#because she's in a bad way and what better way to cope than a lil destruction of the self

[quin-ns]

Invisible String (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 3K

Summary: bill and frank host. tess is jealous. joel is confronted with his feelings. you cry over a shower

Tags: 2007 (as seen in ep3), age gap, protective!joel, jealousy, tess isn’t painted in a bad light but she gets her feelings hurt a lil, angst, joel being emotionally suppressed, everyone hiding their emotions actually no one copes normally, emotional hurt/comfort, hugs, pining!joel, hugs, fluff

Request: anon: “hello! i am totally obsessed with your work! i was womdering, if you still take requests, if you can write a joel x reader fic where the reader has a tough exterior with everyone, including Joel, but he knows how sensitive and delicate she is on the inside and behind closed doors. picture this for reference: she had warm water at bill and frank's and she started sobbing uncontrollably, but in front of joel she will always deny she doesn't feel depressed and emotional, but he knows better that this and they both help each other to open up.”

Request: anon: “loved your first joel fic!! if you’re okay with requests can you do another joel fic where maybe tess is jealous of how joel softens around the reader? like he’s not really an affectionate guy but with her he is and tess realizes how he feels about the reader? maybe they’re at frank and bills house and she knows joel doesn’t want to stay but for the reader he will? or something like that it’s up to you- you’re the writer after all”

A/N: so since both of these requests included joel being soft for the reader and them being at bill and franks, I decided to combine them. I liked both concepts and I thought mixing them would lead to something interesting. I feel like there’s more to this story so if y’all want a part two lmk

Cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • writing masterlist

When you, Joel, and Tess first met Bill and Frank, none of you had any idea how you’d end up feeling about the two men.

Frank had allowed the three of you to enter their isolated town and introduced them both (okay, nice enough), and then Bill had pointed a gun at you (not so nice). Why you? No particular reason other than that you were his closest target. From that moment Joel wasn’t a fan.

“If you’re gonna point that thing at someone, point it at me. Not at her,” Joel said sternly, his hardened gaze fixed on Bill. The two stared one another down for a moment as Bill quickly identified Joel’s weakness. Tess looked at Joel, working hard to hide the frustration on her face.

He obliged, turning the gun onto Joel.

“Bill,” Frank said softly yet firmly.

Bill glanced at Frank, who was silently asking him to relent. Bill lowered the gun with a huff.

With the hostility out of the way, or at least set aside for the moment, Frank offered you an apologetic smile.

“Would you like to see our home?” he asked as a peace offering.

“We’d love to,” Tess answered at the same time as Joel, who said—

“We actually should be going.”

You didn’t say anything, which caused them both to look at you. Tie breaker.

Tess had a feeling you’d agree with her, but what happened next still bothered her.

You and Joel exchanged a look, having a silent conversation. Joel registered that despite the gun incident, you weren’t fearful. It was only because of that that Joel looked at Frank and nodded.

“Alright,” he changed his answer.

Tess wanted to scream.

Frank seemed relieved and his smile grew. He led the three of you to the large white house that the two men called their home.

“You’re welcome to anything in the house,” Frank said kindly, ignoring the disapproving grunt that came from Bill. “Clothes, medicine, water, food—although Bill will be starting dinner soon—and of course the shower,” he listed off.

Your ears perked up at “shower.” Joel could tell by the way you actually lifted your head. Just a day ago you had been reminiscing on how long it had been since you felt clean. Like, really clean. Hot water, soap, soft towel—you longed for it and Joel knew that.

Frank noticed too. “Shower it is.”

“Thank you,” you said immediately. “For being so kind and sharing your home with us.”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve been bugging Bill for us to find some friends,” Frank admitted to you quietly. “Speaking of which,” he started. “Bill? Maybe you could get our other guests some drinks? I’m going to show—“ he looked back at you.

“Y/N,” you filled in.

“—Y/N to the shower,” Frank finished.

You didn’t hear what Bill had to say, but that was the least of your concern as Frank gestured for you to follow him.

Joel watched as you followed Frank away. He itched to go after you, not comfortable with you being apart from him. He felt incredibly protective over you and maybe it wasn’t the healthiest reaction, but he didn’t like to let you out of his sight. It scared him—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Don’t worry, I think she’ll survive without you,” Tess said sarcastically, smothering the genuine bitterness she felt at the man’s reaction. Joel was never like this before. Well, before you.

Joel threw her a glance, but didn’t say anything. Bill was approaching them and grumpily suggested they follow him into the kitchen.

They all made casual conversation, Tess doing most of the talking.

Upstairs, Frank was showing you to the shower. He’d given you a towel and found you soap, shampoo, and conditioner.

“Thank you so much,” you said yet again. Frank just laughed it off and told you no worries, and that if you needed anything you could just call for him.

You closed the door, isolating yourself in the bathroom. You turned on the water and held your hand under it until it was warm. A smile spread across your face. You quickly stripped and stepped under the water, longing for the feel of a hot shower.

It was everything you had hoped for. You relished in the hot water rushing over your tired body.

You prided yourself on being tough—like not even flinching when Bill pulled his gun on you—but something about the comfort that reminded you of the old world brought tears to your eyes. Their house was so normal. Nothing like the wilderness, the destroyed towns, or even the QZ. You were only a child when the pandemic happened, but you held onto a few fond memories. You never felt at home in the QZ.

The only thing that made it feel comfortable and safe was Joel, but this was still so much better than the QZ. It was overwhelming.

Next thing you knew, a sob of happiness broke free. And once it started you couldn’t stop.

In the kitchen, Bill was standing at the stove cooking. Joel didn’t know what it was—but it smelled delicious. Frank had excused himself to set up a table outside so everyone could eat together in the nice weather.

“Sorry, by the way,” Bill announced, off topic from the previous discussion. He didn’t look up from his task of sautéing onions as he spoke. “For the uh, gun thing. Can’t be too careful.”

Tess and Joel looked at one another. They both suspected Frank must’ve said something to convince him to apologize. But beyond that, they both thought back to the incident. A flash of anger shot through Joel at the memory of the weapon being targeted at you. Tess remembered how reckless Joel had been, asking Bill to turn the gun on him. Would he really trade his life for yours? Once Tess started thinking about that, she couldn’t stop.

She started to become quiet during the conversation, which was pretty much when the talking fizzled out. Joel wasn’t very talkative, and clearly neither was Bill.

“I’m gonna go see if Frank needs help,” Bill decided after a few minutes. Joel and Tess exchanged a look. Obviously he just wanted away from them for a moment of relief—he wasn’t anticipating having to be social and wasn’t too happy with it.

Once they had a moment alone, Joel had a feeling Tess was going to unleash. It had been building up, Joel could tell her mood had turned sour.

“What was that?” she asked vaguely. Joel furrowed his brows. “Earlier,” she clarified.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel stated. He had an inclination, but he was hoping Tess would drop it.

She didn’t. “You asked him to point a gun at you!” Tess said in a hushed yell, frustration seeping out in her scolding tone.

“He wasn’t going to shoot me,” Joel deadpanned.

“He wasn’t going to shoot at all,” Tess confirmed. “So then why did you tell him to turn it on you?”

She was pushing for an answer she didn’t want, but now that she had started Tess wasn’t going to let up. She was stubborn like that.

“I didn’t like him pointing a gun at Y/N,” Joel admitted. The memory of it made him clench his fist. Tess didn’t see that, but she saw the way Joel wouldn’t hold her gaze.

Her jaw clenched. “You’re too soft on her.”

At that, Joel scoffed. The sound came out before he could stop it. “How is that being too soft on her?”

Tess was quiet for a moment, contemplating her next words. “It’s not just that,” she said, quieter, almost distant. It was a contrast to how loud she’d been getting.

Joel took a deep breath through his nose, then let out a heavy sigh. He finally looked Tess dead in the eye. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

If it wasn’t for the desperate look on Tess’s face, he would’ve gotten up and walked away. She wasn’t done. She was struggling to say what she wanted to say, and Joel didn’t want her to.

“The moment she came into our lives, that was it,” Tess told herself just as much as she was saying it to Joel.

She was backing Joel into a corner. “Where is this coming from?” he questioned.

Tess let out a humorless laugh. “This has been a long time coming,” she confessed. “I see the way you look at her, how you act around her. She’s just about half your age and yet you always seem to find something in common. You cut me out, Joel.”

Joel was at a loss of words. He couldn’t seem to find the words to defend himself. Tess continued.

“We’ve been in that scenario before, do you remember? When you and I were making a trade and the punk pointed a gun at me?” Tess recalled. Joel recovered the memory quickly, and he began to zero in on exactly why this meant so much to Tess. “You never would’ve considered trading yourself for me. I know because you didn’t.”

“That was different,” was all Joel could come up with.

“I never would’ve made you choose between me and her, but you did on your own,” Tess held firm. Her jaw clenched as she fought to not let herself get any more emotional. “And you chose her. I see that now.”

“Tess,” Joel started, but she shook her head.

“Don’t try to lie to me. Please.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Joel said. He wasn’t even sure what he was planning on saying before. This had all come out of nowhere. At least for him, Tess had clearly had this on her mind for a long while and today just happened to be the final straw. “I’m sorry,” he decided, but it was too little too late.

Tess liked you. She really did. And you hadn’t done anything on purpose. You probably didn’t even know the effect you had on Joel. That’s what made being jealous of you so hard. She wanted to not like you, to blame you for stealing any ounce of affection Joel allowed himself to have, but she couldn’t.

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go check and see if they need any help setting up outside.” The sudden calmness was eerie. Joel looked at her cautiously. “We’re going to just… drop this,” Tess decided. “And we can all try and have a nice time together, eat a real meal, take hot showers, and relax for the night before we head out in the morning.”

Suppression. Tess was going to bottle everything up. Ignore it and move on. It was something her and Joel had in common.

She left him then, and Joel felt no desire to go after her. He felt guilty about that, but he had nothing left to say to Tess about that and she’d concluded her piece.

Instead, Joel found himself leaving the kitchen table. He followed the sound of running water upstairs. You’d been in the shower for a while and there was a nagging feeling in Joel’s chest that longed to find you.

His feet carried him to the bathroom door, where he knew you still were.

Joel heard a sad, gasping sound from you. It was nearly drowned out, but he heard it. Concern overwhelmed him in an instant.

Joel pressed his ear to the door. He almost busted in, but wanted to take a moment. And it was good he did. What he had first thought were sounds of distress, was actually you muffling cries of relief. He could tell. He wasn’t sure how—maybe it was the tone, or the softness to the sounds, or he just knew you too well—but he could tell.

His hand reached for the doorknob. Joel grasped it and contemplated turning it. He leaned the side of his head against the door.

“Y/N?” Joel called through the door. He went blank over what else to say. Should he ask if you were alright? Would you be weirded out if he asked to come in? You were showering after all. Instead he said nothing.

You went silent. Joel felt bad now. You were never emotional around anyone, you tried to hide it from him. Joel wished you wouldn’t. But he supposed you were just following by example.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Um,” Joel stalled. “I was just checking on you.”

“Oh, um, I'm alright,” you replied. A few seconds of quiet passed. “Thank you, though.”

Joel listened to the sound of water rushing from the shower. You’d stopped your tears it seemed, but Joel could hear the quiver in your voice when you’d spoken.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Joel told you carefully.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you assured.

When Joel first met you, you were innocent despite the dark world and wore your heart on your sleeve. You used to express yourself emotionally, but now Joel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you let yourself break.

You’d gotten better about hiding it. He wanted to help you open up, but that was something even he struggled to do.

Joel went down the stairs and to the living room. No one else was in the house, he could see out the window that Frank was showing Tess around their garden while Bill was setting up the food.

Joel sat on the couch and thought over your interaction through the door. He wished he would have waited for you to come out of the bathroom to talk to you, to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Because then he’d have to explain himself as to why and after the conversation with Tess, he feared how you’d react to the knowledge of his feelings.

As if on cue, there were light steps descending down the stairs. Joel turned to look at you.

Your hair was damp, and you were wearing an oversized clean shirt that must’ve come from one of the hosts (Frank was the nicer one, so Joel guessed it was him who lent you it) and a pair of jeans that you’d packed that you hadn’t worn yet.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey,” Joel said, watching you as you moved over to him. “Everyone else is outside.”

“I see that,” you said lightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Joel asked.

You shrugged. “I thought I heard arguing earlier. You and Tess,” you explained. “Bathroom is right above the kitchen…”

A brief moment of unease filled Joel. “What all did you hear?”

“No words clearly, just Tess raising her voice,” you revealed. Joel just gave you a slight nod. He had a feeling that wasn’t the only thing you had to say. “Did you, um… hear me earlier?”

Joel knew instantly what you meant. “No.” He hated lying to you. “Yes.”

“I thought so. I just”—you searched for your words—“I’m fine. That was just—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You swallowed and took a breath. “I’m not weak.”

Joel let out a small huff. “I know that.” That fact that you thought you had to tell him was amusing in an odd way. He was well aware.

“Well, alright then,” you said decidedly. “It’s just been so long since we’ve had hot water and—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself. You’re allowed to feel,” Joel reminded. “I know you. You’re strong. But you’re also a good, sweet, caring person and I just”—Joel sighed, struggling for his words even as they were tumbling out—“I don’t want to see you go numb to the world. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

You looked at him curiously. He stood for some reason, it felt more natural for him. Your eyes held his on his way up. “You’re not numb, Joel,” you told him, sounding so sure of yourself. “I don’t think that. I think you put on a brave face just like I do. Although I guess I’m not as good at hiding it as I thought.”

A small laugh left you as you shook your head.

“What?”

“It’s just been so long since I talked about… feelings,” you admitted.

“Same here,” Joel agreed.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t be, but it is.”

Joel got an idea. He hoped it wasn’t a bad one. “Maybe we can… help each other with that. Y’know, find a way to talk about it.”

You gave him a gentle smile. Before Joel could process, you were wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him in a hug. It was a sudden, unfamiliar movement. Joel held you against his body, resting his chin on your head.

“That’s a good idea,” you told him, your voice muffled against him.

Joel hadn’t touched, let alone held, someone in so long. It was nice. Mostly because it was you.

The sound of a door opening and heavy steps alerted you, causing you and Joel to part from one another. Frank approached the two of you with a welcoming smile on his face.

“Dinners ready,” he informed, looking between the both of you.

“Seriously, we cannot thank you enough, Frank,” you said kindly. He gestured towards the door in an “after you” manner. You gave him a smile and headed outside. Before you stepped out, you gave Joel one last grateful look.

There was a slight smile on Frank’s face as he looked at Joel, who hadn’t moved yet.

“It’s nice to have someone in a world like this, isn’t it?” Frank asked in a sincere tone.

Joel looked out the window towards the garden where you joined the table. You smiled at the sight of the food and took a seat.

After having a whole conversation about allowing feelings, Joel decided that he didn’t want to suppress the small smile of appreciation that crossed his own face.

“Yeah, it is,” Joel answered.

starting a joel taglist, if you’d like to be on it lmk through an ask or message!

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose

#quin-ns writing #request #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[froggibus]

Vermillion Flames - Blackwatch! Genji

Pairing: Blackwatch! Genji Shimada x f! Reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: angst, smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Genji is the newest addition to Blackwatch, and while he seems to be angry at everything, his anger seems to be clouded over by something else—his feelings for you

CW: dubcon, dark! Genji, Blackwatch! Genji, dom! Genji, sub! reader, dacryphilia, masturbation, marking, choking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, breeding? kinda, violence, reader gets shot, mutual pining, Genji is a lil obsessive

THIS IS NOT THE HAPPY, WELL-ADJUSTED GENJI WE KNOW AND LOVE. THIS IS A DARKER, BLACKWATCH GENJI WHO IS STILL COPING WITH HIS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AFTER THE INCIDENT.

I’ve had this idea for a really long time and at one point was writing a full length fic about this, but I always lose motivation so here is the bite sized version lol. I kinda tried to keep his character here while also playing to the darker elements, especially his feelings towards himself and others after the accident. also I’m just super down bad for dark! Genji so enjoy <3

————

If there’s anything you’ve come to learn in your time as a Blackwatch agent, it’s how to know when you’re being watched. 

Despite stepping off of the jet into the cold Russian air, you feel the warm sting of eyes on your back. You glance over your shoulder—but the only people around are your teammates. 

Cole Cassidy isn’t even looking your way, his focus is on the holster attached to his belt and the Peacekeeper that sits inside of it. 

Gabriel Reyes has his holopad out, eyes narrowed at the schematics on his screen. He doesn’t seem aware of what’s going on around him, but you know Reyes—he’s always watching. 

Moira O’Deorain hasn’t even stepped off of the jet yet. Your best guess is she’s still gathering all of her equipment into a bag that she’ll force Cassidy to carry later on. 

So that leaves Genji. The mysterious cyborg is the newest addition to your team and he’s kept to himself the past few weeks. You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t caught your eye, but you knew better. Reyes and Cassidy had constantly reminded you that he was dangerous, unstable. Still, the dangerous air to him sends electricity arcing up your back.

You shrug it off. Maybe you’re just paranoid because you’re about to infiltrate a terrorist organization. You turn back to the terrain ahead. 

Genji Shimada can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. Something about the sway of your hips, the swell of your ass, just captivates him. Dark eyes stare at you, shockwaves rushing through his system. 

It’s been so long since a woman has been able to capture his attention. Ever since he became the cyborg monstrosity he sees himself as, he hasn’t had time for women. Or more accurately, women don’t want a robot for a boyfriend. 

He suppresses a sigh. The group has already started trekking through the snow, and he has no choice but to follow. The cold air does wonders to suppress the heat rushing through him, and he’s grateful for his mask so that no one sees the red tinge to his face. He forces his eyes to look at the horizon, to look at the path ahead, to look anywhere but you.

The trek to the facility feels like an eternity, and you’re not sure if it’s from the eyes burning into you or the deep snow, or some combination of both. 

You shake it off. You can’t afford to be distracted on this mission, and Genji is off limits. 

—

Genji is less than enthused when Reyes pairs him off with you. He couldn’t help but notice the way you shrunk in on yourself when Reyes called his name. He hates how the sight sends blood rushing through him.

The two of you set out on sneaking through the vents of the facility, blindly feeling your way through the dark in hopes to find the lab. You can hear Genji breathing behind you and see the red glow of his armor reflected on the vents. Having him behind you now, nowhere to stare but you, only confirms what you thought earlier. He was looking at you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. 

You’re so distracted by his presence that you don’t realize the loose grate beneath you until you’re falling through it, tumbling towards the ground. You barely manage to brace yourself before you hit the rubber floor of the facility, using your momentum to roll. 

Unfortunately, your entrance was less than graceful and now the Talon agents in the room are staring at you. 

Genji groans, shaking his head at you. Great. He watches as one of the agents hits the panic button, and red lights and an alarm start blaring. He watches from the vent, waiting to see what you’ll do. 

The agents in the room flee, but they’re replaced by other agents in full body armor, carrying pulse rifles. You stand your ground, extending out your bo staff and spinning it in front of you with expert grace. 

If he wasn’t so pissed off at you, Genji would be impressed. 

He lets you fight off the first wave on your own, but as soon as the agents start to overwhelm you, he’s dropping out of the vent. He lands silently, the agents not even noticing him until he’s slicing through their ranks. 

You finish off the last of your agents and freeze, watching him fight. He’s a blur of silver and black and red, a gory mess but beautiful in the same sense a graveyard is. Watching him now, you see why Cass and Reyes had warned you about him—you can almost see the ghosts of his past following him through the fight. 

You’re so distracted, so infatuated, you don’t notice the stray bullet headed straight for you. 

Genji reacts before you do, diving in front of you and deflecting it into the straggling agent. The agent collapses to the ground, a hole burning in his chest armor. 

“T-thank you.”

Genji spins around, staring down at you. He’s not very tall, but he just seems so much bigger than you right now. You wait for him to say something, anything, but instead he just sighs. 

The two of you make your way through the facility as quietly as you can, blending into the shadows casted by the blinking red lights. Every once in a while, Genji grabs your wrist harshly to tug you along with him. You don’t need words to know he’s pissed at you. 

He’s so mad at you, so frustrated with your inability to focus. And yet a stupid part of him still wants to protect you.

The journey back to the jet feels like an eternity, made worse by Genji’s complete and utter silence. You try to make conversation with him, avoiding bringing up what just happened, but it only seems to make him more angry. He walks slightly ahead of you, refusing to let himself look at you. 

The emotions swelling in his chest are so confusing, he just wants to hit something. He’s so angry at you, and your stupid sunshine persona just keeps talking and talking. He’s half tempted to tell you to shut up, stop talking, but he knows he has to keep it together until you’re back to safety. And though he’s angry, another part of him isn’t.

It’s the first time in months he’s felt something that wasn’t riddled in angst and guilt, and he hates it. He hates that he wants to just look at you. Just stare at you for hours on end. He hates the way you make his heart race and the blood rush to his groin. 

Just before you make it to the jet, a few meters from where the ramp is down and you’re sure Reyes and Cass and Moira are waiting, you try to catch up with Genji.

You jog up to his side, trying to grab his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, I’m really sorry for—”

Genji spins around impossibly fast, catching your wrist in his metal palm. He squeezes it enough for it to hurt. You try to pull away but he keeps you there—a display of his strength, and the difference between the two of you. You hate the way it makes your heart speed up in spite of the pain. 

“Don’t.” He simply says, but he doesn’t let go of your wrist. 

His tone catches you by surprise. You’ve barely ever talked to him, and now he sounds so angry with you, it makes you shiver. 

You glare at him, waiting for him to say something else. He glares back, red eyes narrowing in on you. When your eyes meet, there’s that electricity again. You wonder if he feels it too. 

Then, as if nothing happened, he drops your wrist and boards the plane. You catch your aching wrist, rubbing at the sore skin, before following him onto the jet. 

—

You’re pulled into Morrison’s office almost as soon as you land back at HQ. Reyes follows you in, ready to both berate and defend you in front of his closest comrade. You stand the whole time, fingers fiddling with the foam head of the chair next to Reyes. 

You zone out while Jack yells, staring at the wall above his head, waiting for it to be over. Everything he’s saying is true—you were reckless, distracted, stupid. You could have gotten everybody killed, one more mistake like this and there won’t be a place for you within Blackwatch anymore. 

Genji listens from the other side of the door. He tried to stop himself, but the look on your face when Reyes started to guide you down the hall changed his mind. You looked so scared. He wasn’t going to let you face that alone. 

Everytime Jack raises his voice, Genji’s hand clenches the door handle, ready to burst into the room. Yet he doesn’t, because everytime, you just say ‘yes sir’ in that cute obedient voice that’s driving him crazy. 

At a particularly loud burst, he’s turning the handle when he hears the loud clicking of boots behind him. 

“Don’t,” Cassidy warns, “it ain’t worth it.”

He spins around, squinting at the cowboy. They’ve barely interacted, but when they have, it’s been brief. 

“Y/n made the mistake, y/n’s gotta pay for it. Simple.” 

Genji takes a deep breath. He knows he’s right, it’s none of Genji’s business. But something about being told to leave you alone, let you face this alone, makes him so angry. He can feel the blood rush to his ears. 

“I don’t know if I like you muckin’ about in their business, anyway.” He raises an eyebrow at the cyborg, “y/n’s a good person.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, the implication is loud and clear. You’re a good person, he’s not. Still, being told to stay away from you only makes him want to be with you more. He hates it. 

“Just,” the cowboy sighs, taking back his earlier judgment. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hallway, spurs clicking the whole way. 

They’ve been talking for so long that the meeting is almost over, and Genji only has a few seconds to dash down the hall before the door is swinging open. 

You tug on your hair in frustration, forcing yourself to keep your feelings in until you get to your room. You scream as soon as your door closes behind you, kicking a pile of clothes in frustration. 

You pull off your suit, toss it with the clothes, and collapse in a heap on your bed. You fucked up so bad, you really, really fucked up. And it’s all because of that stupid fucking cyborg and his stupid fucking attitude. 

You lay there in your underwear for god knows how long, sobbing out your frustrations for the day. 

Genji sits in his bed on the other side of the wall. He can hear you, and a part of him wants to comfort you. But another, darker part of him just wants to see you cry. He shakes his head—when did he get so fucked up?

Still, he can’t help but seethe. He’s the only one who should be making you cry like this, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from him yelling at you. God. 

He tugs off his visor and slams it on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know how to deal with his feelings anymore. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything but this burning anger, and the combination of these emotions are driving him crazy. You’re driving him crazy. 

It’s like his attraction has dialed up to 11, and he doesn’t know how to cope. 

He can still hear your sobs from the other side of the wall, and he hates the way it makes his cock swell. It hurts—straining against the metal plate of his armor. 

He groans, part pain, part pleasure. He hates his body, he hates his stupid robot parts. And the fact that he can’t even get a hard on anymore without it hurting makes him hate everything even more. 

He strips out of his armor, peeling away the metal parts that he can, despising the ones he can’t. Still, he’s happy that his cock is free, the fresh air feeling amazing on his sensitive head. 

He spits in his hand, spreading out the moisture on the shaft of his cock. He focuses on the sound of your crying through the walls, shutting his eyes and rubbing himself while he listens to it. You sound so pretty, so weak. He loves it. 

He only wishes he was in there with you.

He speeds up his movements, thrusting into his hand. He can picture it so well—him pinning you to the bed, fucking you until you cry like that. Listening to you beg and whine and sob all night. 

He’s finishing in his hand before he can finish the fantasy, wiping off the cum with a tissue and tossing it in the trash. 

He lays back in bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? He was never like this before, never into stuff like this before. And he knows a part of him will never be the same since the accident, but he didn’t know it would be like this. 

He wants to protect you. He wants to avoid you. He wants to fuck you, he wants to make you cry. He wants to make you feel better, he wants to take care of you. It makes his head spin. He’s never been obsessed like this before. 

He shakes his head. He needs to stay away from you before this gets any worse. 

—

Genji avoids you like the plague after that. He always chooses to spar with Cass during training, he refuses to be your partner on missions, and when he is, he just ignores you the whole time. 

You’re not even sure what you did wrong. You know there was that weird, tense moment after you messed up that mission, but you didn’t think that was reason enough to hate you. The whole enigma of him makes your head spin, but it’s so alluring that you couldn’t hate him even if you wanted to. 

Sometimes you catch him staring at you, red eyes examining you like prey, but as soon as you notice it, it’s done. You’re not one to talk though—sometimes you catch yourself zoning out on him, watching his arms as he trains, watching his sweaty black hair falling in his face. 

The tension between you two is suffocating. 

So of course Reyes has to assign him to be your partner on an undercover mission in London. 

The mission starts off normal, but so did all of the other ones. Genji keeps a close eye on you, ready to make sure you don’t get distracted and fuck up again. Still, he’s the one that’s distracted. Ever since that day in his room when he got off on hearing you cry, his feelings towards you have only grown. 

He shakes his head and forces himself to focus. He can’t afford to get distracted here—not when either one of you could get hurt in the process. 

The rooftops of London are completely empty, and so are the streets, surprisingly. The two of you creep around, trying to make your way to the stakeout point so you can observe a secret meetup. The air smells of petrichor, the sky threatening to open up and pour down on you. You wouldn’t complain if it did. You need something to cool you off from the thoughts you’ve been having about Genji. 

You make it to the designated spot, setting up your stuff. You radio to Reyes that you’ve arrived at the vantage point and he radios back that the deal should be happening at any minute. 

Any minute, which is code for anytime in the next hour. You hope it’s sooner rather than later so you don’t have to deal with this awkward silence. You fiddle with your fingers, tapping them on your knees. 

Genji watches you closely. He watches the way you mess around with your fingers, watches your chest with every breath you take. That costume fits you perfectly, and he hates the idea that other people get to see you like this. 

The meeting happens only a few minutes after you arrive, a tall omnic dressed in a suit emerging from the shadows to deal with a scraggly looking man. Genji observes them closely while you take pictures, capturing everything they do. 

Something seems wrong, though. They’re not exchanging goods like the intel said they would be. In fact, it doesn’t seem like a secret meeting at all. Genji realizes it’s a trap a second too late, only managing to shove you down as a bullet rips across the landscape. 

It grazes your shoulder, a burning pain spreading through your body. You collapse to the ground with a whine, Genji landing on top of you. He presses his hand to your mouth to keep you quiet. 

You’re in so much pain—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this way before. It burns and it aches and it feels as though you’ve been ripped apart. Genji presses down on the wound and a scream leaves your throat just as another bullet rips through the air. 

It just barely misses the top of Genji’s head. 

“Stay here,” he breathes heavily, suddenly pouncing to his feet. 

That’s the most he’s spoken to you in weeks, and it’s the first thing you’ve heard him say without that tone behind it. You watch as he stands up and draws his sword, challenging the sniper to shoot again. 

They do, and Genji is ready. He deflects it back perfectly, the clang of metal on metal replacing the sound of the shot. There’s a yelp from far away, and satisfied that he’s got them, Genji returns to your side. 

Only, you’ve lost so much blood that you’re barely coherent. “Fuck!” He taps your face, willing you to stay with him, but you drift off. 

—

You wake up in a hotel room, body aching in the clean linen sheets. Your shoulder burns, and then you remember what happened. You sit up quickly, tugging off your shirt to examine the wound. It’s been cleaned and bandaged, under a huge patch of blood stained gauze. 

You sigh in relief. You’re not dead—but you would be if it weren’t for Genji.

The hotel room is fairly clean, aside from your bloody uniform that’s laying on the ground next to the bed. You blink a few times. You were on a mission—where did you get a spare change of clothes? Did Genji go shopping?

As if on cue, Genji speaks from where he’s sitting near the closed curtains. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” you admit. 

He nods, clearly not in a joking mood. “They won’t be able to extract us until tomorrow morning. Reyes set up this room for us and sent the extra clothes.”

That makes sense. There’s no way they’d be able to get you two out of the streets without drawing attention, especially after shots were fired. 

You rub the seam of the gauze, trailing over the wound subconsciously. 

“We should change that.”

You follow him into the bathroom, awkwardly sitting on the counter while he pulls out a grocery bag of first aid supplies. You pull off your shirt, embarrassed at the prospect of him seeing you half naked. At least you were unconscious and didn’t have to deal with the humiliation last time. 

You don’t miss the way Genji’s eyes graze over your skin, tracing the outline of your collarbone. It makes you heat up, thoughts of him kissing you there flooding your mind. You shake them away—he’s just helping you out. It’s wrong to think of him this way. 

 He peels off the old gauze covering, discarding it in the trash, before dabbing alcohol across the wound. 

You watch him work, fingers knowing what to do without him even thinking about it. He traces the outline of the gauze after he places it on your skin, cold metal fingers settling the hotter parts of you. 

You shiver under his touch, looking up at him. Genji looks back, dark eyes meeting your softer ones. You offer him a gentle grin. 

His hand moves from your shoulder to your hip, squeezing it. He finds himself leaning in, and you find yourself getting closer. And then just before your lips touch, he pulls away like he’s been burned. 

“G-Genji?”

He shakes his head, storming out of the bathroom. You follow after him, not even bothering to tug your shirt back on. 

“Don’t come near me!”

You furrow your brows at his words. “What? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

He tugs on his hair, repeatedly shaking his head at you. You can see the way his muscles are tensing, see the way he’s trying to show restraint. But why? 

“Genji,” you step closer to him cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “What is it?”

He keeps shaking his head, eyes focused on the floor, ignoring you completely. You take another step, only inches from him now. 

“Genji.”

“I’m a fucking monster, okay?” His outburst makes you flinch but you hold your ground. “I’m not even human anymore, and I have all these sick fucking thoughts about what I want to do to you and—you should just stay away from me, okay?”

“What kind of sick thoughts?”

“You don’t want to know,” his eyes finally meet yours. 

You step an inch closer, standing on your toes so that your mouth hovers near his. “I think I do.”

“Y/n,” he warns. 

You ignore the warning. You ignore all of the red flags. You ignore the voice in your head that says maybe this isn’t the best idea. You jump into his arms, smashing your lips against his and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He turns you around to slam you into the wall, being careful to avoid reopening your wound. He’s so hungry for you, so desperate. His lips nip at yours like a man starved, all he wants, all he needs right now is to have you. 

He carries you over to the bed, tossing you into it before climbing on top of you and ripping off your pants. You’re left naked, shivering in anticipation at what he’s going to do to you. 

You don’t know how deep his cybernetic parts run, you hardly know anything about him, but he’s all you want. You tug him to you by his hair, making him kiss you again. One of his metal thighs slips between your legs, giving you something to grind your wet pussy against while you make out. 

His lips move down to your neck, biting at the sensitive skin. Moans force their way out of your throat, the sting of his teeth breaking the skin making your eyes water. 

Genji pulls back, looking at your teary eyes. The thought of finally having you like this, so vulnerable underneath him, is enough to make him feral. 

His hand is slipping between your legs, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease. Your wet pussy gushes around him, begging him for more. You whine at his roughness—but it’s so fucking good. 

He shoves them in and out of you, curling them inside of you in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His mouth finds its way to your tits, biting your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. The sound has his cock swelling even more, straining against the metal. 

He slips a third finger in you, stretching you out in such a delicious, amazing way. You moan his name, trying to let him know you’re getting close, but Genji is too drunk on the feeling of you to listen. 

He keeps attacking your chest with his mouth, leaving bruises and bite marks across your skin. It’s his way of marking his territory, of showing everyone who you belong to. 

He’s wanted this for so long, and he’s going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you. 

You cum hard on his fingers, and Genji stops just to watch how pretty you look when you cum. He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking off the juices and moaning at the taste. 

The sight of him is enough to make you horny again, and suddenly you’re thrusting your hips in the air, desperate for any sort of contact. 

“So desperate,” he teases. 

“I-I—”

He mocks you, popping off the metal plate from his crotch and stroking his cock. He rubs his head through your folds, collecting up your slick on his shaft. You’re already ready for him, your first orgasm prepping you more than enough.

He pushes his whole cock in, your walls straining to take him. He can’t quite get his whole length inside of you, so he pulls out and shoves it in again. He watches as he sinks in and out of you, the last two inches of his cock staying outside of the wetness he longs to be in. 

He’s bigger than you’re used to, and your pussy is already so sensitive. That doesn’t stop Genji, though. He keeps slamming his hips into yours, trying to force his cock inside of you. You whimper with every thrust, almost screaming when he hits that spot deep inside of you. 

Genji rolls his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep. He grabs at your neck, strong hand gently squeezing. You gasp at the sudden feeling and the lack of oxygen, but the burning in your throat feels so good you don’t want him to stop. Everything starts to get fuzzy, and the feeling of Genji railing you starts to feel even better. 

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until he releases his grip on your throat and lets you breathe. The blood rushes to your ears. Your eyes have teared up from the choking, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but Genji pins your wrists above your head. 

The sight of you lying beneath him, whimpering and crying like he imagined has him going crazy. He keeps bullying his cock into your swollen pussy, thrusts getting sloppier by the second until he fully bottoms out and pumps his cum inside of you. 

“G-Genji,” you breathe. “Did—did you just—”

Genji’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, fucking his cum back inside of you. The hot mixture of his cum and your juices being fucked inside of you has you curling your toes. 

His pace is brutal, his mind only set on fucking you full and keeping you stuffed. He pushes your legs up into your stomach, fucking you into a mating press. 

Your vision blurs from the tears, your nerves overloading from the overstimulation and making you shiver. Genji fucks you through it, pounding into you, sure to get his entire length in every time. It’s not long before you’re cumming again, your body convulsing with your orgasm. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, but Genji holds them in place while he finishes fucking you. 

He reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, the sight of you sobbing only making him fuck you harder. God, he’s wanted this for so long and he’ll do anything to keep it. Anything as long as he gets to keep fucking you like this. 

“G-gonna finish inside of you,” he groans. “Gonna stuff you full. Y-you like that?”

You nod furiously, but you’re so fucked out that he could do anything to you at this point and you wouldn’t care. Genji cums with a string of moans and curses, cock twitching inside of you. 

He doesn’t pull out, instead, he lays on his side and tugs you so your back is pressed against his chest. He keeps his cock inside of you, holding his cum inside.

It’s not long before you’re falling asleep, Genji’s fingers tracing patterns on your stomach. For the first time in a long time, he feels like the anger and the darkness within him are sated, and for now, that’s more than enough.

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #x you #ow genji #genji smut #genji shimada x reader #genji x you #genji shimada #genji shimada x you #genji shimada smut #genji angst #genji ow #genji shimada ow

[maryangelex]

hey hey !! I just read your recent ex husband price fic and it’s EVERYTHING , your writing is impeccable 💕

I was also wondering if i can request angst/hurt no comfort ex-husband price! Is it bad that I kinda want to see this man suffer ?? 😭

a/n: thank you so much anon!!!! and ofc you can because...i too love a man in dispair D: something about price in shambles just mmmmmmm delicious!!!

i hope you love it :D (maybe cry a lil)

c/w: afab! reader, divorce, angst, hurt no comfort, grown man crying, alcohol use, fertility issues, age gap

He should have known better than to take you for granted. He shouldn't have anticipated you'd be fully okay with his line of work and everything that came with it. He should have made more of an effort to be there for you rather than feigning ignorance about how you were feeling, how lonely you had been, how difficult it had been for you to be alone when you needed him most when every pregnancy test would come back negative, or the pregnancy wasn't viable.

Instead, he'd come home to you pretending there was nothing wrong between you two. You gave him the benefit of the doubt time and time again; this was the way he coped coming back from missions, by coming home to the 'perfect' life he had built with you. You don't know what hurt you most, the facade he put on that everything was fine and dandy and there was nothing to be resolved or the cold shoulder he gave you when it was just too much for him to put on a fake smile.

He should have taken it as his cue to drop the act and be the husband he swore to be the second you brought up divorce. And instead, he kept his mouth shut, nodded his head, and gave you a mask of understanding. Once again, being passive about your marriage because too much of his energy had been put into his work. Not only that, but he already knew how much of a failure he had been at being your husband.

He knew you were too good for him since the very beginning. He was too old for you who had just started your life. He was too busy to even begin dating you, much less marry you. He was mentally (nor physically, really) not fully there to provide for you.

So when the divorce was finalized and a year passed, it was no surprise to see you had moved on. You looked happy in the pictures with your new beau, happier than he had ever seen you leading up to the divorce; maybe since after your honeymoon. Your smile was radiant and wide, your skin glowing, and your eyes glinting with newfound hope that this other man would be the husband you really deserved. He knew you deserved better, accepted it, even.

He dwelled on the fact that he failed you at providing you the love and dedication he vowed to you at the altar. The warm feeling of whiskey had become more familiar on his lips than the feeling of your lips.

He missed you like hell, he couldn't think of anything else he wanted back more. He sobbed himself to sleep thinking about how he let you slip between his fingers and lost you, his precious wife. The thought of being with another woman made his skin crawl, feeling repulsed by it. He requested extra missions to get away from the city and the apartment you two shared, but only got himself extended leaves for his mental state.

At the two-year mark, he found himself sick of moping and grieving and decided it was about time he took action. Moving on to someone else was not an option; it was you or nothing. When he picked the pieces of himself back up and could finally stand on his feet, he made his way back to you.

He hadn't heard from you since he saw that picture of you and the new guy on your social media, but he got in contact with your mother and she willingly gave him your new address. And when he stood at your doorstep, a bouquet of tulips in hand and his best attempt at a smile, you opened the door to him and it hit him like a trainwreck.

Seeing you with an infant on your hip made his knees nearly buckle.

"John?" was all you could say, and the sound of your voice after so long made his ears ring.

John Price was a man of steel, a man with infinite courage who braved terrorists and bullets aimed at him. But the sight of you with the babe he couldn't give you, the love he couldn't fill you with, the life he swore to provide and failed to, made him lose any will to live that he had gathered in the last year.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod fanfic #fanfic #john price #headcanon #price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #price #price x reader

[divine-knight-hand]

Safely Endangered

Chapter 1: Times are Changing

Series Masterlist || Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Notes: It's here! It's finally here! I hope you enjoy what I managed to come up with.

We haven't exactly reached the vibe I want to get to just yet, but have faith in the process! This is just the introduction, after all~ (And prepare for lots of introduction...)

Also, there is a bit of Norwegian in this chapter. Since I'm not a native speaker, please feel free to correct any mistakes I may have made. (I would greatly appreciate it if you did!)

Content Warnings: A touch of angst in the beginning there, a pinch of religious imagery (just one sentence, but still wanted to warn ya!), established relationship, Sub!Loki (but he's a switch in the series itself), Dom!Reader, bath sex, unprotected sex, and a lil face grab

Word Count: 4,383

Dividers by @cafekitsune

The death of the Allfather shattered the morale of all of Asgard, but no mourning was greater than that of the Sons of Odin. No, that title wasn’t limited to the children he had with his wife and the one he adopted from the eternal blizzard storms of Jotunheim. It also encompassed the ones who showed him unwavering loyalty throughout his lifetime. They formed one of the most dangerous mafia syndicates on Earth.

I even dared to say we were one of the most dangerous in the universe.

Odin’s death had been expected. He lived a long life of over 5,000 years, which was typical of an Asgardian demigod. Now it was time to lay him to rest, and the entire syndicate made the trip to Asgard in their finest funeral clothes for the ceremony that would send him off to Valhalla in a traditional boat funeral. Odin was so well-known in Asgard, seeing his funeral would’ve made an outsider think that he was its king. The people just loved him that much. He may not have been righteous in the typical sense, but most people didn’t know that. The Sons of Odin were the only ones who did, and he was already the best thing that ever happened to most of its members… Most of them.

Loki gave my hand a squeeze, which I quickly returned as I rested my head on his shoulder. He claimed he was never that close to his father, but just because someone treats you poorly doesn’t mean you stop loving them. I could see it in the way his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he received the news of Odin’s death over the phone. He still had love to spare for the man who treated him horribly as a child. He couldn’t help that. You don’t choose who you love. I was confident that he wouldn’t have chosen to love the father who constantly looked down on him–that was, when he looked at him at all–if he could.

His brother, Thor, always got the better end of the stick. He was the golden boy. The first to get an affirmative pat on the shoulder from his father when he did something he approved of. The perfect child. I assumed that was why he seemed to be taking Odin’s death the hardest. His mortal lover, Jane, rested a gentle hand on his shoulder as he hid his misty eyes behind his own. 

Then, there was Odin’s oldest child, Hela. Those who thought Loki was the most intimidating of the Odinchildren had clearly never met her. I constituted that to the sheer power of female rage. Odin never liked her cutthroat tactics. To Hela, every wrongdoing was atoned for with blood, no matter how miniscule. Outwardly, he resented her, but inwardly, I had a strong feeling he feared her. Now, there she stood, her eyes unmoving from the distant boat, and her emotionless expression unchanging. I felt a shiver travel down my spine, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe not showing any emotion was her way of coping with her father’s death. Maybe…

Though I knew most of the mourning would obviously be done by Odin’s actual children, I couldn’t help but also feel bad for the rest of the syndicate. They always fought tooth and nail for Odin’s approval because he proved himself to be a boss worthy of that. They felt as if they owed him for saving them from their own lives. Odin ran the Sons of Odin efficiently and discreetly. He managed to earn the respect of everyone associated with him. The best of the syndicate dared to consider him like a father to them. He was their sage. Their strength. I had to admit that he was definitely a better mob boss than a father. How would our way of life change now that he was gone?

As the ceremonial boat continued on toward the ocean’s horizon, I wondered if anything was going to be the same again. I should have known better than to entertain that stupid idea.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

Two weeks after Odin’s funeral, a small group of us gathered in the Bifrost as Heimdall read from his last will and testament. Hela, Thor, Jane, Loki, and I stood in a half-circle as we listened intently to Heimdall list off who was left each of Odin’s possessions. As the list went on, we all grew restless. There was one thing we were all waiting for, and we were all eager to know who Odin left it to, even though we had a strong feeling we already knew who it was going to be.

“The last item in the will, of course, is the Sons of Odin.” Heimdall cleared his throat before continuing to read from the papers in his hands. “‘I, Odin Bohrson, leave the Sons of Odin in the jurisdiction of…’” We all held our breaths and leaned in as he took a momentary pause. “Hela Odindottir.”

A collective gasp resounded throughout the room. Hela? How could Odin have left the syndicate to her ? We were all so sure it was going to go to Thor. Hell, Odin practically despised Hela! Something’s wrong here…

“‘Furthermore’,” Heimdall continued reading. “‘Thor will act as the new underboss, retaining his position as boss of the Thunder District, and Loki will move up to the boss of the Death District, while Hela reserves the right to select and appoint her own consigliere.’”

“There has to be some sort of mistake!” Thor insisted. He was clearly taken aback, just like the rest of us.

“I can assure you, I’ve only read what was written.” Heimdall held the will out to him. “Feel free to read it for yourself, if you still don’t believe me.”

Thor snatched the paper and skimmed it, a look of absolute dread crossing his face as Jane peered over his shoulder, reaching out to grab his arm in a silent act of consolation. “Dear gods…”

Hela smirked and tossed her hair. “So it goes.” She clapped Thor on the shoulder that Jane wasn’t occupying. “It seems being a daddy’s boy all your life amounted to nothing, after all, brother.”

My stomach churned. Anyone with half a brain knew that there was always reason to be afraid when the goddess of death was satisfied. It was as jarring as a devout Christian seeing the smiling face of Satan himself.

It was only after the interaction between Thor and Hela that I noticed Loki was silently staring at his shoes the whole time. He didn’t express shock like the rest of us, nor did he even bother to speak up. A wave of sadness and concern crashed into me. Silence was extremely uncharacteristic of him. What’s going through your head? Why are you so quiet?

I awaited his mental reply, only to be met with silence. Damnit, Loki! Please don’t stonewall on me now…

“I suppose I’m not too late to give my condolences?” I practically whipped my head around to see Brunnhilde enter the Bifrost.

Everyone took a knee, lowering our gazes to the floor at the sight of her, except for Hela, who seemed as if she couldn’t care less about the entrance of Asgardian royalty. Brunnhilde’s presence always commanded power. Despite her short stature, she seemed to tower over everyone who spoke with her. I figured that was simply because anyone who spoke to her did so while bowing to her. She served time as a warrior in the army of Valkyries that served Asgard in times of war and struggle, so her place as king was well deserved, in my opinion and that of the majority of Asgard.

“Your majesty,” Heimdall greeted her. “I’ve just finished reading Odin’s last will and testament. The Odinchildren and their guests will be away soon.”

“Please. They’re hardly children anymore.” Her footsteps nearly sounded thunderous in the heavy silence that followed as she approached Thor. “I assume your father’s legacy lives on in you.”

“You assume incorrectly.” Thor spat, his brow furrowing as his eyes trained on the ground in front of her feet.

“His legacy lives in me.” Hela darkly chimed in, still standing. What a bitch! A scary bitch, but still a bitch…

I couldn’t see Brunnhilde’s face, but I could almost feel the mix of fear and disgust that radiated from its expression. I listened to her footsteps as they clicked against the floor once again, but they grew louder this time, only stopping when a pair of white boots entered my vision. My stomach did a somersault as I processed the fact that the king of Asgard stood merely inches from me.

“Look at me.” She softly commanded. 

The gold shine of the Bifrost seemed to dance in the edges of her dark brown hair, giving her figure a golden aura. Her face conveyed no emotion, and she looked down at me as if I was the interesting subject of a passionate scientist. Everything about her was elegance and strength, and it never failed to make me feel just a little bit small. My throat quickly went dry.

“Lady Y/N,” She broke me from my thoughts. “You are Midgardian, correct?”

The weight on my chest made it hard to breathe, let alone speak, but I somehow managed the words. “Yes, your majesty.”

Suddenly, she cupped the side of my face in her hand. “Måtte gudene hjelpe folket i ditt rike.” A soft look crept into her eyes as her voice lowered to match its tenderness. “You and Jane must stay strong for the sake of your realm. Promise me that.” She turned to look at Jane. “Both of you.”

“I promise, your majesty!” Jane was quick to eagerly speak up.

I was just left in a silent stupor as Brunnhilde looked back down at me. “Well?”

My mouth seemed to move on its own, and a little bit of Norwegian I picked up from my time with Loki sprang to the tip of my tongue. “Jeg lover, min konge.”

Brunnhilde smiled warmly, and I was filled with the joy of a daughter who just made her mother proud. “I have faith in you.”

I couldn’t stop the wide grin from spreading across my face as the king turned and walked out of the Bifrost. Even as I saw Hela fold her arms out of the corner of my eye, the shiver down my spine barely registered as the hazy midday sunlight swallowed Brunnhilde’s silhouette.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

“I simply don’t understand it.” Loki sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, fuming. We’d returned to our penthouse in Midgard that night, and he was silent for the whole trip. I offered him my hand to hold as we soared through the magic tunnel Heimdall casted for us. He’d held it tightly without a word. This was the first time I heard his voice since the will reading on Asgard.

“Loki, dear,” My heels clicked against the tile as I strolled over to massage his shoulders. “You’ve been quiet for a while now. It was starting to worry me. Tell me what’s bothering you. Please?”

“It’s…��� He let out a deep sigh. “It hasn’t exactly been a secret that my father never considered leaving the Sons of Odin to me. No matter what I did, it was just never enough for him. I was never enough for him. Today was no different. He’s taunting me from the gates of Valhalla, and there’s nothing worth saying or doing about it.”

“Then, to Hel with him!” I frowned. “You’re more than capable of leading the Sons of Odin. Part of him must’ve thought so if he left the Death District to you, right? That’s still a big deal! Maybe you just need to slowly work your way up.”

“That would merely be wishful thinking.” Loki’s shoulders sank under my touch.

I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him from behind, and kissed his cheek once he lifted his head. “You will rule our underground kingdom someday. I can almost taste it. Please, just hold out a little longer, my love. If I can see it, it’s only a matter of time before everyone else will.”

A devilish grin instantly broke across his face. “You never fail to flatter me, darling.”

“Oh, please,” I teased, “I can do more than that~”

Loki let out a soft sigh as I trailed my kisses down to his collar. “Oh, love…” His breathing grew labored as my hands trailed down the front of his suit jacket, slowly unbuttoning it. “My biggest temptress and my sweetest indulgence.” He shivered. “I could never resist you.”

“Then don’t.” I purred as I slid his jacket off his shoulders. “You have some stress keeping you all wound up. Let me help you ease it.” Holding his jacket in my hands, I began heading towards our shared bedroom to hang it up. “And allow me to run a bath for you, so I can rest your weary muscles.”

The last thing I heard before getting to the bedroom was Loki breathily moan, “Do hurry. I fear I don’t have much patience tonight…”

────༺ ♰ ༻────

The bath was ready. I was practically sweating by the time I’d finished the preparations. I’d dimmed the lights, lit some candles, and even thrown some rose petals in the water. Against Loki’s wishes, I’d taken my time. He needed this, and I wanted it to be perfect, which meant I couldn’t afford to rush. I dipped my hand in the water one last time, checking that the temperature was just right before opening the bathroom door.

“Loki, love,” I called out, “I’m ready for you- Ah!”

He practically pounced on me from just outside the door, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me into a deep kiss as he kicked the door shut behind him. He moaned as I let his tongue into my mouth, his hands sliding down my back until they caressed my ass, giving it a possessive squeeze. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling him closer to me.

“That was too long.” He growled as we broke for air.

“I’m sorry, my love.” I cupped his face in my hands. “I wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

“Darling, you spoil me.” He leaned forward until our foreheads were touching, our breaths intermingling between our mouths as he softly continued. “I meant to mention how impressed I was by your knowledge of Norwegian tongue earlier.”

“I learned from the best.” I softly giggled. “And that’s not all I’ve learned, either.”

“Oh, really?” Loki hummed. “Do enlighten me on how far your current knowledge extends.”

“Okay, hold on…” I thought for a moment before responding. “Jeg elsker deg.”

A proud grin spread across Loki’s face as he responded. “Jeg elsker deg også, kjære.”

I gave him a quick peck on the lips before beginning to undo his tie. “Let’s not let your bath get cold, now.”

I couldn’t tell whether Loki’s eyes were blown wide from lust or the low lighting as I began to undo his belt. “You do realize I could easily remove my clothing with my seidr, right?”

I playfully smirked up at him. “But that wouldn’t be as fun, would it?”

“Little minx.” He teased as I dropped his pants, revealing his half-hard cock. “I do hope that means you’ll be joining me tonight.” The idea of bathing with him had my inner walls clenching on air.

“How could I not?” Fighting the temptation to begin stroking him right there, I helped him out of his shirt and gathered his clothes in my arms. “I’ll make sure these are put away neatly. You get in and I can help you wash up when I’m done.”

“Must you make me wait again?” His eyes shone with a familiar softness that nearly made me weak in the knees.

“Patience is a virtue, my love.” I dusted off part of the fabric to keep myself from melting in his gaze. “I promise I’ll be quick this time.”

“Hurry back.” His request bordered on a plea as I slipped out of the bathroom.

I entered the bedroom and neatly put each article of clothing away so they wouldn’t wrinkle. I then stripped and did the same with my own clothes before slipping into a comfortable bathrobe and heading back to the bathroom.

I paused at the doorway to see Loki laying back in the soapy rosewater, his eyes shut as if he was asleep. He was an image of pure relaxation, yet the scene in front of me was reminiscent of my wildest dreams. The candlelight gave his porcelain skin a soft warm glow, making the shadows under his already sharp cheekbones more prominent. The ropes of his muscles pulled taught near his neck and shoulders. The dark tendrils of hair on his head were wetly slicked away from his face, spilling over the side of the tub in inky curls. He was beautiful, and the arousal pooling between my thighs clued me in to the fact that my body agreed.

“I know you’re there.” His voice rang out in a soft sing-songy tone. “I do hope you don’t intend to watch me all night.”

“Of course not.” I fully entered the room, only dropping my robe once Loki opened his eyes.

A small noise escaped the back of his throat. “Oh, darling. You look absolutely stunning.” His breathing grew heavier, but he still made no move to grab me or command me to get in. He was waiting for me to decide when I wanted to.

I slowly lowered myself into the water, and he allowed me to straddle his legs. “Does this mean you’re willing to give yourself to me tonight?”

 “I wish to give myself to you, body and soul.” He caressed the side of my face. “Whatever you desire, you’ll have it.”

Loki was secure enough in our relationship to allow himself to submit to me at times. My heart swelled as I realized that this was one of those times. He wanted me in control, and was relying on me to grant him pleasure. That was why he tolerated my commands today. He didn’t want to think too much, or be in any form of control. He just wanted to feel.

“You’re too sweet, my love.” I leaned forward and pecked Loki on the lips again. Before I could pull away, he wrapped his arms around my hips and bucked up into mine, causing a sharp wave in the water. I let out a surprised yelp as he attempted to deepen our kiss.

My hand came up quickly, seizing his chin. My fingers curled up along his sharp jaw as I found my grip.

Pulling away from the kiss and catching my breath, I started in a cautionary tone. “Oh, pet. I didn’t give permission for that, now did I? It seems like we’re getting a little too eager...”

“I’m sorry, mistress.” He shuddered under my touch, his hands quickly leaving my hips. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

I released his face, instead moving my hand to tangle in his hair. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” I began trailing kisses along his jaw. “And you’ve been so good up until now. I think I’m willing to overlook this little incident.”

Loki softly moaned as I continued my trail of kisses down his neck, his cock brushing my lower stomach as it twitched up. “Th- Thank you, mistress.”

“You’re very welcome, pet.” I purred. “Just lay back and let me ease your tension, okay? That’s all I need you to do tonight. Nothing difficult.”

“May I touch you?” When I didn’t immediately respond, he added. “Please, mistress? I wish to be able to feel you while you please me. I crave it.”

“How sweet.” I trailed my hands down his chest. “Even when I treat you, you still want to make sure I feel good. Is that right?” Loki nodded, and I raised an eyebrow. “Use your words.”

“Yes, mistress.” He breathed. “I crave your pleasure as well as mine.”

“You’re a dream come alive, my love.” I softly chuckled as I leaned in to peck the tip of his nose. “I will allow you to touch me, but only when directed. Fair?”

“Yes, mistress.” Loki sighed right before I pulled him into another kiss.

My hands continued to trail lower until they played at the base of his cock. His moans curled into needy whines as I dragged a finger along its length, teasing at the tip while it grew fully erect. My free hand slid back up his chest, tracing each dip, curve, and muscle in his marble-like skin. I looked back up to see sweat breaking across his brow. His gaze was unwavering from my hand, almost as if he was silently begging me to grant him release.

“My darling pet~” I cooed. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Mistress…” Loki whimpered in response. “Please…”

I felt another clench between my thighs at the neediness in his tone. It was a neediness that only I ever got to see.

Loki often made sure to keep his guard up in the presence of anyone and everyone. Strangers, acquaintances, family… but not with me. Never with me. He felt safe enough to lower his shield after the battles of each day and allow himself to be vulnerable with me. This didn’t always come in the form of being submissive. It sometimes didn’t even involve sex at all. It was beautiful. It was intimate. It was authentic, and I craved to wrap the wounds of my beloved warrior each day, no matter what they were, because he felt in his heart of hearts that I could bring him comfort. I welcomed that level of trust with open arms.

“You’ve been so patient for me today.” I slowly wrapped my hand around the base of his cock. “I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough.” I began slowly stroking as I lined myself up over him. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, mistress.” Loki breathed before I slowly lowered myself down onto his cock, one hand guiding him inside as the other grabbed his shoulder for support. His eyes closed and his head dropped back against the edge of the tub. He let out a low drawn-out moan until I bottomed out.

“There we are…” I sighed. “How does that feel, my love?”

“S- so good…” Loki seemed to be slowly slipping into his own ecstasy. “May I have more, mistress? Please?”

“So polite, and you know I love it when you beg~” I cupped his face in my hands. “Since you asked so nicely, I believe you do deserve a little more. Just lay back and relax. I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

I sat upright and began moving my hips, setting a slow and even pace as I began to ride him.

“Mmh- Mistress…” Loki moaned. “F- faen … So good… Oh, how I- Ah- I’ve needed this…” Every sound coming from him was like music to my ears. His moans alone could bring me to my peak in a matter of minutes.

“That’s it, pet.” I reached for his hand to interlock our fingers. “Just relax and let yourself feel.” Keeping my pace steady, and directing him into all the best spots, I softly praised him between moans. “Oh, yes… You feel so good inside me… That’s it… My beautiful pet…”

“M- Mmh… Mistress…” Loki’s eyes refocused on mine.

“Yes, my love?” I breathed.

“May I- Ah- touch you, now?” He pleaded.

“Yes, you may.” At my direction, he used his free hand–the other still being held in mine–to grab my breast.

As I shivered under the touch of him tweaking my nipple, he sat up, shifting my position the littlest bit, and buried his face in my neck, leaving kisses as he panted and moaned against my skin.

I reached my hand up to weave into his hair as he pulled the most lewd of sounds from my lips. “Wh- What do we say, pet?”

“Thank you, mistress…” Loki softly moaned against my neck, causing me to clench around him, which earned another cry from the god.

The subsequent twitching of his cock and desperate whines escaping his throat clued me in to the fact that he was nearing his peak before he could even form the words. “I’m getting close…”

“I know, my love.” My own panting was ragged as I chased my own climax. “Hold on just a little longer. We’ll cum together, okay?”

“Yes, mistress…” Loki’s grip on my breast tightened as he struggled to hold back his release.

“Ready?” I gave the hand I was holding an affectionate squeeze. “3… 2… 1!”

I clenched around his cock as it began to spill its seed inside of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and saw a flash of white as our cries reverberated off of the bathroom walls. I kept my hips moving the whole time, determined to help us both ride out our highs.

Once we both came down from our peaks, it registered to me how full I really felt. It was filthy in all the best ways. I almost didn’t want Loki to pull out. I wanted this feeling for as long as I could possibly have it. 

“Darling,” I was still blissed-out when Loki moved his head from my shoulder. “You never fail to sate my cravings. Thank you.”

I quickly pecked him on the lips before responding. “There’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love.”

“My loyal lover,” He lowly chuckled. “I suppose we should actually get cleaned up now.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” I smiled warmly. “Come here. Let me help you wash up.”

After cleansing Loki with the finest soaps and lathers in our collection, which were imported directly from Asgard, he returned the favor, and we both went straight to bed after drying off. Resting my head on his chest, the last thing I remembered was Loki’s breath evening out before I began to fall asleep. He usually slept so peacefully when I was in his arms.

Måtte gudene hjelpe folket i ditt rike - May the gods help the people of your kingdom

Jeg lover, min konge - I promise, my king

Jeg elsker deg - I love you

Jeg elsker deg også, kjære - I love you, too, darling*

Faen - Fuck

*(“kjære” is a general Norwegian term of endearment, so it could also mean “dear” or “sweetheart”)

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #marvel #loki mcu #smut fanfiction #smut #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki marvel #mcu loki #mafia au #sub!loki #dom!y/n

[idyllic-affections]

the way kaveh unknowingly invalidates reader's feelings im about to

he obviously doesn't mean to. he never wants to hurt his younger sibling. he's just so caught up in his guilt and he clings onto that visage of faranak being the mother she was before everything (cuz deep down he's still that child that was left on his own to take care of himself AND his younger sibling omfg.)

ALSO READER JOINING HARAVATAT INSTEAD OF KSHAHREWAR JUST MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND IDK WHY.. i just think kshahrewar, by watching their brother as they grew up, is more of something out of passion, you know? and. reader, having to grow up keeping things to themselves, i feel like they'd go for a darshan that focuses more on logic?? something that's not as innovative or creative, but more of facts and analytic.

basically bc kaveh's heart > brain and reader's heart < brain 🥺...

(maybe maybe bc they think they don't wanna be associated with smth connected to their mom since she was from kshahrewar as well i think or maybe they think even if hey did pursue it they'll never be as good as kaveh because of how different their minds are im CRYINGGG AGAHHGHHHHRR)

also because i see so many clips of "shameless" (that nextflix show, reminds me of kaveh n reader but,, yk,,, less chaotic), you mentioned that faranak wouldn't feel bad about it until later on?

well, what do u think would happen if faranak suddenly vists sumeru as a 'surprise' with her husband, asking kaveh if she could take them to fontaine (either temporarily or not, up to you) to 'make up' from all they missed out on because they're younger and there's still a chance (to redeem herself as a mother?). it's just a recipe for a disaster.

also its unrelated but i think alhaitham caring for kaveh's little sibling is so sweet 😭😭 thinkin about how alhaitham cares so much about kaveh that it extends to his lil sibling .. dies.... uueueueueeuieiie 😭😭😭

ANYWAYS i thinks thats all now i will stop 😇 ty for ur time ily /p mootie i swear ,, ur feeding my brain worms

HI HI HELLO AGAIN i love seeing you in my inbox btw 🙏🙏 please send me your silly brain worm thoughts whenever you'd like 🙏🙏🙏🙏

he ofc doesn't mean to :((

he loves his little sibling probably more than he loves himself and can't fathom ever doing something to knowingly and intentionally hurt them. but as you've said. his inner child is still so unhealed and he's still clinging to the image of what his mother once was rather than the poor parent she became. and what he fails to realize is that [name] has never known faranak as anything but a shitty mother. they were far too young to remember her being a good one. he doesn't realize it, but that's all they've ever known her as--a poor parent. he knows she was good once, but they don't. and he doesn't realize that. this is probably the root of the growing distance between them, i think.

AND YES EXACTLY YOU GET IT.... i think [name] was probably a very artistic and kind child, but as they grew up, their desire to work with their hands gradually decreased until there was none left and they likely found themselves reading more as a kind of escapism or maladaptive coping method. their passion has long since been snuffed out by the pain they've gone through, and architecture... it's a work of passion. they can't do something like that, not anymore.

if kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve, then theirs must be in something of a prison. because why should they let themselves be hurt again? there's no logical reason for them to put forth all their love and kindness, so they don't.

they've had to learn to be logical. haravatat simply provides a better environment for them to foster that protective layer of logic and reason.

AND GODJSKSGSNG MOOT...... "they'll never be as good as kaveh because of how different their minds are" OHHHHH YOU!!!! I LOVE THIS on one hand, they don't want to live in either faranak's or kaveh's shadow (and they also don't want to be recognized as her child), and on the other hand, they don't think they could ever match kaveh in any way shape or form.

oh. it would be a fucking disaster if she did that. i think, by that point, their anger would have gone from the kind of hot boiling "wet" sort of anger (which you know, involves a lot of visible feelings... crying, yelling, that kind of thing) to just. cold frustration. everyone would have expected a more visceral response, but they just give her a plain and cold "no." HNBSNDBDNBNV

YES SOBS EXACTLY alhaitham is not "taking sides" by caring for [name]. he cares for both of the siblings equally, albeit in different ways (teehee silly haikaveh enthusiast pushing their silly haikaveh agenda /hj /lh)... he isn't picking sides. he understands both kaveh and [name] from an objective pov. he believes they are both valid in their feelings. but what alhaitham also understands is that both of them are failing to see one another's own perspectives; kaveh remembers faranak as a good mother, while [name] does not. but he chooses to meticulously care for both of them anyways, because he knows neither of them are quite ready to sit down and really talk about it, so it falls to him to make sure that neither of them lose themselves in their trauma.

so he continues to care for both of them, piecing them both back together with tender attention and care that most haravatat scholars fail to display...... cries. they've both got unhealed inner children but alhaitham is there to help fix it........

alhaitham is just the peacemaker fr and i don't think ANYONE would expect that of him

kaveh and [name] just end up becoming such polar opposites and it has me losing my mind AUGHGBFNF.....

#aphelion replies: moots 🌸 #BTW I LOVE YOU ALSO MOOT!!!! /p #i will always gladly feed your brain worms teehee <3333

[mvalentine]

Sis! I’m here to uno reverse you because I need to know how did Lana feel after the Miami kiss and what happened the next morning 👀 Love you ❤️

sis thank you SO much for uno reversing me because i have a LOT of thoughts about this & they’re all extremely messy ❤️

so basically, post the rejection LOGICALLY miss brooks understands his stance and she sees the validity of his point. however, EMOTIONALLY? that girl is a wreck the way she just realized that she had feelings for ethan right before they kissed and now this?? 💀 also she’s definitely slightly toxic for this but she’d rather be the one doing the rejecting than being rejected because that lack of control is TERRIFYING so miss girl is not doing too well!!

ALSO in my hc there’s no partition, no seperate rooms it’s literally just them in a single room with lana on the king size bed and ethan on the twin bed that he demanded requested from the staff so it’s very much awkward. they both get into their nightwear and are laying in the same room not talking, slowly dying on the inside. and then lana is like fuck this and she gets off the bed and opens her suitcase, changes into a cute lil crop & some pants and is about to head out and ethan is SO confused and despite his better judgement he asks ‘where are you going?’ and she says ‘out.’ and then proceeds to walk out the door.

she goes to the pool bar that the fancy hotel has, fully ready to take advantage of its amenities. she’s one drink down when a stranger sidles up next to her ordering a scotch, on the rocks. the last bit catches her attention - ‘ice sullies the flavor you know.’ but he simply smirks and says ‘not necessarily a bad thing.’ it catches her attention, catches off her guard. his eyes are brown, not blue. his demeanor is warm, welcoming & so far removed from the man she’s trying to get off her mind. so they start talking…. and talking ….. until he says ‘i have a room here’ he says, the implication clear as the crystalline waves lulling against the shore. against her better judgment, she follows suit. she doesn’t exactly have the healthiest coping mechanisms. as soon as they’re in, he pushes her against the door— lips molding against hers in a way that feels all wrong— his hair is longer, his stubble rougher, his—- it’s wrong. it’s all wrong. she pushes him away, telling him she can’t do this, his queries ignored as she rushes out the door and back to her own room. ethan is still awake when she gets back, confusion and relief colliding as she gets into bed without a word.

when he wakes up the next day, she’s not there. he keeps missing her all day— almost as if she’s avoiding him (spoiler alert: she definitely is :)) under the guise of professionalism, he asks ines & zaid if they’ve seen lana and they point him to a conference — and she’s there alright. but she doesn’t say a word to him, his attempts at conversation stiff and forced and formal, so unlike the ethan and lana from before. the plane ride back is filled with a similar silence — both of them avoiding the other like the goddamn plague.

this is the outfit she wore to the bar btw (and the outfit that inspired this essay length answer oops)

#I DEFINITELY COULD HAVE MADE THIS LONGER- INFACT I COULD WRITE A WHOLE ESSAY BUT I DECIDED TO SHUT UP #but yeah it’s messy because ofc it is this is my girl lana we’re talking about like kissing another man after JUST kissing your boss #???? messy messy behavior we love to see it <333 #ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x lana #asks #q.

[crymeariveronceagain]

Hmm... you like MHA, correct? I'm curious what you think about the Todorokis then.

Well.

Endeavor: Ugly man. Disgusting. Almost worse in my mind than Cassius Sencen. Worse than him. You treat your kids like crap??? You treat your children like weapons in front of me??? Then I will never forgive you, and your kids whose lives you ruined after you gave them intense psychological trauma shouldn't have to either. Screw off, and screw yourself, idiot. I mean *cough* I don't much care for him. I also hate the "redemption" arc he's getting. Like, firstly, why did it take so long for him to have this change of heart. Why did it take like, his wife going insane, his son going insane, his other son being abused for years, the rest of his children being neglected for years, and then being faced with his insane eldest son who he high-key thought was dead to start this redemption arc? Like, i get that sometimes people are thick-headed, but this felt wrong. Moreover, I don't mind a redemption arc when it's done well, but Endeavor's has happened too quickly, and it's too forced to feel real. His change of heart feels shoved in there like a "Time for Shoto to feel bad about hating his father!!!" kind of thing, which is always bad. Like, seriously. His dad verbally, emotionally, and physically abused him for years, very actively, and made him have major trauma from that, and now that Endeavor's like "uwu im sowwy" Shoto feels awful because for a long time, the only way he's been able to deal with Endeavor's crap is to pretend like his father doesn't care about him, doesn't want what's best for him, doesn't want his approval or forgiveness. And when Endeavor wants approval and forgiveness(like a lil' bish), Shoto feels awful because, what's he supposed to do? He's built up this persona in his head of who his father is out of self preservation, and his father wrecks that, and acts all wounded and hurt whenever someone insults or hurts him. It's just... shady. And gross, imho. Like, idc. Maybe other people have different opinions on the whole arc. I just really do not vibe. Like, sir. Leave your children alone. If you feel bad for what you did, give them time, space, actual apologies, and freedom. Don't. Force them. To be around you. Like. Come on. I don't care that you're having feelings about not being around them. But guess what they don't want to be around you anymore. Ok, except for maybe Fuyumi, but she can deal with it. Your children who you've excessively traumatized are not validators for your emotions. Get out of here. Goodbye.

Rei: I don't like her all that much as a character. But I know she's been through a lot, and I can understand her actions. She's fine. Not the best mom, not the worst. Nyeh.

Touya: Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. Oldest child is a golden child-to-invisible child pipeline. Oldest child starts out as a perfect and powerful creation. Oldest child finds out his power isn't what his dad wants. Oldest child trains and tries and tries and tries to make himself into what his dad wants. Oldest child ruins himself for parental approval. Oldest child puts entire life in the hands of someone who doesn't care about him. Oldest child realizes he will never be as "loved" as his littlest brother. Oldest child stops getting noticed, except in bad things. Oldest child realizes that he never meant anything, he's never going to be anything, and he will never be loved by his family. Oldest child is in severe mental and emotional distress. Oldest child fakes his death and runs away. Oldest child spends the rest of his life trying to make his father suffer for the way he was treated. Oldest child... has a point. Oldest child murders tons of people violently. Oldest child needs therapy. And possibly some jail time.

Fuyumi: Older sister trauma but is coping by making other kids' lives better than hers was. Just wants everyone to be okay. Aaah. Stop being relatable. Also, just. Side with your siblings, love. It'll make you feel better about your choices in the long run.

Natsuo: LET. THE KID. BE ANGRY. He was cheated out of a happy childhood, watched his siblings get emotionally and physically abused, and he's angry now. And that's completely valid. Like, this character is just completely valid. Heck yeah, insult your dad to his face. Your father hasn't earned your respect and he sure as heck cannot expect it. Moreover, I feel like Natsuo is just generally annoyed with everyone. He's annoyed because Shoto doesn't know how to use slang, he's annoyed because Fuyumi's too nice, he's annoyed because his mom went insane, he's annoyed because Toya's sort of kind of dead, he's annoyed. Let the kid be angry. He needs therapy, but he's doing okay.

Shoto: Oh. This kid has been really hurt. But hey, he's gonna be a hero, and he's doing his best. Like, honestly, I don't think there's much more that we can ask of this kid, just like I don't think there's much more we can ask of Izuku before both of them become vigilantes and join the LOV out of spite and pain. Like, yeah. Todoroki Shoto is a piece of work, but he is doing his gosh diddly darn best. And it's very inspiring, honestly, if an anime character can be inspiring. Like all the crap he's been through? Being pushed to be a hero since the day he ws born? Decides to be a hero anyways, but decides to be the kind of hero that makes people feel safe. Told he's going to be more powerful than All Might? Works at it crazy hard, isn't afraid to have(mostly) healthy rivalries with his classmates. Neglected and never had any real friends or contact with actual humans? Has a ton of friends now, whether he wants them or not, and is a king at cracking deadpan jokes, whether he thinks they're funny or not. Like, this boy. He's doing so much. I'm so proud of him, honestly. Like, I think he's got some internalized trauma, especially about how much of what he went through can be blamed on him, but like, really, this 15 year old super hero trainee is doing really well for what he's had to go through. I'm honestly like so proud of this kid.

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha todoroki #todoroki enji #todoroki shoto #mha todoroki #mha shoto #shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto #fuyumi todoroki #bnha fuyumi #natsuo todoroki #todoroki natsuo #endeavor #rei todoroki #todoroki rei #enji todoroki #mha endeavor #mha todoroki enji #bnha enji #anti-endeavor and you can fight me at denny's at 3 am tomorrow if you disagree <3 #anti-endeavor

[unmakeyourself]

I'm going to be very brutally honest and open in a way I'm not with many people, because everyone starts going "oh my god thats so horrible" and it turns into me comforting that person instead of me being able to talk openly about how bad things are.

I want to fucking kill myself. Every second of every day. I've blocked out most of my memories because the harassment and bullying thrown at me from such a young age genuinely fucked me up to the point of several attempts at taking my own life throughout my school life. I'm not trying to unblock these memories because they would be too harmful to go through again. I coped by clinging to music, finding bands like Paramore to keep me going, but it was always a struggle because god forbid I have a good life.

Growing up in the middle of Bath, NY has genuinely scarred me, being openly queer as soon as I realized it because the people shouting "faggot" at me were just several years too early. These struggles lead to some very dark moments with mom, when she would lock me outside in snow storms when we would fight, meaning that my only parent isn't someone I can ever be fully open with because I'm afraid it'll happen again if it's ever brought up. This is the first time she's heard this from me, probably only hearing it through the grapevine previously if at all. Unfortunately, that time frame happened to be when I was trying to learn to drive, and then having to wait a few years to be able to get behind the wheel of the new car meant that I'd already resigned myself to being stuck in this town. I'm still living with her because I have no other option. Bath isn't known for being full of queer folks, so the required "partners move in together to be able to afford rent" would be almost impossible, one person showing interest but no compatibility, and no one out of town willing to spend gas money on a sad lil fat-ass faggot in Bath.

I'm excellent at what I do, which is just being a digital media artist in general, but there's nothing anywhere nearby that lets me do that without me starting my own business, and being so broke for my entire life means I cant afford to do that, and I can't afford to move anywhere that would let me persue those talents.

After that music festival fucked me over, everything I knew about myself was thrown out the window. I've realized I'm more than likely not a trans girl, but that just means now I'm unhappy in my own body and have no way to fix it because I'm broke in the middle of nowhere with no way out surrounded by bigoted assholes who still shout "faggot" out of their truck windows when they drive by me walking somewhere.

This is all on top of the knowledge that the world's gonna burn before the rich fucks in charge give up their money, and I'm stuck working dead end jobs that I honestly only like because they've got a few good moments compared to the jobs that don't. I'm literally just getting through every day, beaten down and broken, just to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

The good moments are there, but theyre so fucking rare that the bad moments outnumber them 10 to 1, and those bad moments have only gotten worse and worse. They're unbearable anymore. I cannot keep going. Then, lets address the whole therapy thing, because what's a therapist going to do? Tell me how to cope with it, but not how to feel better. They'll teach me techniques to just keep going, but when life is genuinely this horrible, why would I want to keep going? Just to keep being beaten down and tormented until eventually the world falls apart or I collapse on the job? I don't want to keep going because it's genuinely not worth it.

When life is this miserable, this consistently, for this long, there's no light at the end of the tunnel. What, another concert to keep me together just long enough to get me to the next concert that I can't afford?

If someone handed me a loaded shotgun and told me "do whatever you want" I would have my mouth around that barrel and the trigger pulled before I could even think about it. The only reason I'm not offing myself right this moment is because I want it to be quick and guaranteed. No slitting my wrists because there's a chance it'll just disable me and I'll survive, and even if I don't it'll take a few moments of pain to get there, and I don't want more pain, I just want it to be over.

And the "stay alive for the people you care about" only makes me feel worse about it, it's not fixing anything but it's adding so much guilt to everything I do. And lets be honest: yall might be sad for a bit, but that sadness isn't nearly as bad as what I feel day to fucking day. I'm broken, beaten and have no way to fix it with no hope, why would I want to go on?

and I'm not sharing this for sympathy. I'm sharing this because no one actually knows how bad it is for me, to the scale I experience this, because no one can listen much further without being upset and having to stop, and that moment where you can just stop is what I'm lacking. There's no end for me.

[von-eldritch]

“Fuck it. Might as well go ruin my own life for a few days.”

#okay I liked TWO IC posts after the comic #*lied smh can't spell #because she's in a bad way and what better way to cope than a lil destruction of the self #(might also rb the comic again in an hour for the evening crowd 'cause like... it was hard to do ima milk that art lmao) #N E WAYS just like the last one feel free to bug her or somethin idk I'm just vibing tbh #idle #Queen of the beasts | IC

[pupperofdarkness]

Top 5 Ladies of Berserk ?

yoooo i’m here for questions like this. Gotta warn you though, I’m not the very good at going into depth about these things, but I’mma try

5. Slan 

Honestly she’s terrible, but we stan lol. But seriously, I find her absolutely fascinating and I really wish we could have learned who she was before she ascended, what actually made her activate her Crimson Behelit, and who did she sacrifice. Really I think I’m just fascinated by the mystery surrounding her.

4. Schierke

Such a wonderful lil bean :’). I’ve always adored child characters who are wise beyond their years and Schierke is definitely one of my favorites. I mean, we’re talking about a 12-13 year old girl who ADULTS look to for assistance when it comes to learning magic or staying sane, here. That to me speaks volumes of her strength. What I love most about her, though, is her dynamic with Guts. It’s so sweet how, aside from Casca, she’s the only other person he’s ever been completely open with and the fact that he trusts and believes in her so much is just so amazing to me. Plus her and Isidro’s antics never cease to make me laugh.

3. Luca 

She’s just a ray of sunshine in such a dark setting ☺️. I admire that despite living in such a bleak world and being in a hellish situation, she still remains, kind, selfless, and brave. And the unconditional, motherly love she has for her girls is just so heartwarming. I’ll be honest, I was pretty bummed when she didn’t join Guts’ party, but she had to look out for her girls so I get it.

2. Farnese

Ngl she got on my nerves at first, but I also found myself intrigued by her and the more I read, the more I ended up empathizing with her and liking her. 

For all intents and purposes, she should have become a terrible person, hell she almost did. Though I will say that’s pretty understandable, given how she was raised. Growing up neglected, sheltered and lonely can be really damaging to a person’s psyche. And the fact that she only got positive attention by hurting others did NOT help her mental instability. But when she joined Guts’ party, became Casca’s caretaker, and became Schierke’s student, I saw a side of her that I never would have expected to see in a character like her. It turns out her sadism hid kindness and compassion and selflessness. She just needed an opportunity to let that side of her shine through. I especially love her relationship with Casca and how she went from being a protector to a close female friend for Casca to rely on (which is something Casca really needs atm).

Also, I thought it was cool how Miura wrote Farnese using her penchant for bondage and sadomasochism to do good after her characterization (i.e. the thorn snakes). She’s actually the first instance I’ve seen of BDSM being portrayed in a positive way with a story like this, so that was pretty refreshing.

1. Casca

Words just cannot express how much I love this woman. But I’ll do my best.

Everything about her is just so amazing and she’s probably one of the STRONGEST female characters I know. I mean, this girl kept the Band of the Hawk together and lead them for a whole ass YEAR in Griffith’s place and when the Eclipse went down, she maintained a level head and managed to calm everyone down before everything went to shit. That honestly says a lot about her strength and leadership prowess.

That’s not to say that she always has it together. She can be hot-tempered at times but even then, she still has good judgement. She’s also emotional, and tends to cry a lot, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Actually, the fact that she wears her heart on her sleeve is just another thing that I admire about her. Her vulnerability only ADDS to her strength and imo makes her that much more relatable, because it underlines that while she is a gifted sword fighter, soldier, and commander, she’s still a human not a machine or weapon. And Casca realizing this, learning to find value within herself and learning to consider what SHE wants out of life rather than letting her value be dictated by her usefulness to someone else is something I love so much about her. And you probably have seen this a lot across tumblr, but I love, love, LOVE that she’s a WOC. I mean, how many instances are there of a leading lady in a dark medieval fantasy being POC, especially during the ‘90s?

My only complaint about her was that it took so long for her to come back to us. I don’t mind that Miura decided to have her dissociate after the Eclipse (in a few ways it makes sense given all that she witnessed and what she had to endure at the hands of Griffith and the apostles), but I wish it didn’t take 20 irl years for her to regain her sanity. Tbh, I think it would have been better if she began to gradually come back to herself or learned to cope with her trauma over the course of her and Guts’ journey, but it is what it is, and I’m just glad she’s back.

I just love her sooo much, holy shit 😩.

(btw, sorry it took so long for me to answer, I’m not used to people asking me stuff like this and I wanted to answer it the best that I could)

#casca #farnese #schierke #luca #slan #berserk #loooong post #asks #sorry if I got anything wrong about the characters I’m still pretty new at this sort of thing 😅

[niksfics]

↬ FATE

↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings

↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.

↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. ￫ It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩

WC | 2.5K

You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.

You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.

Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am

I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.

I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.

You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.

A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.

You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.

You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.

Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.

He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.

You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.

You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.

↝

You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.

When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.

Kozume ❤️

Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.

You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.

Yeah.

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”

Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.

Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out

And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.

No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.

He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.

So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.

You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.

Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am

Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.

I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.

I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.

I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.

I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.

I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.

And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.

When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.

You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.

I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.

He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.

With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.

His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”

Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .

“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”

#kenma x reader #kenma angst #kozume kenma #kenma #haikyuu kenma #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #niksfics #haikyuu fic #hq angst #hq fanfic #hq kenma #hq atsumu #atsumu x y/n #kenma x you #atsumu x you #kenma x yn #angst #this is trash #I’m so sorry that this is what I’ve written instead of mf #dilf atsumu #you’ll get your dilf atsumu smut soon though

[sinner-as-saint]

Safe and Sound.

Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: After the civil war, when Team Cap made peace with the rest of the Avengers, Bucky Barnes still had a lot to fix in his life. Bucky finds solace and all the answers he’s looking for in the cozy library café which you own in the middle of the busy city. He quickly becomes a regular client of yours, and through shy smiles, lengthy discussions regarding books and poetry, and leaving each other secret notes in book pages – you get attached to one another. More than you intended to.

Themes: Fluff, slight angst, a lil smutty

You heard the ding of the bell at the front door, which let you know that someone had walked into your library. You turned around and found your favorite client standing at the entrance – Bucky Barnes.

You immediately smiled at the sight of him. He was just such an interesting man, one couldn’t help but admire him no matter what he did. You watched as he carefully wiped his boots on the rug by the door before stepping in, always careful as to not make the floor all muddy given it had just rained outside.

He always came by with a coffee cup in his metal hand. And he would spend hours in your library, reading whatever you’d recommend, and whatever he didn’t have time to finish, he’d take home with him. He was a fast reader, you noticed a couple of weeks ago; he was always eager to finish a book, and his curiosity to learn and discover more could clearly be seen.

Of course, he had missed lots of works of literature over the years and now he was struggling to forget his gruesome past as the Winter Soldier, trying to find himself again to fit into the modern world better, fighting through bad memories and trauma and trying to catch up on what he missed while he wasn’t himself; reading became his favorite thing. It served as a hobby, as well as a coping mechanism. Whenever Bucky found himself going into a dark place again, he’d immediately turn to a book which you recommended and just within a few pages, he’d feel much better.

You and Bucky flirt a lot, but he’s also so respectful and polite and just the right amount of cheesy. He was a little old-fashioned, especially regarding his idea of romance and his take on modern romantic novels, but that was one of the many things you liked about him. He was an interesting man, and great company.

You liked him quite a lot. And he liked you back. But neither of you ever made the first step. You were too shy and he didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who has a past like his. But regardless, he had been catching feelings for you. You reminded him that there was still good left in this world; your gentleness, how tender you were with your voice and how selfless and loving you were when interacting with your clients.  

Bucky knew he would never be able to let you go. Some days, while you were busy with others or arranging the many shelves in your library, when you paid no attention to him; Bucky’s eyes would follow you discretely. He often daydreamed about what life could be like for him if you were his. Someone he could trust. Someone to come home to. Someone who would care.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked how you hummed under your breath as you walked around, working. He liked the colors you wore very often; tan coats, and soft sweaters, and golden jewelry. Bucky had been around for a long while, and he had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but he still thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on.

A couple of words from you, and he was under your spell like it was nothing.

 As for you, Bucky Barnes was not just a super soldier, he was the man who was slowly developing a love for reading, and he was also the man who could make your heart flutter just by looking into your eyes with those deep blue orbs.

Cream colored sweaters, messy hair, he was always a lovely sight. You still remembered the first time he walked into your library months ago;

-flashback-

Gloomy day. But the occasional soft murmurs of everyone scattered around your library café helped maintain the faint smile on your face. You were rearranging the modern fiction shelf, humming quietly under your breath when suddenly you noticed there was complete silence.

No soft murmurs, no fingernails hitting phone screens furiously, no pages turning, nothing. You moved from behind the shelf and approached the front desk, where you usually sat. And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ex fist of HYDRA; standing at the door of your library.

Dark jacket over his sweater, his metal arm tucked in the pocket of his jeans and a coffee in his hand. You were certain all eyes were on him for two main reasons; one being that he was part of the Avengers team, hence intimidating, and second, because he was drop dead gorgeous.

None of his pictures did him justice, you thought as you took in his broad, and muscular frame. Dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like he had been handcrafted by the Gods.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him because none of the Avengers ever swung by, despite your library café being well-known in the city. And to have one of the strongest man in the city walk into your café was not something which happened very often. Or ever really.

You felt bad for a minute because you saw how he shifted nervously under everyone’s gaze. He must hate the attention. So you decided to ease the tension.

“Mr. Barnes, come on in.” you smiled warmly at him, like you did with all your other clients. And you could feel the tension in the air beginning to diminish immediately. Almost everyone stopped staring at him, because given the way you greeted him, they thought he must be a regular client of yours – harmless despite his slightly rough demeanor.

Bucky Barnes gave you a faint smile and took some steps in. But not before wiping his slight wet boots on the rug. He was so thoughtful, not wanting to soil your floor. He walked up to the desk and looked around, seeming a little lost.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes. How may I help you?” you kept the soft smile on your face.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling to himself. “Sorry I just… it’s been forever since I stepped into a library.”

Something about that sentence made your chest hurt. He seemed so lost in this big, modern city. You knew all about him, and his past; you had read multiple articles about it. He was one of the most talked about members of the Avengers, especially since the recent fall out between Stark and Rogers. But thankfully the heroes had worked it out, and the team was whole again.

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright, Mr. Barnes. We can ease you into it. There’s no need to rush, I have all the time in the world.” he lifted his head up to look at you once he heard your words. Warmth and kindness was still new to him, and very much welcomed.

“Thank you.”

 And that was the beginning of a friendship which then became so much more. Bucky formed an instant connection with you. Your warmth, your easy-going manner, your humor and kindness; it was all he never knew he craved.

And to you, he was no longer just a client anymore. He was someone you looked forward to seeing each day. He became a habit. The image of him walking into the huge glass doors of your library became your new favorite thing.

-end of flashback-

 “Hey, doll.” he greeted you the same way each time, with a faint smile.

Your smile stretched wider at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Bucky. Finished your book?” you asked, and as always, he nodded and chuckled.

“Finished it just last night.” he said proudly. “What do you have for me next?” he asked, handing you over the book he took last time, just two days ago.

You typed on your computer for a second then looked up at him, “Depends, how did you like Miss Clark?”

He chuckled looking right into your eyes with his stormy blue eyes. “She reminds me of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Does she now?” you playfully teased. And Bucky gave you a handsome smile.

“Maybe you should read the book again. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked and you knew that smirk all too well.

You and Bucky had this thing you did where you’d leave each other cheesy notes in books. You’d leave the notes in books which you recommended him, and he’d leave his notes in books which he returned you, and that had been going on for quite some weeks now. Most of the notes were sweet and flirty, some much cheesier than others.

You smiled at him. “Alright then, go get yourself a seat. I’ll bring you some books.”

Bucky lingered for a few more seconds, just gazing at you and making your heart flutter before he finally went away to his usual seat; at the furthest corner, by the art pieces and the large window. You watched him for a brief second, how he sipped on his coffee and looked out the window, staring at the world he often wondered if he belonged in.

You went back towards the shelves and opened the book. And as per usual, you found the piece of parchment paper he always left you. There, scribbled in messy handwriting was the note he left you;

-‘… you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.’

He had left you a quote from the book itself today, like he did often. And your face felt hot and you smiled like a kid in love as you read, and re-read, the note over and over again. You couldn’t help but think of the day he had told you something quite similar; “You know, coming here and talking to you is the best part of my days.”

You blushed as you walked over to select some books for your favorite client. The fact that you two always flirted through notes in secrecy made you giddy. Bucky was an old soul, and he was an old-fashioned romantic and you had absolutely no problem with that. If anything, these secretive notes from him felt much, much more special than any text would.

You moved to the poetry section and looked for one of your favorites which he hadn’t read yet. You smiled as you found the collection and you quickly searched for a pen and a piece of parchment – which you had bought and kept solely to leave notes for Bucky.

You wrote down the two verses of one of your favorite poems and slipped the piece of parchment in before handing him the books;

“Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;

And love is love, in beggars and in kings.”

 You were undeniably falling for the metal-armed soldier. And him, you. Even though neither of you admitted it, nor confessed your true feelings to one another.

---

Two days later, Bucky came by not even a minute after you opened, no other clients were here yet. No coffee in hand, red eyes, looking like he had had a rough night and barely any sleep. Soft beige sweater, and messy hair – he looked handsome regardless.

“Hi Bucky. What’s wrong?” you asked softly, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

One look into your eyes and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in for a hug he desperately needed. Wrapping his strong arms around you and placing his head on your shoulder, he sighed loudly. “I had a nightmare. I don’t know where else to go.” He mumbled and you felt your heart tearing in half.

You wrapped your arms around his immediately, rubbing your hand softly up and down his back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged him back as tight as you could, for as long as he needed.

There, in the middle of your library on a gloomy morning, Bucky found comfort. Your hug felt like balm for a wound he had for way too long now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let you go.

You placed your chin on his shoulder and felt his body heat wrap around you. You cracked a faint smile as you caught your reflection on the nearby mirror. A strong man, broad and brawny like Bucky; seeking comfort from you. Quite an unusual sight, but you definitely something you could get used to.

You held him still, and spoke up. “You wanna go get coffee together?”

He groaned quietly, still wrapped in your arms like a big baby. “No, I don’t wanna be around other people.” He mumbled. And you smiled again, even though your chest hurt a little at his words.

He didn’t want to be around people, yet he walked all the way to your library just to see you. Something about that made you feel all warm inside. And you felt the need to cater to all his needs.

“Okay then, do you want to go to my place so we can have coffee and talk? It’s a short walk from here.” You explained, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

Bucky pulled away and nodded immediately. You smiled and went towards the desk to gather your things. You pulled out your phone and texted you two other employees, telling them to manage the library till you came by later during the day.

 The walk back to your apartment in the middle of the city was a short and silent one. Bucky held you hand all the way till there, and kept his head low. You felt him turn his head to look at you often, and whenever you caught his stare, he gave you a brief smile; making your heart flutter again.

-

“Sugar or creamer?” you asked, as you made two cups of coffee. Bucky shook his head. Black coffee then, you pushed the one mug towards him and took a seat at the island as well, facing him. “What was it about?” you asked.

Bucky kept his eyes down, understanding that you were referring to the nightmare he had. “Just… me hurting people.” A chill went down his spine as he uttered the words. He had hurt people; many of whom didn’t deserve any pain. But he had mercilessly caused pain. Immeasurable pain. And someone as tainted as him shouldn’t be around someone as warm and kind like you, he thought. He shouldn’t be here. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mumbled abruptly. “I should go.” He avoided your gaze and stood up to leave.

But then you walked over and grabbed his arm. “No.” you stopped him from leaving. “Hey, look at me,” you cupped his face, placing your other hand on his chest, and turned his head towards you. His eyes were red again, watery and sad. He blinked as he looked at you; lost and hurt, wondering if he even deserved this warmth, this attention and care. “I want you here, okay? I care, Bucky.”

He blinked again, letting your words settle in. And once it did, he leaned in for another hug.

“Do you wanna do some reading?” you asked, and he sighed.

“No.” he answered, sounding grumpy.

“Do you want me to read to you?” you asked again and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yes please.”

 And that’s how you two ended up on your large couch. Effortlessly comfortable in sharing space with one another; under cozy blankets, and Bucky placed his head on your lap and listened to your voice as you read him some of your favorite poems while mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. He liked this a lot.

“… While faithful love the watch should keep, to banish danger from thy sleep.” You ended another poem and Bucky smiled and looked up at you. “Liked that one?”

He nodded. “What’s it called?”

“Winter song.” You replied.

Very fitting, he thought and smiled to himself before looking up at you again. “Another one, please?” he asked, politely.

You giggled and flipped through the pages of the book, searching for another one. As you began reading, Bucky felt himself slipping more and more under your spell.

There was this sense of familiarity between the two of you. Despite having known each other for just some months, you felt like you knew each other for decades. It was unusual, but comforting. For instance, having him here in your home, in your living room under the same blanket as you felt delightful, and soothing.

Sure, you had a crush on the man since the day he first stepped into your life. And vice versa. But this felt like so much more. It felt satisfying, like coming home after a long day; knowing that inside these walls, you’re protected and far from the dangers of the outside, darker world. Your home and your company made Bucky feel like he was safe inside a bubble of ease and comfort. He hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. So he was grateful for you.

“…This world I saw as on her judgment day. When the war ends, and the sky rolls away. And all is light, love and eternity.” You finished the poem and looked down to find Bucky asleep on your couch, with his head on your lap.

You smiled as you admired the man. Life hadn’t been easy on him, it had been cruel and painful. And he deserved happiness, and love and light. You knew he did. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead, giving him a quick kiss before carefully slipping from under him and placing a cushion where your lap had been, making sure he was comfortable as he napped.

 And soon, that became a habit as well.

---

Bucky spent much more time in your apartment than he did at the compound. And it felt strangely like a norm you two had been following for years, when in reality it had been just weeks. Perhaps it was because there was no sexual tension in between you two… yet, but you just needed one another to feel normal and complete.

Many days you’d wake up and find him in your kitchen. And you’d sleepily walk over to him, give him a kiss on the shoulder, or his neck, or cheek – whatever was reachable. And he’d smile and kiss your forehead and make you coffee.

Then you’d walk till the library together, and he’d spend some time in there, until he received a call from the team. Of course, he still went on missions, and sometimes you wouldn’t see him for 2-3 days. But in the end, he’d always come back to you.

And you knew he relied on you a lot. Be it calling you in the middle of the night – when he slept at the compound, or when he was away on missions – after he’s had a terrible nightmare and telling you that he just needed to hear your voice to feel better. Or crashing on the couch in your room because he just can’t be alone, and needs to be as close to you as possible. Or how he’d often spend hours hanging out with you, asking you politely to read to him.

You loved taking care of him. And you never realized that you relied on him too. And you didn’t know you couldn’t live without him either, until the time when you didn’t seen him for weeks.

Calls, voicemails, messages, he replied to none. You didn’t even know if he was just unavailable, or isolating himself or worse, had had a mission go wrong.

You thought of the worse. Him hurt, and alone, trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You knew he was strong, and could fight his way out of anything. But although enhanced, he was human still.

Your days became mundane and bland without your favorite metal-armed super soldier. The littlest of things reminded you of him. The extra mug out on your counter. The creamer in the fridge which he never used. The knitted blanket he loved but wouldn’t admit to loving it because it was bright, obnoxiously pink. The hair band he had left on your coffee table. The books you planned on reading to him, but didn’t get the chance yet.

Please come back to me…

You cried the first night. Then by the end of the first week without him, you weren’t cheery anymore, you just felt empty. You knew you could always reach out to the rest of the team and ask about him, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. Besides, they wouldn’t even know who you are.

So all you could do was wait. You heard around that some of the Avengers had gone on a mission, and you didn’t know if it was entirely true because a lot of people just gossiped about stuff they didn’t know for sure.

But hearing that he might just be away on a mission was somewhat comforting. Still, you were worried sick.

 ---

You sure missed him, but you didn’t know just how much until you couldn’t hold back the tears the day he finally showed up at the entrance of your library one morning, almost two weeks later.

“Hey doll.” he seemed a little tired. And bruised. His flesh arm had bandages around the knuckles up till his wrist. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent.

Bucky felt both relief and pain as he took in the look on your face. Your watery eyes and the look of relief in your eyes as well.

“Buck…” you whispered and you walked over to him and rushed into his arms, paying barely any attention to some of the people who were sat inside your café. You tried your hardest to seem chill, and calm and collected.

But you couldn’t hold back the tears. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky and wet his sweater with your tears. Not sobbing, but just letting out all the emotions you had been bottling up during his absence. “Where were you?” you asked, sniffling.

Bucky cracked a little smiled and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Long, tiring mission. I didn’t have my phone. Sorry I left so suddenly.”

You sniffled again and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s okay. It’s your job, I understand. I just… missed you a lot. I thought you… I thought you wouldn’t come back to me.” You lowered your eyes to the ground, staring at his boots instead.

He grabbed your chin gently and moved lifted your face so he could look at you. God knows he had missed you so terribly as well.

“I missed you too, doll.” he said with a weary smile. The nickname he had given you shortly before disappearing on you for two whole weeks still made you feel all tingly.

You didn’t want to cry so you leaned in for another hug. Wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your forehead against his chest, you sighed loudly and inhaled his lovely, masculine scent. “Don’t leave me.” You mumbled.

You heard him let out a little chuckle as his arms tightened around you. “I won’t, doll. I’m here. I’ll always come back to you.” His words made your heart flutter again. And you pulled away, wiping your tears and maintaining your composure, not wanting to been seen all teary by the rest of your clients.

You sniffled again, looking down at your shoes. And another tear fell. Bucky reached out and wiped it gently. You spoke up again, “You can’t just disappear like that. I was so worried.” You were still upset. Relieved that he was alright, but upset nonetheless.

Bucky was in awe. No one ever cared this much when he was away on mission. The whole world saw him as an ex-assassin, the fist of HYDRA, now an Avenger, a super-soldier who was designed to fight and end battles which he didn’t even start. Not many people made him feel like he was human too. That he feels pain when he’s kicked or punched, or shot at. That his wounds bleed just like anyone else.

But you did. Around you, it was okay for him to be vulnerable. Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your skin. “I didn’t know I would end up being away for so long. Although, I would love to make it up to you. Movie night?”

You looked up at him and immediately remembered the last time you had a movie night, around three weeks ago. And how the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch and you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled with his. It was the best night of sleep both of you had in a long time.

You nodded quickly.

 ---

Movie nights with Bucky definitely earned a top ranking on your list of favorite things. It was adorable how he had countless questions about movies, and how he’d point out every little detail which you missed out on. Or how he gradually inched closer and closer to you on the couch, until his thighs were touching yours.

And your whole body felt like it had been electrified the minute he casually placed his hand on your thigh, barely paying any attention to you as he watched the movie. Your body was burning hot under his touch. And you squirmed just a little when the pad of his thumb lazily caressed your skin; in an innocent, affectionate manner – but which also filled your brain with filth.

“You okay, doll?” he asked in that velvety smooth voice of his which made you weak in the knees.

You cleared your throat and tried to push all the filthy thoughts out of your mind. “Yeah. Yeah, why?” you almost stuttered as he gently moved the palm of his hand up and down your thigh. You looked up at him and he was smirking.

Oh, so he’s been doing this on purpose?

“You look a little…” he trailed off as he gently leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “… troubled.” He chuckled as he heard you gasp. He pulled away and studied your face for a second. You looked fierce, and ready to pounce on him; obviously frustrated and turned on by his antics. “Come here, doll.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as you lowered your body onto his lap. You immediately felt something hard pressing into you, right in between your legs.

“I still have to make up for the time I’ve been gone, don’t I doll?“

 ---

 You woke one morning, feeling tingly. So much so that your own giggle chased away all the remnants of the previous night’s sleep. You looked to your side and noticed that Bucky wasn’t there. And then you felt him. More specifically, his mouth. Right in between your legs.

He mouth latched on to your wet heat and he ate you out, coaxing you to wake up. Gently, as always. You peaked under the blankets and found him tongue-fucking you. You threw the blanket off the both of you to get a better look at him.

Since that one movie night, about a month ago, you and Bucky had been sleeping in the same bed each night. Except on days when the team needed him for a mission or something. But other than that, he lived with you most of the time. And you were the happiest person ever.

“Well good morning to me.” You spoke, voice still a little groggy from your deep slumber, but also a little hoarse due to last night. Bucky was always a little more needy and passionate, and insatiable whenever he returned from missions; like last night.

You watched how he pulled away from your wet folds and looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes you were in love with. “Morning baby.” he whispered, flashed you a breathtaking smile, and got back to pleasuring you. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky’s hands locked around your thighs as he pushed the lower half of his mouth further into you, teasing you with his tongue.  

He had you moaning and squirming under him, slipping his tongue in between your wet folds, poking at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your fingers grabbed his hair and you tugged on it occasionally, and it drove him wild each time. He loved every inch of you, and he made sure to show you just that each and every day.

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, you came all over his mouth, and he lapped up all that you gave him. Wanting more and more. His hunger for you couldn’t ever be satiated fully, he concluded. Especially not when he woke up next to a naked you almost each day.

Bucky kissed his way up your body, stopping every second and kissing every inch of your skin until he reached your mouth; where he kissed you passionately, deeply. Licking the inside of your mouth hungrily, making you moan and feel dizzy just from a kiss.

He finally pulled away and looked down at you. “I am so in love with you. It’s crazy.” He whispered. And lowered his body onto yours, pushing his face into the crook of your and peppering your skin with kisses again.

“I am madly in love with you too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, smiling to yourself and relishing his body heat. Loving Bucky came with its own challenges, but there was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him.

As for him, you were the stability and sense of belonging which he sought for so long. And now he had it, and he wasn’t letting go you of you anytime soon. You were his, and that alone made him the happiest he had ever been all his life. You were his safe haven.

And you both silently promised to keep each other safe and sound.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #marvel #winter soldier

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 4- Your Disco Needs You. 

Intro: Paul adjusts to life at home post the shooting.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) A heap of angst and feelings. He’s a soft, lil bean…

Word Count: 8k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 3

Three weeks. He'd been home three weeks and with each hour that passed Paul felt less like himself. He was frustrated, angry, irritated and irritable. Upon his discharge from the hospital, his attending physician explained that the road ahead wasn't going to be easy and so far that had proved correct. He'd spent eight days in ICU, not to mention the few after in the recovery ward, and according to the medical team at his disposal, each day spent there in ICU was a full week of added recovery at home. Eight fucking weeks. He wasn’t even half way through. Physically, bar his vocal chords, there had been little lasting damage. Something he should be grateful for, apparently. The wound in his neck had healed well so far, leaving an angry raised pink scar behind, but other than that, to look at, there was no physical signs he’d been moments from death at all. Emotionally, however, well, he was a wreck. If it weren't the continued nightmares as his mind rehashed the horror inflicted in the line of duty, it was the constant desperation to be himself inside and out, to feel like he was HER Disco.  For the first two weeks post the shooting, he'd been reduced to writing things on a notepad for Y/N and others as he couldn't speak more than a word or two and at a faint whisper or angry rasp. Over the last week, it had improved a little but still, holding a prolonged conversation was painful and he often as a result found himself reaching for that fucking notepad as a means to an end when it simply became too damned much to bear. 

He hated it.

Not only was socialising his forte, but his and Y/N’s relationship usually operated with a lot of conversation as they would talk over dinner, joke when watching TV, chat or whisper to each other when laying in bed at night. And not being able to indulge in those simple things properly with his fiancée was killing him. And don't even get him going on his thoughts and anguish over the way they'd not been their usual intimate selves. From touches and sweet kisses, to sex and general intimacy, there had been none, not due to anything she'd done, but all down to him, and how he viewed himself, felt about himself.  He pulled open the fridge, reaching in for the eggs and bacon before he moved to the stove, coffee brewing in the pot to the side. As he set about making them breakfast, he lost himself momentarily, concentrating on whisking the eggs ready to scramble before he heard the bedroom door click open as Y/N shuffled out into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard her footsteps hit that squeaky board in the small hallway as she headed down to their kitchen. Soon he felt her arms around his waist, hands hooking over his chest and shoulders. Her lips pressed to the back of his shoulder. "I can take over." Quickly, Paul twisted out of her hold and raspilly said, "I can manage." She stepped back from him, and he was immediately crushed with guilt as he took in the look on her face. The way her eyes were downcast and how hard she swallowed. He watched as she blinked hard, moved her lips to say something and then she simply sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned and left, back the way she came, down the hall and back into the bathroom. When he heard the slam of the door echo across their small apartment, Diskant threw the wooden spoon across the counter and leaned against its edge, a silent curse across his lips as let out a deep sigh.

For the last three weeks, this was how their days had started and ultimately set the tone for the hours to follow. He didn't know where to begin to try and as for Y/N, well, she couldn't try any harder. 

**** The door shut behind you with a little more force than you’d meant, having slammed it by accident in your haste to escape quickly before the tears of frustration and hurt spilt from your eyes. You were trying to rationalise his behaviour, you knew he was frustrated at how his recovery was progressing, more so because physically he looked okay. But he wasn’t. He was weak, sleeping a lot. He struggled to talk for more than a few minutes at a time and the simplest of tasks seemed to leave him drained. But you could cope with that, hell, you expected it. What you hadn’t expected however, was what hurt you the most- the fact he seemed to be shutting you out. Your relationship had always thrived on the fact you had no secrets, there wasn’t a thing the pair of you couldn’t talk about but now, it was like he’d put up a wall to keep you out. And it hurt.

You turned on the shower and whilst you waited for the water to warm, you stripped off your pyjamas and made sure to pile your hair out of the way to avoid it getting wet. Once it was at the right temperature you stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass screen door behind you and tipped your face up to greet the warm spray as the water washed away your silent tears… The day had finally come and he was going home. Things were set and the car was running and waiting. He'd been able to dress in a pair of sweats, his trainers and a button down shirt, sighing as he couldn't just walk out but had to be rolled out. Words were few, and very soft, a stark difference to his typical boisterous laugh and toothy grin. But you were all thankful, thankful he was alive, thankful he was okay and healing. His parents offered to take you both home, yours and Barnes waiting for you to arrive back at the apartment. Your parents had worked diligently at deep cleaning for you, taking one less thing off your list to do, knowing the first few days home would been an adjustment period, learning how to move with one another and go about a new routine from at home therapy to outside appointments, no doubt eventually a steady stream of visitors. You honestly were fine with whatever Paul had wanted. In reality, he hadn't said much or written much on his pad of paper all morning. But you went along with it anyway. The nurse wheeled him out and you walked along his side, the feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped over the threshold of the hospital entrance and watched him breathe in his first breath of fresh air in ten days. You held back tears, thankful for your Wayfarers covering your eyes. But you didn't miss his, the way he was desperately trying to keep himself together around everyone else. He gave a nod in thanks to the nurse and slowly sat down in the back seat of his parents' SUV whilst you moved around to the other side to settle yourself in. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Big Jim pulled away from the curb and headed towards home. When you went to move your hand away, he gripped it tightly, looking at you with those deep pools of blue.. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the one place you knew comforted him, made him melt, tell him he'd be okay, reassure him, but he was to your right, therefore his sutures and bandages were along the left of his neck and you couldn't touch him there, it was still painful, raw and frail. So you let him grip your hand the whole way home, the top of it reaching his lips a few times, just so, you thought at least, that he knew you were there, reminding him he was going to be okay. That he had you. As the four of you made your way into the apartment, you remembered that Barnes, your parents and by now no doubt Sam were there waiting for you all. Sure as you'd guessed, a thundering cheer and smiles came from the living room and filtered into your kitchen. The one bedroom, small space at capacity with guests. It was not the time for a 'Welcome Home' party. As Paul gathered a moment to himself, he looked to you and signalled he needed to write something down, so you grabbed the nearest note pad and a pen, the items you always had on the coffee table that collected your lists for groceries and to do items. His 'Honey Do' list as he liked to call it. He scribbled hastily and practically shoved the pad back at you. 'Can't do this. Need time.' "Okay," you looked at him after reading, "okay." You ushered over to Big Jim and Dotty, gently telling them that he was asking for some space, and they quickly understood, saying their goodbyes as you made the rounds, hoping neither of you looked like assholes in asking everyone to leave. With deep understanding, everyone left, allowing the two of you time together. You went to the kitchen to get water for you both, sighing as you saw the fridge stocked full and a freezer full of meals. Dotty and your mother, no doubt having done all that. When you returned to the living room, just a dozen steps away, Paul was sitting on the couch, hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, I should have stepped in and said it was better to have people see you when you were ready. I didn't think...." A deep sigh interrupted you and what was an empty hand was now jotting a note again. He turned the notepad in his lap. 'I just need you.' Your lip quickly quivered and you gently leaned in to kiss his lips softly. "I'm right here." He gave you a small smile as you sat beside him. 

“Do you want to shower? Eat? Sleep?" Paul frowned deeply at each of your asks. He shook his hands at you, trying to tell you to slow down. Then, you sat in silence. He slowly stood after a long stretch of nothing between you and headed down the hall to the bathroom, albeit a bit wobbly at first and when you rose to help steady him, he shrugged you off. You gave him his space, but worried about him on his own. Then you heard the click of the door and the shower running… A knock on the bathroom door dragged you from your thoughts and knowing it could only be Paul, you turned the shower off for a moment so he didn’t have to shout. “Yeah?” You cleared your throat and listened carefully. “Breakfast is waiting when you’re done.” His voice was croaky, but you picked up his words easily enough through the thin door. “Okay, give me a moment. Be right out.” You called back, no longer wondering why he didn't open the door anymore or why he locked it when he was inside.  You turned the shower back on, quickly lathered up your gel before washing and stepping out, towelling down before you slipped on a lightweight robe and opened the door.

*****

He waited for her at their small kitchenette, their places set, food already plated. He admired her, how she was dressed in her robe but as his eyes moved to hers, he noticed those beautiful orbs that he loved waking up to each and every day were red and puffy, despite her shower. He watched as she moved her food around her plate, eyes cast downward at the yellow scrambled eggs, slightly runny just the way she liked them. He tried to clear his throat but it stung so he reached over the tiny table-top and touched her hand. When her eyes met his, he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as his voice gave out and he gave an exasperated gesture mouth, a frustrated noise escaping from his nose. "It's okay," she replied, her own words catching in her throat. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his hand flexed into a fist, redirecting his frustration to have more control of his feelings, a shake of his head. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. 

She didn't speak, she just slowly popped a shoulder with a shrug and tilted her head to the right to meet it. He could tell she was grinding her teeth, that flex in her jaw evident. She cleared her throat and shook her head, "I can't eat right now." She scooted away from the table and took her plate with her, setting it in the fridge and escaping to their room. When that door shut, Diskant rubbed his hands over his face. Things weren't going to improve between them if he didn't try to get his words out but it was fucking near impossible. And God damn it he was downright exhausted at writing it all down. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to be able to tell her but he didn't want to waste the ink. He wanted his life back. The dishes were done before they'd sat down to eat, so, wanting to give himself time and continue to give Y/N her space, he slipped into the bathroom for his own shower.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly he was doing, Paul sighed. Shower, then figure it out with Y/N. They needed to talk, properly, even if it made him hoarse. Three weeks of struggling to just.... live and move on were enough. He brought his eyes to the mirror as his stood with his palms flat against the basin, his scar peeking out the top collar of his white tee. 

He'd grown to looking in the mirror more often than when he'd first come home. His reflection made him feel somewhat of a beast, a man no longer what he once was but something of fright. The scar by no means was earth shatteringly grotesque, and Paul wasn't naturally a man of conceitedness, however, it was still a shock to see. 

Not for the first him he'd wondered how it looked to Y/N. It was hideous in his mind, and he was afraid she was grossed out because of it too. The bullet had pierced through one of the places on his body where he simply relished her touch. From the friendly and tender tickle on the couch as they watched TV to the desperate way she would cling to it as she lay under him, it was just something they had shared since the start and now he held a million worries. It might hurt, maybe her touch would have lost the ability to drag the reactions it normally did, that he would have lost that special place that she only she knew about and could use to make him melt.

He was scared of his own girl’s touch, and while it was an absolute ridiculous notion, it flat out petrified him. It petrified him for the very fact that he couldn't feel ANYTHING there. Not the water that touched it, the feel of his own fingers ghosting over it or the bite of a pinch he'd given himself just to test the nerves.

He felt nothing. 

He stared at his reflection, running a hand over the month long beard that had grown as of late. He wasn't supposed to shave, having been on blood thinners since his surgery, but those ran out a few days ago. Turning his head to the right, and then to the left, he sighed. Maybe he'd feel a bit better if he did…more like himself. 

With a sigh he pulled the trimmers from under the sink and plugged them into the outlet. Then he started filling the sink with lukewarm water, preparing a fresh razor for use. Stripping down to his boxer briefs, he took a good look at himself, eyes burning into the mirror as he took in his pale colour, his sad eyes, the dark circles under them, no doubt result of the nightmares waking both he and Y/N in the night, and then that ugly line. He sighed as his mind travelled back to their first night home from the hospital… He hadn’t meant to push everyone away but it was overwhelming. He just wanted her. His second chance at life was handed to him and all he wanted was her, time with her. Everyone and everything else could wait. He was a little unsteady on his feet, a weak wobble really that would surely pass the more he moved but he wasn't his entirely strong self either. He felt weak, looked pale and was sporting a near two week stubble that was itchy, but there was nothing he could do about it. More pressing than the ever increasing facial hair, however, was the fact he was craving a shower. Having suffered the indignity of nothing but sponge baths and body washes in the hospital, he simply wanted nothing more than to stand under the steam of their surprisingly powerful shower, in their little bathroom and clean himself off, wash away the clinical smell of the hospital that seemed to cling to his skin.

He turned the water on first, the sound of it spraying from the shower head a joyful sound. He knew he'd have to go slow, take it easy and be gentle on himself. Paul slipped his sweats down over his narrow hips, the material pooling at his feet and he kicked them away to the corner of the space. Then, with trembling fingers, he started on his button down, swallowing back a nervous knot painfully in his throat. 

By the time he was stripped down to his boxer briefs, there was a covering of steam on the mirror and he swiped at it with his hand. Then gently, ever so gently, he began to peel back the medical tape holding the gauze to his neck, knowing he’d have to replace the dressing once he’d showered. Not that it mattered, he’d been sent home with what felt like enough gauze, dressings and surgical tape to patch up a fucking army.

What he saw was not his own skin. Gone was his St. Christopher medallion on his favourite chain, one his parents had gotten him when he graduated from the Police Academy, and near where the chain would lay against his collarbone and neck was the repair hours of surgery and a week and a half in the hospital had caused him. Still, he was alive. When all was said and done, a chain could be replaced and his wound would heal.

With a final glance at his wound he carefully stepped into the hot water, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he relished the way it felt on his skin, searing the back of his legs, his ass and lower back. He took a half step back and the water moved up to just under his shoulder blades. As the water beat down on him, he grabbed a bottle of his favoured shower gel and lathered a good amount all over himself, before rinsing and repeating the motion several times. Then, with a movement that was more reflex than conscious, he picked up Y/N's gel and turned the cap, taking a long inhale of the scent that comforted him. He felt his throat tighten and he started to panic, but quickly realized he was swallowing down a cry rather than there being a problem with his wound. He placed the gel back and turned his face into the stream of water, blinking fiercely as the tears welled and bled from his screwed up eyes, mingling with the steady droplets that hit his cheeks from the shower.

He leaned into the stream farther, allowing it to wash over his head, literally drowning out the sound of everything around him. His palms rested flat against the tile, a stretch and pull from his muscles that had atrophied during his stay. Awakening muscles and tendons that were mangled and manipulated to heal.

How long he was in there, he had no idea, but eventually, he felt the temperature starting to drop a little, signalling he'd been in there far longer than he'd intended. Reaching out, he turned the shower off and then stepped out, grabbing a towel which he ran over his head, almost snorting when he remembered his hair was no longer as short as it had been, realising that Y/N had never really seen him with hair as such before.

Because yeah, that’s what she was going to be looking at. His hair, not the huge three inch gash on his neck that made him look like some kind of fucking Frankenstein monster. 

With a roll of his eyes, Paul wrapped his lower half in a towel and opened the door to the bathroom, stepping across the hall. When he entered the bedroom, he found Y/N sitting in the edge of their bed, a familiar necklace in her hands like a rosary, her knees bouncing up and down. He noted how cautiously she lifted her eyes to look at his, and didn't miss the way they quickly flicked to his wound and back to his. He felt that painful lump in his throat for again. She rose to her feet and took a step toward him. 

“The chain, well... they had to cut it.” She said quietly, holding out her hand where the necklace sat. “So I got you a new one.” She held it out to him and he paused, his hand reaching towards the chain “The pendant was fine so...”

He reached out to take it, his fingers softly brushing her palm as he clasped the metal in his hands. He turned the small, silver disk over and gave her a small smile before he placed it on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to put it on?” She asked, moving to pick it up. “I can-"

With a movement that was a little harsher than he’d meant he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it still a few inches away from the chain. She turned to look at him, a combination of shock and puzzlement on her face as he hastily shook his head.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Paul ran his hand over his face and shook his head at her. “S’okay.” Were the only words he could manage to rasp out. His eyes bored into her as he desperately tried to make her understand he wasn’t angry at her.

"I'll uh... You start getting dressed and I'll grab the bag from the hospital."

“Bag?” He half spoke, half mouthed at her, his brow creasing in puzzlement. 

"The one with the bandages."

He shook his head, waving his hands. “I can-“ his voice broke and she smiled.

“Paul, it’s fine, let me...”

He once more shook his head. 

“Baby...”

At that his fist slammed on the nightstand and making her jump.

Her breath was shaky and her lip quivered, her eyes instantly watering. He knew for a fact he'd scared Y/N for he'd never reacted like that in any situation with her.

Backing away from him, she held her hands up defensively and shrugged, "Okay, I'll just go get it for you."

As he recalled the memory, his head hung in disgrace, much the same as it had that evening when she’d left the room, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to push her away like he had, but since that first time he’d continued to do so. And the more he did, the harder it was to stop. And she took it, never biting back or losing her patience. She accepted the fact that he showed her less affection, took everything he threw at her and then some, because she loved him. And damned it, he loved her, he loved her so fucking much it truly, physically hurt. And the thought that he was hurting her because of his inability to sort the jumbled mess in his head was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he set out on the task he'd started. A shave and a shower. The vibration of the trimmers hummed against his cheeks and neck, trimming away the longer hairs, creating a stubble he then fully removed with his cream and razor. Then, he showered, taking his time, losing himself in his thoughts and playing back the last month in his mind. It was no walk in the park and a frustration and anger bubbled just beneath the surface, it was like he'd recognized he wasn't the same. And was fighting a never ending battle with himself to pull out of the darkness that had overcome him so he could let her light shine in. Fuck it, he needed to do it. He needed to rip the proverbial fucking band aid off and own up to his shit. Because losing her, that was absolutely not an option. 

But how? Would she be willing? After all he'd put her through. He was still scared, and he knew his own limits were still there. But they had to start connecting or he was going to lose her. He felt it. 

Towelling off, he disposed of his laundry in the dirty hamper and wrapped his towel around him. He looked in the mirror and again wiped off the condensation. He nodded at his reflection. Now he looked like Diskant. HER Disco. He smiled a little to himself and left the bathroom, feeling a lot different than when he'd entered. 

When she wasn't in their room, he dressed in jeans and a tee, flip flops on his feet and headed down their small hall. He saw her tucked into the couch, a slouched long sleeve over her taught frame, denim shorts on those hips and legs that made his mouth dry. He could see the smoothness of them and his fingers tingle to touch them. Deep red painted toes balanced on the edge of the coffee table as she read the book she'd started recently. 

He sat down next to her, garnering her attention. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes that make him weak. Make him purr and melt and feel like he can conquer the world all at once. Those eyes that make him feel like a man above himself. 

At the risk of losing his voice entirely, he began with, "I feel cooped up and it's driving me crazy. Can we go somewhere?" 

A smile so genuine spread across her lips that it twisted his gut and sped up his heart. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where?" 

He shook his head, "I just want to go. I want us to get out of here." He made sure emphasize the us in that reply, even if it didn't sound as so. 

"Okay, let's go," she tossed her book on the coffee table and stood, grabbing her bag by the door and slipping into flip flops of her own.

****

You humoured his request, just to go for a drive. And you drove for hours, all over the place. But little did you realize where you'd end up eventually.

It was late in the day and the parking lot was emptying out. You'd pulled into a spot and turned to him, the Ferris wheel and various stands along the pier behind you. His eyes were covered by his own Wayfarers but his smile was soft and sweet.

"I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry?" You said to him, a humorous tone to your voice. Your words echoing ones he'd spoken to you so long ago, words that had become an inside joke between you. 

He chuckled lightly, softly and replied with a nod as the two of you exited the car. You waited for him to meet you on your side. The second he joined you, he took your hand in his and together you walked the bike path until the steps up to the pier were accessible.

He stood at the railing, about halfway down, as you ordered two beers, two hot dogs and fries to share. The sun was just at the horizon, painting the sky in watercolour sherbet, and Paul's silhouette stood out against it. He saw you approach and grabbed his dog and beer from you, lightening your load. The two of you shacked up at a table near the games, almost the same table the two of you sat at on your first date.

“You know, I was suckered into a first date here? Guy was a total swindler, stalker too."

He swallowed his bite of food and washed it down with beer before he smiled and rasply said, "you were willing to go with me. I didn't sucker you."

“You totally trapped me.”

"You needed help, I offered," he pointed to himself, then to you and smiled, "willing participant."

"However you spin it so you can sleep at night," you sighed. "I'm just glad I fell for it."

Paul nodded, "me too." He perched his sunglasses on top of his head. "I love you, so much." He took your beer from your hand and set it on the table top, whilst pulling both of your hands into his. 

You couldn't hide the obvious hitch in your chest at the outward affection. The lump in your throat hurt to swallow as your eyes welled up. "I know, I love you, too. More than anything." You fought the emotion in your words, the way they were starting to make your voice quiver.

He sighed at your emotion and shook a deep breath. “This isn't easy." He stalled, allowing his voice rest a second in order to keep trying to get his words out. "I'm not easy." He paused again. "I’m sorry.”

"It's okay," you shook your head.

"It's not." His voice was starting to give way again and you saw the frustration on his face.

“Hey...” you squeezed his hand, “I’d rather you did take it out in me than bottle it all up. I don’t like it when you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” It broke you to watch him struggle, each and every day it broke you. And you were at the end of your rope, frayed and tired of keeping it together. You sighed. “Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Text me for Christ's sake!”

He chortled a bit and shook his head, "it's not the same." He brought your hands to his lips and you closed your eyes at the feeling it gave you.

You shook your head, if he wasn't going to make the first move then you needed to try. "Do you trust me?"

He frowned and nodded. “Always.”

Without words, you leaned forward, scooting yourself onto the edge of his seat bench and leaned the forearm to your left arm against his right shoulder. Your fingers scratching behind his ear. Gently you brought your right hand up his chest, slowly, delicately, over his shoulder and he flinched away from you. "Paul, please," you whispered. You could see the way his body started to shake, his breathing laboured. "It's just me, baby."

The closer your fingers got, the more his hands twitched to pull you away. You didn't know for certain what was going on on the inside, but you had a pretty good idea. On the outside, his eyes shone back at you with fear as he tried to just breathe. Then your fingertips brushed the raised pink skin that just peeked over the edge of his tee…

The pads of her fingers felt like red, hot needles the way his skin was reacting. But that was nothing compared to what was firing in his brain.

He clenched his teeth together, tried to keep his breathing calm and regular as those gentle fingers that could make him purr and sing moved delicately over the raised edges of his scar, her eyes never once leaving his. Quickly, the feeling of red hot needles dissipated and he felt nothing but a relief that washed over him from his scar to his toes. He could just feel her and that was monumental. 

A deep, shaky breath rumbled his chest as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it all twitched under her touch. It felt the same. Nothing had changed, that familiar tingle he usually felt at her touch sparked something deep inside. The involuntary little shudder he always emitted when she hit that little sweet spot, shot up and down his spine and he felt his lips curl up on a smile as his girl beamed at him. 

“See.” She whispered.

“How...” his voice croaked and the words died as he took a deep breath, giving himself a moment. “How did you know that was...” another pause before he shook his head, gesturing to his mouth.

“Because, Paul Christopher Diskant, I know you inside out.” She delicately touched him still, her nails just at that spot that made him quiver. "This doesn't change anything. Not now, not ever."

He let out a strained sob, pulling her close, his lips harshly on hers.

“Tell me about it, Stud.” She smiled against his lips. 

"Let's go home," he managed before his voice cut out again.

“Is that an order or a request?” She teased.

He grinned and popped a shoulder in response. 

The drive from Santa Monica to home was the most comfortable you'd been in weeks, and you could tell Paul was too. As you drove, he couldn't stop smiling, like this weight had been lifted and the fog between you cleared. His eyes didn't leave your profile, his fingers entwined between yours, never letting go.

****

His hand never left yours as you walked the short path from the garage to your little one bedroom shack, even single-handed unlocking and opening the door. You couldn't even step through the threshold before his lips were on yours, soft and slow, gentle, his tongue gliding through the opening you gave him. A kiss so deep you were sure the two of you were ethereally floating. You tossed your bag on the couch as you passed it by, toeing off your sandals as Paul gently tugged on your hand, an instruction to follow him.

Down the narrow hall you went, directly to your bedroom tucked off in the right corner at the end of it. Again, his lips are on yours and if you didn't know any better, you'd detected a slight tremble in his touch as his hands came to hold your face close to his. Your hands rested against his chest as he kissed you breathless. There was no rush or desperation behind his kiss, if anything a wanton need crept through the both of you but you weren't going to push him, no. You knew Paul needed to set the pace, for whilst you could read him like a book, this terrain was new and navigating his new emotions and fears needed to be on his time and terms.

You were just happy he was touching you again, allowing you to touch him. You missed him, missed the way the two of you were. This had by far been the longest the two of you had been intimately separated since your beginning. 

His hands left your cheeks and gently gripped at the bottom of your top. You stepped back a little, raising your arms so he could pull it straight over your head. You watched his eyes soften as he looked at you, almost like he was seeing you for the first time again. You reached for the hem of his own shirt, but he took a half step back, freezing you.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, “if you’re not ready, leave it on or... it can wait, we can wait.”

He swallowed hard and quickly his hand gripped the back of his collar, pulling the tee over his head. You took care to keep your eyes locked on his, knowing exactly what was making him nervous- his scars. As his eyes searched yours, your face broke into a smile and then he was back on you, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as his mouth claimed yours. His hands felt warm on your skin as they travelled up your sides, only letting go to move to your jaw and neck. His thumbs across your cheek, his fingers splayed around your neck and into your hair. 

He kissed you with all tongue, his lips massaging against yours as he changed the position of his head, tilting it the opposite way. And for a moment he pulled away, his hands still on you, the burn of his eyes lustfully blown as they bore into yours. Then, he moved in on you again, his nose bumping against yours as his thick, flat tongue filled your mouth fully, yours submitting against it, allowing him to devour you. It was as if he was opening up your soul, tasting feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow. You felt as if your body was going to explode with the feeling sheer desire and love flooding hours state, but above it all, happiness that he was kissing you like this again. 

It left you breathless and wanting more. You actively fought the urge to rip his belt buckle open and shove his jeans down, trying hard to leave him to set the pace. But, as always, he could read you like the pages of a well-worn novel and that maddeningly smug, cheeky school-boy grin crossed his face. It twisted your insides and made your skin tingle.

His fingers wound through your hair as he backed you towards the mattress. As the crook of your knees hit the side of the bed, he kissed you again, his fingers moving to the button of your denim shorts. Your mind was excited, your body fully responding to his touch, his movements. You’d missed this. His fingertips touched your tummy and you shivered, the denim quickly falling away as you fell onto the mattress.

You watched as he undid his button and flies, the zipper echoing in the stillness of your room, bouncing off the exposed brick and vibrating in your ears. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his denims, strong thighs, arms and taught abs flexing as he crawled over you, his hands planting either side of your head. The muscles of his shoulders twitched as he lowered himself over you, his lips claiming yours in a slow dance, his tongue leisurely tangling with yours, a soft sigh escaping him.

You continued to resist the urge to touch him where you have always shown him you're there with him, that part of him that makes him sing and shiver. That spot that only you know of that makes him melt against you, submit to his lust and desires for you. Instead, as his tongue felt every part of yours, his hands caging himself over you, you tilted your hips, your hands grazing the underside of his biceps, curling around the raised skin of his tattoos. At the feel of your pelvis bumping his, he gave a little grunt, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing to yours as he returned the gesture, his own grinding into yours, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable through his boxer briefs as it brushed against the thin cotton and lace of your panties.  His words hit your ears, "need you, Sugar, so bad." You practically purred as you heard your nickname clearly and for the first time in weeks, not strangled by pain, or muted by frustration. His voice was his own once again and it caused a sting in your eyes. Your hands moved along his torso, from his ribs down to his hips, the waistband of his boxers bent by your fingertips. All whilst his lips moved over your jaw, behind your ear where you gasped before he moved down your neck, nestling soft kisses against the tops of your breasts. “You got me, Stud. Always.” At that, he crashed his lips to yours in an attempt to hide the sob you could faintly feel against your own lips.

Your hands gently cupped his jaw, holding his face to yours as the kiss grew desperate, his hips rolling into yours again. Suddenly, he moved back, kneeling between your legs as his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” His voice was raspy once more as he issued the instruction, yet the undercurrent of desire was unmistakable. Obliging to his instruction, you raised your hips off the bed and allowed him to pull them down, his body shuffling along the bed as he glided the garment down over your legs. His heavy hands caressed up your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles over your skin. God, did your skin burn in delight at his touch, you had to wonder and think if he felt the same. There was no denying he did, or you wouldn't be here, you'd still be at the pier, figuring out how to navigate his feelings, his fears. His body led over you, your sex and his barely touching, but yet twitching and pulsing with deep desires of need. His hand pulled down the cup of your bra, his mouth taking gentle nips against your breast as his mouth moved to your nipple, where he gently rolled it between his lips before his tongue swirled the sensitive nub. Your back arched in pleasure, one hand twisting in his hair, the other fisting in the sheets besides you. His free hand slipping behind your back to expertly unclasp your bra, allowing it to loosen around your arms.  "Paul...." you moaned. His free hand reached for yours that was fisted in the sheets, pulling your fingers apart and taking your palm against his, entwining your fingers. You were more than ready for him. Like he needed you, you just needed him too. It took one rock, one hip thrust and he slid right inside. "Oh fuck," you both let out, his a good rasp and yours a whimper. It felt so good, beyond good, the way he filled you, stretched you. You wasted no time in flicking your hips up towards his as he thrust down. Your insides fluttered as you joined together each time. God, did it feel... so... fucking... good. Again and again he rocked into you, his movements needy but not harsh, as a desperate need filled you both. You lightly nudged him with a knee and together you rolled, him to his back and you over his hips, still with him settled inside you. Tossing your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you rocked against him whilst he reached up and held your bouncing breasts in his hands, a gentle tweak of each nipple. The sensation sent ripples to your middle, warmth pooling at your core and you gave a soft moan of delight before you bent forward, your lips on his. The kiss was sloppy, his hips still rocking up into you as your pelvis rolled against his. You were close, you knew he could feel you twitching around him. Your lips were covering his as you slowly bounced and rocked on top of him, a pressure to your clit that was blissfully crippling.

In a sudden exertion of strength, Paul sat up and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips moving over your collar bone and down your sternum. He was as deep inside you as he could go, bottoming out as the angle changed and he was clearly hitting a new spot that erupted your insides like a volcano. Your body shook as your orgasm boiled at its peak, with each jut of his hips against you. With one hand around you, the other moving hair away from your eyes and keeping it back by his fingers, his nose rubbed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he brought your lips to his. You were going to come and it was going to be absolutely amazing. Deepening your kiss, your fingers scratched at the back of his neck, just at the nape of his hairline and you started to feel him quiver. There he was, right there, like always. Your lips broke free from his and nipped at his strong jaw before kissing at the joint where it met his ear. You were careful now, despite the throws of your own orgasm starting to crash around you, to weigh your moves with precise care as you gently, delicately kissed down his neck. Your lips hit that pinkish-red raised mark and your world exploded. The blood surged to your ears, deafening you as you came, hard. Your eyes fluttered closed but the noise he made broke through clear as day, and they flew open again. Those beautiful blues were locked into your gaze as his broken whimper of your name blew into a loud groan as he clung to you, his hips stilling, his eyes fluttering shut. His noise died down, catching in his throat, his chest heaving as you felt him twitch inside of you, the after-throws of both your orgasms pulsing together. Tenderly, your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him softly, feeling him sag a little, and you gently pushed on his chest. You didn’t want him to release his hold but you knew he was going to be exhausted. He didn’t take much persuasion, his body boneless as he sank onto the soft mattress behind him. You went with him, your head tucking under his chin as the pair of you recovered, the only sound in the room the dying pants as you both eagerly drew breath.

His hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head as you shifted and pressed your lips to his jaw.

“You okay?” You asked. 

He nodded, swallowing hard as his other arm ran up and down your spine, fingers gently tracing a path along your still touch sensitive body. His lips pressed to the crown of your head. 

When you'd regained the feeling of life back into to your body, you sat up, rolling off of Paul's hips, garnering a look of confusion from him. He loved when you would keep him inside you, and continue to feel the warmth of one another's bodies. You smiled softly at him, sleepily. You saw the look on his face, the look of contentment but of need and seeking comfort. It was a look you'd come to memorize as his 'I'm tired' look. Soft features, heavy eyes. Blissed out from love making or not, Paul was exhausted and you read every hint of it you memorized over the years. 

"C'mere," you now rasped, your voice rattled by emotion and dry from moaning. 

His lazy smirk crossed his lips and he knew that tone. He knew what was coming next. He rolled to his left and pressed his lips to yours gently before laying his head on your chest. You traced your first two fingers gently up and down his neck, along his shoulder and back up, a repeated pattern you only you had the map to. 

A combination of a contented sigh with a little hum left his throat as his weight over you grew heavier, like the comfort of a weighted blanket. You blinked back the tears, because although you'd heard it time and time again, right then, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever made. 

**** Part 5

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #Paul Diskant #paul diskant fan fiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #street kings fan fic

[hawkinsindiana]

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous. 

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more. 

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose. 

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives. 

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him. 

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements. 

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat. 

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it. 

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth. 

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier. 

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore. 

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late. 

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth. 

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too. 

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.” 

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid. 

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets. 

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep. 

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.” 

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her. 

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise. 

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened. 

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time. 

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him. 

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms. 

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder. 

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention. 

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow. 

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction. 

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it. 

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for. 

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.” 

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.” 

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working. 

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it. 

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you. 

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?” 

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore. 

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here. 

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine. 

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.” 

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels. 

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else. 

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves. 

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain. 

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

[jensenswinchester]

I’ve Got You

Square: Cuddling Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2352 Warnings: If cuddling Dean Winchester is a warning, then you’ve been warned. Lil’ bit of angst but lotta bit of fluff! Summary: When Dean loses control during a hunt, Y/N makes sure he knows he’s not alone. A/N: For @spnmixedbingo​ and @spnfluffbingo​!

Over the years, Y/N witnessed the many sides of Dean Winchester, but she wasn’t prepared to see him so torn up and uneasy now that he bore the Mark of Cain. He thought she didn’t notice the flinches, winces, and the grabs at his arm. It was no secret that the Mark was affecting him somehow. She heard him tossing and turning in the room next to hers at night, she saw the longing stares at the bottles of liquor. The Mark made him terrifying when he needed to be, but he was the most vulnerable when he was alone with his thoughts. Dean wanted to create space between them, he knew he could snap at any minute and the thought of hurting Y/N because of the Mark he asked for made him sick.

It was a particularly rough day. Dean lost control again during the hunt, leaving Sam and Y/N bewildered as they stared at the man, First Blade in his shaking hands. Y/N wanted nothing more than to run to his side, to wrap him in her arms and remind him that he was still the greatest man she knew, but the sight of the blade made her stomach turn. Dean had created so much distance between himself and his girl that she wasn’t even sure he’d welcome her embrace.

“Dean, drop the blade,” Sam urged, trying to remain calm so as not to alarm his brother.

“Dean, you’re okay. It’s over,” Y/N soothed, her voice shaking. Sam put his arm out to keep her behind him.

Dean began to come to, snapping out of whatever daze he was in. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking around the room at the slaughtered vampires and their victims. He looked down at his hands, seeing all the blood covering his skin and his clothes. He dropped the Blade as if it were on fire, burning his skin to the touch.

“Kick it over to me, Dean.”

Dean looked up at his brother, slowly getting to his feet and nudging the Blade in Sam’s direction with his foot, refusing to look at Y/N before leaving the warehouse and making his way to Baby. Sam shrugged off his flannel and bent down to pick up the Blade, wrapping it in his shirt.

“Sam, what do we do? He hasn’t had the Mark that long and it already has a hold on him.”

“For now, we keep this blade far away from him. Without the temptation of the blade maybe it’ll calm down enough for us to figure out a better plan.”

“How are we going to keep it from him? You know Dean, if he wants something, he gets it.”

“Leave it to me, for now let’s get him home and I’ll take care of it.”

Y/N nodded, following Sam out of the warehouse. They found Dean attempting to clean himself up, though he was still covered in now-dried blood and his skin was stained red. 

“Hey Dean, how about I drive and you try to get some rest. Y/N can sit up front with me and you can take the back seat to stretch out. We’ll be home soon and then you can clean up properly.”

As if still in a daze, Dean gave a brief nod before climbing into the back seat, passing the keys to Sam before making himself comfortable. Y/N sighed quietly, getting into the passenger’s seat beside Sam as he started the engine, driving them back to the Bunker.

The ride was quiet, Dean having passed out sooner than expected. Y/N was fighting sleep, too anxious about Dean to allow herself to rest. Her heart ached for the older hunter. Simply put, she missed him. She never expected him to ask for a break or space from their relationship. All she wanted to do was help him through this mess but all he wanted to do was keep her safe. He didn’t care that she trusted him with her life; he didn’t trust himself with it while bearing the Mark. 

When Baby pulled into the garage, Sam gently shook Dean awake, throwing his hands up in defense when his brother shot up alarmed. 

“Dean it’s just us, we’re home. Let’s get you inside, yeah?” Dean climbed out of the back seat and stormed into the Bunker, leaving Sam and Y/N to carry in the bags. 

“I guess he remembered what happened and now we have grumpy Dean.” Sam looked down at Y/N, giving her a sad smile.

“Listen, I know you two are on a little break, but I can’t comfort him the way you can, and I know my brother, and I know right now he’s hurting, he’s confused, and he’s upset with himself. He may not want to admit it but he does need you, way more than he’s ever let on.”

“I don’t want to disrespect his wishes, Sam.”

“I know, but I’m telling you, he needs you. Go on, I’ll grab the bags.” He gave her a gentle nudge in the Bunker door’s direction, chuckling as she made her way into the underground fortress.

Y/N followed the twists and turns of the hallway until she got to her bedroom, finding Dean’s door closed next to hers. She knocked on his door, turning the knob when she didn’t hear a response. The man was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor with his hands on his thighs.

“Dean…? Can I run you a bath? Help you clean up?”

“No,” he answered gruffly, still refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Dean, you asked for space. I’m giving you space, but I never agreed to not take care of you, especially when you need it. You take care of everyone else, let yourself be taken care of for once.” Dean didn’t budge and Y/N pursed her lips, going to his dresser and pulling out a henley and sweatpants. “You seem to have forgotten that I don’t take no for an answer, so let’s go.”

Dean rolled his eyes and got up, following Y/N to the bathroom down the hall. She handed him the clothes she picked out, stopping outside the bathroom door. “My aromatherapy body wash is under the sink if you’d like to use it. Always calms me down after a rough day. If you need anything, holler.” She watched him enter the bathroom before going back to her room to change into her pajamas and unpack her duffel. She finished getting ready for bed at the sink in the corner of her room, waiting to hear Dean come down the hall and enter his room. She had no idea how she was going to approach the situation, she just knew she needed to do something to make sure Dean knew he wasn’t alone in dealing with the Mark.

She was packing her duffel away when she heard Dean’s footsteps coming closer to her room before he entered his own. She gave him a few minutes to get settled, taking the time to handle her nerves. What the hell was she nervous about? This was Dean, her man, there was no reason to be this nervous. She took a deep breath before knocking on his bedroom door, hearing an agitated grunt as a response. She rolled her eyes and pushed the door open, finding Dean in the same position as earlier, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at the floor. His damp hair was standing up in every direction, indicating he had run his fingers through it a ridiculous amount of times while he stewed in his irritation.

“Dean,” she sighed, closing the door behind her.

“Y/N,” he grunted, turning his head away from her. She shook her head, crossing the distance between the doorway and his bed. “Y/N, no-“

She ignored his protests, straddling his thighs and sitting down on his lap. When he refused to meet her gaze, she cupped his cheeks and gently turned his head, making his pretty olive eyes lock with hers. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he huffed, though it was easy to see that his guard was slowly crumbling down. Y/N smiled, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. She kissed his temple, resting her cheek against his as she held him, his body tense against hers.

“Dean, you can hug me back.”

“Don't wanna hurt you,” he mumbled, mostly talking into her shoulder.

“You won’t hurt me, and even if you do, you taught me how to defend myself. I could take you.”

“Not a chance.”

“Dean Winchester, if you don’t hug me back, I will tickle you. And don’t you dare say you aren’t ticklish, I’ve heard you squeal like a little girl if someone so much as pokes your side wrong.”

“Y/N you’re such a pain,” Dean huffed again, limply wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You can do better than that.” Dean rolled his eyes, tightening his hold on her. “I’m supposed to be your pain, Dean.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his body starting to relax. He buried his face in her shoulder, Y/N rocking them from side to side carefully. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, Dee. Sam and I, we want to help you. Any way we can. And don’t you even try to say you can handle it on your own. I know you can, you’re the strongest man I know, but this? This isn’t something anyone should have to do alone, nor is it something you deserve.”

“Yes I do,” he whispered. “I’ve done terrible things-“

“Darling, the amount of good you’ve done surely outweighs anything bad you’ve ever done. You’ve saved so many lives, Dee. You stopped the apocalypse. You saved the literal world. You don’t deserve anything less than everything good this world has to offer. You’re not a bad person, Dean. I’m not just saying that. I genuinely believe your heart is good. None of us would be here without you.”

“I’m scared.” The words tasted foreign on his tongue. Dean was never one to discuss his feelings, not liking to be vulnerable. Y/N and Sam were the exceptions, he felt comfortable sharing some of his feelings with them, but he’d never told anyone he was scared before.

“It’s okay to be scared, Dean. It’s a scary Mark and a scary burden to bear. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his grip continuing to tighten as he held onto Y/N, almost for dear life. He hated that he pushed her away to cope on his own and now he desperately wanted her back. He nudged his face further into the crook of her neck, his fingers squeezing the material of her pajama top.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” she pulled back slightly, kissing his forehead. “How about we lay down yeah? You need to get some sleep, babe.”

Dean nodded, letting go of Y/N so they could crawl into his bed. She scooted behind him, spooning him, Dean sinking back against her front. She reached for his right hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing softly. She looked down at the Mark on his arm and cringed. “Does it hurt?”

“Feels like when you have pins and needles and sunburn all at the same time,” he winced. He pulled their interlocked fingers up to his chest, holding her hand over his heart tightly. Y/N smiled, dipping her head down to press a soft kiss to the back of his neck. He shuddered in her hold, smiling to himself as he tucked himself under her chin.

“I told you you’re ticklish,” she teased. 

“Felt nice though, made me relax.” Y/N smiled, nuzzling her nose at the back of his neck. “I love you, you know.”

“I know Dean, I love you, too. Every inch of your stubborn ass.”

“I was trying to be cute.”

“You don’t have to try, you just are,” she giggled. “But seriously, please don’t push me away, babe. I’m here for you, I’ve got you, always. I want to help in any way I can.”

Dean melted in her embrace, relaxing against her. “I just don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart. The Mark, it takes over sometimes and I don’t want you to be the one that gets hurt because of it.”

“Dean…I know you’re trying to protect me, and I appreciate that and love that about you…but maybe you need to let me and Sam try to protect you for a bit. Just until you get a handle on the Mark and learn to understand it better.”

Dean brought their interlocked hands from his chest to his lips, kissing the back of her hand before turning over in her arms to face her. “If it gets to be too much for you, I need you to promise me you’ll walk away.”

“Dean-“

“Y/N, I’m serious. If I agree to this, I need to know that when it gets too dangerous, you’ll be safe. Promise me.”

Y/N stared into Dean’s eyes, those pretty green orbs always able to say what he wouldn’t allow himself to voice out loud. The worry was evident, but the love was enough to make her heart stop in her chest. She knew she could never actually walk away from him when he needed her most, but if it made him feel better to hear her say it, she could give him that much.

“Y/N-“

“I promise, Dean.” She brushed her lips against his in a soft kiss, sealing the deal.

“Thank you,” he sighed with relief, pulling her impossibly closer. He showered her cheeks in kisses, making her squeal and squirm as his days-old scruff tickled her skin. “Missed this.”

“Missed you.”

“Well played,” he hummed, combing his fingers through her hair as she snuggled into his chest. “Remind me never to do that again.”

“Oh trust me, Winchester. I will.”

Tagging: @lyarr24​ @gia-25​ @waywardrose13​

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