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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults.

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard.

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like.

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow.

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you.

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady."

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes.

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance.

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times.

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock.

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in."

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them.

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?"

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury.

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all.

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him.

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout.

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips.

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing.

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes.

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep.

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job.

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then.

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?"

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two.

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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alwaysshallow · 7 months

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hey babes, for the drabbles in the inbox post all I can think of is price with a breeding kink so upset he's "too old to give you a baby" only for him to end up with a wife pregnant with their 2nd baby

Fifth time, sixteenth test, and he's fuming. He doesn't even look at you, and you feel bad, when he's pacing back and forth around the house, deeply in his thoughts. Normally, you'd try to hug him, like the last times, but somehow, you can't do it now. There's something wrong with his mind, and you just can sense that, even if he's not telling you anything; being with him prepared you enough for moments like these. He's a captain, the head of the team, usually stressing about things himself.

"John, could you finally talk to me?" you ask after another ten minutes, when enough is enough; he suddenly turns around in your direction, like he finally acknowledges that you're here. Apologetic look on his face makes your heart break even more.

"'m sorry, missus." He's quick to sit next to you on the couch, kissing your hand a few times, with hope you're gonna forgive him for ignoring you.

It's what he usually does, and it always breaks your facade, but now you're not mad. Rather, confused, but you don't talk about it with him, when he smiles into your lips and drapes a blanket over you. You two just cuddle on the couch, watching some ridiculously old documentary about war, when he decides to pop the question.

"Why aren't you with someone younger?"

To say you are shocked, would be an understatement; completely bamboozled, you look at Price, your eyebrow cocked. "The fuck are you on?"

He sighs, as he looks down at you; it feels like he doesn't want to fight, but he genuinely asks, which makes you feel weird even more. "Simple question."

You prop yourself up a little, to take a better look at your husband. "Because I love you, and that's settled?"

"Someone younger would give you a baby," he mutters under his breath, as his eyes are on the TV again. John's implication shoots right through you, like a bullet, sharp and hurtful, but not that much for you, as for him. You're quick to sit on his lap fully, to bring his attention to you.

"It's definitely not your fault, John. It might be as well something with me, you know?" you frown, your fingers tracing his bearded jawline, as he still doesn't look at you.

"I waited too long, and now there's the consequences of it." His tone is hard, like he didn't hear your explanation before, and he continues to blame himself for it. Your heart sinks. "'m failin' you, love. If I'd meet you earlier, it would be different. Or if you'd be with someone else, maybe he would give you kids."

"None of that," you say, grabbing his face, to make him look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to put a finger on his lips to shush him; he already told you enough to make you want to do a monologue on him. "We're gonna have kids, even if it will take years, do you hear me, John Price?"

"Affirmative," he replies, kissing you a few times. On lips, cheeks and nose – you learned that doing it this way soothes him. Makes him less nervous than he already is. "I wouldn't blame you, if you'd want to—"

You don't even try to talk to him this time; you just kiss him, interrupting his intrusive thoughts with hope that he'll focus on something else. It's not a surprise when he takes the bait, and he's quick to pick you up in his arms, while you just giggle, knowing that he takes you to bedroom.

Three years later, he's off at deployment, when you learn that you're pregnant again, with your second child. 9 weeks, your gynecologist says, when you look at the scan, thinking how happy you are right now. Tears pricks in the corners of your eyes when you're in your car, taking deep breaths before you'll call your husband.

A lot of thoughts are going inside your head; should you tell him now? He's on the mission, probably doing important things, maybe he doesn't want to be interrupted? Yet, it is an important thing, something that he waited to hear for the longest time, having doubts if he's ever gonna be a father— and now, he's about to be a father for the second time.

"Love, are you okay?"

You blink twice, when you hear him through you phone; you don't even know when you called. "Yeah, baby. I'm okay, why?"

"Been askin' you how's your day, and you tell me nothin'. Got me worried for a second," he laughs, and for some reason, his laugh completely calms you. Before, you were a little scared to even call him, interrupt whatever he was doing.

Now? Now, you're more than excited to tell him the news, since you have time, and your firstborn is with his grandma.

"I'm okay. I promise," you reply warmly, smiling to yourself, as you take a peek at your stomach. You don't have a bump yet, but you smile nonetheless at the thought that, if everything will go well, in following months you're gonna have a bump. "Are you busy?"

"Just got back to base. Will be there for a while," he hums. "What is it, missus?"

"You should sit."

"…everything's alright, yes?"

"Yes, but you should sit. And, turn the camera on, please?"

He doesn't even question your request; in a minute, you see his face – happy and confused in the same time, while you grin the widest you possibly can. You felt joy this big back when you were just a kid, getting your Christmas gift.

And, now you're the one who delievers the gift.

"You're in the car? Thought you're gonna be home," he speaks up, and you have to hold back a laugh.

"I had to see a doctor, and—"

"—you had to see a doctor? You told me you're okay, love. Is it our little man? Baby, I'm—"

"—I'm pregnant, John." Words fall from your mouth.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," you laugh, as you show him the ultrasound on camera, the closest you can. "Nine weeks. I'm back from my gyn, that's the doctor I needed to see."

"You're not pulling my leg, are you, love?" he asks, and when you shake your head with excitement, he laughs. He laughs so happily, and he even stands up for a few moments before sitting again. "A week, and 'm gonna be back. Is it okay?"

"A week?" you raise your eyebrow. "You're supposed to be another two weeks on the mission, and—"

"—I'd like to spend it with my wife, and my two babies, alright? A week won't harm anyone," he whispers lovingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We have to talk about so many things."

And the fact you had to try so many times for the first baby, is just a faded memory.

#john price #john price fluff #john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod x reader #exilesanswers #captain john price x reader #x reader #captain john price #cod mw2 #john price imagine #cod imagines

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unpr0mpted · 1 year

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blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! a collection of icky, bloody prompts for those who like to choose violence. actions are reversible. general warning for blood, violence, murder, death.

𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

" that's a lot of blood. "

" it isn't mine. "

" what did you do ? "

[ sigh ] " what did you do ? "

" come on. have a taste. "

" holy shit, are you okay ? "

" it looks worse than it feels. "

" you should see the other guy. "

" it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

" lean on me. "

" oh my god. oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck ? is that what i fucking think it is ? "

" . . . gross. "

[ standing over a body ] " oops. "

" is that a fucking body ? "

" look, i'm sorry, okay ? "

" what the hell happened ? "

" before you say anything, it wasn't me. "

" at least it wasn't me this time. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you pretend it isn't. "

" look at me. this is who i am, no matter how much you wish it wasn't. "

" i'm not scared of you. "

" you don't scare me. "

" shut up and let me help you. "

" i got your shirt all bloody. "

" let's get you cleaned up. "

" that looks like it hurts. "

" i'm fine, just. . . give me a minute. "

" we are so fucked. "

" what the fuck is wrong with you ? "

" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "

" the fucker deserved it. "

" red looks good on you. "

" what the hell did you do ; tap - dance all over the body with ice - skates ? "

" what, did you run over the body with your car a couple times after ? "

" i. . . i didn't mean to. . . "

" sorry. fuck, i'm sorry. "

" this isn't what it looks like. "

" it was an accident. "

" motherfucker ran right into my knife, i swear. "

" people need to look both ways before crossing. . . bullets. "

" would you believe me if i said wrong place, wrong time ? "

" hey, look at me. i don't care. are you okay ? "

" they deserved it, right ? please tell me they deserved it. "

" you're bleeding. "

" what the fuck happened to you ? "

" you're getting blood on the carpet. "

" sit down before you fall down. "

" that looks like a you problem. "

𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 :

sender spits out a mouthful of blood at receiver's feet

sender spits out a mouthful of blood on receiver

receiver finds sender covered in blood

sender tries desperately to stop receiver's bleeding

sender helps receiver clean up after a kill

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with a washcloth

sender wipes blood from receiver's face with their thumb

sender licks receiver's blood off a knife

sender licks receiver's blood off their thumb

sender lights up a cigarette a foot away from someone they killed before offering one to receiver

receiver finds sender stood over a body

sender stitches up receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender digs their finger into receiver's wound [ optional wound placement ]

sender frantically checks receiver for injuries under all the blood

sender guides receiver's bloody hands under a faucet / water source and begins washing them clean

sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood

sender tilts receiver's head back to staunch a nosebleed

sender draws a smiley face out of the blood they spilled :)

receiver finds sender cleaning up a kill in a daze

sender looks receiver in the eye as they shoot / stab / kill someone

sender ruffles receiver's hair, getting blood all over their hand

sender gets some of receiver's blood on them and makes a face

sender flicks blood at receiver to annoy them

sender stomps in a pool of blood to splash it on receiver

sender slips in their victim's blood but receiver steadies them before they can fall

sender steadies receiver when they slip in the blood sender spilled

receiver comes home to sender covered in blood and waiting for them with all the lights off

sender spits out a tooth and it hits receiver

sender tries to wipe blood off receiver but the blood on their hands just makes it worse

sender takes an injury meant for receiver

sender shows up on receiver's doorstep covered in blood

sender sits down quietly next to receiver after receiver kills someone

sender punches receiver in the mouth

receiver watches sender lick the blood off their fingers like its cheeto dust

sender helps receiver bury a body

sender hugs receiver just to get their victim's blood all over them <3

sender hugs receiver just to get their blood all over them <3

sender leans on receiver for support

sender kills someone to protect receiver

receiver finds sender in a frenzy maiming a body after they've already killed it

sender kills someone and the blood spatters on receiver

receiver finds sender desperately trying to wash the blood off of themself

sender kisses receiver to taste the blood on their busted lip

sender shoots / stabs receiver non - fatally as a warning

#roleplay starters #rp starters #rp meme #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #hurt/comfort prompts #violent prompts #blood //#horror prompts #violence //#cannibalism //#kind of? just in case

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vhsgoghs · 2 months

Text

lost you (Simon Riley one shot)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x female reader

Summary: Simon was injured during a mission and confesses to his girlfriend what he has been thinking. word count: 990 note: English isn't my first language but i have done my best, sorry for any mistakes.

★ masterlist here ★ spanish ver on wattpad (vhsgoghs)

She knew it would happen one day, but there was a part of her that thought it was really just her paranoia.

When someone interrupted her at the shooting range, it didn't seem unusual to her. She knew something was wrong when the other girl's face reflected total concern, but mostly nerves, she lowered her weapon when she felt tension in her muscles and looked at the girl in confusion.

The words that came out of her mouth managed to break her completely: Simon had been hurt.

She felt her ears close to any other words and barely heard clearly the last thing the girl had said to her.

She ran through the hallways without caring that her vision was blurry, she swore she had bumped into someone, but she didn't pay attention. Her mind had been blocked, no words coming out of her mouth when she reached the infirmary, but since it was a small base, everyone knew each other and the nurse knew perfectly well the reason for her presence.

"He's fine." The nurse spoke in a soft voice in an attempt to calm her down, but (Y/N)'s hands were still shaking.

"Where?"

"Come on, I'll take you to him."

She nodded and let the nurse guide her to one of the rooms in the infirmary. She tried mentally prepare herself to see Simon hurt, regardless of whether it was a small wound or something more, however, that attempt was useless.

When the nurse opened the door for her, she felt her world collapse for the second time.

Simon was there, on the stretcher with his shoulder and part of his chest bandaged. He seemed sleepy or maybe he was already asleep, but her mind was not concentrating enough at that time, the nurse didn't say anything, she knew that she was a nuisance there, so she withdrew slowly to leave them alone.

When (Y/N) approached him, she knew he wasn't asleep because of the slight way he moved, she sighed with a mixture of relief, but still felt the heaviness in her chest.

"Someone told me that you put yourself in the middle of a bullet" she murmured as Simon half-opened his eyes. He wanted to smile, but he still didn't feel strength in his body. "You're an Idiot." And although he didn't have enough strength, he let out a giggle that made her heart feel warm.

For a second, she thought she would never hear those little laughs he used to let out every time they talked.

"I'm sorry." he murmured. He closed his eyes again; he felt that he had put in too much effort in the last few minutes and the medications really weren't that strong.

(Y/N) sighed and took a seat next to him. Her hands slid gently down his torso until they reached one of his hands, she squeezed it tightly in hers and tried her best not to cry.

He was fine, he was there. The man she loved the most and had been her boyfriend for years was fine. She always knew that he could get hurt at any moment, it could happen to her too and it was something they both had to deal with every day.

"You look terrible," she joked, causing a muffled laugh to leave Simon's lips once again.

"It's what you want to hear from your girlfriend after getting shot."

She smiled slightly and knew she had done a good job of trying to cheer him up a little, even in her worst moments, it was something they always did.

She sighed and brought his hand to her lips, brushing his warm skin. Simon was warm even in that state, (Y/N) hated silence, yet her mind was blank, what could they talk about? She didn't want to make him feel bad by talking about how much she worried about his condition, she knew that would make him feel worse.

Then, something came to her mind… Happy memories. Simon had always told her that if something like this happened, he wanted to hear her talk about happy memories, she ran her fingers gently through his hair and sighed.

"Do you remember our first date?" she murmured and it only took a few seconds for Simon to nod. "When I said yes, you turned to leave and fell on the floor."

They both laughed. Simon's laugh had been so slow and muffled that she couldn't feel bad, she hated seeing him that way, the thought that her boyfriend could end up hurt had always been there, she never thought it could come true.

"I was happy." He smiled. (Y/N) nodded, it had been an exceptional moment and every time she had the chance, she mentions it.

She remained silent, she couldn't stop thinking about the pain he must be feeling at that moment, she wanted to continue talking about their dates, about what they had experienced, but she felt a knot in her throat. Her boyfriend's body had relaxed and she assumed the medications had finally taken effect.

"I'm so sorry."

Simon opened his eyes again, he was dazed, but her presence made him feel comforted, her hands around his were enough to know he would be okay.

Why did she keep apologizing if she hadn't done anything?

"Hey, come here." He shifted gently, trying to ignore the pain of his wound, making enough room for both of them.

She shook her head and let go of his hand. She knew him too well to know that he was just trying not to think about the pain, she didn't want to hurt him even more.

"I'm going to hurt you and…" Simon cut her off.

"I'll be fine, this arm it's okay."

(Y/N) thought about it for several seconds. She knew that at any moment the nurse would return and she would have to go back to the barracks because, no matter how much she was willing to beg, they wouldn't allow her to be there and they wouldn't allow Simon to return to his room either.

After letting out a sigh, she gently slid to his side, her movements were slow, so much so that Simon couldn't help but giggle due to the delicacy of her movements with the intention of not hurting him.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed, he wrapped his arm around her, trying to hug her against his bare torso as much as possible.

"I'm okay." He tried to reassure her, but he knew that no matter how many times he repeated those words, she would still be worried.

"Have I ever told you how important you are to me?"

Simon nodded and smiled. (Y/N) was someone who always made an effort to talk about her emotions, and it wasn't at all unusual for her to mention to her boyfriend what a big role he played in her life.

"I know." He murmured and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. "You are to me too."

They were both silent, but even with the medications, Simon's mind couldn't stop working. There was something that had been going through his head for the last few weeks, he had everything planned, but he still had that insecurity inside him.

The insecurity of her saying no.

"Have you ever thought about… marriage?" he asked quietly. If she said no, he could blame the medications later.

That shot had been enough to make him think about that kind of thing, it was stupid, teenage Simon would never have thought about marriage in his life.

"Maybe" she murmured nervously. Her hands had trembled slightly and her body tensed, something that did not go unnoticed by Simon. "And you?"

"Maybe…" He answered in the same way. Simon always did that after asked a question: he would answer exactly the same thing as her.

She giggled and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She was nervous, she didn't know how to answer that question because yes, she had once thought about marriage and felt it was a stupid thing to think about when there were so many more problems she needed to focus on first.

But she had talked about it with those close to her more than once and when everyone mentioned that marriage was eventually a step she should take, she had started to think about it.

On the other hand, there was Simon's mentality. Too many things had happened in his life, most of them not very positive, he had felt lost for more than half his life and for the first time he felt like he had something good, something he didn't want to let go of and was willing to go through all the stages of it.

Of course, the beautiful ones.

However, it seemed disrespectful to ask those kinds of questions if he didn't even know her point of view, he wasn't going to come with a ring and put pressure on her just to forced her to say yes.

"Honestly, yes," she murmured after a while. She almost felt her stomach in her throat, she had always been honest with her feelings, but this was something different, this was a really serious conversation. "It's stupid, but yeah… Marriage sounds good with you."

Simon closed his eyes for a few seconds, he did his best not to smile. He had wanted to hear those words for several months.

"Do you know what I'll do when I get out of here?"

"Go to training?" she joking, causing him to smile.

"No, I will find a way to make you my wife." He whispered, sending shivers down her body.

(Y/N) closed her eyes for a few seconds. She loved the feeling of having him close, especially after feeling like her world had completely collapsed when she received that news.

She couldn't stop her mind from wandering, starting to think about the thousands of scenarios in which she could receive that question, thinking about the day she was going to wake up and everything around her changing. She couldn't wait.

Her bubble burst when the nurse entered the room. (Y/N) sighed and tried her hardest not to roll her eyes, she knew it was time to leave, but she didn't want to leave him there, she couldn't.

"Lieutenant, you have to go."

She lifted her face only to meet Simon's. He quickly noticed the disappointment on her face and couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she murmured and Simon could only nod.

She leaned down to press her lips against his for short seconds. Finally, she separated from him and walked away slowly, she could feel the nurse's intense gaze even as she passed by her, but even that wasn't enough to stop a smile from forming on her face.

Now she was an engaged woman… Well, almost.

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peachyhalstead · 4 months

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alive | j. halstead

summary: chasing down an offender doesn't go quite as planned (dw it ends fluffy)

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead, platonic!reader x adam ruzek

word count: 1.75k

warnings: canon-level violence, gunshot, hospitals, medical inaccuracies

a/n: meet a seasoned fanfic writer's first fic about jay <3 please let me know what you think of this !! also it was originally written in 3rd pov so if you see anything wrong, no you didn't ---- You followed Adam down the alley, weapons drawn. "Chicago PD! Stop!"

You felt your lungs burn as you raced down the alley, nodding when you saw Adam silently gesture to enter through the front door, and he would take the back.

Noticing the door was already open, you walked in, eyes alert for any sign of a victim or offender.

Hearing Adam call out a "clear!" you opened your mouth to do the same, but didn't make it that far as you heard three shots ring out, feeling two sharp pains tear through your body.

Adam, having seen the offender shoot you, quickly fired a round of his own weapon, pressing a button on his radio. "5021 Ida, shots fired by offender and police! We need an ambo to our location, plain-clothed officers at the scene, one in need of urgent medical care!"

Near the end of the block that you and Adam were on, Jay's head shot up to meet Hailey's, hearing their coworker's distraught call into the radio.

The two sprinted out of their location, and down to the abandoned house, hearing the sirens grow louder.

"Ruz! Where are you guys?!" Jay called, stomping through the house.

He felt his heart plummet when he saw his wife on the floor, bullet hole in your shoulder and belly, Adam holding his jacket over the wounds.

"Y/N!" He fell to his knees next to you, letting out a breath when you looked at him.

"J-Jay, I didn't see him coming." You mumbled, breaths shaky.

"Shh, it's okay, hon. You're going to be alright." Jay reassured you, his hands trembling as he reached out to stroke her the back from your face. He shot a panicked look at Adam, who was still pressing down on the bullet wounds.

"Ambo's en route, Jay," Adam said, his voice tight with worry. "She's strong, she's gonna pull through this."

Jay didn't answer, his attention solely focused on his wife. He held onto your hand, willing his strength into you. "Hang in there, baby."

"I'm trying," you answered weakly.

Just then Voight and Kevin Atwater stormed into the room. The sight of you on the floor left them momentarily stunned before they sprung into action. Voight acknowledged Ruzek with a curt nod and Atwater immediately moved to Jay's side, helping apply pressure to your wounds.

The sirens outside grew louder as the ambulance neared their location. It wasn't long before the paramedics came rushing in with a stretcher, immediately getting to work on stabilizing you for transport to Med.

As they carried you out of the house, Jay followed closely behind, fear etched on his face but determination in his eyes. He watched as they loaded yoiu into the ambulance before climbing in right after them.

The team was left in the eerily quiet house -- a stark contrast to the chaos moments ago. Voight looked around at his team, each one wearing an expression of concern and fear for their colleague.

"Everyone alright?" he asked gruffly, though there was a hint of concern in his tone.

Ruzek and Atwater both nodded, and soon the team made their way to Chicago Med, making home in the waiting room, wanting to be there for both you and Jay.

Jay, having hopped out of the ambulance as you were unloaded and ushered into a trauma room, a few nurses stopping him from going in. "Jay, Jay stop!"

The detective pulled a hand through his hair, looking at his older brother, Will. "Will, you gotta help her, man."

Shaking his head, he nodded to where his coworkers Dr. Marcel and Dr. Choi were working on you, who had since lost consciousness. "I can't, bro. She's family, against hospital policy."

Jay hit the wall, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't lose her, man. We just got married, this can't be the end."

Will clapped his brother on the back, jaw tense. "They got her, Jay. She'll be good, she's a strong one."

The two brothers watched as you were rushed into emergency surgery, being told to wait in the waiting room for any updates.

------

Jay stared at the clock on the wall across from him, watching the hands move as time passed. It had been two hours since you were taken to the O.R., and as much as Will tried, he wasn't able to get any more information out of his coworkers.

"Hey, man." Adam walked over to Jay, handing him a coffee.

"Thanks." Jay spoke, voice raw. "You saved her life, Ruz."

Adam shook his head, sitting next to Jay. "It was my idea to split up. If we stuck together, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hit."

Jay looked at his friend. "Don't blame yourself, Ruz."

The two detectives sat in silence, only perking up when Will and Dr. Marcel walked out into the waiting room.

"Is she-" Jay cut himself off, unable to finish the question.

"She's alive. We got both the bullets out, there was some damage to her shoulder, but we were able to repair it all."

Jay let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, grateful smile on his face. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Marcel shook his head. "Not right now. She's being moved to a recovery room in the I.C.U., a nurse will come out to bring you to her when she's settled."

"Will she still be able to be a cop?" Adam asked, the question plaguing him ever since he saw you hit the ground.

"With physical therapy and rest, Y/N should get full function and mobility of her shoulder. It won't be fast, she'll need lots of rest."

Jay thanked the surgeon, shaking his hand before he walked away.

------

Once the team had all heard that you made it through surgery, they headed back to the district to close up the case, the offender in CPD's morgue.

Jay sat up when a nurse walked over to him, smile on her face. Maggie, he recalled, from when Will introduced them a while ago. "She’s awake, she's asking for you."

Rising from the uncomfortable seat, Jay groaned as his back cracked, following Maggie down the halls to the I.C.U.

He smiled when he finally laid eyes on you, blinking blearily as the door opened and you saw your husband.

"Jay," you sighed in relief, her voice barely a whisper.

His breath hitched in his throat as he approached the bed. Your face was paler than he remembered, hair fanned out on the white hospital pillow. The sight of seeing you awake, those sparkling eyes looking at him despite being clouded by painkillers and fatigue, was enough to bring tears prickling in his eyes.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, carefully taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "How are you feeling?"

You gave a small wry smile. "Like I’ve been shot twice."

He chuckled weakly, stroking your hand with his thumb. "They said you did great in surgery."

You shrugged slightly, wincing after. "I don't remember much."

"They also said you’ll need a lot of rest and physical therapy for your shoulder."

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”

Jay looked at you, admiration clear in his eyes. Despite having just woken up from surgery and being shot twice, you were still trying to put up a brave face.

"There's my soldier," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of your hair from her your-drenched forehead.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and Will walked in followed Dr. Marcel.

Dr. Marcel greeted you two with a warm smile as he approached your bed. He checked on your vitals before turning to Will and Jay.

"She's doing well considering the circumstances," Dr. Marcel reported.

Will nodded, sending you a comforting smile. "Should be able to get discharged in a few day’s time."

You nodded, looking at the sling your arm was in. "How long do I need to wear this?"

Dr. Marcel smirked, Will had warned him that his sister-in-law wasn't one to sit around and do nothing. "At least a month, but it depends on how your physical therapy goes. But, for a couple weeks, you can't move your arm. We had to repair some muscles in your shoulder, so it'll be sore."

You nodded, thanking the doctor as he left, Will following.

Jay looked at you, sad smile on his face. "Ruz is blaming himself."

You frowned, trying to sit up, wincing as your abdomen throbbed.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Jay helped you sit up, making sure you were comfortable.

"Can I see the team? At least Adam, I want him to know it wasn't his fault." You looked at your husband, who nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead, heading down to grab the team.

------

After a few days, you were finally able to leave the hospital. You had signed the discharge paperwork, and Jay walked back into the room after pulling the car around, soft smile on his face when he saw you struggling to get her coat on, one arm still in the sling.

"Here, let me help," he offered, walking over to you. He helped you put on the coat, paying extra attention to not disturb your injured shoulder.

You met his eyes and offered him a soft smile. "Thanks, babe."

Jay just nodded, his throat choked with emotion. He was relieved that you were okay but knew you had a long way to go for your complete recovery. He gently took your hand, gave it a squeeze, and lead out of the room.

As they walked through the silent corridors, you leaned into him slightly. It was subtle but Jay noticed it immediately. He wrapped his arm around you, offering her comfort and support. The worry lines on his face seemed to deepen as they moved towards the exit of the hospital.

Outside, the city was bustling as usual. The harsh city lights reflected off Jay's face as he helped you into their car before moving around to sit in the driver's seat.

The ride home was quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional honk from nearby traffic. You were staring out of the window, mind lost in thoughts while Jay focused on driving, occasionally glancing over at his wife.

“Hey, Jay?” You looked over at him, voice quiet.

Jay hummed, glancing at you while he pressed on the gas petal when the light turned green.

“Just,” you paused, feeling a teenager in love again. “I love you.” ---- a/n: did u like it? also please don't expect good titles ever titles always make me wanna punch a brick wall

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x fem!reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd fanfic

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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ⸻ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: christmas, enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 0.6k

chapter summary: the fireflies are dying one by one and you're desperately seeking a way out.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, spoilers for the season one finale

**dividers by @saradika

You smell blood. Feel it almost. The heat, the stickiness of it. Despite the clean walls and the sterile smell you know something is wrong. Something is very wrong—the fireflies are dying. One by one. Their light snuffed out, left to rot.

You knew this would happen. After all of what you’ve done, what Marlene has done. It was wrong, and karma always hungers after those who wronged her—Killing a little girl to save the world. . . hiding it from her. . . It was the trolley problem come to life. You never could answer that question, never could decide what was deemed right and wrong in that situation. Now, it seemed like all of you had chosen wrong. And you were being punished for it. The Angel of Death sought to claim you all.

At least it’s better than getting infected. At least the bullet would be shot right between your eyebrows and you’ll be dead before you can blink.

Your finger presses stubbornly against the trigger as you move. You still have the boldness of youth. Maybe you can escape. Maybe you can be free. You wanted out a long time ago, just scared to be out there all on your own.

Your lips press tightly together upon seeing a body, you don’t know his name, don’t dwell on it as you jump over his corpse and head for the exit. You hear gunshots. Screams. Shouts. You smell blood—such a persistent smell—You smell fear. Death is coming for you. Your footsteps gain momentum, you feel his breath on the back of your neck and the nuzzle cold against your forehead.

Then you see him. Just as you’re turning the corner, heart beating in your throat and sweat beading out of every pore, you see him—the angel of death.

And fuck—you know you shouldn’t think it, but the mass killer is beautiful.

Without even thinking you drop your gun and raise your hands. The best way to survive is to expose your neck to the beast. Showing you mean no harm. You don’t kick a raging lion.

He doesn’t seem to see it though. His eyes stare right past you. He barely blinks, blood of the fireflies coating his already dirty shirt. He cocks the gun and you know he’s ready to shoot, your eyes go wide. You don’t want to die. Not yet. Not without finding any semblance of peace or belonging.

“Please don’t,” you blurt out. His eyes seem to focus then, dark soulless gaze flitting across your face, noticing your raised hands. “I just want to leave. She’s on the top floor, at the end of the hall—Please don’t shoot.”

He observes you a beat longer. From the way his muscles tense you think he’s about to shoot, why wouldn’t he? What made you different from all the rest?

You close your eyes, chest rising painfully. There’s a loud hum in your ear. Maybe it’s the rush of blood? You think about your life, of all the death surrounding you. All you remember is the outbreak. Every memory tainted with curling cordyceps ever since you were six. You remember your mother holding you by the hand and yanking your arm so hard you thought it would be ripped off the socket. Your father trying to protect you both, leading the way—You remembered the day Marlene found you, time spent with the fireflies, the excitement when the immune girl was found. . .

The train of thought would end with a measly bullet.

A bullet that never came. A gun that never fired.

When you open your eyes he was gone.

You have no idea what it was—maybe it was the fact that you were significantly younger than the other soldiers, maybe it was because you were already out through the door when he pointed a gun at you— no matter what it was you were miraculously spared from the bloodshed.

The angel of death has spared you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller series #hbo the last of us #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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dudeitiskarev · 2 months

Text

Almost Lover | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x ghost!female reader

Summary: You died right in front of him, yet you're still around.

Tags/warnings: death; grief; angst with a bit of humor.

Word count: 4.5k

Author's note: this is a repost from my AO3. Since I deactivated a while ago, I've been slowly, very slowly. reposting my fics on here 🥰 this piece is one of my favorites I've written so for those who haven't read it, I hope you like it! Flashbacks are in italics.

MASTERLIST

The night froze for a moment.

Like never before, you weren’t able to talk down the unsub, and your confident “we can talk about this” as you lowered your gun, became your last words – your last breath. They pulled the trigger — literally — and from that moment, everything happened in slow motion.

Yet the single gunshot that blared around was so damn fast. It broke the air on its way to you and went straight through your skull, killing you within half a second.

Nice and quick, you would’ve said.

“No.” Aaron’s ears started ringing; his eyes widened in disbelief and his gun slipped off his hand like sand at the same time your body dropped dead to the ground.

“Shots fired! Agent down!” JJ’s voice turned into a desperate scream.

No.

This must be one of Aaron’s nightmares; the ones that felt too real and woke him up covered in sweat; the ones that always made him call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice and make sure you were alright, and the ones that sometimes ended up with you laying next to him because you wanted to be there when he fell asleep again.

The digital clock on his nightstand marked 4:47 AM. He’d been dozing on and off for the past hour since the nightmare but a gentle knock on his door awakened all of his senses.

“Aaron, it’s me.” Your voice came soft but loud enough from behind the door.

An instant sigh of relief dragged him out of bed to the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d shown up unannounced at his place, but he still wondered, what the hell were you doing here at this time of the night? You hated driving at night.

He unlocked every lock and opened up for you. “Wha–?”

“You had a nightmare–” You interrupted him, walking in as if it was your own place “–Where I died so I came here to show you I’m very much alive.”

You toed off your shoes while tossing your coat on his couch right next to his.

“What?” You frowned, but he didn’t say a thing. He just stood there, staring at your very-much-alive self. You walked up to him and brushed the front pieces of his fluffy hair back. “Would a hug make you feel better?”

Everything you did and said was like a morning sunbeam sneaking through the blinds, bathing him with warmth. He smiled with his eyes and leaned down to you with lazy open arms, going for a tight hug where every piece of you locked and clicked together.

No.

Each step closer to you weakened, and the moment he reached your side, his knees gave up. His entire world froze right then, too. The pool of blood spreading around you was very much real, but that didn’t stop him from lifting half of your body off the floor to hold you in his arms.

There was no click.

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

“Somebody!” His heart-shattering voice echoed around, “Wake up, please.” He lightly tapped your still warm cheek as if you’d simply fainted; as if there wasn’t peace, crimson, and his own tears staining your face. “Oh, honey, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

There were no signs of you. You were just a body, and the only thing your team could do was end with the monster who had broken everyone’s heart.

No one – not even Reid – thought twice before shooting fire at the unsub, all at the same time. There was rage in every single bullet, and though it was morally wrong, in their eyes, making sure the guy was dead was the only right thing to do.

Derek’s gun was the first to run out of ammo and his muffled crying was the first one of all, too. “That son of a bitch!” His voice cracked between a sob, throwing his arms over his head in defeat. He was your running buddy, your go-to random hug, and personal hype man. The first one to notice when you got a haircut and the only one you’d had the chance to tell about your feelings for your Unit Chief.

Reid suspected those feelings, but he was waiting for an appropriate moment to ask you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Spencer rushed to the closest bush, spraying his dinner out of his mouth. Witnessing your life being taken away seemed to be the start of yet another rough patch that was gonna be hard to get out of. The connection you two had was cosmic – like no other; you were the sibling he didn’t know he needed beside him.

Too bad you walked into his life too late and only got to be his sister for three short years.

“Oh, god!” JJ’s voice had never sounded so terrified.“Oh my god!” She brought her shaky hands up to her mouth with wide eyes and just stood there, staring at the hole in your forehead. She was trying not to panic, but she’d started to hyperventilate already.

The air struggled to find its way to her lungs, and if it weren’t for Rossi’s ability to calm her down and Garcia’s loud voice through her earbud, she would’ve passed out right there next to you.

“JJ?!” Garcia yelled. Poor thing, she had no idea. “Oh god! Did wha-what happened? Hello?! Someone please talk to me!”

All she heard was the first gunshot that triggered the shootout. Now everyone’s crying had her at the edge of her seat.

Everyone’s but yours.

“Oh, no,” she mumbled to herself at the realization. “My girl. Is she gone? Is she…”

“Garcia, baby, I’m so sorry,” Derek tried to stop the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s–”

Penelope threw her headphones away before Morgan could finish his sentence and took off her glasses, covering her face with both hands as the tears streamed down her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to leave her. Ever. You’d planned your vacation already to London to visit Emily in just a few weeks.

God, Emily. How was Garcia supposed to tell her?

Your sudden death was evidence of god’s sick sense of humor. Putting Aaron in the exact same position again — holding the corpse of the love of his life as the vision of a less lonely future blended with gunpowder in the air – was the most fucked up joke.

You’d turned into a memory at the snap of a finger and from right then, everything was all a blur.

They ripped you off Aaron’s arms and put you inside a black bag to carry you to an ambulance – as if there was any point in doing so. He somehow made it to his apartment, got a glimpse of his clothes stained with blood – your blood – then found himself sitting on his couch as two familiar tiny hands shook him by the shoulders.

“Dad! are you okay?” Jack asked with worried, wide eyes. He was too mature for a ten-year-old and it was too soon for him to see his father broken again.

“I’m okay.” Aaron stood up, quickly drying his tears with the heel of his hand.

“Are you hungry? Aunt Jessica made us some food. I can put some in the microwave.”

“I’m okay, Buddy. It’s time for bed.”

Next thing he knew he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could press the rewind button and time travel to any moment when he was around you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice got his attention. You were standing at his office door with two matching kitten mugs full of steaming coffee. “Do you have time to share some caffeine with me?”

He gave you a warm smile and put the papers aside. “Always.”

You’d made it a habit to bring him coffee in the middle of the day to remind him he needed to take a break. And since it became a regular thing, you had to give him a mug just because. He looked forward to your date-like breaks, and it boosted him with energy to finish everything on time, even when sometimes you two spent hours just talking.

You preferred to actually take him out of his office and go to the coffee shop two blocks away, but the one time you did it, he didn’t feel like going back to lock himself at the BAU, so the couch in his office had to do it.

You sat on it and tapped next to you, gesturing for him to join you.

“No cookies?” He asked with a smile as he plopped next to you.

“I thought I had some left.” You swung your legs over his thighs. “I’m pretty sure Reid stole the last package I had in my drawer.”

“Girl Scout cookies?”

“Caramel deLites.” You nodded.

“He just can’t resist them.” Hotch sipped on his coffee before getting up and reaching inside his drawer.

“You keep cookies too?” You laughed when he pulled out a pack.

“They’re not caramel deLites–” He sat next to you again and brought your legs back where they were over his “–But…”

“Thin Oreos are perfect.”

There was some sort of interrogation from Strauss at the BAU the next morning. She needed to know exactly what happened while the memories were still fresh.

Aaron was last, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; him relating the story of how his loved one ended up murdered yet again.

“I don’t see how any of this is funny, Aaron.” Erin slid down her glasses to the tip of her nose.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s funny either,” he said, and tried his best to suppress his laughter by hiding his mouth behind his hand, but his shoulder still shook.

Strauss paused the recorder and dismissed everyone that was there with a simple glance as she spoke to Hotch, “We’re gonna take a break.”

His laugh didn’t fade until he was all alone in the room and sooner than later it turned into silent angry tears. Grieving Aaron Hotchner was a whole different person. A version of himself he hoped he’d never have to be again but there he was, being suffocated by rage and guilt, even when he knew there was nothing he could’ve done to avoid what’d happened. He just wished there was a way to turn back time and trade places.

Everyone had a week off to mourn your loss after the interrogation. Not enough – no time would ever be enough – but work was work. Monsters were still killing people and the Bureau had already hung a picture of you on the wall of honor.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Penelope was the first one to say something.

The team was gathered in front of your image; your smile was contagious even through a photo.

“I know.” Morgan touched her shoulder with his and kissed her temple. “It’s gonna be hard living in a world without her.”

“I’m not ready.” Garcia wiped her tears and turned to face everyone. “I’m not ready to take down monsters without her.”

JJ smiled in an attempt to say something, but her voice wouldn’t come out. It could’ve been her picture on that wall, but you’d offered to talk to the unsub that night as if it was the most mundane thing. She wouldn’t even dare to look at Aaron afraid she’d crumble and say I’m sorry a thousand times.

Hotch blinked away his tears and clenched his jaw, staring at your picture. He wasn’t ready to keep living without you, yet he said, “We have to. She would want us to,” trying to convince himself in a way. He walked away to lock himself up in his office and stopped by your desk on his way there.

It was intact and your presence lingered as if you’d just gotten up to refill your mug with coffee. Your chair still had the wrinkled pillow you’d brought on your second day because you couldn’t handle sitting there with a numb butt, and the small heater you used to keep your feet warm was still plugged under the desk.

You always said it was important to decorate your workspace like it was a piece of your bedroom. It helped you perform better, you’d say, and had convinced everyone to follow that advice – even Hotch.

“Excuse me.” A janitor approached Hotch and placed an empty box on your desk.

“What are you doing?” Aaron used his arm as a barrier to stop the man from picking up your stuff.

“Clearing up this desk.”

“Hey!” The click-clack of Penelope’s high heels came running from behind. “Don’t touch her stuff!”

“We need the space,” the janitor said.

“No, we don’t.” Hotch returned the box to him. “As far as I know we haven’t hired any new agent.”

“Look, I’m just doing what I was told.”

“Leave it as it is.” Hotch glared at him. “I’m gonna talk to whoever told you we needed the space.”

“It must have been Strauss.” Derek’s jaw clenched.

“How can she be so cold,” Penelope stared at Hotch walking across to room.

It was known that Strauss didn’t like you, so Hotch hurried into his office to just toss his briefcase and go confront Erin, but the moment he stepped in, his body stiffened.

The room was cold, and the silhouette he caught from the corner of his eye, sitting on his couch, made his heart drop to his stomach.

“Hey, boss.”

That was your voice, and your scent was in the air all of a sudden.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t happening. The lack of sleep was too much. It was definitely that.

But when he turned the lights on and you were still there, it didn’t seem like craziness.

“What? Did you see a ghost or something?”

That was definitely you.

“Shut the door,” you continued, “it’s getting cold in here.”

Still in disbelief, he obeyed but couldn’t dare to look straight at you. Your presence was strong and he was sure it was his brain playing tricks on him because it’d happened before. A long time ago when his father died. He’d see the man at school, though he was never brave enough to reach out and actually exchange words with him like you were doing right now. He wished it would’ve happened with Haley so he could have heard her voice and held her hand one last time, but she never showed up.

Part of him had hoped it’d happen with you too at some point. And there you were.

He made his way to his chair and just stood there for a second before sitting. Then he finally dared to look at you.

God, that was actually you.

You were wearing the exact same clothes you had on the day you died — a purple T-shirt and the cargo pants you borrowed from Emily once but never returned — just not stained with blood and not a single wrinkle in sight. You hated ironing your clothes.

“Have you missed me?” You folded your arms over your chest and walked across the room, sitting on the chair in front of him.

“Yes.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re not ready for me to leave you.”

The softness of your voice reached his soul, and a knot started to appear in his throat. “I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you.” His voice shook.

“Well, you weren’t very subtle about it.” You rose from the chair and walked to the other side of the desk, leaning on it right next to him, and reached for his hand.

You were warm. He looked up at you and caught the comfort of your eyes. If you weren’t real, why did looking into your eyes still give him butterflies?

“This isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. “I’m going crazy.”

“Now that would be romantic.” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips at your playful tone. You always managed to make him smile in one way or another. “Would a kiss make you feel better?”

He’d kissed you only once – the night before you died – so he knew how soft and sweet your lips were. He looked up at you and right when he was going to say yes, you leaned down and kissed his lips.

This kiss was different, though. It was painful because he was sure you were part of his imagination. He tried to put those feelings aside – take his insanity as a blessing in disguise – and lifted his hand to cup your face, but a single knock on his door seemed to scare you, and before it swung open, you vanished into thin air.

“Aaron.” Strauss stormed in. “Is there a reason why you’re refusing to clear her desk?”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to compose himself. “I need to talk to her family first. See who will take care of her things. Out of respect.” He stressed the last word to show how out of line her behaviour was.

Erin widened her eye, as a threat, almost. “You have one day.” Erin glared at him and left the room.

Hotch sighed deeply.

It was the faintest kiss, but it was you.

Most nights at the BAU were lonely; since you were gone, that solitude pierced bones. It’d been four months already and it was still unreal to the team.

Especially to Spencer.

He used to pull all-nighters with you by his side, and while he played chess on his own, you finished the paperwork you left until the last minute. He still stayed until late these days, just not as often nor until the sun rose.

You missed him too, and now, all you could do was mess with him hoping he’d at least feel the ghost of you.

“Uh.” Spencer quickly snapped his hand off the chess board when a piece slowly moved on its own.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the board again. And you moved a piece, again.

“What the– not again?”

“You okay?” Hotch’s voice came loud and out of nowhere, making Spencer jump on his seat. His heart almost leaped out of his chest; he had to make sure it was still there, placing his hand over it.

“Did– did you see that?” Reid’s voice got a bit higher than it normally was.

“See what?” Aaron walked up to him with a subtle smirk.

“Nothing.” Spencer frowned. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s almost four AM.” He glanced at his watch.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Spencer frowned his lips.

“We may have a case,” Hotch continued. “So don’t leave.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Spencer lowered his voice, looking around.

Hotch gave you a quick glance ordering you to follow him on his way to his office.

“Haunting Reid isn’t very nice,” he told you as soon as he shut the door behind you.

“I was bored.” You put on an innocent face and gave him a guilty smile. “Waiting for you. And he needs to stop staying here until so late, so I was doing him a favor.” You sat on his desk and swung your feet back and forth as he settled on his chair. “You’re here earlier than our usual time.”

“We may have a case.” He looked up at you.

“It’s Jack’s birthday next week.” You mentioned. “Are we gonna do something special for him?”

“Jessica and I are taking him to this star wars convention.”

“That sounds fun. Can I go?”

You went wherever he went, even flew with him for cases, but you still asked for his permission. You were a distraction, so you tried to stay on the margins when you knew he needed all of his focus.

That’s why you enjoyed plane rides the most.

Everyone still sat on their usual seat on the jet, and your spot next to Hotch remained empty so you still sat there, quiet.

“You’ve been seeing her,” Rossi said as he sat on the seat across from Aaron.

“Sorry?” Hotch lifted his eyes from his folder.

“It happened to me when Carolyn died. I’d see her around, even talk to her at times. I was worried it might have been an illness or something.” He waved his hand in the hair. “It wasn’t. I can give you the name of my doctor.”

He didn’t admit it but didn’t deny it either.

The jet took off and Rossi didn’t mention it again until they landed.

“Are you thinking about going to the doctor?” You asked him when no one was around.

“I love having you around.” He stared into the void. ”But this isn’t normal.”

That hurt a bit, but you still stayed by his side during the entire case and were there for his doctor’s appointment as soon as you made it back in Quantico, too.

“You’re grieving, agent,” the doctor started. “It is a rare way of grieving but it happens. I can medicate you to help get rid of it, but you also need to work on it.”

Whatever that meant, Aaron wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to get rid of you, but something scared you that day and you stopped being around as often. You weren’t at the BAU and the usual time to spend some time alone with him, and you weren’t there for Jack’s birthday as you’d said you wanted to.

Not as your usual self, anyway.

They’d just gotten back from the Star Wars convention and something was slightly off about his apartment.

“No way!” Jack screeched with excitement. There was a dog on the couch. “ You got me a puppy?!” He ran to the little dog who waved its tail with the same enthusiasm.

“You got him a puppy?” Jess subtly asked Hotch

“No? Did you?”

Neither said a thing and stared at the wholesome sight of happy Jack.

Hotch wasn’t sure to what extent the “anything is possible” was possible for those who belonged to the hereafter, but something told him the puppy was your magic work.

“My cheeks hurt from smiling so much!” Jack laughed as the puppy licked his face. “Can I name her?”

How could Aaron say no to that? He didn’t want to crush his son’s dream and tell him the dog wasn’t supposed to be there, so they did a quick run to the store to buy some dog food and helped Jack build a tiny bed for her in his bedroom instead.

“Can she stay forever?” Jack asked. He’d already mastered the puppy-dog eyes.

“We’ll see.” Hotch tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, buddy.”

He gave the puppy one last scratch on its chin and went to bed too, though it already seemed like it was going to be one of those nights where the sleep never came.

The bed sank next to him at two AM, making him lose track of how many sheep he was counting. There you were with a sad look.

“Where have you been?” He asked you in a murmur.

“I don’t want you to think I’m here because there’s something wrong with you.” You whispered.

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you go to the doctor?”

“To rule it out.” He caressed your cheek. “But you’re clearly not part of my imagination. You’re here.”

“Something’s holding me back.” You gulped. “I need you to help me get to the other side. I need to know you’re going to be okay without me.”

Only then he noticed you didn’t want to be there, to begin with.

“I’m sorry we won’t be growing old together,” you continued. “That we won’t give Jack any siblings and Jess more nephews, but I will always be by your side, taking care of you three. Always. And I’ll be waiting for you, Aaron. You were my greatest love, even when I won’t be yours, and I’m sorry. ”

“I’ll be okay.” He tried to swallow the lump on his throat and brought you close into a tight hug. “You go. I’m gonna be alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I love you,” you sobbed into his chest.

“God, I love you, too. I always will.”

It was like the old times when a nightmare woke him up, but this time he was so damn scared to fall asleep because he knew you weren’t going to be there when he woke up. So he cherished the moment and held you until you leaped into his dreams forever.

You stopped showing up, but you weren’t gone. He’d get a whiff of you while he made himself some coffee, and would stop for a moment to close his eyes and take you in. He’d still feel your presence around, at the BAU, at your favorite donut shop, and in his car when a song you liked came on the radio.

You were everywhere. He still didn’t know how to move on, but knew he had to let it happen naturally.

Time went by; he started to forget the sound of your voice, the trees lost their leaves and grew new ones through the seasons. His heart healed eventually, too, and the love he once had for life sparked again.

“I’m not sure if we can keep here any longer,” Hotch said, staring at Chewie who had grown into her ears and started to make the apartment look small.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, putting the harness on her and pulling her close to him.

“We may need a new house.” Aaron opened the front door for them, ready to take her on a walk. “But the park will have to do it for now. Let’s go.”

Those walks in the park became the best part of Aaron’s day. They kept his mind busy and they might have boosted a new chapter in his life…

“Ah! Look at them!” Haley clapped with excitement. Turns out you weren’t the only one looking after them. “Aren’t they cute.”

You stood next to her with your arms folded over your chest and admired how Chewie played cupid by stomping on this woman’s picnic.

“So sorry,” Aaron approached her while Jack tried to catch the leash.

“You are a beautiful girl,” the woman said, letting Chewie lick her face all over.

That was her, Aaron’s greatest love.

“Did you know I was gonna die?” you asked Haley.

“I did.” She turned to you. “But there was nothing I could’ve done. Life… it’s an odd thing. We don’t get to choose anything.” Haley stared at her husband and son again. “Everything is written already.”

“She won’t die tragically like we did, will she?” Haley twitched her mouth. “She will?!”

“I’m just kidding.” She dismissively waved a hand with a laugh and began to walk away. “You can stop worrying too much about him now! She’s got him!”

“Where are you going?!” You hurried behind her, throwing one last look over your shoulder. “Wait up!”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 7 months

Text

Staring Down the Barrel of Your Gun

Bucky teaches you to shoot a gun when he realizes he won't always be there to protect you.

Warnings: all of my work is 18+ only, but language, references to gun usage and gun terminology, mentions of Bucky as the Winter Soldier, Bucky scaring the reader with his actions

A/N: This takes place during the events of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, specifically at Sarah's house in Louisiana. Also I don't know much about guns, so take the terminology as a work of fiction for the sake of the story

"Buck, I'm starving. Can we please take a break?" You groaned, looking over to the porch, the door to Sarah's kitchen wide open so the scent of pancakes wafted through the open air. You had been up since sunrise with your boyfriend running gun handling drills under the cover of the trees behind the Wilson's house Your hands ached from palming the steel grip, your finger on and off the trigger at Bucky's command.

"Pay attention, doll. If you're in danger, you can't afford to lose focus. Now get in your stance." Bucky nodded at the target in front of you about 100 feet away, a blacked out silhouette that was tacked to a far tree, riddled with bullet holes from your previous shots. You wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. Even though it was barely April, the Louisiana humidity made it feel at least 20 degrees warmer, even in the early morning. You let the gun drop to your side as you shook out your sore arms.

"Never point your gun down to the ground like that." His sharp tone startled you into position. Bucky was barking orders and corrections at you, and it was starting to get on your nerves. You grumbled expletives at him, that his super hearing definitely picked up but chose to ignore for the sake of your training. You lifted your arms out in front of you, one hand layered on top of the other as you focused on your target. Stance, Lift, Target, Safety, Trigger. Bucky's words from your previous trainings echoed through your mind. He had drilled the commands into you with repetition.

"Your footings all wrong." You let out a sharp breath, holding your tongue from giving Bucky a piece of your mind as you removed your finger from the trigger. You felt his metal hand on your left hip, his leg forcing your left foot forward so you had a staggered stance. "Stand straight up and the recoil will knock you on your ass." He stood back, examining you like you were under a microscope. "Alright, go."

Again, you planted your footing, going through the motions in your mind.

Stance, Lift, Target, Safety, Trigger.

You felt a warm breeze hit your face, the wind whistling in your ears. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it as you slowly opened your eyes, focusing in on your target. Finally, you allowed the breath to leave your lungs. You were about to pull the trigger when Bucky stopped you again. "Wrong."

"What, now?", you gritted out between clenched teeth. His hands were on your body again, this time at your elbows, pulling your arms back a toward you. "You'll break your arms if you stand rigid", Bucky whispered, his tone gravelly, "you need to be strong, not stiff". His breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine. Bucky's hands were no stranger to the contours of your body, and usually you welcomed his touch, but out here he was rough with you in a way you didn't like, forcing you into certain positions when he felt like you weren't following his instructions.

"Now, do it again. Right this time." For the third time, you positioned your feet, Stance, lifted your arms out in front of you, Lift, to the height of your target, Target, closed your eyes and took in a sharp breath as you removed the safety, Safety, and placed your hand on the trigger prepared to pull, Trigger.

Bucky watched you intently as you stood frozen, your chest heaving with each breath. Bucky had been training you for days, and your target was proof that you weren't shy with a gun, but for some reason you couldn't pull the trigger.

"Shoot." You couldn't hear Bucky as he tried to grab your attention, the ringing in your ears drowning out all other sound.

"Shoot the gun." He was shouting against the silence, his patience wearing thin. "Shoot the damn gun, doll."

You blinked and Bucky was standing in front of you, the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" Your question was just above a whisper. You tried to move, but couldn't, as if you had lost control of your body. "I said shoot the gun." His tone was even, as if he was telling you about his day. He had a vacant stare as he looked through you, and for a second you thought you saw a glimpse of the monster buried just beneath the surface.

"Buck, I'm not going to shoot you." Your voice was shaky, but he was unmoving.

"Shoot the gun, now." He grabbed at the gun with his vibranium limb, holding it to the middle of his forehead. You saw the steel barrel buckle under his grip. Bucky didn't see you as his girlfriend, the love of his life, but as a soldier. A soldier who was disobeying his direct order.

Tears were brimming your eyes, blurring your vision. You felt the heat creep up your neck as your hands went numb from holding your arms up for so long. You weren't sure how you got here, starting the morning training with Bucky, to suddenly being forced to make an impossible decision in front of the Winter Soldier.

"No, Bucky." You dropped your arms, feeling the weight of the gun as you put the safety back on, letting it fall to the ground. He took a step toward you to pick the gun up, and you backed away instinctively, cowering away from him. Bucky's gaze softened as he realized that you were terrified, your hands shaking. "Baby, I-".

"Food's ready, if you two love birds can take a break from your tactical training." You heard Sam's booming voice as he bounded down the stairs of the back porch, quickly reaching the two of you with his wide stride. His smile quickly dropped when he noticed your tears, Bucky's facial expression stoic. He sensed the tension between the two of you, clearing his throat. "Everything okay out here?"

You wiped a stray tear from your cheek, giving him a weak smile. "I've lost my appetite." You quickly turned away, jogging back to the house, falling just out of Bucky's reach as he called out to you. "Doll, wait." He moved to follow after you when Sam stopped him, a hand to his chest.

"What did you do?" Bucky shrugged him off, pushing past Sam.

"Why was she crying?" Sam continued to push, right on Bucky's heels. "Better crying than dead."

Sam stepped in front of Bucky, shoving him hard at the shoulders. Bucky barely stumbled back, but he got the message, stopping in his tracks. "What did you do?" Sam repeated himself, his anger evident.

Bucky collided with Sam, puffing out his chest. "She hesitated. You hesitate, you die. You think for a second too long, you die. I told her to shoot me, and she hesitated." He couldn't make eye contact with Sam, looking just past him toward the house. He needed to make sure you were okay.

"You asked her to shoot you? What are you, psychotic?" Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Bucky had made so many strides to separate himself from the Soldat; the therapy, working to right his wrongs, and sometimes, the dark side of Bucky would seep out, and Sam wondered if it was all for naught.

"Maybe I am", Bucky edged out, finally looking Sam in the face.

"What are you doing, man?" Sam tried to appeal to Bucky's humanity, the side of him he knew was crazy about you. "You're gonna push her away if you keep doing this."

"Doing what? Trying to protect her? I'm not always going to be around, and-". Sam could see the life return to Bucky's eyes, a sadness washing over him.

"and what, Buck?" Sam continued to push.

"and I can't lose her." Bucky could usually push his feelings to the recesses of his mind, but he felt it all crumbling down around him, the weight crushing on his chest. "The gun drills, the tactical training, they're all so she can protect herself. I know I agreed to be a part of the Avengers, to give up my life to save others, but with all that we've lost, Sam, everyone we've lost, this world just continues to prove that it doesn't play fair. No matter what I do, how I try to protect her, none of it seems to matter. I can't and I will not lose her. So she cannot hesitate. She hesitates, she dies."

Sam sighed as he rested a hand on Bucky's shoulder. He knew that Bucky was right; being an Avenger meant nothing if they couldn't take care of the ones they loved. "Buck, I get it. I've got a sister and two nephews who are always on my mind. I hate the fact that we went from being on the top of the world, to realizing that no one gave a shit about us." He was standing on his convictions, trying to rescue his family's business and save his sister's house all at the same time.

"But there are enough monsters and villains in this world, she doesn't need you to be another one in her life. Fix this, Bucky. Don't lose her like this."

****

The house quieted as Bucky entered the kitchen. AJ and Cass whispered to each other as they pushed the last bites of their pancakes around their plate. Sarah watched Bucky out of the corner of her eye as he circled the room. "There's some food left over, probably cold by now" Sarah muttered as she sunk further into her seat at the dining table, taking a sip of her coffee.

Bucky chose to ignore their response to his spectacle, his focus on you. "Where's Y/N? I need to talk to her first."

Sarah nodded, rolling her eyes at Bucky. "Mhm, you sure do. She's upstairs."

Bucky took the stairs two at a time as he searched the house for you.

You had the parts of the Glock 19 Bucky had given you, organized out on the desk of the guest room you were staying in when Bucky found you down the hall. He stood at the doorway, watching as you cleaned every inch with a cloth, just as he had taught you. A small smile slipped on his face when he realized you had been paying attention.

"If you want me to shoot you, you'll have to wait", you called over your shoulder, not bothering to look at him. Bucky rubbed his jawline as he sat on the edge of the bed behind you.

"I know you don't agree with my methods of teaching-", Bucky started. "Your methods?", you scoffed, dropping the magazine on the desk, the metal clattering against the table. You turned to him, your anger brimming at the surface. "You're tryna justify that stunt you pulled as a teachable moment?" You felt your throat go dry at the memory of holding a gun to your boyfriend's head, momentarily holding his life in your hands.

"I need you to know how to protect yourself. There are people out there, terrible people, who would do anything to get to me, including hurting you." You turned back to the desk, gently placing your hands on your thighs. You closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Doll, are you listening to me?" Bucky tried to grab your attention.

Choosing not to respond, you instead stood and grabbed the grip of your gun, briefly examining the piece before you made quick work of connecting each component to reassemble the gun, the metal clicking as each part connected. Bucky watched in awe as you moved with the precision that he had only seen from soldiers during his time in the military. You slipped the full magazine into the gun, slamming it in place before you pointed the assembled gun at the vintage dresser that Sarah had set up in the corner of the room, in perfect stance, your arms stretched out just enough to brace for the recoil.

"Is that trained enough for you, Sargent Barnes?" You smirked, your words dripping with sarcasm without an ounce of humor in your voice.

"Alright." Bucky snatched at the barrel, taking the gun from you, jogging you out of your trance. "You've made your point." He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

You dropped down onto the bed, looking up at Bucky, tears welling in your eyes again. He sat down next you, his arm brushing against yours. You felt him gently squeeze at your thigh, once again feeling the touch that you knew belonged to your Bucky, the Winter Soldier long gone.

"I knew what I was getting into, Buck. I knew who you were, what you had done, and all of the danger that came with being with you." You placed your hand atop his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "and if that danger ever comes, you've prepared me to the best of your ability." Bucky cradled the side of your head in his hand, placing a kiss on your temple. You both sat in silence for a moment before you continued.

"But I could-, I would never be able to hold a gun to your head, let alone pull the trigger. If you think I ever could, you don't know me at all." You let out a shaky breath. "Buck, I was terrified. That wasn't you out there." Bucky's back straightened at your words. He retreated into himself, turning his gaze to the floor, trying to pull his hands into his lap, but you wouldn't let him. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "Tell me the truth. Is the Winter Soldier gone for good?"

He wanted desperately to tell you yes, that the only part of him that remained was James Buchanan Barnes, the boy from Brooklyn, friend to Steve Rogers, the man you loved, someone who would never dare to hurt you, but that would be a lie.

"Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, and he's never coming back."

You pulled Bucky in for a kiss by his chin, your lips barely grazing his before he had you in his grasp, his returning kiss passionate, as if he was apologizing in all the ways his words would fall short.

The Winter Soldier was still a part of him for now, but he'd do anything to protect you, even from himself.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction

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rowretro · 4 months

Text

𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐔𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘

✧warnings: illegal activities, robbing a back, guns, blood, bomb blasts.

♡synopsis: Y/n and Nishimura Riki, are quite like Bonnie and Clyde, partners in crime with morals. The 2 are the youngest in Heeseung's gang, and had been assigned to rob a rather rich, immoral man's bank. Robbing the black money that he had robbed the country of, exposing his true colours. (Clearly inspired by Thunivu.)

✧♡✧♡𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝖀𝕿𝕾 𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝕷𝕺𝕽𝖄♡✧♡✧

Y/n smirked as Riki's gun pointed the air, bullets shoot at absolutely nothing as the bank workers and those who visited, cowered, finding safety where they could, all laying low. "THIS FUCKING HIEST IS MINE." Riki simply screamed as He chucked a gun at y/n who caught it, the girl immediately got to work, threatening the people, as she took their phones, purses etc.

"If you don't want to be harmed during this heists I advise you all lay low, let me take what I need and then I'll let you free." Riki simply advised as he played some music. Y/n checked all the restrooms and other areas, making sure no one was hiding before sitting on one of the desks, preventing any bankers from pressing the emergency red button.

"You guys... so fucking selfish, you think you'll be free with all the money you take from us?! of course you will you're kids after all." a 40 year old man complained as Riki and y/n turned to each other, the 2 bursting out into laughter. "Ah of course, you'd believe we're going to take the money and blow it on something useless?" The male asked as he turned to y/n. "You see sir... you'll see where this money'll go." she simply said as she pressed the big red emergency button herself.

Within minutes, police cars surrounded the bank building, as they remain cautious. There were bombs on the doors, heck they could even see that some bank workers were tied by the window, with bomb vests. "I take back what I said sir... please take this vest off of me!" the 40 year old begged as Riki snickerred. He pat the man's back with his gun "If you behave, I'll consider freeing you ".

All the while, y/n sat by the phone waiting on a call. "Wow these cops are really slow huh... So entitled they want us to call them instead. alright fine- we'll let them have it their way." she shrugged, dialling the number. "Hello? is this the police station?! there seems to be a heist taking place in XXX bank." The girl said, waiting upon a reply "What you don't think a woman can rob a bank? it's no wonder so many crimes happen in this country." She added, sounding a little annoyed.

Riki took the phone from her hold as she frowned at him, the male simply placed a soft kiss on her lips as he placed the phone by his ear. The police on the other line were just not having it. "Us robbing a bank? You see sir we aren't robbing the bank. we're simply taking back the amount this bank robbed from us." Riki said as the police officer was in disbelief. "All your doubts will be cleared.... can you put officer Jungwon on the line?" Riki said with an innocent smile.

Officer Jungwon, the said, innocent, brand new cop on the team, he was just a PC, the fear in his eyes evident as the Inspector glared at him handing the phone to him. "Officer Yang, we invite you through the backdoor to the bank. but.... you must bring 4 people..." Riki added as y/n nodded, hacking into as many news channels as possible, smirking as her eyes land on a certain news reporter. "Reporter Park" She simply said as Riki nodded.

"4 people. The bank owner. His father. The Manager and of course Reporter Park. The charming reporter with multiple cameras, trying to get the juicy drama, while charming a bunch of girls? his name card says Park Sunghoon? yeah that one." he described hanging up. The police new they were messing with the wrong gang, anyone knew Riki's voice. No one dared to mess with the Nishimura Riki, the only known gang mate in the ENHYPEN gang.

When the 4 were allowed in, Sunghoon set up the cameras as y/n tied the 3 men to 3 chairs, handing Jungwon a bat. Riki stood behind the camera with y/n. His focus on the people within the bank. "See here fellow bank workers and visitors... you're going to find out the real truth behind where your money, and my money went." Riki simply said as y/n shrugged, handing a contract to the three.

"what is this?!" The bank owner, Yeonjun asked as y/n smiled "It's simply a contract, a contract you will sign in front of this camera to allow us to interview you live~" the girl said, as Yeonjun signed it, not bothering to read it, he passed it onto his father, Mr Choi, the the Manager, Choi Soobin. After signing the contract, y/n took a seat. "Reporter Park, this is live right?" she asked as Sunghoon nodded.

With Jungwon in the back holding a bat, and Y/n sat right opposite the three men. "First question. Choi Yeonjun, the owner of this beautiful bank. Mind telling me how much you stole from us all together?" y/n asked as the man smiled at the camera "See darling I don't see what you're talking about... Why would I steal money when I'm already rich." He asked as y/n tutted "Officer Yang... if someone stole 100 million from your hard earned money, how would you feel?..." y/n asked.

"I'd break his hands for touching my money..." he answerred as the girl nodded. "Okay... well lets tone it down just a little, you may use the bat to hit Yeonjun everytime he lies." "WHAT? HIT ME??? SINCE WHEN WAS THAT ALLOWED?!" he asked as Riki chuckled. "In the contract Owner Choi." "What the fuck- but- the writting is so small i could barely read it!" he complained as Riki shrugged "It's the same font you used in your contracts." he simply said.

Jungwon started beating the man with the bat, as Riki then told him to stop. "This is ridiculous. I will not let you abuse my son like this!" Mr Choi complained as y/n nodded. "Okay sir then why don't you answer us? where did you store all the money you stole???" She asked as the man glared at her "I'm telling you we didn't steal any money!" The man lied as Soobin, the manager interrupted them. "Sir just tell them where the 500 million is or they...." Soobin stopped mid sentence noticing the Chois glare at him.

"500 million?.... wow you hear that world? XXX bank stole 500, million fucking dollars. Only 100 million from the infamous gang you all know... then that 400 million?... why don't I answer that for you?..." Y/n said, glaring at Yeonjun. "You stole that hard-earned money from all those civillians who worked their blood, sweat and tears, for that money, to pay off bills, school fees, hospital fucking bills. The so-called black money is actually red money. you have way more fucking blood on your hands than any gang ever had." She seethed.

The news airing abruptly came to an end, when Yeonjun managed to break out and stab a few wires, he immediately kicked y/n in the stomach, grabbing her by her hair and smashing her face into a glass table. However, Riki was quick to act, pulling her away, and hitting Yeonjun around the head with a gun. The Choi now knocked out called. "You alright princess?" Riki asked, his eyes widening at the little trickles of blood on your face. "M good sweetheart... it was nothing" she reassured as the man kissed her.

"Cork it love birds. only a matter of time before Yeonjun wakes up. Let's just take our 100 million and leave, the heli's here, the police can sort out that lot." Sunghoon said, throwing off the lanyard and unbuttoning the top, revealing the undershirt he wore beneath. "Fucking reporter uniform making me sweat like fuck." he groaned as Jungwon scoffed, throwing the bat aside as he dragged Yeonjun back to his chair, tying him down. "I actually look kinda fire in a cop's uniform to be honest." the man smirked as he followed y/n and Riki.

Y/n smirked, as she bombed the vault open, taking only the amount that the bank owed the gang, placing the money inside the helicopter. Riki dragged her cautiously, as they started to run until they were out of sight, the boys following behind. As they reached a safe spot, Heeseung picked them up. "huh, the police are at the bank now, and they're looking into the case.... and you're making out-" Sunghoon rolled his eyes, as Heeseung honked the car horn, in an attempt to stop them from eating eachothers' faces.

"Fuck it. they won't listen...." Heeseung groaned "they handled that bank issue without a lot of smooching, pet names, hugs, romance and all that bull crap... they'll be out of breath soon-" Sunghoon pointed out as Jungwon covered his ears.

✧♡✧♡𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝖀𝕿𝕾 𝕹𝕺 𝕲𝕷𝕺𝕽𝖄♡✧♡✧

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ftmkinki · 3 months

Text

Update all text in red before posting

Edit: this isnt complete, pls feel free to ignore

I love the idea of buying a house thats SOOOOO cheap because of reports of "ghosts". And then, having very kinky experiences with them ;) so i wrote a story about it!

FTM!Reader x ghosts you/your they/them pronouns only

Cnc, free use, bondage, ghosts (obviously), tags updated as i write more

Nsft under the cut 💗💗

You scoff at the idea that such a good house was sold for a meager 20,000 because of stupid rumors. It was big, didnt need repairs, had a beautiful fenced in garden, was in the perfect location, good neighborhood, far enough away from neighbors that you can be loud without consequences but close enough to get to everything easily. You kept an eye out for what was really wrong all through the moving process, but nothing showed. It really was just horrible reputation that gave you your absolute dream home!

You had all your stuff moved from your previous apartment (and your parents/friends place because there was ZERO storage in your apartment) and after a long long day of setting up, your bedroom and living room were ready for you to spend your first night there!

That night you decide to really treat yourself. Destress in the best way a single person can in your opinion. You get dressed up in your sexiest lingerie top and pair it with a set of peek a boo panties and thigh highs with garters, a collar, and grab a pair of nipple clamps (with attaching chain) and a bullet vibe. After everything is on you in just the way you like and the vibe is securely affixed (but off) to your tdick with body safe tape you start to prepare for a proper welcome to your new house.

As soon as you bend over to peel back the blankets and get ready, you feel a spectral hand caress your ass. You shoot up, shocked and a little afraid. You see nothing behind you when you turn around though.... after a tense moment you decide it was the wind and the stress of moving that made you think that; and set about continuing the final setup of your destress night.

You're arranging pillows and setting the mood, when suddenly your bullet vibe turns on, causing you to moan loudly and bend over until your torso was resting on the bed. You feel a spectral hand trail appreciatively down your nack, fingers catching on the edges of your lingerie until the hand smooths slowly down your ass, ending the motion with a firm grab.

"I never thought this house would be bought with me still in it," a husky and excited voice said, "but if this is what i can look forward to at night, i dont think i really mind."

"Who are you!?! Wh-" abruptly your ring gag was roughly placed in your mouth. You could feel spectral hands forcing it in place as the excited voice said

"Shhhhh, you're just gonna be our warm fleshlight from now on thats it baby. You even did such a good job prepping yourself for us like a good slut. Now just let us take it from here"

You were still confused and a little scared, but they seemed to add to your arousal not detracting from it. You let out a whimper and begin looking for the other people in the "we" equasion. Nothing showed.

But right when you were going to make a confused noise you felt a spectral cock

#ghost kink #free use kink #free use slvt #free use cnc #bd/sm kink #nsft story

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bteezxyewriter12 · 1 month

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You Won't Regret Me/ 1

Pairing- Wooyoung x Named Reader

Word count- 4k

Includes- enemies to lovers, arguing, insults, hate sex, semi public sex, bathroom sex, wall sex, sex from behind, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, arguing during sex

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Wooyoung Masterlist

Wooyoung POV

We all stand behind Hongjoong, watching the drug exchange go down, all of us ready to scrap if we have to

Hongjoong waves his hand, Joanne coming forward with the case full of heroin

She puts the suitcase next to Hongjoong, standing stoically next to him, waiting for the other gang to show the money

I scowl at her back

I can't fucking stand her

She's Hongjoong's best friend from childhood and when he started the ATEEZ gang, she was invited to be in it

As a member of his inner circle

She's tough, loyal and ruthless just like him

But she's also cocky, a know it all and argumentative

She thinks she's better than us

She's mean and rude

I hate her

The other guys tell me to chill the fuck out but I can't

Just her fucking voice grates on me

And the way she presents herself as if she and Seonghwa don't share the title of second in command

How it doesn't bother Seonghwa is beyond me

I'd shut that shit down in a second but Seonghwa lets it go

Probably because they fuck from time to time

But I'll be damned if I let some pussy affect my job

The leader of the gang puts a suitcase on the table and opens it, showing Hongjoong the money

Hongjoong goes closer, checking the bills, making sure it looks like it's all there

We won't know until we count it

"Jo", he says, and she opens the suitcase we brought, showing the rival leader the product

He goes to the suitcase, takes a knife out and opens one of the blocks

Sticking his finger in it, he tastes it and nods

Hongjoong scoffs, "Did you think we'd give you fake heroin?"

"You never know", the leader growls

"We have a reputation to uphold. When we say we'll do something, we do it", Hongjoong sneers, "We don't go back on our word"

"Noted", the leader says dryly

"If that's all", Hongjoong rolls his eyes, waving his hand to the suitcase of money

Seonghwa steps up, closing the suitcase and taking it

"Actually that's not all", the leader says

I hear guns cocking and when I look around us, all the men the leader brought has guns pointed at us

Great

"Give us the money"

Hongjoong sighs, "And what, you'll let us go?"

"No"

"Yeah thought so", Hongjoong says, shaking his head

"You were stupid enough to bring your whole inner circle with you", the leader grins, "It's just too good an opportunity to pass up. Taking out the whole ATEEZ gang. My gang will be famous for that. I will be famous"

"No, you're gang will be eradicated", Hongjoong says, holding his hand up and waving two fingers

Bullets fly by us, hitting all of the rival members

They all go down, some dead, others severely wounded

"You were stupid to think I didn't bring reinforcements", Hongjoong growls

I want to laugh at the leaders shocked and scared face

"How..."

"Snipers", Hongjoong shrugs, "You're an idiot if you didn't think I cased this place out first and thought of every possible scenario that could go wrong. And now your men are dead or dying. You're going to die. And we are going to eliminate your entire gang"

He pulls his gun out and shoots the leader in the kneecaps

He goes down, screaming like a little girl

To us Hongjoong nods, "Go"

Taking out my gun, I walk to the nearest guy to me and check him

Dead

Moving to the next one, he's groaning, holding onto his ribs

Raising my gun to his forehead, I pull the trigger, killing him

As we go around killing all the surviving men, Hongjoong says to the leader, "You should of just taken the money"

Then he shoots him in the head

"Fuck!", I hear San yell, a gun going off

I quickly turn to him, seeing him shoot down, his upper arm bleeding

"You good San?", Hongjoong asks

"Bastard shot me", he says, putting pressure on his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, "Flesh wound"

Sucks

"You get him?", Hongjoong asks

"Yeah"

Joanne appears next to San, taking her hoodie off and pressing it against his wound

"I'll fix your arm Sannie", she says

We don't use hospitals

And she is normally the one who fixes the guys when they get banged up

She did Hongjoong the favor and got trained as a nurse, so she knows what she's doing

For cuts, stitches, bruises, minor injuries, flesh bullet wounds, she fixes

Anything major like broken bones or body bullet wounds we go to a hospital and threaten the people there to keep quiet

"Thanks Jo"

"Yeah, let's get you back to Joong's house", she says

"Let's move out", Hongjoong calls

The rest of the guys come back towards us, Jongho dragging one of the rival members

"He's alive?", I ask

"Alive enough to answer questions", he says

We need one alive to tell us about his gangs hideouts and the inner workings of the gang so we can kill them all

No one crosses Hongjoong and ATEEZ

"Woo, drive Jo and San back to my house", Hongjoong orders, "Were going to the interrogation hideout. When she patches up San, all three of you come meet us"

I roll my eyes, keeping in a huff, nodding

As I walk to my car her and San are waiting at, I catch her glaring at me

"Let's go", I growl at her, unlocking my car, "And don't fucking get blood on my seats"

"He's bleeding you fucking idiot", she snaps, climbing in the back after San, "If blood drips deal with it"

"I don't want blood in my car", I snarl

"You can wash it out. Don't be a prick"

"You're such a bitch! It's a simple request. Don't get blood on the seat"

"You fuck-"

"Ok guys, can we go?", San interrupts, "Kinda in pain here"

"Yeah", I answer, remembering that yeah, he's hurt

Arguing with the witch isn't going to help him

Starting the car, I drive towards Hongjoong's house

--------------------------------

The music is loud in the club as I make my way to the bar

After San was patched up, we met Hongjoong and the rest of the guys

Jongho got information out of the rival member he tortured and we used that info to make a plan

Our gangs subunits are hitting all the hideouts as right now, killing everyone in them, essentially erasing that gang

We're on call in case we're needed but honestly we're good

Hongjoong inspires loyalty and everyone in the gang, from the low level drug dealers to us, his inner circle, are totally loyal to him

The low level ones are terrified to fuck him over

They should be

Hongjoong suggested we go to our favorite club to unwind and we all agreed

I'm on my way to get a drink, get shit faced and hopefully lucky

As I pass by the bathroom, it opens, someone walking right into me

I turn to glare at the person and seeing who it is my blood pressure rises

"Watch where you're fucking going!", I snarl at Joanne

"Oh fuck you", she snaps, rolling her eyes

"You walked into me you cunt!"

"Wah wah wah", she mocks

God, she just pushes all the wrong buttons, infuriating me

"You should apologize for being such a clumsy fuck!"

"How was I supposed to know your dumbass was standing by the door? Why are you hanging by the bathroom, you perv?"

My mouth drops momentarily at her stupidity, "I was walking by, idiot"

"Uh huh. Sure"

Oh that's it

I'm so done

"Do you ever shut up?", I snap

"Do you?", she snarls, "You're such a whiny little princess"

Princess?

Is she fucking kidding me?

"Fuck you!", I yell, getting so heated

"No fuck you!", she shouts back, glaring at me

I glare back at her, so much hate and anger running through me

And the next thing I know, I pull her to me, she comes willingly and her lips are against mine

Her kiss sends shivers down my spine, my head spinning and fire running in my veins

Goddamn she's a good kisser

Just as soon as we kiss, she's pushing me back, a look of disgust on her face

Yeah well I'm disgusted too

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Fuck off!"

"No you fuck off!", I snarl

"Don't fucking kiss me you toad!"

"Toad? Thought I was a princess", I snap

"Yeah, a princess toad!"

"You sound like a five year old", I snort

"Shut up! You're fucking gross"

I gape at her, insulted, "I am not gross!"

I take painstaking steps to ensure I'm not gross, I'm groomed and always looking good

So fuck her

"You are! A dirty whore who fucks anything that walks"

Is she calling me a slut?

"I do not! I may make out with a lot of girls but I don't fuck them all!"

And I use condoms most of the time

"Yeah sure. I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole"

I snort, "You would be lucky to fuck me"

She laughs, "Right. Cause you're such a catch"

I am

When I'm in a relationship I give my girl all of me, love her unconditionally

She'd be fucking lucky to have me

"Too bad you would never find out. I'd never touch a wannabe bitch like you"

"Wannabe?", she growls

"Yeah", I spit, "You pretend your tough shit, pretend you're second in command when really you share that title with Seonghwa"

"I earned my title asshole"

"Yeah right,", I snort, "Teachers pet"

"Fuck you, you little prick!", she snarls in my face

"No fuck you", I roar

We glare hatefully at each other and in the next second, her lips are against mine again

I slide my tongue in her mouth, playing with hers as her arms move around my neck

Putting my hands on her hips, I push her back, opening the door to the single bathroom

Slamming and locking the door, I turn her, shoving her against the door, kissing her hungrily

"What are we doing?", she asks between kisses

"Don't think about it", I answer, not knowing what the fuck we're doing

"Ok", she says breathlessly

I move my hands down to her pants, starting to undo them

"Are you trying to fuck me?", she scoffs when she pulls away

"Oh just shut the fuck up and let me take your pants off"

She glares but says nods

"Good. Shut up and kiss me"

She growls but does what I say, her soft lips so good against mine

I get her jeans open and I shove them and her panties down at the same time

She kicks her sneakers off, then moves her legs through the jeans and panties, leaving them a heap on the floor

"Bet you suck at sex too", she snaps as I pick her up and shove her against the door, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck

"Suck?", I scoff, "Please, you're going to be screaming my name in a minute"

She actually laughs, pissing me off more, "I seriously doubt that"

"Yeah we'll see", I growl, pulling my pants and boxers down

I'm not stopping to think how stupid this is

Or that I should definitely not do this

I'm ignoring that voice that's telling me to stop because I'm fucking horny

I hate to admit it but I really like her kisses and they turn me on

"We will see", she snarls as I align my cock to her hole

I thrust hard into her, bottoming out in one stroke, splitting her tiny cunt wide open

"Oh my god", we both cry

Holy shit, she's so fucking tight, clenching around me hard and so very wet, drenching me

My god, she feels fucking amazing

But I'm never telling her that or I won't hear the end of it

"Well you have a big cock, I'll give you that", she concedes

I smirk up at her

"Doesn't mean you know how to use it"

Snarling, I grip her ass hard as I pull back until just my head is in her pussy

"You'll see just how well I can use my cock", I snap, then slam back into her forcing her open around me

"Oh fff....", she trails off as I start railing her into the wall

I groan, feeling her pussy suck me in with each ram, like she wants to keep me inside her

I can feel every inch of her pussy impale on my dick, completely soaking my length and my lap

"So wet for my cock huh?", I smirk at her

"Don't flatter yourself", she moans, "It's a natural reaction"

"Oh?", I laugh, "It's a natural reaction for your pussy to drown my cock and douse my lap?"

"Shut up", she groans, pleasure all over her face, her body shivering against mine, her fingers bunching in my hair

"You're this drenched and I haven't even hit your spot yet"

"As if you could find it"

"Oh I can find it", I assure her

I roll my hips into her, plunging deeply

No, not there

I hike her legs up higher on me, shifting her around

Burying in her again, her body shivers and she yells out in bliss

I smirk, "Found it"

"Fffff...fuck you", she stammers as I hit her spot again

"Oh look", I mock, each thrust making my head hit her spot, "You're pussy gets wetter and wetter every time my head rubs you there. What was that about me not finding your spot?"

"Shut up", she roars

"Nope", I say gleefully, watching her tremble with every stroke

Her white shirt is clinging to her in sweat in all the best ways, showing off her big tits

Her hands move from my hair down to my chest, her hands unbuttoning my shirt one at a time

She gets it open, the air cool against my sweaty skin

She pushes it down my arms but I'm not letting her go to take it off, so I just let it hang

Her arms move around my neck again, her lips crashing into mine

I take her kiss eagerly, loving the chills that are running down my spine

I move faster into her, her pussy throbbing like crazy as her moans get louder and louder, her legs tightening around my waist

She's close

And I never wanted a girl to cum on me as much as I want her to

I want her to eat her words from before

"Cum on my cock", I pant, fucking her into the door

"Nnnn....no", she groans

I snap my eyes to hers, peering at her in disbelief through my sweaty hair

"What the fuck do you mean no?", I snarl, snapping my hips harder, smashing her spot

I watch her moan, her pussy clenching my cock like a vice grip

"No", she cries out, "I don't want to"

She's really fucking something else

She has the ability to piss me off during sex

That's a rare gift I wish she'd lose

"Yes you do", I growl, "You're squeezing my cock like you're trying to choke it, your pussy is drooling all over my dick, you want to cum"

"Fuck you", she snaps, her fingers digging into my shoulder, her other hand twisting in my hair, her pussy trying to unclench around me

I fucking had it

"Stop trying to force it back", I yell, thrusting into her with each word, "And. Finish. On. My. Cock. Now!"

Fucking into her once more, she screams as she falls into her orgasm

"Fuck! Wooyoung! I hate you!", she yells, pulling my hair so hard my head is pulled back, her pussy watering my cock like I've never felt before, throbbing like crazy, throwing my body into unbelievable pleasure

"Shit", I whisper, forcing myself to stay up, gripping her thighs hard

"I fucking hate you!", she cries, her body shaking, her face in pleasure as she keeps coming

"I fucking hate you", I snap

God, her orgasm feels so fucking good

That's just another thing to hate her for

I fuck her through it, wanting her to be in complete and utter pleasure because of me

Just to spite her

When she finishes, I pull out, putting her down, then spinning her around

I kick off my shoes, pants and boxers, then throw my shirt on the floor

Getting closer to her, I pull her shirt off her body, then undo her bra

Pulling her against me, her back to my chest, I snarl in her ear, "Open your legs"

She does, moving her hands against the wall as I slip back inside her, her pussy pulling me in so pleasurably

Moving my arms around her waist, I begin to move, getting a fast and hard pace going

It feels phenomenal

Pushing her hair to the side, I growl in her ear, "How does it feel to know you came on the cock of someone you hate?"

"Fuck you", she snarls, her body shaking with each plunge, betraying the pleasure she's in

"Uh uh. Not an answer", I say, burying inside her and grinding into her spot, "How did it feel? Don't lie"

"Stop"

"Just answer the fucking question"

God, can she stop being argumentive for a fucking second?

"It felt.....good", she says through clenches teeth

Pounding into her tight cunt, I press a kiss to her neck, smirking at the way her skin trembles under my lips

"Just good?", I ask, running my fingers softly up her stomach, between her boobs then back down

"Wooyoung-"

"Joanne!", I snap

"Fine! It was fucking amazing! The best orgasm I've had in a while!", she roars, "Happy"

"Extremely", I smirk

"I fucking loathe you"

"But you like my cock", I rub it in, pulling her head back against my shoulder, sliding my hands up her body and squeezing her boobs

She just grunts, the pretty wet sound of her pussy swallowing my cock so loud in the small bathroom

"Cum again", I whisper in her ear

"No!"

Can't she just fucking do something without an argument?

She liked it before, I'd think she'd want another one

But she's so goddamn stubborn

"You're gonna cum again", I snarl, pumping my cock inside her tight wet hole

"Fuck you"

I let out a frustrated cry and grab her neck, squeezing slightly

Her pussy gets so fucking tight, a moan coming from her

Well well, she likes being choked

That works out because I want to strangle her all the time

"You're going to cum on my cock again", I growl in her ear, "Your pussy is going to do what I say, when I say"

"I-"

"Shut up", I snarl, choking her lightly, her pussy getting impossibly tight, "Right now, I own your pussy. It does what I want. Do you hear me?"

I let go of her neck so she can answer but she just grunts

"Do you hear me?", I snap

"Yes!", she bellows

"Good. Cum"

I squeeze her neck as I thrust directly into her spot and she screams wordlessly, her body thrashing against mine as she orgasms

That same utter ecstasy I felt from her previous orgasm washes over me and I close my eyes, just basking in it

Forcing my orgasm back, I let go of her neck, her screams of my name shattering the silence as I let her ride it out on my cock

"Wooyoung! Wooyoung!"

God, I really like hearing her yell my name like this

I hate it when she says my name any other way though

Pushing her forward, I bend her over my arm, resuming my thrusts

Looking down, I gape at how utterly creamed up my cock is

There's a coat of cream all over and a thick ring at the base of my cock

God, I've never seen anything like it

And it's such a turn on

"Yeah you love my cock", I laugh, "If you could see how much you're creaming me, you couldn't argue"

She just grunts, her forehead against the wall

I watch the fascinating sight of her little hole spread open for my dick, straining the closer it gets to the base of my cock

Her hole is smeared in her cream and it's driving me insane

But I had her cream twice and there's something else I want

Moving my fingers to her clit, I play with it, rubbing quickly

"Fuck", she cries, more cream gushing from her hole

"You're gonna squirt", I murmur, rubbing her clit as I thrust, "You're creaming my cock so much and I fucking like seeing that but you need to squirt now"

"I....never....I don't think...."

"You never squirted?"

She shakes her head, her hips starting to move backwards, meeting my thrusts and taking me deeper than before

"Fuck", I whimper, "Yeah shit, fuck yourself on my cock. I'll make you squirt"

We move together, the sound of our skin slapping getting louder as we desperately fuck each other

"Oh god", she whimpers, her fingers scratching at the door, "So good. So fucking good"

I smirk, wondering if she knows what she's saying

I'm never letting her live this down

The next stroke has her pussy raining squirt around my dick, her screams of my name so pretty

I keep fucking her, so close myself

"I'm coming inside you", I grunt, as she finishes gushing all over the place

"You fuck-"

"Shut up", I yell, "I'm coming inside your cunt and you're going to take it"

She snarls but she doesn't say anything

"Ok?", I growl

I need her to agree

I'm not an asshole, if she really says no, I'll pull out

I'm not going to make her do something she doesn't want to

Not that I can anyway

If she doesn't want me to cum inside her her big fucking mouth will tell me

"Yes", she murmurs

"Yes what?"

"Wooyoung-"

"Say it", I urge her, so close

"Yes, come inside me!", she yells

"Is that what you want?", I moan, my body shaking hard from holding it back

"Yes! I want you to fill my pussy!", she cries

Ok then

Shoving my cock in to the hilt, I yell her name, euphoria tidal waving over me as I cum deep inside her

My fingers dig into her hips, holding her on my dick as her pussy milks me dry

Stars blast in my vision, it feels fucking amazing

Best orgasm I've ever had, hands down

But unlike her, I'm not dumb enough to tell her that

I pull out of her, watching my cum drip from her hole to her thighs

"Don't clean up", I order her, moving to grab my clothes, getting my shirt on

She glares at me hatefully, "What?"

"Keep my cum in your pussy", I clarify, picking up her panties and tossing them at her, "Let it drip out on your panties. I want you to feel me there the whole night. I want you to be reminded that you have the person you hate's cum leaking from your cunt, making a mess in your panties"

"I fucking hate you"

I roll my eyes, already knowing this

"Put your panties on now. Princess", I snap

She grumbles but she does like I ask, pulling her panties on

We dress in silence, then she heads for the door

"Don't fucking tell anyone", she snarls

"Oh I won't. I don't want anyone to know I banged the witch", I scoff

"Fuck you asshole"

Leaning down to her, I whisper in her ear, "The asshole who's cum is making a mess in your panties"

She huffs, despise in her eyes as she opens the door, the loud music crashing into the room

She immediately walks out, practically running to get away from me

I just smile, step out and continue my way to the bar

#ateez wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez smut

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shutit-haha · 6 months

Text

Retired MafiaBakugo HC

Bakugo isn't that much older than you, he just acts like he is. His body aches sometimes, muscles spasming or clenching involuntarily. If he steps wrong his knee pops out of place and you've got to push it back in. There's bullet wounds you don't like to look at for too long since he only has them because of you.

Playfully you call him your old man, to which he responds one of two ways. On tired days: he'll sigh, hands reaching for you while he growls out an "I know."

On those days where he's feeling more like himself, he'll bark, face scrunching into a snarl. "I'm not old dammit! We're nearly the same fucking age!"

You especially like saying it while he's busy doing something. Like how he struggles bench pressing while snarling at you, or the one time he fucked up his measuring too busy arguing with you. You're just such a big distraction, can't think of anything else once you've gotten his attention.

Bakugo still acts like he's in the Mafia, he can't help it. You've tried to teach this old dog new tricks but he found his tricks transfer over real well. When ever new people come around he squares up and cracks his neck. He stares them down all scary and intimidating. He takes up as much space as possible when entering a room.

Your husband when not on the phone rest it on his crotch and inner thigh just like he used to with his gun.

He speaks to you without speaking to you. Blinks for just a second longer when he's about to lose his temper. You rush into conversations all polite and open-minded. Even though the conversations have moved from negotiations that could end in death, to "I'm surprised you do all the house work." Sometimes it just means you need to take a breath and let the argument end where it is.

He'll raise his pointer finger and beckon you closer with a curl from the end. He watches you carefully waiting for you to tap your finger twice as a signal to him. Though now it's only reserved for when you can't breathe while he's down your throat, he remembers it from when things would start to get unsafe. Your husband watches for that fake smile you give, flashing a single one of your fangs. You use it when you need to get out of places, this includes awkward conversations.

You've grown used to his paranoia. Checking the locks on the doors everytime he passes them. Keeping the garage key opposite to where the garage is. Occasionally he'll take a different route home just to see if that car was really following him. You learned not to get too attached to these houses after the third move, to which your husband promised was your last. True to his word you've lived stabile in this home just fine.

You've grown used to his nightmares, finger twitching in his sleep like it's still on the trigger. Groans that arch his back, and have him double over his stomach. He can still feel the searing pain that comes with the bullets. The ones that penetrate leave mark deep with his brain despite never coming close to his head. He only remembers them, because they're yours. Because the bullets were fired for you, shots that never hit but were supposed too. He was lucky enough to jump in the way in time, shooting out his rounds just moments before he was even hit.

Katsuki killed that bastard. There's no question about it. It was nice and slow, and he'd do it again.

#headcanon #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #mafia au #retirement #bakugou katsuki #x reader #bnha #domestic fluff

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cordeliawhohung · 6 months

Text

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

warnings: PTSD, angst, anxiety/panic attack, blood, hurt/comfort

wc: 7k

Simon was always good with a gun.

Well, not always, but he learned quickly after he joined up. Countless hours were spent down at the range, cleaning, loading, aiming, shooting, working on his technique and stance; becoming a lethal and effective killer. Practice makes permanent, and he found himself using a handgun to shoot several yards at a target at an outdoor range, which felt wrong. The distance was much too far, and he couldn’t even tell if he was hitting his target effectively, let alone if his grouping was alright.

That wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. His M1911 felt too light, even with a full magazine, which seemed like it held too few bullets. He swore he loaded nine rounds in, but could only squeeze the trigger three times before the slide was stuck open, telling him he was dry. So he’d reload, rack the slide, and try again just for the same events to occur.

Eventually, he got frustrated. Too damn far to see the target properly, and he certainly had faulty equipment, so he holstered his gun and glanced around the area, defeated. The range itself was proper, but something seemed off about it. It was his feet, constantly slipping on something, and it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized it was sand. Desert-like sand, but it seemed too moist. Was he at the beach?

“Did I not say I would find someone who would make you talk?”

Simon turned around so quickly he swore his neck would snap. It was Bukin. Always Bukin. He grinned like a hyena with rotting teeth and a decaying core, and his chuckle was just as sour. An unexplainable rage began to smother him at the very sight of that creature, and his fingers twitched as he reached for his gun once more.

“You don’t deserve her,” Bukin continued as Simon aimed the muzzle of his pistol at him. “She would’ve been better off with me.”

A single shot echoed in the air, but there was no ringing in his ear, or crack in the distance. His gun didn’t jump, and Bukin still stood as if a bullet had never been fired in the first place. In anger, Simon stomped towards the man, gun still pointed at him, and pulled the trigger another time. Once more, there was nothing but a single shot and no blood.

“Or maybe you should have never had her at all,” Bukin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest, unphased. “You had to have known it would happen, yes? Death follows you everywhere you go, Ghost. It was going to get her eventually.”

The stiff end of the muzzle pushed against Bukin’s sternum, and Simon held it there firmly as he pulled the trigger once again. He had gone through the actions so many times. He knew what it sounded like when the breath was torn out of someone after the impact of a shot. Where was the thud of Bukin’s body? Why was the light still in his eyes?

“Ghost?”

Simon turned around at the sound of your voice. There was a small waiver in your tone that made his stomach drop, and he could feel his heart scream and shatter at the sight of you. Hands covered in blood, trembling lips, tears pouring from your eyes as you clutched your chest. You stared at him as if begging for him, as if he was the only person in the world who could save you.

When he tried to take a step forward, he felt his feet starting to sink through the sand, like the earth was trying to swallow him whole. Legs straining, he tried to push through, climb across the land and claw his way to you. You continued to stand there, hand clutched to your chest, blood flowing impossibly fast through the wound. Had he caused that? Or had you always been like that? Broken? Bleeding? Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him?

Sand swallowed him up to his waist by that point, and there was so much blood soaking the ground he couldn’t tell how much of it was yours, pouring from your wound, or his, pouring from his nails; broken and ragged from clawing to get to you. The worst part was, there were no hands holding him back, no biting words degrading him. Nothing in the world was stopping Simon from saving you except for himself. There was more blood than earth by that point, and the roaring sound of the ocean waves drowned out your crying and begging.

Eventually the earth felt pity on Simon, and the sand swallowed him whole.

Simon hardly needed to set alarms those days. His body did all the work for him, consistently waking him up with a frenzied jolt. A thick layer of sweat permeated his sleepwear, and he could feel strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. A terrible, chest rattling drum pounded in his body, and he could feel the way his ribs heaved in order to steady his heart.

The first place he turned to look was to you. Fast asleep on your side of the bed, the only clue that you were even alive was the subtle movement of your shoulders with your soft breathing. He knew he should have been happy to see you sleeping so peacefully, but when his eyes settled on the bottle of Ambien on your nightstand, a sour taste soiled his tongue.

Turning his attention to one of the windows, Simon took notice of the dull spring sunrise peeking through the curtains as he sat up. It was soft and white, like there were too many clouds in the sky for the sun to shine properly. It was only a matter of time before your alarm woke you up for work, and though he usually liked to stay around until you left, something was telling him to run. Run, fight, scream, because then at least the pounding in his chest would make sense.

Instead, he turned back to face you and your sleeping form. So soft and quiet underneath the covers, hidden away from the world that was much too cruel towards you. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, and not even that stirred you out of your sleep. Still, it made him feel a little better as he slipped out underneath the blankets and began to dress himself for the day.

One day the bed would grow warmer. He’d wake up with you in his arms again, smiling up at him, and his nightmares would finally fade away. But he was too afraid to cut you on the broken pieces of himself, and he was tired of seeing your blood. Your happily-ever-after would come someday. Eventually. Just not that day. Not while he still failed to save you, even in his dreams.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Once again, the sound of Jace’s shoes were driving you up the wall. The man had grown partial to wearing a full suit at work, for some strange reason, which only proved to annoy you even further. Strutting around in his charcoal grey suit all important-like while he breathed down the necks of every poor girl that worked there. He wasn’t a creep or anything, just much too enthusiastic about his job, and with no concept of personal space it didn’t take much effort for the man to irritate you.

Luckily, you were working on fixing a jam in the cash dispenser, which meant you were mostly out of your manager's line of sight. It was a difficult jam, something that couldn’t be fixed by simply opening the side panel and yanking the paper cash out by hand. Grime built up on money too easy, and the tips of your fingers had turned grey just from handling what little cash you had managed to yank out of the dispenser. No wonder that shit got jammed; there was so much dirt and dust stuck in that machine. Did anyone even bother to do any cleaning while you were gone?

You nearly laughed out loud at that thought. While you were gone. Why did you make it sound like you were gone by choice? Would it have been easier if you had just gone willingly? Would it have saved you from the pain?

No. No, you were at work and you needed to focus. There was no room for you to slip away, to go back to that house, that beach, that orchard, any of it. Your hands stilled on the machine as you took a shaky breath. No room for emotions; just for cleaning.

You stepped away from the machine for a short moment, trying to change your focus to something else while you reached for a can of compressed air. It made quick work of the dust and buildup crammed into the sensors and circuits of the machine, and you watched as it swirled in the air around you. A tingling sensation settled deep in your nose, and you tried not to think about the adverse effects that inhaling literal human grime and greed would have on your health.

Jace’s shoes hit against the stone floor of the bank again. Their terrible click-clack sound was not at all similar to boots on wood, and yet you still found yourself looking up towards the ceiling. There was no second floor to the building, no rooms above your head. Nothing but bright lights and fancy fixtures greeted you, and you found yourself swallowing hard as you looked back down at the dispenser. It was an instinctual reaction, something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing, and yet your heart raced all the same.

Sniffling, you shook your head and continued messing with the machinery in front of you. After opening a few more panels and removing a few parts, you found where the worst part of the jam had occurred. Someone didn’t check the cash well enough for slight tears, and it had gotten caught on one of the belts and torn, leaving a large pile of money behind it waiting to be processed. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you reached into the machine to pull the disfigured money out, and you did your best to ignore it as you started to close everything back up.

Something cracked behind you, and you froze. It was nothing more than someone scooting back in their chair, and you knew it. It was a sound you had heard plenty of times at work. You knew what it was, and yet your body didn’t. Your body heard it as a thump above you. A chair toppling over after someone shoved it in anger. Then it was followed by footsteps. Boots on wood. Stalking towards you as the sound descended downstairs. He was right on top of you. Right behind that door. Waiting to tear you apart.

Then his hand was on your shoulder. Always touching you. Always grabbing you like he owned you, like you were nothing more than a pet to him. Maybe you had been. No, you were less than that; you had just been livestock. An animal he tried to use to keep himself alive, something to bargain with. And his hand was on your shoulder, ready to take you away to be slaughtered.

“Hey, are we getting anywhere with this j-?”

When you turned around, you led with your elbow, and it collided with something squishy, followed by a yelp. Your eyes landed on your manager, Jace, who stood in front of you, doubled over as he held his nose. Blood splattered on the ground, staining his fingers as it poured uncontrollably from his nose. You looked down at the mess and noticed he had gotten some on the tips of his shiny, annoying dress shoes.

“Bleeding fucking christ,” he said through gritted teeth.

All you could do was stand there in shock with your hands hiding away your mouth as you looked at the mess you caused. You wanted to be angry, you deserved to be angry. He fucking touched you when a simple question could have easily gotten your attention. But he was bleeding, all over the floor, and when he looked up at you with involuntary tears in his eyes, you found your stomach churning with guilt.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked. You tried to sound large, but your voice only shook as you lowered your hands away from your face.

“What?” Jace asked, peeved. His voice was congested due to the blood he was trying not to choke on. “I should be the one asking you that! You broke my fucking nose!”

“Do you know how to talk to people without touching them?” you retorted. But your voice gave away what strength you tried to fake. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop shaking.

“My apologies, didn’t realize it was a bloody crime,” Jace muttered, the sarcasm almost covering his anger.

Even after all that time, it was always the same. Greedy hands on your waist in a bar. Vile hands holding your wrist, threatening to shatter it. The hands of your idiot manager trying to get your attention. Each and every time you knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t have been touching you like that, and each and every time you were the one to blame for it.

It was always the same. Nothing had changed.

Different voices, kinder voices, tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your terror. That pulsing mass of muscle in your chest, or the hyperventilating of your lungs. Sometimes your chest ached so terribly you thought you would die, and that’s how you felt in that moment. You’d just keel over on the stone floor and drown in the blood you accidentally spilled over a fucking panic attack.

So you left. You hadn’t even fully realized you were leaving until you were outdoors where the bitter spring rain almost instantly soaked you to the bone, even through the thick fabric of your blazer. There was the vague sound of the bank door opening behind you, but you ignored it and kept walking and prayed that whoever was behind you would leave you to be devoured.

Your walk home felt like a blur; like you were just some puppet with her strings being pulled. There wasn’t a single action you had taken the last few days that actually felt like your own will. You had turned into a simple bystander for your own life. People said that spring rain washed away everything so that there was room for new growth. The only thing you felt in the rain was cold, and it certainly didn’t wash away the anger that tried to strangle you or the sobs that choked you.

When you arrived home, everything was quiet. Usually Simon was there to greet you, but you also usually spent more than two hours at work. Really, it was for the best that he wasn't there anyway. He had always managed to find you in such vulnerable states, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him seeing you like that. Soaked to the bone, uncontrollable tears falling from your eyes, having probably just lost your job after essentially assaulting your manager.

It was a coo that caught your attention. Brought you back to reality, if only for a moment. It came from Boo, of course, who stood near your feet. He looked slightly disgruntled at the small puddle of water that had gathered around your feet, like he wanted to rub against you but didn’t dare get his paws wet. You wished you had his ignorance.

You felt bad for doing so, but you left Boo by the entrance as you pushed deeper into the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom. Your blazer was peeled off of your body and you carelessly left it in the middle of the hallway before hiding yourself behind a closed door. It didn’t take Boo long to track you down and attempt to paw at you through the gap under the door but you just couldn’t. He was an ignorant cat, and still you wouldn’t put him through the horror of watching your breakdown.

A squelching sound followed every step you took as you walked to sit on your side of the bed. The utter anxiety and pain in your chest had diminished but you could feel it slowly being replaced by a terrifying numbness. In order to preserve itself, your body had placed itself into some sort of limbo, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

Sighing heavily, you wiped at the moisture on your face, unsure if it was from your tears or the rain. When your vision cleared, your eyes settled on the bottle of pills on your nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat next to it, almost enticingly. Fucking Ambien. You shouldn’t give in, and you knew that. You’d fuck up your sleep schedule even more than it already was. But whatever was happening, whatever it was that was going on inside of you, you didn’t want to be conscious for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Smoking after any sort of physical training was certainly a terrible idea, and Simon was fully aware of this, yet he didn’t care enough to stop himself. So he stood outside, close enough to the building that the rain didn’t get him too wet, despite the fire laws that went against it, and puffed away. He hoped the rain would wash away any lingering scent of nicotine from his clothes.

He worked harder than he should have, and his body paid the price for it. Achy muscles plagued his arms, legs, and for some reason his core, even though he hadn’t focused on it all that much. Progress was slow, and he was still further away from his old self than he liked. A part of him wondered if he would ever see combat again. Did he even want to after everything that happened to you? Could he stomach leaving you again, not knowing if you’d be there when he came home?

The thought of leaving you made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to finish his cigarette, and he shoved his mask back over his face before venturing off into the storm. Noon would roll around soon, and he figured he’d need to eat a big meal after the hours he put in at the on base gym. After suffering through mid-day traffic for longer than what felt legal, Simon arrived home where the rain was just as unrelenting. Avoiding the moisture as much as humanly possible, he dove into the apartment.

A small puddle of water greeted him at the entrance, and he found his eyes narrowing at the sight. Was there a leak? Dark eyes glanced up at the ceiling, worried the roof wasn’t holding up, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of cracks or a burst pipe. Sighing, he slipped into the kitchen where he removed his mask and coat and set it on the counter. His pack of cigarettes peeked out of his pocket, as if trying to tempt him to take another, but he ignored that thought in favor of leaving to grab a towel to clean up the mess instead.

Simon hardly took a step into the hallway before he froze. Something was wrong. A sopping wet mess of clothing sat in the center of the hallway, and a ring of water settled around it. It wouldn’t be good for the flooring, but that was the least of his concerns. The door to the bedroom was closed tight, and Boo laid on his side, nose peeking underneath the crack as best as he could. Simon ventured a few steps closer, catching the attention of the impatient feline, and he instantly hopped up and trotted up to the man, meowing.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, leaning down to gently scratch the cat's ears. The question was playful, but it didn’t help the uneasiness that had an iron grip on his stomach.

Boo followed Simon to the door and was the first to dash in the moment it was opened. Your sleeping frame was the first thing he noticed, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought you hadn’t moved at all since he left in the morning. But you were on top of the covers rather than under them, and in your work clothes instead of pajamas. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes.

Concern didn’t even begin to describe the mess of feelings swirling in Simon’s head. You were supposed to be at work, not a soaking, unconscious mess in bed. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed where he tried to assess you as quietly as possible. No marks, your breathing looked and sounded okay, your eyes fluttered like you were in deep sleep; you looked fine. But you weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and he didn’t like that.

Maybe he should have left you alone, but he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for your shoulder. Your clothes were still moist, and his skin stuck to your dress shirt as he gently shook your shoulder. You were icey to the touch, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling.

“Sweetheart? Hey…”

His voice was so soothing it had to be a dream. No, not just his voice, but everything. It all felt so far away and muted, yet so close, as if something was clawing inside of you, trying to get out. Lungs expanded with a deep breath, your eyes fluttered open, and your vision was completely obscured by Simon. He knelt on the floor next to the bed where he leaned forward so that his hand could brush against your cheek. It was only then that you realized how cold you were. Damp clothes clung to your body as if trying to suffocate you, and your muscles attempted to turn into stone with how stiff they were. It was like waking up on wet grass.

And it all came back to you. The crunching sound of your elbow smashing a nose, the panic that footsteps stirred in your chest, how you couldn’t be touched without feeling Bukin instead. You stared at Simon with glossy eyes, and you tried to open your mouth to speak but stayed silent instead. His concern only grew at your silence, and you watched as the proof of it etched onto the features of his face. He looked at you like that so often you were certain his face would be stuck that way.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked softly. Everything he did was soft when it concerned you. Like he feared he would shatter you.

“I… don’t know.” Your response spewed out of your mouth before the thought was even formed. The Ambien you had taken shrouded your mind in murky water, and you weren’t sure if you should be grateful for it or not. Neverbefore had you ever felt so light and heavy at the same time.

With an odd burst of energy, you sat up and Simon’s hand fell from your face. It was as if no time had passed at all. You had just been stuck in some sort of limbo and thrown right back into reality the moment you had woken up, and fuck did it hurt. A heavy dryness overwhelmed your throat to the point you were certain your vocal cords would crack, and there was some evil creature running around wreaking havoc in your head.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you said as you scooted towards the edge of the bed. Each word that you spoke felt too big for your mouth, but you let them tumble out anyway.

An uncomfortable squish sounded as your still soaked shoes hit the floor, but you ignored it as you pushed yourself to your feet. Boo curiously paced in front of you, eyes trained on your face as if he too was attempting to read your mind, but you ignored him as you wandered out of the room.

You hadn’t realized Simon followed behind you like a lost dog until you reached the kitchen. Before you could even reach for a cup, he had already gotten one down for you and was at the sink filling it up. Rain continued to fall just as fiercely as it had been during your walk home, and you could feel the low grumble of thunder reverberate through the entire complex.

“Did you walk home?” Simon prompted as he held the cup for you to take. He was trying to test the waters. Trying to figure out why you were home, but not fully there with him. In a way, you reminded him of himself, half awake, walking around the house smothering toothpaste on his face in a traumatic driven daze.

“Yeah,” you answered bluntly. Sniffling, you raised the cup to your lips and took a small sip of water before continuing. “My manager was just, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably fired anyway.”

“Fired?” Simon repeated, the disbelief obvious in his voice despite how hard he tried to keep his tone neutral.

You really didn’t want to talk about it. Because you could say that you smashed Jace’s face with your elbow, and you could say that you didn’t like the sound of his shoes, or how he touched your shoulder. That was easy. Those were facts. What you didn’t want to explain was why. Why you responded with such violence, why the sound of his shoes ignited some deep fear you tried to smother, what you were reminded of when he touched you.

So you looked around the kitchen in an attempt to distract your brain enough to come up with a lie. You had always been so terrible at lying, and you knew Simon was aware of that fact, too. Eyes focusing around the room, you looked everywhere as long as it wasn’t at Simon. An old grocery list held up by a magnet on the fridge. The slightly cracked handle on the microwave. Simon’s jacket bunched up on the counter.

A boiling heat rumbled in your chest when your eyes landed on a small cartridge that slid halfway out of the pocket of his jacket. At first you thought your eyes attempted to play a trick on you. Something that the Ambien made you hallucinate. But the more you focused on it, the clearer it became; as did that anger that threatened to engulf you.

“Have you been smoking?” you asked, eyes refusing to tear away from his jacket.

Simon followed your gaze, and the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. You didn’t even give him time to answer before you set your cup of water on the counter next to you and snatched the cigarettes out of the jacket. Why did the sight of it make you so angry? No, you knew exactly why. You just kept playing dumb with yourself. Every time you thought about it, you were transported back in time to where the scent of it clung onto Eric’s clothes. How it burnt your nose when he got close enough you could smell it on his breath. It was the first thing you smelled when you woke up on the ground after Adakskin beat you. That terrible smell had haunted you for years, and you didn’t think you could stand it if it started following Simon around, too.

You marched over to the bin on the other side of the kitchen, and Simon called after you but you didn’t respond. Every muscle in your body had grown so taut that you had slightly crushed the cartridge before you tossed it with the rest of the rubbish. A restrained and frustrated sigh left Simon as he reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was something exceptionally irritating about not getting answers. Sure, he was used to people holding out on him during interrogations, but allies had more or less always been truthful with him. You had always been truthful with him. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful seeing you struggle and not knowing how to help.

“Sweetheart. Love, look at me,” Simon urged. It took everything in him to keep his voice mellow, to not get too frustrated. Like Gus had said, you didn’t have the same tools going into all that like he did. Eventually you did turn to look at him, eyes already growing wet. His gaze softened as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and face; it was the closest you had ever seen him to looking truly sad. “Talk to me.”

Every emotion that you had forced into dormancy began to erupt in that moment. All the anger you tried to swallow, the grief you tried to bury, the disgust you felt towards yourself; it all came up to the surface. The pounding headache in your skull didn’t help with the tightness you felt crushing your chest, and for a moment all you could do was muster a defeated shrug, hands bumping against your thighs.

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted in frustration. “I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore. I want to. At least, I think I do. But, fuck, sometimes I think about what I want to say and I sound fucking insane.”

Pausing for a moment, you reached your hands up to rub at your face. It was difficult to tell if it was because of the Ambien or not, but everything felt fuzzy. More than it normally did those days. Your thoughts, your words, your movements, it all felt unreal. Even so, a flood had started. Everything had been building up inside of you for months, nearly crushing your organs with the pressure, and it felt like there was nothing you could do but watch it pour out of you.

“Like, I was fucking kidnapped. That sounds fucking crazy, like something you’d see on a true crime show, not- not something I’m supposed to experience,” you continued, pulling your hands away from your face. “And it’s weird because for a while I was just some sort of trophy for them. Something to taunt you with and it- it was fine when it was just that but fuck Simon he- that crazy bastard he-”

Words failed you, and you choked back a sob as you bit into one of your knuckles. Simon braved a step towards you as the tears started to stream down your cheeks. Somehow, talking about what happened was more painful than actually experiencing it.

“He didn’t even do anything serious so I feel like an idiot for even freaking out about it but I can’t- like- fuck, sometimes people touch me and it’s him. It doesn’t make sense but it’s just- it’s him and it terrifies me. Every footstep I hear sounds like it’s above me even when I’m in a single story building, the smell of cigarettes reminds me of waking up on the fucking floor.”

You choked on the snot building up in your nose and you paused for a second to sniffle and wipe away the uncontrollable swell of tears that fell from your eyes. Something in you urged you to stop talking, to just shut up before you said something you regretted, but you couldn’t. There was no dam in the world strong enough to hold back everything erupting inside of you.

“Sometimes I think about how he touched me, dressed me in his coat, the things he said to me and I feel disgusted. He ruined me. I can scrub at myself as long as I want and I still feel it. I can’t get clean. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t know how else to explain it,” you continued.

Simon only grew closer, slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild animal into his grasp. Maybe that’s what you had become. Some feral beast that took too much effort to love. He was close enough for you to grab, and you wanted to so badly it ached. You wanted for him to reach out and swallow you whole because maybe then you’d finally be clean.

“And I want to tell you everything but I feel so ashamed to be alive right now,” you sobbed. “He ruined me. That sounds so fucking stupid but he- I wished he had been worse. I really, really do. They fed me and kept me alive and kept me clean like a goddamn pet when really the whole time I wished they would have killed me already because I felt like I was betraying you by being unharmed. But they didn’t. And I’m still alive, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be because I’m not- I don’t think I’m really here.”

There it was. Bubbling in the back of your throat. The confession that felt like it would kill you if you admitted it out loud. But there was no stopping it. All you had ever done was watch your life go by from the sidelines anyway.

“I can hear something that reminds me of being back there, and I know. I know why it scares me and what it reminds me of. I can reach out and talk to you because I know- I hope that you still love me after everything but I just can't because I’m not really here. I’m still in that fucking basement, Simon. And I want to be here with you, and I want to feel better but I’m stuck there.”

You hadn’t realized how close Simon had gotten to you until his hand brushed against your upper arm. That was the last straw. Whatever composure you attempted to hold together shattered, and a moment later you found your face buried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so firmly it was like he attempted to hold you together. When your knees gave out underneath you, Simon fell with you. Gently, he lowered the both of you to the ground so that you sat in his lap while he leaned against the cupboards under the countertop.

Each sob rattled your body so violently you were sure you would break apart then and there, but Simon wouldn’t let you. His hand engulfed the back of your head where he kept you close to his chest, rocking you ever so gently. There was something bittersweet about the way he kissed the top of your head, how he buried his face as best as he could into the crook of your neck. He held you until your body was finished rocking your world with wails, and even then he still continued to hold you.

“There’s nothing in this world I care about more than you,” he spoke once the waves settled. “I wanted to tear the world apart when I realized you were gone, and I thank whatever sick creator we have that you’re alive. I’m not gonna judge you for doing what you had to in order to survive. It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”

His confession nearly had you sobbing all over again, but you bit into your lower lip and forced yourself to keep your composure. You weren’t sure if you even had many more tears left to shed, anyway.

“You should have never gone through that at all, and I’m sorry you did,” he continued. The hand on the back of your head adjusted slightly, gently moving your shoulder back. Taking his hint, you leaned back some and looked up at Simon. His thumb ghosted along your cheek, wiping away any remaining moisture. “We’re gonna get you through this, yeah?”

It felt impossible. Getting through it. Getting better. You wanted to deny it, claim that healing was meant for people who were still mostly whole. But you wanted to get better so badly it hurt. You swallowed and sniffled some as you nodded in agreement, and moments later he pulled you back into his chest once more.

That was the first time that you really felt like you were home. Crumbled on the kitchen floor in Simon’s arms. There was something lovingly tragic about it; about being destroyed and still having someone to love you. It was a promise. The kind that couldn’t be broken. So when he pressed yet another kiss to the top of your head and mumbled the words, “I love you more than anything,” you believed him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since Simon had last seen you smile. Truly smile. Yet there he was, sitting on a log in the middle of the Forest of Dean watching you giggle as you dipped your hands into a small stream. The August heat was unrelenting, even through the canopy of foliage overhead, and he watched as you rubbed the fresh water up your arms. The two of you were roughly two hours into your hike, and it had been awhile since he had last seen you so energetic. Each waving flower, small critter, and neat rock had to be enjoyed, and you made sure to point out everything worth seeing.

Digging his canteen out of his bag, he took a deep sip of water as he watched you pick rocks out of the stream bed. You’d run your fingers over it, cleaning off any clinging dirt so that you could enjoy whatever colors were hidden underneath, and then place the item back in the water where you had found it. Even though your back was turned to him, he could still imagine the grin on your lips.

The last few months that you had been in therapy had been treating you well. There were some things that were still difficult, old wounds that would never quite heal right, but you laughed more often, and talked as if you had never known a moment of silence in your life. It felt nice. Better. Things would never be back to how they used to be, though sometimes he wished they would, but it was more than enough to hear you laugh again.

A gasp left you, and Simon watched as you slowly straightened into a standing position. Knowing that he was about to be beckoned over, he hid the canteen away in his pack once more before sliding off of the log he had been using as a bench.

“Simon, come look,” you said quietly, as if afraid to disturb something.

With careful feet, he snuck up by your side where he was quick to notice what had caught your attention. A small dragonfly had perched itself on the tip of your forefinger where its wings glinted like church windows in the obscured sunlight. It stayed remarkably still for a creature that chose an excited human to rest on. You whispered how beautiful it was, how the blue of its body mirrored that of the sky, or how the pattern on its wings could be put in a museum.

Once it had its fill of compliments, it fluttered off of your finger and back into the heart of the forest where it vanished from sight. You stood there for a moment with Simon by your side, the toes of your shoes just kissing the crystal clear stream water by your feet. Everything was fresh, warm, and real. Nature surrounded you on all sides, and it was the most free you had felt in a long time.

“I’m excited,” you suddenly blurted out, attention turning to Simon. “To move into our new place.”

He hummed in response as his hands found your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. Smiling, you leaned into him with the palm of your hands flat against his chest. He looked at you with such adoration, like even after all that time the two of you had been together he still couldn’t quite believe you were his.

“It’ll be a good workout. Lifting all those boxes,” he quipped with a slight smirk. “For me, anyways.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and swayed in his arms, yet your gaze found its way back to those lush, dark eyes of his. As if your bodies were magnetized, his lips found yours in a sweet, deep kiss, and the warmth of the sun couldn’t even compare to the warmth that ignited inside of you. And it felt nice, beyond nice, being able to kiss him without fearing you’d taint him. You could hold onto him, and lean your head against his chest when the kiss was done, and you were there. You were there in Simon's arms in the midst of a forest and nowhere else.

“It’ll be dark soon if we keep going at this rate,” you sighed contently as he gently swayed you back and forth.

“I’ve got a flashlight,” he said.

“‘Course you do.”

“Always prepared.”

Another playful eye roll followed that comment, and the two of you slowly separated from one another. After recuperating, you started down the trail where you once again continued pointing out every single little thing that caught your attention. Simon watched on with a small smile and offered cheeky comments when it fit just so he could hear you laugh more. It was freeing to be out there in the fresh air, away from the noise of the city. It was even more freeing to know that soon you would be in a place where everything felt different and clean. Soon, you and Simon would be able to start over again, and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself at that thought.

As far as you were concerned, each step you took along that trail was another step closer to getting out of that basement.

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