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frenziedslashers · 2 years ago

Note

could you write something for rick dying? maybe he leaves a note for reader? they could be dating or just friends (if just friends, maybe he confesses in it 🤧). you could have it where he turns himself into negan to keep the group safe, or he got bit by a walker. thanks!

if you aren't comfy with this that's okiii

Love Letters

A/N: Sorry if this isn't the best! I wanted to try out something with letters, but idk if it was a good idea haha. Hope this met your expectations :)

Pairing: Rick x GN!Reader

Warnings: Character Death(Rick and Negan), Canon Typical Violence, Angst

REQUEST INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

"Oh Rick," Negan called out, stepping up to the man with a pep in his step. That god-awful, shit-eating grin- that Rick so badly wanted to peel off his face with his own bat- was pulling at his lips. "I never expected you to pay me a visit! Come for Tuesday night pool... With your pool table that we took from you." Rick's muscles tensed at his words. His eyes bored into Negan's with a grimace. "Good God, Rick, you never get rid of that stink eye, do you?" He asked, yet Rick still didn't answer. A gun was hidden in his jacket sleeve. This needed to end, now.

All he could think about was Carl, Judith, you, his people. The future for you all. One where it was safe. One where Maggie had her kid and it grew to be old. One where Carl and Judith grew to be leaders and have kids of their own. He would have smiled at the idea of his children flourishing in this horrid world if it weren't for the man that was standing in front of him.

Negan tutted, running his tongue over his lips while he looked over the rugged man. "Jeez, up close, ya look like shit, Rick!" He shouted, and a laugh spilled past his lips. "What, cat got your tongue?" It would all be over soon.

So many emotions took over him at that moment. He closed his eyes briefly. Mouthing a small 'I love you,' that he prayed you and his children could feel. He hoped that it would transmit to all of you with how much he truly meant it. Before Negan could even ask what he was saying, or notice the tear that rolled down the left side of his eye. Rick lifted his arm. He would like to think that he was scared when he raised his arm, the sleeve finally sliding up to reveal the revolver that he held. He didn't though. If anything, he felt free.

Before Negan or his men could react drastically, there was a fire. Rick pulled the trigger, with zero hesitation. Hands trembling after the deed was done. He was sweating like crazy, and his vision was blurred. "Always hated his smile," he spat, and everyone just stared.

Negan was dead. Nothing but a lifeless corpse on the ground that didn't even have a chance to reanimate since the bullet had shot right between his eyes. He was gone.

"He's dead," A voice was heard from the crowd, and Rick only smiled. He smiled. It wasn't anything forced, or mocking, or sinister. It was a smile of relief, praying that since he was gone then his people would be free. He listened to the whispers for a moment before a clap broke through the silence. All of the Saviors clapped along with the one who started it. "We're free," "we can leave," "I can take my wife back!" He heard, and he smiled some more, before falling to the concrete with a wince. Holding at his side with a gasp, and the crowd went silent again. "Rick?" He didn't have time to react before he was falling to his side.

"Rick!" A blonde figure was above him - Dwight - he didn't really know the guy. Just from what Daryl had said about him. How he killed Denise, frowning at the man through teary eyes. "Rick, what's going-" He stopped himself, noticing the blood on his side under his coat. "Please, make sure my people," he coughed out, "Help them survive. My kids, my spouse, it's over. Keep them safe," Rick winced out, reaching out with the hand that once held his side, leaving a bloody hand print on Dwight's shoulder.

He nodded, a silent agreement to the man that he would honor him. He would, too, because Rick freed them all. Dwight could go back to his wife, and a few other men were able to go back to their girls and kids. People could come and go. The least Dwight could do was make sure Rick's own family stayed safe. Hell, maybe he could lead these people. Rick held the gun up to his own head before pulling the trigger one final time.

Rick Grimes ended the war.

Back in Alexandria, no one knew where Rick was. You and the kids were helping some of the others with battle plans for the future with the Saviors. You hadn't even glanced at the table before you left. If you would have, you would have seen the pile of notes that were placed there for you all. One for everyone he loved. Carl, Judith - for when she was older, Michonne, Rosita, Maggie, Tara, Carol, Daryl, hell, he even left on for Aaron and Eric and some of the others of Alexandria. He stayed up all night writing those letters. Explaining what happened, what he was doing, and how it would happen.

The scream that you heard from down the street had you looking over at Carl. A glint of worry in both of your eyes. "Take Judith inside," you told the boy, and he nodded. Sure, he was curious, but his baby sister was always his first priority. Leaving the garage you were in working on plans with some others to race over to where the scream came from.

There was a large crowd of people blocking the scene in the midst of them. Pushing through person after person that you recognized as the people of Alexandria and The Saviors. Your brow furrowed with worry, something happened. You could tell from the weeps you heard closer up front.

You bumped into Daryl and Michonne before you made it to the very front. They were the last people stopping you from seeing what everyone else was seeing, but they turned to stop you. "You don't want to see this," Michonne spoke, trying to hold you back with a crack in her voice. Tears were rolling down both hers and Daryls face -two of the strongest people you knew were crying. Which only told you it was bad.

She was right, though. Peeking over her shoulder to see his body lying there. Dwight and a few of the other Saviors standing beside him with their heads lowered in respect.

The cry that ripped from your throat had everyone falling silent. Sorrowful eyes darted at you as you pushed past the two to race to his side. Dropping beside Rick with shaky hands. "Rick, oh god, please wake up, Rick," "He was gonna turn, he used his last bullet on himself. One for him, the other for Negan." One of the men from beside you spoke, and you shook your head. You couldn't accept this. You were so distraught you hadn't even processed that he said Negan, the others had, though. "No, no, you killed him! This was all you! We could have saved him!" You screamed and cried, pulling his head to your chest.

You had never expected he would go before you. Holding his lifeless body against you was heart-wrenching. The sobs that ripped from your chest were agonizing, anyone nearby could hear them. "Rick, please wake up," you muttered into his hair, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. His blood covering your hands and clothes

"Why are you guys even here? This another sick warning? You tryna make us think that Megan's dead?" Daryl shot, and Dwight shook his head. "No, he killed him. Negans gone, and Rick ended this all by shooting that rat bastard," he spoke, and it was silent once again. "He got bit, on his side," the blonde spoke, motioning down. "I assume he wanted to go down trying. Because of him, I have my wife back, and we can be people again. We brought him here because we figured you'd want to see him yourself, maybe bury him with your own." Michonne nodded, kneeling beside you to wrap her body around you while you held him. Carol and a few of the others joined. "He died a hero." Dwight spoke, "Who died?" Everyone turned when they heard the boy's voice.

Carl had wormed his way through the crowd, hand on the gun in his holster. He wasn't able to see the body at first, but when he looked down at the hand he nearly dropped to his knees. Noticing the wedding ring that seemed to be glued onto his fathers' ring finger even after his mom had passed. "Dad," he called out, tears already welting in his eyes to roll down his cheeks as he dropped down onto the ground. Crawling over to the corpse he once called dad. A face he used to seek out in every crowd he was in. "Dad, no, this can't please please wake up. Stop messing around, this isn't funny!" Carl blubbered, and you reached out to hold the boy. Finally letting Rick lay back on the ground.

"Carl, come here," you mumbled through tears, pulling him to your chest while he clung to you. "It should have been me!" He screamed, everyone, flinching at his words, and you shook your head. "Carl no! He did this for you, for your and Judith's future. This is not your fault," you spoke, and he shook his head, only pulling you closer. "That's not him, it can't be," Carl whined.

Everyone had felt grief that day, and it only got worse the moment you all found the notes. Daryl and Michonne wrapped Rick in a sheet as you and Carl dug his grave. Your guys' notes resting on a chair near where you both worked. Promising one another that you would each read them after you were done. You had to, it was his last dying wish, but it felt so hard to do.

Carol read hers, her body feeling numb as she read hers to herself in her room. Sliding down against the door as she held her hand to her mouth.

"Carol,

I want you to look after my family while I'm gone." She sighed through her nose when she read that, smiling through tears at the next bit. "I know you ain't the biggest fan of kids, but my kids love you. Judith's always excited when Aunt Carol brings her cookies, and sits with her on the porch. they love you. I trust you to watch over them. Especially my darlin' and Daryl. They're gonna need all the help they can get with the kids and the community. Carl's gonna hate me, I know. I would hate my dad if he did something this dumb, but you're strong. You've grown so much since when I first met you. I know you can take care of them. I trust you with them, please. Take care.

Love, Rick"

She hadn't cried that hard since she lost Sophia.

Daryl read his note away from Alexandria. He was too angry to be in the confinements of the walls. He drove to the outskirts of town. Finding a building to climb on top of to be sure no one would interrupt him as he read. He had half a mind to burn the stupid letter. Cursing Rick and his stupidity, but he couldn't. Not when it was the last thing he got from the Sheriff.

"Daryl" He read on the outside of the note. His chest heaving a little while he set the note beside him to pinch his brow as he cried. His hand held the note to be sure the breeze didn't catch it and carry it away from him. Finally catching his breath to bring the note back into both hands. Calloused hands unfold the sheet with shaky sobs.

"Hey brother,"

He had to close his eyes again to collect himself.

"I know, you're mad, but don't be. I know what I did was stupid, and hell, I only pray as I write these letters that the plan worked out for the better. For the future of Glenn and Maggie's baby, the future of my spouse and kids, the future of all of you. Our family. I know we started off rough, I'm still sorry about what I did to Merle. I think about it every day that I see you. Wondering if things would have been different if I never left your brother on that rooftop. Maybe we'd still be at the prison. Hershel would be alive, and so would Beth. You'd be able to treat her like the little sister you always wanted - I saw the way you looked at her. You protected her. Just like you protect my daughter, Judith, your "little ass-kicker". Yeah, I never forgot about the day Carl came up to me to tell me you were callin her that. I ask that you look over the people. My family. Our family. If I trust anyone with these people it's you. You'll be the leader I couldn't be. I know it. Take care of yourself, brother. Do not blame yourself. This was my decision and my decision only. I just pray it wasn't for nothing. And I know you don't like it when I say it, but I'll never have the chance to say it again. I love you Daryl. I wish things could have been different.

Your brother, Rick"

Daryl shoved the letter into his pocket. Letting out a brief shout before pounding his hand down on the roof beneath him. Falling down onto his back to stare at the sky. Sob after sob ripped past his lips. He hadn't cried like this since he lost Merle and Beth, even then, he was not sure he cried this hard.

Michonne read hers with you and Carl. The three of you reading your notes on the couch together. A support system in case the three of you needed it. Judith sitting in your lap while you each read to yourselves.

"Michonne,

I'm sorry things had to turn out this way. When I first saw you, I wasn't sure what to think of you. I know I said I only let you in for that baby formula, but something in me told me you were good. I wasn't wrong. You were one of my closest friends, Carl's as well. Probably his best friend. I need you to be there for him. He's gonna need it. Now, don't go blaming yourself, either. I've been with you and the others since Georgia, even the beginning, and I know how good all of you are at blaming yourself for shit like this. It wasn't your fault, I promise you that. Please, take care of my family. Make sure they make it through this and that they stay safe. Take care of yourself too. Don't go doing anything irrational or stupid either. Please help out with Maggie and Daryl. They'll need the help running the communities, specially Daryl. Be there for my kids, keep being Carl's best friend. I love you Michonne, we all do.

Your Friend, Rick"

"Carl,"

Carl couldn't read his. Staring down at the letter with teary eyes. Leaning against your shoulder while he cried. "Take your time Carl, you don't have to read it now." You told the boy, kissing the crown of his head, your own eyes swelling with tears. He only shook his head, sniffling. "I'm fine," he muttered, and you frowned. You knew he wasn't, anyone could see that, but you didn't really say anything about it. Only wrapping an arm around the boy in order to pull him closer.

"I love you, Carl." Carl's eyes clenched shut before he opened them again in order to continue the letter. "I love you so much, you don't even know. I remember the first day I saw you. I was so nervous to be a dad, but so excited. Pacing the room until the doctors called me over to reveal you. You were so small, loud, too. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, your eyes that matched mine, yet looked like the shape of your mom's. We were in love with you, and you were what kept us together for so long. I want you to know that I loved you and never stopped loving you. Ever. I know you're going to be mad at me for what happened at first, and I understand. Hell, I understand if you never forgive me. I just want you to know that every second I spent with you meant the world to me. When I woke up in that hospital bed the first thing that came to my head was you. Where you were, if you were safe, how much you had grown in the few weeks I had been in the coma. I fought in order to find you and make sure you were safe. Now, I want you to do the same with Judith, and y/n as well. They need you. Just don't forget to take care of yourself too, Carl. I love you, and I will always be proud of you, never forget that, son. I want you to know that you helped me find who I am today. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it as far as I did. You were my baby, and always will be. I know you hate it when I call you that, but hey, I did a lot of things you hated. Take care, and don't you ever blame yourself, you hear me? This is not your fault. You're strong, you're a survivor. You will make it through this, I know it. Take care of Enid, too. I see the way you both look at each other. I know what you two are, I expect you to treat her good and take care of her as well. Let her help you grieve. Let her be there for you, don't push her away. She loves you, I see it. Just be smart, condoms, always." Carl let out a soft laugh while wiping his face with the back of his arm, "At least until you're old enough to decide on kids. Be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Keep the family safe, this is your show now, Carl. I know you'll do me proud.

Love, Dad"

The cry that ripped from Carl's throat was enough to make you cry some more. Dropping your letter to your lap as you pulled him in for a hug. Kissing the side of his head while Michonne leaned over to hold him with you. The three of you crying on the couch, Judith even crying herself as she reached for her brother. Carl removed himself from the both of you to grab Judith. Burying his face in the side of her neck. He never imagined they'd both wind up orphans.

Carl wiping his face again before reaching for Judiths note. "I want to read it to her," You an Michonne nodded, both of you rubbing his back soothingly as the boy shakily undid the paper.

"Judith,

It's dad. I'm hoping when you read this you at least remember who I am. Or when Carl reads it to you, like." Carl let out a shaky breath before wiping his eyes again. "Like I know he will." He looked down to his baby sister who rested her head on his shoulder. "I know you'll grow up to be so strong. You already are, and you're so young. I want you to keep your brother out of trouble, and stay out of trouble yourself. Keep Auntie Michonne, Carl, and Maggie happy, too. They all need and love you. I want you to keep Uncle Daryl in line too, I just know you'll be the only one he'll listen to. You're his little angel, I know it. He loves you, even if he never tells you. I know as you get older I'll slowly" Carl cleared his throat. "Leave your memory." Carl winced at the thought. "I know I'll grow blurry, and you'll forget what I look like, but I have a photo of you, me, and Carl up in my top dresser for you. I want you to know that you will always be my baby girl. I had a hard time when your mom died, but you and Carl save me. You reminded me that I have a reason to keep moving forward. I love you, so much. I never want you to forget that. Take care of your big brother for me.

Love, Dad."

Carl finished the letter, his crying finally calming down, though the tears still bled from his eyes. Now it was your turn.

"Darlin',

Hey, honey. Quite a way to say goodbye. I know. I didn't want things to end up like this, I hope that you know that. I was out clearing the perimeter by myself when I got bit. I know I should have asked someone to go with me, but you know me. Always doin what I think is best. I love you, hope you know that. If I wasn't bit I would still be there, fighting with you all. I'd be sitting with you on the couch with you and the kids. Listening as you read a book to Jude and Carl. I want you to take care of my kids for me. Our kids. They claim you as a parent, I know they do. Even if they don't call you mom or dad, they look at you like you are one. You've always been so good with them, I think that's one of the main reasons I fell in love with you. Besides how smart, funny, and hot as hell you are." you smiled, "I just loved seeing the way you cared for them. How kind and gentle you were. Even when Carl used to lash out and tell you to stop pretending to replace his mom. You were always so patient and kind with him. I appreciate you so much for that, baby. Please don't cry, I know you are. I'm still there with you, always will be. I don't want you to feel bad if you find someone new and move on, either. I understand, really. Just please, look out for yourself and our family. The others may just be friends, but they're family now. Each and every single one of them. I don't want you to forget about me either. I know you probably won't, but please remember all the good times we had. The nights back at the prison, the mornings in Alexandria. I love you, so much. Writing this hurts me just as much as I assume you reading it does. Take care, honey.

Your Idiot, Rick"

How could you move on when he gave you so much to live for. How could any of you forget thee Rick Grimes. Rick Grimes who gave them all a new chance, a new beginning.

Rick Grimes. He was a hero, a father, a loving husband, a friend, a brother, and so much more. Most of all, he was loved.

#rick Grimes x reader #rick grimes #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead angst

49 notes · View notes

scarletwidowaf · 4 years ago

Note

Yelena Belova x reader “fake dating” to actual!!!!

Plssssss :) 🥲💛

Moral Of The Story

Yelena Belova x female reader, scarlewidow mentioned.

A/N: might be messy, might be cheesy, but I truly don't care because I live for this chaotic due.

warning: stupidity maybe

words: 2000ish- probably more.

masterlist

You don't know how but somehow training with Yelena always ended up with you being pinned down on the training mat.

"Fuck" you cursed frustrated as she pinned you down for the 3d time in a row. Yelena laughed before she stood up and held out her hand for you to take.

"I let you win!" You said as she pulled you up.

"Sure you did" she joked.

"Seriously. I let you stomp on my dignity because I have a favor to ask!" you said back, a goofy grin playing on your lips as you passed her one of the water bottles.

"Now, that's gonna be interesting" she said as she sat on the floor, her back facing the wall. She gratefully took the bottle from your hand as she waited for you to talk.

"be my girlfriend" you said. The two of you were always comically stupid, so of course that you said that at the same moment she was taking a gulp from her bottle and of course she choked- and of course you laughed.

"I'm Sorry" the blonde glared at you.

"You're not" she responded in between coughing.

After a few moments, she finally stopped coughing and your laugh dyed out as well.

"You're right. I wasn't." You laughed again and she shoved you playfully.

"So, did you seriously just asked me to be your girlfriend?" She asked. Her lips forming her famous-troubled-maker cheeky grin.

"Well.. my fake girlfriend to be exact" you corrected yourself and she laughed again.

"You know you could've started with that, right?"

"And what's the fun in that?"

You smirked at her, knowing full well she found the random question amusing.

"So Why me, anyway..? - Wait, Let me guess.. kate and carol said no and you're scared of Wanda?"

"Okay first I'm not scared of Wanda, I'm scared of your sister.. there's a difference. And Second; my parents in town.. and I kinda told them I have a girlfriend.."

"Oh, now that's classic" Yelena, obviously, found the situation hilarious and you couldn't blame her since you found this dumb conversation amusing as well.

"Does it mean you'll do it?" You asked.

"Yeah why not" she responded you raised an eyebrow at her waiting for the catch. With Yelena, there's always a catch or at least a stupid comment.

"Yeah. I want to meet the poor souls who had to deal with your stupidity on a daily basis for the last 20 years..."

And here it is. You thought.

"I will punch you" you threaten her.

"Kinky" she smirked.

"Whatever stupid. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8" you said as you got up from the spot next to her.

"Wear something nice"

_______________________________

The thing about Yelena is that you can never know what to expect. No matter how much time you spent with her, and it was a lot, she somehow still managed to surprise you.

This time was no different. but in her defense, this time the blame is definitely on you. You saw Yelena wear different kinds of outfits, from gear to fancy dresses, yet for some reason, you just didn't expect the other girl to wear a suit, and damn she looked good.

The gray suit fit her perfectly and her long blonde hair was down. She looked painfully beautiful and you couldn't help but stare- and she couldn't help but notice.

She wasn't doing better, on your defense. The blonde checked you out shamelessly before she sent you a smirk "How lucky I am" she joked and you rolled your eyes.

"Very lucky.. and so am i" Yelena smiled at you and held her hand out for you to take.

The ride was short and 15 minutes later you were standing outside the restaurant.

You could feel Yelena's gaze on you as you bit your lip nervously. "It will be alright" she assured you as she interviewed your hands together. "Thank you" you looked at her gratefully "Don't sweat it" she replayed with a soft smile.

That was the thing about Yelena, people always misguided her for someone she wasn't and it always made you mad. God, Of course, she was strong and fierce and brave and absolutely terrifying at times- but She was so much more than that. She was sweet and loyal and caring, and kinda funny (don't tell her) and absolutely beautiful- inside and out. One of your favorite things about her was her shy and sincere smile, which seemed reserved only for you.

"You ready?" She squeezed your hand. you took a small shaky breath before smiling back at her. "As ready as ill ever be"

The restaurant wasn't busy and it didn't take you long to catch your parents in a corner in the far back of the room. Both smiling wide as you walked towards them. Your mother's smile was contagious and you couldn't help but smile back. God, you missed them.

"We've missed you so much" your father said as he hugged you, your mother doing the same.

"I've missed you too" you confessed before tugging Yelena forwards them.

"I'm assuming that's the girlfriend," Your father said and you nodded. God, You were nervous and Yelena could sense it as she reached for your father's hand.

"Yelena." She introduced herself As they shook hands. Her grip firm and her smile dazzling. "I'm Y/D/N and this is my wife Y/M/N" he introduced himself as well.

"Glad to finally meet you. I heard a lot of great things about you" She said with a confident smile.

Both of you could tell the older man was impressed by the blonde and you couldn't help but smile.

"Were happy to finally meet you as well- although we can't say the same since pumpkin over here hasn't said much about you"

Yelena smirked at you as you blushed deeply. You knew she wouldn't let you forget about the nickname. Like, never. "Yeah, it's actually pretty new. It wasn't really planned neither" she explained.

Your mother, God bless her, wasn't the one to shook hands. The moment Yelena was free from your father's grip she found herself in the woman's warm embrace.

"Okay... I think we should start ordering" you said when Yelena was free again. Her cheeks were a bit flushed. The Russian Assassin wasn't used to be hugged and you couldn't help but smile.

The conversation was light, the wine was good and most importantly, your parents loved Yelena. which was understandable considering the fact she was annoyingly charming.

The Yelena that sat next to you with her hand on your lap was the best version the blonde could pull and you felt stupid for being worried in the first place. Yelena led the conversation with politeness, charm, and grace that you never knew she had in her- and your mom seemed impressed. Impressing your dad was even easier- Yelena didn't even have to try, all she had to do was show her intelligence and add some light humor.

After an hour of light and mostly general conversation, amazing food, many embarrassing stories of you on both sides, and 2 glasses of wine, your mom decided to take the conversation into her hands.

"So Yelena. Tell us about yourself."

Oh boy. Now that might be a problem.

"Well... I joined the avengers a few months ago" she explained "Not long after I met your daughter actually," she said simply.

"That's nice, and before that?" The older woman asked.

"I was a freelance.." Yelena gulped. Her hand squeezes yours

"As?" Your mom asked. You knew she didn't try to push Yelena into this corner, she wasn't this kind of person, but she definitely put the blonde on the spot.

"Well... I was involved with the black market and different criminal organizations. Jobs like getting undercover to dig information or well.. getting rid of powerful men in the criminal world.."

Your parent's eyes went wide. Your dad stared at her with wide eyes and your mom cleared her throat.

"I don't do it anymore" she continued. The blonde seemed as nervous as you felt.

"How did you ended up in this line of work? If I may ask?"

"Mom I don't think-" you started and Yelena smiled at you.

"No, It's fine babe.." she said before moving her attention back to your parents "Sometimes life gets you to places where you have to do bad things to survive."

Your dad's expression was unreadable and your mom seemed worried as she glanced at you.

"Yelena and I met when her sister recruited and pulled her out of this life. Yelena is a good person, despite everything she's been through. That's what I love the most about her." You said.

Yelena smiled softly and your parents exchanged looks.

"I'm a different person now" Yelena promised

"We believe you... but I can't help but worry for my daughter, as you can surely understand. What if the people you've been involved with. Try to get to you through Y\N"

Your father asked calmly. Both were taking it better than you expected and you couldn't blame them for being worried.

"Dad. I know it might come as shocking.. but I'm a big girl and I'm well aware of the risk of being involved with Yelena. I need you to trust me when I say that risks, some worse than the mafia, were a part of my life long before we met."

Yelena bit her lip to hold a smile and you interviewed your hands again.

"You're a doctor" your mom argued "I'm a field doctor. Of the avengers." you corrected her. "which means I'm more of capable of taking care of myself."

Your dad nodded softly to your mom before he smiled at you. "You're are.. Don't you?" He laughed. "Mu little pumpkin.." he sIgh and your mother smiled as well

"I just want you to understand that all we want for you is to be safe and happy. And even a blind man can see Yelena gives you that." He sent Yelena a soft smile. Yelena smiled back at him.

"Take care of my daughter.. she's a keeper" your father said firmly.

"She is. And trust me, I will" she promised.

_______________________________

"Well, that went well" you laughed when you got into the passenger seat. Yelena volunteered to drive which was a relief since you were exhausted.

After the two of you got into your seats the blonde sent you a small smile and took something out of her pocket.

"Is that? A bullet..?" You asked confused as you took the copper cylinder from her hand.

Yelena laughed softly.

"It is. It's the same bullet you stopped me from shooting at Natasha" she confessed.

"I was in such a bad place back then and I blamed Natasha for it. If it weren't for you things would've been very different now" Yelena whispered

"Yeah, both of you were dead since you would've shot her, and Wanda would've probably hunted you down and kill you" you laughed and Yelena's shoulders relaxed.

"Probably" she said. "But with all seriousness... I was aiming a gun at my own sister and instead of pulling your own gun at me, you decided to shield her with your own body and dare me to shoot you as well. Who does that!?."

"You thought I was insane" you laughed.

"I thought you were stupid, putting your life at risk to save someone fucked up like us! someone like me.." She confessed and it downed on you.

No matter what happened or how many good things Yelena had done in her life, she couldn't let go of who she was trained to be. She still blamed herself for all the terrible things she did back at the red room and she constantly tried to get closure by doing the exact opposite- which was probably the reason she killed all these bad men in the first place. But then Natasha came back for her, and Yelena blamed her for leaving her behind to live with the things they did. She felt betrayed and broken, and Natasha's return only made it worse. Like she was just pitting her broken sister.

"All I know is that the Yelena I stood up to and the Natasha I saved that day were not the villains the red room tried to create." You whispered.

"You truly believed that? Even then?" Yelena was crying softly and you cupped her cheek.

"Especially then! I know you don't see it, but I'm here to remind you, you're a good person. Truly. You have a good heart- and I've seen it"

Yelena's cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes red and puffy and her famous crooked smile was plastered on her lips.

"And that's why you love me?"

She was a mess just like back then- when she was aiming a gun at her own sister as who she thought she was and who she truly is were fighting for dominance.

She was tragically beautiful and scared both then and now, yet somehow at the same time, she was more sure and confident than ever before. And I guess that what life is all about. Sometimes, things start to make sense only when everything else doesn't.

"Wasn't it obvious, stupid?" You said and stroked her cheek carefully as she melted into your touch.

Yelena smiled before kissing your hand softly, without breaking eye contact with you.

"You're the stupid one and you know it. Taking an assassin as your dinner date." She joked and you nodded and looked briefly at her lips.

"Well, stupid or not, I still manage to get a kiss at the end of it." Yelena laughed and got closer to you.

"Yeah you did" she whispered and kissed you.

And that was the thing about Yelena. She was good and kind and loyal. And a damn good kisser.

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #wandanat #Scarlet Widow #natasha romanoff #florence pugh x fem!reader #florence pigh x female reader #florence pugh x reader

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lovesanmotion · 4 years ago

Text

yandere!ateez 99 & 00 liner reacts: seeing s/o kill for the first time

💌. This is: requested | 98 liner reaction here

TW: blood and gore

Yunho:

The thought originally came when Yunho let you borrow his playstation controller while playing an rpg game. Situated in the living room, he made himself comfortable besides you on the couch and watched how you strategized and kill your enemies through the screen. And then the thought came into him, what if you kill with him? Slowly his mind drifted into the new found thought and kept pondering about it besides you.

“Are you okay, love? I said I finished the game and look!” You smiled as you pointed at the screen with the words YOU WON. He smiled and placed a kiss on your cheek before turning off the controller and helping you cook dinner.

When the following week came, Yunho was on his way home from the groceries when someone he knew particularly bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going man. Jesus.” He sneered at Yunho before going back to whoever he was talking to on the phone. That particularly person isn’t just a random stranger, it was your ex boyfriend who dumped you for a random girl he met online. Yunho stopped on his tracks, pondering in his thoughts before putting the paper bags inside the car and walking over to some place else.

“Y/N look what I have for you!” you went over to where you heard Yunho was and it lead you to the living room, in the middle of the room is a man tied onto a chair with a sack covering his head.

A smile still plastered on his lips as he hands you a metal baseball bat. You blinked twice before taking it in your hands. You were using the same kind of bat while playing Yunho’s game. He was sensing your hesitation before he went behind you and whispered in your ear.

“This is your ex boyfriend. He bumped into me the other day, wouldn’t it be nice to take your revenge?” And with that, a thousand of horrible memories came flooding into your head. There are good memories with your ex, however, they were overshadowed by the bad ones. Gripping your hold on the base, you swinged the bat and continously swung it over his head. Hearing a few bones cracking and watching as the white sack turn into bright red. You wouldn’t stop not until Yunho wrapped his arms around you from behind and took the bat away from you.

“That’s enough, darling. You did so well today. Done beautifully.” Sensing his smile, he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face on the crook of your neck and hearing the thud of the metal bat onto the floor.

Yeosang:

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

His voice ran chills down your spine. In front of you is the love of your life, staring deeply into your eyes while a third party whose hands and ankles are binded, hid behind Yeosang’s back and body on the floor. And this was no ordinary person who’s binded and laying pathetically on Yeosang’s basement. It was your old college dormmate, now all botched up, who tried to take Yeosang from you.

“If you love me” Yeosang says, taking your hands in his before placing a small pointed metal with a wooden handle into your hands. An ice pick. “you would kill for me.” He ends his sentence before moving away, his eyes never removing from you. Yeosand’s smart and you knew why he chose this weapon. Once stabbed, the victim doesn’t die immediately, rather, the stab wounds would turn into injuries forming blood clots until slowly the victim slips into their death. Making the victim look like they died from blood clotting, internal bleeding or aneurysm.

You slowly kneeled down besides her head, watching as her eyes gloss with tears.

“Please Y/N. Were friends” she chokes out before breaking into a sob. You softly cooed at her, brushing a few hairstrands away from her face.

“This will be quick” raising your right hand and then stabbing the ice pick onto her forehead, burying the metal surface deeply into her skull, twisting the weapon and then swiftly pulling it out of her.

Yeosang’s giggles broke the silence of the room as he takes the ice pick from your hand, placing it on top of the table before wrapping his arms around you.

“I knew you love me too, Y/N!” He chirps. Seeing him happy made your feelings swell and warm your insides, you raised your arms and slowly wrapped them around his nape, hugging him back.

San:

You and San are not in the best of terms as of the moment. You had raised your voice at him and disobeyed him, causing him to leave the shared home, only to return home with a random girl he picked up from the streets and started to have sex with her in the living room. You took your earphones and mp3 player from your desk, playing a random song just to block the girl’s annoying autotuned moaning from your ears. You couldn’t care less if San was dicking her down, you knew you were bound to die in this place before you could even see San in a different light.

And everything was going fine until your bedroom swung open and a shirtless San barged into your room, grabbing your forearm and then dragging you into the room next to yours.

“Let go of me you manwhore!” You tried yanking your arm away from his grip only to fail. You were expecting to see a naked woman on his bed, whoever it turned out to be the opposite. The woman, still fully clothed, has her arms and ankles tied onto the bed posts. You were confused, you looked at San for an answer.

“Do you think I’m a manwhore when I dedicate my whole life to you?” He says, walking closer to you, eyes staring straight into your dark brown orbs. “Kill her, if you hate her presence bothers you so much.” He says before taking a hold on your shoulders and spinning you around. The woman shook her head, pleading for her life. But all you did is grab onto the pillow and watch her suffocate while struggling. When she was no longer struggling, you immediately let go of the cushions, your back bumping into San’s hard rock chest.

“That’s my baby.” He whispers softly, hugging you from behind and placing his chin on top of your shoulder.

Mingi:

He doesn’t see the point of you still working in your corporate office when all your boss does is humiliate you in front of your co workers. For all he knows, your boss should keep his mouth shut or else he’d kill him. Kill. The word rang into his mind. What if you, the love of his life, kill your boss? It sounded like a good plan. Better even. That night, he stepped out into the night and kidnapped your boss who is easy enough to locate.

Your self esteem went lower and lower as your boss would continue to humiliate you inside the office. But when you heard that he didn’t come to work today, you were wondering where the devil is he. It wasn’t until you clocked out at 6pm and went straight home.

“Hi Y/N!” Mingi smiles, waving his hand happily but with your boss all tied up into a chair. Your eyes widened in surprise making you drop your handbag.

“I can’t let this fat fuck run his mouth and talk shit about my baby. So I did the honors for you.” How could he still smile in a situation like this? He kidnapped your boss and he’s happy about it?

“And so, to end my baby’s pain, she gets to do this. One time big time only.” He hands you a jagdkommando knife.

Your breath hitched. “H-how do you have this?” you asked, your voice coming out merely a whisper. Mingi takes a step closer to you, cupping your eyes as he looks into your eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t ask questions like that now, jagi. What matters here is that once we, well you, kill him, all the money he has will be wired into my account and you wouldn’t have to work for that damned office anymore. Don’t you want that?” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead.

You turned to face your boss whose wailing around his seat, his pants dampening with his pee. Raising your hand, you brought the knife down on his neck. Hearing that squelching sound before taking the knife out, raising your hand and bringing it to his stomach and pulling it out. Your work clothes stained with his blood, watching your boss bleed out through the large holes you’ve created on his skin with the knife.

“Don’t hurt yourself now.” He whispers, taking the knife away from your hand. “How was your day today, jagi? Let me run you a hot bath before we have dinner.” He says, taking you upstairs.

Wooyoung:

He got a little carried away torturing a guy who confessed to you the other day for liking you. He was having his own little fun by purposefully making him trip on his own feet and stab his legs, dodging him whenever he would lunge at him and then hit his head on the wall. That was what he was doing until you came home.

“Hear that, idiot? She’s home.” He says, leaving the basement with a mood shift. Happily skipping to the living room to greet you. “Darlinggg~” he flings his arms around you.

“What’s got you so hyper right now?” You chuckle softly, turning to face him. Instead of replying, he took a hold of your hand and lead you the basement. To your surprise, you see a man whose lying on the floor, pants bloodied and covered in sweat.

“It’s your turn to get into the fun!” He smiles handing you a russian roulette with only one bullet inside. “I already had my turn with him and I reserved for you the grand finale.” He says, hugging you tightly in his arms. “Think of this as his final dying act. When he dies, the curtains will close and the people will praise you.” He places a big kiss on your cheek.

You weren’t skilled like Wooyoung, but you hoped that this bullet would go into his head. You took a deep breath and pulled the trigged. And as you wished, the bullet pierced through the skin of his forehead and into his skull.

Wooyoung clapped and stood up from his seat like a standing ovation. He walks up to you and takes your hand in his.

“What a natural.”

Jongho:

Staring at you is something that Jongho will never get tired of doing. Even when you get embarrassed, Jongho will never keep his eyes off you. If his eyes were his stomach, they would feel so full just by looking at you. Only he can stare at you how he wants to. No one else except him. Not until his next door neighbor accidentally discovered you when you opened the door.

He was furious at you and at his neighbor and dragged both of you into his basement. Before he left, you pleaded not to let him leave you alone. Seeing the tears in your eyes were his ultimate weakness, he hated the feeling that it was him who made you cry. But you broke a rule, and it is only fitting that you receive a punishment.

“Wait here” he says, ascending up the stairs and going somewhere. When he came back, he has a 7 needle gauge in his hand.

“You broke a rule, darling. You shouldn’t have answered the door. If you want me to forgive you, stab his eyes.” He says, your breath hitched. Never once did you imagine yourself killing someone. Let alone be an order from a person. When you sat closer to his neighbor, you quickly pierced the needle into his eye. Letting out a blood curdling scream, your heart raced. Swiftly taking the needle out, the man lets out a cry before screaming again as you did the same into his left eye.

When he was no longer moving, it was your turn to cry. Tossing the needle away as you brought your knees close to your chest, sobbing. Jongho’s footsteps could be heard behind you, slowly he lifted you up and carried you bridal style.

“It’s over now, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

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whumperooni · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky, pt ii

Pairings: Chisaki x Sister!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw incest, fear, humiliation, Nemoto being an Asshole, kind of angst i guess

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: I rewatched the Overhaul last night and just couldn’t help writing a little bit more for this verse;;;

This is a small, short continuation of this.

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Out of all the eight bullets, Nemoto is the only one that you truly fear.

Rappa is rough and terrifying with his muscles and crazed desire to always be fighting, yes. Sometimes a shiver runs down your spine whenever you catch Tabe looking over you like he’s just dying to take a bite out of you, yes.

But they don’t scare you- not like how Nemoto does.

Sweat pricks at you whenever the man draws a little too near- you always feel as if he’s just waiting for you to slip up, that he’s nothing but eager to force you to choke out all your sins and faults. Even with his mask on, you know his eyes are always staring you down- boring through you as he waits for Kai to give the order to pry into your brain, make you spill out guilt ridden confessions to satisfy his suspicions.

Even when your conscious is clean, you can’t help but to tense whenever Nemoto is near- you know he’ll be able to draw out something to get your big brother livid and ready to deal out punishment.

Nemoto scares you. He terrifies you.

So, whenever you walk into your room and spot him sitting on your bed, you can’t help but to startle and freeze, panic as the overwhelming urge to run run run has your body ready to bolt.

Doing that would just be an invitation for him to use his quirk on you, though. Running would satisfy some condition to find you guilty and in need of confession.

You swallow, hard, and force a smile onto your trembling lips, curl your fingers tight into the pleats of your skirt.

“N- Nemoto,” you half squeak out- not able to call to voice the usual casual breeziness you use with the rest of your big brother’s guard. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You don’t stutter out the last bit, at least. Nemoto still tilts his head when he looks toward you, though, and you could swear that he’s wearing a smirk underneath his mask.

God, you hate him.

“Overhaul wants me to escort you to his office,” Nemoto informs you, slowly rising from the bed. Your eyes dart toward the mussed covers to find that a pair of panties had been sitting beside him- a lacy thong you had worn the day before, something your maid must have missed in her tidying.

Your cheeks burn- from rage, shame, embarrassment, a cold prickle of horror. You nod, though, and try to keep your composure, can’t help a flinch whenever the man draws near.

“What, um...does nii-san want something?” you ask weakly, trying to distract yourself from the panic that’s creeping over you in an icy dread.

“Obviously.”

The word is dry, filled with the distaste that he seems to hold for you. You’re not really sure why Nemoto carries so much disdain for you, but it never fails to make your stomach lurch, your head bow as you try to hide a wince.

Honestly, you might be more afraid of him than you are of your brother.

Now there’s a thought.

Nemoto leads the way and you trail a step after him- wary, tense, on edge with the wild fear that he’s going to drag out some punishment-inducing truth from you, that he’s going to twist even an innocent truth into something that’ll look like a crime of betrayal to your big brother.

Sweat begins to gather along your hairline and you swallow hard- the clicking of your heels sounding like gunshots in the silent hallways you walk down and doing nothing to soothe your nerves.

“Do you love your brother?”

The question cracks the silence and it has your eyes widening, fear seizing your heart. A tiny whimper slips from you as you feel his quirk latch its claws into your brain and the click clacking of your heels stutter, dread multiplies and grows so fast in your stomach that it leaves you feeling sick.

“I- I love my brother...”

There’s a huff and just a moment’s of reprieve for you before the next question is asked, before the next truth is dragged out from between your trembling lips.

“Do you love anyone besides your brother?”

“P-papa...”

It comes out as a whimper- scared and childish and small. Nemoto clicks his tongue, almost as if disappointed, and he turns to stare at you, watch as you cower- frozen in place and utterly terrified.

This is why he was waiting for you. This is why you’re being called to your big brother’s office.

Kai wants to hear your sins. He thinks you’ve betrayed him somehow.

Cold sweat drips down your temples and your eyes widen beyond belief, tears prick at them, threaten to gather along your lashes.

He- he knows. He knows about Kurono’s touch to your back. He knows that you had fantasized about hands other than his.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

You’re so paralyzed by your fear that you miss the tilt of Nemoto’s head, the small step he takes toward you.

If he wasn’t wearing his mask, you’d be able to see the smile on his face- sadistic, reveling in your terror.

“How sweet,” Nemoto mocks- words like poison, disappointment sharp as a knife. “And, tell me, have you fucked anyone besides your big brother?”

“No!”

It’s true- it’s disgustingly, thankfully true. He won’t find fault in that answer- nothing he can tell your brother to get hellfire raining down upon you.

He had asked the wrong question.

How lucky.

Timid relief pulses through you as you take a ragged breath and you swallow hard at the annoyance Nemoto radiates, the ways he clicks his tongue once more. The annoyance only grows whenever you seem to relax and you don’t need a clear view of his face to know that he’s scowling.

Prick.

For one hopeful moment, you think that it’s over- that you can scurry off toward your waiting brother and get this over with.

The step that Nemoto takes toward you, though, has that hope shattering and you gasp whenever he leans in close- close enough to nearly touch you, brush his mask against your cheek.

You almost wish he had touched you. You would have no problem telling your brother about him daring to lay his filthy, cruel hands on you.

“How do you feel whenever your brother cums inside you?” Nemoto asks- nasty, so mean, his quirk stabbing at you something fierce.

Fucking bastard.

The words tumble from your lips before you can even think to put up the fruitless fight to try to stop them and you begin to cry as they do, drip tears that has Nemoto chuckling.

“G-good. F-full. Warm and- and- and dirty!”

“Are you pure, miss? Or are you just a filthy little whore?”

The title of miss usually murmured with respect comes out twisted and sneering, taunting and crude. The whore that Nemoto spits out, though, is even more cruel, has you choking on your sobs as you try so desperately to keep the truth from spilling out of you.

It comes, though.

It always comes.

“I’m- I’m just a filthy- just a filthy whore!”

Nemoto pulls back from you- satisfaction rolling off of him in thick waves- and you bury your head in your hands, cry as shame and humiliation washes over you.

You hate him. Oh, god, you hate him.

“Come along, miss- your brother is waiting.”

Feet stumbling, you follow after Nemoto- desperately trying to stem the desperation the bastard is surely getting off to. You swipe at your tears and you try to quiet your sobs, glare at the man’s back through your blurry gaze.

The only thing that keeps you from fully breaking down is the vindictive satisfaction that he hadn’t managed to make you confess the one thing that would have brought the punishment he so obviously wants you to suffer through. The vile scum might have made you cry- is still making you cry- but he didn’t get what he wants.

Unlucky for him, lucky for you.

Not another word passes between the two of you until you reach the gilded doors of your brother’s office. Nemoto looks over you- head cocked, hand paused in its raise to knock on the door.

“Do you hate me?” he asks- curious, amused, without the use of his horrid quirk.

“With all my heart,” you spit out at him- not caring that it could just make everything so much worse.

Nemoto chuckles and then he knocks on the door, gives a mocking, sweeping bow and lets you walk in first.

You hold your head high and step into the office- smears of mascara and eyeliner ruining your cheeks, eyes still bright with tears.

Kai runs his gaze over you, impassive and unmoved, and then his eyes flick behind you, his head tilts.

“Well?” he asks.

“Innocent,” Nemoto sighs, not even trying to hide his disappointment.

Your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, but they tremble instead whenever Kai looks back at you, whenever the set of his shoulders relax. He crooks his finger and you go to him, sit yourself on his lap and bury your face in his neck, sniffle out your upset while he begins to rub your back.

“You can leave.”

You only lift your head once the door closes and you look up to your brother, feel tears start to gather once more as he runs his eyes over your face.

“Nii-san...”

Kai hums and he cups your cheek, thumbs away the ruined makeup marring your face. He’s gentle with it, almost tender, and you shudder at the touch, press into it.

“Such a good girl,” Kai murmurs. “My sweet little angel.”

The possessiveness has you nearly whimpering, has your lashes fluttering under his piercing gaze. You nod, curling up closer to him, and try to hide your trembling fear, the lingering worry that even with his subordinate forcing you through confession that he’ll still find you lacking.

“Y-your good girl,” you whisper to him- voice shaking, eyes squeezing shut. “I- I’ll always be yours, Kai.”

A hum sounds from your big brother and he tugs his mask down to lay a kiss to your forehead, pulls it right back up as he rubs your back in a soothing little motion.

“I know,” he tells you. “It doesn’t hurt to check sometimes, though.”

The words cut into you- hurt you- and you sniffle against him, tremble as your remaining dregs of fear course through you like something sick.

Later that night, you lie in Kai’s bed- eyes dead, cold cum oozing out of you, your mind wondering over what you would have said if Nemoto had asked you if you hate your dearest older brother instead.

#chisaki x reader #rooni's shit #tw incest #impulse fic to feed the brain worms

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years ago

Text

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month!

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind.

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way.

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body.

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife.

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

The nightmare won’t let him.

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in.

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt.

He knows those hands.

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks.

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling.

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects.

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.”

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?”

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?”

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.”

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.”

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake.

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all.

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing.

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.”

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head.

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off.

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.”

Oh.

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.”

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.”

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle.

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.”

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.”

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all.

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice.

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones.

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair.

“We can’t save everyone, Mac."

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it.

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there.

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack.

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.”

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says.

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture.

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.”

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice.

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.”

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body.

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically.

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated.

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated.

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety.

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed.

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley.

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task.

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance.

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge.

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way.

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real.

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do.

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound.

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.”

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door.

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second.

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.”

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin.

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.”

He swallows. “Tailed?”

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.”

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?”

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.”

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way.

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up.

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it.

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again.

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him?

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened.

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens.

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.”

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?”

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.”

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.”

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.”

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.”

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down.

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him.

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.”

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.”

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

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@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

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@ijamaica5535

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macriley #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis

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xcoldcoffeesx · 3 years ago

Text

perfect shot

This was it. Kill or be killed. The story of his life.

The tall silhouette approaches the window slowly and James catches his breath. It’s what he always does when he is about to pull the trigger.

Three.

His eyes are fixed on the point. No movement.

Two.

She just stops in the shot, perfectly still. His hands still aren’t shaking.

One.

It seems she is waiting for him and for the first time in his life, James believes.

a/n: so I needed to write something before the series finale and here we are. I've been rambling in my head alone since last episode so I though I'll do something about it. I have to confess that I wrote this on my phone at 2 a.m so I’m sorry if there are some mistakes x) (also English is not my first language). Stay safe!

Read on AO3

This was it. Kill or be killed. The story of his life.

“It's suicide” he knows she made her decision already and that there is nothing that he can do or say to change her mind but he can’t help it. He tries not to think about all the times they nearly lost each other, all the missing bullets, the hours of torture. He tries not to think about the blood, the pain, the death. “You wouldn't let me do it, so why should I?”

She looks at him and he swears at this very moment a second becomes a lifetime. There is something about the sparkle of fierceness she has in her eyes that always makes the world stop moving around him. The silence is peaceful, yet scary. There are so many things he wants to tell her, so unresolved feelings he wants to clear out but he can’t. Not again. His heart is still bleeding from last time. The bullet hasn't come out. He needs a sign first.

He never believed in destiny. How could he? The world is ugly. He knows that better than better than anyone. Hell, he is part of the reason why.

Her eyes are shining and before he can make a move she is the one closing the gap between them. She always is. He is the one waiting. Somedays, it seems like it is all he’s been doing since the moment they met. Perhaps even before that. Waiting.

He never experienced faith. It’s always been a foreign concept to him and well, the more he started climbing up in the business, the less it made sense. There was no point in believing. Prayers couldn’t save him in Afghanistan, nor in Texas. It wasn’t about faith. It was all him. Kill or be killed. Fighting or dying.

Surviving at all costs.

They kissed before but this one feels different. It’s deeper, heavier. Honestly, it takes him by surprise. He never thought she would kiss him again and he had come to term with it. They were different people now. Two sides of one coin, close and yet never together. Crossing paths without walking the same street.

Until survival caught up with them.

Then again, the timing is bittersweet. They’re on the road toward death. Their own camino de la muerte. She knows it too.

Fighting or dying.

James knows he is good at what he is doing. He wouldn’t trust anyone else. He doesn’t need prayers. Yet, for the first time in his life, he wishes he’d had faith. Faith in the world, faith in himself. Someone, something telling him that he made the right decision. That everything is going to be okay. He wishes he’d had a piece of hope he can hold on to. For the first time he actually wants to believe they can make it; that they are meant to.

He needs it.

Lying down on the rusty floor, ignoring his beating heart as he adjusts the rifle and chooses the perfect angle, it’s all he can think about.

Please let it work.

She looks surprised too when she pulls away. Not by the kiss, he guesses, but by the rush of emotions that came with it. His, hers. He knows she worked very hard to become untouchable. A queen who would never let anyone close, ready to sacrifice a part of herself to make sure nobody would ever have the chance to hurt her. Perhaps she thought she would never feel love again. Perhaps she thought she didn’t deserve it.

Either way now she knows.

It’s a beautiful day. The light is perfect and he can see the red walls and big closet in the room behind the big window. He planned everything, he made sure of it. James knows he’s been waiting for a couple of minutes only but it feels like hours. His breath is short but his hands aren’t shaking. As he looks at his watch James holds back a sigh. It shouldn’t be long now.

He’s never been one to talk a lot and make big speeches and declarations but in that moment, hundreds of words are rushing through his mind. There are so many things he wants to tell her but nothing comes out. Except for one thing.

“I love you” It comes so naturally he doesn’t even realize he says it.

In his mind he already told her tons of times before.

“Be careful”

“Answer me, are you hurt?”

“I need you to come back”

“I haven’t told Camila yet.” “Why didn’t you tell her?” “You just don’t get it do you?”

“We’re in this together”

“No, I can’t leave you”

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes to protect us”

“How are we going to get out of here?” “We’re not. You are”

“Since the first day we met, I’ve been trying to keep you alive. I’m still trying to”

He didn’t even know it at the time.

Perhaps they’re is really a meaning to life. Perhaps it was written from the beginning and he ended up being exactly where he was supposed to.

This is a good plan. If he succeeds, everything will finally be over. He’ll be free. They’ll all be. No more missions, no more Devon, no more just survival.

They’ll start living.

This is the only plan.

He kisses her again before he can start thinking about how he just shifted their entire relationship. Words are out, no more hiding. By now he hopes she believes him. It seems too little for everything they’ve been through together but they’re running out of time. She is meeting death soon, and so is he.

Because the truth is, he was ready to die for her.

He was also willing to kill.

Readjusting himself on the floor, James finally catches a glimpse of a silhouette behind the window. Long dark hair on white robe.

He is not a believer. But she is.

He’s never felt more human than in her arms. It is a feeling he can’t quite place. Love, respect, fear and joy all at once. They move as one and he knows he should feel afraid and angry about what’s coming next but he can’t right now.

He is just fucking happy.

So he kisses her again and again until they’re both back in the room -did he carry her at some point? he can’t even remember- and he runs his fingers on her waist, back, neck until her hair and unties her tight bun. Dark hair falls on her shoulders and bare collarbones and he smiles against her mouth.

“You have no idea how many times I wanted to do that” his breath is hot against her cheek and he doesn’t need to look to know she is blushing.

They stop a second to catch their breath and he caresses her cheek, putting a curl behind her ear at the same time.

“Teresa” it’s just a whisper and he is not even sure why he says her name but she does.

“It’s our only chance” she traces his bottom lip with her thumb and he knows she is not only talking about Kostya.

Camino de la muerte.

So he nods and their lips meet again. She quickly presses him to lose his sweater -his leather jacket is probably lost somewhere between the terrace and the room- and proceeds to kiss his neck and shoulders, right on his tattoos. He shivers.

“I was wrong” she comes back to look at him and she is smiling -a real, bright almost childish smile- “we don’t need another life”

“I love you”this time he is fully aware of what he says the second he says it and Teresa’s smile grows bigger.

By now he knows she believes him.

It’s time. One second, one shot. No more chances, no space for mistakes. Kill or be killed. Fighting or dying. He must not overthink. After all, he’s done that hundreds of times before and never missed from this distance. His mind is on fire, screaming loudly but his body is ready. No shake, no sweat.

“We could just run away right now” she whispers in his neck, arm wrapped around his side “disappear”

He is playing with her hair, eyes closed.

“I would like that.”

“Start over” she sighs “I always wanted to live around mountains. We could go to Switzerland”

He smiles as his mind wanders. It’s nice to stop for a second and just allow dreams to fill in.

“What will you do in the mountains?” He asks, voice hoarse

“Read. All day” she pops on her elbows to look at him “you?”

“Maybe I’ll give Pote's recipes a try. I’ll probably need 5 to 10 years though” they both chuckle and for the second time in a few hours he finds himself completely happy “also I’d like to have a dog. A big one.”

“I’ve always imagined you with a dog” she kisses him softly, letting her lips hovering other his, both of their breath interlacing.

Their smiles are mirroring but quickly fade away as the silence takes its place.

“But we can’t, can we?” Teresa falls back on the pillows and he rolls on his side to face her.

“No we can’t.”

They both know what is coming. They’ve known for quite a while now.

“Do you think he’ll ask you to do it?”

“Probably”

“Then you should.”

The tall silhouette approaches the window slowly and James catches his breath. It’s what he always does when he is about to pull the trigger.

Three.

His eyes are fixed on the point. No mouvement.

Two.

She just stops in the shot, perfectly still. His hands still aren’t shaking.

One.

It seems she is waiting for him and for the first time in his life, James believes.

“If anything happens I want you covered” he doesn’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong but it’s his job to. Worst, it’s is who he is. “Two shots. Use them wisely”

“I love you” it’s sudden and she is just whispering but he hears it loud and clear

They finally found each other and yet they have to be apart.

Teresa made him a believer.

“Are you willing to put your life on the line?”

“More than ever”

He looks at her throat dry.

“I know what I’m asking” she says softly caressing his cheeks

“No you don’t” and really she can’t possibly imagine how broken and torn he feels but he closes his eyes under her touch. He knows she is right “what if I miss?”

“You won’t” her fingers sliders on his torso “I trust you. I believe in you. I love you.”

Teresa believes in him.

“It’s our only shot to get out of the cave”

So he pulls the trigger.

#teresa x james #jeresa #queen of the south #qots spoilers #teresa mendoza #james valdez #qots s5 #qots fic #i want you to stay #in honor of the series finale #just rambling

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 48

Title: Alone

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip

He is content and sated under the familiar weight of her body; feather light in comparison to his much bulkier, muscly frame. Enjoying the warmth that clings to her smooth, naked flesh and the smell that lingers in her hair; a mixture of honey and coconut and the slight tinge of sweat. An arm tightly and protectively curled around her as she rests atop him; a single, heavy leg draped over both of hers, a palm cupping her back of her head as the tips of his fingers gently massage at her scalp. Short, dark hair fanned out over his chest, eyes closed and the top of her head tucked under his chin as her fingers blindly trace the tattoos that grace his left shoulder and the side of his neck. It feels incredible to experience this with her; the quiet aftermath of long and attentive lovemaking. Deviating from the normal frantic and desperate pace; punishing thrusts replaced by slow and steady deep movements that effortlessly pushed her up the bed and had her entire body arching underneath him.

It had been what they’d both needed; something more loving and meaningful. A search for absolution through whisper soft, lingering kisses and warm, adoring hands immersed in exploration. Using their bodies to speak for them; the pursuit of pleasure serving as a hopeful quest for forgiveness. Seeing it in those enormous, dark eyes whenever he’d pull back to look down at her; glistening with a mixture of want, desire, and trust. Her fingertips reaching up to push sweat dampened hair off his forehead and out of his eyes; his face cradled in her palms as she lifted her head from the mattress and covered his mouth with hers in a gentle kiss. It was sex that surpasses the act itself. Profound intimacy that comes with deep rooted knowledge and enjoyment of one another’s bodies. Always in sync, forever communicating with one another; a level that stretches far beyond just the physical feelings of lust, want, and need.

He’d never experienced that before; the emotions that both overwhelm and humble you. A body AND mind connection so strong and intense that it takes your breath away and has the ability to bring you to your knees. It’s what makes each coupling so incredible regardless of the style they agree upon. Whether it’s aggressive and bruising or quick and uncomplicated. Or the unhurried exploring and employing of the various ‘tricks’ and kinks that they both enjoy. And those long nights of long and lasting love making; the lazy kisses and the wandering hands and the bodies brought to the edge many times before finally being allowed to let go. Regardless of how it happens, there’s a deeper intimacy that he’d never before been privy to. An adoration and respect that is forever present; despite the degrading words (always at her consent, always agreed upon BEFORE beginning), or the hand around her throat, or the fingers biting into soft flesh of her hips and her ass, or the fist tightly and painfully gripping her hair. Love is always there; finding its way to the surface and communicated whether it be through their eyes or touch or in words themselves. So many things that are said in so many different ways; reaching a level where neither of them need to speak in order to get their wants, needs, and feelings across.

It’s an experience far beyond anything he’d ever encountered before. One that he’d actually never considered; long ago relegating sex to nothing more than a chance to escape from the stressors of the world and to reach a well needed release. In Dhaka he’d realized something was different between them; their bodies so easily and effortlessly responding to one another and merging together as if they’d known each other for years. There was an ease and a comfort between them; no awkward moments of silence afterwards, no feelings of regret, no embarrassment surrounding how out of control both had let themselves be. It was a tiny, sweat slick body cuddling into his; his initial hesitation greeted by her sheepish and almost apologetic smile. And when she’d gone to move away -afraid that she’d crossed a line between them- he’d simply reached out for her; curling an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into him. Her face finding that spot that quickly became its favourite resting place ; settled in between his neck and shoulder with the tip of her nose pressed against the side of his throat. Neither of them speaking as they revelled in the aftermath; the feelings of peace and contentment that come after spending months without any form of real physical contact with someone. Enjoying one another’s presence; the way her fingers found and traced his tattoos while his slowly combed through her hair.

He’d known when he hadn’t been scared off by the gentler and more meaningful moments that he was entering uncharted territory. Caught up in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs; enjoying the smell of her hair and the sensation of her body pressed against his and her warmth breath that tickled his skin. He actually LIKED her; beyond the pangs of lust and the yearnings of want and need and the incredible sex that those things had led to. That bubbly and bright personality she possessed despite the enormity of the situation surrounding them; optimistic and cheerful even with the dangers hanging over their heads. Her smile; broad and beautiful and crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The sound of her voice; childlike and slightly high pitched, yet often so assertive and authoritative. That tiny body encompassing a huge personality; social and friendly yet demanding and forceful when need be. Possessing a strength that went far beyond the physical.

It’s one thing to have muscles and a powerful build and combat training. It's another to be mentally sound and prepared for anything thrown in your direction.

Even in those immediate days after their initial coupling, he’d considered the possibility of more. The chance of getting to know her better outside of the job; away from the stress and the worry and the fear of the unknown dangers lingering darkened corners. She’d already shown that his baggage and his issues weren’t a deal breaker; easily -and uncharacteristically- confiding in her about his drinking problem and his addiction to pain meds and the painful mistakes of the past. Not only the monsters and demons that haunted him over the death of his son, but the horrible decision he’d made in the months leading up to it. He’d told her about his mother dying when he was young and the nightmare he’d been left with; an alcoholic father that physically and mentally abused him. His failed marriage; a cheating, emotionally absent spouse that had deserved way more than he had given her. The horrors of the things he’d seen during his time in the military and what he’d done on the job; taking lives in order to save his own and that of his clients. His death wish; the hope that a stranger’s bullet would take him down because he’d been too chicken to do the job himself.

Everything had come pouring out of him; in the same way that she’d been so open and honest about her own life and failed marriage and the monster of a husband that had inflicted numerous traumas upon her. Both of them simply listening and absorbing the truths and confessions; neither judging the other for the things they’d done or the things that still haunted them. It was the first time he’d ever seen genuine sympathy in someone’s eyes; he’d gotten used to recognizing pity and disgust over the years. But the way she’d watched his face as he spoke and then tenderly cleared tears from his cheeks with gentle fingertips had told him everything he’d needed to know. She was different; unique and beautiful and put in his path for a reason. And IF the job went smoothly and they managed to get out of Bangladesh, he was going to make it happen; transform nothing into something. Willing to welcome her into his home and travel to Colorado to see hers. Wanting to know everything he possibly could about her; hungry for more time together and curious about just where things would end up. A long distance relationship perhaps; weeks or even months spent visiting each other, trips taken together, holidays enjoyed with one another. Suddenly he had a list of things to think forward to; the death wish suddenly pushed to the back of his mind and all but forgotten about.

Her fingers abandon their task. Halting the slow and methodical trace of his tattoos in favour lightly dragging a nail along the scar near his left shoulder; thin and faded and running vertically for several inches. An old injury; shrapnel from a roadside bomb in Kandahar that had made its way under the strap of his kevlar vest and left him a panicked and bleeding mess in the middle of the desert. She’s spent years exploring all of his blemishes and imperfections; committing each one to memory and able to blindly find each and every one. But it’s the internal scars that she attempts to fix; deep and jagged, some still open and festering. Every gentle touch, every whispered loving affirmation, each word of praise, all working together to heal him. Or to at least help him forget, even temporarily.

She peppers his collarbone with kisses. Slowly travelling from one shoulder to the other and then back again, stopping at his Adam’s apple and then moving up his throat and over the underside of his chin. Finishing with a chaste peck. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth; giggling when he gives a dramatic frown.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he presses a kiss to her forehead; eyes briefly closing as he breathes in the soft, familiar scent that clings to her hair. “You good?”

A gentle smile plays on her lips as she nods. “You?”

“I think it’s safe to say I am. Even though I swear I went blind for about a minute.”

It’s a feat in itself when you manage to hold out THAT long. Approaching that much needed release several times and then backing off and starting from scratch; rebuilding that pressure and tension in your stomach and in the small of your back until it becomes physically painful and you simply can’t continue with the self inflicted torture. Those moments leading to completion frantic and desperate; hard and punishing thrusts and animalistic noises emanating from somewhere deep in your chest. The orgasm had been extremely powerful and seemed to encompass every muscle, tendon and ligament in his body. Leaving him a perspiration soaked mess; panting heavily and every inch of his tall and muscular frame trembling.

“If it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t feel my feet for about ten minutes.”

“Makes my ego feel pretty good. Knowing I could get THAT kind of response from you.”

“When it comes to sex, your ego should be the healthiest on the planet. Because you, husband, know how to get shit done. And you get it done very, very, VERY well.”

“You still going to be saying that thirty years from now? When I don’t last as long anymore? I don’t want to disappoint you; have you start looking for someone that can get ‘er done.”

“I have no reason to doubt that you will be just as amazing then as you are now. That kind of stamina? I can’t see that disappearing. EVER. And there’s no way you’d forget all those skills, so…”

“The way my brain is? Add in some dementia…”

“Muscle memory, Tae. Your body will remember. I have no reason to doubt that. And definitely no reason to EVER look for anyone else. You’re it for me. My one and only. My always and forever. So if you got a problem with growing old and gray and senile with me…”

“Definitely no problem on my end. It’s what I’ve been planning and hoping for since the day I put the first baby in you.”

Grinning, she fidgets with the chain around his neck; taking the pendant it bears between her forefinger and thumb; the pad of the latter brushing against the smooth surface. Never a jewellery type of guy, it’s as elaborate as he’ll ever get; a simple hammered copper disk with their initials and that infamous date on the Sultana Kamal bridge almost thirteen years ago. When their old lives ended and their new ones began. “So you were expecting that were you? Did you have some dastardly plan in Dhaka to knock me up? Keep me barefoot and pregnant for the next seven years?”

“Okay so maybe it wasn’t right when I put Millie in ya. But when you told me about her. Shortly after I asked the stupidest fucking question a guy could ever possibly ask.”

“It wasn’t a stupid question. You had every right to ask it; wonder if it really was yours. I mean, if I’d jump into bed with you that easily, what was there to say I wouldn’t with anyone else? Could have been old habit, right? Could have been something I’d been doing on the regular. Banging mercenaries.”

“I don’t know if I thought THAT. It’s not like I thought you were putting out for every guy you worked with. I was just...I don’t know...surprised. Things were happening damn quick. Those five days, the things we were both feeling, what went down on the bridge. It was quite the ride. One I’d definitely do again with you.”

“It was a whirlwind, that’s for sure. I wasn’t exactly surprised though. About Millie. I mean, we weren’t exactly careful. At all. That surprises me more than anything, actually. That neither of us even thought of protection. I mean, once I can see. The being caught up in the initial moment. But the days after? Neither of us considered we weren’t being safe?”

“I considered it. I just didn’t give a shit. I know that sounds bad. Pretty fucking selfish, actually.”

“I always wondered if maybe we didn’t expect to get out there. That deep down we knew something was going to go wrong so why bother? We didn’t acknowledge feeling or thinking about it, but maybe it was there. Underneath everything.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I was just having too much fun and my hormones and my cock were totally in charge and wouldn’t let my brain think about condoms and shit like that.”

“That could be it too,” she muses, and curls two fingers around the chain. “And I was just so blinded by lust and potential love that I couldn’t think straight. You just disabled any common sense and rationality. Like you have been for the last twelve and half years.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault, huh? That your brain wasn’t stronger than your hormones? You’re going to blame that on me?”

“No one else to blame it on. Who else transformed me into a horny, nymphomaniac mess? Who is responsible for totally making me go against my ‘I’ll never get married again. I’ll never trust another man’ way of thinking? I WAS hell bent on being Miss Independent, I don’t need no man. And then you came along…”

“You do realize you’re still those things, yeah? Just because you let me take care of you and provide for you, doesn’t mean you’re not capable of doing it all yourself. If you had to. You’re strong, Me. Strong as hell. Probably the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“Other than when you look in the mirror?”

“You have got me beat in the strong department by a wide margin. You know you could, right? Handle all of this on your own? If you had to?”

“I like to think I could.”

“I KNOW you could. And you need to realize it, too. Just in case…”

“We are NOT going down that path, Tyler. Not now. Not ever. Maybe I could do it on my own. But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to consider it. So could we NOT go there? Please?”

“We won’t go there,” he promises, then lightly grips her hair and pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow and soft; her naked body brushing against his and a soft sigh escaping her lips.

She’s smiling as she lays her forearm along his collarbone, resting her chin upon it as she peers up at him. “I know you’re okay. But are WE okay?”

“That’s a weird thing to ask considering what we just spent an hour doing.”

“Not exactly the way we should go about apologizing to each other. Isn’t that something we’ve been trying NOT to do? Wasn’t that one of the big things Doctor Klein has been working on us with? NOT using sex for comfort.”

“That’s NOT what we were doing. Maybe an apology here and there, but…”

“You don’t think it’s weird? That we fight and we still resort to making up through sex?”

“Okay, I’m going to use a really sappy and corny term, so please don’t hold it over my head for the rest of my life. But THAT? What went down a little while ago? That wasn’t sex. Or fucking. That was making love. Simple as that. Big difference, don’t you think? Between that and what we usually get up to?”

“Definitely a difference. A huge one.”

“So maybe we used it as a way to apologize for the shit that went down earlier. Sometimes things are better expressed without using words. You know how hard I struggle with that sometimes; saying the right things and getting my point across. So if there’s an easier way to get things across to you…”

“Easier and much more enjoyable, you mean. I know how uncomfortable talking about the ‘feels’ makes you. But just so you know? When you DO do it? Open up about things? Just let everything out? It’s beautiful and it’s genuine and there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed by. I’m the last person you should feel embarrassed around.”

“It’s just who I am. A part of me I can’t get rid of, I guess. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s ALL me.”

“Regardless, I just want you to know the way you say things? In that very Tyler way of yours? I like it. Seeing and hearing that side of you. But I don’t expect it. I don’t want you being uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want. And your way of apologizing a little while ago? One of your best yet.”

“You definitely weren’t complaining. Well, except for when you’re getting pissed that I was dragging shit out.”

“Frustrated, not pissed. But the ending more than made up for it, that’s for sure.”

Smiling, he places a kiss on her forehead and then drops a hand to her lower back; palm flat against her skin, fingertips resting on the cheek of her ass. The other hand slips from her hair and settles between her shoulders; a gentle pressure pulling her tightly into him.

“I’ve always liked this with you,” she says, and places her chin on his chest. A hand resting lightly on the top of his head and her fingers playing with his hair. “The after stuff. Not that I’m saying there’s something wrong with the BEFORE stuff. Because there definitely isn’t. But the after stuff is nice. It always has been. Just being like this with you. Comfortable and relaxed and being in your arms. It’s always where I feel the safest. ALWAYS.”

“You’re safe even if you’re NOT in them, you know that right? That I’d never let anything happen to you..Whether you’re in my arms or not. I meant what I said, Me. About protecting no matter what. Against anyone and anything.”

“I’ve never doubted your ability to do that. Not once. Even when you were busted up and trying to get back on your feet, I knew you’d find a way to keep me safe. That you’d stop at nothing to make sure that happened. But when I’m IN your hands, it’s this whole other experience in itself. I’ve never felt that before. Being that at ease and comfortable and feeling like nothing can touch me. I never realized I even NEEDED to feel that way. Until you.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t think I COULD feel anything. Until you came along.”

“Pleasant surprise, huh? When you realize you really were still alive inside?”

“A VERY pleasant one, actually. Things I was feeling? For you? I’d never felt those things before. For anyone.”

“Not even your ex? I mean, you loved her at one point in time. She was your wife. The mother of your son.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t love her. I did. But it comes nowhere close to the way I love you. I can’t describe THAT. I just know what it feels like.”

“It’s profound and it’s all encompassing. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once. Sometimes, it’s even physically painful.”

“You know…” he lays a palm against her forehead and pushes his hand through her hair. “...that’s pretty damn accurate, actually.”

“I didn’t think I could feel that way either. I didn’t think it was even possible. To love someone that much. Do you think this is what people mean? When they say love is sometimes a blessing AND a curse?”

“Maybe. But I like to think it’s more a blessing than anything else.”

“Me too.” She wriggles further down his body; placing the top of her head under his chin. Hand sliding to his rib cage; fingers easily finding and beginning the trace of the tattoo that decorates his skin. “You know what I was thinking about? How freaked out you seemed; the first time I snuggled into you in Dhaka.”

“I wasn’t freaked out.” He repeatedly grazes his knuckles up and down the length of her spine, the pad of his thumb ghosting over soft skin. “I just wasn’t into that. I didn’t exactly sow my wild oats with women that were into that sort of thing. I fucked them, I left. That was the arrangement.”

“None of them ever wanted you to stay the night? Not a single one ever got attached to you? BEYOND sex?”

“Maybe a few. Couple of them thought maybe they could scoop me up and get me out of the life. Away from the game.”

“Did you ever consider it? Taking them up on it? Letting yourself get scooped up?”

“Nope. I wasn’t at that point in my life. I was happy being the way I was. I didn’t like any of them in THAT way. I just wanted to get my dick wet, simple as that. I didn’t want anything more. Besides, even if I DID, I wasn’t in any place to get into any of that. Wouldn’t have been fair to them, you know? I was way too big of a mess. Way beyond anything they could have fixed.”

“And no feels? Towards any of them? I know some of them were just meant to be one night stands. But what about the ones you would go back to? You had a handful of those stashed all over the world. You didn’t feel anything for them?”

“Nope. They made my dick hard, that’s it. I wasn’t in the market for anything else, Me. Not companionship, not a relationship.”

“Just an escape. Get away from it all for a while. Forgetting about things. Just concentrate on the there and then.”

He nods.

“And not one single feel?”

“I didn’t exactly LET myself feel. And even if I had been at that point, none of them were what I would have wanted as a permanent thing. They were nice enough ladies; attractive, fairly smart, established. But just not what I would have been happy with. Then I met you…”

“And it all just changed? Out of the blue? No rhyme or reason to it?”

“You were the first person that made me actually FEEL things. Who made me realize I wasn’t a shit human being and that I still had a lot of living left to do. You were different. You were this tiny little thing with this massive personality. You looked so wee and so fragile and you were anything BUT. You were a challenge; you weren’t a pushover and you couldn’t be intimidated. And I liked that. ALL of it. You had so much light and so much optimism despite everything you’d been through. Despite what you’d seen on the job. And strong. So fucking strong.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re attracted to strong, assertive, aggressive women,” Esme concludes.

“What I’m saying is that I’m attracted to YOU. No one else.”

She presses a kiss to his left pec. “So I’m a keeper, in other words.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders , he rolls over onto his side, effortlessly bringing her with him and then tucking her tightly into his chest. A smile curving his lips and his eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair. “Yup.”

*****

“I’m scared,” she says several minutes later, effectively snapping him out of the beginnings of sleep. Still lying on his side with her body pressed against his; a heavy leg draped over her top thigh and their heads sharing the same pillow.

His fingers find her hair; combing through the dark tresses, palm settling at the nape of her neck. “What are you scared of?”

“That we’re going to end up right back where we were. Before Nathan did what he did. Before you got sucked back into things. Before Australia, even.”

“Babe, either I’m really tired, or you're speaking in riddles. Because I have no clue where you're going with this. Talk to me like I’m a five year old; break it down for me.”

Pulling back to look at him, she lays a hand on the nape of his neck; fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “Before we moved back, we were still struggling. A LOT. We’d come a long way, but we still weren’t communicating properly and we were keeping things from each other and we were fighting all the time. I HATED it; being that way with you. Loving you so much yet being so frustrated and worried and frightened that we weren’t going to make it. And right now? The way things have been over the past week and a half? I’m starting to get worried that we’re falling back into old habits. And I don’t like it. At all.”

“Neither do I. I hate the thought of it. But I didn’t think things are that bad. I mean, we’re both going through some pretty heavy shit. But I don’t think it’s anything like it was before. Not even close.”

“We’ve been arguing. A lot. Even the kids have mentioned it; that we’re fighting more and it reminds them of how things used to be. The first three? They remember ALL of that. They were there; hearing us argue, watching us be so angry with each other. And it’s done a number on them and I feel so fucking guilty for that. That we didn’t at least try and rein things in. For their sake.”

“Definitely not one of my prouder moments, that’s for sure,” Tyler admits. “All the shit they had to hear; all the times we were mean and horrible to each other. I know I always say I wouldn’t go back in time and fix things because it would fuck everything else up. But THAT? Letting them know just how hard things were? I’d definitely change that.”

“And Addie is terrified that something is going to happen. Between us. She brings it up at least once a day. Asks if we hate each other and if you’re going to go and live somewhere else when we get back home. She’s FIVE. She shouldn’t be worrying about stuff like that.”

“She’s also extremely sensitive. Talk above a certain level and she thinks we’re fighting. I can’t even raise my voice around her. You know what she’s like; how vulnerable she is sometimes.”

“I just hate that she even feels that way. That she’s so worried that things are going to fall apart, I mean, they’re not, right? Going to fall apart?”

“Babe…” his hand slips to her cheek, gently cradling it as he presses a kiss to her lips. “....things are fine. WE’RE fine. I’m not going anywhere. Just because we’re a little on edge and we fight once in a while, doesn’t mean there’s problems. It just means we’re going through some shit and we need to get home and work on things. That’s it. So we argue? Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. That I don’t love you.”

“I just hate it. Feeling like we’re slipping. That things are going back to THAT. And I worry if it slips any further…”

“We’re fine,” he assures her, and kisses her again; lips lingering against hers. “Everything is going to be okay. Nothing we can’t get past. We just gotta stick together. Not let anything or anyone fuck us up. That’s it. United front. Me and you against the world.”

Smiling, she drags her knuckles along the edge of his jaw; bristles of his beard tickling her skin. “Stronger together than we are apart.”

“Always have been. You know who ALSO said that today? Your son.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I have four of them.”

“Your oldest one. We had a little talk. After you took off. He brought up that same thing. That we’re stronger if we stick together.”

“He’s definitely been listening. And watching. He’s starting to sound even more like you. In so many different ways.”

“He’s going to be a good man, that kid. No doubt about it.”

“That’s because he has a good man in his life. An AMAZING man. And role model.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know about that. That’s pushing it, I think.”

“Think about it,” Esme gently implores. “ TJ remembers what things were like before. How WE were before. When things were so hard and I’m sure it seemed like we hated each other and couldn’t stand to be around one another. He remembers when you left. Six months of his life without you under the same roof. And before you say anything…” She places two fingers against his lips to prevent him from speaking. “...that was in no way a cheap shot against you and I am NOT putting the blame on you. We had a lot of issues and neither of us seemed to want to fix them. But he DOES remember all of that. And now? Now he sees how different you are. How you treat me. He sees how much you love me and respect me and how you’ll do anything to protect me. He IDOLIZES you, Tyler. He wants to be just like you. In every way possible.”

“But I don’t want that for him. To be like me. I want so much more for him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Why you can’t hear the words that are coming out of my mouth. You are NOT a bad person. You've made bad mistakes. We’ve ALL made them. You’re not the monster you think you are.”

“I don’t want him following in my footsteps.”

“Be a mercenary, you mean.”

He nods. “That’s the last thing I want for him. That kind of life. Because the things I’ve seen and heard and the things I’ve had to do? I don’t wish those on anyone. Look what it’s done to me, Esme. And I’m not talking the broken bones or the getting shot or stabbed or any of that shit. I’m talking about what it’s done to me MENTALLY. It has fucked me up. You know that.”

“First off, you are NOT fucked up. You’re flawed. So am I. You don’t love me any less, do you? Because of my issues? My imperfections?”

“These aren’t just small issues. Tiny imperfections. They’re…”

“Do you?” she softly interjects. “Love me any less? Knowing what I struggle with?”

“Of course not. There’s nothing that could make me love you less. NOTHING.”

“And I feel that same way about you. So do your kids. And you know what, I don’t want him in that life either. I don’t want him being a mercenary. But he’s TEN. And all he really thinks about is how cool and exciting it is that dad gets to travel places and kick bad guys’ asses. He’s not thinking about the things the job has done to you. He’s a kid. His mind doesn’t work that way. He was five when you were in the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember most of it. Especially the worst times. All he knows is that dad goes away and he helps people and sometimes, the bad guys die. It’s just the way it is. That’s all that matters to him. That, and that you come home safe and sound.”

“But there’s so much more to it. So much. And I don’t want him finding those things out first hand.”

“If he keeps going on about it when he’s older, THEN we tell him. Or you tell him. But right now he is still a little boy and his mind romanticizes and glorifies what you’ve done. What you still do. He’ll change his career about a hundred times before he’s eighteen. I know I did.”

“It's just not a life I want for him. For any of them.”

“If the time comes where ANY of them are considering that life, then we do something about it. But right now? They’re all still so young. They have so much time ahead of him. And I wasn’t talking about that; the mercenary side of you. Because you are more than that man. WAY more. You’re a husband and you’re a father and a grandfather. And believe me, those things matter more than you being a mercenary when it comes to your kids.”

“I just want to set a good example. That’s ALL I want.”

“And you ARE setting it. They all see how you are, Tyler. They see how you treat me. How you love me. Respect me. ADORE me. What more could you want for your boys? Do you know that that’s teaching them? Seeing you that way? It’s showing how they should be when they grow up. With their own partners. And that’s huge, babe. HUGE.”

“I guess I never thought about it. I just do it. I just act on how I feel about you. That’s it.”

“And it’s a beautiful thing; when you act on it. They see this big, strong man being so loving and gentle and attentive. What could be better than that, in their eyes? Their dad being that way with their mum? It makes them realize that even the bad asses have a heart. And that’s okay to use that heart. For good.”

“They also see me being an emotional wreck sometimes. So…”

“And there’s nothing wrong with THAT, either. So what? You get emotional. You cry. You’re a human being. Not a machine. And isn’t that we want for our boys? To be strong and protective when they need to, but soft and sweet and caring ALL the time? I know that’s what I want for them. There's so many things I want for them. Things that will make them good men.”

“Am I? A good man?”

“A good man who’s made bad choices and who’s had a hard life. Who’s learned from his mistakes and always tries to fix things and be better. You’re a good man and a great husband and an even better father. Think about what you’re teaching the girls. When they see you emotional. When they see you loving me. It’s showing them what kind of man they should want. That they deserve that kind of love and they should never settle for less. They’ll look for someone like you. And I know you’ll argue and say that’s not a good thing, but it IS. It’s a VERY good thing.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words; blinking back the threatening tears and swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat.

“You ARE a good man. Regardless of what your brain says. And I hope one day it stops telling you differently.”

“So do I.”

“Baby…” she lays a hand on the back of his head; lips pressing a series of feathery kisses across his forehead and along the top of each eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose. “...I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing I wanted.”

“Good tears, Me. All good tears.”

“Does it make you feel better that I think you’re beautiful when you cry? That you do suffering so beautifully?”

“I don’t know if it makes me feel better, but it’s really goddamn weird.”

“I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate you SO much. More than you could ever know. Everything you do for me and for us and for our family. That doesn’t go unnoticed. And I love you so much for it. For always getting back up and putting one foot in front of the other simply because we need you to. I know it’s hard; that it takes all the energy you have to keep going some days. But you do it. For us. And you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“You know how you say I have a knack of making you cry easily? I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

Smiling, she curls both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips. Eyes sparkling adoringly when she pulls away; searching every inch of his face as her fingers move through his hair. “You’re a beautiful person, Tyler Rake. Don’t ever let anyone or anything tell you otherwise.”

*****

He’s unsure how long they doze for; stirred from sleep by the sound of the bedroom door creaking upon, followed by the clinking of Mac’s metal tags against his leather collar. The mattress swaying and bowing as the dog jumps onto it and curls into a ball at the bottom of Tyler’s feet; laying his head on his front paws and issuing a loud, comical yawn before closing his eyes.

The temperature has dropped; the furnace clicking on and then settling into a low, almost soothing hum. A strong wind rattles the windows; bare tree branches scrapping the glass and tapping against the metal roof. His left arm is asleep; circulation cut off by the weight of his wife’s head resting on his bicep. And despite cautiously slipping it out from underneath her slipping form, she stirs. A groan of protest escaping her lips as she rolls over onto her back with a groan; heels of her palms pressing into her eyes.

“Good back to sleep, baby,” he encourages, and throws back the heavy comforter. “It’s late.”

“I wasn’t fully out of it.” She pushes herself up onto her elbows, frowning as he slips out of bed. “Where you going?”

“Just getting some clothes to put on. We learned that lesson more than once; always put something on BEFORE the kids get up.”

“We’ve encountered a few awkward moments,” Esme admits, then giggles when the t-shirt he tosses her way lands on the top of her head. “Are you okay?” she asks, as she tugs the garment on. “You have pain? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, then slips into a pair of weathered and tatted plaid pyjama pants he pulls from the dresser. “Just having a hard time sleeping, I guess.”

“Probably everything that went on today. Your brain probably can’t completely shut down. Come back to bed, though. There’s no reason to get up. Just come and lie down and let me cuddle you.”

“Me…” he grins. “...we’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry. Why don’t you come back to bed, lie down, and cuddle ME”

“That’s better.”

Rolling her eyes, she squirms across the wrinkled and rumpled sheets and settles herself -on her side- in her regular spot. Back towards him as he slides into bed behind her; a forearm placed across her pillow and a palm resting against her stomach and pulling her tightly into him. A groan rumbling deep in his chest when she wriggles her ass against him. “You be good,” he warns.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Bullshit you weren’t.”

“I was getting comfortable,” she informs him, and then pushes her fingers through his; their joined hands resting against the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Sure you were.”

“I like this. Being little spoon. It’s my favourite.”

“You’re the perfect little spoon,” he praises, and drapes a leg over hers. “You fit just right.”

“Doesn’t hurt when you’re so big and I’m so small. Do you ever notice the way people look at us? When we’re out in public? When we’re walking down the street together? Holding hands or arms around each other?”

“I’ve noticed. It probably looks cute; tall guy, teeny girl.”

“They’re probably wondering how we ever get things done. Between the sheets.”

“We manage. We don’t have seven kids for nothing.”

“Have you ever considered you’re just incredibly fertile? Or that we both are? That it didn’t take very much to get me pregnant all those times?”

“I’ll have you know that I worked very hard all those five times it happened. I busted out my best moves to put those kinds of smiles on your face.”

“Baby, sex with you is always amazing. Well, there was that one time when you were really drunk and passed out on top of me and…”

“You are NEVER going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” she laughs. “Never. Especially when Declan was conceived during your drunken escapade. Let’s never tell him that, okay? We don’t need him to have a complex.”

“He already has one. He’s a ginger. That’s enough to give you a complex.”

“Your mother was a ginger,” Esme points out. “He looks just like her. So do you. In some ways. Definitely the shape of your eyes and your forehead and chin. They’re identical. The rest…”

“The rest I get from my old man,” he reluctantly admits. “Yeah, I know.”

“From a physical appearance standpoint, that’s not a bad thing. You happen to be very attractive, husband. Very sexy.”

“Are you saying my dad was sexy?”

“Ewwww. No. God, no. I’m saying you inherited good genes. From a physical standpoint. You are NOTHING like him in other ways. How about we NOT take this conversation any further? Let’s NOT talk about him.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Good idea.”

“I know what I WANTED to tell you!” She rolls over to face him; his hand falling to the small of her back. “Some very strange things happened to me today. While I was out.”

“Baby, I have been eating at the buffet of strange ALL DAY.”

“Well, consider this the dessert. Guess who showed up? At the diner.”

“Do I really want to know?”

“Natalie. Alone. No kid in sight.”

“She just wandered in out of the blue? Did she follow you there or…?”

“I think this time was a complete coincidence. It’s not a normal place I go to. I specifically went in a direction I don’t usually take because I didn’t want to run into anyone. I wasn’t exactly feeling too social or chatty. But yep, she just wandered in. The waitress knew her. First name basis. So I’m thinking she’s a regular there and it was just a totally random event. For a change.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Not at first. At first she ran off as soon as she saw me. Or tried to. I chased her down. I’d had enough of her shit and I wasn’t letting her off the hook.”

“And I didn’t get a call to come and bail you out of jail?” he chides. “Me, you’re losing your edge.”

“She is insane. Legitimately. That can be the only explanation for the shit that came out of her mouth. She really does think that you two have some kind of connection. That you’re feeling the same way she is. And she’s pretty determined to bust us up and reel you in.”

“That’s never going to happen and you know it. I am perfectly content where I am. She’s just some crazy bitch.”

“A delusional crazy bitch. She tried telling me that you came onto her. At the American Girl store. That you propositioned her. Something about taking a break from the girls and finding a supply closet and…”

“Okay first off, I’d never do something like that. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. And even if I was that kind of guy, I sure as hell wouldn’t do THAT. In public. In front of my daughters and my grandkid. She’s fucked. Well and truly fucked.”

“The more I argued with her, the more adamant she became about stealing you away. She’s pretty hot and horny for you, honey. I don’t know…”

“If anything, the thought of her makes my dick shrivel up. In fear.”

“If she had a normally functioning brain, she’d probably be deadly. But she’s just so off the reservation and so delusional that there is no way she’s a threat. Even if she did sort of let on that she is.”

He frowns. “What did she say?”

“Something about how I don’t know who I’m messing with. The usual bullshit someone spouts when they’re called out. They always try to act big and bad. You’ve seen that before; guys trying to step up to you because you’ve threatened their masculinity. I mean, she’s obviously harmless. A bit of a stalker, but…”

“There’s something not right with her. At all.”

“You’re telling me! She’s plain nuts. And I called her out. For lying about TJ. The whole last name thing. Told her if she ever brought my kids into her shit again, I’d go over to her house and drag her out and beat her ass in the middle of the street.”

A grin plays on his mouth. “That’s my girl.”

“I also told her to stay away from you. I don’t appreciate her pissing in my front yard, and I sure as hell don’t share. I don’t know if she'll listen to me, but…”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s obviously not all there. We’ll be leaving in a few days. Won’t have to deal with her for a while.”

“Thank god for that. Any more run-ins with her and I WOULD catch an assault charge and you WOULD be bailing me out of jail.”

“Wouldn’t you want me to leave you there? You might meet some nice lady.”

Scowling, she reaches between their bodies; making him chuckle when she pinches his stomach.

“Don’t be mean,” he dramatically pouts, then pushes her hair behind one ear, then the other. “What’s the second thing? You said a couple weird things happened.”

“This one is so strange it tops anything odd that’s ever happened to me. There was this guy there…”

“I don’t know if I like the start of this…”

“...who looked EXACTLY like Mark. And when I mean exactly, I mean a ninety nine percent match. That’s how much he looked like him.”

His blood immediately runs cold, and he tries his best to hold back any sign of emotion. It’s been years since he’d found out that her first husband was actually still alive; responsible for sending him a handful of voicemails and text messages. Harmless at first. Then becoming very disturbing. “As in your ex Mark?”

Esme nods. “We are talking about his identical twin. If he had one. I swear to God I almost peed my pants. Scared the ever loving shit out of me. That whole saying ‘you look like you’ve seen a ghost’? That was me. I can only imagine what my face looked like. Freaked me out so bad. I honestly thought I’d wet myself."

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Just random chit chat. He held the door open for me. Nothing major.”

“Hmmm…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hmmm? What’s there to go ‘hmmm’ about? It’s obviously not him. He’s been dead a long time. Hopefully burning in hell. What’s the look on your face for? Now you look like YOU’VE seen a ghost.”

“It’s not that. I just...wow. I guess it IS true; people do have a twin out there somewhere.”

“Well Mark’s twin is from New Jersey and didn’t seem like a first class asshole. He was pretty friendly, actually. Are you okay? You don’t look so good. I know Mark brings back a lot of bad things, but…”

“I was just thinking how weird that must have been for you. Seeing someone that looked just like him. Considering everything he’d done to you.”

“Oh believe me, the memories all came up at once. I was sort of a wreck for a bit after all. But I mean, he’s dead. He’s hardly a threat. It’s not like people can come back from the grave. It was just really strange. Made me feel some things that weren’t very nice, that’s for sure.”

“You’re okay now though? You’re not still freaking out inside? You’re okay?”

“I was okay as soon as I got home. As soon as I saw you. And I got to be in these big, strong arms of yours.” She runs a palm over his left bicep and triceps; enjoying the feel of soft skin and hard muscle. “I’m fine. It was just really weird. I’m okay now.”

“Good,” he says, and kisses her; the back of her head cradled in his palm as his lips softly and slowly move against hers.

“What a weird ass day, huh?”

“It’s one for the record books, that’s for sure."

“It’s over. That’s all that matters. We dealt with it and we got past it and tomorrow...or today...we start again. We deal with our shit and we get on with things and we don’t let anything break us. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Smiling, she kisses him this time, pushing her fingers through his beard and lightly scraping her nails along his jaw. “We need sleep. Badly.”

“We do,” Tyler agrees, and his lips find her forehead. “I’m sorry, Me. That things were pretty shitty today.”

“None of that matters now. We both apologized and we both know what we need to work on. And we’ll do it together. Like we always do.”

“We will,” he confirms, and she once more turns her back towards him. He reaches around her slender body; palm pressed against her stomach, eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair.

“I love you, Tyler.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “So much.”

His hold on her tightens. “I love you too, Esme. More than you’ll ever know.”

Heaving a long, content sigh, she nestles her cheek into the pillow and closes her eyes. Body settling and relaxing against his; safe and protected in the confines of his arms. Completely oblivious to the building rage and worry. In the matter of minutes, so many unknowns have taken up residence inside of him; centred around the true nature and reason behind Natalie’s behaviour and the encounter with Mark’s ‘twin from New Jersey’.

Sleep won’t find him. Not tonight.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme and Tyler series

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sohin-ace · 5 years ago

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Jotaro - Sister

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Y/N is Jotaro’s sister

I want to make clear that this fic is non romantic. I don’t write incest.

"Papa, since you're here, I have to show you Jotaro and Y/N's old pictures~" Holly cheered excitedly while dragging her father to the living room.

"Oohhh can't wait!" Joseph joined, enthusiastic to see some hidden treasures of his grandchildren.

The commotion of Holly and Joseph going through photo albums caught you and Jotaro's attention as you both walked past the living room.

"Look at this one, Papa! Their first time going to the beach together! Y/N was scared and Jotaro brought her a starfish!" Holly squealed and you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Uh, mom what are you doing...?" You carefully asked.

"Oh! I'm showing your baby pictures to your grandfather!"

You glanced at Jotaro next to you who had a pearl of sweat gliding down his forehead. Oh no...

"Oohh ohhh!!! This one is my favourite! Jotaro and Y/N taking a bath together~" You both flinched.

"Ooohhhh!!!! OH MY GOOODD!!! How cuuuteee~" Joseph cupped his face in his hands and was almost dying at the cuteness before him.

"You know! Y/N would always tell me this, 'When I grow up I want to marry Jotaro onii-chan!' " You blushed madly and gasped at the embarrassing memory.

"MOOOM!!!! WHAT THE HELL?! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN REMEMBER THAT???" Joseph burst into a fit of laughter while your mother had a sheepish look on her face.

"Yare yare daze..." Jotaro walked away with his hat resting low on his head, effectively covering his reddening face.

You were Jotaro's younger sister. Despite your age difference being negligible, your relationship was very complex. It changed and switched a lot throughout the years.

As children you used to be really close, nothing could separate you. You would share and do everything together, from toys, to beds and everything in between.You both took care of each other in your own way.

But as the years passed, Jotaro grew colder and more distant, which was to be expected from a male teenager who had been overwhelmed by feminine compagny, whereas you became calmer, more patient and less cheerful than before, trying to learn to not depend on your brother's presence as you used to in the past.

Despite your differences, you two still kept that unconditionnal kindness that seemed to run in the family.

Currently, you both lived your lives on your own ways. You couldn't really say you were close, or at least, not as much as before. You didn't think your relationship could progress any further from there, at least, not until a certain day.

You both walked out the door after receiving your usual goodbye kisses from your mother Holly, and went on your way to school.

You used to always make the walk to school together, but since highschool, Jotaro would just walk in front of you and leave you behind without even looking back.

The first few times, you'd run after him, calling him out to wait for you, but after a few days, you gave up and accepted to just make the walk on your own. You were used to him ignoring you even at school so you grew to not mind it anymore.

From his point of view, it was to protect you from having a stressful walk surrounded by fangirls, being the potential target of bullies who wanted to get to him, or to prevent you from being in the middle of a fight between stupid thugs who wanted to meddle with Jotaro.

But as you didn't know that, in your eyes you were just a burden to him. You didn't want to be the annoying clingy sister and as he was already very edgy, you left him be.

You continued your lone walk to school, your brother long gone before you and already out of sight. You heard voices behind you and you flinched.

"Oohh isn't that Kujo? Hey yeah it's her! Kuuujoooo~" You kept on walking, but they caught up to you.

"Hey, hey, babygirl, don't ignore us like that~ What's the matter, where's your big brother?" One of the guys said, sliding an arm around your shoulders and leaning a bit too close to your face.

"Yeah, where's your big strong bro? Not very nice to let his sister all alone in the street. It's okay though, you don't need him, we'll take care of you~" The other snickered, towering next to you and taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, playing with it as you looked down.

These two guys again, for some reason they had this weird obsession with you and just wouldn't take the hint.

"...Please go away, I don't have time for this." you quietly said, not even bothering speaking up. They wouldn't listen anyway, but you still tried.

"Don't worry sweetie, you're okay with us, we'll protect you!"

"I don't need protection, go away."

"Awww, don't be like that~ It makes me want you even more." The shortest slid his hand from your shoulders down your arm and laid it on your waist.

You sighed and swatted their hands off of you. "Shut up, you're so annoying!"

"Ooh she's trying to act all tough like her bro, how fucking cute!" The tallest one then forcefully grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him.

"LET GO YOU PSYCHO!" You pushed him as hard as you could, which sent him stumbling over a nearby parked car.

"You asked for it you stupid bitch!" He then slapped you hard across the face, so hard, the impact made you lose balance and you fell down on the ground, dropping your schoolbag.

"Dude! Stop, that's too much!" the short one quiered, overwhelmed by the turn of events.

"SHUT UP! I gotta teach her a lesson. Get up, Kujo."

He didn't even let you react and pulled you up by the arm, slamming you straight against his chest. You struggled, but he locked you firmly in his surprisingly strong arms. "So what are you gonna do? Where's Jotaro now, huh?"

"I'm here, motherfucker."

They flinched and both their jaw dropped. They slowly looked up to see the huge form of your brother, standing so tall he was blocking the sun behind him and casting a shadow over you three.

"J-j-j-.....JOTARO???!!" the shortest one stuttered, shaking like a leaf and sweating bullets.

"...What the FUCK do you think you're doing to my sister?" Your behemoth of a brother growled.

Before they could even retort, Jotaro grabbed you and abruptly snatched you out of the boy's hold, making you stumble against him and he caught you effortlessly in his arm. He sent a murderous glare to the two boys and they whimpered, taking the warning very seriously.

"I-I-.... Shiiit!!! I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU KUJO!!!" The tall one stormed off with his friend following close behind.

"Yare yare daze..." Jotaro sighed in annoyance as he turned towards you. "Are you okay?"

You nodded quietly, looking down at the floor. He harshly held your chin in his large hand and lifted your face up, inspecting your bruised cheek.

"Tch... That asshole...Can't wait to dance on his fucking grave." You put a reassuring hand over his arm and he relaxed slightly, letting you go.

"Don't. It's not worth it, Jojo. Let's go, Mom will be worried if we're late to school again."

You spoke softly and he stared at you in silence, not moving an inch, but before you could question him, he started.

"Stop looking at me like this."

"Huh?"

"I can't bear that melancholic look on your face. Wipe that out."

"That... That's just my face, Jojo..." You trailed off softly, quite confused with your brother's shenanigans.

"I know I made you like this."

You stared at him for a moment, then looked away, silently. Maybe you were colder than you used to, but you wouldn't put the blame on him, after all...

"I made you like this too..." You replied, looking off to the distance. "Your stone cold glare...Your burning hate for girls...It's all me, isn't it."

He fell silent. Your silences spoke more words than any of your actions, this is how it came to be. You finally looked up at him, both sharing the same stare.

"You're one to talk about a cold glare. Just look at you."

As he said that, Star Platinum manifested in front of you, surprising you as you let out a tiny gasp. He then held your cheeks and tugged slightly on them, forcing a smile out of you.

"Oh...! The spirit's back!" You were too fascinated by the weird spirit that started following your brother to even care that he was childishly playing with your face.

Jotaro cracked a tiny smile at the interactions of his Stand and his sister. He couldn't understand you sometimes, but at the end of the day, you two weren't so different.

The tall male pulled out his pack of cigarettes and brought one to his mouth before lighting it up.

"Girls are fucking headaches..." You looked up at him, deadpanning as Star Platinum and you were squeezing each other's cheeks.

"But your my little headache." He mumbled under his breath before puffing a thick cloud of smoke.

You wanted to scoff at his weird confession. Oh great. He didn't hate you as much as the others. How cute.

You looked down, your features softening into a smile as you held onto Star Platinum's arm who was now playing with your hair.

"Let's just go now, Jojo."

The moment you both started walking he noticed you wincing and limping a bit.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... It's nothing, I just scraped my knee when I fell earlier." you tried walk again, but winced at the pain from the open, bleeding wound on your knee.

Before you could even step any further, you saw your brother crouching in front of you, his back turned towards you.

"Climb."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "It's okay Jojo I ca-"

"Yare yare daze, I don't have all day. Hurry up." He pressed on and you couldn't fight his stubborn nature.

You leaned over, putting your hands on his shoulders and let your legs rest on either side of his waist as he steadied them with his hands. He effortlessly hoisted you up and walked you both to school.

It felt so nostalgic, being carried by him. The world was so much more beautiful from the view of your brother's height. You didn't care for the view though, as you leaned further against his back, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Just like old times... Right? Oni-chan..." You uttered quietly, calling the name you stopped calling him for years now.

He chuckled lightly, which was also something that you didn't hear in years.

"Yeah... Just like old times. Except now you're cheesy as shit. You're starting to sound like Kakyoin."

"Hmm? What's wrong with Kakyoin? I like my men cheesy." You purred.

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned his head to glare at you. He suddenly felt angry as his brotherly instincts kicked in.

"...Take that back right now."

Bonus:

You were walking out of the nurse's office with Jotaro.

"See you later." He turned the other way towards his classroom.

As you were about to walk away yourself, you turned around to be met with a group of girls blocking your route.

"Y-you're Y/N Kujo, right?" Started a shy-looking girl.

"Oohh you're Jojo's sister? Cool!! Could you give him my number~?" added another one, excitedly.

"Actually, you do look like him a little bit!" Continued a third one, as they all interjected one by one.

"What? Noo they look nothing like each other, what are you saying!"

"Hmm they do have a.. Family likeness, kinda? Maybe it's the eyes, or the lips, I'm not sure, but there's definitely something!"

"Now that you say it, they do have the same cold frown on their face." they all giggled and your face was red with annoyance.

"Get lost. All of you. This is why you don't have boyfriends." And just like that, you stormed off, leaving the girls in a love-struck daze.

"Waaahh~ she's so cool~"

"She's kinda cute when she's angry."

"She could insult me all day~"

"Being hot runs in the family, so unfair~" they all squealed to themselves as they watched you leave.

Brothers kinda suck, but they're also a blessing.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #stardust crusaders #jotaro #jotaro kujo #writing #x reader #reader insert #family love #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #non romantic #sister reader

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stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years ago

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May Flowers Challenge Day 11

Prompt: “Don’t die on me. Please.” + “Why are you bleeding?” requested by Anon

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Kidnapping, gunshot wounds

Being friends with Red Hood was always going to lead to disaster. You knew that before he even warned about it. And for the longest time, you thought you were prepared for anything. Coming to in a rat-infested warehouse, tied too tightly to a rusty beam with too many armed thugs patrolling about turned out to be something you decidedly weren’t prepared for.

The other thing about being friends with Red Hood was that he’d never let you be in danger for long.

He appeared shortly after you woke up, and though they were expecting him, he somehow still kept the upper hand. Guns were firing left right and center, bullets ricocheting off the walls. You curled in on yourself as best you could, making yourself as small a target as possible. Then, just as suddenly as the fight began, it stopped. Not daring to look up, you heard heavy footfalls approaching.

“Y/N? It’s me. Are you hurt?” It was Red. You’d know his voice anywhere.

Looking up at the familiar red helmet, you shook your head, “No. No, I’m fine I think.”

“Good. Let’s get you somewhere safe.” Pulling out a knife, Red reached around to cut your bindings free while you looked around. The bodies of the thugs were littered across the floor. None of them appeared to be breathing. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care right then.

“I knew you’d come,” you whispered, letting Red help you to your feet and out of the warehouse.

“I’ll always be there for you, angel,” Red said, climbing onto his bike, waiting for you to jump on behind him and wrap your arms around his waist securely before speeding off. You clung to him as he drove down the streets, face buried in the leather jacket and taking in the comforting scent you’d come to know at his.

At first, you thought he was taking you to one of his safe houses. He’d taken you to one before, and it appeared that you were going in that direction now. But then from nowhere, he turned sharply, taking you both down a road you didn’t know.

Finally, you stopped in front of an old looking building, though by now you knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

“C’mon,” Red said, his voice sounding a little strained. You put it down to tiredness after the fight.

You followed him, and he grappled you both up to the top floor, pried open a window, and gestured for you to climb through. Lights flickered on as you stepped inside, and sure enough, the interior did not match the exterior. If anything, it was almost too high tech. Especially compared to the last one he’d taken you to.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Red. Taking me to spots with mold on the ceiling when we could’ve been here with all these pretty shiny surfaces.” Red didn’t answer which was strange for him. Usually, he’d have a witty comeback or something. Turning, you saw him make his way into the kitchen, dropping his gloves and shrugging off his jacket as he did so and letting it fall. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, but then he reached up and touched his chest and that’s when you saw it. Blood. On his hand. There was blood covering his palm.

“You’re bleeding! Why are you bleeding?!”

“Shot,” Red grunted, trying to get to a cabinet and failing. He stumbled over his own feet, hit one of the counters, and collapsed to the ground in a heap.

“Red!” Sprinting over, you dropped to your knees next to him, carefully shifting and propping him up. Blood was seeping out of a hole on the left side of his chest, coating the grey armor in its wake. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You tried to keep your voice as calm as possible as you yanked your hoodie over your head and pressed it to the wound as hard as you could. “Stay with me, Red.”

Your only answer was a groan. You let go of your hoodie for a moment, taking the chance to carefully pull the red helmet off. His skin was pale and clammy, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat. With his breathing so harsh and the pained groans, you didn’t need to take the domino off to know if he was awake. Pressing back down, you watched as the blood soaked into the pale material.

What did you do? You couldn’t treat a bullet wound. Your phone had been lost, and even if it wasn’t, who did you call to fix up a notorious vigilante? How did you even contact them?

"Y/N-" Red's hand came up to clasp your wrist, palm slick with sweat.

"Save your strength, yeah?"

"No...Y/N…if I don't…"

"I love you," you blurted. "I love you, you asshole. So don't die on me. Please." There was no reaction to your confession. Red's hand loosened and slipped free of your wrist. "Red? Red!"

Nothing.

"No. Nononono, please. Please." His cheeks felt cold under your palms as you tried to rouse him, crimson streaks being left behind in your wake. "I can't lose you."

"Get back." A low voice from behind nearly made you jump out of your skin. Batman. Batman was standing there. You jerked back, giving him space. Batman knelt down, quiet as he examined Red. Then he was hoisting him up, earning a pained groan. At least he was still alive. "Stay here."

"But, I-"

"Stay," Batman ordered again.

You nodded silently, watching him take Red away and disappear.

You just sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the bloody hoodie and Red's discarded jacket unsure of what to do. Everything had happened so fast, now it was silent again…

Eventually, you dragged yourself up, threw the bloodied clothes away, and scrubbed the rest of the blood off the floor and your hands. Watching the red-stained water swirl down the drain you were almost lost in a trance.

You didn't even hear Nightwing slip in behind you until he tapped your shoulder. At least he explained things. After getting the story out of you, he said that the Bat had taken Red somewhere to be treated and that this safe house was Batman's. When you'd come in through the window, you'd set off one of several silent alarms that had led him to you. At least now you knew why he'd taken a sudden detour. Nightwing told you to stay put at the safe house for now, it was safe, and he'd keep you up to date.

Then he was gone, and all you had left to do was wait.

The days dragged on. Nightwing appeared the next day with some clothes and a message that Red was alive but out of it. You tried to find out where he was, but he remained tightlipped.

It was the third evening after Red got hurt when Batman silently arrived and said to come with him. You didn't need telling twice as you followed him down and into the Batmobile.

"Where are we going?"

"He wants to see you." The relief flooded through you instantly. Red was alive. And awake. And coherent. Thank God.

Batman was silent as he drove along Gotham's roads, and you didn't really want to break it, but you had to know. "What happened? Red said the armor was bulletproof. How-"

"Someone has been bringing in new bullets that can pierce kevlar. We're looking into it."

You nodded, looking down at your hands. "It's my fault. If he hadn't needed to come save me…"

"This isn't because of you. You were targeted and he was caught in the crossfire. Believe me when I say he wouldn't have it any other way. Nor would I."

"Yeah. I know," you sighed looking out the window.

"I heard what you said the other night. He trusts you, Y/N. Don't break that, it's worth too much."

You knew that too. He'd told you enough over the last year. "I have no intention of ever breaking it."

Batman glanced at you as he drove down into a deserted garage. "Good. We're here."

He took you into the building, through several security doors and down an elevator. When you emerged you saw it was a makeshift hospital. Nothing fancy, but enough beds for a few vigilantes and supplies to treat them. Only one bed was occupied now though.

"Red!" You ran to the cot, greeted by the sight of him smiling tiredly up at you. There was a bandage over his chest, too close to his heart for you to be comfortable.

"Hey, angel. You okay?"

"I should be asking you that, but yeah. I'm good. You had me worried for a minute."

"Don't worry about me. I'm not planning on dying again anytime soon."

"You'd better not. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're badass. You'd be fine."

"No. I wouldn't. Not without you, Red."

He looked at you a moment, then stretched out his hand. You took it. "It's Jason."

"Jason. Suits you," you smiled, looking into his beautiful eyes for the first time. He really was breathtaking.

"Glad you think so." Jason paused, hesitating before raising his hand to your face. "And I love you too, by the way."

You blushed. "You heard?"

"Nah. The Big Bad Softie over there told me. I was trying to tell you though."

You chuckled, running the fingers of your free hand through his thick curls. "You've got no idea how happy I am right now."

"I have an idea, angel."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever!)

#May Flowers Challenge #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #Jason Todd #red hood #dc imagine #dc

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 4 years ago

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Bagginshield Bingo- Second Chances

AAHHHH!! I had meant to be done with this soooooo long ago. Stupid real life. But it is done, and with that I now have BINGO! Thanks everyone for all the support thus far, and thanks to my old followers and the four new ones I’ve gained! You guys make it worth it! A lot of my inspiration for this one came from this video. Feel free to check it out, and here it is:

Title: Operation ‘The Eagles are Here’

Summary: Thorin was dying on Ravenhill one minute, and waking up a POW in an enemy camp the next. As he struggles to straighten out the two lives in his head, he knows one absolute fact: He’s not going to let Bilbo go this time without a fight.

It was a moment that seemed to last forever and yet was slipping away at the same time. There was so much pain in his soft face as he continued to naively believe or pretend for Thorin’s sake. He wasn’t sure which. One thing was for certain. No matter where his death took him, he would never forget Bilbo Baggins. So many words lay unspoken, but there was no time for quick confessions that would more than likely do more harm than good at this point. It was enough that he had his forgiveness, and more importantly, his friendship. Mahal’s Halls were where he was bound now.

“Thorin, Thorin, hold on. The eagles, the eagles are here Thorin...the eag...”

Waking again was probably the hardest thing Thorin has ever done. Everything hurt from the top of his head down to the tips of his fingers. Not exactly surprising after the number Azog just did on him. He groaned as someone roughly shook his arm.

“Thorin! Are you with me?”

“Til the end.” He croaked instinctively as he still fought to get his bearings.

A penlight was being shined in his eyes, and he squeezed them tightly against the assault.

“He’s coherent. That’s a good sign. Let’s get him back in the Humvee pronto.”

Thorin’s head was pounding in protest as he was hauled to his feet by both his rescuers. The moment he was upright, he let loose his stomach right there on the dirty dark floor. The acid burning his throat and mouth in its wake.

“Time for that later lad.” Oin urged pulling him away from the mess.

“Better now than on the ride back.” Dwalin grumbled before adopting a more official tone as he pinched something attached to his tunic. “Raven has been recovered. We’re coming in.”

There was something off about this whole situation, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it yet. However, it quickly became apparent to him the moment he was hit with dry, scorching desert air. He blinked stupidly and would have stopped his feet from moving if Dwalin and Oin didn’t have a tight grip of his arms around their shoulders. One thing was for certain: this was not the life of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain.

“Where…?” He began as he fought to keep up with Dwalin and Oin.

“No time.” Dwalin growled. “We’re getting you back to base ASAP.”

Thorin fought to remember. Memories were getting jumbled up between what he thought was his life, and this reality before him. It wasn’t necessarily like he hijacked another body, just two subconsciouses of the same person trying to find room to coexist. He could remember Thorin the dwarf’s escape from Erebor with a fiery passion, but he also had the memory of Thorin Durin the soldier being promoted to captain of their unit. It was jarring and his nausea threatened to return. His feet slid out from underneath him, but Dwalin and Oin carried him effortlessly.

Why were they out here? For that matter, why was he out here? He fought to push aside thoughts of Erebor and quests against dragons as he focused on Thorin Durin. What did he know about him? He had a brother and sister who both lived, thankfully. He had two little rascals for nephews who were waiting for his return so he can take them camping like he promised. He led a special unit of about thirteen men. The Cursed, they had been so aptly nicknamed. But another had embedded himself. Not a soldier, a photographer. They had been heading into town for...something. Pleading hazel eyes, shared laughter as they rocked out to Queen, the click of a camera shutter, the vehicle flying off the road, an ambush, and Bilbo...Thorin’s head shot up in a jerk that just about made him black out.

“Bilbo.” He tried to explain to Dwalin as he resisted slightly.

The dark look on his friend’s face was far from reassuring. A lump caught in his throat. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not after he finally remembered everything. He didn’t want to say the harsh word. He didn’t even want to think it. But he had to know.

“Is he…?”

“MIA.” Dwalin announced emotionlessly.

Thorin understood to a certain degree. They were trained to separate emotions in these situations. Still, it shook him to his core to hear it from his friend.

“We have to…” Thorin began the words thick on his tongue.

“The only thing we have to do is get you back to base. The reporter is not my concern right now.”

Thorin jerked his head to glare into his friend’s surprisingly beardless face. However, the pain in Dwalin’s dark eyes stayed his voice. His muscles shook in repressed fury as he fought against the coursing adrenaline. Somewhere out there, Bilbo needed him. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It was a thought that should have left him in a haunted wakefulness, but as soon as Oin got him in the back and started trying to patch him up, Thorin found himself once again pressed into unconsciousness.

***

“Let me take the Humvee into town.”

Thorin stared into those pleading hazel eyes feeling his resolve crumble and blow away in the arid wind. The photographer always seemed to have that effect on him for some reason though.

“You know I’m willing to bet your package will still be there on Monday.” Thorin pointed out as a last ditch effort.

“It’s my nephew.” Bilbo shrugged. “We were going to zoom tomorrow and...come on, uncle to uncle. Let me do this. It’s barely fifty clicks away.”

“Yeah, fifty clicks through Orc territory!”

Bilbo gave a subtle wince like he always did when they mentioned Orcs. Thorin didn’t quite understand it, but he was under the impression that Bilbo didn’t particularly care for their nickname of the local terrorist cell they were stationed out here against.

“Please, Thorin.”

That was it. Those two words shattered him. He walked around to the driver side of the vehicle.

“Get in.” He ordered.

A smile broke out across the shorter male’s face, and Thorin couldn’t help the soft upturn of his own lips.

“Where are you going?” Dwalin shouted halfway across the camp.

“Out.” Thorin shouted back. “We’ll be back.”

He didn’t wait for Dwalin’s response before he slammed the door. Within a matter of minutes, they were on the road (if you could call it that) screaming the lyrics to the Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their lungs. Bilbo immediately burst into fits of laughter when Thorin tried to match the high notes which had him in stitches as well. That was one thing he liked about Bilbo. It was just damn easy being around him.

He heard the click of a camera shutter and turned his head to see Bilbo staring down at the captured image.

“Delete it.” Thorin ordered.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Bilbo teased. “I’m going to call this one ‘Goofy Idiot Doesn’t Realize Soldiers Are Supposed to Be Badasses’.”

Thorin peeked his head over to see a soft, serene smile had been captured. He felt a heat he couldn’t credit to their surroundings crawl up his neck knowing what he was thinking about when Bilbo took the picture. Well who he was thinking about.

“Maybe you should title it ‘Soldier Didn’t Realize His Guard Should Be Up When Listening to Queen Classics.’” Thorin recovered quickly.

Bilbo sniggered in response, but his eyes were glued to the photo. Thorin always wondered what it would be like to have an artistic mind. To see things in perfectly ordinary situations, and call it art. Bilbo often got this way when reviewing his shots. A sort of wistfulness with a touch of unadulterated joy.

“So if you got to do it over again, what would you return for?” Bilbo asked out of the blue.

“If I got to...What are we talking about?” Thorin questioned, perplexed.

“You know just, life, in general. If you got a redo on your life what would you strive for? Money? Redemption? Love?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve clearly given this a lot more thought than I have.”

A sort of sad smirk crossed the smaller man’s face. He turned his gaze to his passenger window.

“I suppose I have.” Was his murmured response.

Thorin never got a chance to follow up before literally all hell broke loose. His vision literally jarred as they were blown sideways. Everything happening too fast for his short term memory to keep up. However, he remembered the shout of Orcs as they ripped open the door. He could still see the fear in Bilbo’s blood stained face as he screamed out for him. A bullet in his thigh to keep him from running, and then a black hood over his head before he was thrown in the back of a truck.

***

Thorin sat up in his cot abruptly. Or at least he tried to before hands gently guided him back down. Voices were speaking to him, but they were drowned by the panic shout of “THORIN!” produced by his hobbit that just wouldn’t go away.

“Bilbo.” Thorin grunted trying to fight his way back up.

“Easy, lad. Easy. I dare say you won’t be much help to anyone if you go and undo all of Oin’s hardwork there.”

Thorin knew that soothing tone. It helped calm him down some even as he still felt the sweat pour down his body, and his breathing come out more as pants.

“Balin?” He questioned finally brave enough to open his eyes.

The face that stared down at him wasn’t the wizened dwarf he remembered. Balin’s kind, intelligent eyes were still his, but he was a much younger man now with dark short hair that had little wisps of grey in it. Thorin decided his smile was also the Balin he knew as the man nodded his head.

“Aye, lad. With us again?”

Thorin looked around at the strange environment with medical equipment he didn’t recognize. One of which was hooked to his arm by a long tube and bandages. Everything was white and the smells were enough to burn Thorin’s nose. He was about to ask where he was when he remembered once more that he was no longer in Middle Earth. The vertigo of his two worlds colliding was enough to drop his head back on the pillow. Still there was a very important question he had to ask.

“Bilbo. Was he with me when you found me?”

Balin’s eyes turned sad as he shook his head in the negative.

“Good news is we haven’t found a body and it’s only been 72 hours so we still have time. But if he’s in the same sort of shape we found you in…”

Thorin didn’t need the visual. Just imaging a fraction of the torture he went through being applied to the little photographer was enough to make him sick. His hands covered his face as the sheer devastation at being unable to protect the one person who mattered the most in two lifetimes filled his chest.

“It’s not your fault, laddie.” Balin tried to soothe patting his arm.

It was a lie. Thorin knew they should have stayed on base. Thorin thought he would provide more than enough firepower on his own. Now Bilbo was in the hand of the enemy, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it.

“Thorin, Thorin, hold on. The eagles, the eagles are here Thorin...the eag...”

“So if you got to do it over again, what would you return for?”

Thorin’s hands slowly lowered from his face as his brows furrowed together. It wasn’t possible, was it? Could this Bilbo really be...like him? Before he could contemplate it further, Dwalin came bursting into the room, Nori and Bard on his heels.

“We may have found him.” Dwalin announced without preamble.

“Where?” Balin demanded jumping to his feet.

“About seventy clicks southeast of where we found Thorin.” Nori answered. “I got some unexpected heat signatures on my drone. Can’t say for certain, but it’s an old structure with a few new jeeps loitering out front. Looks promising.”

Balin looked at Bard, Thorin’s second in command. “What do you want to do?”

“I think we have the manpower and the element of surprise. Let’s take it.”

“Great.” Thorin grunted as he pushed himself up yanking the needle out of his arm.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Balin grunted unimpressed.

“I’m not just going to sit here.” Thorin growled fighting to get to his feet even when his leg wound nearly sent him back to his knees.

“You stubborn idiot.” Dwalin huffed before grabbing him by the scoff of his shirt and pushing him back into the cot. “Even if you could stand straight, there’s no way you can hold a gun. Just let us do our jobs and you rest here.”

“No! I can’t-!”

“Laddie.” Balin commanded with a stern look.

Thorin was positively radiating fury at being told he couldn’t do something and knowing deep down that his friends were absolutely right. His eyes dropped to the floor, and the other four finished outlining their plans. After they left, Oin came back in only to nearly have an aneurysm at Thorin’s state. He threatened to give him another dose of pain medication, but Thorin staunchly refused. He would remain lucid until he knew whether they had Bilbo back or not.

Balin brought the video feed into Thorin’s room so they could watch the mission together. Dwalin, Bard, Bofur, Bifur, and Gloin repelled down on ropes from the bird overhead as Nori, Dori, Frerin, and Bombur crept up to the back. Ori cut the power from on board the bird, and they stormed the building. Orcs were shot down the moment they were identified as they made their way deeper into the hideout. Thorin was about to lose hope altogether that they would find him at all, when a figure was seen tied to a pipe in the corner of the basement.

He was in need of a shave and looked gaunt and haggard, but he was whole. When Dwalin pulled the blindfold from Bilbo’s teary eyes that matched his relieved grin, Thorin felt wetness drip down his own face. He was alive. He was alive and he was safe again.

“I want to be out there to greet him as soon as they get back.” Thorin demanded.

Oin and Balin both sighed but didn’t argue. It was demeaning to be pushed out in a wheelchair when the bird landed back on base, but he didn’t care as the cargo hold opened up and his friends filed out one by one. Dwalin smirked at him, Frerin slapped him on the back telling him to ‘go get his man’, but Thorin’s eyes were glued to Bilbo who was being assisted out by Ori.

The moment they locked eyes, they were limping as fast as they could to lock the other in a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know where they took you or if you were still alive...Thorin.” Bilbo sobbed into his shoulder.

Thorin clung him even tighter ignoring the throbbing in his gunshot wound concentrating all his energy into the warm, breathing body in his arms. There was so much Thorin wanted to tell him, but the first thing he could think of was:

“We called this mission, The Eagles.” He whispered. “The Eagles are here, Bilbo.”

He felt the other man tense as he pulled back just enough to stare up into Thorin’s face. His eyes were a mixture of confusion, awe, and delicious hope. It gave Thorin the courage to continue as he stroked the side of Bilbo’s face.

“If more people valued food and cheer above gold, this world would be a merrier place.”

The elation on Bilbo’s face forced a bubbling inside Thorin’s own gut as he swore his feet were no longer touching the ground. Bilbo’s hands found their way to the back of his neck before pulling him down into a breath-stealing kiss.

“I...prayed...for years...for a...second...chance...with you.” Bilbo moaned in between passionate kisses.

“And now we have it, Master Burglar.” Thorin grinned in response.

The sound Bilbo produced could only be described as bliss as their mouths clashed together once more, and this time not even words could tear them apart again.

With that out of the way, my goals this month are: finish Guardian of Kings, get Bilbo and Company at least to Rivendell in Once Upon a Dream, and may look at adding The Twelve Transformations of Bilbo Baggins to my WIP list. (We’ll see on the last one.)

#bagginshield bingo #bagginshield #thilbo #second chances #modern war au

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afy2018 · 4 years ago

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Golden Memories & Glocks Ch. 1

Root wished she had kissed Sam. She wished she had hugged her- but Sameen would have pushed her away. There were many things she wished she had done before they parted ways. As their war seemingly came to a bloody end, Root thought of things she hadn’t thought about since her first contact with Harold’s creation. One thing Root didn’t know was how the Machine knew everything, but she also really didn’t have time to think about it; that day was just one surprise after another.

After parting ways with Sameen, she had to look after Finch and get him to where he was needed next. Root really did not want to leave Sam; not again, especially in another firefight, but whatever the Machine wanted Root was compelled to follow.

After racing away from the compiled enemies set upon them by their favorite opponent - Samaritan-, the Machine sent them down the hidden path; the only safe route for their dying AI. Root remembered the beeping that interrupted the previous message from the Machine. She warned her about a split second decision to save Harold. Root dodged in front of her bespectacled friend, swerving the car for extra measure. There was a crash from the now spider cracked windshield and a short THUNK as the bullet cut through the passenger door and out of the car.

Before she could even comprehend what had just happened, Root glanced at herself, relieved until a large stain began to spread across her stomach. Next was the sharp pain from her insides being torn from the bullet that had gouged through her abdomen. It felt like an unimaginable searing wound - even when compared to the caged surgery by Control and getting shot in the shoulder by Shaw - that poured through her nerves and made her muscles simultaneously weaken and tense up. It was all a blur as blood soaked her once pristine shirt with every furious pump of her panicked heart. She felt a deep set alarm wash over her as dark spots popped in her vision, clouding her eyes and turning the world into a washed out smear of blacks and dull colors. A cold sweat broke out over her forehead; her grip loosened on the wheel and her body shook and shivered. Harold grabbed at her, but he was being pulled away. She swayed her head to glance at him as hands and fingers prodded her. The medics forced her head back to the center and shined a light in her eyes. They pressed against her wrist and throat with their gloved fingers.

Everything flashed to black as a finger pressed into her abdomen. A streak of torturous pain electrocuted her spine, forcing her into the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now her abdomen hurt more than ever. She just wanted to stab herself to remove whatever it was to relieve her pain. Her eyes slowly opened to a bright world. She seethed and sat up a bit, collapsing back into the thin pillow. Root glanced around the pristine white and light grey room. She must have been in a hospital. She really hated this place, even at first glance; Root despised hospitals so much that she thought she actually hated them more than Martine.

She looked around the room, spotting a tan brunette resting her torso on the bed while she sat uncomfortably slumped over in the armchair. Her sleek hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Root pushed the stray strands back from Shaw’s face, tenderly tucking them behind her ear.

Root forgot just how beautiful Sameen looked when she slept. Her features were soft and vulnerable, yet she still looked beautiful and strong; almost untouchable. Root smiled and continued to brush her hair from her face, threading her fingers through her scalp until Sameen’s eyes fluttered open. She stretched and looked up at Root. Her face was neutral but her eyes were worried.

“Hey,” She yawned.

“Good morning, Sameen.” Root smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Wow, what’s this caring thing about?”

“I…” Shaw began, looking down. “I’m not going to brush this aside.” Root placed her hand on Sam’s jaw, tilting her head back up. “I was really worried about you. When John got the call that you were badly injured, I thought I would have to say goodbye to you. Or that I’d be too late to say it.”

“Sameen.” Root whispered, stroking her jaw.

“I just…” Shaw began, letting out a short sigh, “I was scared for you.”

Root nodded and took Shaw’s hand, pressing it against her lips. Sameen watched her, feeling an apprehensive ball work its way into the pit of her stomach as she spotted tears in Root’s eyes.

“I need to go help Finch and John.” She whispered, getting up. “Get better, Samantha.”

Sameen went to the restroom before going to help the others. As she looked in the mirror, Shaw realized that she was crying; red tracks trickled down her face. Sameen grabbed a paper towel to soak in the frozen water from the faucet and pressed it against her face. She didn’t know why she was crying - or why Root caused it - but now Sameen was in a restroom crying over something good. Shaw quickly wiped away her tears and left to help John and Harold. When she turned on her earpiece, she heard Fusco first.

“Hey, how is she?” He asked.

“Lionel, ugh, who let him on?”

“Nice to hear you too, Princess.”

“Call me Princess again, I dare you.” She joked.

“Just tell us how she is.”

“She’s in a lot of pain, she didn’t say, but I could tell. She’ll be okay. Anyway, where do you need me?”

~~~~~~~~~~

They were lost too soon; the two people Root cared about almost as much as she cared about Sameen were gone and now it was just the three of them. Shaw was getting Bear from Fusco, who was now leaving to take care of his family. Root had placed a deposit of $90 a day to feed into his bank account and placed similar amounts to go to herself and Sameen.

Though that was the future, Root was now focused on the past as she gazed down at her friend’s gravestone. She crouched down and placed a bouquet of flowers on his grave. The white blue and red petals brightened up the still fresh granite that carried his engraved name, this time with his actual date of death on it.

“How touching.” She heard Sameen say.

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Root sighed, getting back up and shoving her hands in her pockets.

Shaw snaked her arm around Root’s waist and nodded. “I did bring a friend.”

Root turned to look at the dog and knelt down, stroking his back. “Hey, Bear.”

The dog licked her cheek and rested his head against her shoulder. Root continued to pet him, wrapping her arms around his warm body. She began to cry softly, realizing that she’d never get to see her closest friend again. Shaw knelt down with her and placed her hand on her back. Root let out a shuddering sigh and got up. Wiping some tears from her girlfriend’s cheek, Sameen kissed her jaw and began to meander to John’s grave in the veterans section.

“You know, I was almost buried here,” Shaw confessed.

“You technically were.”

“No, I meant before that.” She began, earning a quizzical look from Root. “Once I left the army, I had no one. My parents were dead and my other family was now seen as the enemy here. I was seen as the enemy here. I was poor and living with 5 other people in a tiny apartment in the Bronx. I was so scared, more scared than when I was getting shot at by terrorists. With night terrors and slight PTSD, I thought I would go insane,” Shaw explained as they came upon Reese’s grave. “I was so close to pulling the trigger so I wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of life.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Control and the government.”

“Oh.”

“They distracted me and saved me from myself. As much as I hate Control, I have to thank her for allowing me to be here today.” Shaw explained. She unhooked Bear’s leash as she watched him sniff and poke at John’s grave, resting in front of it. Shaw felt herself getting emotional- even with her limited range-, but tried to hide it. “We are the survivors of a war only we will remember.”

“At least I’m not alone.” Root smiled. After another few moments of silence passed, she asked, “So, what now?”

“I don’t know.”

“We really should talk about it.”

“I know.” They glanced at one another for a moment before Shaw continued. “I guess we should still hide, at least for a year while all of this calms down. I honestly thought we’d all be in the ground, but surviving has really changed my plan.”

“Would we have been buried together?” Root joked.

“I don’t know, probably.” She shrugged, walking back to their car. “What else should we plan for?”

“A new place to live maybe?”

“Like where?”

“Somewhere safer. I was thinking out of state.”

“West coast, because I will not live in the South or the Midwest.”

“I agree. Gay doesn’t really fly there the same way it does on the coast.”

“So where were you thinking?”

“Honestly, California.” Root suggested, opening Shaw’s door.

“California?”

“If we move to Silicon Valley, I could probably get a job?”

“What about your resume?”

“I could hack my identity like old times?”

Shaw smirked and buckled up as Root drove to the old protected apartment.

“Maybe, but California is extremely expensive and our 180 bucks a day isn’t enough. And to be honest, I really like it here.”

“Really?”

“I also know that we need to watch over Fusco. We owe it to him after dragging him into this mess, and I think he’ll need friends.”

“I thought you didn’t like him?”

“He’s annoying, but he’s grown on me. Besides, we do need to watch him and any old enemies who try to come after us.”

“Now that we’ve won, there’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Where?”

“Saint Barts.”

“Saint Barts? Yeah, why not. Maybe after a while, you know, lay low for now.”

“Of course.” Root smiled, “I’ll see what the Machine wants us to do.”

“Tell her I do not want to work in a fucking mall again.”

#sameen shaw #Samantha Groves #root #shaw x root #rootandshaw #root x shaw #POI #Person of interest

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loudblonde · 5 years ago

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Soulmate with the anticrist?

Warning, graphic details of nearly dying and mentions of torture. Do not read if these things are triggering or offensive to you. The start to a sexual scene but nothing explicit. This is a soul mate AU; you have a red spot on the place you touch your soulmate the first time.

Year:Date:Month: 1946, 5th, April

Location: Saint Agnes church, Florida, United States of America

“Bless me father for I am about to sin.” A smirk came from the young man. The priest next to him shuffled slightly. “It’s been years since my last confession.”

“What will you do my child?” The priest asked, he looked over at the wall, sweat gathered on his forehead, he felt the temperature rise within the confession booth. However, the priest couldn’t help but feel curious, not many confessed to him before they sinned.

The outline of the man was the only thing visible, something seemed off about him. He felt something get stuck in his throat, clawing to get out. The pain made tears form in his eyes, he tried to scream out for help, but no sound came.

“I will take my revenge, on someone who hurt me many years ago.” The smirk grew wider as the man clenched his fist. The priest cleared his throat, unable to properly breath, he had to get away.

“Someone who took everything from me.” The voice was strained, raw emotions clear. Anger, sadness, and fear. This was revenge.

The priest fell out of the booth, desperately trying to claw his way towards help. The man stepped out and looked down upon the priest. The man sent a kick towards his ribs, breaking them in the progress.

“Don’t you remember me father? How you took me in, kept me bound and said I had run away?” He knelt down as he grabbed the priest’s hair. His eyes turned black as the skin underneath his fingers started sizzling. Bobbles formed of fatty tissue, threatening to burst open at any moment.

The priest tried to say something but couldn’t, he puked up blood. A clump was in the blood, fear like any other settled into the priest. A frog like creature came out as with the blood. It had mucus green spikes all over its back, yet it appeared that some of the spikes were broken or missing.

The fear filled the air. Sweet fear that all could fell, the church cooled down, ice formed on the windows, threatening to break them if the wind blew on them.

The demon chuckled as he picked up the frog. It snuggled into his palm, the spikes not affecting him. “Such a dainty little thing. Fully capable of love and thoughts. My familiar. You see when you tried to exercise the demon out of me. I was what… six, seven? But now…” He trailed off as he stood up.

The frog disappeared from his hand. A low chuckle came from him, all the emotion was replaced by triumph, the demon had won.

“I’m much older, much stronger. You are no more. I will personally drag you to hell, as you made me call out for it. Call out for a chance to be released. You made your own destiny.” (Y/N) laughed as the priest began chanting an exorcism rite.

“Please, I am in my own body.” He snapped his fingers, making the priest disappear. Silence filled the church. A contempt sigh escaped his lips as he made his way towards the exit.

(Y/N) had fully intended to walk out but he felt the air change as time slowed down. A bullet was sent his way, but he managed to dodge it. (Y/N) immediately turned around, his eyes looked upon a man… no this wasn’t a man. This was nothing but an empty shell of a slave.

He had noticed that the humans frequently did this to their own, so many souls came down to hell and only needed a slight push before they became a demon. It disgusted him that someone could do that to their own.

It seemed his dodging took the slave off guard, but he quickly moved towards him, (Y/N) smirked as he disappeared, leaving what had once been a human to his demise. He couldn’t think straight, his mind was too focused on the years of torture he was going to put that monster through.

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

Years on earth had gone by, (Y/N) had stayed in hell for well over a thousand years. He had grown bored of the priest. So instead of keeping him as a pet, he let his sister have the not so human soul.

(Y/N) had appeared in a park. It was dark, yet the moon was full and on its highest, he could feel the energy coming from her. There was only one human in the park but didn’t recognise him.

Why would he? He looked around at the changing world, he didn’t recognise anything. Though he knew once he found a corrupt human soul to eat, he would know all the technology of this new world.

(Y/N) looked down at his hand, demons had no soul mate. They simply didn’t have a soul worthy of it. Yet he had been human once, he had once been innocent. Tears threatened to form, he blinked them away.

(Y/N) longed for the innocence.

He had been broken and forced into the arms of demons. It had its perks but also, it’s downfall. If he had ever seen a therapist, he would be locked away. A small smile broke out on his face as he shook his head. He was fucked up and didn’t hide it.

He felt the other man walk up behind him; on instinct he turned his head, startling the human. The human seemed vaguely familiar. “How did you hear me?” The man asked. (Y/N) stood up and crossed his arms.

“Pardon my language, but who the fuck, are you?” The man looked away, clearly regretting this.

“Never mind.” The man turned around and started walking. (Y/N) groaned silently and appeared in front of the stranger. He placed a hand on the strangers’ chest.

He didn’t realise the world around him exploded into vibrant colours, everyone could see colours but the moment you met the one, the whole world became worth fighting for. It became vibrant. To his defence, it was very much night.

“Listen here fucker,” (Y/N) pushed the man over towards the bench, the man fully let him, unable to say anything. “I do recognise you but, and excuse me for being cautious, I have not been here for over a thousand years, so my manners are a bit rough. But…” He noticed the man was staring at him with amazement and not fear. It took the demon by surprise. Well he wasn’t actually one but he damn near acted like it.

(Y/N) looked at his hand on the persons chest, the subtle glow made him recoil his hand. From fear of hurting the human. He had been about to disappear out of pure terror, but the man grabbed his arm.

“Don’t leave. You were in that church.” Bucky stood up. He held onto the others arm as he watched his face go from confusion to realisation and into utter fear again.

“It’s been 70 years, how are you still alive?” Bucky asked, always having assumed that his soulmate had long since died. He pulled his shirt up with his metal hand, it showed the mark on his chest. (Y/N) tore his arm from Bucky’s grip.

“You… You shouldn’t have seen me like that. I was young and I wanted revenge…” (Y/N) looked at Bucky. “I was a monster. Though you seem to not care. Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “We have all done things, things we weren’t in control off. I spend years as a brain washed assassin. My point is, whatever you were in that church, it doesn’t seem to be there anymore. The man I remember wouldn’t ever have his fear written all over his face, but you do.” Bucky took the males hands and intertwined their fingers. His hands were colder than anything Bucky had ever felt before.

“… There is something you need to know.” (Y/N) braced himself for the fear his soulmate would undoubtedly have.

“You aren’t human?” Bucky asked amused. “I kind of figured that out with all the disappearing things and well… your eyes are currently all black.”

(Y/N) hadn’t even realised his eyes had switched, he felt as if he was a hatchling all over again. “I’m sorry for this. I really am… I’m (Y/N) Morningstar, son of the Morningstar himself. The not so excited anti-Christ or whatever humans call me.” (Y/N) shrugged as he looked directly at Bucky.

Bucky chuckled slightly as he sat down. He was amused. (Y/N) hadn’t expected this reaction. “My soulmate is not only a cambion but also the son of Satan, I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

(Y/N) hummed slightly before smirking. “Bucky… What a pretty name.”

Bucky looked over at the halfling. His whole body shifted to fully see the other. “(Y/N),” his eyes starred at Bucky.

“How do I get in contact with you?” Bucky gently took the males hands.

(Y/N) gently let go of Bucky’s hands and instead cupped his cheeks. “Know this Bucky, I am neither demon nor angel, neither alive nor dead, my destiny will be to end all life, but if you call. I shall come, I named myself (Y/N), my real name is not spoken out loud, so I shall whisper it. Think of my true name and I shall appear.” (Y/N) said and waited for Bucky to slowly nod.

Bucky nodded slightly, confused but also happy. He blushed as (Y/N) leaned down, his lips touched his ear. Bucky closed his eyes, savouring the moment. (Y/N) whispered a name so foul the flowers around them died.

Though the name had no effect on Bucky, he dared not to say it out loud. (Y/N) stood up as he looked around, his eyes landed on Bucky before he smirked. “Are you heading home or staying out?”

“I think we can work something out.” Bucky smirked.

Bucky lead (Y/N) all the way home, once inside his small apartment (Y/N) pushed Bucky against the wall, his lips immediately found Bucky’s. Bucky instantly kissed back, his hands grabbed (Y/N)’s waist, pulling him in closer. (Y/N) shrugged his jacket off, letting it drop to the ground.

His lips travelled down Bucky’s neck. He stopped right before the shirt and pulled away. Bucky panted slightly as he looked down at (Y/N), he gently lifted (Y/N)’s head up and kissed him. A sweet kiss, one shared between lovers.

Bucky and (Y/N) spend the night together. Every moment was spent fully awake and in total bliss. When morning came and Bucky came to it. He saw (Y/N) was gone but a note was left on the table. He stood up and read it over

My dearest Bucky

I regret that I cannot be near you at the moment you wake.

I wish I could see your soft smile but alas I have hell business to take care off. I shall be here soon; await my arrival and we shall spend every day together.

-Your (Y/N)

Bucky smiled as he placed the note where he had found it. He looked around the small apartment and found (Y/N) had left his shirt and most of his clothes. Bucky hesitantly grabbed the jacket, still butt naked. It held a faint scent of sulphur. It was strangely comforting.

He managed to pull on some pants before Steve walked in. He looked at Bucky with a weird smile. “I didn’t know you were into one-night stands.” Steve chuckled. Bucky turned around as he faced Steve, he looked confused until Steve pointed at his neck.

“You have hickeys all over.” A chuckle came from the blonde.

Bucky walked out into the bathroom before smiling deeply. “Damn, he really did a good job, huh.” Bucky said with a happy voice, his hand went up to touch the bruises. None of them hurt.

“He?” Steve asked amused, “You seem very happy, who did you meet?” Steve saw the letter and picked it up. He thought it was orders. He glanced it over.

“My soulmate.” Steve dropped the letter as he choked on his spit.

“You met your soulmate? I thought they were born in the same generation as you.”

Bucky walked out of the bathroom, he looked over at Steve and shrugged. “He could have had the same issues as I had. Or something similar.”

Steve crossed his arms, distrust growing in him. He didn’t want to accuse his oldest friend of lying, yet he felt as though Bucky was hiding the truth. Bucky, as if having sensed the distrust, sighed. “Fine. He is immortal. Which is weird, I saw him as the soldier, back in 45. Happy?”

Steve nodded, satisfied with the explanation. “What is he, a warlock?” He asked as he sat down.

Bucky shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. We didn’t do a lot of talking.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, “Not that I mind that, it did help me find out about a lot of… things.” Steve chuckled; memories of his friend’s old ways surfaced.

“Well it sounds like you two had a wonderful night. I will be looking forward to meeting him, when you are ready and if you think he can know about our operation.” Steve stood up.

“Which reminds me. Tomorrow morning at 0600 sharp. We are getting debriefed. Some demons are gathering on the top, more so then there have been in years.” Steve moved towards the door.

“I will be there. I owe the operation my life. Demon scum will no longer rule the earth or control any humans.” Bucky said, a bad taste in his mouth. The operation had saved him from being a brainless slave, an empty shell for demons to use as a field soldier. Something they could just get rid of if they wished.

“I know, trust me Bucky, there will be revenge.” Steve said and gave Bucky a pitying smile. Bucky hated those smiles but didn’t say anything as Steve walked out.

#bucky x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #marvel fanfiction #sfw #cute #bit of fluff #soulmate #soulmate au #soulmark #bucky

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bijackkellys · 5 years ago

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there’s something about you that i know (started centuries ago, though)

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs Word Count: 3,122 Dedications: i’d like to give a huge huge shoutout to @glasscherrycoke for being a fantastic beta, and also to @mistyw273 and @ginger--binger for being wonderful and supporting me! (if you’d like to be tagged in future works, drop me an ask or a dm!) Author’s Note: i had to repost this because tumblr likes hiding stuff with links from the tags, so sorry about that! this is my first newsies fic; i hope you guys enjoy it! the title is from past lives by kesha, and you can find this on my ao3 (somethingdivine) as well. Tags: Past Lives, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Greece, Revolutionary War, World War II, Present Day, Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Period Typical Attitudes, other people show up but only kind of, so much botched history, but it's fine?, they kiss a lot so...there

Those are the nights when Jack thinks he’s known this forever. He doesn’t believe in fate or fairy tales, but the first time that Davey kisses him, raw and desperate and loving, the warmth that courses through him is so achingly familiar that he wonders if maybe this is all he’s ever known—Davey’s hands and Davey’s eyes and Davey’s mouth against his in the dark.

/ or, time after time, Jack and Davey always find each other again.

i. around 730 BCE

The first time they meet—or the fourth, or maybe the hundredth—it is midsummer, and they are sixteen.

In those days, the world seems doused in gold. Sunlight spills over the grassy cliffs, drags its fingertips across the sea and leaves glittering trails behind, and this is where Jonas—who will one day, centuries from now, be called Jack—finds himself dreaming.

Below him, the waves crest and break over the rocks, a steady rhythm like a song. Above him the sky is blue and bright, and here he can taste the salt in the air and lay spread-eagled in the grass and listen for the call of birds. He’s never had a place to call his own, but this, he thinks, on those golden summer days, could be something like it.

So when the stranger comes, footsteps soft against the ground, and the two of them lock eyes, the world falls suddenly still.

The other boy breaks the silence first. “Hello,” he says, all at once tentative and bright as he holds out an open hand. “I’m Damen.” In this life he is, anyway.

And then he smiles, and whatever hesitation had brimmed within Jonas before leaches out of him fast and abruptly. He pushes himself to his elbows and takes the offered hand. “I’m Jonas,” he replies, and really, that’s all that it takes.

In the weeks after, Jonas holds his breath and waits for the day when Damen will stop coming. It seems like only a matter of time, like soon, this lovely, quick-mouthed boy will find another stretch of sea and leave these cliffs behind. He doesn’t, though. He comes back, over and over, and somehow it becomes natural to find the two of them sprawled out beside each other while the sun sinks behind the horizon and paints the whole sky.

Damen, he learns quickly, is smart. Smarter than anyone that Jonas has ever known. He has this animated way of speaking, his hands always moving in tandem with his mouth as he relays the stories of Homer and the lessons he’s learned in school. Jonas carves into stones with a bronze blade and listens; he doesn’t care much for tales of the gods, but he likes the magic weaved into Damen’s voice. He likes the glimmer of Damen’s eyes as he retells the epics he knows by heart.

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” Jonas says one night. They’ve stayed out past dark, their laughter pouring over the edge of the cliff and into the water, and the two of them have built something here, a fleeting temple made from stories and fingers laced together and the sound of the sea.

Damen looks at him, drenched in silver from the moonlight. “I’m so glad I met you, Jonas,” he says, his voice like a ghosting breath, and then their lips slot together, Jonas’ fingers curling in the rough fabric of Damen’s tunic, Damen tugging a hand through his hair. It’s raw and heavenly and it’s true.

And oh, he has never believed in the gods, but there under the stars, tasting a boy who will one day, centuries from now, be called David, Jonas thinks he’s found something divine. -

ii. 1781

The war isn’t as glorious as the pamphlets make it out to be.

David knows what he’s fighting for, knows that their cause is just. He’s read all of the papers, attended the rallies in New York where men stand on upturned crates and strain to be heard over the crowds, speaking of taxes and freedom and revolution. He believes in this. Believes that they can build a new nation up from the ground.

But this part is different. Here, the tents stink of sweat and dirt and blood, and when he closes his eyes, he watches bodies fall, watches bullets rain down over the earth like hellfire. The battle is over and they’ve come out victorious, but he doesn’t feel any more free. He feels tired and wracked with grief, and empty.

“You should get that wrapped,” a soft voice says above him, and David looks up.

He knows Jack in the vague, limited way that he knows the others in their contingent: by name and face and not much else. The man—boy, he amends, because he can’t be any older than David is—stares at the still-bleeding gash on David’s arm. “Could get infected.”

“I know,” he says, and then winces at the sharpness in his own voice and shakes his head. “You’re right. I will.”

There’s a moment of quiet, and distantly, they can hear the chirping of crickets and the screams from the medicine tents. David clenches his fist in the grimy cloth of his uniform. Then Jack is kneeling in front of him, grabbing a roll of bandages from beside the low cot. “Let me,” he says, and David doesn’t know what compels him to extend his injured arm, but he does anyway.

Jack’s hands are careful, careful, like David is something made of glass instead of a bruised and bloodied soldier. He pours water over a clean cloth and wipes the blood away, and while he does this he says, “Davey, right?” David nods, and Jack smiles just a little. “What’s your story?”

As Jack winds the bandage around his arm, David tells him about school, and Sarah and Les and his family. He tells him about the things that he’s read, and Jack just listens, nodding every so often and staying even when he’s finished dressing the wound.

“I didn’t expect it to be like this,” David confesses finally, the bone-deep ache of the memories from the battle bleeding into his voice. “I’m not naive, I knew there would be death, but not…” he swallows hard, “not like this.”

When Jack looks at him, there’s something strained and quiet behind his gaze. “It’s not like it is in the papers,” he agrees, half-hurt, half-bitter. “It doesn’t seem so honorable out here. Just seems like dying.”

David draws a shuddering breath, and that’s when Jack takes his hand. “We’ll make it out of this, alright?” he says, suddenly fierce. “We’ll win this war, and you’ll see your family again.”

It’s not a promise he can keep. They won’t live long enough to love each other, not this time. They’ll both be dead in a matter of days, miles apart from one another, and something in them knows it—that’s the way that war ends. Bloody and gruesome and tragic.

For now, though, Jack’s calloused fingers are cool as they brush against his, and David nods. “Yeah,” he says, daring, in the moment, to hope. “We’ll get through it.”

Jack stays beside him until exhaustion tugs at their eyelids, and when he leaves, he passes a hand over David’s forehead, the gesture strangely familiar and so, so tender. Warmth pushes past the hurt to bloom softly in David’s chest. They’ll live, at least, long enough to see another morning.

“‘Night, Davey,” Jack breathes, and then blows out the candle, and the world plunges into darkness. -

iii. 1899

In the months after the strike ends, Jack always ends up here.

He’ll tuck the little ones into bed and then he’ll cross the Manhattan streets in the dark, make his way to the fire escape and climb the ladder and the stairs until he’s beside Davey’s window. He’ll knock twice on the glass, and then Davey will come, will always come—sometimes carrying something warm to drink, tea or milk sweetened with honey, and always with those bright, bright eyes.

Jack thinks he will burst from it, sometimes. Like remembering will split open his seams and all the love will come spilling out of his chest at once. So it surprises him when Davey is the first to say it.

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we,” he says, quiet, a little desperate, their mouths already close enough that Jack would hardly have to move to bridge the distance. It’s not a question, really, and suddenly he is overwhelmed with the knowledge that Davey remembers too.

Jack finds Davey’s hands on his waist, where he’s tracing the scar on Jack’s hip, and laces their fingers together. “Seems like,” he breathes. Davey exhales with him, their lungs moving in time with each other. “I think we’s known each other a long time.”

“Do you think it’s always been like this?” Davey asks, and Jack wonders. Wonders if there was ever a time when things were different, when they were made for something more than dark corners and stolen kisses. Wonders if they’ll ever be able to love with the sun on their faces.

“I dunno,” Jack says, truthful, searches for Davey’s eyes in the dark and finds them already latched on his. “I hope we always found each other, though.”

When Davey kisses him this time, it’s soft and reverent, something like a prayer or maybe Jack’s name on his lips. “Me too,” he says quietly, and Jack is breathless. “I don’t know what I’d do if we didn’t.” -

iv. 1942

This town might’ve been beautiful, once.

Davey thinks, if he closes his eyes, he can picture the way it was before the bombs fell—bright colors and curving archways and laughter in the streets. Most everything is rubble now. They’re hidden behind the ruins of what used to be a church, the stone cracked and dirty beneath their feet, and it feels like this is where the world has ended. Like the sky fell, right here, and now they’re standing at the site of the apocalypse.

In the deathly silence, Jack reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together. Davey’s thumb traces the curve of his wrist, seeking his pulse, and finds it beating there, strong and fast. It’s enough to ground him. Enough to remind him that they’re still alive.

There’s a cruel sort of irony in the fact that the middle of a war zone is the only place they can be like this, open palmed, their affection splayed out in front of them. The only others who have been with them since the dust settled are Kit and Race, who are maybe the only people besides Jack that Davey trusts here. When Race had discovered them for the first time, he’d just grinned and told them he was happy they’d found each other. Kit had pulled his cap low over his auburn curls and said vaguely, “We all have secrets,” and left it at that. Like there was nothing more to be said.

Davey is sort of selfishly relieved that it’s the four of them together at the end of it, if it has to end at all.

He can’t see any other way out of this. It’s hard to know how long they’ve been holding their breath, but they can’t do this forever; sooner or later one of the German soldiers who have taken hold of the city will find the shallow crevice in the wall where they’re hidden, and then it will all at once be over. Their lives extinguished with as much fanfare as a match plunged into snow.

“What are we going to do?” Race says desperately, voice barely above an exhale. “We can’t die like this.”

“We’re not gonna.” Jack’s eyes are moving. Davey follows them, watches them dart across rubble and crumpling buildings to finally land upon a break in the formation of guards that lines the stone wall across from the church. Beyond it is woods—cover—but in between the four of them and the opening are half a dozen or so soldiers. Jack nods towards it anyway. “There’s our out.”

Kit shakes his head. “We’ll never make it. They’ll be on us before we’re halfway across.”

“Not if someone draws their fire.”

Davey’s stomach bottoms out. Jack is already slinging his gun into his hands, mouth fixated in this sharp, determined line, ignoring Kit’s quiet hiss of, “Jack, no.” It’s clear what’s running through his head and Davey can’t, won’t let it happen, not after everything—he seizes Jack’s collar and pushes him back against the wall.

“Jeez, Davey, I was gonna kiss you goodbye—” Jack starts, half-laughing under his breath, and Davey doesn’t let him finish.

“Don’t,” he spits, surprising himself as much as Jack with the venom in his voice. “Don’t be an idiot, Kelly, you can’t—I’m not gonna let you do this. We all get out together or none of us do.”

Jack puts his hands over Davey’s, astonishingly gentle in sharp contrast to the hard, flinty look in his eyes. It’s only then that Davey realizes he’s shaking. “There’s not a lot of options here, sweetheart,” he says, and his lips around the pet name are loving and soft instead of teasing and Davey’s heart stammers despite it all. “You’s got a family, ‘n I told you I’d get you home to them—”

“You’re my family too,” Davey breathes. “I can’t lose you.”

And then Jack kisses him, fervent, and the air between them is suddenly this searing, volatile thing. Davey knots his fingers in Jack’s uniform, tastes smoke and sweat and a boy he’s loved for a lifetime and longer. He thinks, I love him and we found each other and please, god, don’t let this be it, and then it is over and Jack is crying. Davey is, too, but he’s only aware of this when Jack brushes his thumbs under his eyes and presses their foreheads together.

“I love you, Davey,” he says, with a smile filled with heartbreak. “And I promise you, I’ll find you again.”

And then suddenly Davey is the one shoved against the wall and Jack is running, and Davey watches Race make a desperate grab for his arm and miss, watches Jack barrel blindly into open air. Kit’s hand is over his mouth before the scream rips from his throat. He claws at it wildly, animalistic as Kit drags him towards the cracked stone wall and his ears ring with the sound of gunfire. He feels half-drowned and burning, the earth crumbling under his feet, the sky caving in above him.

“Jack, Jack—” he’s still saying when Kit lets him go on the other side, his voice high and empty and already doomed.

“I know,” Kit hushes him, tears cutting tracks in the dirt on his face. Race clutches his cap against his chest with white knuckles. “David, I know. We have to keep moving.”

He thinks he will shatter if he tries. “Jack,” Davey chokes out once more, like it’ll save him, and then the shots cease and everything ends at once. -

v. 2020

Drawing the boy from his dreams is muscle memory, by now.

Jack thinks he could do it with his eyes screwed shut, that even blind, his hands would know the straight line of the boy’s nose, the curve of his mouth, the softness behind his eyes. There’s not a name to go with the face, just the sound of a laugh and a feeling—a taste like honey and sunlight and home. A weight in his chest like he’s missing something.

Kath teases him relentlessly for being in love with someone that he’s never met. In the end, though, she’s the one who compiles the drawings in a portfolio and lands him a university scholarship, and in doing so she’s the one to start it all.

The campus seems to exist separately from everything else, tucked away in a bright little corner of the city. It’s greener here than anywhere that Jack has ever been. Everything is vivid, painted with watercolors, and he loves it instantly, thinks this is the kind of place for new beginnings. Where he can shed the heavy coat of all the things he’s collected through his life and start again.

Everything changes like this: he’s caught up in staring at the mural on the side of a nearby building, and the boy two paces in front of him is lost in a book, and neither of them know what’s about to happen. Neither of them know that in just moments, the world will pause for a breath and there will be this great crescendo in the music and nothing will ever be the same again—not, at least, until they collide.

It’s fate and it’s destiny and it’s a mess of Jack’s art supplies scattered on the sidewalk. A combination of swear words and apologies tumble from both their mouths as they bend down to shove everything back into the case, and then the boy hands him a tube of paint the color of the sea and Jack looks up and his breath catches in his throat.

“Jack?”

“It’s you,” he says, and that’s all that it takes, really.

Davey half-tackles him into the grass and Jack is laughing and sure that he’s only just learned how to breathe. Like he’s gone his whole life without oxygen and is tasting it now, suddenly, in the smell of Davey’s detergent and the sound of his voice and the feeling of Davey’s hands in his hair.

Everything comes rushing back.

“Is this real? Are you real?” Davey demands, his eyes shining.

“I’m here, Davey.” He lifts a hand to cup Davey’s jaw. “I’m real.”

Davey gives this strangled sort of noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You found me,” he says, and then he smiles, and Jack can’t help but think that his drawings could never do this justice. The boy in front of him is bright and holy and wonderfully, wonderfully present, his eyes the kind of color that all the paints in the world couldn’t capture.

Jack grins up at him, feeling warmth take over his chest and run down to the tips of his fingers. “I keep my promises,” he says, and Davey is still laughing when he kisses him.

And if Jack has spent his whole life yearning, it was worth it. Centuries of light burst behind his eyes, and there’s a whole future laid out in front of them—this is not the one where they’ll be left bruised and battered by streets or by war, no—this life will be kinder to them. Softer.

August sunlight bathes them in gold, and they’ve found each other. They’ve loved and lost but now they’re here, together, with their hands intertwined again—and oh, this time, they won’t ever let go.

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #newsies the musical #92sies #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #javid fanfic #writing #fanfiction #my writing #umanawrites #javey #otp: we're inevitable #reblogs are loved and appreciated thank you

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asgardianthot · 5 years ago

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Flesh And Bones – Part 10 (End)

Sam/Bucky Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: I can’t believe this is over? It took me a while, but I made sure I was happy with every chapter and I think I love how this story turned out. I’m emotional, don’t mind me, this series meant a lot to me so I will be weeping in a corner from now on. Please enjoy, and thank you so so so so so so much for reading, from the bottom of my heart.

Warnings: mentions of suicide

Words: 2739

Bucky woke up surrounded by a sense of warmth. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Sam’s face, sleeping next to him with pouty lips resting against the back of his hand. he was sleeping on his belly rather adorably, and as Bucky contemplated him with amazement, the events that led them there came back to his mind. The discomfort in his chest made him remember the shot wound he had received from the rogue Hydra agents he had killed. The wound wasn’t anything he hadn’t endured before, physically speaking, so he wasn’t in too much pain.

As much as he could have spent the following minutes focusing on remembering how he found his way back to Sam, Bucky was too hypnotized by the man’s peacefulness. He ran a finger across Sam’s cheekbones, and the latter responded by opening one eye. It took him a few seconds to fully come back to earth, then he ran a hand down his face to rub the sleepiness away.

"Hey." Sam mumbled.

"Tell me I didn't just faint.” Bucky pleaded jokingly, yet found a confirming smirk on Sam’s face and let out a defeated groan, “God, that's embarrassing."

Sam propped himself up on his elbows and lied back against the bedframe in order to accommodate the both of them. He helped Bucky ease into his torso, handling him with extreme care until the brunette head rested on Sam’s chest.

"Your adrenaline wore out when you found out I was okay.” Sam explained with deep fondness, dropping a kiss to his head, “You moron."

Bucky recalled the events. Sam was so worried, while he was so confused as to why the wound hadn’t affected Sam.

"Told you I healed fast." Bucky flaunted with a bit of a smug.

Sam smiled, "That, you did."

"What about-?"

"Nat's taking care of it.” he interrupted his partner before he could struggle to find the words, “Aside from you, it went pretty well.”

As a matter of fact, a lot of the agents they tracked down had gotten away, but the team gathered a bunch of information and arrested many people willing to rat each other out. Just as predicted, Hydra wasn’t what it used to be; they were barely surviving, so, cut off one head and the guy watching will desert to save his own. Sam, on his part, was usually more of a merciful man, and he didn’t enjoy the hero talk, nor the morality of the gig. He didn’t pretend to have all the answers. But when it came to Hydra, it was a lot more personal. He became more relentless. Therefore, after seeing the organization who broke Bucky for seventy years shoot him, he wished for nothing but pain and jail for them. He hoped, deep in his bones, that every agent in that base got what they deserved.

However, right there in bed, with Bucky safe and sound, and in his arms, he was able to let go of that hatred. Because nothing mattered more than Bucky at that very moment. He forgot all about the raid, and the information procedures Natasha was supervising, and he just held Bucky.

"No one's ever cared so much about me, Buck." He admitted.

What Sam couldn’t go past was the fact that Bucky was dying, and still the only thing he cared about was Sam’s ghost pain.

"They should." Bucky stated easily.

"I mean… I'm usually the one taking bullets."

"My point exactly.” Bucky raised his voice a bit, and crooked his neck so he could look up at Sam’s face with seriousness, “I want you safe. I know you can take care of yourself a whole lot better than I do, but... If I gotta take another bullet, it'd be for you. And I'd be praying you didn't feel it."

Sam couldn’t even fight back. If Bucky was willing to put himself out there for him, then Sam couldn’t stop him. After all, partners take bullets for each other, and they were so much more than just partners. Perhaps, one day ago, Sam would have rejected the idea. He would have told Bucky he was being senseless and reckless, but now, he understood. He would do anything for Bucky, too. This time, all he thought about was how immensely lucky he was for having Bucky in his life.

"You know I love you, right?" Sam asked like he was deeply worried that Barnes might not know.

Bucky smiled up at him playfully, "You're my soulmate."

"Yeah, but besides.” Sam continued, giving Barnes love-eyes, “I think I'd have fallen for you even without the bond."

Bucky reveled in how pretty that sounded, and contemplated the thought.

"Yeah, me too.” He concluded.

The injured man stretched up his body to plant a kiss onto Wilson’s lips, yet the second they met, he felt the pain in his torso. He winced with discomfort, but also with embarrassment at the realization of what a bad idea that was.

“That was so stupid.” Sam mocked him although there was nothing but sweetness in his tone.

Over all, he was amazed by how much he loved that idiot. Bucky, on his part, laughed at himself and lied back on Sam’s chest.

“Let’s forget I did that.” He proposed after groaning with the movement, “Good thing you can’t feel that anymore.”

“You think it’s for good?” Sam wondered, tiptoeing around the topic that had been just brought up, “Like Tony said, the physical bond’s over?”

Barnes thought long and hard, but he couldn’t come up with any factor that would confirm that theory entirely. He didn’t know why the bond would cease now, of all times; perhaps because they needed it to cease in that base. Perhaps because they truly controlled it all along and just managed to do it willingly. Perhaps it was a random event, or perhaps merely a one-time thing.

“Maybe.” He said truthfully, “I think we got this under control, so whatever happens…”

Sam filled in the silence, “We got this.”

“Yeah.”

After the proper amount of time, Bucky’s flesh healed completely, and Sam took the opportunity to incentive him to go outside more. It started out as a midnight walk, a trip to buy donuts –which became a discussion about whether or not that was a date-, and ended as a jog in the park. The latter, however, wasn’t too enjoyable for Bucky, but it got him to love running with Sam, so they agreed on jogging at night every once in a while.

That was the scenario, both of them in sweats and jogging side-to-side throughout the empty bride. It was perfect, having that as a couple, while being away from the public eye for the most part. This time, unfortunately, there was a dreadful surprise on the edge of the bridge.

Usually, Bucky forced himself to ignore the bystanders, hopefully becoming invisible to them, but this specific person came too fast and too strong into the couple’s peripheral vision: they were standing on the high edge, staring down.

It didn’t take a single more second for the heroes to react. When he got closer, Sam stopped on his tracks to avoid startling the jumper, meanwhile Bucky, lacking much social tact, ran towards her decisively.

"Hey, hey, get back down." He commanded her, struggling to conceal his desperation.

He looked up at her and saw a frightened young girl, crying her eyes out as she contemplated her next step. He stretched out his hand to her tentatively, and as much as he wanted to grab her arm and yank her away from the edge, he figured that could possibly make it all worse.

"Don't.” He pleaded, “Don't do it."

All he could think about is that she seemed too young to give up, whatever reason it was that drew her to that decision. She had so many years ahead of her to turn her life around, he found it hard to believe that she would even think about ending it for good.

"Please, just leave." She sobbed, missing eye contact.

"I won't until you get down from there.” Bucky raised his voice to a more stern demand, “If you try to jump, I'll stop you."

The threat brought more sobbing to the girl, who covered her face with her hands and trembled into them.

"Why, cause I got my whole life ahead of me?” she yelled with rage, “My soulmate died. She's not getting a second chance at life, I'm not getting a second chance!”

Barnes took a sharp breath and approached her slowly.

"I'm sorry." He expressed genuinely.

The girl looked down at him and for a second, Bucky saw something in her face, like she recognized who he was, but didn’t say anything. She simply shrugged it off and looked down again.

"Why would I live an entire life without a soulmate?" she asked barely above a whisper.

"You don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do!” she burst once again, “She was the one, now I'm alone forever!"

"No, it doesn't work like that.” Bucky said firmly, finally captivating her silent attention, “The bond... it makes no sense, at all. Don't make a choice like- don't make any choice based on that, ‘cause nothing's for sure."

The way he spoke made it sound like his opinion on the bond hadn’t changed from that day before he found out he had a soulmate; he wasn’t a fan, and the technicalities of it never made any more sense to him, not even after going through one himself. His tone, however, convinced the girl a little. She looked behind Bucky and found Sam standing there, keeping his distance from the tense scene, with a cellphone in hand and expectancy written all over his body. He was frozen, and trusting Bucky to be capable of saving her all by himself.

She sniffled and returned her glance to her savior, "How do you know?"

"Cause it didn't make any sense for me either.” He confessed like he was letting go of a weight from his chest, “At any point. And yet, here we are."

The word ‘we’ made her glance at Sam one more time. This time, when Bucky offered his hand, the girl took it, and as she cautiously stepped down from the edge, Bucky shot a quick glance for Sam to make the call. She didn’t need the Avengers, she needed 911 and her parents.

She was taking off the blanket the ambulance gave her, when her mother, who ran to hug her hysterically when she showed up, began guiding her to the car. The last thing Sam and Bucky saw of the survivor was a jacket being wrapped over her shoulders and a car door being closed. The pair remained there, sitting on a bench in waits of the girl to be driven home, safely.

"You did really well." Sam spoke finally, the second their job there was done.

Barnes ran a hand down his face, exhaustedly.

"You think so?" he mumbled.

Sam pressed a kiss to his temple, "I think you're ready to be a hero again."

Bucky let out a soft laugh, matching Wilson’s proud smile.

"I didn't know this was on the contract of being an Avenger." Bucky joked.

"It's not. That's why you're better than an Avenger."

The words hit Bucky, and all he could think about is that being an Avenger wasn’t his ultimate goal. His role model wasn’t Steve, nor Wanda, no matter how much he admired them; the person he thrived to be like more than anything was Samuel Wilson.

Before the bond, before everything, any time Sam would come back from his jog at the park with a gloomy face and tell whoever was in the common area that yet another desperate soul had injured themselves in front of him, Barnes would listen. He would see the disappointment in Sam’s eyes when he said he didn’t get to the stranger in time, and Bucky wouldn’t understand why Sam thought avoiding self-inflicted physical harm was more important than calming them down afterwards. Eventually, he understood Sam viewed the talks and advice and comfort as the least he could do, because that was who he was: a sensitive, responsible hero.

"You do these kinds of things all the time.” Bucky remarked, “At the park. You reach to people."

As a matter of fact, Sam had reached him. And in the end, Bucky thrived to be like Sam, because in his eyes, Wilson -and not the Falcon- was the biggest hero the world had ever had, and everyone should want to be just a little more like him. But Sam, he believed it had been Bucky who really reached out, in his own unique way.

He sensed the warmth of heart coming from his partner, and his tummy did a small flip.

"You're about to say something real cheesy, aren't you?" he teased Bucky.

The appellee grinned, "Maybe."

As much as Wilson pretended to be too manly for cheesiness, hearing Bucky’s sweetened words awakened something in him he didn’t think he could enjoy. So he nodded, truly expectant for the ‘cheesiness’.

"Go ahead."

Bucky shook his head and looked down at his feet.

"No, I was just thinking... how you're, you know... I wouldn't have done these things without you.” Barnes admitted, a little shameful, but making sure he sounded confident in his declaration, “Taking care o' myself, getting out of the compound... shit, saving someone."

Sam took in the compliment, yet humbly as ever.

"You just needed a little push.” He nudged his partner’s shoulder minimally.

"Or a hero.” Bucky corrected him, this time staring right into Sam’s eyes, “For me to look up to."

Somehow, the thought of Barnes seeing him as a role model made Sam crumble. It made him feel so wonderfully loved, because in his eyes, the strongest, most resilient person on earth was still that man sitting next to him. And finally, he internalized the utopic notion of being adored by the person he adored, which he had to force himself to accept as a reality. He was his hero’s hero.

"You and me, both." Sam replied with devoted eyes.

Sitting on that bench, and slowly beginning to cuddle closer to the other as the chilly night air caught up to their bodies, both of them felt the particular adrenaline rush that one feels when contemplating the fragility of one’s heart. Usually, when a heart is so drawn to another, the poor thing hangs by a thread of futile stability; if the other person leaves, said heart would crumble into pieces, and it is precisely that fear that sinks into the intensity of romance. It is what we call being terrified of losing a loved one.

However, moments later, as if they could sense the other’s soul and connect through them, they both settled into a peaceful sensation as they remembered that if all went well, they would be together forever. That was the whole point, right? The mutual understanding. The bond. The fact that, even though their flesh was no longer sewed together, they still had each other’s names carved into their bones.

In the end, pain is still such human extravaganza. Nobody does aching from love, or the lack of it, better than humans. The pain parade of romance is something so deeply rooted into the dumbest parts of our brains, that that must be the reason behind soulmates. So, indeed, it is only logical for such a cruel universe to bond love and pain so tightly. But it is also a vital human necessity to turn that pain into something beautiful. Something comfortably joyful. Something easy.

Because no matter how difficult loving can be, it is such a human trait to turn that same love into something soothing.

At first it comes like a tingle, a small pinch or even the ghost sensation of a scratch, and hopefully, it transforms into a healing factor. Something like a comforting hug, or a little push. Some needed and given bit of space, a little blind faith, an honest talk, a first-aid kit, or even a box of donuts to replace unspoken words. That is all we have, after all, and it is who we are: comfort, warmth, and human connection. Without it, all we would have left of existence would be pain, and flesh, and bones.

#sambucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #fatws #tfatws #marvel fanfiction #sambucky fanfiction #angst #fluff #soumate au #tw: suicide

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