you jerk him off, two dingers dip inside, ensuring that their soaked before pulling out.

"here," he murmurs, pushing the digits against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth, "taste yourself."

as you take them in, tongue swirling along their length, the sweetness lacing your tongue, a groan tumble from his mouth.

"oh fuck."

"you like?" batting your lashes, you can't help but feel a grin form as he nods fervently, one hand gripping the heard board while the other rests on his shaft.

"victory tastes sweet, but fuck you taste sweeter. there's nothing like the way you taste and i'm addicted."

"is that such a bad thing?"

you nearly choke on a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out as his hips roll. he bites on his lower lip, fighting a smirk as your head hits the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure fills you to the brim.

"not at all," he's plowing into you now, "it's not a bad thing at all."

addicted was not even the word that described the way max craved you.

it was a hunger.

a hunger that would only be satisfied by your perfect, tight cunt.

and god, was max was going to savor the way you felt. the way you wrapped around him, practically begging him to go even further and further.

if only he could stay here, entwined with you. if only he could feel like this, forever.

however, vegas was quickly approaching.

and after that, who knew what the future would bring.

but for now, he was going to relish this moment.

tonight, and perhaps for the rest of his life.

[dandelionprints]

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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

"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping  Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him  that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him. 

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt. 

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N  was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision. 

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected. 

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers. 

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning. 

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day. 

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm. 

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself. 

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. 

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her. 

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck. 

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion. 

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling. 

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men. 

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral. 

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest. 

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him. 

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came. 

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time. 

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room. 

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife. 

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out. 

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered. 

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening. 

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold. 

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows. 

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual. 

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed. 

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain. 

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers. 

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly. 

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital. 

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks. 

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[sv5hive]

all's well that ends well | lh44

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

content warning(s): suggestive content? (like one little comment nothing outrageous

word count: 2,107

note: this is a part two to this fic! thank you to the anon who gave me the idea otherwise i would have been stuck for ages!! so happy so many of you enjoyed it and i hope you enjoy this one just as much 😚🫶🏻

(masterlist!)

you let out a shallow sigh as you gently pushed the door closed with a click. last night's fight had plagued your mind and haunted your dreams meaning you had gotten almost no sleep at all. you just wanted to get all your stuff and find a small place to rent while you looked for a more permanent place to stay.

but lewis had other plans.

"hey, baby-"

"don't call me that, lewis. i thought i made it clear last night that it was over. i thought i also made it clear that i didn't want to see you again."

"ok, ok. i'm sorry. i just, i know i fucked up. but i can make it right again. i promise."

"like how you promised we would have a normal life together? i don't want to wait anymore, lewis. i told you this already. now please, let me just get my stuff and leave."

"no, just, just hear me out on this. i can't imagine how you felt while waiting for me to finally catch up to what you realised a long time ago. but i have been in love with you since the day i met you and if i let you walk away again i would never be able to live with myself."

despite what you had said earlier, you didn't hate him. and lewis could see you weighing up the idea in your head.

"saying it is but proving it is another. otherwise your apology means nothing."

"ok. yeah, ok i can do that."

he grinned at the possibility of winning you over.

"but, i need space. so, i will be getting my stuff and leaving."

"wait! you can stay here. i'll go, it's only fair."

"don't be silly, lewis. i still have my hotel room booked don't worry about it."

"no, no, please stay here. this house is yours as much as it is mine. don't worry, i can find somewhere else to stay. i know how you get sleeping in a bed that's not yours."

he knew you too well.

"ok. uhm, thank you, lewis."

"you don't need to thank me. i'll see you soon?."

"ok, yeah. see you soon."

you thought sleeping in your own bed would help you get a good night's rest but you seemed to toss and turn for hours on end. looking to your left, the digital clock on the bedside table screamed some unreasonable time in blinding red. you huffed before realising that maybe it wasn't just the bed. after all, all those years you slept in this bed you weren't sleeping alone. eventually, you did manage to fall asleep at some ungodly hour after scrolling on your phone mindlessly. but not without pondering how lewis was planning to change your mind.

the next morning you were awoken by a knock at the door. rolling your eyes, you readied yourself to turn lewis away but instead you were met with a bouquet of flowers on the doorstep. you peeked your head out to see if the person who dropped it off was still around but it was like they had disappeared into thin air. bringing the bouquet to the kitchen to place in a vase your eyes caught notice of a note gently tucked into the leaves.

thank you for giving me a second chance. you won't regret it.

he was making it hard to stay mad at him. you pulled out your phone and sent him a quick text.

thanks for the flowers.

anything for you. and i meant what i said.

read 9:26 am

humming along to the radio, you plated up your lunch and made your way to sit at the counter to eat. the recent weather had been unusually pleasant with the sun shining all day, and you thought about going for a run outside when a text popped up on your phone.

do you have any plans tonight? it read.

you debated lying to him but you had already finished with your work that day and you found yourself wanting to see him again after a little bit more than a week of being apart. you typed out your reply after a couple of seconds.

depends. what do you have planned?

it's a surprise.

you grinned.

i'll pick you up at 6.

oh and can you wear that black dress again? the backless one?

read 12:46 pm

you felt your face go warm at the reminder of what happened the last time you wore that number. god damn it. no matter what he would always have that effect on you. looks like you had something to look forward to tonight.

you smoothed away imaginary wrinkles while obsessively checking your entire appearance over in the mirror. it felt like you were doing too much but then again, you had to show lewis what he would be losing out on if he couldn't convince you. before you could check the time there was a knock at the door.

you calmed yourself down and opened the door to come face to face with lewis.

lewis swore he felt his world stop spinning.

"you- wow. you look...as beautiful as ever. seriously, why were you ever dating me?" he eventually managed to get out, audibly breathless.

your giggles filled the air as you hoped your makeup meant he couldn't see your entire face going red.

"you look, ok." you were lying straight through your teeth. he could make a trash bag look like a designer outfit and you both knew it. he found it funny enough to let out a chuckle though so maybe it was the right move.

"oh and uh, these are for you." as he remembered the bouquet of baby's breath, white chrysanthemums and blue hyacinth in his hands that he painstakingly put together himself.

"oh they're lovely. thank you. i'll just go put these in a vase and we can go."

he couldn't mess this up now. not again.

"ok, do you plan on telling me where we're going now or is it still a surprise?" you asked locking the front door and heading towards the car.

he opened the passenger door for you as you got in.

"y'know there's a saying that goes something along the lines of 'good things come to those who wait'. you ever heard of that one?" he retorted before getting behind the wheel.

"hmmm, i don't know. doesn't really ring any bells for me."

"that's too bad because i'm still not telling you."

"fine, be that way."

he looked over at you staring out the window refusing to spare him so much as a glance. you always have been a stubborn one he thought. shaking his head with a smirk, he began driving.

you were definitely surprised when you two arrived at the restaurant you raved about months ago - you didn't think he had been fully paying attention while getting ready for bed. now sat down at the secluded booth, you couldn't help but grin at the fact while in awe of the decor. all lewis could do was admire the pure joy and glee present on your face.

"what? why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?"

"y'know, like that."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

all the other patrons must have been irritated by the way you two couldn't stop chatting and laughing as the bottle of wine dwindled down over several courses of delicious food. but if it meant he could see you so happy after everything he put you through he was ready to pay for them all to leave.

"so i've been thinking, and, i'm ready to take the next step with you. don't worry, i'm not about to get down on one knee right now, but i just thought you should know."

"what changed your mind?"

"i should've listened to you but instead i was an idiot and i let you leave. i'm sorry for that. and everything else. i guess seeing you walk out really brought me to my senses."

"yeah? well i'm glad it did."

"and i am absolutely ready to retire and start a family with you-"

"what?" you almost spat out your wine.

"i've thought about it and i want a family with you more than anything."

"no, lewis, i won't let you do that. you love racing. you said it yourself it's your whole life!"

"not anymore. i want to be there for you and i can't do that if i'm away driving every weekend."

"i can travel while pregnant, lewis. i'd follow you until i am physically unable to and we would be waiting for you until you come back home. i know how much racing means to you and i will always support you. besides, wouldn't you love to have your kid cheer you on in the garage?"

you two were cheekily grinning now at the prospect. he couldn't believe how lucky he was to find you.

"are you sure? it's not going to be easy."

"yes, of course i am. i've been sure for years, lewis. you were the one who wasn't ready."

his smile faltered a little as he wished he could go back in time and tell himself to get his act together. he couldn't change the past but he was damn well going to change your future together.

"ok."

"ok."

to everyone else in the restaurant, it seemed like a normal date, but if lewis kept his word then it meant the start of a completely new chapter in your relationship.

"you ready for this?" you were in awe of the man stood in front of you.

"more than ready."

"stay safe, ok? we want you back in one piece."

"of course. anything for my two favourite girls."

he placed a kiss on your forehead before taking the toddler from your arms.

"you ready to see daddy race? hmm?"

lewis nuzzled his nose against hers and placed gentle kisses all over her face, prompting an endless symphony of infectious giggles.

he had been absolutely petrified when you told him you were pregnant. he wanted nothing more than a family with you but babysitting nieces and nephews was very different to having your own child. even after all the baby books, birthing classes and packing dozens of hospital bags, lewis still almost passed out when your water broke. and if you weren't in excruciating pain due to your rapidly growing contractions, you would have teased him for his panic.

soon enough, his daughter was placed into his arms for the first time and all of a sudden there was nothing to be anxious about. he could still visualise the moment perfectly and yet somehow failed to describe just how he felt looking at the little one's face. she was the perfect mixture of the two of you.

"i'm so proud of you, my love. you know that right?"

season after season, he was left fighting in the midfield when he was finally given a championship contending car to restore his former glory. it was clear to everyone that lewis was more motivated than ever and that he just needed a car good enough to take him back up to the top step. all the late night meetings and simulator runs had finally paid off, as the legendary eighth world championship was won just a few races ago.

now, as you helped him prepare for his final race in formula one, you looked fondly back on the beginning of your relationship. you had everything you always dreamed of and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

"i couldn't disappoint my biggest supporters!"

"even if you didn't win we would still be your biggest supporters! isn't that right, my sweet girl?" you tickled your daughter as she curled back into lewis' neck to evade your hands.

"thank you."

you looked back at him with furrowed brows while fussing over the toddler.

"what for?"

"for everything. for taking me back, for making me the happiest man in the universe. twice, by the way."

you beamed from ear to ear at the reminder of the wedding that awaited you next year. he had proposed to you just before you found out you were pregnant and it felt like your life was falling into place at last. studying his face, you felt content knowing that you were truly meant for each other. nothing else mattered more than what lied ahead of you and you couldn't wait to experience it with the man you had fallen in love with years ago.

"i would do it all over again in a heart beat."

note: omg. it's literally 1 am but i had to finish this before my random streak of motivation ran out. i didn't think so many people would want a part 2 like i was so shocked at how many people enjoyed part 1!! never thought i'd get 10 notes let alone 100+ you are all tooooo kind 🥹

[halohalona]

Fair

"It's what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can't be said"

Logan reflects on his life, sense of self, and his relationship with you

Logan Howlett x Reader

this was inspired by the song "Fair" by The Amazing Devil. You can listen to the song while reading but it isn't necessary. i wanted to capture the song's emotion in this fic, and hopefully, I did.

ok this is take 2 of posting this 'cause the first time had a shit ton of typos and could not live with myself letting ya'll read a fic with typos (especially when i wanted this to be very emotional), partially beta-read, hopefully, it's not as typo-filled as before

masterlist

warnings/tags: emotional hurt/comfort, takes place after the events of DP&W, logan cries, reference to "Beanie" (drabble i wrote), a glimpse of domesticity, and i honestly don't know what else to tag.

Sunlight pours into the room through the gaps of the curtain as Logan stirs awake on your chest. You’ve been awake for a while now, just playing with his hair and humming the first song that came to mind.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you softly greet him with a warm smile. He looks up at you, his own tender smile gracing his lips. A smile reserved only for you. He doesn’t say anything, too busy admiring your bedhead, appreciating how beautiful you looked in the morning.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck as his smile widens. “Where have you been all my life?” he murmurs softly against your skin.

“In another universe?” you reply playfully.

His smile slowly fades at the thought. His face is still in the crook of your neck as he mumbles “It’s not fair,” hoping you wouldn’t hear, but you do anyway.

“What’s not fair love?” you ask.

“It’s not fair how the universe hid you away from me,” he joked. You gently hug his head and chuckle. He said it jokingly but you know that’s not what he really wanted to say.

It was Wade who introduced you to each other during one of his many parties. You were his neighbor across the hall. After some mildly uncomfortable introductions and comments from Wade, Logan irritably told him to shut the fuck up which led to him eventually leaving you two alone.

You never met the Logan of your world, and Logan never met the you in his world. Sometimes you wonder if you ever did meet the Logan of your word, would he be the same as the man you’re lying with right now? Probably not, and you think it’s for the best.

He stays quiet for a while before releasing you from his embrace and sitting up.

He stares at the wall, pondering about you, your relationship, this world he’s in, everything.

His mind wanders back to the time when you made that odd-looking hat because you said it reminded you of his hair—he couldn’t help but smile, realizing in that moment that he would cherish everything about you, no matter how unusual it was. He remembered the night you two were watching a horror movie on the couch and you were so scared that you somehow found a way to burrow yourself between his back and the couch to get away from the horrifying scenes unfolding on the TV. In that moment he felt a deep and instinctive need to protect you from anything that would frighten or harm you, real or not. And then there was the time you went out of your way to get him the watch he had been staring at in the mall; it made him realize just how much you cared.

Maybe fate brought you to each other, though he’s not entirely sure. But he was sure about one thing: he wants you. He wants this life he’s created with you. He has never felt so content, calm, and happy. Yet, he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t deserve any of this—especially not you.

“Love? Is everything alright?” your voice laced with worry brings him out of his contemplation and back to the present.

God knows he wasn’t a good man, and he’s told you so many times but you stand by him. If he hadn’t already lost everything, he would be willing to do so, if you asked. And that’s what he tells you.

You move to straddle on his lap and cradle his face in your hands.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say softly. “You may not be a good man, and as you said, you’ve done bad things. But what’s happened has happened, and you can’t change that. Even if you could and you did, we wouldn’t be here right now. You may think you don’t deserve me but isn’t that also up to me? I want you, and you want me. Let’s keep it that way, alright?”

He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Afraid that if he moved even the slightest bit you would disappear along with his reason for everything. You don't say anything. You let him hold you until his heart and mind stop racing.

Running your hands through his hair and hugging him against your chest you whisper, “It’s not fair,” echoing his words from earlier. “It’s not fair how much I love you even when you piss me off and act like you don’t need me.”

You settle onto his lap, and softly press your forehead against his. A tender smile graces his lips as he gazes into your eyes. “Well, if that’s the case,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere, “you have no idea how unreasonably in love I am with you. With everything you do, with just… you.” he pulls away, holding your wrist and laying his head in your palm, more tears threatening to fall, "You make me feel normal when I'm with you.”

Fighting back your own tears, you whisper, “I love you, and I want you to remember that. I love you so much it hurts. And it hurts me as much knowing you don’t believe that you deserve it, because you do. I love you, so please don’t push me away” you bring your lips to his in a soft and tender kiss.

"I love you more than words can say, and I promise I'll never push you away again.”

“And I’ll stay by your side, no matter what happens,” you added, holding him close.

[nyzfiles]

Hey! I just found your blog and have read the works you’ve put out so far(they’re really good!). Could I please request a fic with IVE’s Yujin?

Where her and reader have been dating for a while now but lately reader has been rejecting Yujins advances whenever she tried initiating sex with her which, of course, Yujin respected. But, when she was on social media and saw the comments under your posts she realized why. (Which was because of the hate you were receiving about your body). When Yujin found out she decided to gently bring it up with you which resulted in you breaking down. Alright, to get to the point Yujin shows how in love with your body and how perfect she thinks it is by making love to you and kissing every inch of your skin(especially your stomach). Thank you!(sorry, I couldn’t think of how to make my explanation shorter)

a/n : hi anon! thank you so much for the request, i love this idea and body worshipping is top tier!

warnings - smut (minors and men dni!) sorta angst?

tags - soft dom!yujin x sub!fem reader, reader is very insecure, body worshipping, nipple stimulation, cunnilingus (reader receiving), fingering, yujin is just VERY in love with reader !!

word count - 1.3k

you and yujin have been dating for close to 8 months now. she's been the most attentive, loyal, and affectionate girlfriend you could ask for. in the beginning of your guys' relationship you had an amazing sex life, yujin is very much a giver and you get to benefit from that.

recently, you've been starting to reject her advances whenever she tries to be intimate with you and it's left her confused and quite honestly a bit hurt. of course she would never pressure you into anything but she can't help but wonder what's changed.

about two days ago she was scrolling through her instagram when she came across your most recent post and hearted it. out of curiosity she went to the comments and was heartbroken by what she saw. a bunch of people who claimed to be her fans were body-shaming you and leaving horrible comments.

she closed the app, deciding she would bring it up with you once she figured out how to do it gently. it all made sense now why you had stopped wanting to be intimate with her, she never imagined people would be making you feel so horrible about yourself.

now, she watches you sitting on the other end of the couch, a sad expression on your face as you scroll through your phone. "is everything alright?" she asks, concern evident in her voice. you just nod, giving her a small smile before looking back down at your phone. she sighs, placing her hand on your leg and caressing it gently. "baby...what's going on? things haven't been normal for months." she says, worry plaguing her mind.

you look back up at her, tears stinging your eyes as your lip quivers. "i've just been feeling really down about myself..." you whimper, your voice breaking as you try to confide in your girlfriend. she looks at you with sympathy, pulling you into her arms as you break down and start crying.

she kisses the top of your head, whispering softly to you as she strokes your hair. "baby, those people don't mean anything to us. i love you, and i love your body. you're so beautiful." she reassures you, tilting your chin up to place a soft kiss on your lips. "promise me you'll block anybody who makes you feel like this." she whispers against your hair, still holding you close.

you nod, starting to relax in her arms as your tears stop. "this is why you haven't wanted to have sex with me, isn't it?" she sighs softly, looking down at you. you nod, feeling a little embarrassed as you admit it to her. "i didn't want you to have to look at me and realize that all these people are right." you sniffle, wiping away the rest of your tears.

she shakes her head, cupping your face in her hands and kissing you again. "they're not right. you are beautiful, hot, sexy, stunning, and everything else in between. i am lucky to have you." she confesses, trying to show you how serious she is. you nod slowly, wrapping your arms around her. "let me show you how beautiful i think you are..." she mutters, hands cupping your ass as you sit in her lap.

you look up at her apprehensively, chewing on your lip before nodding your head. "okay..." you agree, giving yourself to her. she smiles, threading her fingers through your hair before kissing you slowly. she picks you up, hands gripping your thighs as she carries you into your guys' shared bedroom without breaking the kiss.

she gently lays you against the bed, hovering over you as her lips trail down your neck. "i can't believe how beautiful you are. how did i get so lucky?" she mumbles against your skin, hands moving to the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. you blush, arms going to cover your stomach before she stops you. "don't. i want to see every inch of you tonight." she says, moving your hands and kissing the palms on each of them.

you watch as she undoes the clasp on your bra, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. she cups your tits, flicking her tongue over your hard nipple. you gasp softly, playing with her hair as she sucks, licks, and bites your nipples, switching between them. your moans spur her on and she kisses down to your stomach, her lips lingering there.

her mouth kisses every inch of your stomach, dampness pooling in your panties. "so fucking stunning." she whispers, gripping your waist as she kisses above the waistline of your panties. your eyes sting with tears as she worships your stomach, kissing every stretch mark and praising you.

she slowly peels your panties off, groaning softly when she sees your cunt glistening. "so pretty and wet for me." she smiles, fingers teasing your folds. you whine, your cunt clenching as her finger disregards the spot you need her the most. "please..." you mutter, heart pounding as you watch her. she leans in, placing your legs on her shoulders before running her tongue through your folds. you let out a long moan, hand tangling in her hair as she flicks her tongue over your sensitive clit.

she hums against you, the taste of you making her own arousal grow. she grips your thighs tighter, sucking on your clit and swirling her tongue around it. you throw your head back in pleasure, toes curling as your arousal leaks out of you. "feels so good..." you whimper, grinding your cunt against her tongue. she chuckles softly, slowly easing her tongue inside of your tight cunt.

you gasp, stomach tightening as she curls her tongue inside of you. your nails are practically digging into her scalp as she tongue fucks you and rubs her nose against your clit. the knot in your stomach gets tighter and you cry out her name as your thighs squeeze her head and your cum coats her tongue.

she swallows every last drop, pulling back and licking her lips as she looks at you. "tastes so sweet." she smiles, kissing her way up to your body until she reaches your lips. you laugh tiredly, wrapping your arms around her to bring her closer to you. "you're so pretty." she sighs happily, two fingers slowly rubbing your clit. you blush, bucking your hips slightly as she takes them and parts your folds.

she gently pushes her fingers inside you, making you moan and grip her biceps. her thumb rubs your clit while her fingers fuck you, her mouth leaving dark purple hickeys along your collarbone. "y...yujin..." you gasp, breath hitching as she curls her fingers against your g-spot. she smirks against the spot on your neck she was sucking on, thumb pressing harder against your clit.

you start to ride her fingers, eagerly chasing your second orgasm of the night while she leaves love bites all over your neck, collarbone, and tits. your nails dig into her biceps as she pumps her fingers deeper and moves her thumb faster, making your eyes roll back. the familiar feeling of your stomach tightening washes over you and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you.

she slowly fucks you through your high, slipping her fingers out and licking them clean. she lays down on the bed beside you, pulling you into her arms as she kisses you sweetly. "i love you so much, you know that?" she smiles, forehead resting against yours. you nod, snuggling yourself closer to her. "i love you too." you mutter, letting her hold you as you drift off to sleep.

[sturnioloszn]

FADING LINES - M.S

summary; while at the club with your friends, you make the drunken mistake to call your toxic ex.

warnings; mentions of alcohol, clubbing/partying, arguing, toxic relationship.

a/n; this fic was inspired by that one scene in 'after we collided' where tessa calls hardin drunk lmfaoo. alsoo, pls feel free to leave suggestions for fics, thank uuuuu.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

The music is blaring through the oversized speakers, which makes my bones vibrate to the beat of the music. I'm surrounded by a crowd of people who are sweating just as profusely as I am, and each time our skin makes contact I feel ill.

After the most stressful week of my life, my friends and I decided the best place to wind down was at the most popular club in La; so here we are. At this current time, I had about two margaritas, three cosmos, and several rounds of shots in my system, and I was definitely feeling it, to say the least.

With the pounding of the speakers and rapid movement of the people around, I begin to feel sick. The air is dense, and I feel the alcohol begin to cloud my brain. I try to look for my friends to let them know that I'm taking a break, but I can't seem to find them anywhere.

I eventually give up looking and spot a staircase, leading to a second floor. I make my way up the staircase, making sure to hold the bannister firmly while making my way up. This floor is more empty and secluded but still has the same energy and loudness from the bottom floor.

I whip my phone out from my purse and see it's currently fifteen minutes past three in the morning.

I try to call my friends, but it goes to voicemail each time. Where the fuck are they? While scrolling through my contacts, I come across my ex's one.

My thumb hovers over the call button before irrationally deciding to press it.

I place the phone up to my ear, and I hear it ring. After the second ring, someone picks up. Fuck.

"Hello?" I hear Matt ask over the phone. Shit, I haven't heard his voice in weeks. The last time I called him, I ended up in his bed. No, that wasn't going to happen this time.

"Heyy," I slurred, trying to sound as normal as possible but, in fact, doing the complete opposite.

"Y/n? What d'you want?" He huffs, as if I'm wasting his time. He picked up my call on the second ring I don't think I'm disturbing at all.

"What do I want? A million dollars, but we can't all have everything, I guess," I say, giggling at my own joke.

"What are you talking abo-, are you drunk??" He asks again.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I mock. I can hear him sigh over the phone and mumble something to himself, but I'm not that bothered to know what he's grumpy about.

"Why'd you call? Miss my cock already?" He snickers. Even though I can't see his gorgeous face, I know exactly what smirk is on it right now.

"You wishhhh, I'm actually calling you right now to let you know that I am happy by myself and that I don't miss you one bit. As a matter of the fact, I miss your cock the least about you," I ramble as he patiently waits for me to finish slurring sentences together.

"Yeah? So why are you calling me right now?" He questions slyly.

Well, I don't actually know why I'm calling him. I mean, I do miss his voice, and his cock, and overall just him. But he's an asshole. He never treated me right, and that should be enough for me to turn my back and forget about him, but it doesn't bring me remotely close to doing that.

"Because..... I just wanted to inform you that I look hot right now, and you are missing it," that sounded convincing, right?

"You always look hot, what's your point?" He remarks, leaving my speechless. This is what he always does. He slithers his way in with compliments and cute comments, and then when he's done with you, he throws you to the curb.

"My point...? My point is that I'm not wearing any underwear right now. I'm the commander...no, wait. Commanding? No...commando? Whatever it is, I'm not wearing panties!" I giggle, leaning back on the bannister, which is overlooking the first floor.

I hear him whisper something incoherent again before he speaks up, "Why the fuck aren't you wearing any underwear?". He sounds more pissed now but I don't give a fuck, the point was to piss him off.

"Why do you give a shit? I'm not your problem anymore, Matt," I say, smiling to myself, knowing I'm getting under his skin.

"Why do I give a shit? Because you're running around La drunk and without panties on," he says, getting more frustrated with me by the second.

"Sooo what? You scared another guy is gonna get his hands on me and fuck me better than you ever could?" I question, knowing that this comment was really gonna set him off.

"First of all, I know that nobody could ever fuck you as good as I do. Second of all, nobody is laying a finger on what belongs to me," he says firmly. The last sentence makes my heart skip a beat.

"I don't belong to anyone, Matt, especially not you," I reply, with half the confidence.

"You can try convince yourself of that all you want, baby, but you know deep down you belong to me," he whispers darkly. I felt my heart begin to beat out of my chest. I knew calling him was a bad idea.

No way. I'm out, having fun with my friends, and I am not leaving the club.

Before I get the chance to fight my corner he speaks again, "and send me your location, I'm coming to pick you up,". I hear shuffling over the phone and his car keys being picked up.

"No. You're not coming here and ruining my night," I say, getting upset.

"Either you send me your location, or I find you, and you know I will," He says. His words shouldn't affect me, but they do; and in the worst way possible, too. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache he's creating between my legs.

"Start looking then," I say before hanging up the phone. I take a deep breath, trying to recover from that conversation, but it's not helping, so I turn to the bar for some help.

I make my way back down to the first floor bar, where another two shots are being digested, and I'm currently sipping on a strawberry daiquiri. I still have no luck spotting my friends, but I'm sure they're somewhere.

As I'm finishing up my drink, preparing to go back onto the dance floor, I feel hand on my waist. I turn my head to find a middle-aged man with black hair staring down at me with a crooked smile on his lips.

"Let go of me," I demand, attempting to shrug him off. The audacity men have, pushing themselves onto women and then being hurt when they get rejected.

He keeps his hand firmly there when he opens his mouth to speak, "C'mon babygirl, I know somewhere quiet we can go," giving my hip a squeeze. Before I have the chance to reply, someone else does for me.

"Get the fuck off her," I hear Matt's voice quickly approaching from behind. The man drops his hand from my waist, and I swivel in my seat to see Matt grab the man by his collar.

"Don't ever lay another finger on her again unless you want to lose all ten," he says, speaking through his teeth.

Fuck. I'm glad he got the creep away, but now he's gonna take me away. How did he even find me so quick? There are a million clubs in La.

The weirdo scurried off somewhere, and Matt turned to look at me. His eyes rake my body, drinking in how my curves look in this tight black dress before his eyes meet mine again. I took a long look at his face, too. His hair was scruffy, and his beard was grown out. Fuck, why is he so hot?

"No wonder you have pigs like him throwing themselves at you, you're dressed like a slut," he says, nodding his head towards my dress.

"I'm not a slut," I say, standing from my chair, trying not to fall over. I'm trying to look as intimidating as possible, but it's difficult when I literally have to look up to make eye contact with him.

"I never said you was, I said you look like one," he says, knowing he caught me out. He then grabs the top of my arm, "Let's go, we're leaving,".

"What? No way. I'm not going anywhere. My friends are here," I say, pulling out from his grip.

"I don't give a fuck if the pope is here, we're leaving," he says grabbing my arm more harshly and dragging me through crowds of people all the way to the exit.

At the doors, I pull away from his grasp again and spin on my heels, attempting to go back inside until my feet are suddenly in the air. Matt lifts me up and tosses me over his shoulder with ease, pulling my dress down slightly so my ass isn't on show to everyone.

"MATT, PUT ME DOWN!" I say, banging my fists on his back and kicking my feet. But nothing works. He keeps walking down the street until we eventually stop, and he puts me down in front of his car.

"Get in the car," he says, looking me dead in the eye. I look back at him, pulling the strictest face I could conjure up.

"No." I refuse completely. He then opens the passenger car door and picks me up again, placing me inside the car and slamming the door shut. He walks around to his side and also enters.

"I can't believe I had to carry you away like a child," he scoffs, putting the keys into the car.

"I can't believe you ruined my night, AGAIN," I argue back, turning to face away from him. He then tells me to put my belt on, but I refuse once again. Maybe if I keep being difficult he'll let me go.

I then feel his hand squeeze my face as he pulls it to meet his, "put your fuckin' seat belt on and shut the fuck up," he says, letting go of my face and I bring my own hands to rub where he just let go. Ow.

I quickly fasten my seat belt, but I still have my back facing him. While he was driving, the car was silent, no talking and no music, just utter silence. The car was rocking me back and forth in a comforting way, making me slowly doze off, I rest my head on the window.

I'm woken up by the cold air of the night hitting my face. I don't even have time to open my eyes before I feel arms snake around my body and lift me up. I force my eyes open and I'm met with Matt's face just centimetres from mine. He's carrying me bridal style into his house.

"Why are we here? I don't want to be here. I want to go home," I mumble against his chest.

"Because I don't trust you to not choke on your own vomit and die," he says, walking through his house and making his way to his bedroom. He kicks the door open and gently sets me down onto his bed.

I watch him slink around the room, collecting a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He then makes his way back over to me.

"C'mere," he says, reaching for my foot. I watch him unbuckle my heels and slide them off my feet. He then grabs the sweatpants and bunches them up, allowing me to slide my legs into them. The warmth of the clothes was nice, almost enough to make me fall asleep again. He then reaches for the zipper of my dress.

"No, I'm not wearing a bra," I mumble again, pushing his hands away from me.

"So what? I'm just changing you into this shirt," he asks, moving to my zipper again.

"So you'll see my boobs you perv," I reply, moving his hands away again. He stands in front of me with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Really? It's nothing I haven't seen before, and anyway, I'm not looking," he says, attempting to reach my zipper for a third time. This time, I let him inch the zipper down my body, letting my dress fall from my body.

He quickly moves to put the shirt over my head and pull my arms through the holes of the shirt. He then picks up my dress and places it on his desk, moving back to me.

"Here...lay on your side," he says, placing me under the sheets and forcing my body onto its side. As he's about to walk off, I grab his sleeve.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Matt," I say, sinking into the soft mattress.

"Yeah, don't get used to it," he says. I let go of his sleeve, and he walked away. After a few minutes, I feel the bed next to me dip and a body slides under the covers with me. I'm moments away from surrendering to sleep but awake enough to feel Matt wrap his arms around me and pull me into his body.

I feel like I'm laying on a cloud, and the warmth of his body next to mine makes falling asleep so enticing. I know I'm going to regret everything tomorrow morning, but for now, I'm enjoying the feeling of his body wrapped in mine as I drift off to sleep.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; this is sooo long, and i hate the fact that it consists of soo much dialogue, but we move. anywho, thanks for reading, love youu. 💙

[navybrat817]

Send Me an Angel

Pairing: Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you're an angel. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, Dubcon/NonCon elements (you are responsible for your own media consumption) dirty talk, kidnapping, beginning stages of stockholm syndrome, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's I Spy Challenge. I've included all three prompts in some way. Happy to get back into the soft dark pool! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, Bucky edit by the incredible Nix, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was early morning when you woke up alone in Bucky's bed. You only knew that based on the time from the clock on the nightstand since he had blackout curtains. You groggily wiped at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more as you turned on the lamp. Caffeine would help if you had any.

Maybe you could convince him to bring you a drink if you asked nicely.

"Bucky?" you called out, your voice cracking as you began to sit up.

It took you a moment to remember that he wouldn't exactly hear you even if you yelled.

The familiar ache between your thighs stopped you from sitting up completely, the memory of the previous night imprinted in your mind. And every night since you went on your first date with the handsome bartender. While you had a feeling he'd be amazing in bed the moment you laid eyes on him, you underestimated his stamina.

Like the morning after.

You always felt a bit vulnerable when you showered, your guard down more than normal. It shouldn't have surprised you when Bucky joined you, but you still shrieked when he pressed you against the wall. You were sure you would've fallen if his firm grip hadn't kept you propped up.

"Round two and three weren't enough?" you teased as he traced the water droplets on your skin with his tongue.

"It'll never be enough," he answered, leaving a small bite on your collarbone. "I can't help myself."

"Bucky, I need to finish up and go," you moaned as he moved his hands to your ass, your traitorous body not putting up much of a fight.

"So perfect for me," he groaned against your neck, like he hadn't heard you. "You can take me again. I know you can. Just give me one more."

You did. You took all of him, just like he said you would. Like a good girl.

The sick thing was that part of you craved it.

Your heartbeat quickened at the sound of footsteps outside of the door. You learned that Bucky could be silent if he wished, so the deliberate sounds meant he wanted you to know he was there. It was considerate.

Or was it just a way to show that he was in control?

"Morning," Bucky said as he opened the door with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I wanted to surprise you."

You told yourself to smile back when he held up a small bouquet. Red camellias. The same flowers he gave you when he took you out to dinner. He even wore the same leather jacket he was wearing now.

How long ago had it been since he took you out?

You were losing track of the days.

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. "I know it isn't a diamond necklace, but I thought you'd like them. They reminded me of our first date."

"I remember," you nodded.

You watched as he walked over to the nightstand and set the flowers down. He shrugged his jacket off a moment later and tossed it on the recliner in the corner. He liked to sit in it some days to read.

Or watch you.

Whatever particular mood he was in.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked as he sat on the bed beside you.

"Just fine," you smiled, bringing a finger up to trace the tattoo on his neck.

Bucky Barnes had to be one of the most handsome men to ever grace this earth. Well over six feet tall with a buff frame and a glare that could kill, he seemed more suited to be a bouncer than a bartender. The tattoos and nose piercing added to his appeal. But it was his icy blue eyes that nearly made you spill your drink when he handed it to you.

Thankfully you recovered enough to grab a seat on an empty stool and flirt with him.

You didn't know it would change everything.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll have to ruin you."

"We can't have that," you joked.

"Why not?" he asked, taking your hand before you could pull it away. He looked into your eyes as he brought it to his mouth. Instead of kissing the top of it, he turned and brushed his lips on the inside of your wrist. "Your heart is racing."

"That's what you do to me," you said truthfully.

Out of lust. Fear. Both.

"That's what you do to me, too," he said.

To prove his point, he placed your hand on his chest.

You knew it beat for you.

"Did I tell you that meeting you changed my life?" he asked.

"It did?" you replied, even though you already knew.

You searched his expression anyway when he smiled. When you spotted him that first night at the bar, his grin appeared forced when he helped other customers. It never quite reached his eyes. He told you over dinner that it was a show for others, a mask to hide how he really felt.

With you, he showed a genuine smile and softer side.

One you believed you could trust.

"I wasn't in a good place. It's hard to explain, but I felt like I was drifting through my life," he began, moving his hand to tuck the sheet around your body more. You weren't sure when you began to tremble, but of course he noticed. He didn't miss a thing. "I was actually close to quitting the bar and leaving town when you walked up and ordered a drink. I wanted to ask you out right away, but I didn't want to seem like a creep."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. You found excuses to go back to the bar more often and it still took him weeks to ask you out. You thought he was being a gentleman.

"I'm sorry you weren't in a good place," you said.

"Don't apologize. This path in life led me to you and I'll tell you more about it one day," he smiled, sliding his hand over the sheet until he stopped at your hip. "You know, girls have hit on me, even a few guys, but no one got my attention the way you did."

His insatiable nature told you as much.

"And your kindness. How you listened to me. Wanted to know me," he continued, a dreamy look taking over his features. "You showed me that angels exist."

Listening to Bucky was easy. He didn't brag about anything to try and impress you. When he spoke, you knew it came from the heart. Who wouldn't want to know him more?

Especially when he seemed so eager to know you?

"I'm not an angel," you stated.

You sucked in a breath when he gripped your chin. You didn't see him move. He was so quick. Always faster than you.

Stronger.

"You must be an angel because you saved me."

If I saved you, why am I damned?

"Isn't that what angels do? They save people, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Bring them joy? Hope? Love?"

"Love?" you whispered.

Is this love?

"Love," he smiled, releasing your chin. "An angel leading me straight to heaven. That's what it feels like when I'm inside you. Fucking paradise. My warm, wet paradise."

It stunned you enough to stay silent when he bent down to kiss your forehead, your walls clenching around nothing.

Why were you reacting to him?

"But I'm selfish," he admitted against your skin as a tear slid from the corner of your eye. "Because you're my angel and I can't share you with anyone else."

"So you still won't let me go?" you asked evenly.

With a sigh, he pushed himself and moved to the end of the bed. He carefully moved the sheet to expose your ankle and check the cuff. You weren't sure if he was inspecting to make sure you weren't injured or to make sure you hadn't tried to tamper with it.

Bucky convinced you to go back to bed after he had you in the shower that fateful morning. He even sweet talked you into letting him cuff you before he split you open on his cock. When you reminded him that you had to work, once you could talk again, he said he already took care of it.

You hadn't left his place since.

Maybe if you had been thinking with your head instead of your pussy, you wouldn't be his prisoner.

"You know I can't do that," he said above a whisper, tilting his head a fraction and covering your ankle again.

You didn't shrink back when his gaze settled on you, as much as you wanted to. You shouldn't have asked that. All things considered, he took care of you. The chain was long enough that you could reach the bathroom. He kept the place warm. There was plenty of food for you.

No weapons were within reach though. The lamp and clock were bolted to the table so you couldn't hit him with them. If he had neighbors, they didn't hear your cries for help. He promised he would always know if you were in danger since he had cameras set up.

That was why it took him weeks to ask you out.

He was preparing for you.

Was anyone even looking for you?

"But Bucky-"

"Don't. You're not leaving me," he snapped, pulling away the sheet he had carefully tucked around you moments ago. "This is your home now and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy."

Except give you your freedom.

What happened to you, Bucky? What demons plagued you so much that you think you have to keep me here?

"I'm sorry," you said immediately as his eyes raked over your naked body.

"You don't even like the flowers, do you?" he asked in a small voice.

"I love the flowers. Really," you promised. A bright spot in a dark place. "Maybe we can even recreate our date right here at home. What do you think?"

He considered your words as you gave him a hopeful smile. He hadn't hurt you and you wanted to keep it that way. If he was happy, you could be happy.

Wait. Why did you just think that?

"We can," he agreed in a husky tone as he stood up and unbuckled his belt. "But for now, let's recreate the end of our date. I need to make my angel feel good."

You blinked away tears as you opened your legs without being told. If you really were an angel, why couldn't you fly away? Why did you let him clip your wings?

And why weren't you fighting harder to get out of the cage he put you in?

Poor thing. Bucky will take care of you, right? Maybe we'll see down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bluebeary-jay]

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out.  It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

[osarina]

to the anon - i’m putting it under the cut because i’m not bringing discourse to my dash again. you are right in that you’re getting blocked, but i'm afraid that's where it ends!

i don't know WHERE you get the inclination that you think i think i'm being "cool" by my previous message, i'm sure that you think you're cool coming on anon to act like the selfship police, but i'll entertain your shitty asks one last time. i did not LIE about anything you said, that's a bold and absurd accusation.

i fear that is common sense. if someone does not have their exact age on their account and gives a vague range instead, you're a crossing a boundary by pressing for that exact age range to call them "weird". don't play stupid, it's not "mature" of you.

but quite frankly i don't CARE what you find weird! i am not aging myself back to being 18 again in my fics, i'm portraying the two of us at the stage in our selfship when we would have both been 18. when people write childhood friends to lovers, and the scene includes them being 12, they are not "regressing themselves" to be 12 again to selfship with a 12 year old version of a character. they are creating plot and substance to that point in a timeline and that's NORMAL. that's how writing works. i can write the 18 year old versions of me and dazai from the past in my fics to portray that portion of the story while still being in the 20s! i like substance and background to my selfships.

what about this is NOT judgmental? you come into my ask box judging me for having a selfship with dazai and pressing me about my age while calling it "weird" (that's a quote!) there is no twisted narrative here, you're acting like the selfship police. more than that, you're prioritizing the feelings of someone that does not exist over the feelings of a real life person. comparing someone in their early twenties to finding comfort with a character that is LITERALLY THEIR AGE is fucking absurd. dazai is 22 currently, he was 18 once. i am in my early twenties currently, i was 18 once. ???? i'm going through the timeline of what our relationship would've been like. comparing this to someone who is 50 selfshipping with a 14 year old is INSANE. that is a FOUR decade difference, not a few years. be fucking real right now, i actually can't believe someone typed this out and thought "wow this will totally get her!!"

again - your "simple question", if you put a little thought behind it, crosses boundaries. don't YOU lie. you can play innocent all you want but we all know that if someone doesn't have something explicitly stated - ESPECIALLY when they have an alternative there - it is CROSSING BOUNDARIES to press and ask for it. you can play innocent and stupid, but it's not going to work here, sorry. i'm not going to let you come onto MY blog and disrespect me.

... let me understand this .... dazai left in the spring .... his birthday is in the summer .... dazai is eighteen when he leaves the mafia .... meaning his birthday in the summer passed (and thus spring as well), so he left the next spring ... which means he's been 18 for nearly a whole year ............ regardless of the fact that you just disproved your own point, you sent no source and i'm afraid i'm not going to just take your word because i cannot find ANYTHING on this topic online.

on this topic, i never claimed to be the end all knowledge of dazai, i am not asagiri, i don't know everything and i dont claim to. but continue to get your snide comments in, i hope it makes you happier.

i allow simple questions when they are not rude and disrespectful. furthermore, i am NOT a content creator. i am a person who enjoys writing and enjoys sharing it. this is my personal blog, i don't make money from this. i will repeat - i am NOT a content creator, i don't like that term and the implications/expectations that come along with that. and this ask is precisely why.

this is the end of this discussion. there is one immature person here and it is YOU. you can act innocent and play stupid, but everyone knows that wasn't meant to be a simple question, and your response is even more showing of that. you're not going to come onto my blog - MY safe space - and disrespect me. the moment you ended that ask with "it's weird" it becomes rude and judgmental. if it was meant to be a simple question, you would have cut commentary altogether.

comparing someone who is in their early twenties selfshipping with a character who is ALSO in their early twenties to someone who is 50 selfshipping with someone who is 14 is actually insanity. i will always add substance and backstory to my selfships, just like i do with my fics. if you don't like that, kindly stay off my blog.

and claiming that i'm immature when you're throwing a fit in my inbox over someone selfshipping with a fictional character is more telling of you than me.

i will reiterate one last time that i am not a content creator nor do i want to be treated like one. this is my personal blog that i write fanfiction on. i don't get paid, i don't get sponsorships, brand deals or anything. i write fanfiction for myself and i share for those who might be interested. i'm not going to sit here and be told i'm "bad" at something that i'm not because you have a preconceived idea of how i "should" be acting because you presume i'm something that i'm not. it says right on my nav that this is a personal blog.

you're blocked, this conversation is over. i hope you reflect and realize why you were wrong here and you don't put another writer on here through the same thing.

i hope you have a good life and heal. peace and love.

[wildemaven]

Okay, so I guess this sits in the realm of Confessions.

I'm thinking about leaving tumblr. I'm not sure what I did or didn't do to cause this, but the people I thought of as my friends or at least closest moots hardly interact with me anymore. My posts, my fics, my reblogs, my comments to them... They are around, I see them on my dash, but...

It all sounds so middle school, but it hurts nonetheless, and I'm pretty sure anything that feels like middle school (even actual middle school) can't be good for anyone.

The thing is, I really love everyone, and I don't want to give up. But going around to literally dozens of peoples DMs to ask, "Do you like me?" "Are we still friends?" "Are you mad at me?" Is again a kind of painful kid trauma thing I just can't quite bring myself to do.

I feel like my time here is just sort of over. I started with little expectation, and to my surprise, I found community, felt well liked and valued, and then, it just sort of went away.

There was a time when I was really happy about my place here, and just that makes me so sad.

You don't have to answer or anything. I think it just feels kind of cathartic to write it down where if nothing else someone else will read it.

Anyway... I guess that's it.

Held on to this for a little bit because my heart aches for you and I want to wrap you in the biggest hug 💕 I felt I could have written something so similar, as so many are relating to this right now.

It’s so hard to not feel like you’re feeling when you see people you’ve connected with slowly pull away from you. It hurts even more when they’re still active but actively avoiding you. That fucking hurts deep.

There was a time when this space felt very welcoming and fun. And while I do still have fun, sometimes it doesn’t feel as welcoming— and I know I’m not the only one feeling this.

Cliques branch off, popularity fuels some to feel like they’re too good to interact with others, the vibe isn’t vibing like it use to. And like you mentioned, it can all make you feel like you’re being thrown back in middle schools wondering why you’re not good enough? What did you do to cause this? What’s the point of even being here in this space any longer?

I’m so sorry this has become your reality. I wish it was a simple fix or there was a perfect solution to make things better. I support whatever decision you make, your wellbeing and mental health matter most— just know this community will be a little less bright without you in it!!

You said I didn’t have to post this, but I want others who might be feeling the same to know they’re not alone at all. There’s a lot of us floating around with the same exact thoughts and feeling like we just no longer belong in this space.

You’re more than welcome to jump in my DMs or continue sending anonymous messages to my inbox if that helps you in any way 💕

Coffee Shop Asks

[tastytoastz]

I just want to say that the most recent chapter, at the time of writing this, of your fic (where Pac and Mike travel back in time to a 2b Fit, forgive me for forgetting the name) had me so enthralled. I've said this before but I don't think there are nearly enough fics that thoroughly explore the absolute internalised homophobia a man would develop in a place like 2b, so to have a fic like yours properly portray it is like a dream. That chapter has been stuck in my mind since I first read it, and I've reread it a couple of times.

I can't get over how well you showed that he wasn't just angry, but genuinely terrified. I love the emphasis on him being above all just so fucking scared of that information existing out loud. It's such a good angle. And he's not completely dead shocked by the revelation, and jumps straight into denial, which makes it come across - to me, anyway - as if he has already been aware of this fact about himself for a while, like he knows, and he actively works to hide it everyday. There's so much implied in what isn't said . It leaves you wondering how long he's known, how much he thinks about it, if anyone else in his life has ever known, if he has witnessed first hand what happens to people like him (has he ever watched someone get killed for that while having slurs and horribly vulgar and vivid insults thrown at them, and tried his hardest not to picture himself in that position, as the victim?) ... And most of all you wonder what the aftermath of the interaction looks like on his end. Is he panicking silently up in that room, expecting a mob at his door by morning? What is he thinking, what's running through his head? What does he expect to happen now?

I just love the angle you took and how it was written, and that you decided to pick up the heavy subject matter and write it where a lot of other writers seem hesitant. It's so intriguing .

Thank you so much for this ask!!! I could go crazy over this chapter as well and point out so many details, I'm gonna get into some here, but not all (since I wanna keep some stuff ambigitous/secret still and cuz if i mentioned it all it would be a long post, but I will probably go deeper into some more things once the fic is over cuz I have so many things and smaller details I wan't to get into!!! ) (Also I guess if you want to keep thing ambigious and not 'peek behind the curtain' about some things with this fic don't keep reading)

I have seen some people say Fit's reaction to Mike's comment is with self-denial but honestly it's a lot closer to just being him denying Mike and Pac's words. He's not lying to himself, he's strictly lying to Pac and Mike, and I'm glad I was able to make that clear and people are picking up on it!

Not gonna go to much into it right now ( that's for later in the fic 🤫), but he's very aware he is gay.

As a queer person myself homophobia is sadly not something i'm unfamiliar with. I have experinced it directed towards me and I have seen it happen to other people. Meanwhile i've also done research about internalised homophobia as best I can. I know it's a heavy subject matter (and the fic has a lot of violence/gore as well, it's rated M for a reason) so I'm glad so many people are intrigued by the fic despite it (however I fully understand if someone would not like the themes and cuz of that won't read it). I'm hoping to portray it and handle the themes as best i can.

I also think it would just makes sense from a character perspective, you have a man who has been on 2b2t for years, surrounded by slurs for all lgbtq memebers and wathcing people get specially targeted for stuff like that, and that would fuck with you as a closeted gay person. Not only bring you fear of being "found out", but also adapting homophobi language to look less like "one of them" while also just ingraning it in yourself.

Fit's been told the person he is bad, and knows that if people find out he's gay there will be a lot of negative consequnces, so he hides it. And then here comes Mike, not only saying that he knows he's gay but also that "it's obvious" that he likes Pac. For Mike and Pac it's a factual thing they know, while they also know is dangerous to Fit in the wrong hands. They also think it's obvious Fit likes Pac beacuse they know what to look for.

For Fit it sounds like these random guys, despite his best efforts, knows he's gay, the other says he has photo evidence he's gay, and then said he is awful at hiding it. These two people could ruin his life and have him killed so easily. That's what Fit heard and that is terrifying.

This is also one of the reason this fic is only from Pac's POV becuase I want it to be as unclear for the reader what Fit is thinking as it is for Pac. You don't know how Fit thinks in the past, what ideas he has or how he looks at thing which I think it both intruging for readers but also terrifying. You never know what Fit's next move is going to be.

Once again, thank you so much for the ask! I love talking about my fics so thank you for giving me a reason to!

[staycalmandhugaclone]

You'll Have to Go Through Me

We're at a point where I strongly recommend not reading this until after working your way through the entirety of Doc's Misadventures beginning, of course with Touch Starved!

There are still some slots left for the 400 follower celebration. I'll be bouncing between Doc fics and reader oc fics bit by bit (though, I can't really stop mid arc for brain reasons, so you'll get part 2 of this fic before I pop back into Asks)

Last head's up: Given my last fics weren't Doc fics, I didn't start this yet, but after today, I'll be reducing my tag list. If folks haven't interacted in some way for a few fics, I'm going to stop tagging you. Because Tumblr just can't do things easily for me, I frequently hand type my entire list, so if yuh want me to take the time to tag you, ya'll have to give me something back so I know I'm not tagging people who've lost interest or aren't even on here anymore. To all my lovelies who silently reblog: I adore you and you can do no wrong in this world! To those of you who frequently comment/chat with me about this crazy little world I accidentally made: I would happily burn the world to see you smile

Warnings: Lots of heavy emotions in this one - angst, guilt, angry, blame, got some profanity in there, and reference to child soldiers kinda

WC: 3,171

There was a rumor that the Kaminoan’s eyes could see colors humans simply couldn’t; that everything from the unblemished armor of shinies to the very reports endlessly updating on their communicators was overlaid with additional data invisible to those deemed a “lesser race.” That rumor left the identical, monotone halls of their cities feeling even more unwelcoming; as though secrets laid all around me, taunting my every step in some undeniable proof that their prejudiced beliefs held a merit I would never be able to fight, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that anymore.

I roamed those immaculate halls aimlessly, purely for the want of letting myself get lost in them. The need to hide, to flee despite there being nowhere I could run drove me to wander endlessly through the most distant corridors, blindly staring at barracks that had long since been left abandoned as the production of clones lessened with every day that passed. Once, each of the countless rooms around me had been home to cadets too young to understand the horrors awaiting them, and I bleakly wondered how many of those children were now lost to the never-ending demand for sacrifice towards a goal that seemed just as distance now as it had during that very first battle.

I’d nearly walked past him, utterly oblivious to his presence until his helm shifted just enough to catch my attention, and, with a sharp gasp, I was ripped from the illusioned reprieve of my thoughts.

“Kriff!” The curse hissed through clenched teeth, wide eyes locking on the lithe figure leaning silently against the tiny inlet of a doorframe. That silence lingered until my panic withered into that too familiar dread, air catching in my lungs as I stood frozen before him.

“We’re leaving in an hour. Hunter sent you a com.” He stated, and I nearly broke from the chill in his raspy voice.

“I… I haven’t read it, yet…” I finally admitted, jaw stiff. I’d remembered how my heart had dropped at the alert for the incoming message, certain I’d find orders detailing my reassignment lingering within, and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look. Crosshair said nothing for a long moment, and I had to fight the nervous dance of my fingers. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, and a new panic overwhelmed me.

“Wait!” I gasped, body stealing a half-step toward him before locking up once more. He paused, but didn’t turn back, and I could feel something on the verge of shattering within me.

“I thought you said you didn’t regret it.” It was quiet, as though whispering those words might hide the hurt in them, and the air fled me in a shuttered exhale.

“I…” My throat locked around that choked word, and I cursed myself for faltering when I so desperately wanted to offer him some hint of reassurance, but I could only stare as his shoulders sank before starting through those sickeningly pristine halls once more.

“Wait…” I begged, voice barely audible, but he didn’t stop, and finally, my body remembered itself. “Wait! Wait, dammit! I don’t regret being with you!” I shouted, racing forward to cut him off. He said nothing as he stared down at me, that emotionless visor offering nothing of the warmth with which he’d looked at me just days prior, and I could feel myself wilt beneath it. Letting out a carefully controlled exhale, I reached up to remove my own helmet, robbing myself of what protection that barrier feigned to lay myself bare before him.

“They… they can’t even look at me, Crosshair…” I whispered, and I could see the dark circles beneath my eyes in the sliver of my reflection, “and I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with that.” I couldn’t breathe as I waited anxiously for some manner of response. When he finally began to move, that need surged anew within me, and I could only watch as his hand slowly reached up to trail lightly along my jaw until his palm rested against my cheek.

“I told you they’d figure it out.” A short scoff escaped me, and I couldn’t keep myself from shifting further into his touch. My lips parted, breath catching with the beginnings of speech, but I felt the words abandon me, too weary to force out a response. Instead, I let myself grasp his hand reverently between both of mine and turned just enough to press my lips firmly against his gloved palm, fingers tightening with a desperation I couldn’t risk giving voice as I listened to the air leave him in a slow sigh. Without a word, he pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around me. I didn’t hesitate, eagerly pressing myself against him for that familiar comfort of his embrace.

“Every time that damn com went off…” I whispered hiding against the rigid planes of his chest plate as sobs vied to rob even those strained words from me, “I was so sure it was an alert that I’d been reassigned…” and, I couldn’t fight back the tiny hitch of a sob as his arms tightened.

“That’s not going to happen.” A hopeless huff of laughter escaped me, but when he called my name, I found my gaze automatically turning up to his, and I couldn’t bring myself to doubt him. “Just give them some time… Please.” How could I not yield beneath the raw need in his voice? I barely noticed the way my head subtly nodded against him, but that didn’t diminish the truth of the gesture. Of course, I would give them time. I would grant them as long as they needed regardless the way my heart twisted at the mere thought of subjecting myself to the terrible quiet they fell into at the very threat of my presence… I knew I could never leave them… any of them… not unless they told me to… I’d promised.

-

I’d hidden away in those abandoned halls for three days before he’d come to find me. Following him back to the hanger had the same taste as an akk dog being dragged home from the pound, and I couldn’t keep my gaze from studying the metal ramp below as we eventually reached the Marauder. I’d finally glanced at my datapad as we walked and found myself wishing I hadn’t. There were only two lines of text in that initial com: the time of the mission brief, which I’d missed, and the time we were meant to leave, which we only barely made it back by. A subsequent message appeared to summarize that brief, but I didn’t have time to more than open it.

As soon as the ramp locked into place, Crosshair pulled off his helmet and stored it in his gun locker. I started to do the same, but paused at the sudden quiet that stole through him once I’d removed my bucket, fingers absently shifting over the ridge where padding covered the unyielding plastoid. He said nothing as he stepped toward me, but I melted at the first feel of his hand slipping up the back of my neck to just tangle into the base of my hair as his lips pressed against my forehead. He held me like that until the ship began to rise, and then he left, silently disappearing into the cockpit where, I assumed, the rest of his brothers waited.

I knew those little moments of softness were, in part, merely an effort to distract me from the guilt ceaselessly twisting through my chest, but that realization didn’t lessen the warmth they granted me. I’d always believed there was more to him than the snarky, eternally unimpressed persona he so loved to flaunt about, but to find myself the subject of such gentle affection was something I would never weary of.

Finding myself alienated from his brothers, however, was a sorrow that contrasted so starkly with the thrill that lingered after Crosshair’s touch that I was left in a place of violently conflicting wants and regrets each too overwhelming to allow even a moment’s understanding of any one emotion. Part of me wanted to follow him, to plead some ignorance that the easy dynamic we’d fallen into hadn’t been shattered so effortlessly, but I couldn’t.

Images of the detached distance in Hunter’s eyes when he’d last looked at me sent me, instead, to the small kitchenette if only to busy myself with restocking menial items in some useless plight to distract myself. When those heavy footsteps sounded from down the hall, however, I found myself regretting that decision, despite how I loathed the thought of hiding away in the medbay again, but my heart raced at the thought of Wrecker coming to a sharp halt at the doorway, at the awkward silence that would fall as he tried to make some excuse to flee, and the coming devastation that would bring me.

I didn’t turn to him when he stopped just outside, attention carefully turned away from him to grant an easier escape, but he didn’t move. After a few tense seconds, I glanced hesitantly toward him, and found myself frozen at the quiet in those mismatched eyes as he looked at me.

“I was worried you weren’t coming back.” He murmured, and I had to turn away for a moment, lungs straining to draw in a steady breath before I could answer him.

“I was worried you might not want me to.” His broad shoulders dropped, automatically taking several steps nearer to me before catching himself.

“Of course, we do!” He said quickly, voice vainly forced into something of a hushed whisper. “It’s just… it’s hard, I guess… different… but that don’t mean we don’t want you around! Just… gotta figure out how everything fits, now, I guess…” Relief and turmoil warred through me as he stammered to explain, and I had to catch my lip between my teeth at the question that followed. “Is that why you stayed away?”

“I think… I think I was trying to figure out how things fit, too…” I answered, stumbling over the same inadequacy of spoken word to touch on the chaos and doubt that led me to wander those abandoned halls.

“… Crosshair… he makes you happy?” He asked suddenly, and my gaze instantly darted back up to find his focus staring blindly toward the too-small table meant to house half the number we’d so often crammed around it.

“… yeah… he does” I hated the hesitation in my voice, and found myself wanting to say more; to offer some promise that… that what? That it wasn’t that Wrecker didn’t make me happy? That the whirlwind of emotions storming relentlessly through me was so devastatingly confusing that I couldn’t begin to sort through them? That I had to bite my tongue to keep from begging him not to hate me? Trapped in that indecision, I allowed myself to say nothing at all, and his response nearly brought me to tears.

“That’s good.” There was still a subtle edge of sorrow in his voice, but I couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, which made them all the more painful to hear. “Things have been… hard lately - guess they always are, but… you and Cross… Yuh both needed something to be happy about. So, I’m happy for yuh… Just… sorry it took me a while to figure that out.”

My breath fled me in a broken sigh, and I instantly threw myself toward him, arms locking around his shoulders as my face hid against his neck. I felt him automatically move to return the embrace before freezing, body tense.

“Uh… is…” He stammered hesitantly. “Is it, yuh know… okay for me to-to hug yuh?” The laughter that escaped me sounded too akin to a sob, and I held him even tighter for it.

“Of course, it’s okay for you to hug me.” I said, voice dropping back into a whisper lest the words break, and some of that crippling weight finally slipped from my shoulders as he readily locked me against him.

“You look at the briefing, yet?” He asked after I finally released him, and I couldn’t help but notice the trace of tension hidden beneath that boisterous excitement.

“Not yet,” I replied, watching him carefully though I tried to keep the hesitation from my voice, “I was planning to read over it tonight. What’s the mission?”

“Just stealin’ files off’a some fancy database, but after I get to blow the whole thing up so they can’t figure out what we took!” There was an overzealousness to his too-quick response, a nervousness that I doubted many others would note, but I knew him, and, when I reached for my datapad to finally look through the message, I wasn’t surprised to hear the way his breath caught slightly in his throat. It took only a brief glance to understand why, and whatever traces of guilt within me went silent beneath my sudden rage.

“Hunter!” I shouted, already storming around Wrecker, blind to the way his face pulled into a barely restrained cringe. Two data ports needed to be spliced simultaneously at opposite sides of a large compound on an isolated world recently lost to Separatist forces. Crosshair was being dropped off on a nearby cliffside to provide cover and report troop movement, while Wrecker would begin placing munitions strategically throughout the facility. Hunter and Tech would infiltrate the northern port, and Echo the southern one nearest Crosshair’s position. Meanwhile, I was meant to remain on the Marauder as “backup”.

“What the kriff is this?!” I snapped. He was just cresting the cockpit ladder as I approached with my datapad clutched in my hand.

“If you’d been at the briefing, you wouldn’t be asking that.” He retorted, arms crossing over his chest as he stared down at me.

“Oh kriff you, Hunter!” I snarled, numb to the hurt I knew I should have felt at the feigned impatience in those eyes. His brow twitched briefly together, but he offered no further response. “You’re leaving Echo practically defenseless!”

“Echo is an arc trooper. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” He replied blankly.

“Not when he’s plugged in!” My words reverberated slightly against the metal walls, and some part of me wanted to feel guilty for how his sensitive hearing surely ached because of it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “The instant he’s connected, his reaction time-”

“Is still better than yours.” He interrupted harshly. My jaw snapped shut, heart pounding against my chest as he began walking toward me, movements slowed beneath a purposeful intent, exhibiting every ounce of the intimidating, elite soldier he’d been painstakingly created to encompass, but my anger, my dread that something would happen, that his benching me might cost his life or the life of one of his brothers forbade me from yielding, from feeling even a whisper of fear as I stared him down.

“Until we figure this out, you’re a liability. I can’t have them distracted out there in the middle of a mission just because you don’t want to feel left out.” He continued, voice sharp, and I wanted to spit at the word ‘they,’ balking at the vain implication that he’d managed to convince any one of us that he was somehow unaffected. “Unless you want to go running off somewhere again, we can try to figure this out after, but we’re set to land in four hours, and I’m not spending that time playing mediator when we need to be focused on not getting killed.”

Later, the silence that fell between us would break me. Later, I would remember the way my hands clenched into fists as I glared at the man before me with an animosity that, just days prior, I would have thought impossible. Later, I would remember that I was to blame for the crippling discordance that so effortlessly brought our unbreakable family to ruin. In that moment, however, I wanted to hurt him for all the ways I was hurting, and I hated myself for it.

“This is a mistake, Hunter.” The words left in a strained growl, teeth clacking as my jaw snapped around his name. “You know that… and it’s going get one of them killed.” His lips tensed with the beginnings of a scowl just as his attention shifted ever so slightly behind him.

I couldn’t hear what was said, but I held no doubt that that was the intent, that one of his brothers had murmured some warning or plea before he could offer whatever justifiably harsh retort lay seething atop his tongue, and I was glad I couldn’t hear them. If it was Crosshair, would I have lashed out against his attempt to protect me? If I’d heard Tech recant some psychological study dismissing my concerns in favor of Hunter’s logic, would I have yelled at him with that same vehemence? Or if Echo… I couldn’t… I couldn’t do this… I couldn’t breathe beneath the sudden certainty that I was alone in that moment… that I had no one to turn to as my thoughts cascaded into a darkness I feared would consume me.

Gaze falling to metal flooring forever stained with oil and grime and far too much blood as my chest tightened into a vise around my heart, I found myself frozen for a mere second longer before turning away from him. He made no effort to stop me. I didn’t think I could have stopped even if he had. I needed to think… no… I needed to run; to hide… I needed to escape the unspoken accusation in his eyes. I needed to escape the nightmare of my own thoughts berating me for each word that fell so thoughtlessly from my lips, the terror that Hunter was right, that I’d turned myself into the deadly distraction I’d so feared becoming all those months back. I needed to escape this faltering reality as the consequences of my own actions threatened to rip my very sense of self from hands I still couldn’t manage to unclench.

It wasn’t until hearing the quiet beep of the medbay’s door denying entry that I even realized I’d locked it behind me, and I instantly knew who stood just beyond that wall of chilled metal. Wrecker would have called out, and I doubted the others were quite ready to speak to me directly yet. I knew it was Crosshair; knew that he stood there waiting to see if I’d yield, but the seconds turned into minutes, and I made no effort to haul myself from where I sat tucked against the corner, fingers tangled into my hair as I merely let myself hurt beneath the weight of everything I’d lost, everything it felt like I was still losing. I heard his fist fall lightly against the door just once before, after a final moment of denial, treading slowly back down the hall.

Look at this adorable FANART!!! - Thank you so much @mythical-illustrator!!

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[warpedlegacywrites]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you for this ask @blarrghe!

Swept Away: Josephine Montilyet/Isabela. M. 75,162 words. This project was a real labor of love from start to finish. It was also the first work I ever made a concentrated effort to finishing before I published it. And the result, I think, is all the stronger for it. I adore this pairing as well, and I'm not usually given to rare pairs, but these two just sing to me. They fit so perfectly together, and I had so much fun imagining how that might happen. Major thanks to @rakshadow for being my ever-patient and ever-wise beta. And to @theluckywizard for the lovely artwork she contributed. You both helped this story take shape!

Lead Her Through the Darkness: Genfic. T. 3,121 words. One-shot. This was my first gift fic for an OC swap exchange, and I swear from start to finish I was possessed with this character. Ixchel is such an amazing protagonist and the symbolism around her, especially her name, felt such a vital piece of that, I wanted to explore that a bit. I am humbled and honored that @dreadfutures has taken this idea and run with it in her own canon. <3

Seeker, It's Cold Outside: Varric Tethras/Cassandra Pentaghast. T. 5,242 words. One-shot. Writing vitriolic banter is like 95% of the reason why I adore this pairing so much. Their dynamic is so messy, doomed from the start, but no less worthy of a story to be told just because the ending I foresee for them isn't an unambiguously happy one. It's moments like this one where I see them able to unpack themselves a little bit around each other, and that's so important for them both.

Fiercely Perish: Dorian Pavus/The Iron Bull. M. 23,033 words. Die Hard, but in Thedas. This was an April Fool's Day fic some years ago, and it remains a fic I look on fondly for how much unbridled fun it was to write. I especially love people recognizing the source material as they read and leave comments. It brings me such joy. This is also probably one of the sillier fics I've written, and I don't give myself the opportunity to lean into humor as often as angst. This is just. Fun. It's fun. I love it. ^_^

While Time Remains: Series. Cullen Rutherford/OC!mage!Trevelyan. M. 189,699 words, 2/4 planned arcs published. WIP. I'm cheating a little bit on this one since it's a series rather than one isolated fic. But the series is one continuous story, so I think I can count that. This was the series I turned to when I stalled on my main DAI-timeline longfic. Writing this gave me a chance to finally sink my teeth into the Cullen/Theresa pairing that I was longing for so badly with my main fic's slow burn. It also helped me really start to shape my voice as a writer, learning how to pace a story so that one arc felt complete while still being part of a greater whole. And it helped me discover my strengths as a writer, and grow in my confidence. But more than that, I was able to develop Theresa and Cullen's relationship beyond my wildest dreams. They've grown just as much as I have throughout the course of writing and planning this story for them, that was only originally conceived as a sweet and lighthearted domestic fluff series of vignettes. An epic, vast-sweeping story has grown out of those humble origins, and I can't wait until it's all finished and published so people can enjoy it in its entirety! ^_^

[8bitscarlet]

It Will Come Back

Summary: The cabin was becoming a distant memory but you and Wanda had been anything but. Missions continued with the team but when it was time relax, you were no longer alone. And for the first time, you never wanted to be alone again

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of alcohol, alcohol consumption, blood)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: The rhythm is slowly coming back and of course, I can't leave this series alone for too long. Here’s chapter 17 of AOP. I’ll be testing out if I have major writer’s block with a fic not related to this a bit later 😂 Happy Reading everyone! 💕

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

________________________

Your chair squeaks beneath you as your leg quietly bounces, hands trying to pop already cracked fingers. It's taking everything within you not to let out a sigh, trying to remind Steve that you all had plans later tonight and there was still things to do. He was even involved, you just knew he didn't want to set up the decorations.

You knew this was a fact as you glance over at Nat, her eyes peering up from the time on her phone. Even she knew he was cutting it close and she needed him to climb the ladder.

As you glance around the room, you catch a pair of emerald eyes across the way. Your stare softens as you watch Wanda cock her brow, you pen tapping silently against your temple. You wait for her to tap her fingers against her journal, the silent confirmation that she was connected to you. A secret language the two of you had developed over time.

You're beautiful, the words fill your mind and you watch the smallest upturn in Wanda's lips as she tries to pretend to pay attention to Steve.

The mission, her distant voice echoes in your mind as you sigh, leaning forward onto the table. You feel the pull to find her eyes again, to find her across that table but you hold yourself together for the moment. You'd have all the time in the world to stare into those emerald eyes, as you trace along her silk skin and listen to her alluring whispers all night long.

The clicking of the air-conditioning brings a soft rush of air from the vents. You noticed the slight shift in Wanda's hair and smell that sweet amber flow from across the table. Breathing in deeply, you feel yourself relax your cheek even more into your hand. You stare at Steve but your attention is far from him.

You smell wonderful, you think.

Y/N...we're in a meeting, Wanda warns and you move your hand to hide the grin on you face,

You smell wonderful at this meeting.

Wanda doesn't respond but you watch as she stares down at her notes, biting softly against her lips to keep her beaming smile from escaping. You don't stop your thoughts but simply readjust yourself in your seat.

Haven't seen each other in a few days. I say, we go get a solitary cottage by the sea. Lock myself inside with you. Stay there for a week.

Green eyes curiously flash up to you, What would we do for a week?

Got a lot of ideas, you shrugged.

Wanda catches the hum she nearly lets go and clears her throat, Perhaps. And even more, I like what I see.

You can't pull away from her stare this time. A teasing glint in her eyes and a glowing warmth in her cheeks. Your thoughts start to continue through everything the two of you can do in that solitary time together. All the recipes that could be attempted, all the kisses that could be stolen.

A sharp pain in your knees makes you jump in your seat as you sit up straight, your hand rubbing against the throbbing pain.

"Alright, we'll check on this lead. Y/N, check in with Yelena and we'll meet back here. Hopefully we'll have a triangulated location of where Strucker is."

You nod at Steve's words and glance over at Nat, gratefulness whispered from your lips to her. She makes a noise as she stands and begins to walk out with Wanda. You sigh, closing your journal and trying your hardest not to look at Wanda. As you glance up, you shift your eyes and see a different pair of green eyes already looking at you. She was waiting. Expecting you to fail at your only objective, not to be obvious.

Quickly, you jog out of the room and past the pair, attempting to catch up with Sam. Mostly you were trying to put as much distance between you and Wanda. To get the Russian off your scent before she sent Yelena to ask a billion questions to break you. Besides, you had the rest of the day to preoccupy yourself with getting things prepared for the party.

And the rest of the day was tiring burden. To avoid Wanda and the peering eyes of Nat, you picked up other people's responsibilities. You walked into the compound with an armful of party decorations as Wanda was finishing decorating a batch of cupcakes. Your eyes connected, both of you knowing the redhead could come around a corner at any moment. There would be time to share cake later, no matter how much your stomach was growling.

________________________________

You make it through the afternoon though. Finding yourself leaning up against a doorway with a grin on your face. Nat was out of the Compound, you were a bit safer to knock on the door in front of you. As it opened, your brow rises slightly.

"That's a nice sweater you got there," you eye the slightly oversized sweater on Wanda. She pulls softly at the sleeves as you push yourself away from the threshold.

"I picked it up from somewhere,"

You step forward, "Somewhere or someone?"

"Oh, I don't remember actually," Wanda closes the door softly behind you, 'But I'm sure something," she leans against you as your arms wrap around her, "Or someone could spark my memory."

Your lips press against hers, feeling her arms slink around your neck. She steps into you, practically leaning as your arms tighten around her waist.

"We can't stay here forever," you whispered to her, "You have to make a good first impression,"

Wanda grins against your lips, stealing one more peck, "Just knowing I put up with you, she's going to love me."

You let her slip from your grasp and watch her put the finishing touches on her hair, "That might draw some suspicion, Princess. Putting up with me as... an acquaintance?"

"Exactly," Wanda nods as she steps out of her slippers, "Who sometimes wear each other's clothes."

You laugh, "You do look amazing. I might have to steal it back later, though."

"You do know I’m not wearing this tonight right?," she teases and reaches for the closet handle. You press your hand over hers, softly clasping your fingers around hers.

You hover your lips over her neck, watching how her breath catches, “Even better,”

As your lips press against her soft skin, you hand that wraps around her waist sneaks beneath the sweater. Her contented hums vibrate through you as she cranes herself closer to your lips. Until you feel her hand rise up, pressing your face just to side.

For a moment, you fight to continue kissing down to her collarbone but you feel her body shift. Her lips find yours as she peeks over her shoulder. You feel your body relax in a way that’s only possible with Wanda.

Every muscle her fingers run across, relaxes at her touch. The sighs that brush over you when you grip her tightly and press the softest kiss beneath her jaw. They pull you from the world around you and truly show you just how vulnerable you are. But you don’t worry about made up dangers anymore.

All your focus doesn’t belong to fear now. Only to her.

“You don’t want to wear yourself out too soon do you,” Wanda whispers against your lips, sucking in a breath when you nip along the tender spot on her neck.

You hum as you nuzzle into her, “A warmup before strenuous activities is highly recommended,”

Wanda giggles, trying to pry your locked arms from around her, “There won’t be any strenuous activities if you don’t let me get dressed,”

You let out a defeated groan, watching her open her closet, “Isn’t the point to not let you-,”

She holds her hand out the door and with a flick of her wrist, her duvet is twisted around you.

“This! Is!” You struggle against the unending maze of fabric, “Unfair!” By the time you rip the sheet off your head and give it a few good stomps, Wanda has already undressed and dressed.

“It was for your own good. We’d never make to down those stairs.”

Jabbing at her sides with a grin, you press a kiss to the side of her head, "Should we be walking down those steps together? Y'know, all this secrecy stuff."

Wanda glances back at you, "We shouldn't really take all the attention away from your sister, right? Besides, we still have things to talk about. Serious," her finger stabs into your chest and flicks up to your nose, "Adult things."

You hum, "After some serious, adult activities?"

She rolls her eyes, "Is it serious when you fall off the bed?"

"Get movin', Maximoff," you pinch her side and steal one last kiss before you slink out of her bedroom. As you check the hallway before sauntering down the stairs, you hold onto the smile on your face for one moment longer.

No matter how hard you tried, that smile would find its way back on your face. Glancing across the room and crowd, you find that red headed witch in her own conversation. You watch how her eyes glowed as she laughs, the spinning of her rings when she stood and listened. When those green eyes finally found yours as you turned and found her already looking your way, your chest falls into itself. A tightening you had never felt before. A warmth throughout your limbs you wish you had felt sooner.

You both tried to keep your distance for most of the evening. Interacting with the rest of the team and the moments you did run into each other, it was a friendly conversation. A comment on a past mission or when the two of you were going to train again.

As you sit at the bar, you wonder if it was too nonchalant.

"So," a voice comes from beside you and you know it'll confirm your thought, 'You're in an interesting mood."

You glance up from your drink, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," the redhead settles into the stool next to you and holds up two fingers, "Curious timing with Wanda walking down those stairs. Hope you guys got to spend some time together since last mission."

Your brows clench as you take a long drink from your glass, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What it means is..." Nat slides the shot of vodka to you, "The way you act when she's away, it's something. Maybe that same something that has you giddy as a pig in shit."

A grin forms on your face, letting her go and have her fun, "Alright, well she is my friend,"

Nat scoffs but you point at her and continue pointing to the rest of the team that is scattered around the floor, "I act the same whenever any of you are out without me. I'm always saving your asses on mission."

She raises her brows and waits to sip on the vodka with you, "Friends don't do any of this."

You clear your throat, "Don't what? Protect each other?"

"They don't cancel plans to watch a stupid show," you clench your jaw slightly, knowing she said that to see your response, "Have conversations with nothing but their eyes or forget the world exists when you hear your name."

Your clear drink is warming in your fist as Nat finishes hers in a single gulp, 'How many times can you really take the scenic route?"

You shiver, downing the rest of the drink so you can get far away from this conversation. As you gag to your right, you see a blonde making her way to you. It was a trap and you figured it out too late.

"Look. From where I am," Yelena slides in next to you, cornering you, "Which is from the sidelines because someone hates family."

You glare over at the blonde, "I took your dumb vest didn't I?"

Her brown eyes roll, "You two make a lot of sense together. It'd be a shame if you can't see that yourself."

You flip over your empty glass and push away from the bar, Yelena quickly downing the shot she just ordered. She presses her hand against you, "Where the hell do you think you're going."

You look up at the Russian, the answer should've been obvious as you look at the time, "Out? With all of you?"

"Absolutely not, you have some things to take care of tonight," her eyes glance back towards a certain redhead that jokes with Barton, "Go show some of that sensitive side. Don't be so serious,"

"I hate you," you grimace as the refill on your drink is stolen and the two sisters take off to continue the night in the city.

You groan as the night finally reaches its end here in the building. You don't want to have this conversation yet. You were fine having fun. Having fun with her. But you wonder how much more fun it could be when you weren't meeting at different times to grab a cup of coffee together.

Or having Thor interrupt the two of you watching a movie together in the living room.

You wanted to blame all of this on your want to keep things casual and not put a label on any of this. But you know, deep down, that you are scared. Terrified, even. You are terrified of ruining her.

The world around you is lost as you get lost in your own mind. A cold chill brings you back to the world and the door you find yourself in front of, opens without a sound. You feel yourself shoved inside with a quiet giggle and tip over onto your bed.

"You're very distracting," she whispers against your lips,

You shrug, "You weren't even paying attention to Stark and his thrusters,"

Wanda smiles, placing her hand on your cheek, "The team's scattering. What're we doing tonight?"

You sigh as you breath her in, alcohol teasing your nose, "Right now? I don't know. But I bet Nat's cashing in on a bet,"

"Let her," she giggles as her lips brush against yours, a tense kiss relaxing with each moment.

Your hand cups her face, "Everything alright in that little head of yours, Maximoff?"

She nods, "It's just... we're so close to Strucker. You and I know more about him and his tortures than anyone. If we get caught, we know how unlikely it is we come back," Wanda presses her hands against your chest as she sits up, "Who thought now was a good time for love."

You raise your brows with a grin, "Who said anything about love? I'm just trying to get you back into bed."

She chuckles but her eyes stay glued on her rings, "Still an asshole,"

"Hey," you whisper, "I'm not going anywhere. I told you."

"Your thoughts were quite loud tonight," Wanda's eyes flash to yours, "You wanted to run,"

You wrap your arms around her waist and push yourself up from the bed, "I just... I'm scared,"

Her fingers rub the back of your neck, her body resting on your thighs, "Y/N, what could you be scared of?"

"I've never really been scared," you chuckle but it falls flat, "I was always faster or smarter but then... Then I met you," you play with the rings on her fingers and find why they calm her so much. "I wasn't faster or smarter when that bullet hit you or when I made you slam your head on those steps,"

"Hey now, you saved-,"

You don't let her finish, "I'm terrified. So terrified to lose you. Or to ruin you."

Wanda runs her fingers through your hair, you know what she wanted to say. To deny everything that you were saying. That you've grown so much from who you were when you first met in that HYDRA building. But she knew, your past wouldn't let you believe it.

"I don't feel so angry all the time when you're around. You shake the frost from my bones every morning you're next to me. But I..." you forced yourself to look up from her rings, 'I don't know where I'd be if..."

"Probably falling out of windows, "Wanda grins through her tears, "Getting your ass beat."

You click your tongue and feel her hands press against your chest. You listen to her silent commands, falling back onto the bed as her lips press against yours. You breathe in slowly, slowly filling your lungs, "There's no world in which I'm good for you,"

"You have nothing to prove, Y/N. It's you and me," Wanda whispers against your lips as her hands cup your face gently, "It was worth putting up with you. But even think about leaving," those soft hands squish your cheeks as she leans forward, "And I'll rip your limbs off,"

You move quickly, arms wrapping around her as you flip her over onto the bed. She giggles, sending your heart soaring as you peer down at her, "I love when your grin grows," your own lips tug upwards, copying Wanda. Every time you saw that grin, it made you lighter than air.

"Life gave and took so much from you," you sigh as your thumb runs down her jaw, "And that same one reminds me every day, I could never deal with me like you do,"

"You are a pain sometimes," she wraps her hand around yours, "But I still have time to fix you up. It's not like we're getting married."

With a grin, Wanda settles down into the crook of your arm, "Man, we'd never hear the end of it. Still, love?"

Wanda chuckles, "Who would've thought. I love you,"

Guiding your finger down her face, you push a strand of hair from her eyes. Her green eyes had never looked brighter than in this moment. Their beauty would never fail at blowing you away. The life behind them awoke the life inside of you, "Even when I snore?"

She gives a tight smile, "No. You really need to get that under control, actually. Like, that could end all of this."

"Oh yeah?" you laugh, rolling onto her and pinning her to the bed. She lets out a groan as she tries to push you off,

"Someone had a heavy breakfast," she jokes, straining to push you off still.

You rest your face in the crook of her neck, snoring loudly into her. She laughs, trying to get you off now with tickling fingers against your side. You fight against the panic in your body as you quickly pin her wrists to the bed. She cries out for mercy and with a long raspberry blown on her neck, you look down at her reddened face.

"You have all of me," your words are slow and firm, making sure she understands everything you're telling her, "I can't do any of this without you,"

You let her arms slide out from your hands and she curls up into you. Rolling softly and entangling her legs into yours, listening to the words that come from your lips, "I promise to take care of you,"

She smiles, her hand resting on your face, "I love you," the words are slow and drawn out. Everything you're saying in this moment that you're drawing out, she's saying it all in those three words. Three words you never thought would be uttered from you. Three words that feel like guiding a thread through a needle. As you stare at her, you know this should all be easier than it's feeling. It all feels so right and yet something still hods you back from giving her everything.

As you look at her, you see no malice in her eyes. No impatience to get you to step on the gas and repeat those words to her. You take in a deep breath, watching her bite her lip and hold back a smile.

"I have to say," she whispers, her breath washing over you, "It's kinda fun seeing you out of control."

You let out a hearty laugh and roll onto your back and pat your stomach as she gets as close as possible to you. You draw her even closer and press your lips atop her head. She rests her head on your chest, breathing in deeply as she feels your heartbeat.

You both lay there in silence. Your hand subconsciously runs through her hair, feeling her body relax into you with each passing moment.

She sighs, her telltale sign that she was moment from falling asleep.

As you glance down at her, you see everything in her. Your past, your present and all of your future. Even if you wanted to fight against Nat and Yelena about how wrong they were about anything between you and Wanda, it was impossible. Your entire world is merging with hers and you were doing nothing to stop it. You want nothing to stop it.

You press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

"I love you, Wanda," you whisper as her breathing turns quiet and deep, "I... am so in love with you."

Resting your head back onto the pillow with a soft grin, you feel a pair of lips press under your chin, "I know,"

You look down at her, a smile that nearly squeezes your eyes shuts on your face, "I really fucking love you,"

Her lips plaster to yours before you can gather a breath. You pull her into you, each of your movements so slow and your breaths so deep. You just want to be one with her, just together.

As her lips move with yours, you feel a sharp pinch, "Ow! What was that?"

"Can't let you get complacent," Wanda's smile presses against your lips,

You hum, "Funny, we've done that a few times now,"

She chuckles, remembering everything between stolen kisses, quick peck and long lazy kisses the past weeks.

"It felt like our first kiss to me,"

"I've heard that once you say, 'I love you,'" Wanda's thumbs slides across your hand, "A kiss tastes differently."

You hum, "Maybe we oughta test a few other things out? I think Stark has a cabin tucked away somewhere,"

Wanda's fingers climb up your chest, "Not so fast. We'll have plenty of time to visit cozy cabins," you pout a little but she kisses your chin and watches the frown disappear, "But... I doubt the world will end if we sit here a while,"

____________________________

You hum to yourself as you clean your room. Snatching up clothes thrown around and making sure your bed has fresh sheets on it. Wanda was away on a mission and all you can think about was the quiet moment shared between the two of you. The moment the two of you admitted just how far you had fallen into each other. 

As you pick up the papers that litter your desk, your eyes fall on a torn piece of paper. In it, you see Wanda’s handwriting. A small note to you so you wouldn’t forget how much she’d be looking forward to coming back to you.

And an even smaller reminder to not watch any of the show’s episodes without her. Sticking the note onto your laptop, you shuffle your files together and decide to get to them at a later time. A later time as in, when Nat smacks the back of your head with them. 

Tying the garbage bag off, you start to make your way towards the trash chute down the hall. Whistling the theme of the show you’re dying to watch, your flat notes are deafened. A blaring alarm explodes throughout the Compound and there isn’t a single thought in your head. 

The bag tumbles to the floor as your feet are whipped around and back into your room. Your thumb presses against the small box on your bedside table. A quick scan, a click and the box door shoots open. You reach inside, your hand wrapping around the grip of the gun inside. 

As you walk, your hand slams the magazine into the grip. Rising up to yank the slide back, listening to it click as it settles forward with a bullet resting in the chamber. You peek subconsciously already around the corners of walls as you make your way down the hall, swiftly bypassing rooms. You don’t hear any fighting inside so you’re wondering if it’s a break in. 

Peeking over the edge of the stairs, you wait and listen. Besides the blaring alarm, there’s no crashing or shouting. Light comes from underneath the doorway that leads towards the garage. Adjusting how you hold the gun, you cant the pistol as you wait for someone to come through that door. 

The alarm is silenced. You clench your brows, no one breaking in would know the code or certainly wait that long to silence it. The alarm leaves a deep ringing in your eyes and it only grows in pitch as the scene in front of you slowly plays through that garage door. 

First, Steve limps into the safety of the Compound. He drags a half conscious Sam through the door and towards the infirmary at the end of what must seem like a never ending hallway. Banner jogs past them, calling out to FRIDAY to start turning on the machines that might be needed to save Sam’s life. 

You stand there. Staring at the blood that is dragged and smeared across the floor. Remembering the tears and burned portions of Steve’s suit, half of his helmet missing and his unprotected face covered in dried blood. The whole side of his face was red and the whole front of Sam’s suit was red. Head hanging limply as his feet stumbled over themselves.

Your eyes rose back up to the door another straggler makes their way inside. 

Nat drops her bag of equipment in the threshold, pressing against her bandaged side with a tight grimace. Slowly, you raise the pistol up towards your chest, the muzzle pointed towards the wall. The magazine dumps out and tumbles down the stairs with echoing thuds as your stomach flips just like it.

The slide cracks backwards as you lock it in place, a single bullet following after the magazine. Wrapping your hand around the slide, you rack the slide backwards once, twice and three times before locking it again, feeling it pinch the skin of your thumb. Feeling something.

You moved slowly through the process. Usually it took you less than three seconds. But you were deliberate in each movement you made. Your eyes never leaving the door in front of you. You were waiting and you wanted a pair of feet to come through that door by the time the bullet reached the last step. 

You stare down into the empty chamber. You’re not sure why you wait to look up again. Everything is finished. Inside you though, you feel like you might be finished too.

“Y/N,” Nat groans out, stopping the rolling bullet with her torn up boot. 

You don’t look at her. If you don’t look at her, she can’t tell you why that door isn’t being shoved open and that bag being thrown across the Compound in a hazy red cloud. 

“Y/N,” Nat tries once again to get through to you, “She isn’t coming.”

The plastic of the gun snaps in your hand as the metal of the frame is slowly bent out of place, “What happened?”

“Please,” her eyes are red and now you know it’s not from exhaustion. They complement the dried blood in her ears and the tears that stain her dirty face. You watch her limp her way into the conference room, holding open the door for you.

You follow her inside, dropping the twisted metal and plastic that was once a gun. Your next victim is the chair you stand behind as she tells you everything. The ambush and betrayal. How Yelena’s contact had been bought out for twice as much by Strucker.

Using his own home as the fallout zone of a huge explosion. He played all of you like a damn fiddle, thinking Strucker would let his location get out that easily. And you learned how easily it was for him to take back one of his prized possessions. 

Yelena was already on her way to help, taking care of this loose end before coming here. She recognized the group that became involved when Nat contacted her on the Quinjet. Nat pulls out a tattered patch from her belt pouch and drops it onto the table. You glare at the black circular patch, red outline of a skull with six tentacles and a red star inside the skull. You have a stack of these patches hidden in your belongings and you hoped you’d never have to see it again. 

A special Hydra division you had been a part of. The same division that nearly executed you in a warehouse. You surrendered to them and all their experiments to save your family and now, you were going to have to make sure no one ever wore this patch again.

You narrow your eyes, lip twitching in rage as the chair creaks. Everytime you thought their head was finally chopped off, it always came back. This time though, you were coming back. 

“We’re gonna hit these fuckers where it hurts.”

“Hey,” Nat calls after you as you slam the chair into the table and walk to your locker, “I think you should wait,”

You open your locker, swinging the door slowly until the metal just clangs against another locker, ‘What are you talking about,”

Shuffling through your gear, you pull out your empty magazines and place them on the bench behind you. You’d go down to the armory and start to load everything up. And you’d unlock a part of your past that you tried to bury away, even hide from Wanda. 

Nat sighs, “When was the last time you conducted a ‘brunch chit chat’?”

You glare over at her, “Are you thinking I’ve gone soft?”

“No, no, quite the opposite,” Nat takes the keys to your past and yanks them slowly from your finger, “I don’t want you killing them before we learn anything.”

“I’m not stupid, Natasha,”

“But you’re angry,” your finger loosens on the key ring, “I haven’t seen you this angry in a long time.”

You sigh, gripping your locker and talking more for yourself than to Nat, “We just follow a trail. Soldiers, general then Strucker. And then we all come home, right?”

Natasha looks at how you try to hide the shaking in your hands, an itch you’ve always had starting to surface, “Y/N…”

“Right?” you plead, her eyes widening as she sees the terror in your eyes. It’s stronger than the anger that rages through your body, a chill that settles into your bones. 

Nat closes your locker slowly, “I’m not asking you to do any of that,” you watch as the key she took is hidden away in her gloves, “Let’s just start up a plan and wait for Yel to get here. Okay?”

But you knew it wasn’t going to be okay.