#anyway happy whumptober! :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 month ago

Text

Dangerously in Love (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 28 Alt 8. Kidnapping Fandom: MCU, Frank Castle, The Punisher, f!reader Summary: After witnessing your murder on a video call, Frank's only focus is on revenge. But he's about to learn that things are not always as they seem... Word Count: 4389 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Grief, Fighting, Blood, Gun Fight, Minor Character Death, Frank Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Part 5 of the “In Love” series

It had taken Frank three days and a trail of bodies in his wake, but he had finally located where Costa had streamed from.

He had barely stopped since the moment he had left your—his—apartment and only to grab a handful of food or a few hours of sleep to keep up his strength for what was coming. Not that it would have made a difference if he tried to get a full night’s sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your terrified, tear-soaked face pleading with him before hearing the deafening bang of the gun and your blood spraying as the camera cut out. While he hadn’t actually seen the damage that the bullet had done to you, he had seen enough bullet wounds in his life for his brain to fill in the blanks. And when that happened, he would jerk awake with tears streaming down his face.

After Maria and their children were murdered, Frank had sworn never to allow himself to care for someone like that again. It was too dangerous…he was too dangerous. And yet, all of that flew out the window the moment he met you.

He tried to keep his walls up, to keep you out, but you quickly burst through them all as if they were made of vapor. And when you found out about the Punisher and who he really was yet still accepted him, it was over. Frank’s bullet-riddled heart began to beat again and it was all because of you.

You. The girl who would make fun of herself a hundred times over before ever saying a word against anyone else. The girl who couldn’t cook to save her life but still continuously put in a valiant effort. The girl who hid under a blanket during horror movies or gagged at the slightest scene with gore, yet pulled out the first aid kit without hesitation when he came home dripping in blood.

He knew the risks, he knew the danger, but he also knew he couldn’t live without you in his life. But now that danger had caught up to you and he had lost you anyway. At least if he had kept his distance you would be out there somewhere living your life happy with someone else—not shot to death in a warehouse while you were alone and terrified.

As Frank approached that same warehouse now, he thought back to your last kiss just before he sent you off to stay with Red. At the time, he had promised you it wasn’t goodbye, that he would come back to you. Yet even though he knew there was a very good chance it was a lie, he never expected you to be the one not coming home.

Looking around, he was surprised to find there weren’t any men standing guard by the main entrance or on the rooftop. He remained on high alert, but crossed the empty lot to the front door and kicked it in. When no one opened fire or swarmed him, he ducked inside.

It appeared the warehouse had been abandoned for a while. Even though he could faintly hear the churning hum of a generator somewhere below him, it must only be for the lights since there didn’t seem to be any sort of air conditioner or fans in the building. But that made sense. Costa must have known Frank would come for him after what he did, and it was better for Frank to locate one of his temporary bases of operation instead of his main headquarters.

Without slowing, he rubbed his face on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes as it poured down his brow. He continued through the warehouse—gun raised—as he scanned for any traces of Costa, even though so far it seemed as if he wasn’t here. But Frank wasn’t going to stop looking until he made sure. He wasn’t going to stop hunting him down until Costa lay dead at his feet.

However, when he reached the door at the end of the hall and threw it open, he stumbled to a halt as his heart froze in his chest.

It was the same room he had seen from the video call—barren concrete walls, a single light hanging down from the middle of the room, and a metal chair with your lifeless body still strapped to it.

All of the air was instantly sucked from Frank’s lungs and his knees went weak.

He hovered by the door, unable to make his feet take a single step closer to your limp form. He swallowed—hard—as tears stung at his eyes. It had never crossed his mind that he might find you here. He assumed Costa would have dumped your body somewhere it would never be found or incinerated it. Maybe Costa thought having Frank see you like this, to face what had happened in person, would throw him off his game. If that was the plan, it was succeeding. Seeing your violent death over video had been one thing, but finding your long cold corpse days later—

Wait. Something wasn’t right here.

You had been left in this dank, humid room for the past three days. He should have been greeted by the putrid smell of rot and decay as soon as he opened the door but instead, he only sensed the metallic bite of fresh blood. Blood that should have long since dried and lost its potency. Yet he could see the dark red pool beneath your chair was still wet—it was recent.

Frank stumbled forward as if in a trance. It couldn’t be. He watched you die…hadn’t he? He saw the gun go off, a spray of blood, and your head snapped back—but he never saw the aftermath. Not really. The feed had gone black a second after the gun went off. Was there a chance?

The closer he got to where you were tied, the harder it was to look at you. You were still wearing his hoodie that you had been wearing in the video so it covered most of your skin. However, what was showing was littered with bruises and cuts of various sizes, layers of blood coating most of your visible skin as it had dried and been coated once more. The top layer still looked damp in some places, the color more vibrant and shiny in the dim light, and Frank silently prayed for a miracle.

He hesitated as he reached you, knowing that the tiny flicker of hope he was allowing himself to feel could be instantly extinguished the second he touched you. The air around him was deathly still as if the room itself was holding its breath waiting for an answer. He sank to kneel at your feet, as if you were some holy miracle he was prepared to worship. Unable to wait any longer, Frank slowly reached out and placed two fingers against the side of your throat.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Just your cool, clammy skin beneath his fingers, and his heart began to sink. But then—

Just as he felt the first weak thump of your pulse, your eyes slowly flickered open. Your gaze was glassy and unfocused but there was a small spark of recognition as you stared at the man kneeling before you. Your tongue ran briefly over your cracked, bloody lips before you weakly rasped, “-ank?”

Frank’s eyes grew wide as he clutched at your face, his fingers tangling deeply in your hair as he tried to convince himself you were real. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me. Oh god. I thought I’d lost you.” He fought back the tears that were building behind his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You flinched as he shifted you and for the first time, he noticed the blood-soaked wrapping across your shoulder. Unlike the rest of your injuries, this one seemed more severe yet cared for and, if he had to guess, was probably where the bullet from the video call had struck you instead of the head as he had been led to believe. It was still a dire injury, yet he still felt a wave of relief flood over him. A shoulder wound you could heal from; a headshot was another story.

He stayed with his head pressed against yours, reveling in the fact you were alive and he had found you. Then he pulled back to gaze into your eyes.

However, where he thought he would see joy or excitement, there was only terror. Slowly—painfully—you began moving your lips as you tried to tell him something but nothing came out except a hoarse exhale.

“Shhh. You don’t have to say anything,” Frank murmured softly as he rubbed his thumb gently across your cheekbone. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m gonna get you outta here and bring you home to get some help.”

But you shook your head, the fear only intensifying in your eyes as you struggled to get your message across. Finally, you took a deep breath and managed to rasp out your message, “–’s a trap…Run.”

Before Frank could process what you had said, the door to the room slammed open and dozens of armed men rushed into the room. Frank sprang to his feet and tried to put himself between these newcomers and you, but they quickly surrounded the two of you.

“Well, look what we have here. Mr. Castle, we’ve been expecting you.” Costa chuckled cruelly as he walked through the door. “Although truthfully, I thought you would have been here a lot sooner. Three days is a long time to make your girlfriend wait with no food and very little water, especially when she is losing so much blood.”

“You bastard,” Frank growled as he stepped towards Costa, but he stopped as all of the soldiers around you raised their guns.

Costa’s grin widened. “Uh, uh, uh…I would be careful, Mr. Castle. One wrong move and my men open fire.”

“I can take it,” Frank said, stalking forward.

“I’m sure you can. Which is why not a single gun in this room is aimed at you.”

Frank froze in his tracks before glancing around the room. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Costa was right. Every gun was raised and they were all pointed directly at where you were still tied to the chair behind him.

Turning, he locked eyes with you and it was clear you had noticed this as well. And yet, the fear that he had seen in your eyes the last time he had looked at you was gone, and in its place was a sort of calm acceptance. You gave him a small smile as you nodded and mouthed, “It’s okay. Go.”

Frank’s heart swelled. Even after everything this bastard had done to you these past three days, you were still putting his safety above your own. God, how he loved you.

Costa laughed at the tender silent exchange between the two of you. “Oh, is this not precious? You know, she never once lost faith you’d come save her. She said you promised you’d come back and you never broke a promise. Every time one of my men came to check on her or to torture her, she insisted we’d all pay when you found her. Too bad her faith in you was so misguided.” He held up a finger and the men surrounding you all cocked their guns. “Just a word of advice, Mr. Castle that you will never have a chance to learn from: When you try storming the hideout of a known crimelord, don’t try doing it alone. You will always be vastly outnumbered.”

Frank raised his head and looked Costa dead in the eye as his lips curled into a knowing grin. “Who says I’m alone?”

Costa’s smile dropped just as the room was plunged into complete darkness. Frank immediately pivoted and dove towards the spot where he remembered your chair being. His aim was off slightly, but he still managed to grab the edge of the seat as he fell and he pulled it down to the floor with him. And just in time.

“Shoot them!” Costa’s voice rang out through the darkness. He was so focused on not letting you or Frank get away that he did not consider what he had just commanded his men to do.

Following their direct orders as they had been trained to do, Costa’s men opened fire. Bullets whizzed through the air over your heads, and Frank scrambled to cover you with his body as best as he could. You hadn’t made a sound since the lights went off, but Frank felt your hand weakly wrap itself into the fabric of his shirt, giving him a sign you were still with him.

As the bullets continued to fly above you, cries of pain and heavy thuds began to fill the room. Quickly, those sounds became more frequent while the sounds of gunfire grew less and less. When the lights flickered back on, Frank saw that only a handful of men—including Costa—were left standing. All the rest were lying motionless on the floor where they were hit by the bullets from the men across from them.

Glancing down, Frank saw you nestled safely under him with your eyes closed and your fingers still curled in his shirt. When you started to peek one eye open, Frank placed his hand over them. “Not yet,” he muttered. “Keep ‘em closed until I tell you to.”

He moved his hand to see you had followed his instructions—and just in time.

Frank felt the barrel of a gun dig into the back of his head. Slowly, he raised his hands.

“Get to your feet,” Costa growled from behind him.

Slowly, Frank did as he was ordered. Your eyes remained closed, but he felt your grip on his shirt tighten. Carefully, he eased himself back until you were forced to let go, then he rose to his feet. Turning, he faced Costa, the gun still pressed against his skull.

The mob boss’s face was deep red and a prominent vein in his forehead throbbed. “You just cost me a lot of men,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips and hitting Frank in the face. “I think it’s time we finally say goodbye, Mr. Castle. Tell your family I send my regards.”

Costa stepped back, his gun pointed at the center of Frank’s head. But just before he could pull the trigger, something flew from the hallway and struck his hand, causing him to drop the gun as he cursed loudly. Costa looked down at the red billy club lying next to his gun on the floor then raised his head just in time to see a red-clad figure with a horned helmet burst into the room.

About damn time.

Frank grinned as he watched Costa stumble backward at the sight of Red ducking and dodging as he lay blow after blow on his remaining men. Using this momentary distraction, Frank charged forward and wrenched the gun from Costa’s hand. The other man’s eyes grew wide and he started to beg for mercy, but Frank didn’t deal in mercy—he dealt in punishment.

Pointing the barrel of the gun between Costa’s eyes, Frank growled, “I’ll see you in Hell.” And he pulled the trigger.

Costa’s head exploded as his body crumpled to the floor. Wiping blood and brain matter from his face, Frank turned to see Red knocking out the last of Costa’s men.

As the vigilante turned towards him, he sighed. “Frank, you promised if I helped, there’d be no killing.”

Frank threw the gun to the floor as he snapped, “Yeah well, tell that to my wife and kids who he had murdered or my girlfriend—your friend—he left to waste away as bait tied to that chair.”

Red pressed his lips into a tight line but didn’t say anything. Frank knew this discussion wasn’t over but he was grateful Red was willing to leave it alone for the time being. There was a much more important matter that needed to be attended to at the moment.

Hurrying over to where you lay on the floor still tied down, Frank carefully righted the chair and cupped your cheek, tilting your head to get a better look at your face. Your skin was littered with bruises and cuts in various stages of healing, and your bottom lip was split wide. Your eyes were still closed just as Frank had instructed you to do.

Glancing at Red, he asked, “Is she gonna be alright?”

Red placed his hand on the side of your neck just below your jaw. He cocked his head slightly as he listened for a moment, then sighed. “Her heartbeat’s weak and parts of her body are shutting down.” He turned his head towards Frank. “It’s really bad, but if she gets help soon, I think she’ll be okay.”

Frank felt the tightness in his chest lessen slightly. At least there was a chance.

As Red dropped his hand, your eyes fluttered open. Surprised to see the other man with Frank, you asked, “M-Matt…?”

Red grinned sadly down at you. “Hey. Long time no see.”

You exhaled softly in a poor attempt at a laugh but then your lip began to quiver. “—’m sorry…shouldn’ta left…”

Red placed his hand on your uninjured shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “No, it’s my fault too. I knew you wanted to be with Frank and I should’ve kept a better eye on you.” He paused and tilted his head “...That one wasn’t actually supposed to be a joke.”

“You two can pass around all the blame you want once we get outta here,” Frank grumbled before you could try to muster up another response. “Costa might have backup arriving at any minute.”

He wiped his hands on his pants to clean off as much blood as possible. Then he pulled out his knife and cut your bonds. Now unconfined, your body slumped limply in the seat until Frank gingerly lifted you up.

You felt so delicate and frail in his arms. As if you would snap in half with the slightest pressure. Your breathing was still very labored and ragged but no matter how Frank repositioned you, nothing seemed to help.

Moaning softly, you muttered, “Frank…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

You nodded into his chest just before your body went limp in his arms. It seemed as if the trauma from the last few days had finally caught up to you and now that you were safe, your body and mind finally allowed you some peace.

Staring down at your broken body as you still struggled for each breath, Frank felt tears begin to silently stream down his face, and for once he was glad that Red couldn’t see him. However, by the way those red lenses were locked onto him, he had a feeling the vigilante knew exactly what was happening. As Frank passed by him as he held open the front door of the warehouse, Red’s hand shot out and grabbed Frank’s arm.

Giving it a tight squeeze, he said, “It’s over, Frank. You saved her and she’s going to be okay.”

Yanking his arm from Red’s grasp, he growled, “We both know for her, this will never be over and I doubt she’ll ever really be okay again.”

Without another word or even a glance in his direction, Frank stalked through the warehouse and out the exit. It was time to get you home.

When Frank got you back to your shared apartment, Claire was already there waiting for you. Red must have called her on the way. Frank was used to tending to his own injuries, not someone else’s so as much as he preferred to handle things on his own, he was grateful for the help.

He was also grateful Claire didn’t mention the destroyed living room that Frank had left after thinking you had been killed. In all honestly, once he killed Costa, Frank had never planned to return to your apartment. It was too painful imagining living here without you, surrounded by the memories of what was and the dreams of what might have been. Yet now that he knew you were alive, he was going to have to clean up his mess. But for now, he carried you into the bedroom and laid you down on your bed.

Claire tended to your gunshot and your various other injuries. Then she hooked you up to an IV to replenish your fluids and help fight off any infections you might have gotten in sitting in that sweltering warehouse for days. Then she gave Frank a bottle of extra-strength pain medication and told him to give it to you as needed. She promised to check back in after her shift at the hospital and she left.

Several hours later, you were fast asleep but Frank could see it wasn’t a peaceful one. Your jaw was clenched tightly beneath a furrowed brow and your right hand clutched at the sheets, twisting them tightly into your fist. Every so often, you would let out a soft whimper or your breathing would momentarily become more ragged. And at one point, tears began slipping down your cheeks.

Frank watched it all from his chair next to the bed, the stabbing ache in his chest growing stronger with each passing moment. He had helped you into a fresh tank top after Claire finished patching you up. As you shifted, the blankets slipped down revealing more skin and Frank noticed more injuries he hadn’t seen when you were wearing his hoodie. You hadn’t said a word about what they did to you, but Frank had seen enough injuries like these to get a pretty good picture. And while some would heal completely, the deeper ones would never truly fade. You would have to carry these scars as a permanent reminder of how he had failed to protect you.

“I found the perfect wedding dress.”

Startled, Frank’s head jerked up to see your eyes now opened and a soft smile on your face. “What?”

Patting the empty spot on the bed next to you, you said, “I looked online while I was at Matt’s place.”

Frank chuckled as he climbed into the bed and placed his arm behind your head. “You were there for less than a day and you found one?”

You nodded, snuggling your face into his chest. “The second I saw it I knew. It was the one I wanted to marry you in.” You paused, then added, “Just like at that moment I knew I didn’t want to be apart from you, no matter how much danger I might be in.”

So…it was time for this conversation.

Frank sighed, “Sweetheart—”

But you cut him off. “No, Frank. I know what you’re gonna say. But it was my fault, not yours. You sent me away someplace you knew I’d be safe. And I would have been—if I had stayed. But I came back—knowing the risks—because I love you and couldn’t stay away. So everything that’s happened is all because of me and my decisions. Not yours.”

“But you wouldn’t have ever needed to be sent away to keep you safe if you weren’t with me,” Frank countered.

“Maybe. But any life without you in it isn’t one I want to live.” You pressed your lips against the bare skin of his neck. “So if that means I’m put in danger from time to time, it’s a cost I’m willing to pay.”

“What if I’m not willing to pay for my happiness with your life? Because that’s what might happen one of these days if you stay. As bad as this was, we were lucky. Next time, we might not be.”

Sighing, you sat up and stared at him, your lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “Frank, do you realize that everything you’re feeling right now—all this dread and uncertainty and heart-stopping terror that something might happen to me—that’s what I feel every single time you walk out the door as The Punisher. I never know when I kiss you goodbye if that will be the last time I ever see you alive. But I never try to stop you. I just sit here patiently and pray you’ll walk back through that door to give me another kiss. And yes, this life you’ve chosen is dangerous for the both of us. But are you telling me that you aren’t willing to deal with those same feelings you put me through on a weekly basis in order to be with me?”

“Well, fuck, sweetheart,” Frank muttered looking down at his hands. “When you put it like that, it’d be pretty selfish of me to say no, huh?”

“Exactly.” Placing your finger under his chin, you tilted his head up until he was looking at you. The adoration in your gaze made the last lingering doubts about whether or not he should stay vanish. As you stroked his cheek, you cooed, “And if I know one thing about you, Frank Castle, it’s that you are one of the most selfless men I know. And I love you with everything in me.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than I ever thought possible. And if you’re sure this life of danger is what you want, then you can buy that wedding dress tomorrow.”

“Too late,” you giggled, wrapping your good arm around Frank’s neck in a half-hug. “I already ordered it while you were in the shower.”

Frank shook his head with a soft chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Marry me,” you said with complete seriousness. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives together to figure out what comes next.”

Frank pulled you down—carefully minding all of your injuries—so you were lying on top of him. As he felt your eyelashes flutter closed against his bare chest, he murmured, “That’s exactly what we’ll do. I promise.” He pressed his lips against the top of your head. “And have I ever broken my promise?”

16 notes · View notes

eternalwritess · 1 month ago

Note

Bro like I'm actually begging pls make more epilogue of endings fics I need more from this show and ur like one of the only people making fics for it right now and I absolutely love what you wrote for it already I'm obsessed omg ofc you don't have to if you don't want to I just really wanted to say that I love ur work for it rlly and it's brilliant and I love it

hii!! tysm for the ask!!! :DD

and same here lol, im absolutely obsessed with this show so badly like i can NOT get it out of my mind if a tried and it's becoming a problem /pos

as for making more fics i do have another one that should be coming out this week for whumptober!! then afterwards im gonna be focusing on some of my other projects that i should probably finish (i have two books that are incomplete and since theyre kinda long i do wanna finish them) but in between making them and finishing up their chapters i will be writing random oneshots and teoe will definitely be among those!

alsooo!! if you have any requests for me when it comes to writing teoe i would be more than happy to do them :D

just keep in mind that it will definitely take me a while because of whumptober, wips, school, and stuff like that so it might be out after the end of october and even then lol. anyways but tysmm!! im glad to see that people are enjoying my little drabbles no matter how silly (and sometimes bad-) they are!!!

#teoe #the epilogue of endings #epilogue of endings #eternal asks

10 notes · View notes

comfy-whumpee · 1 year ago

Text

Echoes

Whumptober Day 10 - "You said you'd never leave me." CN: referenced domestic violence, minor whump.

Jax taglist: @bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @eatyourdamnpears

Savvie, Izzy and Jamie belong to @ashintheairlikesnow.

She says, “You said you’d never leave me.”

She is staring at him from across the metal table. The inmate jumpsuit is a good look on her, he can’t deny, and he likes seeing her hands cuffed to the table too, unable to grab or touch him anywhere at all. Her nails are short and round and unpainted, which he has never seen before.

She says, “You’re mine, Jax.” She has tied her hair back from her face and it makes her look more her age. He looks older than her, has for years, because of how they have lived. But now, she looks as haggard as he feels, without the makeup he is used to seeing on her.

He doesn’t have an answer for her demand. He remembers promising many times that he wouldn’t leave her. He’d never betray her. He couldn’t. That always satisfied her well enough.

Of course, the moment he could, that all became moot. But he’d said all the right promises without worrying about that. Looking to the future was never his strong suit, anyway.

“I thought you loved us,” Savvie continues. She doesn’t need him to reply. “I thought you cared about us, as a family, Jax. But you just wanted to hurt us.”

Jax thinks about her nearly dropping Jamie when he spit up on her shirt. He thinks about Izzy coming into the kitchen white as a sheet from one of her ‘talks’. He thinks about how sound carries in her old house, and how both kids have heard his screams.

“My poor babies.” Savvie is a one-woman show of grief. Her eyes glitter with crystalline tears, but they don't leave him, watching for his reaction. “You can’t take them from me. They’re mine, Jax. I’ll fight for them. I just need to see them again, to make sure they understand what’s happening, to make sure they know why you decided to break up our family.”

“You did that, Savvie,” he interjects. “You did that every time you took me away from them.”

“You never wanted them,” she replies dismissively, trying and failing to gesture with a rattle of chain. “You just wanted to lecture me about them. It’s thanks to me they even exist.”

That is all true. But none of it matters. It stopped mattering as soon as there became real children involved. He couldn’t just abandon a baby to her.

“You’ve ruined our family,” she adds. She’s been refuelled by his words. He needs to stay quiet. “It will never, ever be the same, after what you’ve done. I hope you’re happy, Jax. I’ll never be happy again.”

His mouth is already open to speak, to retort, when she adds the rest. But it only becomes more true. “Here’s hoping.”

“Daddy,” she sniffles, arms tight around his waist. Her face is pressed into his stomach and he strokes her hair gently. “I’m sorry, daddy,” she hiccups. “Please d-don’t go without me an’ Jamie, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you two,” he promises. He gently loosens her arms, but keeps hold of her hands as he drops stiffly to one knee. He meets her wide, tear-filled eyes. “Hey. I said I’d never leave you two, didn’t I?”

She stares at him, full of fear. He should have seen it coming, of course. He can’t talk about a holiday without reminding her of Savvie’s version of a weekend getaway: kids abandoned with zero warning, sudden trips to the airport while they were still asleep, Jax dragged along on half-baked promises that Isaac would send someone.

“I want to go on holiday with you both,” he promises her. Her little hands are gripping his back, her fingers soft and warm against his callouses. “That’s what holidays are like now. I will never run away on holiday without you, especially not if you are sleeping.”

“Never ever?” she asks, her gaze so afraid and so desperately trusting.

The weight of his words feels so heavy, knowing she will hold onto them tightly, repeating them over and over to herself. How to pick words that will comfort her through all their uses?

He starts with the fundamentals. “Family is me, you and Jamie.” No Mommy. No Savvie. Not even grandpa makes the cut, at the end of the day. With this established, he adds, “Family holiday has to be me, you and Jamie too.”

She leans forwards, asking for a hug in that careful way she has with touch. Touch with him, anyway. She isn’t this cautious with the others.

He hugs her close. “Never, ever,” he repeats. Sometimes he likes to imagine how long he could go without un-hugging his baby girl. He could sleep with her in his arms again. He can eat with her on his lap. Walk the dogs with her in his arms. He could keep hold of her forever.

Of course, it’s just an instinct. He lets her go. “And,” he adds, to lift her spirits, “you get a say in where we go on holiday, now. We choose together.”

She doesn’t care as long as she’s with him, he knows. It’s the same for him. But maybe, with some time, he can get her excited for the holiday, and give her back some of the joy she never had.

Here’s hoping.

#whumptober2023 #no.10 #you said you'd never leave me #whump #past trauma #comfort #recovery #minor whump #abandonded #jax

27 notes · View notes

just-a-normal-regretter · 2 months ago

Text

Whumptober Day 12: Starvation

Uhh surprise surprise, I'm doing an additional release today. It's an early piece but I just wanted to release it for Reigen's birthday. Happy birthday, here's some struggles! :D

I don't think I'll do this for any other day, and when the 12th properly comes around I'll just retweet my post to make up for posting this drabble earlier than normal.

Anyway, the drabble premise: Reigen isn't lying, he's an esper all right. He doesn't have any useful powers though, stuck constantly absorbing energy with his hands. His body doesn't handle that very well, and some folks can exploit the terrible drawbacks all-too easily.

#whumptober2024 #no.12 #starvation #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #fanfic #reigen arataka #rambling moment #drabble moment #happy birthday reigen!#early release moment yknow the vibes etc

3 notes · View notes

breezy-cheezy · 1 year ago

Text

My Friends Enjoy Reminding Me of My Many WIPs: The Tag Game

Another tag game! I prommy I worked on the fics from the last tag meme/game I've just been....school hell. :/ (Same thing for Whumptober, I'm just doing at least one a week now woooo)

Anyway finishing off my latest reblog spam with responding to this! Thank you @pencilofawesomeness for tagging me! :D

- rules: share the first line (or two or more!) of every current wip you have (that you feel comfortable sharing) and tag some writer friends! feel free to add the titles of your documents if you see fit

I'll tag others up here so y'all don't have to go through the wips yourselves if you don't wanna lol: @insertsomthinawesome , @x-i-l-verify, @wandererriha, @forwantofacalling

YALL DON'T HAVE TO it's just a fun thing <333

------

Whumptober 2023: Day 13, Infection (Trigun: Twin Swap AU, Zazie POV)

(in an ideal world I woulda finished this today but hhhhsdgjkfsd nope)

There is something…strange, piercing the night-moon-dark air. We lift our head, looking through the eyes of a drone to the dark sky-sands above. Normally, those sands would glint with the eyes of Monarchs passed before us, and if it were Brood Season, the expanse would be alight with the drifting eggs of yet-to-be-hatched grubs. Yet this Moon-pass...eggs much bigger than we’ve ever seen in all our many cycles are falling down down down-

Bright. Blinding. Hot.

------

Whumptober 2023: Day 9, "You're a Liar" (Trigun: Stampede)

There’s an illness rolling through the orphanage- Toma-pox, they call it. Nicholas prowls the halls, gathering up the sick kids one by one. He needs to make sure all the kids are piled into one area so they can be taken care of. And q. Cuar. Ant-eened. He thinks that's how you say it.

Miss Melanie was really tired and taking a break, so Nicholas can help with this. Sisters Clara and Beth were busy making stew for everyone. He’d already been looking for Livio, what's a couple more kids?

They tell him to be careful or he might catch it too. He just huffs and rolls his eyes. He’s too strong to get sick like everyone else.

-------

Whumptober 2023: Day 7, "Can you hear me?" (One Piece)

They’d stopped on an island, something-something island with a name Zoro didn’t bother to remember. They’d stopped there to restock on some supplies, since according to their Cook and Doctor, they were getting pretty low.

Which is all well and good; Luffy in particular is always excited for someplace new to explore; their Captain needed somewhere to work off his pent up energy. Normally Zoro would go with him, but he’d somehow gotten roped into pack-mule duty for the crap Cook, while Nami helped Chopper carry his purchased supplies. He's not sure why the roles can't be switched. Random fruits and vegetables weren’t that much heavier than bandages in his opinion really…

He got angrier the more he thought about it, but not for the usual reasons.

------

My Mind, My Body, My Soul, Chapter 5: Father's Lament (Genshin Impact, Daemon AU)

Today was supposed to be a good day. It was supposed to be bright, filled with joy and happy memories to be made.

In a happier world, a safer world, maybe the Ragnvindr family would have had a wonderful party, full of smiles and cake and food and love and safety and warmth. Perhaps some drinking, since Diluc would then have been of age, and the only tragedy would be the young master of Mondstadt’s wine industry discovering how much he dislikes alcohol.

A small semi-formal dance was to be had, followed by a sweet musical number performed by the youngest Gunhildr sister. Some embarrassment, but genuine awe and excitement as that would have been the first gift given on the celebration of Diluc’s birth.

------

Whumptober 2023: Day 30, Borrowed clothing, bridal carry (Twisted Wonderland)

“There! The mirror!” Divus says, relief plain in his voice. Mozus Trein looks up from the mirror in his grip, towards the Dark Mirror all their students had leapt through hours before, its surface rippling with voices coming from as if underwater.

“OH thank goodness! We won't be sued after all-” Crowley sighs, stepping forward only to be pulled back by one of Divus’s hands on his feathered shoulder.

-------

Whumptober 2023: Day 23, Shadows, "Who's there?" (Honkai Star Rail)

(tip toeing around spoilers so I'm not sharing the FIRST first lines haha)

They both look over to their friend to catch him staring back at them, golden eyes wide, his fingers near his mouth. He swallows on reflex, and they can tell it's more than just saliva going down his throat.

Welt's face goes pale, and he shoves the journal to the side, which March quietly takes. Welt rushes to Orion's side, cane clicking, free hand fluttering nervously about the box. “Please tell me you did not just take one of those medicine pellets.”

Orion blinks, then looks down at the box. One small object, one pill is clearly missing.

”I uh. Can tell you I did not...not take one....“ the young trailblazer says sheepishly. Welt sucks in a breath through his teeth.

#breezy babbles #thanks for the tag!!#wips #wip #fic #breezy writes #like Pencil there are more but we will be here all day #alot of these are older and I'm chucking them at whumptober as an excuse to finish them #wheeeeee

9 notes · View notes

arecaceae175 · 2 years ago

Text

Febuwhump Day 1: Touchstarved (Hyrule)

IT HAS BEGUN!!!! Read on AO3 or here :D. Warnings: none, except it doesn't have a happy ending. This is a continuation of Whumptober Day 14: Alt. 4 Touch Starved feat. Hyrule.

This one is for @wolfwarden, whose comment on my previous touchstarved whumptober inspired this one :)

Part 2/2. Part 1.

Warriors sat down next to Hyrule on the log, carefully putting himself a safe distance away from Hyrule. The gap between them seemed to burn, and Hyrule felt his arm tingle.

Across the camp, Twilight had an arm thrown over Wild’s shoulder. Wild’s eyes were drooping as he leaned into the touch, his head resting on the wolf pelt on Twilight’s shoulders. Sky had his sailcloth wrapped around himself, Wind, and Four. Wind was out cold and had his head pillowed on Sky’s chest. Time put a hand on Legend’s shoulder as he walked past to go patrol the area.

Hyrule felt his heart skip a beat as he glanced at Warriors and his face filled with heat. Maybe if he initiated it, Warriors wouldn’t pull away.

Hyrule held his breath and carefully, quietly, scooted across the log. He had barely moved, but he froze and glanced around anyway. Warriors was talking to Legend, and Legend had his eyes on the tunic he was mending. Hyrule let out his breath, and gasped in another as quietly as he could.

He moved closer to Warriors. They were close enough now that Warriors’ scarf was nearly touching Hyrule’s arm.

Just a little bit more, Hyrule thought.

Warriors threw his head back in laughter. His shoulder bumped into Hyrule, and Hyrule flinched at the sudden contact. As soon as they touched, Warriors pulled away and moved himself further down the log.

“Oh, sorry ‘Rulie. I didn’t realize I was sitting so close,” Warriors said, then went back to his conversation with Legend.

Hyrule felt his face flush with heat. His shoulders curled in on themselves and he turned away with a mumbled “it’s fine.” His heart felt heavy and his skin tingled from the lack of contact. A pressure built behind his eyes, but Hyrule quickly willed it away.

It wasn’t like he needed the touch, anyway. He’s been perfectly fine on his own for as long as he can remember. He could ignore the yearning he felt deep within his soul every time one of the others got a hug from Sky, or an arm over the shoulder from Twilight, or a proud pat on the back from Time and Warriors. He didn’t need that.

It was harder to ignore the pain swirling in his heart and his mind that he was never given those things. He knew it was his own fault, he knew that. He flinched and refused and moved away from any kind of touch for weeks . Hyrule knew he really couldn’t blame the others. They were just trying to protect his fragile feelings.

But it still hurt.

#febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #febuwhump day 1 #touchstarved #fic #tw: none #no happy ending #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fic #lu hyrule #lu warriors #ace writes

25 notes · View notes

adrift-in-thyme · 1 year ago

Note

Trrriiiin, you're lovely and I love your writing style and you're SO TALENTED and you're precious and I appreciate you❤️

What is your favorite story trope to write? Also, what is one (or more) fics that you are really proud of from this year?

AKSKDNDKSKSK OMAAAAA YOU’RE MAKING ME BLUSH

UNO REVERSE (just swap out writing for art lol)

My favorite trope is definitely hurt/comfort. At least, I think that’s a trope…idk maybe that counts as a genre. Anyway lol I love it. I really enjoy writing pain (that sounds weird 😅) and getting to do that PLUS get a somewhat happy ending where the poor blorbo I tortured is cared for make me so happy. It’s the perfect way to allow characters to open up and bond with one another in ways they wouldn’t before. That vulnerability is delicious.

Ohhh fics I’m proud of…definitely Give the Lion Fangs. I haven’t had this much fun planning for and writing a multi-chap since…well, maybe ever lol. I’ve loved getting to explore this little-known character and create the backstory — and future — I wish Nintendo had given him. It can get overwhelming at times, especially when my anxiety is going nuts, but I’ve kept pushing on and I’m really proud of that.

Also all my Whumptober and Febuwhump fics (especially, my First gets resurrected one from Febuwhump and my Time gets stalfo-d by the Lost Woods one from Whumptober.) Some I like more than others, of course, but I enjoyed writing them all. And becoming a Whumptober completionist?? Never thought I’d do that. Might never do it again XD But it was fun and I’m proud of it.

#tysm for the ask!!#YOU’RE SO SWEET #kikker oma my beloved #asks #trin answers

2 notes · View notes

amugoffandoms · 1 year ago

Note

Ooh, 3, 17, and 29 for the fic asks if you want :D

whoopee!! more mug's ao3 writing wrapped!! here's the list!

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

i am incapable of picking just one so here's a list aidnjf!!

Sing Your Sins! - yeah this would be an obvious choice but like audhgjgjg it was so fun to write about!! just let them be happy guys please!,!@,&$$

37.2°C -- Yuno Kashiki's Trial 2 Voice Drama - I had a blast rewriting some of yuno's trial 2 vd for this swap au judt man some of the last lines kinda just hit hard and man judt man

a mug of whumptober 2023 fics - is this cheating?? yeah a little bit buy i had so much fun writing some of this!! really can't wait to get to the rest shhffjjf

ILOLL - yeah the characters are historical figures, I like writing and if the story just so happens to be through these figures that were sort of modernized by a musical then yeah ajfjfjf ANYWAYS you can see my favorite part of formatting and also gruesome writing in this ajfhfj love both of those things dearly sjjf

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

yuno.

but there are some close contenders!!

Sayori is really fun to write! There's a balance of bubbly and bittersweet you have to hit and it's always fun standing on that line! also just sayo :]

Es, Mahiru, and Fuuta all because I've written them a few times to understand their character better and also they have beliefs and traits that are so intrinsically woven into their character that it's like Oh we're gonna have fun writing this yippee!!

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oh man there's so many auauausu

here are some that i picked out sjfjf

“Ha, you know that you’re just pushing everyone away when you’re being honest?” She knows. She knows. It’s stupid, but she knows. No matter what she’s like, she’ll have to lie. Just to have a little warmth. How cruel is that?

Shidou hears that voice. He can’t tell who said that, probably one of the doctors pulling him out of the room. Closing his mouth to stop the next scream, he realizes, for a second, he believes them. He believes that if he lets other people dip their hands in the ocean of blood he wades through every day, his wife will be waiting for him. His wife will be alive.

It's only that noise and him standing around. He can feel his chest tighten with guilt and dread. If he dared to breathe, it felt like something akin to a noose constricted his breath, pulling him away.

"Sometimes I wake up and everything feels frozen. It's cold and I can't feel anything. It's nothing. I can't feel the light against my face. I can't feel my body ache for relief."

"Y-Yuno—" "I can't tell if I'm on the edge of my life or I'm already dead." "!" "Then, Mahiru-san comes into my cell with Shidou-san. He fixes my bandages. And, eventually, I feel something. It's cold." "..." Es stares at the other. "I think we both know, even Shidou. I'm on the verge of dying, Es." Es stands up and slams the table, with Yuno only blankly staring. "Yuno, you aren't going to—" "Am I... really alive?"

so that's it!! :D thank you for asking ^^

#mug answers #ask game!#mug's ao3 writing wrapped

2 notes · View notes

savebatsartedition · 1 month ago

Text

Whumptober 2024 Day 17

Summary:

Digger thinks about his wife, and he thinks about the words that echo in his head. Prompt: "We had a good run,"

Notes:

I ALMOST FORGOT TO POST THIS- Anyway, happy birthday to the person who asked me to whump this guy! :D Hope this is to your liking. >^-^< Also, I changed the lore a bit to be more meaningful for this particular story, I know about the hand thing, I wanted it here. The name used for Digger’s wife, “Brewer“ is TECHNICALLY official, as Mark Cheverton gave a certain fan (not me) permission to write an official backstory and they chose that name. :) Yay!! Content Warnings: Death of a romantic partner Words: 1,001

(Fic also under the cut.)

“Well, we had a good run,”

It was a phrase that just kept repeating in his life, laughing when he smiled, smiling when he laughed, and smirking deep and red when he frowned. When he and his beloved Brewer had first spoken, back when they were but youngins in a battle torn village, it had been quick to leave her lips.

They had been on a trip with some other children in the village, and though they hadn’t known each other well before that day, the two of them had been grouped together because of how well they worked side by side. (Even though he knew his way around with a shovel, and she knew hers with a brewing stand.) Unsurprisingly, because of her lack of focus on the digging project, the two of them had gotten themselves stuck at the bottom of the hole they had just dug. They lacked the tools to cut themselves out and the height to climb it. Somehow, they had lost the blocks needed to staircase up the side, leaving them stuck.

As soon as he had realized this, she- Digger’s partner in the exercise that had gotten him there -had laughed her bell like laugh, patted him on the shoulder, and told him those words for the first time. (Even now, a rugged worker stained with dirt and coal dust, Digger remembered how deeply he had blushed.)

It had continued on from there, becoming a bit of a running joke between the two of them. His pickaxe snapping into pieces sixtyfour blocks into a cave? That was a good run. His shovel breaking on the first block of sand he tried to dig it into? That was a good run too.

Usually when he had heard those words, back in those days, they had come with a laugh. (Bell like, just as the call of the one in the center of the village, beckoning him home with her.) And, even though he had always been a serious man, he had found back then that he couldn’t help but break into a little smirk of his own.

She had that effect on him, even so early in their friendship.

The first time he’d kissed her (his hands were still bound into his smock, as holding a pickaxe or a shovel felt dangerous), she had been surprised. And then she hadn’t and she’d kissed back with a little laugh and a smile.

She’d pulled an apple out of her inventory (for some reason it was the first thing she’d thought off) just to run her fingers through his scruffy, dirt caked hair, and she’d smiled. She’d pulled back, quickly thought better of it, and leaned in again just to whisper those fated words once more.

Oh those six words, they just drew him in again, and again and again. Drew them together, make them laugh, and them cry.

Made him cry.

But that had not been that time, there was so much more to reminisce on. So much more that had been his, and could not be anymore. He still had to think, to remember.

Once, they had snuck away during a village meeting. The fields had been clear of monsters, and they had known it would be safe. Even better, it had turned out more than safe, it had been wonderful.

By the time that Crafter and the others were finally figuring out that they should probably start looking for the two villagers, it was already quite far into the night. Digger had asked the Iron Golems for some poppies earlier in the day, and he had spent much of the night using them (and the free hands they brought) as an excuse to touch her face.

He had run the red petals down her cheek and she had giggled and blushed. When he too had felt his face redden, she had smiled all soft and reached out to pluck the flower from his grasp.

His hands had gone back into his sleeves when she had done that, but she had reached out to grab for them anyway. (No, grab was the wrong word. To hold them, sharing the flower between their fingers.)

They’d kissed more than once before the others had found them, hidden away in the empty brewing room as they were.

Her mother had gasped and pulled Brewer away, already scolding her for her lack of interest in the town meeting as she did. Digger had felt his own mother do the same to him, but as the two were yanked away and into the crowd for the meeting, he had caught her eyes once more. She had smiled all big and pretty, and he’d blushed even redder than he had while they kissed when she had mouthed those words to him.

“Well, we had a good run,”

They hadn’t been the end either, there had been so much more, so much more. When Topper and Filler had first figured out how to destroy the blocks in the house (the smart kids had figured it out on the very same day they realized holding something would release their hands) there had been that moment. When he had twirled Brewer alone at midnight, the dirt of his hands staining hers as the scents of potions drifted off of her, there had been that moment. When he had gone to fight, there had been that moment. Again and again. The same, but never really the same.

And when he had returned, the door broken down and the Users’ footprints were still in the town, there had been no smiles, but there had been that moment even then. That moment of realizing that something was over, that their chance was gone.

She could not reach for him, could not scream, but he had heard the words all the same. He felt it when the bell in his life had been broken. They’d had a good run, and they would never have another. It was over.

#whumptober2024 #no.17 #''We had a good run''#writing #fanfic #gk999 #romantic angst #angst #death #digger gk999 #brewer gk999

0 notes