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davosmymaster · 1 year

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No Time To Die

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no explicit smut but sexual themes, whump, a lot of angst, blood, graphic wounds and procedures (?) probably not medically accurate, could be almost gore if you squint, hurt/comfort, two dorks in love, canon-typical violence, near-death experiences. Not based on the game, I don’t know anything about the game and I don’t want spoilers please.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 9.6k.

SUMMARY - The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

A/N - I honestly don’t know what this is. I tried to look for angsty and whumpy fics and couldn’t find any that hit the spot just right; so I wrote my own. This story is set in some time between 2010 and 2020, or so. Bill and Frank are still very much alive. The only warning apart the amount of blood in this, it’s my own knowledge of the English language.

'Breathe'

With a shiver, you try to comply with your own command. The action itself confuses you, and you don't know where exactly in your mind that thought came from; or why. All you know is that a moment ago you were nothing, absolutely nothing, not even human. You forgot your own existence in a still ocean made of black thick ink. The ink is now backtracking, though, but the remnants of it stay in your foggy mind, clouding it as your consciousness comes back in waves.

Waking up from a dream is easy, you just come back into yourself from a nice trip to your own imagination. Regaining consciousness, however, is a little more difficult. Instead of going somewhere, you go inwards into yourself. Your overworked mind, already tired and busy with keeping you alive, doesn't care much about bringing you to any other place so you can die peacefully. No. And the awakening is not as it should be either.

Coming back into yourself is your body crawling its way to the land of the living, with your flesh drenched in tears, blood and sweat; and nails digging firmly into the dirt. At least that's how it feels as you go back and forth between the two worlds, rocked violently by the waves threatening to drown you in its heavy never-ending dream.

You wake up tired, and cold. The first sense that returns is touch; and with it, a pulsing pain radiates from under the right side of your collarbone and all the way down to your chest and back. The —obvious— wound is warmer than the rest of your body. It's like you've grown a second heart right at the borders of the wound; it throbs relentlessly. The second is taste. Your mouth tastes like salt and melted butter; despite not having eaten either in at least three days. Around the dryness of your tongue you feel a sticky liquid swirling around in your mouth, plastered to your gums.

Whatever it is, you cough it out of your mouth. The old blackened blood splatters on the wooden planks below your mouth. Then, a second later, you feel a sprawled hand on your back; and the rest of your consciousness returns with it.

He calls your name. And he, whose presence you'd have recognized even blindfolded, even miles away from there, doesn't appear in your mind for a few seconds. But even half-conscious and at death's gates, his name leaves your mouth with a sigh of relief.

Joel.

"I'm here," he says, his palm now pressing a bit harder into your back, trying to comfort you somehow. If you had been fully aware, you'd have been embarrassed at the relieved groan that had escaped your lips while saying his name. "How are you feeling?"

His voice sounds less muffled now, but the pulsing pain intensifies the closer you are to the surface. A second groan escapes your mouth as the warmth under your collarbone becomes impossible to ignore.

"I know, I know" he says.

Your eyes flutter open. From your point of view there's not much to see except torn wallpaper, your blood stains, and the shadow of a window. You're on the floor, your cheek pressed against the dusty carpet, your body very still laying on them, and Joel rubbing your back.

The room is dark. His fingers enter your field of vision, they dip on the wet blood stains and turn around so Joel can see the sticky fluid staining his fingers. He takes a breath, a gasp, really.

"Goddamnit," he mutters under his breath. His hand stops rubbing your back, and as black stains crawl from the corners of your vision, trying to take you under the waves again, he talks to you:

"I need to turn you around..." he says with a gentle voice. It's like the icing on top of a sour and burnt cake; he's trying to sound caring, but that doesn't change the fact that it's going to hurt like a bitch. "You hear me?" he says, and his voice breaks for a second. Your ears ring, the next thing he says your brain doesn't process it, your vision has been clouded by darkness again...

A scream tores your throat as a shooting pain lights your body on fire. It feels like lightning going through your backbone. Suddenly, the waves are very far away and you're feeling way too conscious for your liking. Despite your pain, Joel is still as careful as he can as he lays you on the floor, now facing the ceiling instead.

The throbbing pain continues, and you blink to get rid of the tears that distort Joel's face. His hand wipes the tears from your face.

"I know," he says. He has a crease between his seemingly angry eyebrows that you had never seen before.

Both hands are roaming your ribs now, before you can even say anything. His warm hands give you shivers as he touches your naked skin. The pain is so unbearable that all you can do to mitigate it is hold your breath. If you could move, you'd be right now curled on the floor like a pretzel. You are not crying anymore, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't close.

"Can you breathe?" he asks then, when he doesn't find any cracks in your ribs by touch alone. You don't respond because you can't find your own voice, and he sounds desperate at this point. "You coughed blood, I need to know if any of your lungs are collapsing."

"It-it hurts..." you wheeze, your eyes tightly shut. For a split second, you wish you were back to being nothing. Being nothing sounds way better than having a gunshot wound in your chest. The bandages, tight over your bones and shoulder, don't mitigate the pain either. If anything, they worsen it. It feels like a tight sock over a painful pustule on your heel.

Worst part is you know all this pain is for nothing; you know you won't make it. If you go back to the QZ, you will be executed. If not, there's nobody to help you except Joel. But even if there were doctors or hospitals, you highly doubted you could find the necessary tools to extract a bullet and stitch the wound. That is, if you manage not to die of blood loss.

"Where?" Joel asks. Even beyond all this concern and well-hidden panic, he seems to cling to an ounce of hope. "Tell me where it hurts."

Your fingers gently trace your skin until they reach the area under your collarbone, and you sign to your back too. There's a bandage there, but nothing else, and that's when you notice you don't have a shirt on, just your blood-soaked bra.

"Is it bad?"

"Not that bad. The bullet went through," he said. That explains the pain on both sides of your body; you have a literal hole in your chest. "And it clotted soon enough to stop the bleeding, but you lost too much blood anyway... Anywhere else?"

Your whole body hurts and this abandoned house suddenly feels like penance, but you don't want to scare him further, so you shake your head no very slowly.

"Alright," he mumbles. Joel nods once, and it looks like he is reassuring himself. His eyes betray him, he looks like he is very far away from here, very buried under all the scenes playing on his mind; but despite his stillness, his lower lip quivers.

You can't move your right arm at all, but with the other hand, your fingers lightly touch his knuckles still resting on your stomach. He winces, and your fingers are wet with his blood too. He must have beaten to death whoever shot you, that you are certain about.

Your voice, little more than a weak breath, whispers:

"I-I want you to do it."

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. He seems confused rather than angry; the reaction you were hoping for. You take a breath to repeat your own words, but he squeezes your hand.

"Don't," he says.

"Joel..."

"Don't even think about it," he snarls. "You are perfectly fine, don't be dramatic."

You don't know what hurts more; his pain or yours, but his denial makes your eyes wet with tears again. This is already hard, but he is making it even harder. All he will achieve by trying to keep you alive is either prolonging his pain or getting himself killed. You both know this is no world for the injured and the sick, not out of the QZ, at least. And in most cases, not inside either.

All you ask of him is to not leave you for the infected to find. Is that too much to ask?

You want to insist, but you know he won't have it. Joel has lost so much already that the thought of losing what little left he has is not even going to cross his mind. Not until it's too late, at least. Also, you don't want your last moments with him to be a fight. You are tired of fighting, of swimming against the current. You just want to let go for once, give in to the external forces, close your eyes and peacefully breathe.

What's more, you should have already known that he wouldn't do you that favor. He is too selfish for that.

He pats your cheeks gently with his large hands, and your eyes, already rolling back into your skull, get focused on him again with a few blinks. You breathe slowly, trying to focus on him, on the world around you slowly twisting and turning.

"...that's it," he says, it doesn't sound like his first sentence, so you guess he's been talking to you before. When you look back at him, his breathing is shallow, and you know he is trying to take a hold of himself too, trying not to give in to panic. "Good girl, that's it. Keep your eyes on me."

Exhausted and hurting as you are, keeping your eyes open it's like asking you not to drop a weight that you cannot, in fact, handle; but you try nonetheless. It's your fault, really, for letting yourself go, for trying to give up on your fight earlier than you should. Joel is here trying to keep you alive, mending all your broken ends and stitching them together —he has always been good at that— while you're just trying to give up on him —you are really good at that too—.

Giving up on Joel has been one of the hardest things you've ever had to do; and now you're letting him go for the last time. Part of you is glad you don't have to keep watching how he chooses Theresa over and over again. You are even relieved that fate —or whatever there is out there— is forcing you out of the equation. After all, you would never have given up fully on him.

He refuses to kill you, what he doesn't know is that you've been dead for a long while now. Him being your executioner would be the kindest act he could have with you, the most intimate thing you'd ever share; your last moments. You want it to be him, you want him to free you from this torment.

He refuses, though; and it feels like a punch to the pit of your stomach. You shiver.

He gets up from his place on the floor, where you are lying just over the carpet. You follow him with your eyes and see a fire cracking up in a fucked-up chimney. He stokes the fire, throws some more wood on it and then comes back to you, covering you with his jacket, the very same jacket you had on before he turned you around. It's warm, his, and you have to stop yourself from sinking your nose into the collar.

"I had to take off your shirt to patch you up," he says, but he doesn't say sorry. Ever. So you guess it's his way of apologizing.

You simply nod, aware that you had wished for this very moment to happen many times before. You had dreamt of his rough hands over your naked flesh, caressing the sides of your body. You had dreamt of him watching you with those chocolate eyes as you took your shirt off, deep black pupils spreading over the brown as he watched the lace fall like a helpless witness.

But now the bra was covered in blood and he was watching you anywhere but the lace. He had a frightened and concerned look on his face, rather than aroused. A look that would have made you feel guilty and ashamed if it had happened in the other scenario. And instead of undressing you, he was covering your body with his jacket as if you were his child.

"What's wrong?" he is asking now, instead of whispering 'I want you' and it hurts all the same to know he's not ever going to say it, and that Tess now will have all those words for however long their lives are.

You guess they were made for each other. And it makes all the sense, really, no one like Joel would ever look at you twice. You were grateful that he even allowed you to be his friend.

"Nothing," you respond.

It's always 'nothing' when it comes to Joel. It's always that nothing whenever he notices you are under the weather. It's always nothing when you are hurt, when someone tries to rob you and they leave an angry black eye on your face. It's always nothing; and he never believes you.

"I don't make promises, you know that," he says, taking your left hand in his. "but you will be fine, I swear."

You don't know what to say, how to explain that you are not scared of death, that you are just scared of not seeing him again. But you can't, so you say nothing and just nod.

Does he want to hurt himself? Okay. You can't do much while lying on the floor anyway.

After that, both of you stay silent. Joel seems to be avoiding looking at you. His eyes are stuck in the fire creaking in the chimney, but they are too restless to be present and conscious of the yellow and orange haze.

Your palm lands on his thigh, your fingers gently brushing the denim. You want to comfort him somehow, but, at the same time, you are scared he will reject your touch and reassurance. That's all you can do for him: no words, no further touching, just a featherlight touch that indicates you are still present. There, with him.

"I thought we couldn't make a fire."

"Don't be dumb. The windows are all broken, it's winter and you are in shock. How else would you heat up?"

"Got it. You're not in a talking mood," you huff. "Alright."

Silence settles between both of you. However, one of his big, rough hands travels to where your fingertips are gently brushing his thigh. At the touch, even if you don't want to let go, your fingers begin to back off. He's not in a good mood, and you seem to be pushing his boundaries a little too much. Except that, instead of letting you go, he catches your hand in his and puts it back over his jean. This time, it's him who brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

For a minute, the only sound in the living room are both your breathing patterns, the flames licking the air and the wind rushing through the broken windows.

"I'm sorry..." you start. And immediately, his brown eyes are all over you again. Your voice sounds exhausted, more than you'd have liked. "...I fucked up the mission. I know-"

"You haven't fucked up anything," he interrupts. That's Joel, all stoic, swallowing his feelings and denying everything that it is not up to his standards. "Would you mind to just rest-"

Your eyes well with tears.

"Joel, for once... Just for once, don't lecture me, don't ignore what I'm trying to say just because you don't want to hear it," you tell him. Then, he thankfully presses his lips together in a pained grimace, but stays silent nonetheless. "I fucked up the mission getting injured. I know it isn't my fault, but it doesn't matter whose fault it is. If you wanna go on without me, I won't blame you."

His fingers are now squeezing yours, but you know he is not even conscious of that. He leans in a little, his cheeks now reddened in anger. He looks like he is about to spit on your face.

"I'm not leaving you anywhere," he says. He looks offended that you even thought he was capable of that. "You and I are gonna get to Lincoln, either if you like it or not. There, Bill and Frank will help you. We have traded all kinds of things with them, and I know they are very well supplied."

"Why would they help me?"

"They are not just people we trade with," he says. His fingertips brush a strand of hair out of your face. "I know they will."

"What if they changed their minds?"

His pupils lock into your own, his jawline swells as he grits his teeth.

"I'm persistent."

The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Walk out of the QZ undetected, walk fifteen miles to the town of Lincoln, just outside Boston, get our things and come back. Our cargo were the two last spools of aluminum that Joel had promised to trade with them and two packets of seeds. Theirs? Two pounds of rolling tobacco and a gun. Tess couldn't make it, she had appointments with other smugglers, probably the ones who snuck the drugs in; which was more than half of their business. If it wasn't that important, she wouldn't have stayed in the QZ for anything in the world. But Bill and Frank were also important, and Joel couldn't go alone.

The two of you should be home by now, and you wondered if Tess was regretting her decision of asking you to go with him. Last night you had both snuck out of the Boston QZ; and it usually didn't take more than six hours to get to Lincoln. But just outside the city you had bumped into raiders; and a stray bullet had hit you. Now you were stranded in a small cabin lost in the woods, about seven miles away from Lincoln; and unable to walk a single step.

And to top it all off, Joel was enraged and neurotic.

Still with the same expression, he takes your wrist and squeezes two fingers into it. Even if you had preferred him not to, knowing that your heartbeat got wild whenever he was around. You let him check on you, hoping that if your symptoms got better he would let you have a quick nap. Your nervousness, however, doesn't improve despite your efforts of trying to calm yourself down.

"Since when are you a doctor?"

He lets your wrist go, then gets back on his feet and gets his rifle.

"You should rest. You'lll need it," he says, now heading to the entrance. He's gonna be standing on guard all night, you are sure of that. "We're leaving tomorrow morning."

That is when you lose it. You can't believe he is that blind, that caught up in his own world.

"I know in your perfect fantasy this is just a scratch, but I truly can't move, Joel. Even laying here awake is hard. How am I supposed to follow...? Joel!"

But he's out of the house before you even finish the sentence.

[***]

Joel doesn't keep his word.

A few hours later, not even near dawn yet, you get pulled back from a dream. Your eyes take a few minutes to register your surroundings; again. And the memories gallop back to your mind in a rush; accompanied by the burning and piercing pain on the upper right side of your chest. Your eyes shut tight, and you inhale a shallow breath. Even breathing hurts.

"We need to go," Joel whispers. His voice sounds muffled, especially over the sound of your beating heart. "C'mon, wake up."

He is once again rocking you rather than shaking you awake. Just to be able to fall asleep you had rolled back into your chest, cheek once again firmly pressed against that twenty-year-old dusty carpet. When he came back from checking the perimeter, not even five minutes after your argument, he placed his backpack right under your stomach so your right side was elevated. You wouldn't have been able to fall asleep if it wasn't for that. The pain was maddening, atrociously painful. Joel had found you gritting your teeth even in your sleep.

He had said you'd leave the next day, but you felt like not even minutes had passed.

"Morning," you complained, half a grunt accompanying your words. Joel shook you gently again when he saw you relax a second time, and your voice came back. "Y-you said...mor-"

"I know what I said but we can't wait any longer," he answered. "I'm gonna sit you up."

Fear pumped enough adrenaline into your system to wake you up. The ache from before rushed back into your mind, and your 'please' and 'wait' left your mouth like a prayer.

"I can do it," you said, but it sounded more like begging than an affirmation.

"I know you can," he lied. As your eyes opened and you saw his expression —eyes focused on you, trembling hands, half of his face hidden in the shadows, the other half gently licked by the orange-like haze of the dying fire— you understood that you had to be in a really bad condition for him to look at you that way, and feel the need to lie to make you feel better. But then, a second right after that, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttered between your face and the surface of his jacket over your shoulders. His stoic mask was back on. "I'm just gonna help you, okay? But you do it."

He did not, in fact, let you do it.

You had managed to lift yourself barely an inch over the carpet, using all the strength left in your healthy arm, when both his hands curled around your side and pulled you up to his chest. Clenching your jaw, you allowed him to drag you a few feet back and into a seating position against the wall; your whole weight over the left side of your body.

"Don't lean on the other side, your shoulder blade is broken."

"Oh..." you almost chuckled. "Great."

For a second, Joel looks at you as if you were completely insane. He reaches for his backpack, crouching on the place where you were lying just seconds prior. Then takes his flask and doubts when passing it on.

"I'm not that desperate for water," you respond, reaching for the flask and drinking a gulp of the liquid. You swallow despite the soreness in your throat. "Next thing you'll do is spit food into my mouth."

"Not even getting shot shuts your fucking mouth, does it?" he says, grossed out at your comment. However, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Relaxing him has a calming effect on you too.

You try to pass him the flask again, but he refuses.

"No," he says. "Drink it all. You'll need it."

You look at him with narrowed eyes, confused. It's hard to keep a single thought in your head other than the throbbing pain in your chest and back, but you still try. Rather than asking him how you are supposed to walk seven miles, with the aluminum and his pack, you try to approach the matter another way.

"What's the plan?"

He takes a deep breath.

"You're not gonna like it," he says, his deep voice almost slurring the words. It's barely a whisper. He looks into your eyes, then. "I'm gonna carry you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

There's not an ounce of doubt in his eyes. Joel has that look of determination, the one you only really see when he has his eyes set on something really fucking important for him; most times that includes his own brother or not talking about the times before the outbreak. And with that look on his face, you know there's nothing you could possibly say or do to make him reconsider his own words. He's stubborn like that.

You still try.

"It's seven miles, Joel..." you tell him on a thready voice, a whisper. And Joel sighs through his nose —as if he had forgotten. "And we have to carry..."

"We leave everything here," he says. "Come back for it later."

"They won't let us in empty-handed."

"You don't know them."

For Joel to be so certain about it, certain enough as to put both your life and his on the hands of strangers; you understand that their relationship goes beyond trading. Joel had told you about them, about their situation and the first time Tess and him had shared dinner with Bill and Frank. Still, you were suspicious of them, and you thought that he was too; up until now, at least.

"It's still seven miles," you tell him, and you know him, you know he's about to stop talking to you and leave the room if you don't, at least, partly give in to his reasoning. "...are you sure you wanna do it?"

His pleading brown eyes engulf you, then, with an emotion he had never showed before. His gaze diverts for a second to your wound, to the bandages that, as you look at them, you find they are once again covered in blood. They are soaked in it, the skin surrounding it has a large black bruise —internal bleeding, you guess. And when you try to take a full deep breath, you find yourself unable to, at least not at full capacity.

The understanding hits you, then. You don't have much time left.

"I don't have any other choice," Joel says, but what he means is 'I don't want to lose you'.

"Okay."

Not even a full second has passed from your reluctant acceptance, but he is already on his feet. Joel walks to the only table in the room, takes your gun and puts it in his hip, right inside the jean. The only other thing he takes apart from ammo is another set of bandages —and he silently thanks whatever it is out there that he put those there a month ago—. He doesn't have anything to clean the wound, though; and one of his biggest fears is that it might already be infected. Even bandaged it looks bad.

He approaches you, crouches down so he is facing the wound.

"I'm going to tighten the bandage, and I have to keep the pressure," he says, loosening the knot. His fingers are once again stained with you blood, and he has to fight the images of him pressing on your wound from a few hours ago, when he had found you and, with trembling hands, had tried to stop the bleeding coming out in waves. He looks at you, trying to forget the awful picture of your eyes closed, your body limp on the ground. "Bite something."

You reach for the sleeve of his jacket, the one hanging from your shoulders; and put the padded cuff of his jacket into your mouth.

Joel doesn't give you a warning; and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing, either. He presses the heel of his hand right over the covered hole in your chest, with such strength that you wonder if he will end up breaking your clavicle in half. As he presses your body against the wall, you can almost feel the cracked bones in your back smashing against each other.

Needless to say, the pain is blinding. The view of the room, the feeling of his heat around you, the scent of him under your nose... all gone in a matter of seconds. Your vision turns white, all your senses stop functioning. Over the scream that falls from your lips, muffled by the jacket, you hear him say:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He lets go, and your vision immediately darkens, the shadows flowing from the corners of the room quick to reach you. With your last grip on reality you feel yourself melting against the wall, slowly slipping to the side. Joel catches you before you hit the floor.

Cold water is what brings you back. Your breathing quickens at the coldness of it, and the next thing you feel are his wet hands palming your cheeks, throwing water from his flask all over your face.

"C'mon," he mumbles. "I need you awake."

Your eyes flutter open, your whole body relaxed now that he's not applying pressure; but alert enough that your unfocused eyes make a single shape out of him.

While coming back into yourself, Joel does not have any time to lose. He takes his jacket over your shoulders and slips your left arm inside the sleeve, the other, where the wound is, he decides to leave it as it is; and buttons it over your chest so you're not exposed.

"You good?"

In any other situation you'd have said some joke, or just something to piss him off. But as of right now, nothing comes to your clouded mind; and even if something did come, you're too exhausted to even do the mental effort to say it. So you just nod.

"Okay," he nods too, talking to himself inside his head, then takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes. "You're fine, you hear me? I'm gonna carry you and you're gonna be on my back; so I need you talking all the damn time, alright?

You nod again.

"Starting now."

"Y-yes... okay."

"Good," he says. His hand crawls to the back of your neck, and he joins both your foreheads. He takes quick breaths. He's terrified when he whispers. "You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

"Y-you... are?"

"Mm-hmm," he says. And as his words settle into your brain, you feel your chest warm. When you open your eyes and he separates, there's a tear on his cheek, but he's quick to wipe it off. "I'm gonna open the front door."

It's just an excuse, you both know it, but neither dares to say anything. None of you wants to talk about the elephant in the room, the fact that your chances are slim even if this works.

Joel returns quickly, with his lashes wet and reddened eyes. It makes you speechless, to know that all this effort and tears are for you. You'd have never, in a million years, thought you'd ever see Joel Miller cry; let alone for you. He had always been so quiet, so detached from everyone, even from Tess.

Without a word, his hands get hooked on the underside of your thighs. He lifts you up, seemingly effortlessly, and your inner thighs surround his hips. You take a deep breath, again —or at least try to— as you try not to blush and show those feelings you buried long ago. This is not the time, nor the place; so you allow your head to follow his range of motion; forwards. Soon, your nose is pressed against the lapels of his denim shirt. With your good arm, you grab one of his broad shoulders. The other falls limp, and even that little movement hurts like hell.

He freezes, his shoulders now stiff under your hand. His beard grazes your jaw as he tries to look at you, so still in his arms.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

Better than okay, you want to respond. Better than I've been in a long time. But you don't.

He leaves you on the table, on the edge, with your legs dangling. His eyes waver for a second as he leaves you there, his hands squeeze your knees in such a brief movement that you wonder if he was even conscious of that. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can't think of what, so he turns around and bends his knees a little to get you to a good height.

"I need you to push yourself up with your good arm," he instructs. "and keep the other still, okay?"

"Okay," you respond, fighting the urge to just nod instead.

Not even following his instructions to a t saves you from the pain. The effort, even with your arm limp in the air, makes your body shudder and an agonizing stab runs through your whole spine. The scream that tores from the depths of your throat is so intense that Joel hesitates to put you back on the table, his back trembles for a second as his body shivers in distress. But, in the end, he has you in the air with a good hold.

He waits, but doesn't hear anything except shallow breaths, doesn't feel anything but the weight of your head over his shoulder.

"You with me?" he asks. He is seconds away from aborting the mission.

"Y-yeah..."

Your arm surrounds his neck loosely. Your fist is closed tightly, grabbing the other shoulder, and he wishes he could touch you, give you some kind of comfort, but he can't let go from his grip under your knees.

Joel does not have the privilege of time, every second is precious, so not even giving it a try, he starts walking as if you weighted nothing. He crosses the front door and the freezing cold wind of the East Coast cuts your cheeks. If he notices —and you know that he has, wearing just his shirt in the middle of the night— he doesn't react.

"Remember what I told you?" he asks.

In less than a minute he has crossed the space from the cabin to the highway, where you were surprised by raiders. You look around, see the bodies of five men sprawled on the floor; lifeless, drowning in a pool of their own blood. One of them has his face mauled to nothing. The sight is so sickening —or maybe you are getting so ill— that a sudden dizziness takes hold of your shivering body.

"Hey..."

"I'm sorry..." you start, teeth chattering from the cold. "I'm sorry I screamed into your ear earlier."

A sound, half a relieved sigh and half a chuckle, leaves his mouth.

"I'm half deaf from that ear anyway."

A light chuckle falls from your lips too. Joel keeps walking west through the highway, and you keep yourself desperately clinging to him for dear life. The moon is your only other companion; without her, you both would be completely blind in the darkness of the night.

[***]

Joel probably hadn't thought about the possibility of taking breaks along the way. That's why, fourty-five minutes later, and under a beautiful sunrise of orange tones, he's struggling to keep going. His knees are screaming for him to stop, his biceps and hands tired of walking with a person's weight over his shoulders. And for the first time in years he remembers the times before the outbreak, when he was capable of lifting and moving huge pieces of furniture; often times on his own, other times with just Tommy.

He might have overestimated his own strength, assuming he was as strong as before. But it seems that not only his mental health has deteriorated after Sarah's death, no. All of him has become older and darker and more broken since then. He hardly recognizes himself in the mirror anymore.

"Joel?"

"Yeah..." he gasps, out of air. "Sorry, I got distracted. You were saying...?"

It is in moments like this that he hates not to be that same person he was before. He wonders if he is, finally, paying for his past sins, for all the people, infected or not, that he has killed.

It is unfair, the fact that you're paying for his piper.

"You should stop for a while," you tell him, your voice low like a whisper. The warm air from your mouth slithers across his skin, up his neck, over his ear, and almost sends a shiver down his spine.

"No."

"Joel..." you huff. Before speaking again, you take a big gulp of air. "We are not getting anywhere if you don't take breaks. You'll just wear yourself off before we reach the halfway mark."

His mind refuses to agree, but it's as if his body takes a relieved breath when he hears the words. Little by little, his body starts to listen to you before his mind does. His thighs are screaming, sore from the pain of exertion; and before he acknowledges, even, his body has stopped moving.

"Okay," he gasps, quick tired breaths quickly entering and leaving his lungs. "...but just a minute, we don't have time for this bullshit."

"Okay," you say, in the same tone he used earlier with you; when he lied and said he knew you could sit up on your own. "Just a minute."

He pulls to the side of the road, and with the last of his strength he kneels down and tries to lay you on the ground as carefully as possible. You fall on your ass on the wet ground, but at least you don't hurt yourself on the spot. He asks you for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours if you are okay.

"I think I'm doing better than you," you respond, but your voice is so exhausted that Joel would love to just lay next to you and lull you to sleep.

He turns around, his whole weight sitting on the grass as he takes gulps of oxygen. His eyes shut tightly, he wipes off a tear of sweat from his temple and looks at you.

Wide-open eyes stare back at you, but just for a split second. He gets closer, his thumb brushing the shoulder of the brown jacket, his brown jacket. His eyes pierce yours.

"Are you sure?"

"That bad do I look?"

Joel doesn't look at you, not at your face getting paler by the second or the dark circles under your eyes, or your hair now dishevelled. He sees you on his memories and can barely recognize you; your skin and eyes always glowing under the sun, your hair always perfectly done. Your job was often to act as an HR for their clients, and very rarely took actual FEDRA jobs that stained your hands; you weren't like Joel, you didn't care about rations or money or whatever.

Expert fingers gently tug at the buttons, unbuttoning them so he could take a look to the wound. He had barely a glimpse of it when your fingers stopped his hands. Joel looks at you with those puppy eyes, as if you were about to faint in the next second.

"If you wanted to see me naked you didn't have to wait until I got shot, you know?"

You had said it in a playful manner, kidding, as a joke; but he saw beyond that. Part of you had only expected him to laugh, the other was dying —not pun intended— for him to kiss you. You'd have never said it if you weren't in this position, you'd have never gotten in between Joel and Tess.

However, he didn't laugh, didn't make any funny remark. The way he looked at you, from under his eyebrows, lit a spark of hope somewhere inside you. Deep, deeper than your conscious mind would have ever reached. Joel didn't say anything, not even chuckled. His eyes came back to the wound, and uncovered the full sight of it.

He had to fight a shocked gasp. His eyes fluttered, while holding his breath, between your own face and the wound. The bandage was still soaked in blood, that he had expected, but not the large bruise growing into your neck; or your right hand slightly paler than the other. He lifted, with trembling fingers, a corner of the bandage, and his action caused a trickle of dark blood to gush out, as if he had crushed a piece of watermelon between his fingers and it was now running down his arm. He looked below, inside his jacket, and saw a trail of blood that landed right into your navel.

This time, it was impossible for him not to react. Not only his face, but also his body. He tried to get back on his two feet again, but before he finished the action, your fist closed around his wrist.

"Joel..." he heard you call.

"We need to go, now."

Pressing your lips in a sad smile, you pulled him to the ground and he sat, mesmerised on that face he had only yet seen once; that time when he got too drunk on a Friday night and told you about Sarah at three in the morning. He felt his pulse quicken, his heart beating at the ends of his fingertips.

"It's okay," you told him. Your gentle touch brushed his palm, danced around over his tan skin. "You can rest."

Joel felt like he was in a fever dream. The setting certainly felt like it. You hadn't left the Boston QZ in a long while, and he had never pictured you out of those big silver walls either. He had not agreed to Tess' idea either, the dangers beyond the walls were almost impossible to escape. Still, Tess and him knew the city, they could get out fairly easily, had done that for a couple years to share stories over dinner with Bill and Frank. And Joel had loved the idea of seeing you sitting at that dinner table next to him, surrounded by a garden full of flowers, going through the dresses in the boutique that Tess had sworn you'd love.

He had not signed up for this.

"We need to go, please..." he tried a second time, but you just shook your head. He understood, somehow, what you meant.

"A minute won't make a difference," you told him. In reality, you wanted to tell him that you'd be dead when he got the both of you to Lincoln, anyway. "If you are tired we will never get there."

Useless and powerless as he felt, his only option was waiting. He took your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and took a deep breath. You had never seen him so upset.

"What are you so scared of?"

At your words, his lower lip quivered slightly; it would almost have gone unnoticed if it wasn't because you had been watching him attentively for so many years. He looked at you, eyes barely half open, from under his eyelashes.

"You're very important to me," he said. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, he seemed to be even more breathless than he was before. Joel had a hard time admitting his feelings, even to himself. "I don't know if you understand to what extent you're important to me."

"I know..." you answered, nodding, your hand squeezed his for a second, trying to give him strength. "But you have Tess home, and your brother loves you... It will hurt for a while..."

"Shut. Up."

His eyes were tightly shut when he said it. It was a metaphor, almost, the way his eyes were closed not just to the physical world, but to the whole situation too that he couldn't escape from.

The tip of your tongue wetted your lips.

"What I'm trying to say is... it will pass..."

His chest heaved, his gaps the only sound that filled the space between the two of you. And you continued:

"People die all the time, Joel; and most times we can't do anything about it."

His body rushed at you, his hands locked perfectly on both your cheeks, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally in place.

"Not you, you hear me? Not you," he almost growled, his face a mixture of anger, determination, and grief. "Never you. You're not allowed to leave me. I will never forgive you."

There was something hidden between the lines, something Joel wasn't saying. It was something you had denied yourself for a long time, for years, something you had insisted on not seeing because you didn't want to see it. Because, deep down, you were afraid that Joel would never love you back, that he would break your heart, that the only good man you'd ever known inside the walls of the Boston QZ would also be the one to abandon you to your luck.

Joel had been your family for so long, and you had unconsciously protected yourself from seeing him as something else. But now there it was, clearly, latent in his confession. Your punishment for years of silence was now time, or rather, the lack of it.

"I'm not giving up," he said. "and I need you not to give up either."

He's close. His hot breath smells sweet -so instinctively Joel- and it's all around your face. His flesh is warm over the freezing skin of your cheeks. His body around you is shelter, is home.

Joel is soon leaning in. He's all erratic breathing, rapid heartbeat and trembling hands; and as you close your eyes to allow his presence to swallow you like a black hole, he closes his eyes too.

He doesn't let go, not just yet. He breathes in into your quick breaths the same way you revel in his.

"I need an answer," he whispers over your mouth.

"I won't, either."

At first it's like a collision. He kisses you angrily for a split second, demanding and impatient; then, once he knows this is really happening, once he does understand that this is —finally— not a dream, he relaxes into your touch, your fingers delineating his jawline, caressing the beard there.

He's quick, quicker than you'd have expected him to be; definitely quicker then he would have liked. He separates, then; and looks down at his jacket and the drops of blood staining the insides of it. It's not enough blood to send you into shock again, but it means part of the wound is ripping. You need stitches, not just a couple of bandages.

"Enough resting then," he says.

[***]

Seven miles is usually nothing for Joel. In the first few months trading with Bill and Frank, Tess and him usually walked the fifteen miles that separated the city and the town at least twice a month. But this is all the more difficult, not just carrying you there, but knowing that he is running out of time.

And you seem hellbent on making the journey even more difficult.

"So...Tess?"

"Pass."

You huff, and the warm air sends a shiver down his spine; but he says nothing.

"Okay."

Your voice sounds so disappointed that he feels a pang of guilt. You know him better than to insist, and he knows that too. The guilt increases, though; and now he's inhaling a big gulp of air while still walking as fast as he possibly can without hurting his own knees.

"We fucked a few times, before," he says. "but that doesn't mean anything. She's my colleague. That's all."

If he was better with words, and feelings, he could say that he didn't feel anything for her. He could say that their hookups were nothing, just a fun thing they used to do before, before he realized that the one who he really wanted was you. A few months back he had realized that it never actually satisfied him, that those moments with Tess weren't as fun and innocent as they seemed to be before. They had talked about it, of course. He didn't want to play with her feelings, and that had been the end of it. She was just as fine without him, anyway.

"I thought you two were dating."

"If selling drugs for a living is what you call dating, then yes."

Without even looking at you, he knew you were smiling, he could almost feel your lips stretching over his shirt.

"I..." you said, then he heard you take another deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry I asked you," another breath. "I... ran out of things to say."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You can say anything," he says. "Anything you really like, even a story."

Anything just to know you're there...

"Well..." you started. Then, a wheezing noise filled the air, followed by a gasp. "I... liked rock music-" silence. "...back in the day."

"You okay?"

Your fist tightened around his shoulder, your forehead pressing against his trapezius. He heard that wheezing sound again, followed by a pant. His hands squeezed harder the tender flesh under her knees.

Joel tried to look at her, but all he could see from his peripheral vision was the top of her head and one eye tightly closed. His throat turned into knots.

"Baby..." that was the most gentle tone you had ever heard coming from his mouth. "C'mon baby. Hold on, we're almost there."

His whole body felt paralyzed, and he had to force himself to keep walking.

What he didn't know was that your lungs were burning. They felt like a pair of balloons squeezing against your ribs, trying to expand beyond its cage. And it made all the pain in your back, from the shot, double as painful. The air you tried to swallow so bad, sounded like a whistle, like the breeze through an almost closed window. You were suffocating.

"Talk to me, c'mon."

With a painful drag of air, you complied.

"I can't..." your fist tightened around the fabric of his shirt. "I can't."

"Goddamnit..." he was panicking now. "Okay, that's okay baby. Just hold on to me, don't let go."

Unable to do anything else, you just nodded as best you could and kept on holding on to him. His eyes desperately looked for signs of the town, and far away, in the distance, the row of trees ended; and he walked faster, hoping that Bill had already seen the both of you through the cameras.

"J-Joel"

You struggled to find air, and, therefore, the words.

"Easy, easy" he said. "Just a bit more. You can do it, I know you can."

His words lingered in the air, unanswered, not even him fully believed them. Joel was starting to feel his own shirt wet with blood from your wound. The feeling made him sick, his own imagination as he pictured what Bill was watching through the cameras, made it all a hundred times worse.

He kept hearing the panting, the wheezing, becoming more desperate by the second. He realized, with horror, that you were suffocating righ there, on his back; from a collapsing lung, he guessed.

He shouted Bill's name as he saw the fence that separated them from the town. Joel wasn't sure if he could hear him, but tried anyway.

He felt your grip on his shirt hesitate, and he had to fight the instinct to squeeze your hand; if he had done it, you'd have fallen from his own grip. He heard you try and say his name.

"Save it," he responded, even if it came out not as reassuring as he would have liked. "Don't try to talk."

Before he reached the fence, it was already opening. Bill came out running, yelling something that he was too distracted to distinguish, Frank came behind him. Joel felt his knees wobble once through the gate. And now kneeling on the floor, he called your name, tried to turn his head to take a glimpse of you.

"You did it. We're here."

He noticed, then, that everything seemed all too silent. Everything that happened after that, happened very quickly. The hand that had been gripping his shirt slipped, limp over his shoulder.

His mind disconnected, completely unaware of the other two people approaching. He released you with all the care that a person could have had, and his arms immediately caught you in an embrace. The sight of your closed eyes made him panic, and not having even checked your pulse, he buried his face into your neck and sobbed.

Trails of blood ran through his forearms, and he threw up all the words that passed through his mind; a string of 'please stay' and 'I'm sorry'.

"Joel," Frank struggled with him, fingers digging into his shoulder. "Joel you have to let go. Let us help her."

He was too far gone, so much so that once your body hit the floor, Frank didn't allow him to touch you again. He sobbed, and, for a second, Bill saw himself in him. He would have never thought he would see Joel in this state, but yet there he was. He kept pressure on the wound, and saw himself in Joel, and Frank in you; and promised he would never let this happen to the two of them.

Never.

[***]

The sun comes out the next morning. As it always does, as it always has. Orange light and blue skies illuminate the room, the clouds shine a different color; and Joel blinks; absolutely exhausted, devastated.

His body is heavy, even if he's not holding any of his weight. He's sitting on the cold tiles, on the floor, his sore knees and thighs in the space under the bed, his head lying on the mattress, his whole body is bent over and it feels like jelly. His eyes are the only thing moving, they look at the window and see the night sky turn into daylight.

Joel couldn't possibly say that he slept in that position; because he didn't actually sleep. He hasn't had a second of sleep since you got shot two days ago. Lying on the bed, is you, dormant; and his thumb draws circles on the back of you hand even if he's not paying attention to it. It comforts him to a degree, at least.

Suddenly, pretty much everything has lost its meaning. Frank opens the door an hour later, almost tripping with the tray of food and water that he left the night before for Joel. He hasn't touched any of it. In fact, he forgot about it, but if it bothers him, Frank doesn't say anything. He takes it in his hands so he can take it to the kitchen downstairs.

"We played 'I will survive' in the radio" he whispers before leaving. "It's a 70s song, but Tess will get the meaning."

"Thank you," he mutters, his mouth pasty from barely speaking in the last twenty-four hours. Funnily enough, the only word he's said to them is 'thank you'.

"You're welcome, Joel," he says. After a few seconds, waiting, he makes a dissatisfied sound. Frank approaches Joel, his palm squeezing his shoulder. "You should eat something, at least. Is there anything you want?"

Joel looks at him, lifting his cheek from the mattress for the first time. His eyes are blood-shot and black circles adorn his eyes.

"Coffee."

"Not coffee, you need sleep."

He huffs, his eyes lost in the window again. Frank, knowing he won't get anything from him again, vanishes behind the door and into the kitchen. He will bring him warm food later, hoping the smell will make him eat something despite his unwillingness to listen to any signal of hunger from his own body.

A few moments later, your hand slips from his. As he loses your touch, a pang hits the pit of his stomach. But then, as he lifts from the mattress again, your fingertips lightly touch his chin, your thumb lovingly brushing his beard.

"Baby?"

Maybe he lost his sense of time, because he didn't expect you to wake up yet. In any case, when he sees your eyes open he practically pounces on the bed. He sits on the edge, and swallows the image of you looking at him.

"Morning."

He smiles at your words, feels his strength coming back into his body.

"You're here," he says.

Even beaten up as you look, he thinks you are gorgeous. Your face has regained its usual color, the bruising is coming down, changing colors little by little, the wound is stitched and bandaged, and the blood flow seems to reach your fingertips normally once again. Joel has no idea how Bill fixed the collapsing lung, he had said something about medical knowledge being necessary in the field too, but he hadn't paid attention. He doesn't care about the details, though. He just cares that you're safe and sound, and despite the close call, that has seemed to be the end result to this whole dilemma.

There's no blood in sight, not even in the bandages. Frank had washed the blood from your hair the day before, and Joel had helped with the rest. He wished he could have you like this everyday: happy, clean, safe...

In the last few hours Joel had discovered he was jealous. He wished he had a town like Lincoln all to himself, just so he could see you picking flowers in the front garden.

"I'm here," you told him. The words felt like strawberries in his mouth. "and I'm not giving up on you."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, leaned in for both your foreheads to meet, and kissed you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #tlou spoilers #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x oc

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months

Text

Two idiots in love. (P10)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: the reader gets taken by David. And Joel will do anything to get her back.

Warnings: bruises, creepy comments, kidnapping, manipulation, name-calling, cursing

Author's note: I think 3 updates in one day is enough lmao

Masterlist

Part 1 and 11

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Y/N woke up with a labored breath.

In fact, all of her breaths were harsh and painful.

And now that she had truly came to her senses, she couldn't remember taking her medication since Jackson.

She left her medication in Jackson.

"I started worrying you wouldn't wake up."

She sat up slowly, now realizing she was laying on cold tile in a fenced in area of the room.

And she knew that voice.

David.

She hummed, trying to collect her thoughts.

Her shivering frame no longer had her winter coat.

Her torso was just left in a tank top and Joel's flannel.

She finally managed to look up at David.

He smiled, "Tess… is it?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "…Tess?"

He shook his head, "Apparently not." He held up the piece of paper again, "…Y/N?"

She couldn't stop the small instinctual light up of her eyes.

He smiled again, "There she is… pretty Y/N."

In David's hands was Bill's note to Joel. She remembers Joel keeping the paper, and it must have ended up in her backpack.

"So, is Tess the girl?"

"Stop saying that fucking name."

His eyebrows rose, "Alright. Touchy subject." He set the paper down, "I just want to get to know you. Understand you? Is that alright?"

"L…Let me out."

"Well, that's certainly the goal." She saw him grimace, "Sorry for that bruising. Can't imagine it feels nice. I talked to James about it, and I truly apologize on his behalf."

The struggle to breathe.

It was the bruising on her neck from her attempted escape.

"Are you hungry?"

"Wh…why am I in a cage?"

David shrugged, "Have you ever had a pet bird, Y/N? You have to make sure it'll stay before you let it out. Otherwise, it may fly away-"

"-Fuck you."

"Or," he continued more harshly, "More realistically, a dog. You're wild. But don't worry. We'll domesticate you. Make you obedient and respectful. Let you eat the scraps off of the table. The others want to kill you. But I saved you. I can help you. Let me protect you."

She shook her head, "We both know I'm not really on my own."

"Right," he nodded, "your family. Your husband, how is he?"

"He's not my fucking husband."

"Well, I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts. But that part of your life, it's ending. And what I'm offering you is a beginning. But if you can't find a way to trust me, then yes. You are alone."

Y/N let out a breath, pushing herself against the wall.

"Can I ask about that?" David asked.

"About what?" She replied coldly.

"That bruise on your arm. Is that… from him?"

A bruise in the shape of Joel's fingers laid around her wrist in a deep purple. It was from cleaning his wound only yesterday, and at the time, she didn't think anything of it.

She looked up at him.

"I see." He said, "You know, people that love you- truly love you- they don't hurt you."

"How the fuck would you know about love?"

"Well, I wouldn't hurt you, Y/N."

"The same bruises are on my neck."

"Those are from James. Not me. I would never hurt you. I think you're beautiful. And beauty is meant to be treasured."

"Joel wouldn't hurt me. He's not like that."

David scoffed, "Did you see what he did to Alec at the university? Snapped his neck. You think he wouldn't do that to you?"

"No. He wouldn't." She reasoned.

"Be serious with yourself, Y/N. That man is dangerous and cruel. You deserve someone kind and protective."

"And you think that person is you?" She scoffed.

He let out a laugh, "Of course, I wish the pretty girl likes me. Who wouldn't? But, I think that's up to you to decide."

And he left her alone with her thoughts.

…

Joel was livid.

He could barely see through the red that clouded his vision.

In the scheme of things, they had somehow taken Ellie, too.

And Joel didn't like it when people touched his things.

He continued to punch the man taped to the chair.

"Please," the man pleased, "I don't know any woman."

Joel stabbed a blade through the man's knee.

"Marco-"

"No, no, no, no" Joel said softly, "He can't help you. You focus right here. Or I'll pop your fuckin' kneecap off."

The man took a deep breath, "She's alive."

Joel nodded, "Where?"

When the man wouldn't answer, Joel twisted the man's kneecap with his bare hands.

"Fuck, fuck! The town!"

"WHAT TOWN?!" Joel yelled.

"..S…Silver Lake."

Joel pulled out a map, setting it on the man's lap.

The same map Y/N had used in Bill's truck.

"It's not a real town name," the man said out of breath, "It's a resort."

"A resort?"

Joel sighed and pulled the blade from the man's knee, shoving the handle of it in the man's mouth harshly.

"You're gonna point to where we are, and where your "resort" is. And it better be the exact same spot you buddy over there points to."

The man did as Joel commanded, then he spit the blade out, "Go ask him. He'll tell you. I'm not lying."

Joel nodded, then shoved the knife into the man's stomach with no mercy.

The other man held hostage yelled out at the violent act. "Why did you do that? He told you what you wanted! I won't tell you SHIT!"

"That's okay," Joel said calmly as he walked to him and grabbed a bat, "I believe him."

Joel swung the bat with no remorse.

…

Y/N was sat on the floor in a panic.

A human fucking ear laid on the ground not too far from her cage.

They were cannibals.

David came in with a plate, setting it on the ground and sliding it to the hungry woman.

But the last thing she could do was eat after seeing what laid on the ground.

He noticed her gaze and followed it, then looked back with a clenched jaw, "For what it's worth, this is just deer meat. I swear."

She let out a small cry, "Are you gonna fucking eat me?"

"I'd rather not."

"How… how could you do this?"

"There are only a few of us that know." David said, "but, I would've told you. Sooner or later."

She let out another small cry.

"It was a last resort. You think this doesn't shame me?"

She sniffled lightly and looked up at him.

David grinned slightly at the eye contact, "Your friend is no different. Didn't he take another man's life to save yours?"

"He…he was defending himself."

"No, he was defending you."

Her eyes left his as she took in his words.

"Can I tell you something? Be honest with you, Y/N? I'm just a shepherd tending to my sheep. And all I want… is someone to share it with. A friend."

"What about my friend?"

He nodded, "I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They'll spare him."

"W…what?"

"If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go. They do what I tell them to do."

"What about my daughter?"

He smiled, "About that…"

Her heart dropped, "Where is my girl, you sick fuck?"

"JAMES!"

James walked in with Ellie in tow. Her hands were tied behind her back and she fought against the man's movements until she saw Y/N.

David smiled, "A happy reunion, indeed."

Y/N stood and approached the bars as close as she could to Ellie. "Ellie! Are… Jesus, are you alright?"

Ellie nodded.

"Let her go, David. She didn't do anything. I'm the adult here. Blame me. Just… let her go, please. Don't touch her."

The preacher sighed, "Well, I really want to, sweetheart. But… I have to domesticate the dog, remember? So, I take something that the dog loves, like…. Ellie, you said?… and I dangle her in front of the dog's nose. The dog will now do anything I say to ensure it gets what it wants."

"I'm not a dog, David."

He smiles, "No…?"

James pulls on Ellie's hair, making her cry out.

"STOP IT!" Y/N yells, "STOP! Fine! I'll do anything. Anything, please. Don't touch her!"

"C'mere then."

She approached where David stood on the other side of the bars.

His hand wandered to her cheek.

It made her remember Joel's touch.

But they were nothing alike.

David smiled, letting his voice drop to in intimate volume due to the proximity, "And now, the pretty bitch bows to her master."

He turns around, "Put the girl in there."

When Ellie is thrown into the cage, Y/N immediately takes her in her arms.

They watch the men leave the room.

"Where are you hurt?!" Y/N asked frantically.

Ellie shakes her head, "I'm fine. Just… scared."

"And Joel?"

Ellie shrugs, "I heard voices, so I did what I could to lead them from the house. Got the horse shot. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, "I don't give a shit about the horse. You're okay, and that's all the matters."

…

A few hours later, the two found themselves a little more relaxed.

David had left them alone for the last 4 hours.

"Y/N?" Ellie asked. "I have something to confess…"

The woman nods, "Okay."

"It's really bad…."

"Bad as in… you killed someone? That's not exactly considered bad anymore."

"No…I… I read the note."

Y/N froze. "What note?"

"The one Joel left for you in Jackson."

Y/N didn't know what to say, "How… when did you… Ellie…?"

"I saw it when I went to the bathroom before we left. I just… I don't know. Part of me hoped that Joel had left it for me. I understand why he left one for you, but…. I couldn't help myself. And I'm sorry for reading it."

"It's fine, Ellie. Really."

Silence.

"Did you want to know what it said?"

"Well," Y/N shrugged, "that depends. Is it something I have to know?"

Ellie considered the question, then shook her head.

"Okay then. Is it something I'd want to know?"

Ellie immediately nodded.

"Hmm. Would this information change what I have with Joel? And with you?"

Ellie frowned in thought, then nodded, "Yeah. Big time."

Y/N sighed, "Well, I don't care then. I like what I have with you and Joel. I don't want to change it. I'd rather live life not knowing anything and having you two, then to know everything in the world and live without Joel and my daughter."

Ellie let out a shuddered breath at her response.

"Joel also said he loves you."

Y/N's head shoots up, "…what?"

"I won't get into details but… it was all mushy about how much he loves you and how you ground him… all the shit he'll never say out loud."

Y/N nodded. "I see. I hope Joel is out there looking for us then."

"Me, too."

If only they knew.

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Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

#fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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rikamae · 6 months

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I understand now. I understand all of it.

All those times politicians claimed something was "too complicated" "not that simple" "we don't have the money" it's all lies to keep us complacent.

They did it about the situation is Israel. "It's too complicated" everyone said. It didn't look complicated when I did my own research, away from those shitty think pieces talking down to me. Israel was a state built off the blood of Palestinians, and they simply do not want you to think about it. Because there is oil in the middle east and Israel is our only "Ally"

Wow, so complicated! The complicated part being that our media is tricking us into thinking this is so complex so they can be evil in plain sight: yes, so complicated of a situation!!

And today I wake up to find that the House of Representatives (the lowest level of US government) has passed a bill offering 14 billion to Israel! It will go to the Senate to vote. Wow, billion with a B huh? I got a question for you.

Where the fuck did we get enough money to fund genocide? Where the hell was all this money when it comes to supporting the Americans you politicians claim to be representing? Where was this money for free college, universal Healthcare, covid precautions, the climate crisis??

"It's just too complicated! You'll make us do cuts on other programs! You'll make us raise taxes!! Think of the taxes!!!"

Then where did this money come from? Oh, the IRS, the fucking company that handles our taxes??? Yeah????? That was an option? Why wasn't it an option before but it is now? Were they over funded and we just didn't notice until now? Or are you taking advantage of the situation to cut funding to another service you hate?? The point being: if they really want something, they can find the fucking money. They haven't because they don't want to.

It's never been complicated. It's their job to move money around. It's their fucking job to raise our taxes and provide for us, but the only people they truly represent are the ones filling their pockets with lobby money. They could have done this long ago, given us what we've been demanding, but they coddled us and said it was too complicated and our baby brains couldn't handle it. And God forbid you be a woman!! That means you're double unable to understand!

Enough. Fucking enough. Every year congress votes to increase their wages and refuses to raise our minimum wage. Every year they take advantage of their medical insurance and benefits they get for "representing" us when nearly every adult I know is left to suffer with their conditions: untreated sicknesses, chronic conditions, the depression that looms over us because we live in the most wealthy country in the world but we can't make ends meet and our government is more concern with funding armies that feeding and housing us

Politics was never complicated. They just told us it was. To shut us up. To make us feel young and idealistic and stupid. And we fell for it. And now evil is moving through the wills of our leaders IN OUR FUCKING NAMES to support a genocide in the middle east. Their only crime was being born on that land. Their only crime is being Arab. That's not a fucking crime.

Our system isn't complicated. It's working as intended. Keep the people blind and claim that it's too hard, leave all the details to them. But we are smarter than they are. We are informed. The world is connected like never before and I refuse to let their propaganda ever reach me again.

Hold them accountable. Know their names. Write it in the history books. Let their legacy be known to the end of times.

Be loud about your anger. Go to protests. Write your reps to tell them your vote is on the line. And for God's sake vote in the damned elections!

THE IDEA THAT YOUR VOTE DOESN'T MATTER IS PROPOGANDA. THEY WANT YOU TO FEEL USELESS. THEY WANT YOU TO GIVE UP SO THEY STAY IN POWER.

They want you to think it's complicated. It never has been. Be loud. Vote. Use your right to protest. Use your right to free speech. Use your right to petition. Next Tuesday is election day. Make it fucking count.

#american politics #free palestine #Rika rants #Don't tell me to calm down it's freaking me out that you're not freaking out #social justice #What else can I put here?? That I'm tired? That I'm pissed? That I'm wanting to yell to Biden's face that he's a murderer???#My therapist told me to stop looking at the news for my mental health and I don't feel I get that luxury due to you know #Don't stop talking about Palestine

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mirabuns · 2 months

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Hi. I don't normally post here. I do a lot of reblogging but I desperately need help. My best friend, Norman has been hospitalized since Saturday 3/2. I took him to the emergency vet for loss of appetite, sudden weight loss and extreme lethargy. They diagnosed him with diabetes. They hospitalized him and we've struggled getting him well ever since. I got multiple calls at the late hours of the night on Sunday night. He had a really rough night, they had a hard time keeping him alive, they told me he had hard damage to his liver and it could possibly be shutting down. The vet doesn't want to give up on him, but that means I'll have to pay another night of hospitalization including insulin, boarding, IV, medications, and round the clock care from staff. I have already fitted a $12,000 bill for Saturday 3/2-Monday 3/4 and do not have much more to give. This cat means the world to me and has given me a reason to wake up everyday and try. I have and will continue to empty my bank account for him. I don't like asking for help and have done so on any kind of platform but he is so important to me amd I could never live with myself if I didn't try everything possible. Please consider donating if you have any extra and are feeling generous, I appreciate every bit of help more than you'll ever know. Please I just want my baby boy to come home.

I understand a lot of people are going through a lot now days and I'll understand if you can't donate. If you can reblog please do, I really need the help.

https://gofund.me/50fec199

#help #cat #kitty #vet #gofundme #i'll love you all forever #please help me #please #pleeeeease #donate #donations #love

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hollyhomburg · 4 months

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I haven’t had an idea about hybrids in a long long time but 🥺 what about pup hybrid koo who gets abandoned by his owners for being too high energy, who waits by the door every day for them to come back, doesn’t like to talk to other humans because they’re not his owner but then slowly, the volunteer who comes into his room to talk to him every day and eat his meals with him and feed him treats starts to chip away at his heart and adopts him.

only to have him wake up Literally lying on top of them, deal with him breaking out of the house and following them to work, everywhere- jk is just so worried about being left behind again but! It’s a good thing his owner is really understanding and doesn’t mind that he’s a clingy little puppy.

And of course Doberman! jk is also still covered with tattoos just like irl jk 🥺 big floppy ears hanging over his face, the breed and tattoos usually turn people off from adopting him because Dobermans you know- they’re /protection/ dogs, they don’t see jks wide terrified eyes hidden behind his big ears. They just see the tattoos and piercings and walk the other way. Im imagining the first time jk ever falls asleep on the m/c, head on her lap, her fingers rubbing against the spot on the back of them where they’re sensitive and tingly saying to herself “at least he didn’t doc your ears, I would have expected- given the other /modifications/ he made to you, that he’d have done that. At least he had the decency to leave them alone”

And she asks cuz of course she does, why jks old owner covered him with tattoo’s and maybe she should have waited until he was more awake but jk just says “liked to come with hyung to work, saved his best designs for me”

Maybe years later they have a run in with Jks old owner and it’s one of the other boys, tattoo artist yoongi maybe? but 🥺 jk finally gets his closure because he finds out yoongi didn’t abandon him he just got into an accident and was in a coma for 6 months and then had 18 months of re-learning how to walk after that. How to do art, how to tattoo again and yoongis finally back on his feet. Even when he was in a wheelchair yoongi never stopped going to different shelters to try and find Jk. Yoongi never gave up looking for his pup 🥺

Imagine tattoo artist yoongi with arms full of pretty floral tattoos in the same style as the ones on jk’s arm 🥺 and the m/c once again questions him about it and jk gives her the honest answer of “I asked for them”

Maybe jk is now faced with the horrible choice of being the one who leaves his new owner who he loves a lot and going back to the person who he once missed more than anything! Of course his little pup brain just comes up with the simple solution! They both just have to move in together to look after him! That way he gets both!! And only- the m/c and yoongi are really opposites- but they decide to try and make being roommates work if only because jk deserves it.

And maybe yoongi starts taking care of her too because he always did let jungkook depend on him lots 🥺 for cooking and brushing out his long fluffy hair and showers after boxing class. And yoongi fusses because around her work schedule she forgets to eat a bunch and he ends up going to drop off lunches because honestly- the tatto shop kinda runs it’s self since namjoon and taehyung took over during yoongis accident- they never met jk because they only bought into the business after yoongis accident when he had to sell off half of it to cover his medical bills (I’m picturing calico mini- a new addition, who took over jks job of checking people in for their appointments and answering the phone)

But anyway back to yoongi and his babying It’s natural for him to say “up!” To her (a total accident he swears) when she’s wearing a soaked shirt after coming in from the rain, blushing hard, but kinda grinning when she follows obediently. Because jk always liked it when yoongi would dress him 🥺 hyungs perfect little puppy doll all pliant and good. And it would be okay if only she didn’t slip up too! Accidentally calling yoongi a good boy on more than one occasion or going in for a “good pup kiss” cuz jk is like- kinda a kissy puppy, likes good morning kisses and thank you for putting your dishes away and “I missed you cuz you just peed kisses and I was worried a monster was gonna eat you in the bathroom” kisses. Jk has them both very well trained.

Of course he’d tease her endlessly for that. “Maybe we should get you a pair of puppy ears for Halloween if you’re gonna listen to me the way that jk does” “yeah? I’ll get you a pair of kitty ears and tatto whiskers on you in your sleep” only what if one day yoongi reveals he actually does have whisker tattoos they’re just black light 😭

Only why don’t they kiss each other the way they give him good boy kisses 🥺 why don’t they cuddle each other like they cuddle him??? Why don’t they good hands the way they hold hands with him when he goes out so that they don’t get lost! Jk has to remedy this right away 😠 he can’t loose either of them ever again so he’s gotta set them up!!!

#bts fluff #bts #bts hybrid au #hybrid jungkook

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adventuringblind · 2 months

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Every Step of the Way

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Logan Sargeant x Liam Lawson

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, sick fic

Summary: With a new diagnosis, sometimes things can be confusing and scary. Oscar, Liam, and Logan do their best to help make things as easy as possible.

Warnings: Authors limited knowledge of cancer and chemotherapy

Notes: To the requester, I hope this brings you some comfort. I understand the fear of a new diagnosis. It's a difficult things to navigate.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The appointment feels like it was years ago, yet she's still sitting in the office. The weight of the words sinking in, the new diagnosis still registering.

Cancer. The single word nobody wants to hear. It is a life changing thing that could pose to be fatal.

And right now, she feels alone. At the mercy of her own emotions. Her phone buzzing beside her, but her consciousness is too far away to notice it.

She hadn't been feeling well for some time. Oscar had suggested seeing a doctor, but she claimed allergies. She'll have to admit to him that he was right (again, as per usual).

The boys have been busy lately, off racing and traveling. She's been stuck home trying to get through all these appointments. The one time they are home, she wishes they weren't.

How is she supposed to tell them her body is trying to kill her? They have too much going on in their own lives right now to worry about her on top of it. The lovely anxiety she's been having over being a burden to her boys sets in once more.

She hates it. These dejected emotions want to escape from her via tears. Yet they don't come. They pool in her eyes instead, just on the cusp of sliding down her cheeks.

Her phone buzzes again. She looks at this time and sees the spam from Liam and Logan asking if she's been kidnapped or something. So much for not worrying them.

She drives him in silence. Only her thoughts to keep her company. The ones that tell her maybe she did something to deserve this. She thinks back to anything that could've cause this kind of karma.

She pulls into the driveway and tries to put a smile on her face as she walks through the door. "I'm home!"

Liam nearly tackles her to the floor as he scoops her up and tosses her onto the sofa. The one all three of the boys have turned into the perfect comfort spot with blankets and snacks and a movie already on the screen.

“Figured you might want some reprieve after your appointment.” Logan tosses a blanket over her.

“You don’t want to now the results?”

Oscar wraps an arm around her and tucks her close to his chest. “You were supposed to be home two hours ago. whatever it is, we can talk about it after you’ve had some time to wind down.”

She ends up falling asleep during the movie. the comforting presence of all three boys has her mind drifting off to somewhere that isn’t her own failing body.

She tries to soak up the normalcy of it all before things get worse. The voice in the back of her head is telling her that they won’t want her around when she’s too exhausted to do anything. when she starts draining their bank accounts because of all the medical bills.

The sleep she got was restless despite not waking up. They’d moved her to bed at some point. The cuddle pile and soft snores tell her it’s probably still early.

She maneuvers herself out of bed without waking the boys. A dance she’s done a thousand times before.

The glass of water is in her hands, but she doesn’t remember walking into the Kitchen. Everything is too much right now.

Her knees find the floor and the water spills everywhere. The glass shatters when she throws it in anger.

So much for not waking anyone.

Footsteps hastily make their way towards her. She can hear them whispering as they come around the corner and see the mess that she’s made.

“Love, I’m gonna come get you alright?” Strong arms wrap around her and bring her off the floor. She zones out listening to the song clatter of glass being picked up.

Back on the sofa again. The boys don’t push but she can tell they want answers. all three of them share nervous gazes.

“Cancer.”

She waits for anyone to say anything, to get angry and scream, maybe even cry. Instead she is hugged with such a gentle kind of love that she breaks. The tears don’t stop until she is dehydrated and choking.

“We’re not leaving you, alright? This diagnosis doesn’t stop us from loving you.”

The next week is torture. Getting ready for and starting chemotherapy is a nightmare.

It hurts, she’s sick, and the exhaustion makes everything worse.

But she also has people around her who love and care. They stick with her on the bad days and the worse days. they make the best out of the good days.

Oscar makes sure she sleeps, Logan makes sure she eats, and Liam tries to kidnap her when the other two get over protective.

It’s certainly a hard road. Some days are harder and she can barely function, but she’s trying.

Plus, it does help having people who love her around.

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imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend · 9 months

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Penny For Your Thoughts

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader

I saw this gif and got super horny for Billy again, so this is what happened. You can also blame @becauseicantthinkwritings, @frying-panties, @dreadfulxives18 for encouraging me 😜

Warnings: 18+, minors do NOT interact, smut, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, super dirty talk, use of pet names (darling, baby), Sugar Daddy!Billy vibes, oral (M receiving), PIV, reader has multiple orgasms, creampie

“Darling, my leg’s falling asleep.”

You pouted, not that he could see, and snuggled your face further into Billy’s neck. You were sitting on his lap, with your butt mostly on one of his thighs, cuddling up to his chest. He was still dressed in a full suit and had merely sat down on the couch for a drink, but you’d crawled onto his lap. You needed to feel his warmth, smell his cologne, and just be close to him.

You’d been lonely without him, spending the day feeling empty after waking up with his cock inside you. He’d left you blissed out, cum seeping between your legs. He wanted to clean you up, but he was late for work, and you assured him that you could clean yourself up.

The sound of Billy setting his glass down shook you from your memory. “Darling,” he said again. He ran his hand through your hair and pulled on it slightly.

You let him pull your head back so he could look at your face.

“Hi, Billy.” You said. You hadn’t even spoken since he’d gotten back. You just needed to feel him.

He smiled gently. “Hi, baby. I need you to get off my lap. I can’t feel my toes.” He let go of your hair and smoothed it back in place.

“Kiss first?” You bargained.

Billy grinned. “For you, of course.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You pouted as he pulled away.

“What’s that face?” he asked. He knew what it was, though.

“Nothin’,” you said, knowing better than to push him.

You got off his lap and slid to the floor instead, resting your chin on the knee of his other leg as he stretched out the one you’d been sitting on.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, looking up at his pensive face.

“Just thinking about my day.” He rubbed a hand over his beard.

“How was work?” You asked.

Billy shrugged. “It was hard to focus, with the image of my cum leaking out of your little cunt constantly flashing through my head.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but more pertinently, you felt arousal pool between your legs. You bit your lip for a moment, before you released it. “Maybe that’s something you need to see again.”

A beautiful, sexy smirk took over Billy’s lips. “Oh? You think that’ll help?”

“Maybe. Or maybe you need your cock in my mouth?” You trailed a hand up his leg and over his groin, which was starting to grow hard.

He grunted at your touch. “Maybe I need both.”

“Maybe you’ll get both, if you ask nicely.” You batted your eyelashes.

Billy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I ain’t nice, though.”

“Yes, you are.” You disagreed. You continued rubbing your hand along the outline of his cock over his trousers. “You bought me those shoes I really wanted last week, even though they were full price.”

“They weren’t that expensive.” He grunted.

“They were two grand.” You scoffed.

“Pennies.” Billy quipped.

“You wanted to take care of me this morning. Almost made you late for work.” You said, still trying to tell him that he was nice.

“Well, had to do something for the excellent pussy I got.” He drawled.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, you’re quite nice to me. You’ll never change my mind.” You said. Despite your many attempts to refuse him, Billy had been very generous to you. All the money he’d given so far had been used – in addition for pleasurable items like a new phone, or non-necessities like those designer shoes – for student loans, medical bills, and even your rent before you’d moved in with him.

You unbuttoned his pants and did your best to free his cock, but he ended up lifting his hips so he could pull his trousers and underwear down his legs instead. You pumped him a few times in your hand as you gathered some saliva in your mouth, before you let it dribble out onto his cock.

“Fuck,” Billy said.

You then lowered your head and took him in your mouth, moving your head down until your nose touched his skin. You let his cock tickle the back of your throat for a few seconds before you pulled back and started sucking on the tip. You teased the slit with your tongue and stroked him with your hand before you started bobbing your head.

Billy groaned. “Now I’m remembering why I’m so nice to you.”

The corners of your lips turned up, but you couldn’t give him the smirk you wanted to with his cock in your mouth. Billy always seemed to enjoy getting head from you, and with the way he treated and pleased you after, you didn’t mind giving it.

It was difficult to take all his length in your mouth though, so you stuck to using your hand near the base to stroke and squeeze what you couldn’t fit past your lips. Every now and then you would stop to suckle and lick at the swollen head, tasting the precum that was starting to spill.

Billy’s fingers wove into your hair, and you started to take him back in your mouth. You knew that he liked it when you struggled to take him all.

“Lemme feel that little throat choke on my dick.” He said, voice thick with arousal.

You fought your eyes from rolling back in your head as you felt yourself soak through your panties. You focused on breathing steadily through your nose, as Billy slowly thrusted his hips to fuck your mouth. Your fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, your pussy ached, but you let Billy use you. You wanted him to use you.

You were finding it harder to breathe and were getting a little overwhelmed trying to continually disengage your gag reflex, and tears had started spilling down your cheeks. When Billy noticed, he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fuck!” Despite his roar, his rhythm slowed until he eventually pulled your mouth off him.

Your used jaw hung open for a little bit, and some drool slid off your tongue and onto your lap before you could close your mouth.

Billy delicately cupped your face and wiped away your tears. “Are you okay?” His voice was dripping with fake sympathy, but you loved it.

You tried to speak, but you could only nod. “Poor thing. Your brain’s probably leaking out of your little cunt, just like your mouth. Can’t even talk.”

You whimpered. You were so wet. Your panties were absolutely drenched.

“Fuck, baby. Get up here, lemme fuck that wet little cunt.”

Your legs were stiff from kneeling, but you sat down on the couch and pulled your dress off. Billy kissed you immediately, hands expertly ridding you of your bra and tossing it behind him, so he could twist your nipples with his fingers. One hand went up to wrap gently around the front of your throat and he pushed you so that you would lay back.

He moved his kisses down your throat to your tits, giving both of your nipples a wet suck, before he kissed down your stomach.

He looked up at you, his eyes menacingly dark with arousal. “I can smell you, baby, and I haven’t even taken off your panties.”

“So wet. Just for you, Billy.” You whined.

“Let me see.” He said. “Take ‘em off.”

You lifted your hips and pushed your panties down and pulled them off your feet. You dropped your panties to the floor, a little embarrassed at how you’d soaked through them when all you’d done was suck his cock.

Billy took one look at your glistening center before he slammed his cock inside you. He didn’t even bother to get undressed, but you felt the heat of his skin through his clothes.

You gasped hard at the intrusion. Usually, he warmed you up with his fingers, so now it felt like he was splitting you open. “Fuck, Billy... ‘s too big.” You practically sobbed. You realized you were still a little sore from this morning.

He gave one thrust, but then settled deep inside you and remained still. “What’s that?” He kissed your lips once, then your cheek, then began sucking on your neck.

“You’re too big!” You whimpered. Your hands clutched at his suit desperately in an attempt to ground yourself.

He chuckled into your neck. “You’re a big girl, you can take it. Can’t you?”

You whined as he pulled back and pressed in again. He was everywhere, it was too much, yet you wanted more.

He looked up at you and saw the single tear slipping past the corner of your eye. “Oh, darling. If you’re gonna cry, I can just stop. Don’t want to hurt the little baby with my big cock.” He kissed the trail left by your tear.

He started drawing back, but you cried out, “No!”

He held still, looking down at you with a smug smirk he was trying poorly to hide. “No? But I don’t wanna hurt your little pussy.”

“Please, don’t stop. I can take it. You made me so wet, Billy. I can take you, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, cupping your cheek sweetly.

You nodded vigorously. “Promise, I promise.”

Billy tapped your lips with two fingers, and you opened your mouth immediately. You sucked on his fingers, lathering them with your tongue before Billy pulled them out. He used them to press against your clit, and your hips arched up into him and your cunt clenched around him.

Billy grunted. “Such a tight little pussy. And it’s all mine.”

You nodded in agreement. “All yours.” You sighed, enjoying the way he was stroking your clit.

He started thrusted again slowly, but only for a few beats before he started fucking you earnestly. His hand abandoned your clit, so he could push one of your legs up against your chest and grip the arm of the couch in his other hand to allow him to rail you into oblivion.

Little sighs and moans were leaving your mouth unconsciously. You wondered if they could be heard over the sound of Billy’s skin slapping against yours. You were certain that they could, when you gave a particularly high-pitched whine as the tip of his cock hit that precious spot inside you.

Billy grunted. “Sing for me, baby. Let me take care of you. Like I always will.”

His words were what drove you to your orgasm, even more than the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your body did indeed sing for Billy as you came.

Your vision kind of blacked out, and you could just barely hear Billy’s strained chuckle as he continued fucking you. “So gorgeous when you cum all over my cock like that. Your little cunt is fluttering all around me, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

You whined, getting a little overstimulated by his continuous thrusts. “Billy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, Billy.” You couldn’t say anything else.

Your vision came back into focus and there was a smirk on his lips. “I see your brain is still leaking out of your cunt.”

You opened your mouth to try to speak, but his hand when back to your clit and you gasped at the contact.

“Cum for me again, baby, then I’ll fill up your little cunt.”

Your back was arching from the attention to your clit and the building of your second orgasm. Your bare nipples brushed against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and the peaks tightened even more at the friction. Everything was too much.

“Oh, don’t know if I can.” You mumbled.

Billy kissed your lips and slid his tongue into your mouth to tease yours for a moment. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You can, baby, I know you can. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, almost reluctantly. You didn’t want to do anything but please him.

“Yes, you are.” He said proudly. With that, he started rubbing your clit rapidly and he didn’t stop until your walls were convulsing once again.

“Oh, Billy, ‘m cumming.” You cried, fingers digging into his back.

“Fuck, yeah, baby.” His rhythm stuttered a little bit before he gave some hard thrusts and came inside you. His hair was out of place and fell in front of his eyes, which were squeezed shut in his bliss. He’d never been more beautiful.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, so that he would settle against you. You needed his weight to ground you because you felt like you were going to float into space. Billy planted a few soft kisses on your cheek, jaw and behind your ear.

He pulled away then, and you groaned when his cock slipped out of you. You watched him watch his cum drip out of you. His dark eyes sparkled.

“Goddamn.” He said, his voice deeper than ever.

You bent both your knees and brought them close to your chest, opening yourself up for him. You ran your fingers gently through your folds and swiped at your entrance. You brought your fingers to your mouth, glistening with the combination of your cum and his, and sucked them between your lips. You moaned, mostly for show.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You teased.

Billy smirked. “You’re something else.”

You released your fingers, smiling up at him sweetly. “Think that will help you be less distracted tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “Definitely not.” He tucked himself back in his trousers.

You grinned.

“Come on, darling. Let’s take a bath.”

“Can’t walk.” You said simply, not even trying to move.

He shook his head, still grinning, but took you up his arms anyway.

You smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Love you, Billy.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 😌

Taglist: @kayhi808 @idaoftheburningmind @quellmythirst @kahlanmars @catherinnn @crowssixof @musicalggirl @insssanemind @loubombshell @misscaitygrace @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations

(please tell me if you want to be removed from my everything Billy Russo taglist, I just kinda look through everyone I have tagged on other stuff consistently)

#billy russo smut #billy russo fanfic #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo #billy russo fic #my writing #sugar daddy!Billy

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mixsethaddams · 1 year

Text

March 27th, 1986

“Come on, come ON Eddie just- Jesus just keep breathing!”

“Steve he’s-”

“SHUT UP just everybody keep moving!”

April 2nd, 1986

“There are very few signs of life”

“But there are some, right?”

“Yes but-”

“But nothing, he’ll make it”

April 29th, 1986

“Realistically, keeping him on life support is… Ambitious….and the medical bills-”

“Will be paid. Keep the machines on”

June 16th, 1986

“Robin didn’t fall over at her graduation today. They had a memorial for Chrissy too… It was nice, I think you would’ve liked it…”

October 14th, 1986

“I drove to Indy today, I got you this tape. Slayer… Thought you might like it…”

November 27th, 1986

“There was snow today, Eds. It’s really nice… I wish you could see it…”

December 24th, 1986

“Please Eddie… Please wake up…”

January 1st, 1987

“….st….steve….?”

“Oh my god…. Nurse? NURSE!”

February 1st, 1987

“I’m glad you’re here”

“Me too”

“I wouldn’t be able to do this without you”

“Me neither…”

March 27th, 1987

“I love you, Eddie”

“I love you too, Stevie, thanks for never giving up on me,”

October 6th, 2014

“I do”

#steddie #steve and eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson is completely fine #LA LA LA NOT LISTENING #seth writes

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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Hey! I just discovered your blog and I'm having massive bg3 brain rot rn. I just went through a hellish amount of back pain (to the point where I was on the verge of passing out) and I was wondering if you could write a few headcannos about how the bg3 companions would comfort the reader. I was thinking maybe Astarion and a few of your favs? Anyway, I love your work and gave a great day!!

aww no I hope your back is better my love! Here are some hcs about some companions helping/comforting you when you’re in pain:

Astarion

Wakes you up early and encourages you to do some gentle stretches to help with the pain

I do mean early. He basically does yoga with you and does NOT relish the idea of the camp catching him doing downwards facing dog, he’d die from embarrassment (though he will stomach doing it during the day if you really want to. But complain the whole time)

Does research into what teas and tinctures can be made and bought to help ease your discomfort.

Gives you massages, but they’re very sensual. You both know he’s not really trying to help in that regard… However his massages do lead to a way to take your mind off things…

Karlach

her 👏 warm 👏 hands 👏 are 👏 a 👏 heat pack 👏 Both before and after her infernal engine is fixed.

Before, she wraps her hands up as tight as she can to shield you from her head and presses them against wherever is causing you discomfort

After, she uses her hands properly, holding them against your skin so the heat can soothe you.

Offers to carry your things so that the day-to-day is easier.

Wyll

He does do proper massages, and unlike astarion he has no ulterior motive.

Insists you see a doctor or a healer as soon as you can and pays your medical bill if needed.

Is good at reading your face. If you’re doing something and your pain is causing you problems, he’ll offer to jump in and take over or at least help you.

Doesn’t bombard you with questions about how you’re feeling but knows the signs to look out for, because he knows you 💕

Lae’zel

10000% cracks your joints like a chiropractor, likely some githyanki remedy.

You do not know if she is trained to do this. Probably not. It feels so good though.

She is the source of your bruises but healer of your pain.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget (lmk if you want to be added)

#Wyll x reader #Wyll x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #lae’zel x tav #laezel x reader #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #bg3 headcanons #request

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talesofadragon · 3 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬

Synopsis: Receiving wind that Hydra has successfully managed to awaken another wave of winter soldiers, Captain America appoints his two best avengers, Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N, for the job. But aside from Bucky’s trepidation at reliving his worst memories, there’s something else rooting him in his place–the fear of inflicting harm on the woman he loves the most. Between her encouraging words and his violent past, what will happen when Y/N is forced to encounter her boyfriend’s alter ego?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: Angst | Fluff

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 Masterlist | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

“𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍, whose brilliant idea was it to hitch a ride to Antarctica at four in the morning?” Sam groaned, shooting Steve a tired side-eye. The glare would've carried more weight if Sam's eyelashes weren't so heavy he looked on the verge of collapsing into sleep right then and there.

“It’s a twenty-hour flight,” Steve stated matter-of-factly, ignoring Sam’s blatant groans.

Everyone was almost in the Quinjet, with Bruce and Clint slumped in a bunk each. By the sound of their rhythmic snores, the early mission hadn’t disturbed their sleeping schedules, and the Big Guy was too exhausted to comment about his new surroundings. Natasha was in there, too, plugging in the mission's coordinates. Needless to say, besides her and the two supersoldiers standing in the hangar, everyone else looked more than eager to go back to dreamland.

Y/N eyed Sam as he hugged his pillow tightly, using the walls to steady himself. Sam, who was this ball of infinite energy, was dozing off at the speed of light. And though he was used to waking up early and heading off for his morning lapses with Steve, the poor guy was stuck in a debrief with Nick Fury late last night and had barely managed to get some shut-eye.

“I think what Sam means is why endure a twenty-hour hassle to get to Queen Maud Land when we could’ve figured out a faster means of transportation,” Y/N interjected.

Steve raised a skeptical brow. “Like what?”

“Portalling,” she shrugged, catching Sam’s attention. “What’s the point of having friends like Dr. Strange if we don’t ask for help when we need it?”

"Because, for one, Strange is not a friend," Tony asserted, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. He looked pristine and smelled fresh, his gym bag slung casually over his shoulders. Figures the insomniac would be the least bit aggravated at the prospect of deploying to Antarctica before even the worms were up. "And second, what makes you think he’d help us?"

“Maybe because he’s also an Avenger.”

Tony gasped aloud, his hand shooting up to cover his arc reactor. His melodrama got even Steve to roll his eyes. “Firstly, take that back. There are only six Avengers and a handful of enhanced sidekicks.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky chimed from next to Y/N.

“Seven Avengers,” Tony corrected, shooting Y/N a glance. Not even Bucky’s death glare or Sam’s scuff halted his monologue. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. What’s bigger than Strange’s bibbidi-bobbidi arsenal is his ego—”

Natasha interceded, “Says the man who had his name plastered on a building.”

“I heard that, Jessica Rabbit.”

“As you should’ve. I’m sure,” Steve piped in.

Tony’s lips twitched in their signature way. He pushed Steve aside and entered the Quinjet, throwing his bag on one of the biggest bunks available. For a man who’s not keen on sleeping, or being accused of egotism, his behavior is quite contradictory.

“The point is, Stephen Strange’s medical license may scream, ‘I help people for a living,’ but doctors talk a big game until the hospital bill arrives.” He paused, turning his attention back to Sam and Y/N. “That’s when you realize their benevolence comes with a hefty price tag.”

"One that I'm sure you can afford because you're a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, as you oh-so-casually like to remind us all."

"Okay, weren't you sleeping?" Tony pointed an accusatory finger at Clint, who had rolled over and sassed him. Clint refrained from answering, his light snores filling the now silent area.

Sam took this as his cue to build on the previous point. "I’m with Clint on this one. Why don't you score three out of four on the Stark Personality Index and give Strange a call?"

"Why don't you channel your inner sorcerer and magically zip it? Because the less we debate, the quicker we might actually get something done," Tony rebutted. He waved his hands around, signaling for everyone to board the jet. Sam and Steve went further inside, both commenting on Tony's antics. Y/N and Bucky were the only ones who lingered in the back.

“James,” Y/N whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. His electric blue eyes held her gaze. He expected her to ask him about his well-being or point out his lack of commentary. But, to his surprise, Y/N gently took his metal hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be just fine.”

Bucky laced their fingers together, bringing their interlocked hands to his lip and planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. Sometimes, he could’ve sworn Shuri had augmented the sensory feedback in his prosthetic. But when Y/N’s eyes twinkled as they did now, and a wave of undiluted love inundated his heart, he knew it had less to do with technology and more to do with her.

“Stick by my side,” he reminded her firmly.

Y/N’s lips twitched, the corners rising to form a smirk. “Till the end of all lines.”

Bucky broke into a chuckle, briefly shaking his head. He pulled on her hand, making her fall into step together. Though the nagging feeling in the back of his mind hadn’t dissipated, he gladly ignored it as he led Y/N to one of the bunk beds. She needed all the sleep she could get, and he needed the reminder that she was very much real and very much close.

“Avengers Assemble.”

Y/N bet Tony’s entire fortune (obviously, because he was the billionaire, not her) that Steve, along with everybody else, expected anything—literally, anything—except for Bruce to burst out laughing at this exact moment. It wasn’t even a shortle or an innocent giggle. He was doubled over, gasping for breath, one hand gripping his stomach while the other clung to a chair for support.

It was only when the entire group turned to face him that his laughter began to gradually cease. “You said Ass,” Bruce clarified sheepishly, his weariness rising now that all eyes were on him. “You know, because you’re America’s ass, and you could’ve literally said anything else, but you chose that word. Right, Tony?”

“Right,” Tony replied wryly.

It was evident that Bruce was growing increasingly uneasy. The team had reached Queen Maud Land, Antarctica, with only five minutes to spare before landing. FRIDAY was working to determine the safest landing spot, considering it was well past midnight and the relentless snowstorm showed no signs of abating.

A tingling sensation emanated from Bruce, creeping into Y/N's consciousness. Quickly, she skipped to his side, stretching out her hand. With a gentle smile and inviting eyes, she wordlessly sought Bruce's approval to make contact. As he extended his hands, Y/N eagerly accepted it. A radiant silver encircled her irises, the hue spreading through them. Likewise, her veins adopted a pale white, the color effortlessly transferring from her to Bruce. In a matter of seconds, she sensed his shoulders ease, a soothing wave of calmness enveloping him.

“Thank you,” Bruce said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N replied as her eyes reverted to their original color.

She swiftly made her way to Bucky, watching as Bruce stood taller, giving Steve his undivided attention.

"Now that we've all... assembled, for lack of a better term," Y/N giggled at Steve's joke, earning a lopsided grin. "At face value, this Hydra facility appears to be a scientific research ground. However, we know from SHIELD intelligence that it's not—particularly the East Building. It's safe to assume that both the Observatory and the Experimentation Lab may not include the soldiers we're looking for, but that doesn't exclude any relevant intel we could possibly gather.

"Sam, we'll need you to conduct a quick aerial scan. Deploy Red Wing to ensure the main entrance points are accessible and check for heat signatures to quantify the number of Hydra operatives inside. Nat and Bruce, you'll be in the Observatory. It's the smallest of the three buildings, with only one floor to cover. Sam, once you're done with your report, land in the Experimentation Lab and wait for Clint and me. Tony, you're with Bucky and Y/N in the East Building. Any questions?"

“For the record, that itself was a trick question,” Natasha noted as she double-checked her hidden weapons. The latest NSFW suits (abbreviated for “Nano Secure Field Wear,” though Tony insisted on using the acronym) made it impossible to discern the locations of her weapons. “None of you better ask a single thing because even this Russian ass is freezing and is ready to kick some butt to get warmed up a little bit.”

“Hey, I’m not one to argue when asses are involved,” Tony commented. “Let’s go, Wilson. Time is money.”

Sam rolled his eyes, lowering his night vision glasses. “Says the billionaire,” he huffed, wings at the ready.

“I heard that, Iago”

“As you should’ve. I’m sure,” Natasha sassed. Safe to say, Tony didn’t mirror everyone’s laughter.

“So, Lynx. On a scale of Africa to Antarctica, how are you two snowglobes enjoying this weather?” Tony quipped.

He was supposed to fly to the East Building, but the storm was unrelenting. Steve had asked Sam and Tony to limit their aerial assessments, not wanting to risk damage to their gear. Unfortunately, that meant Tony had to walk to the building alongside Bucky and Y/N. While this wouldn’t normally be a problem, the loud groans coming from the side painted a clear picture of Bucky’s sullen behavior. And God knew how much Tony and Bucky just loved to push each other’s buttons.

“Just because my moniker happens to be ‘Lynx’ doesn’t mean I am one, Tony,” Y/N shot back. Her eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as she gazed at him. “If we all carried the same traits as our pseudonyms, then you’d be as heavy as your ego.”

Bucky elected to laugh at this one, watching with glee as Tony made a face. Even with his suit hiding his features, it wasn’t hard to picture his reaction. “You should know better than to try and sass her.”

Tony shrugged, picking up his pace and walking just a bit ahead of the two. “Teasing your girl is my favorite pastime, Barnes. She’s a ray of sunshine when she wants to be. Too bad she’s stuck in the wrong season.”

“He can’t keep his mouth shut for thirty seconds, can he?”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that might cause him an aneurysm, baby.”

The storm was fierce, with the wind battering them from various directions. For the most part, the trio easily navigated the road. Tony was leading them, using his altered nano blasters to inconspicuously clear the path when the snow was too thick.

And yet, while the enhanced suits blocked out the cold, they didn't imbue any of those who wore them with warmth, maintaining the body temperature at a neutral level. So, when Bucky unexpectedly felt a fiery rush glistening across his gloved hand, he immediately looked down and broke into a dulcet smile at the sight of Y/N's smaller hand in his.

“You seem lighter,” she commented.

Bucky kept his eyes on his surroundings as he responded, “Is this an attempt at praising Stark’s new suits?”

“No, silly,” she chuckled. Of course, she’d find ways to lighten his mood in these frosty conditions. “I was talking about you, not your clothes.”

“Using your abilities on me, Lynx?”

“You’d know if I was.”

It’s true, he would. Not that she had ever used them on him, anyway. It was only when he grappled with his nightmares that she did, and that was only when she had earned his explicit permission to do so.

“I’m convinced that even without your enhanced abilities, you would still be the only person able to influence my emotions.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What do you mean by that?” She almost missed a step when Bucky briefly chanced a glance at her. His electric blue eyes were darker, given the lack of light, but there was something else there—an emotion she had trouble deciphering. "That’s not exclusive to me. I’m not the only person who influences your mood."

Bucky smirked, his thumb drawing circles along Y/N’s gloved hand. “You are the only one that counts.”

“Do you say that to every woman you come across, Sergeant?”

“Only the ones I’d like to keep around, angel.”

Y/N playfully jabbed him in the ribs, and to his surprise, he felt it even through the layers he was wearing. Taking the light-hearted punch in stride, Bucky mock-pretended to be hurt.

“I don’t know if Tony has rubbed off on you or if it’s the other way around," Y/N lamented, her pout visible, even cuter with the cold air escaping her mouth.

“Don’t involve me in your lover’s squabble.” Speak of the devil.

Bucky had to roll his eyes at the unwanted intervention. “Overly narcissistic of you to assume you are part of the conversation, Stark.”

“Overly irresponsible to shamelessly flirt with your girlfriend before shutting off the open communication channel of your earpiece, Barnes. Judging by the flush of your cheeks, it seems that even this playboy can influence your emotions.”

It took too long for Tony to register the snowball Bucky had gathered and chucked at his face, even longer to notice Y/N’s outstretched leg before he fell face first in the snow—because the communication channel was certainly not open. Tony, as always, was just being a nosy little worm.

"Observatory sweep complete. Six targets eliminated. Uploading the recon data," Natasha informed, the audible huff in her voice coinciding with a forceful kick against a Hydra operative.

“Copy that,” Steve acknowledged. There was silence on the line, one that mirrored the noiselessness that greeted Y/N, Bucky, and Tony as soon as they entered the East Building. The three exchanged discreet glances, brandishing their weapons as they ventured deeper into the vicinity. “We’ve yet to face any resistance in the Lab. Clint found a hidden passageway on the far right, though. We’re making our way in now. Bucky, do you reckon we’ll find the soldiers there?”

“Unlikely,” Bucky answered promptly. “All prisoners are kept at sub-level units under strict observation. Unless the passageway leads you to a lower floor, you’ll most likely encounter more agents.”

“Speaking of agents. Any on your end so far?”

“None.”

“Well, looks like our luck ran out. Be careful.”

The corners of Bucky’s lips twitched as a grin began to spread on his face. “When am I not?”

With Steve’s grunts receding and the conversation dying down, Bucky and Y/N left Stark to scour the upper floor while they inspected the sub-levels. Though there was an enormous likelihood that the soldiers were situated somewhere in this area, the lack of supervision made them question whether this entire mission was either a trap or a distraction.

Bucky turned to Y/N as soon as he descended the staircase. He seemed disconcerted at the thought, while Y/N was unfazed. “They have an unknown number of active supersoldiers,” she said, graciously blending in with the shadows at the same time Bucky stuck closer to the walls. “Why would they need to have any guards surveying an area they've labeled as ‘barren’ for a reason?”

“You have a point,” Bucky acknowledged. He scanned his surroundings, locating an intersection a few steps across. “Can you feel if the soldiers are anywhere close?”

Y/N’s brows knit together in concentration. She huffed, the sound unregistered by her own ears. Bucky noticed it, though. Just like he registered her pout.

“I can’t detect any active emotions.”

“Maybe they've put them in cryo.” Bucky pondered aloud.

Y/N hummed, “Your theory stands as the most logical.” She craned her neck, attention drawn to the left path ahead. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized it. “While this entire level is brimming with a negative aura, this side seems to be the nucleus. The energy is passive at this point, but there’s a lot of emotional turbulence emanating from there.”

With a swift swipe of his hand, Bucky uncovered the gun he had hidden in his suit. He extended his right arm, quickly drawing it to the side, in front of Y/N's body, as he followed the emotional trail she had picked up.

Y/N stepped behind him. Her presence almost always went unnoticed, courtesy of her agility and capacity to blend in with her surroundings. On various missions with the Avengers, particularly with Steve and Natasha, she had been told numerous times that her sudden appearances had caught them off guard.

Knowing the same applied to Bucky, Y/N intentionally placed a heavier weight in her footsteps—not enough to alert the enemy to her presence inside the base, but enough to assure Bucky's ears that she was still behind him.

A faint static sensation tingled in Y/N and Bucky’s ears before Tony’s voice filtered in, "I won't claim it's a competition, but if it were, I'd say I've gathered the best intel in this super squad."

"Share it with us so we can award you for it, Stark," Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Six soldiers,” Tony's tone carried a certain smugness as he relayed the information. “Kept in cryostasis. They’re still being heavily monitored and undergoing extreme medical and physical examinations. Expected to be deployed into the field…”

“Watch out!” Bucky hissed, cutting Tony’s speech off.

As soon as he and Y/N had stepped into a deeper part of the facility, laser beams deployed from all around them, entrapping them.

“What’s going on?” It was Bruce who had asked, but Bucky and Y/N were too busy ducking out of the way of the lasers to answer. “Bucky? Y/N?”

Y/N surveyed her surroundings, attempting to pinpoint the source of the laser blasts. Unfortunately, the beams emerged from the walls, rendering it challenging to counteract them with bullets. Bucky rolled on the ground, the edge of his suit singed by the laser’s touch. He groaned, his eyes hastily searching for Y/N, who had pressed against one of the walls.

The only exit lay a few meters away, but there was no certainty about where that path would lead or if they could bypass the abundance of lasers to reach it. Y/N patiently waited until one of the beams prepared to shoot, analyzing its trajectory. In the split second it readied to fire, she lunged, curling her body into a ball mid-air before landing on the balls of her feet.

She repeated the process several times, closely monitoring Bucky as he fired a series of shots to dismantle the laser mechanisms. Whether it was a momentary distraction in her brain or a miscalculation on her part, an angry red beam struck her. Y/N took a deep breath, summoning all her energy to shift into her incorporeal form. To her utter disbelief, the lasers surrounding her diminished.

“James!” she shouted, earning a worried look from the super soldier. He immediately jumped to his feet and rushed to her. A forlorn shadow crossed his face when a laser beam severed his attempt. “I think these lasers are triggered by our movements.”

“So what are we supposed to do, Y/N? Stay still?” Bucky said the last part with a sneer, tired from the disadvantage.

He was surprised to see the corners of Y/N’s lips edging upward before the translucent edges around her form completely engulfed her whole. “Don’t be scared,” she had asked of him before she disappeared—the laser beams mirroring her motions.

He supposed that she was making her way toward him, if the receding beams were any indication. He felt a slight pressure on his arm before his body felt lighter as gentle silver strokes tingled across his body. When Y/N turned them both invisible, they moved together toward the end of the small hallway.

“Laser beams,” Bucky breathed out into his earpiece. He kept a firm hand on Y/N's waist as she dropped the veil that shrouded their movements. “We’re fine. Y/N got us out. Stark, what were you saying?”

“I said that the soldiers were scheduled for deployment on their first mission this month, but the specific date was not disclosed. It looks like Hydra hasn't centralized information regarding this project.”

“The information is scattered,” Bruce added. “On the servers here, Nat and I found a list of potential candidates for the 'Winter Program,' as they've named it. Clint is attempting to extract intel from the Experimentation Lab's servers.”

“How many soldiers did you mention?” Y/N asked.

Her gaze fixed on the sliding door ahead of her. Bucky followed her line of sight, peering at the seemingly deserted area. Cautiously, the two of them entered, guns drawn and ears sharp, attentive to any movement. The expansive space was filled with cryo pods, and the two rushed to inspect them.

“Six,” Tony replied.

Y/N shook her head, though only Bucky could witness the gesture. She raised her hand to her earpiece, speaking directly into the open channel, “There are seven pods. All of them are empty.”

A tense silence gripped them, not even a sigh audible through their earpieces. Bucky and Y/N instinctively positioned themselves back to back, keeping a vigilant watch for any potential threats.

Suddenly, a grunt echoed, followed by a loud crash. Without hesitation, Bucky pulled on Y/N's wrist, shielding her with his body. It wasn't until Steve's voice came through their earpieces that they realized the commotion wasn't originating from their location.

Steve sighed, "We've got a problem."

"Aside from the 'seek six, and get an extra super soldier killing machine for free'?" mocked Tony.

"Three of these Hydra operatives that ambushed us are the super soldiers," Steve explained.

Tony groaned, and the sounds of his blasters kicking off resonated in everyone's ears. It looked like he’s got company, too. "Well, that's just perfect. Not only is Hydra onto us, but winter is coming as an unwelcome bonus."

"You couldn't help it, could you?" asked Y/N.

A blast went off a second before Tony answered with a simple "No."

It appeared that Hydra had stationed their soldiers in every building. Three were already locked in a duel with Steve and the others—two now, since apparently, Clint caught one off guard with a tranquilizing arrow. Bruce and Nat were fighting two, and Tony was trapped upstairs with one.

Y/N left Bucky's side faster than he could hold her back. She heard him curse as she inspected the names on the pods. She didn't know what she was looking for, but something told her the answer would be etched on the pods. With six super soldiers combating her friends, the question remained: who was the seventh, and where were they?

The pods all bore identical markings on their plaques, each displaying a serial number designating a soldier. Y/N moved methodically down the line, disregarding Bucky's protests. As she reached the last pod on the far left, she tuned out Bucky's objections. Suddenly, she froze in a way that even Tony's cold-resistance suits hadn’t thought possible.

"James," her voice quivered as she called, the blood in her veins turning to ice. "It's a trap."

Barely having time to convey the name she saw on the seventh plaque—the moniker that Hydra had assigned him—she heard the click of a gun.

Bucky watched with horror-stricken eyes as the bullet shot at Y/N faster than he could intercept it… faster than she could dodge it.

I am so excited for the next part!! Are you ready for the winter soldier to come out and play? 🫣 Share your theories on what you think is coming next!

All-Works Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

: ̗̀➛ Read Chapter 3 - VIOLENCE - here!!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier relapse #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes au

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