#it would never have gone ahead safely

[lostf1ndaydream]

2021: China cancelled due to Covid

2022: Russia cancelled due to war

2023: Imola cancelled due to floods

Every time the FIA tries to run a 23-race season, something seems to get in the way.

I think the universe just might be trying to send them a message😂😂

[adore-gregor]

ugh there it goes

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Masterlist

Summary: Simon's rapidly growing obsession with you comes to a halt.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, cursing, slight nsfw

The drive back to Simon's house was quiet and dark. Price had turned on the radio, letting classic rock play quietly in the background. He tapped the steering wheel every so often, humming to whatever lyrics he could remember.

Simon sat in the passenger seat, staring at the cars ahead, occasionally glancing at the signs that whizzed by the truck. Each sign that brought him closer to home made him ache. He thought about his bed. He thought about Riley. And, of course, he thought about you. He knew you most likely wouldn't be there - it was after midnight. But he liked to imagine that you'd be waiting there, sitting on his couch with your book and mug of tea, Riley settled next to you, ready to greet him with your smile - the smile that he'd been thinking about in every stolen moment during the mission.

"Alright there, Simon?" Price cut through the silence, dragging Simon back to earth.

He cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Jus' ready to be back."

Price scoffed. He knew Simon didn't consider his house a home. If anything, it was a safe house between missions. "I'm sure Riley will be happy to see you."

"We'll see about that." Simon said with a chuckle. "This dog-sitter might've stolen her from me."

"Nah, she's yours. Been with 'er through it all." Price said as he turned into Simon's neighborhood. "I'm sure she enjoyed the company, though."

Simon grunted. "Seems like it." He said, remembering the picture you had sent him; the way Riley had cozied up to you, the way she seemed so docile and calm in your presence. He imagined you running your fingers through her fur, the perfect ratio of scratching to gentle pets. He wondered what it would feel like on his scalp...

A shiver ran down his spine. How does one become jealous of their own damn dog? It was ridiculous.

"Speaking of the dog-sitter..." Price said, "Johnny mentioned she's a real-"

"Whatever Johnny told you, you can disregard." Simon grumbled. "I told him not to worry 'bout it."

Price chuckled, which made Simon burn with frustration. "Touchy subject, eh?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He replied bitterly. Quite frankly, he didn't like the picture Soap had managed to paint of him. His entire team thought he was whipped by someone he had barely known. Despite it being entirely true, it was the complete opposite of the image he had built of himself - and he had a reputation to keep.

"Right." Price nodded. Simon could tell he didn't believe him, but as long as he didn't try to pester him anymore about it, Simon would take it as a win.

Price pulled into the driveway, and Simon immediately unbuckled. He reached into the back and grabbed his duffel bag, then yanked his door open and got out.

"Y' know this isn't over." Price said, right before Simon could close the door. "We most likely 'ave a week 'fore we get sent out again. Just don't get too comfortable 'ere."

"Never do." Simon replied, shouldering his bag. "I'll wait for your call."

Price nodded, sending Simon off with a wave. He watched as he closed the passenger door and walked up the path to his house, before pulling out of the driveway and heading towards his own home.

Simon sighed as he fished his keys from his pocket. He heard Riley barking on the other side of the door, and a small smile formed on his face. When he pushed it open, she immediately jumped on him, whining and sniffing him all over. He knew she could smell the others on him, and probably wondered why he didn't bring her this time.

"Hey, girl..." he said, yanking his balaclava off and kneeling down to ruffle her fur. "Sorry I's gone so long. Miss me?"

She stood her front paws on his knees and licked his face, still whining and swinging her tail rapidly.

"Yeah, missed you too." He chuckled. "D'ya have fun? Did she treat you right?"

Riley dropped down to the floor as Simon stood. She turned towards his duffel bag and began sniffing, eyes focused on the fabric as she took in all the new and familiar scents.

Simon sighed. "'Bout time for a proper cuppa." He said, making his way into the kitchen. Despite it nearing one in the morning, it would be a while before he was decompressed enough to fall asleep.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug, ignoring the way his back popped. When he placed the mug down and reached for a teabag, he saw a note on the counter. With a furrowed brow, he picked it up and read it.

Hello Simon!

Hope your deployment was fun good! Riley and I had a blast! She learned how to play dead - if you want to try it, just make sure to give her a biscuit for it (she's only had one today, and she was a bit bitter that I left before giving her a second one). Also, she's had her medicine for the day. I gave her last dose around 9 pm.

Can't wait to spend more time with her, but I'm sure she's happy to see her dad! Let me know when you need me next!

Have a nice evening!

P.S. I had to use your washing machine, I hope that was alright. I got a bit muddy trying to teach her the new trick.

He stared at the note for a good amount of time. His eyes wandered over your meticulously neat handwriting. He noticed how often you liked to use exclamation points - the same way you did in your texts and emails. It made him annoyed - but not with you. He was annoyed that he found it... adorable. He shouldn't. You were too bright and happy; your personality should burn him, not warm him up.

He tried to brush it off, blaming his obervant behaviour on the recent mission. Old habits die hard, he lied to himself.

"Riley, c'mere."

Upon hearing her name, Riley meandered into the kitchen and stopped in front of Simon. She sat on her hind legs and looked at him expectantly.

He looked back at her - he felt a bit silly, commanding a retired veteran dog to do simple party tricks. But, it sounded like you put a lot of effort into teaching her this - not to mention, you had somehow dirtied your clothes over it - so he decided to entertain the idea.

"Play dead." He said firmly.

Riley immediately flopped down onto her back, sticking her paws into the air. She even let her tongue hang out of her mouth to really sell the image.

He felt an immediate rush of pride. "Atta girl..." he praised, kneeling down and patting her affectionately. Despite all the annoyance he felt a moment ago, Simon couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

She twisted and sat up, snuffling and groaning as he rubbed her fur. She barked once, sharp and demanding.

"Yeah, yeah- suppose you deserve a biscuit, huh?" He stood up and grabbed the box of peanut butter and bacon treats, fishing one out and tossing it to Riley. She caught it perfectly, crunching it with an open mouth and licking her lips afterwards.

He watched her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest. Sure, tricks were dumb, something only glorified house pets did for small rewards. But he was impressed that Riley had so effortlessly followed a new command, especially after being out of work for so long. And he was warmed by the fact that, not only did you watch her, but you engaged with her. He was confident he'd found the perfect pet-sitter.

After starting a load of laundry, Simon had taken a cold shower. He scrubbed his eyeblack off with nothing but his hands and the generic body wash from the corner store. He slathered some of his 3-in-one hair gel into his scalp, giving it no more than seven scrubs before rinsing it out. He stood there for a while, letting the water beat against his sore back as the details of the previous mission swarmed throughout his head. He picked apart what he could have done better, what had nearly gotten him killed, and what had probably saved his life.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the tub; there was a cluster of travel-sized bottles, labeled "face wash", "body butter", and so forth. He let himself imagine - who was he kidding, he had no control over his thoughts when it came to you - your body, standing under the stream of the shower. You probably liked hot showers, didn't you? You most likely stayed in there for an hour, going through your meticulous routine, lathering yourself in scented soaps and creams... you'd be appalled if you had seen the three-minute showers he takes, wouldn't you? Maybe you would pull him into your routine, once Simon did eventually get the balls to ask you out, despite how much the thought of being romantic with someone made him scoff. He'd let you wash his face, or shave his balls, or do whatever it is you would do to him.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance, realizing he was holding one of the bottles labeled "conditioner". His thumb was on the edge of the cap, ready to flip it open and take a whiff of the scent - but he quickly stopped himself. He put the bottle back with the rest, then splashed cold water over his face. Quit being a fuckin' creep... he thought.

After turning the shower off and drying himself with a towel, he went into his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He made his way back into the basement, patting Riley on the back as he passed her by the door. He pulled his laundry out and placed it on top of the washing machine, and opened the dryer. Just as he was getting ready to toss his clothes in, he noticed something hiding in the back of the barrel of the machine.

He reached in and pulled it out - it was your flannel. The same green-and-grey one you'd been wearing during your interview.

He paused for a moment, posture rigid as he held the fabric in the air. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It was just a flannel... but it was your flannel. He fought with his muscles, resisting the urge to bring it closer and inhale the scent - he tried to reason with himself. Maybe she used my soap, and it would just smell like my detergent. Nothin' special.

He dropped it on top of the dryer, still wrinkly and warm - but, strangely, that felt too rude. It's a fucking piece of clothing, for Christ's sake... he thought. Not her dead nan. He then attempted to hang it on the rack, but that felt too formal. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with irritation. How something so insignificant was causing him so much turmoil was beyond him.

He ended up bringing it back upstairs. Riley sniffed the fabric as he passed her - she thumped her tail eagerly on the floor as she smelled your scent. Once again, Simon was jealous of the dog being able to act so carefree with you - he knew for sure that if he tried sniffing your flannel, he would be a certified creep. Or, worse yet, he might not care, and wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed it over the back of the couch, planning on forgetting you had ever even worn it. He dropped himself onto the cuhions with a groan. Riley immediately took her place in her bed, just a few feet away from him. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the telly, flicking through the channels until he found some action/drama that caught his interest. He watched it boredly, drowning himself and his thoughts in the drone of the movie.

Suddenly, Riley barked. Simon looked at her - his gaze was met with hers, mouth opening and tail thwapping against the wall.

"Hmm?"

She let out an impatient, garbled sound. She lowered her head to the edge of her bed, still looking at Simon.

He shrugged internally and looked back at the screen. He settled further into the cushions and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about maybe drifting off then and there - the din of the telly might help keep the nightmares at bay...

Riley barked again, making Simon jolt. He snapped his head towards her - she was standing at the foot of the couch, ears back and panting.

"Wha' d'you want?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

She barked again, shifting her weight from one paw to the other.

"Ya need to go out?" He asked. He stood from his seat, only for Riley to scamper back to her bed and plop down on it. She looked at him expectantly.

Simon huffed. "'M not following." He dropped down to the sofa again. Riley groaned, making a scene of dragging herself out of the bed again and walking over to Simon.

"Now, don't you go 'n start aga-"

She cut him off with a shrill yap.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew it couldn't be time for her medication - you had just given her some at nine. But he was entirely stumped on what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually, after she'd had dinner... did she want to play? But... she was acting like she wanted to go to bed.

"What are you on 'bout?" He asked, leaning down to ruffle her fur. She dodged his hand and backed up a bit, yowling out a frustrated sound.

He scoffed. "Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Only one way to fix this, he thought, as he tapped through his contacts, until he landed on yours.

He stared at the picture for a moment, familiarizing himself with the details he had spent so long ogling at: your smile, your damp hair, the curve of your cheekbones, the way you marked your spot in your book with your fingers-

Riley barked again, making Simon scowl.

"A'right- just hush." He ordered, sending her a stern glance as she shuffled back to her bed. He started the call - he felt unusually nervous, his gut twisting as he listened to each ring on the line. Maybe he really was whipped, he thought.

Eventually, the call picked up. His shoulders tensed as he heard shuffling on the other end of the line.

"... m... hello?"

Fuck. You sounded tired- no, you sounded like you were still asleep. He quickly pulled the phone away and checked the time; it was nearly two in the morning. Of course you'd been asleep.

"Uh... hey." He said, mentally cursing himself. "Shit, I, uh... didn't even consider you might be asleep."

"No..." You mumbled - were you even awake at all? "No, iz fine... yeah..."

Simon waited a moment, expecting you to say something else - but you didn't. Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of your breathing again.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Up... 'm up... what's up?"

Simon shifted in his seat, slightly ashamed that he hadn't put two and two together and ended up calling you so late. "Right- jus' a quick-"

Riley barked again, staring at Simon impatiently.

Simon covered the speaker to his phone and sent her a harsh glare. "Oi! 'M workin' on it, hush!"

Your sleepy giggle wafted through the phone and into Simon's ear. "Sweet baby..."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed nervously. She means the dog, the fucking dog, you idiot.

"Uh, sorry- jus' got a question for ya."

"Hmm?"

"Well- she's acting a bit funny," he stared at Riley and held a cautioning hand up as she shifted her weight and whined, "she's runnin' around and yellin' at me. Keeps gettin' in 'er bed, then comin' back like- like she wants somethin'. I have no bloody idea. Just wonderin' if she was doin' this with you."

"Oh, yeah..." Simon could hear your smile through the phone, and he desperately tried to push the image of your tired face from his mind. "She wants her blanket."

Simon paused. "She- she's got her blanket."

"No- she wants you to tuck her in."

"She wha' now?"

You laughed again. "You need to tuck her in her bed. She's right under the air vent and she gets cold."

He looked back at Riley. She was now sitting down, mouth closed, as if agreeing with what you said. He scoffed, rising from the couch and shuffling towards her. She slowly thumped her tail as he approached.

"Never 'eard of a dog gettin' tucked in..." he grumbled. He grabbed the felt blanket behind her, swaddling it around her body. She groaned, slowly blinking at him in an appreciative manner.

"Ya spoiled, you hear me?" He said quietly, tucking the blanket in between her and the cushion of the bed. She sighed happily, completely unaware that he was insulting her. She licked his cheek when he bent down close enough, and he grumbled and wiped the spittle away.

You giggled in his ear - Christ, you've got to stop doing that, do you have any idea what it does to him? - as he sat back down on the sofa. "All better?" You asked.

"Seems t' be-" he replied, watching Riley as she settled into her cocoon, "ya turnin' her into a princess."

"Well, she is one." You quickly replied - Simon could hear you stretching your limbs, followed by a long exhale.

He wanted to talk to you all night. Hearing you prattle on was like a balm to his jagged mind. But he knew he couldn't. You were half asleep, after all.

"Well, tha's all I needed- oh, and you, uh..." he grabbed your flannel off the back of the sofa. "Y' left your flannel here."

"I did?"

"Yeah. The green one."

"Oh, bullocks, I knew I-"

"Who are you talking to at this hour?"

Simon felt his heart stop when he heard the other voice. It had hit him like a train, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His brain went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenario. Break in? Crazy stalker? Murderous ex? "Y' aright, love?"

"Simon." You said, and he couldn't tell if you were talking to him or someone else. Were you trying to warn him? To ask for help?

"Talk to me."

"Who the bloody hell is Simon?"

"My client, ya git."

"Oh- sorry love-" Simon heard more shuffling, then a kiss, followed by a grunt from you. He let himself linger in the confusion of what was going on - but, in the back of his mind, he understood it completely.

"Got me right in my bloody eye-"

"Oh, hush."

"Left your flannel at his house."

"My green one?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were using the grey one!"

"Well, I was, Tyler, and then I wanted the green one!"

"That's it - I'm stealin' all ya knickers tomorrow."

You laughed again - this time. The sound nearly shattered Simon. He felt like it was wrong to hear you laugh so sweetly.

"Well, uh-" he was speaking before he even realized it. "You can pick it up- or I'll drop it off- or, uh, I can drop it- I mean, I'll-"

"You can shove it in the closet until next time, if that's alright?" You said, yawning shortly after.

Simon paused. He needed to get it together. "Yea, that'll work. I'll let you go then - sorry to call so late."

"It's fine, really. But let me know when you'll need me again, ok?"

"'Course I will. I'll send you an email, as usual."

You scoffed. "I know you said we should only text for emergencies, but you can text me if it's something small, Simon."

"Right, will do. I'll text you."

"Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. You should sleep. I'll talk later."

"Ok. Goodnight, Simon."

"G'bye."

He ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, until your contact photo faded away. He leaned his head back and sighed. His thoughts suddenly came rushing back - except this time, they were about you. How he should have expected you to have a partner. How could you not? You were so bright and bubbly, of course you'd be snatched up. He felt stupid for thinking you'd be single. Maybe this whole idea of you falling for him was stupid. Maybe this was better - he was saved from rejection, even if this situation stung painfully within his chest.

Whatever. Hopefully, your personality would finally drive him over the edge of annoyance and anger, and you'd be more of a nuisance to him. That'd be the easiest way you could let him down.

He looked at the flannel in his lap. It's not even hers. He thought. He crumpled the fabric into his hand and flung it behind him.

Riley's head snapped up at the movement, and she floundered out of her bed, chasing after the flannel.

"Riley, no- don't-" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard her scuffling across the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her come trotting back, before she stopped at the edge of the couch.

She whined and tilted her head. Simon opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not even hers, ya ninny." He said. He looked away and turned up the telly, hoping that everything in his head would just disappear into the back of his mind.

Riley stepped around Simon's feet as she carried the flannel in her mouth. She then hopped onto the couch and settled next to Simon, depositing the (now damp) clothing onto his lap. He grunted as she laid her head down on his leg, whining and flattening her ears. She looked up at him with curious eyes, slowly thumping her tail on the cushion.

He exhaled through his nose. He stared at the flannel, then back at Riley. "Ya really like her, eh?"

She licked her lips and blinked, sighing through her nose.

He chuckled, patting her side and looking at the ceiling. "I know. I do too." He closed his eyes.

"We'll be alright, girl."

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon

[spidey-webz]

the sweetest sin – bucky barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Bucky goes undercover at a charity event to get closer to you. You’re his mission. But that dress you’re wearing is a little too tempting…

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, r deals with weapons, r and bucky have a shared history, mentions of bucky’s trauma, r wears a dress, r is also shorter than bucky, somewhat public sex (in a restroom, door closed), slight dom bucky, they’re both really horny, very little plot, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, mirror sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, darling), fingering with the metal hand, hair pulling

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This idea came to me after seeing the Thunderbolts trailer and I really hope you'll like this one!!

Masterlist

The ballroom was filled with chatter and music. Multiple waiters were balancing champagne glasses on their trays, walking from group to group and handing them out with a smile. There were men discussing business deals, old friends exchanging memories and some women holding onto their husbands’ arms as they laughed. 

None of them paid any particular mind to the man in the corner of the room. 

Bucky Barnes was leaning against a stone pillar, his eyes roaming through the room as he attempted to find you in the crowd somewhere. He had declined every glass of champagne, so he could stay alert if you passed by him. 

He had not seen you in a while. To be honest, he had never kept up with your life. His own had been quite the mess after the Blip, but seeing your name in the mission file served as enough of a reminder of what you two had shared. Bucky had been a man without a path ahead of him, only fleeing from everyone that might recognise him, and there you had been – in Romania. You had only spent a few weekends together, but he had enjoyed them all the same. For that short while, he had felt like a normal man. 

When had things gone wrong in your life? Or had you always been involved with this kind of trade? 

The files on you did not mention any criminal activity when he had first met you in 2016. Had it been the Blip that forced you to join illegal weapon trading? Had it been something else in your life?

Bucky could never say he knew you. There had been many secrets between the two of you, starting with his very own identity. You had made him feel safe and yet he hadn’t been able to share his name with you, too afraid that it might slip you at the market or at the gas station. 

Back then, he barely even knew himself. His memories had been a disorganised mess, a whirl of moments and feelings he could not exactly put together. Even being with you, feeling your warm body around him and having your lips wander like feathers over his skin – it had felt almost foreign to his troubled mind. 

Those memories were cherished by him and once he had settled back into a somewhat normal life, Bucky had found himself reminiscing about them on lonely nights. 

Now he was after you. 

There were so many women with the same hair colour as you, but he felt certain that he would still recognise you between all of them. Sam did not know why he had been so determined on receiving this mission, but he would explain it to him in due time. Bucky had promised to reduce the number of secrets he had, but he had never felt comfortable sharing you with anyone. Until now, he had kept you hidden away in a part of his heart that only he could access – in the middle of the night, in quiet moments, in the comfortable space of his bed. 

A flash of white passed by him. Another man might have missed it, but he had been trained to notice any movement in the corner of his eye for years. He turned his head to the side, trying to find the same white dress in the crowd again and there you were. 

Your dress was low-cut, no sleeves and a slit on the side for your thigh and knee to peak through with every step. He flexed his jaw, taking a deep breath as he watched you talk with a man he did not recognise. A glass of champagne rested easily in your hand, your eyes fixed on the person in front of you. He was not blessed with enough enhanced hearing to make out any part of the conversation, yet he found himself entranced with the movements of your lips. 

Bucky had feared that this might happen. He had not seen you in so long and there were so many questions floating around in his head, so many unspoken things on his tongue. But you were his mission all the same and he had hoped to make this entire ordeal a little bit easier on you if it was him that came looking for you. 

The dress you were wearing almost demanded all of his attention. His cheeks started to feel warm once he allowed the memories to flood in. He had you spread out on your bed, his tongue expertly moving between your folds, strong arms holding you in place just for him. You had squeezed his cock so beautiful during every night you two shared and this dress, the flashes of your skin, all of it reminded him of those moments. 

In an attempt to gather himself, he pulled on the ends of his jacket, straightening it in the process.  

People always moved out of his way. Even with his metal hand covered up, they often didn’t want to cross him. It was a strange sensation, no doubt. Bucky would not call himself particularly frightening. 

He did not mean to interrupt your conversation, but he did linger a little closer to you than before. If he caught you alone for a moment, he could speak to you. 

You had seen him when you had turned around to place down your glass of champagne. Bucky Barnes had been a momentary part of your life in Romania, but he had lingered in the back of your mind for years. You had changed and so had the world around you. It didn’t change the way his touch had seemed to stay with you. In lonely moments, it had become a source of comfort, a source of wonder. Of course, you had eventually realised who he was. It had been all over the news. 

The Winter Soldier. 

How could you not know him after every newspaper in town had his face plastered on their front page? And yet he had been a stranger to you until the last second. 

Whatever choices he had made, they had led him here and they had led him to follow you. If you could trust any of the newspaper articles you had read about him recently, he was now one of the good guys and that meant he was out to get you. 

Not that you had committed a horrible crime, but you had given other people the supplies to commit theirs. Enough of an offence to have the former Winter Soldier on your tail. 

You knew he would not interrupt your conversation. He was waiting for the right moment to speak to you and that moment would have to be one between just you and him. You decided to give him the chance to since his eyes seemed to burn holes into your back. With an apologetic smile, you excused yourself to the toilet. 

Moving through the couples standing in your way, you briefly glanced back over your shoulder. He was following you, a stern expression on his face. You had only smile him a few times and those never seemed to reach his eyes in the slightest. There had been a deep sadness about the man you had met in Romania and you wondered if it was still there. 

You closed the door to the restroom behind you, but it opened again just a moment later. 

There was a tzzzz sound and you knew Bucky had used some sort of device to lock the door behind himself. After engaging in weapon trade for a few years, you had become familiar with different methods to remain undisturbed for important conversations. As you stood in front of the mirror, you did not look at him at first. 

His presence alone sent a shiver down your spine. 

Had he thought of you these past years? Had he remembered you in a positive way? 

Bucky had stayed with you even days after his departure from Romania. The memory of his touch had been with you during a shower, during the boring commute to your job and most importantly, during nights facing the moon in an attempt to feel the same way you did for those short weekends. 

His eyes continued to linger on you. He was almost frozen in place even though you did not even give him a glance again. Bucky wanted to tilt your head to the side, run his lips over the familiar skin of your neck and make you shiver in his arms as he had done before. You were right there, a temptation he should avoid. 

He was on a mission. He was not here to reconcile with an old acquaintance and he was definitely not here to indulge any of his own desires. No matter how tight his throat started to feel and how his body seemed to protest his every thought. After all, Bucky had felt alive with you. After so many years of living on auto-pilot, those nights with you had brought him back to this world a little. 

Bucky flexed his left hand. How was he supposed to initiate this conversation? 

I am here to arrest you. I need to know more about the people you’re supplying to…

Why are you wearing this dress? I can’t stop looking at you. 

Neither of these options would work. 

His steps echoed through the empty bathroom once he approached. His reflection appeared in the mirror, close to yours and you searched for his gaze until your eyes met. Maybe you had just imagined it, but Bucky’s expression seemed to soften for just a moment. 

His posture gave him away though. He was tense, metal hand curled into a fist by his side. A smirk appeared on your own lips. His eyes drifted down your neck, to your collarbones and eventually to your cleavage. Of course, he was looking at you. The dress was a nice one, showing just enough to tempt any man. 

Bucky had never been able to forget any detail about you. Having you right in front of him brought all the desire he previously felt right back. 

“It’s good to see you, Bucky.” 

He had never heard you say his name before. Back then, it had always been a different one, but it now sent a shiver down his spine. 

“It’s good to see you too.” 

You were not oblivious to the looks he was giving you. It seemed like your body was tempting him just as it had done years ago. Would it get you out of this situation? 

His suit looked good on him too. You had never seen him in formal clothing before, but it brought out the best in him. His eyes were still the same piercing blue as you remembered. Even though your weekends together had not been of the strictly romantic kind, you had spend hours upon hours gazing into his eyes and trying to make sense of the man in front of you. 

Bucky had always remained a mystery to you until your ways had eventually parted. 

“Have all these years taken your ability to talk to me?” You asked with a wicked smile, turning around to him fully as you leaned against the sink behind you. You could watch his gaze briefly turn towards your exposed knee, then flicker back to your face. 

“Not at all. I am here to talk to you about your job.” So you had been right. Bucky was here to talk to you about your trade, but if you were quite honest, you were not in the mood to talk about it at all. 

“Do we really have to talk about that? You haven’t seen me in years.” You stepped closer to him, taking a moment to appreciate the beard on his face and the curve of his lips. He looked healthier than the last time you saw him – stronger, even. Would his lips still feel good on yours? Would his hands know exactly where to touch you? 

Could he make you come undone like he had done so many times before? 

“No, we do not.” His voice had grown rougher, his gaze darkened just a little. 

Bucky could smell your perfume. It seemed to envelop him entirely, dulling all his thoughts until there was only you. 

You and your pretty dress. You and your tempting lips and a body he wanted to lose himself in. 

His mission was on the line. Could he allow himself to fail it? Return home with empty hands? Just because his hands wanted to be all over you. Bucky wanted to run his fingers over your exposed knee, let his hand wander up and up until he’d reach the wet folds between your legs. Would you still taste the very same there? 

“I did not expect to meet you again like-”

Bucky’s finger found your lips and stopped your words altogether. You blinked up at him, once, twice, through long lashes and he knew he was a doomed man this evening. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. While his right index finger rested on your lips, his left hand slid up your arm. The metal was cool against your skin, a familiar sensation you had dreamed about many times in the past years. 

“Just be quiet.” He leaned down to your ear, his lips grazing your skin ever so slightly. “You look lovely in this dress.” A soft kiss planted at the spot between your ear and your jaw. Enough to send a shiver down your spine. You pulled your arm away to grab his hand, planting it on your waist instead. 

Bucky took his finger away from your lips and looked at you, desire burning in his eyes. His pants were getting tighter the more he thought about your naked body and the promise of maybe exploring it once more. Even if this would be a short-lived moment, he wanted to cherish it. When would he ever get the chance to touch you again? 

You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to give your body to him, even if it was just for one evening. 

Pulling him just a little closer, you pressed your lips against his. Bucky’s hands firmly grabbed your waist, pressing you up against him. You could feel his arousal hard against your leg and it brought a smirk to your lips. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. 

It was easy for him to lift you up onto the sink and part your thighs enough to stand between them. Bucky’s hands roamed your body, starting at your hips and running his big hands up your back. Your own began to wander to his shirt, opening it button for button, just to see his trained chest peak through. 

His tongue parted your lips, the kiss growing more hungry by the second. He felt like a man starved and you were the only one able to quench his thirst. 

“Need to fuck you in this dress.” His words were a low mumble against your lips, but still enough to make your panties almost feel soaked. Your pussy clenched around nothing, another sign that you needed him just as much. 

“Please do,” you whispered, already feeling out of breath when you briefly parted from each other. Bucky’s hands moved underneath your dress, squeezing the bare skin of your thighs, hands inching further to the inside. 

He wanted to savour this moment. Once you two left the restroom again, life would continue. For now, it could stay exactly like this. 

“Lift your hips for me, doll.” 

There it was. Doll. A familiar endearment from his lips and you were quite happy to oblige. Pushing yourself off the counter for a moment, Bucky hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs. He pushed them into the back pockets of his pants, before kneeling down on the ground in front in you. 

His lips were laced with a wicked smirk after he wet his lips with his tongue. “Spread your legs for me.” 

Once your thighs had parted for him, you leaned back against the mirror behind you, the cool glass against the back of your head. Bucky’s warm breath on your most sensitive spot caused goosebumps to spread over your entire body. 

“Already so wet for me. Did you lure me here on purpose?” Even though you couldn’t see his smile, you could hear it in his voice. 

Whatever words you wanted to reply got stuck in your throat once Bucky’s lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked on it softly, his metal hand travelling closer to where you needed him the most. As his middle finger slid between your wet folds, you pushed your hips against his hand, eager for more. 

“Oh shit,” you cursed under your breath. The cold sensation of his metal digit inside you left you gasping with every new curl of his finger. Bucky continued to alternate between sucking on your sensitive nub and flicking his tongue against it. 

He knew how to work your body and he wanted to see you explode in front of him. Your taste on his tongue was enough to keep him satisfied for days. Once he added another finger, filling your pussy so tightly, you pressed your left hand down on your mouth to prevent your moans to slip past your lips. 

Your right hand found its way into Bucky’s hair, pressing him just a little closer to your middle. The tension in your abdomen became more and more, your walls quivering around his fingers. With every stroke of his fingers inside you, with every expertly placed flick of his tongue, he brought you closer to a climax and he could tell. 

Bucky felt your walls clench around his hand, your thighs shaking around his head. A deep groan escaped him. It was enough to sent vibrations through your core, your squeal only being muted by your own hand around your mouth. 

“Come for me, darling.” You wanted to obey his wishes and with one more roll of your hips and a flick of Bucky’s tongue against your clit, your orgasm rolled over you. Your hand pulled harder on his hair as you tried to keep as quiet as possible. Bucky loved the feeling of your thighs closing around his head, almost threatening to smother him in-between. 

When he stood back up once your climax had worn off, he licked over his lips slowly. You barely had time to catch your breath when he pulled you right back into his arms, erection pressing against your thigh as you could taste yourself on his tongue. Bucky’s kiss was eager and hungry, his metal hand sneaking up the back of your neck. 

“Can you taste yourself on my tongue?” His words were a mumble against your mouth, almost being drowned out by another kiss. Bucky’s eyes were wide with lust, his hand manoeuvring your neck to the side, so he could run his tongue up your neck. Another moan slipped past your lips, your body eagerly pressing into his. You wanted to savour each of his touches and stop time. 

You nodded in reply, feeling the rough brush of his beard against your jawline. It was enough to make you shiver, enough to want even more of him. 

“Talk to me,” he urged you, his mouth right next to your ear. 

“Yes, I can.”

Your voice was trembling, your hands fumbling to get a hold of his cheeks. When you cupped his cheeks, you turned his face towards you. Bucky’s cheeks had turned a soft red colour and his hips were slightly rolling against your leg. He needed the relief as much as you had. 

“I need you.” 

Bucky didn’t need to hear more than that. You helped him open his pants and slide them down, his boxers soon following. In an attempt to relieve some of the need between your legs, you squeezed them together, but Bucky quickly pulled them apart once more. 

“Need to be inside you,” he mumbled against your neck. Your hands moved to his back, legs wrapping around his hips and Bucky grabbed the underside of your thighs to position you properly. His tip brushed past your folds, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Bucky had always filled you out so nicely and you couldn’t wait to feel it again. 

When he pushed inside, you leaned your head back against the mirror behind you. Bucky let out a soft groan, closing his eyes to savour the feeling. Your walls were still so very tight around him, fitting perfectly around his cock. His first thrust was slow, but it filled you out all the same. 

Your fingers attempted to get a hold of his shirt as he leaned down and softly sucked on the soft skin at your throat. “Fuck,” you groaned, pushing your hips up to feel him even deeper. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure through you, your body rocking in sync with his even when his thrusts grew more rapid. 

Bucky’s fingers dug into the soft skin around your hips, holding you in place as started to chase his own high. The knot in your abdomen got tighter and tighter. 

He groaned into your shoulder, face pressed against your skin, his hot breath leaving goosebumps spread over your entire body. “Shit,” you cursed again, feeling yourself getting so close to that sweet high – once again. 

Before you could reach your sweet relief, Bucky pulled out again, leaving your cunt empty and leaking. A puzzled expression appeared in your face, but you soon knew what his plan was. In one swift movement, Bucky had you off the counter and turned around, seeing your own flushed face in the mirror. 

Bucky entered you once more, this time with one hard thrust. It was already enough to send you over the edge, but his thrusts kept going. Your pussy was spasming around him, legs trembling as your orgasm just kept going. Bucky’s metal hand pressed down on your mouth to silence your moans as he kept the ruthless pace up, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again. 

The pleasure was too much, your thighs trying to squeeze together and your hands holding tightly onto the counter. His grunts of pleasure filled your ear and his eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Once your gazes met, his teeth scraped against your earlobe, his thrusts growing almost erratic. Bucky was so close too, so close to spending himself inside you. 

“Going to fill you up, doll,” he groaned and as you pushed your hips back again, walls squeezing his cock so deliciously, it finally tipped him over the edge. His low moan sounded in your ear and his face was distorted with lust. The sight alone gave you one final push to reach your next high, one hand desperately holding onto Bucky’s strong forearm. 

He held you in place as ropes of cum painted your insides white, his cock still pulsing inside you. Bucky wanted to hold you like this forever, as close as humanly possible, and never let go again. 

Soft kisses were planted on your shoulder, his beard scraping along your soft skin, leaving a slight redness behind. His lips wandered over to your pulse point, making you whimper as you pressed yourself back into his chest. 

“I’ve missed you.”

His words were unexpected, but you cherished them all the same. You had missed him too – more than you often liked to admit. 

“I missed you too.” 

There were still so many things to discuss between you, but Bucky was pretty sure that those could wait for another moment longer. That dress had already distracted him more than enough, but he wished to remember every little detail of you wearing it. That would take time. 

It definitely looked like time had stopped for the both of you, even if it was just for tonight. 

[beautifulpaprika]

A Beast and a Bracelet (m)

pairing: fem!reader x beast!jk

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, in the forest!

summary: You tried saving someone ... again. However, this group is large and bloodthirsty, and trying to lose them in a forest isn't working. Yet, when you find a cave, it seems to be your saving grace. Not because of what's in it, but who's in it.

word count: 8.7k

Branch after branch hits me in the face- my hair getting caught in the branches more than once as I run from the group of men after me. 

“Stay out of the business of men, Y/N,” my father always told me. Of course, when I spotted the ready-to-beat-a-man in front of his children, I couldn’t sit back and chug a pint. I had nothing better to do. I didn’t think through the part where there were three of them and one of me. 

The plan was running into the forest where the monster stories came from- stories of missing people and blood trails - in hopes they would be too afraid, but by the footfalls following close behind, I can safely determine they are not as fearful as I am of the forest. 

I have no navigation in the pitch black and wood. My lungs feel ready to give up on me, and the noises I hear on my left sound a lot like something ready to pounce on me. But I keep running. 

“Come on, brave one! You wanna jump in to our business? We can do this right now!” One of the men calls from behind me. I’m astounded they have the air to be able to catch up and yell at the same time. 

I attempt a look behind me, my eyes glancing at a small light catching up. Panic rises in me and boils over, tears welling in my eyes, making finding safety even more difficult. 

There’s a dark mass ahead- a cave surrounded by weeds and vines. Pictures of monsters with sharp teeth and blood dribbling down their chin appear in my mind. 

“Get her!” one man calls out. They’re on my tail and I have to make a decision. 

One foot in front of the other until it’s pitch black in the cave. My footsteps echo off of the cave wall and I almost slip in the mud. The sound of splashing water urges me to turn back. Something is in here, and it’s not a bunny. 

I stick close to the wall, unmoving.

Unfortunately for me, a light shines in the cave. 

“There you are,” the one in front says. They all have a hungry look in their eyes that tells me everything I need to know about their intentions.

My eyes sting from the tears welling. I should’ve listened to my father. I should’ve kept to myself. 

The frontman grabs my arm, but I scream when his touch is gone as soon as it’s there. 

Growling mixing with agonizing screams draws my attention. The light is suddenly gone -it’s pitch black and I hear the nervous panting of the other two men. 

The screaming stops and my breath catches, not wanting the creature to hear me. It’s not a second longer when the screams start up and the crunching of bones and ripping and tearing of skin join it. 

The gurgle from the second man doesn’t stop before the third one follows. The screams and noises last for a few moments longer. When it stops, I close my eyes. I’m preparing for the death that is to come, asking any forces out there to grant a quick death and for my father to never have to find me. 

A huff in front of my face pushes my hair from my face. 

I hate the pathetic whimper I give to the creature. 

Its breathing is heavy and similar to that of a dog. 

“I’m sorry I intruded,” I whine, “I didn’t know where else to go,” I whisper. It feels useless to ask for mercy from a creature that most likely can’t understand me. 

However, it doesn’t seem as impossible as I thought when the huffing retreats from me. The hot air is gone, and I’m out of breath when I hear a splashing again- just like the one I heard when I came in.

I squint my eyes, trying to see rather than hear. 

There’s a new panting sound coupled with coughing and spitting, but it sounds human. Nothing like the creature growling deep while it tore men to pieces. 

Feet slap the wet floor, and I continue to hold my breath, not wanting to make any sudden movements. 

“I know you’re there,” a voice calls. It doesn’t sound menacing or annoyed- more matter-of-fact than anything. Rustling sounds move from my right side to across from me. 

A light appears, causing me to cover my eyes with my arm to adjust to the sudden brightness. 

“A ‘thank you’ would have been nice,” the same voice is right in front of me now. I slowly lower my arm, not wanting to be bombarded by light again. 

My eyes glide up to be met with a man’s curious gaze. The light shows off his raised eyebrows and glistening chest. His dark hair sticks to the sides of his face. He must have been the one who was making all the water sounds. I come back down, looking past his legs to the three bodies behind him. I gasp at their state. Torn limbs, popping eyes, frozen faces of shock. 

“Oh, that,” he grimaces. “That is quite the mess I’ll have to clean,” he mumbles. 

“Who are you?” I look back at him. “Did you do that? How-“

”None of these words sound like appreciation,” he crouches down, his head tilting. “Should I have let them have their way with you?” He asks. I look past him again, a rage boiling inside men from the thought of those torn-up hands being on me instead. I shake my head. 

“I’m grateful,” my voice is low. 

“Good enough for now,” he gets up again, moving back to the space across from me. “You can go,” he announces and I’m caught off guard by it. 

That’s it? 

He sets the light down as I stare in amazement. He’s already heaving one body over his shoulder without a struggle.

I slap myself for gawking at his back muscles and the marred skin as he takes one body and starts to carry it out. 

The half-naked man stops in his tracks and slowly turns to me. 

“You can leave at any time, bunny.” I have to stop myself from flinching at the pet name. 

My mind becomes dizzy at the choices of staying or going. This man is new, a mystery, and I can’t help but be curious. He’s the one who saved me and I’m supposed to walk out as if nothing happened? 

“I’d like to help,” before he can reject my offer, I’m picking up a ripped-off arm and a toe tossed away. Nausea rises in my body up to my throat, but I hold it back before I make even more of a mess. 

I’m ready to follow the man out, but his body is fully turned to me now, the body still on his shoulder. I try avoiding his stare by walking past him, but he blocks me. 

His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I shiver under his wandering eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

”It’s the least I could do for intruding your. . . space,” I refer to the cave. “And it’s obvious you saved me from imminent death . . . And worse,” I gulp, and his eyes follow the movement in my throat. 

I wait for him to say anything or reject my offer, but he doesn’t. He turns, the dead expression of the man on his shoulders flinging towards me. I gag at the wounds down his face. 

“If you’re going to do that the whole way, I suggest you go home instead,” he tells me. 

I shake my head, despite the fact that he can’t see me. 

We trek out into the forest, carrying our bodies (and body parts). The lamp attached to his pants lights the way, but I can’t help looking at the way it drags his pants down his hips a tad. His skin is dry now and I notice the scars down his back more easily. 

“You’ll need to clean up afterward,” he says before throwing the body in an empty spot between some trees. “Going home from this forest will have questions thrown at you enough, but coming back with blood? You won’t survive,” he explains. 

I throw the hand and toe on the spot. 

“You sound like you speak from experience,” it’s as if I have a death wish making such a suggestion, but he laughs it off. Maybe I’m not incorrect. After all, there’s a reason he lives in the cave. 

He doesn’t say another word but turns to return to the cave. 

“How long have you been out here?” I try to break the silence. He gives me a look. “You have a made bed and some supplies in that cave of yours, your hair is-” he gives me another look and I stop talking. The hair must be a sensitive topic.

“It's been a few years. . .” 

The shock in my body slows my walking down. Years? 

“Did you run away from home?” 

“Something like that,” he shrugs. 

I don't ask any more questions for fear of seeming more intrusive than I already am.

“Where is your pond of water?” I ask, trying to fling some of the blood on my fingers. 

He freezes at the question. 

“You have one. I heard it,” I walk further into the darkness, hoping to find the small body of water. 

I notice something glistening and take a step towards it. 

But then my feet lose their balance and my back is against the wall. Air leaves my lungs when the man’s face crowds mine, his hands caging me on both sides. 

“Don’t. Touch. That. Water,” he’s panting and I can only see the left side of his face. The anger and anxiety cinching every feature.

I notice the splotch of blood sitting on his eyebrow and lick my finger to rub it off.

He flinches when my finger touches him, but his eyebrow doesn’t relax. 

“I won’t touch it,” I promise. “I apologize,” I plea that he accepts the apology- my life being at risk and whatnot. 

“You don’t owe me anything. Go home,” he breaks away from me turning to gather the next body. 

“How do I know they won’t come for you? That you’ll be okay?” He freezes on the spot again. “I want to help!” I confess. I don’t want to prove my father right. Not about not being able to defend myself and not about being useless to this world. 

He doesn't say a word but looks back at the body left torn on the ground. It's enough to answer my question. 

“I think I'll be alright,” he says. He makes his way out of the cave and I follow after him. 

“There are more guys then where that came from, I can promise you that! They’ll come looking,” I try. I try to convince him tha t we need each other. My hope is that he says yes and lets me figure out the mystery that he is. 

“I handled three and I’ll handle more,” he grunts as he throws the body into the spot. 

“How do you know people won’t find this?” I gesture to the pile of limbs. 

“It’s still night. The monsters will take care of it. Monsters worse than me,” he says with a  low voice, staring directly at me. The words do as he intended. With a shiver running down my spine, I’m officially afraid. 

“I’ll go home,” I tell him, turning away ready to follow the tracks home. 

“You do that,” he makes his way back to the cave. 

“I‘ll be back tomorrow!” I call. 

“No, you won’t!” He calls back before disappearing into the dark. 

***

I keep my promise to return. This time I bring bread and treats with me, hoping something sweet is enough to tame the beast. I’m not sure what kind of beast he really is, but what does it matter if he doesn’t hurt me?

It’s clear I haven’t learned my lesson last night by getting into “men’s business”. This man is only half man, so it counts. I suppose. 

A leaf crunches behind me, and I swivel to confront whoever’s following me, but Im only met with the sight of a misty forest wind moving through grass and dirt. 

“Y-yeah! You better not fuck with me!” I cringe at my voice wavering on the swear word. 

“You really spooked them away, bunny,” a deep chuckle sounds behind me. 

I swirl to look at the scarred man, a smirk spreading across his face. He approaches me casually, like any man on the street would- except he has no shirt, and his hair is still tousled, and his pants are ripped in different areas. 

“Your anxiety is palpable,” he says, tilting his head at me, while tapping a finger top my chin. 

“I’m not scared of anything,” I lie. 

“I know your idea here is to be brave, but you can’t be brave if you have nothing to fear,” his hand taps the sack hanging in my hand. “What’s this?” he asks. 

I hold the bag to him, the smell of fresh bread and cake wafting around us. 

“For you,” I push it towards him as his eyebrow lifts. “I don’t have any money, but my father and I can bake pretty well,” I shove it towards him again, but he continue s to stare at me. “Yes. It’s a bribe, but I’d like to show you that this team,” I point to him and myself, “can work out pretty well.”

“And why do you want to be a team?” he asks, his arms crossing over his chest, his biceps protruding. I gulp at them, then catch myself looking back at the man. The smirk tells me he noticed me checking him out. 

“I’d like to do more in town, but with the risk of being killed, I can’t do it as much as I’d like. I want your help. For protection,” I propose. I realize the more I talk, the more my body caves in. I quickly adjust to lift my chin and he chuckles at me. 

His eyes narrow, then surprise. I try to process the shock on his face.

“You-” his arms uncross and I wait for his words. 

“What?” I ask. His eyes cut deep into mine and I suddenly feel awkward in my spot. 

He relaxes again, back to his normal composure. “You’ve got a deal,” he announces. Before I can ask him what that was, he’s already turning away and heading in the opposite direction. I try to make out some of the shapes in his back.

I quickly avert my eyes when he looks back at me and start to follow him.

“I brought some other things as well,” I show the bag in my other hand. “Another peace offering, but also . . . basic hygiene,” I shake the bag in excitement. The girls in town never let me braid their hair, but it’s alright. There’s someone who needs my services more anyway. 

He doesn’t say much, only continues to walk and even cleans sticks and rocks from the ground. 

“It’s a bit useless to clean the forest isn’t it?” I ask. 

“It’s meant to be a path, so that you can easily find your way back and forth,” his words catch me off guard. It’s a small gesture, but it’s nice to know he’s keeping me in mind when he does. 

I gawk at him for a few moments longer until the noise of running water breaks me out of the trance. We come up on a small creek dug into the ground. This is no cave. 

“I didn’t see this last night,” I whisper. 

“We didn’t come here last night,” he points out. I give him a questioning look, for him to answer in a shrug, “You said you have a few things for hygiene and a couple of treats - let’s have a picnic, bunny,” I shake my head at the nickname. 

“Why do you call me that?”

“I’m big. You're small. I thought that was obvious,” he raises a branch for me and I pass through. 

“It wasn’t that obvi-”

“Where did you say you came from?” he suddenly asks from behind me. 

“I come from the town just outside of here,” I tell him, turning to face him. He hums in answer. “Have you ever been there? It’s right outside of this forest,” his face scrunches, contemplating. 

“I’m from the cave, that’s it. Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way-” he pulls the torn-up pants down his legs and I gasp at the muscles on him. He could crush a man’s head with those thighs. “Let’s get to that wash,” he says, a hint of excitement touching his tone. 

He steps down, slowly, into the water.  

I put a fingertip in the water. I hiss at the cold, but he seems entirely unphased. He seems to enjoy it if anything. 

I admire the way he’s able to bask in the cold water. 

“Alright, what’s next, bunny? Where’s the soap at?” he calls. 

“How do you know about soap?” I had assumed he never joined society. I gather my bag, bringing out soap, sponge, a hairbrush, and a pair of nail clippers. I grab the hairbrush first, waving him over.

“I haven’t always been out here,” he explains, slowly making his way towards me. His back faces me, and despite him being taller than me, I still can’t reach him at a comfortable position. 

“Can you just . . . come a little closer?” I reach again, only able to reach so far without falling into the water. 

He leans backwards, not able to step back without slipping on the tilted creek floor. I reach for his hair, and I’m able to brush it, but the angle is uncomfortable. I try to brush the strands lower, by his neck, but my arms quickly tire. 

“Hold on- Just-” I say, trying to fix my posture. 

His head turns to give me a side-eye, and I watch him roll his eyes. 

“I know something that might help,” he gestures to me to lean over just a bit more. I try my best to have my body hover over the water without falling in. 

The man leans over to grab me underneath my arms - my scream muffled by the water rushing into my mouth. My feet are able to reach the ground and thrust me to the surface. 

My ears fill with the sound of his laughter once they clear out. I turn to him slowly, the cold water causing my eyes to twitch and my body to shiver . . . Or is that the anger? 

“What is wrong with you!” I swear the birds get spooked at my yelling. “I am trying to help.”

“You're trying to butter me up. I already said I would do what you asked, there’s no need to cater to me any more,” his arms reach up to brush his hair back, but his fingers catch easily in the knots. “I brush with my fingers,” he says, proudly. 

Despite my anger, I draw closer to him, his breathing slowing as he looks down at me. 

“While brushing with fingers could work . . .” I start. I grab his arm and pull him to where his back is facing me again. I try not to stare at the obvious scars in different sizes and shapes running down his back. “It’s not going to do all the work. Trust me, the brush will make you feel lighter.” The weight of my clothing drags me down a smidge but I ignore it. I start at the bottom of his long, dark strands. I expect to hear a ‘hiss’ or feel a flinch on some of the knots, but he doesn’t. He actually seems relaxed. His head leans back and a hum occasionally sounds from him. 

I pour more water on his head, following the line down his spine until it meets the water at his waist. I admire hsi figure, dragging a finger down the same path as the water, sometimes detouring to some of the scars. 

I kick myself out of the trance, and when I look back up to focus on the hair again, his head is already slightly turned to look at me. 

“Um, I’m sorry. I got curious,” I admit. 

“About?”

“What your skin would feel like. I don’t think I’ve seen so many scars,” I say. His eyebrows pinch. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing. It’s new. And intriguing. And you should tell me about them,” I add a smile, hoping it’s enough to convince him. 

“You ask for a lot. I’ve saved your life, isn’t that enough from me? If anything I should be asking you for more,” his arms cross. I snort at how pouty it makes him look. 

“Well, I’m brushing your hair aren’t I? You know how many other men’s hair I’ve brushed?” 

He turns in genuine interest. 

“No one. No other man’s hair! And!” I reach for the bag sitting on the edge of the creek, ready to fall in. I dig through the bag, revealing another gift - a bar of lavender soap. “How many people have I given soap to? Zero,” I push it towards him, the bar leaving white residue on my fingers. 

He reluctantly takes it, eyeing it, then me, then it. 

“I’m not sure this is the compliment you-”

“Ungratefulness is not very becoming of you,” I interrupt. 

His eyes peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “I’m still a bit sore, you know, from saving your life,” he says. I nod in understanding. “I’ll need help using this,” he hands me the bar. 

I freeze my hands from playing with the water. I scan his face for any sign of joking, but he continues to hold it to me. 

I take it, and he steps closer immediately, his body towering over mine. My attempt at not appearing nervous doesn’t work. 

“I’ll do it if you can answer one question,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes but agrees. “Why is the water in the cave off-limits but the creek isn’t?” He’s initially annoyed by the question, but I watch him relax.

“It changes me. It’s the reason I was able to become the monster that helped you,” he flinches when I start to lather him in soap. Creek water isn’t the cleanest, but it’s all I have to make the soap softer. “The reason I couldn’t let you go in it is because it’s not something you easily come out of,”he explains. My hand trails over his abdomen and up his sides, he inhales sharply, but recovers quickly. 

“What exactly do you turn into?” 

“Half human, half dog, half beast. There are too many ways to describe it. It doesn’t help that at first you aren’t aware that you’re something else. It takes a couple of tries to not lose your mind. Some have succumbed to the madness, and others take it, go into town, cause chaos, and get themselves killed.” His eyes are distant as he talks. There’s something that tells me he is talking from experience. “It doesn’t help that when I take that form of the beast, it drains my energy. My human energy isn’t meant for a big body with that strength. It’s draining.” 

“Are you the only one now, besides me, who knows about it?” I reach his neck, noticing a big difference in cleanliness. 

He nods in answer. 

“You haven’t lost your mind, though. Why are you different?” he shrugs at my question. 

“I had a good mentor, at first,” his eyes turn down, “I also had a lot of motivation, I guess,” he holds his arms forward for me to wash. 

“What was your motivation?” 

He waits - the crickets nearby and the trees still. 

“You’ve asked much more than one question now. The focus should be on getting this dirt off of me,” he wades over to the edge. “You should get my legs too,” he lifts one onto the wall and I screw my eyes shut, squealing- the sound of his laughter a massage to my brain.

***

The next day it’s raining. I cover myself with the sack that I brought for Jungkook (a name I learned while I was soaping his legs - truly a heartwarming moment.) This time it has a few shirts I stole from my father. 

Jungkook told me I shouldn’t come back again at the risk of someone catching onto the fact that I was going into the forest too often. Judging by the trees surrounding me, I didn’t listen. I’ve checked my surroundings a million times before coming in. 

A noise behind me makes me jump, but I start humming to soothe the nerves. I brought Jungkook a small cupcake with a bunny iced on the top. It’s a bit wet now from the rain, but I’m almost certain he’ll still like it. 

After our day at the creek yesterday, I feel like he knows me better than anyone. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why he decides to stay out here instead of joining the rest of society. Well, when I truly think about it, I guess I can understand why he wouldn’t want to. 

I release a breath when I arrive at the cave, grateful that I didn’t forget where it is. 

“Jungkook?” I call as I walk in. My lantern is able to light up the slick walls. There’s running and shuffling until I approach him. He’s sitting criss-cross on the ground on a sheet, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Jungkook? What are you doing?” I slowly approach him. 

“Nothing. Sitting here,” he says it too quickly to believe him. 

“What do you have behind you?”

“What’s that in your hand?” he nods to the cupcake I’m holding- the picture of the bunny looks a bit sad now. I don’t miss the way he decided to change the subject, but I can’t be bothered to bring it back up. He’ll have to move eventually. 

“It was a cupcake,” I step closer and sit in front of him, he tenses a bit, “but the rain kind of . . .” I show it to him. He looks at it and I think I see a smile spreading across his face. I have to check twice that it’s not a teasing smile, but what I thought was true. He’s looking at it fondly.

He reaches for it, releasing whatever’s behind him. 

“Thanks, Bunny,” he says. He doesn’t eat it but sets it beside him instead. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s behind you now?” I ask. He’s right back to being tense. His mouth opens and closes, resembling a fish, and before he can say anything else, a voice yells out. We freeze and look out the mouth of the cave. 

“Where the fuck did she go?” a man yells out again. Even with the rain, I can hear him clearly, meaning he’s too close. “Keep going! That bitch definitely had something to do with their disappearance!” he announces. 

They know. They must be friends of those men’s whose bodies we dumped - and they followed me here. 

Shit. How many times do I have to tell myself that I should have listened?

“Jungkook . . .” I whisper, but he’s already standing when I turn. 

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it,” he demands. The gentle Jungkook who accepted my soggy cupcake is gone - replaced with a Jungkook who looks ready to drown someone in the very creek water we swam in. 

“I’ll come with you,” I get ready to stand.

“Y/N . . . I appreciate it, but please don’t. It was always me who was supposed to take care of it. I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here,” with that, he jumps in the water. Meanwhile, I’m still caught up in how he knew my name. Jungkook may have fessed up his own, but I never did the same. 

His beast rushes out of the water and I have no time to take a glance at him. His gray skin is the only thing I spot paired with a panting noise as he runs out. 

Waiting in the cave for a mere three seconds is already torture. The waiting is agony especially when I can’t hear anything and not knowing how many followed me into the forest. 

I occupy myself by looking around the cave, not that there’s much to look at. I spot the thing Jungkook was holding behind his back. It looks like a bracelet but made with flowers and grass. I smile at it. Jungkook hiding his soft side makes the bracelet all the more special. 

A roar yanks my attention away. Yelling and screams rise above the rain from multiple people- more than three. I can’t just sit here. I can’t. 

The rain drops are cool against my skin and I pick up a long stick as I run in the direction of the chaos. 

My confidence in being able to help is not high, but my motivation is. There’s a pained whimper this time from Jungkook. My feet move faster now. It doesn’t matter if they can hear me coming to them as long as I’m able to get there- as long as he isn’t alone. 

A choked sound comes from below me. One of the men Jungkook dealt with reaches out with the one arm he has left. His mouth forms the words “Help me,” but I look away before he can say anything else.

Leaves crunching and sounds of a struggle lead me to a clearing. Bodies are scattered in every part of the clearing, unmoving. There are a few bodies beyond the trees as well. This was much more than the three men Jungkook dealt with in the cave. 

The beast himself sits in the middle. His skin is gray and slimy with hair in very few places. This form is indeed much bigger than the Jungkook I know.

 I quickly approach without saying a word and examine his condition. He’s lying on his side, his breathing shallow. There are a few scratches on his sides and a gash down his face. He’s exhausted and I think back to when he said the beast form is not meant for him to stay in for a long time. His body exhausts easily and if he used a majority of it on fighting these men- 

Damn it. I should’ve asked what happens when that energy is spent. Of all the times I have been nosy in my life and I couldn’t do it in such a crucial moment. 

Jungkook’s beast eye peers up at me and huffs. I ignore the scolding and focus on how I’m going to help him. The pond is too big to be brought to him, so I’m going to have to bring him to it. I don’t let the thought of “How?” linger in my mind too long before I’m picking up his legs and dragging him with as much force as I can bear. 

His groan is quiet behind me. 

“Don’t speak! Don’t do anything!” I yell. I avoid one or two bodies. I haven’t made it far and my arms and back are aching. 

“Use your legs, or you’ll do some damage to your back,” Father’s words echo in my mind. He’s told me so many wise things and yet I can never listen. It’s how I’m in this predicament in the first place. It’s the reason Jungkook is dying. 

My throat closes as tears well up in my eyes. 

“I’m not letting you die.” 

***

Jungkook is practically on the brink of death when I dump him in the pool of water. The lantern lights the red stringing through the water and I cross my fingers that he doesn’t drown. 

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, screwing my eyes shut, a tear falling as a result. “You’re my only friend, Jungkook. . .” I whisper. “Don’t leave.” 

As soon as the words escape me, a head surfaces above the water. I’m on my knees in an instance reaching for him. He’s still very heavy when I pull him in, but nothing compared to when he was the beast. 

“You’re okay!” I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in. He hugs me back for only a second before I feel his body limp and fall. “Jungkook? Jungkook!” I call for him, but his breathing is weak. I pull him to where his sheet is, laying him gently. His eyes close and he enters sleep. I notice a bit of blood dripping down his face and sides from the battle.

I make sure his breathing is okay then leave him to rush back into town on a mission to take anything that could save him.

***

It’s the second day since Jungkook was attacked and it’s raining again. He’s woken up a few times for water, but nothing else. The bandages on his waist glare at me as I sit on the opposite side of the cave, humming a song, playing with the bracelet he has yet to finish. 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” his voice pipes up. I rush to him, a cup of water in hand from the creek. “I’d thought at least by now-” I put a finger to his lips- the rasp of his voice anxiety inducing. 

“You need to save your energy. We can talk when you’re back to being normal,” I tip the cup into his mouth, and he takes it. When I’m done, he sits up despite my protests. 

“I thought you liked the fact I wasn’t normal,” he whispers, his eyes off in the distance. I ignore the words seeing as that’s not my priority. “And I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about back then,” he meets my eyes now, then glides down to the bracelet I’m wearing. I’m ready to question what he means when I look at the bracelet. 

It’s like a key now. A key to a memory I put away a long time ago. 

***

11 years ago

“Keep crying. ‘S not like there’s anyone who’s gonna help you,” the blonde kid, nicknamed Jester, hits the boy again and I flinch behind the wall. “Where’s your parents?” Kicks him again and gestures for his friend to join in - and he does. 

I can’t watch this anymore. 

“Stop fucking with me-” before Jester can kick him again, I jump in, putting my body in front of the one who’s on the ground. 

“What is wrong with you two!” I yell out. 

“Mind your business, Y/N!” he tries to push me but I won’t budge. Finally, my height does something other than be the butt of every joke in town. Father always said I was an early bloomer and that my height could be an advantage. I didn’t see that until now. 

“Fuck you!” I spit at him, surprised at my own cursing. If he was angry before, he’s enraged now. His fist reels back, and I see it coming, but the boy behind me rushes him, tackling Jester. His friend looks to me. Before he can make any moves, I rush up to him and swing my leg up to his middle, hitting my target right between the legs. 

“Run!” I yell. With one down we should be okay. 

The boy gets off of the blonde and runs to me, taking my hand and leading me into the forest. I don't know where he's taking me, but if I saved him that means he won't hurt me, right?

We slow to a cave entrance. He turns to me, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the cut under his eye. He nods, still not saying a word. “Those boys are assholes,” I cover my mouth at the bad word. “Sorry, but it’s true,” he laughs at me. I can’t believe he’s laughing at me after I saved his life. Then, I find myself laughing with him and it’s strange. 

He gestures for me to follow him deeper in the forest. 

We find a spot where he finally kneels on the ground and I follow.

“Do they usually pick on you?” I ask. He nods slowly and moves his sleeve to show scars and fresh cuts on his shoulder. I make the note in my mind that next time I’ll bring something to help heal those. 

His hands work and kneed in the grass and  grabs a few flowers that are scattered in different places. I see a bug on the trunk of the tree, my eyes trailing up the tree trunk that it travels. Where is it going to go?

A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away. I look down at the boy holding a small bracelet in his hands. He holds it to me, and I take it, trying not to break it. The little flowers spread throughout it tickle my hand. 

“For me?” I ask and he nods his head. 

“It’s to say ‘Thank You’,”  my heart is surprised when I finally hear his voice. 

“Hey. You wanna be my friend? I don’t have any,” I say.

His head moves so fast up and down. Finally! I found someone who likes me!

***

“You. . .” I whisper to him, his heavy eyelids covering his eyes staring back at me. 

“Me,” he looks at the bracelet sitting in the palm of his hand. I’m grateful he’s distracted while I process the new revelations. 

I push up from the ground and head for the exit, quickly stepping out into the rain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” he calls from behind me. I ignore him and try to keep my tears at bay. “Stop!” he yells. I hate that I do as he says, as if I’m his dog. He steps in front of me, and I turn away. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He tries to make eye contact with me and when I refuse, he uses a finger on my chin, the touch heating my face. 

“You can try to remind me of the good memories, Jungkook, but don’t forget those good times lasted for a week and you left,” I try to tame the way my voice is breaking. “You were my first friend and then you disappeared. I thought I was cursed for months!” a tear rolls down my cheek. He blinks. Once. Twice. “I get it. That was a long time ago and maybe it didn’t matter to you, but it does to me,” he shakes his head.

“Of course it matters, Y/N. You were my only friend and-”

“Then why did you leave me? Why didn’t you say anything? I risked so much going into the woods to find you.” Scenes of 10 year-old me play out in my head - screaming for Jungkook to come back until my throat itched, poisoning and rashes running down my legs. 

“It was going to be my first time in the pool,” his voice is low, “I wasn’t ready, but my mother was dying. Your very precious town was sending search parties to hunt us down. She couldn’t protect herself or me anymore, so I had to do it. I didn’t want to scare you,” his hand lowers back to his side and he takes a deep breath. “I was going through weeks of training myself and when my mom died and I got a hold of it, I went to try and find you, but I wasn’t finding you and it was too risky,” he explains. 

My heart cracks at the mention of his mother. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but he only had her.  

“You should have told me. . .” 

“I wanted to. Trust me, Y/N. I did. But I wanted to figure out everything first before I jumped into it with you. I was also a kid at the time too. I didn’t have someone to guide me. Everyone hated me without being a beast. Could you imagine my fear of what would happen if they found out I am one? Especially with all the rumors and stories going around?” he argues. It’s a solid explanation. This was a long time ago and we were children. “When I saw you again and recognized that it was you, something I wanted more than anything, is for you not to be afraid of me. Your opinion, after a week, was the most important to me.”

Tears start to well up again. 

“Just like your opinion is most important to me now,” he whispers, stepping closer. I swallow the lump in my throat. His hair sticks to the sides of his head, some strands covering his eyes that are looking down at me. Goosebumps spread up and down my arms as heat bubbles in my stomach. 

“If you’re lying-”

“Don’t even think that,” he takes another step closer. I gasp when his hand wraps around my waist and pulls me to him, our chests touching and my hands resting on his arms. My thoughts are a jumbled mess and all I can ask is how this escalated so quickly. “Don’t go this time. I know I always tell you to leave, but I’m telling you to stay now.” 

My eyes blink and I’d like to blame it on the raindrops falling into my eyes, but I’m afraid to admit it’s because of how flustered I am at the stare he’s giving me. 

“And where do you get off on telling me what to do?”

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d like it if you were.”

“I think you like it when I tell you what to do.” It’s not the words I was expecting, but I don’t dislike it either. It’s also not false. “Do you want me, Y/N?” he whispers on my lips. “Tell me.” 

“Yes,” I say it a bit too quickly. 

Just when I think he’s going to plant his lips on mine, he instead asks, “Why?” The question is not hard to answer, but it is one that is difficult to say. 

“You’re the only person who makes me feel wanted in return,” I tell him. It’s honest and a much better answer than ‘You’re really hot’. “I don’t want to lose you, Jungkook,” I admit. “So, if you’re going to leave again you might as well-” 

His soft lips interrupt me - finally! 

A list of things I could be doing right now scrolls through my mind, yet none of them seem as important or as enticing as this is. If I could describe what this kiss is like, I don’t think that I could. No one has kissed me like this in the past. Nothing in the world can compare to the way that he holds me tightly against him, massaging the skin on my waist, while our mouths move in sync and rainwater mixes in with our saliva. 

His hands place pressure on hips and I respond by moving backward until I hit a tree. Now that I have back support, his lips push into me harder and I whimper into his mouth. He responds with a moan that runs straight to my core. 

We separate, breathing into each other. 

“It’s raining,” I say, my clothing completely stuck to me by now. 

“It’s not gonna stop me, but tell me if it’s going to stop you,” he brushes a hair away from my face and that’s when I can’t wait anymore. I want him too much to stop now, so I shake my head in answer. 

“I don’t want anything else to stop us,” I hook my fingers into his loose pants and bring him closer. The corner of his lips tilt up and his fingers crawl on the side of my neck before pulling me closer to him. 

The only thing I can pray for is that there are no more men who have decided to take on Jungkook and are still lurking in the forest, but that seems to be the last thing on his mind when he grinds into me. I moan into his mouth and he swallows it before leaning down to kiss my neck. I arch into him as he gets lower at the same time tickling the skin under my shirt as he lifts it up and over my head.

The rain is cold on me, but it’s worth it when his eyes stay on my perky nipples. 

“I-” he gulps. Not so mouthy now. 

“You can touch me, if you want,” I hate the way I sound so eager. I thought I would be able to play it cool, similar to the time I first lost my virginity (with a complete douchebag), but Jungkook makes me too nervous to ‘play it cool’. The way his eyes darken when he scans every inch of me, and the way he looks ready to devour me does the opposite of calming me down. 

I can only pray to any force out there that I make him feel the way he makes me feel. 

“I’ll do more than touch,” the palm of his hand skims the side of my breast, and he leans in. “I’ll do anything to show you you’re mine,” he whispers into my ear. The adrenaline is almost too much - I’m aching for him. 

“Then show me what it’s like to be yours,” I whisper back. 

He doesn’t look at me, his eyes stay on my lips for a few moments, then he moves down, taking one tit into his mouth leaving me breathless. His fingers tweak the other one, occasionally switching. 

“Jungkook- ah!” I gasp. He presses and gropes, then instant repeats. His skin is touching mine in every spot while his tongue continues its ministrations on my chest. I grab onto his hair in case I faint and lean my head onto the tree. The worry of getting bugs on me disappears when he nibbles on my skin. 

“I can’t wait much longer,” he sighs when coming back up. His fingers slide into my pants, and push into the space between my legs. I don’t expect it and cry into his mouth. “I don’t want to rush, bunny, but I can tell you’re as desperate as I am.”

I want to argue that I’m not, but it would be a lie. And it’s hard to argue with his fingers pumping in and out of me. He starts to kiss on my neck while his thumb joins in rubbing my clit. I feel a tension building in my stomach, then the knot unties and I release onto his hand. 

I’m still on my high when his fingers slip out and he licks them clean. I watch him and I’m prepared to do anything for this man. He already looks fucked out and I haven’t done anything to him. His hair is a mess but it’s a result of the rain mixed with my fingers moving it every which way. 

“Now I know you’re ready,” he pants. His pants fall to the ground, revealing the hard-on standing up. It isn’t fair that even his cock is perfect too. 

His eyes fall to my pants. 

“Can I. . . ?” he asks. I nod, slow. 

His hands are gentle as he peels my pants down my legs. I’m suddenly self-conscious when they come down, afraid of him spotting any hair or any marks but if he notices them, he doesn’t bring them up. 

“I’ve been thinking about this the past few days. How I’ll make you mine, how I’ll make you scream for me, how I’ll take care of you every day after. . .” He rambles before putting his lips on me again, the kiss frantic and wild, our tongues mixing all while pulling me closer, his hands move to my bare ass. “Jump,” he whispers, and I follow his instruction. 

My back hits the tree and our centers touch, bare skin to bare skin. It’s almost overwhelming. I feel as if I’m going to fall, but he makes it look so easy holding me. My heart grows ten times. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He draws me out of my head with a curious glance. I shrug, not really knowing how to explain it, but he still doesn’t move, waiting. “Are you regretting this?”

I hit him on the shoulder. “How could you say that when I’m still here and fully naked mind you!” 

“Then what was that look?” 

“I just . . .” I pause. It’s nerve-wracking to be vulnerable in front of him. I’m already naked physically, but to be emotionally naked is different. “I keep thinking about how perfect you are.” There’s a surprise written all over his face. “Don’t think for a second I would regret this, even if we are in the middle of a downpour,” I instruct. 

A small smile appears on his face. 

“You’re perfect for me,” he plants a kiss on my lips before he turns his attention down to adjust himself. He slides into me slowly and a whimper leaves my throat. His hand soothes me, massaging the skin on my butt. 

His head falls onto my shoulder, and we stay like that for a few moments as he inches in. 

When he starts to move, I already feel the tree scratching my bare back, but I don’t mind the pain with pleasure. 

Every part of the front of me slides against him and the rest of my body feels sticky from the humidity. It’s messy, but I can’t imagine this any other way. 

His breathing grows heavy as he thrusts into me. His jaw is clenched as he lifts me up and down. 

“You’re beautiful. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” he breathes. “Y/N, oh God, Y/N,” he groans. His words set off a spark in me bigger than before. It’s good to know that even when I’m naked, sticky, messy, he can still see me as beautiful. “I should’ve kept those guys alive and let them watch,” his tone is different now. “I should have let them watch what they couldn’t have.” 

“Jungkook, pelase -” 

He balances me on one arm, using the other to hold the side of my head while he kisses me. 

“I’m almost- oh gosh,” I cry, but before I can jump over the edge he slides out of me. “Jungkook? What are you-?”

I hold onto him when he moves and puts me onto the wet dirt. It’s cold and slushy at first, then warms up at the same time Jungkook hovers over me. 

“This is how I always dreamt about you with me,” he says, and slides into me again, my heels locking around his waist and on his back. His body weight rests on me as he moves again and his head falls into my neck. 

It doesn’t take long to get me right back to the edge, and from the way his thrusts are getting messier, he’s going to meet me there. 

“Jungkook!” I cry as I spill onto him and he does the same. 

I notice it’s not raining anymore when all the noise and movement stops.We lay there for a few moments in the quiet after he slides out of me, however, his weight is still resting on me. 

“Is your penis gone when you turn into a beast?” I ask, killing the silence. He laughs into my shoulder then lifts his head. 

“Why? Do you wanna fuck him too?” he suggests. I smack his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. I know dragging a beast the same weight of a tree was not the easiest. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had to,” I argue. “You’ve saved me more than once now. The least I could do was try one time.”

“You helped me twice, actually,” he says. I’m back to when we were kids. 

“And there might be many more times after this,” I put a hand on his cheek. 

“And I’ll save you each,” he plants a kiss on my lips, “and every,” another kiss, “time,” a more passionate one. We stay naked on that floor for hours, looking up into the trees, wondering what life or death situation we’ll have to save each other from tomorrow. 

[lunarduty]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault. 

too sweet. too gentle. too slow. 

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name. 

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient. 

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm. 

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes. 

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face. 

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm. 

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked. 

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes. 

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears. 

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

[total-dxmure]

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER THREE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: here we are, the meat and potatoes. the fic is really kicking off. . . and they're already flirting?! ellie is so touch and affection starved that she nearly jumps out of her own skin every time you even look at her.)

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

In that halfway space between waking and sleep it was hard to discern what was real and what wasn’t. Your bed felt warm, sheets still tangled around your arms and legs. The weight of your blanket on your chest could easily be confused with another’s body, and so you felt yourself smile. Warm, happy, safe- 

Abby was behind you, her limbs expertly twisted around yours like she’d done it a thousand times before. . . and she had. 

Slowly you opened your eyes, staring blankly ahead of you into your pitch black bathroom. You recognized the fresh scent of your shampoo, and felt the way your hair still clung to your hot cheeks- wet from your shower the night before. It was like you were suspended in a memory, everything all soft and fuzzy around you. The dots weren’t perfectly connecting, and still you were happy. For a second you just laid there, unable to look down at the hand you could feel so vividly at your waist. Would you see Abby’s knuckles when you looked down? Would you see the rubber promise ring she had insisted on wearing? Everything always had to be even and fair with her. 

This morning felt familiar. Like you’d lived it before. Your breath left you in a rush when the bed creaked behind you. 

“Abby,” God, she was back. She was back and she was right behind you. “Baby?” 

There was a soft groan and then the arm tightened, bringing you into a warm chest. Her bicep squeezed your arm tightly against her shoulder, and all at once you were tucked in so tight. Confusion tugged at your features, and you mulled over exactly why you were clinging to her arm so tightly. 

“What’s wrong?” She whispered against your hair, her voice still thick with sleep. Still, her fingers stroked at your bare stomach. 

“I had a nightmare,” You mumbled, trying to recall exactly what had plagued you just seconds ago. You can’t remember now that you’re safe here. . . safe with Abby again. “You were gone and I was all alone.” 

Those moments came back to you in flashes. The ache, the constant pain of losing her, the “learning to live without her” that crushed you entirely. You turned around in her grasp, nuzzling your nose into the crook of her neck. You took deep inhales, trying to still your rising panic. You could feel the steady beating of her heart against your cheek, the warmth of her bare breasts against your collar bones. 

“I was gone?” She raised a hand, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a few golden strands falling onto her forehead as she moved her head against the pillow beneath her. “You can tell me about it if you want.” She offered supportively, petting your back in slow circles. 

You don’t know why. . .  but you missed those circles. It felt like you’d been without them for weeks. Months. 

“I-I got a phone call. . . and they told me that you’d died,” Your bottom lip quivered, your eyes filling with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at your unnecessary hysterics. Abby was right here. Everything was okay. “It felt like the longest nightmare I’ve ever had. It was horrible.” 

“You did so good though.” She whispered, her hands still stroking. 

Your muscles tensed, and slowly you moved your hand up her side, fingers brushing against her skin. You pressed a soft kiss against the underside of her breast, a tear breaking free past your lower lashes. This moment suddenly felt fleeting. 

“I did?” You questioned, pulling away to look at her. 

She was so beautiful. Like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right in your bed. The sun was just beginning to rise, setting the line of trees just outside of your window ablaze. She was diaphanous and golden laying there beneath you. You were so lucky. You could barely breathe when she looked up at you like that, her eyes so thick with pride and love. 

“You did, baby girl. You stayed so strong.” She cracked a small smile, but it looked pained. Like she was also realizing that the two of you couldn’t exist here forever. “I need you to keep it up though, alright?” You couldn’t feel her hand on your back anymore, nor the softness of the sheets. 

“Please,” You sobbed out, reaching out to cup her cheek. She didn’t feel like anything. Like your hand was molded around a pocket of open space. Nothingness. She was about the size of the palm of your hand now, her urn sitting on the mantle in your living room. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

Her blue eyes stared up at you, proud and unwavering in their convictions, as they always were. . . always had been. “I’m never far. Pinky.” Promise. 

And then you were in your bed again, the alarm on your phone blaring. 

“Abby?” You mumbled, and you didn’t have to turn over to realize you were alone. 

Ellie was good at putting pressure on herself. It had always been a form of motivation, as cruel as it seemed. She couldn’t let today be awful. No episodes or meltdowns and no long bouts of silence. You were pretty and it really seemed like you could use a friend. 

Ellie could use a friend too. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown interest in a girl. She’d always been career driven with a one track mind. She was good at overworking herself and running herself dry. She hoped that you’d be able to use that to your benefit today. Ellie wanted to lose herself in something. . . in someone. She wanted to be useful for the first time in what felt like a long, long while.

So she woke up at the butt crack of dawn and took a shower. She kept her eyes shut tight as she washed herself and didn’t even bother to towel dry her hair before she was pulling on an outfit. Thick droplets of water stained the shoulders of her jean button up as she tied up the laces on her boots. She focused on one shoe at a time, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Every once and a while her brain would wander, hellbent on self destruction, but with a small groan she’d remember the sadness in your eyes. 

She’d remember who she was before the accident. 

She moved down the stairs as quietly as she could, praying that Joel’s dog wouldn’t start barking once he realized that his new best friend was leaving the house. The keys to her old car were on the rack beside the front door, right next to Joel’s flashy new pair. He’d told Ellie over dinner that he’d been maintaining the beat up old Jeep the best that he could, meaning she at least had a little bit of freedom while she was back home. 

She locked the door behind her, the cool morning breeze stinging against her wet ears as she gracelessly stumbled down the stairs, juggling the bulky set of keys in her hand. A huge metal spaceship that Joel had stuffed into her Christmas stocking senior year, a neon green carabiner she’d bought at one of the gas stations closest to her school, and a few other childish charms that she couldn’t place any meaning behind swung from the nearly ancient keychain. Her sense of self expression and style back in those days was tacky to say the least, but she appreciated child-Ellie nonetheless. 

“You poor child.” She teased under her breath, climbing into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. She sucked in a breath and held it before cranking it up. 

To her surprise, the clunker started right up, though the engine shook the steering wheel a little when she put the thing in reverse down the driveway. She hadn’t driven a car since that night at the gas station. It felt a little weird to be behind the wheel, but even stranger to be back here. Jackson was a beautiful place. . . but it didn’t feel the same way that it had before. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her age or the changes that were happening inside of her. The streets still looked the same, aside from some very minor changes to neighbor's houses. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings when Joel had driven her through town yesterday, and she was a bit scared to see the differences. She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts or do any soul searching, so she reached out for the radio, pressing play on whatever CD had been shoved into it last. 

Depeche mode began to blast over the speakers, and she let out a small sigh of relief. At least her music taste wasn’t horrible in high school. 

But it was no wonder she didn’t have a girlfriend. Ellie wouldn’t have dated little Ellie either, that was for sure. 

She felt a bit crazy to be driving in the opposite direction of town. Back when she lived here, town was the only place she was headed when she was allowed out of the house. It was no wonder why the two of you had never really crossed paths. She used to complain about how far off in the “middle of nowhere” Joel lived, but your farm had his ranch beat by fifteen minutes. The houses got fewer and farther in between, and despite how much Ellie truly did enjoy the city, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the countryside was. The sprawling fields, grazing animals, and splattering of wild flowers had her rolling down the windows of her car, ignoring the chill so that she could get a better look of her surroundings. 

Even the air quality was better in Jackson.

She’d been down this road a few times in her life, having been in the backseat of Joel’s car every single time. She recognized your home from her memories, but your last name didn’t mean much to her back then. She slowed her car down to a crawl, staring at the large sign that sported your family name proudly. 

Ellie would be proud of the farm too if it were hers. She bumped down the drive five minutes earlier than you had told her to show up, staring with wide eyes at your house. It was two stories with a balcony- white with green shutters. The wrap around porch was screened in, protecting you and any guests you might have over from bugs that thrive in the summertime heat. 

Your stretch of land belonged on a painting, and for a second she worried if maybe she wasn’t the right friend for you. This house was too nice and Ellie. . . Ellie wasn’t very nice at all. She'd only talked to you for five minutes yesterday, but she got the feeling that you were a "good girl". You were wholesome, which wasn't how anyone in Ellie's life would choose to describe her. She slowly made her way up your front steps, and for a second she wondered if she should leave. It would probably be better if she did. Ellie could always just lie and tell Joel that she couldn’t find your house. . . he’d probably drop it after insulting her about her bad sense of direction. 

Ellie couldn’t afford to get a crush on anyone right now either. It was horrible timing, and what would be worse is if you actually ever returned those feelings. How was she supposed to explain to you that she wouldn’t ever make a good partner? She couldn’t protect you from anything, not when any loud sounds or bright lights had her falling to her knees. She was careerless, depressed to the point where she had completely lost who she was, had a drinking problem, and was quite certain that she’d combust the second you’d touch her. She was touch and attention starved, but hadn’t remembered that she was even able to desire someone until she’d seen you yesterday- 

You’d be dodging a bullet if she hightailed it right off of your property. So she turned on her heel and stared at her boots as she began walking back down your stairs. Her feet kicked up dirt as she made her way back to her jeep, hand already reaching into her pocket for her keys- 

“Did I not hear you knocking on the door?” A feminine voice called out to her. 

She sucked in a breath so hard that she let out a loud cough, eyes widening as she turned around to face the porch. You were wearing a pair of dirt stained jeans today, though your hair was fastened back with a white bow. Ellie, despite her previous need to protect you from herself, couldn’t fight off the urge to get closer. There was something different about you today. You were a bit manic, your hands already busying themselves with straightening out a few of the potted plants on your porch. You seemed a bit anxious, but you didn’t comment on it so neither did Ellie. Any boundaries you had yesterday with her were gone. You flashed her a wide smile, sauntering up the drive so that you could wrap her up in a tight hug. 

Your arms were shaking as they weaved around her neck, pulling her in close. She froze, limbs locking up in surprise as she tried to fully grasp what was going on. You were treating her like an old friend, someone you were excited to see. Ellie didn’t know why you’d be so happy to see her. . . but then again, she was happy to see you. She remembered what Joel had said last night.

Maybe you were sick and tired of being alone. 

Your bare arms were cold too- freezing as her fingers accidentally brushed the backs of them. Ellie realized that she had gotten here just in time. If anything, she cursed herself for not showing up twenty minutes earlier, if only to save you from whatever had you this shaken up. 

“I probably knocked too quietly. Should have knocked louder, huh?” She mumbled, biting the inside of her cheek as she gave you a gentle squeeze. 

She wasn’t used to holding someone like this that wasn’t Dina or Jesse. You felt nice in her arms. Your muscles weren’t hard or rigid like hers, you were all soft and rounded edges. Gentle curves and arms ready and willing to embrace her. Flushed cheeks and silk bows. You smelled wonderful too- sweet and floral, like Jasmine mixed with honey. She didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t seem ready to end the hug either.

You were still quivering. 

“Yeah, you should have.” You agreed, giving Ellie one last squeeze before taking a few unsteady steps back.

You hadn’t been completely sure whether or not she would show up today. Waking up this early was a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone you had just met yesterday. Still, a part of you had hoped that she would be here. On days that were this bad you found it impossible to work, no matter how busy it kept you. You often spent “mental health days”  laid out by Abby’s grave or buried six feet under pillows and blankets in what used to be your shared bed.

Ellie’s presence changed things. 

So you squared off your shoulders and cracked her a wide smile, praying that it looked genuine and not forced. 

“Let’s hop in my truck and I’ll take you on a little tour of the property before we get started.” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the woman take a few steps closer to you.

Ellie looked like she wanted to say something but was holding herself back. You weren’t sure whether or not you would be able to handle her prying or the pity that would follow. 

Your fingers twitched at your sides, wishing so deeply that you hadn’t woken up at all this morning. Ellie was beautiful- gorgeous even. You would have been head over heels if you had met her years ago, before. . . well, before Abby happened. Still, her beauty wasn't enough to completely distract you from your grief. A part of you felt guilty for even finding her attractive as you slid into the front seat of the truck. 

Maybe that was why you’d had such a strange dream last night. Or maybe. . . maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe it really was Abby trying to tell you that it was okay to move on. That was confusing to even think about, and it made you count the months since her death on both of your hands, trying to gauge if enough time really had passed. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, but the thought of being in love with anyone seemed like an impossibility. Everything was broken. How could you ever love anyone the same way that you loved Abby? You’d just be doing that other person a disservice. 

That’s right, you were cursed. 

You could feel Ellie’s gaze on the side of your face as you made your way down the dirt road, up towards the hen houses. You blinked a few times, the apples of your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Slowly you met her gaze, lips twitching up in a small smile as she quickly looked away from you, nervous over having been caught. 

“My dad built ten large coops, so this whole fenced-in area right here is where the chickens graze.” You stopped the car and put it in park, keeping the old thing running like you usually did during your quick morning chores. Sometimes the poor truck had a hard time starting back up, and you’d probably burst into tears if your newfound friend had to walk a half mile back to the house with you. 

“Do you guys have any problems with foxes?” She asked, keeping up with your fast pace as you unlatched the front of the fence for the both of you. 

Your nose wrinkled in disgust, and you were quick to throw your arms up exasperatedly. 

“Oh god, do we! I had to get someone out here to change out the fence just six months ago because one of those little fuckers had somehow managed to dig it’s way into their area. Killed seven of my poor girls.” You remembered how angry you were when you’d pulled up to the coops that morning. Burying seven dead hens wasn’t a pleasant experience for you, but it wasn’t something that was new. Still, you hated knowing that they’d suffered in their final moments. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Ellie looked around the area, finding it impossible not to notice how well kept everything was. The coops were freshly painted, the grass was gorgeous and plush- bright green under her feet. Truly, your farm was an oasis. She’d never seen anything quite like it before, and you'd barely even started the tour.

“Can I hold one?” She asked meekly, smiling up at you shyly as you turned to look at her. You didn’t exactly take her as the type of girl that would want to hold a chicken, but you were happy to oblige her. 

“One of my mamas just hatched a few chicks. Would you want to hold-” 

“Yes.” She quickly added, jogging off in the direction that you were pointing, eager to hold anything tiny and fluffy that you had to offer. 

You were shocked at the laugh that bubbled its way out of your chest. A genuine, good natured laugh that you found hard to contain as she began impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for you to catch up. 

“Didn’t take you for a chicken lover, city girl.” You teased, unlatching the door for her so that she could make her way inside. 

The hens squawked excitedly at your appearance, realizing they’d be able to eat their fill of grass, bugs, and dried corn. A few ran over, crowding at your ankles. Rows and rows of nests were lined up along the walls. In the back of the coop were a few small rectangular doors that you could open, which was what you used to harvest eggs. Your dad’s old coops didn’t have anything fancy like that, so you grew up having your hands pecked at. You used to run back home to your mother with blood bruises and angry, raised skin. 

“I love chicks.” Ellie said simply and the double meaning wasn’t lost on you. 

As if on cue one of the chickens began pecking at the woman’s ankles, earning a small hiss of surprise from her. You snorted, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t laugh at her expense. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual, apparently.” You added playfully, looking around for the yellow poof balls. 

“Old news.” She was smiling at you, and something in your chest began doing awful, uncomfortable flips. For a second you even felt a bit nauseous. 

Ellie wasn’t Abby, but there was something similar about the two of them. The short haired girl seemed capable and strong. There was a physical sort of confidence in the way that she walked that told you that she knew how to handle herself. You watched as she shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders squared off, feet shoulder length apart- and it had your lips parting. 

Still, you remembered Joel talking about his daughter. . . saying that she was military. You couldn’t remember which branch she belonged to, but you could tell that she was well trained. You tried to imagine what Ellie would look like if she was put in a situation where she needed to protect herself, and you found a shiver running up your spine.

There was a coldness that had been in her eyes when the two of you had first met that had chilled you to the bone. You saw none of it when you looked into her eyes now, but. . . still. . . the thought terrified you. Had those capable hands ever killed anyone before? 

You felt horrible even thinking that, even going as far as to give your thigh a small slap in punishment as you bent down, knees digging into the wood shavings and hay. The chicks didn’t seem off put by your small scowl. They saw you and instantly thought “food”, which had them clumsily running in your direction. You hadn’t heard her walk up beside you, only felt the sleeve of her long sleeve shirt brush against your arm as she sat back on her haunches beside you. 

“It won’t scare them if I pick them up, will it?” She asked gently, slowly reaching a hand out so that she could brush it against their plush down feathers. They chirped contentedly, unaware of what “danger” even meant yet. You were guilty of babying your chickens, meaning none of them were scared of humans. They pecked at you when they were annoyed, but were never violent per say. 

“Not at all. They might seem a bit unhappy, but it’s only because they’re hungry.” 

You pressed your hand to your cheek as you watched the woman pick one of the chicks up, holding the tiny thing tightly against her chest so as to not drop it. There was something almost comical about seeing the woman look this gentle, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried not to hurt the tiny thing. It was adorable. Which was terrifying for you. 

You were once again reminded of your dream. . . and you didn’t think you were ready to let Abby go. Not even when Ellie looked up at you excitedly, using her free hand to gesture towards the small creature in disbelief. Almost like she was scared that even talking would frighten it. 

“So what do we do now?” Ellie asked, putting the chick down so that she could stand back up. You followed her lead, making your way back over towards the door. 

“We open up all the doors and let them walk around for the day. I usually come back and get them back in their coops by sundown.” You let her know, leaving the door wide open as you moved coop to coop. 

Ellie helped you, cutting down the time in half. The two of you were back in the truck in record time. You showed her the fields where you planted corn in the late summer to get ready for early fall. You pointed out the small flower garden you had taken upon yourself to cultivate, and then you pulled up to the green houses. Her jaw went slack as she took in all of the buildings. 

“You do all of this yourself?” She needed to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Sure, she was no farmer, but even someone like her knew just how much work this must be for you. 

She couldn’t imagine you doing this all day, every day all by yourself. It kinda made her chest ache a bit for you. So when you nodded she took it upon herself to climb out of the truck, eager to do something to lighten the burden for you. 

As the two of you approached what appeared to be the oldest of the greenhouses, she couldn’t help but realize that she’d been with you for about an hour. . . and she felt great. Better than great, she felt normal. She had been sent out here so that she could recover, and while she didn’t quite understand what that really and truly meant, being here with you felt right. Being around the animals felt therapeutic, and while Joel might have told you a little bit about her in passing, you didn’t know enough about Ellie to pass any sort of judgment or feel any sort of pity. 

Even so, Ellie wasn’t sure she’d be against telling you about what happened. Something told her that you would be understanding. You knew what it felt like to lose people, and she was sure that you had regrets somewhere along the line. Everyone does when it comes to losing loved ones. 

She hated that you had suffered enough to understand where she was coming from, but loved that she wasn’t alone for once. 

The two of you walked in silence, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that let her know that you were thinking about something serious and sad. Ellie wondered whether your father was on your mind this morning. . . or perhaps your girlfriend. It wasn’t her place to ask, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to. 

“Want to help me water them?” You finally asked, motioning towards the tables of plants. 

She nodded, but quickly turned to face you. She couldn’t count how many green houses you had on top of this one. 

“Do we water all of those plants too?” She felt stupid the second that she asked the question, but even more so when you began to giggle. 

Sounding stupid was worth it to hear the sound, so she sucked it up. 

“Those green houses are newer and have a built in sprinkler system. We just have to worry about this one, thankfully. We’d be here all afternoon if not.” You began to head in the direction of the hose so that you could turn it on, your stomach tightening with hunger. 

You knew the second you got back to the house and made breakfast that you’d be nauseous though. Bad days like this were always the same. You were hungry but you couldn’t eat. You wanted to distract yourself but nothing would work. You wanted to talk to someone but didn’t have any friends that you trusted enough to actually. . . onload on, and you were sick of your mom crying on your behalf. 

“So you’re staying with Joel now? For how long?” You decided to make small talk as you handed her the hose, walking along with her as she painstakingly paid attention to every sprout. 

She licked her lips before answering you, eyes flickering in a way that made you think that she might feel a bit nervous. 

“I was. . . sent here. It’s not like I don’t love being home, because I kinda do. It’s just not something that I exactly chose for myself.” That didn’t feel like the whole truth, but you supposed that she would tell you whenever she was ready. 

You played with the raw hem of your old t-shirt, suddenly anxious that you might have put her in a bad spot. Still, you found yourself wanting to know more about her. 

“Do you have an addiction problem?” You realized how inappropriate it was to be so blunt. Your mouth went bone dry with panic, and you were quick to grab her hand, shaking your head. “A-All I’m trying to say is that my uncle had a really bad drug problem for years. He’s been clean and sober since last Christmas and is doing great. I don’t judge, that’s all. I’m proud of you, if anything.” 

She gulped, looking down at your hand and noticing how close your body was to hers now. She fumbled to turn the hose off with one hand, trying to get her breathing under control. It was twice now that you were touching her like this, and she hated herself for wanting to wrap you back up in a hug so bad. She was also trying not to notice how plush and kissable your lips were.

You smelled great too, which made it hard for Ellie to think. 

“Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an addiction problem,” She mumbled, but shrugged her shoulders soon after, contradicting herself. “But that’s not really why I’m here.” 

Ellie would have to tell you eventually, she supposed. If the two of you were going to be as good of friends as Joel wanted, then she’d have to fess up eventually. It was better to get it out and in the open now rather than later. Plus. . . if she had some sort of a breakdown then maybe you’d be more understanding if you knew why it was happening. 

“My therapist tells me that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in the Marines and I had a really bad accident. So. . . it was hard for me to live alone.” Ellie stared down at a long-dead leaf on the ground and bent down to pick it up, gently playing with it’s crinkled edges. 

“Did you have panic attacks? I have those sometimes too.” You wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone, as stupid as it might sound. 

You wanted to relate to her without telling her that your girlfriend had also been a Marine. She was being vulnerable with you, and the last thing you wanted to do was make this moment about you by bringing up your deceased girlfriend.

“Yeah. . . Yeah, I have those a lot. Sometimes I lose track of time- disassociate. It’s scary for others to deal with, so my friends thought that it would be best if I were with Joel. There’s less triggers here than back in Chicago.” You could tell that she was still uncomfortable with the subject matter, but she was powering through. 

Ellie appreciated that there wasn’t a hint of judgment in your tone. You genuinely seemed curious. . . and talking about herself like this felt good. Validating, even. 

“What triggers you? I just want to make sure that I don’t overstep or accidentally do anything wrong-” 

“No, no. You’re fine. It’s more so loud noises and bright lights.” 

“So no gunshots?” 

“Guns aren’t too bad. . . it’s more so car crashes. Explosions, you know?” 

Your mouth went dry. You did know. It’s how Abby died, afterall. You hated that Ellie had gone through something similar. Your heart ached for her. 

“Is that how you got this. . . ?” You began to brush your fingers against the scar over her eye. You froze as she flinched, guilt bottoming out your stomach as you quickly yanked your hand away.

She reached out to take your elbow into her calloused hand before you could drop your palm back down at your side, and pressed your fingers against the skin herself. Her skin was still soft, but raised and jagged. You’d never felt a scar this deep before. Still, it was warm under your touch. Alive. 

The moment felt oddly intimate, and you kept your fingers there for a few seconds too long before dropping your hand back at your side. Ellie felt like she was going to explode. No one had ever wanted to touch her scar, let alone been allowed to. 

“Yeah, It is.” She cleared her throat, grabbing one of her arms in her hands nervously. She was starting to realize that she didn’t mind being seen by you. “I’m legally blind in the eye now, which has been pretty hard to get used to.” 

“So you can’t see at all out of it?” You questioned, beginning to walk back over towards the repotting station. You’d noticed a few sprouts that were getting a little too big for their pots, and the last thing you wanted was crowded roots. 

She followed after you like a lost puppy, hot on your trail. “I can see shapes and colors. Movement, and everything. But if you held up your hand and asked me “how many fingers am I holding up”, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” She’d practically had to relearn how to do everything again, as dramatic as that sounded. Losing the vision of one eye affected a lot more than one might think. 

“Oh, shit.” You remarked, nose wrinkling up in sympathy. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been on top of dealing with the mental anguish of the accident. 

“ ‘Oh, shit’ is right.” She agreed with a small smile, leaning her hip against the table as you began laying out the necessary supplies. She watched your hands as they moved expertly around the table, eyes locked on your fingers. “I used to be beautiful.” She joked absentmindedly, alluding to the scar that now marred her features. 

“You’re still beautiful.” You said, fully concentrated on the task at hand. 

You didn’t realize the weight that your words carried, nor Ellie’s reaction to them. She felt like a giddy teenager. She couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt. She was smitten.

You were the first person to treat her like an actual human being since the incident. This was the most alive she’d felt in almost a year. . . and she was talking about things. Not like she might talk to her therapist, it was different than that. She was talking to someone that wanted to get to know her, not just to diagnose her, but to understand her. It felt good. Really good. Sickeningly good. 

And you thought she was beautiful. 

“Do you want to help me repot these little guys?” You asked, motioning towards the tiny pots. 

She was scared of killing your seedlings but nodded anyway, desperate for your approval. Ellie watched as you demonstrated the entire thing for her, praying to god she wouldn’t forget a step. 

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, shaking out roots and gently tucking the plants into their new homes. It was calming- melodic, almost. The constant motion, the gentle noises of the wilderness all around you. Ellie could even feel herself getting good at it. Not as good as you, of course. . . but she wasn’t as bad as she thought she would be. 

You watched as she rolled her sleeves up and over her forearms, taking a second to appreciate her hands. Once again, you felt guilty for being so attracted to her. Strands of auburn hair had fallen out from behind her ear and hung in her pale face as she focused on her task. Her strong hands worked methodically. Her veins, her knuckles, her forearms and biceps- Ellie wasn’t just beautiful but gorgeous. 

‘Give me a sign, Abby. If I’m not reading too far into last night's dream. . . then just give me some sort of a sign.’ You thought to yourself, eyebrows furrowing as you packed more dirt around the seedling in your hand. You felt like you were being horrifically dramatic, but what else could you do?

You felt idiotic. Delusional, even.

Beside you Ellie continued to work, completely unaware of your building turmoil. Pot after pot, she was really getting the hang of it. Pack down a layer of dirt, shake out roots, pack dirt on top- repeat.

She  reached out for another one of the black plastic pots, sliding it over in front of her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the rattling. She’d been so close to covering up whatever was at the bottom with dirt, but the sunlight caught whatever it was just right.

It sparkled. 

Ellie pinched the object between two dirt coated fingers, her eyebrows practically raising up to her hairline as she realized that it was a ring. A valuable looking one, at that. 

“Uh. . . is this yours?” Ellie asked, showing it to you. 

You blinked a few times at the ring, scared for a moment that you were hallucinating, because things like this only happened in movies. People asking for signs from the other side only for a ghostly apparition to pop up on screen.

Still, that was your promise ring in Ellie’s hand. 

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes filling up with tears before you could even stop them. You reached out with gentle fingers, taking it into your hand graciously. 

“Thank you.” 

And you weren’t sure if you were talking to Ellie. . . or Abby.

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[you-have-a-metal-arm]

‘Til The End of The Line

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, shooting and getting hurt

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

I am so sorry for being gone (school’s been killing me)

I appreciate every feedback! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

“Ready to kick some ass, kiddo?” Steve’s voice was calm, almost soothing, but you could hear the adrenaline beneath his words as the two of you adjusted your parachutes. The jet engines hummed around you, a subtle reminder of the mission ahead.

You grinned, giving your suit one last check and tightening your grip on the gun in your hand. “Yeah, I’m gonna beat the shit out of them.”

Steve smiled, not bothering to correct your language. With him, you were always an exception.

Moments later, the wind was whipping against your face as you both jumped from the jet, splitting off into the night sky. Steve took the left wing—the more dangerous side—leaving you the right. Tony had assured you it was safer, but as you slid through the narrow gap in the door, the freezing cold hit you like a wall. The air inside was frigid, bitterly reminding you of Bucky’s stories about the winters he hated so much.

“As far as I can see, it’s clear here. How’s the situation there?” Steve’s voice crackled through the comms, full of concern. You knew he cared for you deeply, saw you as the daughter he never had, and would have taken a bullet to ensure your safety.

“It’s clear here too, Cap,” you replied, trying to ease his worry.

“Let’s stick to the plan: I’ll draw out the agents while you head straight to the operations room and grab their file IV data.”

“Copy that. Be safe, Cap—and I mean it. If you need help, just call me.”

“I will, kiddo. Be safe yourself. And promise to call me if you need anything.”

“I promise. Let’s fucking go.”

You raced through the deserted corridors of the right wing, a dagger in one hand and a fully loaded gun tucked into your suit for emergencies. The cold air bit at your skin, the silence amplifying every footstep. Suddenly, a loud, thunderous noise echoed behind you. Instinctively, you thought it was Steve, but it wasn’t. The sound was coming from your side of the building.

Before you could react, you were ambushed by over twenty armed agents.

On the other side of the wing, Steve was facing his own battle. He tossed a grenade down a hallway, expecting a swarm of enemies, but only three agents rushed at him. Something was wrong. There should have been more.

“Shit,” you hissed into the comms, struggling against the overwhelming odds. Steve heard the panic in your voice, but he couldn’t respond—one of the agents had him in a chokehold. His grip tightened on the comms as he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire, followed by a loud thud that made his blood run cold.

“Kiddo, you okay?” Steve managed to gasp out, but all he got in return was a pained groan.

“I’ll get to you in less than a minute, I promise,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. He could hear your labored breathing through the comms, and it was tearing him apart.

“Steve…” Your voice was faint, each word a struggle.

“Hmm?” he replied, trying to sound reassuring despite the dread clawing at his chest.

“Are the comms… still being recorded?”

Steve’s heart sank. He knew what you were doing, and he hated it. “Yes, kiddo, if there weren’t any changes to the plans, it’s on record.”

You exhaled shakily, the breath catching in your throat. There was only one person you needed to reach out to. “Buck…”

As soon as Steve heard the name, he knew the weight of what you were about to say. Even after four years of being together, Bucky’s name still brought shivers to your spine, thick with emotion.

“If by any chance you get to listen to this, Buck—”

“Y/N, kiddo, no, you’re not dying. I won’t let that happen.”

“You don’t know that…” Your voice was helpless, a reflection of your dwindling strength.

“Just stay there. I’m on my way. Please, don’t give up on us.”

But a part of Steve knew this might be your last moment. It was an instinct, a gut-wrenching feeling that he couldn’t shake. So he didn’t stop you from saying what you needed to.

“If you get a chance to listen to this…” You fought to keep your eyes open, tears mingling with the blood on the cold metal floor. Your mind flashed with the future you had imagined—a life with Bucky, growing old together, watching your children grow up. “In another life, we might—maybe we could have grown old together.”

Steve’s heart clenched as your voice wavered. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but he knew there was nothing he could do except listen.

“I wish I could have given you babies,” you continued, your voice cracking with emotion. “Watched them grow in our backyard… I’m sorry that I can’t be the one to give you that life.”

Your vision blurred as sleepiness started to consume you. You fought against it with everything you had, but the darkness was closing in. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that this is how it ends for us… I’m really sorry.”

“And if this is how it really ends… Promise me you’ll find someone else to love, to open up to. Find someone else… Call someone else ‘doll.’ And don’t grieve too much.”

The darkness was overwhelming now. You felt it pulling you under, felt the life draining from your body as blood poured from your wounds. “You deserve to be happy… And the past doesn’t—doesn’t define you.”

Your last words were barely a whisper. “I… Love you, Buck. And I’m sorry I couldn’t say that more often.”

And then… silence. The darkness consumed you, and Steve heard nothing but the empty static of the comms. He refused to believe it, refused to accept that you were gone. He sprinted through the hallways, throwing open every door until he found you, lying motionless on the floor, your suit stained crimson with blood.

He scooped you up as if you weighed nothing, his legs pumping with every ounce of energy he had left. The jet’s engines hummed steadily, but inside the cabin, chaos reigned. Steve knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he assessed your injuries. The bullets had done their damage—one near your heart, another through your stomach, and the last through your left arm. Blood pooled beneath you, soaking through your suit.

“Kiddo, hang in there, please,” Steve murmured, his voice tight with fear. He grabbed the medical kit from the overhead compartment, spilling its contents across the floor. His hands worked quickly, tearing open a pack of gauze and pressing it firmly against the wounds. The bleeding was relentless, and he knew he needed to act fast to save your life.

You were pale, your breathing shallow and irregular. It was a miracle you were still breathing at all. Steve knew he had to stabilize you before they landed, or you wouldn’t make it. His mind raced through the limited medical training he had received—enough to get through emergencies, but nothing like this.

He fumbled with an IV kit, his hands shaking as he tried to insert the needle into your arm. Your veins were fragile, but after what felt like an eternity, he got it in. He attached a bag of saline solution, knowing it was only a temporary measure.

“Stay with me, kiddo. Buck won’t be so happy about this,” Steve whispered, his voice trembling. Your pulse was faint, but still there. He applied more pressure to the wound, checking if you were breathing again. It was labored, but there were no signs of a collapsed lung, thank God.

He grabbed the portable oxygen mask and gently placed it over your mouth and nose, adjusting the flow to give you the support you desperately needed. Your chest rose and fell slightly more steadily—a small victory amid the chaos.

With one hand still applying pressure to the wound, Steve fumbled with the jet’s communications system. “Friday, please check if the team is ready for immediate surgery.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark has everything prepared, and Dr. Cho is on standby.”

“Can you connect me directly to Tony?”

“Connecting now, sir.”

“Cap, how is she?” Tony’s voice crackled through, tense with concern.

“I think I stabilized her. We’re landing in three minutes, max. Thank God this jet has autopilot, or else… she wouldn’t have made it.”

Tony was silent for a moment. It wasn’t the time for pride or self-congratulation. He was kicking himself for not being more cautious, for not having medics onboard, for underestimating the mission. You were the youngest, the brightest member of the Avengers, and he couldn’t bear to lose you.

Steve checked the wound again. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped. He packed the wound with more gauze, securing it tightly. You needed a blood transfusion, surgery—everything he couldn’t provide here. All he could do was keep you stable until they landed.

“Tony, do me one favor,” Steve said, his voice thick as he wiped the blood from your cheeks. “Please… Don’t let Bucky see her like this. He won’t be able to handle it.”

But Tony’s response was firm. “Sorry, Cap. James already knows. He’s waiting at the airbase. And he has the right to see her.”

Steve nodded, though his heart ached at the thought. “Okay, Tony, thanks… We’re almost there.”

The jet descended, the lights of the airbase coming into view. Steve cradled you close, whispering words of comfort that he wasn’t sure you could hear. “We’re going to make it, kiddo. Just hold on a little longer.”

As the jet landed, the hatch opened to reveal Tony, Dr. Cho, and Bucky. Bucky’s face was ashen, his eyes wide with fear as he took in the sight of you. Steve gently handed you over to Dr. Cho and her team, who rushed you to the medical bay. Bucky stood frozen, staring at the blood that covered Steve’s hands and suit.

“She’s alive, Buck,” Steve said softly, his voice raw with exhaustion. “But she needs you now more than ever. Don’t lose hope.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the sight of you lying there so still. He followed the team as they wheeled you into surgery, praying with everything he had left that you would survive this.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

THERE’S GOING TO BE A PART 2 by Sunday

Part 2 is up y’all

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (4/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: fingering & oral sex, a kind of triangle, smut, the angst, description of the effects of murder, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The boy's death had devastated her.

Even though it was a strange child to her, in addition from a family she despised, it was still small and innocent – she had seen Prince Jaehaerys accompanied by servants escorting him to his morning classes when she herself had gone out to meet his uncle, to practice on Vhagar the commands as she did every day.

Knowing that her father had done this made her feel a partial sense of guilt for what had happened, though she did not understand why.

Was it because she was born of his poisoned seed?

That a part of him lived inside her?

She knew it was revenge for Lucerys' death, but after all, the little prince had nothing to do with it.

The death of an innocent being always hurt the most.

She watched his funeral procession from outside the windows of the Red Keep, from her prison that was her small chamber, thinking of her one-eyed cousin.

Were you with that fucking old whore whose tits you like to cuddle up to?

With your second mummy?

She didn't know why his lowered head, his face and big eye filled with tears of shame made her feel sympathy towards him.

However, the death of King's son made her reflect on her own life and what she had experienced in it.

She realised that she had lived for years as if in lethargy, spending her time riding horses and hunting, even though in the midst of her family, in fact always remaining alone.

She realised that she had never even kissed a man.

She had never experienced a touch that was tender, that was pleasurable, that made her feel safe.

She bit her lower lip, pacing around her room, suddenly getting an idea that was extremely dangerous.

Her cousin was interested in women – this she knew for sure – and after being humiliated by his brother in front of everyone gathered he would certainly not return to the brothel to his lover, whoever she was.

From what she understood, this woman was older than him, giving him fulfilment not only physically, but also purely childlike.

She knew he was weak, but now she also had the certainty that he was miserable.

She couldn't try to seduce him directly, offer to spend the night in his bed – he would send her away immediately, furious, knowing what she wanted to do and how she hoped to achieve it.

She had to show him what he could have, while at the same time not offering it to him herself.

She had to make him desire whatever she was in his mind.

"I want to ask you something, cousin." She muttered, standing over him with a jug of wine, wondering what she was doing. "And I know you won't like it."

She saw him freeze, looking ahead.

"You like to take risks, don't you?" He sneered, taking a deep sip of wine from his goblet without even bestowing a single glance on her.

His vision was hazy, his mind dulled by the wine.

He was weak, vulnerable, heartbroken by what had happened to his nephew, sunk in guilt.

This was her chance.

"No, but you give me no choice. I will fly with you and the will of the gods will happen, as you desire. However, the chance of me dying in flames or being devoured is just as great as the chance of me succeeding." She said uncertainly, and he sighed heavily, impatient, setting his cup down on the table.

"What do you want?"

She licked her lower lip, feeling her heart pounding like mad in her chest, cold sweat trickling down her back.

He would fall into a fury or fuck her, there was no other option left.

"Servant. I want to choose one and take him to my bed. I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations." She muttered.

She saw that he froze motionless, his healthy eye open wide in shock.

Oh gods.

"Aren't you ashamed to ask something like that out loud? What self-respecting Lord will want you after this?" He asked coldly, annoyed, however it was not as aggressive a response as she had expected.

He himself didn't know what he thought of it, she thought.

Good.

"I don't care what the lords will think of me. If I become a dragon rider, my maidenhood will be the least of their worries. I have no desire to become either a wife or a mother. I could try to hide it from you, but I stand here before you and ask your permission like a dog." She said with a certainty that surprised her, recognising that her directness was due to the fact that she was partly telling the truth.

He was silent for a long time, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his finger in some involuntary reflex began to tap against the table top.

"Knowing what you ask, my soul will have no peace unless I am assured that no man has taken you by force."

There it is.

"I'll let you watch if it will soothe your conscience." She said without stammering, his grin turned towards her making her feel an uncomfortable shiver.

"It will."

Finding a willing person turned out not to be too difficult: she simply lied to the man she found handsome that the prince liked to look at such things and that it was his idea.

What could he do to her for those words even if he found out about it?

Were they not partly true?

Her whole body quivered in excitement and disbelief as, lying beneath Tyland Lannister's servant, she heard his lazy footsteps, felt his gaze on them, the fiery, thirsty lips of her lover pressed against hers.

It was a surprisingly wet and slick experience, not as pleasurable as she had imagined, however, it was not all that bad.

She swallowed hard, hearing her cousin sit down in a chair in the distance, and flinched when the man's hand suddenly clamped down on her breast, causing an unpleasant chill to pass through her.

"– no –" She whispered, tightening her hand on his wrist. "– not yet –"

She exhaled quietly, closing her eyes as she felt him take his hand away, trailing it instead around her waist, trying to feel what she had felt when her cousin had leaned over her face after she had fainted.

Serve me well and I will reward you.

When the time comes.

She felt it, that wonderful pulsing between her thighs, and sighed, opening her eyelids, involuntarily glancing at him. Her breath froze in her throat, her womanhood swelled all over as she met his gaze, dark and hot, his legs crossed, his head cocked in curiosity.

She gasped, feeling a squeeze in her throat and a cold shudder when the boy's body suddenly pressed her against the bed, constricting her space, making her fingers tighten on the back of his tunic in terror.

Is this how it should be?

Should she be so afraid, feel so cornered?

"– slow down –" She heard his voice, deep and displeased – her lover looked at him, surprised, panting heavily.

"– Your Highness? –"

"– slow down, I said –" He repeated with a kind of threat in his voice from which her lips parted in disbelief, some sense of gratitude and warmth spread through her heart, a pleasant stickiness sweeping from between her thighs down her buttocks.

He was protecting her, she thought, feeling the situation begin to slip out of her control.

This was exactly what she wanted.

Make me feel safe, she thought pleadingly, but no words left her lips.

Shame overwhelmed her.

"– sink your fingers between her thighs – prepare her properly –" He instructed the boy, her eyes grew big as she stared at him in disbelief – his nostrils twitched in excited breath, the corner of his mouth lifted in a dangerous smirk.

A sigh left her throat as the servant lifted her skirt and smallclothes, her gaze fixed on her cousin's face as his hand found her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

She moaned.

However, after a moment she flinched and swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she felt his fingers touch a very tender, sensitive spot, giving her pleasure and pain at the same time, not knowing what she herself felt, tears burning under her eyelids.

Why did it feel like this?

Why couldn't she enjoy it, why was she losing focus?

"– step back, boy –" She heard his voice, and then noticed that he moved towards them, startling her and him – she rose up on her elbows, panting heavily as he pulled her forward, sitting behind her back, pulling her close, his legs on either side of her body.

His arms embraced her lightly, his hand tilting her head back, allowing her to spread out comfortably while not taking away her sense of security.

She swallowed hard, feeling something long and hard pulsate behind her, pressing against her buttocks.

Good gods.

She gasped as she felt him press his nose against her hot cheek, his thumb running over her jaw as his free hand forced her to bend her legs at the knees, exposing her bare thighs.

"– bend over and lick her –" He commanded, running his full lips over the skin of her face, making her feel a simultaneous shudder of pleasure and terror shake her, his hand trailing down the exposed skin of her thigh.

Lick her?

What did he mean by that?

What purpose did it serve?

"– what? –" She mumbled, terrified, involuntarily reaching back with her hand, clamping it over his long white hair, wanting to pull away, hitting his hard body again.

She had nowhere to run.

"– easy – let me take care of this –" He whispered in her ear, making her moan stuck in her throat, her nipples became hard at his words, her throbbing walls clenching around nothing.

Let me take care of this.

He knew.

He knew what she craved.

She stifled a breath as the man obediently leaned between her thighs, a terrified, pathetic, surprised moan escaping her throat when she felt something warm and sticky slip between her tight, swollen slit.

His tongue.

She clenched her hand harder in his white hair, feeling her cousin's hand slide down her leg, to the very spot her lover had touched earlier – this time, however, she didn't feel the unpleasant pain as his fingertips merely circled around her oversensitive little bud, causing her to leak, stimulated from the inside and outside.

"– ah – oh, gods, t-too much, too much –" She mewled in despair as she tried to pull away from him, never having experienced a similar sensation before, he, however, held her in an iron grip, his free hand sliding from her face under the material of her gown, to her breasts.

"– you wanted it yourself – go on –" He said matter-of-factly in a way that sent a shiver through her – she tilted her head back, feeling the servant's tongue accelerate, forcing its way again and again deep inside her hot, throbbing cunt.

In some subconscious, involuntary reflex, she sought refuge, not knowing what to do with the waves of tickling pleasure and tension that were rising in her body, so she turned her face towards him and he leaned in, letting their foreheads touch.

For some reason she wanted to cry.

He was so close.

The gentle touch of his hand between her thighs, his thumb teasing lazily her hard nipple, his hot breath on her face, his embrace was too familiar, too safe.

"– if only you were my little sister – I'd caress you like this every night – would you like it? –" He breathed out encouragingly, and she shuddered all over in his arms, feeling her lover's tongue hit the sweet spot inside her again and again, her and her cousin's hips beginning to rub against each other, his manhood unashamedly hard and swollen.

If only you were my little sister.

I want this, she thought.

I want to be what you want me to be.

"– what would your father say at the sight of this – hm? – do you think he would be proud? –" He whispered, sinking his fingers into the throbbing folds of her moist womanhood, weeping with desire, teasing with lazy, slow circles her little bud.

She felt tears under her eyelids as she shook her head.

She didn't know.

She didn't know what her father would say to this sight.

He wasn't there for her.

He hadn't protected her.

"– you like it, don't you? – I can feel you're close – come on his face –" He exhaled and she shook her head, moaning from exertion, feeling something approaching, the tingling tension between her thighs unbearable, her breath heavy and hitched, droplets of sweat running down her skin.

"– g-gods, stop –" She mumbled out with difficulty, feeling that she couldn't take it any longer, and then she was shaken by a pleasure foreign and overpowering, hot and sweet, flowing in waves through her whole body, her lips, her nipples, her fingertips, her silken walls clenching around nothing.

For a moment she heard or saw nothing, heard his soothing whisper, his warm breath enveloping her face, his hands closed over her womanhood and over her breasts just continued to press against her skin, allowing her to calm down.

"You may leave. If you tell anyone about this, I will cut your tongue out." She heard his cold voice, but knew it wasn't meant for her – the man lying between her thighs had risen and simply stepped off the bed, leaving them alone, and she sighed loudly, as if she had just accomplished some extraordinary, demanding feat.

She didn't know why she had sought refuge in his embrace, why she had turned in his arms and snuggled into his body, burying her face in his neck, why she had felt nothing but peace as one of his hands lay on her back while the other slowly stroked her hair.

One by one tears ran down her cheeks, shame, relief and sadness spilling over her heart, making her only able to lie down and breathe. She closed her eyes, concentrating on his scent, the warmth of his body that pulsed almost imperceptibly, his manhood pushing against her stomach, his hands trailing gently over her body.

She thought that he was certainly proud of himself, but she decided that it didn't matter.

She needed his arms, she needed to hide, to disappear, to melt into him as one, not to think, not to feel, not to exist.

She fell asleep.

When she awoke, it was late afternoon – there was no one in the chamber but her, however, she knew it was not a dream.

Her bedding was soaked with his scent.

She wasn't sure who had benefited from what had happened. She decided, however, surprised by this discovery, that she did not regret it and did not intend to think about it again.

It had never happened.

As he had ordered, she was already ready before dawn, waiting for him in the courtyard in her riding attire, his mother, clearly displeased with his idea, tried to stop him, to his apparent annoyance.

"You cannot leave the Red Keep without Vhagar. Who will protect us?" She asked, and her son rolled his eyes, impatient, licking his lower lip.

"I leave you in the care of Sunfyre and Dreamfyre. May my brother be of some use for once. With the help of the gods, we will return in about four days with a new dragon on our side." He said and stepped around her, mounting his horse and nodding at her to do the same.

When they reached Vhagar's lair, the dragoness raised lazily her large head, looking at them curiously – having seen her almost every day, she had already become accustomed to her presence and scent, remaining calm.

"Come." He said, and she moved to follow him, seeing that he had taken in his hands some of the bags his horse had been carrying on its back earlier.

She walked behind him, never coming this close to her, watching as the prince tied the grey bags to the ropes hanging from the saddle.

"What are you waiting for? Climb up." He said, glancing at her impatiently, and she nodded, surprised by his directness.

They both had no intention of showing that what had happened had affected them in any way.

Being with him meant a constant battle for dominance.

So be it, she thought and glanced up, sighing quietly.

She was afraid that Vhagar would not be happy that someone other than her rider was trying to climb onto her back, she, however, merely tilted her head towards her and watched her, not moving from her place.

"Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī." Her cousin reassured her as she, panting heavily, climbed with great difficulty over one of the ropes to her very back and sat down in the large leather saddle.

She blinked as her cousin appeared at her side shortly afterwards, as if covering the same distance hadn't caused him any trouble, and sat behind her, pulling the bags up, using the ropes so that they weren't hanging down.

She grunted, leaning forward, hugging the front of the saddle, feeling him all too clearly, his body pressed against her buttocks and back. She shuddered as he slipped his hands under her shoulders, grabbed a couple of the front ropes and called out loudly.

"Sōvēs!"

She squealed, terrified, hugging the saddle as the dragoness suddenly rose up on her paws, moving forward with a loud thump, and closed her eyes as she spread her great wings and flapped them, struggling to slowly lift herself into the air.

She had never experienced something so terrifying and liberating at the same time.

It wasn't until Vhagar had stabilised her flight and was gliding through the heavens that she dared to open her eyes – she froze in awe, seeing clouds all around her, doing what other people could only dream of.

Indeed, there was something wonderful about it, she thought with delight.

In the freedom that flight in the skies offered.

She leaned against the front of the saddle, simply looking ahead with a smile, watching the sun rise in the distance. She drew in a loud breath, feeling her heart beat harder as his cheek pressed against hers, apparently resting in this position.

She felt his erection pushing against her buttocks again, but neither of them spoke.

It was just a man's natural reaction to a woman's closeness, nothing more, she thought.

She knew he was playing with her – she knew he already understood what she wanted.

What she needed.

Tenderness.

Care.

Shelter.

This was why he nuzzled his nose into her cheek, why he persisted in this position: he wanted to break her, wanted her to love what he could be for her.

She felt tears under her eyelids, her eyebrows arching in pain knowing that it was all just a lie.

Her father would never come back for her, and even if he did, it would only be for the sake of the dragon, if she could tame it.

But not for her.

She was of no value to either of them.

As they landed with a thud on the ground in the middle of a wasteland full of hills, evening was approaching. It was only when she opened her eyes, horrified by how intense the landing itself had been, that she realised that her cousin had not chosen this place without reason.

He must have noticed from above what she could see clearly now – vast expanses of black, scorched earth with dozens of animal skeletons.

She shuddered as she heard her cousin untie the bags they had taken with them, letting them fall to the ground, and after a moment he slid down the rope to the bottom, landing lightly on the ground himself.

"Come here."

She made big eyes, feeling that this height terrified her. She swallowed hard, turning her back, grabbing the line and squealed as she suddenly slid down it with far too much speed, thinking she was just going to kill herself.

She gasped as she felt someone's arms soften her fall, supporting her, his impatient sigh told her it was not a graceful jump.

"Get yourself together. We're going to recon. It's fresh tracks, it must not be far." He said, and she nodded, feeling her legs grow all stiff from the long hours of travelling in the saddle.

Her cousin looked around, as if trying to remember this place and how they were supposed to get back here, then moved ahead quickly, making her have to almost run after him.

"When we find it. What should I do? Approach it right away?" She exhaled, following him step by step.

"Mmm. No, you'd better not do anything rash. No sudden movements. You can't make a mistake." He said coldly, and she swallowed hard, thinking in the back of her mind that it was easy for him to say.

However, despite all the absurdity of the situation, she felt excitement.

If she succeeded, she would return to King's Landing on the back of her own dragon.

They climbed one of the peaks, from which they could see clearly in the distance the lying silhouette of Vhagar, the fields, hills and valleys, but not a trace of the dragon. Her cousin pressed his lips together, frustrated.

He thought this would be easier, and the dragon would come to them on its own, she thought with a sneer, but she dared not provoke him, knowing that they were both tired.

"We must turn back. It will be dark soon. We will start tomorrow before sunrise, moving in the opposite direction." He ordered and she nodded, following obediently behind him, looking around at the familiar landscapes.

She had an advantage over him here, she thought.

She knew these places, she knew these people.

So why didn't she feel the need to run away?

When they returned to Vhagar's liege, darkness surrounded them. Her cousin had picked up a few long, thick branches on the way, and when they sat down on the grass he laid them down and lit a fire using a flint he had taken from one of his bags.

She did not ask his permission, which did not escape his notice as she untied one of them and began rummaging through it.

"What are you doing?" He asked matter-of-factly, adding wood to the fire, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"What did you take for us as nourishment?" She answered with a question to a question, causing him to merely turn his face away from her, trying to control himself for sure and not hurt her with his own hands.

"Bread and smoked meat." He said, and she sighed, pulling out a waterskin with spring water, drinking a few deep sips from it.

"If I had known that this would be our sustenance for the next few days, I would have asked you to bring a bow with us and I would have provided our meal myself." She said regretfully, and his face turned abruptly towards her.

"You don't need to eat. You will survive on water alone until our return to King's Landing." He hissed, meeting her tired, weary gaze.

"I have cooked many times while hunting with my uncle. It's a useful skill." She replied, pulling a woollen blanket from the pouch with which she covered herself.

Although Vhagar lay beside them, they were high between the hills where a strong, chilly wind was blowing.

She knew the night would be difficult.

Her cousin no longer spoke to her, gazing into the flames as if he could see something in them, his past or his future, his silhouette sitting on the Iron Throne or his fall from the heavens.

Finally, he lay down on the uncomfortably hard ground, placing one of his bags under his head, covering himself with the other blanket, and turned his back to her.

They couldn't sleep too close to Vhagar, for there was a risk that she would simply crush them by turning in her sleep. Therefore, they had to lie at a great distance from her, and their only source of heat was the fire.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think as her teeth began to chatter, her body trembling, her hands clenched into fists with each stronger gust of wind.

If this kept up, they'd both wake up with a fever.

"I'm cold." She said.

Silence.

A long one.

"I'm really cold. Aren't you?" She mumbled, guessing that he was suffering as much as she was, but would sooner die than admit it.

Targaryens and their fucking pride.

She stood up and walked a few steps with her blanket towards him, causing him to have exactly the reaction she wanted – he raised himself on his elbow and looked towards her, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"You have no shame."

"I don't care about shame. I'm supposed to die in dragon fire, not from the cold." She said and lay down beside him, slipping under his blanket, covering them with the other to create a thicker layer to protect them from the cold.

He slumped to the ground, letting the air out loudly, looking up at the stars as if he had given up. She embraced him, but not because she sought safety in his arms, but because he was a source of warmth that she wanted to cling to at all costs, hugging her face to his chest.

They stayed like that in silence, not moving – at first his whole body was tense, as if he thought that what she had done was just an excuse for her to slip her hand under his breeches and shamelessly try to seduce him – he relaxed, however, when he realised that all she really wanted was to lie in the warmth, and since he himself apparently felt better, also warmed by her presence, he said nothing more.

"What did you feel when you tamed Vhagar?" She whispered, looking ahead at the outline of the hills and mountains around them, feeling the cool breeze on her cheeks.

She was sure he wouldn't answer and felt herself begin to slowly fall asleep when she heard his quiet voice.

"Relief."

She blinked, surprised, not expecting him to put it this way.

Relief.

"Why?" She dared to ask further, still not looking at him, his heart hidden beneath the material of his tunic and cloak hit hard.

"I gave my family a reason to be proud." He explained, a note of bitterness in his words, as if something in that memory was painful to him.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, thinking with disappointment that she had never been anyone's pride.

Nothing she did mattered – not really.

She felt a single, lone tear run down her cheek onto the material of his leather coat and inhaled loudly, saying nothing more.

She shuddered, pulled out of her reverie when he slided his arm out from between their bodies – she froze when she felt him embrace her, cuddling her into his body, his fingers running through her soft hair as his cheek rested against her forehead.

She snuggled into him, into the merciless substitute of a protector he was to her, feeling the warmth in her chest as he let her face sink into his neck.

She knew that a part of him sympathised with her – she knew that, like her, he understood that in a day or two she might die for his cause, and so in some twisted definition of duty he tried to give her what she had craved all her life as a consolation prize for what she might lose.

It was so pathetic that she clenched her eyes shut and let heavy tears of shame run down her cheeks, her breath hitched and heavy, filled with pain.

She let him do this, let him take advantage of her desperation, the fact that she wanted so much to satisfy his vanity, because of how unavailable he reminded her of her father – by satisfying him, in her mind she was satisfying the man on whose lap she had sat as a small child, imagining that he had given her a second chance.

He created a lie for her to be able to endure what he was condemning her to.

"If you succeed. If you tame a dragon." He whispered, and she froze, feeling that he was about to reveal something vital to her, some secret he had never told anyone. "I will treat you like my little sister. I will care for you, and your place will always be by my side."

She shook her head, thinking how cruel he was, knowing exactly what to say, what to do to break her heart, to bend her to his will, to make sure she never betrayed him.

She cried out helplessly as he hugged her tighter to his body, as he cupped her cheek in his broad palm, rough from wielding his sword, and pressed his forehead against hers in a gesture that was too intimate, too tender, too sweet.

"I will protect you."

[itsswritten]

gone. | 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Slight angst, unrequited love, fluff, reconciliation, kind of miscommunication.

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on.

<< Previous Part

The voice beckoned to him like a siren's call, pulling Azriel through the familiar halls of the house in a daze. His shadows moved with urgency, some darting ahead while others tugged at their master, urging him to quicken his pace.

There was a small part of him that knew why they were behaving in such a way, but there was a sinking feeling that came with that revelation. 

Azriel felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe when he finally laid eyes on you.

Of course it was your melodic voice that had drawn him.

Caught in a bear hug by Cassian, you were lifted off the ground and spun around amidst the joyful chaos of your friends who had gathered in the foyer of the River House to greet you. You had returned at last. Your laughter rippled through the house, filling it with a warmth that had been dearly missed.

Six months had passed.

Six agonising months. 182 days.

Azriel had been counting every single one since the moment you departed after Solstice.

The day after your departure, Rhys had declared that you had been sent on an urgent undercover mission to the continent. It was a mission originally briefed for both you and Azriel, but in the span of mere hours since your last interaction with the Shadowsinger, the plan had shifted. To Azriel's dismay, Rhys had approved your solo assignment.

Azriel had argued vehemently with Rhys that day, his frustration boiling over until he was blue in the face. But Rhys remained steadfast, unwilling to change his decision or disclose your whereabouts. Azriel knew deep down that you had been sent alone because of him, that you had chosen a means to escape from the pain he had caused you, and the weight of that knowledge only added to his self-hatred.

After you left him in the library that night, Azriel had desperately searched for you, his heart heavy with regret. He wanted to speak with you, to mend the fractured pieces of your friendship. But despite his efforts, you remained elusive, slipping through his fingers like mist.

Even his shadows, loyal companions that they were, failed to locate you. Always returning empty-handed. It was as though you had vanished into the night, leaving Azriel to grapple with his own turmoil alone. He knew his shadows wouldn't divulge your whereabouts even if they found you; their allegiance to you had always been unwavering.

Their disobedience was a punishment he deserved. You didn’t owe him anything more than you had already shared. You had already revealed your heart to him.

And your heart wasn’t something he ever imagined being worthy of.

So he pleaded with his shadows then, if they wouldn’t tell him where you were that they must promise to keep you safe.

And with that several tendrils left him, not hesitating with their duty.

Though the end of your mission was anticipated, the exact date of your return remained uncertain. Due to the covert nature of your assignment, communication had been scarce. Yet, every now and then, a note bearing your unmistakable perfect handwriting would appear in the dining room.

Safe. It would reassure.

And for a brief moment your family would ease from their worries, Azriel though, remained on edge, his concerns never truly leaving.

Frozen in place, Azriel watched as tears of joy flowed freely from his family's eyes, overwhelmed by your homecoming. Despite the trials you had undoubtedly faced, you appeared radiant, a sun-kissed glow gracing your skin that perhaps spoke subtly of where you may have been stationed on your journey.

Azriel’s eyes slowly moved over your features, his gaze taking in every inch of you. Devouring this moment and saving it somewhere deep in his mind, because this version of you he didn’t deserve. He felt unworthy of the sight before him, fearing that you would never want to share this radiant version of yourself with him.

His throat tightened as your face turned to him, catching him lurking with his shadows in the corner. His companions that had accompanied you through your time away, quickly returned to their master, fluttering quickly to be amongst the others, seeking approval that they’d done their job. That they’d kept you safe.

But Azriel couldn’t even bask in their return as he stared at you. Azriel was terrified, terrified of what expression would bore your face when you saw him. He had caused you so much pain, surely you detested him? But instead your expression became bright and your smile spread wider at the sight of him.

Azriel dared not trust his heart to continue beating if your expression had reflected true hatred. It was a fear that had haunted his every dream since the day you departed, a relentless torment that gripped him. So when your expression softened into that smile that reached your eyes he felt himself slump in relief.

In the six months of your absence, something within him had changed. Your confession, with your absence, had lifted a veil that had clouded his vision for far too long.

With you no longer by his side, Azriel had felt the void you left behind keenly. He had always held you in the highest regard, placing you on a pedestal that he believed himself unworthy to approach. There were times he had even considered himself unworthy of your friendship, which was why he cherished you so dearly. But your confession to him, had shattered the barriers he had erected, revealing how the depth of his own self-worth had brought blindness to himself.

And in turn, caused you so much pain.

“Azriel.” You smiled softly, tilting your head as you took in your best friend. Despite the turmoil churning within him, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope stir in his chest at the sight of you.

You’re not sure you’d seen him look so broken in all your centuries of knowing him, and there was a twang of guilt that surged through your chest. With two quick strides you moved to him, knowing he was too respectful to cross that boundary himself. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace.

For a moment, he simply allowed himself to bask in the comfort of your presence, the familiar scent of you filling his senses and calming the anxiety raging within him. It took a while for him to trust his movements, before he let his arms wrap around your back, fully sinking into your warmth and hold.

His heartbeat was loud, fast and fluttering. Concern filled the outer corners of your mind as you felt your friend's composure falter, how rare it was to see him this way.

Drawing back gently, you met the gaze of your friend. His eyes, a mesmerising hazel, held a sadness within them that made your heart ache. His long lashes fluttered with each blink, and his jaw was pulled tightly as if not trusting himself to speak.

You couldn’t help but indulge in his beauty for a moment, as sad as he may have looked. Azriel had always looked like he’d been carved by the gods, so painstakingly beautiful. It had been so easy to fall for this face, and you had to be careful to not do it again.

When you left, things had reached a breaking point. It felt less like a departure and more like an escape—a desperate bid to flee from the shattered remnants of your heart and friendship. True, the mission loomed ahead, a joint task that was supposed to be with Azriel, and was still a month away. But facing him, working side by side after his rejection, seemed an unimaginable task. So you made the choice to run, to seize control for yourself.

So you ran away that night. Stealing the reports from Rhys’s office was a risky move, but it felt like the only option. You had to do this alone. You had sent a mental message to Rhys of your choice, he didn’t once force you to return. Despite your actions being so unlike yourself, perhaps it was the raw vulnerability he had witnessed in the hallway that night that steered his hand in giving you this control. Instead, Rhys supported your decision, expecting you to stay in touch and made you promise you would let them know if you needed help.

But that time and space was exactly what you needed. Those six months became a transformation. At first, the weight of your heart was heavy. The bitterness of rejection, a constant companion, thoughts of Azriel and Elain often haunted your daydreaming and nights. 

Yet, with time, you found comfort in solitude. You had learned to embrace the stillness, confront the pain and eventually allow yourself the space to heal. Your day-to-day tasks of stealth, stalking and slaughtering was also a welcomed distraction, but in the midst of some close encounters it really did give you a new perspective.

That even though your romantic feelings towards Azriel may have been rejected, you still refused to let that fracture your friendship. You realised you would much rather suffer a little, to ensure your friends happiness even if that wasn’t with you.

Sacrificing your own desires for Azriel felt like a small price to pay.

For Azriel deserved nothing less than that. Out of all your family, your brooding friend truly deserved the most. And if Elain was the key to his happiness, then you would embrace her presence in his life, even as it stirred heartbreak within you.

And instead you would be grateful for the parts of him you did get to have– his laughter, his counsel, his friendship.

Because a life without Azriel, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

Azriel found himself captivated by your gaze, drawn into the depths of your eyes after so long apart. There was a sadness etched into his features that caused your brows to furrow sympathetically. With a tender hand, you reached out, your hand finding its way to his cheek. The gentle pressure of your touch– something he had longed for so deeply in these months apart, made his eyes close briefly, a shaky exhale escaping his lips in response.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that” you whispered, pulling a soft smile onto your lips hoping your optimism in this would give him the reassurance he needed. It dawned on you then, the toll your abrupt departure and heartfelt confession might have taken on him. How you should have known he would spiral into self-blame. 

Azriel's throat tightened with emotion as he struggled to find the right words to express his own feelings. "Gods, I have missed you," he finally whispered, his voice laced with a softness as he met your gaze, his hands were on your waist now and he was completely lost in you. 

Lost in that beautiful glowing smile you had so kindly shared with him.

He needed to speak with you, needed to apologise, needed to try and repair the damage he had unknowingly caused. Explain to you how he was the foolish one, admit he had been blind not only to you but his own feelings. But before he could even phantom how he would express all that, Mor was quick to tug you away.

“How come he gets that kind of welcome? I want more of you!” Mor whined, her tone teasing as she looped her arm around yours.

It was clear Rhys had kept to your word on not sharing your true reason for a hasty escape. No, that was something between you and Azriel only.

And even though your family had noticed a shift with Azriel during your absence, they chalked it up to only missing you. 

❊

Your reunion with your family was filled with laughter and chatter as they eagerly filled you in on everything you had missed during your absence. 6 months to Fae, in the grand scheme of things was such a small amount of time, but your life, your family dynamic was so different now that you felt as though you had missed so much. They seemed to take turns vying for your attention, each craving a moment in your company. Mor was the first to claim her spot, promptly sprawling across your lap, her hair cascading around her as she regaled you with tales of the latest gossip from Rita’s.

Next came Nyx, rousing from his nap to claim his turn on your lap. As you held him, a mixture of joy and sadness swirled within you, struck by how rapidly he was growing and how much you felt you had missed. Then it was Cassian's turn, settling on the floor between your legs with his wings spread awkwardly to either side of your chair. Apparently, you were the only one who could braid his hair gently enough, as Nesta was too harsh he had told you before sending his mate a glare which she ignored with an eye roll.

Your fingers moved with practised ease as they threaded through his locks, weaving them into two neat plaits while the voices of your family filled the room. Amidst the chatter, one name struck a chord within you, causing you to momentarily freeze.

“So yeah, Elain moved in with Lucien about four months ago,” Feyre continued, unaware of the effect her words had on you. “They’re living in Day Court now, but I’ll make sure to send word to her about your return. She’ll be so happy to know you’re back.”

Your gaze involuntarily drifted towards the Shadowsinger, who had been silent since your arrival but now fixed his intense stare on you. Confusion swirled within you. While you were aware of Lucien and Elain's bond, and you couldn't deny the strength of any mating bond, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between her and Azriel.

Wasn’t there?

If there wasn’t, what had you walked in on all those months ago?

"I swear they’ll be tying the knot soon, absolutely besotted with each other," Feyre exclaimed with a radiant smile.

"That's wonderful news, Fey. I'm genuinely happy for them. Perhaps we should plan a trip to visit them in Day soon," you suggested.

"Oh, count me in!" Mor chimed in enthusiastically. "And a chance to see Helion again wouldn't hurt," she added with a playful purr, eliciting an eye roll from you as you finished braiding Cassian's hair.

“Get the chance to have any fun on your trip?” Mor continued, shooting you a teasing look.

“Trip?” You scoffed. “It was a high-stakes mission, not some holiday.”

“No time for any kind of fun at all then?” She pouted. You knew exactly what she was implying.

You hesitated for a moment, you could feel his eyes on you. As if anticipating your answer. Azriel’s gaze hadn’t left you since you’d arrived, and if you didn’t know him so well you might have considered it unsettling. 

But you hadn't had any fun. As Mor liked to call it. Not that there hadn't been a few opportunities to seek the warmth of someones bed, but the calling to do so never came.

“No fun for me.” You ignored his gaze, tilting your head “Sadly.” you added. 

“Shame, I was really hoping for some juicy insights of your escapades.” Mor sang.

The conversation veered toward planning a long-overdue night out at Rita’s, and you let your friends debate whether it should be exclusively a girls' night, with Cassian humorously advocating for his inclusion.

Seizing a moment while your friends were engrossed in their discussion, you quietly rose from your seat and made your way toward the Shadowsinger, who observed you with an unreadable expression. Offering him a gentle smile, you gestured for him to follow you out of the room.

Your departure went unnoticed by the rest of your family, a testament to your usual stealthy movements. There was a reason you and Azriel were usually paired together on missions, always so silent and unseen. But, you felt a sense of urgency in having this conversation with Azriel, especially after six long months.

Out in the garden, the setting sun bathed the surroundings in a golden hue, casting warm light over the grass and flowers. You noticed here Elain's absence more, the garden not as vibrant without her green-fingered touch.

You settled onto a bench, closing your eyes momentarily to bask in the sun's rays kissing your face. Azriel could have just stayed in that moment indefinitely, captured by the soft expression on your face that basked under the sunlight. He moved quietly beside you, the proximity of you was something he had missed and it was taking every control he had not to hug you again.

And was it only a hug he wanted?

Either way he still felt unworthy of your touch.

“I think we should probably talk…” you chuckled sheepishly, suddenly feeling slightly awkward but you faced him, and he replied with a nod.

There were words brewing inside Azriel, thoughts and feelings he had only recently come to terms with in your absence. But before he could find the courage to speak, you surprised him with an unexpected apology.

“I’m really sorry Az.”

Azriel began to shake his head. He was confused, you had nothing to be sorry for.

“Az, please, let me say my piece,” you insisted, your hands finding his on his lap. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine as your thumb traced over the scars on his hands. “It was unfair of me. I’ve realised that now. The position I put you in.”

Azriel shook his head gently, but you pressed on, your gaze drifting to the sky as you cringed a little when reflecting on your confession you had dramatically spilled to Azriel all those months ago. “The expectations I had for you, expecting you to return my feelings when I had never even made my affection clear—it was unfair.”

“Y/n…” Azriel murmured softly, disbelief colouring his voice.

“It’s my fault for not being honest,” you continued, a self-deprecating laugh escaping your lips. “How can I expect someone to return my feelings if I don’t make them known? So silly of me, really.”

You squeezed his hands gently, and Azriel felt a tug at his heart as he listened to your words. “And I realised when I was away that it was okay if you didn’t feel the same. If you wanted someone else. Whether that be Elain…” You trailed off, acknowledging that perhaps that wasn't to be Azriel's fate anymore. “Or someone else entirely. As long as they made you happy.”

“Because truly, that’s all I want. And it’s genuinely what you deserve.���

Azriel was at a loss for words, his mind racing. This wasn’t how he had expected this conversation to go. No, he thought it would be a chance for him to be honest, but as he looked at you, so radiant and at peace he couldn’t bring himself to selfishly express his deepest desires.

Didn’t dare to disrupt the healing you had clearly worked so hard on.

“You’re so wonderful, Azriel,” you beamed, holding his hands tightly. “So wonderful that I’m just grateful for a part of you. This part of you—the part where we’re best friends.”

“So what do you say Az, best friends again?”

He saw it then, the slight fear in your eyes that he might reject this too. So he buried whatever feelings had creeped up these past months, assuring himself too that even just a small part of you was all he needed.

“Always.” A smile spread on his lips gently, and he watched as the shaky breath you’d been keeping in left your lips. You laughed softly before pouncing on the Shadowsinger, hugging him tightly.

This would be enough, he told himself.

This was all you needed, you told yourself.

Who would have guessed you'd both become a pair of liars.

Final Part >>

a/n: oh wait sorry, was this the second part you wanted...wait no, you wanted them to get together??....hmmm you might just have to wait and see ;) but I promise I'll try give you the resolution you want! - Lottie

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass@alittlelostalittlefound-blog@milswrites@amberlynn98@marscardigan @illyrianbitch

[wileys-russo]

maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

(1) (2) (3) maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

"thanks for the shirt big foot! i like red." bella beamed as alessia began to unbuckle her from the car seat with a smile, clad in a small arsenal jersey on top of the hoodie and sweats alessia had to fight her to put on underneath given the cooler weather.

"good. red is the best!" alessia winked, honking the five year olds nose and making her giggle before helping her out of the seat. "i can carry it! you have your bag already." bella held her arms out for her backpack as alessia assisted her to shrug it on, tugging her hood out from beneath it.

"i've never watched a football game! mummy doesn't like sports and my daddy prefers cricket which is so boring. is football boring? whats it like?" bella asked, bouncing excitedly on the heels of her feet as alessia popped the trunk and grabbed out her own bags.

"definitely not boring!" the blonde promised slinging her gymbag over her shoulder and pushing the trunk closed before holding her hand out for bella.

"so there's two teams-" alessia began to explain football, simplifying it as much as she could for the small girl tightly clinging onto her hand who hung off of her every word.

"-and then whatever team scores the most goals, wins." alessia finished her story right as she arrived inside, having taken the long route through from the back of the stadium to avoid anyone seeing bella, knowing how seriously you took her privacy.

"ohhh, and that will be you!" bella grinned as alessia chuckled. "i hope so. when i score i've been told i make airplane arms, like this-" alessia let go of her hand and straightened her arms out like a plane, bella collapsing into giggles at the sight.

"she does! air russo we call her." alessia looked up at the new voice, leah appearing from one of the physio rooms with laura in tow, the two of them with fresh strapping on their knees. "leah!" bella waved happily, pausing for a moment to look up at alessia.

"you can go say hi." alessia murmured with a nod, patting the girls back in encouragement as she skipped forward. "i'm isabella but everyone calls me bella!" she greeted laura who seemed a bit taken aback, looking between the five year old and alessia with a confused frown.

"would you like to come see the change rooms?" leah offered, addressing alessia more so than bella, the blonde quickly checking the time and nodding. you were due to meet them in around a half hour, before pitch inspection and before the crowds all really came rolling into meadow park.

"is she-" laura started as leah took bella's hand and continued on forward, alessia shaking her head with an amused smile. "no, she's my friends kid, i've been babysitting for the weekend." alessia explained as the austrian nodded in understanding, the pair falling into conversation as they followed where leah had gone.

not at all to alessia's surprise by the time she arrived to the change room bella was busy talking a few of the girls ears off who listened eagerly, the blonde wincing slightly as she realised bella was recounting the story of her head lice.

she'd of course already checked with you as many things ahead of time as she could think of, going as far as to type out a list of questions and sending them to you around one in the morning last night, getting a reply not long after eight this morning with some answers and that you were just leaving.

you understood bella would be around her team and her friends and had no issues with this, assuring alessia repeatedly that you trusted her and knew bella was in safe hands, still finding her nerves and uncertainty endearing as always.

which is how you found her a little while later, eyes canning the horizon nervously, bella chattering away as usual but you could see the blonde wasn't really listening.

then, she spotted you, relief flooding her features as her body visibly sagged a little and she squatted down, pointing you out to your daughter whose whole face brightened making you grin.

you were still a fair few metres away but bella cleared them in seconds flat, throwing herself at you as you caught her easily and spun her around like you did when she was much younger and smaller.

"i missed you so so so so so so so so so-" bella started as you threw your head back with a laugh. "babe breathe!" you tickled as she paused and inhaled deeply. "-so much!" she finished as you attacked her face with kisses, her giggling filling the air as you headed over toward alessia.

"hi." you greeted the footballer, eyes quickly raking up and down taking her in in her uniform, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"hi." the blonde echoed back with a slightly shy smile of her own, the pair of you hugging as well as you could with bella dangling off your hip who wound up joining in, looping an arm around either of your necks.

"mummy leah said i could inspect the pitch with her. can i?" bella asked, busting out her best puppy dog eyes which you always struggled to really say no to. "yeah you can go, but come right back here after so we can find our seats." you placed her down, watching as she raced over to a blonde stood a few feet away, tugging on her hand.

you caught the girls eye and she raised her hand in a wave which you returned. "thats leah, the pizza thief and gatecrasher from the other night. i think bella might even like her more than me!" alessia rolled her eyes playfully as your daughter headed onto the field with a couple of unfamiliar girls all in the same uniform as the blonde in front of you.

"so should i take her to dinner tonight instead?" you questioned with a smile, alessia's mouth widening into a small o. "not funny, seriously not funny." the taller girl warned as you shook your head, tugging her in for another hug now you didn't have a five year old hanging off you.

"thank you so much for looking after her less, seriously. it takes a lot for me to trust someone like that and you just proved me right to trust you." you mumbled, feeling her squeeze you a little tighter.

"thank you for trusting me." alessia mumbled back, hand rubbing circles on your back as you nearly melted into her. "and the head lice! god i am so sorry about the head lice." you winced as the pair of you pulled away causing the taller girl to laugh.

"hey no need to apologize, my hairs never been cleaner."

~

"-and then which ever team scores most, wins." bella finished recounting how football worked to you, after the game had finished with arsenal winning 3-1. "oh really? well thank you bell, i finally understand now!" you sighed hitting your palm against your forehead.

at alessia's request you were waiting for her to come find the pair of you, since she still had bella's booster seat you'd left your car back at your apartment and ubered to the game.

you'd been given a lanyard by the blonde earlier on, a family and friends pass that meant you were able to wait by the players lot, sending slightly nervous smiles to those who passed you clearly a little wary of who you were.

though it was obvious bella had made her splash with more than a few of the players coming to say bye as they made their way to the cars, not that it surprised you given bella was a chronic chatterbox, something she got from her father.

"hey bell." you sat down beside her on the railing you were hanging by waiting for alessia, the girl looking up from where she was pretending a stick was a magic wand, kicking rocks about and chanting at them.

"so you know how daddy and olivia live together." you started, referring to her fathers long term girlfriend, your daughter nodding. "you like olivia right? you guys are friends?" you continued as bella nodded yeah. "yeah and she's daddys special friend." bella chirped as you now nodded.

"well. what would you think if alessia was mummys special friend?" you asked a little nervously, looking at her as the girl seemed to pause and tick things over. "would she come live with us?" she asked with a small frown.

"no, she'd still live across the hall. but it means she would come over more, maybe sometimes she might have sleepovers, we could all go do fun stuff together the three of us." you explained gently as bella nodded slowly.

"like what?" "mm well like go to the movies, go for dinner, go to the park, go bowling. whatever we want! but it means she would be around a lot more, and if you don't want that i need you to tell me okay? i won't be upset." you promised sincerely, always ready to put your daughters needs above your own much as it might hurt.

"i like big foot. but if she's your special friend, does that mean i can't be friends with her anymore?" bella asked, standing and going back to poking at rocks with her stick. "not at all, the two of you still get to be friends, and spend even more time together. did you have a good time with her this weekend?" you asked, watching with a small chuckle as she waved her stick around with a yell and a dance.

"yeah really fun! we got to wear special hats, i flew a rocket, we made pizza and watched bluey, and she even gave my teddys a bath and taught them how to breathe underwater!" bella glanced at you with a face eating grin which you couldn't help but mirror.

"sounds very cool. so, you're okay if alessia and i are special friends?" you confirmed, bella nodding with a hum and swinging her stick around, hitting it into the railing and groaning as it snapped in half.

though as she picked up one half and hurried off to grab the other someone beat her to it. "woah mutant! you didn't tell me you knew magic?" alessia gasped holding the snapped stick in her hand.

"she calls me mutant, its my nickname like hers is big feet." bella explained to you over her shoulder as you pulled a face and nodded in understanding.

"bella have i ever told you how i got these big feet?" alessia quirked an eyebrow dramatically as you stood and grabbed your daughters bag.

"...from a spell that went horribly wrong!" you smiled as alessia lunged at the five year old who squealed and raced off, the blonde chasing after her as they both used their snapped sticks to cast pretend spells at one another.

"great, guess i'm going to dinner with my kid and my big kid." you chuckled to yourself, following after them to the car as they hid behind things trying to shoot one another with their newfound magic.

~

"i could have carried her less, you just played a full ninety minutes." you whispered quietly where the three of you stood together in the elevator headed on up to your floor.

"i told you its fine, and that i could have taken her and my bag." the blonde smiled nodding to her arsenal gym bag slung over your shoulder, both of you pausing for a moment as bella stirred but didn't move.

the two of you fell silent as you reached your floor, your keys plucked from your pocket as alessia very carefully carried bella inside once the door was unlocked, following after you to her bedroom once it was closed.

tugging down the covers with one hand alessia lowered the five year old into bed with the other, moving aside so you could tuck her in, flicking on the star lamp by the base of her bed.

you brushed bella's hair out of her face and chuckled at the way her mouth hung open as she slept soundly with a shake of your head, kissing her forehead and backing up, alessia stepping out of the way as you both hovered in the door frame for a moment.

"she's so perfect." you sighed with a soft smile, alessia mirroring it beside you. "yeah, must get that from her dad." you gave her a playful side eye and pushed her, very slowly pulling the door shut with the quietest of clicks.

"safe." you sighed after pausing by her door for a minute, no little footsteps or voice crying out your name meaning bella was indeed out like a light.

"you know for a tiny girl she packs away food, must be that ghastly tummy monster." alessia tutted as the pair of you returned to the living room.

"well you did a pretty good job working up her appetite with all those magic spells, one of them must have been for hunger!" you teased, grinning at the way the strikers cheeks blushed.

"don't apologize, it was cute. very cute." you cut her off before she could speak, arms winding around her neck as you looked up at the taller girl with a fond smile, pecking her lips a few times.

"you're really good with her less, and she really likes you. which is why-" you let her go with a small sigh. "i'm giving you once more chance to walk away. if all of this is too much for you, i would understand, and i'd never hold it against you." you promised sincerely taking a little step back.

"honestly?" alessia questioned as you nodded. "honestly."

"well honestly-" the footballer took a step forward clearing the gap you'd just made. "-i am absolutely crazy about both of you, and i'm in, all in. if you'll have me." the girl chewed her bottom lip, apprehension filling her features.

"yeah? "yeah. so..." the girls hands settled themselves on your hips as she paused to take a deep breath, bright blue eyes locked with yours.

"will you be my girlfriend?" "i'd be honoured."

~

"but what do you mean you've not seen man on fire?" alessia scoffed, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at you where she stood in the kitchen awaiting the popcorn to finish.

"exactly that. i've not seen it!" you laughed, having repeated yourself five times now much to the strikers horror each time. "well that simply won't do. we're watching it, its on prime!" the blonde nodded toward the tv.

"but what about anyone but you? babe we were supposed to have a cheesy rom com night!" you protested from the lounge, raising an eyebrow at her as she pulled the popcorn out, opening the bag and yanking her head back as hot air pillowed out.

"change of plans. you need a movie education my girl!" alessia tutted, pouring the popcorn into a bowl as you groaned. "if i knew you were such a film bro it might have changed my answer when you asked me out." you muttered, grabbing the remote none the less.

"hey! i'm not a film bro, i don't even know what that means!" the blonde gasped in offence, grabbing the snacks and moving back to the lounge. "wait! get me a hoodie." you held a hand up after she'd placed the food down and was about to flop herself down on top of you.

"get you a hoodie..." "...now?"

"mother mutant!" alessia rolled her eyes, flicking a piece of popcorn at you but heading off to fulfill your wishes none the less. with bella at her dads for the weekend it meant the two of you could spend some quality time together.

which meant you got your girlfriend to yourself for once without her teaming up with your own daughter against you, the two having become quite the inseparable pair and alessia loving nothing more than teasing you about it.

though as much as she might be a big kid at heart you really couldn't deny the way alessia had stepped up to help you with bella too.

she hadn't missed a single school event since the two of you started going out, a bright smiling face bella always found easily in the crowd when you were often needed backstage given you were a teacher yourself.

she came along to any doctors appointments knowing how nervous they made bella, distracting her with silly voices and made up games while you pretended not to notice the chocolates slipped from her pocket.

there was no good cop bad cop routine either.

at first the blonde did struggle a little to find where she sat with discipline, never doing anything without consulting you or checking in but with time and trust she grew into her own relationship with bella as more than just your special friend.

and her insticts grew too.

you were in alessia's apartment for dinner, pizza night a much loved and somewhat demanded routine every friday night now, and nothing made you melt more than watching how kind and patient alessia was with bella when they cooked together.

you were sat at the island plugging away at your yearly class reports, bopping your head along to the music alessia had floating around the apartment as her and bella prepped.

"mummy what do you want on your pizza!" you felt a tug on your hoodie and looked down, laughing as bella handed you a piece of paper with a bunch of ingredients listed with small tick boxes.

"her idea, i just helped." alessia winked seeing you send her a smile at the little menu. "here." bella handed you a pen as you booped her on the nose with it and ticked off a few things, placing both back into her eager hands.

"thank you!" the girl bowed making you laugh before scurrying off into the kitchen where alessia was waiting. you'd gone back to your laptop, assuming the blonde had everything under control.

"bella no!" was all you heard, looking up to see a blonde blur sprint across the room, scooping up your daughter out of the way as the knife block toppled and they all fell right where she'd been standing.

"i'm sorry! i just wanted to get the tray for you." bella's bottom lip began to wobble as alessia exhaled shakily and sat her up on the counter as you appeared and very carefully picked up the knives.

"hey hey hey no mutant don't cry. i'm sorry for yelling, you just scared me a little bit but i know you didn't mean to." alessia engulfed the girl into a hug, rubbing her back as tiny sniffles sounded and you met the blondes panicked gaze.

"its okay, she's okay. thank you!" you mouthed, nodding reassuringly as alessia sighed, still holding your daughter tightly as her own heart rate steadied itself, trying not to think of what might have happened if she wasn't paying attention.

bella had even signed up for her very first team sport, which of course just so happened to be football.

alessia drove her to and stayed at every single practice, making arrangements with her own team to leave training early every wednesday to do so, and arriving late on saturday mornings so she could be at as many of the games as she could.

though much to her hidden heartbreak bella was following down more of a defensive pathway rather than like the striker alessia had tried tirelessly to build her up to be.

then after around nine months of the two of you dating and not long after alessia had ended her lease and finally moved in, it happened.

you were at one of bella's games, alessia's taller form pressed tightly behind you, both of you wearing a multitude of layers and hugging tightly as the chilly winter frost nipped at your noses.

much to her dismay alessia had wrestled bella into an undershirt, though you could already see how bright red her nose was getting as you prayed she wouldn't get sick.

it had all happened too fast for anyone to really process, bella played in an all girls league but with their opposition short one of the girls brothers was filling in, a year younger but a head taller than all of them.

you knew deep down he hadn't meant to do it, likely only trying to copy one of his footballing idols he'd seen do the same thing every week on tv in the premier league, but still it happened.

bella was dribbling the ball down the right side as everyone else hovered right by her, you and alessia often quietly joking they were like a little pack of seagulls chasing a chip the way they hovered together in a tight little huddle.

but the boy had gone sliding in for the ball, only it was very poorly timed and he collected bella instead, sending her crashing down to the ground as a gasp echoed through the crowd.

your eyes widened and you felt alessia's arms clamp even tighter around you, her own sharp inhale of breath heard right by your ear.

then came the crying, and the yelling, and the same word repeated over and over.

"mama! mama! mama!" you'd gone into fight or flight mode ready to race onto the tiny pitch, but then it clicked, that wasn't you, you were mummy, it wasn't you she was calling for.

"go, less go!" you pulled away from your girlfriend who gave you a confused look. "she's not calling for me, she wants you. go!" you pushed her with a nod, alessia opening and closing her mouth like a stunned fish but stumbling over none the less.

now of course a part of you had been jealous, it was you bella was supposed to want when she was hurt, you who were supposed to comfort her, you were her mother.

but there was a larger part that just felt something much warmer, softer, tinglier. the feeling that now bella had two of you to look out for her, two of you she trusted to comfort her when upset and help bandage her up while hurt.

you were finally a family.

[eclecticmiasma]

I kept thinking what if Chilchuck or Laios had been kidnapped by the monster! reader, how the reader saw them hurt or mistook them for chicks and saved them from being killed by another monster.. Now the reader monster is taking care of him in his nest/house, as if they were his own chicks (reader is a gentle monster who doesn't want anyone getting hurt or dying), and the reader being a sentient monster where she knows the dungeons are dangerous...

Note: the reader's appearance is similar to that of a human but with some animal characteristics, thus confusing the adventurers, who may think that she is a human cursed by the mad wizard and thus has the monster part... But the reader is a cool and conscious monster

Large brained thoughts, honestly! Perhaps reader could be the ghost of a creature that lost its young and uses shape-shifting to lure dungeoneers and other monsters to her nest as replacements? I would imagine that she would become extremely protective of her targets especially once they have been tricked into becoming one of her offspring. We don't see any examples of monsters being benevolent per se, but there is a benevolence/kindness to reader's selfish desires.

I think reader would appear very different to Laios and Chilchuck, and their reactions would be completely 180 degrees. Some slight anime spoilers ahead! SFW, canon typical violence.

Laios

Reader appears to Laios in a form that's nearly identical to her original. She has thick claws and black, wet eyes. Her teeth are sharp but framed by soft human lips and her ashen hair is silken and braided like a Northern maiden. She might have a long scaly tale and feathers on her abdomen and thighs because, due to Falin's current condition, it's a form that Laios finds subconsciously comforting.

She lures Laios while the others are asleep. A monster that he's never seen before is too intriguing to pass up- the party is safe enough where they are. Just a peak, a chance to learn-

Before he knows it, Laios is somewhere wholly unfamiliar. The thick dungeon bricks lining the walls slowly give way to moss and grass. The air is warm and smells like petrichor.

Despite a small, nagging anxiety, he presses further. The creature smiles as she leads him farther into the jungle atmosphere, a smile so sparkling and human that is makes Laios blush.

Before long, he's walked right into reader's nest. It's a cozy hovel carved into the base of a tree. Laios is delighted to find smaller monsters of all sizes in a daze, lounging around on the thatched flooring. As he steps inside, he feels a veil of calm close around him and vaguely realizes that its why the monsters aren't hostile towards each other.

Laios succumbs, at first. He lets reader take him into her arms, drag her long claws through his hair and sing a tune that numbs his mind into a pleasant mush.

Reader feeds him, gives him her milk (a high he'll never reach again until the day he dies), lays out the comfiest spot for her newest treasure and goes on her way to find the next target.

Genuinely, if Laios wasn't on a quest this would be his life for eternity. His own mother wasn't very loving, so a meld of monsters and mothers is more than a guy could ever ask for.

It could be hours, it could be days, but eventually Laios begins to remember that this isn't where he's meant to be. He sees a monster that reminds him of Falin, and all at once knows he reluctantly has to return to reality.

Once reader realizes Laios is gone, only killing her will end her crusade to get him back. While the others simply see a deranged monster, Laios sees a terrified mother desperate to drag him back to the safety of her home. Laios hesitates before killing her, too torn apart by the tears in her eyes. Marcille has to take the final blow.

Senshi and Laios briefly consider cooking the inhuman parts of reader into a sort of beef stroganoff as tribute, but Chilchuck's screeching reminder that they are not to eat humanoids leaves them to bury her instead.

Chilchuck

Is just off the heels of grumbling about being treated like a child when he spots what looks to be a small figure huddled in the darkness.

He calls out to the others but doesn't hear a response, only the soft whimpers of whoever has managed to get themselves into this state.

Chilchuck is much more on guard than Laios would ever be. He immediately assumes that it could be a trap or an illusion, so he calls to the figure from afar.

She answers, desperation coloring her tone as she sobs, relieved that someone has come across her.

"Th-they're dead, I don't know where they are but they're dead and I..."

As Chilchuck gingerly steps towards her, he realizes that what he sees is another half-foot. A small archer that's bloodied and bruised. Something about her reminds him immediately of his wife.

All logic leaves Chilchuck as he finishes approaching her, asking what's wrong and tearing off a piece of his sleeve to prepare to bandage the deepest of her wounds. When he goes to wrap the material around her forearm he stares in confusion. The wounds are gone.

He doesn't even have time to react before reader cups his small face in her. "You're lonely," She says, a matter of fact. The half-foot can't deny it, "It's time you stop doing these dangerous things. The only end for a half-foot in the dungeon is in the mouth of a monster. Let me take care of you."

Her words are like honey, her touch even moreso. Feeling the touch of a woman isn't a luxury Chilchuck had been afforded in many moons. But even in the fog of reader's touch, Chilchuck feels that something is off. Her hands are too cold, eyes too deep and dark- almost like black pools of liquid.

The sharp tips of her teeth set him off, and he knows he has to get away. She's no different than a mimic, he tells himself. Even if part of him desperately wants exactly what she has to offer.

Chilchuck mimes as if he is going to fall into her allure, cupping his hands over her own and giving her the most smitten look he can muster. All before kneeing her in the face and dashing at speeds only half-foots can muster to get away.

Reader chases him desperately, form filling the room as she wails in sorrow. "Can't you see they're using you? You're going to end up as bait. You're going to die down here, you'll never see your family again!" Chilchuck mentally bats away at each assertion even as they hook into his skin.

The others finally come running, proximity close enough to hear the commotion at last. With a few well-placed blasts and a slice to the throat via Kensuke, reader is felled and left for good. Even in death, she seems to be in mourning.

Chilchuck doesn't sleep well for weeks.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide darker content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[sugusearrings]

( ' safe & sound ' )

just close your eyes, the sun is going down you'll be alright no one can hurt you now come morning light you and i'll be safe and sound.

— summary: captain levi ackerman the strongest warrior alive is struggling to adjust after the war. but you (fem!reader) are there to remind him he deserves peace. — genre: fluff but tiny bit of angst. — playing: safe & sound by taylor swift — note(s): so aot just ended and i'm still in denial it's really over. my boy eren did nothing wrong but i understand, 80% is kind of a lot BUT HE WAS A CHILD WAR WEAPON. anyways, post war. SPOLIERS AHEAD JUST A FAIR WARNING OKAY. levi ackerman and reader have a slight age gape ( reader is 25 and levi is in his mid thirties). mentions of brief sex. mentions of scars and death. maybe some spelling errors i missed but i tried ~ levi may be grumpy and mean but he's a total softie to the reader. — word count: 2k

He inhaled sharply as his upper body sat up from his sleep. He could feel the cold sweat formed on his the side of his head rolling down. His chest rose up and down with each inhale he took. He ran his hand over his face. He glanced down at his hands. His two missing fingers always reminded him what happened almost five years ago now. The rumbling ending. Everyone is trying to rebuild a normal life. He never really knew what a normal life was. His life was all about fighting and survival and now it was over. What was Levi made for now?

He quickly reached over for his cane leaning against the nightstand.

Levi was determined not to be stuck to that damn chair, he did whatever exercise he could without putting too much on his body. There were some days he had to be wheeled around. But using the cane on the daily was happening often. He didn’t want to be helpless or dependent on anyone. He was never like that so why start now?

He made his way out of the bedroom and walked into the small hallway that normally took two minutes to pass but it felt entirely. He was on alert, adrenaline pumping through his veins already. How could he protect now? He felt so useless. Once the greatest warrior to this. At first it was hard accepting this new reality of his. All he wanted to do was sink more into the dark and isolate himself.

If he was gone, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Those he loved and cared for were long gone leaving him alone. He never knew loneliness would become his true enemy.

He held his breath accepting his fate as he walked into the kitchen. His dull gray eye widen seeing you standing there already pouring some tea in one of his favorite cups. He nearly dropped his cane.

“Name…”

“Captain Levi?” You looked up at him a bit startled he was awake. He let out a heavy exhale.

“After all this time, you still callin’ me that?” He rolled his eye then shook his head. “Give me a break.” You giggled quietly with a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just an old habit I guess.”

“What are you doing up?” He asked you completely ignoring what you said.

“I figured you would want some tea when you would wake up.” You replied walking over to grab another cup from the cabinet. Levi could feel his ears beginning to burn. He cleared his throat.

“You…know?” You turned around to see the flustered older man. You tilted your head slightly to the side and was baffled. He thought he could hide his nightmares from you. His nightmares of the past.

“Of course I do.”

Your warm smile still made his heart throb the same way it did when you two met.

He found you the most annoying thing ever. You were too optimistic for his liking and you were very emotional. You were immature and very impulsive. But he adored that about you. You weren’t scared to stand up for what you believe in, even against him. When he was your captain and you were just a cadet on his squad. You two saw things from different perspectives but he respected that. He wasn’t sure if he ever told you he did.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He made his way over to the nearest chair at the table. He pulled it out so he could sit. You took the cup full of tea and walked over to place it in front of him.

“It’s okay, Levi. Your nightmares don’t always wake me,” you placed your hand over his, “I have my own too, y’know?” You gave him a gentle squeeze.

The guilt sunk deep in Levi’s chest. How could he not think about you having your own trauma for what you both went through. Losing people you love, being injured and almost close to death several times. You had many scars to prove it. Especially the one on your neck reaching to the top of your chest. It was easier to hide but doesn’t mean it wasn’t a constant reminder when you would change outfits, shower, even during intimate times.

“I’m a horrible husband aren’t I, name?” He sighed deeply, reaching to grab his cup the same way he always has. You smiled remembering the time you made fun of the way he held his glass to your other comrades. It was all laughter until Levi was behind you the whole time. When you turned around looking white as a ghost seeing Levi glaring down at you. You screamed loudly then he made you clean his office and room from top to bottom.

“A little bit.” You teased him playfully. You grinned when your husband glared at you. “I’m kidding, Levi. How are you a bad husband?”

“My wife has fucking nightmares next to me and here I am sleeping.” He snapped. You bit your bottom lip and lowered your eyes. “But I even breathe a certain way, she knows if there’s something wrong with me.” He went on becoming more aggravated with himself.

“You’re being hard on yourself again.”

“You’re not denying it.” He countered. You sighed deeply.

“Levi…I have nightmares, yes. But you help me just by being there next to me.” You gave him another squeeze. Before he could say some smart ass remark you cut him off. “You remind me of what’s happening now. I can’t forget the past...I can never forget. But waking up next you eases it and makes it better to deal with.” Levi remained silent.

He couldn’t believe someone like you could ever love someone like him. To this day he would be in disbelief. You were so warm and he was so cold. But here you are sharing a life with him.

“You make it sound so easy.” He mumbled lowly.

“I know when you have nightmares when you hold onto me tight.” You admitted. His eye widened looking over at you. You smiled shyly looking away. You were trying to hide the dark blush on your cheeks but he would always see it. You couldn’t hide it from him.

He could remember the first time he made you blush. It was the first time he saw you with your hair down. When he complemented you ( in his own way that didn’t sound too mean ), you blushed. His heart fluttered how perfect you looked with your cheeks flushed.

“You woke up because I wasn’t in bed this time…” You spoke snapping him out of his own thoughts.

“I thought in a marriage there was no such thing as secrets.” He joked dryly.

You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. He noticed some faint scars on your hand. He remembered that scar. He remembers all the scars on every inch of your body. He would kiss them gently some nights making your breathing hitch. He would kiss the scar on your neck the most. He felt that needed the most attention. The day he almost lost you for good.

You were fighting alongside him against Zeke for the first time.

That’s when Levi realizes his feelings for you.

He stood by your side whenever he can, waiting for you to recover. He would even read out loud to you. When you woke up a few days later, you asked him to re-read the sentence he just read because you couldn’t hear him.

What nearly broke him when he thought you drank the wine with the spinal fluid.

Thankfully you didn’t but he confessed his feelings for you the same night. Yes, it was inappropriate for a caption to be with his cadet but he didn’t care about his title or yours in that moment. Levi just needed you to know in case something happened. He was ready to hear your rejection but when you confessed your own feelings for him, he was relieved.

That’s when Zeke did the explosion, Levi had enough time to push you off the wagon leaving him to suffer the injuries alone. He doesn’t regret it. He’ll do it all over again.

“Is this how you pictured how things would be after?” You asked him gently. Levi closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them. His dull gray eyes staring into yours.

“Yes and no.”

“That’s not a fair answer, Captain Levi.”

“Name.”

“Sorry.” You held your hands up in defense. He sighed softly.

“Yes, I pictured this after the rumbling. Marrying you, having a normal life with you. Just being with you in peace. What I didn’t expect was to be like this.” He glanced down at his hand again that bandaged up from the fingers he lost from that explosion. “I wasn’t much of a looker then but god look at me now.” He let out a sad chuckle. You frowned, feeling your heart aching. Was he serious right now? You thought Levi was the most handsome man you ever met. You were drawn to his dark gray hues. During the day they would glisten.

“Levi, don’t think that. You’re still handsome to me and always will be.”

“Don’t feed me that shit, name.” Levi scoffed. His stubbornness was still the same as before. You sighed and rested your chin on your hand letting him ramble on his negativity. “Probably see me as a pity case.”

“If that’s so, why do we still make love four times a week?” You questioned. When you looked over to your husband who was silent but red in the face. You felt your lips curl up into a smirk. “Cat got your tongue, captain Levi? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to mention how we fuck multiple times. All night if I don’t tap out.” You purred in a tone you knew was his weakness. Levi shifted a bit in his seat then brought his left hand to clear his throat.

“Shut it you brat.”

You simply smiled at your victory.

“I love you, Levi. I don’t know why you can’t accept that.”

“You deserve better.”

“So do you.” You replied back. Levi glared at you once again.

“How can you say that shit?”

“Because you’re saying it so why not?” You shrugged then got up to pour yourself that tea you swore it was cold by now. Levi’s eye scanned down to your body how it hid underneath his white shirt. When you would lift to reach something it exposed some of your bare flesh underneath. He held his breath for a moment.

“I just…hope this is what you want.” His voice spoke. You didn’t turn around. Your eyes glanced down at your cup you were holding. Your ring finger was empty but the silver band stood on your nightstand with your glass of water that was empty now. Levi would always bring you a glass of water before bed.

“I want to spend my life with you, Levi. We’re at peace now. You’re at peace. You deserved this. You risked your life so many times. Everyday it’s a struggle for you to live with what happened. But we can do it together, just trust me?”

You turned with glossy eyes staring back over to him. He used his strength to stand up on his own for a moment. Then he made his way over to you. Once he was close enough, he placed his hand on your cheek just studying your face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings…I’m just scared to lose you.” He confessed not trying to make eye contact with you. You placed your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb. You stroked over the scars left behind by the stitches on his face you did for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.”

“I survived to live a life with you, Levi.”

You whispered then leaned forward to place your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to his body. His lips moved against yours passionately. He pushed his body against yours causing your lower back to press against the counter. You let out a shaky breath when he broke the kiss then started to kiss along your neck. His fingers trailed down to the buttons on your shirt. Just when you were going to close your eyes and enjoy his lips sucking on your skin you were interrupted.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

You both pulled away at the same time to see a groggy toddler with messy dark hair all over the place. He hugged his stuffed bear tightly with his other arm.

“Hi baby.” You greeted him softly making. Levi straighten your shirt making sure the buttons were still in tact.

“What are you doing up, hm?” Levi asked him. The toddler frowned with his gray eyes half open.

“I wanna sleep with you and mama.” He made grabby hands towards him. He shook his head.

“Sorry kid, you have to go sleep in your bed like a big boy.” Your son sniffed and his big gray eyes began to water. Of course you were a sucker but you didn’t expect for Levi to be the one who caved in. “Tsk. Fine. Just for tonight.” Levi grabbed his cane and began to walk back into your bedroom. The little boy’s eyes beamed, making you giggle quietly. You brought the two cups to the sink thinking you were in the clear.

“Clean those damn cups.” Levi’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth with an eye roll.

“I’ll clean them in the morning.” You entered the bedroom seeing Levi already in bed. He leaned over to bring his son into bed. He snuggled up against his father, sighing happily feeling his warmth. You went over to your side on the bed to lay next to your son.

Levi always spoke about not wanting children. You didn’t have a clear answer if you wanted them or not. Some days you did but bringing them in a world like this wasn’t fair either. But finding out you were pregnant on your wedding day was a surprise. It meant you were pregnant during the fight that stopped the rumbling.

It was a miracle the child growing inside of you survived. But he’s a fighter like his father.

Asher Levi Ackerman.

A fortunate blessing for you both.

You leaned against the headboard stroking Asher’s hair as his eyes began to close.

“He looks just like you.” You whispered to Levi as you moved some of Asher’s dark hair out of his face. He smiled a bit.

“You think so?”

“Everyone says it. He looks nothing like me.”

“But he acts like you. A brat.”

You reached over to shove him playfully. It made him chuckle.

“Sleep, name. We have a long day at the shop tomorrow.”

“Fuck me.” You mumbled under your breath with a groan.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Levi laid down and closed his eyes hearing you giggle quietly before drifting back to sleep. You laid down staring at your son and husband cuddling with one another. You could tell Levi’s nightmare was over for the night. You soon drifted into a deep slumber.

And yes, you did forget to wash the teacups in the sink

But Levi washed them before opening the tea shop for the day but he did remember to scold you about it.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART 8.5 (JOEL'S POV)

previous chapters | so after the last chapter there were SO many people who really wanted to understand joel's actions, and i thought instead of him simply explaining to reader what happened, why don't i just write a chapter entirely from his point of view instead? hopefully this answers some questions, enjoy! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you're not the only one who has a busy weekend ahead of them. one text changes the trajectory of joel's relationship with you - for better or worse. (this is essentially chapter seven and eight from joel's pov) rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, discussions of child abandonment, mental health & cheating, alcohol, allusions to past sexual encounters between joel and his ex, brief flashbacks to smut from previous chapters word count: 13k ao3

He thinks about you so much more often than he should.

Your soft skin, your smile, your eyes, your hair, your little giggles, your shy and breathless whimpers.... your body, pliant and sweet beneath his touch, open and willing and waiting.

You're so perfect. You're so young.

He's never been with someone so much younger than him before. He's not sure you realize that. But that day on his doorstep when you'd wandered down the sidewalk looking like a bit of a lost puppy, that little frown line prominent between your eyebrows that he's come to adore, something clicked. You brought out a side of him he'd long since buried; he knew he had to have you. He just knew. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach when those gorgeous eyes had come to rest on him. Wide and innocent and sad. Something he saw there that made him pause.

He'd have had you that day if you'd let him, a fact that he's still grappling with. Long gone are the days where he'd meet a woman and take her home within a twenty four hour span - long gone are the days where he's so much as been interested in a woman he didn't know well enough, someone safe and secure and familiar. But he hoped you'd be back, almost knew you would, could see it in the way you shivered under his gaze, the way your eyes lingered on his face, on his fingers. He hadn't felt like being charming in a long time; he'd genuinely surprised himself with the flirtatious comments, the sly smiles, double meanings. But he couldn't help himself.

He'd wanted you so bad. The moment you'd disappeared down the street he'd gotten in the shower and fucked his fist for only a few minutes before coming all over the tiled wall at the very thought of you. He didn't even know your name but had already memorized the curves of your body, the shape of your lips, the smell of your skin when he'd gotten close enough. He'd practically limped back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, staring up at the ceiling with nothing but shock and confusion. Where the fuck had that come from?

He's such a dirty old man.

Old being the operative word. He turns fifty seven in a few months and the thought makes him feel physically ill. It's not that he necessarily hates the thought of getting older, of being one step closer to knocking on death's door, but more-so the fact that he's almost fifty seven and has almost nothing to show for it. His life is a mess, has been a mess for as long as he can remember.

But now... you.

You... full of life and eagerness and kindness. A soft and gentle angel in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. So shy and quiet, telling him what you think about, what you worry about. Letting him whisper the filthiest things in your ear while you whimper and moan, letting him touch you the way you deserve to be touched, the way you've never been touched before.

You bring something out in him he can't explain. He'd invited you inside that first day looking for a quick fuck and he admits it was a moment of weakness, the whole thing. He knows Sarah and Mish would kill him for even considering treating you that way, like an object, something to be conquered. The past version of himself who briefly felt that way about you makes him angry now.

Because now he really wants you. Not just a fuck - he wants you. He thinks about you all the fucking time and it scares the shit out of him. What started as something dirty and frivolous quickly turned into something tender and sweet the moment you told him you were a virgin, and he doesn't know how to handle it. You're so fucking lovely but so fucking sad and unsure, full of apprehension, regrets, insecurities, things he sees in himself. You remind him so much of himself at that age and he just wants to take care of you, be the person for you that he didn't have.

But you're so fucking young.

He tries to push the feelings down. He's purposely distant to you, especially during the week. You send him sweet little messages, tell him about your day, ask him about his. He stares at them for so long without answering them, and when he does answer his replies are short and vague. Because how can he say what he really wants to say? I think about you so much, angel. I want you to be mine. I don't want you to chase after any college boys or have any college boys chasin' after you. I wanna be your first and I wanna be your only.

How can he put you in that position? You're having fun, you're learning things, but there's absolutely no way you see any sort of future with him. The fact that he can already see one with you is the biggest red flag in itself - what the fuck is wrong with him?

But you're just so fucking sweet. So lovely. So gorgeous. He wants you in his bed and he wants you to stay there. He knows he'll be the first person to ever fuck you and that thought is enough to keep him going, yet he can't help but want more. But it's so selfish - you're young and bright-eyed and pretty and perfect, the promise of an incredible future ahead of you. And he's just... him.

He's old. He's grumpy. He's washed up. Became a father in high school. Got married. Got divorced. Has had more failed relationships than successful ones. Has been working the same job since he was twenty years old, a job he fucking hates. Loathes it with his entire being. Still doing the same work for the majority of his life with almost no breaks, no stops. He knows he should retire, should have done it years ago, but he's afraid.

He's always been fucking terrified of change. Earlier this year he'd moved into a new neighborhood. He'd gotten sick of the house he'd once shared with Mish, then Mish and Sarah, then just Sarah - the one she'd lived in sporadically 'til she was twenty six and finally felt financially stable enough to go out on her own. He'd stayed there about ten more years out of convenience, had another failed relationship with a woman who deserved far better than what he could give her, then finally pulled the plug and got something new for himself a few hours away, hoping it'd change his perspective. He'd picked a place with privacy, good acoustics, thought maybe he'd play his guitar more - focus on his music and slowly phase himself out of the contracting business.

But months later, he's still working it. The thought of being unemployed after working this hard his entire life, just ending up sad and alone in this new house, still not even properly furnished or decorated, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck would he do with all that free time? He's always wondered exactly how he'd spend it, how life could be enjoyable without the structure of his livelihood, but then he shakes it off and just keeps going because he knows the alternative has to be worse. But now... you.

You - who if you truly knew what a fucking failure he is, the boring bag of bones he pretends he's not when he's with you - would leave his bed and never come back.

You - who if you found out about his ex wife, his daughter, both of whom live adventurous and exciting lives while he's done nothing but stay still in the comforts of familiarity - would probably find him beyond pathetic.

You - who can do so much better.

He just knows that it can't last.

--

He gets the text from Sarah on Wednesday morning:

Hey Dad!! Me and Mom are doing our annual road trip, thought we'd stop down there for a bit and have a look at your new house!!

He tries not to notice the excitement of seeing his daughter being slightly dulled by the promise of being accompanied by her mother. In a way it makes him sad, because he loves Mish, has loved her since he was seventeen years old. He cares deeply about her and has always wanted nothing but the best for her, has always enjoyed her visits in the past - for more than one reason. But now...

No. He has to shake the thought away before he freaks himself out.

Kiddo!!!! That's exciting, when were you thinkin?

We'll be there by Friday afternoon!! Sorry for the short notice but we weren't sure if it'd be possible til today. We're actually trying to stick to a schedule this time believe it or not.

That's ok, you know it doesn't matter to me. Wanna see you any time. Miss you a lot.

Aw Dad I miss you too, I can't wait to see you!!! We'll text when we're getting close. Gonna check into a motel that night and we'll be leaving again the next morning, gotta stay on track.

He almost offers his guest room. Almost. But then thinks better of it.

Sounds good kiddo, see you then :)

Mish texts him later that afternoon. He'd been expecting it, knew she would want to double check that the visit was alright, but her name popping up in his notifications sends a jab of anxiety to the pit of his stomach. It's one thing for Sarah to visit on her own, but both of them together always adds a... different layer to the situation. A layer that needs addressing. A layer that he'd usually have more than a little excitement for, some anticipation - but not this time.

Sarah's got me roadtrippin again

She loves to make you suffer.

Don't I know it

He can't help but chuckle to himself, but his smile fades quickly as soon as the next message comes in:

Gonna be stopping by on Friday. You good for our usual?

He stalls.

Thought you were still with Elvis.

ALVIN. And no that's over

Sorry about that.

Like hell you are

He purposely doesn't answer her question, and she doesn't send anything else. The anxiety doesn't go away though - it spreads throughout his body until he's an absolute mess, shaky hands and ringing ears at the job site as he tries to stay focused, but ultimately fails to. His crew flits here and there around him without much direction and they end up going overtime, leading to an angry call from the boss, a call that leaves his hands clenched into fists by the time he gets to the bar with the crew. Fuck. This. Job.

He drinks too much, tries to calm himself, keep his thoughts steady. He pretends he doesn't know why he's feeling like this, pushes down all the reasons he wishes Sarah was traveling by herself this time. But deep down, he knows.

He gets a ride home with one of his buddies, limbs aching in a way that they haven't for a while. He always has days like this, days where the physical labor catches up to his aging body and reminds him that he really shouldn't be doing this job anymore, but somehow it's worse this time; the mental load from Mish's texts are giving him a discomfort he can't really describe.

He remembers only as he crosses the threshold that he promised he'd call you. Shit.

He does, but he can't remember much of what he said the next morning, only that he vented a bit. He hopes with every bone in his body that he didn't mention Mish, that his complaints focused solely on work.

Your texts that afternoon from the church bathroom prove this to be the case, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you agree to come see him that night. He knows he'll feel calm in your company, that the anxiety will ebb away in your presence.

He tries not to think about the implications of that.

God, he's fucked.

--

You had a horrible day.

You show up on his doorstep with tears shining in your eyes and that soft little line furrowed deep between your brows, the line he adores, wants to smooth with his thumb. He pulls you in close and breathes you in and finds that the anxiety, the worry, the uncertainty, all of it disappears in your embrace. You tell him you don't want to do anything, just want to be with him.

You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that to him.

He lays you in his bed and holds you for a while, listens as you tell him about what happened, confide in him. You tell him more about your upbringing and your family, your school years and friends, the pressure and scrutiny you've felt suffocated by your whole life. And god if you're not describing him. You have no idea how fucking similar the two of you are, how much he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the world and from all the people who threaten to dull the light in your eyes. Don't become like me, he wants to whisper, you deserve so much better.

He could listen to you talk for hours. That soft voice lulls him into a state of nirvana he's never experienced, body practically going numb with how in tune it is with your words, like he's become some kind of plant absorbing all your emotions, thoughts, feelings, as you bare yourself to him. You're so lovely. Please never stop talking.

It all culminates in the removal of your crucifix. He barely even thinks about it, just knows exactly what he has to do to calm you, to make you feel better, to steal back some of those worries from you and lock them away for a little bit where they can't hurt you. It's the least he can do. He wants to do it.

It's a gesture he doesn't fully realize the importance of, the magnitude - not yet, anyway.

He backtracks while you shower. It's just sex. This is not going any further than you showing her how it's done, preparing her for the real world, for the future men who actually stand a chance with her. The thought makes him dig his nails deep into his duvet as he settles under the sheets and takes a deep breath. She's not yours. She doesn't want you the way she thinks she does. She doesn't know the real you.

He can't help but picture you in his shower, standing naked under the hot water, in the exact spot he's gotten himself off to your very image. His dick twitches in his pajama pants and he has to adjust himself, cursing softly at his dirty thoughts and reminding himself that nothing is happening tonight, that you don't want to. He's not even disappointed, doesn't care that the sexting from earlier isn't coming to fruition tonight; just laying with you is enough for him. And he hates himself because he knows exactly what that means.

His phone vibrates while he's waiting and he picks it up from the nightstand - a text from Sarah:

Gettin closer! We should be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Do you work Fridays?

Yep, he wants to say, Monday to Friday, every week of my entire life since before you were born, but of course he doesn't. Would never.

I do but I'll be back around 5:30 or so. I'll give you a call when I'm home.

Sounds good!!!

Also:

An image comes in and he taps it, squinting his eyes to figure out exactly what he's looking at. He can make out Sarah and Mish sitting atop some statue of a bull they must have encountered outside a gas station. Sarah's arm is thrown back as she poses with her signature killer smile, while Mish grips the bullhorns and sticks her tongue out, braids peeking out from under a cowboy hat. There's something about it that's familiar, something he can't quite place as his eyes strain without the aid of his glasses - the ones he never wears. He pushes his phone away from his eyes, brings it back and hopes to bring the image into focus a little bit.

Oh. It's his hat.

And fuck, if he doesn't know how that makes him feel.

"You need glasses," he hears you say softly, and he looks up from the image of his daughter and ex wife to see you standing at the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel.

He locks his phone and hopes you weren't standing there too long.

--

He doesn't know how to tell you that he won't be able to see you tonight.

He spends the morning in complete and utter bliss, waking up to your bashful request to give him a blowjob. You're so fucking sweet, even when asking for something so filthy. Your mouth is soft and warm around his cock and he feels like he's died and gone to heaven, wants desperately to spill inside and watch you swallow but knows it's not the right time, not yet.

He wonders what your face would look like covered in his come.

Dirty. Old. Man.

You burn his breakfast and furiously apologize, cursing under your breath as you soak the freshly burnt pan under the faucet and frown at your failure. But he doesn't view it as a failure; for him it's just another thing to add to the mental list of reasons he thinks you're adorable.

You ride his thigh. He makes you come, the most beautiful little sounds escaping your lips as you ride it out. He loves how that little worry line between your brows always returns when he's making you feel good, like he really is taking some of that worry away and replacing it with pleasure. He only wants to see that line when he's making you come. He never wants to see you sad again like you'd been last night, just wants to hold you in his arms and protect you from the world.

But then it's time to go and he still hasn't told you about tonight. He does not want to lie to you. He refuses to. But what else can he say? Just that he'll be out late? What if you ask him why? And god, it's not like he's gonna do anything. He's not gonna entertain Mish's offer, not this time. He shouldn't. He won't.

You save him the trouble. Your friend from college is visiting, a girl named Tasha - she's taking you out for the first time ever. He supposes that makes things much easier; no explaining or giving excuses, no revealing things he's not ready to reveal. He dodged a bullet.

Right?

So why does he still feel like such a prick?

--

He gets home from work and calls Sarah, just like he said he would. He only has a short window of time to do a bit of sprucing - fluff the couch pillows a bit, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom - before the doorbell is ringing and he's jogging to the door with excitement coursing through his veins. The anxiety has dulled at the mere promise of seeing his daughter on the other side of that door.

"DAD!" she squeals excitedly as he thrusts it open, and he's immediately enveloped in the warmth of Sarah's embrace, sweet and familiar.

"Kiddo," he breathes into her hair, feeling tears prick in his eyes like they always do, "Missed ya."

"Missed you too," she says into his shoulder, muffled and quiet, "So much, Dad, you have no idea."

They have their moment together, eyes closed as they sway on the spot and smile tearfully - it's been almost a year since her last visit. It didn't used to feel as palpable, those long periods of time between seeing each other, but as he's gotten older he finds that he misses her a lot; his little pal, not so little anymore. Thirty eight now, a full blown woman with a loving husband and a freshly solid career as an author, the life he always wanted for her.

"How're things?" he asks softly, "You doin' okay? Need any money?"

She laughs, "Things are good. I'm good, I promise."

"How's Jude, he good?"

"He's great, and the book's been doin' really well."

"I'm so happy to hear that, kiddo, really. Happy for both of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she murmurs, sniffling a little bit, "Couldn't have done it without you, hope you know that."

And then she's pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes and waving to the purple convertible behind her, gesturing for Mish to get out of the car.

Here we go.

She steps out and god, she's gorgeous. Age has done nothing but enhance her beauty. She's never not been the most stunning woman in a room, soft skin a glowing deep umber, supple long legs and playful smile and those dark brown - almost black - eyes that practically sparkle when she looks at him. Like the way she's looking at him now... fuck.

"Hey," she says with a sly grin, shutting the car door behind her and making her way up the front steps.

"Hey," he echoes back, "How was the drive?"

"Long," she groans, reaching him and going in for a hug. It's nowhere near as long or as intimate as Sarah's, but the feeling of her body against his feels just as familiar and comforting. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm. Too easy. "You been good?" she asks as they part.

He nods quickly, "Yeah, you?"

"Can't complain," she replies with a smile.

"Oh please," Sarah scoffs beside her, "All you've done is complain," she looks to Joel with a grimace, "Alvin's out of the picture."

"Sarah," Mish admonishes quickly, brows narrowing.

"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh - that's too bad, Mish. He was, um... he was a good guy."

"No, he wasn't," she sighs, rolling her eyes and giving Sarah another look, "But that's a conversation for another time, right?"

Sarah puts her hands up in defense, "Sorry, sorry, my bad. We've been in the car too fuckin' long," she peeks past him with a curious expression on her face, "Can we come in? I wanna see your new house."

He shows them around, though there's not much to see, something which Mish points out almost immediately.

"Where's the character?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she assesses the living room, "Like where's your stuff, Joel?"

"There's not even pictures of us anywhere," Sarah adds with a frown, scanning one of the bookshelves, "It's like we don't even exist."

He grimaces, hands on his hips, "I know, I'm sorry. I still have a few boxes up in the guest room but," he sighs, "You know me, I hate gettin' emotional over shit from the past. And half those boxes got your old school stuff, and-"

"Your Dad's a sentimental guy," Mish interjects with a soft smile, giving him those eyes again, "It's okay, we'll unpack 'em for you."

He scoffs, "We ain't got time for that, Mish."

"I always have time to be sentimental," her smile grows wider and she throws him a wink - his heart stutters.

"Well I always have time for a movie marathon," Sarah suddenly says, turning from the shelves with an array of DVDs in her hands, "Whaddaya say, Dad? Curtis and Viper? After the bar?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "The bar?"

"Oh? Didn't you hear? We're takin' you out, cowboy," Mish says with a smirk, "Or - I guess you're takin' us out. Whatever, either way we're goin' for dinner and drinks like the well adjusted wholesome family we are."

"And then we're gonna eat too much junk food and pass out on the couch like the good old days," Sarah adds, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table, "Miller family fun."

"And do I get any say in this?"

They both turn to him at the same time with almost the same expression on their faces, and he knows he's already lost.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

--

They have dinner at their favorite chain, practically inhale their burgers and fries as Sarah and Mish catch Joel up on the trip so far, where they've been, what they've seen. He's grateful that the conversation is still on them by the time they get the check and start heading to the bar; he really doesn't want to answer any questions about himself tonight unless he has to.

The bar is louder than usual, much more packed than he's ever seen it. He grumbles this to Sarah and Mish but they just roll their eyes and order their drinks, cozying up together on their barstools and laughing hysterically over things that certainly aren't that funny. They're exhausted from their road trip and he can tell, tries to urge them to head back to the house after about fifteen minutes of being at the bar, but they resist.

"I like this place better than your old joint," Mish calls to him over the chatter, "Smells better too."

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he calls back with a grin, and she just rolls her eyes and orders him another whiskey.

They don't stay too long, just enough for the girls to get their fill and toss back a few beers, continuing to tell Joel about their trip. Sarah scrolls through the pictures on her phone and shows him the tourist traps, the stops they've made here and there, the food they've eaten. Mish chimes in every so often to add her own anecdotes, bouncing off Sarah's stories naturally like she always has.

He loves how easy it feels to be with them, how comfortable, how safe. He's missed them so much. He wishes things could just stay like this for the rest of the night, simple and light, but every so often he catches Mish looking at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes searching his for something in particular, and he remembers there's still something they haven't addressed.

"Oh my god, Mom," Sarah suddenly says with wide eyes, pointing toward the front of the bar, "Do you see that girl's hat?"

"Where?"

"Those girls over there, look at that purple cowboy hat. Fuuuck, we should be wearing ours!"

Joel rolls his eyes, not bothering to look in the direction Sarah's pointing to and instead focusing on his whiskey, trying to think of ways he can get them out of this bar. Curtis & Viper is suddenly calling his name.

"They're still in the car if you wanna grab 'em," Mish says with a laugh, tossing Sarah the keys, "If you can walk straight."

"Oh please, I've had one beer. We're not all lightweights in this family, ya know," she presses a kiss to her mother's cheek before sliding past to head back to the front of the bar.

"Well, now that we have a moment alone..." she leans forward a bit on her elbow, hand cupping her chin as she tilts her head, "You didn't answer my question the other day, cowboy."

Here it is, the conversation he's been dreading, the one thing he's been putting off talking about the most. And why has he been dreading it? Why has he been filled with so much discomfort and anxiety at the thought of telling Mish that even though he's technically single, he can't be with her this time? It's not like she'd be angry with him, like she'd misunderstand or throw a fit over it. So why can't he just say it?

He knows why. It's because he doesn't want to tell Mish about you. It's because the second he says no, she'll see right through him; she'll know. She'll know immediately that there's somebody else, and she'll clock his feelings - the feelings he's been forcing himself to bury - and then he'll have to confront them, what they really mean.

And as usual, he's terrified.

He plays dumb, "What question?"

She inches the stool forward with a smirk, eyeing him pointedly as he feels her bare leg touch his jeans, slowly drifting up and down along his calf. Fuck. She tilts her head, eyes falling to his lips and then going back up to meet his gaze.

"Playin' coy, are we?" she asks softly, "Need me to say it out loud, huh?"

He feels goosebumps rise all over his arms at the sound of her voice like that, low and sultry; it's the voice she reserves just for these private moments together, fully aware of the effect she has over him.

"You gonna fuck me, cowboy?" she continues, eyes falling to his lips again, "Huh? You been missin' me in your bed?"

Fuck.

He doesn't say anything, just watches as her face moves a little closer to his, the hint of his favorite sly smile puling at the corner of her mouth. She assesses him quietly, gaze raking over his features.

"You're shy tonight, aren't you?" she says, fluttering her lashes, "You need me to take care of you, baby boy? You need your mommy?"

Only Mish could get away with saying something like that to him. He can't help but let a grin cross his own face as he shakes his head at the words, feeling his cheeks flush. He's still unsure what to say, what to think, how to feel. Under any other circumstance they would already be fucking in a bathroom stall at this point, and in a few seconds she's gonna realize that and wonder why the fuck he won't give in.

She kisses him then. Softly.

And it's right. It's so fucking right in all the ways it's always been. Her mouth is warm, lips plump and wet and sweet against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers in that seductive fashion she's oh so good at. Without any thought, as if on instinct, his hand comes up to cup her face, holding her there for a moment as he breathes her in. He realizes how easy it would be to just fall back into this rhythm, this old habit they've been indulging themselves in for years. It just feels so right.

But it's also so fucking wrong.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. This is not the mouth he wants to be kissing. For years, he's always found comfort and safety in Mish's kiss, never once felt like what they were doing was incorrect or some kind of mistake. But now it's like every fiber of his being is telling him to stop. To pull away. To end this as soon as possible.

So he does.

He takes a deep breath as they separate, pulls back from her on his stool a bit and takes another sip of whiskey. No, this can't happen. It's not going to happen. But he's gonna have to tell her that, otherwise she'll take the next step and he's not sure he'll be able to reign it in after that. The thought of her naked body underneath him in his bed is admittedly a tantalizing offer, the thought of being inside her again after so many years apart...

But she won't be the first naked woman in that bed. In that house. Someone else has already staked their claim, regardless of whether what he shares with you is real or not. And that thought is what pulls him out of it.

"Sarah's right," he says with a smile, "You are a lightweight."

She cocks her brow, "You think I'm drunk?"

He chuckles and takes another sip, "I think you're only here for one night and we should be spendin' that one night with our daughter."

She doesn't say anything for a second, just watches him thoughtfully until he finally meets her gaze again.

"Joel Miller, are you gettin' laid?"

He almost chokes on his whiskey, unable to stop himself from snorting as he shakes his head and peers at her with that fond look he's always given her, the one that lets her know that despite everything, he fucking adores her. She leans a bit closer, tilting her head a bit more with intrigue.

"Seriously, you seein' anyone?" she seems genuinely interested, eyes alight with curiosity, "You got someone new?"

Before he can say anything - before he even really knows what to say - Sarah has reappeared at the bar, hats in hand. He looks down at them and raises an eyebrow as Mish grabs hers, or rather his, the ratty old brown one he used to wear sometimes in the eighties. She grins and winks as if to say yeah, I stole it, so what?

"Okay well, purple cowboy hat girl is currently holding her friend's hair while she throws up on the sidewalk," Sarah sighs, placing her own atop her head.

Joel and Mish groan simultaneously, "Been there," they both say at the same time, catching each other's eye before Joel turns his attention back to his drink, almost gone now. She doesn't ask him anything else, but he knows this conversation is far from over.

--

Sarah drops them off at his place, promising to be back in a bit with the much anticipated junk food - no point in them all going together. Joel almost tells her not to go, his heart in his throat as he and Mish climb out of the car. He can't believe how desperate he suddenly is to not be alone with her. But he can't bring himself to say anything.

Coward.

She walks into the house first, almost like she's leading him into the lion's den. There's no escaping her questions now, no more running away from the inevitable. He has to tell her before it's too late. The front door closes behind them and they stand frozen for a moment, not speaking, not even really looking at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.

"So how 'bout showin' me those boxes?" she finally asks, turning to give him a smile.

They make their way up the stairs to the guest room, Joel's anxiety reaching new levels when they pass by his bedroom. He not so subtly grabs the knob and pulls the door closed, tries to pretend he doesn't notice Mish eyeing him as he does it.

The guest room is still pretty bare bones, only a bed and dresser occupying the space, along with about half a dozen cardboard boxes. He's been meaning to do it up for when Sarah comes to stay, do some decorating, but he's never been good at that kind of stuff - Mish and Sarah were always the creative ones.

They crouch on the floor together and Joel watches as Mish pops open the first box, digging her hand inside and immediately coming out with a framed photo of Sarah's kindergarten graduation.

"Aw, look," she murmurs, thumbing the glass lightly and turning it toward him, "Little bean."

"She was so excited you came," he says with a smile, "It was all she talked about for months."

Mish smiles back sadly, eyeing the photograph one more time before placing it on the floor. She reaches in again and comes out with another framed photo, this one of an even younger Sarah being pushed on a swing by Joel. She's probably almost two, chubby legs poking out through the holes of the swing as she giggles in wonder, Joel standing behind, squinting against the sun.

"I've always loved this one," she says quietly, showing it to him, "Always wanted a copy to keep."

"We can make that happen," he takes it from her and looks down at it himself, feeling a mixture of emotions flutter in his heart at his much younger self - freshly twenty - pushing his little girl. He'd been on his own for a while at that point; he can see the tiredness in his expression, the loneliness.

"Still mad I missed all that," she murmurs, sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, "Hate myself so much sometimes."

He's not sure what to say, just puts the picture back down and reaches in for another one - Sarah's high school graduation this time. It's a backyard photo, one taken at the barbecue they'd had with about thirty people all crammed into one frame. There are smiles all around, beer bottles raised, and Sarah in the center wearing that beautiful purple dress she'd spent almost a year working on. Mish and Joel stand on either side of her, frozen in a moment of laughter.

What the camera didn't catch was that behind that purple dress, they were holding hands.

"What a party that was, huh?" Mish glances up at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes sparkling with nostalgia, "You remember?"

He smiles softly, "I remember."

--

The arrangement started in '03.

They hadn't seen each other in about three years when she showed up on his doorstep in the summer of '96. She'd been in and out of their lives before then, usually called every other week to check in and talk to Sarah but rarely ever showed her face. Sarah barely knew her but had a love for her that burned so deep that Joel couldn't say half the things he wanted to. Couldn't tell his daughter that her mother was unpredictable and unreliable, that she'd disappeared for almost two years after Sarah had been born, hadn't checked in once, had only begun to show up again in 1988 when Sarah was almost three. And then one day the calls just stopped coming and he had no other choice but to tell her the truth. She was only eight.

Mish showing up again out of the blue when Sarah was eleven was not something they could have ever predicted. He was angry. She was sorry. She'd been to a facility, had been seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist for a solid chunk of time and was on medication. Sarah slapped her across the face and sprinted barefoot down the street until her toes were bloody and she couldn't run anymore. Joel found her and cradled her in his arms like he'd done when she was a baby, promised he'd make Mish go away if that's what Sarah wanted.

It was not what she wanted. She wanted a mom. She wanted her mom. She wanted them to be together.

After that, all they could do was try and heal.

And Mish tried. She did. She was ready. Joel was willing to listen. Sarah forgave, slowly. By Christmas of '97 they were living together again. They'd put their wedding rings back on.

But it couldn't last.

"Maybe this just isn't meant to work," she'd whispered to him tearfully on their back patio on a rainy day in March of '98, head in her hands, "I'm better in some ways but worse in others. I'm not meant for this kinda life, Joel. I just can't stay still anymore."

"Maybe we aren't meant to work," he'd told her firmly, "But Sarah needs you, Michelle. You can't just keep coming back into her life and then disappearing. If you do, you're never gonna see her again."

"I know," she'd whispered, quiet and scared, "I know, Joel. And I won't, I'll never do that to her ever again. But I just..." she'd hung her head, tears streaming down her face, "I just don't know what to do."

He'd suddenly felt a flash of deja vu, a reminder of a moment similar to this one twelve years earlier, when he'd held her just like this while she'd cried in his arms, hopelessness raking through both their trembling forms in the downpour.

"They'll kill me, Joel. They're gonna kill me. How am I supposed to be a mom? This can't be real. This isn't happening. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Mish. But I'm with you, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere. You got me. I don't care what they think, what they wanna do. It's just you and me, you hear me?"

"You and me, Joel. Just you and me."

She left Joel and the life they'd cultivated in the year since she came back, but she didn't leave Sarah, not this time. She kept up with regular visits, called often, tried her best to be a mother in the only ways she knew how. Eventually Joel stopped worrying she'd disappear again, and she didn't. Sarah and Mish's relationship wasn't an easy one, especially during those first few years of being reconnected, but eventually they were mother and daughter again. The way it always should have been. They'd go on adventures together, road trips and concerts and trips to amusement parks, everything they could to make up for lost time.

As for she and Joel, they became friends. For the first time in a long time they talked again, really talked. They got to know each other from scratch without the pressures of trying to be people they weren't; she'd come to stay every so often and she'd be more than welcome in their home, a reassuring presence to Sarah and a comforting one for him. There were times he almost kissed her again, almost embraced her the way they used to embrace, but then he'd remind himself that they didn't work. Couldn't work. He'd push the feelings down and love her from a distance, the only way he could.

She came to stay for Sarah's graduation in '03. They had a big party, invited everyone they knew, got very drunk. The inevitable finally happened, something they'd been skirting around for the past few years every time they saw each other, the attraction and tension building and building the longer they went without admitting that they still wanted one another. They'd been through the ringer together and came out the other side and still looked at each other like they had in high school. It was only a matter of time.

They fucked all night and into the morning.

"Oh my god," he'd groaned into her ear, naked bodies splayed against each other in bed, entwined together for the first time in almost seven years, "I missed that. Jesus fuck, I missed that."

It was only meant to be that one time, a celebration of some sort that happened unexpectedly but never again. That was the case until she came back in '06, still single, still beautiful, and he couldn't help himself. They both couldn't help themselves.

The arrangement was simple: whenever they reunited with each other and they were both single, both wanted it, they'd have sex.

It worked. And it was good, so fucking good. Every time. They were wild with it, felt younger than they'd ever been whenever they were tangled up in Joel's bed, on the couch, in the shower. They tried new things together and had more fun than they'd ever had when they were actually in a relationship. Each time it was like they were playing pretend; pretending for a short while that their everyday problems didn't exist, nothing else existed but them. Just them - just this moment.

The last time he saw Mish was four years ago. He'd been fresh out of his last relationship, the only relationship that had really meant something to him since his marriage. Tess was lovely, beautiful and funny and exactly the person he'd needed after those tumultuous years with Mish; someone calm and collected, stable and secure. They were just friends first, for a while, but eventually developed a sexual relationship that was only ever meant to be casual. After about a year she'd confessed her feelings and he'd thought, what the hell, I might as well try. Unfortunately, his what the hell attitude had been a steady feature of their entire relationship, and he'd never been able to fully be what she'd needed.

It was his fault it ended, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling heartbroken over it. And when Sarah and Mish had visited she'd dressed his wounds in the only way she really knew how - sex. The sex was always good with Mish, regardless of the situation. It was always what they needed. But it could only ever be sex because their personalities were never meant to blend; she was flighty and wild and needed space - he was steady and serious and enjoyed the comforts of home. And those early years were something he'd never get back, something he still blamed her for, and she knew it. It could never work, as much as they may have tried early on.

She'd been on the cusp of a new relationship, this guy Alvin who she'd met in Philadelphia, but nothing was set in stone yet and she wanted Joel to feel good.

"Nothing else matters right now," she'd whispered in the darkness of their old bedroom, the one he'd shared with her countless times over the past twenty years, "It's just you and me, Joel. It's always been you and me."

"You and me, Mish," he'd repeated, hands firm against her bare back as she slowly began to ride him, "Just us, just you and me."

--

He's still staring at the picture of their younger selves when her hand slowly comes down to touch one of his. He swallows tightly, feels her eyes on him, senses her moving closer.

"Mish," he whispers; an acknowledgement? A warning?

He feels a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, and then she's kissing him again. It's different than it was at the bar, much less soft, less reserved. She moans into his mouth as the picture falls to the floor, pushes him down so he's laying flat and then throws a leg over his thighs. She situates herself in his lap in the span of about five seconds and he barely has any time to register what's even happening.

But when he does... he's not happy.

"Stop," he mumbles against her mouth, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and carefully pull her off of him. Her brows furrow in confusion as he slides her away and sits back up, kneels and then stands with a groan. His fucking knees.

"Why?" she asks, peering up at him from the floor.

"'Cause... 'cause nothin'," he lies, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wincing as his bones crack from being on the floor in such an odd position, "Nothin', I'm just tired."

She follows him up from the floor and onto the bed, seats herself beside him and leans in to mouth gently against his neck, hot and wet, "That's okay, baby. I can do all the work."

"I said no, Mish," he repeats, standing up again and walking away from the bed, "I don't want to."

"Why?" she repeats, adamant now.

He splutters, kicking his feet and not meeting her gaze, "Sarah'll be back soon, there's no time."

"Time has never been an issue before, you know that more than anybody."

"I just don't want you right now, alright?" it comes out much louder and angrier than he'd intended, "Jesus Christ, Mish."

That stops her short, the room plunging into silence as she stares at him from her place on the edge of the bed. Her lips begin to tremble, hands coming to wring together in her lap uncomfortably. She shakes her head slowly, tears welling in her wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaky, "I'm sorry, Joel."

God dammit. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

With a sigh he walks back over to the bed, sitting down beside her again - but not as close this time. She continues to stare forward, still tugging at her hands as tears slowly start to make their way down her cheeks. He feels a familiar pang of pity in his heart, the urge to comfort her like he always has, hold her close and kiss her softly. But he doesn't do that; instead, he places a hand on hers to halt her movements, squeezes them gently.

"You wanna know why it didn't work out with Alvin, Joel?" she asks quietly.

"Why?"

She takes a shaky breath, "He had a wife. A fuckin' wife and three kids. Young kids, still in school, still livin' at home."

"Jesus," he mutters.

"And you wanna know how I found out? Because one night he was sayin' her name when he was fuckin' me; Sharon. Fuckin' Sharon. Repeatin' it over and over without even realizing. And then he had the audacity to act like he didn't know what the hell I was talkin' about." The tears are flowing steadily now, staining her cheeks and dripping down onto their locked hands, "I did some diggin', found out his real name, found his whole other life. I've been a fuckin' mistress for four years and had no clue."

"Michelle..." he breathes.

"Don't call me that," she snaps, turning her face away from him and trying to reign the tears back in but failing miserably, voice coming out in sobs now, "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me? I get that I'm a shitty person. I know I fucked up a lot in my life. I mean, maybe I don't deserve love, 'cause why the hell can't I fuckin' find it? Why does nobody want me?"

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing her hands tighter, "Don't say shit like that, don't think that way."

"But it's true," she cries, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to her face, "I just needed to be wanted again, Joel. Just for a night, and now you don't even want me."

"That's- that's not true, Mish, come on."

"You literally just said the words two minutes ago," she's suddenly inconsolable, tears streaming down her face as she sobs beside him, "You don't want me, no one wants me."

His arms come up to wrap around her, pull her close to him as she cries harder. He doesn't know what the fuck to do, how to be what she needs without being what she needs. It's an impossible position to be in; how can he just walk out the door and leave her sitting there like this? Leave her so sad, so broken?

"Joel, I need this," she whispers, peering up at him through her wet lashes and leaning her head forward to rest against his shoulder, "Please. I need you."

God. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? How the fuck can he say no when she's looking at him like that, begging for him?

"Please," she repeats, turning her head and pressing a wet kiss to the skin of his collarbone, "Please, Joel, please," her kisses slowly move up to his neck, warm and safe and familiar. His eyes start to close, lips parting as she keeps going, "It's just us, it's you and me."

Just us, you and me.

"Stay here," he finally breathes, thumbing the skin of her hip reassuringly, "Just - just stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

He finds himself thirty seconds later just standing in his bedroom, unmoving, unsure, thoughts going a mile a minute. He breathes in and out slowly, tries to calm the anxiety threatening to burst through the seams of his very being. What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing right now?

He goes through the motions without really feeling or understanding them. Goes to the bathroom and relieves himself, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for too long. Heads back to his bedroom and just stands there again, heart pounding. She's waiting for him. Time is passing and he's just standing there.

"Joel?" he hears her call out, voice still thick with tears.

He does not want her to follow him in here. He does not want to have sex in this bed.

With shaky steps he walks over to his nightstand and tugs it open, sees the box of condoms. Stares at them. Stares at them so long that she calls out again.

"Joel? You comin'?"

He feels like he's underwater, ears ringing as his hand trembles on the handle of the drawer, itching to just slam it closed again. What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

And then he sees it.

He'd completely forgotten it was there, has been doing his best this entire night to not think about you that he's already managed to forget what happened last night. But he remembers now. He reaches down, hand suddenly completely steady, and pulls the gold chain to entwine around his fingers. It's like he's touching you in a way, feeling you, sensing you - your tears, your sadness, your anger, your insecurities - all wrapped up in this one little cross.

He thumbs it carefully, eyes softening, anxiety ebbing away as the seconds pass. He pictures your lovely face this morning, all sleepy and pretty and perfect in the glow of the early sunrise, the way your hair framed your face, the way you bit your lip shyly when you told him what was on your mind.

He hears footsteps in the hall, knows she's coming, but he doesn't care. Just keeps standing there with his hand curled around your crucifix and warmth filling his chest.

He hears the door open, hears her step inside.

"I can't," he says softly, before she can speak.

Silence. Then -

"What's that?"

"It's..." he closes his fist around the crucifix and then shuts the drawer slowly, still looking down at it. When he finally brings his head up he sees Mish standing near the side of the bed, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

He swallows tightly, "There's someone else, Mish."

He watches the realization dawn on her face, the confusion fading and acceptance flooding her features. She nods slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You coulda just said that," she breathes, closing her eyes, "Why didn't you just say?"

He doesn't reply, doesn't know what to say. Or rather, knows what to say but can't say it because then it'll make it real. And he's still so fucking scared for it to be real.

Mish slowly walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, taking a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Feel like a fuckin' idiot," she mumbles; she seems okay now, nowhere near as hysterical as she'd been before.

"You're not an idiot," he murmurs. God, he should have just fucking told her. He should have said something.

"So, who is she?" she asks quietly.

"She's..." he swallows again, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, "She's a girl I met a little while ago." A few weeks ago, he mentally corrects. Almost a month. Barely any time at all.

She clocks that. "Girl? Or woman?"

"....Girl."

"How old?"

"Twenty one."

"Jesus," he's not sure what she's thinking when he can't see her face, not sure if she's angry or disgusted or just surprised, "I mean, wow. That's... that's young, Joel."

"I know."

"Never known you to go even ten years lower."

"I know."

Silence again. He's waiting for her to ask the question, the one he knows is coming, the one he's been dreading every since he got that text from Sarah on Wednesday. The one that will force him to admit what he's so desperately been trying to bury.

"So... is it just sex? Or is it..." she trails off for a few seconds, "Is it more?"

There it is.

"I don't know," he murmurs, putting his face in his hands and hunching over the side of the bed with a groan, "I don't know what it is but she's... she's in my head, ya know? She's everywhere, can't stop fuckin' thinkin' about her." The crucifix digs into his cheek, probably making an imprint in his skin, "She's so fuckin' young but, God, Mish, she's so fuckin' sweet. I wanna... I wanna take care of her, ya know? But-" he feels the tears flooding his eyes, tries to swallow his feelings as best he can, "I'm just.. I can't..."

"You're in over your head," she acknowledges softly, "You don't know what you're doin'."

"I don't."

"And that scares the fuck outta you, huh?"

"Pretty much."

They don't say anything else for a few moments, both absorbing the revelation in silence and neither really knowing what else to say about it. This night has gone in a direction that neither were prepared for and he's not sure they'll be able to fix it before Sarah gets back. Which reminds him...

"You'd think Sarah woulda been back by now."

Mish snorts, a welcome sound in the middle of so much tension. He turns around to look at her, finds her doing the exact same thing.

"I told her to give us forty five minutes to an hour, tops," she says with a half smile.

Of course she did.

--

Mish decides to get a cab back to the motel she and Sarah booked. He doesn't argue. He knows it's for the best, knows there will be another, better conversation some time in the future and that despite everything, they'll see each other again.

"She's lucky to have you," she tells him softly at the front door, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He can hear the sincerity in her words, knows she means it. "You'll take care of her, Joel. Like you take care of everyone."

He just closes his eyes, pulls her in closer and lets the tears fall.

--

Sarah gets back with the food, doesn't question where Mish is; she must have texted her and told her she wouldn't be here. There's no awkwardness or questions, just the same old familiarity and love as Sarah pops the first DVD into the ancient player they've had forever and settles in beside him on the couch. They only half-watch it, continuously getting distracted by each other's dumb commentary and random anecdotes about the past. This is what he wanted tonight to be. Just this.

He tries his best to be present with Sarah, but by the time they're halfway through the second film he can't stop thinking about you. He'd spent so much of today trying to push thoughts of you away and now your face is suddenly all he can see whenever he blinks, your soft giggles and whimpers echoing in his ears. He wonders what you're doing, if you're having a nice time with your friend, if you're being careful like he'd told you to be. You'd said this was your first time going out and he just hopes you're safe. Your crucifix sits reassuringly in the pocket of his jeans, almost like a part of you is still here with him.

He excuses himself to use the bathroom and sends you a quick text:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

He feels the urge to press a kiss to his phone and wonders when the hell he got so damn soft. He can practically hear Mish's voice telling him you've always been soft, dummy. She'd be right.

--

They both wake up the next morning still snuggled up on the couch, Sarah on one end and him on the other. He yawns and stretches, groans when he feels a searing pain in his lower back; fuck, he shouldn't have slept on the couch.

"Old man," Sarah mocks quietly with a glint in her eye, and he playfully slaps her leg.

He checks his phone when Sarah heads to the bathroom, hopes maybe you'll have replied to him when you got in last night, but there's nothing there. He frowns but lets logic soothe him, reminding himself that you were probably too tired when you got back and fell asleep right away. He sends you another text, just to be sure:

You get home ok? Let me know x

He'll see you soon for your lesson anyway.

After breakfast he walks Sarah out onto the front step, hand holding hers tightly, almost afraid to let go. She smiles up at him sadly and squeezes back, a silent promise.

"I'll visit again real soon, Dad," she says quietly, "Sooner than last time. I'll bring Jude too, y'all can watch football together."

He smiles with watery eyes, "I'm countin' on it, kiddo."

"You're not lonely, are you?" she suddenly asks, expression one of love and concern, "You got people here, right?"

Your face crosses his mind again, your lovely smile, that little line between your brows, "I'm not lonely," he reassures her softly, "Promise."

He means it.

They hug each other tenderly, basking in one last moment together before they inevitably have to pull away. She walks to her car and turns back with one final wave, tears glistening in her eyes. He waves back and then heads back inside the house quickly before she can see what a mess he is, hands coming up to cover his eyes on the other side of the door as he pulls himself together.

And then, just like that, he's alone again.

--

You don't show up to your lesson.

His first thought is that you're still asleep, probably hungover from last night and desperately in need of some rest. He doesn't blame you, has had more bad hangovers than he can even count. He checks in with you anyway, hoping he'll hear back soon when you wake up.

Another hour passes; he's already cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed up the popcorn lining the couch and living room floor, rearranged the DVDs, and suddenly the boxes upstairs in the guest room are calling his name. Anything to make the time pass, anything to distract himself from the fact that he still hasn't heard from you.

He texts you again after two hours, after he's finished unpacking two boxes. He just sends some question marks this time. It's around noon now and he keeps trying to convince himself that you're just sleeping, probably still passed out in bed with leftover alcohol buzzing through your veins. The thought makes him wish he was there with you, taking care of you, bringing you glasses of water and cuddling with you until you feel better.

It's mid afternoon when he starts to question whether or not you even got home. He knows you're not home home, that you'd gone to an Airbnb with your friend for the weekend, but he has no idea where it is and if you're even there. What if something happened on the night out? What if you got lost or got too fucked up to figure out how to get back? What if someone you didn't know took you back with them?

He feels sick to his stomach. This time he does the only rational thing he feels he can do - he calls you. He sits on the edge of his bed, toes tapping against the hardwood floor as he waits for you to pick up, but you don't. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Same thing.

He texts you again, but something tells him you won't be reading them any time soon.

--

He leaves the house to clear his head, anxiously tapping on the wheel as he drives around the neighborhood. He passes by your parents' house a few times, eyeing the property and trying his best to see past the ridiculous fence they have blocking off the place. He makes out a police car in the driveway and almost has a panic attack before he remembers that your father is a cop and that's just the vehicle he drives.

He calls and texts you a few more times as the evening comes around. He pours himself some whiskey and tries to calm himself down, breathes in and out, practices the exercises he's had to depend on throughout most of his life. He's always had an anxiety problem, has been on and off medication for it for years. He briefly considers popping an Ativan before realizing that he probably shouldn't mix it with alcohol.

The alcohol messes with his head a bit as darkness falls. He starts to wonder if maybe you did get back safe, just with someone else, someone new. Maybe you met someone, had a connection, took them home and let them be the one to fuck you for the first time. Maybe the reason you're not reaching out is because you're afraid of what he'll say, afraid he'll be angry.

While the thought makes him feel sick and sad, he's even sicker and sadder about not knowing where the fuck you are. He sends you a text to reiterate this, hoping you'll read it and understand:

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

He's already unpacked all the boxes, peppered photographs and music memorabilia all over his house as the day came to a close, and now he has nothing else to do but just sit and wait. So he waits. And waits. And waits.

You still don't reply.

He calls you over and over again, wondering what the fuck he's going to do. He can't in good conscious just let this go on, just stop contacting you and let you come back to him on your own. What if something bad really did happen? What if you're really fucked up somewhere? What if someone took advantage of you? He can't just sit idly by and wait.

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, feels tears sting his eyes every time he comes up with a new concept as to where you are, what could have happened. All he wants is to have you here with him, warm and soft in his bed, close in all the ways he needs you.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

He's scaring himself the longer he thinks about where you could be, knows he has to take action. He decides that if he still hasn't heard from you by tomorrow morning, he'll tell somebody. Whether it be the police or your parents, it doesn't really matter - they're one and the same.

He sends you one last text before the whiskey puts him to sleep:

Please.

--

The doorbell wakes him up. At first he thinks maybe he's hearing things, especially when he tiredly unlocks his phone and sees that it's three in the morning, but then it rings again. And again. Over and over like someone is pressing the button repeatedly. He sits up in bed with a jolt and swings his legs over the side, heart racing as he practically sprints down the stairs.

He turns on the light, squinting with tired and bleary eyes through the frosted glass along the side of the door. He can make out something pink and his eyes widen. He grabs the handle and tugs the door open, only for his body to immediately collide with someone else's, a beautiful girl in a pink dress.

It's you. His beautiful girl. His angel. Standing there almost completely unable to hold yourself upright as you lean against him, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. He holds you close, momentarily frozen in shock.

"Are you okay?"

You're so out of it. He takes you to the couch and you can barely open your eyes, can barely get words out as you flop drunkenly against the cushions. He can't tell if you're drunk or high or both, trying his best to get your attention, desperately asking what you took, where you've been. It's terrifying to see you like this, so completely not yourself, loose and uninhibited in the worst way. You tell him you came here with Tasha and he waves her inside, hoping she can help shed some light on what the fuck happened to you.

Tasha is something else. She stands her ground, doesn't back down when he clearly tries to intimidate her, consistently tries to get past him and reach for you despite his attempts to block her. He's angry, so fucking angry that she could let this happen to you. How long have you been like this? How long has this "night out" been going on? Did it turn into a fucking bender?

"She knows what you've been doing, you asshole." The words mean nothing to him, he has no idea what the fuck she's even talking about. They're clearly both wasted - you more than her - and have somehow wound up at his house at three in the morning by some miraculous volition. He's not letting you leave with her, that's for sure.

Then you say the same thing to him and he's beyond confused, waiting to be let in on whatever sick fucking joke is being played on him right now. What do they think he's been doing? What do they think they know? What have their intoxicated brains convinced themselves of?

And then the other shoe drops.

"We saw you kiss someone else."

That feeling he'd had yesterday - that sensation of being underwater - returns in full force. He stares at you; not Tasha, you. Because as soon as she says it your eyes tear away from him to stare at the floor, lips trembling in sadness, hands shaking beneath Tasha's arms. He can see it in your expression, in your body language despite the alcohol - you're fucking heartbroken. You can't even look at him.

He tries to explain but the words aren't coming out right; he's sure he sounds absolutely pathetic as he just stands there in the middle of the living room, stumbling over his words like the absolute fool he is. You still don't look at him. You don't say anything, and it kills him.

That's when he realizes that Tasha is not the one in the wrong here. It's him. He's the one who deserves to be shouted at, intimidated, made to feel small. He's the one who fucked up. It's him.

And then - if the situation hadn't already been bad enough - Tasha informs him that you'd seen Sarah leaving this morning. His eyes go wide, heart racing like a steam engine in his chest as he shakes his head and wonders how the fuck this could be happening right now. The past few days he's been so unsure about letting you know the real him, didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell you - and now he has no choice. No choice but to drop a bomb on you in this sad and drunken state, otherwise leave you believing that he's been doing god knows what with god knows who.

"That was my daughter."

You register the words and finally look at him, and his heart swells three sizes in his chest when your gazes meet. Just for a moment you don't look as sad, don't look as broken. You peer into his eyes and he thinks for a moment that maybe you see him, really see him, for the first time. It's both terrifying and incredible and he doesn't know how he manages to get the words out, but he does.

He knows now what he has to do.

He has to tell you. He has to tell you everything.

Tasha apologizes and helps you back out to the cab. He watches her place you carefully inside, watches as you turn your head to look out the back window, still peering at him with that look on your face that he can't really explain. He stands and waits until you've disappeared down the street before going back inside, where he immediately collapses onto the couch, exhausted.

He reaches inside his pocket and tugs out your crucifix, brings it up to his neck with trembling hands and manages to latch it around his neck. He palms the cross, presses it into the bare skin at his collarbone.

She's safe, he thinks to himself, she's safe and that's all that matters.

--

In the morning, as soon as he wakes up, he sends you a text:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

He wants to cry, thinking about how much he hurt you. He wouldn't blame you for wanting this to just be over now, to move on and pretend like you never even met him that day on his front step. He feels so fucking ashamed of himself, angry for not telling Mish the truth from the beginning, horrified that you'd seen him in a moment of weakness like that, a moment of cowardice.

The crucifix stays on his neck throughout his shower and breakfast. He's never been one to wear jewelry, and god knows he's never been one to wear jewelry with religious imagery, but somehow it calms him to have it on, soothes him. His anxiety feels better despite the circumstances, and he's grateful.

His phone buzzes around eleven and the force at which he picks it up almost sends it flying across the room. His brow furrows when he sees a text from an unknown number:

hey it's tasha. sorry about last night. that was a shitshow. she's awake and feeling better, just wanted you to know.

She didn't have to do that and he knows it.

Thank you. I'm glad she has you. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, I was just really worried about her.

that's ok. i know you're a good guy. she knows it too.

Do you, though? Do you really still think of him as being someone you can trust, someone you can talk to? Someone you can give yourself to completely?

i'm gonna send you the address of the airbnb. i think you should come talk to her.

The address follows and he puts it into his maps app; it's not too far, he can make it there in about forty minutes.

Thank you so much Tasha

text when ur here, i'll let you in.

--

He sits in his truck for a lot longer than he needs to after pulling up to the house. He knows he has to tell you everything now, that you're going to want answers and that he'll give them to you. But he's made a discovery in the past twelve hours that has his head reeling:

He wants to tell you. He wants you to know all about him. Suddenly, he doesn't mind that he's old and washed up and pathetic. He wants you to know that, wants you to see the real him, who he really is. The unpretty, uncharming reality of his mediocre life. He isn't sure that you'll want it, that you'll want him, but what he's sure of is that he's tired of pretending.

What Mish had said on Friday night - "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me?" - it had resonated with him in a way he hadn't been expecting. He knows that feeling, has been feeling it for years without actually saying it aloud because admitting it was too painful, too scary.

He's been putting on a front for his entire life. First, to his parents, then to Mish, then Sarah, then the select few women who'd come in and out of his life, then Tess, and now you. And he's tired. He's so fucking tired of pretending to be someone else. For the first time in a long time, he actually wants to be him.

I'm here.

Tasha opens the door to let him inside. The house is pretty cozy, probably one of the more inexpensive ones you both could find. He notes the leftover snacks littering the table and couch, the empty wine glasses. He hopes you had fun here, at least for a little while. Before he fucking ruined it.

"She's asleep," Tasha says, closing the door behind him and ushering him inside, "I wanna talk to you for a sec, before you go in."

He nods and she gestures toward the couch for him to sit. He takes his place on the edge, knees together as he looks up at her and waits for her to speak.

"I'm her best friend," she says firmly, hands on her hips - she means business, "I've known her for three years now and I know her better than anyone."

He nods slowly.

"She's really coming into herself right now," Tasha continues, "She's making big discoveries, figuring out who she is and what she wants. You know that."

"I do."

"And... well, we both know that what she wants most is you."

He swallows then, feels his heart begin to pound, clenching his fists at his knees.

"This thing with your ex, is it over?"

"Yes," he says immediately, "She'll always be my daughter's mother, she'll always be my friend, but that part of our relationship is over."

"And you mean that?"

"I mean it."

She assesses him and slowly nods, then curls her finger and urges him to stand back up. He does, suddenly towering over her in the small living room.

"First door on the left," she tells him, then walks to the front door, "I'll give you some space."

She's gone before he has the chance to thank her.

He slowly makes his way down the hallway, step by step. He reaches the door, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the promises he made to himself flood through his mind. His past, his present, and his future... the future he sees with you.

He touches his pocket, feels for your crucifix.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. For her, I can do this.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi! I can't get Aegon out of my head and I was thinking:

He has a hard week ahead, full of meetings, important nobles arriving at king's landing, public appearances and even a ball maybe. Wife knows he's insecure and she promises him he'll be rewarded if he behaves and keep up all the rules.

And he is outstanding. He does everything and more. People even comment about it between themselves, surprised at him. Of course he's looking forward the reward, but mainly he wants wife to be proud of him, and it's so lovely to see him do his best to do everything right.

I can only think about the smile making his face glow when wife says she's so proud of him and grant him his reward.

I love this anon!! Everyone else look!! Take notes!! We can have happy Aegon on occasion!!! Also I am sorry in advance I went WAY off topic at the start but I promise this concept is actually there!! I just couldnt stop writing the background stuff because himbo sub!aegon is one of my favourite things we talk about.

This isn’t too explicit but there’s definitely some NSFW vibes and also very clearly sub!Aegon so I’ll put a cut in just to be safe :))

So firstly, I think this works better if you only married him after he became king? Maybe he was always supposed to marry Helena but then once he rules for a few weeks his mother realises she needs to find him a wife that will take control and guide him.

So needless to say when he first marries you he’s not exactly excited because his mother has all but spelled out to him that he’s marrying someone to control him.

But then he gets to know you and he’s so shocked by how you seem to really like him and you’re kind and you listen to him and most importantly you never ever make him feel stupid. The first time you praise him he literally bursts into tears because it just means so much to him.

For the first few weeks of marriage you actually just try to form a friendship with him. You want him to know you care, and you want to actually form a partnership with him and not just blindly do whatever his mother asks of you. I think the most important thing is actually just speaking as bluntly as you can? Aegon can't stand how everyone seems to be dancing around him with how they speak.

About three weeks after your marriage you walk into your shared quarters (that neither of you actually sleep in yet) and find aegon on the bed, waiting for you. You're supposed to try for an heir again, as is required but you're tired and he always looks so emotionless so instead you simply walk in, pour a glass of wine and say, "Your mother would like us to give her an heir tonight, but she's a cunt so I can't really be arsed to make her pleased with me."

He bursts out laughing when he hears this and asks for a glass of wine. You end up just sitting together and chatting and Aegon truly cant believe he's had someone who could have been his closest friend and confidant for weeks and he didnt even notice. Aegon has never had a friend before, ever. Almost instantly he's in your shared quarters every night and requesting your present not to warm his bed but just to chat.

That's when you realise how well Aegon functions when he's being guided? When you ask him to do things and he does and then you praise him he's in a good mood the entire evening. You start looking for excuses to find things for him to do. You start to ask him for specific wines or treats for the following evening just because you know he'll get it and when you thank him he will smile so wide it's adorable.

Very quickly you fall into a dynamic when you're very clearly in charge and Aegon loves it. He starts to ask you for advice or how things work and every single time he's shocked when you don't belittle him.

When things do get sexual again, he's the submissive and he truly loves it so so so much. Gone are the days of going to brothels. He doesn't even think about it anymore. How could he? He has the most lovely wife.

(Sidenote: I think aegon LOVES to call you wife? Not in a mean way but because he just loves that you're his wife and he wants to say it over and over. He'll greet you with 'good morning wife' or 'morning my lovely wife' and so on, he just loves it. Occasionally you'll respond with 'yes husband' and he always just BEAMS at you when he hears it).

So anyway this is my very very very long winded way of saying that he's loves having a partnership with you and being married to you and he always wants to help you and please you.

You start to ask some members of the small council about upcoming events and plans so that you know what to expect and how to help them with Aegon. At first they're confused, but very quickly they realise that Aegon will do all of his duties to perfection if they tell you about it beforehand (eventually you just get added to small the council but not immediately because Allicent fights against that tooth and nail).

So when you hear about all the upcoming events and appearances for this week, you know you're going to need to have some chats with Aegon about it because he hates this sort of thing. The little shit actually pouts when you tell about an upcoming ball. You have to grab him by his hair and make him kneel before he finally relents and promises to actually show up for the ball and not just spend the night at an inn.

You know all his reluctance stems mainly from insecurity, so you're gentle with him when you tell him about all the events. Maybe this is the first chunk of events after you and him became close? As a result he's never actually gone through all this with you actually at his side before.

You offer to attend everything with him, not just the ball as is required. You can barely even finish the sentence before you're being tackled to the bed and thanked over and over again. Suddenly he is much much happier about all the events, cause his wife will come with! Not only that but because everything is formal he'll get to see you in pretty dresses.

Needless to say, people are very very confused during the first event because Aegon is behaving like a completely different person. Sure he still rolls his eyes on occasion and cuts people off, but as a whole he is kind and respectful and listens to people and doesn't even drink whatsoever never mind get drunk.

Every time he does something that he knows is following the rules he’ll glance back at you like he’s trying to confirm that you have indeed seen how good he’s being and of course you always respond by smiling back at him and it never fails to lift his mood.

And yeah part of it is because he wants to be rewarded and part of it is because he wants to avoid punishment but honestly mostly it’s just him wanting to feel like you’re pleased with him? Sure the rewards are great but absolutely nothing will ever come close to seeing you smile at him because he’s done well.

At the end of every day he kneels for you and tells you about what he did and all the ways he ensured to follow the rules. You know all of this already of course, because you were with him the entire day, but you always ask him to recite everything anyway because you know how happy it makes him. Once he’s finished, he crawls into bed and lays against your chest.

For his reward at the end of the week, maybe you arrange a little breakfast in your private quarters? You wake him up by gently palming him through his undergarments until he’s hard and leaking and only then does he wake. When he does wake, his only reaction is to smile and mumble something that you think was supposed to be thanks before nuzzling closer to you and opening his legs. He’s your darling, your play thing, and he’s well are of it. He doesn’t question you whatsoever, lets you do whatever you want with him.

It’s only after he’s cum that you call the servants in to bring the food. He spends the morning curled up like a very pleased cat on your lap while you hand feed him breakfast and little treats.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 6 with Sanji Character Sheet

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

In the wealthier district of Sabaody Archipelago, Zoro perches on the roof of a tall bell tower. From afar, he carefully watches a squad of royal guards lead slaves that are carrying two individuals on their backs all the way from Sabao Dome. They finally stop at a particularly large mansion behind high iron gates and thick brick walls. Inside, there is a polished garden that has thick ivies climbing up to the very top of the marble facade of the main building. The slaves set down the heavy carrier by the entrance, then the Celestial Dragon ushers Sanji into his house. The swordsman sighs in disappointment, silently cursing the situation at hand. He’d hoped to have an opening where he can nab the blonde while they’re outside but it never came to, given how many guards there were.

Law continues to speak on the line of his transponder snail.

Law

Don't do anything stupid. Wait for us and just keep tabs on the line.

Zoro

No. No matter what you do, stay away. I don’t think they’ve linked you guys with Curls yet and I'd rather it stay that way. Have you got the rest of the Heart Pirates with you?

Law

They arrived about five minutes ago. They’re…not happy to say the least.

Zoro hears several familiar voices in the background, begging the swordsman for forgiveness and crying out for Sanji to come back safely.

Law

So what now, swordsman? How do you plan to infiltrate the most heavily guarded holiday house in Sabaody Archipelago by yourself? You need my power. It'll take seconds to get him out as soon as I get there.

Zoro

I said, no. Look, these guys don't joke around. If they see you somehow cause trouble for any World Nobles, they'll send an Admiral to hunt you down until you're dead or imprisoned. If I think he's going to do what I think he intends to do, he very well may be turning the entire world against him. 

Law

And…what's that?

Zoro

I think he wants to kill the Celestial Dragon.

—

It was easy enough to hurdle the initial gates, but staying hidden in the enclosed area is proving to be just as difficult as he expected. Zoro can’t rely on staying on the ground as there are too many patrols. And he can’t break inside the mansion from above because that would mean jumping from a far distance and landing with a bang, then dealing with guards on the floor anyway. He decides to push through the only and the most annoying option he has left.

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, he shimmies up the mansion walls, silently praying that the thick ivy vines and trellises that he’s holding onto don't give into his weight. He's never been a fan of stealth missions or anything that required subtlety. Through the windows, he sees Sanji and the Celestial Dragon walking along a corridor and into a room. He follows, traversing through the climbing plants. He stops just under a balcony of the room where he assumed they had gone. He wraps his limbs around one of its support pillars and waits for any sign to see if he was right.

Sanji

Saint Charlos, my dear, I'll need a second to freshen up.

Saint Charlos

Of course! Don’t be long.

There was the sound of a click, presumably the door closing. Zoro jumps and grabs onto the platform above him. He carefully raises himself, enough to peek through the gaps of the balcony’s balustrades. He worriedly looks around when he realises that there’s no one in the open room, so pulls himself up further, shoving a foot between the railing.

Suddenly, a face pokes up in front of him.

Sanji

Hi~

Zoro’s hands slip. He tries to recover himself by flailing his arms around but to no avail. He falls backwards.

Zoro

ACK–!

Sanji snatches him by the collar of his open robe and pulls him back. Zoro takes the opportunity to grab onto the top railing and the blonde’s outstretched arm. He hooks his other foot between another set of balustrades, finally able to get some semblance of stability.

Sanji speaks in a whisper.

Sanji

My god, you are terrible at this. I could hear you shuffling around behind the walls. I had to compensate a lot for you, you know.

Zoro

What–?

Sanji covers his mouth with his other hand, practically slapping it. He tuts, shaking his head.

Sanji

Too loud. But…I can’t help but think how romantic this all is. It’s very sweet of you to put yourself in danger and come all this way, Zoro. You’re not worried about me, are you?

For some reason, the sound of his name coming from the blonde gives Zoro butterflies in his stomach. He blinks dumbly a couple of times, then slaps Sanji’s hand out of his mouth.

Zoro

Curls, we don't have time for this. We have to go now.

Sanji

What, why? I'm in the middle of a heist here. A heist! For money! We're pirates–we like money! Actually, you can clear our way out. At the eastern side there’s a hidden passage that they use as an escape route for emergencies. I've been told it's under a big willow tree. I want you to find it and make sure there are no guards on the way out in two hours. 

Zoro

Two…? Fuck that. Let’s just–

Sanji

You can manage that, can’t you? You know which side is east, right? He won’t know what hit him until we’re way out of here. He’s far too rich to notice anything missing. I’ll have the money and some when I’m through, I promise. 

Zoro

What? Is this really just about…? Curls, this isn't worth it. We can just stick to Traffy’s plan.

Sanji places a finger on Zoro’s lips then gives him a warm smile. The swordsman didn’t realise that the hand that gripped his collar is now splayed over his chest.

Sanji

Shh…too loud. And just…can you just give me a sec to take this in? Please?

Zoro furrows his brows in confusion and looks around, trying to make sense of what the blonde is talking about. Then it dawns on him.

It’s just like what he’d seen on the covers of those romantic books about forbidden love. It’s where the suitor breaks in just for a chance to see his beloved by the windowsill. He played the brave man standing outside on the balcony, trying to win his love’s affection, and Sanji is the girl in a fine dress that he’d been chasing. The cool wind blows calmly through them, giving Zoro the rare chance to see both of Sanji’s eyes up close, bright and blue, looking back at him longingly.

Sanji

Can I try something?

Sanji gently cups both sides of Zoro’s face in his hands then pulls him in, his lips just hovering over Zoro’s own. He pauses there, as if giving the swordsman a chance to back off.

Zoro’s head tells him that he should push him away. By all accounts, with everything that they’ve been through and everything that he’d seen him do, he should be repulsed by this.

But his heart screamed louder at that moment. He finds himself unable to move away. Instead, his open eyelid droops down.

Sanji moves in and places his lips lightly onto his. He parts himself away for a second to look Zoro in the eye, carefully assessing his reaction. When the swordsman tips forwards ever so slightly, he takes the hint. He angles his head and clashes their mouths together.

They start their exchange gently, taking in each other’s sensations. When Sanji teases a tongue between Zoro’s lips, it quickly becomes frantic and desperate. They deepen their kiss as their hands keenly seek and explore each other’s skins, sliding under fabrics of clothing and grasping whatever they can in an attempt to pull themselves closer together.

Finally, Sanji forces himself to pull away before it gets too messy, leaving a trail of spit stretching between their tongues. Zoro couldn’t help but follow the momentum as he craved for more. They both take a second to catch their breaths. The swordsman looks into the blonde’s eyes again, then down to his mouth, trying to process what just happened. The feeling of the softness of his lips and the taste of his tongue on his own linger still.

Zoro

That was…

Sanji smiles fondly and lets out a light-hearted chuckle. He wipes the stain of his lipstick off Zoro’s lips, leaning back slightly to admire the strong features of his face while cleaning any proof of his makeup.

Sanji

Zoro… I…

Zoro slides his hands from Sanji's forearms up to his shoulders, then wraps his hands gently around the back of his neck.

Zoro

Curls…don't kill him.

Sanji's smile fades quickly, then he looks at the swordsman in confusion. His expression turns sour.

Sanji

You're trying to protect them…?

Zoro

No! I–

Sanji pushes Zoro by the chest, jerking himself away, taking backward steps.

Zoro fumbles but manages to catch the top railing of the balcony just in time before he could lose his balance.

Zoro

It's not like that! Curls, I am here because I…. Look, if you kill him, they'll send every Admiral and Warlord to get you and I might not be able to protect you from them. They'll send Mihawk.

Sanji

You think I need your protection? You? The person who's been trying to kill me for–

Suddenly, blood bursts out of his nose, staining the front half of his dress.

Zoro

Woah–!

Sanji

–the fuck?!

Sanji cups his hands over his face and runs inside, looking around clumsily for any piece of cloth to stop the bleeding and to clean himself with. Finally he finds facial tissues stashed on a dresser at the far end of the room.

There was a knock on the door. Zoro was about to hurdle over the railing to help the blonde but quickly skirts the balustrade to hide behind the outer wall instead.

Saint Charlos

Everything okay, princess?

Sanji

Y–yes, dear! Don’t come in yet. I’ll be there soon!

The door bursts open regardless. Saint Charlos saunters in.

Saint Charlos

Are you alright? I thought I heard–why are you bleeding?

Sanji

Of course I am. I’m in the house of a mighty World Noble after all. One has to work up the bravery just to be by your side, Your Grace. Nervous jitters.

Saint Charlos

Ah, I see. There's no shame in admitting it. I am magnificent, especially compared to someone like you. Come on then, my slaves will clean you up.

The Celestial Dragon lays a hand on Sanji’s lower back, ushering him through the door where he came from.

Sanji steals a glance behind him, only to find that there’s no one in the room. He uses his haki but can't seem to sense anyone’s presence. He returns his gaze forwards, feeling torn about the whole ordeal.

—

Thick clouds darken the skies and the rain starts pouring heavily. From under the refuge of an especially large willow tree, Zoro looks up and adjusts his hood frustratingly, trying to keep himself dry. His leg twitches restlessly. He keeps thinking about his last interaction with the blonde and tries to make sense of his own actions. He should hate the guy, but he can no longer deny his attraction to him. When he blinks, he realises that he's running his fingers across his lips, unable to shake the lingering sensation of their shared contact. The worst part is, he didn’t hate anything about it at all, nor did he realise that he had any regrets. He grips onto Wado's handle to keep his hands occupied.

He looks down on the trapdoor located just under the tree trunk, silently praying that the tunnel through it is the correct one that Sanji had instructed him to find. He won't, of course, admit to the other man that he'd gone the complete opposite direction initially. Of course he didn't have much luck looking for any secret passages that way. He just kept wandering around until he found an easy pick royal guard to intimidate so he could show him the way and that's how he ended up here. He almost felt sorry for the poor fellow when he rendered him unconscious and dumped his body somewhere hard to find.

The swordsman quietly wonders to himself if the Sanji had anticipated this kerfuffle, and that's why he had given him two whole hours instead of a shorter duration.

He’s lost track of the exact time, but he’s certain that it’s coming close to the two hour mark that the blonde had set. From afar, Zoro tries to look through the mansion window to check on the grandfather clock he’d been watching, but the rain is so heavy now that it clouded his vision of the landscape, barely able to make the silhouette of the house from where he sat.

The swordsman concentrates on his observation haki, detecting five presences running towards him. He stands and draws two blades, ready to strike.

The group of people come to a halt as soon as they see Zoro up close. They gasp in fear and hold each other's hands. They all have tattered clothes and no shoes, and around their necks are fresh purple and yellow bruises. The swordsman recognises two of the men as the ones that carried the Celestial Dragon and Sanji all the way from Sabao Dome but it looks like they had lost their collars.

When he looks down, he sees a small figure trembling madly behind them. A child with an angry red mark on his chest, shaped like a dragon’s claw, exactly like the one on Sanji’s back. His tan skin isn't textured like normal human skin, but instead, has an iridescent shine to it. On the sides of his face where his ears should be are fins covering a set of gills.

Man 1

That scar and the hair…. It’s–it’s the Demon Warlord–Roronoa Zoro!

Woman 1

What…what do we do? I thought Your Highness said that this path is clear?

Woman 2

The Warlord must be working for the Celestial Dragons and has come to stop us!

The swordsman frowns at that statement. He wonders if he's done the right thing all these years, which is a question that's come up quite a lot since starting this mission to find Corazon.

Man 2

Please–please have mercy! Junior here has never seen light! Just let him go, and w–we’ll stay!

Man 1

No, we've seen what they all do to people like us. We're all dead anyway, but I'd rather die fighting! Son, make a run for it!

The man recklessly charges in with a makeshift shiv in his hand. He lunges at Zoro, who steps aside and trips him with the blunt side of one of his swords. The man falls on his face.

Merchild

Dad, no!!!

The merchild ducks between the other people’s legs and charges angrily. He uses his webbed fists to throw punches against Zoro’s stomach.

Merchild

You hurt him!!

Zoro stares at the small figure and senses that the others are shaking in fear, too frozen and afraid to move. He raises his swords–

The others cry out–

–and sheathes his blades back on his hips. He kneels down to catch the child’s fists with his hands and speaks calmly. 

Zoro

Did the Pirate King free you?

The first man pushes himself up by the elbows on the ground and spits at him.

Man 1

Don’t hurt him!

Merchild

So what if he did?! He’s a kind man and you’re–you’re–

Zoro lets go of the merchild.

Zoro

Your punches are making my belly itchy, that’s all.

The merchild blinks at him, but stops his assault.

Zoro offers a hand to the man he’d tripped.

Zoro

If you’re looking for the way out, it’s just through that trapdoor behind me. We don’t have a lot of time so grab the torch I set up inside and run. Just be careful, I’m not quite certain what you’ll find on the other side of the tunnel.

There was a moment of silence. It takes a second for the group of people to fully realise that the feared Warlord is on their side. The man on the ground takes Zoro’s hand and the swordsman lifts him onto his feet.

Merchild

Dad!!!

The family reunites. They hug affectionately.

Woman 1

You’re…you’re helping us?

Man 2

We know what’s on the other side. I know where we can find a sloop to get out of this island.

Zoro

That’s not a bad idea. That way we can protect you outside too. Just make sure to stay low and quiet until we get back. Do you know where the Pirate King is now?

Woman 2

He said he’s off to the treasure room and then he’d meet us on the way out but…that was about half an hour ago. We thought he’d caught up to us by then so we just ran out ourselves as soon as we could use the rain for cover.

Zoro nods as thanks and proceeds to walk towards the mansion.

—

Not far from the house, a group of royal guards surround a hunched figure wrapped in a large curtain taken from one of the windows inside. The soldiers charge in one after another, relentlessly attacking with weapons on hand. The figure dodges left and right, occasionally taking swipes against them. The figure knocks back clusters of them each time, but in its weakened state, it’s not enough to take them out. They simply stand on their feet again and begin another round of assault.

A royal guard spears right through the figure from behind.

Sanji’s eyes jolt open, the pain that sears through his chest becomes unbearable when the guard twists the weapon while it's inside him then pulls it out forcefully. He screams, his voice breaking. While overwhelmed, he senses another guard somewhere on his left side swing his sword low, slicing the tendons on both his ankles, dropping him to his knees. He readies himself for another direct blow from a guard wielding a heavy mace right in front of him. Over the guard’s shoulder, he sees glints of three lines shine through the mist of the rain.

There was a heavy gush of wind and a flash of green. Sanji was in too much pain to fully understand what's going on but he could hear the clashing of blades and cries for help around him.

Zoro

Three Swords Style…Tatsu Maki!

A powerful whirlwind forms around the swordsman and Sanji, effectively blowing and damaging the royal guards in its wake. They fly up high in the air and fall roughly on the ground, knocking them out. The one who landed right in front of the blonde somehow stayed awake. The guard writhes and attempts to get up, but Sanji throws a heavy punch reinforced with armament haki across his head, cracking his skull. The blonde speaks in a difficult, huffed breath.

Sanji

I…had it all…under control…Shitty Mosshead.

He tips forwards.

Zoro runs, sheathing his swords and catches the blonde before he falls on the ground. When he angles him back, the curtain that wrapped around him slips off his body. The swordsman gapes in horror, shocked at the sight.

Sanji’s dress had been torn to shreds. He’s practically naked under the curtain cover. His heels are nowhere to be found, only having his bare feet to walk with. He has a deep puncture through his upper chest and a nasty cut across his ankles–both fresh and bleeding from the fight just now. The full lengths of his arms are reddened and scratched. One side of his body has a large purple bruise that spans from his ribs right through to his back. He also can’t help but notice evidence of trauma and a messy cluster of teeth marks along his inner thigh towards his groin. As horrendous as the sight of his wounds may be, the worst detail that the swordsman can see is the large metal clamp that hangs around Sanji’s neck. He recognises them as a slave’s chain.

Sanji

Take a picture. It’ll last longer.

Zoro

…Did he do this to you?

Sanji doesn't move or reply. His hair had become heavily damp in the rain, covering his face. When Zoro dips down slightly, he sees the blonde's lips trembling over gritted teeth. He can't tell if the stream running down his nose is from the rain or from his eyes.

Zoro

Did you kill him?

Slowly, Sanji shakes his head.

Zoro’s eye narrows. He feels his hands tighten their hold on Sanji. A pang of guilt washes over him, remembering their conversation earlier.

Sanji

But I made sure that he can't hurt anyone anymore.

Zoro's hands relax.

Zoro

…Good.

Surprised, Sanji lifts his head to look at the swordsman.

Sanji

Just…”good”? You're not going to ask me what I did?

Zoro

Knowing you, it's probably something unpleasant. I'd rather not know.

Zoro notices the curtains that the blonde had used for cover have fallen on the damp grass underneath him, completely soaked in the rain. He removes his own cloak and wraps the blonde in it, making sure that the hood covers his head before scooping him up into his arms.

—

With one of the men holding out a fiery torch, the liberated slaves lead on through the dark winding passageway while Zoro carefully carries Sanji in his arms behind them. He guesses that they’re inside one of the Sabaody Archipelago’s giant roots, hollowed out so that anyone walking through can potentially cross the entire length of the island without anyone knowing. He starts worrying where they may end up but he trusts the people guiding them, simply because there’s no other choice. They all want one thing–to get out of this place alive.

The swordsman is well aware of others’ subtle glances and pitiful looks at the Pirate King but he tries to ignore them to keep his senses focused on monitoring the blonde’s heart rate and breathing. Sanji’s been falling in and out of consciousness and it’s starting to worry him more each time. He wishes his reindeer friend is with them. He’d know what to do.

Zoro dares a peek at the collar around Sanji’s neck. He frowns at the sight then tears his gaze away.

Zoro

You don’t…happen to have a key for this, do you? Or know how to get it out another way?

Man 1

I’m so sorry… it was him who somehow got his hands on one to get us out but we don’t know what happened to it when we parted ways. The last time I saw him, he didn’t have anything around his neck.

Woman 1

It must have happened when he went to the treasure room. We don’t know how to take it off without the right key. We would have already tried to escape if–

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

Everyone jumps at the sound, clearly on edge from the potential dangers that could come their way at any second. They all turn to Zoro who fumbles around, trying to answer the transponder snail while carrying the blonde.

Sanji had woken up from the sound and feebly reached inside Zoro’s open robe. He pulls out the den-den mushi from his breast pocket and holds it out for him in his hand, pressing the button on its shell to answer the call.

Zoro

Hello?

Law

Zoro-ya, it's been…

…where are…y…

…did you get…

…there’s news about…

Sanji looks up to the ceiling then around them. He speaks in a weak voice.

Sanji

We’re probably in the dense area of the root system. It’s interfering with the signal.

Zoro

Traffy, you’re breaking up. Can you hear us?

Law

…they know you’re…

…Pacifistas heading your way…

…need to…

…before Admiral…

Zoro

Tra-guy, we have a friend on Grove 44. Duval of the Flying Fish Riders. I want you to meet us at their base if you can.

Law, if you can hear me, go to–

Den-Den Mushi

Click

Zoro tuts disappointingly at the lost signal.

Woman 2

Pa–Pacifistas?!

Woman 1

Wait–a Marine Admiral is coming too?! To get us?!?

The people around them start shaking uncontrollably in panic. The merchild holds onto his dad’s leg desperately.

Zoro sighs but gestures for them to keep moving forward.

Zoro

Let’s pick up the pace. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds us and I'd rather not get caught up in here. We’d get trapped and surrounded pretty easily.

Sanji returns the snail inside Zoro’s inner breast pocket then gives the others a small smile in an attempt to ease their minds.

Sanji

Don’t worry about the Pacifistas for now. We’re not in any danger until they see us. They’re too reliant on their visuals. As for the Admirals…lazy bunch, all of them. Too slow to act. Besides, my friend here will protect us from harm I’m sure. You said you know where we can find a sloop?

Man 2

Y–yes!

The word “friend” echoes in Zoro’s head.

—

They continue their walk in silence, at an increased pace this time. Zoro didn't want to have them running at full speed in fear that it would open up Sanji’s wounds further. Instead, they had to take longer rushed strides.

In one of the brief moments when the blonde is conscious, he breaks the silence by starting a light-hearted conversation, brightening the troubled mood of the crowd.

Sanji

I got loot like I promised. It’s not exactly money but we can sell it for a lot. The surgeon’s going to freak.

Zoro's serious and tense expression softens. He holds the blonde closer, tucking Sanji’s head between the nook of his neck and shoulder after he notices that his body is cold and shivering.

Zoro

I never doubted you for a second. What did you get?

Sanji pulls a small pouch that he'd secured around his wrist by its loops. The swordsman didn’t even notice that he had it on him, too distracted at the sight of his mangled body earlier. The blonde opens the bag with one hand and pulls out a small dark pebble between his fingers with the other, raising it as high as he could muster in front of Zoro’s face.

Sanji

Pure, unadulterated condensed Seastones, baby.

Zoro's eye widens. Then he grins, genuinely impressed at the man.

Zoro

Wh–what? I've never even seen them in that form before.

Sanji grins a toothy smile up to him. Zoro's heart pounds at the sight.

Man 2

Those things?! They’re Devil Fruit user killers–they're worth almost a million Beri each! 

Sanji

I know right! Want one? When we get out of here, you can buy your way anywhere in the world and start a new life.

Woman 1

Your Highness, you can't possibly–

Sanji

Catch!

Sanji flicks a pebble up in the air to the woman who scrambles to catch it in surprise. He does the same to the others. Finally, he gently holds one out to the merchild walking alongside them.

Sanji

Grow up big and strong for me, okay?

The merchild looks at his father, who nods, then takes the pebble from Sanji.

There's a moment of silence, then Zoro hears sniffles coming from one of the women, then the other, then followed by the two men and the merchild that they had freed. They cry their eyes out, thanking the Pirate King and the Warlord as they reach the end of the tunnel.

—

Sanji is unclear what exactly happens next. He knows that he’s been drifting in and out of sleep, blaming his body’s fatigued condition and whatever serum that the Celestial Dragon had injected him with to nullify his strength earlier.

He feels the harsh wind and rain on his face. It looks like the weather has turned for the worst. He hears high pitch sounds of whirring, as if machines are charging up. Then he hears a child scream. Forcing his eyes open, he sees blindingly bright long beams head directly towards them. He wonders if this is his chance to see his mother again.

The swordsman above him quickly takes a step forward, adjusting his hold of him, then swings a sword in three wide movements, redirecting all the beams back to its source. One hits a Pacifista straight onto its face, causing it to explode and knock back the two next to it. Sanji can’t help but smile.

Sanji

Nice… shot….

Zoro

Curls–?! You’re awake! Do you think you can…

Sanji’s vision and hearing gets all fuzzy again, unable to hear the rest of Zoro’s question. His eyes droop weakly, limbs dropping.

Woman 1

…There’s no…

…he’s lost too much blood!

Man 2

…This way, hurry!!!

Zoro

Hold on! Give me…

…anything, just quickly!

Sanji feels a painful pressure against the hole in his chest as the swordsman pushes down a crumpled cloth over it. He thinks that it would be a shame to die now. He doesn’t want to face his mother until he fulfils his promise to help his sister and brothers first. He silently asks her forgiveness for not visiting enough. His world darkens as reality fades once more.

When his eyes open, they’re in the sloop that one of the men had promised. It rocked madly from the torrential weather in the open seas. One of the women and the merchild held him securely in their arms while keeping pressure over his bleeding chest. They’re trying to keep him as stable as possible in the undercover area of the boat.

Outside, he sees the rest of their group all work together to pull a rope on one end of the ship while Zoro pulls a separate one all by himself on the other side. They look like they’re trying to secure the sails above them while dealing with the severe storm.

Sanji

What a nice… family….

Merchild

Hey, uncle! Stay with us, okay?! We’re…

…it’s going to be…

Woman 2

…just about…

…very soon, I promise!

…just hang on!

Man 2

Warlord Zoro! We’re being followed!!

Sanji’s eyes close again. He ponders if the Seastones of the quality he got would help Germa finalise their research. Then he starts wondering if there's a chance that his siblings would enjoy a day out sailing when they finally get emotions of their own without having to rely on those ugly modified helmets. He silently asks them to hang in there.

Sanji

I'm so, so sorry….

When he comes to again, he sees Zoro by himself in the thick of the rain, panting madly. He looks extremely worn and tired.

Bright lights shine from a distance and a continuous barrage of beams break through the fog, directly heading their way. Most hit the water next to them, causing the small boat to rock sideways, almost tipping over the boat at one point. He hears Zoro yell out one of his one-sword style moves as he deflects the beams in one long swipe, sending them off in different directions. He could hear his exhaustion behind his voice.

Man 1

Warlord Zoro! Another rogue wave up ahead!

Zoro

Shit!

Sanji feels the boat shift upwards at a steep angle. He thinks about how much work the swordsman is putting on right now, dealing with Pacifistas, protecting them, and trying to keep their small boat afloat in the storm all at the same time. 

Zoro lowers down almost to a kneeling position and takes out a second sword. He swings his blades synchronously in a circle, creating a massive force of vortex that breaks through the rogue wave in front of them. It corrects the angle of the boat, saving them from capsizing.

Sanji

What a… great swordsman…

His words catch Zoro’s attention.

Suddenly there was a nagging sensation from the right. Another beam is heading their way. Sanji predicts that the distracted swordsman can redirect this attack but the aftershock of the impact would heavily damage the roof of the undercover area and the sloop’s already stressed mast. 

Sanji reaches out and uses his last remaining strength to pull the nearby woman and merchild down to the floor with him.

His prediction is correct, and the events unfold exactly as he saw it through his haki, saving the woman and merchild from getting caught up in the blast.

Sanji worries about the other members of their family. He’s too weak to think about too many people at once.

Zoro rises from under the debris in front of them. Sure enough, he had used his body to protect the others from the blast by pinning them low to the floor. Relief washes over the blonde.

He sees a series of lightning strikes reign down from the sky that makes his hair stand on end, followed by powerful sounds of thunder and huge explosions from afar.

The blinding light of the sun suddenly emerges above them. Sanji welcomes the warm sensation on his skin. The thick grey clouds part, as if being commanded to. The whirring machine noises from the distant seems to have quieted down.

Zoro groans in exhaustion. He looks around and huffs. When he gazes upwards, a large smile forms across his face.

A heavenly being descends from above, waving a long metallic staff in circles. As it does, the clouds part further, creating an area of calm waters in their immediate vicinity. As the creature of light gets closer, Sanji notices long orange hair flowing beautifully in the wind. He catches sight of an impressive tattoo on its arm. When his vision clears a bit more, he finally sees that their saviour is in the shape of a voluptuous woman riding a small bubble ship floating down to their damaged sloop. She waves at them over the side with a bright smile on her face.

Sanji

An angel… from heaven…?

Zoro

NAMI!!!

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I like to think that in every universe, Sanji worships Nami in different ways.

I initially really wanted to draw the balcony scene as an opening to this chapter. The whole kiss kiss smooch shebang. But as I was doing it, I noticed some inconsistencies with Sanji's design. I figured I'd do a character sheet for reference to hone down on it first before I flesh things out too detailed.

Zoro's character design definitely needs some love though. Maybe I'll do his next.