#my stomach churns a little every time i see a story about him with like a VERY young reader

[kianely]

Hiii how are you? ^^

I couldn't help but notice when you said that some fics ruined some versions of Leon and I COMPLETELY agree. I love death island Leon with my whole heart but the way people write him makes me..... idk..... THAT MAN WOULDN'T SAY OR DO THAT PLEASE, FREE HIM 😭😭😭

hii 😵‍💫 i’m doing pretty well, just focusing on studying since it’s final season, how about you? i hope you’re doing well WOO

and yes EXACTLY, for me it mainly has to do with the smuts that are written about him, like i’m not trying to kink shame but some of the things written about him are just so…out of character for him. and i’m not even going to go into the things that involve actually morally or downright sick things either but oh my god

[drunk-person]

Healing Kisses

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After an injury on a normal day of training, Aemond Targaryen has difficulty understanding what it feels like to be cared for by his sweet wife, mainly because he is not used to receiving healing kisses.

WARNING: +18. Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and and a little bit of hot, Aemond trying to understand feelings, a bit of blood, basically a lot of softness, no description for the reader.

Word cont: 2.600 k

Author's note: Ok, I was minding my own business and this story just slipped my mind and ended up on my phone. I hope you guys like our guy trying to understand what love is hahaha 💕💕💕.

It had been about two months since Lady Y/n had gotten married, to Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the first day she saw him, she found him a disturbing man, with his silver hair, the black eye patch over one eye, the marked jaw that looked like it could cut the tips of her fragile fingers. He always seemed to be watching everything going on around him with trained eyes that she swore could see right through her.

Y/n's mother had prepared her her entire life for marriage, but not for a marriage with Aemond. Nothing was as she expected, since her husband seemed to have his own way of doing things, always silent and taciturn, just muttering from time to time, and most of the time she couldn't even decipher what he was saying, she didn't even know if he was speaking the same language as her at times.

The most unexpected thing of all, considering how reserved he normally behaved, was the fact that he liked to touch her when they were together in the martial chambers. Y/n felt her skin boiling every night with every touch he directed at her, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but always firmly squeezing her waist, hips and breasts. Always doing things to her that Lady Y/n had not thought possible until marriage, and that just the mere thought of it made her blush and feel her skin heat up. The way he lay against her back after having poured himself inside her to the last drop and kept squeezing her breasts in a languid and soft way made her shiver.

But Y/n wasn't satisfied. She couldn't accept the fact that her Husband had such passionate touches for her at night, but didn't let her get close to him during the day, either physically or emotionally. Y/n respected him in that regard, aiming for nothing more than to be a good and obedient wife, but she wouldn't give up so easily. And with this in mind, she began to try to include herself in Aemond's daily activities and personal tastes.

Reading about the history of his ancestors, observing his favorite foods, sewing his clothes personally and even reading an old book she found in the library written by a maester who promised to teach Valyrian to even the most obtuse person. Which only made her feel even more foolish since she didn't understand a thing.

One of the best parts of trying to include herself in her husband's daily routine was watching his daily training, she usually did it in the morning after breakfast and even after a whole month watching him fight she still hadn't gotten used to the fact that he was so good, the sword seemed like an extension of his own arm and she had to restrain herself from sighing a few times while admiring him.

Until one particularly boring afternoon she decided to go down to the courtyard, since the library was very stuffy and she heard a maid saying that Aemond was fighting with Sir Criston Cole. As soon as she arrived, she leaned on the windowsill along with some other ladies, smiling as she watched her husband a little below, but the smile died on her lips a few minutes later when Aemond didn't dodge fast enough and Cole's blade wounded him in the left shoulder, drawing blood and staining the knight's sword.

Y/n's eyes widened when she saw her husband's blood and she felt her stomach churn. Aemond put his hand to his wounded shoulder and frowned, then returned to the fight furiously, disarming Cole, who apologized to the prince, but said that it wouldn't have happened if he had kept his guard up and focused.

Aemond just put away his own sword and walked with long strides into the Keep. Y/n could barely see what was in front of her, she just walked towards her husband with her eyes burning with concern.

-Husband! - She tried to reach him, but Aemond was walking too fast towards his own chambers. - Husband, please wait! Your arm is injured, you need to go see a maester!

Aemond entered the chambers, leaving the door open as he passed, as his wife followed closely behind.

-It was just a scratch, wife. - Aemond stated as she looked at him with tears in her eyes. - I'm going to be fine, it doesn't even hurt.

-Husband, if you're not going to let the maester look at this wound, at least let me take care of you! - She begged in a very worried voice, approaching him.

And with a snort, valuing his peace of mind, Aemond removed his doublet and undershirt, which had bloodstains at the site of the wound.

-By the gods, husband! - Y/n's eyes widened when she saw his shoulder. - How can you tell me this is just a scratch?

-Sit down here! - She pushed him down onto the chair with a very stern voice, and Aemond frowned - she had never used such a tone with him, always gentle and submissive to his wishes. - Don't move, I'll get hot water and an herbal ointment.

A little while later she returned with a basin full of water and a tray filled with things that a maid had brought. And Aemond watched with a very serious frown as she leaned over him with a clean, damp cloth, cleaning the coagulated blood with a very concentrated look on her face.

He barely realized that she had spoken to him, completely lost in what was happening.

- Husband? - She called him a little closer, stopping to clean the wound.

- Mmmm? - Aemond looked at her slightly confused when he finally realized that she was talking to him.

-I asked him if by chance it hurts. - She smiled, now using her usual sweet and gentle voice and Aemond didn't know why his belly warmed, but not with the excitement that had become so common in the last two months whenever he was near his wife, but with an unknown feeling.

- No. - He shook his head slowly as he answered. - I don't feel anything.

Nothing but a tingling where her warm and soft hand rested.

- Are you sure, husband? - Her look was doubtful as she frowned, Aemond just nodded and she continued her work. As soon as she finished cleaning the area, she left a few soft kisses on the wound and Aemond felt that a rope had pulled him through his navel at that moment.

-W-What are you doing? - He ended up stuttering unintentionally as he formed the sentence, feeling the skin where his wife was touching him warm as if she had touched him with a hot coal.

-Healing kisses. - She murmured simply against his heated and slightly reddened skin. - To help you heal faster.

Aemond frowned with his eyes slightly pressed together, enjoying that unfamiliar sensation in a strange way.

-And do they work? - He asked as if he suddenly had no control over his own tongue and felt very stupid for it as soon as he spoke.

-I believe so. - She smiled at him, leaving one last kiss at the end of the open wound, and Aemond felt less stupid for some reason after that.

-I'm going to apply the herbal ointment, okay? - She walked to the table, picking up one of the clay pots with a greenish, pasty mixture inside. - The maester said it should burn.

With a delicacy that Aemond had never felt in his entire life, she deposited the ointment on the open wound and gradually spread it with her fingertips, showing a look of implacable concentration on her face as if this were something of extreme importance.

Aemond hated wandering hands on him, hated receiving treatment from the maesters with their rough and hard touches, but with his wife it was different, the touches were so sweet and gentle that they were making him drowsy. And when she left more kisses after finishing applying the green ointment he thought that his mind had left his body and gone to another dimension.

-Mmmm.

-I hurt you? - She sounded very worried as she brought her right hand to the side of his face.

-Not at all. - He practically sighed, laying his head against her hand, and Y/n felt her heart warm when she had that reaction of familiarity from him.

-You need to take a bath, husband. - She stroked his cheek with her thumb, enjoying the moment where she was allowed to, smiling sweetly at him. - And after that I move on to another herb that the maester sent.

Aemond agreed, just nodding positively, feeling his whole body as if it were pleasantly numb as he walked towards the bathtub full of warm water on the other side of the rooms. And making him feel even lighter Y/n untied the front of his pants, blushing slightly as she helped him get completely undressed.

With a sideways smile at seeing his wife's reaction to his nudity, Aemond entered the bathtub, murmuring in satisfaction with the temperature of the water.

Y/n, her face still warm, knelt at the foot of the bathtub and gently massaged his uninjured shoulder, leaving sweet kisses there.

-This shoulder is not hurt. - Aemond spoke to her in a soft voice for the first time, making her smile against his damp skin.

-It must be at least sore from the effort. - She murmured very close to his neck, making him smile even though she couldn't see it.

-Join me, wife. - He turned his head back, watching her with a calm gaze.

And with a shy and very happy smile, Y/n removed her own clothes under the watchful eye of Aemond, who sighed when she was completely naked and embarrassed in front of him. The prince always found it sweet how she had not yet lost her shyness when being naked in front of him in these two months of marriage.

Y/n entered the bathtub and before she could sit on the other end of the bathtub he pulled her to sit on his thighs, leaving his wife very close to him, making her sigh.

-Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all, husband? - She gently ran her fingertips over the injured area.

-Mmmm. - He shook his head. - But I could use more kisses.

And with butterflies in her stomach Y/n did so, leaving sweet and moist kisses around her husband's shoulder who just laid his head back in contentment.

-You know if I had an injury like that I would be in a lot of pain. - She looked at him from under her eyelashes. - You are so strong husband.

Aemond had never felt so imposing in his entire life as when he heard his wife saying in that sweet and soft voice how strong he was, while looking at him from under her eyelashes sitting naked on his cock.

-I haven’t felt so much pain since I lost my eye. - Aemond didn't know where that had come from, he felt so relaxed at that moment that the words just flowed through his tongue with ease in a strange way. - It seems that I have become a little insensitive to slight pain.

Y/n gently ran her hand over his face where the eye patch was still firmly in place even during the bath. And after taking a deep breath fearing rejection after a day with so many advances she asked.

-Can I see husband?

Aemond automatically looked away, staring at his wife's breasts while his hands firmly locked on her waist.

-You don't want to see that, wife. - He muttered through his teeth. - It's not pleasant to look at.

-I think everything about you is pleasing to the eye, husband. - She tried to encourage him by stroking the scarred cheek below the eye patch, but still feeling afraid that he would push her away from him. - I would appreciate it very much if you let me see all of you.

And even fearful of his wife's reaction, taken by that strange and unfamiliar feeling in the midst of that moment of softness, Aemond removed the eye patch and dropped it on the floor next to the bathtub without looking her in the eyes.

Aemond's stomach turned as much as it had flown for the first time on Vhagar when he felt his wife's soft lips placing a gentle kiss against the deformed skin where his eye had once been.

-Gavy. (Gevie -Beautiful) - Her voice sounded like a very poor attempt at High Valyrian and Aemond's eyebrows arched.

-Where did you learn that?

-I read it in a book in the library. - She lowered her eyes in embarrassment. - Was the pronunciation bad?

-It was perfect. - He murmured with his eyes closed, lost in those sensations as he felt her sweet kisses against his face.

And with redoubled affection Y/n washed the herbs from Aemond's body and with a smile noticed that the redness had divided quite a bit, as well as the bleeding.

-After the bath I need to apply another ointment to you according to the maester, husband. - She smiled completely happy with her husband's moment of confidence. - To help it heal, he said.

-Mmm. - Aemond would let her do anything about him, as long as he could feel the softness of his wife's touch and her care and concern directed at him.

And with a sigh he trailed kisses down her soft neck, drawing low sighs and gasps from those gentle lips.

-I want you to be the one to take care of me from now on, wife. - He continued kissing her, and with a smile of pure contentment Y/n nodded positively to her husband.

-It is a pleasure for me to take care of you, husband. - She sighed at him in joy, making Aemond's heart accelerate in a strange way that made him want to vomit. He didn't understand what it was, it wasn't desire, something he was very familiar with as he desired his wife constantly, yes he was hard against her wet intimacy, but there was more.

There was something strange consuming him inside without explanation and he felt that even if he took her at that moment he wouldn't be close enough to her. And as he slid into her warm and receptive intimacy, he could feel his wife's arms hugging him tightly and pulling him closer and closer to her while she left kisses on his shoulders and face, making him lose himself inside her, feeling more and more of that sensation as strong as the pleasure of spilling his own seed inside his wife.

And letting himself be carried away by that moment, Aemond kissed her sweetly on the lips, almost a soft caress, while he felt her entangle her hands in his hair, caressing it in a way so gentle that it didn't seem intended for sex, but rather for something more delicate that the prince couldn't say the name.

-Skoros issi ao naejot issa? (What are you doing to me?) - He muttered between sighs, and Y/n had no idea what he had said, but chose to think it was something good.

All those unknown emotions, feelings and sensations were too much for Aemond, tearing from him an unparalleled pleasure that he had never felt in his entire life, and he poured himself deep inside his wife while hugging her tightly to his chest with a poignant need to feel her as close to him as possible.

And when Y/n came in his arms soon after, looking into his eyes without a hint of repulsion for his missing eye, but rather kissing him again while admiring him with pure devotion, Aemond knew. His wife's healing kisses might not help his wounded skin heal any faster, nor would they even bring back the eye that had been ripped out, but perhaps little by little they could help him heal much deeper wounds.

[gokyrts]

Patrón!Carlos | C.S. 55

18+ | warnings: mentions of drugs, cartel politics, mentions of kidnapping, d/s dynamics, finger sucking, dom!carlos, unprotected p in v, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight degradation and humiliation, light ass play, dirty talk

Summary: you needed a favour, a favour only the leader of the local drug cartel could grant you, so you went to beg for it and you bit more than you could chew

Author’s note: MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOURS TRULY!! This is a gift for all my lovely supporters. if you’ve liked Mafia AU, you’re definitely gonna like this 🤭 welcome to Narcos AU with Carlos Sainz !

wc: 4.3k

Check out part two here and part three here !

In case you’re unfamiliar with the plot and terms of Narcos, here’s a little vocabulary with terms that are used throughout the story:

el patrón — (noun) boss of a drug cartel

sicarios — (noun, pl.) high ranking members of a cartel, armed, usually on motorcycles

DEA — (noun) drug enforcement administration; U.S. federal office tasked with combatting drug trafficking

The air outside the compound was still, heavy with the heat of late afternoon. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of laughter echoed, mingling with the crackle of a lit cigar. You sat alone, staring at the rim of your glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. The burn of it no longer registered—it had stopped doing that weeks ago. You hated this place. Hated the velvet couches, the chandeliers, the lingering stench of power and fear. But it had become your world.

Your sister was safe. That was what mattered. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Still, the memory of the first step you’d taken into this life clung to you like smoke, no matter how many times you tried to shove it away. And, as always, it returned unbidden:

The air was just as oppressive that day, tightening around your throat, pressing against your chest. But not nearly as oppressive as the gazes and words of the sicarios you encountered when you came to beg for a favor. Their eyes on you like you were a piece of meat delivered to their door.

“Move along, sweetheart,” one of them said, making your stomach churn.

“I need to speak with señor Sainz.” your assertiveness was a joke to them, seeing nothing more than a defenseless animal.

“Did you hear that?” he’d said, turning to the other guard with exaggerated mockery. “Little mama here wants to speak to el patrón.”

Their laughter had stung, but you’d swallowed your pride. This wasn’t about you. It was about your sister. It was about survival.

“Please,” you’d whispered, your voice cracking just enough to reveal the desperation in your chest. “It’s important.”

The sicarios had exchanged amused glances before one stepped forward, his expression darkening with a hint of suspicion. “Es importante, ah?” he’d asked, the firearm in his hands a reminder of who had control. “How so?”

Your fists had tightened, your body screaming to run, but you had stood your ground. “I need his help. My… my sister has been kidnapped.”

The two men exchanged a glance, this one colder, heavier. Without another word, they had stepped aside, opening the door to the building with a mockingly polite gesture. “Muy bien, let’s see what the boss has to say to this… little request.”

They had flanked you as you walked down the dim corridor, the echo of their heavy boots swallowing your lighter steps. The long hallway felt like a gauntlet, and each step seemed to draw you further into a cage you wouldn’t be able to escape. They led you to an unassuming door, another guard stationed outside. A brief knock sounded, a whisper you hadn’t caught, and then you were ushered inside.

Carlos Sainz’s office had been every bit as ostentatious as you’d imagined. The room reeked of wealth: leather chairs, imported bourbon, and a portrait of the man himself staring down from the wall. But none of it had held your attention for long. Your gaze had locked onto Carlos the moment you saw him.

He’d been seated behind his desk, looking as though he owned not just the room but the air you were breathing. His expression had been unreadable, save for the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Before you could speak, one of the guards shoved you forward. “I’m not armed!” you’d snapped, your voice sharp with indignation.

The guard’s rough hands searched you anyway, brushing over your clothes with no effort to hide his smugness. Carlos, meanwhile, had leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, watching the scene like it was some form of theater staged for his amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he’d said, his smirk widening as his gaze swept over you. “You seem to have a sharp tongue on you, señorita.”

You’d forced yourself to endure and once the guard was satisfied, you had been given the space to speak.

“I—I need your help, señor. They… they took my little sister. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He hadn’t reacted at first. Instead, he’d reached for a glass, pouring himself a measure of whiskey with deliberate slowness. The sound of the liquid hitting the glass filled the room like a mocking echo.

“You came to ask for a favor?” he’d said finally, his tone light, as though you were discussing the weather. He hadn’t given you a chance to respond. “I remember you owing a favor to me, little one.”

Your throat had tightened. Of course, he remembered. A debt passed down from your father, inherited like a curse. You’d known the weight of it would crush you someday. You just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

“Sí, señor,” you’d said, voice cracking, fighting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. “I still owe you. But I need this, please. She was taken by men from the other side. I-I don’t want them to hurt her or worse…”

Carlos had tilted his head, studying you as though you were some strange creature that had wandered into his den.

“So… you expect me to solve more of your family’s problems, sí?” His words were light, almost teasing, but the sharp edge in his gaze had made your stomach twist.

Your knees had felt weak, but you’d pressed on. “Please,” you’d said again, the word tasting like ash on your tongue. “I—I will do anything.”

At that, his amusement had deepened. The room had gone still.

“Anything…?” he’d repeated, his voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. One of the guards had snickered, but Carlos had silenced him with a click of his tongue. Then he’d mentioned for the guards to exit, leaving only the two of you in the room.

With deliberate slowness, he’d risen from his chair, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. He’d been taller than you remembered, his presence overwhelming.

“Do you know what that word means, little one?” he’d asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know what it costs to ask me for a favor?”

You’d lowered your gaze, the weight of his stare crushing you.

“I… I will pay the price,” you’d whispered.

Carlos had tilted his head, lifting your chin upward with surprising gentleness, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Careful,” he’d murmured, his tone soft but laced with warning. “There are men who would take this as an invitation...”

You’d stiffened, your skin crawling under his touch.

“But I’m not one of them…not today.” he’d stepped back with a smirk, allowing you to breathe again.

“Muy bien,” he’d said, returning to his desk. “I’ll deal with these men and bring your sister back. But… from this moment on, you’re mine. Your time, your life. When I call, you answer. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”

You’d hesitated, just for a moment, but Carlos didn’t let you. His voice had turned sharp, cutting through your resistance like a blade.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” you’d said, voice shaking. “Yes… I understand.”

He’d smirked, satisfied. “Good. Go home, little one. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

…

You closed your eyes as the memory finished replaying, pressing the glass back to your lips, its contents dwindling fast. Anticipation brewed in your gut mingling with the expensive imported whiskey. He has called again and you answered, per agreement.

Over time you learned to ignore the hungry stares from his wolves, their sleazy whispers, and dirty hands adjusting their pants when you passed them in the halls of the safehouse. It made you sick. But this was part of the price you had to pay. The price you agreed to pay for the safety of your sister’s life, and the doom of your own.

“Princesita,”

Your eyes snapped open at his voice — smooth, silky, like the liquor you just downed. The familiar burning sensation returned, your body starting to smolder again. You swallowed the bitterness and turned on your hell, the dress you were told to wear flowing around your form.

Carlos regarded you with a long gaze, from the shoes you picked to wear, across your hips and waist, where the dress tightly hugged your soft curves, to your face, lingering on your painted lips.

He nodded in approval, beckoning you closer with a finger.

Teaching you obedience was his favorite, along with making you regret every life decision you ever made, but especially the deal you made with him.

His thumb found your bottom lip as you stepped closer, the red on your lips pulling him in like a bull following its toreador. The rough surface of his finger swiped over the carefully applied lipstick, smudging it and dragging it down your chin. A flicker of amusement appeared in his eyes at your ruined look, his favorite look on you. His thumb slid off your chin, leaving a light red stain.

Beautiful, he thought, before retracting his hand only to notice the smudge on his finger.

He pressed the thumb back against your mouth.

“Clean it.”

And your body burned, the whiskey in your gut the fuse and his command the spark. The finger was thrust into your mouth with zero patience, the taste of ash and metal hitting your tongue along the unmistakable sweetness of your cherry red lipstick. As much as the taste made you retch, it was addicting.

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

Your tongue wrapped around the digit, swirling to catch the pad of his thumb and sucking it clean. Carlos rewarded you with a hum of approval, pressing down harder on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open up further.

Your jaw gave way, letting Carlos in on the sight of his saliva-covered thumb in your mouth, your tongue playing around with it. He pulled back, dragging his finger out of your mouth but not without wiping it slightly against your lip, enhancing the redness of it with a top coat.

“Good girl… good ruined girl.”

Heat pooled between your legs, forcing an involuntary hum from your throat. Weeks ago you would resist, deny, and deflect — you didn’t want him to notice, because he noticed everything — but his praise was like a switch flipped in your brain.

However, as fast as he praised, he also did the exact opposite.

“Go clean your face, I’m not letting you accompany me looking like that.” he spat, stepping aside so you could go wipe the mess he made on your face. The oval mirror in his office was nearly as familiar as the face you saw in it. The flashbacks were instant when you looked into it, images of him, of you, in positions he forced you into. Carlos liked making you watch, it etched itself in your memory better, he said.

You squeezed your thighs together as you wiped the ruined lipstick off of your chin, similar redness blooming on your cheeks. Carlos smirked knowingly, standing a few feet behind you. He could be in the background, not even touching you but your body was aflame for him, your mind playing tricks on you, triggers he put in your head setting off. You reapplied the lipstick, the phantom feeling of his finger on them almost making you miss the intimacy.

There was a knock on the door, signaling your ride was there. Armed guards escorted you to an awaiting car. A small convoy left the compound to ensure the patrón’s safety. A meeting with the other Narcos wasn’t something to underestimate. Light chatter took part in the car you were not part of. They didn’t need your opinion. You were there as a pretty face, nothing more, nothing less.

As you approached the hotel where the meeting would be held, the oppressive air started clawing at your lungs again. The delicate power balance you felt in the atmosphere was unnerving, ready to tip over in any direction. You and Carlos were patted down before entering. It was agreed that this meeting would be weapon-free. If anything was to go down, you’d be fighting with your bare hands.

The hotel was grand, smelling of the same filthy richness that Carlos’ office did. Your presence caught eyes. A woman, a pretty woman, here? Just as you learned to ignore the stares and comments of Carlos’ sicarios*, you avoided those of the other men, asking if you were lost or looking for a good time. The tension only heightened as you neared the entered the conference room and Carlos felt the need to remind you of your place. He caught you by the elbow, pulling you back against him, his lips against your ear. “You’re here to keep me company, not to speak. Understood?”

Your breath hitched, his voice, so close, sent shivers down your back. “Sí, señor.”

Carlos was satisfied enough with your response and let you go, stepping around you and opening the door. Your smaller form was hidden behind Carlos’ broad back as you entered, the other Narcos only catching sight of you as you walked along the enormous glass table.

Without looking up, you uttered a quiet ‘Buenos dias, señores.’ That was the only time you were allowed to speak.

Behind the clouds of smoke from cigars and cigarettes, the Narcos recognized a woman. They exchanged glances, whispers, scoffs but nothing you wouldn’t be used to already. Despite their visible disapproval, no one dared speak up.

Carlos sat at the head of the table, as he was the organizer of the meeting, leaving you a small seat behind him, just to further emphasize you were not part of the negotiations.

The meeting started but not much has reached your ears throughout, selectively more than not. The Narcos discussed new routes, skirmishes with the DEA, feuds over territory, nothing you could be a part of anyway.

You were picking on your nails when one of the older gentlemen mentioned the neighborhood you grew up in.

“…a possible lab location, routes go out here and through this way,”

His fat finger was pointing to a map, showing what in his mind was a new business idea the others would approve of. For a moment you were taken into your childhood home, playing with your sister on the front porch. It was nice, safe but you always saw men linger around, men who had DEA badges on their belts. Still thinking you were in your mind, you murmured. “Yeah, right into the DEA’s hands…”

Silence.

Feeling a full body chill, you looked up, slowly, each tilt of your head further revealed more shocked and angry expressions of the Narcos.

The man whose idea you challenged leaned back and looked at Carlos in disbelief.

“Carlos, who is this? Did you bring a secretary? Are you into females advising you now?”

Your heart nearly stopped, eyes widening as the weight of your little comment hit you.

“Why did you bring a woman into the meeting anyway? Now she’s thinking she’s one of us.” Another man sneered as all gazes turned to Carlos to watch his reaction.

Whatever he was thinking, one could not tell. His eyes flit briefly to you and then back, but you did notice his jaw clenching, a subtle show of his anger. But he masked it well, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not one of us, but she’s right. Think about it.”

Carlos’ response had the Narcos stunned a second time that night. They turned to one another, murmuring amongst themselves, considering the situation. But no one was stunned more than you. He saved you…he acknowledged your opinion, among those he trusted the least but had to respect the most and vice versa.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly on alert and aware of what was being discussed. With bated breath, you watch the meeting conclude and the drug lords pour out of the conference room. Some regarded you with disgust, others with interest, some with caution but you would be in the meeting minutes of everyone who attended.

When the last of the traffickers left, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Carlos was quiet, too quiet for your liking. His fingers drummed against the glass table, the echo loud in the empty room. His head tilted to the side and you saw his jaw lock in place before he spoke.

“Are you the expert on routes now?” His tone was calm and cold, the kind that makes you want to huddle for warmth. It wasn’t a question for you to answer. A loud warning despite the pitch in his voice, but you knew this was more dangerous than if he’d yelled. “What did I tell you about speaking up?” his words had bite now.

“I-I didn’t mean to… I was just— you said I was right though! I grew up in that neighborhood! If you let them set up a lab there, the DEA would be onto them and you’d be the one cleaning up the mess.”

“Oh? You think you saved me?” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Do not think this is how you repay favors, little princess.”

You averted his gaze, the taste of forced submission bitter on your tongue. Your palms were sweating again and you had to wipe them on your dress this time. Carlos watched you, the intensity in his eyes threatening to light the fire inside you again and he knew.

The sound of the snapping of his fingers was loud in the room, making you look up at him again.

“Come here.”

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

You got up on shaky legs, taking a few short strides to Carlos’ side. Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in anticipation, catching the cherry red lipstick he had given you a taste of before.

“Over the table, princesa…”

The glass table felt cold over your thighs and stomach, the dress you wore riding up as you bent over in front of him. You heard him sigh, the sound filling you with more delicious uncertainty. You felt his large hand on the back of your thigh, the rough callouses contrasting against the gentle caresses he gave you.

“This room was full of men who would shoot you for even looking at them wrong…” He spoke with softness that made you almost comfortable against the table like this was a fatherly scolding. Except it was.

Smack.

His palm landed against the back of your thigh, forcing air out of your lungs.

“And you thought you could just come in and play queen?” Carlos continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled your dress up, revealing your bare ass.

Smack.

The handprint on your ass cheek stung, its red outline hot to the touch as he rubbed his fingers over it. You cried out as he delivered the next smack to your other cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut with the force he used, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips. He fisted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head back. His lips were against your ear again.

“I have every right to throw you to them… to let them devour you till there’s nothing but bones… but,” he trailed off, a strange occurrence, stretching the moment and breathing fire to your insides.

“You’re mine.”

Your head landed against the glass table as he let go of your hair, the thud making you groan. His hands trailed back down, catching against the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You gasped as the cold air hit your soaked pussy, the undergarment landing around your ankles. Carlos grabbed at your ass cheek, squeezing and spreading you to him.

“Ah… I’m beginning to think you like this, princesa.” His tone was mocking as his index finger slid through the wetness making your hips jerk. Your neediness amused him, almost as much as your fear.

The clinking sound of his belt undoing only made you squeeze your thighs together, searching for friction despite how wrong it felt. But the smoldering need in your gut was stronger than your moral code. Your thighs spread slightly, welcoming him. You could hear a faint chuckle behind you, your willingness nothing short of amusement to Carlos.

He nudged the tip of his cock against your slit, coating himself in the slickness he was the cause of. Just like all those times before, Carlos didn’t wait, he took what he wanted. Always.

The first thrust pushed you hard against the glass table and stole air from your lungs. You never got used to his size, the stretch always stung a little, the force of his thrusts always left your hips aching the next day and you knew you’d be feeling the same later.

He hissed, forcing himself to the hilt before pulling back and in again, setting a steady pace. His large hands gripped your hips, keeping you pinned between him and the table. You knew there would be bruises, bruises you’d hide, bruises he’d expose. Regrets you’d have to face one way or another.

Carlos pressed one hand against the small of your back, making you arch, your ass pushing back against his hips.

“That’s it…that’s it,” he murmured, looking down, your ass bouncing off his hips a mesmerizing sight. As your cheeks spread further apart, his eyes fell to your tight hole, and Carlos felt an itch he could not help but scratch. His hand slid down, his thumb pressing against it, feeling you clench around him.

He growled, pressing a little harder, testing your reaction. When you whined and clenched again, he knew he found a sweet spot.

“Fuck, you like it, princesa? You like when I play with your tight little ass?”

Your insides were molten, your resolve and pride burned to a crisp. Even your unspoken protests evaporated right on your tongue from the heat. “Yes…fuck, yes!” you panted out, feeling the knot in your stomach coil.

Carlos grinned, his thumb staying where it was, relishing in your walls fluttering even tighter around him, pushing him closer to the edge. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

“Such a dirty little thing… you want it? Tell me you want it, princesa.” You knew he was getting close when his mouth spewed the filthiest words, looking to get off on your reactions.

Your tongue nearly lolled out of your mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You knew what he wanted to hear and you gave in.

“Please,”

Carlos bit his lip, groaning as you begged for him, the act alone making his cock twitch. “Again, let me hear you.” You felt his chest press against your back, pushing you impossibly closer to the table to the point you thought it would break.

“P-Please…” your voice was louder this time, enough to the man above you. He grunted in satisfaction, his pace faltering before he spilled himself inside you. His hips stilled, but the weight of him continued to bruise your smaller body.

Carlos took a moment before he pulled out, panting, the grip on your hip easing. Your knees bucked slightly with exhaustion and Carlos, thinking himself merciful, grabbed at your elbow, pulling you up. You looked up at him but the sight of the cunning smile on his face told you that this was far from over. He yanked you in his direction and you ungracefully landed on your knees, the impact making you whine. Carlos snorted with laughter, adoring the sight of your pathetic self beneath him. He stepped closer to you and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, instead, you were met with the sight of his still-hard cock, now glistening with your mixed juices.

“Clean it…” His bottom lip twitched slightly, along with his eyebrow, taunting you as he breathed deeply. He pushed your limits, used you to his heart’s content, all because he could. Each little request a test to see if you’d break and disobey. But the moment your lips wrapped around him, his hands were back in your hair.

“Fuck— good girl,” the overstimulation made him groan, tightening his hold on your hair. You licked at him obediently, the taste salty on your tongue. He revered in the skill of your mouth, praising it as you worked. Every gag made him coo in a mocking tone and when you pulled off, he didn’t hesitate to take the reins. He took hold of his cock, his other hand in your hair, and dragged it over your cheek, across your face, a sick grin spreading across his lips as he watched you squeeze your eyes tightly so none of the mess would get there. He knew the smell would cling to your sweet skin, that was why he did it. He pulled back to look at his work.

The sight of your makeup ruined, cheeks stained, now with the added smell of him on you. Perfect. Carlos grinned, moving to tuck himself back in his suit pants.

“Now, that’s a pretty slut. Come on, let’s go…”

…

want more patrón!Carlos? lemme know in my askbox!! I plan on writing more for this AU and would love to know your thoughts on it<3

2024 @ gokyrts . Do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, could you write a story about Franco Colapinto where he’s maybe super jealous/protective of her, something like that?

baby you're safe (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - protective franco, abusive family, tears, angst, fluff, flinching

The rain drizzled gently outside as Y/N sat on the plush couch in the corner of her shared apartment with Franco Colapinto. The soft hum of an old playlist filled the air, but her thoughts were louder. Franco was due home any minute, and she was dreading the conversation they needed to have.

Their relationship had always been a haven for her—a stark contrast to the chaotic and abusive environment she grew up in. Franco knew every corner of her past, from the shouting matches she endured to the nights she cried herself to sleep. He’d made it his mission to be her protector, her fiercest ally.

--

The sun was beating down on the bustling paddock as Y/N stood near Franco’s garage, chatting with a few team members. She had gotten used to the constant hum of engines and the organized chaos that came with race weekends. However, today, something felt...off.

"Y/N, you’re a lot prettier up close than I expected," one of the mechanics said, his tone dripping with something she couldn’t quite place but didn’t like.

She forced a polite smile, trying to shift the conversation back to something neutral. “Thanks. So, do you think Franco’s car will be good to go for qualifying?”

“Oh, it’ll be perfect,” the mechanic replied, leaning in slightly. “But speaking of perfect, maybe we could grab a drink later? I’m sure Franco wouldn’t mind sharing you for a little while.”

Her stomach churned, and she stepped back, forcing a laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

From across the garage, Franco had been keeping an eye on her, as he always did. When he saw the mechanic lean in, his jaw tightened. Then he noticed Y/N’s uneasy smile, and that was it.

Without a second thought, Franco stalked over, his boots thudding against the asphalt. His eyes were locked on the mechanic, but his hand reached out for Y/N, gently pulling her to him.

“Problem here?” Franco’s voice was low, laced with tension.

The mechanic looked startled but recovered quickly, smirking. “Nah, just getting to know Y/N. Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“You didn’t step on toes,” Franco said, his eyes narrowing. “But you’re about two seconds away from stepping on my patience. She’s mine.”

“Franco—” Y/N started, but he silenced her by gently tugging her closer.

The mechanic raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, man. Didn’t mean any harm.”

“Good,” Franco said, his tone sharp as a blade. But he wasn’t done.

Turning to Y/N, his intense gaze softened just slightly. “Come here,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding.

Before she could process what was happening, Franco cupped her face and kissed her, pressing her back gently against the stack of tires behind her. The world around them disappeared, the hum of the paddock fading into nothing. His lips moved against hers with a fierce protectiveness, like he was staking his claim for the entire paddock to see.

Y/N’s hands instinctively gripped his shirt, her cheeks burning as her heart raced. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm and heavy.

“You okay?” he whispered, his voice softer now, his thumb brushing her cheek.

She nodded, utterly breathless. “Yeah. Just...a little dizzy.”

His lips curved into a small, smug smile. “Good. That’s how I want you to feel every time I kiss you.”

“Franco,” she hissed, her cheeks flaming as she glanced around, noting the curious eyes of a few team members.

He didn’t care. Turning back to the mechanic, he shot him a pointed look. “If I see you so much as glance at her again, we’re going to have a bigger problem than your attitude. Got it?”

The mechanic mumbled an apology and quickly walked away, leaving the two of them alone by the tires.

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re so dramatic.”

Franco chuckled, pulling her hands away and kissing her knuckles. “Maybe. But no one hits on my girl.”

“Your girl?” she teased, though her heart swelled at his words.

“My girl,” he repeated firmly, leaning in to kiss her again, softer this time. “And don’t you forget it.”

She sighed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replied with a wink, taking her hand and leading her back toward the garage.

As they walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe his overprotectiveness wasn’t so bad after all.

--

The small apartment they shared after the race weekend was quiet, but the tension between Franco and Y/N was palpable. The sun was setting, casting a soft glow through the windows, but it felt like their frustration was taking over the space. The argument had started over something as trivial as not putting the plates away after dinner, but it had escalated into something bigger, fueled by exhaustion and mounting stress.

“I told you to put the damn plates away,” Franco said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “How hard is it to just finish something, Y/N? It’s not that difficult.”

Y/N stood near the counter, her arms crossed tightly, her mind racing. “I was getting to it, Franco,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I don’t need you to remind me. I’ve got other things going on too.”

Franco let out a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but we’ve been through this before. It’s a simple thing. Why does it feel like everything I say to you gets brushed off?”

“It’s just plates, Franco,” Y/N muttered, exasperated. “Not everything has to be a lecture. I didn’t mean to leave them out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not asking for much. I just want things to be—”

He raised his hand to scratch his head, the motion so simple, so habitual, but the second his hand moved toward his face, Y/N froze. A sharp, unexpected flashback hit her like a wave, her breath catching in her throat. She saw her father’s angry hand, raised high in a threatening gesture, and heard the harsh words that followed it.

Her body reacted before her mind could fully process the moment. She flinched violently, instinctively stepping back, her heart racing in panic. The room seemed to shrink around her, her chest tightening, and she could feel her breath becoming shallow.

Franco’s eyes widened in shock as he saw her reaction. “Y/N?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was a thread of confusion in it too. He hadn’t even come close to touching her, but he could see the way she was trembling, the way she had pulled away.

“I... I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes fixed on the ground. “I didn’t mean to. I just... I thought...” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, the rush of fear and shame overwhelming her.

Franco’s heart sank. His stomach dropped as he realized what had happened. He immediately dropped his hand, his face softening with realization and guilt.

“Y/N...” he said, his voice breaking. He slowly stepped closer, cautiously, afraid to overwhelm her. “Hey, look at me. Please, look at me.”

She shook her head, trying to push the image of her father out of her mind, but it was hard. The fear still lingered, her body still stiff with anxiety.

Franco’s heart shattered as he gently cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to form in her eyes. “I would never hurt you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Never. I’m not him. I would never do that to you.”

She blinked, her chest heaving with deep breaths as she processed his words. She knew he wasn’t like him—she knew that—but the reaction had been so ingrained in her, so automatic from years of living with the threat of violence.

“I didn’t mean to...” Y/N whispered again, her voice raw, tears falling freely now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know you would never hurt me.”

Franco wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, his expression soft but filled with immense sorrow. “I never want you to feel scared of me,” he said, his voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry if I made you feel like that for even a second. You’re safe with me, always. I will never, ever raise my hand to you. You’re everything to me.”

She finally met his eyes, her heart aching as she saw the pain in his gaze. “I know. I just... sometimes the past feels so close. It’s hard to shake it.”

Franco pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair. “I don’t want to remind you of anything from your past, Y/N. I just want you to feel loved. And safe. And I’ll do anything to make sure you feel that way.”

She closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “I just get so scared sometimes.”

Franco kissed the top of her head gently, squeezing her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

After a few moments of silence, Y/N pulled back slightly, her fingers gently tracing his jawline. “I’m really tired, Franco,” she admitted, her voice soft and vulnerable. “I don’t even know why we’re fighting over plates.”

Franco smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across her lips. “We’re both exhausted. Let’s just forget about the plates. I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she reached up to touch his cheek. “Me too. I’m sorry I snapped. It’s just... it’s been a long weekend.”

“I get it,” Franco said with a quiet sigh. “We’ve both been under a lot of stress. But we’ll be okay. We just need to take care of each other, okay?”

She smiled weakly, feeling the warmth of his embrace settle over her. “Okay.”

And in that moment, even though the argument had been small and silly, they both knew they’d have to work through the bigger things too. But for now, they were together, and that was enough to make everything feel a little bit better.

--

The paddock was alive with energy, fans crowding near the barriers to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Y/N was walking hand-in-hand with Franco, the noise around them blending into an indistinct hum. She had grown used to the excitement of race weekends but still found herself slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people.

As they passed by a cluster of fans, a girl lunged forward to get Franco’s attention, accidentally bumping into Y/N and causing her to stumble slightly.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the fan exclaimed, her face flushing red as she stepped back, hands raised. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, brushing herself off with a smile. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

But Franco’s reaction was anything but calm. He immediately stepped in front of Y/N, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice sharp and loud enough to draw attention. “Do you not see her standing there? Be more careful!”

The fan’s eyes widened, and she looked genuinely distressed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“She said she’s fine,” Franco cut her off, his tone still harsh. “But maybe next time, watch where you’re going.”

“Franco,” Y/N said, tugging at his arm. “That’s enough. Let it go.”

“She could’ve hurt you,” he insisted, his protective glare fixed on the fan, who was now on the verge of tears.

“Franco,” Y/N said firmly, stepping around him. “She apologized. It was an accident. Let’s just go.”

But he wasn’t done. “Accident or not, people need to learn to respect boundaries—”

“That’s enough!” Y/N snapped, her voice cutting through his.

The crowd had started to notice the commotion, and Y/N could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Franco standing there, stunned.

He quickly followed her, catching up as they entered a quieter area near the garages.

“Y/N, wait!” he called out, grabbing her arm gently to stop her.

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “What is wrong with you? She didn’t mean to push me, Franco! Why did you have to make a scene?”

“I’m not going to let anyone treat you like you don’t matter!” he shot back, his voice rising.

“She wasn’t treating me like I don’t matter! She made a mistake, and she apologized! You embarrassed her—and me—in front of everyone!”

“I don’t care about them!” Franco yelled, running a hand through his hair. “I care about you!”

“You care so much that you’re smothering me!” Y/N snapped, her voice trembling with frustration. “You act like I can’t handle anything on my own!”

Franco opened his mouth to respond but then stopped, his shoulders sagging. His face softened, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and shaky.

“I just want to protect you,” he said, his words breaking as they came out. “I wasn’t there when you were a kid, Y/N. I couldn’t stop the things that happened to you, and it kills me to know that you went through all of that alone. I just... I just want to make sure you’re safe and happy now.”

Y/N froze, her anger melting away as she saw the pain in his eyes.

“Franco,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“I know I go too far sometimes,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I know I embarrass you or make things worse. But I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you—anything that hurts you. I just want to do right by you.”

Her heart clenched as she reached up to cup his face, forcing him to look at her. “Franco, I’m okay. I’m here, with you, and I’m okay. You don’t have to carry that guilt. You’ve already done more for me than anyone ever has.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I’m sorry for making a scene. I just... I panicked.”

“I know,” she said softly, pulling him into a hug. “But you have to trust me to handle some things on my own, okay? I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’ll try. Just... promise me you’ll tell me if I’m ever too much.”

Y/N smiled faintly, stroking his hair. “I promise. And for the record, I love how much you care. Even if it drives me crazy sometimes.”

He let out a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You drive me crazy too, you know.”

“Good,” she teased, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Keeps things interesting.”

The tension between them finally dissipated as they stood there, holding onto each other. Franco knew he’d always have to find a balance between his protectiveness and her independence, but in that moment, all that mattered was that they were together.

--

Tonight, however, she feared his protectiveness would backfire.

The door creaked open, and Franco stepped in, shaking rain droplets from his jacket. His hair was damp, falling messily over his forehead, but his smile remained as he caught sight of her.

“Hey, cariño,” he greeted, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Missed you today.”

Y/N forced a smile. “We need to talk.”

Franco froze mid-motion, his brows furrowing. He straightened, his warm demeanor replaced by concern. “What happened? Did someone say something to you again?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”

He sat beside her, taking her hands in his. “Then what is it?”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I saw the article. The one where they’re saying I’m just with you for your fame. That I’m riding your success.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. His grip on her hands remained gentle, but the protective fire in his eyes burned bright. “Who wrote it?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

“It doesn’t matter, Franco,” she said, squeezing his hand. “What matters is how it’s affecting you. You’re already dealing with so much pressure in F2, and—”

“No.” Franco cut her off, his voice firm. “Stop. Don’t make this about me. This is about people attacking you, and that’s not okay.”

“But I don’t want to be the reason you’re constantly defending yourself or fighting with the media,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

Franco shook his head, his hands moving to cradle her face. “Y/N, listen to me. You are not a burden, and you are not a distraction. I don’t care what anyone says. You’re mine, and I will protect you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted. His voice softened as he kissed her forehead. “You’ve been through hell, Y/N. I know what your family put you through. I’m not letting anyone else hurt you. Not the media, not some creep at a party, not even me when I screw up.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh. “You’re too good to me.”

“Damn right I am,” he teased, brushing a tear off her cheek.

Despite the tender moment, tension still lingered in the air. Franco sensed it, and his tone shifted. “What’s really bothering you?”

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I’m scared that one day, this will be too much for you. That I’ll be too much for you.”

Franco leaned back, his expression hardening—not in anger, but determination. “Y/N, I need you to hear me loud and clear. This is not breaking us up.”

Her eyes widened at his intensity.

“We’ll fight, sure,” he continued. “We’ll have days where we annoy the hell out of each other. But leaving? Breaking up? That’s not happening. Not because of some stupid article or my career or your past. Do you understand me?”

She nodded slowly, overwhelmed by his unwavering resolve.

Franco sighed, his hands running through his damp hair. “I love you, Y/N. And when I say I love you, it means all of you—your past, your fears, everything. So please, stop thinking you’re too much.”

She smiled softly, leaning into him. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat like that for a while, the rain outside growing heavier. Franco’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, but he ignored it, choosing instead to hold Y/N closer.

“Let’s order pizza,” he said after a moment. “And after that, I’m finding out who wrote that article. They’re going to regret ever mentioning your name.”

Y/N chuckled, finally feeling at ease. “As long as you don’t get yourself banned from the paddock.”

“No promises,” Franco replied with a grin. “But for you? Worth it.”

[xoxo-sarah]

Visiting Home for the Holidays

↝a/n: for my people who don't celebrate Thanksgiving, you can interpret this as Steve meeting your parents for the first time. 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

↝warning: Thanksgiving? Not proof read, rushed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 11.27.24

Steve Harrington masterlist | main masterlist

Steve stood at the edge of the driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. He adjusted his brown sweater for what felt like the hundredth time. You had told him it looked good on him.

He glanced nervously at the front door. The memory of his disastrous first meeting with Nancy's parents played on a loop in his mind. He could still hear the awkward silences, feel the judgmental stares, and remember the feeling of not being good enough. He remembered passing by the house and feeling ashamed when he caught the eye of Mr. Wheeler as he mowed the lawn. Truthfully, Mr. Wheeler hadn't thought of Steve since that night. That didn't change the fact that it haunted Steve. The thought of repeating that experience made his palms sweat and his stomach churn.

"Steve, it's going to be okay," you said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "They're going to love you."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just... I don't want to mess this up." Last time, it was a disaster. He didn't dare say the last sentence. This is different. It's a different time with different people. He's changed. He's not King Steve. You're not her.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. "You're amazing, and they're going to see that."

Steve nodded, taking comfort in your words. "Okay, let's do this." With one last deep breath, he followed you up the walkway, feeling a little more confident with each step.

Peering eyes watched through the window, in-between the curtains. Excited eyes softened and protective eyes glared, slightly wavering as you slightly smiled. You were happy.

As you knocked on the door, he glanced at you, and you gave him a reassuring smile. The door opened, and your parents greeted you both warmly. Steve felt the tension in his shoulders start to ease as he saw the welcoming expressions on their faces.

Dinner was a cozy affair, filled with laughter and stories. Steve found himself relaxing more and more as the evening went on. Your parents were kind and engaging, nothing like the cold reception he had feared. Every now and then, he'd catch your eye, and your encouraging smile would give him the boost he needed to keep going.

"Steve," your dad started, a hint of question as he said the name, not sure if that was right. He gave time for correction, but it never came so he continued, "Y/n tells us you work at a video store. How's that treating you?"

Steve started to feel that familiar anxiety creeping back. Then he felt your hand gently touch his under the table, grounding him.

He took a deep breath and began to talk, feeling more confident with each word. "It's fun; decent pay." He started, before going on about working with friends and his boss.

Your parents listened intently, nodding and smiling, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

By the end of the night, Steve was laughing and chatting comfortably with your parents, the initial nerves long forgotten. He realized that with you by his side, he could face anything.

As you said your goodbyes, your mother stopped you, bringing you into a hug. "He's a keeper," she whispered and grinned, pinching your cheek and your became embarrassed.

Your dad brought you closer to him, after shaking Steve's hand firmly. "Be careful on the roads. Holiday traffic is the worst."

Steve grabbed your hand and began walking back to the car, Steve turned to you, gratitude and affection shining in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I couldn't have done this without you."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I knew you could do it. And now you know it too."

Steve smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the chill of the night air. He knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, with you by his side, he could handle them all.

After Steve opened your door, helping you get in without hitting your head, you turned back to the house as Steve rounded the car. Your parents stood on the edge of the porch, expressions soft. They waved, smiled gracing their face. Their little girl was with someone who seemed nice. He was respectful; he helped clean up and respected you and them. He listened when you talked, eyes scanning your face. A few times, they caught him smiling as he admired you. He even fixed a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

They were willing to welcome him back anytime, as long as he made you happy.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[chiumii]

Heyy Heard you got writers block can you do all the jjk men (toji especially cuz my man my man my mann) where the reader and them just got into an argument and says goodnight to each other I know this sounds weird but at the end of the day they still love each other lol if u already did this sorrrry!

hi love bug ! i’m sorry this took so long to answer 😭 college is NAWT fun. I did my best i hope that’s okay! 🤍 I did add a little twist into your request I hope that's alright!

broken then fixed ~ husband toji x reader

Toji Fushiguro and you have been married for a few years now, so you know what his job as an assassin is like. You're used to him coming home at odd hours in the morning, if he ever came home at all. He's usually out for weeks, and oftentimes months on a job. Despite his schedule, you agreed to marry him out of pure love the both of you shared. One tough night after coming home from a job that took him a couple months to complete, he seems to be in the worst mood you've seen him in, in a very, very long time. Due to this, you, and more so he, exchange some words that left open wounds on each other's hearts. Will you both be willing to patch up those wounds together, or will you have to do it alone?

word count: 3600 Toji Fushiguro x reader. Angst, yelling, crying, words of hatred, mentions of breaking up, mentions of death, toji very shortly thinks of having sex with you. Fluff. Toji is a bit sweeter than normal bc i love sweet men.

Toji and you have been married for the last five years. Your shared love is indescribably perfect despite his tough work schedule as an assassin. Despite this, your love continues to grow for each other every passing second. Some nights do get tough when you're away from your lover. Crying, glass after glass of wine, hugging his pillow and sleeping on his side of the bed. Other nights, you're just happy you have someone to protect, love, and cherish you the way Toji does. You admire everything about your husband, and the feeling is mutual, he loves you the exact way. 

When he's having a tough day on the job, all he does in order to pick himself back up is imagining the way your face lights up when he comes home. How you will more than likely have a home cooked meal all ready for him on the stove if you know the exact date he finds his way back to you. How your pussy makes him feel when he's inside you. When you're moaning his name as your fingers dig red, bloody trails down his toned back as he stuffs you full, taking his cock so well he could breed you for hours- but that's a different story. 

Although, tonight is different for him. He killed someone he wasn't supposed to kill today, a child. Four, maybe five years old. She was caught up in the midst of a brutal fight between him and his target, causing destruction all around him. And to make a long story short, he did end up killing who he was supposed to, but only to kill a little girl on the way to his goal. Toji seems like the type to not give a shit about something so small, but behind closed doors, he would never kill a child unless it absolutely had to be done. 

He puts up his walls when things like this happen, only for them to be torn down the moment his eyes find yours. That's what he loves most about you- how well you understand him and how forgiving you are. You make him feel safe, valid. He feels as though he can tell you anything, break down any wall, and all you do is listen and hold him as he finally lets down the mask. 

The guilt felt as if he was swallowing handfuls of glass. Sharp and painful as he opens the door to your shared house. The smell of something delicious hits him and it makes his stomach churn. 

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve to come home to the most perfect, beautiful woman on earth who treats him as if he is the most treasured person on the planet. He's angry with himself, and even though he sees you rounding the corner of the kitchen, his mask stays up and his head hangs low as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the hooks in the doorway. 

Your "welcome home my love" is early audible as the little girl's screams echo through his skull, consuming every part of his being. As Toji walks past you and into the living room, completely disregarding your existence. You can now tell that something has undeniably upset him. You don't take his actions to heart, your smile never falters as you turn your body to face him while your eyes follow his moving figure. He brings his hands up to his head as he stressfully runs his fingers through his black hair. 

You take a step towards him and your voice seems to be laced with sweetness as you speak to him.

"Honey, are you okay?" you ask him in the most sweetly filled concern he's ever heard, which breaks his heart even more. His teeth clench as his anger rises. 

Why do you have to be so sweet to me? Im a murderer for fuck sake. His thoughts eat away at him and he knows that if he looks at you, his walls will crack. 

"I can't." Is all he says, not turning around to look at you. Your face contorts to one of confusion at his words, not quite understanding the meaning of his short sentence. 

"Can't what, love?" The pet name you call him makes him want to break everything in the house. 

Make this short, Fushiguro.

"I can't keep this up anymore, y/n." His voice lacks emotion as he refuses to face you. Your heart clenches in your ribcage and suddenly your focus is undivided as your attention circulates onto Toji and Toji alone. 

You understand what he means, because he's talked about it before. Especially when he comes home from a tough job. You've always been able to reassure him, but this time feels different. Even though you understand completely, you still refuse to acknowledge it and play dumb. 

"I don't understand what you mean." You say, your voice never faltering from the sweet tone you speak. A low, gruntful huff escapes his throat as his frustration bubbles up. 

"We can't keep doing this, y/n." You feel as though the room is shrinking in on the both of you. It's suddenly stuffier as your chest begins to get heavier. You don't say anything, and that pisses him off. 

"I put you in danger, I put everyone in danger just by existing. I'm an assassin with an active target on my back." He takes a breath and in one swift motion, his hands fall to his sides, balling his hands into fists. 

"Please don't." your words are just below a whisper, but Toji can hear them. 

Believe me, baby. I don't want to. 

"I can't keep putting you in danger, it's selfish. We need to leave things here and never come back." His words are harsh as they leave his mouth, piercing straight into your heart. 

"Toji please. I don't want that." You speak, his ears ringing with your soft voice and the screams. 

"I do." Short and to the point. You aren't understanding now. He doesn't want you anymore? He doesn't love you? He doesn't care about you? So many things cloud your overthinking mind and everything is going a mile a minute. 

"Please don't. I don't care that you're an assassin, I don't care about your job. I don't care that you think I'm in danger! I know what you're capable of and I know that you protect me. I feel safe with you. Toji please don't, I'm begging you." You're frantic now. You haven't thought about your life without him, all you know is that you love him for who he truly is, and how safe you feel whenever you're in his presence. 

"That's the goddamn problem y/n. You're so blind sighted by how I present myself with you that you don't see the dangers of being with me. You're so caught up in what a happy, square marriage could be that you've gaslighted yourself into believing that you have one. I don't want this anymore, and I don't want you. I don't want what you think we have. I've had enough, y/n." His words send a punch to your gut and a thick crack to your heart, and suddenly it's too hard to breathe as your chest heaves. 

"You think it's easy being away from my own husband for so long? All the nights I've laid awake crying, scared that something will happen to you? How alone I feel for weeks on end?" You pause, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. 

"You wanna know how I get myself through those nights- weeks? It's the thought of you coming home to me. Feeling whole again whenever you're here. The house no longer feeling so big and empty. If we can get through those agonizing times of being apart, I know I can get through anything. All those arguments we've had just like this, we get through because I know I trust you, and I know damn well you feel the exact same." You take a breath before speaking again. 

"I trust you enough to be with you, because I know how dangerous your job is, and I know the sacrifices I have to make in order to be with you, that is why I agreed to marry you. That and the fact that I love you with all I am, Toji." He's silent, and this scares you. Every time an argument like this has happened, the both of you are fighting for each other, but this time is different. He's not fighting, you are. Alone. 

"Are you fucking stupid? How do I have to say it in order to make you understand? I don't care about our marriage, and I don't care about your love or trust. I don't want this. I don't want you. I'm tired of having these pointless conversations because with you, they never end. It's painful, really." Now it's your turn to be silent. A look of pain and regret clouds Toji's face as the words leave his mouth, but he has to land the finishing blow. 

"I don't love you, anymore y/n." 

Your emotions are all over the place. Anger, sadness, confusion. But you can't let him go, not yet. 

"Turn around and say it to my face." Your words are solid and demanding, and it honestly gives Toji chills. 

"I said, turn around and say it to my face, Toji." Your demand is clearer and more intimidating. 

I can't do it. 

He pauses for a minute, gathering himself and adjusting his mask before he turns around to look at you. His face is emotionless and solid. He looks you right in the eyes, his heart shattering in his chest at the sight of warm tears streaming down your perfect face, ruining your pretty mascara and light concealer. 

"I don't love you."

Your arms find their way to cross each other over your stomach, right below your breasts. almost as if you're trying to stop yourself from vomiting at his words. you're silent as he walks to the front door, your eyes staring off into space. He grabs his coat and walks out of the front door, slamming it shut behind him and as soon as he's out of the house, a loud sob erupts from the back of your throat and your breathing picks up the pace. You continue to sob as you walk into the kitchen, turning the stove off in a rushed manner. You pace around the kitchen, whines and cries leave your throat as you attempt to gather any rational thoughts. 

I'm not safe anymore. I won't see him again. Fuck you. Please don't leave me. 

They circulate around your brain and nothing else can calm you down. Your feet stop in their tracks as you see a picture frame on the table. 

Your wedding picture. Toji is holding you in his arms, and you're looking at the camera with the biggest, most genuine smile on your face. But what catches your eye is the look on his face, his eyes holding so much love as he looks directly at you in the picture. Your head starts hurting as your cries are filled with anger and betrayal. You storm over to the picture, pick it up and without even looking at it, you let out a loud grunt as you throw it at the front door. 

"Fuck you" you say to the shattered glass that now litters the floor. You rub your palms down your face and up through your hair, gripping hard as you tug on it. 

"Please don't leave me" you say to yourself and sink down onto the living room floor, your back against the soft couch the two of you picked out while you were furniture shopping before you moved into the place. 

You bring your knees to your chest and cry into your arms. Loudly. 

Words of "please don't leave me alone" and "I don't want you to go" echo off the walls of the house. You cry and cry for hours, begging to the empty house, your headache getting worse and before you know it, you're fast asleep on the floor in front of the couch. 

Little to your knowledge, Toji heard all of your cries and pleas. The longer it continued, the more he started to regret his decision. He wished there was an easier way to protect you, but alas, here you guys were. It was around 4 in the morning and he's still sitting with his back against the front door, trying to get himself to leave. but he just couldn't get himself to leave the woman he's in love with. 

All of the words he spoke were lies. Lies that will haunt him for the rest of his life. You were silent now, hinting to him that you had finally fallen asleep. He sat outside, staring out into the street. 

His thoughts overwhelming. 

He remembered how well he kept your marriage under wraps so that no harm would come your way, and none did. Nothing had ever happened to you in the five years of you guys being married. Nothing had ever happened to you in the 9 years of you being together in general. He was very good at making sure you were safe, but he didn't care. He would rather burn the world to the ground than have anything happen to you.

He remembered a conversation he had with an old friend of his before he had proposed to you, and it made him want to erase the last 6 hours of his life and start over. 

"Do you really think it's a good idea to marry her?" He asks. 

"yes I do." 

"I just don't want anything to happen to her, you know?" Toji says with a huff. 

"I understand, yes. But you need to understand that life has an unavoidable expiration date. you never know when you, or someone else is going to die. You have to live to your fullest extent with no regrets. Are you going to regret marrying her, or regret letting her go and risk her being happy with someone else. Would you rather her die with someone else, or with you." He says, making Toji drown with thought.

"What if she dies because of me?" Toji speaks in hushed tones. 

"You know you can't protect everybody, but you're Toji, come on. You don't protect anyone but yourself. Actually, you do the opposite, you kill people, people who need killing that is. You've already decided to keep your marriage hidden, and you chose the best way to do that. You do whatever you think is best, but if I were you, I would marry the one person who truly understands and accepts you for who you are, because you never know when that expiration date will come. Living with the happiness in your life, because you truly can't gain it if you're observing it from afar." 

The thought of a life without you in it makes him not want a life at all. You drive him crazy. Absolutely batshit crazy and he loves it. 

He married you for a reason, your souls are tied, there is no reason to cut that string bounding you two together. 

Toji thinks for a moment, an idea popping into his head as he stands up, brushing his pants off in the process. It's a crazy idea, but he's gonna give it up anyways. 

If he had to choose between the love of his life and continuing his line of work, he would choose you in a heartbeat.

So that's exactly what he does. 

He turns around and opens the front door, immediately finding your passed out figure on the living room carpet. His heart pangs at the thought of you sleeping on the uncomfortable floor. 

He closes the door behind him and locks it. Walking over the broken glass and picture frame, he carefully picks up the photo of the two of you on your wedding day and his eyes start to sting. He gently walks around the broken glass and into the kitchen, propping the picture in the exact same spot, only this time he leans it up against the wall so it's up right. He makes a mental note to go and buy a new picture frame tomorrow and begins to dim the kitchen and living room lights before heading over to your sleeping body. 

He bends down and looks at you. Your face is so calm, he can't believe those loud and broken sobs came from your delicate lips and soft throat. He brushes a strand of hair off your tear stained cheeks and caresses your sweet face with the pad of his thumb, rubbing it over the tear marks streaming down your puffy cheeks. 

He carefully wraps one arm under your back, the other under your knees, picking you up bridal style. He stands up and starts heading into your shared room, kicking the door open gently. 

The sudden change of position stirs you awake, and the first thing you see is Tojis face. Your eyes instantly widen and you are almost convinced you're dreaming, you go to say something but his deep voice vibrates through your body, interrupting you.

"don't say anything baby, let me explain." You close your mouth as he sets you on the perfectly made bed the two of you share. He sits down in front of you and places his hand on your knee, looking directly at you. 

"I'm sorry, y/n. I really didn't mean anything I said. I shouldn't have said any of it actually." you stare at the man before you, not saying anything- you don't know what to say really, so you let him continue. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. what I said was completely false and I want to ask you for forgiveness. I don't regret this relationship, and I don't regret ever meeting you." He pauses, looking down at his hands. You feel a familiar sting in the back of your eyes. 

"I want you. I want all of you. Every single aspect of your being is everything I will ever need in this lifetime. I always thought that I would rather die than to let anything hurt you, but it was nobody other than me who did exactly that, and I will spend every second of this life time and the ones after making up for it." Fresh tears run down your cheeks, but your expression is blank. Toji leans closer, moving his hand from your knee, onto the plush of your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb and you don't even think of rejecting his touch. 

"You aren't stupid, nothing you do is anything remotely stupid. You're perfect. Everything you do is perfect. Your trust, your love, hell even the way you walk. You drive me absolutely crazy, y/n. I just-" he pauses, trying to say the right words.

"I thought that leaving would- I thought that leaving was the best available option I had in order to keep you safe, because I really do believe that everywhere I go, there is danger and destruction, and I don't want that to have any sort of effect on you" he takes a breath

"I don't want to imagine a life without you y/n because- because without you, I don't want one" you've never seen him stutter the way he's doing now, and you've never heard his voice break as much, and you can tell he's being serious. 

"Tell me what happened" you blurt out before he can say anything else. Toji stares at you, his jaw clenching and then unclenching. his eyes tore away from yours before he speaks.

"There was a little girl, she had pretty big brown eyes and golden hair. four, maybe five years old. She got in the middle of a fight on accident and before I could stop, I ended up killing her. I can't get her screams of pain out of my head before she dies. I kept imagining that little girl as you. Like if I didn't leave, you would end up the same way she did. or instead of you,,, she was- she was our daughter.." his voice trailed off and your expression softens. the two of you have never spoken of having children, but you've thought about it multiple times before and you never once disregarded the possibility. even thinking about it happening in the future makes you happy. 

"you wanna know how I know that would never happen?" He looks up at you, a single tear littering his cheek. 

"because I know the extent you're willing to go in order to protect me." you lean forward into his warm chest, gripping his shirt so tightly that if your grip were to falter, he would slip through your fingers. you cry into his chest and he strokes your head, pulling you into his lap. 

"shh baby, it's okay" he coos as you cry into him.

"I thought you were actually leaving" you sigh, the tense atmosphere melting away as the feeling of being complete in his arms begins to overflow

"I'm not baby, I'm here to stay. I'm so sorry, never again, I promise you."

You pull away from him and look down at the pair of wedding rings that shine on your fingers. 

"I love you, y/n, and this is where i'm going to stay, right here with you."

[luvhaos]

omg for the drabble game, “come back to bed” and dino !!

lee chan x reader 𖦹 word count: 927 2025 drabble dialogue game — open

content: frat boy! chan, angst, suggestive content 

Chan almost wishes that Seungkwan hadn’t told him you were coming tonight. 

The house is pulsing with the bass-boosted music Vernon plays from his DJ table and Soonyoung has set up the light system to flash different colors. Every room is filled to the brim with people, and they eventually had to start turning people away at the door with the exception of select friends. 

He’s gulping down whatever concoction Mingyu handed him, only half-listening to whatever story his brothers are telling some girls as his eyes scan the crowd for the fifth time. He still doesn’t see you.  

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns, hoping that it’s you. Instead, his shoulders drop when he sees that it’s someone else; he vaguely remembers her — Minji, he recalls — a girl he hooked up with earlier in the semester. She was cute and he was a little tipsy, so he went with her to her dorm when she offered. He’d left the next morning before the sun even rose. 

She smiles at him, gazing at him with bright eyes. “Hi, Chan!”

“Hey,” he says half-heartedly. He moves his head back to stare out at the living room, straight at the door. 

She shifts to move in front of him. “How have you been?”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call after, you know, that night…” She’s saying other things but Chan isn’t listening. He only tunes back in when Mingyu says his name, asking him to add onto the story about when Soonyoung and Jeonghan dared him to chug a whole bottle of fireball. 

Chan laughs a little, “Yeah, my mouth was on fire by the end.”

It earns laughs from the group and Minji slaps his arm lightly, giggling too loudly. She touches his bicep and tells him, “Wow, I forgot how buff you are!”

“Been hitting the gym with Mingyu more,” he says and she opens her mouth to say something but Chan tunes her out, eyes widening. Even in the crush of bodies and the dim light, he zeroes in on you. 

Your arm is looped through your friend, Yeri’s, and the flashing lights make the glitter on your eyelids sparkle. Seungkwan’s on your other side and you grin at something he says, which makes Chan’s heart flip and his stomach churn. He knows he’s being rude when he doesn’t excuse himself from the group, shrugging Minji’s hand off him but it’s almost trance-like — his draw toward you. 

It takes five steps for Chan to be in front of you and he asks Yeri, “Mind if I steal your friend away?”

“By all means,” she says, nudging you with a smirk. You roll your eyes good-naturedly at her as Chan wraps an arm around your hips, bringing your back into his chest. 

“Hello to you too,” you say. Your hands rest on top of his as the two of you move along with the rhythm of the song. 

“Hi,” he replies with a grin, pecking your exposed shoulder. “I can’t believe you turned down my invite but accepted Seungkwan’s.”

“I told you I had a paper to finish. Seungkwan just had better timing since he checked again after I had just submitted it.”

“Excuse, excuses,” Chan mumbles, tucking his face into your neck. You always smell good, your perfume only enhancing your natural scent. 

You spin around to face him, arms winding around his neck to pull him even closer. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he hums, leaning forward. His mouth finds yours easily and his grasp on you tightens. As his tongue slips into your mouth, your hands slide into his hair. He moans into the kiss as he feels you tug on some strands. When you break for air, his mouth follows yours and he barely even realizes it. Neither of you have to even say anything before he’s tugging you through the sea of people and up the stairs towards his room. 

Chan flings the door open and slams it behind him. You back him up until he hits the bed and tumbles onto the mattress. You straddle him, dipping down to catch his lips with yours again. The two of you twist and writhe together until you’re both breathless and sated. Well, Chan doesn’t think he’ll ever be sated when it comes to you. 

You fall asleep curled in his arms and Chan watches your chest rise and fall with breaths, gaze tracing the contours of your face. He wishes that he could preserve this moment like a fossil in amber, wishes that it could last forever. 

When he wakes up the next morning, you’re already standing, searching for your clothes in his dark room. Normally, Chan would be glad that he didn’t have to drop hints to get someone to leave but his stomach plummets when he sees you getting dressed. He leans up on his elbows and murmurs, “Come back to bed.”

You laugh breathily, stepping into the jeans you wore and slipping your top back on. “Tempting but I have to go. I’m meeting someone for breakfast and I have to clean up and get ready.”

“Are you sure? You can shower here and I can drive you—”

As his eyes adjust to the dark room, he sees you smile a little. “You’re sweet, but I really have to go.”

He frowns when you put on your shoes and wave over your shoulder as you open his door. Then, you’re gone.

It’s just like every time before, and each time, his heart breaks a little more. 

[lucygxybaird]

billy x reader - you feel the baby kick

tw: pregnancy, tw: nausea (mention)

Sitting on the front porch, a pile of mending in a basket at your feet, you lean back in the chair and close your eyes, tipping your face up. A soft spring breeze plays with the tendrils of hair falling from your braid, sunshine splashing into your lap, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear Billy singing to himself as he repairs a saddle in the little shack that passes for your stable.

Oh, how I love her, ain’t that a shame…oh, how I love her, good-bye, Liza Jane…

You smile to yourself, absently humming along. More often than not lately, you’ve started dozing off in the afternoons, a habit which you know alarmed Billy at first — though he promised to fuss over you less (and  he’s definitely gotten better), you did overhear him taking the doctor aside after a recent visit, asking if it was normal for you to be so tired.

“Yes, son,” the doctor had assured him. You’d been pretty sure you could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s perfectly normal, and in fact, I’d encourage it. It’s a lot of work, bringing new life into the world.”

Without opening your eyes, you smooth a hand over your belly, your faint smile widening. Loose nightgowns can’t hide your condition anymore, but you don’t mind, because with every change to your body, you know your baby is growing. Not to mention Billy simply can’t keep his hands off you. 

Most often, he’ll start with his hands on your shoulders, coming up behind you and squeezing gently, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Then his hands will slide down your arms, pausing to cup your elbows and pull you flush against him. You’ll relax in his arms, glad to take the weight off the small of your back, and he’ll spread one large, warm palm over the curve of your belly.

“How’re my girls doin’ today?” he’ll ask, which never fails to make you giggle. 

“What if it’s a boy?”

Billy always shakes his head firmly. “Mm-mm, that’s my baby girl in there,” he’ll tell you. “I know it.” 

When the two of you are laying in bed together, Billy will hold you in his arms all night, both hands resting protectively over your stomach. Other times, throughout the day, he’ll pause just to kiss you — your lips, each cheek, your forehead — before putting his palm against your ribs, thumb moving in soothing circles over the fabric of your dress, which is becoming more and more tightly stretched with each passing day. 

“You’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you, smiling in a dreamy sort of way, like he can’t quite believe this life is actually his. Or he’ll ask you how you’re feeling, or he’ll ask you what you did today while he was working, or he’ll tease you with more whimsically intricate Gaelic baby names (Gobnait, Odhairnaith, Dubhghlas, Muircheartach). 

Sometimes, when you find yourself worrying — about the pain to come, about taking care of another little living being, about if you’ll be a good mother, a good wife — you think of that smile.

You have always known that Billy’s story diverges from the man, a tributary branching off from a river; the truth was clear, cold water, sweet and filling, but it seemed most people weren’t interested in that. They were rabidly fascinated by that little stream, by the waters churning with blood, spent shells, dirt and sweat. Tears. You love all of Billy, tributaries and all, but you know that he earnestly wants to follow the river, tracings its path to the future. A future with you, with your baby.

When you see his peaceful smile, his contentment radiating from him like an angel’s halo, you’re reminded of how far he’s come. Of how much he deserves this peace, this life the two of you are making together, and you feel at peace yourself. Whatever comes, physical pain or self-doubt, you know you can take it on, as long as you have him by your side.

Which — 

Your eyes flutter open as his shadow falls across your face, and you smile up at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

Billy grins sheepishly, shrugging. Rather than loom over you, he kneels beside your chair, putting his hand against your stomach. “Not long,” he says, as you cover his hand with your own. You can smell the scent of leather clinging to his skin, mixing with his natural musk, and you’re glad that your stomach has finally settled. A few months ago, even scents like this — scents you loved — would have driven you to a bucket. 

You remember how attentive he had been then — not that he was any less attentive now — even though your illness had embarrassed you. You’d known, logically, that you couldn’t help it, but it had made you cringe, nonetheless. You worried that he would find you disgusting like this, but you should have known better. Billy had never once flinched, instead holding your hair safely back, helping you into bed afterwards, fetching you water to rinse your mouth and crackers to soothe your tender stomach. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” You feel his fingers grasp your chin, turning your face toward his. You smile and shake your head.

“You.” 

Billy raises an eyebrow, a faint smile coming to his lips. “Good things, I hope.”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head expansively. “Only about how you repulse me, actually.”

“Ah!” He puts his hand over his heart, as though mortally wounded. You bite your lip to keep from giggling. After a moment of consideration, he says: “That makes having my baby a little awkward for ya, huh?”

“A little,” you agree. 

He leans up to kiss you, moving his hand from your stomach to the arm of the chair to brace himself. It’s then, as your own palm settles on the curve of your belly, that you feel it. You gasp against Billy’s lips, and he straightens up at once, his eyes widening.

“What?” he says. “Is somethin’ wrong? Is it the baby?”

You just smile at him, shaking your head. You hold up your free hand, indicating that you need a moment, and Billy sits back on his heels, his forehead still furrowed with concern. “Here,” you breathe, and you take his hand, putting it over the spot where you think you felt something.

“Darlin’, wh—?” His voice falters as he feels the same thing you felt, and his eyes go wide, his face shining like a child on Christmas morning, faced with every gift he could ever want. “Is that…?”

“I think so,” you say, laughing weakly, tears starting in your eyes like a pair of stars winking into life. “I think it is.”

And then it happens again, and you’re certain. 

“Billy, here,” you say, taking his hand and moving it to the new spot. 

It feels like a fish swimming beneath your skin, a fluttering sensation that reminds you of ripples in a pond — and then — 

“Oh!” 

The two of you exclaim at the same time, and under normal circumstances, it would make you laugh. His deeper voice melding with your lighter one is like a kitten and a mountain lion being startled in unison. But all you can think about is the strong, solid jab you both felt — you, against the drum-tight curve of your stomach, and Billy, in his cupped hand, as if he’s catching a firefly. 

“Do it again,” Billy says, wide-eyed, and you almost tell him — gently — that you can’t really control it, when you realize his eyes are trained on your stomach. “Please? Do it again for your papa, please?”

You both sit there for a moment, waiting, and then — 

Another little flutter, like the baby is rolling over inside you, and you guide Billy’s hand over the ballet beneath your skin. There’s another sharp jab to your ribs, right into Billy’s palm. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Billy says softly, and it isn’t until he looks up at you with glittering eyes that you realize he’s talking to you this time. “That’s our baby.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Ours,” you agree. You love the sound of that word. 

“And she listened to me,” Billy says, offering you a cheeky grin. “You think that makes her papa’s girl already?”

“What are you going to do when this baby is born and it’s a boy?” 

Billy smiles. “Then we’ll name him Patrick William, and we’ll try again.” 

You snort, raising an eyebrow. “And how many babies do you think we’re going to have, Mr. Bonney?”

He leans up to kiss you again, brushing his lips, butterfly light, over the curve of your cheek. “As many as you’re willin’ to give me, honey. An’ you know I’ll love every one, whether it’s just this little one, or…”

He cuts his eyes over at you, raising his eyebrows to give you a cue. You laugh and hold up two fingers. “Or two more,” he finishes, and you giggle.

He sits in the rocking chair next to yours, pulling your feet into his lap. “You know it doesn’t matter to me, boy or girl,” he says. “I just want ’em to be happy and healthy. That’s all.”

You lean your head back as his thumbs dig into the arch of your foot. “I know,”  you murmur.

There’s silence for a moment, and you let yourself drift idly, relaxing at the pleasure of his touch, of his words. 

“I was thinkin’, though…”

You crack an eye open. “Hmm?”

“If we have a little girl…my ma would have liked…I mean, she woulda…she really woulda loved…”

His throat works, and you lean forward, taking your feet — with no small measure of reluctance — out of his lap, taking your hands in his instead. “I know,” you say. “Our firstborn daughter was always gonna be Kathleen Bonney, whether it’s this baby or another one.”

He smiles, his eyes bright again. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

You kiss him gently, before pulling back with a grin. “Much better than Gobnait…”

His head tilts back with the force of his laughter, his broad shoulders shaking. “Aw, come on now, you didn’t really give that one a chance…”

“And I won’t,” you say, shaking your head with a giggle. “No matter how many we have.” 

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

-

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

-

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

-

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

-

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

-

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

-

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

-

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

-

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

-

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

[white-shadow25]

Hi, can we have an scenario with Fem!Reader and True Noah Tyki form? Like the reader (also his lover) thought that he will hurt or kill her in this form, only to be forced to cuddle with him on floor, while purring in deep and loud voice 🤭

I am so, so sorry about how long it took me to get into writing ಥ‿ಥ Honestly, I was kind of sick when the requests started coming in, I think, I'm not sure of the exact dates but it must been pretty much close to it.

Moral of the story, don't have COVID and dengue altogether, you will suffer.

(Also I wanted to thank those who sent me nice words, I've been wanting to answer since I received them but I was too weak and have been thinking about it since then but just never answer.)

Now, in more optimistic news, I write something! I translated it with the help of ChatGPT, (I write in a pretty bad Span-English most of the time) it was far more quickly than it usually takes me to translate things, and with my very limited English knowledge, I would say is fine, if you notice something's off let me know so I'll never use it again  (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Two days passed since the Ark incident. Two days in which Tyki hadn’t awakened. You stayed by his side the entire time, sitting in a chair next to his bed. You hardly slept; he didn't allow you to. Every now and then, you would hear him, and it broke your heart to see him writhing in pain in bed, his moans and groans keeping you alert.

In these two days, you hadn't been able to get rid of the oppression in your chest that’s been overwhelming you since Adam returned to the new Ark with Tyki slung over his shoulder. Your mouth had gone dry, and your stomach churned. You rushed to them, and the Earl told you what had happened in a more optimistic tone than you would have liked to hear at that moment. He left Tyki in your care, fully trusting that you could handle it alone, and then he left, leaving you with the unconscious Noah. Since then, you've stayed by his side, wiping the sweat from his face and managing to feed and give him water.

Road visited you, but you noticed something was off about her. Her movements seemed oddly calculated, her eyes lacked their usual sparkle, her voice was weak, and you were sure her hair color dulled occasionally. You deduced that she hadn't come out of the battle unscathed and was tired, whether much or little. You sent her to recover, and somewhat reluctantly, she obeyed, not without warning you to be careful, the man you were caring for so lovingly might not be your partner. After reminding you to call her or Sheryl in case of an emergency, she left.

A growl brought you back to reality. Tyki was trembling, curled up. You dampened a clean cloth in fresh water and tried to uncover his face, which he kept hidden under the blankets.

"Tyki?" you asked, leaning over him on the bed. "Love?"

The Noah's growls grew louder, and in a movement you didn't fully understand, you fell to the floor along with the chair you had been anchored to for the past two days. The blankets moved as if there were a fight underneath, and you knew what it was.

The tentacles were not new to you; you had seen them before, hours after the Earl returned with Tyki, to be exact. You had already learned not to get too close in those moments. The small cut on your right palm started to bother you—a mark that would stay as a reminder of the first incident, a visible and tangible sign of the lesson learned.

Without standing up, you slowly crawled away from the bed. You sat in the corner near the door in case you needed to leave, and with your eyes fixed on the movement of the sheets, you waited. The growls intensified, the sheets tore, and the tentacles waved, twisted, and abruptly stopped. You could see how the Noah's back slowly straightened. His hair, now long, cascaded from his shoulders, and you couldn't help but shiver. The cold silence of the room chilled your bones. Your trembling fingers tried to grip the wooden floor, scratching it. In a blink, the Noah's figure towering above you.

And you could see his golden eyes. Those eyes you had seen thousands of times before, the same eyes that not long ago looked at you with the love and tenderness of the most devoted lover, now stared at you coldly and expressionlessly. This wasn’t Tyki.

You automatically understood the situation. You scanned the room frantically with your gaze, looking for Lero, but he wasn't there. Your breath caught, your heart stopped, and you bit your lips to stifle the small sob that fear had left in your throat.

You slipped a hand under the skirt of your dress; you had some talismans hidden in your stockings for emergencies, thinking, you could stop Joyd long enough to find Lero and improvise from there.

With a rough shove, the Noah pulled you from the corner and dragged you to the carpet in the center of the room while you took out the talismans and hid them in your sleeve. Before you could even remember the spell to use them, Joyd straddled you, a predatory smile on his lips and a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He leaned closer, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and inhaled deeply. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. You could see his posture relax, starting with the muscles in his shoulders followed by his back. He rested his forehead on your shoulder and slid his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly and nuzzling into your chest.

You waited for him to do something else, but that something never came.

"Tyki?" you asked again. Your shoulders tensed involuntarily when you heard him growl. "Joyd!" you corrected yourself immediately. "Joyd, Joyd," you repeated. "I'm sorry."

He nuzzled against you a bit more, and you couldn't help but giggle. Moved by tenderness, you hugged him back, and you could swear he started to purr.

It wasn't Tyki who controlled the body, but it was his body, and you remembered this when moved by instinct, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead before cuddling him to your chest. His body was so familiar that touching it felt easy, natural, right.

You stayed embraced for a while, the tik-tok of the clock and the loud growls of Joyd lured you to rest until he lifted his face slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. And there it was. They were still the same golden eyes but now shone with an affection you knew by heart.

"Name?" Tyki asked in a husky voice. His eyes were half-closed, like someone who had just woken up.

"Yes?" you whispered, holding his gaze, your voice a fragile and warm murmur. A sound that felt comforting in the cold silence of the dark room.

He buried his face in your chest again. "Nothing," he sighed. He was too tired and in too much pain to think. The warmth and comfort of your embrace kept him sleepy and calm.

You slid a hand through his hair, lulling him, while the other traced circles on his back.

"I'm glad to hear you again."

[writing-for-marvel]

Withdrawal

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You wait for Bucky to call.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, some angst and self doubt, references to sex, references to Bucky having a traumatic past

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Will he call? Won’t he call? Let’s find out! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky stares down at his phone and sighs.

He wants to call you, genuinely, so why is dialling your number so difficult?

Perhaps it’s too soon, is what he tells himself. It hasn’t even been a full day since the end of your date, calling now probably makes him look desperate.

Should he message you? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you all day? Ugh, no… that seems extremely forward for someone he’s only been on a single date with, regardless of if it’s the truth.

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.

Bucky knows he’s overthinking, but you make it hard to think clearly. You have his brain short circuiting, reforming synapses so that all his thoughts are rerouted to the same thing: you.

Turning his phone off, he sets it down beside him. Just because he isn’t calling straight away, doesn’t mean he won’t at all. It’s probably better to wait and not seem super eager.

Or is that counterintuitive? If you enjoy someone’s company, should you let them know so you can see them again as soon as possible?

Fuck, why is this such a daunting task? He’s never had an issue with talking or flirting with anyone before, it seems to come naturally to him. And yet the thought that he’ll say the wrong thing, and fuck up whatever it is between the two of you is making his stomach churn with prickling nerves he’s never experienced before.

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow.

* * *

“You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” The familiar voice from the driver's seat of the ambulance pulls Bucky from his daydream.

You, is what Bucky thinks. You are constantly on his mind. Him and his best friend Steve are half an hour into their shift and you have not left the forefront of his mind in that entire time.

It’s like he’s in a trance.

“There’s this girl from the hospital…” Bucky trails off, unsure how to articulate exactly how you’ve bewitched him since meeting not even a week ago.

The night before last wasn’t just another hookup. At least, not to him.

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better.

“Two nights ago we went on a date, it ended up back at her place.” This is probably not news to Steve - he’s heard many stories about Bucky’s one night stands which would have started exactly like this. But there is one huge difference this time around. “And then I told her I’d call.”

“You’re thinking about a second date with her? She must be something special.” Bucky chuckles under his breath. Yeah, you really are something special. So fucking special.

“She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny, witty. When she was treating that little girl from the train derailment she was so good with her, kind and patient. I don’t know how to describe it, we just click. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to feel more than physical attraction for someone but with her it just happens, I can’t stop myself.”

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Bucky’s already addicted to you. He’s only had one fix, but he’s already showing symptoms of withdrawal. Every second apart feels like an hour, craving your company and the rapture firing in every neuron of his body when you’re in his presence.

“Look at you actually falling for someone.” Steve teases, without even knowing the full extent of how enthralled Bucky is with you. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Silence fills the front seat of the ambulance when Bucky can’t answer the question.

“Bucky, you have to see her again! Listen to how you’re talking about her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually speak about wanting to see someone again. You need to call her.” Steve stops at a red light and looks over to Bucky in the passenger seat. His best friend knows him better than perhaps he knows himself but doesn’t have the same obstacle with letting people in as Bucky does.

“That’s easier said than done.” Bucky can’t mask the dejected tone in his voice, and Steve recognises the crestfallen hang of his head, knowing exactly what he means without voicing it aloud.

“I know you've been through a lot in your life Buck, you’ve built walls up to prevent any more heartbreak…” Steve starts, but Bucky doesn’t need yet another reminder of his tragic backstory.

“Alright Mr I minored in psychology, I get your point. I’m damaged goods and don’t let people get close to me.”

“It’s just a second date, Buck, you aren’t asking for her hand in marriage. Just see where it goes.” Steve makes it sound so easy. Most people wouldn’t get so stressed about something they would consider as minor as a second date, yet Bucky feels like he’s about to expose the most intimate parts of his soul to someone for the first time.

“But I don’t want to hurt her. I know nothing about dating or being in a relationship.” Bucky pauses - the fact that he’s even considering something as substantial as a relationship with you punches him in the gut. He’s never wanted that with someone before. “And I don’t want to get hurt myself.” Because all Bucky has known is relationships breaking down. To him romantic relationships are synonymous with pain and he’s had enough of that for a lifetime.

“You’ll never know if you never try. I know you think letting someone in will lead to heartbreak, but what if it’s the opposite? What if by letting this person into your heart you finally find love and contentment?” Bucky has never allowed himself to imagine a life where that is a possibility - opening himself up to that prospect sounds like a recipe for more suffering. Besides, he’s been damaged goods for a long time, he’s sure there’s no one who would want to put up with him anyway.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” Bucky comments, trying to avoid the questions Steve is raising, and divert the topic of their conversation.

“I want you to be happy, Buck. You’ve never afforded yourself that courtesy.”

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you.

“Well, maybe it’s finally time I do.” Bucky mutters under his breath.

* * *

You’ve been checking your phone periodically throughout the day to se if you have any new notifications from Bucky, but each time your phone lights up, a new wave of disappointment floods your chest.

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it.

“Heard anything yet?” Wanda asks hopefully, but you shake your head in response. The first thing Wanda asked during your next shift together was how your date went with Bucky - between treating patients you described the picnic Bucky set up on the riverbank and (in slightly less detail) the euphoric night you shared when you made it back to your place.

“I’m stupid for actually believing he’s going to call, aren’t I?”

“…No.” Wanda offers after a brief hesitation which tells you more than the single word does. Sensing your regret in asking, she continues on. “Sweetie, only you know the connection you share, I can’t speak to that. If you feel like there’s something special there and he promised to call, then you have every right to believe him.”

Perhaps you’re being foolish, you should know better than to hang your hopes on a man who is notorious for being a fuckboy, but you really thought Bucky was being genuine when he promised to contact you. That the blissful night you shared, and the waves of ecstasy which melded into a flood of pure pleasure, meant more than just a one night stand.

Or at least it did to you.

“Just because he’s never pursued more than a first date with other people in this hospital doesn’t mean he isn’t now, or isn’t with you. Sometimes it just takes the right person, that could be you.” You take some comfort in the sincerity of her tone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you of what Wanda alerted you to prior to your date: no one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

“You’ve changed from giving me no hope to giving me false hope, Wan.” You joke, trying to brush off the conversation and not reveal just how heartbroken you’ll be if Bucky ghosts you, even with Wanda warning about his ways.

Internally you remind yourself that it’s only been a day and a half and to not be too mad at him, yet. Perhaps he intends to call, but hasn’t gotten around to it, though you’re pretty sure you’re only telling yourself that to stop the perpetual ache in your chest rather than truly believing it.

“He promised he would call, that’s not false hope.” Wanda advises, shooting you a look of encouragement as you both complete paperwork for your respective patients.

At that moment, the doors to the ER swing open and none other than the paramedic you were just speaking about walks in wheeling a patient.

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too.

Him and his partner consult the head nurse of the ER, who, after examining her clipboard for a moment, points towards your direction, making your stomach flip.

Steel blue eyes meet yours and for a moment your entire world stands still. The sounds of the busy ER fade away and even the presence of Wanda beside you dissolves into non-existence when his eyes find you and a smile overtakes his features. That damn cheeky smile which makes your knees weak.

He truly is infuriatingly beautiful.

“Hey.” Is all you can think to say as they approach, a lump in your throat forming which would prevent you from voicing any more words if your brain could think of any other than how strapping and handsome he looks in his uniform.

“Hi.” Bucky responds softly with a dreamy smile, eyes lingering on yours for a long beat before turning away. How could someone who looks at you with such warmth not want to see you again?

You shake the thought from your mind as your focus on the patient, a young man with scared brown eyes. You can’t afford to be distracted right now, even if you desperately want to look back at him and revel in the fondness brimming in his eyes which was so apparent during your date.

After Bucky’s equally tall, broad and handsome paramedic partner gets you up to speed on the patient's history, you get to work on taking his vitals.

“Rogers, Barnes, give us some space to work, please.” Dr Strange requests and without the chance to say another word to each other, both paramedics disappear out the corner of your periphery.

What you don’t notice is Bucky’s soft gaze on you through the glass walls of the patient room as you start your work up, believing that he had simply got back in his ambulance and out into the field.

“That’s her?” Steve asks from beside Bucky. He knows full well it must be you, he’s never seen his best friend look so enamoured with a girl, nor lost for words as when he set eyes on you, but he wants Bucky to admit it aloud.

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.

Steve suspects if he doesn’t remind Bucky they have a shift to get back to, he’d happily watch you work for the rest of the day.

He allows Bucky a couple more minutes of that luxury before heading back to the ambulance, knowing his best friend well enough to realise before either Bucky or yourself do, just how significant Bucky’s feelings for you are.

* * *

Bucky steps out of the shower, the warm water having rinsed the hard days work off himself.

He knows he needs to call you. Waiting any longer, especially after seeing you today, even if it were only for a brief moment, would surely only indicate disinterest. That’s so far from how he feels about you, so he decides needs to take matters into his own hands and fulfil the promise he made two nights ago.

A fresh swarm of butterflies fills his stomach. He’s actually going to do this.

He just hopes you’re after more than just another hookup. Bucky’s used to being the one only interested in sex, but if the roles are reversed this time, it’ll be his exposed heart being ripped from his chest.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s finally giving himself a chance at happiness.

Bucky reminds himself that you asked him to promise to call after your date. It’s not just him that wants this, you want him to call.

With that thought, he pulls out his phone and quickly presses on your contact, so he doesn’t chicken out, and with a shaky hand holds his phone to his ear. Bucky’s heart beats in his throat as the first ring sounds, and then skips a beat altogether when the click of you answering fills his ears.

“Bucky, you called.” He can hear the smile in your voice through the line, but what makes his heart clench is the trace of surprise he can perceive, as if you truly hadn’t expected him to call.

“I did promise to.” He reminds you, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate the bitter shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach that even though he did in fact promise, you didn’t fully believe him.

“I’m happy you did. I had a really great time the other night.”

“So did I.” Those three simple words don’t sum up just how much Bucky wholeheartedly enjoyed every second he spent with you, regardless of if that were naked in your bed or getting to know you on a picnic blanket as the sun set across the horizon, but in his anxious state he can’t find words more poetic to express it. “And I’d love to do it again if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to think about it.” He can tell by the light tone of your voice you’re joking, but he supposes he deserves waiting for an answer considering he made you wait for his call. “Of course I’d love to go on a second date with you James.”

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front.

“I guess I’m going to have to outdo a picnic at sunset then.” He chuckles to himself, knowing that he’s never had this problem before, but realising it’s a good problem to have.

You continue to talk well into the night, forgetting what time it is, and that you both have early shifts in the morning. None of that matters when you’re so caught up in each other.

Bucky simply enjoys the sound of your voice, and how it soothes the remaining anxiety which was swirling in his chest before calling you. He certainly isn’t hanging up first, not when talking with you has been the best part of his day.

He’s chasing happiness. And he might just find it with you.

Part 4 > >

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[imtryingbuck]

Worthy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Theo

Summary: Bucky has to marry a woman who surprises him more and more as their story goes along.

Word count: 3,399

Warnings: angst. swearing. Dot. fluff. Bucky tells reader how he lost his arm. Cheating mentioned, miscarriage mentioned.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

When he woke up that morning he laid there watching Theo sleep peacefully, his fingers gingerly stroked up and down her back as she laid on his chest. The morning sun cut through the slit in the curtain landing on her bare arm in an orange purple hue. Those few minutes with him lying there with her in his arms, the whole house silent he had never felt more at peace.

Then he remembered the conversation the night before.

How any person could harm a child is lost on him. How any father let his own child be harmed in such ways that she told him makes him question humanity.

Bucky knew one thing though and that was he was going to make every single one of them pay.

Wanting to do something sweet for her he slid out of the bed carefully to not to wake her up he did his morning routine and headed downstairs going into the kitchen to make her breakfast in bed, coming to a stop when he walked past the living room where he saw someone sitting there.

Dot.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you James"

"We have nothing to talk about, get out of my home"

"Why is your whore of a wife-"

"Call her that one more time I swear to God Dolores I will kill you" His voice low showing her that he was not messing around.

"Do you love her?"

"That's none of your business."

"Does she suck your cock as good as I did?"

"You were shit at it and we both know that"

"That's harsh. Do you know she's been passed around like some cheap whore?"

He blinked once, twice, thrice. What was she talking about? Did she know about what had happened to Theo?

"You didn't, did you?" Dot laughed at his facial expression.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"I got an envelope through my letter box and well let’s just say she's a filthy whore" Dot shrugged, leaning down to pull her bag on to her knees she pulled a large brown envelope out and placed it on the coffee table.

Looking up at Bucky she cocked her eyebrow up "It's all in there"

"Who sent it you?"

"I don't know, listen I know that she's asked her father to let you divorce her why don't you get him to and you can marry one of his other daughters then I can be your mistress"

How?.. what?..

"You seriously have no shame do you? I don't love you Dolores. I don't want you or any of Michael’s daughters other than Theo."

"You'll change your mind once you've read this" tapping the envelope. Though Theo had told him everything last night he couldn't help but be a little bit curious to what was inside, so before his brain could register what was happening his feet carried him over to the coffee table, snatching the brown envelope from under Dot's hand he sat down and opened it.

Inside contained photos of a naked Theo, in most of them she was looking away from the camera but sure enough in every one of them there were bruises and open cuts on her body. There was a list of all the names of the men that had raped her, his stomach churned when he read some of the names. Some of the names, he knew them.

So lost in what he was reading he had no idea that Theo was walking down the stairs, nor did he have any time to react to Dot climbing on his lap before she was kissing him. He was frozen in place only snapping out of it when he heard the door creak.

No, no, no, no, no.

Running after Theo his heart in his throat when he sees her taking her clothes out of her side of the wardrobe, the hollow organ sitting in his chest breaking when he sees a few tears slid down her cheeks.

"A-Angel it wasn't what it looked like" He stutters out truly meaning the words, he didn't even kiss Dolores back. He couldn’t not now he had a wife. He wouldn't do that to her.

"It is fine Mr James"

He swears he was going to have a heart attack as she calls him that. "No it's not, please stop and listen to me so I can explain"

It's like he isn't even in his own body but watching from the side lines, the rest of the conversation is lost on him and when he finally snaps back into reality he sees her leaving their room to go back to her old one. He had no idea how he could fix this with her especially not after she had trusted him enough to let him know about her past, not when he felt the scars that cover most of her body. Not when he touched them so easily, not flinching away from them or looking at them in disgust.

Not when he spoke those words when she was asleep.

"Buck what's going on?" Steve questioned voice full of sleep.

Bucky had woken him up not knowing who to turn to. "Dolores"

"What's she done now?"

Bucky told him everything about what had happened minus telling him what was in the envelope or what Theo had told him the night before. It wasn't his place to say anything.

"Fucking hell. Is Theo okay?"

"Steve I just told you she left our room to go back to hers"

"Did you not try and explain it to her?"

"I did but she wouldn't listen. I don't-"

"What the fuck have you done James?" Wanda stands in the doorway, eyes full of pure hatred as she looks at her best friend.

"Wan-"

"I'm not going to ask again."

"I-nothing I swear"

"So Theo didn't just see you kissing that whore? Are you seriously calling my friend a liar?"

"I didn't kiss her!" he shouted "And you seem to forget she's my fucking wife Wanda!"

Rolling her eyes she went to say something but closed her lips again, shaking her head she left as quickly as she came.

"I think she's mad" Steve says trying to lighten to mood earning him a warning look from Bucky.

Over the next week Bucky tried to get her to talk to him and all he received was 'It's okay Mr James' or a head shake. Wanda and Nat had kept their distance from him too, when Nat had found out she pulled a gun on Bucky. She lowered it when he didn't flinch or pull his out on her, she knew he was telling the truth about him not kissing Dolores back. Dolores kept coming back to the house even though Bucky told the guards to make sure she's not let in, which was making the brunette furious.

Bucky had sent Nat a text asking her to come down into the office, needing to talk to her and since both redheads had been upstairs with Theo it was his only way of getting Nat to talk to him. The other day he had gone up and knocked on Theo's bedroom door he was greeted by a still very angry Wanda, who wasn't believing him or Nat, she slammed the door in his face that hard he even flinched.

"What's up?" Nat asked as she strolled into the office.

"I-Is Theo okay? Is she eating? Sleeping?"

"Buck she's fine, me and Wanda are looking after her"

"It should be me"

Sighing, Nat sat down in the seat across from him. "Buck she did walk in on you and that thing kissing-"

"I didn't kiss her back Natasha! I swear-"

"I know and that's why I didn't shoot your dick off" she raised her eyebrow and smirked "You've just got to give her some time Bucky, it's one thing after another and she feels-" Nat quickly cuts herself off.

"Feels what?"

"Nothing, just give her some time"

"Feels what Natasha? Please, please tell me"

"She feels like she isn't worthy to be loved"

Bucky's face dropped, it was the exact expression that both her and Wanda had on their faces when Theo whispered it to them. "W-what?"

"She said it's okay and that she's accepted this life an-and-" shaking her head she knew it was wrong to be telling him the things Theo had whispered to them in secret, but she believed Bucky when he said he never kissed Dolores back.

"And? What?"

"I-I think you should talk to her Bucky, I've already said to much"

"Wanda won't let me"

"Grow up James. Like you keep saying she's your wife. Go!"

Jumping up out of his seat he ran to the door before turning around to jog back over to Nat and placing a kiss to her head which earned him a smack. Running up the stairs he stopped outside of Theo's bedroom door to catch him breath. Knocking beforehand he walked in the room.

"Get out James!" Wanda shouted.

"She's my wife Wanda, I need to talk to her."

"No-"

"Wanda it's okay" Theo interrupted Wanda, who looked at Theo with a look as if to ask her if she was sure, she nodded and helped Wanda stand.

"Hurt her one more time James I won't hesitate to kill you" Theo shut the door behind her friend and turned to face Bucky, gulping and twiddling her fingers she waited for Bucky to say something.

"T-Theo I'm so sorry for what you saw but it wasn't what it looked like, Dolores kissed me as I was reading something she gave me b-but I swear Angel I didn't kiss her back!"

"It's okay-"

"No it isn't! Stop saying that it is, please. Please scream at me or-or hit me please just do anything other than say it's okay"

"I won't hit you" She frowned with a slight head shake "My father won't agree to a divorce unless you ask Mr James-"

"I don't want a divorce Theo"

"B-but the scars..."

"They don't bother me Angel, fuck I've got my own, look" pulling his shirt down enough so she could see the scars on his chest/shoulder "I have them too so who am I to judge?"

"Oh-l, I will continue being your wife and you can date that woman from the other day but you will h-have to sleep with one of my father's daughters so you can have an heir, I pro-"

"Theo-"

"I promise I'll stay out of the way, jus-"

"Theo-"

"Just please promise me that I won't get hurt by none of your men" This time she doesn't get cut off by him and when she finds the courage to look up to him her heart tugs when she sees the tears gathering in his eyes.

"You-um-you think I wou-no Angel, no to all of that! I only want you I don't want Dolores, I don't want any of the brats your father calls daughters, if I am lucky enough to have children you will be the mother. None of my our men will ever lay a hand on you, I will never let anyone hurt you again, I won't hurt you again. That I swear and promise you until my last breath"

Though she heard every word he spoke, took in every word he spoke she couldn't help but question "Why?"

And though he had his reasons, mainly because he didn't want to end up like his father, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. It was so much easier when she was asleep on his chest, right next to his beating heart. "Because I love you"

He hated the way she flinched at those words.

"W-why?"

"I know it's way too soon to be feeling these kind of feelings, believe me I do but I-I do Theo and that's the truth. I love you. You are worthy of it Angel, it isn't just me that loves you Wanda and Nat do too, even the guys do. Please let me show you, please don't think you're not worth love or affection because you are-"

A loud sob cuts him off. He doesn't wastes any time in moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her trembling body. "I'm sorry" he whispers over and over into her hair.

"I-I-I'm not good eno-enough for you James or anyone"

"You're enough. Theo, you're enough"

What happens next shocks the both of them.

Theo leans on her tiptoes and places her lips to his.

Her first ever kiss.

Bucky knew he shouldn't do it because she's got tears streaming down her cheeks, she's confused, she's emotional but fuck she's kissing him. He can't stop himself from kissing her back.

Pulling away from one another slightly out of breath Bucky rested his forehead against hers, smiling at her when she looks up at him.

"Wa-was tha-that okay?" Theo asked shyly.

"It was perfect Angel"

"It wa-was my first kiss" she admitted a light blush coating her cheeks.

"Really? Baby it was perfect"

Theo goes to open her mouth closing it quickly at the noise from outside her door.

"Shut up! I'm trying to list-ow Nat my head!" Sam hissed a muffled cry after a bang on the door startles Theo.

"You shut up. Did she just say a first kiss? Holy shit did they just kiss?" That was Nat's voice.

"Both of you shut up!" This time it was Steve's voice being heard.

"Do you think they're kissing again? Oh god what if they're having sex and we're just listening like creeps!" Wanda's voice turned to panic when she thought that the couple in the room could be doing something that she really did not want to be listening in on.

Shaking his head Bucky had to force himself not to laugh, leaning to whisper into Theo's ear "I bet they're leaning against the door, should I open it so they fall in?"

"No, they might hurt themselves" She whispered back trying really hard not to laugh.

"I bet they're kissing" At hearing Sam's failed attempt to whisper slip through the door Theo looked at Bucky and nodded, giving him the go ahead to open the door. Giving her a gentle kiss on her lips, and another, and another before finally sneaking over towards the door. Hand slowly going to the door handle he looked at Theo and winked.

Sam was the first one to fall in, Nat landing on top of him, Steve on top of her and Wanda landing on the blonde.

"Ow fuck! Nat get off you're fucking heavy! Ow ow stop hitting me!"

"Steve's on me you dickhead!"

"Wanda's on me so I can't move-ow shit what is it with you women hitting people?"

"You've just basically called me fat Steven!"

"Are you guys finished? Me and Theo would like to get past you"

"Help us up then please!" Sam begged.

"Why were you listening to us anyway?" Bucky asked completely ignoring Sam making grabby hands to him.

"Who-what-we-never" Steve stuttered out trying to get Wanda off of him gently not wanting to tear the stitches open.

"Who-what-we-never" Bucky mocked. "We heard you"

"No you didn't, you're just imagining things Bucky" Sam says "I've accepted my fate by the way guys not that any of you care"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well Natasha none of you are getting up off me so l lay here on the ground being squashed to death by my so called family"

Everyone apart from Theo rolls their eyes at Sam's dramatics, Theo tries to move forward to help Wanda off Steve when Bucky's hand stops her. "Leave them, come here."

"But they need help"

"Nope, they'll figure it out soon" picking Theo up he smiles when she squeals, Bucky walks them over to the door and quite literally steps over the four bodies of his friends on the floor.

"Oh that's so fucking cold man"

Taking Theo into the living room he placed her gently onto the couch, there was a small bar sitting at the back of the room Bucky made his way over to it pouring a drink for himself he asked Theo if she wanted one she shook her head, no.

They sat in comforting silence before Theo broke it.

"James... can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"W-what happened to your arm?" She knew he had a metal arm, at first it startled her not expecting it but now finding it pretty and unique.

Taking his glass, he knocks the rest of his drink back. "My father, piece of shit as you've already probably picked up on. My ma was pregnant with her third kid but miscarried when she was around four or five months." The memory of his mother stumbling down the stairs bottom half covered in blood, her hands shaking and tears rolling down her face. Martha running around ordering the other maids to grab things or to take him and Rebecca upstairs, makes his heart beat a little faster.

Clearing his throat "My ma had found out my father had a mistress. I'm not a doctor but I think that's what caused my ma to lose the baby. Anyway ma needed sometime away as she was really struggling, she went to my aunt's house in Louisiana for three weeks. My father brought his mistress into the home, he actually picked her up after we dropped ma off at the airport" chuckling, he loosened his tie "Three weeks of having to hear obvious fake moans and me looking after Becks because my father gave all the maids three weeks off so they wouldn't tell my ma." Getting up he walks over to the bar he pours himself another drink. Sitting back down he continues.

"The day came for when my ma was coming home, we was on our way to get her from the airport and the prick and his whore was arguing, if I remember correctly it was because she wanted him to leave my mother but he kept saying he wouldn't do it, she grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it towards her, he managed to get the car stable but then she did it again. It was pouring down so the roads were slippery" Taking a deep breath in "Then the car rolled off down the road and went straight down a ditch. I put my arm out in front of Rebecca, my arm got pinned. They both got out, and were actually more bothered about getting their story straight than trying to get a twelve and eight year old out of the car. You know Tony Stark? Well he was in the car behind us, he was the one who rang for help. I begged the fire fighters to get Becks out first but th-they didn't... I woke up in the hospital six days later and my arm was gone"

"James… I’m so sorry"

"Don't apologies Angel, please. It is what it is"

"D-did you ever tell your mother what happened?"

"Yeah, when I woke up I told her straight away. Broke her heart even more. They separated for about two years and for some reason she got back with him, I was so pissed at her but then I found out it wasn't because she loves him but for the money"

"That's... I-"

"I know ah, but yeah Tony was working on prosthetics and a few months later he met up with my ma and next thing I know I'm being fitted with this" he turns his arm around to show her "I had to get it upgraded a few times"

"It's pretty"

"Pretty? You really think so?"

"Yes, is it heavy?"

"At first it was but I'm used to it now so"

"C-can I touch it?"

"Of course"

"Do-do you feel anything?"

"I do, not very often though" Bucky sat there watching Theo's finger slowly move up and down on his arm, it felt like she was trickling a feather up and down the metal prosthetic.

Later that night Bucky had Theo back in his their bed, after sharing a few more kisses and shy blushes from Theo, they let sleep over take them.

Bucky slept peacefully for the first time in just over a week now that he had his Angel in his arms.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes @bellabarnes1378 @unaxv @skulliecadaver-blog @mrsnikstan @sebastians-love @pattiemac1 @julvrs @undf-stuff

[80ssuperstar]

Here's another Story I thought of and it's a Mythology Based on my Favorite Horror Stories of all time: DRACULA 🧛🧛🧛🦷🦷🦷🩸🩸🩸 I decided that I'd put regular show characters in them intercourse Mordecai as Dracula himself or should I say MORDRACULA Hee-hee 😅 I know that it's a little early when Halloween begins but you know I just decided to do it a little early so why not?? I hope you love this one. 🩸❤️���

**Title: "The Bride of Mordecai"**

### Beginning:

It was a foggy evening as Samantha approached the old, looming castle on the outskirts of town. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, and the trees seemed to whisper warnings with every gust of wind. She had received an invitation to visit, but something about it felt… off. Still, she trusted Mordecai, her beloved, and he had promised her an unforgettable evening.

As she reached the gate, it opened on its own, creaking loudly. Inside, Mordecai was waiting at the grand entrance, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the torches that lined the castle walls. Samantha smiled, relieved to see him.

**Mordecai:** "Welcome, Samantha. I’ve been waiting for you."

**Samantha:** "This place is… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it."

Mordecai extended his hand, and she took it. His touch was colder than she remembered, but she brushed it off as nerves. He guided her inside, where the castle’s true gothic beauty unfolded before her: dark velvet curtains, ornate chandeliers, and shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally across the walls.

**Mordecai:** "I thought I’d give you a tour before dinner. This place has been in my family for generations."

As they walked, Samantha marveled at the tapestries depicting ancient stories of creatures that looked both terrifying and beautiful. But she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that something was being hidden from her.

---

### Middle:

After the tour, Mordecai led Samantha to the grand dining room, where the others were waiting. Rigby, Benson, Pops, Muscle Man, Hi-Five Ghost, Skips, and even Thomas were there, seated at a long, dark wooden table, their faces shadowed by the dim candlelight. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, though Samantha didn’t know why.

**Mordecai:** "You look lovely tonight, Samantha."

Samantha glanced down, realizing she was no longer wearing her casual clothes. She was now dressed in a stunning white gown that made her feel like an ethereal angel. Confused, she looked at Mordecai, but he simply smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The butler arrived, carrying trays of food. He set down what appeared to be a steak tartare in front of her, along with a glass of what she assumed was wine. The others eagerly began to eat, their eyes never leaving her.

**Samantha:** "This… this looks amazing."

She took a bite of the dish, savoring the rich, metallic taste, though it seemed a little unusual for steak tartare. She followed it with a sip of the "wine," which had a strangely thick consistency, but she didn’t question it.

As the dinner continued, the butler brought out dessert—a dish of what looked like fingers, arranged with disturbing care. Samantha's stomach churned, but the others devoured it eagerly. Mordecai leaned in, watching her with a strange intensity.

**Mordecai:** "Do you like the meal, my love?"

**Samantha:** "It’s... different. But, it’s good, I think."

The others laughed softly, their eyes gleaming with a dark hunger. Samantha felt uneasy but didn’t want to seem rude. The meal ended with a side of writhing worms, which the others enjoyed while Samantha politely declined. Despite the strange nature of the food, the night was going better than she expected. But as the night grew darker, Samantha began to feel dizzy and tired.

---

### Then:

The butler appeared once more, this time to guide her to her room. Samantha followed, her mind clouded with exhaustion. The room was magnificent—decorated with lace curtains, a canopy bed, and a beautiful nightgown that seemed to be waiting for her.

**Butler:** "Rest well, Miss Samantha. Tomorrow is a big day."

She nodded, too tired to question what he meant by that. She changed into the white gown, marveling at how perfectly it fit her, and lay down on the soft, luxurious bed. Within minutes, she drifted into a deep sleep.

But as the night stretched on, Mordecai made his move. He silently pushed open the door, his dark figure illuminated only by the moonlight spilling through the window. His hunger was too great to resist any longer. He needed her—needed her to be his, forever.

Slowly, he approached her bed, his eyes glowing faintly as he cast a spell to keep her unconscious. She lay still, unaware of the transformation that was about to begin.

**Mordecai:** "You will be mine, Samantha. My bride… for all eternity."

He bent down, his fangs elongating as he pressed his lips to her neck. With a swift motion, he sunk his teeth into her soft skin, the taste of her blood sending a rush of power through him. He drank deeply, filling her veins with his vampiric poison.

---

### End:

As the venom spread through Samantha’s body, she began to change. Her breathing slowed, her skin grew paler, and her heart beat less frequently. Mordecai watched, entranced by the transformation. His bride was becoming one of them—a vampire.

Hours passed before Samantha stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and when they did, they were no longer the soft eyes of the woman who had walked into the castle. They were sharp, glowing faintly with the same hunger Mordecai had felt for centuries.

**Samantha:** "What... what’s happening to me?"

Mordecai smiled, helping her to sit up.

**Mordecai:** "You’re awakening, my love. You are becoming one of us. My bride, my queen… we will be together, forever."

Samantha was confused, but she felt an undeniable connection to Mordecai. The memories of the evening began to blur, and her new instincts began to take over. She felt powerful, unstoppable, and strangely at peace.

The others joined them, their faces twisted into grins of approval. They were a family now—a dark, immortal family that would reign for eternity.

**Rigby:** "Told you she’d be cool with it."

**Pops:** "A most wonderful bride indeed!"

**Benson:** "Welcome to the family, Samantha."

Mordecai took her hand, guiding her to the grand balcony that overlooked the misty forest below. The night was theirs now, and so was eternity.

**Mordecai:** "Now we can be together, always. No one will ever come between us."

Samantha smiled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. She leaned into Mordecai, feeling a love deeper than she had ever known, and a hunger that would never be satisfied.

**Samantha:** "Forever… I’m yours."

Together, they gazed out into the night, their future stretching before them, endless and eternal. The castle, their kingdom, would be home to their dark love, and nothing would ever tear them apart again.

THE END

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @russthevampireboy , @jgquintelslut , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity , @sidoresca , @siinhorhy , @insomniacz , @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry , @calledattherndoftime , @breekitty17 , @kiwithekool11437 , @kiko2032 , @orchestralauthor , @untitled14360 , @loudlyhappycupcake, @rigby123, @finn-pot, @konikat1, @moonlighteclipse17, @furrypandacollective, @dbd0812, @issacxjacob, @starwarspurgefan, @pokemonartextreme, @musclemanveryregular, @nastyablossomsworldxclover

[shhh-secret-time]

I love love love your stuff! Can we get a jealousy smut fic?! I don't care with who I just want something tasty!

I was feeling super bad about my writing today, I really struggled with this one but when I went back and read what you wrote it made me feel a lot better. Thank you anon I really appreciate it. And thank you to everyone who voted on the poll! Warning: NSFW, Oral, Strong Language, Drinking Pairing: Kyle x M!Reader Note: I've never written for male reader before, but I want everyone who reads my things to feel included somehow. I didn't include anything crazy in this story because of it. So this one is more on the tamer side of things.

His head hurt. The ache started from the middle of his forehead and spread like a blanket over his skull. Naturally the cure would be going to a party late at night that his best friend drug him too. With medicine being some jungle juice in a red solo cup that said best friend shoved into his hand.

"Loosen up Kyle you look like you're about to explode." He almost didn't hear Stan over the sound of the music playing over them.

Each song had a heavy bass, like a heartbeat slamming into the side of his head and his chest. The kind of music that you could feel in your ribcage each time the beat dropped. So yeah, he really was about to explode. Whatever was in his cup wasn't helping either, the sugary drink was making his heart spike and his stomach churn.

"Stan, I didn't even want to fucking be here in the first place. I'm here for you." Kyle grumbles back once the song finishes, they have a few moments of silence before it picks back up.

"No, you're not. You and I both know if you really wanted to you would have left by now." Stan teases, shooting him a lazy smirk.

Kyle can feel his face burn, like the drink in his hand, it's a mixture of emotions. Rage and embarrassment swirled together with his headache creating the perfect concoction in the red head’s body. His grip on his cup tightens as his arms flex under the forest green flannel and faded Crimson Dawn shirt.

Every bit of him hated the fact that Stan was right, and even more that he knew the reason why Kyle was enduring this. This shit night, this shit drink, this shit music, this shit headache. Why he endured this shit party and all other parties he's been attending the last week.

You.

Dark green orbs travel over to the dance floor where you've been for the past few hours. He can't stop himself from watching the way your hips sway back and for, the way your jeans squeeze your sides in the most delicious way. Even in the dim light he can see how flushed your face looks from all the dancing you've been doing; his eyes lock on to the beads of sweat the travel down your neck and how it slides down your Adam's apple.

Kyle takes a drink of his alcohol, but it does nothing about how dry his mouth feel. His lips now glistening under lights coming off the cell phones that surround him. He barely registers the taste of the coke or the way the drink burns the back of his throat. Not when he can almost taste the drink that's on your lips.

Fuck he was thirsty.

"Earth to Kyle. Dude you're staring." Stan's fingers snapped him out of his trance.

Kyle looked over at Stan with his mouth open slightly. He raises a brow and scoffs, trying to clear his mind.

"You can go dance with him you know? You don't have to stand in this corner! Might have a little competition though." Stan says, gesturing over to you. "Looks like Bebe's all over him."

He was right, but that was nothing new. Bebe practically clinging to your arm, her body all but grinding against yours. Not that this was anything new, she was always around you. Whether it was walking to classes together or sitting at lunch with one another, she was always there. Anytime Kyle even thought about going up to you to talk to you, she was always fucking there. His fingers dipped into the plastic cup making it crack, the amber liquid spilling out onto his fingers.

"Fuck! Look I don't want to dance. I'm just gonna get another drink." Kyle grumbles pushing past his friend.

Jealousy was an ugly beast; one Kyle knew all too well. Insecurity was something he struggled with, ever since he was a kid and it only got worse when he got older. Getting smacked with a growth spurt that made him shoot up past his friends, while it was great for basketball, it drew too much attention as if his stupid curly red hair didn't do that already. He was wishing he brought his hat, why he ever let Stan talk him into things like this he never knew.

The path to the table with all the alcohol was mostly clear. A few people laying off to the side talking to one another or passed out. The smell of weed and alcohol in the air made Kyle scrunch up his nose as he threw the broken cup away. It wasn't hard to find a new one, they were scattered everywhere, now finding one that was abandoned with a drink already in it was a different story. As he scanned the table for a new cup another walking headache approached the table with him.

Eric Cartman, the bane of his existence and the biggest source of his insecurities. Although at this very moment, Bebe was giving him a run for his money. That didn't mean he wanted him to talk however, but like always his mouth worked faster than Kyle's legs.

"I don't know how to tell you this Kyle...but you look like a total shit bag right now. You...you are aware this is a party. You know that thing people go to when they want to have fun." Eric's voice was what sandpaper grinding against skin would sound like, Kyle was sure.

"Fuck off asshole, I really don't want to deal with you right now." Kyle sighs as he picks up a cup.

"Awh, and here I was about to throw you a lifeline. A little birdie told me you've been eye fucking Bebe's boy toy all day." Eric leans against the table pretending to inspect his nails, and his tone alone makes Kyle want to cave his face in.

Kyle grits his teeth trying to focus on the pour of whatever clear liquid he grabbed. "And would that birdie like me to smash his fucking teeth in?"

"You've been using that threat since we were kids. Come on Kyle don't pretend like you aren't at least a little curious as to what I've got to say. We both know how this will go. You're angry because you have sand in your vagina, and I'll tell you what I want because I don't respect you."

Kyle slams the bottle down with a loud thud and glares at him, his grip on the neck of the bottle is so tight he's white knuckling it. Eric holds his hands up in defense, a small bead of sweat trails down the side of his face.

"Believe it or not, I want to help! I've got a lot riding on this little bet with Craig, and I can't have you fucking me out of a hundred and fifty dollars."

"What makes you think I want your help, Cartman?!"

"You don't, but once again. One hundred. And. Fifty. Dollars." Eric holds up his index fingers as he slows his speaking down. "And you need the help, as funny as this is watching you suffer, I'm your friend and as your friend...you would want me to have a hundred and fifty dollars."

No, he really wouldn't. He would want Cartman to get hit by a bus, or at the very least to leave him alone. Kyle could feel himself boiling over at this point his hands were shaking, and his body felt like it was on fire. He was at his tipping point.

"Look I can get you an hour or so with him alone, all you have to do is grow a pair and talk to him. You can't talk to him because Bebe's always around him, right? Well, how do you think Wendy felt with you and Stan? And who brought them together?"

"Aliens."

"Aliens aren't real Kyle, quit making shit up. It was me." He's never seen Eric look or sound so offended before. "You can stand in your gay little corner drinking by yourself, or you can go talk to him and be gay with him in another corner."

As Kyle went to open his mouth to yell at him nothing came out, once again he couldn't find anything to say to him. Nothing that wouldn't be a string of swears or him finally connecting his fist to his smug face. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. At the very least he could blame the alcohol for this horrible idea.

Eric took the silence as a yes, with a wicked grin he put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Leave it to me Kyle. You'll know the signal when you see it."

He should stop him. He should stop Eric from doing whatever dumb shit he was going to do. But he doesn't, his heart is pounding so hard in his chest that the music seems like a lullaby.

Kyle watches as Eric walks right up to you and Bebe, he walks with such confidence. The confidence of someone who was not invited to this party but showed up anyway, because that's exactly the kind of person he was. The music makes it where he can't hear what he says to you but the look on your face goes from a relaxed smile to a horrified look.

That's when your eyes lock with his. Kyle nearly leaps from his skin as he watches you look between him and Eric. Eric has his hand on his hips and his fingers snapping up at your face.

"No... he isn't."

Eric shouts something, and Bebe steps in between the both of them. She puts her fingers in his face and glares up at him shouting something back. Eric bobs his head to the side swiveling it around like bobble head almost.

"He is. Oh, my fucking god." Kyle puts his face in his hands.

He's past the point of anger. He's beyond seeing red, it's just white. White noise and a ringing in his ear. The steady thumping of his heartbeat and the music is the only thing grounding him. To keep him from flying off the handle and probably making the situation worse.

His fingers tug at the flesh of his skin, pulling it down as he moves from his hands. Fuck it. He's had enough. Had enough of sitting on the sidelines and watching everyone else get to have your attention. The drink was left forgotten on the table behind him, he had gotten what he needed from it.

"A little liquid courage goes a long way." Stan used to say, and maybe he was right.

Kyle's across the room before he knows it, all that basketball playing finally paid off. He's able to dodge sweaty bodies still moving around on the dance floor. A man with a clear destination and nothing was going to stop him.

You don't have time to register the fact Kyle has you by the wrist or the fact that he's dragging you away from the dance floor. He tries to keep his grip gentle, he really does, but through this anger everything in his body has gone numb. You're not complaining about any pain, but he thinks he hears you say something about walking too fast.

Kyle drags you upstairs so he can talk to you without screaming matches or loud music. Without prying eyes or nosey party goers. But now that he's got you here, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to approach this without blowing up. It's not your fault, you don't deserve this.

"What did Cartman say to you?" So, he settles with that, a question. At the very least he can direct all this anger towards Cartman.

You look down between the two of you, looking at the way he still has his larger hand wrapped around your wrist. It's funny, this whole situation. At first you were a little freaked out when Eric just came up and suddenly started yelling at you, but when you saw the look in Kyle's eyes it clicked.

The suspicion that Kyle Broflovski had a crush on you was always there. His gaze lingering a little longer than normal, the way he'd blush and turn his head away from you like he wasn't just admiring you from across the room. When he'd come to you asking for help in class you knew he was passing. All those times he nags at you for not wearing gloves in the Colorado cold, saying something about how you'll get sick and then he'll be forced to take care of you.

Yeah, he wasn't slick. And the poor man wore his heart on his sleeve. If he wasn't trying to sneak peeks at you, then he was shooting glares at Bebe. Oh, how little he knew. Now it all made sense why he shot those dirty looks. Why he was starting to avoid you when earlier in the year he seemed so eager to have lunch with you.

"If he said something that hurt your feelings, I swear I'll turn his spinal fluid into an option at the God damn McDonald's soda fountain." Kyle snarls through gritted teeth.

Oh?

You almost want to chuckle at his reaction, curling your index finger and pressing your lips to the side to stop it from slipping out. "Sorry I was just taken back by all of this. It's not like you to up and grab someone like this Kyle."

He blinks once, and then twice before realizing he's still got a firm grip on you. His face turns red, and he drops your hand like it's hot coal burning his palm.

"Sorry! I just needed to get you away from him, before he said something stupid!" His apology is so cute. The way he won't even look you in the eye. "He didn't say anything stupid, did he?"

"Oh, not much." You shrug and smirk when he lets out a little sigh of relief. "Just that I'm a homewrecker for trying to come in between you two."

"What?!"

"Yeah, something about how I'm stepping up on his man and then he started snapping. Which by the way, great choice in a partner. I didn't know you guys were a thing~." You knew damn well they weren't, not from the way Kyle looked like he was about to explode. Perhaps you were adding fuel to this already raging fire, but if you were honest with yourself. You liked this side of Kyle. The way his eyes darkened and the way his body tensed.

"That fat fucking bastard. I'm gonna kill him!" Just as Kyle was about to leave you in whatever room he dragged you into, you stepped between him and the door putting your arms out.

"Hold on! Just let Bebe handle it, she's got it under control. This is her party."

"She doesn't get to handle him! I'm going to take care of him! It's about time someone put him in his fucking place!"

"Kyle. It's Bebe's party. She can just kick him out and we can go back to having a good time." You place your hand on his chest, trying to guide him back to where he was standing.

He wants to, he really does. The feeling of your hand on his chest almost brings him out of his anger. But your words keep echoing in his head. Eric's stupid plan almost cost him everything, again. "You don't understand! He does this all the time! I'm tired of him getting in the way! She doesn’t get to take this from me to!"

No, he didn't mean that last part, it's not Bebe's fault. He knows that. It's not her fault he can't think straight around you. It's not her fault for wanting to be around you, he can't blame her for that. She probably just sees everything he sees. How wonderful you are, how you light up every room you walk in. How, even now, you're trying to keep the peace and save Cartman's life. Anyone else would have just let that man to die, but here you were Eric Cartman's guardian angel and he didn't even know.

"Bebe? She didn't do anything! What could she have taken!?"

"She's always around you!"

"You mean like you and Stan?"

"No! I mean- it's different! I'm not dating Stan!"

"I'm not dating Bebe!"

He blinks again and it's like he's been hit with cold water. The adrenaline in his veins dulls down to a small buzz. The headache in his head reminds him that it's still here and stronger than ever because of the yelling.

"What?" He asks in a softer tone.

"I'm not dating Bebe!" You yell back as you move your hands off his chest. You cross your arms over yours and give him the most bored look he's ever seen on a person. One that would give Tucker a run for his money.

"Then...why is she..."

"She's gay Kyle. You think you're the only one who gets roped into their friends’ stupid schemes?" You roll your eyes and smirk at him. "She's been trying to make this one chick in our science class jealous."

"Oh."

Fucking oh. That's all he can say. It takes everything in his power not to jump out of the window behind him and just leave town. He could change his name and skip a few states. Grow a beard and shave his head, you'd never see him again and he'd never have to answer for this moment. But his legs feel to heavy to move.

"Yep~! But...it's nice to know you and Eric aren't a thing." Your voice breaks him right out of his little pity party. "You can do so much better."

It takes him a second to realize that you've closed the gap. It's when he feels your fingertips trailing up his forearm, brushing against the veins popping out, that you're touching him. When you look up at him with heavy lidded eyes, he gulps. Trying to swallow that weird lump in his throat.

"If you're so worried that someone else will snatch me up, why not confess to me right now? Unless...I'm reading this whole situation wrong." You move your hands back just as they reach his shoulder blade, and his hand twitches by his side. "Then I can just go back downstairs and ask McCormick for a dance~"

Your back hits the wall as Kyle's resolve finally breaks. His lips crashing down on yours with such a force his teeth clack against yours. It's messy, consuming, and heated.

You can taste the jealousy on his lips.

When you kiss him back, his hands have your wrists pinned to the wall next to your head. Lips locked onto yours and moving against yours with such a frenzy. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You respond by biting his back, pulling a moan from him.

Kyle's tongue pushes past your teeth and into your mouth. His tongue meets yours feverishly, twining around in a rushed dance. Your hips roll up against his, the same ones he couldn't take his eyes off of a minute ago. A minute ago, he was breaking his cup because of how jealous he was of Bebe, and now he's got his tongue down your throat pulling the sexiest moans out of your mouth. He devours every one of them until you break the kiss.

His brows furrow before he realizes you broke for air. Your chest heaving as you try to take in as much as you can. You’re rushing to get back to his lips and it almost brings a smile to his face. Kyle cups the side of your face letting his fingertips trace your jawline.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at Bebe like that. She's your friend and I should've just talked to you."

"Hm-mm~" You nod up at him still trying to recover from the small make out sesh.

"And... you’re right I should just confess that I really want to date you. That I've liked you for a while now. This isn't how I wanted to do it but...I'm not complaining." He whispers against your lips.

"You're so hot when you tell me I'm right." You press a kiss onto the corner of his lips. "Apology accepted handsome. Now do it right."

Kyle chuckles and brushes his nose across yours. The tip of his nose slides down the bridge of yours just as his lips over yours, dangerously close for another kiss. "Hey. You wanna go out with me so I can stop being jealous all the time."

"Hm..." You pretend to think about his question for a moment making him smirk. He tugs you against his body reminding you that you're trapped against him and the wall. It pulls a laugh right out of you, and you run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah handsome, I'd like that. Just like how I'd reaaaaally like it if you kept kissing me."

Kyle laughs and his lips find yours again. "You really think I'm handsome?"

"So handsome. You walked in with that green flannel and tight shirt, I wanted to rip it off you." You're able to get all of that out in-between kissing him, not willing to break the contact for too long.

"Fuck." Kyle's hands fall to your waist and squeezes it in return. "I wanted to take this slow. Do this right but you're making it so hard."

"I know I can feel it. It's poking me."

"That's not what I meant! Shit! I'm sorry I- oh fuck." He hisses when you roll your hips against him.

His cock is stained against his zipper, the tent in his pants is hard to miss. Nothing could have prepared him for the way you rolled yours against him. He could feel your erection sliding up against his thigh, the material of your jeans working against his.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" Kyle's head starts spinning when your hands slip under his shirt and your fingers slide down the front of his pants. Your palm pressed against the v that dips down.

The way your name comes out of his lips in a breathy whisper almost makes you pull his pants down right then and there. How can you expect him to answer you clearly when your lips are pressing the softest kisses down his throat. "I don't want you to feel like y-you have to."

"Kyle. I want this. I want you. Please don't make me beg for it." How can he say no? Not when your fingers are already playing with the button of his pants. Fingernails tapping against it, rubbing circles around the only thing separating your hands from his cock.

Kyle has no composure left; he's starting to feel his cock ache. He nods down at you and goes to pull his pants open. You watch him with a look of hunger in your eyes, watch as he slides his pants down and listen to the way his breath catches in his throat. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock springing out of his boxers, bobbing when his tip catches on the thin material.

"Hey Ky."

"H-hm?" He's not able to keep the shakiness out of his voice when you wrap your hands around his cock and sink to your knees.

"I want you to fuck my throat." His heart stops momentarily when you talk.

It returns twice as hard when you begin slowly pumping his dick, hammering against his chest each time your fist slides down and grips the base of his member. "Are you sure sweetheart?"

That's new. The way Kyle calls you that makes your heart pick up. He watches as you move to get comfortable on your knees, his eyes burning down at you. The height difference isn't so bad but it's just enough to where he has to bend down a bit to run his fingers through your hair.

"You really want me to beg for it." He does. He likes the thought of you begging for his cock, the thought of your mouth watering just to get a taste of him. So, he answers you with a little grip on your scalp, fingers wrapping around the locks of your hair.

"Oh~! Fuck! Please!" And he's right, the way you beg is so sweet. Kyle groans and tugs your head back causing you to arch up towards him. Forcing your head up towards him.

As your mouth parts to let out a pretty little moan, the head of his cock presses against your lips. The pre-cum the leaks out of the slit coats your lips, and then your tongue when you let it fall out. Kyle's dick twitches against your little kitten licks before he lets it glide into your mouth. He never could have imagined how amazing it feels to have your red swollen lips wrapped around his length.

Kyle reaches out and traces your lips with his fingers, your lustful gaze watching his every movement. A thick strand of saliva coating his fingers before he pushes his cock into your warm inviting throat. He rocks his hips against your mouth slowly at first. Each time he pulls out more saliva gathers at the base of his cock.

You try to take as much of Kyle as you can, the soft sounds of you gagging through the wet thrusts feels messy. It was sloppy and so incredibly hog. Watching the red head lose himself, the restraints he put on himself snapping with each long glide against your tongue. Not long after you hollow your cheeks and continue to suck him off, does he finally break. His hips snap forward thrusting into your mouth faster.

Kyle is so pretty. His lips parted slightly as he struggles to bite back the moans, you're pulling from him. The hand that's no longer tracing your lips is pressed against the wall, holding him up so his legs don't give out.

What has you weak in the knees isn't the way he's got his hands in your hair, pulling your mouth down the length of his cock. Holding it there for a moment only to slide you right back off. Or the way he's using your throat to chase his own high, his thighs flexing under the touch of your palm. It's the way he's kept eye contact with you this entire time, the way his eyes are watching every little thing you do. No matter how intense it all feels or gets, he can't break away.

You have him in this trance that only seems to break when he feels himself getting close. When he tries to pull away, he feels your hands grab at his thighs, a small moan pulled from him again when you dig your nails into his flesh.

"Fuuuck...Sh-shit I'm cumming!" How sweet of him to give you a warning. With a hum you shot him a wink.

That did it. The little gesture was too much for Kyle. A shiver that feels oh too good shoots down his spine as thick ropes of cum spill into your mouth. Kyle pulls out after some time, carefully holding the side of your face as you drink down the bitter climax.

You raise to your feet with a smile, as he takes his hand away to tuck himself back into his pants. Once he's finishes, he cups your face and pulls you back towards him.

"That was...you're incredible."

"I know. But it's nice to hear." You chuckle as he pressed another kiss into your temple. "Don't think I'm done with you yet handsome. Say you walk me home and we enjoy the night to ourselves."

"I think I'd like that. Wanna sneak out the back?" With a grin you take his hand and lead him out of the room. Kyle will never ever admit to Eric that his plan somehow magically worked. But when the time comes for Eric to collect that one fifty, Kyle will make sure he gets it. At least then its bragging rights.

[cryingpariah]

Because it's almost Ace's birthday, I was remembering back to episode 1013 where Ace was telling Yamato about all the notable pirates of the New Generation and one of them was Kid.

Which seems to imply that the Kid Pirates were making a name for themselves in the Grand Line at least a year before Luffy started his journey.

I know the chances of them and Ace having crossed paths are slim since Whitebeard mainly stuck to the New World, but I don't know I still think it would have been neat if they met. Especially since they're both from the South Blue, which is pretty important since Kid's birth would have been right at the time marines were hunting down pregnant women and babies all over the South Blue in search of Roger's child. Ace could have very well been the reason Kid was orphaned (though I don't think Kid has ever cared about who his parents were and it's a headcanon of mine that Killer has been protecting him for pretty much all his life hence how he would have survived the search). Plus if Ace got to be born on time, he would have been Kid's age. Kid is probably one of very few surviving members of an entire generation from the South Blue.

I don't know, I just think that's an interesting if not sobering connection between the two.

(On a less depressing note and because it's hard for me to talk about the Kid Pirates without bringing it back to Shriek, I just love the idea of her meeting Ace while not knowing who he is and bragging to him about how her captain's going to be King of the Pirates. And Ace is sincerely trying not to laugh because this little mink is so sincere, but also he already knows it's gonna be Luffy 😭😭)

The hunt for Roger's baby was truly on the evilest things the Marines have ever done. It’s one of the few things about this series I actively don’t think about, it just makes my stomach churn.

Regardless Kid being potentially on the baby chopping block way back when and not even remembering it sounds about right. He’s not the kind of guy to care about the past when the future is right there and ripe for the taking. Though, every once in a while, when it’s just him and Killer in the room, he'll ask. Not super seriously, he'll act annoyed if anything but his eyes plead for something, anything.

As for Kid and Ace meeting I’d say it’s actually pretty possible! Maybe not with the whole Whitebeard Crew but maybe when he was in own captain back in the day! Or when he was on his hunt of Blackbeard! Both are equally likely in my eyes

If this was back during Ace's captain days I could totally see them getting into a fight of pretty epic proportions before working it out over some meat and ale.

If this was second commander Ace he’s not gonna fight Kid at any cost. He maybe be a bit of a loose cannon but he knows better than to go around attacking random captains! I mean if he’s provoked (and let’s be serious with Kid around he’s getting a little provoked) he won’t take it lying down, thank goodness Killer is there to cool those hotheads down! Afterwards Ace probably gets invited to dinner (because he’s Ace and he’s cool like that) and thus begins story after story after story about Luffy! (The idea of Kid being annoyed with Luffy before they even technically meet is just really funny to me 😭😭 bro got preordered hate).

He’d give the Kid Pirates a cheeky warning to watch out because the toughest guy on the seas is yet to make his debut and they’d better come prepared! Not only that, he was going to be the future King of the Pirates! This is where Shriek comes in with an affronted gasp! Sure this new guy was kinda awesome or whatever but he can’t just say stuff like that all willy-nilly! This begins an absolute ridiculous argument between the two. It’s not a serious endeavour by any means, Ace doesn’t run around arguing with little kids so naturally this debate is filled with things like “Nuh-uh!” And “Yuh-huh!”

[kaepop-trash]

I want to know how jaehyun in no time to blame would feel like if he knew she was with someone else? Without knowing it was johnny? Is this too weird to ask?😬

Ask: "What is Jaehyun and y/n's "relationship" like?"

Where the Light Is

Not to weird at all. I love unexpected questions like this because they make me think about characters in a way I wouldn't usually. As a result, I see them in a new light. Always fun so ask whatever you want! I loved writing this. Their relationship is like an old song you can go back to, one that always sound like the first time when you listen to it after years. It's having someone understanding you without needing the right words.

_

Summary: Jaehyun goes to his first party since returning. (Y/N) is trying to piece together her entire life. Who understands that better than someone who had to pull their own life apart?

Warnings: Suggestive sexual content, existential breakdown, kissing

WC: 4.9k

_

Jaehyun walked into Taeyong's apartment, looking behind him to check who was at this little gathering.

"Who are you looking for?" Taeyong asked, following Jaehyun's wandering gaze.

"No one in particular." Jaehyun spoke, distracted by his keen search.

"Johnny isn't here." Taeyong warned him. "He's still in Scotland. Just go talk to your other friends." Taeyong gave him a pointed look.

Jaehyun swallowed, giving Taeyong a nod. Catching up with his other friends was something Jaehyun had every intention of doing. But every time he had the opportunity, his nerves interrupted his efforts. 

Everybody around him had their own spaces here; it was Jaehyun who didn't belong. The stories they shared, the knowing looks, and especially the nostalgic nods were all memories made after Jaehyun ceased to be a part of their lives. He wasn't bitter about it. He just didn't want to intrude.

But Taeyong had that look in his eyes that spelt determination. So Jaehyun dutifully followed.

Everywhere he looked, he could see at least one familiar face. Yet none of their eyes wandered like his. They were satisfied in the conversations they were engaged in.

"Make yourself a drink." Taeyong's voice caught his attention again, hand pointed at a table with an array of liquor bottles. "All of us are dying to know what you've been doing all these years. Don't be a stranger, Jaehyun." He squeezed his shoulder, gesturing at someone behind him. 

When Jaehyun turned, Irene, Yeri and Taeil waved. Taeil made space on the sofa beside him and beckoned. Jaehyun's reciprocal smile was one of sentimental surprise.

"Why is it that you've been here for five days and I'm only just getting to speak to you?" Irene asked, crossing her arms and giving him a frown.

Jaehyun smiled, his relief coming off as sheepish. "Every time I've seen you, you've been busy talking to other people." He shrugged.

"At least come up with better excuses." She rolled her eyes, taking the spot beside Jaehyun and shoving his shoulders, "How have you been?" She asked with a kinder voice.

The question made Jaehyun's stomach churn because, while he had a ready-made answer for the question for years, this was the first time that he wasn't sure.

"I've been good." He lied, nodding his head. "Busy." It was the truth, "But this trip is a nice excuse to relax and smell the roses."

"There will be plenty to smell at the wedding. The theme is pink and blue roses." Yeri smiled, making Jaehyun mirror it.

"They stole my favourite motif. Don’t even get me started on my restaurant’s decor." Taeyong pointed at the couple in question. Everybody laughed as the conversation dissolved into talks of how seriously Taeil was taking the wedding planning.

Amongst the teasing and the laughs, it was easy for Jaehyun to get lost in the past. He remembered it all in that one moment. The wet chill of the common room in the resident's hall where they used to hang out. The halls of the undergraduate business building, patterned with sunlight coming through the window. The smell of stale beer at the dingy bar where they would all hang out. The same place (Y/N) broke up with him despite them never being together.

The last memory jolted him out of his galvanised nostalgia. He looked around the room like he remembered an important task, trying his best not to be very apparent. But when his eyes finally found what they were seeking, his brows knit.

(Y/N) sat by herself in the opposite corner of the room. She was nursing a beer in her hand, lost to some deep thought with her gaze lowered. 

Jaehyun wondered what she was thinking about; why she had isolated herself this way, and why it looked like she was missing something. He stared at (Y/N) long enough that it caught Taeil's attention. 

Jaehyun had fallen out of the habit of keeping his feelings to himself, it seemed. He wondered if certain habits were best left in the past.

"Oh don't worry about (Y/N)." Taeil laughed, "She must have had a long day at work so she's quiet." He reassured Jaehyun, no doubt having had this conversation with someone before. “ She only came because I insisted. Just like you.” He laughed. 

Taeil didn't know that Jaehyun didn't need to be told.

"Yeah, the only person she'll talk to when she's this tired is Johnny." Yeri smiled, sharing a look with her friends. Jaehyun's eyes remained on (Y/N), thinking back to the past as he did more and more recently.

He knew too well about her reclusive tendencies. When drunk or tired, (Y/N) became all too cautious of what she'd say. For Jaehyun it was never a problem. Neither of them ever needed to talk in each other's company because words weren't needed in whatever they had shared. In his company, she had been as comfortable as Jaehyun was in hers.

She looked around the room once, reaching into her back pocket as she did so. Jaehyun’s breath hitched in anticipation, but she looked down at her phone before her eyes landed on him.

"Oh she's smiling." Yeri laughed, "Must be texting to her mystery man." She giggled, earning a gentle shove from Irene.

"Who?" Jaehyun asked too quick, not even noticing the strange look he got from his friends.

"I don't know his name, Johnny might. But she caved and told us about it once." Her shoulders rose in pride.

"Yes, in confidence. Don't go around telling people about her personal business." Irene chastised Yeri, giving Jaehyun an apologetic smile but still keeping a cautious hand on Yeri's back.

"It's just Jaehyun." Yeri countered but then sighed, "But you're right." She grimaced.

There was an undertone to the exchange that Jaehyun didn't catch. He couldn't have possibly because just as (Y/N) looked away from her phone, his own buzzed in his pocket. Even as the idea of this mystery person started to sprout in the back of his mind, his current focus was on this moment.

She texted him. He was the person she was texting with the smile on her face that made their friends speculate. 

At that moment, he was the mystery man.

"I'm going to go eat something." Jaehyun announced to nobody in particular after what felt like an appropriate gap. He stopped up and immediately got his phone out of his pocket, heart beating incredibly fast.

🖂 Are you coming for Taeil's party? 🖂

Jaehyun grinned, amused by the question.

🖂 How many beers have you had? Look up.🖂

Jaehyun couldn't help the tug at his chest when she looked up. Her eyes full of anticipation was enough to make him feel a little weak in the knees still— just like the first time. When their eyes met, he was back in the basement of the record store off campus.

"Oh." She said as realisation coloured her eyes, followed by a wash of pink on her cheeks. "I didn't see you."

"It's a good thing. Now I know that you were missing me." He bit the inside of his cheeks as he felt his neck getting warm.

Her lips tugged at the corner, "How much did you hate saying that?"

"A lot." He admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as he shoved his clenched fists into his pockets. "But I still like it."

"You're bolder than I remember." She noted.

Jaehyun's eyes flew open, the next words slipping out before he could even think them through. "And you're more beautiful."

None of them spoke for a moment. Out of habit, Jaehyun wondered if he overstepped. Then he heard (Y/N) take a sharp breath.

Head falling back, she burst into laughter. The sound bubbled up effervescently and popped against his ears till they tickled.

"You're crazy." She shook her head, cheeks flushing nonetheless. "When did you come?" She leaned over in her chair, resting her head against her knuckles.

"Just a while back. I was just catching up with Taeil and the rest. I was going to get some food when you texted." He shrugged, his words distracted. Despite being present in the moment, a corner of his mind stayed distracted as Jaehyun kept playing with the idea of sitting down beside her or maintaining the facade of acquaintanceship they had always had in public.

"Good. They've really missed you. There has never been a gathering where you and your whereabouts weren't brought up. I know everything that has happened in your life since you left." She scoffed, looking away from him and taking a swig at her beer.

"Oh, I wish I had the same. I've only heard a few things here and there. I knew nothing about you."

"You could have asked." She looked back, something quick flashing passed her eyes before she shook it off.

"Johnny told me to stop asking about you last year.” Jaehyun shuffled, deciding against sitting down. “He was right, of course, so I stopped. I did hear about your job though." He grinned.

"Don't." She interjected, "We don't have to talk about my job."

The curt request caught him off guard, but he respected the boundary, giving her a nod. She closed up for a beat, and Jaehyun wondered what he said. 

After a few moments of chewing her bottom lip, she looked up at him.

"Do you remember Diana from our eco class?" She asked, clearing her throat. Jaehyun nodded, and a conspiratorial smile lit her features. "She's marrying that TA."

"See I knew there was no way that Diana, of all people, was topping our class." Jaehyun clapped his hands together, practically spilling his drink.

"Leaving you as the second." (Y/N) teased, grinning when Jaehyun's nostrils flared.

"Clearly not!" He huffed before realising that he was getting riled up over something from more than half a decade ago. "Don't laugh! It was the only class I was second in." He poured.

"My condolences." She bit the corner of her cheek, mischief colouring her eyes. His gaze fell on the movement like water flowed downhill, gravity always working against him.

"Didn't you say you wanted food?" She questioned. Jaehyun nodded. "So?" She added.

"I want this more." Again his words spilled out. Like they were being pulled into her orbit.

Her lips parted. An effect of the shock from his words. But it did nothing to help his state. Heat spread from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"I think I might need a snack, actually." He pointed an accusatory gaze at the glass in his hand, a false premise. Her lips tugged at the corner. 

"Try the pigs in a blanket." She gave him a confident nod. Before he could ask she sat back with a concluding slap to her thigh, "See you later." She promised with a wave, eyes returning to her phone. 

Those were one of his favourite words to hear from her.

(Y/N) felt lighter after the interaction, a smile still lingering. But her mind kept going back to what he said. Johnny had told Jaehyun to stop asking about her. She could point out the exact moment it had probably happened, too— the night Irene and Taeil announced their engagement.

She fell into the past, thinking of that day like she tended to do a lot more lately. Everything seemed to have changed so much since then, yet it still felt the same. Like her life was passing by while she remained in place.

After several moments she broke out of her thoughts. Jaehyun had already moved on, eyeing the spread of snacks. Having two restauranteurs in the group meant that all gatherings had the promise of great food. Yet she waited to see if he'd pick hers.

His pout rested on his nose as he surveyed the limitless food options. Finally, landing his eyes on something made him smile as he picked it up.

(Y/N) buried her beating heart and looked down to see that his food of choice had been pigs in a blanket. His eyes fluttered, lips tugging only slightly at the edges to make his dimples dig in: he liked it. The realisation made her heart emerge from its hole with a renewed flair. 

Right now, she felt like nothing had changed at all.

__

Jaehyun stopped walking back to Taeil when he spotted Jaemin picking up a beer. He’d grown so much since he last saw him that Jaehyun had to squint to make sure that it was actually him.

“How have you been?” Jaehyun questioned once he was sure. Jaemin looked up, eyes colouring with the same recognition that reminded Jaehyun of his elder sister.

“Oh wow. I heard you were back.” Jaemin gave him a funny smile, looking Jaehyun over. “Success is a good look on you.” He noted, raising his bottle to him.

Jaehyun felt himself blush, the odd compliment strangely poignant. He mumbled a quick thanks, and Jaemin grinned with amusement.

“I heard you and your roommates started a company together? I guess I should take notes on success from you.” Jaehyun remembered.

Jaemin laughed, “Who told you that?”

“Johnny.” Jaehyun shrugged, “I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Ah.” Jaemin scoffed. “That is the only bridge you didn’t burn after all.”

“I had almost forgotten how harsh you can be.” Jaehyun winced, trying to hide the pang from the words with a laugh.

“I’m just honest.” Jaemin just shrugged.

“How have you been?” Jaehyun asked.

“Surviving. Life’s good now, so I’m making the most of it.” Jaemin frowned when Jaehyun laughed hard, “What?”

“I missed that ‘living in the moment’ energy (Y/N) and you have.” Jaehyun shook his head, “I envy it so much.” Taking a sip of his own drink, Jaehyun chewed on his bottom lip.

“What is it? What do you want to ask?” Jaemin said with a knowing look on his face.

Jaehyun smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered his words. Like his sister, Jaemin was also perceptive. As embarrassed as he felt by it, the itching in his throat won over. 

He cleared his throat, "Your sister is with someone?"Jaehyun tried not to give away his inner turmoil. But nothing ever hid from the boy in front of him.

Jaemin just nodded.

“Serious?” Jaehyun asked, holding back his sigh when Jaemin shook his head.

"Old habits die hard." He shrugged, turning to (Y/N) with some thought weighing on his mind.

"Who is he?" Jaehyun couldn't help himself.

"Some dude."

Jaehyun winced playfully, taking the hint in Jaemin's clipped tone. "Will you take her home?" He changed the topic.

Jaemin considered it momentarily, looking his sister over before turning to Jaehyun with a sigh. 

"No, I have to take that one home." He pointed behind him, turning his head towards his roommate, Renjun. “He’s in a worse state.”

"Oh." Jaehyun responded.

"You can do it." Jaemin told him.

"Old habits." Jaehyun mused before realising he had spoken out loud. "Who is this guy?" He couldn't help himself; Jaehyun was sure that if anybody knew who it was, it would be Jaemin.

"Someone she met at a grocery store." Jaemin scoffed. "You know that you can't bribe me with iced coffee anymore, right? You want to know so bad, just go ask (Y/N)."

"It doesn't matter." Jaehyun kicked the ground, his shoe squeaking.

"Sure." Jaemin said, taking a step back from Jaehyun.

"Is he nice? Good to her?" Jaehyun asked, not sure what answer he was hoping for. 

"You would like him." Jaemin answered with incredible confident, taking a deep sigh after. "I'm going to give you some advice because I never would have graduated without your caffeine sponsorship." Jaemin put a hand on Jaehyun's sagging shoulder. "You're afraid of the wrong things, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's brows furrowed, lips parting to ask for clarification. But Jaemin was already walking off, always as elusive as his sibling.

"I'm trusting you to take my sister home safely." He waved with his parting words, going up to his roommate with a gentler smile.

When Jaehyun looked around, (Y/N) stood before the food. From the distance and the safety of solitude, Jaehyun got his first good look at her. He took in the slump of her shoulders, the glazed apathy in her eyes for the first time as well. She let out a deep, defeated sigh that quivered her bottom lip. 

Jaehyun frowned.

He thought about how she had stuck to the corner all evening, how her younger brother was keeping a watchful eye on her. He took a look around to see if anybody else thought what he did. But they were all in their space.

When Jaehyun turned back, (Y/N) was speaking to Irene. She gave her an apologetic smile and waved. Irene’s gave her a concerned nod, giving Jaehyun’s speculation credence. Something had to be wrong.

She was leaving and Jaehyun had to follow her. To keep his word to Jaemin. Or so he told Taeyong when he caught his eye.

He called out to her when he saw her walking into the elevator. Instead of stopping, she rushed inside.

He had to wait for the elevator to come back, tapping his foot against the metal edge on the floor. The moment he stepped out into the lobby, he searched for her. He found her sitting at one of the large sofas the excessively lavish lobby had, trying to exhaust his look of relief before approaching.

"Waiting for someone?" Jaehyun asked. She looked up with wide eyed shock.

"Oh." She said once she registered his presence, "My Uber."

"Leaving so soon?" He tried to play off the curiosity, shuffling up to her slowly.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Long day at work. I feel like I was being an eyesore just moping in the corner." She scoffed, finger tapping on her phone screen.

"The only time you can be an eyesore is in absence." He played the words off as a joke. To his surprise her brows furrowed, eyes darkening in the shadow.

"Did you want anything?" She asked curtly, detaching her gaze from his.

"Jaemin told me to drop you home." Jaehyun shrugged.

"I can drop myself home. I'm not that drunk." Her lips pursed in a displeased frown.

"Nothing to do with alcohol. I just told him I would." He shrugged again, his disposition always edging on awkward— especially when having to voice his intentions like this.

"You can go tell him I said no." She shrugged back. Jaehyun wondered if she was mocking him.

"What's wrong? Why did you run from me when I called out to you upstairs?" This time Jaehyun frowned, feeling unsure again.

Her nose flared for a moment, clearly losing her patience. In the next moment she sighed. 

"I've had a long day, Jaehyun. Just leave me alone." She slumped back into the chair.

"Talk to me about it."

"I'll call you when I get home. I'll call Jaemin too, I'll be safe." She urged, tapping her nails against the side of her phone.

"Talk to me." Jaehyun insisted, sitting down on the chair opposite her.

She gave him an incredulous look, at the same time surprised and irritated by his persistence, "Why?"

"Because I want to listen."

Jaehyun expected her to spit harsher words at him. Instead she sat back, groaning as her eyes welled up.

“I just. I love everyone in that room." She sighed, pausing to consider her words. "I know they know that. I know they love me too." A tear slipped down her. "I just." She looked up, blinking rapidly like it would stop her emotions from spilling out.

She groaned again, still debating with her thoughts and fighting something inside her.

"This is dumb Jaehyun." She groaned, "It's a stupid feeling that will pass. Just go back upstairs. I'll be fine tomorrow." She looked away from him.

"I know that. I also know that you aren't fine now. Who am I going to tell? Who cares if it's stupid?" He sounded so gentle, her eyes welled up a little more.

"I hate my life." She spoke the words with the force of a colossal damn cracking open, "Everybody makes more money than me, happier than me and I feel like I'm frozen in a glass aquarium watching them go by around me." She rushed through the words, groaning right after.

"I thought I'd be happy by now." She continued after a restless pause, "And there are things that should make me feel that way. I thought this new job would make me happier.” She took in a breath that made a tremble rake through her, “But all I see is how nothing is right.”

She squeezed her eyes, her tears flowing unchecked now. Rubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand was futile, but she kept doing it until they looked sore. Jaehyun wanted to reach out to stop it, but it felt like an intrusive thing to do while she let out her words.

“Ever since I moved out of home, everything has felt like a mistake.” Her voice faltered, “I feel like I'm living a borrowed life, you know? But it's mine. And that scares me. There are too many things I've taken without considering. I got the apartment that I think I should want. I hate my job, but I wanted it so bad.” She sat up, giving him a look that begged for understanding. 

“I break myself into a billion pieces everyday hoping that one day it'll all just be dust. Then finally I'll be able to mould myself anew. But these days I feel like I am just blowing away in the wind." She stomped a foot on the ground, groaning again.

She turned to face him, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering. "What am I doing wrong, Jaehyun?" She asked so honestly, both of them wishing he had the answer she seeked.

Jaehyun's heart tugged, her dilemma at the same time familiar and entirely different. He got up from his chair to sit beside her, taking her hands in his.

"There is no right way to do this, you know? Life's not a recipe. You can’t put the right ingridient at the right time and bake it at the right temperature for the right time." He finally reached out, gently wiping her tears with his thumb.

"That's easy for you to say. You did everything right, and now you have it all." Her lips quivered some more, fresh tears escaping her eyes.

Jaehyun wished she would have said anything else. The words sliced his chest open and left him at a loss.

"Quit your job first. That's the easiest one to solve." He spoke after a moment, trying to gather himself.

She look at him like he burned her, wrapping her arms around her waist to distance herself from the reckless ease of his words. But Jaehyun cupped her cheeks in both hands to keep her eyes on his. And his eyes weren't dismissive at all.

"It's not that simple." She whispered, "What if I change it all again and it’s still the same? What if I let this life go too and it still doesn't feel right?"

The words stirred Jaehyun's heart, knowing that this was something he had real advice to give about.

"I know, I get it. You're scared. You're scared because you hate uncertainty and you don't like things to change. I know that. I know you.” He reassured her, wiping more of her tears away. 

“But you can't just continue living a life you hate. Or more importantly one that makes you hate yourself." He pushed the hair that was sticking to her wet cheeks away, "Your brother doesn't need your sacrifices anymore, (Y/N). Live your life, look for something better. I'll help you look. But you need to decide you want to accept that change first. Otherwise it will truly never feel right."

"Jaehyun." She sighed, trying to get away from his hold. But his hands were as resolute as his words.

"I'll help you look for a better job. Hell, I'll help you find what you really want to do. You deserve that." He nodded, trying to get her to agree. “You deserve to do something you love. Not just work to feed yourself.”

"Why would I deserve your help after everything?" She breathed the words out, light as a feather. At that moment, both of them were back in that college bar, the smell of cheap beer and young dreams breaking around them.

"You deserve good things, (Y/N). I don't know when you decide otherwise and what made you think so. But everybody deserves good things. And you," He smiled, squeezing her cheeks, "You deserve the best.” 

He laughed when her lips squeezed between her cheeks, “You're kind and you have so much love. You work hard and you've always done more than you need to. I've seen it all." His voice was full of confidence. She didn't speak but her eyes bleeded distrust, at his words— at herself 

"You deserve more than you'll ever feel you do. You might not believe that, but I do. I believe in you."

"I don't think I've ever worked hard, Jaehyun." Her eyes glittered with tears, " The biggest reason I hate my life is because I know I can't blame anyone but myself for it."

Jaehyun frowned but still looked over her face with careful grace. "You don't remember it like I do. I've seen you. You are the person I think about when I need motivation."

(Y/N)'s heart hammered so hard that her breath started to stutter. Under his tender gaze, with his previous words hanging, it was easy to remember why she was so hopelessly in love with this man. 

"And you're mine." She sighed, nodding like she wanted him to know that she meant it.

His thumb stroked her neck hypnotically while his eyes shifted the way they did when he was trying to form his words. Before he finished dressing them neatly, his eyes shifted behind her.

"I think your uber is here." He spoke, his voice deflating the same way her back did. His hands dropped to her waist just as she turned to see. He was right. Her back deflated a little more.

The warmth of his hands were the reminder of the precipice. She wanted to say so much more to him. But words were never their language.

When she turned back to try anyway, he proved her point. 

Jaehyun’s lips pressed against her with desperate insistence. His fingers dug into her waist and her hands flew to his neck almost immediately. Both with reckless regard. Both, because they didn't know how to accept an end that never came; a change that never felt real.

In this regard Jaehyun was the more honest person, she realised. At least he didn't pretend he'd changed, nor did he ever pretend he was something he was not.

When he pulled away they both came up for air rapidly.

"(Y/N) I–" Jaehyun started, his words thick with the grate of lust and something softer tinting the edges that she didn't recognise.

"The driver isn't going to keep waiting." She paused to take in the way Jaehyun's face shattered, like she needed that last thread of reassurance. "Let's go. We can talk later." She tugged at his arm, sliding her hand down further to hold his.

_

The sound of something shattering was the only thing to break their kiss since she slammed her door. 

Jaehyun pulled back, "Shit." He muttered, earning a breathless laugh from her. "Switch on the lights, you might get hurt."

"You're the one standing on the floor." She pointed out, trying to reach for the switch from her perch on the table anyway. With a flick, her living room came into view.

Jaehyun's hands came up to his waist, eyeing the glass bowl he dropped along with the house keys he had tried to shove in while refusing to break their kiss.

He clicked his tongue, "I’m so sorry. Should I—" His gaze met hers, apologetic.

"I'll get it tomorrow." She tugged at her t-shirt. After a moment of honest contemplation, he let her pull him in.

Lips crashed into lips, hands travelling everywhere. It would always that be easy to get lost in the moment like this. For Jaehyun, it was like being thrown into the crashing waves: limbs remembering each stroke and manoeuvre with ease. This was one sea he could never drown in— or so he hoped.

His hands wrapped around her thighs. Losing himself for just a moment, he squeezed the flesh desperately. (Y/N) yelped, sitting back with a start.

“Sorry, sorry.” He hissed, pulling his hands back, cupping her cheeks to check on her.

“I’m fine.” She laughed, bringing her arms up to her neck, “You’re being very handsy today.” She wiggled her brows. “So much bolder than I remember you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s face flushed a bright crimson and she laughed, the kind of laugh that burst into a million specks and glittered against his vision. She licked her lips, bringing her hands up to wrap over his. She pulled his hands away, bringing them down to her waist. 

“Do it again,” She asked.

He didn’t need to be told twice, squeezing her with intentional force this time to lift her up. “I missed that spark in your eyes. You can do anything you want with that.”

She grabbed his chin in her hand, squeezing his dimples till his pout showed itself. “Right now, I want to do you.” They both laughed as he led her into her room.

“I can never say no to that.” He kissed her eye, kicking the door closed with his foot.