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kadwrites · 9 months

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romeo | T.S

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summary ; tommy shelby is an unpredictable man.

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope , fem!reader , angst(?) , soft!tommy , asshole!tommy kinda ig ?, mentions of violence ,

a/n ; i've been THINKING OF THIS SCENE FOR SO LONG AND I HOPE I WROTE IT WELL, lmk know what you guys think<333

"i swear to god!" your hands shake as you push the stray strands behind your ear "i swear to god, ya must 'ave a death wish or something"

"love-"

"no!" you scream , you can physically feel your blood boiling "jeremy, you're digging your own fucking grave, tommy knows something is not right"

"i'm not scared of 'im" he scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

it was a beautiful day outside, the sun is out and no cloud in sight. you're both standing outside your house, in the back.

"ya should be" you close your eyes, trying to recompose "who put ya up to this? where is all this fucking love coming from?"

"no one did ! i-" he huffs "i can't lose ya ! not to 'im"

"why do ya care ?" you can't hide the frustration in your voice "is this some sort of game you're playing?"

"because it was supposed to be me! it was supposed to be me you're marrying!"

you stare at him for a long moment, "when did ya start feeling that way? before or after ya fucked your brother's wife?"

"this was in the past!"

"and so are YOU, ya were supposed to stay in my past" you yell back at him "you're no longer a part of my life, so i suggest ya get going"

"you're marrying a monster." he leans down, snarling at you "even i am better than 'im, ya should be thanking me for even wanting to save ya" he steps back, looking you up and down "maybe i should leave ya to get killed by 'im, just like that bartender."

your nostrils flare and you could swear that all you saw was white, your hands fly up and grab him from his shirt collar , pulling him down to face you.

"ya listen to me ya disease riddled rat" you spit at him, "if ya ever come here again, if ya even open that mouth of yours and speak my name or tommy's name again, i will personally slit your throat. it wont be the peaky fucking blinders that will gut ya, it'll be me."

you push him away, and his eyes are wide. he's staring at you as if he's eye to eye with the devil. he snaps out of his terror filled trance , he takes a few steps back before running out of the house.

you walk inside and your hands are still trembling, you close your eyes and rub at your face. all your family gathered around you, and just looking at each other, not knowing what to say.

your arms are crossed as you sat on the sofa, a scene that seems to be repeating itself a lot. tommy is sat on the chair in front of you. the two of you are silent, staring at each other , waiting for the other to break and speak.

"who is he?" his voice breaks the silence, choosing to lose this round.

"a little bit of context would be nice, ya know. every now and then." you tilt your head as you speak,

"the man that left your house running for his life."

"how do ya know about that?" your brows knit together,

"doesn't matter." he shakes his head slightly, he sits with his legs crossed, fingers tapping against the armrest

"it does actually, who told ya?"

he doesn't answer, his blue eyes stare right back at you , as if you already knew the answer.

the dots connect , and your eye brows relax, your eyes widening every so slightly "you're spying on me...."

"i have eyes around here , yes."

"why?" by some miracle, your voice isn't high pitched and loud.

"because i can, and i want to" his voice was just as calm as yours.

"why are ya spying on me , thomas?" you grit your teeth, closing your eyes for a moment to calm down before you pop a vein.

"to make sure you're safe"

you let out a huff of a laugh , your eyes look at anything but him, and you can feel his eyes on you, unmoving.

"safe ? or are ya making sure i'm not getting fucked behind your back?"

"that's not something i'm worried about"

you look back at him, your eye brow raised "then what are ya worried about?"

"because you're now a target." he looks at you, his words are calculated and firm "what did ya think would 'appen if ya married the head of the peaky blinders?"

a moment passed, you're trying to decipher if he's lying to you, if he still doesn't trust you.

"he's an old boyfriend"

"what business does he 'ave around here?"

"he wanted to talk me out of marrying ya." your eyes are studying his face, for any sort of reaction , but there's none.

"and what did ya say to 'im?"

"i'm still wearing your ring , aren't i?"

"do ya still love 'im?"

you lean back on the sofa , your eyes closed as you pinch the bridge of your nose. "no, if i did i wouldn't be sitting here getting interrogated by the man i'm supposed to be spending the rest of my life with"

"why didn't ya tell me about it? when i asked?"

"because i'm not a fucking child , i can take care of my own business." you lose the grip on your emotions, frustration seeps out and laces around your voice

"if it concerns ya, it concerns me as well."

"ya know what?" you stand up "i think we need go stop seeing each other for a while because i can't promise to not slap ya in the face the next time ya speak"

he chuckled and it only served to anger you further, and when you try to storm out , he grabs you.

he could swear that actual daggers were flying out of your eyes, but he was amused nonetheless.

"sit down."

"go fuck yourself."

you pull your arms out of his grasp and walk up the stairs, heading for your room

tommy huffs a laugh, looking around.

you swore you were hallucinating. you put your hair brush down, looking at the window behind you through the mirror , before hearing it again and this time you see it too, it's a rock

your brows furrowed and you get up, walking slowly to the window before another rock hits it again, you look down.

and here he is, your fucking fiancé , in his usual get up but without his jacket , his sleeves are rolled up, throwing rocks at your window.

his blue eyes twinkled , looking up at you, his face lit up when he saw you

your eyes widen and you open your mouth to yell before unlocking the window and opening it

"are ya insane ? 'ave ya lost your fucking mind?" it's a hushed yell, you try to not wake up the whole house.

"happy to see me?" he's smiling

"no , i'm not happy to see ya. what the fuck are ya doing here?" your hands are resting on the window cell

"come down here and i'll tell ya" he throws the few rocks that were in his hand back on the ground , dusting away the dirt off his hand "are ya gonna make me come up there?"

you're staring at him in disbelief,

"well?" he stands with his hands on his hips

you shut the windows closed , and a smile of victory paints over his lips. you put on your cardigan and try to walk down the stairs without stomping your feet in anger.

"tommy what the fuck are ya doing here?"

you truly couldn't understand this man, the moment you thought you did , he does something that takes you back to square one.

you fight back the giddiness and the butterflies in your stomach that go wild when he looks at you, that smile that you've only seen once before , when he proposed makes your chest feel full.

"well?" you repeat his own words , waiting for an explanation

"i do trust ya"

"what?" that throws you off ,again. another way for him to prove that you can never predict him

"i trust ya." he speaks softly, his smile softens and his eyes makes everything seem all too real

"then why are ya spying on me?" you whispered, you couldn't stop yourself from asking him that question.

"i can't afford not to"

"again, context goes a long way , tommy."

"i can't afford to lose ya." he whispered back , his eyes stuck on yours "and if i 'ave to put a man on every fucking corner of this neighborhood to make sure you're safe , then so be it."

you look at him for a moment before looking away , trying to hold back the smile.

"i hate ya." you murmur "i do , i hate ya."

"don't lie to me, it's useless." he leans closer

you look back at him and you're standing nose to nose. his eyes drop to your lips before looking back at yours

"i'm not lying."

he chuckles, leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours and your eyes flutter shut. a hand on your jaw and the other rests on your waist.

it's nothing like the first kiss you two shared , this one is different and you can feel. your body feels like it's alight.

he's almost apologetic, pouring every word , every emotion he couldn't let out into that kiss. your fingers grab onto his waistcoat.

a long moment later, you pull away. but your hands remain in their place

"we've never even been on a date" he speaks against your lips

"that's how arranged marriages usually work."

"would ya like to go on one?" he raises a brow , in an amused expression

you chuckle "sure why not, i'm marrying ya anyway."

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#kadwrites #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction

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afewfantasies · 6 days

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🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - VIII - MONSTERS & MUSES

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.6K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Separated by a twist of fate, Feyd-Rautha searches for his betrothed across the wide expanses of Arrakis. He uses his cunning and brutality to inspire cooperation and to track his lady. While in the desert familiar characters Paul Atreides and Chani make an appearance.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: NSFW, minors do not engage, sexually explicit content and violence.

______

VIII - Monsters & Muses

Grinning Feyd tilts his head looking at the man before him.

It's no laughing matter.

His smile is deceptive in nature

Like any predator, a visible smirk

The showing of teeth means danger.

Rotating his wrists Feyd feels the weight of his blades as blood drips around him. Most high lords had people for torture or executions but Feyd-Rautha never strayed from seeing what the men who tried him were made of. Down to the sinew. There was an intimacy to using his blades and a ferocity that couldn’t be undermined by his slightly amused persona. Feyd’s viciousness and vitriol lies in his relentlessness, his patience, his commitment to seeing everything through. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, no stone he wouldn't turn in the pursuit of your retrieval.

Feyd enjoyed an audience. He hadn't built his reputation on kindness. He needed people to tell of what they'd witnessed. He hoped word would travel fast that the Harkonnen heir flayed two men for their participation in your abduction. Word would travel that he had done it with a smile, without mercy, or hesitation. They would tell tales about his unsightly appearance. Crimson blood against his alabaster complexion, guts all over his clothes. About the other men he’d killed violently before freeing these two of their skin. People would recall how he’d stood up for hours, how he hadn't stopped looking for you, how he hadn't tired of doling out grave punishments. There would be no quick deaths, only long drawn out painful ones. He could hear the whispers declaring him to be someone monstrous. He could see his staff trembling as they brought his refreshments. He could feel the fear dripping from every person around him. He didn't want to feel any kindness if it wasn't from you, there was no warmth or light in his world in your absence and everyone would feel the darkness your absence brings.

Fear went a far way further than respect, so Feyd used that to his advantage. It’s a vulnerability to be exploited. He has taken note of everything, tracking the men who scurried off like rats. They would fall into his traps or lead him right to you. He noted that the Fremen were more angry than anything else about his decrees but so long as you were gone every man within his control would suffer his same fate. He’d cleared the city of Arrakeen of the women and children, he’d even managed ambushes in several neighbouring cities in the hope of your retrieval but it had been unsuccessful thus far. Instead of executing the most vulnerable, he did far worse by placing them in a harem to give their men hope of getting them back. Then Feyd pointed missiles at the structures filled with the vulnerable. His methods were malevolent but so was your abduction.

His woman and unborn child taken right under his nose. Just several feet away within his palace without commotion or any major resistance. Your abduction has the Baron’s stench all over it. Feyd makes a promise to himself that the Baron’s punishment will be the worst of them all. Leaving the torture chambers he heads to rid himself of the matter and blood. Feyd’s thoughts are on you as he tries to tune into the connection he’d felt that led him to you. He tries to focus on that connection hoping for a miracle. He wants you to be alright, he wants you to feel safe, to know he’s coming, that no further harm will come to you. There was nothing Feyd-Rautha wouldn’t do for you, he needed you to know that, needs you to know how hard he’s trying, he feels so close and yet so powerless. Looking up at the mirror in front of him Feyd slams a fist breaking the glass out of anger, shattering his reflection. He didn’t want to see himself without seeing you. Blood drips from his knuckles into the sink and Feyd turns on the water to wash it down with him. Staring into the drain he watches the water flow into an abyss, unseen and unheard of again. Shutting the water off he looks at his hands. He’d spent far too much time training to be a killer and far too little being a protector. His exhaustion has been stretched far beyond what is capable for the average man but there had never been anything average about Feyd. Looking at the blood pooling on his knuckles he turns on the water again watching it wash away the blood. Unclenching his fists he wraps a bandage on his hand to stop the bleeding and swelling. He looks at himself in a shard of glass when an idea settles his nerves. In his torture of a holy man he found out the secret to killing sadworms. As sacred fixtures of Fremen culture it would be an ace in his pocket. Without the fear of sandworms the Fremen’s remote hideaways could be easily accessed.

Swallowing hard Feyd nods to himself as the plan's conception grows. A slow smile creeps onto his face, he now had his terms and they would be met. Rushing to his war council Feyd looks at the live maps of the planet settling on the view of the most fortified Fremen city. The stronghold was undoubtedly where you would be held. Grabbing a pen and parchment he prepares a scroll and then has a Mentat prepare a translation with his terms to be dropped. He would not go begging. He would not jeopardise your safety with perceived weakness but what he will do is exploit the people who would keep you from him by all means.

——

You squirm trying to worm yourself free of the through restraints binding you to a stone pillar, the heat is relentless and your still suit can’t seem to produce enough water. You’re alone, echoes and the odd person coming to check on you are the only signs of life in your vicinity. It had been a gruelling trek, then you were sitting in a cool room when a battle ensued. Then after it was all said and done you were being passed off from Harkonnen traitors to Fremen soldiers. The Fremen soldiers had done the right thing with their murder of the Harkonnen. Kill or be killed. Instead of killing you the Fremen were gentle, allowing you time to maintain a slower pace and even going underground when the sun peaked, stifling you. Your concept of time is blurred as you sit in this subterranean cavern. The heavy concentration of Spice has your abilities and senses out of whack disabling your abilities' potency around Fremen. The whispers tell you that Feyd is wreaking havoc but you don’t fully understand the thick accents and complicated dialects being used.

“Let me go” you demand and a tall man that seems to be in charge turns to face you.

“Not until Usul arrives” he responds.

“You don’t look like a Harkonnen concubine” he muses. “You’re not ugly enough or bald” he mocks. Your abduction had been a coup. Harkonnen men disguised as Fremen. There was only one culprit, the baron who wanted you disposed of along with the Fremen people, what better way to get it done then to have you killed by the Fremen and Feyd end their race in one fell swoop. Then the spice would flow with such abundance House Harkonnen would be uncontested leaders within the imperium and favourites of the emperor.

“We’re being played I want to speak to your leader” you snap squiring more.

“Harkonnen whores are highly trained in seduction, black eyes steal the souls of men. You will make no demands until you see Usul” he says, reciting folklore that couldn't be further than the truth.

“Feyd-Rautha will cause more destruction the longer I’m gone” you warn and his eyes show emotion. His reaction tells you Feyd has already caused considerable damage. You watch as he makes calculations weighing his options.

“We wait for Usul” he concludes.

“Usul had better hurry” you comment and the man pauses looking at you over.

“You’re unarmed, bound and captured but you have no fear - you must be Fremen'' he scoffs. But it’s not the case, you just don't fear them for fear's sake. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant their vengeance aside from your allegiance to Feyd-Rautha. Feyd who makes all of their darkness look light. You hold his blue eyes and before you can conjure the voice the mans smile blurs your vision again causing a sting. “Perhaps not” he mocks, taking off one of his scarves and putting it around your mouth. The gesture is a charity and not an attempt to gag you. Here in the desert, strength honours strength. Swallowing you feel sympathy for what must be done.

“Have you ever known peace? Freedom?” You ask.

“No” he says regretfully.

“If Arrakis were no longer at war what would you be other than a soldier?” You ask and he pauses, unable to conceive that reality. It’s an awful truth and reflection of the horrors of house Harkonnen and the Emperor have caused the people of this planet. How could they subject people to this for generations? How could you be surprised by how the Baron treats his own citizens subjecting many of them to slave like conditions. When you look back to the man his eyes seem different, the effects of the spice take root causing you confusion.

“Your eyes understand hardship” he comments with wisdom despite his youth. “There are whispers that you are kind, generous and gave people water and aid to a mother with her sick child. Why would you be with a Harkonnen?” the man asks. There’s no honest answer, there’s no logical reason for why. Why had your father had chosen Feyd-Rautha above all other eligible sons with status? Why had your mother agreed and encouraged it the union? There was nothing to explain the magnetism and attraction you felt to him. The quiet reassurance that he was yours, the electricity, the child gestating in your womb.

“Reasons beyond reason or logic, matters of the heart and destiny are not easily understood” you admit unable to deny him even in the face of his enemies.

“Then why would his people give you up?” the man asks.

“To be a detriment to yours” you explain and the man sits. You see understanding before you see recognition.

“I know your face” he says looking at you and it echoes into your subconscious. Your vision blurs again and it takes work to focus on the man in front of you. He closes the space between you and cuts your bonds before stepping back. You hear gasps and realize for the first time you're not alone as angry blue eyes emerge from the shadows. You feel unnerved until the man removes his face coverings. The picture of him comes together as a puzzle. A familiar one. Your jaw drops as you make out a ghost from a past life. Overcome with emotion you hug him grateful for the twist of fate.

“You’re alive” you smile standing face to face with Paul Atreides.

“You’re alive” he repeats, hugging you tight. Angry Fremen comments erupt in a flurry as you take in his face, his new height, his eyes, his hair.

“You survived” you smile.

“And you did too. My father looked for you until he was killed. There were rumours but …” Paul says and you swallow hard realizing how deep the conspiracy flows.

“What?” Paul asks and your heart races, you go to walk out but bump into a soldier, the spice is affecting you tremendously. You look up and see the man who’d been caring for you. Paul emerges with a syringe. “It’s an antidote” he says and you withdraw.

“I can’t” you tell him to be cautious of your child. It’s as though Paul senses it as another soldier runs in.

“Chani, take her to guest chambers,” Paul says, receiving scrolls. Looking up at the woman from your visions emerges. She’s tall, striking and angry. Her strides are powerful, she gets bows of respect from everyone you pass. When you arrive in a room she scowls as you sit. She’s skeptical.

“How do you know Usul?” She asks. Her tone speaks volumes to who she is to Paul.

“Paul Atreides?” You ask.

“Usul” she corrects and you swallow because names don’t matter.

“His father the Duke and my mother were childhood friends. I spent countless holidays on Caladan. Paul and I were friends” you explain.

“Now you’re carrying a Harkonnen” she says with a tone laced in judgement. “Your suits reservoirs are low for an outsider the Harkonnen way is excess so there’s no wonder there isn’t much water left. It’s why you’re so susceptible to the spice. Slight dehydration” she explains without kindness, warmth or affinity. “He’s a monster, Feyd-Rautha” she says.

“He is” you acknowledge. “But he’s not your enemy” you speak truthfully. You know better than most that you’re all victims of the machinations of men blinded by their pursuits.

“The things he’s done …” she trails, shaking her head. She’s so angry her body trembles.

“There’s far more at play then we know, isolation will only further the objective of our enemies. I was taken by Harkonnen and it was made to look like I was taken by the Fremen. Feyd will listen to me, he will not do as I say but returning me will put an end to whatever madness he’s conceived as punishment for my abduction.” You explain.

It had been death by a thousand cuts for your assault.

An inconceivable amount of violence that didn’t seem to shock or surprise anyone. The cruelty of Giedi Prime was unmatched. On Arrakis the climate was brutal as is the subjugation of the people by their reigning overlords. However, life among the people is easy and loving. In stark contrast to the Harkonnen planet. While the Rabban had excelled in cruelty, Feyd-Rautha enjoyed breaking down the minds of men, toying with them, bringing them to the brink and then unrelenting slowly making them lose their minds. He had patience he would start slow, he was methodical, precise and deliberate in each act. He was the ideal weapon of choice, and now all his efforts were concentrated on the wrong place.

Looking up you swallow at Chani who turns her back to you in the thick silence. Her hand slowly palms her own stomach. It’s an unconscious gesture in a moment of deep thought. It lasts only a second before she turns back to face you. You recognize the concern in her eyes. The wavering commitment to her cause.

“He has villages worth of women and children in one of the forgotten palaces. Explosives are pointed at them” she snaps. “He’s desecrated our temples and two cities and now he threatens to tell the guild how to kill the sandworms” Chani says. You swallow hard knowing it isn’t the half of what he’s done. You know the sandworts are consecrated entities to the Fremen and close your eyes as you imagine what Feyd had to do to get that information - likely from a priest.

“Have him clear out the women and children from the palace. Paul won’t let you go back to him. The war will rage on and too many innocents will lose.” She says adjusting the still suit. She begins listing off exit instructions and although you're skeptical you feel drawn to her. It’s not until your final goodbyes that you realize what’s happened. You feel it but it’s not quite you. The alarm in her eyes says she feels it too. The feeling is a kin tothe magnetism between you and Feyd. There’s a fierce level of protection you feel for the woman and you see its mutual. Her hand rests over her stomach as she tries to make sense of it.

Destiny.

You smile at the thought of your child and Pauls finding each other one day. Nodding in her direction the future is promise enough to keep you moving, you follow Chani’s direction hoping against all hope you make it to Feyd.

——

Feyd looks around your room, in your absence and in his rage he had found a way to occupy Leia and his staff. He would not release you, he would not yield to his enemies or the desert. You would return to him. He believed it the same way he had when he searched for you relentlessly. Feys stands looking out into the expanse, the extent of his commitment to your return is all around him. Traitors hang off the city wall and heads line it’s base. It’s unsightly and grotesque and an example of how all life will be until for everyone so long as you are kept from Feyd. Looking at the sun he sighs having waited long enough for word. Every person on Arrakis should be looking for you, the search party should be infinite, you should be in his care. He should be apologizing on his knees. He should be making up for all the love lost. Atoning for his actions, for his shunning, his reaction to your devotion and inability to keep him safe. He needed to feel you in his arms, against his skin, he needed to lay his hand over your stomach. He needed to see your smile, the swell of your breasts, your scent, your touch, the satisfied moans that come from your deep pleasure.

He loves you so much it’s taking everything in him not to crack under the weight of your absence. The humiliation of his failure, his inability to enact your return. It was like Feyd had been castrated and cuckold. No amount of violence could erase that simple fact, no amount of fear he placed in others could remedy what he feels inside. A piece of his heart was alone in the vast desert of Arrakis. In his heart he senses you. Deep down Feyd knows you’re alive but every time he goes to follow the sensations its scrambles ad leaves him disoriented and spinning. He hoped that knowing he was fighting was enough to get you to do the same. To fight for him and your child. Marriage would be his first order of business and then he would not let you out of his sights. People would believe there was an invisible tether keeping the two of you connected. There would be whispers of your witchcraft and strong effects on him.

Heading to his council room he looks at the live map of Arrakis again, there was a line outside the palace with people coming to confess information on your abduction. Feyd’s hand hovers over the missile detonator, the weight of not having you with him mounting. Horrible intrusive thoughts come to him, tempting him to act out of rage prematurely.. Static begins on the iradio, Feyd rotates the dial to tune it. The static continues until Feyd is able to pick up Fremen. Focusing on clarity Feyd tunes it to the very moment he makes out two words in the foreign dialect.

Harkonnen escaped.

It’s all Feyd needs.

Standing he leaves suiting up. He’d always been a renegade soldier and now would be no different. Soldiers straighten as he enters the room storming through the halls with purpose. Feyd cannot jeopardize your well being when he knows there’s a possibility he hadn’t rooted out all treachery. In the event that his uncle had found a motivator more powerful than fear, he had to be decisive and quick. Feyd-Rautha knows it’s a game of chance, that the stakes are stacked against him. Should you end up in the hands of the Baron, Feyd would become no better than the other slaves on Geidi Prime. It would be the final straw. That could not be his fate or yours. Rabban, the Baron and anyone else who dreamed of separating you from Feyd would die. He would create his own family with you. Putting on his helmet as he the aircraft, Feyd allows his senses to set the coordinates. Arrakis seldom reveals its secrets; there were countless settlements, tunnels and forts that only the Fremen could locate. To foreigners all there is, is sand as far as the eye can see with the dunes shifting hour by hour, day by day. He could not depend on anything external any longer, he would follow the pull in his chest. Quieting his mind Feyd-Rautha feels the magnetism in his chest grow as he charts a course in accordance with it.

“Where is the nearest building?” He asks and a few soldiers pull up a map passing over ruins. Feyd stops at the ruins zooming in. He sees heat signals outlining men. Technology had been outlawed by the imperium, especially certain weaponry but the Harkonnen seldom followed the rules. Programming his pets he tosses redesigned hunter seekers from a hatch. The poison will disable a person in seconds and the weapon is undetectable, no more different in size and appearance than a large beetle. “Drop me here” Feyd says adjusting his gun, he preferred knives but getting close enough for combat with Fremen was unwise. “No one shoots” he warns as his boots hit the ground. Feyd feels you close and doesn't want a shootout to scare you into hiding.

“Yes my lord” his men repeat as he drops. The rubble of the building ruins is littered with disabled Fremen.

“Bring them back to the ship for questioning” he commands storming into the caverns alone. There’s an odd sense of deja-vu and symmetry to it. Feyd-Rautha alone searching through caverns and rooms looking for you, while you are acutely aware of how close he is but unsure of how or where he will finally appear. The heat is stifling and as much as you want to remove your still suit you know it's keeping you alive, keeping your child hydrated. Pausing, you hear footsteps and move quietly. The footsteps slow as well. You make sure your face is wrapped hoping the dim lighting won’t highlight the absence of Fremen eyes.

Backing off the path you deviate to hide your heart racing so fast you try to find a weapon in the absence of your own abilities. You try to move quietly but seize when your back hits into a person. Alarms go off in your head as you tense out of fear and regret. Your ears ring, you feel tension in your heart and throat. Behind you Feyd-Rautha smiles as you walk back into him, your body fitting perfectly against his. Even dressed as a Fremen with no skin showing he knows it’s you and places one arm across you pulling you into him. Your iciness thaws in moments. Turning to face him he rests his head against your forehead in relief. There are no words exchanged as he pulls down the scarves covering your mouth. His lips find yours and you kiss him showing him all the love you can muster. Your regret for rejecting him is deep seeded. You pull him close as he stands there reveling in the relief of your return. He could feel the fight in you, feel how much you wanted him back. Feel your need for him. He’d almost lost you.

“Come, let’s go home” Feyd says, picking you up bridal style. He knows you’re weary, he doesn’t need to ask, he takes the lead relieving you. As he emerges from the caves his men watch in shock.

“Kill” he says into his watch and the insect assassins do just that to everyone but either of you. He needed you, he needed silence, to let his guard down for there to be no interruptions. No recounts or recollections of the moment. He didn’t need it getting back to the Baron or the Fremen he just needed you. Walking up the plank Feyd sets you down lifting the hatch and going into orbit while shielded. The absence of life on board is eerie, so is the overwhelming feeling of hope you feel now that you’re with Feyd. The relief is overwhelming, if you had tears to spear they would fall but no water spills from your eyes as Feyd cups your face.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” He asks.

“No” you respond and he takes your hand sitting you down as he pours you a glass of water. You drink it greedily and his eyes are all over you. After days in the desert you grow self conscious.

“Don’t do that” he warns with his soft lips against yours. “You're beautiful, always,” he says gently. His hand covers your stomach and he stands behind you removing the still suit. He bends helping you step out of it and kisses your stomach, you hold him there against you. The feeling is incomparable. The three of you are safe together and at ease.

“Free the Fremen women and children Feyd. Give this moment to them. They did not abduct me” you confess. Feyd looks at you, his eyes brimming with anger now.

“Who was it?” He asks only to have his suspicions confirmed.

“The Baron” you respond.

With that Feyd walks over to the table disengaging all security measures, letting the vulnerable go. Watching him you feel seized by surprise at his compliance. Unphased by his mercy he hands you another glass of water. You put it to your lips surprised by his lack of resistance. He tips the glass making sure you hydrate. The feelings you have for him are so strong they overwhelm you.

“Feyd, I love you” you whisper, finishing the water and setting the glass aside. He looks you over feeling the very same way. The shock of the past few days hit him hard and all at once.

“I love you … I” he stops turning to back you and you place a hand on his back. You rub circles as he takes his time.

“Show me” you whisper, needing him but he shakes his head in refusal. It stings and you withdraw only for Feyd to watch your wrists.

“Not until the spice is out of your system or it could hurt you and our child. I’ve put you at risk enough” he says choosing your well being over an overdue sexual reunion. The silence is thick and you decide to give him a moment changing the subject to other pressing matters.

“Paul Atriedes is alive, he’s the Fremen prophet you’re at war with” you inform but there is no smirk. No delight in a potential cat and mouse game, nothing behind his eyes aside from a quiet relief for you.

“I don’t care.” he swallows, clicking his jaw. You watch as Feyd fights against his inner animal. “I don’t care about any of it” he snaps with a thumb under your chin. His eyes narrow in on your lips as he sits bringing you closer. “I almost lost you, again” he snaps. His reaction is delayed but the clouds roll in all the same. He cared for the things that belonged to him, he was a protector and you’d been out in the desert because of his uncle's jealousy and pathetic pursuit of power. Sitting across his lap you wrap your arms around him relaxing your aching limbs in their safe place. Feyd watches you intently thanking all forces that you were back to him. He wouldn’t know how to control himself. He slides his hand under the hem of your top placing it on your stomach. One fell swoop and mother and child could’ve been gone.

“I’m here” you say, drawing his eyes. “We’re okay” you add and he kisses your forehead again as the depths of his uncle's treason reveals itself to him.

“I'm sorry for everything I haven’t been able to protect you from” Feyd says out of frustration. Machinations of a mad man swimming around his mind. He’s ready to end it all, if he could the entire planet would be nothing but a memory, everything the Baron worked for. Reaching for the pitcher he pours you another glass watching you drink the water. Smiling, you rest your head in his chest.

“What?” He asks, raising his brow bone.

“I can almost hear the screams your thoughts are going to capture. I can feel the fear from your retribution” you comment honestly. Feyd turns his head to you, he’d been a witness to you being good, merciful and tolerant too many times for it not to be in your nature.

“That makes you smile?” He asks

“Anything that makes our lives together easier makes me smile,” you confess. “I’m with you, always” you promise. Feyd stands heading into living chambers, his hand guides you along with him. You realize he handles stress with silence, and kiss his hand. It’s an improvement from him requiring distance in his anger. He sets a bath filling the black tub with water, salts and oils. He undresses you slowly helping you in. He sits at the edge admiring you like a doll in his state of quiet anger. Dissociating his reflections run rampant. He’d lost and found you before. Only then as far as he knew you were safe in the care of the Bene Gesserit and not in the great expanse of Arrakis. Only then, you hadn’t yet been his. He’d never seen the beauty in your adult eyes. He’d never seen them smile. Never seen the fullness of your lips, or how they thin out when you smile. He didn’t yet know what it was like to crave you. Your presence, your body, your touch, your scent, your taste, your love. He’d never craved love before. You are and will always be the very best of him, his heart in human form and no one would ever take that from him and live to breathe or laugh about it. Looking at you in the tub is a physical reminder of the anguish the possibilities of a life without you would bring.

Looking into your eyes he stands opting to cherish every moment. Unfastening his gear he removes his combat suit making sure his blades are tucked in the right compartments. You watch intently for the first time as Feyd-Rautha disrobes before you. Usually he removed your clothes during frenzied kissing and strong lust. Sitting back you admire his full physicality from his broad shoulders to his well endowed manhood. A lifetime isn’t long enough to appreciate him. Stepping into the tub Feyd takes his time getting in your gaze filling him with pride and confidence.

Spice vulnerability or not you need him.

“Don’t look at me like that” Feyd warns.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Makes me want to fuck you hard” Feyd confesses sitting opposite you. He takes your foot massaging it for you.

“I'd probably like that” you confess embracing the here and now. You’d nearly lost him.

“Every inch of me is yours” Feyd says and you wade through the water to him. “Feel this? It’s just for you” he whispers in your ear as you sit beside him he takes your hand placing over his dick. Leaning in for a kiss Feyd comes alive in your hand when he breaks the kiss, you steady your stroke taking care of the man who would do anything for you.

“Only me?” You ask, watching him and he nods

“Only you” he affirms, closing his eyes as you tighten your hand around his manhood stroking more deliberately. Instinct kicks in and his groans are an indicator of his arousal. You share a kiss speeding up just as he’s close and he grabs your hand standing up abruptly. It’s startling until you realize what he wants. Looking up you smile at the weight of him in your hands, his pretty cherry shaped head. Never breaking eye contact you kiss his tip, a naughty streak coursing through you.

“You’re perfect” he says through rugged breaths. You take him in your mouth sucking hard. Feyd’s eyes close as you handle him with care knowing instinctively exactly what he likes. The intimate kiss gives him a head rush, he steadies himself by placing a hand on your shoulders as you suck harder, bobbing your head faster. You revel in his body reaction, to feel the power you get from Feyd’s pleasure. In making him feel close to how good he makes you feel. He guided your head to his desired depth and pace singing you the filthiest praises as he teaches you how he likes to be pleased. You pool at his words of affirmation, his attentiveness and his size. He makes an impressive mess leaving remnants of his orgasm all over you and in the tub.

Standing slowly you watch his signature smirk emerge onto his lips. Slowly but surely Feyd returns from his despondence fully. Smiling, you file his reaction away in your memory. Breathing life into his cock could bring him back to himself, to the present, to loving you. “Good girl,” he whispers, helping you out of the tub. “My na-baroness” he says, pushing you into the shower. “When it’s safe, I’m gonna give it to you rough, make it fun for you” he whispers.

“Hope that’s a promise” you remind and he nods, smirking in agreement.

“I can promise you that” Feyd smiles. “I can also promise you that this is the last time anyone separates us without our consent. I can promise it’ll all be over swiftly. I can promise after this I’m done with war because I’m just getting started with you” Feyd says, giving you the perfect bedroom eyes.

“I’ll be right at your side” you promise and the look in his eyes says he needs you right now. The air between you is electric and so is everything that is to come.

_______

As always thanks for reading & your support 🩶🩶🩶🩶 comment, like & reblog if you enjoyed!

_______

Taglist:

@elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal @delusionsofnostalgia @szapizzapanda @palomavz @mcswan02 @slutforsmut4ever @emeraldsgirl @jackiekae @sarahhelpimsinking @maat-the-prescriptive @moonsoulk @katherineswiftie2017-blog @melancholicmelanin @littlebugs @alexa4040 @unicoreads @mimsie95 @mamawiggers1980 @miaraised @7-reblogs @snwells @wo-ming-bai @wo-ming-bai

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler #dune part 2 #austin butler x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler x black reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #feyd x you #house harkonnen #dune fanfiction

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sinkovia · 30 days

Text

Silence

Kyle Garrick x Fem!Reader

Angst, violence, blood, mention of death.

Masterlist

For weeks, he had been planning to propose, to ask you to spend the rest of your lives together in love and happiness. He had envisioned the moment countless times in his mind, rehearsing the words he would say and imagining the joy on your face when you said yes.

But fate had other plans, cruel and unforgiving. On what was supposed to be a routine mission, Kyle and you found yourselves captured by the enemy. Bound and helpless, you both were subjected to interrogation, the enemy demanding information that could jeopardize the entire team.

In the danger surrounding the both of you, the thought of the proposal lingered in Kyle's mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get the chance to ask you to marry him, to express his love and commitment in the way he had always dreamed.

As he felt the weight of the small box in his pocket, Kyle prayed silently for a miracle, for a chance to make his proposal a reality and to begin building the future he had envisioned with you.

They observed the way you and Kyle gazed at each other, bound in chairs mere feet apart, the silent communication of love and desperation passing between you. It was a connection they sought to exploit.

A vulnerability.

With brass knuckles clenched in their fists, they loomed over Kyle, their intentions clear in their presence. One of them approached you, his voice laced with malice "Answer our questions, and we won't hurt him," You could only nod in response, your heart heavy with the knowledge that any refusal would only result in pain for Kyle.

Despite the agony of betrayal that gnawed at your conscience, you answered every question they posed without hesitation. Laswell and Nikolai's names spilled from your lips, your loyalty to Kyle outweighed only by your determination to protect him from harm. It was a choice made in an instant, fueled by love and the primal instinct to shield the one you cherished most from suffering.

As their focus shifted back to you, the tape sealing your lips felt like a cruel reminder of your helplessness. Despite the fear and pain that gripped you, you found solace in the unwavering trust you held for Kyle. In the depths of your soul, you knew he would do whatever it took to protect you.

As the men approached, their footsteps echoing ominously in the cramped confines of the room, you met Kyle's gaze with unspoken reassurance. You trusted Kyle implicitly, knowing that he would give them the answers they sought in order to spare you from any harm. Kyle had always placed your well-being above his own, never hesitating to shield you from danger or sacrifice his own safety for yours.

You knew he would do the same for you just as you did for him.

“Where is John Price?” Kyle remained resolute, his jaw clenched in a defiant line. He couldn't bring himself to betray the trust of his comrades, couldn't sell out Price and the others to save himself or even you.

Your heart sank as you witnessed Kyle's refusal to comply with the enemy's demands. Desperation clawed at you as you attempted to provide the answers they sought, but your efforts were futile, your words reduced to muffled noises by the tape sealing your lips. The realization that Kyle's silence was placing you in imminent danger filled you with a profound sense of horror.

With each passing moment, the torment inflicted upon you only heightened Kyle's anguish. The sight of their cruel hands leaving bruises on your skin, the sound of your muffled screams echoing in the room—each moment tore at Kyle's soul, filling him with a profound sense of helplessness and despair.

Every fiber of Kyle's being screamed for him to intervene, to put an end to your suffering, but he knew that yielding to their demands would mean betraying everything he stood for. He couldn't allow himself to falter, couldn't let down Price or the team, even if it meant sacrificing everything he held dear.

Kyle clung to the hope that the team would arrive in time to rescue you from this nightmare, to put an end to the agony and bring you both to safety. With each passing moment, he prayed silently for their arrival, willing them to come to your aid before it was too late.

With each brutal blow that rained down upon you, your world became a blur of agony and despair. Your vision swam, the relentless assault leaving you feeling as though your very essence was being torn apart. Despite the overwhelming pain and the sensation of your body betraying you, a flicker of strength remained within you, allowing you to cast a desperate gaze toward Kyle.

But to your dismay, Kyle's gaze remained averted, his attention fixed elsewhere as though he couldn't bear to witness the torment he unwittingly allowed to unfold. The realization pierced through the haze of agony, leaving you reeling with a profound sense of betrayal. How could the man you loved, the one you thought would always be there to protect you, turn away when you needed him most? In that moment of anguish and despair, the truth hit you like a sledgehammer.

Kyle's loyalty to the team outweighed his love for you.

The thought cut deep, shattering the illusions of security and affection you had once held dear. As the pain and betrayal consumed you, you couldn't help but wonder if the love you had believed in had ever truly existed.

“Dead already?”

As the echoes of their callous laughter reverberated through the room, Kyle's heart sank like a stone. Slowly, he raised his tear-streaked gaze, his eyes falling upon the devastating sight before him. There you were, slumped over in the chair, your once vibrant spirit extinguished, your form shrouded in a veil of crimson.

The weight of your lifeless presence hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the irreversible consequences of his silence. Tears streamed down Kyle's face unabated, his hands trembling against the restraints that held him captive.

The unbearable burden of guilt pressed down upon him, suffocating him with the crushing weight of remorse. With each tear that fell, Kyle's anguish deepened, knowing that his refusal to speak had sealed your fate.

As the team finally arrived to rescue you both, Kyle's heart shattered into a million pieces. He fell to his knees before you, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch your bloodied skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen."

He begged for your forgiveness, his apologies a futile attempt to atone for his unforgivable failure. His words fell like broken fragments against the silence of the room, each apology a futile attempt to turn back time and undo the horror that had unfolded before his eyes.

Your lifeless form slouched in the chair, surrounded by a pool of crimson. Kyle's pleas for forgiveness fell upon deaf ears, his words lost in the suffocating silence that enveloped the room. The team watched in solemn silence, their hearts heavy with grief, as Kyle's agonized apologies echoed through the chamber.

In that moment, as he knelt there beside you, Kyle couldn't help but imagine a different scenario. He envisioned himself on his knees before you, a ring in his hand and a question on his lips, ready to pledge his love and devotion to you for all eternity.

But now, as he stared at your lifeless form, battered and broken, he realized that he would never get the chance to ask you to be his wife. The future they had once dreamed of together lay shattered at his feet, a casualty of the silent agony that had consumed him.

With each passing moment, the weight of his failure pressed down upon him, suffocating him with the knowledge that he had failed you when you needed him most.

As he continued to plead for forgiveness, his voice lost in the emptiness of the room, Kyle knew that he would carry the guilt of your death with him for the rest of his days, a haunting reminder of the love he had lost and the promises left unfulfilled.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

Note

Helloo !! ^^ Its me again ahaha 🙈

Feeling you with the number of RQs ! (': i have a lot of unfinished ones too, and I FEEL SO JORRIVLE FOR SENDING ONE in knowing that💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭, but this has been in the forefront of my mind 😵‍💫. Please don't feel pressured to respond! 🫣 I won't blame you if you'd rather not to ☺️🙌//

...

Yandere Outlaw, having abducted reader, not at all having had anticipated the strength of their connections.

While reader isn't necessarily strong themselves, they have a strong family, a line of uncles and brothers that are feared across the West for their brutality, their violence, and most notably, their loyalty. This is especially jarring given that reader is the youngest in the family, so of course they would be overprotective over them, as weren't they just the baby of the family, their sweet lil pumpkin?

It's why they are second only to Outlaw himself in terms of criminality, notorious instead, however for how they are willing to kill for blood feud, and to wreak havoc in a bid to avenge anyone that crossed the path of their family member(s).

Now picture this: having heard of reader's abduction, to describe their reaction as fury, rage, even wrath, would all be an understatement. They would be getting together, coordinating a plan, and intending to shoot the damn bastard dead, as scum like him should pay for messing with the wrooong criminals.

Now this brings me to my question: what would Outlaw's reaction be to waking up one day to see not a trace of their darling, their hostage rescued by their cowboy brothers and uncles? (Or something more creative than this,, ^^"" ", i doubt that theyd leave him with lungs and eyes, let alone ALIVE after locating his whereabouts and saving their sweet lil pumpkin, thw baby of the family. My imagination can only take me so far an idk 😓💔)

Would Outlaw go after each individual member of the family down, on a furious witch-hunt in a bid to rescue their darling? After all, Outlaw has been on countless raids riding solo with nothing aside from a horse and his trusty shotgun, became infamous for being the West's deadliest gunslinger, has eliminated the wealthiest businessmen and robbed them of all their money, and made a career out of being a criminal.

Or would he accept defeat? This is clearly not a family to mess with, and it was a miracle that they hadn't put his beheaded head on a stake and set it on fire, condemnimg his corpse. He'd have to be a fool to risk this, wouldn't he? Was reader, his darling, really worth that risk?

Would love to hear your thoughts ! ☺️💞

ALSO SORRU FOE THE REALLY LONG ASKS I FEEL SO BAD BC I GDT CARRIED AWAY JDJSJAJAJASSS 😭😭🙏 PLS FORGIVR ME AAAAAAARRHEHSS

My sweet Anon, we simply must find a name for you ! Your ideas cannot go without an identity to which we can attribute their creation ^^. Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful mind with us <3 !

♡ This occurrence is very in-character for the Outlaw to encounter; albeit never on such an intimate level.

♡ He’s made enemies out of every criminal in the West – namely for resigning them to a life imprisoned while making off with his loot, gifting them a sentence he’d have served himself were he not so adept at the skill of escapism. In the early days when he first started working with other criminals, at least; he’d never make such a mistake now.

♡ You see, the Outlaw is the very definition of work smarter, not harder. So while he may seem as if he’s given up his pursual of you by hanging back, letting you go back to your family and re-integrate with civilised life, he’s tracking you. Watching you. Anticipating your every move.

♡ He’ll find you – eventually – but he won’t swoop in to retrieve you at the first opportunity; he knows that this will simply incur another rescue effort and his imminent execution.

♡ He’ll start to pick off the male authority figures in your family, starting with the weakest (however large and imposing they may be).

♡ He knows that, without the leader, the pack will scatter, meaning that there will still be some of your family he missed during his executions – members who could still come looking for you upon discovering your kidnapping (again).

♡ Sure, picking off the weakest ones will put the strongest on-edge, but it keeps them packed together – around you – right where he wants them.

♡ The Outlaw knows of the Reader’s family’s reputation. He’s even met them during the occasional heist; opportunists by trade in their willingness to jump upon the corpse of the Outlaw’s victories as soon as his back is turned. But he also knows none are as keen and accurate a marksman as he, and he uses this to his advantage.

♡ While the Outlaw specialises in short-range firearms, he is more than capable with long-distance ones, too. And, once he lures your protectors away from you, he’ll ensure their execution is swift and unforeseen. He’ll perch atop a sturdy tree branch and steady himself, bringing the head of whoever fell for his diversion into the sights of a Whitworth he dusted off and brought from home.

♡ The minute he knows you’re all alone – that your uncles and brothers and cousins are too busy painting the town red with their bodies to stow you away – is when he’ll swoop in, plucking you out of bed and slinging you over his shoulder as he had all those months ago during your first meeting, winding you as he throws you atop his horse and bolting off into the horizon.

♡ So, to put it simply, Anon: yes. To the Outlaw, you are absolutely worth the effort.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#sweet as an angel #yandere #original yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere outlaw #yandere outlaw x reader #yandere writing #yandere blog #tw yandere

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sea-buns · 10 months

Text

Oh my god, the parallels that we are walking into the Bells Hells reunion with.

Team Wildemount went shopping. They formed close bonds to each other. They saved an ancient mystical creature and an entire city with the power of friendship and kindness and mercy. They all survived. They’re all committed to seeing this fight through. The people of this group who started a threesome and a robomance have no middle ground in that venn diagram. They are a literal pyramid built out of love and trust.

Team Issylra clothed themselves in the remains of a betrayal. They destroyed a temple of the gods. They saved a town through death and violence. No two people walked out of that fight feeling the same about its outcome. They had stressful debates questioning what could possibly be worth all this, nightly. They had an enemy in their midst the entire time. They’re returning to their family with one temporary companion.

We’re looking at a group who’s spent their entire time getting to know a living miracle of the Dawnfather, learning about Ludinus’ connection to the Matron of Ravens, the long list of horrors he’s committed. All who are about to reconvene with the people who helped tear down a temple of the Dawnfather, who killed his followers, who watched one of his angels turn to dust, who are returning with a believer of the Matron.

One group will be bubbly, and clean, and hopeful. And the other will arrive looking worse than they did at the end of the world. Dirty, and clouded, and sad.

Both of them have come to the conclusion that this is war. They’ve resolved to do anything to return to their people and keep it that way. To finish what they started. But the paths they went down to get here are on two wildly differing ends of the spectrum. Ethics and principles that will no doubt clash many times the further down this road they go.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e63 #bells hells #team wildemount #team issylra

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socialist-microwave-laser · 6 months

Text

the main thing that "leftist" goyim need to understand is that there isn't one definition of the word "zionism." "zionist" is not an insult, and it does not beget genocide or colonialism, because zionism for jews has many different meanings, each with their own interpretations of the state of israel and action points regarding palestine, with only a tiny portion of those advocating for any sort of violence against palestinians. if i had to boil everything down to brass tacks, i'd say zionism is the feeling that jews have a connection with eretz israel.* but there's so much that falls under that umbrella. there's christian zionism (which jewitches just did a wonderful episode discussing it and its genocidal roots with a very good bibliography [link here]), there's theodore herzl's definition that's like "yes i love colonialism let's do that!!!" (but also he was also toying with the idea of all the jews moving to argentina?). there's some (very few of whom are jewish) zionists who are uncritical of the israeli govt, there are some that want to see it dismantled immediately, and obviously there are many that lie somewhere in between the two. there are some jewish zionists who see medinas israel* as a miracle, and there are others who see it as blasphemy (either because of the belief that am israel* should not return from diaspora until the arrival of the moshiach (messiah), or because medinas israel has been doing a lot of monstrous, heinous, honestly un-jewish shit supposedly in the name of jews and judaism)

it is impossible to quickly sum up the wide scope of zionisms that exist today within judaism, not to mention those outside of it. however, it is important to note that for many jews, zionism is a word that merely describes longing, or even a longing for the ability to long. to quote my rabbi: "for me, zionism means i wish eretz israel was a place i longed to live." (the reasons why it isn't are the same reasons why any one of us critiques medinas israel—it is a horrid state doing horrifying, unspeakable things. to my rabbi and to many others, zionism means the eradication of medinas israel as it exists.)

there is currently a problem of people talking past each other, where some say anti-zionism is antisemitism and others say all zionists have blood on their hands. many of those in the camp of the former are often so broad in their definition of anti-zionism that that phrase is rendered nothing but unhelpful (at best), and many of those in the camp of the latter have such a narrow understanding of what zionism is that it completely turns off anybody who does have a more complete understanding of that word

this post is not intended to even scratch the surface of describing the meanings of all the different zionist movements and beliefs that haven't coalesced into any movement on any wikipedia page. rather, this post is to show non-jews who identify as leftists that are still open to learning about jewish experiences that zionism is not what the snappy, tens of thousands of note posts will lead you to believe. to those who say "death to zionists" please know that jews will not trust you, because you're calling for the deaths of a lot more jews than you think

eretz israel = the land of israel

medinas/medinat israel = the state of israel

am israel = the people of israel (jews)

these are all terms that are frequently used in jewish spaces and liturgy, especially the first and third. i have made the personal decision to use them in my daily conversations, because in liturgy that i interact with daily, "israel" means the third one, and i am very conscious to delineate the three, and especially to draw a distinction between the state of israel, the land that is so central to jewish liturgy, and the jewish people

#i made important text colorful bc i know big blocks of text can be hard for some people #also for the last time there are more zionist christians in the united states than there are jews on this planet #christians are using jews and muslims as pawns in their little game to summon the second coming of jesus #result in the complete eradication of all jews and muslims. we are their cannon fodder #and jews who have decided to side with them need to stop voting for the fucking leopards eating peoples' faces party #medinas israel #jumblr #zionism #anarchist #anti zionism #palestine #christian zionism #jewish zionism #jewish diaspora #tsiyyonus definition

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stargirlfics · 1 year

Text

B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away.

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe.

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity.

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller.

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it.

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes.

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day.

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him.

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day.

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet.

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape.

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him.

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth.

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting.

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe.

Quite the opposite.

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog.

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you.

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window.

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors.

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now.

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was.

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands.

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too.

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself.

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all.

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing.

Sarah. His Sarah.

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable.

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her.

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye.

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking.

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there.

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center.

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again.

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time.

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then.

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look.

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.”

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment.

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about.

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance.

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking.

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.”

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already.

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor.

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too.

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you.

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.

It’s an inch you can work with.

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth.

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed.

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment.

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold.

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it.

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open.

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process.

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion.

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower.

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too.

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust.

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier.

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light.

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be.

Salvation.

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence.

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions.

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge.

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together.

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better.

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to.

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry.

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content.

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near.

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time.

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you.

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either.

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again.

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears.

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years.

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone.

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side.

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be.

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.”

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words.

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear.

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him.

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be.

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway.

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.”

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief.

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.”

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here.

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was.

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge.

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him.

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life.

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him.

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too.

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time.

No words needed to be said, this was far better.

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won.

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe.

So you stayed.

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel.

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him.

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day.

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect.

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact.

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it.

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again.

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration.

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try.

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.”

“I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.”

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes.

“You’ve endured enough.”

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light.

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.”

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms.

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met.

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine.

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too.

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team.

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy.

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running.

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action.

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach.

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson.

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side.

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life.

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community.

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you.

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant.

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden.

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

#amalia writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x black!reader #joel miller x woc #joel miller x black reader #joel miller x latina reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x black latina reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction

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k-slla · 3 months

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Before you continue to reading I'm letting you know that in here is a major spoiler for Spn se15.ep20 - you've been warned 🥲

Warnings: all angst this one, show level violence, death

WC: 2,222

I am sorry, but kind of I am not- I've cried a lot writing this and I hope that you will too..🤍

All mistakes are mine!

My Masterlist

Enjoy!

You sat at the library table, staring at the working voice recorder placed on the table in front of you. You didn’t even know what pushed you to do these recordings. Maybe you wished, deep in your heart, that somehow some version of Dean from an alternate universe would find them. All that sorrow, grief and pain that you went through from losing a soulmate of your world, should probably have some effect on them, too, right? He wouldn’t be the Dean you’re talking about right now, but he’d know that in some other timeline he was loved, he’s gone and you’re missing him, a lot. You wanted to hope so at least.

Maybe it was just to get those feelings out that were burning your insides like acid. Even if it was the same story told by you every day. Maybe it was just your way to deal with losing him.

Well, whatever the reason was, you had no one you needed to explain yourself to.

Some days it was just maddening, being all alone in the Bunker. Sam had left a long time ago. He didn't forget Dean, but he definitely moved on. You stayed put, you couldn't take the needed step to move out or to try move on. All connections with Jody and Donna and even Claire slowly died off and there was no one left for you to go to other than the recorder now waiting for you to speak your mind. Perhaps that was just your fate. Who could change that?

“Hey, Dean, it’s me. Today is..” you sucked in a quick breath. “Today marks the full year that you’ve been gone now.” You continued quietly. November 19th. You couldn’t believe that it’s already been a year without him. “Each day getting closer to today, it has gotten harder for me to climb out of bed in the morning. Every morning when I awoke, I looked beside me in bed and you weren’t there. You haven't been there for a year and I miss you, Dean. I miss you so much.” You thought you had already shed all your tears, but no - they still kept pouring every morning, day and night.

“And I miss Sam, too. I know that I’ve probably said it a million times before, but…Well, Sam moved out of the Bunker not long after we gave you..” Following words scraped your throat like thorns. “..the burial. And I completely understand that. He didn’t want to stay here anymore. I can’t blame him. I couldn’t leave and now it’s just lonely here. He begged that I’d let him take Miracle with him. I know how much you loved that pup. I miss him, too. But believe it or not, Sam left me the Baby for now. I did tell him that this was your legacy, your father's legacy and he agreed that when the day comes, Baby would be left to his eldest.” You smiled through tears that were silently running down your cheeks, thinking of Sam someday having kids.

Something that Dean never got to enjoy for his own. Talking about everything over and over again eased you in some way. Even if it was for the day.

“I still have a hard time thinking about that night. Nightmares even. That was supposed to be your last hunt. We were almost out. And…And it was your last hunt.”

You and Dean did have dreams. Big dreams for your future without Chuck, monsters and hunting. You never told anyone, but you and Dean were very close to trying to start a family.

You definitely had hoped for a little Mini-Dean. Both of you were so excited, when you had all your late night pillow talks about family and kids, thinking about names even. He would've been an amazing father, you were absolutely certain of that.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice broke. You figured that if it wasn't for you talking to this recorder on a daily basis, you'd probably go mute. You and Sam texted, very infrequently, once a month or so. He gave a promise to Dean, to look out for you, but it wasn't his fault that you were the one drawing back from him. Even with a text a month, you still felt like you were hanging over him like some shadow from his past, clawed to his back, keeping him from moving on. And you didn't want that, so you’d rather not speak at all.

“What am I supposed to do?” You repeated with a whisper. You still hunted sometimes, if you had the energy for that or if it happened to be close to you. But it was a rare sight. You did some odd jobs, just to have some money for food to keep you going. But you didn't need much. Meal a day was enough to sustain you after all the hard work of sitting at the library or sleeping.

Honestly you felt like you were fading away staying in the Bunker. But also there was nowhere for you to go.

“We were so close. So close, Dean, to get to our dream…and still…” You couldn't stop the tears that were now free falling. Memories of that night forced themselves into your consciousness.

A simple routine vampire hunt. You had to admit, you were a little bit nervous, but still, there were the three of you together, so you knew the chances of anything happening were slim. But there were more vamps than you all had expected and it turned out to be a struggle. You were all battling for your lives there. Everything happened so quickly. One second Dean was fighting with one of them, the next moment he was across the room, pinned against the post.

Sam quickly took care of the vamp who had attacked Dean, while you fought with one on your own. Sam came to help you out, and when you took a look around, you saw all the headless bodies laying around. Neither of you didn't even realize at first that Dean hadn't moved after the attack, not before he called out to you. “ Y/N, I- I can't..”

Sam reacted first and ran to him. “Hey! Hey, hey, don't move, Dean. We'll get help for you. It'll be okay.” Dean took a few quick breaths in. “No, Sammy. It's…I think it's pierced.. right through.” He looked at his stomach and your eyes followed, and you saw a tip of a metal spike coming through.

“Dean! No, no, no…please no! Sammy, help him!” You yelled hoarsely, while your hands traveled all over Dean's body, trying to find the best way to get him off there.

“No, Y/N, sweetie. No.” Dean remained calm when he looked at you. “You can't move me. I'm sorry. I don't think I have long left…” He spoke quietly, a few tears running down his cheeks. You stood in front of him, barely able to stay up as he brought up his hand to your cheek.

“I love both of you. So much.” His eyes shifted between you and Sam. “Please..Y/N, can I - can I talk with Sam for a second?” You nodded and shut your eyes tightly, fighting tears. “Of course, honey.” You let go of him and walked a little bit further to give them a moment.

You sat down on the ground and looked at the brothers, who were now saying their goodbyes to each other. This wasn't how the hunt was supposed to end. This wasn't how everything was supposed to end. It was too soon. Just a simple vampire hunt had turned so quickly into this nightmare.

With his last strength Dean was holding onto Sam's shirt. “You’ll have to look out for her, Sammy. For me. She'll need you out there..” You heard Dean say quietly. “And-” Dean's voice had started to quiver. “I love you so much, my baby brother. I-I need you to tell me…” he took a deep breath to steady his voice and looked Sam straight in the eyes. “I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need to hear that from you, Sammy.” Both of them had tears silently streaming down their faces. “I’ll look after her, Dean. I promise..” You knew how much it hurt for Sam to say the following. “And it's okay, Dean..It will be okay.” he tried to smile through his tears.

You saw how Dean looked at Sam. His baby brother, he’d taken care of almost all their lives. They've had all their fights over the years, differences on what's right or wrong, or how to save the world, but ultimately all that what was now left there, was love. The same, unconditional love that they've had for each other from day one.

Dean let go of Sam and looked at you on the ground. You knew what was coming and you were not ready for that. “Y/N, please..come here..” he was out of breath just a little. “Dean, no..” you were bawling and protesting against saying goodbye to him even though you still dragged yourself up and to him.

“I'll be outside for just a second.” Sam moved a few steps back, to give you two a moment alone. You held onto Dean's shirt, keeping yourself from collapsing. You were shaking all over your body from the shock. Even now, standing face to face with him, you couldn’t look Dean in the eyes. “Baby, please look at me.” You shook your head and sobbed loudly, fingers clinging tighter onto his shirt. “I can’t, Dean!”

Dean reached for your cheek, holding it softly and whispering. “I need you to…I need to see you..” You took a shuddering breath and finally gathered strength to look at him. You didn’t want to think of what’s going to happen tomorrow. All you could do for now, was to cherish the time you had with him. Even if it ends way too soon, you had to be happy with the time you had together. Not every hunter is as lucky as you and Dean were. You had to take everything from that moment that you had to say goodbye to Dean.

For a little while, both of you stared at each other without saying a word. In his eyes you saw acceptance of what’s to come. He had already made peace with his fate. Now there was only left for you to do the same.

“You are beautiful, Y/N.” he smiled weakly. “I’m sorry..for leaving you, but I know you..” He closed his eyes for a second to take a deep breath to keep going. “I know you’ll be alright, but baby, you have to stop hunting..please promise me, Y/N, that you’ll get out.”

“Dean, I can’t…not alone..”

“Yes, you can.” His hand faintly squeezed yours that was still locked in his shirt.

You moved closer to Dean to rest your forehead against his. “Well...I don’t want to.” you sniffled.

“You have to, sweetheart…Tell me..it’s okay..you have to tell me it’s okay..for me to go.” he spoke fast but the words were quietly fading on his lips. This was it.

You turned your head towards the door. “Sammy!” Turning back to Dean, you kissed him for the last time. “It’s okay, Dean, you can..you can let go..I love you.” Very faint smile appeared on Dean’s face as he saw Sam beside you again.

“No bringing me back this time, Sam.” He wheezed out. “We’ll see each other again soon enough.” You rested your head on his shoulder and felt his whole body slowly starting to relax. Dean leaned into you and with his final breath, he quietly whispered into your ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

From the corner of your eye you saw Sam break down on the floor. He sat there for a minute while you still held onto Dean. A moment later, Sam got up and pulled you into his strong embrace when you were still struggling to breathe. “We- we got work to do.” You sniffled and let go of Sam, sudden numbness taking over you.

You didn't know how long you were sitting there, thinking about his last moments. You had no idea what time it was. Day or night, it started to feel all the same to you.

Your brain had blocked out mostly everything after the goodbye. You knew you helped Sam with Dean and the pyre, but there were no emotions there. You were numb. Your moves were robotic. Both you and Sam stood by Dean as long as the fire was out. He wanted to get you away from that but you refused to leave. All you could think of while you were standing there, was that there was no one, nor will there be anyone you'll love more than Dean.

“I love you, Dean. I'll speak to you tomorrow.” You whispered your last goodbye for the day before you turned off the recorder. Every day has become the same to you. You knew that one day you'll see him again and that was all that kept you going. Knowing that Dean was still waiting for you was all you needed to move forward.

Taglist: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @alternativeprincess94 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @il0vebeingdelulu

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #supernatural #dean x y/n #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #jensen ackles #jackles #angst

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crazyunsexycool · 1 year

Text

My little love

Chapter 11

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: threats toward reader and lottie, use of gun, canon level violence, death of a minor character, baby written smut, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), implied oral (f receiving), lil itty bitty bit of a breeding kink if you squint, lil bit of dom!reader at the beginning of the sexy times… I think that’s it.

A/N: it’s finally happening you guys!!! Let the badly written sexy times begin! Also don’t poke mama bear or you’ll die!

Series masterlist

Ch 10

It was just a recon mission.

It should be easy, those were Bucky’s words. But you hadn’t been out on a mission together since Charlotte was saved. You were dreading leaving her behind although you knew Steve and the others would take amazing care of her. She was your baby, your sweet Angel and you wanted to be the one to keep her safe. But you knew how important this mission was so you settled for watching her sleep for a few minutes before getting ready to go. She looked so peaceful and content in her new toddler bed. You and Bucky had decided to change the crib into the toddler bed version since she figured out how to get out of it. After fixing the blanket covering her, you give Lottie a kiss on the cheek and slowly and quietly start walking out. You jump when you turn and find Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“How long have you been standing there?” You whisper yell in his direction.

“Just a minute or two. I guess we both had the same idea.” He answers once you’ve walked out of Lottie’s room. The door was left ajar and he looked back to see his baby still sound asleep.

Bucky follows you into the third room in your apartment. You had turned it into a sort of closet. It stored your uniform, weapons and some pre-packed medical gear in case you needed to leave quickly and couldn’t head to the medbay first. The door was kept locked with a code so Lottie couldn’t get in, especially now since Bucky kept his weapons in there too. Both of you quietly go over your bags to make sure you have everything you need. Tony had provided you with a small box of metal discs that you could manipulate and turn into whatever weapon you wanted. Hands find your hips and lips connect with your shoulder.

“Do you have everything you need?” Bucky asks as he peers over your shoulder.

“Almost. Weapons, medical supplies and clothes but Fury said there was a small change in the mission so I have to go get whatever equipment they want to give me. How about you?”

“I’m packed.”

You turn in his arms and close your eyes as Bucky’s lips meet yours. The door to Lottie’s room creaks open and you pull apart. Bucky winks at you and steps outside to meet his daughter while you finish up.

A few minutes later you walk into the kitchen. Music from the 40s filled the room while Bucky moved through the space making breakfast. Lottie sat in her booster chair at the table and bopping along to the music. Her hair was still sticking out in random places.

“Good morning my sweet Angel.” You coo sweetly. She looks up at you and gives you a sleepy smile.

When you smooth out her hair she leans into your touch and then she returns the kiss you place on her cheek. The three of you share breakfast together and before you know it you have to go change to head into the last briefing and then on to the jet.

“Hey guys.” Steve says as he walks in.

“Steeb.” Lottie says happily.

“Good morning sweetheart. I missed you so much.”

Lottie walks to him and lets Steve pick her up. Her head immediately rested on his shoulder. She pats his cheek gently and yawns. It’s a miracle she’s even awake considering it’s so early in the morning. You wouldn’t be surprised if she fell right back asleep, especially while Steve held her.

“We’ll meet you at the hanger.” He says when both you and Bucky head to the door.

“We’ve had a minor change of plans but we think it will be better in the long run.” Fury announced as soon as you walked in. He looked down and back up. “What no more little Barnes to disrupt the meeting?”

“I can go get her if you want Fury. All you had to do was ask to see her.”

“No, no we have very important things to do.”

You bite back a smile as you take a seat.

“We have found and intercepted an invitation to someone from the Romano family.”

“Aren’t they the crime family based out of Jersey?”

“Yes, and it just so happens that you have a very striking resemblance to Grace Romano.” Tony adds as he pulls up a picture of the woman.

“I’m going to have to talk to my dad after this is over.” You joke as you look over the photograph. They were right, the only difference was really the eye color and the height.

Tony places an invitation and a contact lense case on the table.

“We want you to infiltrate the auction as Grace Romano. It will give us a better idea as to who will be there and who will win the bid.”

“Absolutely not. Over my dead body.”

“Why don’t we just make the highest bid?”

Both you and Bucky spoke at the same time. He glared at you and you stared right back.

“Those people are the worst. I can’t let you go in there if I can’t be right by your side.” He argues.

“The contacts are also cameras so you can see what she does. You’ll be set up in a van just outside. It will be placed at the entrance closest to the room the auction will be held at.” Tony says, trying to ease the tension.

You look at Bucky who shakes his head no and you give him an apologetic smile. “I have to. We need to help whoever hydra is using.” You take the invitation and the contacts.

“Good. The auction itself starts at 10:00 pm but it would be good if you were there earlier to mingle with the other guests. We’ve already sent a copy of Romano’s file to your tablet and clothing is already in the jet.” Fury informs you.

“Well I have some studying and you have some flying to do.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath. It had been a long time since he had been grumpy with you but you just smiled and headed toward the jet. He followed behind and complained the whole time. It wasn’t until he saw Lottie that he calmed down a bit.

“Hi, dada.” She said and waved happily. “Hi, mama.”

“Hi my sweet Angel.” You stopped in front of Steve who was holding her. “Can I have kisses?”

Lottie pushes away from Steve and clings to your neck as she gives you quick pecks on your cheek. Bucky is quick to reach out for her and she happily gets passed between her three favorite adults. He starts talking with her and steps away from both you and Steve.

“I heard about the change in the mission.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty pissed. Doesn’t want me to go in there by myself.” You say as you look over your shoulder where Bucky is smiling at Lottie.

“Everything will be fine. Just make sure that if you run into trouble you call him in. Don’t think you can handle everything by yourself.”

“Yes sir.” You salute.

“Be careful you little shit.” He chuckles as he brings you in for a hug.

“Take care of my girl. And if something comes up my dad’s number is on my fridge and he can come up to watch her.”

“You got it.”

You give Lottie one more goodbye hug and kiss and head into the jet. After a few more minutes Bucky walks in. He sits in the pilot’s seat and starts the plane. Once it’s safe to do so Bucky puts the jet in auto pilot and turns his seat around. You had been studying the person you were supposed to imitate.

“Why did you agree to go in there?” He asks, clearly still upset with your decision.

“Because it’s our job, what was I supposed to do, say no?”

“Yes. It’s dangerous, you could get hurt.”

You look up at him and you can see the worry in his eyes. Putting the tablet down you make your way to him and stand between his legs.

“Baby, I know you’re worried I could get hurt but you have to trust that I’ll make the right calls when I’m in there. We have to help this person that hydra is obviously using to replace you. I’m not worried because I know you have my back.” You told him while your arms rested on his shoulders.

“I know. But you can’t blame me for worrying. It is hydra after all. And the thought of anything happening to you.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Now, do you want to see the dress I was given to wear to this thing?”

You go to the garment bag that was left with the rest of your things. There was a strapless champagne colored dress in the bag. The top looked like a corset and the tulle skirt ended above your ankle.

“How the hell am I supposed to fight in this or carry a gun?”

“I’m not sure but at least you’ll have your bracelets right?”

You smiled as you thought of how you could sneak in as much metal as possible.

“I have a better idea.”

The auction had been changed. Fury, Tony and Steve assured you that it was normal for something like this to happen in order to keep law enforcement agencies off their trail. So instead of having a day to prepare, you had a few hours. It didn’t help that Bucky went back to his grumpy muttering that he didn’t want you in there alone.

You kissed him deeply before saying your goodbye and walking into the suite that had been booked for you. Appearances were important is what Tony said. You shook your head in disbelief at the over the top hotel room. Especially since you wouldn’t get to really use it. There were only two hours left until you had to leave for the auction and you spent that time getting ready.

********

The hotel lobby was bustling with guests and staff, both from the hotel and the ones running the auction. You rolled your shoulders back and held your head up high, your expression almost bored. Your movement through the room was elegant and eye-catching, just like your dress. It moved with ease even though you had added metal all throughout, making it look like it was sequin. Bucky was in your ear, pointing out who you needed to stay away from and who was hydra.

You move toward a closed off hallway guarded by two burly men in matching black outfits.

“They’re hydra if you see them anywhere other than guarding a door you get out of there.” Bucky’s voice comes through your ear piece.

They both looked down at you and the one on the left stuck his hand out. You pulled the invitation out of the clutch you brought with you and he all but ripped it from your hand. The other waves you in and you take your time looking at the art work that had been hung up throughout the hallway.

“These are all replicas. They let you take a good look at them so you know what you’re bidding on. The real artwork is kept under lock and key.” Bucky informs you.

One item though wasn’t a painting, it was a tv with a video feed. The room it was showing looked empty except for a chain on the floor and for a moment you thought it moved. You risked it and spoke up.

“Are you seeing this?”

“It must be the asset. I doubt hydra has them in the building though.”

“Miss,” a man walked up behind you. “This way please.” He ushers you into a large room set up with a bar and tables as well as a stage toward the back. There was a microphone and a podium.

The room was already full, with people of influence preparing themselves to outbid each other.

“What a lovely surprise to see you here tonight.”

You recognized the accent immediately and turned to look at who had just snuck up on you.

“King T’Challa, I could say I’m the one surprised to see you here.”

“Please, there is no need for you to call me king. How have you been Y-“

“Grace Romano.” You whisper and he nods in understanding.

“Grace, it’s been a while since you visited Wakanda. How is our friend doing?”

“He’s doing well. A bit grumpy but what else can you expect from an old man?” You say as you discreetly signal that you have bucky in your ear.

“You know I can hear you right.”

“Well that is good to hear. Now what are you here for?” T’Challa asks as you both move further into the room with Okoye following you both.

“An asset, hydra is looking to rent them out for missions or jobs. I’m trying to get information on who the biggest bidder is and go from there. You?”

“There are some priceless Wakanda artifacts that were stolen. Made of pure vibranium, I’m here to get them back. But if you need my help, I will gladly assist and Wakanda is always open to help them heal.”

“Thank you.” You smile before you leave his side.

“Well now I feel better knowing T’Challa is there.”

“You and I are going to have a conversation about you doubting my fighting skills. Need I remind you that I’ve been training with you and Nat for the last two years?” Bucky stays silent on the line. “Thought so.”

“If everyone will take their seats the auction is about to start.” A blonde woman announced.

It felt like hundreds of items had been shown and yet the one thing you were here for wasn’t being put on display. There’s a light tap on your shoulder and you turn to see one of the guards from earlier behind you.

“Ms. Romano, the other auction is going to start. Please follow me.” He doesn’t wait for your response, instead he straightens up and starts walking toward a different door then where you came in.

You get up and follow him after looking over at T’Challa and Okoye, both of them had their eyes on you. The former gives you a quick nod in reassurance. The guard leads you to one of the empty banquet halls. Your gut is telling you that something is wrong, your earpiece has been too quiet. Bucky surely would have thrown a fit if he had seen you walking away toward a secluded section of the hotel with a hydra agent.

“Good evening Ms. Romano.” A tall, blond and sickly looking man steps out from within the shadows. “Or should I say agent Y/L/N.”

“Who? I don’t know anyone named Y/L/N. I’d like to go back to the auction .”

You turn to leave but are stopped by the guard that brought you down. He grips your upper arm, fingers digging into your flesh and turning you around.

“We have the item you so desperately want right here.” He says and out from the shadows walks out Bucky, completely restrained and with guns pointed at both him and now you.

You don’t react, instead acting unfazed by the fact that Bucky had been brought out like that. As you try to keep up appearances you look Bucky up and down, you see a few cuts and bruises, before looking at the blond man.

“Who is this supposed to be?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. I don’t like being lied to. You know very well who this is.” He pulls out a phone and shows you a picture of you and Bucky running a course on compound grounds. A picture of the date night you had planned, when you were laying in the back of the pick up truck. “How sweet that the winter soldier thought he could have a normal life, with a girlfriend and a daughter.”

Your stomach drops when he shows you multiple pictures of Charlotte running around happily. His smile is vile and what’s worse is that glimmer in his eyes as if he enjoyed it.

“You will do as I say or I will kill her slowly, in front of you.” He spoke in your direction while shaking his phone at you.

He turns back to Bucky and your eyes meet his. He’s livid, you could see it in his eyes. You both freeze when you hear your captor speaking Russian, specifically the words used to trigger and control the Winter Soldier.

“солдат?” (Soldier)

“я готов отвечать.” (Ready to comply) Bucky’s voice was monotone, his face neutral and his eyes looked empty.

“Kill her and then bring me back the child.”

The men that guns pointed at you lowered them and let Bucky go free. That was their third mistake, the first was asking Bucky to bring Charlotte to him and the second was for them to have Bucky kill you.

Bucky’s whole demeanor has changed but you don’t worry, you know those words can’t hurt him anymore. You look up at him once he’s standing in front of you. He brings his hand up around your throat and his thumb finds your pulse. It’s steady and even, you’re calm because you trust him and his eyes soften just a little. Bucky moves his hand from your throat and cups your cheek and all hell breaks loose.

He lunges at the guard behind you while you manipulate the pieces of metal on your dress. In Steve fashion you create a shield and stand in front of Bucky to protect both of you from the rain of bullets. With more of the metal on your dress you create small throwing knives which Bucky grabs and begins to use. You work in sync with Bucky, both of you fueled by anger at the thought of any harm coming to Charlotte. As you work your way through the room the man that had used the words against Bucky ran away but it didn’t stop either of you.

Once you’re done with the hydra agents you run out trying to find where the other man went.

“Are you looking for a sickly looking man?” You turn to see Okoye.

“Yes.”

“T’Challa is already chasing him, here.”

She hands Bucky a bracelet made of beads before she races off. You follow, there’s no way you can let that man live. Bucky grabs your hand and you both run to a motorcycle that’s parked nearby. You don’t have time to worry that you're in your dress, you hop on the back and hold on to Bucky who is using the beads to help him navigate.

Bucky weaves through traffic both to avoid innocent bystanders and the bullets of the hydra agents behind you. You throw spikes back which catch some of their tires, forcing them to drop out of the chase.

“I have eyes on your target Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa’s voice comes over your now connected comms.

“Stop him, we can’t let him get away.”

“On it.”

When you finally reach T’Challa they already have the man you wanted restrained. The area was away from the busy part of the city which was good. No one needed to see what was about to happen. He sat on the ground with his arms behind his back. A little blood trickled and dried by his brow but otherwise he was uninjured.

“Sergeant, Agent.” T’Challa greeted you once you were close enough. His black panther suit was on except for his mask. “I believe this is who you were looking for.”

“Thank you, T’Challa.” You smiled at him.

“No need to thank me.”

“Where is the asset?” Bucky asked the man as he held a gun to his head.

He chuckles. “You’ve become such a disappointment, soldat.”

“And I’ll sleep just fine knowing I’ve disappointed you. Where is the asset?”

“He’s home of course, the same place you belong.”

Bucky looks over at you instinctively because if he belongs anywhere it’s next to you.

“How sweet, the soldat has a whore.”

“Watch your mouth.” Bucky pulls back and hits him with the butt of the gun.

The man chuckles. “The asset is a chip off the old block. He’d do anything for the people cares for too.”

Your eyes closed and the one thing you feared was true. This asset was Bucky’s child. It would be a race against time to find him and save him before hydra can either move or get rid of him for good. You see Bucky’s hand tremble slightly, he’s conflicted. He wants to pull the trigger but he also doesn’t want T’Challa to think he hasn’t changed. You step up, holding the gun you had strapped in your thigh holster to his head and pull the trigger. His body slumps to the side.

“What have you done? He could have given us more information.” Okoye lashes out at you.

“He threatened my daughter. No one gets to do that and live.”

“We had him, he wouldn’t have been able to follow through with that threat.”

“You don’t know that.” You grit out.

“Okoye, let’s go. We have done our part.” T’Challa says, he nods at Bucky and walks away.

Bucky pulls his phone out and makes a call but you’re not focused on what he’s saying. There’s a few things running through your mind. The first being Charlotte’s safety, the second was the worry for the asset hydra had, another Barnes child. You questioned how old they were and if they were now in danger.

Bucky put his hand on your lower back and guided you toward the motorcycle. Both of you silently got on just as a team of agents showed up to take care of the scene.

“We’ll have to go to a safe house for the night.” Bucky muttered over his shoulder.

“What? No, I want to go home, we have to make sure Lottie is safe.”

“She is sugar, Steve and Nat are with her.”

It wasn’t good enough but you wrapped your arms around him and let him drive you away anyways.

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. It had double protection thanks to Tony adding Stark security. During the drive up, Bucky had stopped to drop off the motorcycle and exchange it for a car that had your overnight bags. Neither of you said much on the ride over but Bucky didn’t let go of your hand until he parked the car.

You walk in first and inspect the cabin. Two bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen/living room area. Everything you would need to survive for a few weeks was available. The door closes and the sound of the lock gets your attention. The small cuts and bruises Bucky had sported earlier are already gone.

“Could you unzip me please?” You say as you turn around.

“Sure.”

You didn’t need his help, the zipper was metal, what you needed was to be close to him. You feel the warmth of his right hand hold on to the top of the dress while his left tugs the zipper down. The only sound in the room is the metal teeth coming undone, releasing you from the dress. Instead of letting you go, Bucky wraps his arms around you and places a kiss on your bare shoulder, then another until he moves from your neck to your cheek. You turn still in his arms and kiss him. Bucky’s hands move from your waist and as they roam the dress you’d been wearing slides down your body, the weight of the metal on it helping gravity. You stand in front of him in nothing but your heels, a pair of lacy panties and a thigh holster with a gun.

“You are so beautiful.” Bucky whispers as his eyes drink you in.

You pull him by his shirt until he’s standing in front of the couch and you give his chest a soft push. After quickly removing the holster from your thigh you sit on Bucky’s lap. Straddling him so that you’re face to face.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asked as his hands traveled up from your thighs to your hips.

“Yes, I want you Bucky. Do you want this?”

He smiles up at you. “Of course I want you.”

One of his hands comes up and pulls you down so that he can kiss you again. You sigh happily against his lips. Hands roam as if you were mapping out each other's bodies for the first time. In one way it was, since making your relationship official this had been the last step you hadn’t taken. And in his movements you can feel the hesitancy.

Bucky wants more but he’s also worried, it’s been years since he’s been with a woman. He doesn't want your first time together to be awful, at least not for you. The super soldier is still getting used to being touched. Sometimes he still fights the urge to flinch when Steve pats him in the back or when Sam moves suddenly. But you’re gentle, you always have been. You’re doing it right now, even when he can see the desire and hunger in your eyes. You push the jacket he was wearing off of his shoulders gently and then reach for the hem of his black t-shirt. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and the uncertainty showed clear in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” he pops his left shoulder. “The scars. I don’t want you to feel disgusted by them.“

You kiss him softly and sweetly just like he deserves.

“I understand why you might feel like that but I’ve already seen your scars Bucky, they don’t disgust me.”

Bucky searches your face for any signs of insincerity but can’t find it. You smile when he lets go of your wrist and you tug his shirt off. Your lips trail his shoulder, kissing over the scars until they meet metal. Slowly you wander lower until you have to pull away. You stand and Bucky starts to push himself off the couch thinking you’d be going to the bedroom but you push him back down as you get on your knees. Your hands travel over Bucky’s broad chest and chiseled abs until they get to the button of his pants.

“Sugar,” his breath hitches as you undo the button and pull down the zipper. You palm his erection through his pants and he groans. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone and I sure as hell have never done this.”

You push up on your knees so that you’re in between his spread legs and you connect your lips to his again. His tongue slips into your mouth when you moan. Your tongue meets his in a dirty passionate dance. There’s a push and pull between you, the need to be closer to each other is overwhelming. He pulls back slightly as you both get some much needed air, Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“So will you let me make you feel good?” You say as your hands move up and down his thick thighs.

He swallowed and then he nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

You smiled as your hands slid up his thigh and grabbed his pants, pulling them down. Bucky lifted his hips to help. His erection bobbed up against his abs and you licked your lips.

“So beautiful.” You murmured as you wrapped your hand around his impressive length.

Bucky’s breath hitches just by you moving your hand up and down slowly. You couldn’t wait to hear what types of noises he would make when you took him into your mouth.

You leaned forward and licked a long thick stripe from base to tip before swirling your tongue over the head of his cock. Bucky gripped the couch cushions as he watched you wrap your lips around his cock. Inch by inch you slowly move up and down. You started to move faster, hollowing out your cheeks as your hand moved down to cup his balls. Bucky’s hips thrusted forward and you hummed.

“Oh fuck sugar… feels good.” Bucky threw his head back as you changed from sucking his hardened length to swirling your tongue around the tip, picking up the beads of precum and humming in approval.

Just before you can take him in your mouth again Bucky pulls you up and crashes his lips against yours. His hands traveled down your sides and lower back until he was cupping your ass then he put his hands under your thighs and pulled you up so that you were straddling his lap again. Bucky made quick work of ripping your lacy, barely there panties off. He trailed kisses down your jaw and your neck until he reached your chest. With one hand Bucky cupped your beast, his thumb running over your already pebbled peak while he lavished your other breast with his tongue.

Lust blown eyes look up at you through dark lashes. You arch toward him and moan as he takes his time with your breast. Your hand reaches down between your bodies and you begin to line yourself up. Bucky has stopped what he’s doing as he looks down and watches you take all of him.

“Oh fuck.” Bucky groans as your wet heat wraps around him.

You kiss him again, softly pouring all of your love for him into it. His hands move up and down your side before they settle on your hips. A soft squeeze from him has you rolling your hips. As you continue to move you both kiss and moan. Hands roam freely but soon the urge for more takes over. You change your movements from rolling your hips to bouncing in his dick.

“Bucky.” You moan out as he moves a hand between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit and he starts forming quick circles.

“Fuck, you’re so close baby I can feel you. Are you gonna come for me?”

You nod frantically as you feel that fire deep in your belly grow until it consumes you. With a scream of his name you come undone. Bucky plants his feet and his grip on your hips tighten as he begins thrusting faster.

“I’m gonna fill you up. Do you want that sugar?”

“Yes, Bucky. Please…” Your nails dig into his back as he pushes you toward another orgasm.

“Give me one more.” He grunts as he continues his relentless pace. “Come with me, sugar.”

His words push you over the edge again, the second orgasm rips through you more intensity than the first. You fall against Bucky’s chest just as you feel his release fill you up just as he promised. He kisses your temple as you both try to catch your breaths.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Sugar.” Bucky says with a chuckle after a minute.

“Me? My legs are literally jelly right now. I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to.”

“Good thing you don’t have to.”

Bucky stands and you shriek before laughing. He heads towards the main bedroom and sets you down gently.

“It’s my turn to taste you.” He smirks before kissing down your chest.

A day later the jet lands safely on compound grounds and you can’t wait to get out and see your sweet Angel. Both you and Bucky can already hear Lottie giggling as the jet ramp automatically lowers.

“Dada. Mama!” Lottie yells when she sees you. She runs towards you with her arms open and fortunately she isn’t wearing her princess dress.

“There’s my sweet Angel.”

You kneel when she’s close enough and almost fall back once she jumps into your arms. It’s easy to forget she’s stronger than the average toddler when she looks so small and delicate. Still, you kiss her forehead and hold her tight as the memory of the hydra agent you killed the night before comes back. Lottie wiggles out of your arms and heads towards Bucky, who also wraps her up in a hug.

“Welcome back lovebirds.” Steve says as he gets closer. He hugs you first and places a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Unfortunately we have to head back out for another mission and it includes everyone. We’ll brief you on the way.”

“What? We just got here, and who’s going to look after Lottie?”

“That would be me.” Your dad walks out from the hallway that connects the hanger to the compound.

The other avengers walk out behind him and head toward the bigger jet. You however meet your dad halfway and accept his hug.

“Steve called me last night. You don’t have to worry about anything, me and my princess are just gonna hang out. We’ll be just fine.”

“Thanks dad.” You smile at him.

“Boom!” Lottie exclaims as Thor walks out.

“Lady Y/N, it’s great to see you again.” He smiles at you as he gets closer.

“Thor, when did you get back?”

“Yesterday afternoon. And I’m glad to be going into battle with my friends here.”

Bucky walked closer, a small scowl on his face as he saw you and Thor interacting.

“Thor, this is Bucky-“

“Ah yes, Steve’s oldest friend. We shall forge a great friendship on the battlefield if you are as fierce a warrior as I’ve been told.” He smiles at Bucky and then tickles Lottie. “I’ll see you both on the jet.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Bucky you don’t know him.”

“He was flirting with you, and making Lottie laugh.” He glares in the god’s direction.

Ed chuckles from beside both of you. “I’ll take my granddaughter now if you don’t mind.” Lottie happily goes with Ed and then stiffens.

The color drains from her face and you take her from your dad. You begin to pat her back in hopes of getting her to breathe. A few seconds pass before she sucks in a deep breath and then she starts to cry. Both you and Bucky take a moment to calm her.

“Bubba home.” She points at the jet.

You and Bucky look at each other concerned. Neither of you knew someone named Bubba.

“Hey, we have to go.” Sam calls from the door of the jet.

“We’ll be back as soon as possible. If that happens again-“

“I know, go to the medbay. I’ve raised a gifted child already. I can handle this.”

“Thanks dad.” You kiss his cheek and then Lottie’s.

“Keep her safe.”

“Of course I will.” Bucky nods at Ed once and then heads into the jet.

Once it’s in the air, Steve stands while a projection floats in the middle of the jet. He turns to both you and Bucky.

“We’ve found the location of hydra’s newest asset. They’re keeping him in Siberia.”

Bucky tenses when he hears the location. It’s where he was kept most of the time. Where the worst things happened to him. You intertwine your hand with his.

Bucky can only hope that the asset is hasn’t had to endure as much torture as he had.

Ch 12

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ineffablyruined · 5 months

Text

Someone to Blame (Good Omens After Dark Angst War)

I wrote a short one-shot for the GOAD Angst War on Reddit. If you're not already there, come play with us!

CW: Violence and Blood.

_____

They came for him four months after that day.

Just long enough for Crowley to accept that Aziraphale wasn't going to come to his senses and come back. Long enough for him to pull himself together after his rather spectacular bender.

Long enough for him to start to care again.

Aziraphale would find out later that they had worked with the demon Furfur, that they had procured a miracle blocker from him. That Furfur had offered it freely just out of spite, not even bothering to make a deal.

Crowley hadn't stood a chance.

In those four months, things had begun happening on Earth. Things that even the humans started to notice. The wars breaking out all over the globe were easily dismissed at first. Tensions had always been high in that part of the world, hadn't they? And that one leader? Everyone knew he was a loose cannon. But when the earthquakes began, followed by the famine, and a new strain of COVID that was somehow more deadly than the original, even the humans had recognized that something was Up. And when the sun darkened the days and the moon disappeared, they knew. They all knew that the End of Times was nearing.

And so a small group of humans came for the only celestial entity they could find. The one who had been there all those months ago when the weird things happened at the Whickber Street Shopkeeper's Association meeting – the things that no one could quite remember, but everyone knew hadn't been right. The dark one, with the glasses and the red hair, had spoken to that malevolent group like he knew them. And, as humans did when they were scared, they'd found someone to blame.

Mister Brown of Brown's World of Carpets led the mob. They dragged Crowley from his Bentley when he'd stopped by to check on Muriel and the bookshop. Crowley had quickly snapped his fingers a second before the miracle blocker was activated, and the new bookshop owner was suddenly the most normal human anyone in a twelve-mile radius could remember. Then Mister Brown’s heavy fist connected with Crowley’s angular jaw, breaking his thumb and Crowley’s sunglasses. Another hit, a spray of red painted the cobblestones under their feet. Another. A tooth jangled loose from his skull, and clattered into the grate below.

As they dragged him into the street, Crowley didn't pray. God had abandoned him long ago, and he knew She would not take pity on him now. And the angel he'd known? The one he'd loved? He must be gone, too, if the Second Coming had progressed this far. That angel had loved Earth and the humans so much, he would never have allowed Earth to come to this as Supreme Archangel. No, Aziraphale must be gone.

So, no. He didn't pray. Because no help was coming.

As handcuffs encircled his wrists and legs, he didn't pray.

As the cricket bats and glass bottles broke over his corporation again and again, he didn't pray.

As the humans whose lives he'd saved four months ago, and again four years before that, took their fear and anger and blame out on the demon's corporation, he didn't pray.

And as his golden eyes locked with achingly familiar blue ones across the street, just in time for his corporation to give up entirely, he found there was nothing left to pray for.

Someone to Blame on AO3

-----

Thank you to all the wonderful writers at GOAD for their support and beta reading. You're all wonderful, insanely talented people. And thanks to the awesome mods and artists and readers and everybody on the GOAD sub. It's a wonderful place.

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just-a-strange-boy · 1 year

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boiling tempers

He might be an excellent neurosurgeon and your colleague, but Stephen Strange has the talent of winding you up like no other person can. After a surgery nearly goes wrong, you finally clash.

Pairing: Surgeon!Stephen Strange x Male Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), hate sex, rough sex, unprotected, semi-public, mature language, one act of physical violence, mentions of surgery, Stephen being an asshole

A/N: we all feel some type of way about surgeon strange, don't we?

There was not a single human being that annoyed you more than Doctor Stephen fucking Strange.

Maybe it was his stupidly smug face, the cold look of superiority he tended to wear, trying to convince everyone that yeah, he was the best neurosurgeon and yeah, he did perform miracles on the human nervous system and no, your disease just simply wasn't good enough to be treated by him.

Maybe it was his arrogance, the way he put himself above the rest of the hospital staff, his dismissive stance on cases that were not challenging and therefore not deserving of being put on his surgical records.

Perhaps it was the way he talked down to other nurses and doctors alike, the way he never even spared as much as a glance or a tight-lipped “Hello” when crossing familiar faces in the hallway, going along his day like there was no other as good as Stephen Strange.

It irked you that you couldn't even deny him all of the fame and praise he earned, considering the fact that he was actually the best neurosurgeon the country could offer and he did damn good work.

That also unfortunately ensured him the top spot at the Metro General, which was the perfect opportunity to be an absolute dick to others and most turned a blind eye at his behavior.

The directors board of the hospital was most pleased to have Strange as their top neurosurgeon – any hospital would have – but that likely had to do with his abilities and definitely not with his personality. Doctors, students and nurses were in adoration of his surgical skills, marveling how Strange spoke about his work and how passionate he was about taking on cases (if worthy of his attention), and of course mooning over his looks.

Though did anyone of them possibly think he was a great person?

He was a great surgeon, sure. You could admit to that. You had quite a bit of respect for the work he did, unmatched in his capability and passion. An excellent, fast and hard working doctor, definitely admirable for his accomplishments, truly someone to look up to – for as long as he was in his scrubs in the OR, fingers busy with reattaching nerves or scrambling around in other people's brains.

The one and only Doctor Strange sure messed with your brain too.

If that weren't already enough... being around him was simply unavoidable.

Because the doctor was not only head neurosurgeon, making you – after years of studying, going through multiple exams and with a good eight years of work experience under your belt, now a perfectly capable surgical assistant – his stepping rug on every opportunity. No, he also happened to be a friend of Christine's.

How she had come to find someone like Strange even bearable in the first place was a huge mystery to you.

When you had first started at the Metro as a surgical assistant, working alongside resident doctors day by day, Christine had been one of your first good friends here and you quickly learned of her admittedly very silly crush on Stephen Strange.

You had heard more than enough about it. The way he had denied any of her advances straight away. How he had downright refusing to date her, up until the point that she had finally decided to put an end to trying and accepted they were never going to be anything besides friends.

Friendship seemed to work just fine for them. She still continued to spend time with him on the regular, plenty even, and you never really understood why. Her connection to the neurosurgeon was by all means strange – having asked times and times again what she might gain out of it, Christine never really went into detail why she was enduring the way he was. And god forbid, why she was even caring for him in this way.

Who knew what kind of secret Strange was hiding that made him actually likable in her eyes? Whatever it was, Christine kept it to herself. All she ever said was "He's not that bad when you get to know him."

You sure as hell didn't want to get to know him any more than you already did.

It was worse enough that you had to see him all the time.

He was in Christine's presence constantly – loitering around her office whenever they had a second of time to spare or interfering in lunch breaks and conversations you had meant to have with her. Of course, they were colleagues and their shared work was commendable, so in some way it seemed like Strange counted a lot on her opinion – whether it was going over cases together, creating a new surgical procedure, bothering her with preparation for speeches or events.

There was not a day you didn't run into him at the hospital either. As to be expected, you mostly saw him in the OR, where you had to assist him because it was your job, where you had to do his bidding in order to ensure a successful surgery. You never let your opinion of Strange influence the way you worked with him, passing tools from hand to hand. If anything, you've learned plenty about neurosurgery and the surgeon himself in your time assisting him.

But being constantly put on the same shifts with Strange also meant you saw a lot more of him during an entire work week than you would have wanted to. All you got to see of him outside the OR was not convincing you to seek out even more of him.

Plus, you were pretty sure that Stephen Strange had no fucking interest in getting to know you either. He knew you were friends with Christine, he seemed to hold no grudge against you personally, had never complained about the times you worked together at the operating table, but he was as indifferent as he always was with others. Constantly referring to you by your last name. Tending to ignore you whenever you came across each other in Christine's presence. Certainly not going out of his way to be particularly nice to you.

Sometimes you understood.

Neurosurgery was nothing for the faint of heart.

They all took hours and hours in the OR sometimes, remaining up on their feet and concentrated for a really long time. Surgeries were challenging, nerve-wrecking, tiring. Emergencies were most stressful. Of course, everything had to be in place for the head surgeon right in time, everyone needed to be prepared for complications at the worst times, everyone needed to stay focused and ready for the surgeon's requirements.

That was the job you had signed up for and you didn't require Doctor Strange to use a kind tone in the OR. You didn't mind that he scoffed at his staff occasionally or that he wasn't thanking you for doing the basic assistant work.

What you minded was that Strange sometimes used others as a personal punching bag when something wasn't going right, making sure to point out everyone's mistakes, except his own of course.

And this had almost gone terribly wrong.

Though it was neither your teams nor the doctor's fault that the scans had failed to show the true expense of the tumor of your most recent patient, it was a certain someone's fault for wanting to make the impossible possible.

The entire surgical team had advised Stephen Strange not to do it, to not even try to touch that tumor after opening the patient up, but he had been so convinced of his surgical skills that he tried it anyways, wanting to please his own god complex like he just loved to do.

Only a couple of minutes later, though working with a calm and steady hand as usual, he had to calmly admit to his personal mistake and stopped whatever he had planned in his genius mind when he noticed he had underestimated that tumor, having unfortunately triggered some hemorrhage that disabled him to keep on operating. Instead of a resection, he now had to opt for clipping the bleeding, which was a difficult and stressful change of action for the lot of them – not impossible, but looking at the great schemes of things preventable, had he listened.

The team had barely managed to stabilize the patient's condition after he had done his best to fix the mistake.

You could tell that Strange was in a sour mood, his inflated ego having taken quite the damage after realizing that playing god didn't work out for him so well sometimes and needing to admit his personal failure, while he was closing the patient up again, tumor remaining in place.

Even so, you thought he should count himself lucky and were thoroughly relieved that him acting out had not taken this man's life. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to drop a negative comment about what had happened to the surgeon himself, who was already tense and on edge from his failed attempt.

Instead you had decided to say something nice, whatever had made you get this idea.

"I've never seen such a massive tumor. It would have taken hours of preparation to even ensure a partial resection. Let alone a miracle to get rid of it entirely", you so casually mentioned to the doctor as you were getting changed side by side like so often, the only two remaining in the locker room.

You were hardly ever chatty around him, neither was he with you. And yeah, you were very aware he could get nasty in one of his moods, so perhaps opening your mouth to him now wasn't a smart decision. However, you were a fairly decent person, his colleague, showing sympathy when it was due, and you were under the impression that he could use a kind word.

Stephen Strange was arrogant and a downright asshole sometimes, but only human – and like any other person he had made a mistake, a lapse of judgment. While it shouldn't have happened in the OR or almost cost a person's life, there was no way of turning time back to prevent it. He had owned up to it by admitting his defeat and would carry the possible consequences.

"It was the right decision to stop. A good decision. You did what you could. Going on would have been too big of a risk and I'm glad you managed to clip it entirely."

Strange grumbled a little, seemingly ignoring your comment at first and wordlessly slipping out of his scrubs to reveal a sight you knew all too well for getting undressed in the same room quite regularly.

And dear lord, the sight of him only.

You were too defeated after the chaos in the OR to keep yourself from looking. Wasn't it annoying how good he looked too? As much as you hated his smug face, he was a painfully attractive man. Taking good care of himself and his body, certainly fitting in the occasional work-out between shifts. What he lacked in personality, decency for one, this body made up.

Judging by looks alone, couldn't let your gaze wander too often or obvious, the man was likely sporting a big dick too – and to say the least, Strange might not have been very desirable when it came to character, but you were certain he would be a good fuck.

"Bleeding was horrid, yeah, but as I said... a partial resection still should have been possible. But for that I would need a team that backs me up when it gets critical and doesn't retreat when things seem a little more challenging", the surgeon eventually spoke, “Didn't help that everyone was so stressed out all of the sudden, threw me a little off guard.”

As soon as he had opened his mouth, every positive impression or thought you had ever harvested for him seemed to instantly leave the room, the building, the city and Earth itself. His enormous ego was once again infuriating you.

The audacity alone to claim what he had just said made you see red.

Everyone on your surgical team was used to Strange, he was used to all of you. You worked together well, hand in hand, especially when things were tough!

It wasn't any of your jobs to kiss his ass because it suited him better, and that very well included giving him counterpoints in the OR, in order to prevent him from pushing past the limits. Which he had done. Which would have gone wrong hadn't you all been there to assist him in undoing the mistake.

And yet he had just said that, convinced of his god-like ability, accusing your team was at fault, denying that he was fallible like any other human being.

While you had really meant to be nice to him and not to scratch his already vulnerable ego any further, that was one word too much.

Stephen Strange had the talent of winding you up like no one else could.

"With all respect, doctor, you can count yourself lucky that this man is still alive and didn't end up in the morgue like he almost did", you eventually snapped and it sure must have looked ridiculous: you in your underwear, furious with rage, significantly smaller than Strange himself, as you faced him.

No smug look on his face anymore, but a suddenly darkened expression, jaw tensing, his facial muscles twitching in annoyance, Strange went from zero to one-hundred real quick too.

"Watch your mouth", he snarled, sharply addressing you with your last name like he always did, though not looking any less ridiculous in his underwear. He stepped towards you with a somewhat threatening intention, obviously wanting to impose.

Strange was a broad man, healthy, strong, could have easily overpowered you. You noticed that his whole body had gone rigid with tension, fists clenched, muscles visibly tense, and on any other day you might have gladly allowed yourself to admire the sight, but not today.

You both kept your stances.

"Yeah, or what?", you spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm warning you here", Strange replied, the air between the two of you intense and heavy with both your frustrations. Any more tension and the air might have cracked under the pressure. "Don't push it, boy. Only because you're Christine's friend doesn't mean I won't get you into serious trouble with the board."

"Threatening me now, doctor? Oh, you must really think you're so untouchable, don't you?", you snarled right back at him, almost butting heads together, so close to one another like never before, only a sliver away from actually touching.

"I'm just saying it how it is. You're a huge asshole, never able to look past your own arrogance, and you'd know how much people actually despised you if you looked left and right sometimes."

"And you're an insolent and incompetent brat. This behavior is entirely unprofessional", Strange spewed, anger and frustration glowing in his eyes, written all over his face, "and I will make sure you're going to regret this."

"You're not any better, Strange", you spoke with sheer despise and must have looked just as frustrated, facing him like this, not backing down, absolutely enraged by his stupid threats and the simple overestimation of his own person.

Brows furrowed, nostrils blowing furiously, so up in each others personal space that you felt his warm, heavy breath on him, standing there in nothing but your underwear, bodies tense with every single second and then... all hell broke loose.

Strange took another step forward, grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you backwards into the lockers, with a little more force than you had initially expected. The sudden impact made you groan in pain, your back colliding with the cold metal doors, as the other man now held you wedged between them and him.

Your heart leaped in your chest, your breath hitched for a moment. Because you hadn't expected this form of aggressiveness from him, the sheer dominance, getting so physical when it could get him in serious trouble to assault someone in such a way, even as a doctor. Especially as a doctor.

But facing him like this, it wasn't fear that surged through your body. No, definitely not fear. It turned you on.

"Fuck you", you just said, trying to push back and shove him away, slamming the flats of your palms against his pecs. Though when you noticed that you had no way of escaping, Strange's hot and tense body keeping you trapped, him being so much stronger than you were, your brain simply short-circuited.

Instead of struggling against him further, you leaned towards him and clashed your mouths together in a whim, immediately thinking to yourself that whatever you were doing right was really foolish.

You would have expected anything from this unpredictable man, being shoved to the side, being called slurs, perhaps even being truly physically hurt after doing something so ridiculously stupid – but all the doctor did, while seemingly surprised by the action, was pressing his mouth right back onto yours, almost hungrily, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

Strange was responding to your attempt of a kiss, the both of you pouring all of your sheer anger into it. Teeth clashing and biting, tongues plundering each others mouths, he kept you pressed up against the locker with all of his body, his hands holding you in place, nudging his thigh between your legs which definitely added onto your undeniable arousal.

"You're terrible and I hate you", you groaned against his lips once gasping for air, though wasting no time to pull him in close again, hand sliding into the doctor's hair as you tugged hard on it, the other finding his upper back, fingers digging into his shoulders to a point where you knew it was likely going to hurt him.

You were hoping it would leave stinging marks for him to remember this.

"Feeling's mutual", Strange hissed into the kiss, thigh pressing further into your growing hardness, holding onto your waist with a firm grip, fingers digging into your skin so tightly that you almost hoped they would bruise you too.

"Look at you, like a little slut, getting all hard and desperate when someone treats you like deserve it", he continued on, the low gravel of his voice sending shivers up your spine, the bite of his harsh words even more so sparking your arousal.

"Yeah, as if you're not into it", you replied immediately, knowing that Strange was hard too, feeling him pressed up against your leg. Something within you screamed to be taken apart right here, like this, wanted the doctor to use you, to fuck the frustration right out of the both of you. You had no idea why that sounded like such a good idea.

"Why not be a man of your word and put me in my place?", you asked quietly, suggestively, kissing him hard once again, catching his lip between your teeth and biting down, earning yourself a scowl.

When Strange pulled away, you could make out his dark pupils dilating in those icy blue eyes, a gaze full of lust, his lips parted with heavy breaths seeping through, red and swollen.

He didn't reply anything and let go for a moment to grab you hard by the shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You could hardly stop yourself from being shoved into the lockers again, bracing yourself up against them with your hands, back arched, displaying your ass to him quite nicely.

“Remember you asked for it”, he growled then, seeming amenable to give you what you what, pushing his hips into yours. Now you could definitely feel that Strange was hard, pressing up against the curve of your ass.

You reveled in the feeling for a moment, fearing that it might be gone in the blink of an eye, but something told you he wasn't going to let it go now. He wouldn't back down, not after this amount of disrespect.

As it happened to be, without a single precaution, he nearly ripped your underwear off you, leaving you entirely bare and in anticipation of whatever he was going to do to next. You were shuddering, the cold of the room brushing over your body, goosebumps forming, but remained standing steady even as the doctor's hands returned to you.

Skilled surgeons hands, kneading your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, as fingers delved between them, brushing over your needy hole. Even just the touch made your breath hitch, feeling his fingertips circling the sensitive ring of muscles, and god, your cock was already stirring in interest, leaking a pathetic trickle of precum.

How was he turning you on this much?

"Do you have any idea how much you rile me up all the fucking time? How often you make me want to bend you over the operating table? How much I want to teach you a lesson whenever you're getting snappy in the OR? You're such a damn brat, it makes me wanna do all kinds of things to you", Strange mewled into your ear, kissing the spot behind it, moving down to suck hard on your neck again, bruising you, biting you, “I bet you'll look so pretty on my cock. Gonna fuck you raw, would you like that?”

"You owe it to me, Strange", you moaned, surprised by his words. Him? Riled up by you? Wanting to bend him over? Wanting to discipline him? For how long had he been having these fantasies?

He didn't leave you much time to go on wondering. You heard the man spit then, feeling a trickle of wetness being spread around your hole, a single digit easing into you, accompanied by the slight burn of the stretch, though not unfamiliar.

Would have been better with preparation, but this would do. You would let him fuck you like this.

"I knew you were gonna be a real cockslut", the doctor mused but seemed to be a man of his word, spreading more of his spit over your hole, working you open with precise movements, like one would expect from someone with such skilled hands. Two fingers in, you couldn't have cared any less if anyone found the two of you like this. You were gone and beyond as those fingers found your sweet spot, their intrusion leaving a nice burning stretch, then brushing over your prostate, making your cock jolt in response, a moan slipping passed your lips.

"Gosh, can't you just fuck me already?", you begged, thighs already shaking from the stimulation, especially the way he seemed so keen on prodding your prostate all over again.

"Oh, we're getting there and I'll make sure you'll remember it well", Strange growled at you, pulling his fingers back, "Gonna make you feel me all night, all day, all week. Every time you get in here, every time you see me in the OR, you'll think of this.”

It sounded more like a promise than a threat though. You just knew Strange would fuck you unforgettably well. It wouldn't matter how rough or angry it would be, and you craved to feel it all week, even just as a reminder that you had fucked Stephen Strange, out of all people.

"Stop talking so much", you bit back, feeling the tip of the doctor's cock gently nudging your hole, smearing more spit and his own precum all over you, before finally pushing in, the intrusion of his impressive length making you gasp.

The long-awaited stretch of a cock inside of you was sudden and damn, Strange was filling you out good, to the point where you certainly needed a moment to adjust to all his girth and might, finding it hard to breathe.

Balling your hands into fists, you took deep breaths through your nose, but pressed back into him, making sure to allow all of the man in. “G-god, knew you'd have a huge cock”, you huffed out, eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it would do nothing but stroke his ego. However you just didn't care about the size of it anymore now that he was fully sheathed inside of you, leaving you rather focused on the size of something else.

"Fuck, you're damn tight", the doctor groaned, stilling inside of you for a moment, noticing that you needed the time to get used to him, which was in some way almost kind. His large, precise hands came to rest on your waist, holding onto you, absentmindedly stroking the skin there.

"Already regretting this?", he mocked, fingers squeezing into the softness of your flesh, but didn't start moving yet.

"No", you huffed, unashamed to add the next comment as you deemed yourself more than ready, "And you should start moving before I get bored."

That certainly stirred up a fire in Strange again, though perhaps less out of anger and frustration, now shrouded with desire and lust and the challenge to make you feel all of him. He began moving painstakingly slow at first, pulling slightly back before thrusting into you without holding back, and then settled quickly on fucking you hard and deep, filling you out so perfectly, hitting that sweet spot within you immediately.

The two of you were soon enough in a complete trance, Strange's eager and hard thrusts, his cock stretching you out all over again, both of you moaning and groaning and panting heavily, your legs almost giving in as the rapid strokes sent a shudder through your entire body, the metal of the locker doors rattling under the sheer force of your coupling.

You couldn't focus on anything else than the waves of pleasure all through your body, the thought that you liked being used by Strange like this, how glad you were the anger and the frustration was fucked right out of you by the exact man who had riled you up like that in the first place. A man you riled up just as much, who had apparently waited to put you into your place for a long time now.

The grip on your hips was bruising, Strange's mouth must have left marks all over your neck, your shoulders, your upper back, as he kept on latching onto you everywhere he could reach – and you would most certainly feel the sting of being stretched out so wonderfully whenever you would try to sit down the next few days. You found it harder and harder to keep yourself upright, still bracing yourself against the lockers.

As you could feel your orgasm beginning to hit hard, crawling up your spine, white hot flashes etching in your brain, you quickly reached down to grab your painfully hard cock, tugging on yourself as the hard thrusts into you sent you over the edge, your hole clenching around the man's length, eager to keep him in place, trapping him inside of you.

Strange made an ungodly noise as you tightened around him, slumping forwards against your back and coming to his own undoing. With his head coming to rest on shoulder, cock buried within you to the hilt, he spilled himself inside of you, holding onto you as both your orgasms completely ruled over you.

It took you a while to come down from that high. The rush of passion and adrenaline had long passed, your head found some clearance again.

You sighed loudly, breathing hard, sweaty and definitely in need of a shower now. There was a distinctive ache in your body and you grew awfully aware he was still inside of you.

Strange's arm came around your middle and he simply held onto you instead of drawing away. You almost found yourself a little puzzled when the man nuzzled your neck, placing an almost gentle kiss on it, and even more so by the way you weren't fully disliking his embrace.

He asked you an odd question then too. You hadn't expected it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I am", you answered after a moment of silence, only now noticing the mess you had made, your own cum having spurted onto one of the lockers, on the floor, covering your hand too. Even though you were sticky and kinda sore, it made you grin. He'd sure fucked you good.

You were definitely going to feel the burn for days to come and would not forget about your interaction any time soon. You sure hoped that neither would he.

"Are you?", you asked him, not even knowing why you were trying to respond with the same kindness. It didn't match the situation at all, didn't match the smell of sex hanging in the air, didn't match the fact you had literally just fucked your frustration out of each other, the argument entirely dissolved – for Lord's sake, you could feel his cum trickling down your thighs, once Strange eased his hold and pulled out of you, and yet you were chatting each other up so casually.

"More than", the doctor admitted, "I think we settled that argument at least."

You wriggled out of his grip, turning around in his arms, facing the man that now seemed a lot more relaxed and calm, not angry or upset anymore in the slightest, though just as messy and disheveled as yourself.

The tension had just been whiffed away.

"We did", you mused, oddly talkative after just getting your brain fucked out.

You pondered whether to say something else, whether to just shut up and go your ways, whether to confront him about what had just happened and what it would mean for the two of you.

He was still looking at you, questioning, perhaps even waiting for you to add something. So after a slight pause, you did.

"What happened in the OR today was unfortunate. What you said made me angry and sure, you're an arrogant asshole and I don't agree with the things you do sometimes. I get annoyed by you on the regular, but I didn't actually mean it when I said that I hate you. If anything, I'm kind of surprised by you.”

“Why, didn't think I'd dare to fuck you?”, Strange chuckled, probably unsure what you were meaning to tell him – you didn't quite know yourself – and no longer looked at you in disapproval, but like he was in good spirits. There was this cockiness to him again, something to usually disliked, though in the afterglow it more so wanted to make you smile.

“Well yeah”, you shrugged, “Didn't think you'd be interested.”

“I was pissed off after fucking up and then of course it had to be you approaching me. So as I've said... I've been feeling some type of way about you before. I shouldn't have said you're incompetent, because you're not. I find you irritating and annoying. You are a brat, no doubt, and I've wanted to fuck that out of you for a long time. Didn't think you'd let me, especially not that way. It was kinda hot", he replied nonchalantly, bending down to pick up both your underwear from the ground, handing yours over.

“So you're saying you're actually into me?”

“I said I wanted to put you in your place and fuck you, which I just did. But maybe, just maybe, Christine is right after all and I should get to know you."

"Funny. She told me the same thing", you responded, opening your locker to grab a towel and the bag with toiletries, thinking that you would now definitely have to hit the showers, needing to get rid of all your traces, at least the once you could get rid of. Your skin was stinging was his marks and you sure were sore. But damn, hadn't that been just worth it.

It was weird to suddenly see Strange in such a different light.

"Well, considering she might have a point, we cleared the air, we both know the sex will be good... maybe we could go for a coffee sometime?", he asked, picking his own stuff from the locker.

"Asking me on a date now, Doctor Strange?", you wondered, looking him over in all his naked glory and musing whether it would really be a good idea to get to know him beyond the OR, not quite knowing where the change of heart came from all of the sudden. Couldn't have just been the sex, could it?

You had always felt some type of way about Stephen Strange. It usually hadn't been very positive and it didn't help you faced a bunch of conflicting feelings now, not knowing what to make of this.

He would certainly make for another good fuck, you had no doubts about that, and it would be worth it, if going for a coffee together meant getting to fuck him in a proper bed some day. Strange would certainly still make you mad and put you off plenty of times, especially with his attitude and all, but as had been proven today, it definitely ensured some hot sex.

Could it be more than just sex one day? Maybe it was a bit too early to think about that.

"Would it be that weird if I was? I already fucked you, so I might as well go on a coffee date with you", Strange shrugged, looking you over in return, eyes raking over you like he could have devoured you another time right there, right then.

"Look at you being all chivalrous. Do you even know my first name, doctor?", you couldn't repress the cheeky question.

"Don't be silly, I can read a name tag. Though I think, brat suits you just fine", the older man stated, giving you a wink and a cocky smile, before throwing the towel over his shoulder and heading off to the bathroom.

Stephen Strange sure was a man to behold.

#k writes #stephen strange x male reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #doctor strange #surgeon strange #surgeon stephen strange #marvel fanfiction #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #x male reader

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meshlasolus · 2 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 12

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: this might be the saddest one... or maybe I'm delusional and it can only get worse from here. Anyways, death, canon typical violence, drowning, my sweet baby Lukas is trying his best as always... oh yeah a hUGE AMOUNT OF ANGST

Chapter Summary: This is the endgame, there are four tributes remaining. Who will live, and who will die? The choice has never been up to the tributes.

Word Count: 3.8k

my live action cinderella dress (movie accurate) is finally done so expect me to have a lot more editing time. I will also probably have more writing time so expect some endings to unfinished series.

“He had f-feelings for me?” Lukas was dumbfounded. The poor kid didn’t even get to tell you. He tried to speak, opened his mouth to do so, but froze upon not knowing what he could possibly say in response. Maybe just start with the truth. “He did,” his head fell when the words finally escaped. “I’m sorry, he wanted to tell you.”

You’d been silent. Not quiet, but absolutely silent. Lukas didn’t try to make you be anything else… but he did have to keep you moving. It wasn’t much later in the day, but the sun was already setting. The minimal amounts of light only being shown through the small openings of the tree canopy. It was harder to tell where you were going. Nothing looked the same as it did yesterday, or the day before. You could swear you’d walked through here to get to the stream, but the path had somewhat changed along the way.

As drowned in your thoughts as you’d been right after it happened, your entire body, including your brain, had been numbed to Rodey’s death. His blood was still on your hands. Figuratively and literally. You didn’t stare at it too long, forgetting to let your gaze linger on anything except the path ahead, and Lukas, who was three steps in front of you.

You both were half of the remaining tributes. It was a miracle you both had made it this far, but now that the numbers had dwindled, there were two other tributes left who were hunting the both of you. It was better to keep moving than to sit like a duck and let one of them take their victory.

The longer you went without finding the stream, your need for freshwater had grown exponentially. It was strange how the past few days it would rain for hours, but now that you actually needed water it ceased to exist… in a literal rainforest. That was the peak behavior of a game maker, to play sinisterly.

“We can stop here for now. Maybe if I can get up one of these trees I’ll be able to spot the stream again.”

You barely minded what he was saying, giving a small nod to at least show you heard him. You didn’t care much to speak anymore, not even to the person who you felt the most patience from. He was doing fine without the constant dialogue of the days before, and you knew he’d be fine without it till the end. He was going to win, there was no doubt in your mind. You’d thought that perhaps it could be him or Rodey, but Rodey died saving you. Now you would do the same for Lukas, whenever the situation finally came.

You sat down, back against a tree trunk and head dropped forward, eyes making an instant connection with the dried blood on your body. Even if you scrubbed at yourself for hours, there was no chance you could get rid of it all. You have the blood of two allies on your hands, now. That’s as many as you’re willing to have.

Lukas had set down his pack, starting to climb the roots and knots of the tree’s enormous base, when a tiny parachute descended straight towards him. You looked up when you heard the familiar sound it made, watching it fall into the boy’s hands.

“Head’s up,” he called, tossing you one of two canteens full of water. You took it gratefully, beginning to drink up as much as you could take.

Lukas smiled before looking down to the note included.

Talk to her for me, tell her it’s not her fault. - F

He sighed, trying to come up with any ideas on what he could possibly say. There’s no way to know if she’ll even be open to a conversation. There’s no indicator that she even wants to speak at all. But this is a sponsor that keeps them from having to exhaust their resources, and Finnick asked for something simple in return. He doesn’t understand why Finnick is so dead set on coddling you in this arena. It’s not like things are going to get any better from here. It’s an absolute fact that the time can only become worse, until everyone meets their end but one.

But against his logic, and against what his brain is telling him, his gut wants to follow his mentor’s instructions… So he does.

He sits beside you at the base of the tree, his own canteen in hand and his pack in the other.

“Listen, I know you don’t wanna talk about it,” he assumed, given the fact that you’ve literally said nothing since it happened. “But what happened, it wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

You reasoned with the scene over in your head, and the only way it didn’t end the same way is if he didn’t choose to jump in front of you. It was hard to think about, because you feel responsible. He wouldn’t have jumped if you weren’t there. But if you weren’t there, she’d only have him to charge at. It all ends the same every time. He was faster than you, braver than you. He would have stepped time and again, and you couldn’t stop him.

“He s-saved me. It was f-for me.”

“I know.”

You closed your canteen and let it roll out of your hands and onto the ground next to you, curling your legs to your chest and trying to comfort yourself. You really didn’t want to talk about it, but if he was adamant for you to do so, it was going to be on your terms.

He seemed to be stumbling for more words, and only came across some having rambled a thought from his head.

“I wish he’d never told you…”

“T-told me what?”

He hadn’t caught onto the fact that you had no idea what he was talking about. So like a dumbass, he kept going.

“About his feelings for you. I told him a few days ago it could only hurt you. Then again I also told him it was a good idea so I guess we were both stupid,” his rambling of a response made your eyes widen in both shock and anger.

“He had f-feelings for me?”

Lukas was dumbfounded. The poor kid didn’t even get to tell you. He tried to speak, opened his mouth to do so, but froze upon not knowing what he could possibly say in response. Maybe just start with the truth.

“He did,” his head fell when the words finally escaped. “I’m sorry, he wanted to tell you.”

For some reason, this information didn’t hurt you as much as it should. Instead, it angered you. How could he possibly have been so stupid to sacrifice himself in the name of feelings for someone he’d only recently met? How could he have given up a possible win, just to show his devotion. Had it been an instinctual move of protection, you could have accepted it… but no.

“I s-should be dead r-right now. All these p-people around me, dropping l-like flies. And I’m still h-here.”

“Don’t say things like that. Look, I get it. You feel responsible…”

You nodded, because yes, you absolutely did. Your ally’s blood is on your hands, and no matter how many times you scrub it away, it will always be there.

“But I feel responsible for you. I’d rather it be any of them than you, understand?” He finished off, his look of seriousness piercing yours of confused emotion. Sadness, anger, guilt. Probably more, but you can’t identify them.

You nodded, but his words didn’t make you feel any better. If anything it just made things worse. He was still trying to protect you, and you couldn’t stand losing one more ally. Especially not him. He had to be the one to make it out of here. You’d been thinking about it so much more the past several hours, now that only four remain. You’ve only gotten this far because of your allies, but now they are almost gone. It’s on the verge of every man for himself, but you know Lukas won’t let you die on your own. If it comes down to the two of you, you have every intention of throwing yourself from the top of a tree so he can go home. You don’t think you’ll survive the other two tributes, however.

“You’re g-going to win, y’know.”

He sighed, looking at the ground and shrugging. Maybe they are true, the things that you say. He just hopes they aren’t.

“I’m not so sure anymore. If I were a gambling man, I’d have to put money on you.”

“Well then it’s a g-good thing you don’t gamble,” you smiled, trying to expel every other feeling you had, and only hold onto one emotion at a time. The air was light, just around the two of you. Old friends, fighting for their lives, but they can still make the other smile, or laugh. It’s simply what friends can do.

Lukas hopes that he doesn’t leave this arena without you. He is praying to anyone that can hear his thoughts that if he watches you die, he’ll die too. It’s not like he has anything to go back to, anyway.

“Promise m-me something, for when you get h-home?” You asked, his curiosity piqued. “Promise me that you’ll take care of m-my family. My brother, make sure he d-doesn’t ever have his name in the bowl more than it h-has to be.”

He smiled. He hadn’t even thought about his own family, his mother. Probably because he didn’t consider her to be so, anymore.

“I promise, if I get out of here, I will.”

“T-thank you, Lukas.”

He leaned against you, his head resting on the tree while your own head was on his shoulder. You’d be perfectly content with dying if you could just drift away like this. Everything now was peaceful, and you’d left no stones unturned. Your family would be taken care of if Lukas lived, you know he’s good on his word. You know that having spoken with him, and even sitting here with him now, you will have resolved everything with him. There’s nothing else you need to know… except-

“Lukas?”

“Yeah?”

“W-why did you volunteer?”

He took a deep inhale beside you, then went stiff as the reasoning coursed through his mind. He could lie and say it was an impulsive mistake. He could come up with literally a million other things that would sound plausible for any kid on why they would do something so stupid. But he wasn’t any kid, and you weren’t just some bystander. You were his best friend. Either of you could die any moment, so he wanted to make sure you got nothing but the truth.

“The morning of the reaping, my mom and I had that argument,” he recalled. You nodded along, remembering the scene vividly. He hadn’t been himself until he’d gotten on a boat. The water always seemed to calm him down. “I’d been feeling better after work, but I went home to shower and get dressed.”

He stopped for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to bring it all back into recollection. The nasty look on his mother’s face, the way she swore at him and spewed her insanity. Thinking back to it now, him volunteering is just what she wanted. It would have been better to refuse volunteering out of spite.

“She told me I would never measure up to my father, and that there was no point in trying. When I asked her what she wanted from me, she told me she wished I had died in his place.”

Your hand immediately found his in a tight and reassuring grip when you heard this. It was just like his mother to go off and say some shit like that. Something that would scar him the rest of his life and force him to go immeasurable lengths, and for what?

“I told her I would volunteer if she wanted me dead so badly. She said I might as well, because it would be the only way to bring some pride back to our family. The sad thing is, I didn’t regret it until they called your name…”

“I’m s-so sorry,” you whispered to him, barely heard above the humming and buzzing of the rainforest. You clung to him, hoping that this could bring the smallest semblance of comfort in a place that exudes horror and danger. He clung right back to you, being still in your embrace as it was one of normalcy. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hug you, or look at you, or talk to you. Even simply being in your presence wasn’t something he was going to take for granted, because he knew that soon, he would never be able to again, whichever way it went.

The day continued on, and the sun was setting much faster than you would ever anticipate. Probably because it wasn’t a real sun, and any glimpse of normalcy was non-lasting. It couldn’t be, because there had to be reminders that this was not the wilderness, and you were not safe. You would die any second. There were only four tributes remaining. You could imagine that things were getting tense back in the capitol. You couldn’t imagine the kid from eleven had garnered much of a fan base with Lukas being the prized tribute this year. You doubted the girl from one was getting any special attention, either. Not that they needed it. Estelle was most definitely the most qualified remaining tribute, a career who has trained for this moment all her life… but still, you’re sure Lukas will win it from her.

While walking in the marshy rainforest, you’re quickly reminded how easily this game can end.

You hear a branch snap a bit down the trail behind you, and you freeze.

“Lukas…” you whisper, drawing the knife from your hip.

He heard another branch, and turned his head, the boy named Brock from eleven quickly approaching, with Estelle on his heels. Whether or not she was chasing him, no one could be sure, but they both had a determined look in their eye, and all it took was one word for you to bolt ahead like lightning.

“Run.”

The branches below you snapped in half, the pressure of your rapid footsteps was intense enough to squash any animal or snake that dared slither into your path.

You could hear Lukas’ hard breath intake, as he was passing you every few seconds, then trailing a step behind, only to look back and make sure they weren’t gaining too quickly… except for they were. This was going to end in a face off, whether you liked it or not. You couldn’t run forever, and it was just a matter of time. You were ready to die, and you would protect Lukas.

You tripped over your steps, holding your hand out to stop Lukas in his tracks before he fell.

Well, at least you’d found the waterfall. The only downside is, you were at the top of it, having run onto a ledge that was at least a thirty foot drop into deep waters, raging from the pressure of the falls. There was no way you were making that jump without drowning. You’d probably have a heart attack on the way down and die before hitting the water.

“W-what do we do?” You turned to your counterpart, and he whipped his head back at the two approaching tributes.

“We’ve gotcha, now!” Estelle could be heard shouting, the sound getting far too close for comfort. It was now evident that they had been teamed up on this effort. “Nowhere to run!”

Lukas yanked your arm, pulling you beside him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked sincerely, the look in his eyes made you scared, like he was thinking irrationally, and he was… but it was all he could come up with.

“Yes,” you nodded, but grabbed his hand which was still on your arm. “Lukas?”

He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t answer your call of his name. He didn’t even give you a second to understand what the hell he was about to do. He just did it.

Within a moment, gravity became your enemy, and you went flying backwards off the edge of the cliffside, arms and legs flailing as you screamed all the way down into the waters. You sucked in a quick breath before being fully submerged, hammered down by the constant onslaught of heavy water.

Lukas took off, running away while the others were distracted by your fall into the depths. He ran towards the forest again, trying to jump logs and dodge trees, anything that could make their path to him harder.

Brock was still looking over the edge, having been surprised by the play of events.

“Let’s go, we can’t let him get far,” Estelle pulled him by the shoulder, turning him to the rainforest patches again.

“What about the girl?”

Estelle scoffed, “We’ll hear a cannon in a few minutes, she can’t swim.”

And with that, they took off.

Immediately being in water, the panic set into your mind. You were clawing around, trying to make it out, reaching out for anything that you could use to pull yourself up… but with the pressure beating down over you, you sank deeper, and deeper, with no savior to jump in after you, now. This was it. This was the moment you had to choose.

Live, or Die.

Last time you chose to die, but there was nothing on the line. Lukas is on the line now. He is the only person you swore you were going to protect in this arena, and you had to find a way out of here if that was going to happen.

You tried to quiet your mind, to forget the past and just how much you hated being in this water. You were ignoring just how badly your arms ache while attempting to paddle to the surface. You forgot it all and remembered the boy you’ve known since childhood. You remembered all the times he stood up for you against the kids mocking your stutter. You remembered just how much he’s done for you and is still doing for you… and suddenly, your head breaks through the surface, and you’re able to crawl into the small cavern behind the waterfall.

You start heaving breaths, rapidly letting the air tear through your lungs, now that they had access to air in the first place. You smiled to yourself once you were able to get high enough on the rocks to stand. You survived. You’d been dealt a hand that was completely out of your favor and you managed to climb out and breathe the air around you.

Your excitement was immediately cut off when you heard a cannon sound.

You didn’t waste a minute in climbing the rocks as fast as you could, albeit a little clumsy from having wet hands and shoes. Your mind raced, and you hoped that your heart pounding would be eased, and you would be wrong about your suspicions.

“No, n-no,” you shook your head, running into the rainforest and looking around frantically. You took several turns, and couldn’t see anything or anyone, but you had your knife drawn anyway. You were practically panting by now, the heaviness in your breath never dwindling.

The minute you came to a clearing, your eyes falling on the person in front of you, your eyes watered with tears.

“Lukas,” you slid down to your knees next to his limp frame, pulling him into your lap to hold him. “Wake up. W-wake up, Lukas, I’m h-here.”

He didn’t budge, but as you rocked him, you were able to see the source of this tragedy, the trail of blood, streaming from his chest and over his body in gushes. It was all over your hands, and it was all over your arms. It was all over you. You were covered in his blood, just like you were covered in Rodey’s dried blood. You’d let another ally sacrifice themselves for you. You swore you wouldn’t.

This wasn’t just another ally, and this wasn’t just a tribute you’d met a week ago. This was the best friend you’d ever had. The person who grew up alongside you into a wonderful man. He was the person who comforted you when you felt too embarrassed to go to a family member. He was the boy who’d complimented you when no other boy would dare. He was the one who brought you shells every morning from his walk to the docks. And now he is the boy who’s blood you are covered in, crying over miserably.

You can’t bring yourself to part with him, to let him go. You know if you do, something different will become of you. Something you have never been before. So you don’t. You cling to him, and you cry, and you let the thunder that begins to rumble above you reflect your emotion. It’s been a day since it’s rained in this rainforest, but even still, the rain doesn’t pour, it only trickles slightly. Enough to remind you that despite this loss, and despite the fact that you will never be the same, you are still in this arena, and there is only one way out.

You raise your head, and hear another sound of a cannon. You look around, but there is no sign of movement or of other tributes.

There’s only one left, and despite what you’ve said since the moment you entered this God forsaken place, despite your morals, and despite these tributes not being your real enemy, there is only one thing on your mind, and you will not rest until you’ve attained it…

As you move to stand, you roll Lukas’ body on his back, placing his hands over his chest to be at rest. You hate that this is how his story ends. You want to bury him, you want to give him a proper memorial, but you know this arena will be scrapped by the capitol for next year’s use, and this spot will be desecrated soon after you arrange it. So you’ve decided you will raise a memorial of him back home, when you arrive there.

Your tears are still running hot, but there’s a new fire under them that hadn’t been there before. There’s an anger you’ve never felt before. There’s a glint in your eyes that will not be satisfied.

You turn your head at the familiar sound of an incoming parachute, the contents of the container seem to be large, as there’s an entire box being lowered in. You watch it fall to the ground, in disbelief at the sheer size of it alone. It comes up to about your knees, and you wonder, what could Finnick have sent me?

You flick open the top, and immediately see the contents of the inside. Rope, lots and lots of rope. Several carabiners are included that could be used for rock climbing, but you know, and he knows, that’s not what you have in mind.

You pick up the note, two little wet spots appearing from the tears in your eyes, and the rain from above.

Show no Mercy… - F

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair thg #thg finnick #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin

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fluffysucker · 8 months

Text

Fine Line

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mob Au)

' We'll be a fine line. We'll be alright.'

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay. I have been having the busiest of days but I finally have some time off which I'm hoping can get me to write more. Anyway so thank you so much for being so nice.

This is supposed to be the last chapter but I got carried away and hopefully the last one will be out soon.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Violence. Threats. Cursing. LMK if I forgot something,

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist.

It was war, and you knew it. All of you did. But it was inevitable. There was no escape or an easy way out. One had to go down once and for all. You wished it would be them, but you could only pray they didn't drag you along.

A bit of time had passed. You were still staying with Bucky. Whenever you brought up leaving or finding somewhere else, he immediately turned the idea down. He never got bored of reminding you that he couldn't let you go, and it was his fight as well. He's got you now.

And he did. He took good care of you. You were well-nourished and fully rested. You didn't lift a finger. The maid and housekeepers were very happy to have you back. They didn't need Bucky to swear them to secrecy. They could tell that nobody should know you were with Bucky, and despite not being part of the mob, they understood why. And they didn't want to be the ones to compromise your safety. They liked you too much.

Along with the food and sleep, Bruce stopped by every couple of days to check on you and change the bandages on your wounds and stitches. He also kept giving you medications, which helped greatly with your recovery.

Since you got married to Rumlow, this was the longest you felt physically fine. And emotionally as well. Having Bucky within arms reach and getting to keep his company once again has been doing miracles for your mental health. You felt almost pathetic at how much you were genuinely feeling better.

The way Bucky treated you was a surprise. You expected some sort of resentment or bitterness, or at the very least, awkwardness. He tried to stop you from getting deeper into the darkness, and you didn't listen, thinking you were protecting him. Yet here you were. Dragging him further into a mess he never signed up for, seeking his protection

But all you saw were adoration in his eyes, kindness in his words, tenderness in his touch, and delicacy in his actions. It was a pleasant surprise.

You never talked about your current situation or even your history. But the love that connected the both of you was undeniable. He may not have said the words again, but Bucky's behaviour spoke louder than any words. The fact that he was risking it all for you showed his true feelings for you, which never died. The feelings that you deeply reciprocated

You couldn't help but feel a heavy feeling in your heart at how you turned his life upside down. One phone call in the middle of the night put this burden on his shoulders. No matter how much he said it was okay, you couldn't help but feel like you were an obstacle he needed to overcome.

However, he never once made you feel like you were trouble. On the contrary, Bucky provided soft, sweet feelings that you could swear you forgot they existed. It was the ease of hanging out with him. The peacefulness of his company. The compassion in his actions. The great care he put into everything for you. The comfort of falling asleep, held by arms that could never hurt you. A silent tradition the two of you developed that made sharing a bed the rule, not the exception. It wasn't shocking when your demons haunted you fearlessly at night or how your nightmares counted the seconds until attacking you in the deep darkness of the night. It wasn't unexpected or new for this to happen. However, this time, you had a knight in shining armor. Your own knight in shining armor A man your heart loved so much that your nightmares couldn't win.

You didn't need to ask. After finishing his nighttime routine, Bucky would join you in your room, getting in bed with you. You thought he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart after your breakdown on the third day here. Your terrified screams and wailing sobs had rung through the floor you shared. It was all catching up to you. The pain. The hurt. The betrayal. The fear. You were finally letting yourself feel it all. And it wasn't just the murder intention in cold blood. It was unfairness that had been your life for so long now. All the strain you had to endure. All the emotions you bottled in.

You were weeping and close to hyperventilating. Only once did you feel Bucky's arms around you were you consoled, pulling you into his lap and rubbing his hand all over your back and thighs while trying to get you to breathe slowly. Even after catching your breath, his gentle voice didn't stop whispering soothing things into your ears. You knew you should have moved once your sobs were reduced to sniffles, but you didn't find it in yourself to do so. You could only wrap yourself more tightly around him, gripping his shirt firmly in your fists. His voice and touch were grounding you, keeping you afloat away from the pain.

After that, Bucky didn't need you to vocalize it. He understood. So he came to you every night. It didn't make the terror stop. You had so much unpacked to just go away. But every time your mind betrayed you and was to throw you into panic, your tensed body would instantly relax against Bucky's strong hold, who pulled you closer to him once he felt the tension in your body. It was like he knew how to calm you down immediately. And he did. He was your safe place. Your fortified castle.

You were extremely thankful, thinking he was doing another good deed for you. The truth is, it was never just for you. Bucky felt a sense of stability and security having you in his arms, so close to him. He wanted to feel you beside him. He needed to know that he was the one taking care of you. He needed to be sure you were okay. Two years of radio silence between the two of you, then finding out what you had to go through, did this to him.

It would have been easy to let yourself get tricked by the restful atmosphere Bucky created, but you knew better. This wasn't a vacation. This was the quiet before the storm. And you knew Bucky was working on something. But he tried his hardest to keep his promise to keep you away from all this mess. Whenever you asked, he didn't give you answers. You told him you had to know at some point. Despite how much he hated it, he knew you were right.

So you embraced yourself when one of the housemaids told you that Bucky was waiting for you in his office. Pulling all your strength to knock on his door. A breath of relief escaped you once Bucky's voice reached your ear. If Bucky was there, you would be fine. That is the only thing you were so sure of.

Bucky got up from his seat after you entered the office, preferring to stay close to you as long as you were here. A smile made its way to your face when you noticed Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson sitting on the chairs in front of Bucky's desk. Being Bucky's most trusted men and his long-term bestfriends, you were familiar with them. Years ago in your dating days, when Bucky first introduced you to them—if you can call catching you cuddling on the coach with face masks and your hair in towels and watching rom-coms an introduction—you were waiting for the rudeness and unacceptance. But it never came. Instead, you got a family. Both men were so welcoming, treating you like a sister. Like you were one of them. So you were happy to see them again, feeling even more secure now.

Bucky led you to the coach, where he sat next to you. Then they started talking. Telling you everything. And you listened. They gave you all the information they were able to find, hoping you could help them connect the dots and figure out your father and husband's plan. And you didn't hesitate to offer all you knew.

It went on for days. Bucky would call you into his office every now and then. You would have long conversations, and they would ask you even general questions, trying to form a better idea out what was happening. Until Rumlow and Pierce pulled a card that exposed their whole game to Bucky.

So when Bucky called you in this day, you couldn't hide your unease once you took in all the new people joining in. Bucky's hand never left yours, a sign that he was right here. He tried to delay this meeting as much as he could, refusing to risk your safety, even if he trusted every single person in this room. But it couldn't wait anymore. They need to move fast.

You didn't speak a word as Bucky explained everything to you. Listening and taking everything in. Everything makes so much sense now. You had been the pawn for far longer than you knew. You were played for a fool. A mixture of anger and sadness ran through your veins, making you agree to Bucky's plan right away. He reassured you that you could turn it down and they would figure something else out, but you didn't. You wanted this to be over.

You were declared dead.

It was a weird feeling. On paper, you were gone. In their minds, they had won. However, they were about to be proven wrong. It's the day you've been waiting for yet somehow dreaded the most.

Bucky kept you by his side all morning for both of your sakes. Both of you are praying for the same outcome. The only outcome you can accept You and Bucky stayed together until the last minute possible. Until you had to move.

Everyone was in position. Most of Bucky's men were out of the house or well hidden, so it would look normal. Only Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were in the house. and, just like expected, at night. Loud footsteps and angry groans were echoing around the house.

Breaking into the house, a very furious Alexander Pierce and out of his mind Brock Rumlow, along with dozens of their men, walked into the house like they owned it.

"BARNES." Rumlow shouted, looking for the man he hated the most.

Keeping his confident, cold composure, Bucky walked out of his office, followed by Steve, Sam, and Natasha.

"That's not a nice way to visit someone." Bucky came to a stop in front of them.

"I'm going to kill you." Brock moved to attack Bucky, only to be stopped by Pierce's hand on his chest.

"How long have you been planning for this?" Despite his calm voice, Pierce was fuming.

"I wasn't planning for anything." This was going to be a long conversation, and Bucky wanted them to be the ones talking the most.

"Cut the bullshit, Barnes." Rumlow tried to move towards Bucky again but was stopped by Pierce again.

"I don't know what you want." Bucky was holding his ground, sticking to the plan.

"You robbed us." Rumlow shouted, anger coating his voice.

"I don't think so." Bucky enjoyed watching the two men lose their minds.

"DROP THE ACT, BARNES." Pierce's voice rang in the house, making all eyes turn to him. Not a single noise other than the unsteady breathing.

"I have been waiting my whole life for this moment. The moment I get back what I deserve. What had always been mine. So I will be damned if I let you play me like this." Pierce moved forward to stand closer, finally digging into the real issue.

"You mean what was hers all the time?"

"It was never hers. She was nothing and deserved nothing. This is my whole life's work. She shouldn't have gotten anything from it."

"Yet her mother left her everything."

"It was a mistake. My wife's only and last mistake A mistake I have been trying to change for so long now."

The piece of information came as a shock to everybody. Alexander Pierce loved his wife so much. They were young lovers. A young, ambitious man who was willing to do anything to get his father-in-law's permission to marry his daughter. Even going so far as to put everything he owned in her name. And he did. And he never changed it. The bigger his empire became, the more his wife had under her name. He loved her enough to trust her.

His wife did love him dearly, but she loved you more. It didn't take Pierce long into the marriage to show his true colors. He was never violent with her or you. However, your mother didn't trust him with you if something were to happen to her. It was distasteful to try and protect your daughter from her own father. But she did.

When Pierce found out his wife left everything he worked so hard to achieve for you, he was raging. It didn't help that he was grieving her and their love as well. His emotions were on high drive. So he channelled them all into hating you and getting back what was his. And all you were told was that your mother left you nothing.

"And marrying her off to Rumlow was going to solve it."

"I had to do something before you would get her to run away with you."

"It has always been about the money for you, hasn't it?"

"Of course it is. Not only did I never want a daughter in the first place, but I got a weak, pathetic excuse for a daughter who could never keep my legacy. My biggest failure in life"

"A stupid bitch who handed you all my wealth"

"I should have listened to him when he said to kill her years ago."

It's infuriating to hear someone talk about you like this when you were nothing but the best. but that was their plan all along. They wanted you out of the picture as quickly as possible so they could have the money. Which is why they had their riot men in the police station to hurry your death announcement. They reported you missing a week ago, and that move exposed everything. Since when do they include the police in their work? However, the fastest way to get your money was a document confirming your passing.

But Bucky was smarter than them. He had you transfer everything to his name before the announcement, making sure to keep the dates unseen on the legal form. And you had no problem doing so. If you trusted Bucky with your life, weren't you going to trust him with money you never knew you had in the first place?

"I just want to know when. When did you get her to sign off on everything for you? I had eyes on her all the time. And she is too dumb and blind to plan something like this on her own." It was Rumlow's turn to ask questions now.

"So, how did you do, Barnes? When did you get our money?"

And that's your sign.

"When you left me to die,"

Your voice echoed through the house as you stepped out of Bucky's office, all eyes turning to you.

"When I found out you wanted me dead my whole life." You came to stop right next to Bucky, in front of your father and husband. Bucky's hand was itching to hold yours, but he knew it wasn't the right call.

"You are supposed to be dead." Rumlow couldn't hide his surprise and shock at seeing you standing in front of him, looking healthier than ever. You were glad Josh wasn't here among the others because you didn't want to put him in a hard spot. He saved your life, and that is not how you repay him.

"Miracles happen. Just like how I survived all your attempts to kill me." Your voice was strong. Stronger than you ever used with either man.

It's important for them to know that you are still alive and well. That their plan failed beyond what they ever thought. That you were finally making your own decisions. Despite how much Bucky hated it, he knew it had to be done.

"And how did he get it? I willingly gave him everything. Because it's my money, and I get to decide what to do with it. Like Mom trusted me with it, I trust him." You were talking to both men.

"I get to make my own decisions, despite how much you like to think you can control me. You can't." You knew you were pushing your luck, but it was now or never.

"You, bitch." Rumlow marched towards you, trying to reach you.

But Bucky was quicker, pushing you behind him, standing tall in Rumlow's face, daring him to come close, daring him to think about touching you.

"Natasha, please take her to her room." Bucky's voice got colder as he called for his friend.

You went with Natasha as planned, putting all your efforts into not squeezing Bucky's hand before going upstairs.

"Oh, she has a room now." Rumlow's remark was sarcastic but so angry.

"Always had. Always will have." There was no point in hiding it anymore. They already knew. It was now time to see how much you really meant to him.

"What exactly are you expecting to happen now, Barnes? We are going to walk out and accept defeat. You aren't that stupid." Pierce said angrily. The sight of you alive and breathing was aggravating.

"Actually, that's exactly what you will do if you want to walk out of here alive." There was no way they were walking out of here alive, but Bucky liked to play.

"Oh, we are walking out of here alive. You are the one who will never see the sun again. And let me tell you how I waited for this moment.."Rumlow's didn't affect Bucky's in the slightest.

"KILL THEM ALL."

Rumlow's command to his men was loud enough for everybody to hear. But none moved.

"Did you all go deaf? I said, Kill them all." Rumlow repeated his order.

"What do you want us to do, boss?" One of the men asked

"We said kill them." Pierce shouted as he and Rumlow turned to look at their disobedient men.

"Boss?"

"Take them outside. The rest of the men will tell you where to take them."

Pierce and Rumlow's heads almost flew off their bodies with how fast they swung to look at Bucky, who was smirking. It was the moment he was waiting for.

"What? Surprised?. Of course, your men aren't loyal to you. You aren't the least bit decent to deserve anyone's loyalty."

"Unlike you, they are smart men who knew how to pick the right side.

"You, on the other hand, are not so smart."

"You should have never walked in here. You should have never shown your faces."

Bucky moved to stand right in their faces, enjoying every bit of this. Especially seeing the two men crumble under him.

"You should have never let your ego make you think you could win. Think that you even had a chance."

"I'm going to make you regret everything. I'm going to make you pay for everything." Bucky was stressing over every word leaving his mouth, his cold stare like daggers.

His next words were more for Brock Rumlow.

"Especially messing with my girl."

"For every time you made her cry, I'm going to hurt you worse. For every time you laid a hand on her or touched a strand of her hair, I'm going to tear you apart. For every scar on her body, I'm going to burn you alive. For every time you hurt her, knowing she is my girl, I'm going to make you wish that I would just kill you."

"I'm going to make you pray for death but never get it."

"TAKE THEM"

Bucky's demand rang through space, and quickly, the men surrounded Pierce and Rumlow, outnumbering them and dragging them outside the mansion with both men's protests and failed attempts to escape. It was all in vain. They lost. They fell, and they shall never arise again.

Steve and Sam followed the men out, making sure Pierce and Rumlow were taken care of until Bucky had the right time for them. They patted Bucky's shoulder before leaving, happy that it all worked out as planned, knowing how much this meant to him.

There was only one thing left.

Taglist: @ozwriterchick @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @kandis-mom @dexter99

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