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Summary: After a party for your husband goes wrong, his best friend Frankie helps you see you may have hit the wall in your marriage.
Pairing/WC/Tags: Frankie Morales x married!reader / 4k / arguing, emotional abuse(??), implied infidelity, cheating spouse au (Frankie would never), emotional infidelity (?)
A/N: once again inspired by a tik tok from irisxedetz and Gracie Abrams song ‘Hit the Wall’ ao3 link below, chapter two out 7/20 🫶🏼
Chapter One: I’m not a problem you can solve
The house is full of people who are trying very hard not to notice that the birthday boy isn’t here.
You notice, though. You notice every single second that passes in your husbands absence.
The clock on the wall ticks, each minute stretching thinner and thinner as another guest looks toward the front door and then quickly looks away. Your husband’s mother has asked twice if he said he was running late, and friends have made jokes about him getting distracted. You’ve laughed every time, skirting around the embarrassment that is growing in your chest.
“He’s probably just caught up,” you say, forcing a smile as you pick up an empty glass from the coffee table. “You know how he gets.”
You move through the house like you’re trying to outrun the embarrassment. You refill drinks and offer more food, checking on people who don’t need checking on, and apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.
“I’m sorry, he should’ve been here by now,” you murmur. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
You say it so many times it almost starts to sound like a prayer. Across the room, without your knowledge, Frankie watches you.
He’s leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, surrounded by people who have known him for years, but his attention never really leaves you. He sees the way your shoulders tense when your phone lights up and it isn’t him, can see you keep making yourself smaller to make everyone else comfortable, and makes something in his chest twist.
Frankie knows his best friend. He knows the excuses, and the temper. He’s familiar with how he can make a room feel like it belongs to him even when he isn’t in it.
But seeing you like this is something different.
You’re his wife, you’re supposed to be loved, and cherished, not standing in your own kitchen, apologizing to a room full of people because your husband couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own birthday party.
Frankie takes a sip of his beer, jaw tightening. He shouldn’t think about it. He shouldn’t wonder what it would be like if it were him, if he were the one coming home to you. If he were the one who got to wake up next to you, make you coffee, hear about your day.
He shouldn’t consider any of that, but he does, and he hates himself for it.
Hours later, when the food has gone cold and the laughter has faded into awkward conversation, the front door finally opens, and your husband walks in. More like stumbles, the smell of alcohol reaching the room before he does.
Everyone is too busy gathering towards him that they don’t notice the way his shirt is rumbled, or the smear of lipgloss on his collar, but Frankie does. Your husband barely seems to see the room full of people staring at him.
“Sorry,” he says, dragging the word out. “Lost track of time.”
You force yourself to smile. “It’s okay.”
It isn’t, but you smile anyways, because that’s what you do. You smooth things over, making them easier to digest.
You walk over and quietly ask if he’s okay, and he brushes you off with a shrug before greeting his friends like he didn’t leave you alone to host his birthday party. You blink quickly, the lump in your throat that’s been stuck there for two hours growing, and you smile wider.
Later, when everyone finally starts leaving, Frankie stays behind. You don’t ask him to, don’t speak to him much as all, but still he helps. He gathers empty plates, stacks cups, and carries trash bags to the kitchen. It gives you a chance to breathe, to focus on other things than the shit show of a party, until your husband walks back into the room.
“You know, I don’t even know why you did all this.”
You pause, glancing at him from the sink, and Frankie looks up from the counter. You gingerly put the stack of plates into the basin and turn on the tap. “What?”
Your husband scoffs, tossing his keys onto the table. “I didn’t even want a party.”
Your lips twist and you squeeze the soap onto your hand, creating a lather. “I thought you’d like having everyone here.”
“Well, that was stupid.”
The words hit hard, and you nearly stumble as if they were physical. You swallow down the hurt, rubbing at a plate before setting it aside. “I was just trying to do something nice.”
“Yeah, well, you always do that.” He scoffs, loosening his tie. You can feel Frankie’s eyes on you and your cheeks become warm.
“Come on,” you say softly. “You’ve been drinking. Let’s just go to bed.”
Your husband laughs. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Please. Not tonight.”
“Not tonight?” he repeats. The frustration in his voice makes you flinch. “I spend one night out and suddenly I’m the bad guy?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you never say anything.”
He grabs the beer bottle sitting on the counter and throws it. It’s a weak throw, but it shatters when it hits the wall beside you nonetheless. Your entire body jumps, and Frankie moves before he even thinks.
“Enough,” Frankie mutters. “Go upstairs. Been a long day.”
Your husband scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re really gonna lecture me in my own house?”
Frankie steps closer. “No. I’m telling you to go shower, sleep it off, and sober up before you make this worse.”
Your husband considers arguing, you can see it in his face, but then he sees Frankie’s expression, and he doesn’t. He disappears upstairs, leaving an unbearable silence.
You stare at the broken glass on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
Frankie’s head snaps toward you. “What?”
You shake your head and bend, picking up the shards with careful hands. You gather them in your palm and dump them in the trash, reaching for a broom. Frankie takes a few steps closer, and you avoid his line of sight. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“It’s fine,” you say automatically. “He didn’t mean it.”
The words come out so quickly that even you hear how practiced they sound. Frankie shakes his head, but frustration isn’t directed at you.
“He threw a bottle because he was mad.”
“He was drunk.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
The room suddenly feels too small. You sweep, collecting the last of the broken pieces and bend down for the dust pan. You throw them out then sigh, rubbing at the upcoming headache on the side of your temple. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
You don’t know how to explain years of slowly convincing yourself that this is normal. Love is supposed to hurt sometimes, and patience means swallowing everything.
Frankie takes a deep breath, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Are you even happy?”
The question knocks the air out of you. You face him with wide eyes, your lips parted. Frankie looks almost sorry for asking, but doesn’t take it back.
“You don’t have to answer me,” he says softly. “But I had to ask.”
You shake your head slowly, picking up a dish rag. “No.”
Frankie’s brows pull together. “No?”
You look away, folding your arms across yourself like you’re trying to hold everything in place. “I’m his wife. It’s my job. It’s my job to make things easier for him. To understand him, and know when he’s stressed, when he’s had a bad day, when I need to just… let something go,” You shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. “If I can’t do that, then maybe I’m the problem.”
You go back to washing the dishes, the soap suds coming to your wrists. Frankie stares at you a beat before coming around you, and turning off the faucet. “What?”
You swallow. “If I’m unhappy, maybe it’s because I’m not doing enough. Maybe I’m not being a good enough wife.”
Frankie steps back, and lets out a brief, hollow laugh. “No. You’re so wrong.”
Your eyes lift to his. Frankie takes a step closer, his expression somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak, and you put your hands on your hips. “If I’m so wrong, then he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t…go out like he does, or see her, or-“
You cut yourself off, realizing your mistake. Frankie’s eyes grow impossibly wide, and he reaches up to his head, gripping the edge of his cap. “So you know. About the cheating.”
It’s your turn to scoff, and you roll your eyes. “Of course I know. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re right, you’re not. You are-“ He stops, like he catches himself. There’s a line he knows he shouldn’t cross, but he’s been watching you hurt yourself for years, and tonight he’s too tired to pretend he doesn’t see it anymore.
“You are…” he whispers, and his jaw tightens. “If it was me…”
Your brows knit together, and your hands drop to your sides. Frankie’s eyes flicker over your face, and for a second he looks almost startled by his own words.
“If it was me,” he repeats, his voice lower, “you’d be so goddamn happy you’d burst.”
You raise your brows, and open your mouth to reply but words allude you. You stare at one another, and Frankie looks like he’s been punched.
“Jesus.” He immediately shakes his head, stepping back. “No. No, I shouldn’t have-“ He drags a hand over his face, looking away. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t regret admitting it, but he regrets putting that weight on you. You close your mouth, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Frankie…”
“That wasn’t fair.” He looks back at you. It’s hard watching this.”
Your throat tightens. “Frankie, I appreciate you calming him, but-“
“No, listen,” he pleads, and he moves into your space. “It’s hard watching someone like you spend all your time trying to convince everyone else that you’re okay.”
You look down, blinking a few times. “I’m fine.”
Frankie almost laughs, and gestures to you. “There it is. That thing you do. You say you’re fine before anyone even asks.” Frankie looks toward the stairs where your husband disappeared. “He didn’t come home tonight because he was having drinks with someone else. He came home drunk. He embarrassed you in front of everyone. He threw something because he was angry. And somehow you’re standing here telling me it’s your fault.”
Your throat aches, and you try to inhale. “He’s my husband.”
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I need you to understand something,” you look up at him, and his close enough that you can see the faint freckles across his cheeks from his time in the sun. “You deserve someone who’s excited to come home to you. Someone who sees you throwing them a birthday party and thinks, ‘How did I get so lucky?’” Frankie swallows. “Not someone who makes you apologize for loving them.”
Somewhere deep down, buried under all the excuses and all the times you told yourself this was normal, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh, pressing a hand to your mouth. “It wasn’t always like this. At least I don’t think so.”
Frankie nods, and you see the realization settling in. His shoulders drop slightly, and he knows gone too far. Not because what he said wasn’t true, but because it was. He can see the truth sitting between you both, and he knows he’s standing too close to a line he has no right to cross.
He looks away, running a hand over his beard. “I should go.”
Your brows pull together. “You don’t-“
“No.” He shakes his head, tugs at his cap. “Not because of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You stay quiet as he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. He slides it on and gives you a small smile.
“I just…” He exhales, looking down at the floor. “I know myself.”
Frankie has always been steady, the calm one. The one who thinks before he speaks. Tonight hes been loose, has said things he’s kept buried, things he probably never intended to say out loud.
“I need to leave before I say something else I shouldn’t.”
The honesty of it makes your heart skip, and maybe that’s why you don’t stop him. You don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him to sit with you until you feel less alone. It would be too dangerous, too emotional. You know how easy it would be to let someone like Frankie become the person you run to, especially when your own husband has spent so long making you feel like you’re impossible to love and come home smelling like a perfume you don’t wear.
Frankie pauses at the front door, his hand resting on the handle. “Just remember you deserve so much more. Okay?” Your throat tightens. “You don’t have to put up with his shit.”
You don’t know what to say, don’t know what would be safe, so instead you give him a grateful smile.
Frankie holds your gaze for a second longer than he should, then he nods, and the door clicks shut behind him.
The house is quiet again, save for the roaring of your blood in your ears, and you are alone.
-
Later that night, you lie beside your sleeping husband. His back is turned toward you, his breathing deep and even, like nothing happened, like he didn’t spend another night proving exactly why Frankie looked at him the way he did.
You stare at the ceiling, your mind refusing to settle. Instead, it keeps replaying the kitchen.
Frankie’s voice.
The disbelief on his face when you blamed yourself.
You’re so wrong.
You swallow, fidgeting.
If it was me, you’d be so goddamn happy you’d burst.
You close your eyes. You can still hear the way he said it, not like he was trying to steal you away, but as if it was the simplest truth in the world. Like loving you would never have been a burden. Taking care of you would have been something he was grateful for.
Your chest aches. Frankie shouldn’t have said it, and you know you shouldn’t still be thinking about it.
It was nice though, someone looking at you with complete honesty, and not asking what you could do better. Someone looked at you and wondered why you were settling for less.
The room grows darker as sleep starts to pull at you.
And just before you drift off, one thought stays. The one thing Frankie said that you can’t seem to let go of.
Summary: you & Dex go to a baseball game where he shares his snacks with you
Pairing/WC/tags: DDBAS1!Dex x date!reader / 369 / fluff, first dates, dex has ocd, dating, crush
A/N: for @juniebjonesin picnic blanket prompt challenge, ‘potato chips/“You don’t mind sharing? - Not with you.”’
You had wanted to come to the baseball game, had been excited all week, and yet you’re only half paying attention, mostly because Dex is sitting right next to you.
He’s leaning back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the backrest behind you, the other holding a small bag of chips. He’s watching the field with that calm, unreadable focus of his, like he’s analyzing every pitch, every movement, every breath the players take.
You had met him while in line for coffee. He was, albeit a little strange, sweet. Courteous, and incredibly good looking. You hadn’t gone on many dates, but you knew you liked him, just a little. Even with all his little quirks, like his need to dust his apartment every Tuesday or eating only a particular brand of cereal.
Without looking at you, he tilts the bag slightly in your direction.
“Want some?” he asks.
You blink, eyes dropping to the bag before your brows knit.
“…What?” you say, genuinely thrown off.
Dex finally glances at you, brow faintly raised like you’re the weird one here. “Chips.”
“I know what chips are,” you mutter, still staring at him like he’s just offered you classified government intel. “I mean- you’re offering them?”
His eyes narrow a fraction, and he glances at the bag before up at your face again.
“You don’t mind sharing?” you ask carefully, because you know him. You know how he is about his things. His routines. His space. His food.
Dex goes quiet for a beat. Then, simple as anything, he says, “Not with you.”
Your brain short-circuits a little anyway.
“…Oh,” you manage, suddenly very interested in the edge of your seat.
He holds the bag a little closer again, just enough for you to take if you want. Still not insisting. Just… offering.
“You’re weird,” you mutter, reaching in anyway.
Dex huffs a quiet laugh, eyes already back on the field. “Yeah. I’ve heard.”
But his arm doesn’t move from behind you. If anything, it curls closer around your shoulders.
When your fingers brush his for a second against the chip bag, he doesn’t pull away, not even a little. And you realize you might really like him.
Summary: After his accident, Leon doesn’t remember you, his partner. But you remember everything, especially loving him.
Pairing/WC/Tags: re4!Leon x partner!reader /2,416/ memory loss, angst, hurt no comfort, partners to strangers, lovers to strangers, brief implied smut
A/N: for day 17 of @tropevarietyhour “tell me all this time meant something” ao3 link below
You can tell from the tick of his jaw alone that he doesn’t recognize you. You weren’t prepared for that, for the blankness in his features when he looks at you. You’d rehearsed everything else; the confusion, the suspicion, maybe even the anger. You’d braced for distance, or unknowing. You hadn’t been prepared for this though. Anything but this.
He stands before you weeks later, after his body has healed, and there is not a lick of recognition in his eyes. He raises a brow at you, and you realize you’re a question he doesn’t care to solve.
“You lost, rookie?”
You aren’t a rookie, you’re his partner. Or you were, until the accident, until his memory no longer kept space for you.
“I’m not a rookie.” You swallow, and brush past him. He doesn’t stop you, and your breathing comes faster.
You glance behind you, and he’s walking away, moving from you at a steady pace.
A piece inside your chest goes very, very still.
-
You decide that he remembers none of it. The late nights pouring over files or the early morning debriefs or the stolen kisses in safe houses.
You learn quickly that he’s still him, always controlled and borderlining exhaustion. He saves people without thinking, without a thought for his own safety. He still stares at doors when he enters a room to make sure it’s safe, and he still drinks Diet Coke in the afternoons.
But he never looks at you like he knows you.
It’s beginning to feel like a private punishment, and you’re relieved that you had been released from being his partner. You asked upper command to not tell him, because it didn’t really matter, and they didn’t fight you on it.
The universe was punishing you enough.
-
The first time you slip, you hadn’t even realized it. You’re patching up a wound on someone else, while Leon stands nearby, watching out of habit more than concern.
The officer groans, and you pat their shoulder as you help them to their feet. Leon uncrosses his arms, directing his words to the other person. “At ease.”
“At easier.” You snicker, the inside joke lame but making you chuckle nonetheless. Leon pauses, and the officer all but ignores you, shuffling away as you try to remember to breathe right.
The room shifts and you can feel it in the air, the crack of electricity. A feeling you hadn’t had since his accident.
“…what was that?” Leon asks, and you shake your head so fast your hair swishes around you.
“Nothing,” you look away. “I heard it somewhere.”
“From where?”
Adjusting the straps on your holsiter, you shrug a shoulder, trying to look indifferent, trying to push down the memories of when he’d laugh at that. “I don’t know.”
“You do,” he corrects. “So do I.”
You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His jaw tightens and you realize, with a slow kind of dread, that he’s sharper than you gave him credit for.
-
He starts watching you after that. Not in an obvious way, but because you know him, and remember how he had been, you notice it.
It all breaks after almost a year. You’re both on watch in a quiet corridor, flickering emergency lights casting everything in half-life shadows. He’s leaning against the wall, eyes half-lowered, exhaustion catching up in a way that you recognize but you don’t comment.
“You’re always looking at me like that.” he says suddenly.
You glance up. “Like what?”
“Like I’m supposed to know you.”
Your eyes drop immediately to your lap, to the weapon you’re holding. The quiet stretches, and you can feel him watching you, trying to read you and you give up. You had been strong, had been alone, and you missed him so much some nights it was hard to sleep.
Glancing up, you give him a half-baked smile. “Would it matter if you did?”
Leon frowns, takes a slow breath in before he nods. “It would.”
You hate how much it still matters. You hate that he still sounds like him when he says things like that.
“I think you used to,” you say quietly. “Know me.”
It’s not completely the truth but it’s safe. For you or for him, you aren’t certain. He doesn’t need to know about the times he held you, or the way he would take off your clothes with artful movements that made your blood hum.
Those memories are now for you and you alone.
Leon is quiet, and then his boots are scuffing the floor as he walks forward before crouching infront of you. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Do I trust you?” He asks, and when your eyes meet his you wonder if he remembers any of those moments at all.
You roll your answer inside your mouth, deciding if you should say it out loud.
“…you did.”
His brows wrinkle. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You hadn’t considered that before, and you don’t know if you have an answer. You stand up, brushing off your jeans and so does he, his eyes still on your face.
“Because it’s irrelevant now,” you reply with a throat full of sandpaper. “And the job comes first.”
Needing space, you walk away, acting as if you need to check the perimeter for the third time, and he doesn’t follow you. You’re thankful for that as you release a breath.
-
He doesn’t remember you, but he does notice you. You dhow up when you aren’t assigned, lingering in places you don’t need to be. You know how to move through a space like it belongs to you, even when no one has given you permission.
It’s in the little things, the way you don’t hesitate around him when everyone else does, or how you never ask him about his past, like you already know it would hurt him to explain.
He watches you more than he means to, stands straighter when you enter a room. A year and a half after his accident, and he still can’t remember how it happened. Can’t remember if it was his fault, or someone else’s. He remembers a few things, glimpses of emotionally important moments. His parents funeral, the sound of the rain as they’d been lowered into the ground. The pressure of Ada’s mouth on his underneath Racoon City, and how somehow she had still smelled like cherry blossoms even while surrounded by all the death. The ache in his chest when she didn’t come back.
A report is handed to him and he recognizes your hand writing. He clenches the file, taking the steps two at a time until he’s at your desk and presses it onto the wood. You slowly look from the file to his face.
“…can I help you?”
“This your hand writing?” He asks, unsure why his heart is beating so fast.
You glance at it before you nod. “Um, yep. That’s mine.”
He smiles and it’s so unexpected you feel your blood heat. “I recognized it.”
“You recognized my chicken scratch?” You ask, and he laughs, a sound that is soothing to your ears.
“Yeah,” Leon replies with a grin. “I- yes. It’s yours. I saw it and I knew it was.”
You smile back, making the expression small. “That’s great, Leon.”
He thinks about the way his name sounds on your tongue the rest of the day.
-
After that, he starts seeking you out without meaning to. It’s not on purpose, but he keeps finding himself where you are. If you’re patching equipment, he shows up with a tool you didn’t ask for. You need to review files, and he’s suddenly there, offering them to you along with his opinion on their process.
You can’t say you mind, if anything you enjoy it. What you don’t like is the hope blooming in your chest. You know your time of being loved by Leon is over; your heart just needs to realize that too.
-
He gets hurt in the field again and it’s minor, a gash on the upper side of his forearm. You wrap the wound, focusing on the movement of your hands.
“Hold still.” You murmur, and to your surprise he does. He watches you work quietly as if it’s muscle memory he doesn’t remember learning.
When you’re done, he doesn’t move right away, just watches as you lean back, cleaning up the medical supplies.
“You’re always calm.” he says quietly.
You glance up. “Not always.”
“I think you are with me.”
You narrow your eyes, your mouth quirking. “Maybe I just don’t want you to be worse off than you already are.”
He makes a soft, laughing sound, and you stand up, moving away because you don’t need to enjoy hearing that so much.
-
He doesn’t recognize you, but his body does.
After too many hours and not enough sleep, he catches himself watching you again. You’re talking to someone across the room, animated in a way he hasn’t seen before, and something sharp twists in his chest. Not jealousy, but a close second. Something more like loss.
When you notice him watching, you tilt your head slightly. “Leon?”
His name on your mouth is electric, and he stands taller, nodding. “Yeah?”
“All good?” You ask, the other person long forgotten. Leon nods, deciding that he wants to keep hearing you say his name like that, like you already know him, even if he doesn’t know you.
-
He breaks before you do in the process of admission. You’re elbow deep in papers when he stalks towards your desk, his boots echoing in the emptiness of the office.
“It was you,” he says and you stare at him.
“It was me…?” You ask slowly, giving him a chance to catch up. He’s breathing hard, his nostrils flaring in frustration.
“You,” his voice cracks and he sits down in the chair across your desk, putting his face in his hands. “I’ve been wracking my head. What’s left of it. Trying to figure this out and I thought- I thought it was Ada. It couldn’t be though, because she’s been gone for a long time.”
“Five years isn’t too long.” You say quietly. Leon gives you an incredulous look, brows knotted and he presses his palms into his knees.
“But you know,” he mutters. “Don’t you?”
“I’m not tracking what you’re saying.”
He sighs as you close the file, letting your entire attention be on him. His fingers gesture between you both, his jaw working.
“It was you I loved,” he murmurs. “Not Ada. You.”
Your heart may as well have stopped beating.
You look away, at the wall and then at your hands. You aren’t sure what to say, and his silence stretches as he leans back, his eyes boring into you.
“You knew, and you didn’t tell me,” his voice has dropped lower. “Why? Did I- was it not like that? Was it something simpler?”
You laugh without meaning to, eyes snapping up. “Something simpler?” You echo, and shake your head. “No, Leon. Not telling you that I loved you was anything but simple. You were healing, and you didn’t know me. I couldn’t just…” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts. “You needed time. Space. I didn’t want to be in the way.”
“I still don’t remember it,” he doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his chest rising and falling in slow intervals. “I just…i remember the feeling. The knowing that I-“
He pauses, and you lean forward, needing him to continue. You need to know, and your knees bump the edge of your desk. “Knowing what?”
His sea blue eyes meet yours like waves on a beach. “Knowing that I loved someone.”
Your throat burns, and you slowly shake your head. “Leon, I-“
He stands up and the chair screetches, effectively cutting you off. “Tell me then. Tell me all this time was worth it. All the time I spent healing, when I could’ve spent it remembering you.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s too much in your chest, too many versions of this conversation you rehearsed and none of them prepared you for the way he looks at you now, like you’re both the answer and the problem he can’t solve.
“Leon,” you whisper. “I don’t…I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s it?” He asks quietly. “That’s all you got?”
You swallow. Your hands curl into your palms just to keep you steady.
“I can tell you what it felt like,” you reply in a small voice. “I can tell you every moment. I can tell you the nights you couldn’t sleep and how you used to count the ceiling tiles because it helped, or how you laughed when you didn’t think anyone was listening, how you always did that thing with your thumb when you were nervous.”
His jaw tightens, and you can nearly see his brain processing these confessions, analyzing them. You don’t know if this is helpful or harmful, and as you round the desk to stand in-front of him, you cross your arms to keep your hands from touching him.
“It still isn’t mine,” He murmurs. You shake your head in sad agreement. “You didn’t have to stay.”
“I didn’t stay and keep quiet because I thought you owed me recognition,” you reply. “I stayed because I didn’t know how to leave someone I still loved.”
“I don’t know you,” he says again, but this time it sounds less like a fact and more like a defense he’s trying to rebuild around himself. “And I don’t know what I lost.”
You release a breath that trembles halfway out.
“That’s the worst part,” you whisper. “You don’t even get to miss me properly.”
He nods once, his blonde bangs shifting with the movement. Somewhere in one of his pockets, his phone buzzes, and he presses his fingers to it, silencing the device. He glances up at you, taking a step back, and you know then that the conversation is done.
“I wish I could give it back to you.” His voice has taken on a husky vibration.
You squeeze your arms around you tighter, hip pressing into the wood of the desk. “I know.”
Leon nods again, and then he turns. You watch as he walks away, boots scuffing once more, the pull to him so hard you nearly stumble.
He doesn’t look back when he leaves, and you’re grateful for that. Otherwise, he would’ve seen your tears.
x
Divider @chrisssiren
Ao3 Link
Leon Kennedy taglist: @yours-truly-andrea @xozoelivia @princesssugarplumm
A/N: this fic is lowkey one of my favorite and I just wanna keep adding more to their story!
Find If You Love Me, Keep It To Yourself ML here
The first time Joel had seen you in town, it could have been any other morning.
He was walking through the market, trying to track down the list of items Tommy had written out that was tucked in his pocket and a headache already forming behind his eyes when he heard you.
It was your laugh that made him look. Standing over one of the stalls, you were holding a basket in your arms, carefully sifting through the bags of flour. The woman running the stand was explaining how hard it was getting to obtain supplies, and instead of brushing her off like most, you listened.
“That must’ve been really frustrating.” You said sympathetically, and Joel could tell even the shop keeper wasn’t used to the niceness.
“Yes,” she had nodded solemnly. “It was.”
You had smiled and Joel’s heart had skittered. “Well thank you for getting them anyways.”
“Who’s that?” Joel had asked Tommy, his pace slowing. Tommy had glanced at you before nodding.
“She came a few weeks ago, been hold up cooking,” Tommy had explained as you had added items to your basket. “Maria says she’s got a real knack for baking.”
Joel stepped around a bucket of chopped wood, his eyes taking in the items in your basket. “You bake?”
He hadn’t meant to talk to you, and he had forgotten what he was meaning to do at all the moment you’d turned your attention to him.
“Yes,” you said, eyes bouncing to his full hands. “Looks like you’re shopping too.”
“Tommy made the list.” Joel had been weak in his responses, too distracted by you to think of anything clever.
You had smiled with your teeth, shifting your basket. “Ah.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Joel had frowned, because he had needed to know, if for anything, just to keep you talking. “No, what is it?”
“You just,” you giggled, and he enjoyed the sound. “Don’t look like shopping is much of your forte. Must be this Tommy character.”
“It is.”
You’d grinned wider. “Sounds like brothers.”
Shifting your basket, you looked like you were going to walk away, so Joel blurted. “You bake often?”
The question surprised you both, and you looked down at your basket. “When I can.”
“Why?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Because people like it.”
It had been an easy enough answer, but still unexpected. Joel shifted where he stood, his legs like lead. “You bake for others?”
“Mostly.”
The answer had bothered him, not because it was wrong, but he couldn’t understand someone who spent their time making something for everyone else. “You don’t keep any for yourself?”
You smiled again, and he wondered if he could find a camera just to take a picture of it. “Sometimes I do.”
“Only sometimes?”
“Depends on the batch, if they make it out of my kitchen.” A quiet laugh slipped from him, and it seemed to surprise you. You had grabbed a decided bag of flour, putting it into your basket. “You should smile more.”
The words had thrown him, and immediately Joel had looked away. “I smile.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Do you?”
He had considered arguing, but he didn’t have a good answer, and as he stared at you with your flour and sugar and a grin on your face, he realized he wanted to smile more, especially if you were the reason.
A few minutes later, you had paid and walked away. Joel had watched you go, only for a moment, at least that’s what he had told himself. Tommy jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re staring, you know that right.”
Joel looked over at him. “I ain’t staring.”
“Absolutely are.” Tommy chuckled.
“She just…” Joel stopped, not knowing what to say. She’s different, she’s kind. She made me laugh. None of those things felt like something he should admit about a stranger, so instead he picked up his basket. “She bought too much sugar.”
Tommy snorted with an incredulous look on his face. “That’s what you noticed?”
Joel rolled his eyes, and walked away.
Later that same evening, he saw you passing out cookies to the children playing on the street, and he stopped to witness it, just for a moment. Watching you laugh, watching the way the kids smiled at you, their cheeks pink from the sugar.
Fear lodged itself deep in his chest. For the first time in a long time, Joel saw something that wasn’t broken, and the jagged part of him wondered; What if I could have something like that?
He didn’t know your name yet. He didn’t know your favorite song or that your favorite cookie was chocolate chip. He didn’t yet know you’d eventually fall asleep on his shoulder, and that you’d become the person that made Jackson feel like home.
All he knew was that the woman buying supplies in the market that day had smiled at him, and somehow, it was enough to make him remember you.
Summary: Weiss & Ruby find solace in eachother after a night of fighting Grimm.
Pairing/WC/tags: post!volume!9!Weiss x post!volume!9 Ruby / 761 / wlw fluff, feelings admissions, partners to lovers, post volume nine
A/N: for the last day of @whiterose-fans-blog and for day 15 of @fluffyjuly sleepy/‘hold still a moment’. Thank you all for 800 followers :)
Ruby has always been good at moving, and the worst part about coming home is that there’s finally time to think.
She’s good at running toward danger, towards the next mission. Running toward anything that keeps her from sitting still long enough to feel everything she’s carrying.
But after hours of fighting Grimm in the freezing wilderness, there’s nowhere left to run, especially not with Weiss sitting across from her.
They’re both exhausted, the tiredness settling deep into their bones. Ruby’s muscles ache, and Weiss feels dirty, grime and sweat caked to her skin.
Neither of them says much, because they’re too tired, or maybe because they both don’t want to face what needs to be said.
Ruby glances over, and Weiss is sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully cleaning a cut along her arm. Her hair is falling out of its usual neat style, strands framing her face.
“You’re staring again.”
Ruby immediately looks away. “I’m not.”
Weiss raises an eyebrow, her mouth twisting. Even when she’s exhausted, she’s still Weiss.
Ruby sighs. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
A tired smile pulls at Weiss’s lips before she looks back down at her arm. “You should shower and rest.”
“So should you.” Ruby counters and Weiss looks up again.
“I was here first.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does in my head.”
Ruby laughs quietly, folding her arms as the silence returns. It could be comfortable, maybe even relaxing, but then Ruby remembers Weiss throwing herself in front of an attack earlier that day. Weiss remembers Ruby taking a hit meant for her. They’ve both done it too many times, both almost lost each other too.
“You scared me today.” The words leave Ruby before she can stop them, and she clenches her fingers into her palm.
Weiss inhales through her nose. “I’m sorry.”
Ruby shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean.”
Weiss looks away, her bravery failing her. She knows what Ruby truly means. They’ve been dancing around this for months, maybe years. Every almost-confession, every lingering touch, every moment where they stand just a little too close and pretend it means nothing.
Ruby takes a closer step, her boots quiet on the carpet flooring. “Weiss.”
The way she says her name makes Weiss’s expression falter. “What?”
Ruby has faced down monsters bigger than buildings. She’s fought battles where the odds were impossible, and yet this feels harder.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with how much I care about you.”
Weiss sits up a little straighter, and the room is suddenly stifling. “Ruby…”
“I know,” Ruby whispers. “I know we’re tired, and maybe this isn’t the time.”
Weiss’s fingers curl slightly into the blanket. “But you’re doing it anyways huh?”
Ruby nods. “I almost didn’t get to.”
The room goes painfully quiet, and Weiss looks down. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible. “You’re impossible.”
Ruby gives a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
“No, I mean…” Weiss exhales. “You’re impossible because you make it so hard to pretend.” Ruby feels her chest inflate but Weiss keeps going. “I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that you’re just my partner. My teammate. My friend, and… I’m very tired of lying to myself.”
Ruby sits down on the bed beside her, and takes her hand. “Weiss…”
“Hold still for a moment.”
Ruby blinks. “What?”
Weiss’s thumb brushes over her knuckles, her eyes soft despite the exhaustion. “Just… hold still.”
To her credit, Ruby listens. She sits stiff as a board, and lets Weiss pull her closer, lets their foreheads rest together, lets the silence speak for them.
The kiss is slow. Careful, and Ruby wonders if she’s half dreaming. Weiss twists her head, the pressure deepening, and Ruby mimics her, barely moving her neck even though her hands ache to touch her.
When they finally pull away, Ruby’s eyes are already heavy.
“You’re falling asleep,” Weiss murmurs.
Ruby smiles faintly. “Maybe.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Isn’t it true?”
Ruby showers first, her short hair sticking to her neck as she slides into bed. Weiss showers next, ignoring the crumbled towel Ruby had left on the floor, the material that was lucky enough to touch her partner’s naked skin.
Exiting the bathroom, she smiles when she sees Ruby is already asleep. Quiet as night, Weiss slips in the covers beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her closer. She kisses Ruby’s neck, behind her ear. The girl sighs, settling closer, and when Weiss closes her eyes, she swears she smells roses.
Summary: You have yet to make your mark at Clinton Church, so when a scarred man with blonde hair comes looking for solace, you offer it- and offer it again when he comes back with the devil of Hell’s Kitchen in tow.
Pairing: DDBAS2!Dex x nun!reader
WC/Tags: 4,564 / Catholic themes, innocent type of reader, tension, swearing, scene recreation, religious guilt
A/N: i couldn’t find the priests name so i named him after the actor that played him lolz. I rewrote that one church scene for my ‘Softlys Locket’ series. Ao3 link below!
“He’s been standing there for…a while.”
You lean your neck out from behind the church wall, looking at the man that Father Bartley is speaking of. He’s too far away, standing right infront of the tabernacle for you to pick out any defining characteristics other than his height.
“Have you spoken to him yet?” you ask, and Father shakes his head.
“I was about to.”
You put a hand on his arm. “Let me.”
You’d only been at Clinton Church a few months, and had been less than successful at making your mark amongst its parishioners. Maybe this was your calling.
Father Bartley raises a brow but nods. “Of course. I’ll be in the rectory.”
You smile, watching as he retreats before you turn your gaze back on the visit. Stepping from behind the wall, you clear your throat and walk towards him.
“Can I help you?”
The man doesn't turn around immediately. A few slow, deliberate seconds pass before he finally shifts his weight and faces you. His eyes are sharp. Calm. Like a predator assessing prey. You swallow before coming to a halt.
“I'm looking for someone,” he says, and he’d flipping something between his fingers. “Think her name is sister Maggie..?”
You smile and nod. “Yes, she belongs to this parish. Unfortunately, she’s on sabbatical in Rome right now. Is there…something I can help you with?”
“Rome,” He says it like a curse. The knife stops flipping. He stares past you, jaw tightening slightly before he looks back at your face, and eyeing your clothing. “I need absolution.”
You blink, feeling your smile falter because you cannot help with this. “Oh, I’m sorry I- can’t help in that department. However, Father Bartley is here, and he would be more than-”
“Pray with me.” The man interrupts you, and walks forward, moving into the first row of pews. You pause, unsure of your next move and before you realize it, you’re walking towards him, sliding in the pew beside him.
“I- sure,” you say softly, folding your hands in your lap. “Let’s pray.”
“You don’t have to kneel.” He stays seated, hands resting on his thighs. Not folded, and you watch the muscles under his skin flex. “I didn’t come for ritual.”
“Then what did you come for?” You ask, keeping your voice light. You don’t want him to think you’re judging him, that isn’t your job.
“I came to find God.” A pause. “But I think I found something else first.” His eyes lock onto yours, dark and searching. “Do you believe in second chances?”
You consider this before nodding. “Yes. Jesus is all about second chances.”
“I’ve betrayed people,” he murmurs lowly. “I’ve betrayed myself. Done things you can’t even dream of, sister.”
You nod, exhaling slowly. “Isn’t it fortunate that God is forgiving?”
“Funny,” he replies, and the pew creaks as he shifts. “Most people start running when I tell them that,” A dry chuckle escapes him. “But you're still sitting here. I think maybe God sent me to the right church today after all.”
“I truly do hope so,” you hum. You tell him your name, and that if he wants to pray, kneeling might be the best option.
“Dex, ”A muscle in his jaw ticks before he sighs. “Sure.”
Together, you both move to your knees on the bench rest, and you make the sign of the cross over yourself. Dex mimics you and you shut your eyes.
“Heavenly Father, I pray that you take respite on Dex’s heart,” you say in a hushed tone. “His burden is heavy. Remind him that during this trying time, you are helping him carry it.”
It’s quiet for a beat, and you let it linger, allowing Dex a chance to speak if he wishes. After a pregnant pause, he says. “Do you think God listens to guys like me?”
You feel your eyes widen, blinking at him. “I- yes. Of course. He listens to all of us, loves all of us.”
Dex gives a short laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, sister.”
“What makes you say that?”
“God doesn't listen to men with blood on their hands. I've done things that would make devils proud,” He stares at the stained glass above, rolling his eyes. “not all devils. But…You really think a prayer from me means anything?”
“I do.” You say gently, shifting to face him better. “God is forgiving, and just. And he loves better than any of us ever could. He loves us all.”
“God does not love me.” Dex’s voice is so tight you jump, and he lets out a dry laugh. “You’re jumpy.”
You let out a slow breath before meeting his eyes with a smile. “And you’re avoiding.”
Dex scoffs, and your eyes track a cut long along his left cheek that disappears from view when he turns.
“How can I expect god to love me,” He mutters. “If no one else does?”
“That isn’t true,” you reply instantly, and you take his hand in yours. He goes still as deer in headlights but you don’t pull away. You hold his hand and give a light squeeze. “I love you. I love all of God’s children. And you, Dex, are one of them.”
“You don’t know me.” He gives a rough exhale. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, once. Testing. Hesitant. Like he hasn't been touched kindly in years - maybe ever - and isn't sure how to respond.
“I don’t have to know you to know that God loves you, and would want me to do the same,” you smile, and pat his hand with your other. “I pray that this gives you some peace.”
You go to remove your hand from his grasp but he holds on, his grip tightening. A sense of panic runs down your spine, and your eyes bounce from his face to your joined fingers.
“Dex..?” you blink at him, and his nostrils flare.
“Just-“ his voice cracks and he shifts, moving closer. “just a little longer.”
He takes your hand, and slowly pulls it upwards to his face. When he breathes out it’s shaky, his eyes shutting with a flutter. You feel your own eyes grow and with shaking movements, you uncurl your fingers, and touch the side of his face. Dex sighs, tilting his neck to press his cheek into your palm.
He takes another breath, one that rattles. His lashes brush your skin as he blinks, and then his hand comes up to cover yours on his face, pressing it there tighter. “You’re warm.”
“As are you.” Your voice is thin, strained, and you stare at him for several moments.
Dex pulls your wrist back and opens his eyes. He gives you a crooked smile, and then stands from the bench, towering over you so that you have to strain your neck.
“Thank you, sister,” he says in a deep voice. “I think I found the absolution I was looking for.”
You’re speechless, unsure of what to say, so you nod, watching as Dex steps from around the pew, and slowly walks from the church, his boots thumping on the tiles.
You stay kneeling for several minutes, staring at the hand that had touched his face. Something had stirred within you, something you had long given up during your time at the covenant.
Desire.
That night, you pray the rosary feverishly. You ask God for forgiveness, that you hadn’t meant to have such unpure thoughts, and when you make the sign of the cross over yourself and blow out your candles, you feel just a little bit better.
-
“Recognize this place, you piece of shit?”
Your eyes widen at the curse word, and Father Bartley raises a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet.
You had been in the back office of the church when the front doors had slammed open, and father had held out a palm, telling you to be still. Now you both lean against the office door, listening to two men speak inside the sanctuary.
Someone pants heavily, and your brows knit.
“Father someone might be hurt.” You whisper and he hushes you again.
“We should be safe here, for now.” says a male voice.
There’s a chuckle, a raspy one, and then another man says “safe? What’s the even mean? You know what happens if she dies?”
His speech sounds…slurred. Tired, maybe injured
“Fisk takes the city, turns it upside down and shakes it, til he finds us, and kills us.”
“Me,” insists the second voice. “Til he kills me.”
“Us,” corrects the first man. “I was there. That was more than enough for Fisk.”
“We need to help them.” you insist, and Father nods.
“Stay here,” he says, and you shake your head. “Sister, it isn’t safe.”
“I want to help.” you insist.
“There’s a nurse, she can patch you up,” says the first man, and the other one sighs.
“Nurses, doctors…lawyers, vigilantes, assassins,” he rants in a slurred voice. “killing people, saving people…acting like it makes a difference. like it matters. It’s not about them, it’s about you. About me, just people.”
You look at Father and then you’re pulling the door, opening it and running into the sanctuary. You pause at the pews, drinking in the scene.
“The…the devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” you whisper softly. He turns, Daredevil, his red covered eyes seeming to gloss over you. You look at the man beside him as father runs up behind you and you feel your skin prick. “Dex?”
“Jesus Christ,” Dex’s head rolls to the side as he looks at you, his face draining of color. “Sister? What the hell are you doing here?”
One of his hands press’s to his bleeding side where red soaks through and his eyes dart between Father Bartley and Daredevil in panic.
“Sister get me some bandages.” Father says and you nod, moving to find the first aid kit.
“You can't be involved with this shit,” Dex rasps at you. “Father, make her leave.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, this church will always, provide shelter, to both of you,” Father says in a shaky tone. “But, I think they know you’re here.”
You yank the first aid kit out as a loud flooding comes from the front doors, making you halt. Clutching the first aid kit harder, you run back to the pews and daredevil is shouldering Dex, helping him walk to the back room as Father directs them.
“Hide them here.” he tells you, and you nod as he pulls the doors shut. You turn, watching as Daredevil lowers him to the floor. You step forward and drop to your knees beside Dex, and there’s blood already leaking to the floor.
“Sister... get out of here.” Dex grits his teeth, breathing ragged. “This isn’t your fight.”
“Hello Dex,” you say softly. He smiles and it’s bloody. “I see you made a friend.”
Daredevil scoffs and Dex hums in pain. “The opposite, really,” He reaches up, gripping your wrist as you start to unwrap bandages. Your eyes flick to his and he grits his teeth. “Go. Both of you, need to go.”
You give a short, clipped shake of your head. “I’m going to get the bleeding to stop.”
Dex looks up, past you and his eyes are on Daredevil. He grunts, shifting with a wince.
“I killed your friend, Foggy,” he groans. “and I didn’t think twice. It’s who I am.”
Daredevil exhales, and you can feel anxiety bubble in your chest.
“Save your breath.” You whisper, leaning over him to wrap a bandage. It’s shotty work at best but you have to try.
“Let me die,” Dex tells the other man, nodding at you. “Take her with you, and let me.”
“No,” you snap as Daredevil exhales. You sinch the bandage and Dex’s eyes close.
“I can’t save us both,” Daredevil says. “I’m sorry, I tried.”
He bends at the waist and takes you by the arm. You pull away, fighting him but his grip is strong. “No! We have to help him.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout me sister.” Dex is panting, barely conscious, his face is pale.
“I won’t leave you.” Your voice cracks as you shove away from Daredevil, and drop to your knees again, your skirts stained in the blood. The devil of Hell’s Kitchen watches for a moment before he turns and runs out the door, and you set your jaw. You glance at your work before giving him a weak smile. “You’re going to be okay.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Dex chuckles weakly, his fingers twitching toward your face before falling back limp. “I’m not okay. But… you trying to save me, that’s… nice.”
A wet cough rattles him and blood spills over his lips. He blinks slowly, eyes unfocused now.
“Dex?” you whisper, and you feel at his neck. His pulse is weak but there, still ticking.
His eyes flutter and he mumbles something. You take his hand, squeezing. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” opening his fingers, you press his palm to your upper chest. “ You feel my heartbeat? It’s strong, like yours. You are strong.”
“...your heart…” he gives a shaky breath. “So loud.”
His fingers twitch against your chest, cold and clammy. You nod. “Yes. Your heart is strong too.”
Tears prick at your eyes and you let out a sob.
You’d never seen death like this before. It’s so dark yet colorful, cold in its grasp. Dex coughs and you shake your head, not willing to believe this will be his fate.
“Don’t cry.” he whispers in a gravely voice.
You close your eyes, and pray softly. “Heavenly Father please, please help me. Help Dex. His body is broken but his heart, lord. His heart can change. It can be good. Give him a chance.”
The doors to the rectory bang open and Daredevil runs in, moving so quickly you nearly tumble backwards. He bends, grabbing Dex and grunting as he hauls him up.
“We need to hide him,” he gasps, and Dex’s head lulls on his shoulder. You scramble to your feet, rushing from the room.
“This way, the back alley to my apartment isn’t too far,” you explain over your shoulder. “He’ll be safe there.”
The three of you move quickly, the city air thick with smog as you run in the alley way. Your hands are trembling as you unlock the door to your building, and you’ve never been so happy to be on the first floor. Shoving open your front door, Daredevil hauls Dex inside, nearly falling onto your couch. You had never thought your apartment was huge, but with them both inside it feels tiny.
Dex groans and you push your door shut, leaning against it. Daredevil is breathing hard, and he glances up at you.
“I’ll come back with a nurse,” he murmurs. “She’ll get him patched up. But do not trust him.”
You frown. “I- we met before. He’s come to the church.”
The corner of Daredevil’s mouth twitches as he stands. “I bet he has.”
You open the door for him, peering out before widening the opening and he steps through. He glances at Dex before his face moves back to yours.
“Be careful sister,” he murmurs. “Only open this door for me or Father Bartley. Understood?”
“Y-yes.” You reply, and he nods. You watch him go and then you shut the door again, your eyes moving to Dex.
His eyes are closed, and so much of his skin is covered by blood and wounds it makes your stomach twist. You move into your kitchen, filling a cup with water and you kneel before him.
“Dex,” you murmur softly. His eyes flutter, and when they open they’re hazy. “Drink this, you need to replenish your fluids.”
“...thanks.” He lifts the cup with shaky hands, sipping slowly. Water drips down his chin. “I don’t deserve you doin’ this for me.” His voice is weak, tattered. “Shoulda left me in that church.”
“I already told you,” you murmur. “I’m not leaving you.” He hands you back the cup and you place it by the floor. “I’m going to try and clean you up, okay?”
You don’t wait for his response, rising and only returning when you’ve gathered a wet cloth and clean clothing. With slow movements, you begin to wash away the blood on his brow.
Dex watches you in silence, and you tilt his face, polishing his jaw.
“Your hands are soft,” he says matter of factly. You aren’t sure if you’re supposed to answer so you don’t. The wash cloth is mostly red, so you stand and grab a new one.
His face mostly clean, you help him sit up, and gingerly cut the material of his shirt. He tugs off his leather holster, throwing it to the ground and it makes you jump. He drops several knives, clattering to the floor, some of them muffled by the space carpet and when he’s shirtless, your eyes widen. You look away as he pulls on the clean shirt, your cheeks warm and when he leans back he gives a loud huff.
There’s smears of blood on his arms and hands, and you take his wrist, turning it over so it’s palm up before cleaning his skin.
“I killed a man yesterday.” his eyes are open but they’re gazing up, staring at your ceiling. “You shouldn’t be touching me. I’m poison.”
“You are not poison,” you reply, turning his hand back over and stroking the cloth over his fingers. “You’ve just made some mistakes.”
He chuckles once, shakes his head. “You can’t keep that up, sister.”
“Keep up what?”
“Keepin’ this up. Pretending I’m not a monster,” He flexes his fingers, watching the blood wash away. “People like me? We don't get second chances. Not from God, not from nobody. You're wasting your time on me.”
“God forgives all,” you reply with a quiet voice. “You’ll see.”
Dex stares at you, his eyes hard and his mouth set in a thin line. You prickle under his gaze, shifting before clearing your throat. “I’ll um, get you some food. You must be hungry.”
He leans back against the couch, wincing as his wound pulls and watches you move to the kitchen. You heat him up a bowl of pasta, sprinkling Parmesan atop it before bringing it out to him.
“My apologies,” you laugh. “I don’t have much so, I hope you like noodles.”
Dex hums and takes the bowl, leaning it against his leg but he struggles, his fingers not cooperating.
Your brows knit as you bend, grabbing the fork. “Here, let me. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
You twirl the fork, blowing on it before raising it to his mouth. He parts his lips, accepting the forkful. Chews slowly. Swallows hard.
“So um,” you twirl another fork full. “The mask. The knives…you want to explain that?”
“I kill people. For money.” he pauses as he chews, avoiding your eyes. He shrugs one shoulder, the movement careful around his injury. “I’m a mercenary, sister.”
“Like a superhero?”
“Far from it,” he replies thinly. “They call me Bullseye.”
“Why Bullseye?”
“Bullseye 'cause I never miss. Knives, guns, whatever weapon you hand me - it finds its mark.”
You blink at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
You smile. “So almost like a super power,” you hold the fork to his mouth. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”
“You’d hate it. Watching me work,” He eats the bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I am no hero. I don’t save people. Mostly just end ‘em.”
“Maybe you could,” you shrug a shoulder and he gives you an annoyed look. “Maybe one day you will.”
“Doubtful.”
You place the bowl in your lap. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at small talk. I just know you shouldn’t sleep right now. Not until Daredevil comes back with the nurse.”
“Small talk's shit anyway,” He shifts, wincing. “You're weird. Most people woulda called the cops on me by now. Or screamed. You didn't do either.”
You nod slowly, looking down at the bowl. “I guess. But I’m not afraid of you.”
Dex is quiet and you look up. His eyes are closed and panic kicks at you.
“Dex,” you whisper, leaning forward. “Please, please stay awake. They’ll be back soon.”
His eyes blink and he exhales. “M’awake...”
You shake your head and repeat. “They’ll be back soon.”
Dex’s head rolls to the side, and he looks at you for a few moments before he closes his eyes again, and lays his head back.
“You got pretty eyes, sister.”
You blink at him slowly, and even with his eyes closed, he smiles, wide and unabashed.
The pounding knock on your door makes you jump and Dex shoots up, breathing hard out his nose, his fists already clenched.
“See? Its him,” you say gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and easing him to lay back down. “With the nurse.”
Dex grunts in pain as you make your way to the door, pressing your ear to the wood.
“Sister,” Daredevil murmurs. “we’re here.”
You open it wide, allowing him to come inside. A slim blonde walks in with him, and she looks anything but pleased.
“Thank God.” you whisper. Dex sits up, and he sighs when he sees her.
“Hello Karen.”
She whirls and glares at Daredevil. “Really? Him?“
“Careful.” you say gently, moving to him, and helping him sit up. Karen watches in disbelief and she shakes her head furiously.
“No,” she hisses. “A nun? You’ve got a nun helping you?”
“I-I’m called to help all of Gods children.” You whisper but your voice is weak.
“You- have no idea who he is,” Karen snaps, and she turns to Daredevil. “we need to talk.”
She practically pulls him from the room, and you watch with shaking breath. Dex breathes out slowly through his nose.
“You seem to upset her.” You murmur and kneel beside him.
Dex gives a little shrug, and then his eyes move to your face. “Did you pray for me, sister? After I left the church that day?”
“I did,” you whisper. “I prayed you’d find peace. Some solace.”
Dex nods once. “That’s nice.”
You twist your lips, scooting forward. “Let’s- let’s pray again.”
He raises a wounded brow at you and you smile, hoping it offers comfort.
“I’ll lead.” you offer, and you extend your hand to his. His fingers twitch when you touch him, then his palm flips, and you slide your hand against his. Dex sighs, letting his head fall back with shut eyes and you close your eyes as well, bowing your head.
“Heavenly Father-” you begin, but there’s a feminine scoff and you open your eyes, looking over your shoulder and Karen is glaring at you. Well not you.
At Dex.
“Are you kidding me?” She spits. “You have her, praying for you?”
Dex squeezes your hand, and he lifts his chin.
“Yeah.” He says it like it’s simple. Karen makes a face like she smells something foul.
“She’s innocent,” she mutters, and you don’t like how she talks about you like you’re not there. “Leave her alone.”
“Karen-” Daredevil tries but Dex sits up, grinding his teeth.
“She’s a grown fucking woman,” he snaps. “I didn’t make her do a damn thing.”
“She has nothing to do with this-” Daredevil tries and Karen rolls her eyes.
“Yet we’re in her house for him.”
“He’s my friend.” You interrupt. They all look at you slowly, and you swallow. “And I…um, I make my own decisions.”
Karen’s glare softens just slightly, and she studies you. Daredevil nods at you appreciatively while Dex watches with quiet intensity.
Then she sighs dramatically and grabs her medical bag off the floor. She kneels by his other side, and Dex looks away as she removes the bandage. His jaw tightens as he braces himself, and you pat his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Karen balls up the used gauze and throws it to the floor before opening a new packet. Dex studies your face, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Karen cleans the wound, and Dex breathes through his nose.
“You’re lucky this isn’t worse,” she mutters, dabbing antiseptic on it. He hisses. Daredevil leans against the wall watching with folded arms while you stay close to Dex’s side, offering silent support.
When she finishes, Karen pats his side a little too hard, and Dex grunts. You frown but stay quiet, knowing she’s already testy.
“He’ll be fine,” she mutters. “We can move him.”
Your eyes go between the three of them. “Move…him?”
“Yeah,” Karen says, already packing her supplies. “He isn’t safe here. Fisk's men are everywhere.”
Daredevil nods in agreement, pushing off the wall. Dex looks at you but he doesn’t argue.
“Oh, right.” You say quietly, standing and dusting off your skirt. You move out of the way, and Karen brushes past you.
“Mind if I use your bathroom?” She asks, but she’s already moving down the hall.
Daredevils nostrils flare, and you can feel Dex’s eyes on you as you stare at your fingers.
“I’ll- give you two a moment?” Daredevil says but he forms it like a question. He moves down the hall, after Karen and you feel a nervous energy settle behind your ribs.
Dex waits until their footsteps fade, then he exhales.
“Sister.”
He says your name softly, almost sadly, and you look at him. He smiles, and are you crazy or is the scar on his cheek becoming more and more endearing?
“Thank you,” he says sleepily. “For all your help.”
“Of course,” you whisper. “It’s my calling.”
He gives a little shrug. “Is it though?”
“Well,” you stammer, looking down the hallway and back to him. “Um, yes.”
He tries to sit up but grunts in pain and you move to his side, grabbing his bicep with one hand and bracing the other against his spine. He exhales hard, and glances at you, eyes bouncing over your face.
“You’re a good person,” he murmurs. “My exact opposite.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” you reply and give him a small smile. “I have my own complexities.”
Dex studies you again, and then he leans forward, painfully slow, and presses a kiss to your cheek.
It’s soft. Chaste. And over just as fast.
His voice is soft, breath brushing your cheek as he says. “I’d probably be very fond of them.”
Before you can react, Karen comes back down the hall with Daredevil behind her. You move back, letting them help him up, watching as he leans the majority of his weight onto the man with the horns, and you tighten your fingers in your palm to stop from reaching out. At the door, Daredevil nods to you.
“Thank you, sister.”
You give him a weak smile. “May God be with you tonight.”
Dex gives you one last long look, his eyes finding yours and doesn’t let go, like you’re the only thing worth seeing in the room before Daredevil pulls him out the door. Karen follows, tossing a ‘take care’ over her shoulder before shutting the door behind them.
You stand frozen for several seconds. Your apartment is too quiet now. The air feels heavy with the absence, and then you raise a hand with trembling fingers to your cheek, to the place his mouth had touched.
x
Ao3 link
Ben poindexter taglist: @laufeydottirs-writings @viviannagiorgini
Please read the warnings before reading any FF. Most of them are +18
guys, I have a question, am I a fast reader?
<part17 | library | part19>
July 2026
James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes
by @fckmebarnes
🌸open wide | +18
by @societyfolklore
🌸Nearly Drove Me
🌸Rhythm of My Heart
🌸Because Maybe
🌸Overstepping
by @phoenix-in-writing
🌸Burning Up | Following the events of the Battle of Thanos, your powers become unstable.
🌸Red String | There have been many, MANY days in Bucky's life. But none really as important as this one.
🌸Bandaged Wounds | Tasked with providing aid for the 107th Army division, what happens when the man you love doesn't return from a mission?
🌸This Old Bar | The last place you expected to find him was a bar next to your apartment where he broke your heart.
🌸Down in Louisiana | Attending a Wilson family cookout always brought along surprises. You just hadn't expected a certain metal armed man to be the biggest one.
🌸The Bet | While trying to win a bet, your boyfriend has to step in to make sure you don't cause any trouble.
🌸Too Many Miles | Long distance relationships aren't for the weak.
by @jamesbbcrnes
🌸ELECTRIC
🌸THROUGH THE STORM
🌸SILENT HEARTBREAK
🌸BIRTHDAY GIRL!
🌸SQUABBLE
🌸WORTH YOUR WHILE
🌸FOREVER STARTS TONIGHT
🌸CLANDESTINE
🌸TRYING TO BE BETTER
🌸HUSH, HUSH, DARLING
🌸REPERCUSSIONS
🌸Roommate by @venigrantrogers | +18 | Bucky Barnes Loves Your Vibrator
🌸Challenge Accepted by @mickimoo1409 | +18 | Bucky let's you know of a problem he has in the bedroom, you take it as a personal challenge.
🌸Ouija Board by @navybrat817 | You and your friend play with a Ouija board in your new home.
🌸Tune In To The Radio by @w1nter-fairy | After another exhausting day working as Congressman Barnes' assistant, all you want is a cup of tea and a quiet evening with your grandfather's old radio. What you don't expect is a love confession hidden between the static and the music.
🌸ROCK-A-BYE BABY by @winteryn | when you have no choice but to bring your baby to lectures, mr. barnes reluctantly allows it. what follows is a semester of confused students, increasingly suspicious acts of kindness, one very attached baby, and a strict professor who becomes far too invested for anyone’s peace of mind.
🌸girl next door by @wwinterwitch | 14k | +18 | bucky's feeling so lonely that he developed a little obsession with a camgirl, unaware that she's his neighbor
Tangled by @vunblr | +18 | series | Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his shore -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.
Benjamin "Dex" "Bullseye" Poindexter
🌸dex vs. the emoji industrial complex by @vigilantekisser | dex has zero social media literacy and doesn't know wtf you're talking about.
by @aquaticmercy
🌸Brass Knuckles | 9k | You are not the only person hunting Anti-Vigilante Task Force. Luckily, your “competition” is Benjamin Poindexter.
🌸Break a Heart, Make a Monster | 8k | Meeting Dex for the first time in two years doesn’t go as planned.
🌸Art for Art's Sake | +18 | 13k | Dex has a growing obsession with his neighbor. Little did he know, the feeling is mutual.
🌸No Absolution | +18 | 20k | Mr. Charles assigns Benjamin Poindexter a new partner: a super soldier who may not be over her ex. Too bad Dex has never been good at sharing, and he’s determined to make her forget anyone ever touched her before him.
🌸HEAR ME OUT | where you cheat on your fiancé with Dex because your fiancé is cheating on you.
🌸Bubbles | 16k | Dex is starting to learn that his sweet girl is much more capable of taking care of herself than he realized
🌸Can I Be Close To You? | Benjamin Poindexter confesses that he has been obsessively fantasizing about a domestic future with you.
🌸The Heart is a Muscle | +18 | 17k | Benjamin Poindexter was hired to eliminate you, a former Red Room Widow. Unfortunately, he keeps putting it off because he likes going on dates with you a little too much.
🌸Like Real People Do | Dex finds a getaway bag under your side of the bed and assumes the worst.
🌸Aim High | Dex realizes his son is trying to copy his aim.
🌸HEAR ME OUT! | +18 | Dex becomes a lifeguard after being discharged from the army instead of working at the suicide hotline.
🌸One Woman Show | +18 | Dex gets embarrassingly turned on watching you interrogate people.
🌸Snap Out Of It! | 15k | Dex finds your ex-boyfriend bleeding and crawling through your bedroom window.
🌸Dex Finds a Better Use For Your Abuser’s Grave | +18 | Dex was fucking you over your abuser’s grave.
🌸You Accidentally Push Dex Off The Bed
🌸Dex Takes Your Graphic Shirt Literally | +18
🌸Dex is Naturally More Submissive | +18
🌸Football | +18 | where you are assigned to media-train him.
🌸Glitterbomb | +18 | Dex tries to leave you for your own good. You both know it won’t last.
🌸Little Monster | Your first date with Dex turns out to be an unforgettable one.
🌸Greek myth | +18 | where Artemis sends Dex, a virgin hunter, to protect you, a daughter of Zeus.
🌸The Lesser Disaster | Matt discovers Dex has a son.
🌸Pegging Benjamin Poindexter | +18
🌸Dex Finds Himself a “Good Girl”
🌸stalker by @saintlea | +18 | oh nothing just stalker!bullseye and babydoll!reader
by winteryn
🌸DIZZY, DITZY, DARLING | while the world reacts to dex like a threat, you interpret the constant stares as admiration, convinced your boyfriend is just effortlessly captivating, and completely unaware that what others are actually responding to is the violence he carries so quietly.
🌸Right Through the Heart by phoenix-in-writing | He's the best contracted killer Valentina could ask for. You just never expected to be in this position.
🌸Dex is a lingo thief by @honeybeechestnut | He mimics everything you say.
🌸god's country by @poindextergirl | +18 | nun!reader finds benjamin poindexter at the altar of her church seeking absolution.
🌸When in Rome by @softly-potter | +18 | series | After leaving New York with Mr. Charles, Dex finds himself in Italy, doing his bidding. When he’s tasked with surveillance on a spoiled daughter of a prominent family, he doesn’t think much of it. Things become complicated, however, when he meets her best friend; you.
🌸boyfriend!Dex by @sun-snatcher | fluff
by @n3ptoonz
🌸Brat tamer!reader | +18 | fbi
🌸Brat tamer!reader | +18 | Ddba
🌸Prone with fbi!dex vs ddba!dex
🌸polaroids by @nghtwngs | +18 | keeping a collection of polaroids taken of them fucking you
by navybrat817
🌸Let's Just Talk | You witness something you shouldn't have, and Bullseye just wants to talk.
🌸Pen Pal | Dex gets a pen pal while he's locked up.
🌸Cry Baby! by @dontyouworrydaddy | jealous reader look like
Other
by @societyfolklore
🌸Nothing I Can Do | Max Burnett x Reader
🌸Slurred Confessions | Lee Bodecker x Reader
🌸Another | Lance Tucker x Reader
🌸Don’t Want to Talk | Lee Bodecker x Reader
🌸Control | Nick Fowler x Reader
🌸Starting to Crawl | Lee Bodecker x Reader
🌸Nothing Left | Destoryer!Chris x Reader
by phoenix-in-writing
🌸In the Clouds | Chris Beck x Reader | While on a mission on the International Space Station, your boyfriend Chris makes time for a video call.
🌸Heart of Gold | Guy Moratz x Reader | An incredibly important audition has Guy up at all hours of the night. Good thing he has you to keep him company.
🌸A Few Too Many | Mickey Henry x Reader | Maybe meeting a DJ on your trip to Greece wasn't so bad after all...
🌸Cuffed | Lee Bodecker x Reader | It was high time the Sheriff taught you a lesson about mouthing off.
🌸Wild at Heart | Chris Beck x Reader | You run into Chris Beck - quite literally - on campus.
🌸Grecian Liquor | Mickey Henry x Reader | A trip to Greece to forget a shitty relationship has you falling (literally) in the arms of someone just hot enough to help.
🌸At The Corner | Max Burnett x Reader | Max has a very...interesting way of making sure you remember the script of his next scam.
🌸Pancakes at the Diner | Charles Blackwood x Reader | When someone shows up claiming to be the heir of the Blackwood fortune, you can almost see a way out of this sleepy town.
🌸Office Visit | Lee Bodecker x Reader | Lee Bodecker only had a couple of rules to ensure your safety when he had to work nights. But you really never were good at following the rules.
🌸An Italian Adventure | Charles Blackwood x Reader | The man who hired you is planning on leaving, but you really need this job.
🌸A Thousand Years | Steve Kemp x Reader | Needing to feed for sustenance, you capture a man who proceeds to bargain his way out of your clutches.
🌸Between Us by @stanmarvelous | +18 | Lee Bodecker x Reader | series | Coming home from college to find your ma had remarried was certainly a surprise, but less so than the antics that would soon follow. You both know it’s wrong, but neither of you can find the will to stop.
🌸What a Sight by navybrat817 | Hal Carter x Reader | Hal is such a beautiful sight in the morning.
🌸dad best friend by @mrsmaxwelllord | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | Shane Maguire follows you to your room while the party continues downstairs
🌸im too old for you by @mayhemi | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18
by @clawxmoon
🌸DISTANT LOVER | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | when you left you took all of me with you
🌸riding that old man shane on the couch | +18 | Shane Maguire x Reader
🌸locked and loaded by @ifawnn | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | you try to prove you're strong by sneaking up on shane and fucking yourself on his cock while hes tied up !!!
🌸i know by @sheriff-bodecker | tj hammond x reader
Pairing/WC/Tags: post!volume!9!Ruby x post!volume!9!Weiss / 578 / coming out au, Qrow ships whiterose, hard discussions
A/N: for day 7 of @whiterose-fans-blog ‘coming out to friends and family’
Ruby has stared Grimm down with teeth as sharp as blades. She has fought monsters of various sizes,and has watched the people she loves get hurt and been forced to carry on. And yet here, sitting across from her uncle Qrow in a little cafe in Vacuo is the scaredest she’s ever been.
Hands around her cup, she fidgets, watching the steam curl if only to avoid looking at him.
“Kid, you’ve been laser focused on that coffee for at least ten minute,” Qrow says before lifting his own cup to his mouth. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re trying to intimidate it.”
“Sorry.” Ruby laughs, the sound high and strained.
“Don’t apologize,” Qrow replies and tilts his face. “You can talk to me. So spit it out.”
“I need to tell you something,” Ruby swallows. “I’ve been trying to…um, figure out how to say this for a while? Maybe it isn’t a big deal, but to me, it is.”
“Okay…”
“I trust you,” Ruby murmurs and her fingers flex. “And I want you to know.”
Qrow sits back in his chair. “Alright.”
Ruby’s heart is pounding so loud she wonders if her uncle can hear it. “I like girls.”
“Ruby,” Qrow says after a moment, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me.”
“You are?”
“Of course I am,” he shrugs, lifting his mug. “You’re my niece. I don’t care who you love, I just care that they treat you right.”
Ruby’s posture relaxes and her eyes sting at the corners. “Wow. I was, um, worried.”
“I could tell,” Qrow snickers into his cup. “Kid, I’ve known you you’re whole life. You can tell me anything.”
He reaches across the table, patting Ruby’s hand. She beans at him for several seconds before she bolts up, rounding the table and hugging him around the shoulders.
“Watch it,” Qrow mutters. “You’re gonna make it look like I have feelings.”
“You do.”
“Don’t go spreading rumors.”
Ruby hugs him tighter, and they stay like that for a few moments before she pulls away. “Do you want to meet her?”
Qrow raises his brows before a lazy grin spreads on his face. “I’ve already met Weiss.”
Ruby’s eyes grow wide, her face heating up immediately. “You-“
Qrow chuckles again as Ruby sits down, his finger tracing the rim of the cup.
“You knew?” Ruby blinks. “This whole time?”
“Kid,” Qrow sighs. “It’s been pretty damn obvious.”
Ruby covers her face in her hands as her uncle laughs. “No it hasn’t!”
“Mm, a bit.”
“She’s my partner!”
“Right,” Qrow laughs, fuller this time. “Sure.”
“We’re teammates!”
“Ruby,” he says with a grin as Ruby pulls her hands back. “You look at her like she’s the sun. And she does the same, so come on.”
Qrow stands, and Ruby follows suit. “Where are we going?”
“To let your girlfriend know I already knew.”
Ruby groans, throwing away their cups into a waste bin as they walk out, a bell ringing from the door. “Uncle Qrow!”
He laughs, throwing an arm around her as they walk. “Relax, kid. I like her.”
“Really?” Ruby beams, and Qrow nods.
“Anyone who can put up with you for this long deserves a medal.”
“Hey!” Ruby snaps but Qrow just squeezes her shoulder.
“And anyone who can make you this happy,” he continues, eyeing his niece with a smile. “Is good enough for me.”
Summary: When Weiss notices Ruby disappearing into herself during her graduation party, she attempts to bring her back.
Pairing/WC/tags: dom!Weiss x sub!Ruby / 1,422 / post volume nine, established dom/sub wlw relationship, examples of ptsd, examples of depression, Ruby needs a hug, oral smut, dom Weiss, MDNI
A/N: for day 6 of @whiterose-fans-blog ‘comforting sad girlfriend’ and also for @juniebjonesin picnic blanket prompts, ‘folded chairs/“We’ve never actually talked about this, have we?”’
The speaker being used has definitely seen better days. Someone is laughing hard next to the grill, and Nora is arguing with Blake if a graduation counts as a battle victory, with Yang stealing food off of people’s plates when she thinks no one is looking. A graduation in Vacuo that was long overdue is any reason to celebrate.
For once, Ruby isn’t the loudest one in the room, and Weiss notices.
She takes in the way Ruby smiles when someone talks to her, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and the way she keeps twisting the plastic cup between her hands, staring down at it like there’s something hidden at the bottom.
So when Ruby disappears toward the quieter side of the yard, Weiss follows. She finds her sitting in one of those old fold-out chairs, the kind that sink slightly when you put too much weight into them. Ruby’s knees are pulled close to her chest, her silver eyes fixed on the grass.
Weiss is quiet at first, sitting in the chair beside her, the metal creaking. Ruby lets out a small, humorless laugh. “You know, I thought after everything we’ve been through, we’d have better chairs.”
Weiss looks down at the faded fabric beneath her. “I’m fairly certain this chair is older than some of our teachers.”
Ruby smiles, a brief expression before the silence returns.
“Weiss?”
“Mm?”
Ruby picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Do you ever think about what happens after?”
Weiss turns her head slightly. “After what?”
“After the missions. After the Grimm. After everyone stops needing us to save the world.”
Weiss shifts, unsure of how to respond. They’ve both spent years fighting for tomorrow, but neither of them ever really talked about what tomorrow was supposed to look like.
Weiss looks toward the yard. Their friends are celebrating. Laughing and moving on.
Ruby’s graduation should feel like an ending. Instead, she looks like she’s mourning something.
“I thought I’d feel different,” Ruby admits quietly. “I thought I’d be happy. I mean, we did it. We actually did it.”
“You should be happy,” Weiss murmurs. “You worked hard for this.”
“I know,” Ruby swallows. “Everyone keeps telling me how proud they are. How far I’ve come, and I am proud, Weiss. I am. But sometimes I feel like everyone’s celebrating the person I became and nobody remembers the person I lost.”
She understands what Ruby means. The girl who ran into danger without thinking, and believed every problem could be solved if she just tried hard enough. The girl who smiled even when she was scared. The girl who had to grow up too fast.
“We’ve never actually talked about this, have we?” Weiss’s voice is even as Ruby looks over. “We’ve talked about Salem. About Beacon. About everything that happened.” Weiss’s fingers tighten around the armrest of her chair. “But not… this.”
“Guess I’m not sure what to say.” Ruby shrugs, and Weiss hates the look on her face. Pausing for a moment, she leans over and takes the girls hand as she stares at her, at the girl she loves that has had to carry an impossible weight for most of her life.
“You don’t have to do this all on your own?” Weiss murmurs. “We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”
Ruby blinks several times, her silver eyes glassy, and Weiss swallows. Sniffing, Ruby stands up, her hand still holding Weiss’s. “Can we go?”
The implication is there, thick as smoke, but Weiss doesn’t ignore it. She sees it, wants it, and she stands up too. She leans forward, pressing her mouth to Ruby’s cheek and Ruby shudders, her eyes closing at the contact.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Its what I want.” Ruby insists, and Weiss nods. She tells the others they’re leaving, and while some of them make odd faces, none of them question it.
The walk back is quiet, and Weiss can’t tell if Ruby is crying or not. When they get to her apartment, Weiss takes Ruby by the forearm and pulls her close, noses brushing at the proximity. Ruby’s eyes grow wide, and she’s already breathing hard, already panting, her lips open to display the pink of her tongue.
“You tell me when to stop,” Weiss murmurs. “Okay?”
Ruby nods quickly, her hair bouncing and then she’s moving forward, pressing her mouth to Weiss’s. Weiss moves her back, navigating them to her room and she’s very glad her roommate isn’t home. No one else gets to see Ruby like this, only her.
When the back of her knees hit the edge of the matress, Ruby sits and instantly grabs the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. Her bra is black with a red bow in the center and Weiss smiles, dropping to her knees, her hands rubbing up and down Ruby’s thighs.
“This is comforting, yeah?” Weiss asks, and Ruby nods. “You’re not hiding from me, right?”
“No.”
“Ruby,” Weiss hums, her hands moving up to the zipper of Ruby’s jeans. “You’re not lying, right?”
Ruby shakes her head quickly, leaning forward to put her hands on Weiss’s shoulders. “I swear I’m not. I just wanna feel good like *this* for a little bit.”
“Alright,” Weiss nods and pulls down the zipper. Ruby lifts her hips to help, and shimmies the jeans down. “Just remember if you’re using this as a complete escape and not a break, I’m stopping. So let me know, okay?”
A faint smile flitters on Ruby’s face. “Okay.”
Leaning forward, Weiss presses her nose into the cotton of Ruby’s underwear, inhaling deeply before she sighs. Nothing is as good as Ruby’s scent when she’s needy, and Weiss pulls back, dragging her underwear down without a second thought. Ruby leans back, propped on her elbows before Weiss slides her thighs over each shoulder, pressing a kiss to the soft skin.
When Weiss flicks her tongue out, Ruby drops her weight, lets her back lay flush to the mattress as Weiss repeats the action. She starts slow, building a rhythm, letting Ruby to wind up like a clock. Ruby starts moving first, intentional rolls of her hips, grinding her clit against Weiss’s tongue in slick, messy movements.
The pressure builds quickly, but it always does with them, because Weiss knows her best. She knows what makes Ruby tick, what makes her laugh and what makes her sigh into the sheets.
That’s why Weiss can tell she needs to stop. She isn’t sure if it’s from the way Ruby moans or the shaking in her thighs, but she can tell Ruby doesn’t need Weiss’s head or hands.
She needs her shoulder to cry on.
Pulling back, Weiss wipes at her mouth, sitting on her haunches. Ruby gasps at the loss of contact, sitting up quickly. “What the hell?”
Shaking her head, Weiss stands up and throws Ruby a pair of her sweatpants. “Not tonight.”
“Weiss-“
“Ruby,” Weiss turns to her, her brows raised in question. “Do you trust me?” Ruby closes her mouth before she nods slowly. “Good. Then trust that I know this isn’t what you need,” she moves past her, sitting up against the headboard of her bed before patting her lap. “This is.”
Ruby frowns, pulling on the sweatpants without a word before she climbs on the bed, and gingerly sets her head in Weiss’s lap. Using the tips of her fingers, Weiss cards her hand through Ruby’s hair, scratching lightly in a soothing rhythm. Ruby is quiet for several moments until her shoulders begin to shake, her knees moving up to her chest as if to make herself smaller, and she begins to cry.
Weiss closes her eyes, continuing her scratches as she lets Ruby cry it out, knowing that truly this is all Ruby needed. A place to let her walls down, and her sorrow out.
Weiss isn’t sure how long they lay like that, her hands in Ruby’s hair and Ruby’s face pressed to her thighs to hide her tears, but eventually her breathing evens out, her shoulders still, and her crying softens. When she falls asleep, Weiss leans forward, pressing a kiss to the crown of Ruby’s head.
“It’s alright, petal,” Weiss whispers, sitting up and continuing to scratch along Ruby’s hairline. “I got you.”
With shaking breathes, Weiss leans back, still running her hands along Ruby’s head, for as long as the girl wants.
Summary: When Ruby is hurt on a hunt, Weiss lets some admissions fly
Pairing/WC/Tags: Volume!four!Ruby x Volume!four!Weiss / 534 / wlw angst, volume four era, partners, whiterose fluff, language
A/N: for day 5 of @whiterose-fans-blog ‘Grimm hunting’
Weiss knows when Ruby is going to do something reckless even before Ruby decides to do it. They’ve fought together for months, have learned one another’s patterns and fighting styles, which is exactly how Weiss knows something is wrong.
Grimm emerge quickly, melting out from the forest tree line in packs. A larger one comes out last, slower moving but no less lethal. It’s older than the rest, and smarter, and Weiss wants to shout out a warning, but Ruby is already moving, already sprinting forward. She is fast enough that she lands several blows, quick enough to dodge its blows, until she isn’t.
The Grimm catches her midair, and Weiss feels her heart drop.
“Ruby!” Weiss screams, and she doesn’t think. She doesn’t calculate an outcome, she just moves, a series of glyphs appearing beneath her feet as she shoots herself forward, ice forming around her blade. She drives it straight into the creatures heart, her grip knuckle white, and its claws open, releasing Ruby to fall hard on the ground.
Weiss is beside her in an instant, dropping to her knees, her sword forgotten behind her.
“I’m okay.” Ruby insists but Weiss knows better. She reads between the lines, taking in Ruby’s body language.
“Don’t you dare,” Weiss snaps as she helps her up. She doesn’t care about the other Grimm, knowing Blake and Yang are taking care of it. “You’re not fine.”
“Weiss, I’m-“
“No!” Weiss cuts in. “You always do this. You throw yourself in front of everyone. You’re our team leader but you’re also my fucking partner and you can’t do that.”
“I didn’t…” Ruby tries, and Weiss slips an arm around her waist, helping her up. “It’s just a few scratches and a bruised tail bone.”
“You don’t know that. It could have been worse,” Weiss mutters and she shakes her head. “Do you have any idea how it feels to watch you run into a fight, unsure if you’ll come back. Because I do. Everytime, you smile, say you have a plan, and poof. Always risking yourself.”
Ruby is quiet as they walk back to the hovercraft, and she glances back at her other teammates. Yang and Blake had already finished clearing the Grimm, their heads bowed as they speak.
“I thought you weren’t the sentimental type.” Ruby tries before climbing into her seat, wincing quietly, the dirt on her cheeks caking. Weiss frowns, pulling the seat belt over Ruby’s lap.
“Im not.”
Ruby smiles when Weiss sits, and she leans over, grabbing her hand. “You kind of are. But…I’m sorry. For worrying you.”
Weiss stares at their fingers before letting hers entertwine with Ruby’s. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll try to be more careful,” Ruby murmurs. “But I can’t promise I’ll stop being me.”
Weiss squeezes her hand with a little shake of her head. “I know.”
When they return, no one comments on Weiss stays close to Ruby’s side. No one questions on how their hands brush when they walk, or when Ruby leans her head against Weiss’s shoulder to rest, because everyone knows.
Ruby Rose will always run to danger, to fight the good fight, and Weiss schnee will always be there to run after her.
Summary: Joel knows he’s lucky to have you. Tommy knows he’s lucky too, much to Joel’s discomfort.
Pairing/WC/tags: Jackson!joel x sunshine!reader / 3,617 / established relationship, Tommy pining, kissing, implied smut, angst
A/N: fic idea is from this tik tok thank you SO much to the tiktoker i hope i did the premise justice🫶🏼 titles from ‘Vacillator’ by Ethel Cain
Part Two - And I Won’t Move
The next morning, because old habits die hard, Joel rises before you. For a few quiet minutes he watches you sleep, the easy rise and fall of your chest, the way your hand is curled and reaches out, like you’re searching for him even in your dreams.
His girl.
Last night’s words had sounded possessive, but it wasn’t said in ownership. It is the disbleif, and appreciation that somehow despite it all, he had someone who chose him. Someone all scarred and cruel, twisted from the things he had done, is still looked at with love.
You stir beside him and he sits up, giving you space. His feet swing off the side of the bed, sticking to the wood in the warm morning air.
“Morning,” your voice is sleepy. “Did you sleep?”
“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Joel looks down. “Some.”
“Joel.” You give him the look.
“What?”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He grins with a singular shrug. “Yeah, I know.”
You sit up and kiss him, morning breath and all, your hair tumbling down your back. It’s simple, enough to remind him that last night is almost over.
-
Joel finds Tommy near the stables. It’s the place he liked to hide away ever since he and Maria split. Joel can’t really blame him, trying to lose himself in the work.
Tommy doesn’t look surprised, straightening with the pitchfork in hand. Maybe he’d been expecting this, maybe he knew that a storm would come after the things he’d had said.
“Hey Joel.”
Joel stops serval feet away. “Mornin’ Tommy.”
They’re both quiet, sizing eachother up before Tommy sighs. “What’d you tell her?”
“You knew I had to.” Joel replies and Tommy’s jaw tightens. He looks away first, eyes squinting in the brightness of the rising sun.
“Figured you would, yeah.”
“She thinks you’re angry at her,” Joel replies and Tommy’s eyes snap back to his. “Thinks she did something wrong.”
“Joel, I never- she never-“
“I know you didn’t,” Joel cuts in and he keeps his voice gentle. “I know she didn’t either.”
Tommy shakes his head. “I never wanted to say a word. Never wanted to hurt you.”
Joel believes him, making it a problem. If Tommy had been careless or selfish, if he had crossed a line, this almost could have been easier, but Tommy isn’t that kind of man. Even with all the blood and mistakes on his hands, Joel knows his brother is a decent man at his core.
“She just…”
“Careful now.” Joel insists, and Tommy holds up his hands.
“Wasn’t gonna say anything bad,” Tommy replies, shaking his head in defeat. “But I…god I couldn’t help it, Joel. She’s good.”
Something ugly twists in Joel’s just but he ignores it. “I’m mighty aware.”
“You know she loves you, right?” Tommy says, his brows pinched. “She looks at you like you hung the moon, brother. And I’m not…trying to take that from you.”
Joel nods slowly, his hands bracing on his hips. “I know.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Tommy gives him a tired smile. “She’s your family.”
“Our family,” Joel corrects quietly. “She’ll be our family soon enough, Tommy.”
The quiet stretches, and Tommy nods, the conversation and understanding coming to an end. His grip tightens on the pitch fork. “You’re lucky to have her.”
Later that evening when Joel comes home, you’re at the dining room table, flour on your cheek and a rolling pin in your hands. You look up at the sound of his boots with a grin. “There you are.”
The tightness in his chest loosens as he walks over, bending to press a kiss to your mouth. It’s light but electric, sending a jolt down his spine. He pulls back then presses again, just a little harder, a little longer. When he straightens you blink up at him. “What was that for?”
“Just needed to remind myself how lucky I am.” He brushes the flour from your cheek with his thumb.
Your expression shifts and your smile reappears. “You don’t have to remind yourself. I’m right here.”
Joel smiles at you, and he believes you. You had chosen him, and every morning he wakes up with you by his side, you continue to do so, making him the luckiest man in Jackson.
-
You wait three days, not because you’re avoiding Tommy, but because you want to get your words right. You had spent your whole life being kind, and the last thing you want is that kindest to cause hurt. The world is already hurtful enough.
Tommy is fixing fences by the water well, his sleeves rolled up and his flannel unbuttoned, the white wife beater beneath it damp with sweat.
“Tommy?”
He looks up, shifting the second his eyes connect with yours. You shakily hold up a canteen. “I-I made lemonade. I thought you’d like some.”
Placing the hammer down, Tommy straightens, nodding at you as he approaches. “That’s kind of you.”
You hand him the canteen, tucking your fingers into the sleeves of your thin top. Even in the early September heat, you feel a chill. “Can we talk?”
Tommy sighs quietly after taking a sip, rubbing at his mouth. “Yeah.”
The wind rustles the trees, picking up bits of hay that swirl around your feet as you fidget. Clearing your throat, you steady yourself. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Immediately his face tightens, his jaw clenched. “No.”
Your brows raise. “No?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”
“Tommy, I-“
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You swallow, letting your shoulders loosen. “I just thought maybe I gave you the wrong idea.”
At your words he gives a little shake of his head, because of course, you would apologize for someone else’s actions. “You didn’t,” his voice is gentle as he speaks, closing the lid of the canteen. “You never did.”
You exhale slowly through your mouth. “Then I don’t understand.”
Tommy is quiet for several minutes, eyes bouncng from you to the floor to the canteen in his hands. He shakes his head once, unsure of how to explain himself without sounding selfish. “I didn’t mean to love you like that. Believe me, I know how it sounds.”
You tug at the hem of your shirt, wishing you could fix this somehow. “Tommy…”
“It’s alright,” he interjects, his gaze flicking back towards the center of town. “I’ve spent a lot of time angry at myself for it,” he puffs air into his cheeks before releasing it, and his mouth changes to a smile. “When you first came here, I thought you were nice. Which I also thought was stupid, because no one is nice anymore, but somehow, you were. You made everyone feel like they were important. You’d ask me about my day, remember the little things. Give me extra rations because you knew I forgot to eat.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” you say softly. “That doesn’t make me special.”
“It does,” he insists, and he tightens the lid of the canteen. “I tried not to let it happen. I really did, because your Joel’s.” The honest in his voice breaks your heart, and you dig the blunts of your nails into your palm. “You’re the person he loves, and he deserves that. He deserves someone like you.”
You cock your head, blinking in the sunlight. “What about you?”
Tommy’s smile is sad and he shrugs his shoulders. “That’s not the point,” lifting the canteen, he points to you. “The point is that Joel has spent the majority of his life thinking he was only made to survive, not live. And then you came along and he smiles more.” Tommy laughs softly, propping a hand on his hip. “Y’know how strange that is? Seeing my brother smile?”
You smile faintly through the ache. “He’s always been stubborn.”
“True,” Tommy concedes. “He has been. Stubborn, and angry, but now also happy. You…make him happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted since he showed up here with Ellie.”
Tommy stops, and you understand it then. Tommy isn’t asking you for anything, or trying to change the future. His simply carrying a feeling he never asked for, and needs to explain it.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, because you are, even if it isn’t your fault.
Tommy smiles and it’s sad again. “Don’t apologize for being someone worth loving.”
“Tommy…”
“I mean it,” he intrupts, and he looks towards the way you had come, where your home is with his brother. “Joel’s a lucky man, and so am I. I get to call you family soon,” his voice drops to a somber whisper. “And that’s enough.”
You chew at your lip before moving forward, and hugging Tommy around the neck. He freezes for a moment before his body loosens and he’s hugging you back, like someone who’s grateful.
From across the settlement, Joel stands in the yard infront of your home, watching. He can’t hear what you and Tommy had exchanged, but he can feel the tension dissipate. For the first time since his conversation with Tommy at the Tipsy Bison, Joel’s shoulders relax, because he knew something Tommy already did. You weren’t something to be won, or to fight over. You were simply something good to be cherished by all.
Pairing/WC/tags: Weiss x Ruby / 623/ date night, wlw, soft wlw, established relationship, post volume 9
A/N: for day four of @whiterose-fans-blog
During the day, Vacuo has a relentless heat. The sunrays shimmer over endless sand, bearing down until even breathing feels like a challenge. When the stars come out however, the entire kingdom transforms. The air cools, the stars stretching as far as the eye can see.
Ruby feels like she belongs in it.
Weiss is sitting beside her on a blanket laid out just within the city walls, but far enough away that they won’t be disturbed. Cloak discarded, her hair catches the moonlight, red and black rivits like a flame in the dark.
“You’re staring.” Ruby hums.
Weiss blanches, looking away immediately. “I am not.”
Ruby grins, her chin dipping. “You absolutely were.”
“I was simply appreciating the scenery.”
“Right.”
Weiss wrinkles her nose. “The scenery, petal. Not everything is about you.”
Ruby just smiles, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks. “I like when you call me that. Petal.”
Her voice is soft and it works its way down Weiss’s spine. Ruby knows Weiss well enough to see through her but never truly gives her grief for it.
Together they have spent years saving kingdoms, fighting monsters and carrying responsibilities that are too heavy for girls of their age. There are still days where Ruby’s hands shake too hard to hold Crescent Rose, and nights when Weiss wakes up in a cold sweat, expecting a world altering emergency.
But for tonight, the evening belongs to them.
Ruby has packed a small picnic, but calling it that is generous. Half the food is slightly crushed from being carried around in her bag, and one of the pastries is definitely missing a corner because Ruby “needed to make sure it was still good.”
Weiss had pretended to be annoyed, and had also eaten the rest.
“I still can’t believe you convinced me to come all the way out here,” Weiss says.
Ruby tilts her head. “And I can’t believe it took you 20 minutes to decide what to wear.”
Weiss scoffs. “I had to find something weather appropriate.”
“You changed three times.”
“The first two were…” Weiss pauses, her mouth twisting. “Impractical.”
Ruby gives an effortless laugh and Weiss finds herself smiling before she can stop it. There was a time when the sound irritated her, when Ruby’s optimism seemed rooted in naivety.
Now Weiss thinks it’s her favorite sound.
Ruby notices Weiss’s face shift, and she extends her hand, slipping her fingers between hers. “You okay?”
Weiss looks down at their joined hands, at the scars on Rubys knuckles. At her own fingers that once only knew how to carry a sword and a family name.
“I am.” Weiss replies, and she means it.
Ruby squeezes her hand. “Good.”
They settle into silence, an effortless one that doesn’t make Weiss’s anxiety spike. Eventually Ruby lays on her back, pulling Weiss with her.
“Look.” She whispers, and Weiss follows her gaze.
The stars are beautifully endless. As she stares, Weiss understands why Ruby would like a place like this. Why she chases rainbows and collects little moments and insists that life is worth having, even after everything that’s been done to them.
“This is nice,” Ruby sighs and smiles a little. “No missions. No Grimm. Just being happy.”
“You deserve it.” Weiss replies, shifting closer, her head resting on Ruby’s shoulder.
Ruby looks down at her. “We deserve it.”
Weiss is still learning all of this, that happiness isn’t something she has to earn. That she can sit beneath the Vacuo sky with Rubys fingers on her skin and know that she doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved.
Moving her neck, Ruby presses a kiss to Weiss’s head, and Weiss closes her eyes.
The world can wait until tomorrow; tonight is theirs.
