#Accidently shattered my Glass Cup cleaned up the Glass pieces

[ladycatm]

omg that's scary! hopefully you don't need to be on your foot too much so it can heal.

Yes it was a scary experience— Thank goodness there was no Glass splinter and didn't need to go to the HR 😊

This is not the first to happen. I have a faded scar on my left Knee from Childhood

Blood remains to freak me out haha (Hemophobia) Thankfully the bleeding stopped as my Mother provided support alongside my Older Sister. My older Sister cleaned the remains of the blood and wrapped around my Toe.

Won't be on my foot too much to prevent pressure from walking and allow it to heal 😊

Thank You kindly for looking out for me, i am doing well now 🌺

[eunimaybe]

✧ ─── enhypen when you break a glass

enhypen hyungline x fem. reader | what they do when you accidentally break a glass

genre: fluff, est. relationship | warnings: mentions of blood and small injuries from glass | wc. 0.9k ♡ a/n: i got this idea after i accidentally dropped a plate on the floor LMAO

lee heeseung

the glass cup you were holding in your hands slipped and fell to the wooden floor of the apartment, shattering into a million pieces with a clatter. heeseung ran into the kitchen soon after.

“i’m so sorry,” you said, crouching down to pick up the larger shards of glass from the floor. “i-i don’t know what happened. my hand slipped. i’ll clean it up.” — more under cut!!

heeseung quickly pulled you up from the floor where you were crouched, eyebrows pulled together in worry. “y/n, you think i’m worried about the glass or cleaning up? did you hurt yourself? the glass didn’t hurt you, right?”

you shook your head, but heeseung still checked your hands and legs for any cuts and scratches. his touch on your skin was gentle, scouring every inch of your body before finally letting out a relieved breath and letting you go.

“i’m so sorry hee.” you whispered, eyeing the glass on the floor in remorse, tears in your eyes.

heeseung pulled you away from the sharp mess and into his arms.

“there’s nothing to apologise for,” he said, giving you a peck on the forehead. “it was just a small accident.”

park jongseong

you watched the vase on the shelf topple over and fall to the marble floor, bracing yourself for the loud crash to come. the vase broke into small pieces, straying the floor with sharp shards of china.

shit.

that was a very expensive china vase. and now it was on the floor, broken.

it wasn’t long before jay rushed into the living room to find you trying your best to pick up the pieces from the floor with tears in your eyes.

“jay, i’m so sorry,” you murmured, placing yet another piece of what used to be a beautiful china vase into a bag. “i was dusting the shelves and i knocked it over because i was being so careless.”

jay immediately helped you pick up the shards as you said apologies over and over.

“baby, you’re okay right?” he asked, grabbing hold of your hands and checking for any stuck shards.

you nodded, pulling your hand away to continue cleaning. “yeah, i’m okay, but your vase jay… i know it was one you really liked. i’m so sorry.”

when you two finished with the cleaning, he gave you a big hug, peppering your face with soft kisses.

“it’s fine, y/n. you’re not hurt and that’s all that matters. what if you knocked over a vase? we can always just buy another one.

sim jaeyun

you had been picking up the tiny broken pieces of a coffee mug for a while now. whilst preparing to drink some tea, you had accidentally dropped the mug and it had smashed into micro pieces, covering the floor with its shards.

you heard the door of the house open- jake was back from work- and you shouted a quick “hello” before continuing cleaning.

“baby, i’ve missed you so-“

jake halted in his track, standing in front of the dining room, watching you pick up bits of porcelain from the ground.

“i broke the mug,” you said sheepishly, stating the obvious. “sorry jake. i’m such a klutz.”

jake quickly put down his bag on the floor and knelt down next to you, an amused smile on his lips.

“it’s fine y/n. let me help you.” he said, helping you clean.

when you two were both done, jake gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“you’re so clumsy, just like me.” he giggled.

you pulled back from him, grinning. “am i now?”

“yeah you are,” he said, giving you another kiss, this time on your nose. “i think this is the world telling us we’re meant for each other.”

you rolled your eyes, batting his hands away. “you think everything is the world telling us we’re meant together, jake.”

park sunghoon

before you could even comprehend what was happening, your grip on the glass had slipped, and the cup went hurtling to the kitchen floor. it broke into a big shattered mess of glass, some of the shards finding its way to your legs and leaving small cuts on your shins.

“shit,” you muttered, not even noticing the cuts on your legs and bending down to start picking up the larger pieces from the cold floor.

“you okay, princess?” sunghoon asked, walking into the kitchen to see what was going on. when he saw you kneeling on the floor as you cleaned up the endless array of glass that glittered in the light, he rushed forward.

“y/n, are you okay? did you hurt yourself anywhere?” he asked, his eyes scanning your body. when he noticed the bleeding cuts on your leg, he immediately pulled you up to your feet.

“shit, you’re hurt.” he said, crouching down to examine the scratches.

you hadn’t even noticed the pain until now. “it’s fine hoon. i’m sorry i broke the glass. i don’t know what got into me.”

sunghoon didn’t reply for a moment as he cleaned up your injuries.

“hoon? are you mad?”

he looked startled by the question, his face frowning. “no y/n. why would i be mad? i’m just worried for you. the cup can be replaced.”

he stood up to give you a soft kiss on your lips.

“go rest. i’ll clean this up.”

[skyward-floored]

Hi hello, I got inspired by a thing and wrote an Incredibles au fic about Malon and Hyrule this afternoon, hope you all enjoy :)

I felt so bad for Hyrule writing this aaaah he’s just a little guy... good thing he has Malon <3

Ao3

————————————————————

CRASH

Malon jumped at the sound of something breaking in the kitchen, nearly dropping the basket of laundry she was holding. There was a telling silence after the crash, and she felt a surge of exasperation, squeezing her eyes shut.

It had already been a stressful day— Wind was sick, and Legend was starting to come down with something as well, and Malon had gotten behind in the laundry checking up on the two of them. Four had been clingy up until she’d put him down for a nap, and she’d also had to break up no less then three separate arguments between Wild and Legend, the latter extra grumpy because of his sore throat. Malon’s patience was rapidly unraveling, and this was just the icing on the cake.

She held in a groan, and set down the basket, tromping into the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

“Wild, if you broke my vase because you haven’t been being careful with your super speed again, then you’re going to be in some serious trouble mister—”

But Wild wasn’t who Malon found when she walked into the kitchen. Rather Hyrule was standing next to the sink, eyes wide as he stared down at the mess of what looked like a shattered cup, broken pieces and spilled water all over the floor.

“...Hyrule? What happened?” she asked, surprised at not seeing the usual culprit. “Did you drop a cup?”

He startled at her voice, and seemed at a loss for words, looking between her and the mess without saying anything. Malon raised an eyebrow when he didn’t reply, and gestured to the mess again.

“Hyrule, did you drop your glass? Or did somebody else?”

Malon took a step towards Hyrule as she spoke, but the second she did, his shoulders shot up, and he quickly stepped back from her.

“I-I did, but I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Hyrule said frantically, backing away from Malon. “I’ll— I’ll fix it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

She immediately stopped moving towards him, looking at Hyrule in surprise at his reaction.

“Honey, it’s only a glass, you don’t have to be upset,” she said with a worried look, but Hyrule only seemed to get more panicked, backing away until his back hit the wall.

“I’m sorry, it— it was an accident! I wasn’t trying to, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

“Hyrule, it’s okay—”

“I’m sorry! Please don’t punish me!”

His voice broke on the words, and Malon studied him for a moment, alarm bells ringing in her mind. All of a sudden she realized what was happening, and her heart fell straight to her shoes.

Hyrule must have had this happen to him before, when he wasn’t living with them.

During the period of his life he refused to talk about.

Oh.

“Link,” Malon said steadily, as Hyrule sank to to the ground, curling up on himself at the name. Oh no, bad choice. “...Hyrule,” she tried again, “it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

Her son had begun to shake, his eyes welling with tears, and Malon was starting to feel at a loss, unsure of how to help without making him more upset. She looked around, then carefully lowered herself to her knees, far away enough to not crowd Hyrule, but close enough to provide comfort if he decided he wanted it.

“Hyrule,” Malon said softly, and he looked at her with a scared expression. “It’s okay. It was an accident, and we can easily clean it up. I’m not going to punish you for making a mistake.”

“B-but I broke it, I was clumsy, I’m sorry I—”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Malon soothed. “I can’t tell you how many times your father has knocked into things and broken them because of his eye. Maybe I get annoyed at him for a little while, but he never does it on purpose, and we clean it up together.”

Hyrule didn’t say anything, tears still slipping down his nose.

Malon bit her lip, then cautiously scooted closer to her son, making sure he was okay with it before moving. Hyrule watched her sharply, but didn’t move away, and she carefully set her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with soft circles when he didn’t throw her off.

Hyrule slowly relaxed at her touch, and his shoulders lowered. His shaking began to still as they sat there in silence, and eventually he let Malon move closer, until she was right next to him.

“It’s okay, honey,” Malon repeated in a gentle voice, and Hyrule wiped his nose on his sleeve. She exhaled, and brushed some tears off his cheek, then met his eyes. “It’s only a cup. I know it was an accident.”

“You’re not gonna hu... do anything?” Hyrule whispered, and Malon shook her head.

“Oh honey, no,” she said in dismay, and pulled him into a hug, loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t though, instead sinking into her arms with a quiet sigh. “It was an accident. Everyone breaks things sometimes, you didn’t do anything wrong. After all, it’s not like you emptied my cupboard and started throwing cups just to be destructive.”

Hyrule let out a soft giggle, so small Malon could barely hear it, but it warmed her heart anyway.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, and Hyrule rested his head on her shoulder. She sat with him on the floor for a while longer even though she had things to do, holding him while he finished calming down. Everything else could wait right now.

“I’m really sorry I broke it,” Hyrule whispered after a while, and Malon ran a gentle hand through his hair.

“I know. And it’s okay, Hyrule. It was an accident.”

She pulled back and smiled at him a little worriedly, brushing a hand through his hair again.

“Now let’s make sure you don’t have any glass stuck in you, then we can clean up this mess,” she said warmly, and Hyrule nodded, looking relieved. Malon helped him up, and over to a chair so she could check him over, and cleaned the few tiny pieces of glass from his foot.

But even as Malon bandaged up Hyrule’s foot, and he helped her clean up the shattered cup, the image of him begging her not to do anything to him stayed in her head, making her chest hurt more and more every time it replayed.

Nobody is going to hurt you like that again, Link, she promised silently as he helped her sweep up the last of the glass. Nobody.

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

Theme: Broken Glass

Eijiro Kirishima

You tapped the board lightly, gaining the attention of each child who had previously been engaged with whatever toy they held. “Okay, kids, can you look at the clock and tell me what time it is?” One of your fingers rose upwards to point at the said piece of time-telling devices where the hands were in the direction of a raised fist. UA Elementary was still fairly new, being within its fifth year of establishment, and had been an amazing opportunity to get things rolling for you career wise.

“Hero Visit Time!

“That’s right! I’m going to go grab our guest so you be good for the assistant teacher while I’m gone. Why don’t you clean up your spaces while I’m gone that way the Pro Hero can visit each of you?” With a smile, you slipped out the door and with a nod towards your assistant turned to walk towards the principal’s office not too far down the hallway…only to be met by a firm wall which caused the glasses you wore to snap audibly before they disappeared in unknown directions. Panic instantly filled your veins when feeling sharp objects come into contact with the skin around your eyes. “Ah!”

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry! Looks like the lenses shattered too!” Large hands instantly cupped your face, preventing it from moving as whatever you collided with shifted slightly away. “Don’t open your eyes quite yet, there’s still a lot of stuff that could get in them.” Calloused fingers carefully drifted across your skin, occasionally plucking away debris that had been threatening to bury themselves within your skin. Part of you was bewildered at the careful motions despite the large digits but it was replaced by amazement when he proudly declared “I wasn’t looking where I was going. This is totally and completely my fault.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You managed to mumble while attempting to put a bit of space between yourself and whoever was touching, “the nurse’s office is right around the corner, if you wanna just take me to her—”

“There! All done! Not too shabby if I say so myself. Go ahead and open them now.”

A scoff sounded from your throat. “No offense but I’m not ready to risk my eyesight. Think I’d rather go to a professional.”

From the darkness came a masculine chuckle. “You’re in luck then because I happen to be one.”

So shocked were you at his words that your eyes opened wide to find a blur nearly dominated by red hovered over you. A flash of white appeared though as a laugh filled the air. “Well, those gotta be the cutest eyes ever! They’re prettier from where I’m standing!”

They thought your eyes were pretty? Honestly you never really thought about them, though lots of others had made mildly flirtatious comments in hopes of you giving them a chance. The closeness should have startled you yet there was an air coming off the man as he retreated slightly while asking if you had contacts. “It’s alright. I always carry an extra pair just in case an accident happens.” Your fingers deftly revealed the collapsible backup pair from their case and slipped them onto your nose. All oxygen within your lungs stalled as the blur was instantly focused into the burly form of none other than— “Red Riot?” Heat flushed within your face when he grinned toothily, missing how his eyebrows rose a bit at your deep bow. “Oh, my gosh, how embarrassing! I can’t believe I ran into you!”

“No, seriously, it’s my fault for not knocking first!”

Realization crashed down on you like a ton of bricks as you straightened, humiliation nearly making you want to run away. “Wait a minute, you’re the Pro Hero who is visiting my class today?!”

Carmine eyes widened. “Oh, so you must be (L/n)! Thought you might have been the assistant!”

“No, that’s me alright,” you groaned lowly while massaging your temples, “I can hear the principal’s lecture now…”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He winked after glancing around before sweeping up the mess of glass at your feet and disposing them in the nearby recycling. The wide grin he fixed you with was so contagious that you couldn’t help but smile back shyly. “There. No evidence to be found!”

What started as a giggle rose up your throat and slipped out before you could stop it, earning the faintest of blushes from the man as you hurried to smooth your clothing. “W-well, the children are anxiously awaiting for me to bring in the visitor for the week. I understand that you’ll be with us?” Fluttering filled your chest when he confirmed your words with another grin, one of his hands rising to open the classroom door when the knob completely snapped clean off to leave him blinking down at the small object. “Don’t worry,” you chuckled when noting how he sheepishly offered it to you, “it happens more than you think. Just the other day one of the kids nearly melted one of these off.”

“Oh, yeah? I’d love to hear more about it over dinner. Got any plans tonight?”

Your brows shot upwards. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

One of his large hands rose to scratch the back of his head, tousling long crimson hair that reached beyond his broad shoulders. “I’ve learned it saves everybody time when you’re straightforward with your feelings. I can tell already you’re a good person just by the fact you’re a teacher—”

“Or a psychopath—”

“—My point is that I know it sounds crazy but this friend of mine does these tarot card readings and said that usually shattered glass is some sort of omen but that mine was upside down, which is some sort of good thing, and he even said that I might meet someone today.” He chuckled almost nervously, if that was even possible for you to believe. Your jest had earned an amused raise of his eyebrows though. “I don’t normally believe in that kind of stuff but meeting you like this kinda makes me wonder.”

Blinking, you shook off the initial surprise and skepticism of his confession and offered a smile. “Do you like Italian?”

If not for the bright glitter within his gaze you would have thought he was having an aneurysm when he failed to answer for nearly a minute. Visibly he looked as if he were waking from a dream as you waved a hand inches from his face yet the grin that lifted his lips was the brightest you’d ever seen even in magazines. “Only if you do!”

Katsuki Bakugo

“And which volume did you need? Silver Era, yes?” You asked, keeping your gaze locked upon the multitude of shelves. People would be a bit put off from the high shelves but not you. As head librarian of the world’s greatest collection known to the world. Everything relating to quirks could be found within this beautifully constructed palace of knowledge with you as its main caretaker for the last several years. This place was your pride and joy, despite the fact that younger generations were more concentrated on their phones and internet. It was rare that you ever received a request to retrieve something from within the back room. Suspicion rose within your being as no answer came. It wasn’t possible that they hadn’t heard you since the intercom was directly to your left, allowing dual communication from the front desk to where you were, yet there was no indication that the person who had been there moments ago was currently still in the position where you’d last known. Looks like it must have been a prank.

With a sigh, you made to return the book back to its rightful place when a telltale crack sounded. Your gaze rose upwards to its source and paled when the cubby system responsible for holding important objects tilted ever so slightly in your direction with another crack. Maintenance had been meaning to come look at it per your request yet they hadn’t come around recently to do so. Even if that were the case it shouldn’t be that unstable.

Screams sounded from the other room that chilled your blood. Villains were attacking the library! The palm of your hand slammed itself against the panel underneath the intercom, causing an alarm to blare to life along with the multitude of doors closing with resounding thuds. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for such individuals to attempt theft from this place since it held lots of secrets about famous heroes young and old. There probably was a few in here that would be worth a fortune to the right people.

And it was your job to ensure every single one of them were kept safe.

The breath you were in the middle of taking stalled as something impacted the first of several protective doors, causing loud echoes to ring loudly in the air. Four yards of steel made up each barricade, thickening with each level that they managed to bypass, which meant that the room you were in was surrounded by near twenty yards upon each wall. No fire or heat based quirk could met through them, brute strength would only result in the user hurting themselves, making it impenetrable even from the ceiling or floor courtesy of the hollowed trenches below which were lined with spikes and laser motion tracking tranquilizers filled with momentary paralysis serums. Next to top of the line security.

As if in slow motion the lid popped itself clean off to fall first, its corner catching you directly between the eyes which resulted in a loud snap, before it disappeared from sight. A curse rose up your throat when the rest made to follow. If memory served you right then it would be a heavy piece of equipment from a hero’s costume which had been donated to the library. The ladder wobbled dangerously as you attempted to hurry down it before the large internal contents of the cubby could meet your face but you resolved yourself to fate when it passed over the edge by ducking your head and covering it with your arm.

“Do you have any idea how much a pain in the ass it was to find you?” Blinking, your head snapped upwards to find it had been stopped by a familiar green and black gloved hand. Being near sighted had its advantages but this was not the case as the blur it originated from effortlessly placed the cubby nearby before slinging you over its shoulder. “Building’s about to collapse and you decided to lock yourself within this place? For a nerd you’re a dumbass.” A scream rose up your throat as with a blast off the two of you shot upwards straight through lasers until fresh air tickled your sinuses. Gravity took over though and you were soon clinging to whoever held you as the ground rushed to meet you but was then halted by a pair of heavy boots as a growl filled your ears. “So damn loud! Quit your screaming all ready! You’re safe so shut the hell up!”

“Put me down and I’ll think about it!” You snapped without thinking. Something warm and wet met the tips of your fingers as he set you down, oddly with gentleness that was opposite as his tone. Without conscious thought your hand took fierce hold of the moist fabric and tore it with a calculated tug.

“Oi!”

“You’ve got connections so another costume can be made by this evening so shut up and let me treat this.” The tip of your nose nearly brushed against his skin as you squinted to bring the wound into focus. “Looks like you got a piece of glass stuck in your forearm.”

“Just leave it!”

With precision, you activated your quirk which allowed you to hone your gaze closer to the piece of invasive invisible substance and plucked it clean from his flesh. “There, you big baby, now run along to the nurse so she can kiss your boo-boo.” A smirk raised your lips while taking a step back when he bristled. It raised a question though. “Wait, how did it get into your arm? My glasses broke…” The sentence faded into silence as your assistant appeared, handing over a spare pair, and you nearly gaped when spotting the explosive Dynamite himself turn away as if hiding a blush. “How long were you in that room?!”

He spun back on his heel, face appearing inches from your. “Long enough to know that even a damn nerd like you were as stupid as I thought!”

“Is that so?” A cross of your arms nearly made those around the two of you gasp. “If I’m such a ‘stupid’ nerd then what were you doing watching me?” Realization hit you like a slap in the face. There had been a visitor who stopped by every evening just before closing time who’d promised to walk you to your car while conversing about the news you relayed for the last several weeks. Blonde hair, ruby eyes, was always quick to assure you that no casualties happened that day…were none other than the Pro Hero taking time out of his busy schedule to visit with you. That would explain how he knew where to find you! Sheepishly, you shuffled your feet then lightly tapped your elbow against his, earning a blink. “See you tonight at our usual time? I’ll make it up for my comment by buying dinner.” A smirk of satisfaction raised your lips when his face bloomed a dark red as you walked past him with a wink.

“I get my own dates, you damn nerd, so I won’t take no for an answer! I’ll see you then!”

“Looking forward to it!” Your call back over your shoulder was nearly drowned out by the multitude of reporters rushing to get more information about the exchange that had just occurred.

Izuku “Deku” Midoriya

“Now I can look at you whenever I desire!”

Your fists banged against the flat invisible surface confining you to this strange plane of existence. Last night you’d been jumped while carrying groceries to your car and then you’d woken to find yourself within a near suffocating space where your only source of light was the glass before you. Tears slipped down your cheeks as the villain’s eye, which was magnified several hundreds of its normal size, regarded you with joy. “What did you do to me?! Let me out of here!”

They laughed. “I’ve been watching you for so long that I simply couldn’t wait anymore and decided that only I should be the one who can behold your charisma!” Glee entered their gaze. “Which is why I’ve used my quirk to fuse you within my glasses. No one else can see or hear you, only the wearer which will be none other than myself!”

“Please let me go! I’ll give you all the money I have, just please let me out of here!” Your pleas went unanswered.

Time went by, each day stealing away more of your hope and desperation, until something miraculous happened.

An object had knocked into the villain, causing the glasses to fall from his nose, and you could only watch with mild satisfaction when he was placed within a police vehicle. Seemed like someone had discovered he was responsible for the kidnapping that have been happening for a while now. Most likely you’d be unknowingly tossed in the evidence bag to be locked away in their archives where you would slowly fade from existence. The villain had been kind enough to provide you food via their quirk which had put you there but never did they give you more than what you needed to survive. With a sigh, you curled into a ball and closed your eyes. There was only one other option for you but you didn’t want to do it here.

“They forgot that villain’s glasses. What should we do with them, Kaachan?”

“Throw them in the damn trash, Deku!”

“Shouldn’t we at least stop by the station to see if they need—”

“Do whatever the hell you want!” An explosion sounded and then the angry voice was gone.

Silence fell as you turned away from the wall that was your window to the partial outside world. This was it. From this point forward it wasn’t worth you gazing out in hopes that someone could see or help you. Who would have guessed your life would pan out like this? The fate you’d resided yourself to stung as you rose to stand and turned to approach the only other thing that offered you escape when needing a break from the villain staring at you. They’d connected their glasses to the only other glass surface they owned: a single mirror that was kept within their bedroom. This connection only worked if the glasses were close enough to their home residence and lucky- you guess -that you were within range.

Concrete was replaced by sheet rock painted an awful green/gray hue, matching the dull grayscale carpet and bed. From the dresser you could see the partially open closet full of the villain’s minimalist wardrobe consisting several sets of the exact same outfit. There were scratches barely visible on your side of this prison, testimony to the times where you’d attempted to claw your way out but merely resulted in each fingernail nearly uprooting themselves. An ache in your shoulder reminded you of the time you’d attempted to run through it. Yeah, that took a while for it to heal and they hadn’t been happy to see you’d hurt yourself in such a way.

Sinking to the ground, your forehead rested against the glass as tears gathered along your lashes. Could you really go through with it? Anything was better than this sad existence, right?

“I knew it! That villain had the quirk that could allow them to seal away objects within glass and it was speculated he could do that with people! I’m guessing that’s why he kidnapped all those others so that he could experiment or practice in preparation for the one he really—” The rant halted as your head snapped upward, your wide eyed gaze meeting emerald. Their owner, a freckled forest haired man, was moving the dresser as if it were made of paper so that he could approach the mirror. “Sorry! I shouldn’t be gushing about something like that when you’re stuck in there!”

False hope stung worse than his words. It’s not like he could actually see or do anything to help you. No one could. Defeat and doom settled over you like a dark cloud.

“What’s you’re name?”

It’s been so long since you’ve used your voice that part of you wondered how to answer him. It was supposed to be as natural as breathing, right? Curiosity got the best of you though and raised your head. He must have been one of the Pro Heroes who had caught the villain, judging from the costume he wore.

Those emerald eyes of his seemed to glitter when your gazes met. “My name’s Deku. I’m sure it’s been hard for you this whole time, huh? Looks like you could use a bite to eat too. What do you like and I can take you?”

“How?” The question had leapt from your lips before you could stop it. Your voice sounded so raw, broken, coarse like sandpaper. A tilt of your head directed his attention to the mirror’s frame. “I can’t leave this place.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you out of there.” His lips lifted into an assuring smile, one that made your chest warm. The palm of his gloved hand met the invisible surface. “You have my word.”

“Damnit, Deku, what the hell are you doing talking to yourself?!”

You flinched back as an explosion came from the direction of the next room and turned away when smoke filled the air. It stung your eyes, choked you even, tiny flares of pain blooming across your being. Shouts rang loudly within your ears as something enclosed around you like a weighted blanket. Within the strange plane beneath the glass you’d been lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, but now you relished as warmth seeped into your very bones as whatever it was tightened its hold.

“I gotcha,” Deku whispered lowly within your ear, “you must be (Y/n).” A nod was your answer, tears spilling down your cheeks when realizing that it had been the hero’s arms holding you. They gave another comforting squeeze when you shivered violently, clinging to him as he stood and encouraged you to hold on tight as he turned away from the fuming blonde behind him. Your gaze couldn’t look anywhere else besides those emeralds that were his eyes as he assured that he would take care of you. “For once Kaachan’s explosions actually helped with a mission.” With a smile, he took to the air as red flickering lights appeared across his being.

“Get back here and say it to my face!”

Fumikage Tokoyami

Boredom.

That’s what you felt right now.

A sigh slipped from between your lips when casting a glance towards the nearby clock. It was a physical memory to do so, being as nearly every human being developed the habit, you supposed, yet it didn’t change the outcome of finding the contraption responsible for telling time busted. Neither of its hands had budged the entire duration of your confinement within the glass box. Kidnapping wasn’t a light offense especially considering the circumstances. You’d been caught off guard, causing adrenaline to pound through your system like a drug…or had that been whatever was in the syringe they’d emptied into your thigh? Either way you had woken to find yourself within this odd box that had a spotlight above your head.

How long were you out?

How long have you been here?

What were their plans for you?

Why?

Answers honestly weren’t on your list of necessities right now. You had been slightly amused by the amateurish confinement this was. Single paned, hinges along the north wall which meant that it opened outwards, a large pitcher of water, bucket, two big bags of recognizable grocery items, and the chair you were in was actually quite comfy. Either they had never done this before or you were going to be here awhile.

Regardless of reason or how, you were here now.

“(Y/n).” A voice cooed within your ear as from within your shadow manifested a creature crossed between a wolf and hawk who regarded the space with distaste, “apologies, (Y/n), I suppose I am to blame for this turn of events.”

Your head shook, closing your eyes as the beast nuzzled your cheek. “It was mine for being so careless. I know your range of activity is based upon the moon’s phases and it’s still got a few more nights before becoming full. I should have been more careful.” Umi was the beast which resided within your shadow; you’ve been joined since birth, frightening all who laid eyes upon it. It’s temperament varied depending on the moon’s phases, as does its power, but you both had found mutual partnership for surviving. “Forgive me.”

“Perhaps you were just looking for a chance to meet that other one with similar abilities.” The beast seemed to chuckle as it made quick work of your restraint by means of its glistening fangs. Umi was still much too small to do much else besides freeing your limbs, meaning that you’d be stuck here for at least a little while longer until rescue came or the moon’s phases passed. Tattered pieces of the rope were scattered courtesy of it shaking its head to rid the horrid taste within their mouth. “It has been quite some time since your last encounter.”

��Trust me, this is not what I had in mind for a reunion.”

The light above your heads shattered with a pop, plunging the space into total darkness. Tiny shards of glass fell to lay scattered like confetti upon the cubicle’s top. The sounds had been almost comparable to a wind chime, nearly pleasant, most people would be panicking but not you. Darkness was soothing for you instead of frightening or intimidating. If this was a ploy by your kidnappers than they really were amateurs. Research was a key step that every plan needed.

“The feeling is mutual then. It has been quite a long time, has it not, Dark Shadow?”

“Umi! Little puppy, I’ve missed you!”

A smile raised the corners of your mouth as two recognizable voices filled the air. Calmly, you restrained Umi by wrapping your arms around their torso as shattering sounded. Not a single piece of glass touched you though. Your eyes remained open and quickly adapted as sunlight took the spotlight’s place courtesy of a piece of roofing falling to land somewhere you couldn’t see. There he stood, cape and costume in clear view as you watched him float downward until landing feet from where you were. Dark Shadow appeared within your peripheral vision, instantly earning Umi’s attention, but your gaze remained upon vermillion. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

His head bobbed in a nod. “I truly wish I could return the sentiment. What brings you to such a place as an abandoned warehouse known to be home of a villainous gang?”

“Ah, so they truly were amateurs.” You sighed, eyes threatening to roll when he took in the measly space. “They were using regular knots on my ropes when they should’ve used Sailor’s. Not only that the bags there have the logo of a grocery line specific to this side of town which gave me an idea of location.”

“They were not prepared for such an adversary as yourself, (Y/n), and the fact that you were their first kidnapping target is bad luck on their part.” It was almost too small for you to see but there was no mistaking the slight smirk raising his beak. “The moment Dark Shadow felt Umi nearly sealed their fates. He does not like admitting but he is quite protective and fond of your beast.”

You came closer to him, stopping short of physical contact, the two of you sharing a bigger smile. “Seems like they caught up.”

A glint entered his gaze when figures began appearing from the darkness wielding several weapons. “I simply must repay them for the hospitality that you’ve been given. It is only right and fair that we do so.” Warmth filled your chest as the flash of fondness filled his features before he turned away. “I shall deal with them quickly so that we may return to our conversation. Please be patient for a little while longer, (Y/n).”

And you were more than happy to watch with Umi as the pair easily made work of the wannabe gang who had failed in your kidnapping. It wasn’t surprising that soon every member had been placed within custody. The flashing lights caused both Umi and Dark Shadow to voice complaints which brought your attentions back to one another. “There’s this restaurant I know of where one dines in completed darkness. Shall we?” He offered you his arm, which you wasted no time in taking, and the warehouse was left behind as you began walking.

[amhrosina]

Dancing on the Ceiling (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: I accidently wrote 4,000 words. Oops. Enjoy!

Requests are open.

Summary: Your neighbor, Pete, helps you after you get into a bind. A friendship develops, but all hell breaks loose when you walk in on him pulling a bullet out of his shoulder. 

(Warnings: mentions of blood (what’s new honestly), gunshot wound, soft!frank, female reader, short reader, sMUT!, SMUTTTTT, fem receiving oral, p in v, let me know if I missed any!) 

“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You watched as the potted plant you had just held inbetween your hands rolled down the apartment stairs, cracking with each step and finally shattering once it hit the landing. You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. Your eyes found the ceiling, gently closing.  

That plant had been very expensive. Well, it could’ve been very expensive at one point in its life. Probably. You’d picked it up at a flea market on your way home, figuring it would bring some much-needed color to your lifeless apartment. And now it was sitting in a pile of glass, dirt, and frustration at the bottom of the stairs. You huffed, intent on cleaning up your mess when a voice startled you.  

“That was a lot of ‘shits’ for a lady.”  

You swung around, cradling your hands over your pounding heart. Your neighbor was standing a few feet away from you, hands tucked into his jacket. You hadn’t met him yet, but you recognized him from around the building. He lived across from you. You rarely ever saw him come or go, except for the few times you’ve been up really late.  

His hair was longer than most men kept their hair. His beard was dark and thick, but well maintained. He looked rather intimidating, actually, but he hadn’t given you a reason to be afraid of him. He was always quiet, sending polite smiles your way, but never stopping to talk as he made his way in and out of the building.  

Tonight was the first time you’d heard his voice.  

“Yeah, well, today was a shitty day.” You responded, glancing back towards the mess you’d made. You made your way towards it and crouched down, intent on cleaning up as much of the glass as possible before sweeping the rest into a trashcan.  

You heard your neighbor’s boots on the floor as he grew closer. You tensed, but quickly relaxed as he bent down to help you pick out the pieces of glass from the dirt.  

“Shit!” You yelped as a piece of glass imbedded itself in your palm. Blood pooled in the palm of your hand. You tried to keep the blood from spilling onto the floor, but the gash was deep, and your blood spilled over the sides of your hand anyways.  

“You always this messy?” Your neighbor was half-grinning as he gently cupped the injured hand, bringing it closer to his eyes to get a better look.  

“It’s pretty deep. You might need stitches. You got insurance?” You shook your head. Of course you didn’t have insurance. Who could afford it these days?  

“You got a first aid kit?”  

“Yeah, but probably not with stuff for stitches.” Your hand was throbbing now, slightly shaking from pain.  

“I have one. I could stitch it for you, but it’s gonna hurt.”  

“Are you a nurse or something...” You let your question trail off, indirectly asking for his name. 

“Pete,” he answered, keeping his focus on your hand, “I’m not a nurse, or something, but I know my way around injuries. Marine Corps.”  

“Oh,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed that you had assumed differently. The more you look at him, the more apparent his military background becomes. His stature, the way he holds himself, the way he walks with a purpose even if it's just down the hallway. 

“Will you let me stitch it up?” He asks, meeting your eyes and then looking back down at the cut, which was still bleeding profusely. 

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded. It was better than sitting in the E.R. for three hours. He led you to his door, briefly pausing before opening the door and letting you in.  

Various books were scattered around the kitchen and living room. A faint musky smell overtook your nose as you walked in. His cologne, you thought, or maybe his after shave. His walls were mostly bare, but the apartment itself looked lived in and clean – militant, even. You followed him towards his bathroom, looking over the few belongings he had near his bed. A copy of Moby Dick, a wallet, and a creased picture, tucked into the headboard. You let your eyes skip over the picture, not wanting to be too nosy and upset Pete five minutes after officially meeting him.  

He patted the bathroom counter as he opened his cabinet, indicating that he wanted you to sit there. You tried – you really did – but with one of your hands out of commission, it proved to be much more difficult than you’d expected. Strong hands gripped your waist and lifted you up, gently setting you on the counter. Pete continued to move around the room, not acknowledging the fact that he just had his hands on your waist, and you watched as he pulled out gauze, antiseptic, needles, and stitch material.  

Your leaned over, looking into his first aid kit, which reminded you more of a combat casualty response kit rather than a simple kitchen one.  

“My first aid kit definitely doesn’t look like that, Pete.” His lips pulled into a tight smile, but he didn’t respond.  

Gently, he grasped your hand and pulled it closer. Your knuckles lightly brushed against his abdomen.  

“You never told me your name. This is gonna hurt, by the way.” 

“Wait, what–oh!” You yelped as Pete pulled the shard of glass out of your hand. He was quick to add pressure to the cut, which was bleeding profusely, once again.  

“Sorry,” Pete winced, grabbing the antiseptic off the counter, “your name?” 

Your name slid through gritted teeth as he began to clean the wound. It stung, but you knew the worst was yet to come. You’d gotten stitches exactly one time in your life, when you had slipped on a patch of ice and busted your forehead open, and you weren’t keen to experience the pain of a needle sliding through flesh again.  

He began to stitch the cut, holding your hand gently between his own. You leaned back against the mirror, breathing through the sting every time the needle re-entered your hand.  

“I’ve seen men twice your size faint at the sight of a needle, so you’re doing pretty good. Honestly. Pretty tough for such a small woman.” He murmured, focus shifting between your hand and your eyes.  

“You’re just saying that.” You huffed out a laugh.  

“I’m not.” He was grinning again. It was jarring to see his smile after growing so used to his furrowed brows and grim mouth.  

He finished the stitches and began wrapping your hand in white gauze. A slow process that required his hands to move around your wrist and arm.  

“Try not to take this off for a few days. Let the wound start the healing process, and once it gets better, I’ll take the stitches out for you.”  

You held your wrapped hand out in front of you, flexing the fingers a little. A sharp pain followed the movement, and you winced.  

“Don’t do that either,” Pete winced with you, “We’ll try again in a few days, yeah?”  

You nodded, hopping off the counter.  

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you. Do you like pie?” You asked, walking towards the door with him.  

“I like pie.” He affirmed, nodding his head once.  

“Any requests? I own a bakery a couple blocks away.” You asked, stopping at the door.  

“A bakery!” His question sounded more like a proclamation. It was the loudest you’d ever heard his voice, but even then, it was still softly spoken. 

“A bakery,” you repeated, “Do you like apple?”  

“I like anything homecooked, honestly.” His mouth had formed into a small smile.  

“Okay, Pete.” You smiled, walking through the door. It was then that you remembered the giant mess you had left in the stairwell.  

“Shit,” you groaned, “I still have to clean up.”  

Pete shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You’d probably end up spreading the mess around instead of cleaning it, seeing that you only have one hand in working order right now.”  

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to be a bother, and you’d already basically forced him into doctoring your hand tonight. You didn’t want to push it.  

“Yeah, I got it.”  

“Okay,” you looked around, not knowing what to do with your hands now that they weren’t being held by Pete, “Thank you.”  

“Anytime, little lady.” He responded, heading toward the stairwell.  

The next day, you spent entirely too long baking his pie. You had to be careful, and it did take longer since you really only had one hand to work with, but you knew you were taking your time because you wanted Pete to like the pie. From the small observation you’d been able to make from walking through his kitchen the night before, it looked hardly stocked. A couple of packets of tuna and a box of ramen. Probably only beer and mustard in his fridge. 

After you left work, pie safely secured in your delivery bag, you stopped at the Thai place around the corner from your apartment. You didn’t know what Pete liked, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person that would deny food simply because it wasn’t catered to his preferences.  

When you got home, you swiftly knocked on Pete’s door as you unlocked your own. You left your door open behind you – an open invitation to come over.  

Pete’s shadow spilled in from the dimly lit hallway. God, you thought, he really is giant, isn’t he? 

“Special delivery,” you called over your shoulder, “only because I don’t like being indebted to people, and since you saved me from going into financial debt. A double debt is not something I like being in the middle of.”  

“A double debt, huh?” He closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly by the front door and taking in his surroundings.  

“Come sit down. I got Thai food.” 

You talked with him for hours. About your late husband and how his death still affected you, even though it had been three years. About your bakery and how you’ve never been so busy in your life. Hell’s Kitchen being on the rise, supposedly, and how you couldn’t complain about the business, but how much you missed the regulars and the quiet.  

He opened up a little, telling you about his wife and kids dying, though he didn’t go into any details. He had nodded empathetically when you talked about your husband, agreeing that his own wife’s death was still affecting him. After you were both spent, he bid you goodnight and thanked you for the food and pie.  

You thought about the way his face had lit up after he had taken his first bite of pie. He’d leaned back, breathing deeply as he chewed.  

“That’s the best damn pie I’ve ever had.” He had mumbled after swallowing, shoving another forkful in his mouth.  

The next morning, when you opened the door to head to the bakery, a small potted plant was sitting on your doorstep. A replacement for the one you’d dropped down the stairs the other night. You smiled, gently setting it down on your coffee table, and headed to work.  

// 

The next few weeks flew by. Thanksgiving was fast approaching, so the bakery was busier than it had ever been. You’d made so much pumpkin pie one day that you swore you’d smell like pumpkin for the rest of the week. Hanging out with Pete quickly become a part of your daily routine. You’d get home from work, knock on his door, and he’d follow you into your apartment.  

Sometimes he cooked for you, claiming he would’ve been cooking anyways. You knew that probably wasn’t true, but you never called him on it. Other times, you’d bring home new desserts you were experimenting with, questioning him about the flavor combinations and the textures. It was a genuine friendship; one you’d grown to look forward to every day.  

You pondered your odd relationship with your neighbor as you walked home from work. Pete offered little about his personal life. You knew he worked in construction, but you didn’t know where. His wife and kids had died, but you didn’t know the details, and you didn’t ask. He would offer that information on his own, or he wouldn’t, and you were fine with that. He talked a little bit about his time in the Marines, but again, he didn’t give you many details about it. Your relationship was mostly him asking questions about you; your past, how you got into baking, where you grew up. You didn’t mind his silence. You recognized a man haunted by the ghosts of his past, and you didn’t pry. 

You made your way down the hallway, knocking on Pete’s door as you unlocked yours. A stilted grunt behind his door made you pause. You frowned. Pete was one of the quietest men you’d ever met. A grunt loud enough to carry through the door was cause for concern.  

Or, you thought, maybe he brought a girl home? A pang of jealousy hit your stomach. You hoped he didn’t have a girl in his apartment. You had only ever been inside once and you were, well, you.  

Another grunt, this one louder and laced with pain, had you dropping your keys. Pete was in pain. Did he get hurt at work? You didn’t let yourself overthink it when you banged on his door again. 

“Pete?” You called, knocking harder. “Are you okay?”  

Someone shuffled behind the door. Steps grew closer and you tensed. What if the person behind the door wasn’t Pete?  

Your shoulders visibly relaxed when Pete opened the door, though your face morphed into a frown when you saw the state he was in. His brow was soaked in sweat, he’d cut his hair, and his beard was gone. He was also shirtless, standing halfway behind the door. His pants, you noticed, were on, belt still in place. At least he wasn’t in the middle of fucking someone. 

“I need your help with something.” His voice was hoarse.  

“Okay.” You nodded, stepping forward to enter the apartment. He held his hand up, stopping you.  

“I need you not to freak out, okay?”  

Your curiosity was piqued. You agreed to his terms with a small nod and then reared back when he fully opened the door.  

There was a small bullet hole in his shoulder, blood smeared down onto his chest. Your eyes widened.  

“Pete, we have to get you to a hospital!” 

“No, no hospitals. I didn’t make you go, did I?”  

“That was a small cut! This is a bullet hole! You do realize you’ve been shot, right?”  

He ushered you through the door, shutting it and locking it behind you. Your back was pressed against it, standing chest to chest with Pete.  

“The bullet didn’t go all the way through, and I can’t get it out. I need you to get it out.”  

Your eyes widened even further. “Oh god.”  

“Don’t freak out, you hear me? I need you to do this for me.”  

“Pete...” You mumbled, looking into his stern gaze. “Who shot you?”  

“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” He winced again as he moved towards the bathroom. You quickly followed, not sure what else to do.  

He sat down on the toilet lid and looked at you expectantly. You paused, contemplating how you’d gotten into this, then moved towards the sink.  

“Let me just wash my hands first.” 

Pete winced as you set your cold hands on his shoulder.  

“It’s in there deep. You gotta dig.”  

“I just...dig my fingers in there?” You asked, horrified. He nodded once, taking a deep breath.  

The squelch of the wound was the only sound in the air as you dug your fingers into his shoulder. He immediately tensed, clenching his fist. His other hand dug into your hip. You tried to focus on the matter at hand instead of the fact that this was the first time he’d touched you since the night he’d stitched your hand up.  

Your fingers wrapped around the bullet, tugging slightly. Pete let out a low groan, resting his forehead against your abdomen.  

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wailed.  

“’s okay. Get it out.”  

You pulled the bullet out, placing it on the counter. Pete sagged with relief; forehead still pressed against you.  

“You have to tell me what to do next. I’ve never done this before. I’m a baker.”  

“A damned good one, too,” He mumbled, sitting up, “Just wash it with that water bottle,” he tilted his chin towards the bottle sitting on the counter, “cover it with Vaseline, then gauze.”  

You breathed, reaching for the bottle.  

You began to clean the wound, Pete focusing on your face as you worked.  

After you finished bandaging him, you arched your eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the explanation he had promised you. 

He sent you a tight smile, grunting as he stood.  

“You’re gonna need a beer for this.” 

// 

“So, your name isn’t really Pete, you’re technically dead to most of the world, you got shot in the woods while trying to help one of your old military buddies, and you have an unusually high pain tolerance?” You listed off, counting on your fingers as you went. You’d added that last part on your own.   

Pete-Frank nodded, sipping his beer. You were both sitting on his couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table. His foot lightly tapped yours. 

“You mad?”  

“Why would I be mad, Pe-Frank?”  

“I lied to you. For weeks. Then I made you dig a bullet out of my shoulder.”  

You shook your head. “I’m not mad. I don’t think,” you shrugged, “I think I’d do the same thing if I was in your position. Or I’d want to, at least.”  

“Okay.” He nodded.  

“Okay.” You echoed. 

You sat in comfortable silence with him, slowly sipping your beer.  

He sighed, setting his beer down on the table and turning to face you.  

“When my wife died...” he started, “and my kids, I couldn’t just...accept it. I had to do something. I had to make someone pay.”  

You nodded, setting your bottle down on the table next to his. Your knees brushed his as you curled your legs in. 

“That doesn’t bother you? That doesn’t make me crazy in your book?”  

“You don’t hurt women and children, right?”  

He shook his head.  

“Then no, it doesn’t bother me.”  

“You’d just accept that? I kill people.” His voice had risen. He sounded angry – upset even. He stood, pacing a little near the coffee table. 

“Are you seriously mad that I’m not mad?” You followed his motion, rising to meet him. Your chests were touching as you panted angrily. 

“I think you’re being unreasonable.” He stated, placing his hands on his hips.  

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Frank.” You copied him again, hands resting on your waist.  

He barked out a laugh. “You look ridiculous when you’re angry.”  

“I’m not angry. That’s what we’re debating right now, remember?”  

He grinned, shaking his head and shifting his body forward. You were now fully pushed up against him. You knew he was built, but you didn’t realize how insanely jacked he was until this very moment. You could feel the lines of his abs through your shirt.  

“I think you may be as messed up as I am.”  

“And why is that?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“Because I think you’re just as turned on about this as I am.”  

You scoffed, blush creeping up your neck.  

His hands made their way to your hips, wrapping around and pulling you against him. Your lips were inches apart, and you sunk into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, tongue scraping tongue. He ran his hands down your thighs, patting the back of them. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. He fell back, plopping on the couch and cupping your ass as you grinded into him.  

“What about your shoulder?” You panted, returning your lips to his.  

“I don’t care.” He mumbled against your lips, cradling your cheek in his palm.  

You groaned as he kissed you deeper. You pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it behind you. His hands quickly unclasped your bra, pulling it off of you and hurling it to the side.  

You stood and shimmied out of your pants. He slowly dragged your panties down, looking up at you for confirmation.  

“Any other night, I would take these off with my teeth. Kiss every inch of your body.”  

“Why don’t you?” You asked, watching him pocket the pink fabric. He lifted his hips up, undoing his belt and removing his pants. You were both now bare, sizing each other up. He leaned forward, pulling you on top of him again. His mouth left a wet trail up your chest, licking a stripe up your neck and sucking on a spot on your jaw. You groaned when he teased you with an almost-kiss.  

“Because” he said, nipping at your neck, “I’ve wanted this for too long. You’re here now, putty in my hands,” you smiled, grinding into him, “and I don't want to waste any time. I can’t wait any more. I want to taste you. Is that okay, baby?” 

“Yes,” you let out a breathy moan.  

He flipped you over, pushing you back on the couch. One leg rested on his uninjured shoulder, while the other was hanging off the side of the couch. His lips hovered over your heat. You could feel his heavy breathing and you began to squirm, begging him to touch you.  

“You want this, sweetheart?” He asks, grinning up at you.  

“Please. Please.” You sigh, begging. 

He dove in, tongue licking between your folds. You groaned, arching into him. He pulled back, running his tongue along his bottom lip.  

“Sweet.” He mumbles, a small smile forming on his face.  

You began to roll your eyes at his bad joke, but he was already lapping at your heat like a man starved. Your eyes did, in fact, roll, but towards the back of your head instead of around in a circle.  

Your body ached with need. Frank splayed his hand across your stomach, forcing you not to move as his tongue picked up speed. A growing heat formed like a knot in your stomach, and you knew you were seconds away from cumming all over his tongue.  

“Oh my god, Frank.” You moaned. 

“Y’gonna cum, baby? I’m not even in you yet.”  

You bucked your hips towards his mouth – or tried to, at least. His hand was still holding you down.  

“Please, Frank.”  

“Cum, baby.” His tongue returned to your heat, swirling around your heat. You felt the build up all the way down to your toes. He curled his arms around you when you tensed, cradling you as a wave of pleasure erupted from your core. Frank didn’t slow down or stop until you were completely spent, a sweaty, panting mess on his couch. The smirk on his face said it all – that was because of him, and he was proud of it.  

Your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t feel anything except Frank’s hands softly caressing your thighs. You lazily looked him over. He was glorious; hard muscle all over, a strong jaw, a big nose, an even bigger-. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” 

His voice snapped you out of your haze. You sat up, softly pushing him back into a sitting position.  

“Can I ride you, daddy?” You asked, sly smile on your face.  

He audibly groaned, grinding his hips up towards you. A daddy kink? You could definitely help with that.  

He murmured your name. “Please.”  

You sank down on him, groaning as he filled you to the brim. He tilted his head back, resting it against the back of his couch, eyes closed.  

You started to move, slowly at first to fully adjust to his size, and then faster. His hands tightened on your hips, helping you grind on him. Your body would probably go into shock after this. Your bodies were electric, grinding in sync faster and faster. He leaned forward, pulling your tit into his mouth. His tongue flicked across the nipple, looking up at you in awe.  

You stuttered out a moan, begging him to never stop touching you. Your body wasn’t even down from its last high, but you felt it building up again. You let out a low moan as he bucked up into you.  

“’m gonna cum, Daddy.”  

“Already?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. “You can cum on my cock as many times as you want, baby.”  

“Oh god,” you moaned, pleasure building up. You couldn’t tell where your body ended and where his began. He grunted as you squeezed around him. For the second time that night, an orgasm washed over you. You nearly screamed, clenching anything and everything you could get your hands on.  

“Cum in me, daddy. I’m on birth control. Cum in me.”  

Frank tensed up, groaning into your neck as he came in you. Warm spurts filled your hole, and you watched his face as he came down from his high. His eyebrows were clenched together, eyes closed.  

You leaned against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. His hands ran across your back in hazy, sweeping motions. When both of your heartrates slowed, you moved, intent on rising off of him, but he stopped you, pulling you back down on his softening member.  

“You’re cute when you cum,” he mumbled into your neck.  

“You think I’m cute?” You ask, grinning.  

“Yeah, yeah, you’re cute. Don’t let it go to your head.” He returned your smile, kissing you softly.  

“I’d say you’re cute too, but I think ‘god-like’ is the better word to use.”  

“God-like, huh?” He nuzzled your neck, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down your shoulder. You groaned when he licked a particularly sensitive spot.  

“Round two, already?” He asked, nipping your skin.  

“Oh, god yes.”

End Note: I hope you enjoyed this! My goal was around 2,000 words, and then i ended up writing double that. I was going to split it into two parts but then decided against it. If you catch any mistakes, it’s probably because I drank rosé while writing this. Thank you for reading!!

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @alexxavicry

[arloelilly]

How would the turtles react to their pregnant s/o dropping something like a glass cup or mirror and then trying to clean it up? I know some writers don't care for the different species offspring thing so if you don't want to then my other one is

How would the turtles react to accidentally hurting their s/o during intercourse?

If you do decide to do the first one could you also do a bonus with Splinter's reaction? Maybe the guys are out on patrol and their s/o drops something.

Hmm, I am one of those writers that doesn't really care for the idea but I think this one could be kinda cute! And it's not that I hate the idea, it's just not my preference of writing since it's two different species, that kind of thing lol. Thank you for the ask! <3

[Edit:] Forgot Splinter's part so I just added it lol

Leo

*Crash* Leo's head darted in the direction of his room along with everyone else's. "What was that?" Raph asked after he stood up from lifting his bar and watched as Leo quickly put his katanas away and hopped down from the platform. "I don't know." He replied as he made his way to his room, a pinch of worry in his chest when he remembered you had gone up their to take a nap. Upon opening his door, he seen you on your knees trying to clean up the shattered pieces of glass from your hand mirror, your round belly making it difficult. "I got it." He hurriedly but carefully picked you up bridal-style and sat on you the bed before grabbing a broom and dustpan to clean up the sharp pieces. When he was done he knelt in front of you and picked your foot up to see if you were hurt. "I'm fine, I didn't step on any pieces." You smile gently and he nodded in return. "Just wanted to be sure." Leo said as he stood up a bit to plant a few small kisses along the side of your face as his hands caressed and rubbed your belly.

Raph

Mikey had been making you laugh while he played his game and told you jokes. Unfortunately, you've been pretty clumsy lately and dropped your glass of water when you started laughing again and your grip loosened. As soon as the glass hit the floor with a crash, the sound of dumbbells colliding with the floor followed and a rather overprotective Raphael was hopping down from his little gym area. "What happen? Mikey!" His voice was thick with warning as he barked at his little brother. Mikey was already standing up, hands raised in surrender when he seen the death glare on the red clad's face. "I didn't do anything bro, I swear!" Mikey defended, eyes wide. "Raph, I just dropped my drink is all. Could you get it for me please?" Your sweet voice was enough to entice the your brawny terrapin to grab a hand-broom and dustpan and clean up the pieces of glass all the while giving his littlest brother small glares. Ever since you told him you were pregnant Raph's whole demeanor changed slightly. He had to be in the same room as you and vise versa. His brothers were kind of amused by it but not as much when his protective behavior for you was directed at them. They didn't dare mess with him when it came to you.

When he was done, he decided now was a good time to take a break. Soon you were laying against him, your back resting against his plastron while he played with Mikey. His muscular arms curved around the sides of your round belly comfortably as he held his controller, occasionally nuzzling or kissing the top of your head.

Donnie

Would check up on you every hour of the day. Sometimes it would be glances or when you were feeling ill he'd have you resting in his room and spend time with you. He had absolutely no problem taking time away from his work when you wanted him by your side and he was happy with how patient you were with him when he really had to focus on something. He too tended to be overprotective over you, so, when he knew you were in the kitchen talking with Leo and he heard something slide off the counter or table and crash to the floor, he immediately pushed out of his seat causing his chair to tip over before marching to the kitchen. "What did you do?" He snapped at his eldest brother when he seen him knelt down and cleaning up shards of glass. "Relax, I just dropped a bowl." "Relax? Do you not realize she could have been hurt?" Donnie snapped again as he picked you up bridal-style and Leo gave him quizzical look. "Donnie, she's on the other side of the table." He reasoned. "So? one of the shards could have flown across the floor and cut her!" You gave Leo an apologetic look while Donnie stomped out of the kitchen with you in his arms. Leo rolled his eyes and sighed, amused by his brother's new behavior. The rest of the day, Donnie had you stay close by, either in his lap while he worked at his computer or have you sit in a beanbag chair while you read a book, talked to him or browsed your phone.

Mikey

He was the sweet guy. So when Raph accidently dropped the bowl of fruit when trying to hand it to you, he, along with everyone else, wasn't expecting his littlest brother to blow up on him about how you could have gotten hurt. Raphael was shocked by this new behavior and didn't know how to react at first. "Jeez, alright Mikey! I'm sorry, damn." He apologized as he knelt down to help his little brother pick up the fruit and shards. When Mikey wasn't looking, Raph gave you a playful smile since he found Mikey's outburst pretty funny. You returned the smile apologetically and gently rubbed Mikey's bicep to soothe him. After they cleaned the mess, you were sat in Mikey's lap while he played his game, cuddles, kisses, and all for the rest of the night and when you needed something, he had Donnie watch you while he went to go retrieve it.

Splinter

"No, no, allow me!" Splinter had been meditating until his ears perked up at the sound of something shattering. His sons were out patrolling and the only other person in the lair was your plump self. He was quickly on his feet to investigate the noise. When he spotted you bent over on your knees to to pick up the shards of glass, he was quickly by your side to help you back up. "Sorry, I've been really clumsy today." You chuckled sheepishly. "Do not worry my dear. I'll take care of the mess, you just have a seat and rest for a moment." His voice held so much care and made you smile. Splinter quickly made you a cup of tea to help you relax before he clean the mess. Afterwards, he visited with you until his sons returned.

[wicked-mind]

Last Love: Part Two

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Aftermath of domestic abuse, swearing, bitchy mom alert.

Note: This is a small part two because we needed so see more of these two together (:

Part One Here

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

From the moment you told Bucky you love him, he was more motivated to show you how much he loves you. You still had your struggles but Bucky was doing everything he could to show you how much you meant to him. He would pull you into his arms every night and whisper sweet things in your ear until you fell asleep and when you had nightmares, he would wake you up and wipe your tears away as he listened to what you had dreamt of before saying all the right things to make you feel safe again. Steve lived with Bucky so it took a little bit for you to stop flinching when they would start to howl with laughter, but you eventually joined in the laughter when they joked with each other.

It was almost Christmas time again and you were having struggles with the memories of how the last holiday season went. Your nightmares were more frequent and you were in no way in the holiday spirit. You tossed and turned in the bed until Bucky’s arms found you, pulling you against his chest so your face could nuzzle into his neck.

Bucky loved having you next to him. He loved everything about you. He loved the way your nose scrunched slightly when you tried to hold back a laugh or when he would catch you singing softly to yourself when you didn’t think anybody was around. Most of all, he loved having you in his arms and the honor of being the man to keep you safe and love you. After pulling you into his chest, he lets one hand stroke through your hair while the other rubs your back, “Still having bad dreams, babydoll?” He murmurs out to you sleepily, keeping his eyes closed as he rested his head on his pillow.

You nodded into his neck, sniffling a little against his skin as you held back tears. You hated crying from your nightmares. It made you feel like you were still being haunted- like Charlie still had a hold on you, “Yeah… Sorry I woke you.”

Bucky opens his eyes to see his room lit up from the sunlight peaking through the windows and scoots away a little bit to be able to look into your sleepy eyes, moving his hand from stroking your hair to cupping your cheek in his palm, “No need to apologize, sweetheart.” He said with a small smile before pressing his lips to your forehead for a comforting kiss, “How about I make us some breakfast?”

You smile softly up at him, “Blueberry pancakes?”

Bucky nods to you with a smile, “Of course, I’ll even make you some bacon.” He said before dragging himself out of the bed and pulling on some grey sweats. He headed for the door but stopped before he opened it, looking back at you in his bed like he did every morning. It was his favorite thing to see everyday- you looking over at him while tangled in his sheets, “God, you’re gorgeous.” He told you with that crooked grin before heading out the door to go start breakfast.

Once you managed to get yourself dressed in some jean shorts, a white tank top, and one of Bucky’s red flannels, you brushed your hair and teeth before making your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes sleepily. Your eyes focused on Bucky when he let out a whistle toward you, blushing and taking a seat at table.

Bucky grinned, he loved seeing you wearing his clothes. It just imprinted more in his mind that you were finally his as you were always meant to be, “Damn, doll.” He said over to you while he flipped some pancakes onto a plate, “I thought you looked gorgeous in my sheets…” He carried the plate over and placed it in front of you before placing a finger under your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His lips parted as he ran his eyes up and down you one more time, his tongue flickering out to trace his bottom lip at the sight of you before his pearly whites softly bit down with a small groan passing his lips, “But you in my clothes is a whole other level.”

You blushed at his words, your eyes watching his tongue trail along his bottom lip. He knew what he was doing to you, making your breath catch in your lungs. Luckily, you were seated so you didn’t have to rely on your legs that always felt numb when he talked to you like that, “I like wearing your clothes, smells like you.” You say softly back to him, reaching up a hand to tangle in the back of his hair and pull his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

Bucky groans at the feel of your lips on his. You were like his favorite liquor- making him love drunk with every touch. Every touch from you felt like a gift to him. He couldn’t begin to describe the fire you made him feel. He places one hand on your thigh and the other on the back of your neck, pulling your lips rougher against his and took advantage of the small whimper that passed your lips for his tongue to sneak into your mouth, entangling with yours. Finally pulling away for oxygen, he leans his forehead against yours, “Your pancakes are goin’ to get cold, doll.” He said with that crooked grin, “We can finish that up later."

While you two ate, you discussed the plans for the day. Bucky said he had to go to work for a little but should be back soon and you told him you had to return some books to the library and pick up some new ones to read. You stood up with your plate, on the way to the sink when you ran your hip into the side of the counter, dropping the glass plate to the floor and watching it shatter to pieces. You gasped and brought your hands up to your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you look over to Bucky. Anytime you broke something with Charlie it was met with yelling and a few hard slaps to your face. You started spewing out apologetic sobs, “Oh god… I’m.. I’m sorry…”

Bucky stood, noticing the way you reacted and how your eyes immediately started releasing tears. He walks slowly towards you, “Shhh, doll.” He said gently, “It was an accident.” He gently wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, placing you seated on the counter, “Are you okay? Didn’t step in any glass did you?” He gently takes your cheeks into his palm, looking into your eyes with a comforting smile.

You shook your head, “N-no.” You whisper to him, your body shaking slightly in muscle memory as you expected to be punished for breaking the plate, “I’m really sorry… It was my fault and-“ “Stop, sweetheart.” Bucky said softly, cutting you off, “It was an accident. Accidents happen.” He said before gently placing a kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to apologize. Nobody is upset with you and nobody is going to hurt you. Now breathe with me, okay? In….. Out…”

You breathed in deeply with Bucky’s words and slowly released the air in your lungs, feeling yourself calm down. You did it a few more times with him before reaching up a hand and wiping your tears away on the sleeve of his flannel you wore, “I’m sorry, Bucky..” You breathed out to him, slowly leaning your head on his shoulder, “It’s been bad lately with the holiday coming up… I know you’d never hurt me.”

Bucky wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling to himself at your warmth you always brought him when you were close, “I know, doll.” He whispers back to you, “I know it’s a hard time for you and that’s alright. I’m here for you.”

After you helped Bucky clean up the shattered plate from the floor and the rest of the dishes from breakfast, you gave him a tight hug and a soft kiss before he left for work. He lovingly stroked your cheek with his calloused fingers and told you that he loves you as he did everyday before he left for work. You managed to talk Steve into going to the library with you, though it didn’t take much convincing. He was happy to help you out especially since he knew you were having such a hard time. Plus there were some new books he wanted to give a read also.

“Thanks for coming with me, Stevie.” You said with a small smile up to him as you walked into the library and placed your books into the return slot.

Steve gave you a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his jeans, “No problem, haven’t been here for a while. I need to catch up on some reading.”

“I’ll be over there if you need me.” You said, pointing over to a section of the library before making your way over. You usually would check out a mixture of books from fantasy to art books but today you felt the need to glance over the self-help books. Maybe there would be something that would help you figure out how to get rid of the hold you felt Charlie still had over you. You grabbed one of the books off the shelf, flipping through the pages and reading some of the passages when you heard a woman clear her throat. You turn your gaze to look at the older woman and instantly froze. Charlie’s mother, Rose.

“Y/N.” The woman said to you, “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

You bit into your cheek hard enough until you could taste copper in your mouth from blood, “Yeah… Hi, Rose.”

“It’s Mrs. Baker to you now, Y/N.” She said, folding her arms and giving you a soft glare.

As long as you have known Charlie’s mom, you two didn’t get alone. Anything you had ever done in her eyes was never enough and she would always criticize saying that Charlie needed to teach you to be a better woman, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.” You said softly, looking down to the floor.

Rose took the book from your hand in one swipe, “What are you doing in this section?” She asks before reading the cover of the book, “Your Life After Trauma: Powerful Practices to Reclaim Your Identity….” She scoffed and looked at you, “Still living a lie? Going around telling everybody that my son hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, instead biting onto your cheek again as you looked at her with sad eyes.

Rose pushed the book back to your chest, forcing you to grab ahold of it. She took a step closer to you, pointing one of her fingers in your face, “My son tried with you. Tried to turn you into a woman worthy of being his wife even though I told him you were a waste of time.” She hissed out.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, suddenly appearing beside you after hearing some of the conversation. He had a deep frown on his face and was glaring daggers at the woman who seemed to be scolding you.

The woman looks at Steve before her eyes returned to you, “I wouldn’t trust this one, young man. She’s a liar and a manipulator- she will ruin your reputation.” She hissed out before turning to walk away.

You frowned and walked forward, “I’m not a liar, Mrs. Baker.” You said, finding your courage as you gripped the book in shaking hands, “Your son is a monster. Anything that has been done to his reputation is his own fault from the way he beat me. You should be just as upset that he dared to lay a violent hand on a woman.”

Mrs. Baker turned to face you, listening to your words with narrowed eyes. Once you finished your piece, she scoffed at you with a roll of her eyes before walking away.

Steve walked forward to stand beside you and looked at you as you still stared off after her, tears slowly slipping down your face as you clutched the book tightly to your chest. He sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder softly, “You alright?”

You sniffled and nod slowly, blinking yourself back into reality, “Yeah… That was… That was Charlie’s mom…” You stammer out quietly, looking down at the floor again.

Steve let out another sigh and a shake of his head. Geez, you couldn’t catch a break, “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of the books you want then we will go out for some feel good food.” He said softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to help you feel safe. He had taken on the role as a big brother to you over the past year and hated seeing you upset almost as much as Bucky did, “Burgers, fries, and milkshakes on me.”

You nod and gave him a half smile before returning to quickly picking out the books you wanted. Steve stayed close to you in case Charlie’s monster of a mother came back to give you another earful, walking you up to the counter to check out your books before heading to the car and stopping at one of the diners. You sat across from him, dipping fries into your chocolate milkshake. You were already feeling a little better after the horrible interaction with Charlie’s mom. You eyed Steve suspiciously when he kept ordering more baskets of fries even though both of you were barely touching them, already full from the burgers, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Steve looked at you with a small smile, leaning back in the opposite side of the booth, “Me? Up to something?” He asks, “Never.”

You point a french fry at him, your eyes narrowing, “You’re lying.” You stated before dipping your fry in your chocolate milkshake, “But you bought me food so I’ll let it go. For now.”

You had been out of the house for hours with Steve and you knew he was distracting you but couldn’t figure out why. Eventually Steve checked his phone before waving the waitress down for the check where you two argued about splitting it before he ended up paying for the whole lunch. You kept eyeing him suspiciously the whole car ride home as he wore a big goofy grin on his lips like he knew something you didn’t. When he pulled up to the house, you saw Bucky’s truck in the driveway and you look over to Steve, “I thought he was working today?”

Steve smiled over to you, pulling in the driveway and turning off the car, “He was working. Just not at work.” He informed, getting out of the car.

You get out and follow him up the steps of the house, giving him one last suspicious look as he opened the door for you. You walked in and froze, looking around the living room. It was like Christmas had literally just thrown-up all over the house. There was a tall tree in the living room decorated beautiful, fresh poinsettias on every surface and stockings hung up on the mantle with yours, Bucky’s, and Steve’s names on them written sloppily in silver glitter. Then your eyes fall on Bucky who was standing there with a Santa Hat on and holding a box wrapped in gold wrapping paper, “Bucky…” You breathed out as you walked towards him.

Bucky set the present down on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he wore that big cocky grin on his lips, “Figured you needed some Christmas Spirit…” He murmurs out to you before pressing a kiss to your lips, “You didn’t get a Christmas last year because of all the shit. So I’m going to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had, sweetheart.”

Your lips slowly curved up into a smile at him, your eyes for the first time in a long time filling with happy tears, “It’s beautiful and perfect.” You whisper to him, wrapping your arms up and around his neck, “Thank you.”

Bucky smiles, kissing your cheeks as the tears fell to kiss them away, “Almost perfect.” He said, releasing you from his grasp and picking the gold wrapped present back up and holding it out for you, “This is for you. Early Christmas gift.”

You took the box, gently unwrapping the paper and setting it aside before opening the box. You gasped at the nutcrackers staring back at you. Almost similar to the ones your grandmother had given you, the ones Charlie had broken last year. You gently ran your fingers over one of their faces, “They’re almost the same…” You whisper out, swallowing a sob. You suddenly frown up to Bucky, “I didn’t get you anything…”

Bucky grabs the box of nutcrackers, putting it down on the coffee table before wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as his other hand went up to the back of your neck, “Yes you did.” He replied with a grin, “You gave me your heart and love. That’s the best gift I could’ve ever received, sweetheart.”

You smile and blush at his words, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his soft ones, pushing yourself against his body until he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with a soft giggle, “I can think of another gift to give you…” You whisper with another giggle after trailing kisses up his jaw, smiling when you heard a small groan pass his lips.

“Dear god, at least take it upstairs.” Steve interrupts, adverting his eyes from the view of you tangled in Bucky’s arms, legs around his waist as Bucky’s hands had moved to rest on your ass.

“Gladly.” Bucky growls out, tightening his grip on you as he started for the stairs to take you up into the bedroom. He moved his hands to squeeze your bottom slightly as you left lingering kisses along his neck, nipping at his skin. He groans again then chuckles, “Oh, sweetheart… I love you.”

_____________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday@stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd

@shawnie--jo @bvckys-doll Here is the part two for Last Love since we needed some fluffy happiness (:

[whumpinggrounds]

“Let Me See”

For @febuwhump day 5, it’s Liam and Delilah!

Tagging @hearse-song, @whumpy-writings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @brutal-nemesis, @deluxewhump, @diyalogues, @lonesome--hunter,

CW: male whumpee, big whumpee, little whumper, female whumper, accident, cuts, glass, creepy whumper, long term captivity

She’s been letting him help with the chores, and honestly, Liam’s grateful. The busywork isn’t exactly fascinating, but it’s something to do. The cabin was getting a little gross around the edges, anyway.

With a broom and a wet rag in hand, Liam tackles the chores around the cabin with a vigor that makes Delilah giggle from her place on the couch. Under her amused, watchful gaze, he scrubs a counter that looks like it hasn’t had a good wash in decades, and sweeps cobwebs out of the corner that are probably older than he is. He’s almost proud of himself, padding across the cabin on nearly healed feet. It hardly hurts to walk, now, and he’s doing something useful, seeing real results. After weeks of hopelessness, confusion, and pain, it’s a lifeline. It’s a shot of pure relief.

After sweeping and scrubbing it’s time for dishes, and then Liam hits a pause. He doesn’t want to go sit on the couch again, he really doesn’t. Not where Delilah can reach him, not when the only thing he has to think about is what she’s going to do to him next.

“Can I…” he casts around desperately, searching for some sort of chore. “Can I, uh…”

Rolling her eyes affectionately, Delilah nods. “I’ll come up with something for you to do.”

Over the next few days, Liam cleans the house from top to bottom. He makes the bed. He refolds all of Delilah’s clothes, trying hard not to think about the fact that his wardrobe has been reduced to the dirty clothes he’s wearing. He sweeps the bedroom, scrubs the bathroom. At the end of it, the cabin is just too small and just too clean. He’s standing there sweeping the same patch of ground over and over again when the sound of shattering glass interrupts his haze.

The cup Delilah was drinking from is in pieces on the floor. Slowly, disbelievingly, Liam glances up at Delilah. Her eyes are wide, and she seems genuinely surprised. “I’m so sorry, honey! I…I don’t know what happened. It must’ve slipped.”

“That’s, uh, that’s okay.” Liam moves toward the puddle of water, unsure whether to mop up the water first, or sweep up the glass. Before he can even reach that decision, there’s a sudden, sharp pain piercing his foot. “Ow! Shit!”

Delilah starts right off the couch. “Oh, darling, is it-”

“There’s glass in my foot.” Liam stops, not sure how to handle this. “I can...I can clean up the mess, but I’ll get blood on the floor-”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” Delilah is off the couch, floating toward Liam. Somehow, she manages to avoid each and every sharp and shining shard of glass and makes it unharmed to Liam’s side to throw her arms around his waist. “Don’t think about that now. That’s not important now. Come here. Come sit down on the couch. Where are you hurt? Let me see.”

Safely seated on the couch, Liam sets his foot up on his knee for Delilah’s inspection. Wincing sympathetically, she pokes at the bloody gash. Sitting there, tense as a live wire, Liam flinches almost preemptively at the sudden spike in pain. “There’s still some glass in there,” Delilah reports regretfully. Without asking or waiting, she reaches in with two delicate fingers and draws out the clear, inch long dagger.

Once again, Delilah strides unharmed right through the middle of the mess, returning with hydrogen peroxide and towels and gauze. The rubbing alcohol makes Liam groan through gritted teeth, feeling like it’s eating its way through his foot as it works. Next, it’s gauze, and then a tight bandage that at least provides some soothing pressure.

Then Delilah sits back, satisfied with her work, and Liam looks down at a crisp white bandage that’s cleaner than any other part of his body. He attempts a smile at Delilah. “Thank you for, um, for cleaning me up.”

Delilah shakes her head, looking stricken. “It was my fault for dropping the glass,” she frets, and Liam can’t tell if she’s acting or not. Staying with Delilah is really messing with his head. That, or it’s becoming less and less clear what is and isn’t real.

Anyway, what’s real doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Liam smiles at her again, the same small smile, and forgives her. “I know you didn’t mean to,” he tells her softly. “It’s not your fault. I’ll – I’ll just get the rest of this glass cleaned up so that you, um, you don’t hurt yourself walking around like I did.” He sets his foot back on the ground and really, it hardly hurts. It’s just a dull, hot throb in the ball of his foot, and he had way worse after trying to run.

Before he can stand and put real pressure on the wound, Delilah’s small hand is on his chest, pushing him back against the couch. “Darling, no,” she tells him, lips pursing. “You stay right there. Keep your weight off that poor foot. You’ve been working so hard for me that you hurt yourself! Now it’s my turn to look after you.”

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Liam sits back against the couch and wonders what the hell that means.

[winchester-purgatory]

My brother’s best friend | Dean Winchester (part 1)

Summary: Dean visits his brother in Palo Alto...and fall for the redhead crashing in Sam’s bed

Word count: 1.8k

-

Palo Alto, California 2004

''Are you kidding me?'' Sam grumbled as he checked through the peephole of his small apartment, seeing his big brother on the other side.

It was rare - very, very rare - that Dean would visit him. He'd rather vagabond from states to states in his precious Impala than visit his little brother who was in college, getting a degree, aka doing something of his life.

The only times he'd visit was if something happened to their dad - or when he needed something. Nine times out of ten, it was the latter.

Although they had been raised by the same man, the two brothers were very different. Their lifestyle, by example, was polar opposite. Sam was pursuing law studies and planned on become a criminal lawyer while Dean prefered to jump from states to states - or, in Sam's words, from bed to bed - without ever settling. He was also a walking trouble, always getting himself tangled in some messy crap.

When they were kids, their uncle Bobby used to joke and said that Sam would help Dean get out of jail one day. He couldn't be closer to the truth.

Reluctantly, Sam unlocked and opened the door, skipping the greetings. ''What are you doing here?'' he hissed at his brother, keeping the door as closed as possible - and blocked - so Dean wouldn't peek inside or simply invite himself in.

''Hello to you too, Sammy.''

''What do you want?'' Sam demanded.

''Who said I needed something? Can't I miss my little brother?''

If Sam hadn't known his brother so well, he would've believed him. But, this was Dean.

''It's almost midnight and I have class at eight, Dean. I don't have time for placotage. What is it this time? Your girlfriend dumped you? You're out of money? Whichever, I can't do anything. I'm just as broke as you.''

He wasn't always this intolerant, but school had been stressful these past weeks and the younger Winchester was running on short nights and large coffees from all his hard studying. Therefore, he wasn't in the mood to deal with Dean's bullshit.

Dean rolled his eyes. ''I'm not here for money. I just need a place to crash. I was at this car expo with some guys from the auto shop I work at and, instead of spending a handful on a shitty motel, I thought of you and your old couch.''

Auto shop? Last time they spoke, he was working night shifts at a 7/11. That's an upgrade, Sam noted.

''Nice of you to think of me, but you can't stay here. I...I sold the couch. And, I have to study for-''

I sold the couch? Try again Sammy.

Not letting the brunet finish, Dean ignored him and pushed the door wider, walking in as if it was his place.

He glanced around the small apartement, the office lamp on the desk creating a dim light throughout the whole place. Like Dean remembered, the appartement was cramped. You could barely fit any furnitures beside a couch, a desk and a bed. It was a college student appartement, you can't expect too much. He immediately remarked the laptop set up on the desk with a pile of papers ant textbooks, mimicking the same set up Sam had in his old bedroom.

''Dean, I said-''

Panic rose inside Sam, whirling around and trying to push the blond out of his apartment, but it was too late. He had seen her. The fire haired girl sleeping peacefully in Sam's bed.

A smirk formed on the older's lips, turning his head in Sam's direction. ''Is that what you were trying to hide from me? From Dad? That you had a girlfriend? Oh Sammy. Always been shy about that stuff...''

Sam closed the door and sighed. ''She's not my girlfriend. And, keep it down, will you?''

Dean cocked an eyebrow. ''Why is she sleeping in your bed then, uh?'' He shook his head, smirking, convinced that he had demasked his brother. ''You know, Sammy, you've never been the master liar between the two of us. Is that why you ignored Dad's calls? Because you were too busy-''

''Dean,'' Sam hissed, narrowing his eyes in warning, not letting him time to finish his sentence.

He knew how filter-less his brother was and, even though the redhead was sleeping soundly, Sam would rather not risk her waking up to some dude she didn't know was insinuating events that never happened between she and Sam. That would be creepy and awkward.

Dean rolled his eyes. ''Right. I forgot how much of a prude you are.''

''She's a friend,'' Sam insisted, sighing with tiredness. ''She got into a bad argument with her boyfriend and needed a safe place to stay.''

''And you're trying to make me believe nothing happened under the sheets?'' Dean sank into Sam's couch and shook his head disapprovingly. ''You're such a let down, Sammy... How can you let a hot girl crash in your bed and pass the opportunity for a good time?''

''Because, unlike you, I think with my brain instead of my dick. She needed a roof, Dean, not a new dick.''

Dean smirked. ''Look where that got you.''

.

Like always, Dean got what he wanted and crashed at Sam's.

Well, he 'accidently' fell asleep on the couch while his brother was studying, giving Sam no choice but to let him sleep after trying times and times to wake him unsuccessfully.

The sound of glass clashing and shattering pulled Dean from his sleep. He sat up, a bit startled by the noise, and squinted his eyes at the harsh morning light shining straight in his eyes. Does Sam not have blinds or something?

''Shit,'' slipped a feminine voice.

Dean rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the change of light and glanced around, catching the redhead from last night standing at the 'kitchen' area of Sam's appartement. She was wearing one of Sam's old tee shirt, her long hair cascading down her back. Dean bit down him bottom lip.

''Everything okay?'' he asked, trying to see what happened.

''Yes!'' responded a feminine voice. ''I just dropped and broke a plate. It's nothing.'' She bent down to clean her mess, using a towel to pick up the broken pieces.

Humming, Dean stretched his arms over his head, his back aching from Sam's raggedy couch, and stood. He should get a new one, this one sucks.

''Sorry for waking you,'' she apologized, running a hand through her hair, tucking a piece behind her ear in slight embarassement. ''I was trying to make coffee and...I don't know how it happened.''

''Apologies accepted if you tell me there's coffee left,'' Dean bargained with a sly grin.

The redhead stood and nodded at the coffee machine before throwing the broken pieces of plate in the trash. ''Lucky for you, there's enough left for a cup.''

Picking up a cup from Sam's perfectly neat cupboard, the blond poured the last of coffee, not bothering to rinse the empty carafe. Sam will get on his back about it next time he'll use it, but it's not like Dean cared.

''I'm Juliet,'' the girl introduced, taking a seat in the desk chair as there wasn't any barstools or dinning table - not that there was any room for one. ''And you're Dean, Sam's brother.''

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. How did she know his name? He opened his mouth to ask, but she beat him.

''Sam left a note.'' She nodded at the sticky post-it on the top of the coffee maker.

Left for class. This is my brother, Dean. Don't hesitate to kick him out if he gives you trouble.

- Sam

Reading said note, Dean scoffed.

''I take it you're not on on Sam's good side,'' Juliet assumed, smiling behind her mug.

He shrugged, leaning against the small counter. ''Typical brothers.'' Dean took a long gulp of his black coffee, sighing at the burning feeling of the biter liquid as it passed through his throat. ''Sam and I are very different. Polar opposites, I'd say.''

Juliet looked him up and down and hummed affirmatively. ''I can see.''

At first glance, you wouldn't be able to tell they were brothers. Other than having very different facial features, their style was also contrasting. Although it remained along the lumberjack vibes - thanks to their father -, Dean was all about his fetish leather jacket and flannels while Sam was more of a polo and zip up hoodies person.

A phone went off, interrupting their small talk and Juliet checked the screen, knowing it was hers. She looked at the caller ID, face turning blank as she read the identifier. She let it ring.

''You don't pick up?''

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip, lowering her eyes on her bare thighs.

Dean didn't mean to pry, but he might have seen a guy's name on the screen. If he sticks to what Sam had told him last night, it must be her boyfriend - whom she got into a fight with.

''Want me to pick up?'' he suggested, lightening the mood, mild-joking.

''What?'' Juliet chuckled. ''No. I...I'll call him back later.''

Cocking an eyebrow, Dean gave her a look. ''Lie.''

Her blue eyes looked up and caught his green irises, holding an unsaid staring contest. As Dean stared into her eyes, he felt as if he could see through her like open doors. He could see how utterly unhappy she felt in all aspects of her life and it pulled at his heart.

Instead of admitting defeat, Juliet broke their stare and abruptly rose from her seat. ''Not that I don't like this morning chatter, but I have to get ready for work. My boss is going to have my head if I arrive late during lunch rush.''

It was almost eleven and, if she ran fast, she had a chance to get there in time.

She put her empty mug on the counter and skipped to the bed, retrieving some bundled clothes from a backpack at the end of Sam's bed.

''You work at a restaurant?''

''A diner,'' she corrected, fulmining though the bag for one more item before heading to the bathroom to change.

''Do you happen to serve pie at your diner?'' Dean asked, feeling hungry.

Knowing his Sam, he probably only had healthy snacks in his mini fridge and Dean was not about that life. He'll only eat lettuce when it's served with bacon and cheese...in a burger.

Peeking her head from the bathroom's door frame, Juliet flashed him a grin. ''Sure do.''

.

Just like that, Dean ended up sitting at some old fashioned diner's counter, eating a cherry pie with a scoop of ice cream, as recommended by the waitress.

''We don't usually serve it like that, but I'll make an exception for you,'' Juliet said, deposing the plate on the counter, right in front of Dean. ''After all, you saved me from getting fired.''

Dean smiled and thanked her before diving into the cherry goodness. God, he loves pie!

[jordanstrophe]

A Cinnamon Bun too Pure for this World, part 2

CW: Whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, offering themselves for punishment, beating and cutting implied, Whumpee trying to stay with whumper, panic attack, slapped, losing consciousness, 

Masterlist

(Brain fizzled, if there’s any types, shhh, no one will notice, right?)

Whumpee sat in the passenger seat with his hands folded politely in his lap. His eyes were wide with a mix of emotions of fear, sadness and loneliness. They had never been away from Whumper this long. It felt like every second that passed of them being separated added another hit to his inevitable punishment when he finally reunited with Whumper. 

Caretaker tried to keep their eyes focused, but he could see the boy trembling in the corner of his eye. “Can I ask your name?” Caretaker asked. The boy let out a shuttered breath when he was acknowledged, he was trying to answer, but no sound came out. 

Caretaker sighed with a small smile. “It’s okay, I know you’re frightened. You had a rough day.” 

Or was it a day? Whumpee seemed so comfortable with that man, he must have been with him awhile. Had he had a hard week? Month? Year? 

“Cin...” He heard the tiniest voice murmur beside him. Caretaker let out a genuine smile.

“Hi Cin, my name is Richard.” 

--

They pulled into the driveway, it was a cute house with a white picket fence surrounding it. Cin hardly looked up as the door opened for him, refusing to budge from the car. 

“I’m... Sorry.” Cin muttered. Richard’s smile faded.

“You’re fine, it’s okay if you don’t want to stay here, you’re free to leave whenever.” He tried not to sound upset or disappointed, but he hoped the man would stay for just a little bit, until he could get on his own two feet.

“N-no! It’s not that! It’s... I never should have left the hotel!” He cried with guilt. “He... He didn’t tell me I could leave! I should have stayed right where he l-left m-me!” He blubbered, his tone crashing into tears as he covered his face from shame.

“Sweetheart...” Richard’s face fell.

“H-he’s going to c-come back for me, right? If I just s-stay... Right where he left me. He’s going to come back. He has to! I can’t do anything without him, he said so himself!” Cin cried. 

Richard leaned against the car closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Cin, I’m so sorry, but he’s not going to come back for you.” He said. Cin’s cries grew louder and more helpless with his words. “But he wasn’t a good man, was he? Didn’t he hurt you?” He asked.

“No! Only when I deserved it! He was... He was-” His voice disintegrated as he stared off blankly into space. 

“When did you deserve it, Cin?”

He didn’t answer, he seemed completely lost in an ocean of a thousand thoughts and words. 

“Why don’t we get inside and settle in. I have a guest room you can stay in.” He tried to give him an excited smile.

Cin looked at him as he cleaned his face off. “H-hotel?” He muttered.

“No, I’m not taking you back to the hotel, it’s not safe there.” He extended his hand to him, as Cin’s hand instinctively shot out, wedging his wrist into Richard’s hand. He looked shocked he even did that for a stranger, but it was too late now as Richard shifted so he was holding his hand instead of his wrist. 

A soon as the front door open, there was a fluffy golden retriever waiting to greet them at the door. Her tail swishing back and forth even faster when she saw Cin, who instantly perked up and beamed with excitement. He started making a high pitch squeaking sound that Richard hoped was a good sign as he collapsed on his knees to greet the dog. 

“This is Daisy! She’s very friendly.” Richard smiled, Cin was already all over her with hugs and pets, ruffling her fur as she could hardly sit still with happiness. 

Richard let out a chuckle, “I’ll make some tea for us, do you want anything specific for dinner? Are you allergic to anything?” He asked.

Cin froze as he blinked up at him with nervous eyes. This was a test, right? Should he be honest? He was afraid if he lied he would get caught anyway and make things worse.

“I can’t hav-... I’m allergic to fish.” He admitted. “Got it! No fish.” Richard said, disappearing into the kitchen. Cin was still locked in place, not sure what to do, until he quickly snapped to his feet. 

“Wait! I can make dinner!” Cin called, bolting over to follow him. “But you’re a guest! I got this, you just sit down with tea and take it easy, mmaky?” Richard smiled, taking his hand and placing a warm teacup in it. 

“Eh?” Cin blinked down at the cup in his hands. He was a guest? “But-.. But I can’t do that, I have to help! Please, I can do this! I can be useful!” He pouted. 

“Alright! Alright, you can help, I appreciate it.” Richard chuckled, as Cin visibly relaxed with a relieved sigh. Cin did everything he was told, and executed quickly and flawlessly. He moved like a bullet anytime he was asked to grab this, put that away, add this. When he had nothing to do, he stood there like a stick soldier waiting for the next order. 

Richard put two full glasses and other things onto a tray. “Can you bring this to the table?” He asked. For the first time, Cin didn’t move. “You.. Want me... To what?” He asked, his head curiously tilted to the side. “Tray? To the table?” Richard asked. Cin looked genuinely scared of the tray sitting innocently on the counter. “It’s okay if you don’t want to!” Richard added. 

“No! I can do it.” He said with his voice trembling. “Are you... Are you sure? I can ge-” “-No! I can do it.” Cin mumbled as Richard raised an eyebrow. He tried to continue chopping vegetables while watching Cin with the corner of his eye. His hands were already trembling as he slowly placed them on each side of the tray. He braced himself as he lifted it, his heart jolting as he watched the glasses wobble dangerously. He turned his body around to the table, as soon as he got half way there, pain spiked through his left hand as it gave away. He let out a yelp as the tray hit the ground with both glasses shattering to pieces, scattering across the kitchen.

Cin slowly peaked his eyes open to see himself standing in a sea of broken glass. He couldn’t feel his hand anymore, or hear a thing. He only stood frozen with wide eyes looking at the awful mess he had made. 

n.. o...   no.... I didn’t... It was... no... an accident...  didn’t mean it...

‘I’m sorry’ His mouth moved, but no sound came out. His eyes widened when he realized there was no air in his lungs.

‘Cin, breath’ 

His eyes twitched when he finally heard something. 

‘Cin, breath!’

Breath? Breath what?

“CIN! TAKE A BREATH!” 

He gasped into reality when he felt a strike against his cheek, the air filling his lungs almost felt wrong. He blinked awake, he was laying on the ground in the living room in Richard’s arm.

“Why weren't you breathing!? Cin! You just... Stopped breathing! You scared me to death!” Richard cried, his face pale with terror.

“I’m sorry.” He rasped, finally, words coming from his lip. He sat up as Richard helped him, still supporting his back just to make sure he was okay. He was light headed as the room spun.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Richard asked. 

‘I’m sorry...”

“Cin,  are   you   okay ?” Richard asked sternly, grabbing his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry...” He muttered with a blank expression. Richard‘s eyes fell to his hand still clutched to his chest. He gently slid his hand in and took it, turning his palm around. There were inch long scars in the middle of his hand in multiple places. Robert’s heart dropped to his stomach when he realized what happened. It wasn’t because Cin didn’t want to pick up the tray, it was because he couldn’t.

‘Cin... Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Richard asked, as Cin’s hand immediately retracted and hid into his chest. He looked up at him with glossy eyes.

“Because I didn’t want you to think less of me.” He sniffled. 

“Why would I think less of you?! When did this happen?” He asked.

“About a year ago...” He muttered.

A year. He had been with that man for well over a year?! He stopped when he noticed Cin had been moving. He glanced up to see Cin had tugged his shirt off and set it to the side with his back turned to him.

“I-I’m ready.” He mumbled sadly, already beginning to cry silently as he hid his head in his arms against the floor. His back was colored black and blue from uncountable bruises and marks running down his arms. He looked as if he was thrown into a mixer. 

Richard opened his mouth to panic, but now it was his turn to be breathless. 

Cin waited for the belt or the rod to be brought onto his back. Usually his punishments had something to do with his stupidity as he realized he was probably going to be cut with the glass shards he littered the floor with. His skin crawled and shivered at the thoughts... Please just the rod... The rod was the easiest to ta-... What was he even thinking?! He didn’t deserve the rod, he deserved an appropriate punishment. But... The glass hurt so badl- His thoughts were interrupted as two arms wrapped around his chest, lifting him into his arms bridal style.

What... What is happening? He had never been carried like this before...

“No no no no this is too much.. Way too much for me.” Richard mumbled under his breath. Cin looked up at him with confusion as they both looked at each other like they were crazy. 

Cin jolted as he was laid down into a soft plush bed and bundled up in blankets. 

“Nope, I am in waaaay to deep over my head.” Richard continued to mutter under his breath, his face wide as if he had seen a ghost. 

“S-sir?” Cin asked with confusion, looking up at him with big eyes.

Richard plastered a fake smile on his face as he brushed Cin’s wavy ash blonde hair from his eyes as he blinked. 

“You’re alright sweetheart. I’ll bring you some dinner and a drink in a moment, okay? Just lie down and rest, you need to recover.” He said with a tone death voice. 

‘Recover? R-recover... From what?” Cin asked with a tilted expression. Richard didn’t answer as he mindlessly walked out of the door, gently closing it behind him.

- 

Richard gasped as his chest fell onto the table, his hands gripping into his hair. He hardly felt he was ripping hair out as he heaved for air. His back... That poor man’s back... It was unreal, inhuman, disturbing, horrifying... He collapsed his head on the table as he tried to shake the image from his mind. He had gotten himself buried into way more water then he could tread. 

He would bring him dinner and a drink and get some much needed rest... He would call the hospital and police first thing in the morning, they were much more qualified at taking care of him then he was. 

-

Cin was having an absolute blast getting comfortable in the new bed. It was so soft! So plush, so warm, it was like floating on a cloud! He stretched his arms over his head as he rolled around making the blankets wrap around his body over and over again. He froze half way as his eyes shot open. 

He hadn’t gotten punished yet. He didn’t get beaten, belted or sliced. What.. What did that mean? That meant his punishment was on hold until tomorrow, correct? Why wait so long unless... Unless this Richard man had to set something up for him? He... He broke two glasses! There must some horrible punishment waiting for him when he wakes up and-

He froze when the door opened again, Richard stayed true to his word and set a plate and cup down at the desk and quickly left. 

Cin shot up in bed as he looked down at the plate. The cup left for him was in a plastic cup instead of the glass one. He quickly drank the whole thing in one go, before looking down at the dinner

He didn’t deserve it...

-

It was late in the night, only the stars and moon in the sky were lit as Cin tiptoed across the living room floor. Daisy had noticed him awake and happily jumped around to greet him as he tried to shush her. 

“Shh! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He said sadly, slinking to the floor on his knees as he laid his head on her soft fur one last time. He quickly got up and slipped out the door, closing it behind his before Daisey could try and follow him. She stopped wagging her tail as the door shut, looking up at it with confusion, before spinning around and running into Richard's room. 

She jumped up on his bed and licked his face until he squirmed awake with a groan. 

“Hmmph... Daisey, noooo.” He tried, not even sounding authoritative. She let out a bark as he jolted, sitting up and trying to push her off the bed. She continued to bark and bark anxiously as Richard finally gave in and climbed out of bed. Daisy started running around the house in a panic, going from Cin’s door, to the front door. Richard blinked as he came to a realization and slammed Cin’s door open, revealing a perfectly made empty bed, the plate on the desk left untouched and a note sitting in the middle of the bed. He squinted as he flicked the light on and took the note~

Thank you for everything and I’m sorry

I’m going to go back to the one person 

who can put up with me

Richard instantly bolted, throwing his robe and grabbing his car keys as he was out the door in a flash.

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @pyromilka @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments  @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101​  @sillypizzazineoperator @as-a-matter-of-whump   Tagging prompt list one last time before switching to a specific list <3

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

[dreadpoetssociety]

That’s Not Some Girl, That’s My Sister

TW: Abuse, physical injuries

Request: 

I noticed you wrote Spencer X Sister!Reader. I was wondering if you could write a Penelope Garcia X Little!Sister!Reader. When their parents died Y/N was just born so she was put into foster care because Garcia couldn’t care for her. Garcia visits her every chance they get and they keep in touch 24/7. What Garcia doesn’t know is that Y/N is being abused at her foster home. When she turns 16 it gets so bad that she can barely move. One day she walks into the bau bloodied and bruised... (1/?) Morgan notices her, (The team doesn’t know she exists) and is like, “Hey kid you alright?” She drops to the floor and Garcia comes out to prep the team for a case and sees her on the floor. She drops her papers and runs over, holding her close. The team, who don’t know Y/N come out and ask what’s wrong and Morgan says that some kid walked in bleeding. Garcia gets defensive and says, “She’s not some kid, she’s my sister and her name is Y/N” They bring her to the hospital and... (2/3) and Garcia does her magic to get her foster parents arrested and she adopts her. And then the whole team welcomes her and it’s super fluffy ending? Sorry this was so long. Thank you so much❤️ If you don’t want to do this request you can delete it, sorry about that :) (3/3)

Note: Remember how I said there would be no fics tonight because I have school in the morning and didn’t do homework? Well, I lied. Please feel free to send me more requests! To those who already have, just know that I am working on ALL of them. Also, realizing now that I didn’t exactly stick to this prompt regarding the part where Y/N walks in and Garcia sees her, but hopefully it is still okay!!!

Penelope Garcia x Sister!Reader

()()()()()()

It wasn’t so much that Penelope Garcia had kept you a secret, but that you had never come up in conversation. Never once had anyone asked if the tech goddess had siblings. The team never found it their business to question after knowing the water of your parents. She also believed that the less they knew, the safer you were from the criminals that the analyst helped to catch.

Unbeknownst to her, however, this was far from the truth.

You never knew your parents like your sister did. You had just been born, and Penelope was deemed unable to care for you, you had no other family, so you wound up in foster care. You’d gone from house to house, family to family, but no matter where you were, you were always in contact with your elder sister. You were allowed to visit each other regularly, and those visits were the only thing you looked forward to. The only times you felt safe.

You were actually just leaving a visit for lunch with Penelope and walking towards her as you passed by a large building.

“Y/N, I didn’t even realized we walked by, but this is where I work!” the blonde said with a smile.

“Really? The FBI is just out here?” you asked.

“Pretty much.” she replied, and then her eyes grew wide and a gasp escaped her lips, “Oh my goodness, Y/N, you should visit sometime.”

“Finally!” you exclaimed, “I have ALWAYS wanted to visit, but didn’t want to invite myself.” your sister laughed.

“I haven’t really told them about you. I was never really sure how, but it seems like a good enough time now that you’re 16.” As you stepped closer and closer to the car, your mood began to drop, not knowing what pain would face you at home this time. You figured you could tell Penelope, but you’d been in many abusive foster homes, the most they would do is just move you to another one, if anything at all, and you could never ask your sister to take you in as her responsibility. From what she’s said, her job is very stressful, and you figured you would just add to that.

It wasn’t long before you were at your doorstep waving goodbye. Sighing, you turned and creaked open he door that led straight to your living hell. Joseph, your foster father, was on his stingy recliner, bottles of various different alcohols surrounded him. He himself, however, was asleep. You hated him. You could not wait for the day that you were set free from this place, the day you could finally fight him back. The man was a drunk, and a violent one at that. And even then, it’s nowhere near as bad than when he was sober. He knew how to hurt more when he was thinking straight. You tried to tiptoe around him to get to your room, but knocked something over, waking him up. Your heart genuinely stopped. You knew what would happen next.

The greasy man woke, and both of you locked eyes as he slowly sat up.

“Now, what the hell did I tell you about making noise?” he slurred loudly as he approached you, “Huh, brat?”

“I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident, it won’t happen again.” you said nervously. It was then that you both looked down at what had fell, and it was a glass decoration, which had now shattered into pieces. You knew you were in for it in that moment.

And Joseph didn’t hesitate. He hit you across the face, knocking you to the ground with your arm landing on some of the glass. You screamed out in pain, which resulted with more violence from the man standing over you.

“Clean it up!” he screamed, “Right now!” you tried to get up to get the broom, but he shoved you back down.

“With your hands.” he said. You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, when he put his foot on the top of your head, pushing your face down. Small shards cut up your cheek. You began to pick up pieces of the glass, one cutting you every now and then. Joseph kicked or punched every so often when he thought you were not doing a good enough job. By the end, you could barely move. You were bleeding everywhere, Joseph had knocked the wind out of you, hit and punched and kicked in any area he could have. At this point, you really thought you were going to die. And for a split second, you were almost relieved by the thought.

Eventually, Joseph passed out again on his recliner while you laid motionless on the floor nearby. It was then that you decided.  You didn’t care what happened to you next, but you were not coming back to this house.

()()()()()()

How you even made it to the building your sister pointed out to you earlier was beyond you.  It had taken you so long to move your body there that it was late at night now. You moved swiftly through the building, and reading the signs with the departments and their floors, you spotted the BAU. How nobody spotted you was also surprising. This was, after all, an FBI building, and you were a 16 year old girl who could barely stay conscious, bleeding from every pore and bruised at every inch.

The elevator brought you to a set of glass doors. There were desks everywhere, but most were empty. It seemed as though the room at the top of the small set of stairs was having a meeting, though, and you thought maybe Penelope was there. You hoped so badly that she was there. You got blood on the handle opening the door.

A man turned around from a coffee machine at the sound of your entering. He dropped his cup quickly and ran to you.

“Hey, kid? You alright?” he questioned, knowing that you obviously were not. You felt everything slipping away from you in that moment, and the world around you went dark.

‘

()()()()()()

“Guys? Get out here, now!” Morgan yelled as he fell with you to the floor, getting your blood on his shirt and his hands. Your whole team came rushing out of the room where Garcia had been briefing a case.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, practically jumping the stairs.

“I don’t know, this girl just came in and just passed out like this.” Morgan replied. Garcia had been behind Spencer, and when she stepped around him, her whole world was destroyed.

“Morgan!” she screamed, “That’s not some girl, that’s my sister, and her name is Y/N! Oh my god.” she ran to your unconscious body, dropping papers and a remote, and fell to her knees to hold you close. Spencer, even though he knew you had only just fell unconscious, walked over and put two fingers to your neck to check for a pulse, and was quite relieved when he found one.

“Call an ambulance,” Garcia sobbed, “please. Someone please.”

“An ambulance coming here would take too long given the traffic. It doesn’t seem to be fatal, let’s take her in one of the SUVs” Spencer suggested. Garcia nodded.

Morgan picked you up, JJ and Emily helped Garcia to the car, while Spencer drove since he would know the fastest route. Rossi stayed behind. You were asleep in the hospital for hours due to the fact that they kept you under in order to remove all the glass shards hidden throughout your skin. Your eyes and arms and torso were bruised heavily, but thankfully nothing was broken.

You were met with a group of people you’d never seen before when you woke up. Searching around the room you realized you were in a hospital bed, and soon enough remembered what brought you there.

“Huh?” was all you said. Penelope shot up instantly, smiling at you with tears in her eyes.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re awake. What happened to you?” she cried. You blinked for a few seconds.

“Garcia, she just woke up, she might not be able to talk about it, yet.” JJ reminded. It was quiet for a moment, until you spoke again.

“Joseph.” you said. You were waking up a little more now, pain spread through your body slowly and you winced with every move. Trying to sit up, you were quickly, but softly, pushed back down by a man in a black t-shirt.

“No, kid, you need to rest.” he said, “Who’s this Joseph? I just want to have a little chat.”

“My foster father.” you sighed. Everybody’s face in the room dropped, especially Penelope’s upon finding out you weren’t safe at home anymore.

“Y/N. . . “ she sobbed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it.” you shrugged, which send a chilling pain from your shoulder to the ends of your toes, and you groaned.

“Take it easy, kid.”

“Y/N M/N Garcia,” Penelope replied firmly, “You have not ever been, nor will you ever be a bother to me. Especially, ESPECIALLY, if you aren’t in a safe situation. I would do anything for you, Y/N. We’re getting you out of that house. When you’re in a dangerous situation don’t you ever think not to tell someone, Y/N.”

She thought for a moment, “In fact, we’re going to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’m going to adopt you. No more foster homes, we’ll be together more often, you’ll be safe.”

“Really?” you smiled.

“Yes, really. And we’re throwing Joseph in prison.” you’d never heard anger in Penelope’s voice like you were hearing right now. For a moment, you both cried together. You knew now that you should’ve mentioned it sooner, but that also you weren’t going to have to worry about it anymore. All the pain, it was going to go away. Not mentally, not completely yet, but you were never going to go home and be afraid of what would happen when you stepped through the door. Instead, you would be excited, for every laugh, every smile, every story, every memory that you were going to make with your sister. 

“By the way,” you sniffed, “who are all these people?”

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “This is my team! That’s Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, JJ, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan.”

“You,” you pointed weakly at Morgan, “you’re the one who calls her ‘Baby Girl.’” the man laughed.

“The one and only.”

“And you,” you pointed at Spencer, “you’re the genius one right? The one that does magic. Tell me a fact.”

“Uh,” he thought for a second, “V616 is the closest back hole to planet Earth. It’s actually 3,000 light years away. Also, black holes warp time and space. If you put a clock in a black hole, but you stood outside of it, it would actually appear to be ticking slower.”

“Of course.” Morgan says, “Of course you would know that.”

“She asked.” the tall man shrugged with a smirk, “I’ve got plenty more of those, too. And yes, magic tricks.”

You turned toward JJ and Emily, “You guys are like, her best friends.”

The two nodded, “Wouldn’t want to be anyone else.” JJ replied. Lastly, you turned to Hotch.

“Boss.”

“Yes.” was all he said in response.

“Why are you all here though?” you asked, “You don’t even know me.”

All of them were quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, when Emily spoke up.

“Garcia’s family. So you’re family.” the rest of them seemed to agree. You smiled at your apparently newfound family, “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

Although you ended up falling asleep from the drugs that they gave you for the pain, the next few days consisted of getting to know Penelope’s team. Spencer spent hours telling you things and doing magic tricks, while Morgan, JJ, and Emily told you stories of your sister while she sat and laughed. Hotch visited a few times here and there to check up and say hello.

You began to realize soon enough that a new chapter was about to begin, one without abuse, without Joseph, and with your sister that you looked up to more than ever, and her team that treated you like their own. In the beginning, you were told you might not have enough evidence on Joseph to get him arrested, which all of you found to be complete bull. You were completely laid up in a hospital because of him, but in the end, your tech genius sister “accidentally” happened across some illegal files embedded in his computer, along with multiple abuse complaints about him that just so happened to get the court to allow you to live with Penelope, and Joseph in prison.

[crescent-yoon]

only in my lucid dreams

part 5

"i don't believe you." the driver scoffed as he turned around in his seat to face me. "you really expect us to believe that you don't know where your mother or the money is? then how is it that you afford to go to Saebom High School in that uniform of yours, huh?"

i could hear the impatience in his voice as it was slowly but surely escalating.

"i can't help but say it again but i don't know where my mother put or has possibly spent that money and all i know is that she's not here in Korea."

"just tell us where she is!!" the man in the passenger's seat yelled, causing me to put my hands up to my ears in shock.

"i don't know!! i'm sorry, but i don't know!"

how did i manage to find myself in this situation?

as i thought this to myself, the man in the passenger's seat turned around with something shiny glistening in his hand as the drive kept his eyes on the road. it was a gun.

and just as the gun had cocked, i had woken up.

Seojun pov

Y/N and i were walking home from school as the day was already done with. Gowoon and i were discussing what we should eat for dinner as y/n was lost in thought. we thought of turning to you to settle our argument, i turned and saw that you were gone.

i turned and looked around only to find two men dragging you into a dark looking van and before i knew it, i was yelling at Gowoon to run home and i began to chasing the car.

i felt myself getting farther and farther away from you before i felt myself waking up.

i arose from my bed, sweat matting my hair as i turned to my bedside table to glance at the time.

3 am. thank god, that it was only a dream. but.. what if it does happen?

needing to calm my racing heart, i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. all my thoughts were racing in my mind and a moments later, there you were. you were walking out of Gowoon's room and into the kitchen. something in you, it seemed like there was fear and there was sadness.

i guess that you hadn't even noticed me because you had bumped directly into my chest, causing me to grab the small of your back and forget that i had that glass in my hand.

"oh! i'm sorry!" your eyes had widened as you began picking up the glass. taking a second to realize what had just happened, i hadn't realized that you had cut yourself on accident because you weren't being careful.

i bent down on your level, gently reaching for the hand you had cut on the glass and took the pieces of the shattered cup you'd collected out of your hand.

"don't worry about it." i softly spoke, glancing between your puppy eyes and bleeding hand. "i'll clean it up. you just go in my room and wait on the bed."

after receiving a soft nod from you in response, i watched you walk into my room and xlose the door.

i let out a soft sigh.

at least you were okay for now.

i grabbed the broom and cleaned up the glass shards from the floor. after i was done, i grabbed the band-aids, ointment, q-tips, and the rubbing alcohol from the hall bathroom and entered my room to see you glancing at your hand.

were you lost in thought or were you just waiting patiently for me? i wondered what went on in your brain at times.

you slowly looked up at me as i walked closer to you and grabbed the hand of yours that wasn't injured.

i walked you into the bathroom in my room and sat you on the toilet as i set the items on the counter.

i grabbed a rag from a shelf in my bathroom and wet it in the sink. then, i gently grabbed your injured hand and began wiping of the blood. you sat there silently as i did so and i wondered if your hands were always this small compared to mine.

"what are you thinking about?" i asked, partially to distract you from the fact that i was about to use the rubbing alcohol and partially because i was curious.

"just.. a nightmare." you looked down, eyes avoiding mine as you winced time to time from the rubbing alcohol.

"a nightmare?" i placed the ointment on your hand and carefully placed the bandage. did you dream the same thing as me?

"mm." you looked at me again as i finally released your hand. "i don't think that i could sleep again after that."

i looked at you as i grabbed your hand once again and walked into my room.

"here." i nodded towards my bed as i gently laid you down under the covers. "you can sleep here for the night and i'll watch over you."

"i can't take your bed." you began to sit up before i pushed you back down onto it.

"just rest." i nodded again before grabbing your okay hand while i sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing circles with my thumb on the back of your hand until you had fallen asleep.

i turned and looked at the clock. 3:30. when i was sure that you were asleep, i quietly tried to remove my hand from yours to go sleep on the couch. as i tried to let go of your hand, you held on tighter.

"stay here, Seojun." you mumbled, i was unsure if you were sleep talking or if you hadn't actually fallen asleep.

"okay." i whispered as i lay on the other side of the bed, drifting off to sleep as i kept your hand in mine.

✧.｡. *.

┊┊┊┊           ·               °

┊┊┊✯                  •                            ·                             ┊┊☽　　　 *                 ·

┊┊                           *

┊✯　　°                                °

☽         *    ·          *

i had woken up to the sound of flashing. i had slowly blinked my eyes and saw that you and i were closer than we were when we had fallen asleep. my arm was wrapped around your shoulders as your head had rested on mine. our hands still remained intertwined. your eyes were closed, seemingly content. it was clear that you weren't the source of the flashing. i turned around to look towards the door and sure enough, Gowoon was there as the source of the flashing, taking pictures of us sleeping.

"i was wondering where she went." she smiled as she kept taking pictures. "you two would make a good couple."

"delete it." i groaned, loud enough for Gowoon to hear but not enough to wake you up.

"later." she smiled as she left my room and i knew that she wouldn't but i didn't have the energy for this.

i looked at the clock and saw that it was time for us to start getting ready for school anyways.

"Y/n?" I spoke, voice laced with sleepiness.

i received a "hm?" and you wrapped your arms around the back of my neck, causing me to accidentally move closer and our lips to be too close to touching.

"school! we have school." i yelled out in panic as i had woken you up.

you sat up and looked at my alarm clock. you scratched the back of your neck before mumbling a soft, "i see." and leaving the room to get ready.

as you left to get ready, i wondered if your heart raced as much as mine did.

✧.｡. *.

┊┊┊┊           ·               °

┊┊┊✯                  •                            ·                             ┊┊☽　　　 *                 ·

┊┊                           *

┊✯　　°                                °

☽         *    ·          *

Y/n pov

the school day was strange. it began with Gowoon, Seojun, and i walking to school and the whole time we were walking, Seojun kept glancing around us like he was paranoid of something.

Gowoon had even asked him if he was okay and he insisted he was as he kept glancing around suspectingly.

then at lunch, he made Sujin get up from beside me so that he can sit there.

i asked if you were okay but you insisted that you were and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as you continued to glance around.

it really worried me because you didn't eat anything and seemed like you were scared of something. you had made my heart race in concern but also because of the moment you wrapped an arm around me.

what were you so afraid of?

you had even walked me to every class and if you couldn't do that or you were busy with something, you had your friends do it which left me scared that you were doing something bad or were in danger.

i even tried to ditch your friends and go to gym class by myself but instead you even scolded me.

Gowoon had to stay for choir practice so it was just the two of us walking together and again you looked paranoid and it began to annoy me.

"Han Seojun!" i stopped walking and looked at you with annoyance written in my face. "what is wrong with you? all day, you've been looking around like someone is out to get you."

"i'm sorry." you said as you rested your hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "i'm just a bit worried that something bad might happen today. especially to you."

"oh." i said, unsure of what exactly to say to your honesty. "well, i'm okay right now, right?"

it was a statement that was half true. when you had spoken what was truly on your mind, my heart had raced the same way it had earlier.

did yours ever beat like this around me, too?

"i guess you are." you smiled back but i could tell that it was still an unsure one as i grabbed your hand. "so what should we eat today?"

i laughed at the question as we continued walking, thinking of all the things we could eat today as we playfully pushed each other and cracked jokes along the way.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Osamu and Chuuya with an S/O who helps them get over the emotional trauma of their previously relationship, which was abusive? Thank you so much, if you get to this. Love you!

I love you too bb!!!

If anyone is ever going through anything like this, please do not hesitate to talk to me or someone you know and trust. You are not alone. I’ve been through, and my sister has been through a relationship like this. Domestic violence is never okay!

(Warning : talk of physical and mental abuse, domestic violence and murder)

Dazai

You were preparing dinner for Dazai and yourself, it was supposed to be a peaceful night with just the two of you together. It was a night that the two of you had been looking forward to, especially after the long hours that the two of you worked during the week. Relaxing inside, curled up next to each other on the couch watching a movie, it was a perfect Saturday night.

You had thought for sure that you had put the glass in the center of the counter, but your eyes must have misjudged. The glass cup fell off the counter in slow motion, but you weren’t quick enough to catch it. You watched it hit the floor, the shards caught the light as it shattered into pieces that were scattered all over the linoleum tiles of the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Dazai’s voice sounded from the living room. The bile rose in your throat as your heart raced. You immediately dropped to the floor, using your hands to try to sweep the shards into a pile. You didn’t seem to notice the tiny slivers that imbedded themselves into your palms and fingertips, or the blood that was dripping onto the floor from one of the pieces slicing your hand. “Y/N!” His voice was closer now, and you jumped at the sound of it.

“I-I’m cleaning it, I’m sorry, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to...” He reached out his hand to help you up and you cowered away from his touch. “Please, I’m sorry!” You whimpered, dropping your head and bracing for the hit.

“...y/n....” Your name came out as a whisper as he kneeled down next to you. He grabbed your hand to inspect where the bleeding was coming from. “Come on, we’ll worry about this later, you’re hurt.” He gently pulled you off the floor to your feet. He couldn’t understand the fear in your face, why were you so scared? It’s not like he’s mad about it, why couldn’t you see that?

“I really didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad at me, Dazai.” You whispered as he walked you into the bathroom and sat you down on the edge of the tub. He fumbled in the medicine cabinet, pulling out his bandages, tweezers, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“Accidents happen, sweetheart. I’m not mad at all. I’m worried about your hand, now please, hold it out for me, let me see.” His touch was feather light as he grabbed your wrist, holding your hand out so he could examine the cuts. “I’m gonna have to pull the shards out. I’m sorry.” He poured the peroxide over your palm first and you winced as it started bubbling around the wounds.

After he finished cleaning up your hand and wrapping the bandages around your palm he went into the kitchen to clean up the glass. You followed behind him, watching his face, trying to find any hint of agitation or anger about what had just happened, but there was nothing. He was wearing his normal smile as he swept the glass into the dustpan.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking up from the floor at your worried face.

“You’re.... not mad? Really?” You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“Why would I be mad? Things break, it’s not like you meant it.” He got up off the floor to dump the shards into the trash can. “Why do you look so scared?” He questioned and your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t know about your past relationship, it was in the past, but it still had its lasting affects on you. You shook your head quickly, you didn’t want to bring it up, you knew how Dazai could get. “Are you... scared of me?” He asked, noticing the way you backed away from him when he walked closer.

“N-no... I just....” How would you even be able to make up an excuse? You couldn’t, and you sighed. He didn’t move any closer to you, so you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around his torso. “You wouldn’t hurt me... would you?” Your question shocked him. He couldn’t even imagine why you would think that he would ever hurt you in any way. You were precious to him, he loved you. He could never...

He didn’t prod for information, but he did ask if you were okay, reminding you constantly that he would never cause you any harm. You could tell that what had happened earlier in the day was bugging him, way more than he wanted you to know. He was honestly worried that he had at some point during your relationship given you the wrong impression, that you actually thought he was capable of acting violently against you. He was beating himself up over it, and you couldn’t let him continue to worry, so you sat him down and finally told him about your previous relationship.

To say it was hard to talk about it was an understatement. Phantom stings and aches were felt all over your body as you talked about the beatings you would endure whenever your boyfriend would come home and lash out.

It was the first time you saw Dazai cry, he was crying for you, but even through the tears you could see the anger that he was trying to suppress. He didn’t want you to see him angry, he didn’t want you to be scared of him. He held it in as best he could, clenching his fists and keeping them firmly placed on his lap.

“There was a time, it was so bad... I honestly thought... I thought that I would die.... I wished I did.” You mumbled, remembering vividly the violent beating when your ex came home drunk. He had gambled all his money away and he took out his anger on you.

Dazai felt like he was going to throw up, hearing about the hell that you went through. Hearing you say that you wished that you died, it only made it harder for him to hide his anger. He was going to find the piece of shit that hurt you, he would make him wish that he was dead, and he would grant that wish.

But first, he would hold you, he would hold you close. He wanted you to know that you were safe with him, that he would never do anything like that, he couldn’t even imagine doing that to you. He wiped away the tears that clung to your cheeks, brushing his fingers through your hair as he whispered “I love you”s. His touch was lighter than a feather, rubbing circles into your back.

He was gentler with you now, he would always sneak up on you in the past to wrap his arms around you, but now that he knew what you went through he didn’t want to scare you at all, so he would stand in front of you with his arms out waiting for you to hug him. When you would lay in bed with him at night he would wrap his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. He knew that you always felt safer in his arms, and he would hold you there as long as he possibly could, even when his arms fell asleep.

Honestly, he just loved you so much, and he knew that he couldn’t take away the pain that you went through in your past, but he wanted to give you the love that you deserved, and he was doing a damn good job at it.

He also still hasn’t found your ex, but there is a target over his head and he will end him, and he will enjoy every second of torturing the piece of shit.

Chuuya

Chuuya would protect you with everything he had, there was no question about that. You were the most precious thing in his life, he couldn’t even imagine one day without you so he had to make sure you were safe. He loved you entirely, his entire heart was yours, he was devoted to you. That’s why it killed him when you had told him one night about the years of abuse at the hands of your ex boyfriend.

He knew that there was nothing he could do now, the damage was done, but it still made him feel horrible. If he had found you sooner, he could have saved you from the relationship, he could have kept those things from happening to you.

“Was he trying to kill you?” He asked, trying to keep his voice low so you couldn’t hear how pissed he was. If you said yes though, he would probably lose it.

“Well, one time he choked me, and he wouldn’t stop... I blacked out, I passed out. He left me, he didn’t even call for help, he just left me there on the floor. I don’t know what he would have done if I didn’t wake up, he probably would have just hid my body or something.” He felt your body shudder at the thought, but he was shaking for a completely different reason. His blood was boiling, he was absolutely seething with rage. Someone had attempted to take you out of this world, to take you away from him. Sure, you didn’t know him then, but he didn’t even want to think about what his life would be like if he didn’t have you here next to him.

“What was his name?” Chuuya asked, he would make a note of it, and he would absolutely destroy the guy who did that to you. Chuuya would make Hell seem like a five star vacation resort after he’s done with him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine now. I’m with you, I’m happy.” He couldn’t argue with that, he was glad to know that you were as happy with him as he was with you. It still didn’t change the fact that there was somebody still out in the world, still living their life after doing what they did to you, that couldn’t slide, he wouldn’t let it slide, he couldn’t.

His top priority was always to protect you, that didn’t change, he only got more protective. He was like a demon chihuahua, and if anyone got too close to you he would growl at them, pulling you closer against him. He would keep you safe from everything and everyone, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, he would make sure that you were safe.

Whenever he was angry from work he made sure to calm down before coming home. He didn’t want you to see him angry, he didn’t want you to fear him, that would break his heart to pieces.

He’s way more gentle with you with everything he does. Hugs are softer, kisses are slower, and when he brings his hands up to hold your face while kissing you he makes sure his skin is just barely touching yours.

“Chuuya, I’m not made of glass.” You say as his fingers brush against your skin so lightly you could barely feel it.

“You’re the finest crystal, a precious diamond. You’re worth more to me than any of those though.” He whispers softly, as though if he speaks too loud that even his words could hurt you.

Chuuya has spent late nights at headquarters “working” overtime. He’ll text you constantly to let you know that he’ll be home soon and that you don’t have to wait up for him.

He’s trying to find your ex to teach him a lesson. He needed to be taught, it was the only thing he could do. He will do to your ex what should have been done the first time he ever laid a non-loving finger on you.

Finding your ex was a harder task than he thought since he didn’t want to ask you for his name. He knew you wanted to leave him in the past, you’d question why Chuuya wanted to know and then you’d most likely get scared when you figured out what he was going to do.

When he finally did find him though, he found his address and made an entire blueprint of the interior (with the help of Akutagawa and Rashomon).

He planned the entire break in and how to make your ex’s death seem like an accident. He would torture him so he was as close to death as possible, and then he’d go to the kitchen and turn on the gas of the stove before lighting a match and throwing it into the open window.

When he gets back home to you he sees you watching the news, your hands covering your face as you watch the live footage of your ex boyfriends house ablaze.

“He’s dead?” You murmur and Chuuya notices that you’re crying. He immediately gets worried that he went too far. But when you sigh with relief and smile up to him he smiles back. “Thank you.” You whisper, and he just stands there for a second staring at you.

How you knew it was him, he had no idea... but you thanked him, and that made it all worth it. It was the least he could do for his queen.

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - The Fight

A/N With Hope’s intense google doc analysis of trying to piece together Daniel and Avalon’s fight through his flashbacks, I figured I should give you the real thing!

“Your ignorance is fucking incredible, Daniel James!”

Her words were venomous, punctuated by the slam of the front door the moment we stepped back inside the house. I was still trying to put my wallet in my pocket after paying the taxi driver, showing exactly how quickly she decided to snap back at me after we already endured a terribly tense flight home. Yet, apparently a simple question of “are you okay” was completely disgusting of me to ask.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset, Avalon! I’m just trying to talk to you.” I called as calmly as I could as I set my computer bag on the kitchen island.

She grabbed herself an empty glass from the cupboard and slammed the door shut before turning on the tap aggressively. Her brown eyes glared daggers in my direction over the rim of the glass as she raised it to her lips to take a sip and the diamond ring on her left hand caught the light of the late evening setting sun coming in through the window. Flickers of orange light writhed on the marble countertop between us and died when she lowered her hand out of the incoming rays.

There was a moment of silence as the beginnings of this obvious inevitable fight lingered between us.

“Trying to talk to me?” she repeated my words slowly as she stepped around the island, water glass held in both hands as if she was ready to interrogate me, “Well, gee, Daniel, that’s the first time in days you’ve even bothered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned.

“You spent most of our honeymoon with your laptop and your goddamn work rather than with me.”

I sighed, “Ava, come on, you know I had to-”

“No! You didn’t have to do anything! The only thing you had to do was relax for the first time in your goddamn life but that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? God…stupid me.” she shook her head in near disbelief, “I thought you might have actually given a shit about me once we got to Costa Rica but apparently, I was wrong.”

A rouge was rising on her sun-tanned cheeks, a clear indication of her true anger she felt, but her accusations weren’t making it easy for me to simply let her have this one. It was a fight we had before and were probably destined to again. It just came with the job.

“Give a shit about you? Avalon, you’re my fucking wife, of course I give a shit about you! You were the one complaining about wanting to leave the entire time. That doesn’t make the trip very fucking enjoyable.”

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

“Well what do you want me to do?! Do you not like having this house and a nice car and that huge fucking diamond on your finger? Well sorry to break it to you, honey, but without this job, you wouldn’t have any of that!”

“There you go again!” Avalon threw her hand up in my direction, “It’s not all about your fucking money, Daniel! I don’t care about that! I would even be perfectly happy living on the side of the fucking street with you because I love you! None of this other shit that you think is required for a happy and fulfilling life; because – news flash – it’s not!”

“Well it makes me pretty damn happy.”

“Oh really? Are you happy now? Huh? Does this make you fucking happy?”

“Yes! Because at least my house or my car doesn’t spew this fucking bullshit at me all the time!” I yelled back.

Avalon literally scoffed and took a step back, her voice lowered to a steady unimpressed drawl, “You’re a selfish prick, Daniel Seavey. I’m done trying to help you…you’re such a lost cause that…God…sometimes I wish I never married you.”

“Then why did you? If I make you so fucking miserable all the time! Are you that insecure that you’d rather be miserable with me than be alone? You can’t stand yourself either, can you?”

“Fuck you!”

“My brother always told me you were too fucking weak to be my wife…couldn’t handle the baggage that comes with the job.”

“Leave Christian out of this. He doesn’t know bull-fucking-shit about us and especially not about me. Neither of you know how hard it is!”

“It’s not hard, Avalon! You sit here and look pretty and I buy you sparkly things! It’s not fucking hard! You’re just being an obnoxious brat about everything, and you always have!”

“You invalidate my feelings all the time!” she yelled.

“You’re too goddamn sensitive! It’s not a big deal!” I shouted louder to top her.

“God, I fucking hate you!” she huffed. She turned to set the glass angrily on the kitchen counter but it fell and shattered on the kitchen floor between us, silencing our screaming match except for our heavy breaths and Avalon’s sniffled tears.

I sighed at the realization that the whole confrontation went on too far and I tried to reach for her, but she pulled her hand back and moved away from me, “Aves.”

“Don’t.” she snapped.

“Avalon, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.” she retorted sharply, yet I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I’m sleeping in the studio tonight.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, glancing to the ground with a heavy heart, the pieces of broken glass shimmering in the kitchen light between us. She went to step around me but I instinctively reached out a hand to her to keep her back from accidently stepping on any broken glass, “Careful.”

“God, Daniel.” she huffed, “Please don’t.”

I didn’t make a move to stop her as she walked around me to storm across the living room and to the back door. She didn’t look back as she opened the sliding glass door and slipped out into the darkness that the falling night brought. I watched her disappear out of the house and into the backyard, her form fading from view like she had been a figment of my imagination the whole time, the cruelest most perfect kind of dream.

Oh, how I loved her. And I was so, so stupid.

I busied myself in her absence by bringing my laptop bag and our shared suitcase to the master bedroom and rested them against the wall just inside the door. I returned to the kitchen to clean up the broken glass and spilt water, glancing out the back door as if half expecting her to come back inside. I was met with darkness.

I squinted slightly to try and see the light from the backyard studio window but it was still pitch black. Odd. Usually you could see the light from the main house. I brushed it off that she simply went to bed early after such a fight and focussed on the broken glass. I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of it with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the studio cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

I pocketed my phone and walked briskly across the main floor of the house, broken glass forgotten, and slipped outside into the warm LA evening. The studio was only a few paces from the back porch and I jumped down the three steps and across the stone tiles to the door. I didn’t bother knocking before I went inside, the darkness that consumed me when I entered already adding more concern to my conscious, and I reached for the light switch blindly.

“Ava? I thought I heard you scream, are you-”

The scene that met my eyes with the flick of the switch had my breath stopping in my throat, my words falling into silence, and my heart dropping into my stomach. Avalon was laying over the rug across the small room, eyes staring blankly into the ceiling, and her throat slit until she was laying in a pool of her own blood.

“Aves.” I breathed shakily, taking a step towards her, then a second, “Avalon, honey…”

She wasn’t moving. I barely made it halfway across the studio but with my back to the door I had entered through, someone came up behind me and grabbed me, slapping their hand over my mouth and holding me down by an arm around my waist. I struggled and tried to get away but they had a good grip on me as they swiped my feet out from under me and took me to the ground. The sharp slam of my head hitting the side of the piano on the way down was the last sound in the room before I blacked out.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[di-kut]

Baar Bal Runi Chapter Twelve

Series Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive!Reader

Words: 5K

Summary: (Body Swap AU) You wake up back in the Mandalorian’s body, sick from the change, and nervous he is dead. 

Rating: A violent M. It’s not extreme but this chapter has some strong descriptions of blood and body wounds. (Again.) 

A/N: I’m so sorry this has taken so long! My personal life has been a total shit show and a massive thank you to everyone who sent lovely messages and has been supportive! 

You wake against the cold floor of the Crest.

The narrow metal legs of the bunk swim in front of you, fuzzy with static as well through the visor of the helmet. There’s ringing in your ears like the remnants of blaster fire. Everything in your head feel confused and distorted – memories of screaming, of fire, of your mother’s face but she is not your mother. Memories of your own face on Batuu, on the Crest. Fragments of memories which are not your own like shattered pieces of glass scattered on a hard floor. Pieces of light against the darkness.

Things begin to sharpen. The shape of the Crest around you coming into focus painfully. Your head throbs badly, side aching with a phantom pain. The heat of Din’s hands holding your face is more solid in your mind, you feel the pressure of them beneath the helmet. The medkit is spread over the floor near you, valuable bacta patches still sealed against the floor. Some has scattered beneath the bunk and is lost in darkness. The ship is silent and still and dark all around you and the buzzing of the silence is worse than the ringing in your ears. You move your head enough to see a limp hand, pale and unmoving, hanging over the side of the bunk. Smeared red across the palm with blood. The movement of your head is enough that the world begins to tilt and spin and your stomach heaves. You have to sit up, have to see Din. The child. But putting a hand against the floor sends the taste of bile up your throat.

The ‘fresher is close enough that your boots knock against its door even where you lay next to the bunk. And still the effort of pulling yourself into it is almost too much, almost do not make it. Your hands fumble with the latch of the helmet, with pulling its weight away from your head. And this time when you heave over the bowl of the toilet you bring up the sting of acid, coats your tongue and your teeth and burns your throat. The world continues to spin, to tilt, like the ship is falling, like you are falling within in. Like the ground beneath your legs will disappear. You cough more emptiness up until you slump against the rim of the toilet, and against the wall. Until you are no longer feeling the convulse of your body against the swap, not only once but twice. But there is nothing left in you to keep you there, to keep you awake now. And you want to slip back into unconsciousness. Fear the muddle of dreams and memories which will be waiting for you – Din’s memories, you think, and the wrongness of the cave. But Din, and the child. Soundless and still outside the door haunting you. You blink your eyes open enough to see the visor the helmet staring up at you, dark between the smooth plates of Beskar. Cold. Accusing.

You have to crawl back from the ‘fresher into the hull in the dark. The grating of the floor digs into the palms of your hands and leaves them red with the shape of the metal. Din is heavy and still and covered in blood, his back twisted, legs tangled. Arm still limp. The child is at his side, a tiny lump so against the covers. His little tunic a red so dark it looks black, smudged against his flattened ears. You reach for him first, for the tiny child. He is the weight of Din’s cape, of a bird, and you cup both hands beneath his body so you cannot see him slip with and loll as you move him away from the mess. His green skin a pale almost-yellow. Around his closed eyes bruised with purple. You can’t concentrate for long enough to feel him but then he breathes, the stained tunic rises and falls again with a long, deep snore.

And at the same time – Din. The air in his lung rattles and tears.

Alive.

You stare down at the wound at his side, now a scar. Long and lumping, stretching from above his bottom rib to his hip. Hard to see because of the drying smears of blood all around it, some sick macabre painting of black and red against his skin. Angry and fresh, but healed. Around it, beneath the blood, the skin is sickly and the pallor of death, but there are no blackened veins. No signs of poison left to strangle his heart.

You pull the kid to your chest and slump against the cot. Have to put your head against Din’s leg on the cot so the spinning of the hull does not make you sick again. Slumped on your knees, barely sitting, sobbing so badly it makes no sound. Just the kid’s snoring over your heart. Din’s quiet, pained breathes. The ragged, wet sounds of your breathing. An awful deep sound because the sobs are coming from the Mandalorian’s chest, from his throat. From his body. The body which had almost been his again, only briefly. Think of the sound of his desperate pleas, the heat of his hands against your face. The sound of Mando’a you could not understand, the words in basic which you could. The weight of the Creed he had begged to give up to spare you the pain of the wound, of the poison. You shift so that you can bring the child closer to you, bury your face against the top of his little head. Feel the tickle of his baby hairs against your cheek and the side of your nose.

There is no time to linger. You hear a whirring outside, of droids powering up, of the docking systems powering on. And the blaring of the alarm around you, a time warning. It blasts for a minute and falls silent again and you force yourself up. The third night is over, and you have no more credits.

You force yourself off the ground, keep the child against your chest as you do. Sway with the effort of moving, sway with the world as it tilts almost over and you stumble with it. Do not fall. The ladder is hard, but you make it up with only one hand. Cannot bear to set the sleeping child back down amongst the blood and the pain and the lingering feeling of death in the hull. The cockpit feels cold and stark, bright early morning light through the viewport. You check coordinates of the cluster of artificial moons and planets around you, of real ones as well, until you find the closest, smallest moon. Somehow remember how to get the ship off the ground even though you cannot remember the last time you ate or slept properly. Somehow make your shaking hands flick the right switches and ease the ship out into space. Have just enough fuel to make the short trip. You hold the child to your chest the whole way, barely move, and when you land the ship in the tiny dock your hands are still shaking.

The moon is small and the dock is one of only a few. Run by a tall woman with low, heavy eyebrows and a stern face. She had a lean in her step and one arm thinner than the other, the remnants of some accident. You explain you will pay her, find work on the moon, but that your friend is injured. And you are covered still in blood, have it speckled grimly across the gleam of the Beskar. A Mandalorian painted with red. She doesn’t refuse you, and when you turn to leave she haltingly offers bacta, and a droid to help. You take the bacta but ask her to power the droids down.

You seal the ship again from the inside. Had left the child sleeping on a clean pillow next to the bunk, away from the blood and the mess. Din is still breathing, still unconscious. You strip him of the blood-soaked clothes, ripped along the side from the jagged edge of the knife. It is hard work to clean the caked and crying blood from his skin. Still careful of the angry red scar at his side. You smear it thick with bacta when you are done and wrap most of his torso. Glad for the first time that you are swapped, truly glad, because you are strong enough to move him easily and in your body, you are not embarrassed to clean him. Are able to check him head to toe for any other sign of injury because your body is not sacred by any Creed, is not protected by armour. You do not cringe away from the sight of your own familiar flesh beneath your hands as you work. Dig through the crate nearest your bunk with what is left of your belongings – the ones you had not given to Din to keep in his quarters. You pull him away from the covers to dress him again. Wrap his legs around your waist and his arms around your shoulders as best you can and carry him up the ladder. Lay him down as carefully as you can against the clean covers in the Captain’s quarters.

You clamber back down the stairs and strip away the Beskar. Your hands shaking so badly that it takes you more than ten minutes to finally pull all the armour from your body. The kid is still snoring against the unsullied pillow and you pick him up gently. Duck into the ‘fresher and wash the stains of blood away from your hands and arms. Scrub your face and your hair and your skin until you can’t feel imaginary blood clinging to you all over your body. Can’t feel the nearness of Din’s death hovering just at the edges of your skin. You strip away the child’s sullied clothes are wipe at his skin with a damp cloth until he is warm and clean. And at first it feels good, to wash it all away, but the longer you are away from Din the more your hands begin to shake again. Begin to wonder if maybe you had imagined that Din was breathing, and that there was a corpse of your empty body lying in his bed. You have to count your breathing as you struggle with the water, with dressing again in fresh underclothes.

The bunk you leave. Can’t look at the blood over the sheets. You dress once more in the armour after wiping it down with a rag. Boots and gloves and helmet and all, fear the sounds of shifting machinery at night, of shadows beneath the door. That someone has followed you even here and waits. Hold the child in your arms and climb the ladder back to the Captain’s quarters. Slip into the small room and lock the door behind you. Seal away the hull and the blood and the death beyond it. The low light is still on and you watch the rise and fall of Din’s chest beneath the covers. Lean back against the door.

Eventually you turn the lights out and you move to the bed. You can hear the echoing sound of Din’s deep voice in your ears as you push the covers back enough to curl into the small space alongside him. Cradle the child between you. You lay your head on the pillow beside him, barely fit, and wrap yourself to the shape of him. Careful not to bump him or jostle the bed. And your lack of sleep catches up to you all at once. The arm beneath you holds the child to your chest and your other finds its way to rest over Din’s heart, feel it pulsing beneath the skin, slow but steady. Feel the breath in his lungs. You cannot bear the pain of sleeping away from him, from the child. You wonder how long they will sleep for, how long the child can be without water or food. Din has begun to move restlessly in his sleep, groans occasionally and shifts, his eyes fluttering almost open. You lay as still as you can so you do not disturb them and close your eyes. Drift in and out of sleep.

The weight against the back of the helmet makes you jump.

“Kar’ta.”

You lift your head so quickly it spins. Find the slit of Din’s barely open eyes in the darkness. He keeps his hand against the helmet, lets it slip along the side as you move your head until it cups around the carved cheek of it. You do not move more, stare at him in the dim. Your heart beats so hard you can feel it in your fingertips, in your stomach and taste it at the back of your mouth. Din’s hand against the helmet burns through it like a brand. Your neck hurts from sleeping in the armour again, and your back and shoulders.

He sighs. “Ner kar’ta, gar cuyir pirusti.”

“Din, I thought – I thought – ” There’s another sob working its way up the back of your throat, already raw. His hand drops from the helmet to grab yours against the sheets.

“What are you doing?” He asks. His voice is scratching and thick, sore from screaming and clouded with sleep.

“I had to move the ship, Din. Our docking ran out and I didn’t – I didn’t know,” you struggle to try and put everything into a sentence. To try and collect your thoughts. “We’re on a moon, I arranged to pay later. I’ll find work. We’re safe, we’re going to be safe.”

“I trust you, kar’ta. I trust you.” He squeezes your fingers lightly. “Why are you wearing the armour?”

You say nothing, just stare at him in the dark. Can’t tell him now when he is injured and sick that you are scared of someone following you. His hand pushes at you until you sit slowly, shuffle a bit so that you do not move the child sleeping between you. The hand which had been holding the helmet slips slightly but he moves his other hand from beneath the covers to join it. Grips the sides of the helmet and begins to lift. The effort of reaching for it makes him grunt in pain and so you help, settle your hands over his and take the weight of the Beskar in yours. Lift it carefully and set it down at the ledge at the end of his bunk. It’s harder to make out the detail around you now in the darkness without the visor and easier because there is no static through your vision. Just make out the curve of Din’s cheek in the dark, the glint of the low light in his eyes. His hands rest over your pauldrons.

“You can’t sleep in this, kar’ta.” His voice is a murmur. “Come.”

“But what if someone – ”

“No one can get in. We’re safe.”

You stand and take the Beskar off. Piece by piece. Setting them down with the helmet at the end of the bed. Take care to lay them out as you have seen Din do. And when you are down to your under armour Din tugs at that as well, and you pull it away. Left in just your light underclothes. His hand finds yours again and he pulls until you are kneeling beside him, his hand finds the back of your head. Draws you down and presses his forehead to yours. Sighs when a tear slips and splashes against his cheek. Presses his forehead harder against yours. Kov’nynir, you remember it is called. Wonder if it is called the same without the helmet.

“I was scared I was going to lose you.” His words are so soft you would not have heard them if they weren’t whispered into your skin. And then he says again, “Come.”

“What if I hurt you?”

You feel his eyelashes brush against your cheek, his nose rub the length of your jaw. “You won’t.”

He shuffles slowly to the side, twists just enough to pull the baby from the bed and hold him against his chest, the child sleeping curled on his belly, little arms lightly balled against the clean fabric of Din’s shirt. You ease yourself in beside them, feel big and clumsy and awkward. Din holds the covers away for you to slip in beneath them. There is no room to be far from him, but when you settle back into the mattress Din moves once again to be closer to you, presses his side to yours and turns his head and nestles it at the spot between your jaw and your neck, sighing against your skin. You turn on your side towards him, tuck your chin over the top of his head.

“We were almost back,” you whisper against his hair.

“I know.”

“The child…”

Din sighs and you feel the warm puff of his breath at your neck. “I know.” He shifts and your feel the light touch of his hand along your jaw, realise he is feeling the scruff of your facial hair. His facial hair.

“It scratches,” you mutter. Makes him laugh quietly.

“Remind me,” he says. You hear the pull of sleep around the fuzzy edges of his words. Feel the silent sigh as he sinks against the bed, against your side. “Remind me.”

You drift in and out of sleep for what feels like days. Sometimes sleep so deeply what when you open your eyes the effort of pulling against the tiredness is too much that you let the close again. Other times you lay still and quiet, must doze, for hours. But in the dark time moves strangely. Suspended and too quick all at once. You have moved your hand over Din’s resting on the child’s back. Have brought your leg over Din’s to bring yourself closer to him in your sleep. You untangle yourself from him when you wake once, drift back to sleep and when you wake again you are more entwined with him. Still feel his mouth against your neck, his slow steady breathing on your skin.

You wake because you feel him moving in the bed hours later. Maybe days, in the dark it is hard to tell. No blinking orange light to even pass the seconds. It rouses you enough that you sit up. He needs help to get to the ‘fresher, so you walk him to the ladder and he follows you down, your arm outstretched to help him should he fall. His hands shake by the time he reaches the hull, and his hair is matted with sweat and face pale. You put your arm beneath his shoulders and walk him to the ‘fresher and while he is inside you collect rations bars and water from the store. Run them back up to the Captain’s quarters before he is done and meet him back in the hull. He does not even protest when you silently lift him, wrap his legs around your waist again and holds your shoulders as you climb the ladder. You don’t put him down when you reach the upper deck, feel him shudder in pain as you move back to the bunk.

You sit him up against the wall and together you peel away the bandages. You flick the lights on and check the child while you change the bandages. But the child is still sleeping soundly. You take your time cleaning away excess bacta gel, don’t know what difference it has made to the already scarred skin, the healed wound.

“Din,” your hands are still at his hip. “What happened?”

“Someone attacked me. Not,” he says quickly when he sees the question on your lips. “The bounty. I had already collected the reward and I was coming back here. But then someone grabbed me, pulled me in some dark street and – ”

He cuts himself off. You stare at the size of the cut, the ugly way the skin around it puckers and dips where the poison ate the flesh away. The scar ragged and mean and an angry red. You brush your fingers over it lightly and Din shivers.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You smile at him weakly. “I’m more worried about you almost dying than being stuck with a scar.”

You fall silent again for some time, keep running your fingers over the mangled flesh, up and down the length of it and out over the skin just around it. Feel Din’s heavy eyes on you as you do. Watch him shiver if you drift away from the scar, think there must be nerve damage around the scar tissue because his skin lifts into goosebumps when you move your touch to the smooth skin around it. You want to ask him what the scars on his own body are from, hundreds of them, a tapestry of white and pink slicing all over him. And you think you will, one day.

“I recognised their face,” Din says. “I remember thinking I recognised them. But the poison – I can’t remember much.”

“Nothing?”

He shakes his head. “Probably a different bounty hunter who wanted the reward.”

“I think we should go back to the green planet.” You blurt the words out without thinking you should say them. Before the thought has even fully formed. “We can’t stay like this. One of us is going to get killed. And your Creed, Din I – ”

“We’re not going back.”

You look up at him in shock. “Din, we have to try.”

“I won’t go back,” he says forcefully. His face softens with a sigh and he rests a hand over yours on his stomach. “When I went in that cave, when I saw you I – I didn’t remember you. I didn’t know who you were, or the kid. I would have killed you both. I wanted to kill the kid.”

The words make you jerk, even though you know they must be true. Remember desperately pleading with him to leave, not to shoot you both. The cold, rippling way the Beskar had moved, had looked at you in the murky light of the cave. Hadn’t felt like the Mandalorian you knew, hadn’t felt like Din was inside the armour when he’d looked at you there. And you know he is right, but that you cannot go on without trying.

“You didn’t hurt us though.”

“I could have. I won’t risk hurting either of you.”

“What about the child, Din?” You look over to the sleeping baby, curled on the pillow at the end of the bed. Snoring softly. “You said he made a Mudhorn float. Healed the poison from the man from the Guild. Every time he has slept we have dreamt of the cave. I think he was trying to change us back.”

Din stares at you. A hard, stern stare.

“It’s hurting him,” you say.

Din’s face crumples and he drops his head to his chest. Squeezes your hand in his. You inch closer to him over the covers, fold your legs up between you and sit against the wall as well, let Din lean his head against your shoulder. You reach up with your free hand and softly pet it against his hair, rest your cheek to the top of his head and close your eyes. His breathing stutters once and you feel it deep in your chest.

“Ni cuy’ dar’manda.”

You do not open your eyes, or stop the soft motion of stroking his hair. Murmur against his scalp. “What does that mean, Din?”

He is quiet for a while, sinks further against your side. “Dar’manda. It’s what my people fear most. To lose our souls and not be able to join our ancestors in the stars when we die. When you are a Mandalorian you have a soul, the people who raised me gave me that soul when they found me. They were… they were not always nice people. The Mandalorians who found me. They believed in the old ways.”

“What are the old ways?” You ask him.

“They believe that they must spread our Creed. To make more Mandalorians. And anyone who does not swear the Creed – ” He doesn’t finish but you don’t need him to. “I left them almost a decade after I swore the Creed. I did – I didn’t want to hurt people like that. But I felt their anger. The world wanted to kill us. Even before I was a Mandalorian the world wanted to see my people dead.” He sits up again, lifts his head slowly from your shoulder and you adjust to give him room. “I was alone for a long time. But I found my way back. I never stopped being a Mandalorian even when I was not with others. I never took off the helmet in front of anyone.”

“And now I have it off all the time.”

His hand is harsh in how hard it grabs you, you suspect it would hurt if he was in his own body, holding your hand in his. “It’s not your fault. I just – ” He looks up into his own eyes, ones no other living person has looked on in decades. You can’t help but wonder what he sees. What they look like. You feel awful for the thought, for wanting to take more from him, when he has told you all of this. “When you swear the Creed you join the hundreds of thousands of Mandalorians before you, you join the Mandalorians who are alive in carrying on the soul of the Manda. And when you die you become a part of the soul which lives on as long as there is someone to remember it.”

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” You say quietly.

He smiles, a small sad smile which has all the grief of the world in it. “You remember.”

“I told you I wouldn’t forget it.” You brush your fingers gently against the side of his face, wish you could do something to ease the pain there. “So, you remember everyone.”

“By remembering the few, we remember everyone. Aay’han. It – it means to balance the pain with the joy in mourning. It is who we are to remember them. Remember their blood.” He sighs, long and heavy. “But no matter how much I remember I can’t be a Mandalorian without my helmet. Without my armour.”

“We can go back to the green planet. We can stay together. Do something different.”

“I can’t risk killing you. Or hurting the kid. I can’t ask you to give up your body, that isn’t fair, but – ” Din’s eyes dart over your face. Seems to be trying to read your mind through his gaze alone. “I would give up my Creed for the child. I would give up my Creed so he can be with his people. No one should be separated from their family. Don’t – don’t say anything now. I’m not asking you to give up your body. But I don’t know what else to do.”

You stay with him for a long time and eventually you need to finish the job of rewrapping the wound at his side. You help him sit straight again, lean him back against he wall. Din holds his shirt away while you work, passes you bacta and holds the clean bandages. His eyes make the hair at the back of your neck stand on end, make you shiver sometimes when your fingers brush his as he passes you clean med supplies. You wrap the new bandage over the cleaned wound, have still applied bacta although you don’t know what difference it will make to the thick scarring. You pack everything away and set it to the side with the Beskar at the end of the bed. Din continues watching you as he works the shirt back down. You help him tug it lower on his hips, and when you try to help him lay back down to rest he groans and shakes his head. Says he can’t bear to lie down anymore, so you help him get comfortable against the wall and let him sit. You know you should take the reward money to the mechanic outside, but you are too tired. Deep, deep in every part of you. So instead you let Din take your shoulders and ease you down against the covers. Lay your head in his lap and watch the sleeping baby. Think about the green planet. Reach your hand back to hold Din’s in silence.

.

Kar’ta: Heart

Ner kar’ta, gar cuyir pirusti: My heart, you’re okay

Kov’nynir: (Keldabe kiss) The act of placing the forehead of your helmet against someone elses. 

Ni cuy’ dar’manda: I am not a Mandalorian (lit: I have no Mandalorian soul)

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyradyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Daily remembrance of those passed on “I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.

Aay’han: Bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy 

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[exosmutfactory]

Apart (Part 2 to Fallen)

Part 1

word count: 3158 (how tf!?!?)

Baekhyun feels uneasy the second he’s back inside the house; the air seems to be ten times colder without the warmth of your smile and the soft laughter of your daughter filling the air.

His fingers mindlessly trace over the patches of fabric you lovingly stitched into his coat after all the times he carelessly snagged holes in it from yanking it off of the hanger. He knows it’s selfish. Not properly sending you on your way to mask his own hurt at seeing you and your daughter venturing off on your adventures without him. Your world-stopping smile, pregnancy glow, and the two sets of heart softening doe eyes looking up at him too much for his tired form to bear. Too much for him to deal with his guilt without falling apart in front of you.

He hates it — hates how hard it is to be around you lately. Always feeling as if he is stepping on eggshells in fear of stressing you out. Your soft smiles and sweeter words whispered to the precious symbol of your love growing inside of you brings tears to his eyes that he has to hide every time you gaze up at him from across the living room when he steps through the door. You mean the world to him and he’d do anything for you. No matter how many long hours he spends cooped up alone at the office, or sleepless nights from attending to your daughter when she cries for him in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t change a single part of your lives — except for last night.

His heart aches at the thought; fists clenched and bile rising in his throat. Remembering the deceitful men urging him to take more drinks, and the woman he practically had to shove off his lap.

♡♡

Baekhyun’s heart beat is pounding furiously in his ears, the only thing stopping him from going into a blind rage is the thought of you waiting up for him at home. With your pretty doe eyes and worry-melting smiles. Just your presence alone can calm him down.

He steps over the threshold without a word, hanging up his cream colored coat as he’s struck with the reminder that he is two hours late again. The underlying implications of that puts him in an even sour mood. He’s so stressed out lately that just the thought of anything more than a cup of coffee makes him feel sick to his stomach, and even more ill at the fact that you’re probably thinking he doesn’t enjoy your meals anymore. Meals that you usually store away for later, yet tonight you are—

“How was work?” Your voice is soft, always understanding in wake of his more often than not pleasant moods. His heart flutters as he quietly moves over to the coffee maker, mindful to carefully brush off his shoes before stepping onto the newly mopped floor. You turn away from him and he frowns, guilt budding in his chest as you distract yourself with the dishes. He knows how hard it is for you to have to take care of things around the house while having a bun in the oven.

“The merger bailed.” He mumbles, taking a few minutes to remember what you asked him.

“No.” You gasp, spinning to him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “Why? You’ve been working on this collab for months-”

“They wanted us to travel with them.” Anger once again fills his veins while recalling how disrespectfully those bastards spoke of you; a bitter smile forming on his lips. “Apparently a 7 months preganant wife doesn’t make the cut.” Fuckers. The lot of them.

“Y-You can go, I mean.” Your stuttering breaks him from his revengeful thoughts. Looking so small in his eyes with your hand over your adorable stomach and a plate of food balanced in your other hand. “I-I could let the baby spend the week at-”

What? “Where will they go?” Baekhyun panics. Why would you want your daughter to be away? Did he do something wrong? Are you—

The crashing of the plate to the floor startles him; hours of your hard work scattered like his barely contained emotions. “Where will they go?” He repeats softer, roughly carding his fingers through his ruffled hair. Did he startle you? He didn’t mean to. He’s just so—

Baekhyun raises a brow, swearing that he heard you say something in that cute way you like to utter things under your breath. His eyes widening at your state, hands outstretched to help you back up only to stop, a memory occurring to him. You screamed at him every time he attempted to help you pick up fallen food during the earlier months of your pregnancy. Proclaiming that you were ‘capable of doing it’ yourself while sternly pointing him towards the cupboard that you keep the cleaning supplies.

“I-I got work in the morning,” Baekhyun mumbles. The last thing he wants is to fight you. He doesn’t want to risk what regretful words he’d spew if he stays any longer; quickly going over to open the supply cupboard for you and setting the first-aid kit on the countertop just in case you accidentally prick yourself. He tentatively retrieves his coat from the rack, meekly uttering,  “I’ll be at Chanyeol’s. Don’t wait up, okay?” While pulling the door closed behind him.

♡

Yeah, he’s still upset. Very upset. He’s been working on that stupid merger for 4 months. Hours upon hours spent worried over how he’s going to pay off student loans, provide for your growing family, and help your little stars through college. The weight of all the responsibilities weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he has resorted to shutting down and shoving his own feelings aside. He’s got a beautiful daughter, a beloved wife and another little one on the way. All of them are depending on him and he cannot under any circumstances afford to disappoint them. For what is the sun without it’s pretty planets circling around, leaning on it for stability and warmth? Nothing. But a big ball of pent up energy marching on its own journey to collapsing upon itself.

Suddenly, the sky is covered with dark clouds; the bottom dropping out from under the fluffy accumulations of rain. It’s pouring out; the heavy droplets pelting down on the roof remind him of all the times he went out his way to go pick you up in the middle of storms such as this one. Because it’s not safe for you to be driving out in the rain —​​​​​​​ driving out in the rain.

Baekhyun’s eyes widen, ripping a new hole in his coat as he rushes to put it back on, throwing the front door open with half the mind to lock it behind him because you always chastise him over leaving the house vulnerable — but right now you’re fucking vulnerable!

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters, yanking the door to his black Audi open just as the squealing of car tires in the distance reaches his ears.

Baekhyun freezes, grip tight on the doorframe and hair matted to his forehead. Because just up the road is a car accident with what he swears is your car and it doesn’t look pretty.

“Oh my god.” A neighbor gasps, her leashed puppy cradled in her frozen grasp. 

Baekhyun doesn’t stop to think; he fucking runs.

An ambulance is already weaving through the crowd as idiomatic bystanders block their way to the flipped over white Honda surrounded by broken glass on the sidewalk. The shrill screams of a frightened child — his child! — has him pushing his way through the crowd. Scrambling to the driver’s side of the car.

He wrenches the dented back car door open, tentatively brushing glass away from her tear streaked cheeks. Thanking every higher being that she only has small scratches on her little face. He scoops her out of the ruined carseat and cradles her to his chest, trying to soothe her as paramedics rush over to pull you from the car. Fuck. You —

Baekhyun’s head snaps up, wordlessly hurrying over to them on quick feet while they pull your unconscious form from under layers of broken metal and glass. A glance alone shows that you weren’t so lucky to leave the accident with only a few scratches on your face. No, there’s large pieces of glass distorting your delicate skin and a waterfall of red washing away in the rain.

Baekhyun barely hears a word that the person next to him is saying, only catching the phrases “child” and “hospital” before snapping out of his trace. “W-Wait!” He walks as fast as he can with your shaking daughter in his arms, “I’m the husband, I—” He chokes, eyes stinging with the realization of what is unfolding in front of him. Your limp body being lifted into the back of the ambulance. “I’m her husband.”

The paramedics usher him inside, offering a seat and asking to check up on the trembling toddler in his arms.

“How far along is she?” One of them asks, pulling a stethoscope from around her neck.

“7 m-months.” His voice comes out hoarse, a lump forming in his throat as he watches her slide it over your stomach. The lack of reaction from the little life inside of you makes more tears pool in the corners of his eyes. “I-Is the baby okay?”

She only gives him a solemn look, uttering some type of medical code to one of the other paramedics jotting down notes on a clipboard. “We’re almost at the hospital. Can I take a look at her?”

Baekhyun blinks through his blurry vision, reluctantly handing the small girl in his arms over to her. He shivers, just now feeling the coldness of his soaked clothes; swiping his drenched hair out of his eyes while graciously taking the thick blanket offered to him.

You couldn’t arrive at the hospital fast enough for him. He doesn’t know how much longer his heart can take seeing you like this — like a shattered irreplaceable vase missing the pieces to put it back together. Lifeless. Never to be the same again.

He barely registers the commotion as the paramedics roll you out of the ambulance and through the lobby, only stopping when a nurse holds him back from following you down the hall. “I’m sorry, Sir. You can’t go back there.”

“I—”

She swiftly shakes her head, standing her ground as he feels as if his whole world — his whole life is being flipped upside down. Less than an hour ago, your glowing figure was smiling up at him. Less than an hour ago, he thought that nothing else could get worse than the stress he faces every day. Yet here he is now, helplessly watching you and your daughter get taken further into the hospital — farther away from him. The man who vowed to be with you; in sickness and in health. In times of hardships and your greatest accomplishments. The same man who swore that no matter what came your way, you would face everything together—

Together…

Baekhyun plops himself down in an uncomfortable plastic chair; his head hanging low. How could he have forgotten such a thing? All the promises of sticking by your side through everything and anything. Of trust, leaning on each other — communication! When’s the last time he told you about his tiring days at work just to end up smiling by the end of the night while held in your loving arms? Or heard you complain about your feet hurting only for you to giggle soon afterward when he accidentally tickles you with his diligent massage? Or dared to reach across the body-shaped pillow that has taken up space in your bed to pull you to his chest. Did he really let himself get carried away by his own self doubts and fears? 

Baekhyun’s breath hitches, his heart stopping in its tracks. Did he seriously hide himself away thinking the pain of being unable to reach him wouldn’t hurt you? Wouldn’t make you… You want to leave him?

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Surrounded by the endless amounts of people being rolled in the never-ending stream of patients in the hosiptal. It seems as if everyone has gotten into bad accidents today, but no amount of blood and body disfigurement can erase the horrific image of your helpless child — of your lifeless form being carried out of that battered car.

“Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun’s head shoots up to the light blue and white dressed man in front of him. “T-That’s me,” He croaks, throat hurting from holding back tears while hurrying to stand up.

“I’m Dr. Kim,” The man holds out his hand, introducing himself — uselessly, Baekhyun thinks.

“H-How are they?” He manages between shaky breaths, five seconds away from crumbling into a heap on the porcelain white floor.

“Your daughter and son are okay.” The doctor states calmly, flipping through papers on his clipboard.

Baekhyun breathes a small sigh of relief, heart calming down a little. “And my wife?” His tone hopeful; eyes pleading. The uncertain expression on the doctor’s face enough to knock the wind out of him, “Follow me.”

He trails after the man; right on his heels, gulping down the panic steadily rising in his chest as they turn the corner at the end of the long hallway. The doctor opens the door, wordlessly stepping aside to let him enter the crowded room. At least three nurses are stationed in the room. One fussing over a small bundle in their arms and another with his daughter outstretching her arms towards the bed on the right side of the room. The sight of you nearly sends him falling to his knees.

“Your son is 5 pounds,” The brunette softly says over the loud cries of your daughter. “He has to spend a few days in the NICU until we—”

“Give her here.” He demands, arms held out to take his daughter away from the blonde nurse struggling to hold her squirming form. She’s quick to hand the child over, watching enviously as the little girl settles in her father’s arms, loud wails simmering down into quiet whimpers.

Baekhyun slowly makes his way over to the bed, carefully lowering her down between the spaces free from all the tubes attached to your pale form. She wraps her arms around your bandaged arm, doe eyes still brimming with tears. He hates the panicked confusion swirling in her shiny orbs. Hates how lifeless you look against the standardized hospital sheets and the gauze wrapped around your head.

“She lost a lot of blood.” The doctor tentatively notes, dismissing the nurses from the room. The brunette sets the baby down in the bassinet next to the bed before departing as well. “And hit her head pretty hard on the dashboard… The baby had to be taken by C-section,” He adds, noticing Baekhyun’s eyes drifting over to the little one squirming in the bassinet. “We want to keep an eye on his vitals for a few days.”

“And my daughter?” Baekhyun mumbles, he can’t bear to raise his voice. Can’t bear the slow beeps of your heart rate echoing around the quiet room.

“Nothing but a few scratches.” He sees the doctor raise his hand from his peripheral as if to place it on his shoulder before reconsidering it, lowering it back down with a clear of his throat. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

Baekhyun barely acknowledges his words, shaky hands reaching out to cradle your ice cold one in his own. Unmerciful tears swarming his eyes. He doesn’t hold them back this time.

“I’m sorry.” He barely registers the pain of his knees hitting the tiled floor, head bowed as he folds in on himself, weeping so hard his shoulders quake from the built up emotions rolling through him by waves. Much more choppy than the ones that lapped at your bare feet dipped into the ocean all those years ago. At the edge of the world. Where nothing else mattered but your bright smile and your heart racing against his own. 

“I-I’m sorr—” He chokes, hot tears flowing down his cold cheeks. Why did he pull away from you? Why did he have to go and hurt the sole person he would lay his own life down for? What if you never wake up? How will he explain to his daughter that her mother won’t be around anymore? That your son won’t know you at all anymore? You who were strong enough to stick by his side, filled to the brim with endless bounds of unconditional love despite how he treated you instead of the actions promised within your shared vows until you couldn’t — he made it so hard that you couldn’t anymore.

“I don’t deserve you.” He sniffles, voice cracking through his trembling lips. Hands clutching tightly onto your own. “I don’t deserve you at all, but please.” He can barely talk around the waterfall of tears pelting down his face, the sting of them worse than any downpour imaginable. “Please don’t leave me alone like this, baby. D-don’t.” He reaches up to cradle your cheek in his palm; the sound of his heart breaking nearly audible in wake of the healthy glow now gone from your face. “Open your eyes,” He breathes, fingers caressing your cheek. “Open your pretty eyes, baby. Tell me your love again,” He pleads, tears wetting the sheets and the fabric of your hospital gown. “Come back to me again.”

He drops his head again when you give no signs of hearing him; his hand slipping down helplessly back to your own grasping aimlessly at his — your hand!

Baekhyun nearly gets whiplash, eyes shooting up to meet your tired ones. The relief of seeing you looking back at him has him jumping to his feet, almost tangling himself up in the tubes attached to your body if not for your quiet warning reminding him. He settles for continuing to hold onto your hand, squeezing it softly as it slowly warms up the longer it is held within his, “You came back.” He whispers, astonishment clear in his hoarse voice. 

“You came after me.” You utter right back, lifting your arm to let your daughter snuggle closer into your unbandaged side.

“Of course I did,” Baekhyun’s eyes flutter all over your person, heart leaping in so much joy he wonders if you can feel it racing between your intertwined hands. “I’d die for you.” He declares, words resonating through both your chests like the meaningful ones exchanged five long years ago.

“And I’d live for you.” You proclaim right back; smile bright and eyes lighting up at the small cries of your symbol of undying love.