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downbadf0rficppl · 3 months

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you're on your own kid

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

buy me a coffee

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky imagine #no y/n #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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pers1st · 1 month

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JUST A SPARK... PROLOGUE - leah williamson

it's never quite as it seems

warnings: death, grief, this is pretty angst tbh

master list / next chapter

It rained again. Ever since you had moved to England, the weather seemed to taunt you for leaving the country you actually considered to be your home. Your nonna, your mamma, and even your Dad stayed behind in Italy, and just like that, every dream of what England should’ve been was crushed between your tight fists. It rained. Every single day that you had lived in England, it rained. Today was the tiniest bit better than what yesterday’s clouds had provided. Instead of furious down-pouring that almost silenced your every thought and made the pitches impossible to train on, the water was splashing from the sky rhythmically, staining your windows as it peacefully dropped.

You were sitting on your couch, a mug of tea in your hand that you found oddly comically typically English, watching as the weather let you down once again. You missed Italy then, more than you usually did. Dreams of your summers spent in Tuscany, sitting on the terrace with your friends, sipping on a pearly white wine as the birds breezed past you cascaded in your mind as you stared out of the large, rain-stained window of your living room. Reaching for your phone, you huffed, realizing the closest you could come to being back home was a phone call. Although it wouldn’t be enough, it would certainly have to do.

The first sign that something was wrong was the way the ringing of your phone wouldn’t stop for far too long. There was very little time difference from England to Italy, and if it was an hour earlier, you would have believed your parents would’ve laid down for their daily nap, but it was almost six in the evening and there was no way they weren’t awake right now. When the call was finally picked up, the second sign hit you like a truck. Instead of your mamma’s sweet voice, you could hear a total mess unfolding, a sob ringing through the line, a dish being thrown to the floor.

“Mamma? Mamma, cosa non va?” (What’s wrong?), you asked, panic striking your tone as you sat up, gently disposing the mug of tea to the very edge 0f your couch table.

“Mamma?”, you repeated as any clue of what was going on was still withheld from you.

“Morto. É morto” (Dead. He’s dead), your mother cried, and at once, the oddly comically typically empty English mug fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

The flight back to Italy was painfully silent. You didn’t allow yourself to listen to music, too scared to listen to anything just in case you forgot your father’s voice. Your train of thoughts was absolute nonsense, to put it into harsher words, but it didn’t matter to you.

After speaking to both Emma Hayes and other officials of the club, most of whom you had never met, you had voiced the will of your mother to be buried in Italy rather than in London, where he had been born, and had taken the next flight out to your home country, ignoring the protests of men who had never truly known your father, claiming they wanted to come with you. You knew, however, that your father wished for more. The legacy he held at Chelsea wasn’t unknown, but you knew that none of the men in suits had ever mattered to him, and that none of them would have known him truly. It was quite ironic- the fact that you were defaming the very club that had raised not only you but your father as well, and that he had only left behind once you had been old enough to live on your own, and watched as your family moved back into the country you so desperately longed for.

Being back, now, felt like a slap to the face. Your mamma was still inconsolable, although your nonna tried her best to pick the broken pieces from the floor and hold them together just to take another weight off your shoulders. No twenty-three year old should watch as their father was buried, but life was not fair and you had no way to deal with it other than to just deal with it. Silent tears crept down your cheeks as you listened to Father Marcus tell anecdotes of your father’s life, and of his career, and you wondered whether he would’ve liked to be buried nearer to his own home. Italy had always been your mamma’s, but after witnessing the agonizing love between your parents for a time that felt far too short now, you figured that he would want to be wherever she was. The cemetery was only a five-minute walk from your parents’ casa, but it was a three hour flight from your flat.

Still, the walk felt painfully long as you followed most of your parents’ friends to your childhood home, and rain began to softly splatter from the sky as you trotted among the crowd. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t fight it, rather grateful that anyone was unable to tell whether your cheeks were wet with the rain or stained by your tears. You wondered whether this was your Dad telling you to get your act together. It certainly seemed like something he would do, and the thought put the faintest of smiles on your lips. Afraid to seem like a mad woman to the rest of the grieving crowd, you slipped past Father Marcus, away from the procession, as you fiddled your phone out of the pocket of your coat, watching as rain wet the screen.

Another smile crept up on your face at the multiple messages you had received over just the past few hours you had neglected your phone.

Most of your Chelsea teammates were sending you their wishes, along with Emma, but what interested you most was a missed call from an unknown number. An unknown English number.

Silently, you glanced towards the front of the procession, seeing they had almost reached their destination as you found your mamma at the very front, weeping in your nonna’s arms. You should be there, right now, with her, but you simply couldn’t.

Instead, you reached to call the number back. The other line picked up surprisingly fast.

“Hello, Y/N. I was hoping you would call me back. I hope it’s an okay time for you”, a woman on the other line spoke. Furrowing your eyebrows, you nodded, forgetting that whoever it was couldn’t see your movements.

“Oh, sí. Yes, it’s a perfect time, actually?”

“Really? Because I was informed by your club that you were… back in Italy. For…”, the woman trailed away, and you exhaled shakily.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just saw your call, so…”, you tapped your foot against the wet pavement rhythmically, eager to know who you were speaking to.

“Well, it’s Sarina Wiegman here, I’m sorry. I should’ve started with that. Anyways, I was wondering whether you would be interested to join the Lionesses for the Arnold Clark Cup, this year. I know of your circumstances right now, so I don’t need an answer right away.”

You let out a shaky exhale at her words. You had always thought about playing for England, as you had joined both their youth teams as well as Italy’s, while you had still played in the country. They had offered you a place in their senior team far earlier than England had, and although you couldn’t have been sure whether England would ever offer, you had always held out for something. For what, you didn’t know. Although now, it suddenly seemed to make sense.

Your father had played for England, had even captained his country for a short while, and although you had always dreamed of playing for Italy when you were younger, infatuated with their men’s team’s success, much to your father’s dismay, you had not agreed yet. The reason only came to you now. And suddenly, it was so painfully clear.

“Yes, yes. I would really like that”, you smiled to yourself, glancing up at the cloudy sky to clear your teary vision. It didn’t help in the slightest.

“Great! The call-up will be published tomorrow, we’ll send you all the details in an email. I look forward to seeing you in camp!”, your manager cheered, and although it tasted bitter-sweetly in your mouth, you voiced your excitement as well before hanging up the call.

You would play for your father’s country, if all went to plan. You would finally step into his footsteps. You would continue his legacy, whether you really wanted to or not.

#woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #leah williamson oneshot #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal #chelsea women #chelsea fc #chelsea wfc

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thewulf · 4 months

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Always & Forever Pt. 2 || JJ Maybank

Summary: Request - i absolutely loved the one with jj and routledge!reader after jb and Sarah are presumed dead (its absolutely brilliant) and was wondering if you could do a continuation of it where reader has conflicted feelings after they return and jj comforts her and tells her that it's okay

A/N - Ugh, I just love a good JJ comfort. Thank you for the request!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k+

“It’s nice to see you out of that Chateau.” Kiara rubbed your shoulders before sitting down on the bench outside next to you. The three of you had met up outside the high school after running out of class. All of you receiving the text from your apparently not so dead brother John B. Kiara texted you where to meet them. The text was simple. They’re alive and okay. In the Bahamas. Living and breathing. With a picture to prove it.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at the simple text and picture. They were alive. The son of a bitch did it. You nodded looking up to your almost sister. The one you ran to when you needed advice. She wrapped you up in a swift hug seeing you on the verge of yet another breakdown. Giving you a tight squeeze, you were ever thankful for the friendship you had with her. Thankful your brother brought such incredible people into your life. You had a different set of friends, ones a few years younger. Your age. John B made you when you were younger so that you could be your own person too. In the end you preferred his friends, but you still liked your school friends. They were the ones that knew you better than yourself somehow. The ones helping you limp along through the pain.

“He’s okay. They’re alright.” She gave you another soft squeeze before letting you go. She sat down at the table next to you across from Pope.

You nodded not being sure about it all, “I just… I can’t believe it.” You felt a tear drop down your cheek as you read the message over and over again, “I thought they were dead.”

“Hey, look at me mins.” JJ stepped forward. Using the pad of his fingertips he brushed away the tears you had tried so hard to hold back but failed at miserably in doing so.

He truly couldn’t fathom how you felt. He spent the better part of four days nursing you back to health and walking you through it. You hadn’t fully accepted his death, but you were beginning to. And now this? You were thrilled but felt so…guilty? Guilty for not believing. For letting yourself wither away for no reason.

“They’re alright Y/N. They’re alright.” He gave your arms a light touch before sitting down next to you. Pope and Kiara lost in a conversation of their own.

“Thank God for that.” You mumbled before leaning into him, “How the hell are we going to get them home? The Bahamas?” Sighing you tried your best to come up with a solution but falling miserably short.

“That’s not your job to figure out. They’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry. We just got to keep you out of trouble until then.” His smile brought one out in you too. He was so confident it would be alright that it made it hard not to believe him. JJ may have been messy, but he never let you down, never lied to you. So, why would he start now?

“I’ll choose to believe you Maybank.” You leaned into him feeling the weight of the world come crashing down once more. What a strangely emotional day. You should be happier than anything. And you were. But it felt off. Felt strange. Like somebody dead was coming back to life. He was never dead though. But you grieved him. He felt dead. And you couldn’t have felt more uneasy about it all.

He grinned, wrapping his free arm around you, and pulling you close, “When have I ever let you down mins?”

You shook your head quickly, “You haven’t.”

He leaned over, whispering in your ear, “I promise, that’ll never change.”

JJ was screaming at the three of you, “Go, go, go, go, go, go!”

How in the hell did you always end up in these situations? The damn truck broke down and you were running for your life, literally.

When Kie screamed, “Guys, I think he has a gun!” You kicked it up a notch. Oh, how your body wasn’t quite ready for this, not in the slightest. JJ ran behind you, clearly not running as fast as he normally would. He had to make sure you were alright.

“Keep your heads down!” JJ shouted as he tailed you. JJ was ready to pull you in a different direction need be. He knew Kie and Pope could fend for themselves. He wasn’t so sure you were doing alright though. You were running considerably slower than you normally would.

“Fucking hell.” You cursed more to yourself than anybody else. You knew you were holding them back.

“You alright there Routledge?” JJ called out from behind you hearing you mumbling something from in front of him.

When you put your thumbs up out to side of you he knew you were fine. Winded for sure but fine. You’d never back down from a challenge. Never get caught. No that wasn’t a possibility for you.

“Down the alleyway!” Pope shouted before darting down a side. JJ caught you before throwing you forward with his momentum when you were caught off guard in a daze.

“Thought you said you were alright?” He asked, barely out of breath as you stumbled forward. If it weren’t for JJ you’d surely have been caught by now after stumbling over your very own feet.

You nodded, “Sorry, just getting a little tired.” It wasn’t a lie, no. It just wasn’t the full truth. You felt better, you looked better. But you weren’t completely better. You still got tired quicker than normal. Your body still recovering from the trauma it went through.

Before he could respond though you ran right into the back of Pope who stopped so suddenly not even JJ could react.

“What the hell Pope!” You pushed him after you bounced right off his back.

“Y/N.” The voice of your older brother snapped you out of your fit of irritation at your friend. It couldn’t be. No, it couldn’t be John B? You peered around your much taller and broader friend to spot not only John B but Sarah as well sitting on a bike and cart.

“Holy shit.” You gasped it utter shock. This was the last thing you expected.

“Come on! We gotta go!” Sarah pulled you onto the cart right onto her lap. She held you close.

You couldn’t believe it. John B and Sarah. Just fine. In fucking Charleston of all places? Who would’ve thought?

“You’re alive.” You stated more than asked as you looked up to Sarah. You’d grown close to her in the few short months she’s been around.

“Yeah. We’re alive.” She smiled down at you ignoring the antics of the pogues around you.

“And you’re okay? He’s okay?” John B was laughing at the commotion, high on life as he reconnected with the group.

“As okay as we can be kiddo.” She gave you a quick hug but left her arm wrapped around you as she cheered once the group pushed the man who had been chasing them on the ground. Off to the boat they went. Off home they went. It all felt so surreal. Like the last week of your life didn’t exist. Oh, how the universe was playing with your emotions.

Once you were on the boat you sat there smiling, listening in on the conversation between everybody. A sick feeling took over your stomach as you looked over smiling at John B for the first time in a week. He was alive. He was okay. He wasn’t dead. He didn’t get lost at sea. He was sitting five feet away from you. Your older brother was okay.

“Y/N?” He asked. Almost like he knew you were stuck in your head.

“Yeah?” You asked. He knocked you right out of your thoughts. It was a voice you really never thought you’d get to hear again. It was the weirdest feeling. You felt euphoric that you’d found them again. Guilty for thinking they were dead. Scared as hell to go home. Uneasy about the future. It was almost too much to try and comprehend. Afterall, they accused John B of killing the Sherriff, you still had to deal with that mess.

“You didn’t answer the question.” He smiled patting your knee and sitting down next to you.

A light blush crept to your face. You were doing that a lot more often than you usually did. Zoning out of the conversation completely, “Sorry, I didn’t hear it.”

“You ready to get home?” Your older brother with the curly hair and honey brown eyes asked you.

A quick nod came from you without hesitation, “Yeah, more than ready.” You might’ve been unsure of your future but you sure as hell wanted to sleep in your bed. Especially if your older brother was sleeping in the room next to yours.

“Hey kid.” John B nudged your side, “You alright? You look like hell.” He smiled with a sadness you rarely saw from him. He was always tough on you. Only going soft when he needed. But when he saw your state he couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty. When he put himself in your shoes his heart broke at the realization of how alone you must’ve felt. You’d broken down without him.

“I’m okay now.” You turned to him giving him a shallow smile, “I thought you died JB. I kind of fell apart.” You whispered and turned away from him knowing that you’d fall apart if you looked at your older brother for much longer.

“I’m so sorry bug. I felt like I didn��t have an option at the time. And we got lucky. We really did. We probably should’ve died out there. I can’t even begin to apologize. You know how much you mean to me.” He spoke to you and only you. Everybody had given the brother and sister duo the space they needed.

You looked over to him with tears in your eyes, “I know. I’m so sorry JB. I can’t believe it’s come to this.” You felt defeated. How in the hell were you guys going to unfuck this mess up? Somebody was dead. It wasn’t your guys’ fault no. But it was being pinned on your brother. He couldn’t get locked up. Not for something he’d never dream of doing.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do buggie.” He smiled trying to provide you some sort of comfort. He too had a plethora of nicknames for his younger sister. You in face hated bugs and eight-year-old John Booker Routledge thought it’d be funny to give his six-year-old sister the nickname bug. And of course, it stuck. Because why wouldn’t it? You’d secretly grown fond of the nickname over time

“I always have a solution and I don’t know the answer to this one.” You let a few tears fall. There was simply no solution. You had to let it all play out. Hide John B for as long as you could. It was going to be a task, but you guys could do it.

He rubbed your back trying his best to soothe you. You were wound up tighter than he’d ever seen. You’d clearly been through hell and back, “This isn’t all on you Y/N. We’ll figure it out as the pogues, yeah? Relax for me for a little while.”

“I’ll try.” You spoke leaning back into the seat of the boat. Giving your eyes a close trying your best to enjoy the ride back.

He hesitated. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t quite sure what to do, “I’ll leave you to it.” He spoke before getting up and finding Sarah who happened to be talking to JJ. JJ who was watching you with nothing but concern in his eyes. John B wasn’t dumb. He knew better. He saw the way his best friend was watching you. Something was very wrong, and John B didn’t have a clue what had happened.

“You should go talk to her.” John B spoke to JJ once he made his way back to Sarah, “She’s being quiet. Not like her usual self.” He frowned seeing his younger sister so out of whack. He needed you as much as you needed him. Your happy go lucky attitude got him through so much more than he’d ever admitted to you.

“Yeah sure.” JJ was quick to agree.

Sitting down next to you he gave you a moment before speaking up, “You alright there, honey?” He asked knowing that’d get a ruse out of you.

You leaned your head forward again before turning back to him, “Back to honey?”

He smirked, “Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

You retuned the smile. It felt like the first genuine smile in weeks, “Aren’t you so considerate J.”

Giving you a wink, he took one of your hands in his, not really caring that your older brother was watching with an eagle eye from across the small boat, “Only for you.”

Flashing him a soft smile you didn’t hide the sigh that escaped your lips. Feeling comfortable with your lifelong friend you leaned your head onto his shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut hearing the soft lull of the engine cutting through the water below you. It was peacefully quiet as everybody found a spot and found their solace. It was always one of your favorite parts of a road trip with the crew. There was always a comfortable silence shared amongst the group. Absolute peace with the best people you knew.

JJ leaned his head on yours. He let you relish in the silence for a moment before asking you a question he really needed to know the answer to, “Are you okay mins?”

You nodded your head subtly in his shoulder, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You’re awfully quiet.” He whispered back to you. His arm made its way around your torso and sat on your side securing you tightly into his side.

“And you’re being awfully chatty.” You grinned into his chest knowing he’d find mock offense to your comeback.

You were right. He pinched your side, lightly and let out a “Hey!”

Lifting your head from his soft embrace you looked him in the eyes for the first time in a while. He was so pretty. The most handsome boy you knew. And you always made sure to tell him that whenever you could.

You spotted the concern dotting his eyes as he studied your face. He knew something wasn’t right. John B knew something wasn’t right. You knew something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t place it. You were so fucking happy he was home. God, it was the absolute best scenario that could’ve played out. Why’d you feel so off? So weird? Like you were in a dream or something.

“I’m okay J. I just… I just feel weird.” You admitted to the boy who wanted nothing but answers from you. When he broke out that sad stare you couldn’t help but to spill your feelings to your concerned best friend.

His head cocked to the side as he processed what you said, “What do you mean?” He pressed, needing to know. He looked you over for any signs of injury. You weren’t shot were you? He didn’t remember the guy firing a shot but who knows, a lot was going on.

You noticed his eyes looking for anything wrong, “I’m fine JJ.” You frowned not sure how to get spit out what you meant.

“Okay.” He waited for you to go on.

You turned away before continuing, “I should be so happy they’re back. They’re alive. I just feel off. I don’t know J.”

“You’re in shock.” He said so quickly you weren’t sure if you heard him right.

You shook your head off like he was crazy, “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” He rolled his eyes knowing you’d never take his word for it. You were as stubborn as your older brother.

“JJ I’m not in shock. I get what happened. I understand it…”

He interrupted you quickly, grabbing at your hand to shut you up, “You can understand it all. Still doesn’t mean you aren’t in shock mins. Two life altering events happened in your life within a week. It’s alright if you feel weird. If you feel off. It’s perfectly fine, alright?”

JJ wasn’t often one for such kind of comfort, but he knew how to when he needed to. You needed it right now. A little bit lost in a great big world.

You hummed, “If you say so.”

He smiled before gently placing your head back down on your head, “Remember what I said earlier? When have I ever let you down?”

He was right of course. JJ was always right. He had never let you down, “I love you JJ Maybank, you know that right?” You whispered once more, careful to make sure that nobody else heard. You had said it a thousand times to the blonde-haired boy before, but it meant something different this time. You loved him, you really did. And he knew it. He knew you were admitting far more than you ever dared too before.

A smile couldn’t be stopped from forming on his face as he realized the weight of your words, “I love you too. Love, love you mins.” He whispered into your ear careful to keep the moment between you and him only. JB and the crew would figure it out soon enough. He wanted to relish in the intimate moment between the girl he’d adored from afar for so long. His best friend. The girl he couldn’t stand to be around at first to the girl he couldn’t wait to see. His girl. You. Y/N. Little Routledge.

“Love, love huh?” You laughed in his chest feeling nothing but the purest form of joy rippling throughout your body.

“I love the hell out of you Y/N. John B’s going to murder me when he finds out but damn hearing you say that was everything. You’re it mins. You’re my girl. I can promise you that.” He wanted to kiss you more than anything. Especially when you looked up at him while he was cradling you in his chest shielded from your older brothers eyes. God, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

But for your sake. And his sake he decided to wait until it was just the two of you. He could wait. Instead, he brushed the hair away from your face and settled for squeezing you into him once more, “Guess what J?” You asked once he was done settling you in for the ride back.

“What’s that?”

“I love, love you too.” You grinned that beautiful smile he’d missed so badly in the last few weeks that’d ripped the life right from you. And that, that was worth everything and more to him. He couldn’t wait to spend a lifetime of drawing that beautiful smile from his ever more beautiful girl.

Always & Forever || JJ Maybank

Summary: Request - Hii. Love your work. It's so good. I'm feeling a good hurt comfort fic with the obx cast. Could I get a JJ Maybank x reader (maybe john b's younger sister?) where she's lost everything after they assume John B and Sarah are lost at sea... Read Rest Here

A/N - Ohhh this was kinda hard to write. Being sad is a bitch. Please let somebody know if you're sad/getting sad. People love you! Always remember that <3

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Y/N

Word Count: 2.3+

GIF by anakin-skywalker

TW: Talks of depression, being sad, not eating etc.

You barely heard the soft knocks on your bedroom door. Currently, you were huddled underneath the comforter of your missing older brother just hoping and praying he was okay. They’d officially called it. Lost at sea. Presumed deceased. Dead. Just like your fucking father. How was this your life? Two years ago, you had the world with the two coolest guys on the earth. And now? Now you were alone. Utterly fucking alone. It’d only been three damn days, but they gave up. There was no funding for a poor pogue boy from the wrong part of the island. Sherriff Peterman just gave you a sad look when she broke the news to you a few days prior. Or it could’ve been yesterday. Time didn’t matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore. You were a sixteen-year-old girl alone as fuck in this cold ass world.

“Hey little Rout.” You heard JJ’s kinder than usual voice from the other side of the door, “You need to open this door or I’m going to have to pick the lock. Need to see if you’re okay. You haven’t been at school and Mrs. Smith is getting worries, she said she’s going to report you.” You heard the soft sigh of utter defeat as he waited for a moment for you to respond. To do anything. You didn’t have the energy to respond so instead you just laid there.

“Come on kid.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname he’d long since used on you, “You need to come out. Get some fresh air. You can’t stay in there forever.”

Nothing. You just couldn’t. Depression was a hell of a thing. You just couldn’t fathom getting up and unlocking that door. Your brain knew you should. But the actual thought of moving seemed like a foreign concept you weren’t ready for sure yet.

He didn’t give you much else of a choice as you heard the lock click. You knew it wouldn’t take him much effort to get it but alas, you just couldn’t care. It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing else mattered. John B was all you had left and now you sat here empty and void.

“Oh Y/N…” His voice trailed off as he spotted you withering away underneath a mass of blankets. A blank stare on your face. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes feeling grossly ashamed you let it get this kind of bad.

“I just…” Your voice croaked out as it hadn’t been used in while, how long you hadn’t used it you really didn’t have a clue.

He shook his head kneeling down beside your bed, “It’s alright mins.” His head was close as he smiled at you with a smile that never reached his eyes. A smile he was putting on for you. He took his hand brushing your knotted hair away from your sunken face.

Mins. You wanted to laugh. It was the first good emotion you had felt in a while. Mins was your current nickname of quite the long line of ever evolving nicknames from the blonde-haired boy. First it was mini-Routledge, then it was mini-JB, then mini and now mins. He didn’t use it all too often anymore, only when he thought you needed it. And you needed it more than ever now. All his love and everything he could give to you.

JJ knew just how much John B meant to you. He was your best friend. The two of you did everything together, practically inseparable. Even when JB met JJ they still included you in on everything. You were his shadow. That didn’t change as you got older. You just had to play it off as something different.

“I’m tired JJ.” You sighed letting your eyes close in front of him. The effort to keep them open was beginning to become too much.

He frowned deeply. This wasn’t like you. You were usually so full of life. The one who wanted to go and do things. The one who called him lame when he didn’t want to try something new with you. You were the one that kept the group going. And now it felt like everything was falling apart. The pogues were without their people and they needed you back.

This was your way of shutting down and he knew it.

“When was the last time you ate honey?” He asked while trying to brush the knots out of the hair he could get to. You were never particular about your hair, but JJ knew how badly knots hurt to get out. He remembered that one time when the both of you were younger, you crying when your dad tried to brush out some gnarly knots after JJ and JB tried to teach you how to surf one afternoon. It broke his heart even as a twelve-year-old boy. He had that same protective love that JB had over you.

You sighed trying to remember, “Before we found out he was missing I guess.”

JJ’s eyes bugged. He knew he should’ve checked in on you sooner. Damn the pogues who told him to leave you alone. That you needed space. You clearly didn’t need space. You needed help.

“That was three days ago Y/N.” His blood felt like it was running cold. How could he let you lay here for three entire days? JB would fucking murder him if he found out. Some friend he was.

You hummed in acknowledgement, “I’ve had some water though. Haven’t been hungry.” You admitted to your concerned friend. Your voice finally started sounding more like your own after the hoarseness had worked its way out.

“Well, that’s a start mins.” He sighed brushing his overgrown golden hair away from his eyes, “Can you get up for me? Get you some soup downstairs or something?”

“JJ.” You whined not feeling up to the task, “I’m too tired. I don’t feel like it.”

He took you hand in his and wanted to cry from how cold it was. You weren’t right. No, you were suffering, and they just let you. He felt nothing more than a piece of shit seeing you so broken, “I’ll carry you. I just need you to eat something honey. John B would be sick with worry if he knew you were starving away.”

“Don’t talk about him.” You turned away from JJ feeling your own blood run cold at the mention of your missing older brothers name. You couldn’t fucking believe he chose to leave you. Fuck, you couldn’t believe he’d ever put Sarah in that position either. It all felt like a fever dream you had to wake up from. But you weren’t waking up which meant this was a sick and twisted reality that you didn’t want to participate in anymore.

“Y/N…”

You shook your head on your pillow, “Please JJ. Don’t talk about him. I can’t take it. Not yet.” You felt the tears that had long since dried up come flowing back in an instant. Why in the hell did he bring out these feelings in you so effortlessly? Leave it to your older brothers cute as hell best friend that was certainly off limits. JJ would never, ever feel that way for you anyway.

“Alright honey.” Honey. That was a new one. You’d heard him use it sparingly on girls in the past, but it certainly was never used for you. But he’d used it a few times in the last few sentences sending your overly tired mind reeling in another direction. He was just being kind, that was all. After all, your older brother did just fucking vanish into thin air, “Can you please get up for me? Please mins? I need you to eat something. Whatever you what. Please?” He added one last please to let you know how dire he felt.

You rolled back over to him exerting far too much effort in doing so, “I don’t think I can.” You sounded defeated as the tears started once more, “I’m so tired J.” You whispered trying to contain the sob that wanted to escape from your throat.

“Cause you need to eat honey.” He spoke with nothing but concern on his face, “Let me take you downstairs? You need to move. Need to be somewhere new. Need to get some calories in your body.” He said so matter of factly you weren’t sure if it was JJ in front of you. But then again, for as much as a mess the boy normally was he thrived in crises situations such as these. He always seemed to know exactly what to do.

“Yeah, that’s fine JJ.” You knew he’d win eventually so it might be best to just give it up.

He let out a subtle breath of sure-fire relief as he scooped you up into his arms. You were light. Far too fucking light. God, he was such an idiot. He knew you better than any of the other pogues. Of course, you needed help.

He set you down at the messy table filled with whatever shit JB had likely left there the week prior. You grew tired of always cleaning so you just started leaving it. Your eyes scanned the table full of junk. A sad smile formed seeing his homework scattered about with an unpaid parking ticket next to it all. He’d never get to finish that homework. Never would have to lie his way out of that ticket. Why him? Why your JB?

“What do you want to eat honey?” He asking running a hand up and down your arm. Attempting any form of comfort for you. He saw the sad look in your eyes as they scanned the table. He had to get your mind off of JB in any way he could.

“Why are you calling me that?” You asked instead of answering him. It was driving you nuts, and you had to know. In your right mind you’d never

“Honey?” He asked, a bit taken aback by your sudden brazenness. The you he knew would never have asked him that. Instead, you would’ve asked JB. Something you couldn’t do anymore.

You nodded in confirmation feeling your eyes droop and your mouth open to yawn. JJ cursed internally making the decision of canned soup for you knowing you needed to eat as soon as possible. Light and easy and calories. That’s exactly what you needed.

“I don’t know mins.” He admitted while heating up your food, “It just felt, feels right. I can stop saying it if you’d like.”

“I didn’t say that.” You spoke back in almost a whisper.

“Honey it is.” He grinned while putting your warm, not overly hot, soup in a bowl. He set it down in front of you waiting for you to eat.

“I still like mins too.” You added admitting to him just how much you did like the nickname. He’d stopped using it as much now that the two of you had gotten older. You’d forgotten just how much you’d liked the nickname. Probably because it was a nickname only you could have. A special one from the boy you surely loved but vehemently denied.

“Noted, now eat mins.” He grinned pointing to the bowl.

You nodded not really sure if your hands would agree with your brain. You were so utterly fucking exhausted. Turns out you did need to eat if you wanted to be able to function. Because it felt like a task you’d never be able to start. As much as you tried your arm just wouldn’t cooperate.

“Mins?” He asked seeing you not really making a move for it.

“I can’t JJ. It’s too much.” You hated to admit how disgustingly useless you felt. Yet here you were.

He nodded in understanding, “Here, let me.” He took the spoon from the bowl and held it front of your face. For the first time in three days, you relished in the taste of food. It did taste really good. And damn, you were a lot hungrier than you realized. Before you knew it the bowl was gone, and you were entirely full.

“Thank you J.” You let your eyes close once more feeling the outright exhaustion of the situation come down over you.

“Anytime mins.” Seeing your eyes close he noted your fatigue, “Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch a movie?” He suggested hoping you’d agree.

“That sounds nice J, I may need your help again.” You let out a frustrated sigh at the state of your condition. You did start feeling a bit better but the thought of walking or even crawling made you shudder.

He shot up from his seat to get you up. He picked you up like it was nothing, “I got you hon. I always do and always will. Remember that alright?” You nodded in his chest doing your best to fight off the sleep that wanted to take you.

“Thank you J.” You whispered into his chest. He set you down right next to him, letting your head fall into his side.

He wrapped an arm around your torso letting you know you were safe and secure. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere without you anymore. Running his hand through your hair he felt a shiver knowing you liked exactly what he was doing, “Always mins. Now, let yourself sleep. We’ll deal with all this shit when you wake up. Together.”

You nodded letting the darkness take over, “Promise?”

“Always and forever.” He gave your head a soft and gentle kiss before the soft snoozes overcame you. He decided he was going to watch you sleep, for however long that was. You were his everything too. He was only just beginning to realize that now. Always and forever. It had a nice ring to it. Forever with you was a life he would dream about. Maybe one day. Maybe after he sorted you through this mess. Maybe just maybe.

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celenawrites · 3 months

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₊˚ෆ soulmate au, wherein you get to see the world through your soulmate's eyes and experience what they're feeling at that moment

awful editing(no beta), a lot of pov shifts, loads of grammar mistakes, description of violence, smut below the cut.

just an idea i have been marinating in my drafts this month.

MDNI.

the first time Simon Riley realizes he has a soulmate, he's 24 and well on his way to becoming a lieutenant. it's an early winter morning, filled with white fog and chilly breeze that seeps through the balaclava he wears while off duty. he's in the cold, congested room that has been assigned as his office and he's trying to catch up on the stack of paperwork that had accumulated while he was risking his lives on the front-line just to feel something.

the scene shifts with a few gradual blinks and he realizes he's not in his office anymore.

he's she's standing in the kitchen, brewing up a cup of tea while humming an old melody. he's awfully out of place here, and he almost thinks his mind is tricking him with a sudden daydream and then she pours out the tea into a green mug, and exits the kitchen - finally sitting down in what he assumes to be a living room.

she turns on the tv to watch some melodrama he doesn't know, as she carefully blows onto the mug to cool down the steaming liquid before carefully taking a sip. he feels the green tea trickle down his throat, warming him from inside. he can feel the cushion behind her back and the glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose. he can feel the tag on her shirt scratch the nape of his nick uncomfortably so.

the scene is serene and unfamiliar and he feels out of place - it is homely and clean and pure, not tainted with blood, violence and avarice. it is uncomfortable for him to watch her be good and domestic and kind, almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it after the life he’s led. and yet, with time, seeing the world through her eyes is warmly welcomed after a dud of a day doing what he's best known for - being a ghost.

and he almost feels sorry for her, whoever she is. he’s sorry for the man he is, for the soldier he is. he’s sorry that she gets a one-way front ticket to seeing him kill people without remorse.

most of all, he’s sorry she had to end up with him.

for you, seeing the world through your soulmate's eyes has been nothing short of a grim nightmare. every time you'd shift, you'd almost pray to God and cross your fingers to avoid seeing any of the gruesome scenes that he encountered almost on the daily. you cannot see his face, but you can feel how heavy the protective gear is against his body, how taut his shoulders are and you can feel the synthetic fabric of the gun strap dig into his shoulders and chest. you feel his hands touch the steel barrel of the weapon and your blood runs cold. it’s not long before he’s aiming the said gun at a man before shooting him dead without hesitating. the first time you witnessed him doing something this abhorrent, you ended up having a panic attack - still able to feel the weight of the gun in your hands, convinced that you’re the culprit who shot someone in cold blood.

it’s not long before the scenes you witness through your soulmate’s eyes follow you even in your sleep. you’re taking melatonin, chamomile tea, antidepressants - anything to help you cope with the fact that having a soulmate like him means being haunted by gruesome visions for the rest of your life. it’s not long before your co-workers comment on your baggy eyes and frail health - even uniting together to urge you that taking a break would probably do you some good, but you turn them all down with a gentle shake of your head.

and then, you meet Soap through him. scottish, demolition expert, part of the military. wild mohawk, likes to draw, always the victim of your soulmate’s dry jokes. Gaz - british, a sergeant, youngest of the lot, always willing to help, but has enough snark to keep up with Soap about the most ridiculous of things. and Price - captain of his team, with impressive mutton chops and loud sneezes.

you see them relax around each other, see them drink tea, see Soap and Gaz banter and compete with each other at the training grounds - and this change of pace is far more welcomed than seeing people die on the battlefield.

and then there’s him, a pariah. everyone he comes across calls him ‘Ghost’, which just sounds ridiculous. no one knows anything about him, but there are moments when you are where he is and you see Price’s eyes twinkle with something - but your lack of physical presence always hinders your curiosity about the subject. no one has really seen his face, and you fear that you’d never get to know the man who’s destined to compliment you in all aspects of life.

there are moments though, when sharing vision and emotions with you, gets awfully overwhelming for him. it takes a lot to get a man of his stature to waver in his step, but you do that job perfectly. he sees you one day, in your bed with soft satin sheets failing to cover your body. he sees your hands trail down your body and his breath hitched when he feels you play with your cotton panties - before sliding them to the side and rubbing soft circles on your clit. he swears under his breath, trying to hold onto his sanity as it slowly slips away from him when you use your other hand to tease your nipples with skittish touches. it’s not long before Simon has locked himself up in the bathroom stall, using his hands to relieve the tension he has all because of you - matching his rhythm so that he comes at the same time as you.

he wonders if your hands would feel softer. if you’d kiss him before begging him with those doe eyes to make you feel good. if you’d tell him that you love him. if you’d love him enough so that he can be anew - without his past dragging him through the mud.

if you’d lose yourself to him and let him piece you back together with the adoration he carries for you. you’re practically a stranger, and yet you’re the only person who can get to him.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty smut #soulmate au #char.simon ghost riley #celena.writes

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 11 months

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you're on your own kid.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

Author's Note: I don't really know what this is. Sorry, I've been MIA for so long. Not my best work. Sorry.