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l0velysmut · 1 month

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neteyam x fem!reader x aonung

contains: PURE FILTH!!!! poly relationship, dom!aonung, sub!neteyam, switch!reader, na’vi!reader, oral (neteyam + reader receiving), guided oral, dirty talk, p in v, creampie, cum eating, voyeurism ???, brief hand job, use of Y/N. i think that’s it.

na’vi words: kelku = home , muntxate = wife , muntxatan = husband , yawne = beloved , kuru = neural queue.

wc: 2.8k (holy shit) unedited

a/n: i wrote this while on cloud 9 😭 idk what was going thru my head, my fingers were just typing and now we have this.

“C’mon, be a good girl for me.” Aonung whispered into your ear as Aonung took hold on Neteyams throbbing cock, slapping the tip of his dick on your tongue gently. Even though Neteyam was the one standing up with both you and Aonung on your knees before him, you and Neteyam both knew very well that Aonung was still in charge. He almost always was.

You glance over at Aonung and see him staring at Neteyams tip which rested on your tongue, and you widen your mouth, taking Neteyam’s leaking tip into your mouth. Neteyam exhaled shakily, and Aonung “comforted” him shortly by rubbing his thigh whilst his other hand rested on the back of your head, pressing against the base of your kuru.

Aonung pushes your head further down Neteyams cock, forcing you to take his entire length into your mouth until you gagged. Aonung watched closely in delight as your eyes welled with tears, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, gripping your head tighter so that he could easily push your head back and forth on Neteyam’s cock.

Neteyam looked up at the ceiling of the kelku he and Aonung built together for the three of you with his hands behind his back, trying his best not to cum. He didn’t want to look down because he knew he would cum in an instant at the sight of you, but he also couldn’t handle it if Aonung happened to look up at him with that menacing glare. Aonung took away his privilege of making any noises — this was his punishment for being a brat for the whole day, although at first glance it would’ve seemed like you were being punished from the way Aonung bobbed your head back and forth on Neteyam’s cock roughly.

But no matter how rough Aonung was, he always praised you two unlike Neteyam who only got rough when he was mad and when he got mad, he tended to say mean and harsh things without thinking.

You gag on Neteyam’s cock, trying your best to inhale through your nose as Aonung forced your head. You started slobbering all over the poor man’s dick in such a short time, and you moaned before swallowing to envelop Neteyams cock tighter in your throat.

Neteyam bit his lip as hard as he could to hold back the noises that threatened to spill without permission, drawing a small amount of blood in the process. He huffed and took deep inhales and exhales, trying to calm himself down, but he mindlessly abandoned his past thoughts for a second and accidentally looked down at the sight below him.

He saw you with your hands on both of his thighs, gripping his plush flesh as you gulped and gagged on his cock, looking up at him with hazy eyes that were glossed over with lust. He also saw Aonung staring at the way you sucked his cock intensely, praising you and talking you through it.

“Good girl, Ma’Muntxate. Sucking his cock so well even though he doesn’t deserve it.” Aonung says to you, reaching his free hand down between your thighs, smirking at how wet you were then looking up at Neteyam who stared down with wide eyes.

Aonung stared into Neteyam’s eyes, giving a mocking pout which caused Neteyam to look away and stare at you instead.

You really were stuck in your own world as you slurped his cock down your throat. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, whimpering and whining around his cock as Aonungs fingers toyed with your clit, rolling it between his fingers and pinching whenever you gagged.

“Aonung- Sir! I’m gonna…” Neteyam whined out, beginning to get fidgety as he felt his orgasm approaching, the heat in his lower abdomen growing more and more.

Aonung pulled your head off Neteyam’s cock, causing a surprised choke to leave your lips as you gasp for air, spit dripping down your chin and neck. You lick your lips and look up at Neteyam, but Aonung releases the back of your head to grab your chin to force you to look at him.

You make passionate eye contact with him, and he rubs your slit, drenching his fingers before sinking the tips of two out of three fingers into you, making you gasp and squirm on your knees.

“Been so good for me,” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your lips, getting a taste of Neteyams cock. “Let’s give our Teyam a show, shall we?”

You don’t say anything, you just grin and look up at Neteyam who’s chest seemed to be heaving as he silently begged for relief. He looked down at you and licked his lips, watching in agony as Aonung fingered you, making you moan and hold onto your other mate. You rolled your hips against Aonungs hand all while looking up at Neteyam who whimpered with tears forming.

Aonungs ears perk up at the noise that leaves the slim man, and his head shoots up to give him a glare. Neteyam gulped and without a second thought, he backed up and sat on the ground just like Aonung wanted. Aonung mentally cursed at his muntxatan for knowing his sexual habits so well, and Aonung nodded his head in approval.

“It’s okay, Tey. Just be good and we’ll give you what you want.” You say, crawling over to be in between Neteyam’s legs. You trail a finger up his pulsing cock, and kiss his lips softly. Neteyam eagerly kissed back, trying to deepen the kiss, but Aonung caught it and pulled you away, laying you down on your back right in between Neteyams legs.

You rest your head on Neteyams thigh as Aonung hovered over you, his hand pressed against your stomach to hold you down.

“Now, you’re gonna watch me fuck our yawne, and you’re not gonna do a single thing about it. No touching yourself, no touching her, no talking. Don’t even make a noise.” Aonung spat harshly at Neteyam who swallowed thickly and watched as Aonung pried his tewng off of his body, revealing his thick girth that leaked heavily of pre-cum. Your metkayina born mate rubbed your clit with his thumb, and then turned to look at Neteyam.

“Do you understand?” Aonung asked, glaring at him.

Neteyam nodded, but he quickly said, “Yes, sir,” because he knew that a simple action wouldn’t be good enough for Aonung.

“Be a good boy for us, okay? We’ll let you cum if you just behave.” You say softly to your mate, slightly feeling bad for him when you looked up and saw his eyes all glossy and lip quivering.

“It’ll be okay-“ You cut yourself off with a gasp when Aonung smacks his tip against your leaking folds to attempt to shut you up.

“Stop sweet talking him or else you won’t be able to cum either.” He warned, curly hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at you. You nod in understanding, and Neteyam furrowed his hairless brows in frustration when Aonung didn't react to your simple action. If it were him, he would’ve been punished for not using his words.

Neteyam watched as Aonung pushed into you with a groan. You moaned and one of your hands grabbed Neteyams thigh, digging your nails into his flesh.

“Fuck! I’m- ‘Nung!” You moan, already being so close to the finish line due to Aonungs foreplay minutes ago.

“I know, baby. I can feel you.” Aonung leaned down and pressed his lips against your forehead, fucking you deep and slow, stretching you out. At this moment, he wasn’t trying to fuck you dumb, he was making sweet sweet love to you because he knew that it would drive Neteyam crazy and make his head spin as well as yours.

You loved the stretch of Neteyam’s cock, but nothing could compare to the stretch of Aonungs cock. Aonung was much thicker then Neteyam — though Neteyam was longer — and he often had to stay still for a minute when he bottoms out in you to let you adjust.

“Look at her when she cums, forest boy.” Aonung demands, his pace growing faster so that you all could hear how wet you were.

Neteyam is forced to open his eyes and stare down at you as your back arches and you moan out Aonungs name over and over again. Pure euphoria was all Neteyam could see, and his cock twitched at the sight of you creaming all over Aonungs cock while you rest between his legs.

Aonung groans loudly at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around him repeatedly, and he brings one of his hands to your mouth, pushing his thumb between your lips and smiling in pleasure when you happily open your mouth to take in his thumb and suckle on it as if it were a cock.

Neteyams hips jerked, causing your head to jerk up as well which alerted Aonung of Neteyams action. Aonungs other hand pressed down on Neteyams thigh, right next to your head.

“Stay still.” Aonung says through gritted teeth as he continues to fuck you. He looks at Neteyam and he almost feels bad for a moment when he sees how vulnerable his muntxatan looked. “I know it’s hard, Teyam, but you’ll live. You’re a strong boy, aren’t you?”

Neteyam nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. ‘M your strong boy.”

“But you’re also hers.” Aonung corrected, tilting his head down to you who wasn’t even paying attention to your mates; you just closed your eyes and was in your own world once again as Aonung fucked you, hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“Yes, I’m hers.” Neteyam says, nodding again.

“Y’hear that, Ma’Y/N?” Aonung looks down at you, removing his thumb from your mouth, then chuckles. “Course you didn’t.”

“Hm?” You open your eyes and look up at Aonung who smirked down at you. Your gaze shifts to Neteyam, then back to Aonung. “We’re you talking to me?”

“Yes, but it’s okay, baby. Just keep laying there all pretty.” Aonung says to you gently, slowing his pace to grind his hips against you, his pelvis pressing against yours.

You whimper and nod, keeping your eyes open the best you could before they rolled into the back of your head when Aonung gave a particularly hard thrust against that pleasurable gummy spot inside of you.

“Fuck, she feels so good. So warm and tight. Bet you wish you could fuck her.” Aonung glances at Neteyam who bit his lip, then Aonung moans loudly when you clench around him for shits and giggles. “Naughty girl.”

You giggle softly and Aonung can’t help but smile. You look at Neteyam who was looking so desperate and agitated. You could tell he was itching to get some sort of friction as he shifted his hips slightly enough for you to feel it but not enough for Aonung to notice.

“Hmmm, gonna cum inside you. Paint your fucking insides white.” Aonung grunted, practically growling. “Y’gonna let me? Y’gonna let me breed you right in front of our mate? Huh?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Please, cum inside me ‘Nung. I need it!” You moan, rolling your hips to push him past his limit.

You hear Neteyams breathing get heavier, and you also hear Aonungs moans get louder and louder.

You loved how he didn’t care about the clan hearing. You loved that he took advantage of his role as Olo’eyktan, knowing that no one could tell him what to do or to be quiet.

One of your arms wraps around Aonungs neck, pulling him in so that he could rub his cheek against your scent glands, and one of your hands rubs Neteyam’s thighs. You sneakily brought your hand to wrap around his cock whilst Aonung didn’t have his eyes on him, and Neteyams jaw fell open, letting out silent moans.

Aonungs hips rutted against you to his hearts content, and his teeth sank into the skin of your shoulder as he smacked his hips against yours one final time.

He released into your with strangled moans and groans, his noises muffled against your skin. You feel his thick cum spurting inside of you, and you nearly came at the stimulation of his warm release. Aonung gripped Neteyams thigh tightly, and his other hand ran up your body to squeeze your tits. Aonung always came a lot in situations like these, so you made sure to comfort him through his orgasm.

Neteyam watches in pleasure between your hand stroking him slowly due to the awkward position you put your hand in to do so, and Aonungs orgasm, but Neteyams whines internally when your hand leaves his weeping cock to run your fingers through Aonungs loose and curly hair. You rub his neck, whispering sweet nothings into Aonungs ear.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Doing so well, baby.” You whisper softly to him, and he whines briefly.

Aonung lifts himself up with shaky arms and closed eyes before opening them to look down at you as he pulls out slowly. His cock seemed never ending as he was pulling out, and when he was finally out, you whimpered at the empty feeling in your stomach.

Aonung sits up and his knees, running his fingers through his hair whilst taking deep breaths. He grabs your hips and moves your body so that Neteyam could get a good view of Aonungs cum leaking out of your pretty pussy.

“Look at all that.” Aonung says, holding your legs open. Neteyam licked his lips, desperately wanting to disobey Aonungs orders and dive right in to the delicious meal on display for him.

“Aonung,” You call out to him, reaching a hand down to his forearm. “He’s been good, shouldn’t he be rewarded? I think he should.”

Neteyam is grateful for you trying to convince Aonung to let him join in on the fun, and he stares at you as you look at Aonung with your beautiful blue puppy eyes. Aonung looks back at you, contemplating in his mind. He can never say no to you when you look so gorgeous, and he growls in aggravation when he decides to oblige.

“I suppose you’re right. He’s been good enough, but don’t forget how he was acting earlier. His attitude is how we got in this position, anyway.” Aonung states and you shake your head.

“I didn’t forget. I just know we all have our bad days, and I think Teyam over here deserves a second chance.” You reply.

“You didn’t hear how he spoke to me.” Aonung argues, but you argue back.

“No, but I know that even you can be a bit mouthy when you’re in a bad mood. Why should his punishment be nothing? Why not everything all at once?” You suggest, gazing into Aonungs eyes. “You won’t talk to him like that again, now will you, Teyam?” You avert your attention to Neteyam who looked like he was about to burst any second.

“Fuck, please, I’ll never speak to you like that again, I promise.” Neteyam cries out, begging Aonung for forgiveness. “I was just in a bad mood, I swear. Just please give me something.”

“C’mon, ‘Nung. Who could say no to a pretty face like that?” You say, and Aonung looks at Neteyam, tracing the darker blue boys jawline softly.

Aonung huffs and takes hold of the back of Neteyams neck, pulling him up and then laying him on his stomach with his face right in front of your leaking pussy.

Neteyams hands go to grab your thighs once he gets a smell of yours and Aonungs scent mixed together, but Aonung growls and snaps, “Keep your hands behind your fucking back.”

Neteyam brings his hands back behind his back, and tries to inch his mouth closer to get a taste.

“Someone’s desperate.” You giggle, teasingly bringing your cunt closer to him.

“You have no idea.” He responds, eyes locked on all the juices that glistened in the dimly lit mauri. His mouth watered seeing Aonungs cum leaking and dripping down your taint and puckered hole, wanting nothing more than to drink it all up.

Aonung shifts to get behind Neteyam, then pushes Neteyams head into your cunt, causing a sharp moan to leave your lips. You’ve never felt Neteyam eat you out like this before, he was so hungry and his tongue worked wonders on your twitching bundle of nerves.

While that was happening, Aonung grabbed Neteyams thin tail which was swishing around and pulled it upwards, the fur on the tip of Neteyam’s tail curling inward to tickle his shoulder blades. Aonung pressed his tip against his aching hole, and Neteyam gasped against your drenched pussy when he felt it.

“Everything all at once, right?” Aonung inquired, looking at you for approval for once throughout the entire night. And when you nodded once feeling Aonungs heavy gaze, the real fun began and the night took a turn for the better.

another a/n: this has to be the longest and probably most interesting smut i’ve ever written. hope y’all enjoy! n don’t be a silent reader cuz if u enjoyed this, i would rlly appreciate it if u liked or reblogged! 🩷🩷🩷

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highvern · 6 months

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Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes)

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive, idiots in love, they’re both big ol’ chickens

Warnings: drinking

Length: ~1k

Note: idiots to lovers is my favorite trope :) I might write some drabbles based on this pair in the future

Sequel: Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II

Related Drabbles:

Pre-Drunk Goggles (in order): Peaches [f], Bite the Bullet [f, h], Jealousy [a, h]

Post-Drunk Goggles (in order): Silk [s], Aphrodite [f, s], Discovery [s], Lucky Me [f], adamas et aurum [f], Baby Blues [f]

“You’re cute.” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable in a whine.

Mingyu’s blood freezes, caught between wanting to feed into your drunken stupor and wanting to push you off completely. You’re too close. The smell of your shampoo and perfume clouding his nose, palm burning against the muscle of his chest, teasing smile and hooded gaze drawing him in. The booth in the corner of the packed club was a godsend after hours of dancing and drinking but now Mingyu thinks it might be the place where he dies from cardiac arrest.

You two had been friends for years but lately your relationship toed the line. The friendly dynamic shifted at some point, subtle at the time but echoing loud and clear now. Like a stream changed into rapids before you noticed, sucking one in and swallowing them whole. Lingering touches gave way to heated gazes; tension palpable but never acknowledged. And because neither of you said anything, nothing ever happened; one person always retreating before reaching the point of no return.

Of course the first time you admit any sort of attraction to him is when you’re three sheets to the wind and can barely stand straight. Mingyu himself is no better, mind fogged with the liquor pumping through his veins courtesy of the shots Soonyoung kept distributing. Mingyu can’t speak, tongue dry from the words dying in his throat. All he can see, smell, and feel is you; pressed against him in a way that is less than friendly.

You don’t even bother to conceal the way your eyes are trained on Mingyu’s mouth, mind far away. All your thoughts focus on if his lips are as soft as they look. If you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? Would he let you touch him? Would he touch you?

Mingyu watches with baited breath as you lean infinitesimally closer, eyes sliding shut, chin lifting slightly. But you’re drunk, and the grace you think you possess left the building long ago. You end up collapsing face first into Mingyu’s neck, lips sliding against the hot skin causing the muscles underneath to jump in surprise. You’ve already accepted the change of direction, now content to take a rest in the crook of his shoulder as the thud of music lulls you closer to sleep.

“W—“ Mingyu clears his throat, “we should go.”

You hum in agreement but make no effort to move away.

“Y/N, baby,” he shakes you gently, “let’s go home.”

With Herculean effort, and gentle prodding from your best friend, you leave the safety and warmth of Mingyu’s body to shimmy out of the booth. When Mingyu gets up after you, he places his hand to the small of your back to guide you to the exit.

Once outside, you wrap around each other again, like magnets that can’t be pulled apart. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Mingyu uses his free hand to order an Uber, resting his chin on your head while the app loads.

“We didn’t say bye to everyone.” You mumble into his T-shirt.

“They’ll be fine.” Mingyu laughs, focusing on his phone.

“You said that last time and Chan still called at 3am to ask if we got home safe.”

We. The simple word has Mingyu’s ears turning red. We, like you’re a couple. We, like you're going home to an apartment you share rather than the one you live alone in and he finds himself crashing at more and more frequently. He brushes off the thought, choosing to focus on getting a car as soon a possible.

Not one to be ignored, you turn your gaze upwards, chin now resting against Mingyu’s sternum. The shift breaks his attention from his phone and he looks down his nose at you.

“Just text the group, pretty sure a few of them left already anyway.” He dares to drop a quick kiss to your furrowing brow, pleased when it relaxes under his lips.

“Ubers here.” Mingyu steps back, snagging your hand to pull you behind him.

The ride home is a blur. The heat of Mingyu’s arm under your cheek and the way his fingers play with yours on his lap keep you from falling asleep completely but you remain in the hypnotic state between wakefulness and dreams. Here you can pretend Mingyu is your doting boyfriend, that all the sweet drunk kisses and daring touches have a deeper meaning.

When you feel the car slow to a stop you open your eyes to the driver pulling up to the curb in front of your apartment. Mingyu is gently ushering you out of the backseat and into the warmth of the lobby as quickly as possible.

While waiting for the elevator, you invade his space once more. In your mind, the need for warmth is the perfect excuse to disregard the usual touching limit you impose on yourself. It’s easy to get addicted to having Mingyu like this and you dread the hurt that’ll come if you let yourself be too greedy. But tonight, you let your arms wrap around his waist once again and fall into him.

When the elevator chimes its arrival, Mingyu tries to keep your bodies intertwined and walk you backwards into the compartment. He stumbles the entire way, having to balance for two since you’re barely trying to hold yourself up. All you can do is whine at him to be more careful and he does everything he can not to crowd you against the wall and kiss you until you’re both gasping for air.

More stumbles, more giggles, and a crushed foot later, you finally make it into your apartment. Shoes discarded at the door, you pull Mingyu down the hall to your room. You change into your pajamas in silence, an oversized T-shirt for you (Mingyu doesn’t comment on the fact that it looks suspiciously like the one he noticed missing weeks ago), and a pair of sweat shorts for him (you don’t comment on how his bare chest is giving you less than friendly thoughts). As you both dive under the covers, moving to settle yourselves amongst the soft sheets, sleep rushes to takeover.

You’re mumbling something against Mingyu’s chest that he can’t quite decipher but the movement of your lips on his bare skin makes his heart lurch and his stomach twist in knots. However, it's the gentle kiss you leave on his collarbone before drifting into your dreams that leaves his mind in a tailspin.

Tomorrow. He thinks. He’ll tell you everything he’s feeling tomorrow.

#svthub #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #svt x reader #🫡 highvern #kim mingyu x reader #dghe couple

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gracieheartspedro · 8 months

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Snooze

Part 2 of "How Long"

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

description: the next day, you're stuck in your own head about last night. how can joel change your mind and make you stay? spoiler, he can't.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, this is mainly just angst. mentions of cheating. some sexual tension and talks of sex. this skips ahead 2 months in the middle, so a slight time jump. name calling, pet names also included.

author's note: this is part two of "how long"! I wanted to get into the smut but I wanted to add this kinda as a way to guide the reader through the next parts. and yes, there's more coming! enjoy joel being soft for reader.

Maybe it was for revenge in the beginning, but Joel made you feel like the woman you wanted to be all along.

You wake up in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe and secure. His soft snores were cute and not annoying like Tommy’s loud and obnoxious snores. His expression when sleeping was so precious, his nose wiggling and his brows not furrowed in their normal spot. When he notices you stirring, his snores fade and his eyes slowly drift open. Once he sees your staring, he gives you a lazy smile.

“Mornin’ sweet girl,” He grumbles, stretching his legs and making his biceps flex under your neck.

“Howdy,” You say softly. You sit up from the warmth he brings you, realizing you are still naked from your escapades. You grab a blanket from off the floor, wrapping it around yourself as you search the room for your clothes.

“Want to borrow somethin’ from me?”

The offer sends chills down your spine. You turn to see him standing up from his side of the bed. He’s naked too, and good heavens, he’s hard. You physically couldn’t pull your eyes away from the man’s body. His upper body sculpted but as you trail down, a small pudge forming where his tummy is. Your lips twist upward, watching him sulk over to his dresser drawers. He opens the second drawer down, pulling out a pair of black sweatpants. He looks towards you, noting your expression.

“You perv,” he groans, tossing you the pants, “My room, I can walk around naked.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, catching the pants. He’s so unserious and your laugh only enables his bad behavior. He shakes his head, opening another drawer to search for a t-shirt. He finds an old t-shirt he got at country music festival back in the early 90s. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was one of the most worn t-shirts in his collection and he was secretly dying to see it on you.

You pull the pants over your naked bottom half, suddenly taking notice to how huge they are on you. You take the drawstrings and tie them as tight as you can get them. The pant legs would drag across the floor, for sure. You felt so tiny in his clothes.

He walks the shirt over to you instead of tossing it at you. When you realize what shirt he’s giving you, you let out an excited squeal.

“I used to joke to Tommy I would somehow steal this shirt from you,” you explain, snatching the folded gray shirt from him, “Finally!”

“Yeah, all you had to do is fuck me.”

It’s so blunt, it makes your excitement fade quick. When you glance up to meet his eyes, the twinkle makes you draw a conclusion.

He’s fucking with you, dude.

“Now it’s mine forever, motherfucker.”

His eyes widen at your response. You never cussed like that in front of him, especially when it came to calling him a name.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, girl,” He grumbles, watching you drop the blanket from your upper half, exposing your boobs do him. His dick twitches when he sees that he left a lovebite right beside your nipple.

You were so perfect to him.

“You’re lucky I’m sore from last night,” You murmur slipping the t-shirt over your head, “Or else I’d… I’d do dirty things to you Joel.”

He creeps forward, his eyes darkening at your suggestion. His eyebrows find their usual spot, the crease in between them growing deeper. You couldn’t help yourself. You were physically incapable of not wanting him. To think you’d spent so long with Tommy, wasting every day trying to manage his chaos, and you were missing out on this. On Joel Miller standing butt naked in his bedroom with a hard on, practically begging you to suck it.

You were so fucked.

“How sore?” He tucks your tangled locks behind your ear, his pointer finger finding the curve of your neck, down to your décolletage. Truthfully, you weren’t that sore, just a bit worn out from spending hours crying, only to spend more time having the best sex of your life.

Your hand finds his, letting his fingers dance around your chest down to the swell of your breast. Just when you’re about to give in, you hear a bang on his door.

“Dad! Wake up! I want pancakes!”

You practically jump out of your skin, throwing yourself back and away from Joel’s reach. You put your hands over your mouth, trying to disguise the slight gasp that leaves your lips.

His lips form into a perfectly straight line, “I’ll be out in a second, kid. Can you run next door and ask Jimmy for some eggs?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want good pancakes, yes!”

The way they talk to each other makes you smile under your hands. You hear Sarah moan in annoyance, before running out the back door and over to the neighbor’s house. Joel rolls his eyes, finding a pair of pants and a t-shirt for himself. You watch him get dressed, still standing like a puppy waiting to be released from their crate.

“Just go upstairs and mess up the guest bed a bit, then come down and act like you just woke up. We don’t havta tell her bout you and Tommy unless you wanna.”

You contemplate his words for a moment. Maybe telling Sarah her uncle is a sociopathic cheater wasn’t the best way to start her morning. You quickly decide that you’d tell her that you two decided to take a break.

“I’ll tell her we are taking a break or something and that I was just super upset and came over to clear my head.”

“Great idea,” He mumbles, opening up his bedroom door, “Now get your pretty ass upstairs and stumble down in like 10 minutes acting tired and sad.”

You smack his shoulder as you walk out in front of him, “I am tired and sad, asswipe.”

“All these slanderous nicknames, what happened to my good girl from last night?”

Your core clenches at the words. You knew he was toying with you and you wanted to give in so bad, but you were on a time crunch at this point. Sarah would be coming in at any second. As you try to leave Joel’s reach, you feel his hand on your shoulder. He spins you around to face you, grabbing the nape of your neck. He pulls you up, leaning down to capture your lips into a quick but eager kiss.

You always felt self conscious about kissing in the morning because Tommy always commented on morning breath and how disgusting it was. You literally wouldn’t kiss him until you brushed your teeth in fear he would find you repulsive. Joel didn’t care though, he wanted your kisses every moment of every day.

After getting a piece of you last night, he knew he was going to have a hard time resisting the urge to have you in his bed every night. He had a crush on you for so long, pushing aside his feelings, knowing it was so wrong to like his own brother’s girlfriend. But now his brother’s actions were finally coming to light after years of suspicion, and Joel knew this was his chance to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“Git,” He says, pulling away from you, swatting your ass as you walk through his house to the staircase. As soon as you’re halfway up the stairs, you hear Sarah come back into the house. You pause, waiting for them to start talking.

“Why’s her car up front?”

Joel pauses for a moment. You hear him taking a mug out of his cabinets, “She and Tommy got into it last night. I told her she could crash in the guest room.”

“What about?”

“Adult stuff, don’t worry bout it.”

You roll your eyes, creeping up the stairs and into the guest room. The last time you found yourself in this room, it was to sleep next to Tommy after you two drank too much with Joel and a couple friends. Thinking back to it, you remember that was the same night he told you he really didn’t want kids. You laid in the same god forsaken bed and cried until you fell asleep.

Tommy really didn’t care about you. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, him cheating on you. You just really didn’t want it to be with your own sister. But truthfully, you’re glad it was a world shattering cheating scandal. It made you never want to see his stupid face again.

You grab the duvet off the top of the bed and throw it around. You lay in the bed, making the sheets crinkle. You needed to make it look like you actually stayed in this room, just in case Sarah peered in.

Once satisfied with your work, you stand up and head downstairs. It had only been 5 minutes and you already smell freshly brewed coffee. It makes you smile, ready to share a cup with Joel.

“Mornin’,” Joel says plainly, glancing up at you from the mixing bowl placed on the island. Sarah is seated at the barstools, watching her dad slave over breakfast.

“Mornin’ Millers,” You say, falsely rubbing your eyes to make it seem like you had just woken up seconds ago.

“Weird to see you here on a Sunday morning,” Sarah comments, pulling the barstool next to her out. She wanted you to sit next to her and explain what happened, you could see it on her face. She had just turned 14, so she knew it was a curious case when her uncle’s girlfriend was crashing in the room next to hers. “You and Tommy good?”

“No, he uh,” You look up at Joel who’s stopped his stirring. You give him a look like “hey I think I may tell her the truth”, and he nods. Even if it means Sarah would look at Tommy in a different light, she should know her uncle is imperfect and capable of fucking up his life.

“He admitted to cheating on me on our ride home last night. I left him on the side of the road and called your Dad to go get him.”

Saying the story out loud sounds so absurd. It almost didn’t feel real.

Sarah’s mouth falls open in shock and disbelief. Joel decides it’s his turn to quip up.

“I told her she could come here and stay until she was ready to face him,” He explains, portioning out pancakes on a buttered pan, “I picked Uncle Tommy up from the side of the road and took him back to their apartment. He will probably be calling here shortly. He needs to come get his truck.”

Sarah had questions, hundreds of them.

He seriously cheated? With who? Are you going to break up? Am I never going to see you again? How could he do this?

What catches you and Joel off guard is when she slams her fists on the island.

“What an asshole!”

Joel’s eyes fly open in shock, but you choke out a laugh at Sarah’s comment.

“Hey, language,” He looks over at you, his shoulders tense, “And you shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Sorry,” You admit, standing up from the chair to find your way around to the coffee pot. You knew the ins and outs of the kitchen, so you find a coffee mug in the cabinet next to Joel. You start to pour some of the pot into your mug, just as Sarah poses a question.

“Is that my dads shirt?”

You stop your actions like you just got caught in the act. You slowly put the pot back on the heated stand, waiting for Joel to say something. Please save me, you beg silently.

“She needed pajamas last night. She was wearing her outfit from Tommy’s party, not comfy to sleep in.”

Nice save, Joel.

You nod and try to avoid eye contact for the rest of the time Joel’s making breakfast. While Sarah continues to ask questions, you just shake your head and sip your black coffee. You usually drank it with some creamer and sugar, but you needed the bite of the coffee to bring you to life. Joel cooks pancakes, eggs, and bacon, all things you’d like to eat but after Sarah’s interrogation, you feel sick to your stomach. Joel prepares you and Sarah’s plates, putting them in front of you both. Sarah chows down immediately and you just poke around the plate, pretending you’re eating. Joel notices, watching you closely as he munches on a piece of toast.

As you finally take a bite, the landline rings behind you on the wall.

“Probably Tommy,” Joel swallows, heading to the phone to pick it up. He was right, it was Tommy. You hear his whiny voice over the sound of Sarah humming while she eats. He’s upset, telling Joel that he needs to find you to apologize.

“She’s here,” Joel mutters, disregarding any emotion he may feel, “She came here after last night.”

“Why there?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Because she didn’t want to go home to your drunk ass.”

“Can you tell her I’m sorry?”

You can feel Joel tense up, finally meeting his eyes as he pulls the phone away from his ear. He looks at you, his eyes asking if you want to say anything over the phone. You don’t even think, you just snatch the phone from his grasp.

You hear Tommy’s labored breathing over the phone, like he is crying.

“You wanted to say something to me?”

You voice is even, not showing any emotion that is bubbling in your stomach.

“Baby,” He stammers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” You hold your breath, waiting for the right words to say, “I want you out of the house by the end of the day. I’ll get Joel to come get you so you can ge-”

“Baby, please! Please I’m so-”

“I’m not done talking, Tommy.” You pause, inhaling quickly, “We are done, okay? I’ll have Joel come get you in an hour to get your truck that I bought for you, and you will be out of the apartment I pay for, and you will be out of my life. I don’t want apologies. I want you gone.”

You turn to see Sarah and Joel gawking at your immediate and demanding response to Tommy. It wasn’t something you were anticipating to say, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t even think through your demands, but you knew you couldn’t stay in the bubble you were in at Joel’s house forever. You paid most the rent at your shared apartment. That truck was something you helped pay for. He needed to be gone in order for you to figure your next steps. Truthfully, after your last conversation with him, you wished you never had to speak to Tommy ever again.

You knew that the reason he was really sorry was because he got caught and his living situation was up in the air. It had nothing to do with actually feeling bad for ruining your sense of safety and security. Tommy was a lot of things, but you did see a future with him, somehow.

“I’ll just have Ryan bring me over there. I’m not waiting around for Joel. He seems too busy playing house with you. Stupid bit-”

The line drops and you stand there in shock. You weren’t even upset, you were angry. He was so quick to change his tune when he realized you weren’t going to be manipulated again. It made your whole body go red hot.

“What did he say?”

Sarah was silent, unsure how to navigate such an awkward moment. You don’t even know what to say, so you just slam the phone onto the machine.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to see him when he gets over here. I may-,” You censor yourself, remembering this is probably a weird situation for Sarah. You can’t say what you really want to say.

“What did he say?”

“He’s having Ryan bring him over to get his truck.”

“What else?”

Joel knows he had to say something to rile you up, and he knows his sorries were just conditional. You knew that too, but it hurt to hear him so bitter again. You begin to come to the conclusion that the alcohol wasn’t what made Tommy bold last night, that was just him showing his true colors finally.

You just shake your head. Joel dismisses Sarah before she can finish her breakfast, but she knew it was probably in her best interest to hide away in her bedroom anyway. She doesn’t object, just grabs her plate and carries it upstairs.

Joel leans against the counter, waiting for you to finally speak up. You know what Tommy said is going to send him into a rage, so you bite the side of your cheek.

“’s gonna be here any moment. Do you want me to ask him what he said to you? Or would you rather share with the class?”

Ugh.

“He said you were playing house with me.”

You don’t tell him the name he called you, it would only make him more angry. Joel brings his mug up to his lips, hissing as he slurps it up. His bows his head, wondering how he’s going to probably make this situation even worse.

Joel wanted to say fuck it and fight for you, but that’d be selfish. He had been pining for you forever but you on the other hand, didn’t even think he was an option. You had never given a relationship with Joel a thought until last night. Tommy was always your first and final choice. You were fiercely loyal and Joel knew that. So, sure, he wanted you to drop every thought of Tommy and just stay. But he knew you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to be the reason that Joel didn’t talk to his brother anymore. You don’t want to be the reason Sarah doesn’t have a relationship with her uncle. You felt like your feelings for Joel only complicated things. Of course they did. And what exactly were the feelings? Was it just a rush because it was so new and different? Or did Joel actually make you feel unconditionally appreciated?

You can read Joel’s expression for the first time. He’s pleading with you.

“Sweethe-”

“I don’t want to be the reason your family falls apart,” You mutter, trying not to cry as you say it. You were surprised you even had any tears left after last night.

Joel rounds the island, approaching you with every intention to give you a big hug. You stop him though, your hand resting on his broad chest. Your memory serves you right, mapping out the front of his chest with your finger tips, waiting for him to say something else. He doesn’t say anything though, he just roughly grabs your hips, walking you to the corner of the island.

“Tommy is the reason our family fell apart,” He explains, lifting your butt to the edge of the counter. His hands then rest on your upper thighs, rubbing circles as you lazily wrap your arms around his neck. Your heart was racing, knowing Tommy could walk into Joel’s house like he used to. He’d see you pinned to the counter by Joel and he’d draw all his conclusions.

“You were the cheater this whole time,” you imagine him saying.

“He will be here any minute, Joel.”

You couldn’t have everything blow up in your face all at once. You needed Joel to know that you were thankful for him, but you didn’t need an added stressor to your life right now.

You look into his desperate eyes, wanting nothing more but to plant another kiss on his downturned lips.

“I am going to change and get out of your hair. I have to,” Your brain starts going a million miles a minute, trying to explain yourself, “I have to call my family. I have to… I have to rebuild my life, Joel. I’m sorry, this,” You gesture to him and yourself, “This complicates a lot. I need.. I just need time.”

He steps back, shaking his head. He knew that’d be your response. It stung, but he had to try to push aside his feelings for you.

You hear a car door slam out front, making your nerves go into overdrive.

“I’ll go give him his keys. Let him know you’re not interested in talkin’.”

You just bite your lip, slipping off the counter.

“Can you tell him to leave his key under the mat when he gets his shit out? He has until tonight.”

Joel starts to bound to the front door, beating Tommy to the knob.

“Yeah, I’ll let him know,” He turns to you finally, “And you don’t have to change. Keep my shirt. You’ve wanted it for awhile, it’s yours.”

2 months later

From: Joel Miller

Sarah has been begging to see you. I’m making lasagna tonight and I remembered it was your favorite. Would you want to come over ? If you’re not busy?

You had ignored most of Joel’s texts since Tommy moved out. You had spent the last 2 months trying to figure out your entire life. It was flipped upside down overnight, so you needed a moment to catch your breath. Joel understood, of course. You’d text him every now and again, just to let him know you were doing okay.

You sit at your desk at work, glancing at your calendar pinned to your bulletin board.

Of course you didn’t have plans for a random Wednesday night. Tomorrow you had Thristy Thursday with some coworkers. But tonight was going to be the night you lit up one of your last couple joints on your balcony and smoked until your eyelids got heavy. Maybe you would call your mom and ask her if she’d heard from your sister.

Your mom had heard what happened two days after everything went down, and was totally on your side, which was nice. She couldn’t believe your sister had the audacity to do such a thing. You’d vent to her for hours, eventually crying and wishing she wasn’t across the country to give you a hug. After your parents divorced a couple years ago, your mother decided she needed to live her life far away from your dad, so she moved to Maine. Random, but you respected her for getting away and living her life on her terms. She told you that you should do the same. You laughed between tears, telling her maybe you would.

After your sister was confronted with the fact that you knew all about her and Tommy, she cried and begged for forgiveness. You decided to spare her your true feelings, opting to just tell her to stay out of your life for awhile. You’d ignored her calls and texts after that. It was your father who called you a couple days later to tell you that she had checked herself into rehab for abusing alcohol and pills.

As sick as it was, your mind went straight to karma. It was bittersweet. You told your father to let her know you were thinking about her and hope she got better. Your dad said she was going to move to Dallas with him once she got out of treatment. It wasn’t far enough away from you, but it would do.

You stare back down at your phone, reading Joel’s text several more times.

Just you and Sarah? You type.

It was a dumb question to ask, but you had to be sure Tommy wasn’t just hanging around his house like he used to. You’re almost positive Joel would’ve told Tommy to stop coming around, but you can never be too safe.

He responded quickly.

From: Joel Miller

Just us. She wanted to show you her new CD player too.

You can’t say no, especially now that it’s not just Joel you’re neglecting. You had been around Sarah most of her life and she always loved having you around. You were almost like a big sister she never had. She always begged you to come to her soccer games, her chorus concerts, and birthday parties. You never missed one.

She always gave you insight on the newest trends and she was quick with her humor, which always had you laughing until your stomach hurt. If you were going to go to the Miller household, it would be to hear all of Sarah’s life updates.

And maybe to see Joel. His presence would not be lost on you.

You hover over your keyboard, overthinking your response.

Okay, yeah. I can be over around 6?

You glance back up at your computer screen, seeing that it was already 3. You’d be out of work in an hour, then you’d have to see Joel.

You hadn’t seen him since you left his house with your pile of clothes, sporting his old t-shirt and sweatpants, completely dazed and confused at the curveball that life threw you.

You did wear that shirt he gave you almost every night.

Your phone dings.

From: Joel Miller

Sounds good. I’ll let Sarah know, she will be excited.

You shake away all your doubt and take a couple deep breaths, getting back to some emails before you’d go home and get ready to face your past.

–

“You came!”

Sarah opens the door to see you practically shaking in your new heeled boots. She reaches out and grabs you, giving you the tightest hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” You grin, returning the squeeze, “Your dad promised me lasagna and you, so of course I had to come.”

She giggles, pulling you out of the chilly air. The Miller house has this distinct warmth that always comforts the deepest parts of your soul. Even when you and Tommy were together, your favorite place to hangout was Joel’s back deck and living room.

You haven’t ever felt so nervous to see Joel. You round the corner to the kitchen, only to see him slaving over the oven. He looks relaxed. His hair is a bit more shaggy than usual. He’s surprisingly not in any work gear, wearing a blue t-shirt and khakis, with no stains. He put on his best outfit, just for you.

When your eyes lock, you just try your best to give him your best cheesy smile. You had no idea what to say to the man. Hey, I miss you a lot. I find myself comparing every dick I have had in the last two months to yours.

That would land well.

“Hey there stranger,” You opt to say instead.

He drops the knife he’s using to butter some bread. He’s reaching out towards you, grappling at your waist and the bottle of red in your hand.

“Hey, I’ve-… I mean we’ve missed ya,” He gives you a half hug, putting the wine down on the counter. You feel weird touching him like this. Especially in front of Sarah. He smells like you remember. Sweet strawberry shampoo and whatever laundry softener he puts on his clothes. His large hand pulls away from your waist and you instantly miss it.

“I’ve missed y’all, too. Anything I can do to help?” You gesture towards the spread he has laid out. It’s mainly just fresh garlic diced up and some Italian bread cut up into slices.

“Why don’t ya open that bottle? Wine glasses ar-“

“Above the dishwasher, I know.”

—

Dinner was intertwined with Sarah telling stories about her first weeks of school and you devouring your weight in lasagna. Joel just nodded along, piping in to say something sarcastic to Sarah or smile at your sauce stained lips. You sip on wine, progressively getting more and more relaxed due to the alcohol flowing through your veins.

It was like old times. Except you didn’t have Tommy interjecting to shoot down your ideas or him and Joel getting into a small tiff about something that happened 10 years ago. It was nice. After dinner, when Joel was starting on dishes, Sarah brought you up to her room to show you some new stuff she bought. She played you a Britney Spears CD on her new stereo, telling you about how many discs it actually held. She even confided in you that she had a crush on a boy in her math class.

“You better not tell your Dad. He will have a cow.”

You feel a presence behind you occupy the door. You turn quickly, seeing Joel leaning against the door frame.

“Have a cow about what?” He grumbles, crossing his arms at you two. You smirk, shaking your head.

“Nothing, Dad,” Sarah utters quickly.

“Yeah, Dad, it’s none of your business.”

He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm.

He only came up here to grab you for some alone adult talk, and here you are gossiping with his daughter and harboring secrets. Deep down, he loved it. He appreciated that Sarah felt safe enough to come to you and talk to you about things. You were always a great role model for her.

“Okay, fine,” He raises his hands in defeat, “Sarah, you gotta get up for school tomorrow. Start gettin’ ready for bed.”

“Bu-”

“No buts. You’re not goin’ in late tomorrow. Shower and bed.”

She stomps her foot, annoyed with him and his demands. You just giggle, grabbing her arms and bringing her into a hug.

“I promise I’ll be around more. You call me any time, okay? I love hearing from you.”

She crushes you with her little bony arms, “Don’t be a stranger.”

You pull away, gesturing Joel to scoot out of the door frame so you could head downstairs. He follows close behind, his foot fall in sync with yours.

“You wanna stay for another glass? Stil half the bottle left.”

You bite your lip. You shouldn’t, but you want to talk to him without a child present. So you nod eagerly, heading straight to the bottle once you reach the downstairs. You pour yourself some into your stained glasses, giving him the last splash.

“Wanna hang outside? May be more private.”

He wanted privacy because he wanted to pick your mind. He also wanted updates on your family. How everything went down with your sister. Your parent’s opinions on the situation. One thing about Joel was that he wanted to hear your buttery voice talk about anything and everything.

You two walk out the sliding glass door, finding spots on the outdoor couch Joel had for most of Sarah’s life. It was falling apart and water damaged, but it was where you and him had spent long nights having conversations when Tommy was drunk and asleep on the couch inside.

“You uh, talk to your sister?” He asks, settling into the couch, keeping an appropriate distance from you.

You breath out loudly, “Yeah, she’s in rehab.”

“Holy shit, cause of what happened?”

You take a sip of wine before you answer, “No, she was on some heavy shit, I guess. Maybe that’s what gave her the audacity to fuck Tommy.”

“Yeah maybe. You talk to him at all?”

“He left me a drunken voicemail a couple weeks ago. Other than that, no.”

You had woken up in the dead of night to get water and saw you had a message on your home phone voicemail. You pressed the button, letting his wasted voice slur your name. He was begging to come back. Said he made a mistake. He would never do it again, yada yada.

“He’s already bringin’ another girl around my parents. Some chick from that bar he’s always at with his buddies,” Joel confesses, “My ma is confused.”

Your stomach flips a bit. You were curious how Tommy was doing, but not out of desperation or anything. You just wanted to know if he would survive on his own.

“I knew he’d be quick. How does your mom feel about it all?”

“Disappointed but she enables his shit.”

Joel takes a sip of his wine, licking his lips after he swallows. You watch him closely, trying to not make it obvious that you missed the way his tongue traced yours that night.

“Yeah that’s fair. He’s her baby.”

He nods, letting the silence fill the air. He doesn’t want to ask about your dating life, but the question was festering in his mind. He couldn’t help himself.

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

“Not really.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’ve slept with other guys but no one to really ride home about. They weren’t-“

He cuts you off quickly, “Tommy?”

“No,” You contemplate for a moment, gripping the stem of your wine glass tighter. You know if you weren’t drinking, you would never let the next word slip your lips. But it does.

“You.”

You weren’t planning on confessing that to anyone, especially Joel himself. But the tension was rising in your chest and he’s sitting here, under the moonlight, giving you those damn puppy eyes.

He raises his eyebrows, not expecting you to say something so upfront and honest. The relief that floods him was satisfying, though. He hadn’t even thought about another woman since you.

You mainly had random hookups to try to fill the void you felt due to not having someone around all the time. You weren’t ever fully into them, but you needed to feel something. That something was never itching that itch you had, though. The closeness you craved wasn’t strictly sexual.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, looking down at his socks, “I can’t uh… I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

It makes your heart grow 7 sizes to hear him say that. The guilt you anticipated feeling about sleeping with Joel never came. You instead missed him more than any other part of your 7 year relationship with his brother.

“The feeling is mutual.”

The moment is shattered when you hear a pounding on the glass door. Sarah stands there in his pajamas, her toothbrush in her hand.

Joel signals her to open the door, which she does a bit too hard. The door shudders loudly as Sarah jumps over the threshold.

“Jesus kid,” Joel groans, setting his empty glass down on a table nearby, “What is it?”

“We should invite her to my soccer tournament this weekend!”

“Soccer tournament?”

Joel huffs, “She has a big tournament this weekend in Houston.”

“You should come!”

You shoot a look at Joel, “I mean, I am free. But is that okay with you? Are you guys staying somewhere?”

“Yeah, the Marriot downtown. Her whole team is stayin’ there. We have two beds in the room, so you could squeeze. Only if you want to.”

He was praying you’d say yes.

“That’d be fun,” You drink the last drop of your wine, “Count me in.”

You want to think you’re doing it for Sarah, but truthfully, you were itching to get more time with Joel. You were almost positive you made plans with a guy from work this weekend, but you could care less about cancelling something if it meant you could get to stay in a fancy hotel with Joel and support Sarah from the sidelines.

Sarah squeals in excitement, running outside barefoot to throw her arms around you.

“I promise we will win!”

It sends you into a fit of giggles.

“I’m sure you will, kiddo. Now get inside, your feet will get all gross without shoes on.”

Joel quips up, “Brush your teeth, then bed. ‘Ya hear me?”

She straightens up, saluting him like a solider dramatically, “Sir, yes, sir.”

You both watch her prance inside, giddy that you’d be around to watch her on the field. You can’t help but feel loved by the girl. She really made you feel important.

Joel clears his throat, “You can say no to her, yanno?”

“No, I really can’t,” You scoot to the corner of the couch, pushing yourself off of it, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, I got a big day tomorrow,” Joel lies. He didn’t have a big day, he would literally be sitting in his truck thinking of you while his work crews do all the heavy lifting. He stands up to walk you out, wracking his brain if he should… hug you? Kiss you?

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner tonight. I guess I’ll see you guys this weekend? Will I just meet you here Friday evening so we can head out?”

“Yeah, planning on leaving around 5:30,” Joel explains, getting the sliding glass door for you, “We can just come by and get you.”

“Yeah don’t want Tommy to drive by and see my car in your driveway, right?”

“I could care less what Tommy’s thinks.”

part 3 coming soon

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #joel miller gif #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel last of us smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal gifs #gracieheartspedro

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nathabat · 5 months

Text

How they surprise you

✰ content: ## sfw , gn!reader (you/your pronouns used) ,

Bi-Han

The Grandmaster is terrible at surprises. Keeping anything secret is natural to him when it comes to the Lin Kuei and the assignments or information they have to keep under wraps. So why is it so difficult for him to keep things from you?

He wouldn't know how to describe it. All he knows is the anniversary plans he's had in the works since the beginning of the year, put together so meticulously, threaten to burst at the seams each time he's forced to bite his tongue to keep you none-the-wiser.

He tries to keep it simple, he's a simple man after all, but each gesture is still somehow almost sickeningly sweet and romantic to its core.

Flowers delivered straight to your hands whenever he is away, a freshly wrapped and prepared bouquet of Lilies, Chrysanthemum, and white roses. Sometimes offered to you with a little note attached, scrawled in Bi-Han's familiar attempts at elegance. Just a location, a time, and instructions to dress comfortably. His palms are almost sweaty as he waits for you, so terribly eager to finally have you all to himself after long weeks and hours of work kept you away from one another.

He embraces you first, sighing as his tensed muscles relax the very second his hand engulfs yours, his strong and callused fingers gentle as they intertwine with yours before he guides you into his arms, Where he'll finally be able to kiss and cherish you like he had been meaning to all day <3

"The long days are much easier when I have you to look forward to... Happy Anniversary."

The way your eyes shine with delight make the wait so worth it.

Kuai Liang

He's the opposite of his brother, but he faces the same temptations of spilling his well planned secret each time his chest tightens with excitement as everything falls into place. He knows the wait is the hardest part, yet he's able to keep himself under control until the time comes.

He can't have you finding the decorations he and Tomas bought and threw together themselves before your birthday. He usually takes up kissing and smothering you in his arms to draw your attention away from anything that pertains to the surprise he has been planning for months. Next time you go to snoop, you'll find the boxes you had found earlier had been moved or replaced with something else entierly.

He struggles being subtle though. Those packages he has high up and is super cagey about?

"It's nothing, my flower. Some old training equipment- Ah, no, you can't touch it. I can't have you getting hurt."

So maybe it isn't such a shock when you come home, exhausted from an assignment Tomas had eagerly dragged you away on proclaiming he needed your help specifically, just to find Kuai Liang amidst a mess of decorations that suggested a celebration just for you. Looking around, Tomas and others of the Shirai Ryu have suddenly disappeared, leaving you with your beaming lover. Who is so thrilled to have you home.

With his hands on your hips Kuai Liang draws you into him, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone as he cups your face in his warm hand. He presses a kiss to your forehead first before his lips trace down to peck the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.

"Happy Birthday, my love."

Tomas Vrbada

He wishes he had the patience of Kuai Liang in moments like these. There's almost hundreds of times he almost caved and told you, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. He's complained to you a few times about how hard it is to not spoil a surprise, but when pressed he clammed up and swiftly changed the subject while brushing off both your confusion and suspicions.

It's a week in the making, no special day or reason for it aside from the fact Tomas so desperately wishes to take you on a trip away from everything else. He has Kuai Liang's blessing, all that it hinges on is your agreement when he finally has everything settled and planned to a T.

"What? Oh no, my sweet, I promise it's nothing!!"

And since it's so hard to picture sweet little Tomas hiding anything from you, it's quickly dropped. But needless to say it's still painfully obvious what's going on the more he slips up and stammers as he recovers.

Getting everything squared away is what took the longest, especially going behind your back to talk to your boss and basically bribe them to get you that special time off, and the second it's agreed upon he's racing home to finally tell you. Shows you the tickets, explains his plans, all with a big smile on his face. He almost seems more excited than you!

You hardly get any packing done with Tomas pausing to steal a kiss and gush about how happy he is, and all the things he can't wait to show you and do with you.

"I'll make sure you have fun!"

a promise sealed with another kiss <3

Johnny Cage

He does his best to surprise you any chance he gets. Not just for special occasions, but for the times he misses you. Showing up at your work and accidentally causing a ruckus because... Well, he's Johnny fucking Cage. You get a lot of business that day, though you needed to have a talk with him about disrupting your workplace like that. He's toned it down, and by that I mean he juts sneaks around to see you without alerting the press or his droves of fans.

Shows up right when you're about to take a lunch break and insists on taking you out. He does this everyday he can when he's not shooting his next biggest hit, and he always makes it a point to take you somewhere new each time you ask him to pick a place. He knows your tastes afterall, and so far he's hit the nail on the head each time :)

He surprises you at home too. While he cant seem to follow recipes worth shit, he does spend a lot of time getting some cooking lessons or drops a lot of money on a private chef so you come home to a gourmet candlelit dinner. And his open arms, of course. You don't get four feet in the door before he's kissing you on the temple and taking your coat, incredibly insistent on pampering you.

Massaging your shoulders after you take a seat and explains the assortment of food laid out before you. Gives you another kiss before taking his own seat. And Cage is all smiles when he sees you take the first bite and melt in relaxation at the savoury flavours.

"You deserve it, babe."

Kenshi Takahashi

His heart squeezed up into his throat hearing that. He swore he'd make it better and he did. The next day was the surprise as he gently woke you with some breakfast he somewhat haphazardly threw together, paired with a long and sweet kiss. Maybe you expected plans in the future, yet Kenshi was quick to plan a whole day for just the two of you.

His work against the Yakuza becomes more and more tedious and time consuming as the days pass. He does well at surprisingly well at keeping his personal life and his work totally separate, but there's been times it bleeds over. Being woken up from your embrace by a call of a lead that required his attention. He profusely apologized and kissed your forehead as you groggily blinked your eyes at him, but he was already rushing out the door.

Maybe it's been expected that you came to him and communicated you felt a bit second place to everything else, your own responsibilities eating you alive. You just wanted to come home to him, but even that became rare.

He takes you to the farmers market and picks out stuff for dinner, squeezing your hand cheekily when you ask what it's for. You two have a great lunch at a noodle place he used to visit a lot, and he's happy to share anything on his plate with you before heading out again.

He keeps his cards close to his chest, sharing breakfast and then telling you to get ready. He doesn't say why, just offers you assurance it'll be worth it.

You like books? He took you to a library/bookstore and let you pick anything out. His hand on the small of your back as you walk up and down the aisles, squealing about this and that.

"You're my focus tonight, darling. I'll worry about it after dinner."

It's a busy day, and when you come home he's quick to get you to put your stuff away before making dinner with him. An old recipe he favors, warm and the perfect way to wind down after a day being out and about. His hands are on yours as he helps you cube up some vegetables, sliding down to grip your waist the second you get a hang of it. Sento is good help here, because Kenshi can't get enough of how your face scrunches when he teasingly places a kiss right below your ear.

And as his phone buzzes and rings on the counter, he's more than happy to ignore it.

Raiden

He tries not to get too busy to keep time for his beloved, and still manages to find ways to keep the spark alive. You're not sure how you still manage to fall for his surprises, but it's almost endearing how much effort he puts into each one just to see you get all hyped up.

He's learned to keep Kung Lao out of it since he's spoiled a few too many of Raiden's plans even if he meant well, and you ended up having to kiss the frown off your boyfriend's face. Not like you were complaining though ofc <3

What tipped you off this time was the fact Raiden had been especially cagey. In a way that irked you, setting a pit in your gut as he excused himself on more than one occasion for Shaolin or "Champion matters", as he put it. Yet when you called Cage, he gave you a confused response. Raiden was just as wound up as you though, trying his best to keep himself together as he sneaked around your questions with some help from Tomas or, regrettably, Kung Lao.

It helped that Kung Lao didn't know what was in store, he just knew to keep you busy as Raiden settled a terrace reservation with Madam Bo on a night the skies were meant to be clear enough to see all the stars in the sky.

Producing a velvety box from his pocket, he collected himself with a deep breath before popping the question;

Your own worries seemed to relax and take a backseat as Raiden surprised you with the dinner, even as you noticed his nervous mannerisms as you gushed about the scenery and all the delectable food. He was almost sweating bullets as Madam Bo sent him a knowing look when she came up to check how it was all going, before he quickly ushered her away.

You were just finishing your wine when Raiden cleared his throat, gathering your attention as he sheepishly spoke about what an amazing time he's had with you in his life. He held your hand cupped in his as he rattled on, less than composed as he got out of his seat and dropped to one knee.

"Will you marry me?"

Kung Lao

He's always boasted about his romantic side and all the dates he took you on, planning them well even if a bit messily. There's been at least a couple times he didn't account for things that came up, or forgot to ensure his time off was squared away and had to rush back for something just to seek your forgiveness later. His eagerness has its own charm, so it wasn't hard to earn himself back into your graces after whining and throwing himself into your arms with some kisses placed along your jawline before you'd giggle and tell him you were never mad in the first place.

Even when that meant stealing you away from home to surprise you, wrapping you up tight in a coat and then pointed up. There in the distance across the rolling hills and water was lanterns dotting the dark sky. It was a beautiful sight, one you always wished to see but only managed to sleep through every time it came around. Kung Lao wrapped his arms around you, chest against your back before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He really has to make an effort if he wants to surprise you though. You know him so well its hard for his plans to go over your head, but after a long week of you struggling with one issue after another he really tries his hardest. Just to ensure you feel better, because that's all he wants in the end.

It damn near broke his heart to have you curled up and crying in arms as he stroked your head and down your back until he lulled you into a gentle slumber, free from worries even if just for a moment.

It was little things at first. Risking being late to helping Raiden so you could sleep in and he could bathe with you when you finally awoke, rubbing your shoulders and lathering you in soap even as you mumbled concerns about him being late. He assured you with gentle kisses down the ridges of your spine, cherishing and comforting you until he couldn't stall any longer and he had to make a quick beeline out the door. He wasn't done yet though, because until he saw you smile he wasn't content to leave you to your own devices.

"I promise, one of these days, I'm going to take you to see those lights."

☄. *. ⋆

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hellishjoel · 7 months

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7.2k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: Joel whisks you away to Houston for the weekend under the guise of a work trip. You keep a secret from him to try and keep your fling undetected from your parents. warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v (shower sex hehe), a little overstim if you squint

A/N: sorry not sorry this chapter took a month+, but I hope you like it! A little drammaaaa. and a reminder, they still have all day saturday and sunday together ;)

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You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-” “Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles. You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat. “There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,”

June 23rd 7:48 P.M.

I’ve had some time to think about Joel, and how much I like to think about him, and how things aren’t an accident.

Thinking about how unlikely it is that we sparked.

How Joel could have turned left, and I could have turned right. But we didn’t.

Instead of running away, I said yes, and so did he.

The impossibility of us seems so incredible, almost unbelievable.

I love that so many things had to happen for us to be where we are right now.

I saw the sun melt his eyes into amber, and he liked the way I smiled in the moonlight.

This feeling was radical, unnerving, scary.

I didn’t know why it was called falling or crashing into love. Perhaps I do now.

“You could sit there and read all day, huh?” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he starts to guide his truck off the freeway, passing a large aluminum Welcome to Houston! sign lit up by the truck’s headlights.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, cheeks squished from smiling as his hand settles on your upper thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles on your sweet skin.

“I’m not reading anymore. Got too dark.” He’s referring to the novel you brought for the trip from your to-be-read pile that you started when you first got on the road.

The drive from Austin to Houston was two-and-a-half hours long, so you decided to saddle the passenger seat with different activities and snacks to keep yourself busy and out of Joel’s hair, much to his behest. He said he enjoyed letting you ramble on about whatever you were thinking about; said it was like listening to a podcast.

“But I am writing.” You hum quietly, penning in your last thought before it gets lost in the black of night.

“What’cha writin’, then?” Joel's curious eyes wander to the nest you had made for yourself in the passenger seat as he tilts his chin up to try and read beyond your journal cover.

You snap it closed and slip the pen in somewhere between the pages. “Keep your eyes on the road, old man.” Your tone is teasing, making you grin even more as he grumbles in annoyance under his breath as the truck slowly approaches a stop light.

Once off the freeway and down to the local roads, you roll the window down. You watch the moon start to rise in the sky, feeling goosebumps grow on your arms and exposed legs while the wind lazily flows through your hair. The gentle night breeze is welcome to air out Joel’s stuffy truck.

You were supposed to be his navigator once he got off the freeway, but you were a bit preoccupied looking around yourself.

You and Joel left Friday evening as soon as he was done with work, and now you were lightly coasting the streets of Houston as the sun finished setting. You could see the diverse architecture of downtown, the skyline of skyscrapers and high-rises were all crowded together. As you moved further into midtown, Joel drove past small businesses and parks. You let your hand float out the window, surfing the wind like a wave.

“Hey, space cadet, if you’re not gonna give me the directions to the motel, the least you can do is toss me a french fry.”

Your head cocks back to him, curiously smiling as you reach your hand aimlessly into the fast food bag, retrieving a fry and bringing it up to his lips. You settled on McDonald’s before you left Danbury, partially because Joel felt like being a little cheap, and you agreed they had the best, saltiest french fries.

You feed it to him, and he teasingly sucks the salt off your fingers.

“Gross, Joel.”

He sneers as he watches you wipe your hands on your thighs to rid yourself of his saliva. “You like it.”

He’s not wrong. You force yourself to look back out the window again to hide the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

Joel smirks and squeezes your thigh to bring you back to him. When you look over to the handsome man donning his usual green flannel, the wind furles your hair in messy, unkempt streaks.

He hesitates for a moment, but now that you’re no longer preoccupied with reading or writing, he holds your hand. You feel him test the waters, settling for just lightly clasping it in your lap, but it’s not enough for him. His thick fingers and calloused hand meets the heart of your palm as his fingers weave with your own. He lets out a little sigh and settles himself there.

You feel like teasing him. You’re afraid to hold my hand but not to fuck my throat in your woodshed with a party right outside? But then you remember how difficult it was to kiss him. It still felt like a slip-up, you had to admit. Especially if this was supposed to be just a casual relationship. It felt intimate and emotionally charged. But it was just kissing, right? And this was just holding hands.

Your thoughts wrestle around your head a bit. Joel feels it. You’re not sure how he always seems to know what you’re thinking, but he does. His thumb strokes a gentle line up and down the muscle of your thumb, a silent way of saying stop thinking for once. It’s appreciated, the sense of care and thoughtfulness he provided without even speaking a word.

Ever since he took you to that bar, Past Lives, all you could think about was Joel. Joel on repeat. Joel taking you away from the distracted environment of the lakehouse. Joel showing you the map, saying there was more to the world than Texas. Joel kissing you. Joel touching you. Joel fucking you. Joel protecting you. Joel saving you.

As much as you’ve had time to reflect on Joel, you’ve also reflected on your parents. They were hardly bad people, but they didn’t respect your adult choices. You came to tearfully realize that your relationship with them had slowly deteriorated since leaving for university. You grew independent, and that was especially hard for them. Something you had trouble understanding, something Joel didn’t understand either.

You called Joel Thursday night before your trip under the guise of asking if you should pack any specifics, but the conversation ended up landing on his relationship and parenting with Sarah. You told him how you appreciated the way he let Sarah grow and experience things, that it was good for her.

“She’s a tough girl, and I trust’er. Nothin’ much left to say.”

“So, what-” you stumble and scoff over the phone. “My parents don’t trust me? Or think I’m not tough enough to tackle the world?”

“S’not what I’m sayin’, darlin’. I don’t know what’s up with your folks. But you don’t need their approval, you’re an adult. All you need is t’… t’ trust yourself. Sounds fuckin’ cheesy, but it’s true.”

You pause, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as your eyebrows furrow, thinking over his words. “Y’think if I act a little more confident about it, they’ll start believing it too?”

Joel’s chuckle is a little crackle-ey on the line as he wanders around his house talking to you, going in and out of good reception. “Gotta start somewhere, buttercup. At the end of the day, it’s about your happiness, not theirs. Don’t gotta be such a people pleaser all the time.”

Yes, I do, you think.

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Sure thing, hon’.”

Dusk on the outskirts of Houston. The houses become few and far between. There’s more green grass and flourished trees. Joel slowly pulls into a small driveway, a large blue neon-lit sign designated that you were at your motel for the weekend. The entire truck is highlighted in a pale blue from the illumination, you nearly have to squint. There were no more than two or three cars parked outside. It was a two-level motel, with an outside staircase to navigate the different floors.

“The Blue Swallow Motel.” Your attention strays to Joel with furrowed brows. “Why here?”

Joel shrugs and navigates himself into a parking spot with ease. “Don’t know. Like blue swallows.”

Curiosity sparks you.

“You like blue swallows? You’ve seen one in person?”

He shakes his head and says nothing for a moment, but it almost looks like he can’t help himself to dispel some information. “They’re native to Africa, only ever seen the North American variants ‘round here.” He lets the engine grumble down once he pulls the key from the ignition, but you’re still awestruck in his passenger seat.

“I’m sorry- Joel Miller Bird Enthusiast?” The eager tone in your voice gives away your excitement, and Joel seems to despise it when you get too excited about him. He has to close his eyes and hang his head, wishing he never said anything.

“Oh, Joel Miller, don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen those bird guides on your bookshelf, you’re a birder.”

His neck swivels, eyes wide and defensive. “I am not a birder.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and eventually, he cracks a smile. “They’re interestin’, okay?”

You playfully pat his shoulder with reassurance, nodding in agreement. The two of you settle down from your fits of laughter and look over the exterior of the motel once more.

“Y’said you wanted somethin’ quaint? Small?”

Being with Joel and having no other distractions was your goal for this weekend. Since this trip was coming out of Joel’s pocket, you insisted you didn’t need some fancy hotel. You’ve traveled to Houston a handful of times before, and the last thing you wanted was for your view outside some high-rise hotel to be Danbury in the distance.

You squeeze his hand once more and nod, stars lighting up behind your eyes. “It’s perfect. Thanks for finding something simple.”

Joel teeters on your appreciation but ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Could’ve gotten something a little nicer for ya, maybe closer to downtown-”

You stop him right there and bring his rough knuckles to your plush lips, adding a kiss to each one. “I said it’s perfect, so it’s perfect. I like it, it’s got charm, chutzpah even. Plus, looks like we’ll have the pool to ourselves.” You hum with a devious little smirk. You hop out of the truck and open the backdoor to grab your things.

“Pool, you say?” He retorts, an eyebrow raised with narrow eyes on you. You lightly shrug as you grab your backpack.

“Might have forgotten my swimsuit, though. Shame.”

You brush past Joel, who is scoffing lightly under his breath in disbelief, duffel bag brushing against his calves as he walks with you towards the motel office. You would be the death of this man.

“Damn shame.” He mutters, a smirk hanging low on his lips.

---

Room 135 was marked on the dark chestnut door, a small white plate with black numbering decked on.

There wasn’t much to be said about the motel room itself. You tried to stifle a laugh when you and Joel both walked in to see two separate queen beds. The sheets were white, but the top cover was an extravagant red pattern that looked like it got lost in the 80s. A side table was resting against the wall towards the headboards with a beige telephone placed on top, resting over a few local restaurant menus. Two small lamps were attached to the wall above the beds, perfectly opposite of the television sat on top of a tall dresser.

“Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?” You teased as you walked further inside over the beige carpet. “Two beds don’t exactly scream romantic.” You set your backpack down on the foot of the bed furthest from the door and closest to the bathroom around the corner. You assume this bed will just be used to hold both of your luggage, not a person.

“No,” Joel said through a tight gruff as he strained to lift his bag of tools and luggage onto the edge of his own bed. “S’a work trip. Not a romantic getaway.”

Your smile falters as you purse your lips and fiddle with your hands behind your back.

“So, this really is a work trip?” You clarify, to which Joel looks at you a bit confused.

“Course it is.”

A light boil simmers through your chest. Maybe you will be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel could sense your flattened mood, and he quickly felt the need to sweep up the pieces of what he broke. He was bad with words, terrible really, but he tried to find the right ones for you.

“I said that wrong. It’s a work trip but,” he trails off and falters as he saddles his hands on his hips for a moment and sighs, your doe eyes looking up to his own. “But I brought you here to spend some real time with ya. Didn’t wanna,” he shrugs and rolls his eyes. A classic Joel Miller sign that he wants to say something a little personally emotional.

“What?” You probe him, a smile tickling your lips as you loop your hands to rest just above the ones on his hips. “You didn’t want to what, Joel?” You ask, setting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a goofy grin.

He sighs and rolls his eyes again, having a hard time looking at you. “I didn’t wanna go on this trip alone. Didn’t want to leave you at home when I could bring ya with.”

Joel wasn’t a social man. In fact, if the world went to shit, you think he might really enjoy the solitude. But for him to admit that he would rather have you in his space than out of it, it’s quite endearing.

Now you’re the one who's hiding a blush. You settle your cheek against his chest and sigh, soaking in his scent and his warmth. Joel’s hand comes to rest on the side of your head, gently stroking your hair away from your face as the two of you relax into a gentle hug.

“Were you serious about that no bathin’ suit thing?” He asks after a moment of silence, causing you to roll your eyes and shove him a good distance away.

“As serious as a heart attack.” You sneer as you round the bed to the bathroom, needing desperately to relieve yourself after the drive. Of all colors, it’s a beautiful mint green. Incredibly retro, you think as you use the toilet and stare at the shower absentmindedly. You roll your phone around in your hands once you finish washing them, a lump rising in your throat.

Your mother’s words echoed in your ear.

“If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.”

There was no young man. The young man your mother referred to was really Joel. Panic was spreading through your body just at the thought of trying to fix this situation. They figured out you were seeing someone, they just didn’t quite know who. A few heavy breaths labor out of you, anxiety nestling in your chest.

“You okay, buttercup? Been a minute.” Joel asks cautiously from the opposite side of the door, his knuckles offering a few polite knocks.

Your chest surges. You didn’t want him to know you’d slipped up, half-told your parents the truth. You didn’t want him to end things out of fear of them finding out. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Joel. Just.. gimme a minute.”

His feet don’t move on the other side of the door. He doesn’t want to leave you, feeling something slightly wrong.

“Really, Joel, just- checking out the facilities.” God.

He sighs before you hear him back off. “Alright. Lemme know f’you need anythin’.”

You need to act, or else this feeling will eat you alive. Finally, with some accurate cell service, you text the first person you think of. Nathan. Remember that childhood crush of yours? You hadn’t seen him in years, and with how gorgeous he was growing up, there was a scary feeling that you might be texting a man who had a girlfriend. But he was your only hope to cover up the mess you had made.

Growing up with Nathan and his parents being friends with your own always felt like a setup. Your mothers always cooed that you two just might end up marrying one another. At the time, you wished it was true, that all this exposure with him would lead to something romantic. But then you grew up, saw each other a little less over the summers, and grew apart. You still kept in contact via social media, but not often. You saw his life in pictures. One from a homecoming dance, a group picture of him and his friends, an action shot of him playing basketball, a high school graduation picture, and a similar one for college graduation. He was still alive somewhere out there, you just didn’t know him like you used to.

Nathan was always kind, goofy, very golden retriever-like. Summers spent apart created a rift, but he was your childhood best friend and crush once upon a time. If he was willing to help you out, you owed him big time. So you shoot him a text and cross your fingers that this is still his number. The last thing logged in your messages was a silly conversation about cheetahs versus jaguars. You were team cheetahs, obviously.

You felt a slight sense of relief once you came up with a plan. Talk to Nathan. See if he can act as your fake boyfriend for your parents. See if he doesn’t think you’re damn crazy for concealing your forty-something-year-old fuck buddy.

You’re not really sure how to reignite the conversation, it’s been so damn long. You stare at the blank screen before you craft the brilliant message:

A sigh leaves your parted, anxious lips, and you shove your phone away.

---

You really did bring a bathing suit, much to Joel’s eagerness for the rumor to be true. You change into it with your back turned to him. You feel his eyes boring holes into you, sending a small dash of goosebumps up your arms. “I’m going for a dip before bed.” You say as you fiddle with the strings of your bikini top, struggling for a moment before you feel a warm presence step in behind you and fuss away with the strings himself.

You hum softly as he fastens the strings, making a bow at your midback. Joel’s lips brush against your shoulder before they start sponging gentle kisses up your neck. The hair you tied up into a loose bun tickles his nose.

“Such’a pretty girl.” He hums against your skin, a soft shiver trickling up your spine, lips parting in pleasure. “Too bad you’re not a very good girl.” Joel murmured as his hands slipped lower, past your hips, past the curve of your ass, until he was cupping both cheeks in his large palms. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his fingers squeeze at your flesh. A moan escapes your lips, you just can’t help it. You love it when Joel is handsy for you, the needy one.

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn in his arms, eagerly kissing him as you cup his cheeks. He fights for control instantly, pulling you in at your hips so your back arches backward out of habit. You let your head dip back, eyes dipping closed as his lips trail down your neck, then between the valley of your breasts, all while his wiry beard creates scratches in his wake.

“Do you have swim trunks?” You ask breathily, shoving him lightly by the top of the head further down your body. He drops to his knees and continues to trail kisses down your stomach.

The question catches him off guard.

“Do I- what?” He asks breathily, looking up at you as he sponges kisses over your clothed center.

“If you don’t have swim trunks,” you try to continue, “you can’t go swimming with me.” You say with a teasing smirk, stepping around Joel, who was awestruck kneeling on the ground, his hands still in place where he was cupping the backs of your thighs before he slaps them down on his own to show annoyance.

He was probably thinking how you just up and disappeared when you were just standing in front of him a moment ago. Joel grumbles something, but you’re already out the door of the motel room.

---

The pool is glowing in its blue hue, lit by dim lights around the perimeter and the silver moon in the sky.

In a world so vast, you couldn’t help but feel a little lost in wanting to explore it.

You take a breath in through your nose and test the water with a dip of your toe. A bit cold for your liking, but the warm Texas summers make your skin sticky and the air a bit stale. So you dive in.

The cool water is a shock to your system at first, with goosebumps growing on your skin like wildfire. Your face breaks the seal of the water, emerging over the light ripples you created upon diving in, catching your breath. You take a few leisurely laps along the outskirts, feeling weightless, free.

“Nice night.” Joel’s brassy voice breaks the gentle chorus of the summer cicadas. You hum as you carve your way through the water until you meet the pool’s edge. You rest your arms on the lip of the pool, bringing your breasts just above the surface of the water.

“Get. In.” You say with an authoritative voice, despite your eager smile.

He cocks his head a few degrees to the right, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No. You look like a shivering chihuahua.”

His joke elicits a giggle from you.

“It’s only cold for the first few minutes. You’ll warm up.” You’re only half-lying, the pool was so fucking cold.

Joel merely shakes his head. “You’re crazy, buttercup.”

You hum as you push off the edge of the pool, moving towards the center, letting the water dance around you as your arms glide back and forth to keep you afloat.

“Sounds like you need some motivation.” Your eyes lock on Joel’s as your fingers navigate to the back of your bikini strings, slowly pulling the tie loose, feeling the water aid you in floating the material off your upper half. The top strings around your neck are still tied, concealing the full reveal of your breasts.

Joel’s once secure face fizzled, eyes straying and lips parting. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he kneels down, pointer finger curling towards him impatiently. “Get over here.”

You shake your head disobediently. “Now.” His barking urgency makes you stifle a smirk.

“Joel Miller afraid of a little cold water.” You shrug and move your fingers to the strings tied behind your neck, slowly tugging loose the threads. The material falls limp into the water, floating in front of you free from your body.

Joel watches with impatience, the spill of your breasts making his cock twitch inside his swim trunks. The mesh material was forgiving, allowing him to swell at the sight of you. The cold water has your nipples taut, drawn into sweet peaks. You’re just out of his fucking reach, too far into the pool for him to grab you.

He grunts quietly, jaw tight as you slowly swim closer to him. You shiver at his glance alone.

“If you want me,” your voice drops innocently, doe eyes making their appearance to reel him in, “you’ll get in the pool, Mr. Miller.”

Just out of his reach once more, you swim back to the center and push your thumbs into the band of your bikini bottoms, down your legs, leaving you bare in the pool for anyone to see from the highway or their own motel rooms. You must admit, Joel’s desperate gaze filled with want makes you squirm with excitement. Disobeying him lights that explosive even more.

He offers you his hand, one final offer. “Last chance, angel, get out of the pool.”

“Why do you even have swim trunks on if you aren’t going to get in?” You ask, eyes gazing over the tangled hair he has scattered across his chest.

“I was hoping these would appease you alone. Now come here,” he juts his hand out as an offering one last time.

You roll your eyes and swim closer, your breasts lapping in the water as you take Joel’s hand. And tug with all your strength.

His feet skid to try and hold him back, but he ultimately summersaults into the pool. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to conceal your laughs as Joel emerges, sopping wet, cold, angry.

“Y-You-” He chatters his teeth, eyes screwed tight on you as he pushes his hand back through his soaked curls and down his face, grazing his wiry beard. “You’re gonna get it.”

Joel’s threat makes you squeal. You attempt to doggy paddle away, but the grip he catches on your arm is iron. He pulls you back to him, and your body glides through the water, arms securing on his biceps once you’re locked in his hold. He’s threatening, but not as much so when you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his half-hard length.

You raise your eyebrow at him, and he half-chuckles.

“Such a fuckin’ piece of work you are.” He grunts out, hands searing the flesh of your hips as he skirts his hand down lower, cupping the globes of your ass.

A hum tickles your throat as you lean in and press your lips to his jawline in a tempting kiss, smiling as Joel’s nose playfully nudges yours, leaning in for more.

It’s stomach-twisting how you feel so comfortable with Joel, how you sink into his body, and how he warms your core. You kiss him until your lips feel bruised, and he grips your beautiful curves with eagerness. The two of you kiss like hungry teenagers, finally outside the watchful eyeline of your parents. Joel’s cock is hardening against your naked core.

He forces himself off of you, groaning lightly as he strays from your eyes. Cupping his jawline, you angle him back to you, resting your foreheads together.

“Makin’ me get all riled up like a damn teenager.” His warm breath puffs across your face, his words make your bundle of nerves tingle.

“I like that I’m the one causing it.”

Joel chews at the inside of his cheek before giving you a tight little nod. “Me too, buttercup.”

---

Joel decides pool play is over. He gets out first, snags your bikini pieces that floated to the edge of the pool and starts walking leisurely back into the motel room.

He only hears your cursing and belligerent rambling after he returns from turning on the shower, piping hot.

“Can’t hear ya when you’re chatterin’ your teeth.”

Joel returns to the bathroom and strips his swim trunks off, still half-hard. He tests the water with his hand, giving you an affirming nod it was okay to step in.

You’re still angry and seething, having to streak your way back to the room naked and freezing your bare ass off. He looks at your crossed arms and playfully tuts. “You’re the one that thought t’drag me in there with ya, princess.”

Joel follows you into the shower, the water splashing searing hot droplets. It only feels that hot because you’re readjusting from the pool’s temperature. You find yourself huddling into Joel’s warmth.

He finds it endearing, the way your head settles on his chest, your ear to his heart, too chilled to let him go. He angles the showerhead downwards, letting it focus on your body first. He could wait.

You gently release your crossed arms, letting them wrap low around his hips. He had a few extra pounds of flesh low on his tummy and on the sides of his waist. You gently pinch the area and smile.

“Stop that.” He hisses, eyebrows knitted together.

“But I like it. You’re my favorite person to hug.”

The sentiment splashed warmth on the back of his neck. Joel has picked up a few extra pounds from town barbeques, and beers tossed back during football games. He used to not like it, the way he had to loosen his belt after a big meal, or having to purchase his new t-shirts in a size up. He didn’t think about it much, but naked with you in the shower, feeling you admire his ever-changing body, was a comfort.

You look up after a few moments of silence, setting your chin on his chest and feeling his chest hair graze against your skin.

Joel wants to warm you up, get you to relax under the showerhead. He presses a nimble kiss to your lips, pitter-pattering kisses along the extent of your body before he is down on his knees, angling your back to rest against the shower wall.

Tired after your car ride and melting under the shower’s sprinkling water, you ache for a relief that will come from your head hitting a pillow. But Joel had other things in mind, things that would make you forget you were tired in an instant.

Now under his watchful eye, lips and wiry beard scratching at your soft skin, you lightly part your legs for his entrance. God, please don’t let me slip and embarrass myself right now. Let me have this one good thing, this man’s tongue against my pussy would make me a God-willing woman.

Joel can feel your exhausted body, begging to find a bed. But he had you where he wanted you, and his mouth was watering to taste your sweet musky arousal. His hands settle themselves on the backs of your thighs, supporting your weight as his head leans into your warmth.

He brings two fingers forward, parting your center, licking a slow draw up your core. His tongue flicks off your clit, your bundle of nerves twitches. Something flips in his stomach, and his cock grows heavy against his thigh.

You taste sweet and serene, something he’s grown an appetite for. With several days apart awaiting your weekend trip away, he often found himself at night, spilling into his hand thinking about your young, beautiful pussy flushed against his mouth. He takes this opportunity to relish in you moaning his name, without any curious ears.

His tongue sinks lower, swirling around your tense entrance. The swell of his tongue gushes more arousal from you, and he gets a proper taste that isn’t mixed with water from the shower.

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, and he laps at your clit like a famished man.

The constant flicks have you gasping for air in the all-too-warm shower. Your fingers weave into his soaking wet curls, still finding a grip as your thigh twitches against his hand.

Joel’s two fingers parting your center gently massage at your entrance, wiggling in gently as he suckles on your clit, and you mewl weakly.

His tongue and teeth lightly graze your sensitivity, feeling stars clouding your vision as his fingers set a gentle pace.

“Ooh,” you sigh weakly, feeling his fingers hit the perfect spot, one that makes you shake.

Joel knows that sound, knows the feeling. He looks up, admires the way your pretty lips are parted in bliss. The hand on your thigh is brought to your stomach, gently stroking over the flesh.

You watch him a little curiously, a little fucked. His mouth returns to your clit, but his hand still falters on your lower abdomen. You whimper as he adds a little pressure, and quickens his fingers. It’s jaw-dropping, the friction and pressure, piling on top of each other.

You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-”

“Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles.

You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat.

“There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,” he grunts, jaw tight, and teeth clenched as he watches your cum-arousal mixture glide down his fingers in a sticky mess. He slowly stands, watching you pant for air, as he sucks his digits clean with an evil smirk.

The temperature in here is too much, heat consumes your body as you weakly grip his biceps.

“God damn, Mr. Miller.” You say breathlessly. You take him in a quick kiss, moaning weakly into his mouth at your taste. His tongue tangles with you, and he keeps his fingers on your core. His first two fingers start to slowly circle your clit again, but it’s entirely too soon.

You whimper weakly into his mouth, your clit aching and still recovering from your oral orgasm.

“Mmm- can’t do it, Joel.”

Joel snarls as he swiftly turns you around, his foot hitting the insides of both of your ankles to spread your legs. Your face is plastered against the shower wall, watching him out of the corner of your eye with your jaw dropped.

“Be good for me, baby girl, show how thankful you are.”

You whine at his raspy voice, feeling its timbre bounce against the walls.

“Please,” you beg in a whisper, inching your feet farther apart for him to take you in the shower.

Joel strokes his cock, seething through his teeth at the desperate relief he’s feeling. His swollen tip vies for your attention. He lines himself up, his other hand on your hip as he notches himself inside.

You visibly flinch away, Joel hushing you softly as he tries again.

“Gotta relax for me, pretty girl.”

You sigh weakly and let yourself melt with the warm water, fluttering your eyes closed as you gently jut your hips back into this, needing to be filled.

Joel tries again after lining his tip up and down your slit and gathering your arousal. He notches inside of you once more, causing your eyelashes to flutter. He slowly presses on.

The drinks must have really loosened you up since the last time the two of you fooled around in his truck. He wasn’t so hard to take then, but now he feels thicker, rounder. You could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock as he ruts his hips into your ass.

Finally, you will yourself to breathe, moaning his name in desperation.

Joel’s trying to contract his lungs, but you’re gripping onto him so tight, the heat of the shower going to his head.

You hum and purposely grip your walls around him, squeezing for his last breath.

Joel snarls and smacks your ass from below, watching the fatty flesh jiggle. It stings, but you like it, thinking about his large handprint marking you red. He winds his hips back up and presses in, groaning lowly as he fills you to the brim.

He sets a decent pace, one that robs you of what air you have left in your lungs. Your entire body feels sensitive, your cheek growing sore from being fucked against the shower wall. But it feels entirely too good, a certain itch that only Joel Miller can scratch.

Every thrust he makes, you moan his name like a broken record. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you moan and grunt it so much, that it starts to sound like it’s not a real word anymore.

You reach back an arm blindly, gripping his bicep and stitching your nails into his skin.

Joel grunts out weakly, the burning sensation you caused on his arm making him go wild. He reaches for both of your wrists and plants them at the base of your back, forcing your face to be your only weight to keep you up against the shower.

But it unlocks a new angle, one that has you crying out curses and his heavenly name.

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck- fuck your favorite little pussy,” you mewl out, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

“God dammit, fuck me good like that, like that,” your eyes clench close, panting heavily. “Right there, daddy, please, Mr. Miller, touch my clit, please,” you beg, the pet name rolling off your tongue.

It makes him snarl. He sets a hellish pace. His chest puffs up, his broad biceps locking around you as his fingers stroke over your pussy.

He loves the way you wind him up. Because you are his favorite young pussy, one he’s made his own, railing you so good that you forget about anyone else that may have had you before.

All you know is Joel Miller.

His thighs and lower tummy smack your ass cheeks, a distinct slapping sound filling the shower and pinging off the walls right back into your ears.

Stars flutter behind your eyes, you feel light-headed. The water splashes warm across your back, allowing Joel even more slip.

The harder he fucks you, the closer he moves in. Now he has his entire torso flushed against your back, flicking his hips up into you with precision.

Suddenly he’s grabbing your leg by the underside of your knee, hiking it up, and planting it against the shower wall as he exposes a whole new sensation.

You can’t last any longer. His fingers circle dangerously around your clit, and now he’s pounding you into the wall, forcing friction against his glorious thrusts. You whimper loudly as his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, feeling your walls clench around him as you come.

It’s jaw-dropping, heart-surging, mind-fucking how good he feels coming inside of you. It’s warm, warmer than the water still raining over you. It’s comforting the way his seed spreads throughout your core, his grunts filling the shower as he drops his last load inside of you.

And goddamn, he loves how you milk him dry.

You weakly slide down the wall, tiredly dropping your leg once he pulls out.

“No ya’don’t.” Joel quickly says, snagging a strong arm around your waist and hauling you up. You whimper as he peels your face off the wall, blinking rapidly as he spins you to face him. “C’mere.” Joel embraces you, and you lean weakly into his front like a bear hug.

“Water,” you whisper against his pec. He turns the shower temperature down, a more comforting heat surrounding you now.

“You’re alright.” He assures.

After time to recuperate, Joel reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a small amount into his palm and lathering it between his hands. You feel a little better standing, but you still stay wrapped up in his arms, in his hug.

He massages the shampoo into your locks, gently massaging it against your scalp, before he gently washes the bubbles out. He gathers conditioner next, letting it soak into your ends.

You hide your smile against his chest, knowing that he probably had to learn this type of stuff for Sarah. Hair care, skin care, tampons and pads, all the sort of stuff single dads fear. You wonder whatever could have been in Sarah’s mother’s mind to leave a guy like Joel Miller. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he seemed to fit into your life like a glove right now. For however long that perfect fit would be.

A weak sigh leaves your lips as he strokes your head sweetly, his fingers then grazing your cheek.

“Y’alright? Feel good?”

You nod weakly and smile, letting your arms drop gently as you pull away. “M’tired.”

Joel stifles a chuckle and nods. “Me too, baby. Sit tight.”

Once Joel is assured you’re not going to lose your strength standing up on your own, he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel low on his waist. You gaze at the lines around his hips, and how they dip down into his towel.

You clear your throat as you quickly look away once he approaches you with two towels. He wraps one around your shoulders, gently moving his warm hands up and down the sides of your arms.

You look so sweet, warm and cozy, cum-filled, at ease. The stress he usually sees you carrying around is wiped away. He hoped he had something to do with it.

Joel leans down and presses a light kiss to your lips. Not hungry, not desperate, not chasing. Delicate. Assuring.

You smile tiredly and shyly evade his eye contact, something that he hates to admit is goddamn adorable on you.

Both of you towel dry off any remaining droplets of water. Joel forces you to show him how you even get the towel you wrap around your hair on your head.

“This is girlhood, Joel Miller.” You say once you secure it on, watching him shake his head in disbelief.

“A mystery to me.” He says with a boyish grin.

You both exit the steamy bathroom and search your bags for pajamas. You packed a few comfy shirts for bed. And only one extra pair of panties. You better be damn careful with your one last sacred pair. You toss it back into your pack for now, deciding that they would probably be taken off in the morning anyway. You slip under the covers of Joel’s bed, saving him a space you hope he fills. Of course, he does.

Joel flips off the light switch, indulging the room in a black and blue hue. He grunts quietly as he slips into the covers. The both of you just melt into the mattress.

You nuzzle into his side, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He makes gentle circles into your back as your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You sigh and turn your back to Joel to retrieve it from the charger.

“Your parents askin’ if we made it okay?” Joel murmurs tiredly, eyes closed, waiting for you to return to his side.

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s a text message from Nathan.

Hey stranger

“Yeah,” you lie, your fingers gliding across the keyboard to configure a response. “They uh.. They’re tellin’ me to not bug you too much on the trip.” You awkwardly chuckle, your back still turned to him as you stare at Nathan’s message.

Joel dryly chuckles as he reaches a hand out and settles it on your hip. “Quite the opposite.”

You feel terrible concealing this from Joel. But you don’t want him to think you were young and foolish letting your secret fling slip. This was to make things work, to keep the secret buried from your parents.

Another message from Nathan makes your phone buzz in your hand.

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up?

Your heart sits in your throat, shocked by his ask.

You flip over your phone, opting to reply in the morning. You’re beat. You sigh weakly and return to Joel’s side, hiding your face in his shoulder as you gently kiss along the muscle. He was already passed out.

As messy as this felt, being with Joel felt like being tossed a life jacket in open water. And you weren’t going to lose that safety, not if you could help it.

---

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

duality

: ̗̀➛ joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ (mxf, f receiving, dirty talk, joel being a king as per usual) swearing, mentions of death, mentions of canon typical violence!

a/n: hii! this was based on this request right here - oh my god. i am obsessed with this, i really hope i did this justice! i kind of just started writing and went where it took me lmao. its all just smut at this point so like don't look to hard. also thank you to @everybirdfellsilent for the title name and answering my question "how do i write this?" with a simple "why not write both?!" you are a queen.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

“Joel… what time is it?” You keep your eyes screwed shut when you begin to fight the muddiness of deep sleep away, but the early morning sunlight in Jackson always sneaks it’s way through. You stretch out, reaching for him in a natural reflex, and instead of answering you he just presses closer. You keep your eyes shut, letting your other senses guide your hands to his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him under your palms.

You could hardly open your eyes right now, but you could do this. Lay here with him— you could do that easily. You and Joel had a string of long days recently, and you’d hoped, or at the very least expected that he’d be so tired he’d sleep up until the last possible second.

Apparently you were wrong, as you feel him shift under your hands to the point you lose your hold on him. He kisses you once on the lips, light and feather soft, and you smile sleepily, toes curling at the gentle touch.

“Mornin’.” His voice rumbles through you, low and brassy, waking your bones before your brain could catch up. As his hair tickles the skin of your neck, you can feel him moving lower, the warmth of his body leaving your chest and hovering over your stomach.

You reach for him blindly, and he guides you back even when you sit up on your elbows and peak one eye at him. You watch him move, his own eyes still half lidded, but his hands more awake than ever. They slowly slide over your hips, drawing faint patterns with his fingertips. The warmth of his rough palms move further up over your tummy, pawing at you to lay down on your back. ‘Relax’, he whispers, and your chest tightens. He moves you languidly, using your half conscious state to mould you where he wants to put you, and you let him, no resistance in your muscles.

With a hand still sliding up and down your bare skin, he leans down close enough you can feel the touch of his nose on your cheek. Before you can move to take control, he dips his head. First down to your jaw, the heat of his mouth making you shiver when he kisses along all the sensitive spots. He’s light and quick, your delayed reactions making it easy for him to move without interruption. You wonder how long he’d been awake. Waiting for you to stir, just so he could see you squirm.

His tongue licks indulgent lines further down your body, teasing your skin with his lips following suit. He starts at your collarbone, then tucks the fabric of your shirt higher so he can see you bare below him. The blanket covers over his head, but the light is strong enough that you can see his eyes watching your reaction as he plants soft kisses down your chest. You swear he smirks when you arch your back, nearly groaning at the light but not nearly enough pressure.

Your hands finally wake themselves when he mouths at the skin of your lower stomach, brushing through the soft curls on the top of his head. He hums against you, eyes flicking up with warmth lining them, and smiles slightly. The sight tugs at a string of your racing heart, and you keep your voice low when you manage to speak.

“Joel, let me…” You fade off, eyes fluttering as you attempt to bring him back up to you. You want him to feel good too— so as much as you love where this is going, you know the two of you can’t have very long this morning, and you want to make the most of it. “C’mere.”

He shakes his head, mouth too busy to reply as it dives into the newly exposed skin of your thighs. At some point he’d taken your underwear off— or maybe he’d done it in your sleep, making sure you were ready for him in the morning.

You’d both been exhausted last night, so as badly as you’d wanted him, you knew neither of you could keep your eyes open for more than twenty seconds. Joel had grumbled a few curse words at how he couldn’t even hold himself up, and as soon as your heads hit the pillow, and you curled in on his chest light a weighted blanket, you were both out like a light.

Joel was clearly making up for lost time. Slowly, he spreads your legs, his hot breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you unconsciously try to close yourself from him— the feeling and the way his eyes were staring so intensely at the most intimate part of you.

“Joel, come here—“ You try again, and his hair brushes the inside of your thighs when his head shakes again. His eyes look to you, and they almost look… pleading.

“Please, baby. I need this. Let me.” He sounds half broken— his voice cracking and hands gripping your hips. His hold wasn’t harsh, still keeping those gentle, sweet touches he’d started with, but it was enough to hold you down and keep you right where he had you. “I’ll make you feel so good, I swear. So… so fuckin’ good. Don’t I always?”

His shoulders press you open wider, leaving no room for insecurity. You just nod your head as he stares up at you, wide eyed, waiting for permission. The lines of concern in his forehead disappear when he sees you agree, chest deflating like he was relieved.

He drags the tip of his nose lightly along your inner thigh, and you can feel your legs already shaking in anticipation. It was one thing Joel did so well; he almost didn’t know he did it. Making you wait. All day, he would work you up so subtly— soft touches, intense stares across the field. Words whispered only to you, so any reaction you had would seem out of line. And then here… indulging his every want and need while you sat patiently, waiting for him to decide when, and where, and how.

You’d do it over and over again, because you knew what came of it. What came when you did exactly what he wanted. Sometimes it was fun to fight him back, be a bit of a brat about it, but right here, when he was working you up so nice and asking so desperately— there wasn’t a damn thing in the world worth that.

“Fuck, baby you’re so pretty.” His teeth replace his nose, tracing the same line along the opposite thigh. His fingers massage circles into your hips as he feels you fidget and shake, the world still spinning slowly above you. “You’re gonna take it so well for me this mornin’, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. A-anything you want. I just—“ Your breath hitches when he kisses closer to where you’re all but aching for him, right in the join between your leg and pussy. “I need—“

He groans into you, never giving you a chance to finish your sentence as he buries his tongue between your legs. You cry out louder than you mean to, the hand not buried in Joel’s messy hair slapping over your open mouth. Joel smiles against you, tongue swirling around your clit in the way he knows makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Everything was too hot. It was winter in Jackson, snow falling gently onto the windowsill, but the blanket over you mixed with the heat Joel was spreading up your stomach was too much. Your back arched and he took the change in direction with eagerness. Groaning your name, he flattened his tongue and caught your eyes before they rolled back into your head, his eyebrows furrowed and concentrated.

“Oh, god… Joel. Joel, Joel—“ It was all you could think of to say, the pleasure shooting white hot sparks up your spine and sliding you further down the bed into Joel’s onslaught.

He was messy. Joel ate you out with an enthusiasm you never found anywhere else. Maybe it was the fact that there was nothing good outside the four walls you’d both found yourself in, the rest of the world cold compared to the warmth of your bed— or maybe he just fucking loved it as much as he always said.

Whether he did this for you or for himself, Joel knew exactly how to build you up; it was so quick you couldn’t prepare for it. His hands held your hips tight as you squirmed— grinding your hips forward to match his pace as he let you use him to chase your release. The sounds he was making were only spurring you closer— slurred words of praise hardly audible, his voice horse and breaking like he could hardly manage them.

“Good— fuck, you taste good.” Each word is muffled underneath you, but it hits you hard in the chest. Being praised by anyone made your heart flutter, but when it was Joel? Capable, stoic, hard-as-nails Joel? It was entirely different. A whole other ball game. And he fucking knew it. “You close, baby. Fuck, I know you gotta be. So tight…”

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m so close…” You whimper and he hums in response, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Your fingers gripped his hair harshly, his mouth only working harder to keep its lock on you. He wrapped his lips around your clit, eyes fluttering open halfway to watch you, and the sight is what undid you.

“That’s it. Fuck, there’s those eyes…” You hear Joel mutter but you can’t form words to reply. Everything was on fire, your stomach locking tight as the waves of pleasure wrapped you into a ball and burst over every inch of skin. It was cliche, but it felt like fucking fireworks went off in your chest, Joel’s hands an anchor keeping you from taking off with them.

He was halfway up your body when you came back to it, kissing and touching you so gently you could have cried if you had the energy. It was moments like these that he was the most vulnerable— where he couldn’t get enough of you, indulged himself in you, but did it with such sweetness and… well, love, that you knew the man he didn’t think he was anymore was still in there.

“So pretty. Sound so damn pretty when you cum for me.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. It’s teeth and tongue, a mix of you and him on your lips as he pulls away to look at you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hands reach down to tug lightly at his boxers, and he huffs, shaking his head against your mouth.

“M’not done, baby.” His voice makes you shiver all over again, pleasure still stirring low and hot in your tummy. “S’fuckin’ good.”

“I can’t, Joel…” You whimper, his hand ever so slightly brushing between your legs. You jolt upwards, your body betraying your words.

“Yeah, you can. You can f’me, yeah?” He was already moving down, ignoring your whines as he made his way back to his favourite spot in this house. He was quicker this time, knowing you’d still be sensitive.

It was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made, the way you tasted— it was like the best game he’d ever played. Joel was an adrenaline junkie— he knew it. He was smart about it, but he longed for that rush of endorphins when he was winning a fight or putting bullets into bodies. Out of all the shit he’d done, though, nothing compared to this. The best adrenaline rush he’d ever felt was right here, hearing you scream his name as he tasted every fucking inch you of he could manage.

He was messier this time. Wrapping his mouth around you and swirling his tongue in quick, mind-numbing movements that had your fingers burying deeper into his hair. He nearly came at the feeling of it— you, trying your hardest not to hurt him but still yanking him into you, hardly giving him an inch to pull away. Not that he’d every fuckin’ dream of being dragged away from you now.

“Joel… too much. Fuck— I’m…I—“ He bucked his hips against the mattress, the way you whine his name is like a stab at his chest every time. His nose brushes against your clit again as he tastes you deeper, your voice broken and tapering off into barely there words.

He knows you’d stop him if it was really too much. He knows if he pulled away right now you’d drag him right back where he wants to be, where he knows he’s fucking good at being. Joel wants you closer— all day, he can’t fucking find it in himself to drag you under his arm or kiss you like he wants in front of all those people.

He was too possessive.

None of them get to see you like this, how your eyes get all soft when he kisses you, and how you sigh his name when your body moulds to his. No one else gets to see this. He’s the only one that can break you like this. So when he has you? He doesn’t stop until you make him.

“Just a little more f’me.” Joel’s low, cracking tone sends a violent wave of pleasure skittering across your stomach, butterflies erupting at the sound of him.

His movements weren’t timed anymore, still just as indulgent, but he was losing his control. His hands were tighter now, fighting against the surges of your body off the mattress. You hoped it would leave marks behind— proof of how badly he’d needed you this morning. How much he wanted you to Stay. Put.

“Baby, I can’t—“ You choke out, a hold on his hair so hard you swear you might rip it out.

“Mmhmm.” Is all he rumbles against you, and you think he speeds up, or does something different, or maybe he just looks at you again— because you drown in the onslaught of whatever it was as you feel the familiar rush of pleasure all over again.

This was something different. Everything tightened and released, and you could feel how wet you were— a damp mess underneath you only present when you could feel your heart begin to slow again. Joel doesn’t move from his spot, arms still wrapped around your thighs, fingers drawing slow circles into the shaking muscles.

“God, baby. Fuckin’… never get tired of seein’ that.” He wasn’t looking at you, at anything really. His eyes were shut, forehead pressed to your inner thigh as he tried and failed to catch his breath. “You feel good? You there?”

“Mm.” You push out, feeling the warmth of his laugh between your legs. “Can’t… can’t feel my legs.”

“S’okay. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” His eyes open again, half lidded, and he begins a slow descent, mouthing the bruises he’s left behind as he sinks down. Your back bends off the bed, but he presses you down with a gentle hand. “Lie back.”

“Joel… wait, I can’t. I—“ You can’t talk between small, shuddering breaths, and he just shakes his head, looking at the mess you’ve left behind.

“Keep sayin’ that, but here you are.” He stops, hovering over your stomach; waiting. Waiting for you to tell him to stop for real.

“Lemme keep goin’, darlin’. Just a little…” He groans at the way your hips shift lower, closer to his mouth despite your words. “Fuck. Little more. Need this.”

His nose brushes against your clit as he looks up, holding your eyes as he spits slowly down your centre.

“You like it, don’t you?” He says, a smile on his face even when his voice wavers. You whine, maybe in protest or impatience, but he coos at you either way. “I know. Shh. I know, baby. Just stay right…here.”

You think you black out when his mouth wraps around you again, sounds and colours all blending together in your mind in a way that nothing makes sense except for the way his tongue feels on you. Minutes or hours could go by— every responsibility you might have drifting to the back burner when he was here. Right here.

“M’right here. Never lettin’ you go.” He groans, his hips grinding into the soft covers, and you give in, knowing he’s got you.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

It might of been a good morning, but it was another shitty day.

Winter in Jackson was good and bad. Good, because clickers and runners couldn’t make their way through the thick snow, and froze before they ever got close to the gates. It meant less patrols, less waste of resources, less need for supply runs; it was the closest to normal you got.

Bad, because while clickers weren’t made for the heavy fall of winter, neither were the fucking fences.

Everything broke down, cracked and froze during winter. There wasn’t a single area that didn’t need repairs, so while you weren’t needed on patrols, it meant you’d be out in the field, dragging plywood or banging nails into something. Even with all the hours you'd spent on your area, it felt like there was still miles to go, your hands aching by the time you found a minute to rest.

You could see Joel the entire day, too, which only made it worse for your wandering mind.

You could see him getting pissed off, ordering the young guys he’d been posted with around and up ladders. You know he’d want to relieve all that built up tension when he got home. Sometimes it was a matter of talking it out, listening in a way Joel wasn’t really used to before you. Other times you sat in silence, pressed up behind him in a steaming bath until you could hear his breath start to slow.

Today, you had a feeling it would be something a little different.

You hadn’t gotten to continue things at all this morning. By the time Joel dragged himself away from between your legs, he was already 45 minutes late to his post. Still, he walked you into the shower, holding you up on wobbly legs, trying his best not to get too distracted with how you kept kissing his jaw and looking up at him all innocent. He managed to get you dressed, too, and with no time to spare he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and all too suddenly you were standing out in the snow, alone.

So that, and the fact you could see, and sometimes even hear his low voice grumbling orders all day was doing nothing to help your focus.

When you finally saw the sun begin to go down, you didn’t spare a second before you all but sprinted off, bursting through the door of your shared home. You quickly shook off your clothes, the warmth of your house making you strip down to just one of Joel’s old t-shirts. Now, you waited.

When the door burst open a few hours later, you were like a dog hearing a lead. You jumped out of the bed, watching Joel from the top of the stairs as he carefully stepped through the threshold. He’d found the carpets laying on your floor for you a few months ago, and he knows how much you love them, so he balances on one leg as best he can to take his muddy, snow covered shoes off before he called out to you.

“You home, darlin’?” He kept his voice soft in case you were sleeping, but smiled when he caught you basically hanging over the stairs. “There she is.”

“You’re late.” You say, squinting down at him with a smile and your arms crossed.

“Didn’t realise I had a curfew.” He smirked, shaking off his jacket and abandoning it over the couch. Playful Joel was one of your favourites. It made you as warm as the crackling fire behind you.

“Well, you do. And you’re late, so better get moving.” He raises his eyebrows, a bigger smile playing on his face as he walks to the bottom of the stairs.

“You know, I was gonna cook you dinner and everythin'. Do a real nice thing here. How longs it been since we did that?” He walks slow, every step groaning under the weight of him. Your heart swells at the idea, and if you weren’t so hell bent on jumping on him, you’d take him up on it.

"That sounds n-nice." You take a step back as he gets closer, something about him still intimidating you- even when you knew the man underneath. “Plenty of time to eat tomorrow, though."

When he finally clears the stairs, you don’t have time to blink before he’s surging in front of you. His hands find their home on your hips, staying light when they pull you toward him and make up the rest of the small distance between you. He must remember how hard he held you down this morning.

“Is that my shirt?” He mumbles into your hair, already knowing the answer. He nudges your face to his own, smirking confidently. "You miss me that bad?"

“Nope. It’s Mark’s from today. I just got sooo hot lifting all those planks of wood I had to take all my clothes off, so he—“ You’re cut off by your own squeal when he lifts you up, hands gripping your ass tightly.

“Very fuckin’ funny.” Joel growls low in your ear, but you can feel him smiling against your skin as he walks you to your bedroom, kissing you dizzy.

It’s a little embarrassing how easily he drives you to the brink. All he has to do is say your name a few times, whisper it against your skin, and kiss you like this, and you’re gone again. His. You’re his to mould and bend, your arms lifting as he drags the fabric of his old shirt up your stomach and chest.

He watches with an intense stare, goosebumps rising where the fabric brushes lightly over your sensitive skin. When he finally slips the shirt over your head his control snaps and he’s on top of you, and he’s everywhere.

His hands slide up your sides, spanning the entire space of your waist and ribs, coming over your chest and cupping your breasts in his hands. You arch your back, chasing his mouth as it presses hungry, quick kisses between movements, his fingers catching over your nipples making you moan his name.

“Thought about you all day.” You confess, nipping the skin of his jaw. He huffs a breath, your hands tangling once again in his hair. It’s still slightly wet from the cold, curling around your fingers in something like ringlets. “Needed you so bad, Joel.”

“Greedy little thing. Didn’t get enough this morning?” He laughs, and it's almost mean- teasing. You roll your hips into him slowly. It wipes the smirk off his face, turning it into an almost painful scrunch of his brow. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t let me touch you.” You whine, rolling into him again. He drops to hold himself up on his forearms, hands touching you where they can reach. “Always want to touch you, Joel.”

“Shit, you gotta stop talking like that or…” You repeat the slow movement of your hips, and he runs out of words, practically whining into your mouth.

“It’s true.” You bite his bottom lip, a little harder than necessary. “Wanna fuck you all the time. It’s distracting. Always… always think about it.”

Joel moans your name brokenly, and you take your chance. A small push with your leg collapses him on his back next to you, only that easy because he wasn’t expecting it. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, and before he can shuffle down you straddle him, locking him in place underneath you.

One of his hands grabs the back of your neck, hauling you to his mouth, and you let him take control. You might be sitting on top of him, fiddling with his belt and tugging his pants down, but he is still in control. You know he could flip the switch in a second, and he’s just indulging you, but you take what you can get.

It’s so rare he lets you take care of him. You could count on one hand how many times he’s really let you do the work, but when the opportunity comes, you were going to take it and run with it.

He was still searching your body, fanning out his fingers and running them down your spine, leaning you closer. He takes off his shirt so he can feel you against him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he needs to learn you inside and out. When you finally get his pants off, you don’t waste a second, both of you gasping when you feel the thick head of him against your heat.

“H-hold on, you gotta… Jesus Christ.” Joel curses, his forehead pressed to yours. “Let me get you ready for me.”

“Mm-mm. Ready. Please…need it.” You shake your head, angling your hips just right, and he slumps forward in something like defeat when your hand snakes down and presses him inside of you. “Oh, god.”

"Fuck. Slow down, baby. Nice and slow." He stutters out, his hands coming to your hips to try and hold you up. Joel was... big. Big enough to the point where you should of taken your time, worked yourself up a bit more, but you just wanted him so bad-- "Hey, look at me."

Your eyes flutter up to him, and he kisses you quickly, like its an apology. You stay there, feeling the slight sharp pain fade quickly with how desperate you want him, how fucking wet you were already. In a few seconds you try to move again, and Joel's hands tighten around you.

"You can stop, baby. It's okay, you--"

"No! Don't want to. Just... fuck me, Joel." You say a little harsher, shaking your head where its now tucked into the crook of his neck. You sink down further against the push of his hands, and he groans your name lowly as you feel him split you open, taking the last inch of him.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, and where you were rendered speechless, he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"Fuck. So fuckin' tight, Christ." You feel his palm on your ass, pushing you forward just slightly, creation a friction that has you whining. "Yeah, I know baby. Feels good. Fuck, you feel so good."

When you don't feel that pain anymore, you start to grow desperate for more. Joel was right. You were greedy tonight, and the friction of your hips against his just wasn't enough. You wrap your arms around his neck, shutting up his rambling with a lazy kiss, and use him to rise up just a little, before sinking down again.

He says something into your mouth, but the words are lost when you begin to repeat the same motion over and over again. Heat builds in waves, crashing higher and higher in your stomach until it makes your toes curl, your jaw dropping open to moan a broken version of Joel's name.

Your eyes roll back, head falling to the side, leaving you open to Joel's mouth who sucks harsh marks just below your jaw. You know you'll be covered in them tomorrow, but right now you don't care. You can't seem to care about anything else, except the way Joel is buried so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him everywhere.

"Focus on me. Need to see those pretty eyes, girl." He nudges you straight, your neck no longer able to support the weight of your head as it falls forward to rest on Joel. He groans again, matching your pace with his own movements, and you get louder with the added force. "Fuck, that's it. Let 'em hear you."

Everything turns molten inside of you, liquid heat spreading from the tips of your toes to your heavy head, and if Joel wasn't fucking you back so hard you don't think you'd be upright. As soon as he was inside you, you lost all sense of direction and control, like your body knew to trust him, to give yourself over to him.

His hands wrap tightly around your waist, bodies pressed together as he takes the work out of it for you. You move together— you’re so close you don’t have a choice, and when the hot, tingling feeling ripples up your spine you can only do exactly what he’s telling you.

“Take it, baby. Take it. Good— fuck, good girl.” His head drops from where it was pressed heavy against your forehead, dipping into the crook of your neck. Your palms can feel the release in his back, the way he relaxes as he finally gives himself to you. The noise he makes, and how he almost whines your name is a calling card, hauling you over the edge with him.

He rides it out. Makes it linger, all the pleasure and relief flooding your body in burning waves, and when his hips start to slow, his mouth trails kisses from your neck, all the way up your jaw and to your mouth. He breathes in when you breathe out, both of you wiped from exhaustion, but he can’t pull himself away.

It was like this morning, how even though his back was cramped and he was late as fuck to work, he couldn’t stop. At the expense of himself, he’d starve himself of everything if it meant being here with you.

“Christ, darlin’. Fuck, you’re so good t’me.” He says it like it’s a bad thing— words laced with an anxious wave, like you’d realise it wasn’t right, and leave. Even with him still buried inside of you. “Look at me.”

Your eyes blink open, hands still tangled in the curls of his hair. You can’t tell him all the things you want to— how he deserves this. How much you want to give him, and how if anything, you were the one who didn’t deserve this. Instead, you smile at him, and it seems to say everything all at once.

“You okay?" Joel's muffled voice asks, holding you tightly against him.

"Mhmm." You hum happily, a sleepy smile on your face as his hands cup your face. You feel his thumbs trace the high points of your cheeks, and his lips press to your nose before your eyes open.

You stay right there, his eyes watching you with no real purpose, just taking in the sight of you here with him. When the two of you finally muster the energy to go down stairs, Joel follows through with his promise to cook for you, and for this first time all day, your complete attention is captured.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou joel #tlou joel miller #pedro pascal

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

What Are We (4 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: light angst, brief mention of alcohol, possessive Soap, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 942

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Always deflecting the question, you push John for an answer.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

John is not an angry drunk. Nor is he a sloppy one.

In fact, John is exceptionally gifted in holding his alcohol. But what John is after a few drinks can only be described as mischievous. He loves pushing at the right buttons, teasing until you’re hot with carefully concealed embarrassment, constantly touching, constantly grabbing until you’re playfully smacking at his hands.

John loves riling you up. He does it on purpose. He pushes until the gentleness becomes quiet discontent, until your tone becomes argumentative, only for John to kiss you, and then fuck you until you shut up and forget all about it in the first place.

While it’s a game between the two of you, you’re not particularly feeling it tonight. Right now, you’re slightly irritated, uninterested in all of his advances. It’s not because you’re no longer attracted to him, but because you have a task before you.

Your friends all the say the same thing. To confront John and ask him what this is between the two of you. You and he are always together, always a pair, and yet there has been no solid commitment. Whenever it’s brought up, he’s usually the one to quickly dismiss it, especially in a group setting. In the beginning you thought nothing of it, but now, after months together, you need an answer.

John lounges on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. His eyelids are soft, almost closed. The arm not resting on the back of the sofa is in his lap. John’s large hand rubs up and down his covered thigh.

“Come here,” he murmurs, indicating where you should sit with a soft tap of his palm.

You’d give anything to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around his neck and forget the world for a bit.

But your heart is beating wildly in your chest, the anxious need to ask him a fiery thing.

“What are we, John?” you whisper, glancing up to his face, seeking an answer.

The playful smile on his face drops slightly. John slowly rubs up his thigh and back down again before lightly squeezing. “Come here,” he repeats. “We can talk while you’re in my lap.”

If you go to him, the two of you will not talk.

“No,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

The playful demeanor melts away, replaced with that of a hunter. John leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. He holds this position for a moment, staring at you intently. With an exaggerated unhurriedness, John stands and then strides forward into your space. There is no chance for you to step away from him or to give yourself room to breathe.

John is right there, grabbing the back of your neck, hauling you into a passionate kiss that rips your resolve from your throat. You open for him, and he enters, claiming and kissing and tasting until your fingers dig into the front of his soft, cotton t-shirt.

When he breaks the kiss, the wetness between your thighs is stark and unforgiving.

“You need to answer my question,” you murmur, some of that strength returning.

“Do you think you’re not mine?” he asks, tone serious.

“No. Just—you never admit what we are. You always brush it off, especially in front of others.”

John frowns, his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “They don’t need to know what this is. This is just between us.”

You shake your head. “I understand but that’s not what I’m asking.”

John’s hold on the back of your neck strengthens. He draws you even closer, just until the tips of your noses are touching. “Then let me show you.”

He closes the distance, and you melt completely, forming to him as you always do. With one arm snaking around your waist, John guides you over to the sofa. You’re so wrapped up in him that his abrupt breaking leaves you momentarily dazed. It’s brief. A flash. And then you’re bent over, knees sinking into the cushion, arms and hands digging into the sofa’s armrest.

“John—”

You don’t even get the question out before he’s shoved up your skirt, pushes your underwear aside, and places his mouth on your pussy. His tongue swirls and tastes, expertly moving up and down and then stopping to tease your clit.

Everything clenches. Everything shakes. And it isn’t until your small death appears suddenly that you realize how good John is with your body. He sucks and sucks on your clit until your voice goes hoarse.

Then, you’re yanked flush against him, his chest pressing into your back, John’s hand wrapped around the front of your throat. You feel his hand between your bodies opening up the front of his jeans and shoving them down enough for his cock to slide between your thighs.

You whimper and push back on him.

“You’re mine, love,” he murmurs into your ear.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance. It hovers there before sinking in. John groans as your fingers find his skin, digging in.

“Your cunt is mine,” he growls, retreating a bit before thrusting forward harshly, completely burying himself inside you.

The hand at your throat twists a bit, forcing you to look at him.

“Your lips are mine,” he says just before kissing you, his lips meeting yours as he rolls his hips.

His other hand reaches between your legs to play with your clit. It’s over. You’re done. You will give him anything.

“Everything about you belongs to me,” he whispers against your mouth. John’s thrusts increase in pace. “And I am all yours.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @enfppuff @heeheehoohoohahahihi

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wkemeup · 1 year

Text

The Casket

summary: When a mission goes wrong, you’re helpless but to watch as Bucky is forced into the object of his nightmares – Hydra’s cryochamber.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 12.5k

warnings: canon level violence, nightmares, body warming tropes, pissed off reader won’t stop until she saves her man,

a/n: Here it is. The last fic in my archive. I adore you all so much. Thank you for everything 💕 In case you missed it, here’s the post on the future of this blog.

You woke to darkness. The bedroom was cast only in the dim light of stars and the pale glow of the alarm clock. It had yet to reach the witching hour. Daring a glance over the safety of warm covers, you spotted the ends of curtains dancing at the window as an icy draft escaped through the thin fabric.

It was warm the evening before, but New York weather was unpredictable in the changing seasons. The crickets chirping down by the lake had been a comfort as the sun had set. It was a glimpse of Spring on the horizon. Hours later, your breath was visible in each exhale.

Wincing as another breeze crept through the open window, you sleepily brushed your eyes. Snow blanketed the grounds. Layers of white piled onto tree branches and coated the hills behind the compound. A dusting of ice lay upon the ledge within your bedroom.

A weight shifted on the bed beside you. Bucky slept with his arms tucked tight under the pillow, a lock of hair hung over his eyes. He groaned as a shiver trembled along his spine. Gently, you traced a line with your fingertips over his brow, guiding the hair away from his eyes. His nose twitched in his sleep. He looked so young as he slept. Peaceful. Even as he shivered against the breeze.

You leaned over and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, lips grazing over his t-shirt. He seemed to relax against the touch, if only for a moment, before the cold air brushed his skin again. You cursed the frigid Northeastern weather and quickly pulled yourself from under the comfort of the sheets.

Dressed only in one of Bucky’s discarded t-shirts, the icy air was unbearable as you crossed the room. Bucky usually ran as warm as a furnace so you had little use for much fabric sleeping beside him; often, you wore less and still took easy comfort in the heat of his body.

A final breeze crept through the cracked window before you could close it, brushing against your exposed thighs. Your whole body shook with shivers and you rubbed your chilled hands down your arms in a fruitless attempt to draw warmth. Closing the window hadn’t provided the instantaneous relief you’d hoped for, but you knew Bucky would warm up soon enough. The serum all but ensured it. And you certainly didn’t need an excuse to climb into his bed and curl up against his sleeping frame.

You took only one step back toward the bed when you heard Bucky groan again – though this time it was something painful, something aching. You paused, startled by the sound. For the first time since you woke, you noticed the inflection of a whimper muffled by the pillow.

Cautiously, you inched closer to him, heart sinking as you caught sight of the deep lines on his brow and the sharp cut of his teeth into his bottom lip. You saw then how violently his right arm was shaking, his body trembling with every hollow breath.

“Bucky?” you called quietly.

You’d seen his nightmares before. The faded imprint of a scar along the left of your collarbone was proof enough of what Bucky endured in his sleep – waking to a state where he was unable to separate dream from reality, past from present, captor from lover. He hadn’t known it was you – that the shadowy figure in his room was the woman he loved and not the Hydra handler he’d known in his dreams. You often caught him tracing the scarred line upon your skin when he thought you were long asleep, carrying the guilt of what happened even years later.

But Bucky hadn’t woken from a nightmare like that in nearly a year. Stability, family, and therapy had done him good. He’d severed his connection to the Winter Soldier and the fear that his mind would slip back into that bleak, unforgiving darkness.

This... This was different.

There was no cold detachment. No grip of anger or vengeance.

What laid upon his features instead... was fear.

“Sweetheart?” You sank to your knees at the edge of the bed, bristling against the cold hardwood floors.

Bucky’s features were distorted – his brow pinching at the center, his jaw wired shut and still, his breathing was harsh in every clouded exhale. He pressed his face into the edge of the pillow to suffocate the whimper slipping through.

“Not again,” he mumbled, barely audible against the silk pillowcase. “Please... I don’t... I don’t want to... Not again...”

You drew in a shallow breath, heart sinking beyond the floorboards to the depth of the foundation below. There was a reason Bucky couldn’t stand the winter; why he insisted on keeping your room set to sweltering conditions. Every shiver on his spine – every drop of snow – brought him back to the vessel that had stolen years of his life. The tomb that had sustained him in crystalized ice like a weapon in storage until Hydra deemed him useful again.

“You’re okay. I'm here with you, baby. You're safe,” you whispered as you lifted the blanket he held clutched within his grip and slipped yourself under the covers beside him.

There was little room for comfort between Bucky and the edge of the mattress, leaving your back exposed to the chilled air. You cursed your frozen fingers as you curled yourself around him – sliding a leg between his own, wrapping your arm around his waist, tucking your nose to the crook of his neck. Clinging to him in an effort to give him as much warmth as you could offer. All of it, if your body would allow it. You’d let yourself freeze if it would grant him an ounce of relief.

It took several minutes before you could no longer see your breaths flutter against Bucky’s collar, before his body stopped shaking and the ice warmed from his skin. You did not dare to slack your grip on him in fear you might find the red imprint of your hands along his spine, tucked under the thin layer of his shirt. Even as he stilled, quiet whispers slipped through the haze of his dream – the paralyzing fear he held of the chamber that had housed him for decades.

You held onto him tighter – clung to him as if he might slip through your grasp and plummet to the icy embrace of the ravine. You held him until sweat beaded on his forehead and the spine of his shirt was damp with it. Until his heartrate began to fall to an even pace and his chest no longer rose in short, shallow gasps. Until, what felt like hours later, when his lips grazed your temple and the soft murmur of an apology shattered your heart.

You pulled back only enough to see the shame burning dark into the blue of his eyes. It seemed to suffocate the light there, burrowing claws into his spine until it dragged him a step back into the shadows. You shook your head against his collar, tucking in tighter to his frame, unwilling to deny him even a lost second of warmth.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you assured him. "I'm just holding you. That’s all. I love holding you, in fact.”

Bucky’s chest shook for a fraction of a moment with quiet laughter, though you knew very little of it would be present in his eyes. It was a distraction – a levity he needed to allow himself to move forward, to not let his feet get stuck in the mud of his past.

“I know you do,” he sighed, squeezing you a little tighter.

It was where you felt most at home – when you struggled to draw in a full breath because of how close he held you. To be completely encompassed by the warmth of his body and the security of his strength. The soft give of his right arm curled around the dip in your waist, the left draped over your shoulders. No hesitation in his embrace. No reluctance for the history of an arm that had burden him for decades. No second guesses of the love you held for him and the parts of his body he despised.

Several breaths of silence passed before he spoke again.

“You’d think I would have liked being in cryo.”

You almost flinched in his arms and you desperately hoped he did not notice the sharp catch of your breath at his words. If he did, he didn’t say anything. Gently, you slid your hand – now warmed in Bucky’s embrace – under the seam of his t-shirt and began to trace gingered lines along the curve of his spine. A gentle encouragement to continue.

Bucky swallowed as though the words tasted of bile. “They couldn’t touch me when I was in there. Couldn’t starve me or punish me. Couldn't give me orders. Couldn't put me in that... that fucking chair. I was just... nothing. Everything stopped. You’d think... You’d think it would be a relief.”

You pressed your lips to his collarbone, inching in closer though you were already pressed flush against his body. Anything to make him feel safer. To remind him that he was lying in this bed with you in his arms and not halfway across the world in a metal box lined in ice.

“It was worse,” Bucky admitted, his voice shattered as if gravel churned in his lungs. “I never knew if it would be the last time. If they’d just... forget about me or... decide I was used up and... and leave me there. At least when I was him, I could breathe. I... I had some sense of humanity. The cell they kept me in was a cage but cryo... cryo was a fucking casket. Storing me in a box like I was... like I was nothing more than a...”

He could have finished that sentence in ten different ways, each enough to break your heart worse than the last – a weapon, a monster, an object, a tool. He could have, but instead, you felt the warmth of a tense breath brush against your crown as he willed his body back to his control. His hands stopped shaking with panic, his chest taking in as much air as it would allow. Slowly, he relaxed into your arms again.

“They won’t do that to you again,” you whispered though your voice was laced in the rage you felt for the men who had induced such fear into the man you loved. “I won’t let them.”

You felt the soft curve of Bucky’s lips against your forehead. A ghost of a smile. “I know, sweetheart.”

The sliver of doubt in his voice brought tears to your eyes.

“You are safe and you are real and you are my world, okay?” you told him, hands sliding up to the sides of his face, begging him to look at you. You dared him to try and carry his doubts while you held him in your arms, while you told him you loved him so desperately. “You are everything. You’re not some weapon to be put away. You are a person. My person. I would die before I let them do that to you again. I would kill them all.”

The flicker of surprise was subtle, barely a noticeable shift in the blue of his eyes, but you saw it. For as much as you told Bucky of your love for him, he could not let go of the seed of doubt instilled in him from his time at Hydra – the doubt that convinced him he was not enough, that he was broken and shattered and unworthy of your love. But you’d remind him a dozen times if he needed it. A thousand. You’d tell him every day if only to subside the doubt for another day.

Bucky pulled you close to his chest. His lips grazed over your forehead as he whispered, “I love you,” to your hairline. His breath was warm over your skin, his embrace tightening around your waist. You knew those words did not come easily to him, that he often showed you how he felt for you more often than he was able to speak it, and you held him a little tighter in return.

Bucky sighed something that sounded of disappointment before a knock came at the door. It creaked open slowly, revealing Steve’s reluctant expression in the frame. You realized then that Bucky must have heard Steve’s footsteps approaching and tensed for the interruption, though Steve looked less than thrilled to be awake this hour as well judging by the pillow crease marks on his cheeks and the chaotic fluff of his dark blonde hair.

“Sorry guys,” Steve said, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Fury’s calling us in.”

***

The first mention of Hydra jolted whatever lingering tiredness you felt.

Bucky hardly reacted as Fury detailed the mission – a stealth op to dismantle a crucial Hydra weapons facility. It wouldn’t take more than a virus to their computer system to reduce their weapons to useless metal, but you’d need to be on-site to make it happen. It was an active base, but most of their agents were out on various assignments – opening a window for SHIELD to make a move on a vulnerable Hydra stronghold.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had been on a mission where Hydra was concerned and it certainly wouldn’t be his last, but you grieved for any pain he felt walking back amongst those halls, amongst the sort of men who enslaved him and made him to feel as if he was the monster.

Bucky would keep close to you while inside the Hydra facility, assigned as backup while you input the codes meant to unravel Hydra’s weapons supply. Steve and Natasha had their own assignment, not that the director felt the need to brief you on the details. Two birds, one stone, Fury had said. While you broke down their coding, Natasha would be downloading intel classified above your paygrade on the opposite end of the building. It didn’t make for easy backup, but there was a limited time frame to get this done undetected. And Fury trusted the four of you to get it done. And you would.

The turbulence was rough on the descent, but Bucky’s hands clenched the straps of his seat whether the jetstream was smooth or not. You glanced over at him, studying the tension in his body and the hard concentration of his gaze through the pilot’s window where Steve and Nat were talking quietly to one another.

Gently, you set a hand against his knee. Though the touch startled him, he seemed to snap out of his gaze and his shoulders slowly began to relax. A soft smile pressed on his lips, a heaviness in his eyes as silent appreciation nestled over his features. He released his hold on the straps, the movement seeming to ache in his right hand, and he opened his palm to you. You took it graciously and brought your clasped hands to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

“It’ll be fine, Buck,” you told him. “It always is.”

Bucky nodded, forcing out a smile despite the lingering hesitancy. “Of course. I get to watch my girl bring Hydra to their knees. I think I can call that a good day.”

You grinned, grateful to see his eyes brighten even as Steve landed the jet in a discreet break in the woods. His heart rate slowed the longer you held his hand, the tension in his body melting the longer he looked at you.

“Ready?” Steve called from the cockpit. Natasha had already strapped five weapons to her suit by the time Steve pulled himself out from the pilot’s seat. She sent him a teasing smirk as she unlatched the loading dock.

Bucky squared his shoulders. It would always be a challenge for him to enter a Hydra base, even as a fully certified Avenger. Whether he was housed in these halls as the Winter Soldier or not, distorted memories worked their way to the surface and often followed him home after a mission like this. Pride was not enough to describe the feeling that bloomed in your chest as Bucky swallowed back his demons and took the first step forward off the jet, leaving the fear behind him.

“You have eighteen minutes,” Nat reminded you of the plan. “Get in and get out.”

You nodded, exchanging a quick glance with Bucky. He offered you a strained smile in return.

“Eighteen minutes,” you confirmed. “We’ve got this.”

***

You felt it in your bones from the moment you stepped foot in the empty hallway. The reportedly active Hydra base was eerily abandoned. It was as if they were waiting for you.

It worsened as you made your way to the computer mainframe without interruption. No silent alarms to trip, no guards rounding the halls on duty waiting for a sliver of action. Bucky sensed it too and though he did not say a word, he kept pace a single step ahead of you, careful to check the adjoining rooms along the hall before he let you step out into the vulnerable openings.

“It shouldn’t be this easy,” you stressed as you typed away at the keyboard, inputting the codes needed to dismantle their hardware. You passed every firewall without issue. It hadn’t even been this easy during your training at the academy.

“I know,” Bucky agreed, his voice tense. He looked to the hallway; his hand still tight around his rifle. His finger had not moved from the trigger since you entered the building. “Forget the assignment. We need to get out of here. Now.”

You passed another firewall. Only two more to go.

“I’ve almost got it, Buck,” you told him. “Give me two minutes and we’re out.”

Bucky swallowed; his gaze fixed on the hall. Reluctancy furrowed his brow, but he nodded anyway. “Two minutes. And then I’m dragging you out of here, understood?”

You smirked, though you did not look up from the screen. “Yes, sir.”

It got a tense laugh out of him at least. Restrained and muffled, but still there. It was a strange thing to hear his laughter in a place like this – to know these halls had once witnessed such violence only to see his joy years later. It was a vengeance of sorts. To still hold light amongst such darkness.

As you continued to fire off code after code to shatter the computer’s defenses, Bucky hovered behind you, his pacing insistent as he trailed a path from one end of the room to the other. He couldn’t let himself stand still. Could not let his body relax for even a second. Not here.

“Got it!” You hit the final key stroke but suddenly, the screen went black. The buzzing hum of the overworked ventilation on the side of the monitor dulled to an unsettling silence.

You froze, hands still hovering over the keyboards. “That can’t be good.”

A series of clicking sounds began to rattle overhead. Your eyes darted to the ceiling as you followed the sound as if waiting for some sort of creature to drop from the airducts, as if expecting something living to be crawling its way through the ceiling tiles.

“Bucky...” you warned, backing up from the computer. He was only a few paces from the door when you heard the distinct click of locks latching into place. You spun toward him, heart pounding as he shoved his left shoulder into the door though it barely gave way under his strength. He slammed into it again, his hair falling quickly out of place, matching the growing panic on his features. The metal door fractured under the strength of vibranium but it wasn’t enough.

A bitterness burned in your nose as you drew in a shallow breath. Wincing at the sensation, your eyes trailed up to the ceiling to find a cloud of green mist billowing into the room. It coated over the entire ceiling, sinking lower and lower with every passing second. By the time you looked back to Bucky to warn him, he’d already noticed the gas and lunged toward you. His hand clamped over your nose and mouth; his breathing sporadic. You watched in horror as the gas drew into his lungs with each desperate inhale.

“Don’t breathe it in!” he shouted; his eyes already hazy, his balance swaying. “Don’t breathe it... in... Don’t...”

His hand slipped from your face as if he no longer had the strength to carry the weight of his own arm. The horror of it flashed through the sedated weight in his eyes. Slowly, his gaze lifted to yours – apology and remorse burrowed deep into the soft shades of blue. He stumbled then against the desk, trying to catch himself as his balance gave way. You dove for him, but he was too heavy for you to carry, and he crashed against the unforgiving tile with an awful thud.

“Bucky!” You slid to your knees beside him; hands desperately brushing against his cheeks, drawing the hair from his eyes, begging him to wake. You coughed through the smoke as it filled the room, green gas blinding you enough that you could hardly make out Bucky’s features as he laid mere inches from you.

Your body began to feel heavy and you knew you’d succumb to the gas soon enough. There was no word from Steve or Nat on the coms, only an eerie silence listening in. Slowly, you lowered yourself to the ground, rested your head against Bucky’s chest – as if to pretend for only a moment that it was merely sleep you sought. It was only a bad dream. By morning you would wake at home in the comfort of your shared bed.

There was no fighting the pull on your consciousness. It dragged you to the darkness as you listened to the steady thump of Bucky’s heart through the thick layers of Kevlar. Lulling you to sleep as poison filled your lungs.

***

“It’s been too long since he’s been wiped,” a voice whispered to a quiet room. Distant – like it echoed from the end of a long tunnel. “He’s too unstable like this.”

You groaned, willing your eyes to open though they felt impossibly heavy. Weight burrowed onto your limbs, paralyzing you, though you sensed it was the aftermath of whatever drug was in the green mist you’d inhaled.

Slanting your eyes open, you caught a blurred image of Bucky propped against the wall. He was unrestrained. Two guards stood on either side of him holding tasers strong enough to knock out a rabid animal. The tips of Bucky’s fingers began to twitch – the slight movement promising he wouldn’t take long to wake from the drug induced haze.

“We won’t be able to control him unless he’s under,” a second voice continued, one of two men stood huddled in the corner of the room wearing long, white coats with several pens tucked into their breast pockets. They were thin and meek in comparison to the soldiers flanking Bucky; stealing concerned glances at the former Winter Soldier.

“The chamber is ready for him now,” the first agreed, a short a round looking man with thin rimmed glasses and cheeks redder than the mark of Hydra’s emblem on his jacket. “We must hurry before he has the strength to fight back.”

Whatever clouded your mind and body vanished in an instant as your gaze followed the pointed hand of the scientist. It was as if you were drenched in ice water – awareness snapping back to your bones with the full force of freight train.

It was worse than what you had imagined.

The long, countless wires running along the floor strapped into the thick metal frame. A bed made of unforgiving steel and iron discolored over centuries of use. A door with latches and locks trailing up the entirety of the border. Frost clinging to the condensation of the small glass window and a violent hissing sound as a cold breeze blew through the tube at the top of the chamber.

The cryochamber.

Heart pounding, you stayed as still as your body could manage in effort to not alert the men of your regained consciousness. You stared at Bucky, desperately willing him to wake before the scientists gave the order to have his unconscious body thrown into cryo. Your nails dug into your palms. Blood seeped onto the floor as the scientists muttered quickly to one another, adjusting dials on the machine that plagued Bucky’s dreams and fidgeting with the ends of their sleeves.

Slowly, Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. Still sedated, still hazy, but he found you within seconds. Relief swelled in your chest, though it was not enough to overtake the clutch of panic over your heart. Bucky flexed his hands, testing his body’s response. He gave you a short nod, barely noticeable to the guards standing above him, signaling for your ready. You steadied yourself on your breath and returned the nod.

On cue, you both jumped from your seemingly helpless positions and lunged to attack. Before you could knock them out, one of the scientists managed to sound the alarm. A bright red light flooded the room, a roaring siren blaring in your ears. The smaller of the two men – the one who had alerted for backup – held his hands in the air as you stalked closer, his terrified gaze glancing down at the unconscious body of his colleague. If he was expecting mercy from you, he had gravely misjudged who he was dealing with. It took one blow for him to fall.

At the other end of the room, electricity buzzed through the short gaps in the siren’s scream as the bright ends of the tasers flared. Sadistic smirks lifted the edges of the guards' mouths, as if they were waiting for an opportunity to maim the Winter Soldier. If one so much as grazed Bucky’s skin, it could bring him to his knees in seconds. You didn’t want to imagine the voltage on the ends of those batons or whether a strike might stop your heart before you could even reach him.

It didn’t stop you from sprinting towards him anyway.

But you only made it a few steps before an arm latched around your wrist and yanked you back.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” One of the guards hissed, a gold tooth glaring under the reflection of the red alarm overhead. Two of his friends snickered behind him – the backup the cowardly scientist had called for before you knocked him out.

Not bothering to deem his rather unoriginal taunt a response, you barreled a roundhouse kick to his ribs instead, knocking him off balance. He stumbled a few paces, sneering a crude insult under his breath. The others charged after you, earning a fist to their ribs, throat, and temple, before you shove the sole of your boot directly to the heart of their chests just as Natasha demonstrated for you in the ring weeks earlier. They dropped like flies, and you smirked as you straightened your back, reminding yourself to thank her later.

You turned back to Bucky, who had taken out one of the guards, though the other had managed to acquire both batons. His eyes flashed to you in warning, urging you to hold your ground, telling you that he had it handled. Those tasers were no joke and it was taking all his concentration not to let the burning edges take him out.

You gritted your teeth, watching from your safe distance. The electricity singed the ends of Bucky’s sleeve on the last swing and he hissed, his face contorting in pain from even the smallest brush. Screw that. You were going to stand on the sidelines while he suffered. Not in this godforsaken place.

You sprinted toward him and wasted no time before you dove the edge of your elbow between the guard’s shoulder blades. He cried out, losing his stance for only a second – but it was all the opportunity Bucky needed to gain the advantage. One hit to the sternum, another to the stomach, and the guard’s grip on the taser slacked. Bucky caught it before it could hit the ground, not offering the same reprieve to the guard before his nose broke against the tile.

Bucky exhaled, his chest rising rapidly as his eyes slowly lifted to you. A flash of panic coursed through him as he tensed, a hand suddenly reaching out for you, but you were pulled quickly out of his grasp. An arm slung over your collar as the cold press of a barrel dug against your temple, stilling your attempts to pry free.

“Go ahead, princess,” the guard sneered, his breath sticky and hot against your cheek. “Give me a reason to pull the trigger.”

You froze, gaze centered solely on Bucky. His body was rigid, his grip on the baton so tight you wondered if it might snap under his strength. His eyes darted back and forth, his thumb inching closer to the trigger for the taser, and you knew he was calculating his next move – how to get you out of the arms of the guard without the gun going off.

“Don’t even think about it, Soldat,” the guard hissed, waving the gun in Bucky’s direction before it returned to your temple. It pressed against you hard enough to tilt your head, unable to withstand the pressure. “Drop it. Now.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. You could see the resistance filtering through the blue of his eyes – the desperation to defend himself smothered by his need to keep you from being harmed. Slowly, he did as he was ordered and released the taser from his grip. The baton now on the floor, Bucky nudged it with his boot so it slid to the guard. He raised his arms defensively in the air – tension burning through his shoulders.

“Interesting...” the guard pondered. You could practically feel his smirk rising against your neck.

“You have me, okay? I’m what you want, right? Let her go,” Bucky demanded, though he was in no position to do so. The guard yanked you backwards, dragging you to the center of the room, leaving Bucky to follow.

“I’ve heard rumors of the woman who claimed the cold heart of our greatest weapon, but I never expected it to make you so docile,” the guard taunted. “But not to worry. We’ll make quick work of you. Such weakness won’t be tolerated by Hydra.”

“Fuck Hydra,” you sneered, yanking against the guard’s hold. You kicked your heel to his shin, pleased at the whine that slipped through his yellowed teeth. “He’s not going anywhere with you!”

“Quiet, bitch!” The barrel of the gun jabbed into your neck, enough that you started to choke against it. Gasping for air against the pressure suffocating your windpipe, you dug your nails until the guard’s forearm, blood trickling in your wake, though he didn’t relent. Bucky’s hands raised a little higher, the subtle tells of panic fracturing through the seemingly stoic nature of his calm expression.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky eased, trying to get the guard to turn his attention from you. Only when the gun released from your throat, returning to the soft flesh on your temple, did Bucky dare to speak again. “What do you what?”

“I think you already know, Soldat.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed, the muscle growing taunt under the skin. His otherwise stoic features gave away little to what he was thinking, to the burning rage coursing under his skin or the panic seeping into his veins. You'd spent too many nights coaxing his demons away, too many hours memorizing the lines on his face, too much time falling in love with every inch of the man before you to not recognize fear on his face when it grabbed ahold of him.

All it took was a subtle twitch of his gaze.

The chamber.

“No,” you choked out, the word barely audible through the hoarse ache in your throat. “No!”

“Go on, Soldat,” the guard instructed, gesturing to the cryochamber. The amusement in his voice was sickening, churning deep into your stomach as each word slithered off his venomous tongue.

Bucky swallowed, looking to the chamber. His right hand curled to a fist, his chest struggling to find pace with each new breath, but still – he eased himself from the edge of panic. His shoulders relaxed; his hand unclenched. Slowly, ocean blue returned to you and your stomach dropped to a free fall, your knees nearly giving way under the hold of the guard.

Because what coated Bucky’s features was no longer the fear you’d witnessed in the early hours of the morning, when sweat beaded into his hair and his pulse climbed beyond what his heart could handle. But instead, the lines on his face sank to a semblance of resignation that made you want to scream until your lungs gave out.

It was acceptance.

For what he was about to do. For what he would willing subject himself to again if it meant you walked out of this room alive.

Nausea crept up your throat, bile burning on your tongue, as you watched Bucky slowly walk toward the chamber.

“No!” Your voice was shattered as the word broke past cracked lips. You struggled against the grip of the guard, but he only pressed the barrel of the gun tighter to your head, surely bruising the skin. You barely felt it, not as Bucky took each step closer to the chamber that had haunted his dreams just hours earlier. You could still feel the damp fabric of his shirt under your hands, the slight trembling of his body as you held him. It was etched into your memory – burned there. And he took another willing step toward it.

“Don’t do this,” you cried out, whining under the strain of the gun jarring into your temple. “Bucky, please. You don’t have to do this! Just fight back! Fight back!”

“Get back in your fucking storage, Soldat,” the guard taunted with a sickening laugh, ignoring your pleas.

Rage burrowed into your veins at the reflexive flinch over Bucky’s shoulders, how he swallowed back the shame, the humiliation, and set a hand against the machine that would be his tomb. It cracked something in you – snapped your last remaining thread of self-preservation and you swung your elbow back at the guard’s ribs with as much force as you could manage.

The barrel of the gun slipped as it rung out – the echo shattering your eardrum into a numbed, high pitch ringing. You dove for the guard.

Through the chaos, you did not hear the door swing open, nor the influx of a dozen Hydra agents swarming the room. Vision blurring to pure red, you did not see the paralyzing fear in Bucky’s eyes as he sprinted into action – how he took out nearly three men on his way to you.

The golden tooth guard laid upon the floor, still holding the gun in his hands as you towered over him, though this time – it was his eyes that bore crippling fear as you brushed away the stream of blood from your temple.

It only took a well-placed kick to his wrist to slack his hold on the gun. He whimpered, crawling back along the floor to escape you. But there was nowhere he could go. Nowhere to hide. You swore you’d kill any man who dared to put Bucky back in that godforsaken coffin and you’d do it without a trace of remorse. You’d take your time with him. Make sure he knew what would happen if he dared to threaten the Winter Soldier in your presence.

Just as you bent to retrieve the gun, intent on ending this fight, a scream broke through the ringing in your ears – one you’d heard more often than you ever cared to admit, a scream that often woke you from your sleep and haunted your silences.

Bucky.

He was on his knees as you frantically turned in search of him, overwhelmed by the number of Hydra agents surrounding him. His eyes were falling heavy, his body swaying as he clutched his ribs. Smoke filtered from the frayed edges of his suit between his fingers, around the bloodied purple and red marks on his skin. Above him, two of the Hydra guards flared the ends of their tasers, grinning wildly at one another.

You moved to fire single headshots into each of the guards, but your vision was beginning to fade. Doubling. Circling. Muscles suddenly aching with heaviness. The gun slipped from your grip and you stumbled backwards until you fell into the hard frame of a body, arms quickly encasing around you to hold you still.

“Get her out of here!” Bucky's distorted voice shouted through your haze. Blood smeared over your vision, dripping from the wound running from your temple to the center of your forehead. You could hardly keep yourself conscious, but you willed your eyes open on panic alone – watching as the guards stabbed the burning end of the taser into Bucky’s ribs again, his cries sinking straight to your stomach.

The man keeping you steady hesitated on Bucky’s order and you used the advantage to try to break free of his hold, but you were too weak, your body too exhausted. Watching helplessly as another taser burrowed into Bucky’s ribs was enough to break you from your fog.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” you cried, blood spewed from your lips with every word. You were in no condition to fight, no condition to aid the blur of auburn hair and black leather as Natasha did her best to subdue an increasing number of assailants.

“Steve!” Bucky ordered. Tears burned down the sides of your face at the crack of desperation in his voice. The guards shoved his weakened body toward the chamber. “You promised me! Do it now!”

You could feel the resistance coursing through Steve’s body as he held you on your feet – the sudden anger rushing in through the taunt flex of his muscle. But he began to drag you towards the exit anyway, even as Bucky trembled on the floor, his body seizing from the sudden surge of electricity. You screamed as if the tasers had plunged straight to your own heart.

“Y/n, listen to me! We have to go!” Steve urged; his voice strained. “There’s too many of them!”

Sobs tore through your body as Steve hauled you from the room. Natasha followed quickly behind, clearing as much of a path as she could to keep the Hydra agents from swarming you. Your attempts to break free were useless – even if you were at full strength. Steve was too strong, the serum too powerful. There was nothing you could do to stop what was about to happen.

You were going to leave your heart behind.

Leave him to the people who broke him.

The last thing you saw before your vision caved in was the Hydra guards’ sickening grins as they dragged Bucky’s unconscious body to the open cryochamber. The darkness that followed was no relief.

***

It was a betrayal to sit within the safety and comfort of the compound’s walls. A betrayal to let Helen bandage the torn flesh on your forehead from where the bullet grazed your skin. A betrayal to clean the blood from your suit and your hair in favor of fresh soaps and warm towels. A betrayal to breathe as Bucky was kept hostage by Hydra in that fucking chamber.

Your arms were crossed firmly over your chest, your back slumped into the conference room chair. Somewhere at the head of the table, Fury was giving orders to stand down, to stay put until a plan was put into place and ‘Sergeant Barnes could be extracted efficiently.’

You knew what that meant – a shit ton of red tape and days of sitting around waiting on approval from a board of wealthy old men who never left the safety of their cozy penthouse offices. Waiting for them to deem Bucky’s freedom a necessary commodity to SHIELD; to decide that his life was work the risk of a rescue mission. They sat in their leather chairs, behind their marbled desks, and weighed the worth of Bucky Barnes’ life.

Screw that.

“I want confirmation from you, Agent Y/L/n,” Fury ordered from the head of the long table.

You glanced up at him, face blank. You hadn’t a clue what the last thing he said was, but you suspected he was ordering you to stay on base, to not go after Bucky yourself. The entire room was watching you, studying you as if you might snap under the weight of the last twenty-four hours.

Natasha sat in the chair across from you, her eyes the only feature giving way to the concern lingering under the stoic surface. Sam hovered from the door at the back of the room – not having been on the mission himself and still, he argued his way into the debrief room when word broke the team was coming back to base one less than when they left.

But Steve – Steve was standing next to Fury, one hand on his belt, the other leaning against the table. All high and mighty. He was the one who dragged you from that room. He was the one who forced you to leave Bucky behind. If anyone should shatter under the guilt of what happened, it should be him.

“Agent Y/L/n,” Fury repeated.

You swallowed back bile. “I won’t go after Barnes.”

Fury exhaled a sigh of obvious relief, turning to the rest of the team. “Sit tight. I’ll get word to you when we have clearance for a rescue op.”

You kicked out your chair and stormed from the room the second you were dismissed, unable to stand choking back the same air as the people who would willing leave Bucky in the arms of Hydra.

There was little else centering you than pure determination and rage as you shoved open the door into your room. You didn’t allow yourself to look at the unmade bed – the sheets still crumpled from the aftermath of a nightmare Bucky had fallen prey to. You didn’t stop to notice Bucky's t-shirt hung over the edge of the lounge chair in the corner of the room or the rows of photographs on the dresser. You couldn’t. You'd collapse if you did and you’d be no use to him then.

You grabbed your suit from the closet and fisted it into your backpack. There was no way Fury would let the armory dispense you a weapon, so you'd have to make due to with the handgun Bucky kept under his nightstand. It was heavier than your usual choice, but you were left with limited options. You’d storm a Hydra base on your own with nothing but your bare hands if you had to.

By the time you made it to the landing bay, Steve was waiting for you at the mouth of the jet. He was dressed in full combat gear as if he was prepared for you to try to take the jet on your own, as if he was ready to fight to keep you from going after the man who was supposed to be his best friend.

“Get the hell out of my way, Rogers.” You walked past Steve with little resistance, tossing your backpack to the row of seats in the front of the jet. “You’re not going to convince me to let this go, so don’t bother. You can kick me off the team after I bring Bucky home.”

Steve clenched his jaw, a tight line across his lips as if restraining himself. Just as you slid into the pilot’s seat, Steve slammed a hand to the trigger to close the ramp, closing himself inside the jet with you. You turned back to him, annoyance and surprise furrowing your brow.

“You think I wanted to leave him behind? Is that it?” Steve snapped, coming up behind you and yanking the pilot’s headphones from your grip. He gestured for you to stand and you did so cautiously, watching as he took your intended seat behind the dashboard.

“You think I’m not sick at the thought of leaving him to those monsters? After all he’s been through?” Steve gritted his teeth, flipping switch after switch until the board began to light up. Panic ensued below on the landing bay – SHIELD agents running around frantically trying to figure out how to stop Captain America from taking off.

“It fucking kills me, Y/n,” he hissed. Then, he slammed his hand against the switchboard harsher than you suspected he meant to. A dent was left behind on the knob under his palm when he pulled it back. He winced at the red mark on his skin.

“Captain Rogers, stand down!” a sudden voice echoed through the jet – air control.

He ignored the command, flipping a few more switches until the jet engines roared to life.

“He’s a brother to me,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard the frantic efforts of the SHIELD agents attempting to keep him on base. “My best friend. Leaving him there gutted me. If you think I was going to just stand by while we wait on some bureaucratic schmucks to give us permission to after him, you don’t know me very well at all.”

There was anger in his voice. Resentment. Perhaps, if you let yourself acknowledge it, a sliver of betrayal.

“I jumped out of a plane into Nazi territory for him. Against the orders of my superiors, mind you. When everyone told me he was beyond saving,” Steve reminded you, his knuckles white as he clenched the wheel. “Hell, I was a fugitive for him, Y/n. And you think I’d just leave him there?”

You gaped at him, unable to respond. Guilt burned warm in your cheeks.

“This is a direct order!” air control called again. “Stand down, Captain!”

Steve turned off communications, nearly breaking the transmissions nodule in the process. He let out a heavy exhale, and for the first time since you returned to base, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines running over his forehead.

“He made me swear an oath to him. Did you know that?” Steve said, his voice softer now. You sank into the co-pilot chair beside him, a slow shake of your head. He pulled on the yoke, lifting the jet into the air much to the panic of the crews below.

“It was early on,” he continued, “earlier than you’d guess, I think. Before you got together. Back when he was pining over you, still convinced he wasn’t worthy of anything good in his life. He made me swear that if it ever came down to... to him or you... that I’d make sure you got out alive.”

Something in your heart splintered, wondering when Bucky had decided your life was worth more than his. “He never told me that.”

Steve smiled, though it was aching. “I don’t doubt that. You never would have put up with it. Clearly.”

“You should have told him that oath was bullshit.” You were surprised then as Steve began to laugh and a tired smile tugged at the edges of your lips. It was an awful thing to ask of someone – to prioritize one life over another. But you knew, on some level beyond what you were willing to admit, that you would have done the same if you were in his position. You’d do a lot worse if it meant keeping Bucky safe.

You already turned your back on SHIELD and disobeyed a direct order by going after him. You didn’t know what would await you when you returned or if you’d still have a home at the compound after what you’d done, but you’d have Bucky safe in your arms again and that was all that mattered. Besides, maybe having Captain America on your side will soften the blow of your misconduct. The suits weren’t as willing to put their poster boy in cuffs as they were with you.

The jet was flying steady through the clouds when the smile on Steve’s face began to fade, slowly sinking as he stared out into the sea of pale blue. He glanced over at you then, his gaze lingering on the bandage over your forehead.

“You were shot in the head, Y/n,” Steve finally said, an awful weight pulling on his voice. Before you could argue it was only a graze, that it had barely caused any significant damage, Steve gave you a look that silenced the words on your tongue. “You were bleeding bad. You could hardly stand up straight by the time Nat and I found you. You were in no condition to do anything for him. You would have passed out before you could reach him, and then what? Hydra had both of you? How is that any better? How would that have helped him?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, knowing he was right and hating the resignation of it burning through your chest. “I made him a promise too, Steve. I swore I wouldn’t let anyone use that chamber against him, that he’d never be trapped like that ever again. I— failed him, Steve. I left him there... all alone and—and...”

“No,” Steve argued, his grip on the yoke tightening. “Bucky knew what would happen and he begged me to get you out of there anyway. He knew what he was risking by staying behind.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you fought against the lump in your throat. It was too much – the thought of Bucky willingly stepping foot into his nightmares if only to ensure you survived. This wonderful man who dared to question his own worth was beyond anything you could ever deserve. Your heart ached for him.

Steve gently reached out and brushed the fallen tears with the sleeve of his jacket, the rough material scratching your skin. He offered you a sad smile.

“Bucky also knew you’d move heaven and earth to get back to him,” Steve added, certainty clear in his voice. “And we will, okay? We’ll bring him home.”

You nodded, sinking back into your chair. The sky resembled the soft fragments of pale blue you knew so well – the lighter shades of Bucky’s eyes. You brushed the wetness from your cheeks.

***

Once you landed, Steve wordlessly handed you a com. You took it without question and fitted it into your ear, adjusting the device until it settled comfortably.

“Welcome back, kids,” Natasha’s voice purred through the coms. Your eyes shot to Steve, who gave you an amused smirk in return. “Hope you didn’t think we’d let you disobey direct orders and infiltrate a Hydra base on your own.”

“I’ve gotten in enough trouble over metal man already,” Sam chuckled. “What’s another strike on the record?”

You clenched your jaw enough to ache, trying to stop the sudden swell of emotion at the sound of their voices. You could picture Sam leaning over the edge of Natasha’s desk, the two of them huddled around a computer screen in the dark of a locked room they’d commandeered back at the compound.

You weren’t alone in this. Bucky wasn’t alone in this.

You looked at Steve, eyes glistening with tears, and he set a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

You and Steve loaded up with as many weapons as you could strap to your suits without impacting your range of movement. A quiet calm swept through the jet with every click and latch of a holster. You could spot the Hydra base through the break in the trees – a simple, concrete frame that looked like it could have been decades abandoned.

You kept both hands on your weapon as you walked down the open ramp of the jet, your grip aching against the metal.

“Nat’s keeping an eye on us through the security cameras,” Steve explained as you approached the edge of the base. He gestured to the cameras hidden under the paneling of the roof. “And Sam’s—”

A buzzing sound zipped around you – a blur of silver and red as it flew up above the base and shot a single electric pulse. The drone hovered for a moment, waiting patiently, and then a body tumbled off the edge of the roof. You grinned as it flew back down to meet you.

“Nice work, Sam,” you said, looking right into the camera.

“His name is Redwing,” Sam reminded you, the familiar influx of pride swelling in his voice. You could almost see Natasha roll her eyes beside him as he puffed out his chest.

“Well Redwing can keep watch out here,” Steve ordered, amusement lost from his voice as he looked to the entrance of the Hydra base. A soft chime followed as Natasha must have hacked the security system to unlock the door. The light by the knob shifted from red to green.

You shared a single look with Steve before he pulled open the door and you fired your first shot. The first man went down before he had even glanced to your direction.

One after the other, falling in short precision before a finger could so much as grace the trigger of their guns. Steve barely had the opportunity to fire a shot himself as you channeled every ounce of the boiling rage searing under your skin into the men who had dared to take Bucky from you. And when that wasn’t enough – when the bullets emptied from the chambers – you left the firearms to the tile and drew your blades.

It was more personal this way.

“So you’ve returned for round two?” a voice seethed ahead, the full shine of a gold tooth reflecting under florescent lights. His lower lip was busted, his right eye swollen and bruised. You did not miss the way his gaze flickered to the bandage running over your forehead – evidence of the shot he nearly ended your life with. A sickening grin curved at the edges of his lips.

“I will enjoy this, princess.” The guard cracked out his knuckles, twisting his neck to one side and the other, readying himself for a fight. He was looking for a rematch – for redemption. Or perhaps, to fuel his pathetic ego from the concussion you’d given him at your last encounter.

But you were in no mood for games.

Without dropping your stare, you flung one of your daggers across the hall with as much force as you could muster. The golden toothed guard didn’t seem to realize he’d been struck with the knife until the momentum shifted his balance. His sinister smile fell as he looked down at the blade embedded in his chest. Shaking hands hovered over the hilt. Then, slowly, he looked up to you as if you might offer him mercy.

You threw the second dagger instead. This time, you struck his heart.

You said nothing as he dropped to his knees and then to his side as blood began to seep from the wounds. He was dead by the time you crossed the hall and bent to retrieve your weapons. It took some effort to yank the blades from the guard’s body.

“Y/n,” Steve called, pausing at the threshold of an open room. His shoulders were stiff, his stance rigid. “Over here.”

Your heart threatened to tear through your ribs as you followed him into the room. A trail of blood still laid upon the floor, scuffle marks obscuring the droplets from where Steve had dragged you away – your heels digging for purchase in the solid ground.

It took nearly all your effort to draw your eyes to the center of the room – to the cryochamber. A low hum sung from the series of computers attached to the machine; the effort exerting from maintaining the freezing temperatures that once sustained Bucky’s body for decades. Steve was speaking into the coms behind you though you could not discern a word of what he said, not as you slowly approached the chamber – locked upon it as if you were drawn in a trance.

A shaken hand lifted to the small window. You couldn’t see beyond the glass – not with the fog of frost and ice obscuring your view – but you knew he was there. The glass was frozen under your fingertips, enough that the sensation startled you enough to flinch as you touched it.

“We’ll have to move fast,” Steve ordered, his voice coming in clearer now as he came up beside you. “Hydra reinforcements will be on us any minute.”

You nodded, trying to still the rapid trembling in your hands as Steve rushed to the control panels. He began pulling at wires and pressing buttons seemingly at random until the distant humming began to fade and the cool blast of air disconnected from the chamber.

Steve swiped at the dark green button in the top left corner of the panel and a latch suddenly unlocked. You lunged for the chamber’s door, propping your foot against the wall to leverage your weight enough to lift it open.

It was like stepping out into a winter storm as the door swung open. Blistering wind rushed out at you, forcing you to shield your eyes. When it passed only seconds later, you lowered your forearm to find ice adhered to the fabric of your suit – the small droplets of your opponents’ blood now frozen in crystalized red.

You understood then why Bucky had such horrific nightmares of this chamber. His skin was an awful shade of blue – his lips purple and chapped. Ice clung to his hair where it had once been dampened with sweat. His chest did not rise. His eyes did not flutter open. He looked... dead.

You reached out to touch his face, fingertips brushing over the ice crystals on the short bristles of his beard. A sob nearly broke you before Steve set a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve got him,” he eased, guiding you away from the chamber. You stepped back carefully, folding your arms around yourself and sank into the swell of relief as Steve was the one to shoulder Bucky’s weight and pull him from his casket. He hissed at the contact, as if the chill of Bucky’s skin was burning him. Steve’s neck and hands were turning bright red where he held contact to him.

“Sam and I will have medical ready for you when you return,” Natasha’s reassuring voice came through the coms as you led Steve and Bucky through the empty hallways. You kept Steve’s gun raised, though you met no enemies as you inched towards the exit. It was an effort not to trip over the series of bodies laid over the floors. You tried not to look at the pools of blood sticking under your boots.

“And Fury?” Steve questioned; his breathing labored.

“Let me worry about him,” Nat replied without missing a beat.

“Hell, I’m half convinced this was his plan all along,” Sam chuckled. Part of you might have wondered whether he was right if you had any energy left to do anything but hold a hand to the trigger and guide a careful path away from the Hydra base.

Something had to go wrong. It always went wrong.

But somehow, you made it back to the jet without interference.

Steve quickly released Bucky and gently laid him on the soft mats near the cargo hold and rushed to the cockpit. He threw the pilot’s headphones over his ears and fired on the engines before you even closed the ramp to the jet.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Natasha called through the coms.

You sank to your knees at Bucky’s side, hands hovering over his chilled skin; scared that a single touch might shatter him.

“Yeah,” you replied though it was barely audible.

“It’s just us on here right now,” she told you, a softness to her voice. “You did good, okay? But the work’s not over. Coming out of cryo won’t be kind on his body. Even with the serum he’s at risk for hypothermia. You’re going to need to—”

“I know,” you whispered, nodding though she could not see you. You’d done it enough times, spend enough nights curled around him to draw the warmth back to his body. It had never been like this – his body so lost to the cold that his chest did not rise on his shallow breaths. He wasn’t even shivering.

“We’ll see you on base,” Natasha said in way of goodbye.

Your hands trembled over the zipper of Bucky’s jacket as the jet lifted from the patch of green in the woods behind the Hydra base. You fumbled with it, cursing at your fingers for slipping their grip. It wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you tugged on it. The damn thing was frozen solid. Tears slipped over your cheeks as you pulled back, wincing at the frozen burn marks on your fingertips.

Skin to skin wasn’t an option – not with his clothes frozen onto him like this. But you could still manage, you could still give him some layer of heat; any of it, all of it. You laid down to the floor beside him, draped against his right side. You slid a leg between his and laid your arm over his chest, your palm setting gently against his cheek.

You drew in a shaken breath at the iciness of his skin, but you did not pull away from him. Your thumb slid along his cheekbone, your hand stinging under the cold. Still, you curled against him the best you could. Even as the jet flew soundlessly above the trees and Steve glanced back at you over his shoulder, you did not dare to put space between you and Bucky.

By the time you landed back on back, you were shaking. Steve had to pry you from Bucky’s body; your skin numb and flushed from the cold. The ice crystals had melted from Bucky’s hair and skin, a pool of water under him. You clung to Steve as you watched the medical team quickly board the jet and drag Bucky away. It was like you were paralyzed – frozen – as they carried him from you. Steve set a steadying hand on your back.

Natasha was standing at Fury’s side as Steve gently led you down the ramp, following behind the med team. You glanced over at the director, expecting to find his namesake carved into the lines of his face. But instead, his hands were clasped behind his back, his long signature coat swaying in the wind of the landing bay, and he gave you a short nod.

Perhaps Sam was right.

***

You’d forgotten about the taser burns.

Standing in the far corner of the room, you struggled to catch your breath as the nursed gingerly removed Bucky’s tactical suit – cutting a clean line down the center with scissors when the zipper broke like shards of glass at their attempt to grasp it. Pealing the fabric from his body, you’d expected to see the slight tint of red on his skin – the blood rushing to the surface to warm his body now that the blue tint had dissipated. You��d expected the scars you knew well – scars you’d kissed and brushed loving fingertips over the evenings he looked at them with disgust.

But you’d forgotten the burns.

Two vicious red marks on his ribs. Another set just below his collarbone upon his chest – frighteningly close to his heart. Soft pink marks crept like spider veins away from the burns. Almost like lightning, you realized. The intensity of the tasers carried enough voltage to kill any other man – to kill even a large animal. His burn marks resembled lightning.

Just as the nurses tucked Bucky under the clean sheets, you stepped forward. “Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

You hated how small you sounded. How afraid. But the nurse offered you a warm smile and gestured towards the door. You followed her, armed folded tight over your chest. You left puddles of cold water in your wake.

“He will,” she told you reassuringly. “Give him some time. The serum will do the work for him. It always has.”

You nodded, brushing away a stray tear before she could notice. When she left, the room was achingly silent. Steve had promised to check in on Bucky after he debriefed Fury and settled the council before they threatened to banish you from the compound. It wasn’t a job you cared to handle right now, not with the chance of Bucky waking without you and still believing he was at the Hydra base. You would not be leaving his side until he woke up. You didn’t care if Fury or his superiors tried to throw you in the Raft and toss the key to the ocean. You weren’t going anywhere.

As you approached Bucky’s bedside, you began to peel away layers of your suit. If you let yourself believe it, you might imagine you were in the comfort of your shared bedroom, the stars still coating the night sky, the window left open overnight. Bucky was only sleeping. It was only a mere chill from the draft trembling his body. Nothing more.

Wordlessly, you slipped under the covers with him, gasping at the still frigid touch of his skin. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when he was on the jet, but there was no barrier between you anymore. Dressed only in your undergarments, you pressed as much of your body against Bucky as you could manage.

Body heat, you remembered, was the fastest way to warm him. You could pile blankets on top of him until the weight sunk his body into the mattress, but it would be nothing in comparison to the heat radiating from your skin as you curled up against him. Even when goosebumps lined your forearms and you shivered against him, your body would guide him home. Your warmth would protect him from the cold.

You didn’t know how long you laid there with him. Long enough for Steve to come by after he was likely berated by the council, though he didn’t stay long. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he looked over his friend, noting the slight flush of pink that returned to Bucky’s cheeks. He promised he would return in a few hours with something for you to eat. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

***

The sun disappeared behind the tree line, leaving only the soft neon glow of the heart monitor charting Bucky’s pulse to illuminate the room. You didn’t attempt to pick at the pasta Steve brought you or move around the noodles to make it look like you’d even tried to swallow a bite. You didn’t have the energy for it.

Bucky’s body had returned to the comforting furnace you knew him to be – warm and strong, steady. But he hadn’t woken. Steve speculated it could be the sedatives Hydra gave him before putting him under. They'd expected him to be under a lot longer than he was. You and Steve were the ones to interrupt that cycle. Perhaps he only needed to shed the sedatives from his system.

It took nearly seven hours since arriving back at the compound before you felt Bucky’s hand twitch.

You gasped, flinching at the sudden sensation. His hand was rested between yours, curled up against your chest as you held his arm as if he were a childhood teddy bear. His fingers flexed in your grip as you carefully observed the movement. A slight groan came from his lips next, and your eyes darted up to his face.

“Bucky?” you whispered, releasing his hand gently to draw your fingertips gingerly over his jawline.

He groaned again, his whole body shifting uncomfortably.

Before you could get his name out again, his eyes shot open. A rapid breath expanded his lungs as if he had just broken the surface after hours underwater. His eyes darted around the room, trying to place where he was and you felt his whole body begin to tense.

“Bucky,” you called again, your voice barely a whisper to avoid startling him. He flinched anyway. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re home, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

He blinked a few times, the black in his pupils beginning to ease in favor of the blue you adored. He looked at you then, the realization coming back to him. It was as if you could see the memories spinning behind his eyes, the slow recollection of what transpired over the last twenty-four hours: how he’d nearly lost you, the chamber he was forced into after you promised him it would never happen again, the ice that had suspended him in time.

You’d failed him. You knew that. Shame crept into your skin the longer he looked at you. You expected him to be angry, to be resentful of a promise you had no right to make. But instead, he brushed his fingertips over the bandage on your forehead, a frown tugging on the corners of his lips.

“You’re hurt.”

His voice was raspy as he spoke. It brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, but Bucky’s eyes narrowed on you.

“You were shot,” he said, as if the memory was only now coming back to him. “An inch to the left and that bullet would have killed you.”

You swallowed, though your throat was dry. “It didn’t.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, unable to look away from the bandage. It had happened because you fought back, because you could not simply watch as they forced Bucky into that chamber. You didn’t care that you had a gun to your head or that the Hydra agent behind you had the clear advantage. You didn’t care because Bucky was doing what they told him to do simply because he hoped they would spare your life. He was walking towards the chamber, toward his nightmares, and you couldn’t stand it.

You’d do it again.

But you didn’t dare tell Bucky that.

It was your fault he’d even stepped foot toward that damn chamber in the first place. Your fault he went willingly. Your fault that you left him behind to the very same horrors that plagued his dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

His nightmares will only get worse now. After all he’d been through, after all the hard work he put in with his therapist, you retraumatized him again. You were the reason he was forced to relive the worst parts of his time under Hydra’s thumb. He may be holding you now, but you knew – you knew – he would not be able to untether that thread, that he’d forever associate you with the promise you’d broken.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” Bucky warned though his voice was gentle. He tugged you tighter against his side, the heat radiating off his body now enough to bring sweat to the nape of your neck and still, you’d never be close enough. He'd never be warm enough. Not after what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, unable to stop the well of tears from consuming you entirely. You buried your face in the corner of Bucky’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. I— I failed you. I swore to you I’d never let them hurt you again. I promised I wouldn’t let them take you and I— I left you there and—”

“Sweetheart, stop,” Bucky said again, more urgency to his voice now. The ends of his fingertips curled under your chin, gently lifting you to face him. There was only remorse in his gaze, only love and affection. “I knew Steve would have to drag you out of there. I knew you’d keep fighting for me, even if it meant going down yourself. I saw the blood on your face. I knew you were close to passing out. I begged him to get you out of there for a reason, honey.”

You shook your head, tears slipped past your cheeks. “But I—”

“You didn’t leave me behind,” Bucky insisted. “You didn’t do this to me. Hydra did. Don’t ask me to blame you for what they’ve done.”

Your lips parted in search of an argument, but you couldn’t find one. The softest smile pressed on the edges of Bucky’s lips.

“Besides,” he sighed, his mouth ghosting over your temple as he kissed you, “you came back for me. I knew you would.”

He kissed your forehead next, allowing himself to linger there. You closed your eyes under the feel of him, tears slipping past your cheeks as the warm comfort of his lips.

“I know you’d come for me,” he said again, with enough conviction that your heart began to settle into rhythm with his. Steady beats, mirroring one another – perfectly in time.

“I could still be fired,” you mumbled as you wiped the tears from your eyes, “or arrested. Depends on how good of a defense Steve pitched.”

Bucky chuckled and you could feel the vibration of it in his chest. It was your favorite feeling in the world.

“Steve isn’t one for following the rules of his superiors, so I think you’ll be okay,” he said. “Hard to argue against a successful mission.”

You offered him as much of a smile as you could muster. Bucky traced his thumb over your lower lip, as if to mark the shape to permanence.

“Besides, I won’t let them take you from me,” Bucky added, a cheeky grin stealing the darkness from his eyes, stealing the fear and panic that had once burrowed into the soft shades of blue. “I promise.”

A heaviness sank in your gaze, your smile slipping from you despite Bucky’s protest. “Perhaps we shouldn’t make promises like that anymore.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but you could feel his grip on you tightening, pulling you tighter against his chest. “How about a different one then?”

His fingertips settled under your chin, drawing your gaze back to his. You were met with nothing but the warm, gentle affection you’d always known in him.

“How about we promise to find each other?” he offered instead. “No matter what happens, no matter what tries to separate us... We will come for one another. Always.”

Tears swelled in your eyes. “Always.”

As always - thank you so much for reading and for all your kind words ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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