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agentmarcuspike · 10 months

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frankie morales x dominatrix (+ ex!reader)

synopsis: after breaking up with you on a self sabotaging whim, frankie finds his way back into familiar arms to cope content warnings: mentions of drugs and addiction, sub!frankie, destructive and avoidant behavior, sex work, joi (jerk-off instructions), masturbation (m), degredation kink, vague descriptions of dissociation, dom's name is jessica (after my hero @hier--soir), cum, some pain and tears related to jerking off (stop if it hurts, guys!), military related trauma, very brief attempt at aftercare word count: ~ 2.7k a/n: my first frankie fic! thank you, han @swiftispunk, for proof reading af, for encouraging me to conquer my p0rn shame, and of course for writing such an inspiring sub!frankie. we love him (and u)

Frankie knew it wasn’t fair to you. He knew he’d cause you pain by ending things after twelve amazing, promising months. But compared to the inevitable pain he was doomed to bring everyone he loved and cared for, it was nothing.

He’d been clean for a mere week when you met, and the rush you gave him had been enough to replace the rush of a high. For a while. But when the withdrawals and unrest returned, and the butterflies could no longer keep the cravings at bay, you’d held him through the tremors, wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, and at no point had you judged him for his past or his way of coping. You’d loved him.

And you still did.

Did he love you too? Most likely. Probably. Yes. Which was why he had done what he had. Because you deserved someone better for you. Someone without his history, his trauma, his wounds. No matter how much he loved you for tending to them, you shouldn’t have had to. And that’s why he’d left, on this gloomy Sunday evening, with no other explanation than, “I’m sorry.”

It’s also why Frankie finds himself roaming the chilly city, street lights blurry, all noises softened by a thick layer of apathy. He has no idea how long he’s been walking, no idea whether he’s tired or not. He feels like a shadow of himself, with no wants or needs, no ambition or goals. Just a body moving, constantly moving, to avoid having to think or feel. But as a bicycle quickly swooshes past him on the sidewalk, almost knocking him over, he stops in his tracks and looks around.

He finds he’s made his way to the other side of town. The air is thicker here somehow, heavier with desperation than in the area he'd tricked himself into thinking he'd belonged in for the past couple years, amongst white picket fences and successful neighbors.

Here, the atmosphere is familiar. People seeking shelter between dumpsters, some asleep, some chasing relief in a fashion Frankie is all too acquainted with. A single buzz goes off in his head when the urge comes back to him. It would be so easy. He knows where to get it, knows how it works. Where to go, who to see, what to say. It would give him the energy to do whatever he could to keep this heartache away.

So he sets his legs back in motion. At the end of the street, they make a conscious right, a left, and then his mind is wandering again, off in a different direction than his feet. And then his feet stop. He’s standing outside of a regal looking building. Off-white stone façade, adorned with French balconies and decorations, art deco mascarons staring down at him with empty eyes.

Two white columns frame the heavy front door he’s walked through so many, many times. Not since you, though. Frankie has not had the need to visit this place since you first locked eyes with him.

Without a second thought, before he can change his mind, he rings the doorbell and he’s buzzed inside. With every heavy step up the marble stairs, echoing off the shiny walls, the lights in Frankie’s brain turn off one by one. As he reaches the fourth floor, he’s merely a shell of himself, a puppet on a pair of floppy strings, longing for someone to take control.

He stands still on the landing for a minute, breathing slowly, deliberately, waiting for his arm to rise and knock on its own. It doesn’t, so he orders his hand to place three quick raps on the door.

A few seconds later, a woman comes out. Her hair is tied up, haphazardly moved out of her face and neck with an elegant claw clip. The hand she’s not using to hold the door open is placed in front of her, fingers in a fist clutching the two sides of a silk robe together, careful not to expose more of herself than what’s already poking out from underneath the short covering.

“Frankie…?” she asks, brows raised in surprise.

He gives her a nod and a weak, “Hi” in response, clearing his throat and repeating the greeting. “Jessica,” he mutters.

The woman takes a step over the doorstep, pulling her robe tighter around herself.

“I didn’t expect you! We didn’t have an appointment today, did we?” Her voice is slightly panicked, worried she’s forgotten, her eyes darting quickly down to the non-existent watch on her wrist.

Frankie shakes his head. “No.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, opening and closing his fidgety hands. “I just…” His voice cracks, he swallows and tries again.

“I just need two minutes.”

Something in his core refuses to let him look at the woman in front of him.

He knows her well, knows she’d never judge him. She’s seen him in much more vulnerable positions than this, and yet, something about being so emotionally affected in front of her has him staring at the floor.

She leans down, bending at the waist and tilting her head to find his eyes, making him look at her. When he does, his voice is weak, but assured. He knows what he needs. “Please.”

The plea is enough. Jessica gives him a subtle nod before stepping aside and letting Frankie in.

He automatically kicks off his shoes and parks them by the door. Straightening back up, arms fixed by his sides, he awaits further instruction.

“Clothes off, sweetie,” Jessica commands softly. “And wait right here for me. Be right back.” She disappears from the hallway and into the living room, leaving Frankie alone to undress. He makes quick work of it, not bothering with all the buttons, careless about whether they end up inside out or not.

He sheds his clothes like he wants to shed his skin and grow a new one. A brand new layer, thicker than the one he has, one free of marks from your bruising touch.

On autopilot, he drops to his knees on the tiled hallway floor, hands clasped behind his back, easily and comfortably slipping back into the familiar cadence of compliance.

The hard cold surface keeps him from crashing into the floor, from falling through it, by burrowing into his knees, stone against bone. He forces all of his attention to the sensation; the dull ache in his kneecaps, the strain in his thighs. The feeling of staying in position despite the discomfort fills him with a sense of pride and control only certain things can give him. One of them is playing the part of soldier, fighting on someone else’s behalf. The other is this; surrendering completely to someone else’s needs and wishes.

Jessica is back a quick minute later.

“Come in, Frankie.”

Hands on the floor for support, he rises and follows her.

The room isn’t new to him. He’s seen it before, but only in passing, on his way to her bedroom, to the bathroom and back again. But he’s never spent time there, or had the opportunity to really see her private space. It’s a stark contrast to her cold and minimal bedroom. The space isn’t big, so the green velvet couch placed in the middle of the room instead of against a wall is a bold choice. To the left and right of the sofa sit two small side tables, the floor space covered by a massive persian rug.

Jessica gestures to this rug as she sits, legs crossed and arm thrown casually over the back of the sofa, causing her robe to cleave at the top, showing off her clavicles.

Frankie finds his place in the middle of the carpet. He should feel vulnerable, fully naked in a new environment. But Jessica’s mild authority, untroubled by the situation, keeps him calm.

“You just need two minutes, you said?”

Frankie nods.

“Very well, then. Two minutes is what you get,” she declares. And then, demanding:

“Kneel.”

And Frankie does. One knee at a time touches the soft carpet beneath him. His hands come down to support him before he sits back on his heels, head bowed, only looking up at her through his lashes when he hears her shuffle.

From the side table to her right, she picks up a round egg shaped gadget and turns the top and bottom halves in opposite directions. For a second he thinks it’s gonna vibrate, until he hears the ticking. Jessica puts the kitchen timer back down on the side table.

“Those are your precious seconds, big boy. You better start touching yourself.”

Frankie’s hand automatically shoots down to palm himself, already half hard from excitement, but seeing his hesitant movements, she clarifies.

“Two minutes to come for me, or you’re not gonna be allowed to come in a very…,” She drags out the pause between the words, “...Very long time. Understand?”

Frankie nods.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice is hoarse with anticipation. “I understand, ma’am.”

“Good boy.” She gives him a wink. “Now go on, make yourself come for me.”

Her command, combined with the ticking sound of time passing, has him quickly tugging at himself, eroticizing anything and everything he can see around him to get there; Jessica’s toned and shiny calves, the way a stray piece of hair has escaped her claw clip and softly caresses her cheekbone. His hand is tight around his cock as he fists himself frantically. Precum starts to gather at his tip, glistening in the soft lighting, and he smears it over his length.

Jessica spreads her legs on the couch in front of him, making Frankie groan with impatience, but she quickly places a hand in her lap, blocking his view.

“Look at you. So needy, so whiny.”

Frankie moans, not meeting her gaze, the quick pumps of his wrist making him sore and frustrated and he can feel something building, but he’s not quite there yet.

“I haven’t even undressed and you’re all worked up.” Her voice is soft and obnoxiously affectionate. “How pathetic.”

He finally looks up at her face, his sad eyes begging for more; Frankie wants her to look at him too. Wants her to see him. But she doesn’t pay him any mind, she’s only eyeing the ticking clock.

“One minute now,” she tsks. “It’s all the time you deserve, to be honest.”

And now she looks at him. Her gaze is sharp and domineering, but there’s something round behind it. Something in the shape of worry. It quickly disappears when she speaks again.

“You’re not worth any more of my attention,” she continues. “A disgrace, that’s what you are. Just a dirty, filthy masturbator.”

As she shifts slightly in her seat, her robe slips off of one of her shoulders, exposing more of her skin and chest. Frankie swallows harshly at the sight.

Mouth agape, tongue poking out to wet his lips, he squeezes his eyes shut, focusing only on the command, his one objective: come. The soft hairs of the carpet are starting to feel like knives, boring into his skin, a welcome pain were it not distracting him from the task at hand. He shifts ever so slightly from side to side, relieving his knees from the hurt in turn.

Jessica must sense his discomfort, because she purrs,

“You’re not gonna come all over my carpet, are you?”

Frankie shakes his head frantically and begins to walk on his knees towards the shiny hardwood floor.

“I’d have to make you clean it up,” Jessica continues.

Tears are pushing behind Frankie’s eyes as he nears release. His toes curl, and he grits his teeth, trying to block out the timer’s insistent ticks.

“10 seconds, now,” she informs him. He squeezes his cock even harder, pumping himself with short quick strokes. Blood rushes through his ears, muffling Jessica’s voice as she counts down.

“Five, four…”

He’s outside of his body. His breath hitches.

“Three, two–”

As the room fills with the shrill of the alarm, Frankie’s cock pulses in his hand, spurting thick ropes of hot cum onto the floor. He keeps going, using his own spend as lubrication, choking his hard length until he’s shuddering, hunched over, sweaty and teary eyed.

Frankie’s body slants forward. He steadies himself with his hands on his thighs, blinking slowly as he concentrates on catching his breath, returning his body. Jessica is patient. She waits until his chest fills and empties itself of air at a reasonable pace, and then she stands up and walks towards him.

His head shoots up when she reaches him, but she places herself behind him, a comforting hand on each of his shoulders, and bends down to kiss his head.

“Stay,” she whispers as she gets back up and moves to leave the room, Frankie left on the floor with his thoughts and his mess. He wonders if he should clean up–even if he had managed to avoid the carpet–but he doesn’t have time to do anything before Jessica is back. She’s carrying his things, his shirt hanging over her arm as she works to turn his other clothes right side out.

Slowly, carefully, she helps him back into what he’d been wearing when he’d arrived. One hand through the sleeve. Then the other. Stepping into his underwear, then his jeans, one leg at a time. She saves his hat for last. Before placing it over his messy head of curls, she cups his face with the palm of her hand.

She leans in, placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, lips barely brushing his skin. Frankie blinks. Accepting softness from Jessica isn’t new to him, but the words she gives him after take him by surprise.

“I’m proud of you, Frankie.”

Her eyes are earnest, open, genuine. He almost finds it in him to believe her, and allows himself to lean into her touch, resting his heavy head on her palm for a second shorter than he’d like to, breaking away when the darkness behind his closed eyelids makes way for pictures of you holding him, him leaning back on you.

He quickly reassesses, telling himself this is your job, that he’s a customer, that he hadn’t even made an appointment. He should tip you at least 200%. Shaky hands dig into the pockets of his jeans, pulling out no more than two twenties.

Swearing under his breath, Frankie starts to panic.

“I– I didn’t…” he begins. “It was so spontaneous–”

She shushes him. “Don’t worry about it.” Her smile is heartfelt, which embarasses him even more. “I’m just glad you came.”

Frankie shakes his head. “No, I wanna pay. I mean, speaking of coming, let me at least wipe my cum off your floor.” He gestures to the sticky mess slowly coagulating on her floorboards.

Jessica snickers.

“Do you do the dishes when you’ve eaten out too?” She raises her brows, and he chuckles, shaking his head quietly.

“It’s all part of the service, baby. Come on, let me walk you out.”

On the doorstep, he gives Jessica a quick kiss goodbye. He thanks her again, and she thanks him back, though for what he’s not sure. Visiting? Choosing her? The company? Either way, he takes her gratitude and shoves it in his pocket with the twenties. When he reaches the lobby, passing a wall full of mailboxes, he quickly locates hers, and swiftly shoves the two bills into the mouth of it.

Frankie’s feet start moving down the street, and his head absentmindedly follows. His skull is no less heavy, the feelings just as painful, and pictures of you still project onto the insides of his eyelids every time he blinks. But a lightness now coats his mind. A sense of victory. He resisted the easy way out. He chose to stay sober, even though he could’ve so easily gone back to his old ways of burying any unwanted feelings in torrents of snow.

And with that feeling of achievement, of growth and gain, he realizes where his feet are taking him. The tall buildings turn into houses, the shop windows into white picket fences. In the distance he makes out the house you’ve made a home together. He prays you’ll open the door. That you’ll give him some time. He just needs two minutes.

i have a feeling tumblr is limiting my posts or something, and i don't have a taglist, so here are some absolutely no pressure tags for people i think might enjoy this/who have liked my previous fics?? let me know if i'm wrong!!

@joelsversion @joelscruff @missredherring @iamasaddie @toxicrecs @eupheme @sweetercalypso @mrsmando @lunitareads @amanitacowboy @tieronecrush @psychedelic-ink @perotovar @thetriumphantpanda @joelsgreys @undercoverpena @pedgito @wannab-urs @gasolinerainbowpuddles @thelightsandtheroses

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #my writing #pedro pascal characters

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yifftwiceplz · 11 months

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[ Years in the future, but not many… ]

[ +10 to be precise]

“Is it really that crazy to think I don’t want to lose you?”

“I don’t know what you expect Dave,” Karkat sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, “it’s not like I can go down to the hospital and get mortality reassignment surgery.”

“We still have access to the rest of the omniverse. You know I don’t ask the council for jack shit, and you know they love you. We could find a blood quest bed if we just looked around.”

Karkat throws his head back and groans. “You seriously want to risk infecting the universe we worked so hard to protect with another Jack Noir or Lord English? Or some other unknowable horror? Just for this?”

“Just for this?” Dave raises his voice slightly, despite the shakiness permeating his body. “Our marriage, which you so fuckin' casually gesture and refer to as ‘this’, is everything to me, just in case that wasn’t extremely god damn obvious.”

Karkat narrows his eyes at Dave in a cold glare. “Don’t twist my words. Don’t try to make it sound like I don’t care about our marriage, Dave. That’s not fucking fair and you know it.” He spits, making an effort to bite back tears.

Dave remains silent.

Karkat continues. “Has it not occurred to you, even once, just once, that I don’t want to live forever?”

“Has it not occurred to you that I also don’t want to live forever? Especially if it’s without you?” Dave retorts.

“Oh!” Karkat throws his hands up. “So I’m the lucky one, because I get to die early!”

“Kinda, yeah!” Dave shouts, hands visibly shaking. “You fucking asshole. How do you expect me to take it knowing every day I get a little closer to watching your health decline?? To watching you fade away. Going to your corpse party. And then coming back to our house, alone.” His voice cracks.

Karkat remains silent.

After a long, pregnant pause in the conversation, Dave wordlessly puts on houseslippers and a hoodie.

“Where the hell are you going.” Questions a deflated Karkat.

“I gotta get some air.” Dave mutters to himself. He exits, restraining himself from slamming the door when he hears Karkat call his name. He turns his phone off and shoves it in his back pocket.

Dave stops at a cornerstore for some cigarettes and a cappuccino. Normally he’d mix all the flavors. He barely has the heart to push the buttons and talk to the cashier. He notes Karkat is usually one to facilitate transactions.

He chooses to walk. Kind of annoying to smoke and have coffee while you’re flying around like Superman. Not that he has a solid plan for where he’s walking. The urge to get out of the house provided enough fuel to walk to the gas station, and beyond that, he’s acting on pure impulse. He naturally finds himself wandering through the park to Dirk’s apartment.

Dirk answers the light rapping on the door almost instantly; does this dude ever sleep? Dave makes a note to hound him about that when he’s not in the middle of a fight with Karkat.

“Sup.” He says flatly.

“Sup.” Dave responds flatly. “Wanna go to Vegas?”

There’s barely a moment of pause before Dirk points out the obvious.

“Are you and Karkat fighting?”

Dave sulks, somehow expecting Dirk to not put 2 and 2 together. Or at least not comment.

“Do you want to talk about it on the way to Vegas or not.”

“... Yeah, ok. Do you want clothes?”

Dave looks down to check his fit. He admits to himself it’s a bit dumpy. It’s then he notices the grey symbol on the chest - he’d grabbed Karkat’s hoodie. His heart sinks in his chest and he flinches. Anyone other than his family wouldn’t have noticed. “No,” Dave voicecracks. After a moment he adds, “It’s Vegas right? Who cares.”

Dirk, equally dumpy looking, blinks owlishly behind his shades and gives a light shrug. “Are we taking the car or flying?”

Dave dumps his empty coffee cup in the apartment dumpster. “I know it’s a pain in the ass but can we take the car? I like the rumbling. And I don’t want my eyes to be dry as shit when I get there.”

“Yeah, of course.” Thank fuck for Dirk always being down to clown.

Within ten minutes, the Striders are loaded up in Dirk’s car with an itinerary, westbound and down.

#editor's art #fics go in the art tag

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thethistlegirlwrites · 7 months

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Afterlife

The steaming mug of coffee sits untouched on the table in front of Nico.

It’s not what his body wants.

Not anymore.

The waitress who set it down had a defined blue vein snaking across her jawline.

He wraps his hands around the mug and swallows a scalding gulp.

Rain ticks on the windows, each drop that slides down reflecting the pink and yellow neon of the sign that proclaims the establishment is open twenty-four hours a day.

Grease hisses in a fryer in the kitchen. Dishes clatter and people chatter in a mixture of languages and a radio plays a scratchy, fading in and out pop song about a cheating lover. Cars outside splash by through the puddles, water trickles down the storm drains with strangely metallic, echoing plops, horns blare and sirens scream.

The sounds are the worst.

He can sort of block out the smells. Apparently, having had your nose busted a decade ago on a hunt does in fact make a dent in even vamp super-senses. He can pick out the bacon grease and the yellow peppers and olives and sweat and perfume, but it’s almost a manageable level.

Sight isn’t really a problem. He’s been highly attuned to small movements for all of his adult life. It’s like being twenty again, able to catch a rat’s tail whipping around a corner.

But the sounds.

The sounds are overwhelming.

He shouldn’t have come here.

It’s too soon. He’s not ready.

He shoves a few bills under the barely-touched coffee mug and bolts out the door, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt as a protection against the driving rain, and against whoever might recognize him as the man who used to be a teammate.

He has to get this under control.

This isn’t what he wanted.

But it wasn’t his choice.

His family was so desperate to have a little more time with him that they let him turn.

And then he almost killed them.

Memories of his hands around Vanessa’s throat, Ricky screaming at him and trying futilely to pull him away, the hot, salty, iron-tangy blood gushing from his son’s arm when he caught it in his teeth pour down on him, colder and more brutal than the rain.

He’s not sure either of them want to see him again.

He’s not sure trying to get himself clean and get the hunger under control is worth it. They wanted him back in their lives then, but they might never again. Not after seeing what the monster he returned as is capable of. They have every right to bar him from their door forever. To cut him out of their lives like a cancer that would eventually destroy them.

Maybe he should just stop running and hiding from the Sunrisers. Let one of his old friends stake him through the heart and end this.

But something in him wants to survive. Desperately, like a feral animal caught in a trap.

He’s not sure he should listen to it. Vampires who give in to their urges are the most dangerous predators in the world. He’s staked dozens of them. Captured countless more.

And now, he is one.

A disaster waiting to happen.

A massacre with a ticking timer on it.

A bloodthirsty creature that can hurt even the people that meant the most to the dead man whose face he’s wearing.

He can hear the heartbeats of every person who brushes past him.

He can smell the blood on the chin of the man who must have cut himself shaving, under the Avengers bandaid on the finger of a kid with a blue rain slicker.

He turns aside into an alley, crouches behind a dumpster, and pulls his last packet of synth-blood from his pocket.

Four hours.

He made it four hours between feedings this time.

It’s not good enough.

He swallows down the cool, slightly bitter saltiness and squeezes every drop he can from the plastic before tossing it into the trash.

He lowers his head into his hands, shoulders shaking, tears burning his eyes. This is what he’s become. This is all he has to look forward to.

The scent of something earthy and not quite canine enough to be right drags him back to the present. His head snaps up, eyes scanning the alleyway.

There’s a man there who wasn’t a second ago. Not particularly tall, wearing a long coat and a flat wool cap that’s spilling rain down over slightly sharp-tipped ears.

Fae. A shifter. The closest thing to a real werewolf that really exists.

Nico snarls.

He may want to die, right here, right now, but the thing inside him will be damned if it goes down without a fight.

Truth be told, it’s damned already.

“Not sure who you are, but seems like you could use a little help,” the shifter says, his voice carrying the distinct sound of Bay Ridge born and raised, but a life spent in various slices of the city’s underbelly. Probably one of the unregistered fae making a living doing private detective work for cash.

“Why don’t you scram and leave me be.”

“Not really my thing.”

Actually, he thinks he knows who this might be. At least as far as family affiliations. One of the Phelan pack. His Sunriser team crossed paths with them a few times. Sometimes, they had the same objectives. Sometimes, at odds.

He’s not sure which this is going to turn out to be.

“Fae and vampires don’t mix.”

“You saved my dad’s life once on a hunt. The pack owes ya.” The wolf crouches on his heels in the alley, coming down to Nico’s level, clearly none too worried about being outmatched in a fight. “Word of advice. Get outta this borough, sooner rather than later. Sunrisers are plannin’ a huge dragnet operation. Too many people complainin’ about vamp activity.”

“Thanks.”

The wolf turns away, disappearing into the wind-whipped rain.

Where he was standing, there’s a chipped slice of shale stone with a few numbers and letters scratched on its surface.

The calling card of an earth-fae.

An address.

Nico almost tosses it down the closest storm drain.

He tucks it into his pocket instead.

He can’t be sure these fae would actually trust a vampire. They’ve warned him he’s in danger. To them, that might mean their life-debt is cleared up, and that he has no favors left to cash in with them.

But if he gets desperate enough, maybe at least they’d kill him quickly.

He can’t say the same for the Sunrisers.

(You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies @writeouswriter @whump-place @the-lovely-wren

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday29 #not allowed to die #vampire whump #domenico pontevecchio #with a special appearance by #tom phelan #of who fights monsters #I love my crossovers a little too much

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much-obliged-timothy · 1 year

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Whumptober #9

Day 9 - Batboys - "You're a liar"

Jason fired his guns with a certain glee. The gang scattered behind cover, yelling at each other for someone to take Jason out.

“Someone can try!” Jason called cheerfully, launching over a dumpster to kick one of the gang members in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Jason easily flipped his gun around in his hand and smacked the butt of it into the man’s temple to knock him out.

Tim leapt over the crates they were using as cover to take out a few more with smooth, practiced moves. He clearly wasn’t taking as much glee in the mission as Jason, but he didn’t chastise Jason for his fun.

After all, why would he? They were cleaning up a poorer section of Gotham. This gang had formed to prey on the poor who didn’t have transportation or couldn’t afford good security in their homes. They’d break in, steal what little they had, or jump them as they walked or biked home after a hard day of working to feed themselves.

Just two days ago, they’d jumped two young boys who’d earned some money with a lemonade stand. They boys were on their way home, elated that they had enough money to go on their school field trip at last, when the attack hit them. One boy was left hospitalized.

Jason could picture so many times he’d walked around after dark. It could’ve been him if he was still young. No little kid deserved that.

Tim had agreed to help him stop the gang when Babs got wind they were planning to pull off a bigger job on a delivery truck tonight. Jason was grateful for the support, because Tim knew what this particular mission meant to Jason.

And Jason was having a great time making these streets safer for kids like he had been once, right up until he heard the gunshot and Tim’s scream.

“No!” He whipped around, his joy gone in an instant. Tim laid on the ground, blood pooling out from his body, his hands pressed to his abdomen.

Jason barely remembered the next few minutes. He became a whirlwind of furious, protective movement, taking out every single gang member he could get his hands on, barely suppressing the urge to kill the bastards. They deserved it; they all fucking deserved it.

But he held back just enough to knock them out instead. When the last fell, he leapt over the unmoving body and raced to Tim’s side.

“Hey, hey!” he said, grabbing Tim’s wrists and trying to pull them away. “Dammit, let me see, Tim.”

Tim moved his hands and Jason’s face paled at the gunshot wound in his abdomen and the blood pouring from it. He put Tim’s hands back, applying pressure.

“Babs, Tim was shot,” he said into his earpiece, his voice tight. “Get us help. Now.”

She was replying, but he didn’t hear the words. He was too focused on Tim’s face and the way it was contorted in anguish.

This was Jason’s fault. He hadn’t been taking it seriously. He hadn’t been properly watching Tim’s back.

The wound was so bad.

“You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me,” Jason said.

“You’re a liar,” Tim choked out with a weak laugh. Jason was horrified to see blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth. “A good man, but a liar.”

“Tim-”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not your fault, Jason. I let my guard drop.”

“But-”

“No. It is NOT your fault this happened.”

His voice was fierce despite how weak his movements were growing and how pale he was becoming. The blood just kept coming up between his fingers, spilling out onto the ground.

“You protected…t-those kids. All those p-people,” Tim said, giving a faint smile. “I’m proud of you. P-Proud to help you.”

“Shit,” Jason whispered, feeling the tears in his eyes. “Hang on, you bastard. Don’t you- Just hang on. Please, Tim. Please.”

Tim’s eyes dropped shut. Jason let out a despaired noise and applied more pressure to the wound, knowing it was all he could do as he prayed help came in time and no one else had to die on these streets.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #you're a liar #batboys #fic writing #jason todd #tim drake #jtdoeswhumptober

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dollslayer · 4 years

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Botanical Interest - Thorns

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: After dating the notable mobster Steve Rogers for a couple months you think you’ve got him figured out. An altercation in an alley leaves you questioning whether or not that’s true.

W/C: 1995

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, swearing

A/N: Holy smokes! I am completely overwhelmed by the love that the first part to this story has received. Obviously, I couldn’t help myself so I wrote a part 2 also as an entry for @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s 5k soft dark challenge! Using the Mob!Au and the dialogue prompt “Oh, Honey, you weren’t supposed to see that”.

If you want you can check out part one here and my other mob fic here! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

______________________________ 6pm was fast approaching as you began to close up shop for the day. Steve was here to pick you up for dinner and much to your embarrassment walked in on you having a very difficult conversation argument with a very difficult customer over pricing and promotion. Having run your small business on your own for years you knew how to hold your own but you completely froze when you saw Steve enter the shop out of the corner of your eye.

“I- listen Mr. Andersen, I appreciate all the business that your venues have given me but I can’t afford a raise in advertising prices right now. I’ve been reliable and trustworthy and I’ve always treated your venues with respect. I’ve never been an issue for you, please don’t raise the rate. Wedding season is coming up and I need the exposure.”

You tried to bargain with him quietly, hoping the music overhead would prevent Steve from hearing but it was a low volume and a small shop. You’ve only been dating for a couple months. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, especially not at work.

Mr. Andersen exhaled sharply. You could tell he was annoyed at you for the pushback. “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t be making exceptions every time a business owner comes groveling.”

Tears stung your eyes, you really did generate a lot of business through Andersen’s venues. They listed you as one of their recommended vendors to their clients, it’s been huge for you. Knowing that Steve was there made this even worse. “If I’d have known you were going to cry like this I would’ve just done it over email I mean really-”

“That’s enough.” Steve cut him off before he could humiliate you any further. He sent a quick text and shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling himself to his gull height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve done enough, now get out.”

A scoff from Andersen and a harsh glare directed towards you and he was on his way out of the building. Steve’s phone vibrated but he didn’t check it. Instead he walked over to you and extended his arm to rub your back.

“Are you okay? That guy was a total fucking prick to you, you don’t deserve that.” Steve consoled you. He seemed calmer than you expected for having just witnessed something like that. You’ve seen him agitated but never upset. Maybe he was restraining himself for you but it didn’t matter, you appreciate him being there for you.

“I’m fine, I just need to finish closing up shop and we can get to dinner. Just give me a minute” you said as you began to sweep up.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m double parked so I’m gonna go to the car and try to find a space.” You nodded as hummed along to the music.

____________________________

As Steve left the shop he pulled his phone out and checked his text from Thor ‘we got him’. When Steve heard that man talk to you like that he knew you didn’t want him to threaten Andersen and make the situation worse. You were already on the verge of tears so he decided to ask one of his men to hold Andersen out back where he could have a few words with him.

Stepping around the corner into the alley behind your shop he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to be quick so you wouldn’t find out. He didn’t want to upset you further, he just wanted this guy to know that you can’t treat his girl like that. And maybe he could be talked into giving her the advertising for free.

“So you think you can talk to my girl like that huh?” He questioned. Andersen looked like Thor had already punched him once in the process of restraining him. Thor’s hold on Andersen’s arms tightened.

Andersen was scared, but not scared enough to Steve’s liking. Before Andersen had the opportunity to answer Steve cocked his fist back and launched it directly to Andersen’s jaw. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’re expanding and we need the money so I have to raise-”

Before the excuse could be finished Steve hit him again. “Stop! Please!” Andersen begged.

Steve chuckled. “No I don’t think I will. I can’t just let people go every time they grovel to me. They’d never learn.” Another punch landed.

“You’re not gonna raise your prices for her. In fact, you’re gonna call her up in a couple days and apologize by offering her advertising free of charge for all of your venues. Do you understand?” Steve asked coolly.

Andersen coughed up some blood. “I- I can offer her half price but I can’t just waive the cost like that!”

“Not good enough.” Steve punched him even harder, Andersen was nearly knocked out. Steve thought about the tears that slipped from his girl’s eye and couldn’t stop himself. He struck Andersen one more time with a growl and his head hung limp between his shoulders. Just then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him and froze, hand still in a fist.

_____________________________________

Finally done with most of your tasks all you had to do was take out the garbage and empty the vase of leftover stems from bouquets into the dumpster. You opened the back door just in time to see Steve land a brutal punch to Mr. Andersen’s cheekbone. Mr. Andersen’s head fell and it was clear he had been knocked out cold.

You hadn’t even realized you’d dropped the vase until you felt the shards fall around your feet. You couldn’t look away when Steve looked up at you with wild eyes, you’d never seen him so angry. You felt the way you did the day you met him. Nervous and frozen in place.

His face instantly fell and through his heavy breathing said “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He was trying to relax his features as he approached you but you could only take steps back and into the shop like a scared animal being cornered.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you couldn’t tell if you were more angry or scared. You held your hands out in front of you and stammered “I’d better.. I need to lock up shop I’ll um, I’ll go”. “Sweetheart wait!” Too late. You shut the back door and locked it behind you.

You went to your back office and sat down, not even sure where to go from here with this. You two had talked about his work a bit, it wasn’t like it could be avoided forever, you just didn’t think he’d bring it into yours. You weren’t scared of Steve doing something like that to you, you were scared of that look in his eyes. His capability of doing something like that with little thought.

Oh, God, what does this mean for the shop? Mr. Andersen will have you blacklisted. He’ll tell every wedding planner in Brooklyn. Now your heart was hammering for a whole other set of reasons. Too busy spiraling as you thought about it all you didn’t hear the bell of the front door ring.

A knock on your open office door pulled you out of it and you looked up to find Steve. He wore what looked like a truly regretful expression on his face. You fought the urge to yell at him. You’re an adult, you’re going to talk about this like adults. Let him say his piece.

He had straightened up, his hands were clean and his jacket was back on. He gave a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, but I want you to know I would never ever do anything like that to you or anyone close to you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s punching one of my main sources of income?” You snapped. You appreciated the apology but you were getting too worked up in anger thinking about the future of the shop.

He was a little miffed at the outburst and became defensive. “That man disrespected you, disrespected your work. No one talks like that to my girl. That’s how we settle things in my world!”

“Well you’re not in your mob world right now you’re in mine! And things don’t get handled like that! Do you have any idea the toll that could take on my business? He’s gonna have me blacklisted by the end of the day if he wakes up.” The last words came out a bit broken as you felt more tears build. You were more worried about the business than anything.

Steve walked around the desk to console you just like he had not twenty minutes ago. He gently put a hand on your forearm. “You’re right. It’s not my world, it wasn’t my call to make and I had no right to react like that. I didn’t even think about that. The way he was talking to you, I just.. I got so mad. You work so hard and you don’t deserve that. Sometimes I forget there’s more than one way to handle things.”

Okay, that went better than expected. This is what made Steve so interesting to you. Steve was funny and sweet and charming as hell, but beyond all that there was this tender heart. He was dangerous but he was also fiercely loyal. He was more than a mobster and he was better than the brute force he used. It’s why you were able to accept that part of him, because it wasn’t his entire life, it didn’t consume him.

“Thank you for saying that,” You said quietly. You looked up to him and could tell that he really did feel bad. “I accept your apology and I appreciate it. But you have to make things right with Mr. Andersen. I’ll pay the new rate but you have to apologize before it’s too late.”

_________________________

Steve was beginning to harbor resentment towards himself for fucking this up for you. Andersen just made him see red, he has such a hard time shutting that part of himself down. You work so hard and care so much there’s just no way he could let that stand. He just hoped to work through it and move on. He really didn’t wanna screw it up.

Steve was much more at ease knowing you accepted his apology. “I won’t like it but I can do that. It’s only fair. Can I make it up to you over dinner? We’ll make a quick stop to the hospital to set things straight with Andersen.” When you shut the door in his face in the alley he had Thor take him to the hospital. He’d call another town car to get home.

He’ll apologize to Andersen and pay the hospital bill, but you’re not paying the increased rate. No way. Steve will pay him off enough that he won’t be telling anyone about the altercation, either. Win-win in his eyes.

You leaned your head against his shoulder in slight exhaustion and nodded. “Can we forget the reservation? I really want breakfast food right now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course sweetheart, you wanna get takeout and go back to mine?” He felt you nod. “Yes, please”.

“Let me just order a car and we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry again, sweetheart, I promise I’m gonna make it right even if that guy’s a douche.” You laughed a little bit and wiped the few tears that stayed in your eyes.

“So.... your girl, huh? Is that like some mob slang term I don’t know about? Are we official?”

A smile graced his lips. “I’d like to be, if you would.”

You smiled back at him. “I might be persuaded with waffles.”

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #Mob AU #mob!Steve rogers #mob!au #Mob!Steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers #angst with a happy ending #fluff #angst #marvel fic #marvel au #mafia!au #steve rogers x reader #Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers

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astrella-writes · 4 years

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prompt | @ssoftlydreaming asked: nfjsja ok from sweet home can you do lee eun-hyeok and basically he has to decide if he should risk the danger of everyone in the apartment complex or save reader who is outside and struggling to survive.

warnings | female pronouns, angst, spoilers for episode one of the netflix adaptation of sweet home, if you haven’t watched episode one complete then this won’t make much sense, panic attacks, the general horror of sweet home, eun-hyuk being a logical pain in the ass, somewhat of an open-ending.

word count | 1.7K

author’s note | i hope this satisfies your masochistic desires! i’m honestly so happy to have angst as my first request, and that isn’t sarcasm at all.

The sound of his descending footsteps echoing throughout the concrete stairwell became background noise to Eun-Hyuk as he stared at the unanswered messages he had sent you well over an hour ago. This was strange behavior coming from you, considering you usually responded back within minutes. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, he tried to think of a logical explanation to calm his increasing worries. Perhaps your phone died on your walk home, or you had to work over-time without a chance to inform him.

He was certain some minor inconvenience caused your abrupt absence, although he couldn’t shake off the unnerving feeling settling like a burden of tense muscles upon his shoulders. Realizing there wasn’t much more he could do, especially since all the calls he gave you went straight to voice mail, he decided to wait patiently for a reply from you and try to keep his thoughts clear during the meantime.

Eun-Hyuk stuffed his phone into his pocket as he finally reached the half-open double doors that led out onto the first floor, his ears immediately picking up on the commotion before he looked over at the front entrance that was blocked by the shutters. A group of people stood dispersed nearby, talking amongst themselves and watching one resident in particular as he tried tugging on the metal bracing that barely budged. The man sighed, dropping his arm and admitting defeat as he walked away from the shutters, mumbling to himself.

‘First the elevators aren’t working, and now this?’ he thought to himself, unimpressed with the current situation, especially since he had work that night. He wasn’t the only one annoyed by the circumstances as the surrounding people openly expressed their vexation. Although, unlike most of them, he remained calm and simply observed the scene with his hands in his pockets. Multiple residents spoke loud enough for him to catch on to the fact that the security guard was missing, which made little sense considering this was an issue for him to resolve.

“Excuse me?” a feminine voice sounded from behind him, causing him to turn around and look at the woman. “Do you have any service on your cell?” Despite having just been on his phone, Eun-Hyuk was so preoccupied with his thoughts regarding your whereabouts that he didn’t notice the minor detail of whether he had any service.

Pulling out his phone and unlocking it, he immediately dialed your number, taking the possibility to hopefully connect with you and find out where you were. When his ear met with a high-pitched ringing, Eun-Hyuk lowered the phone, lost in thought for a second before looking at the woman.

“I guess not,” he said, watching as her face dropped in disappointment and she turned to walk away, but he stopped her with a question. “What’s going on here?”

The woman hesitated, wondering if anything was even worth sharing considering she would give him more questions than answers. She went on to explain how every main exit had been closed up, locking everyone inside. Although she speculated someone was behind this, she had no idea who it was and for what purpose it was done.

The explanation caused Eun-Hyuk to swallow thickly before turning his gaze towards the concealed entrance. He stared for a moment, silently wishing for your safety.

―――

A shrill ringing penetrated your ear, causing you to jerk your head away from your phone and hang up on your attempt at calling Eun-Hyuk. With a frustrated cry, you threw your cellphone upon the ground, hearing the shattering of the screen as it smacked face-first against the concrete.

On the verge of tears, you made yourself as small as possible in the alleyway's corner, pulling your knees up to your chest as you rested your forehead on top of them. Your breathing grew increasingly more labored as the sensation of dread and pure hopelessness consumed your mind.

Eun-Hyuk’s words repeated in your head during times like this, when you were at risk of having a panic attack. Stay still. Take slow breaths. Think of something nice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, allowing the gathering tears to flow freely down your cheeks as they gathered at the tip of your chin. Forcing yourself to take in deep breaths, your trembling body gradually stilled. Eventually, your thoughts morphed as you focused on your breathing, rather than the surrounding chaos.

Think of something nice.

Eun-Hyuk’s face filled your mind, the sight prompting a ghost of a smile. You recalled your first meeting which occurred almost a year ago, when you had just moved into Green Roof Apartments. Someone had suddenly removed the towering stack of boxes you were carrying from your hold, and just as you were about to thank the person for helping, you realized you recognized him.

It turns out that you both used to attend the same high school, although you weren’t in the same class, your friend group interacted with his friend group quite a lot. Seeing his face brought back all those times at lunch when you would sneakily try to steal glances at him without your friends noticing. They noticed, of course, and teased you relentlessly about your crush but they were nonetheless supportive. They even proposed setting you two up on a date, because a ‘little birdie’ told them he had been crushing on you too.

Unfortunately, you were in such denial that someone as handsome as him had feelings for you, and rejected the offer. He was simply unobtainable, the extent of your relationship never surpassing polite greetings and friendly smiles until you both graduated and never saw each other again. Or at least, that’s what you assumed would happen.

It seemed fate gave you two another chance, unsatisfied with your prior silent pining and not acting upon anything. Considering you both matured immensely, talking came easy, and it wasn’t long before a much deeper connection began blossoming between the both of you.

His sister reacted indifferently when she walked out into the hallway one day, only to witness the both of you moving suspiciously away from each other, as if trying to conceal something. She caught on immediately, especially since her brother had been mentioning you quite often.

“Seriously? He’s the best you can do?” She scoffed, eyeing her brother disapprovingly before pushing between the both of you and walking off. You stared at her retreating figure in shock, oblivious to the smile on Eun-Yoo’s face as she disappeared down the stairs.

Once his sister found out, Eun-Hyuk became increasingly more open in terms of your relationship. And eventually, after a long week of his sister degrading him for not moving to the next step, he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t the most romantic of set-up’s; he had knocked on your door and asked you so casually that you wondered if he was joking.

When he assured you he wasn’t, you almost knocked him off his feet from the abrupt hug you gave him, accepting his simple proposal.

The memory faded, and the realization hit you like a truck. Eun-Hyuk was waiting for you, and you couldn’t give up on him. Taking a deep breath, you got up from the ground, trying not to focus on the screams and sounds of destruction in the distance as you lightly jogged towards the entrance of the alleyway. You peered behind the wall and looked both ways. The coast was clear; it was now or never.

―――

You raced around the corner, narrowly dodging the attention of a nearby monster as its head popped up from one of the many dumpsters lining the brick wall of Green Roof Apartments, the location you had been trying to reach from when this all started.

The sound of metal creaking, which you quickly recognized to be the shutters descending, urged your aching legs to run faster as the darkness before you faded the closer you got to the entrance. That’s when you noticed Eun-Hyuk struggling to keep the shutters open as a distraught woman crawled towards him. He reached out a hand towards her, just as he looked up and made eye contact with you. His eyes widened at the sight, although bloodied and bruised, you were very much alive. You smiled at him, relieved, feeling safe already.

That was until you heard a rustling coming from your right, along with animalistic groans, as if something was just stirring back to life after being immobilized and ready to lash out again. A flurry of panicked voices came from the lobby of the apartment, everyone watching in horror as the hunched-over silhouette of the monster with a snake-like tongue began recovering to its full height.

Luckily for you, the monster disregarded your presence as it ambled towards the entrance. You stood frozen in fear as the shadow of its body passed over you, the sound of its languid steps lulling you into a trance as your body trembled lightly.

It was perceptible that trying to run past it would end in your demise, leaving you stuck on what to do. Your pleading eyes drifted towards Eun-Hyuk, hoping he would come up with a plan to distract the monster long enough so you could make a break for the gap underneath the shutters he had been holding open - a perfect enough size for you to slide under.

He stared you dead in the eyes as he dropped the shutters; the metal clanging loudly against the tiled floor. You blanched, staring back at him in disbelief. A semblance of guilt took over his features, and you shook your head in denial.

Your eyes stung with tears, and you wondered whether to cry and beg for him to help you or keep the remaining bit of dignity you had left. The monster suddenly shot its tongue within the gaps of the barred metal and Eun-Hyuk disappeared from sight as he dodged; the trance you were in instantly dissipating as you came to terms with the situation.

He left you to fend for yourself, surrounded by a horde of monsters. You weren’t sure whether to give up or keep going, considering nothing seemed worth fighting for at the moment.

Did he regret it? Of course. Would he do it again? Without question. Eun-Hyuk would sacrifice anyone to keep his sister safe, even you, and even himself.

#sweet home #sweet home x reader #eun-hyuk x reader #eun-hyeok x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader netflix #angst #sweet home angst

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potatoes-is-are-food · 4 years

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Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

It had been on your way home from work. You got off the train at your usual station but much later than usual, having to stay late that day. Walking home didn’t seem too dangerous since you lived in a safe area, but that had been a terrible decision. Before you could process what was happening someone had come up behind you, dragged you into an alley while you kicked and attempted to scream, and been shoved to the pavement.

You’d taken some hard hits from your assailant when Eraserhead saved you, tying the guy who attacked you to the dumpster and scooping you up just as you lost consciousness. The newspaper you’d seen the other day said you were missing and there were no leads. There was a separate article about how a vigilante had tied some petty criminal to a dumpster but he still died from his injuries. How convenient.

Realizing you’d been staring at the same page for several minutes, you sighed and closed your book. You set it on the counter and leaned back, boredly swinging your legs and listening to the music Shota had put on. You didn’t recognize it, but every now and then he would hum along for a second.

He set a plate in front of you and handed you a glass of water, watching you carry both to the couch and taking his own to join you. It had become a routine in the last week that you’d both sit on the couch together and he’d put on something to watch while you ate. It was an unspoken agreement that you’d talk to him if he wanted and he wouldn’t touch you or stare you down.

You glanced at him, settling into the cushions and trying to relax. He still made you nervous, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt you, just threatened to chain you up again if you tried to get away, which you hadn’t. He scared you way too much to try before you knew you could get away with absolute certainty.

He settled on some sit-com you knew he didn’t care about, signaling he’d want to talk today. You moved your food around with a spoon (he wasn’t allowing forks or knives yet but also used a spoon in solidarity), waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“It’s good,” you said softly, fidgeting a bit awkwardly. His intimidating presence chilled you, making you want to subdue anger he probably didn’t even have. You quickly added, “Thank you.” He grunted in response, shuffling slightly closer to you.

“Y/n, eat all of that and drink all your water. I’ve been lenient until now but you’re going to have to eat more and stay hydrated now. You’re going to have rules now,” he said sternly, sliding your glass a little closer to you. Obediently you took a sip and another bite of your food, letting him continue as you chewed,

“You’re sleeping in my bed from now on,” he took a sip of his drink nonchalantly as you looked away, feeling blood rush into your face. The most he’d touched you was to pat your head a few days ago and that had made you jump. He continued, unaffected by your flustered disposition,

“I wanted to give you more time first so I won’t get mad if you slip up, but ‘Zashi coming home sooner than planned changes things,” he explained softly, bringing his hand up to stroke your hair. Your breathing sped up and you resisted the urge to get up and run.

“Why…” you breathed, finally looking at him with tear-filled eyes. One spilled down your cheek and his finger gently caught it, wiping it away.

“You can’t see it, but I’ve got a red string on my wrist attached to you and Hizashi. And he had our names on his arm. Didn’t you notice yours before now?” He arched a brow at you, watching as your eyes widened almost comically.

“I…” you thought back to when you first could see colors. You’d been young, only 12 when you’d been saved by Present Mic, but in all the chaos of the villain attack you couldn’t tell who was the cause and you were too young for it to matter. Your second mark was on the back of your neck, a timer counting down to when you’d meet your other soulmate. Since you couldn’t see it and had been preoccupied the past several weeks, you’d forgotten how close it was to hitting zero.

“We’re all made for each other, kitten,” his face had been slowly approaching yours as you’d had your epiphany, now centimeters away. More tears fell down your face, too shocked to move as he kissed them away. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, unconsciously leaning into his touch. He placed another kiss to the very edge of your lips and a final one to your forehead before leaning back, taking the plate you were very close to dropping and setting it on the coffee table.

“B-but then why-” your voice trembled and caught in your throat. You choked back a sob, clenching your hands in your lap. You felt sick, the dinner your soulmate had made threatening to come back up. Your head felt fuzzy, like you’d been drinking.

“We had to, sweetheart,” he cooed, wrapping an arm gently around your tense form, “you thought it was a good idea to walk home alone at night, your job was stressing you out, and you wrecked your car not too long ago. You need us to take care of you and getting attacked was the perfect opportunity,” he pushed some of your hair out of your face.

You crumbled, sobbing and letting him hold you, so desperate for comfort that you actually clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his neck. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was smiling as he swiped his fingers soothingly along the timer on the back of your neck that would be at 00:00 forever.

When you calmed down he handed you your water, rubbing your back as you finished it and leaving you on the couch to take the dishes away. You sniffled and let him pick you up, carrying you into the bathroom and getting ready for bed together in a daze. You even let him change your clothes, settling into bed pliantly as you figured out that he probably put sedatives in the food.

The next morning you woke to Shota’s warmth pressed against your back, an arm slung around your waist. You sat up, nearly falling over again groggily. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes open, locking onto you instantly.

“Hey there,” he husked, his morning voice catching you off guard. You pursed your lips, scooting away from him slightly,

“Did you drug me, Aizawa?” You crossed your arms, moving to sit on top of the covers and create some distance. He groaned softly, sitting up,

“Don’t call me Aizawa.” His reminder made your face heat up. He’d let you get by with awkward “hey”s and tapping his shoulder, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Did you?” You press, voice a little softer in an attempt to accommodate him. He blinked at you, waiting. You relented, “...Shota?” His expression softened.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, you needed a good night’s sleep. I know you’ve been tossing and turning,” he shrugged, stretching and standing up. You took his hand when he extended it to you, still a little “softened” by whatever he’d dosed you with.

He lead you into the bathroom he’d been having you use, completely idiot-proofed with no way to hurt yourself or anyone else or an escape route. And with all that he still made you keep the door open, doing stuff on his phone while you did whatever you had to do. You saw him pull up a messaging app as you entered, running the shower and stripping, shyly glancing at him often to reassure yourself he wasn’t watching.

When you got out he gave you something new to wear, an actual dress instead of one of their shirts. You didn’t question where he’d gotten it, simply thanking him quietly and putting it on when he turned around to give you the illusion of privacy. He hadn’t given you anything to wear under it, though.

“Um, Shota?” You called, looking everywhere but directly at him. He turned around, looking you over and giving your head a pat. You shuffled your bare feet awkwardly, “Can I have something to wear under it?” His hand rested on your waist lightly, eyes roaming your figure leisurely.

“I’ll have to go out and buy you some. Hizashi bought this a while ago when we figured out your identity,” he smiled, probably recalling a fond memory with his husband. Your other soulmate. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone had been so excited to meet you that they’d gotten you a gift.

He made breakfast, insisting for the first time that you sit on his lap to eat. The day was mostly uneventful, you read and Shota let you make tea while he supervised. By six you were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, watching him chop vegetables.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the door open, Shota eyeing you to make sure you wouldn’t try to run.

“Babe?” You heard Hizashi call, recognizing his voice easily from all the times you’d listened to him since you’d been there and even before.

“In here,” Shota called back, still tending to dinner. You looked at him for direction but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to give it. Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun in your stool, facing your other soulmate for the first time since he’d saved you as a child. He dropped his bags, keys, and a water bottle he’d been holding, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“Sho you didn’t,” he breathed, and for the briefest of moments you thought he’d be against this and rescue you again, but that was not the case.

“Happy anniversary,” Shota appeared, pulling the blonde in for a kiss. Hizashi tore his eyes from you and cupped the other man’s face as he repeated the expression. They really looked in love.

“She’s even more beautiful in person!” He beamed, closing the distance between you so fast if you’d blinked it would have seemed like he teleported. He immediately pressed his lips to yours, holding you tightly as you weakly struggled, tugging his sleeves and making muffled protests against his mouth.

“’Zashi, calm down, I haven’t trained her and I’ve barely touched her,” Shota placed a hand on his shoulder and he pulled away, leaving you panting and slightly panicked in his grasp.

“Aw, come on, Sho,” he whined, continuing to hold you against him, “She seems like a good girl she probably barely needs any training,” his hand stroked your hair and he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You gave Shota a wide eyed look,

“Trained?” You asked nervously, squirming a little in Hizashi’s arms. Shota’s tired expression morphed into something more devious, the corner of his lips twitching up,

“We need to be sure you’re not gonna run off on us, kitty,” he cooed, “We need to…” he paused, searching for the right word, “house train you, so to speak.” His tone made you nervous, shrinking into the arms holding you.

Shota pecked your cheek and returned to the stove, giving the food a stir and asking about Hizashi’s trip so casually you’d think he hadn’t just implied something sinister. Hizashi picked you up, sitting in your stool and pulling you into his lap as he chatted with his husband. You fiddled with the hem of your dress and vaguely wondered if they intended on getting a special license to add you into the marriage as they did for people with multiple soulmates. You really hoped things wouldn’t get that far.

A hand trailed along your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and making your dress ride up a bit. You shifted, pressing your knees tightly together and making sure it didn’t go too high as another settled on your waist, gently rubbing up and down, dangerously close to your breast. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear, nipples pebbling and sticking out against the fabric. You shuddered.

“I picked this out for you, doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your ear before he stooped and planted several light kisses on your neck, “Do you like it?” You writhed slightly, but stopped immediately when you heard his breath hitch and felt something stir under you.

“Please…” you whispered, trying to plead with him the way you had Shota, whose head snapped around to send you a look that had tears instantly welling in your eyes.

“Y’n,” he said, staring you down. You sniffled, brows knitting together as you fought a sob.

“It’s fine, Sho,” Hizashi said calmly, stroking your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, “sweet little girl just needs some guidance, isn’t that right?” his voice dripped condescension and he pinched your cheeks, chuckling lightly as his had whetted with tears.

Shota sighed, “Tell ‘Zashi you liked the dress,” he started plating the food, leaving Hizashi to comfort you. He seemed to enjoy the task, wiping your face and kissing your temple. You told him you liked the dress.

You let him dote on you, clamming up when his hands wandered to uninvited places. You were seated in his lap again in the dining room as you all ate, the two men making light conversation and Shota telling his husband how he’d kidnapped you and your progress from terrified mute to scared yet willing to seek comfort from your captors.

“She’s done well, overall. I think once we solidify things it’ll go even faster. We could probably start making wedding preparations by October,” Shota discussed you casually, like he was telling Hizashi about the weather. Like you weren’t there.

“Wedding...preparations?” You asked nervously, picking at your food with a fork for the first time since you’d been stripped of freedom.

“Of course,” he continued, giving you a slight smile, “you’re our soulmate.” They discussed plans to get you more clothes, making you tense as taking your measurements was discussed. When you finished dinner, Shota cleared the table and tended to the dishes, leaving you alone with Hizashi for some bonding time.

“And if you want, we could do a destination honeymoon,” he rambled, ignoring your borderline catatonic state as you stared off into space, sinking further and further into a mental space you didn’t understand. Wedding? Honeymoon? How long would it be before you’d be able to escape?

“You’re gonna overwhelm her,” Shota’s soothing voice came from behind. He patted your head when you turned to look at him, taking note of the way your eyes looked a little glossier than usual, “Come on, we should head to bed. You must be tired.”

Hizashi grabbed his bags, following as Shota took your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. You sat on the bed, yawning as you realized constantly being made to go to bed so early had you tired already. You expected them to toss you another big t shirt and a pair of sweats too tall for you, but instead Shota pulled you up so you were standing in front of them.

“Are we going to bed?” You eyed the dresser, unsure if they wanted you to choose or something. Hizashi snorted, working the buttons of his shirt open as Shota turned you around to unzip the back of your dress. He ran his hand down the bare skin of your back, sliding the fabric forward off your shoulders.

Your hands shot up, pinning the covering to your chest as your breathing sped up,

“Shota?” you looked back at him over your shoulder as he rubbed along your skin. He didn’t answer, pressing his lips to your shoulder and gently coaxing the dress down until it bunched around your ankles on the floor. Your lip trembled as you tried to cover yourself with your hands, arms crossing your chest.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your shoulder, sliding his hands up your sides and gently tugging at your arms. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as Hizashi joined, stripped to his boxer briefs, dropping to his knees in front of you. He kissed the center of your chest just below your breasts, hands settling on your hips. You shook your head,

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “d-don’t look,” you crossed your legs, arms locked against your chest as Shota rubbed them, attempting to get you to drop them yourself.

“But you’re so beautiful, angel,” Hizashi spoke softly, trailing kisses down your stomach while Shota wiped your tears away and pulled you gently into a kiss. It was the first time you’d kissed him properly, and the sense of fulfillment that settled into your chest made you both gasp against each other, making you melt a little.

Hizashi’s lips trailed along your hips, not wanting to distract you from kissing Shota. When your mouths parted you felt warm, nearly sinking into his adoring gaze before remembering how he’d kept you chained, cold and alone as you screamed and cried in that room. He must have sensed your conflict, kissing you again before trailing down your neck and giving Hizashi’s jaw a little tap.

Lips departed your hips as the blonde stood, leaning down to kiss both your tear-stained cheeks and then your lips, the jolt from him significantly less intense thanks to him pouncing on you earlier. It still felt good, though, as much as you hated to admit it. His hands cupped your face and without thinking you placed yours over them. You felt Shota move lower, caressing your hips and kissing along your back, lingering where it dipped at your waist.

You squeaked, flinching away from Hizashi as you felt Shota’s hands kneading your ass, spreading and squeezing your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around Hizashi’s neck as you tried to wriggle out of the other man’s grasp. He chuckled, holding your hips still for his partner rather than helping. You whined, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears fell onto his skin. He rubbed a hand soothingly along your back as Shota continued, kissing and then biting the flesh.

You sniffled, breathing shakily and hard into Hizashi’s neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair. He shushed you like a child, hugging you close and nearly groaning at your breasts being pressed flush against his chest.

“Maybe we should’ve given her wine at dinner, Sho,” he said softly, brows furrowed as you sobbed softly on him, “She’s nervous, aren’t you love?” Gently, he pried your arms from around him, leaning back to look at you.

“She’ll be fine, taking both of us so close together will probably help a lot,” Shota stood, sweeping your legs and making you fall into his arms. He deposited you onto the bed, licking his lips and kissing you heatedly, lapping at the inside of your mouth. You groaned against him, holding onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Hizashi tugged at Shota’s shirt, making him break your kiss to let him remove it. He straddled you, pressing his bare chest to yours and resuming his tongue’s exploration of your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him shifting atop you as Hizashi rid him of his clothes, placing a playful smack to his ass once it was bare. You felt his cock, hot and heavy, tap against your thighs, making you clench them together and sob against Shota’s lips.

He leaned back, wiping the trail of saliva that followed away, and crawled off of you. Settling behind you, he pulled you up into a sitting position so you rested against his chest, instantly grabbing and pinning your arms as you tried to cover yourself. He kissed your head, murmuring little praises as his husband pried your legs apart, settling between them to take in the view as close as possible. You writhed, Hizashi pinning your legs as you struggled, openly sobbing,

“Please don’t do this,” his face as he gazed at your twitching, wet pussy looked euphoric. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back at your scent.

“Sho, she smells good enough to eat. And she’s wet,” he smirked, swiping his finger along your slit and holding up the glistening digit for his accomplice. Shota groaned in your ear, trapping both your wrists in one hand and kneading at your breast with the other.

“Eat her, then,” he growled, husky voice making your back arched a little involuntarily.

Your soulmate obliged, not needing to be told twice as he closed the distance, flattening his tongue and smearing your juices up to your clit. You cried out, trying to wriggle away as he circled his tongue around the little bud. It was like he already knew how to make you tick, flicking his wet appendage along every spot that made you squirm and hitting your sweet spot the second his fingers penetrated you. In seconds you were moaning, tears drying on your face as you bucked your hips against him.

Shota flicked and toyed with your nipples, leaving your hands free. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging it as the pleasure continued to build. You groaned his name and then Hizashi’s, occasionally still babbling for them to stop. Your orgasm sent waves of the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt jolting through your body, making you writhe and cry out as your soulmate lapped up your fluids.

You started to cry again as he continued past the point of pleasure and into painful territory, fingers leaving black locks to pull at blonde ones. He groaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your throbbing heat and flicking his tongue harshly against your overstimulated nub. You came again, muttering incoherently as he slowed to a stop, leaning back and wiping his face with a satisfied grin.

“She’s so cute,” his hand trailed up your thigh, “You should try,” he told Shota, watching your cunt twitch and chest heave.

“Later,” you looked up to see him licking his lips and watching you heatedly. You shuddered, sniffling as he wiped away a stray tear. Noticing Hizashi watching, you closed your legs, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest.

“Are we done?” Your voice came out quiet and coarse, a little shaky as your eyes continued to flood. You bit your lip, looking between the men.

“Not quite, kitten,” Shota’s lips pressed to your back, working up between your shoulder blades and sucking when he reached your neck. He left several bites and hickeys as his husband cupped your face, kissing you softly and slipping his tongue past your lips. You whimpered against him as Shota abused the sweet spot on your collarbone, one hand on your thigh and the other in Hizashi’s hair.

He broke the kiss, planting another soft one on your forehead, “How did you hold back so long, Sho?” he breathed, nuzzling his face against your hair and sighing happily as Shota pecked his lips.

“Wanted to let you go first,” he murmured, kissing him again before readjusting you to the same position as before, resting against his chest with your wrists in his hands, “go ahead.”

Hizashi pulled your hips forward a touch, spreading your legs with his knee and spreading his pre against your weeping slit. His tip against your clit made you twitch, back arching as he toyed with the sensitive nerves. When he’d finished he lined up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to avoid overwhelming you.

Your mouth opened and your eyes clenched shut, head falling back against Shota as he pushed in, inch by inch sliding in until he was buried to the hilt and his hair pressed against you. He groaned sinfully, humping shallowly as you got used to his size. A choked sob left your throat as he started thrusting, pulling out nearly all the way and sliding back in as gently as he could manage when your cries made you pulse around him.

“You feel so good,” he panted, “Good girl,” his thrusts got rougher as he leaned forward, tongue slipping into your open mouth and swallowing your half-pained half-pleasurable moans. Shota let go of your wrists, stroking your hair as well as Hizashi’s as he took in the sight. With your arms free you desperately clung to the man pounding you into his husband, crying against his lips and swirling your tongue against his in a bizarre attempt at seeking comfort from him.

Shota’s fingers intruded on your kiss, collecting saliva from both of you and making it drip down your chins before moving the slicked digits to roll circles into your puffy clit. You gasped at the contact, eyes opening and rolling back into your head as the blonde broke the kiss, licking up the tears lingering on your cheeks. His hips sputtered, lewd squelching noises reverberating through the room as Shota continued his assault on your abused bead.

You came first, back arching, tongue flopped out of your mouth, eyes half-lidded and rolled up into your skull, head braced back against Shota’s chest as you spasmed, clenching around Hizashi’s cock and milking him for all he was worth. He released deep inside, cumming directly against your cervix and rolling his hips to hump against you, riding out both your orgasms. As it subsided, you fell limply against your dark-haired soulmate, completely spent and feeling as though you were floating, disconnected from reality. You felt hands caressing your thighs, hips, and gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“...re so good for us,” you focused enough to take in their praises, still shaking as your cunt twitched and drooled Hizashi’s seed. You blinked a couple of times and saw him staring at it, reaching down to collect what was dripping and push it back in, making you whimper weakly. He licked his fingers clean and crawled over you to kiss Shota, both men shifting and gently readjusting you until you were pressed back against Hizashi’s chest. Shota settled between your legs, thumbs spreading your pussy apart for his inspection.

You felt fresh tears stinging your eyes, “Please… please no more,” you croaked, weakly squirming. He leaned down, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer to your fucked out hole.

“Shhh, kitten,” he gently licked up your folds, smearing Hizashi’s cum across your skin and making you flinch when the muscle flicked your overstimulated clit, “You can handle a little more for daddy, right?”

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queenkrissy11-fandomaccount · 3 years

Text

Long Gone - Bucky Barnes x Reader

After weeks of a strained relationship, one fight and a surprise is enough for Y/N to run away and not look back.

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be long gone. Don’t look for me, you won’t find anything.

You suck in a deep breath and tuck the note into the door. No turning back now.

Sure, you and Buck had your ups and downs but last night was different.

You were dealing with a depressive episode when he came home to the compound. You tried not to bother him with your sour feelings and it worked. He didn’t notice, though you weren’t sure how he could have when he didn’t wander in until well past midnight and smelt like cheap rum.

Then he had the nerve to try and crawl into your bed without a word.

“Are you joking?” You finally muttered.

“What?”

“Are you that drunk or just that clueless?” You demanded. “You left a shitty note about going to check out a terrorist threat and then ignored my texts all day. And then followed it with a trip to the bar before letting you fiancée know you’re alive? I’ve been worried sick for hours!”

He stopped pulling on the covers and rolled his eyes, “Sorry I didn't text you back, doll. I was busy saving the world. And who cares if I went for a drink?”

You knew it sounded like an over reaction but it went much deeper than that. You’d been having panic attacks left and right the past weeks over his job and he knew that. He had sat on the floor with you in his arms and assured you he’d check in when possible. Told you how he’d call you after every fight to tell you he was okay. You came to find there was no substance behind his words. They were just sweet nothings to calm you down.

“Why would Steve be returning my calls before you? I’m not worried about a stupid night at the bar! I feel like I’m losing you and you don’t care!”

A part of you knew you were looking to start a fight, to feel something from him other than indifference and annoyance. It had been a couple weeks since he’d shown any sign of giving a shit about you. You needed to know if there was anything left before you told him the latest news. You didn’t want Bucky if it was just for the baby. Sure, you knew he would step up but you didn’t know if that was for the best. An avenger for a father and parents that didn’t want to be together? You were pretty sure the baby inside you would be better off raised by a single mother in the middle of nowhere, far from the long list of enemies Bucky had.

He glared for a long second before snatching a pillow, “I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’ll be on the couch if that overbearing urge to check up on me gets to strong.” He slammed the door behind him and you broke into sobs.

You allowed yourself five minutes to be upset before wiping your tears and setting off to pack a bag. You didn’t grab much, only a weeks worth of clothes, a gun, and the running away back pack Tony had made for you. You tucked the duffel and the back pack underneath the bed.

You were faking it when Buck crept in the next morning to get ready for the job of the day. He hesitated in front of you and for a moment you were ready to throw your plans out the door. He shook his head and moved on and your resolve grew. You were leaving and it would be for the best.

Once he was gone you scribbled out the note and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You knew you should leave it but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. You still loved him even if he didn’t love you. It wouldn’t hurt to bring one part of him with you. You glanced at your still small stomach, well, two.

Pepper didn’t bat an eye at your request to borrow a car. You snagged the keys to one of the nondescript SUVs and took off. About a mile down the road you pulled over and ripped out the tracking software on the car. You threw it in the dumpster behind a 7-11 along with your cell phone.

You drove, only stopping for gas, until you hit a small town in Virginia. You knew the town well but no one would know you. Every summer from the ages of 5 to 15 was enough to make an impact on you but not the town. You pulled into the drive of your grandmother’s old house. You had inherited the place when she died a couple years ago but due to working with the Avengers you didn’t have a need for it. The key slipped right into the deadbolt. The place looked just how you remembered it, only with more dust. The furniture was still there but you found what was all. The small knick knacks and mementoes were gone, likely claimed by other family members after her passing.

The old clock on the wall said it was 5. Plenty of time to get started on cleaning the place up.

It was a long and hard pregnancy. The super soldier serum running through your son added a couple complications. He grew fast and was much stronger than he should be. He did a number on your body from the inside but it was all worth it when you held him in your arms. You cursed your luck when he came out with a head full of dark hair and winter blue eyes.

You found work at a diner, making a living in tips. The great thing about tips is they tend to be paid in cash and it’s hard to trace cash. You were careful. No one was going to find you or your son. Andrew became the light of your life

Life was peaceful, a bit repetitive but safe. The biggest threat was your neighbor Travis. You would take a borderline stalker over Nazis any day.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You mutter to yourself when Travis saunters into the diner. He was your typical tool. Peaked in high school playing football. Can’t handle rejection. Full of himself.

“Good afternoon, table for one?” You put on a sweet smile.

“Just me, babygirl.” A chill runs down your spine but you shake it off and lead him to an empty booth.

“I’ll give you a minute to decide what you want but can I get you a drink?” You hand over the laminated menu.

“I already know exactly what I want and I think you do too.” He gives you a smirk and you have to resist the urge to jam your pen into his eye.

“Bacon cheeseburger?” You ask innocently.

He laughs it off but hands you his menu so you turn to put his order into the kitchen. You can feel his eyes on you as he walks away.

The day drags on and Travis sticks around. First for an order of fries. Then a shake. By the time that’s gone it’s late enough for a couple beers. He finally pays his tab and leaves ten minutes before closing. You’re relieved until you notice his Honda still in the parking lot when you leave.

You pat the holster in the waistband of your pants before making your way to the SUV in the back of the parking lot. The silver car tails you and it takes four right turns before you could go to pick up Andrew from his sitter.

Travis was back home when you finally pulled in. You double checked that the door was locked behind you before you went upstairs with Andy. He toddled around your room while you got ready for bed. Tonight you didn’t feel like fighting him on sleeping in the crib so you tucked him in you arms in your own bed.

Around two in the morning you woke up to the sound of glass shattering. You jumped out of bed with Andrew in your arms and grabbed the gun next to your bed.

Creeping down the stair you hear someone in the kitchen. You’re only ten feet from the front door. You take a deep breath, set Andrew at your feet, and bring the gun up. You were trained by Avengers. You wouldn’t miss the shot as long as you didn’t hesitate. You wait for the figure to come into view and pull the trigger. The deafening bang goes off and he hits the ground. You snatch up Andrew and run for the door. Travis is next to you before you can get in your car.

“What’s going on? I heard a gun?” He’s half naked and more alert than he was when he left the diner.

You’re scrambling for your keys when your front door flies off the hinges and the man you just shot steps out.

“This isn’t happening! How is it still following me?” You’re breaths are struggling to come and go. You push Andrew into Travis’ arms and aim at the man again. It doesn’t seem to do any damage. It just pisses him off. You take another shot and get the same result. You’re about to try again when a blur of a figure tackles the man. The moonlight catches on one of his arms and you’re frozen in place.

You grab the toddler and turn to run but Travis is a little too ready to play hero. He picks you up bridal style and runs.

He doesn’t make it fifty feet before a blond wall of muscle stops him. “Y/N?” Steve mutters after pulling you out of his arms. “What, what are you doing here?” Andrew begins crying louder and clinging to you. Steve finally looks down and has to take a step back.

“I can explain,” You start. Suddenly, you’re pushed to the pavement and Travis is throwing a punch at Captain America. Steve’s head turns with the force but his body stays planted. You kick yourself at the satisfaction you feel when Steve shoves Travis back. He crouches down in front of you and offers a hand.

“Let’s try that explanation now.”

You hear Bucky scoff behind him, “This will be good.” He freezes in his tracks when he takes in the site. You’re wearing a silk slip on the ground clutching a child that can’t be much more than a year old.

He stares for a long moment before shaking himself out of it and shrugging off his jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders before helping you to your feet.

You’re caught off guard by the rush of emotions when you look at him and hot tears well in your eyes, “I am so sorry Buck.”

He tries to be mad but can’t stop himself from pulling you into his arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms again. Andrew reaches his arms up and around your neck protectively, finally catching Bucky’s attention.

He steps back suddenly, “Who’s this?”

You swallow hard, knowing the storm that’s coming. “This is your son. Andrew James Barnes.”

“My what?” He looks at you in disbelief then back to Andrew.

“Let’s go inside?” You suggest.

Bucky stops inside the doorway and admires the wall of pictures. The majority of them Andrew at every stage so far. You were in a few with him but there was only a handful of just you. They’re different stages of your pregnancy. He swallows hard when he takes in the sight of you in the third month. That’s when the toll started being taken. He broke the first rib kicking right around that time. He was delivered at six months, the serum making him grow much faster. As the pictures got closer to delivery you looked more and more like a corpse. Bucky hated that he wasn’t there for you for any of it, that he didn’t even know you were dealing with it.

“He definitely takes after you. The serum is in his DNA.” You say quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just leave and take my child with you?” You can hear the emotion behind each of his words.

“You didn’t want to be with me and I wasn’t going to make you feel obligated to.” You knew it sounded pathetic, “And you have enough enemies to worry about. I didn’t want that for our son.”

“Our son,” He repeats quietly. “How is he so big? You’ve only been gone for a year.”

You rub and hand over his cropped hair, “His development is a lot faster than a normal childs. He’s only about seven months old but he compares to children almost twice that, but even then he’s much stronger.”

“Can I hold him?” He seems unsure of himself but you happily hand him over.

Bucky extends his fingers to Andrew in his lap. Andy curiously takes two in his small hands and you flinch, knowing how tight his grip can get. Bucky watches him, unfazed by the ridiculous strength. He holds Andrew close to him for a few minutes before Andrew tries to climb back to you.

“You’re both coming back to the compound.” Bucky stands up.

“Like hell we are! This is our home. This is where we’re safe. And I won’t let you feel obligated to take me back because we have a baby.”

He gives you a serious look, “Bullshit. That ring on your finger says you’re still mine. And in what world is this safer than the compound? An alien broke in tonight!”

Before you knew it you were in the quinjet headed back to the base. Bucky never let you out of his sight. On the bright side, the ride provided plenty of time for apologies. Neither of you were happy with the others choices but you could understand them and move past them.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x single mom #bucky one shot #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

A thank you

Eyyyy, my wifi got shut off for a while, so guess who worked on a lot of writing~ I especially finished and gave this a small edit!

It was your fault the two of you were in this predicament. You had caught Akutagawa's eye a month or two ago. The two of you had met when you'd come across the goth when he was growling like a hurt dog in an alley, tending to a long gash on his side after a particularly harsh job and you'd been so helpful to him, disgustingly compassionate and patient. You'd let him stay with you, not prying or trying to get an exploration as to why he was sitting against a wall and a dumpster with a bleeding wound, and when he was healed, you just let him leave. It baffled him, and left a weird awkward feeling in his chest that he hadn't felt since he first hit puberty and a cute person had so much as looked at him, he hated it. He was in such a torturous back-and-forth now. On one hand, he didn't give a shit that you had helped him when he was hurt, it was your choice to let him stay, not his, but on the other, he was eaten alive by the urge to return to your home, but he had no reasoning for it, just , an insanely strong urge to see you again for no reason. It bothered him, infuriated him, and gnawed at him incessantly. However, for a few days, he tried to just ignore it. He had no reason to return to your home, he was a member of the mafia after all, he wasn't at all attached to a nosey, annoying, civilian who offered nothing useful to him. Sadly, that didn't quell the urge to stop by your home on his way home some nights, or get rid of the weird, intrusive soft feelings that bubbled up now and then. So, after a while longer of trying to deny himself that urge, he compromised. One evening, after Mori had released him for the day, he stopped by a shop and bought you a simple, general little thank you card. Then, he walked back to your home to meander around the street a bit, waiting until no one was around to see him before going up to your porch and slipping the card half under the welcome mat or something. After that, he swiftly left and returned to his own home for the night, feeling bit better already. Sadly, that only lasted a day or two. Then, anxiety began to set in. Why do I care? I shouldn't have even fucking bothered with the card, he told himself one night when those paranoid feelings came to the surface once more at the thought of what you might've done when you found the card while he cooked himself dinner, glaring into the pot of stewing broth and food on the stove. I don't care if she found it, or if she liked it, or if she even remembered me enough to realize why she got the stupid thing. He told himself, stirring his food now and then as he continued to repeat to himself how much he didn't care about it. However, none of his adamant thoughts and denials seemed to work. By the time he had served himself a bowl of stew and sat down to eat, he still had a voice in the back of his mind asking what if she didn't remember me though? What if she just threw the card away? and he couldn't decide what part of that hurt him more. Turns out, he liked the thought of you throwing the card away less than if you'd just forgotten about helping the wheezy, coughing goth. Why would she toss it though? What sort of bitch do you have to be to throw away a fucking thank you card from the only person you helped enough to earn one. He fumed as he ate, working himself up into an anxious rage for an hour or two until he finally decided to return to your home despite the late hour. When he got to your home, it was as dark and as still as the rest of the sleepy neighborhood around it. So, he crept up to your porch and felt a confusing mix of relief and negativity when he found his thank you card gone. After that, he moved to one of your windows that was safely away from any prying neighbors peeking out across the street and used Rashoumon to cut a small disk of glass out of the window so that he could reach in and unlock it. Once he was inside, he was swift to begin his hunt, beginning with the trash, finding no sign of his card there, then beginning to poke around the rest of the house, wanting to see if he could find it at all. He did all of this while biting back coughs or muffling them as much as humanly possible. In the end, he found the cheap card tucked safely into your bedside table. Why is it HERE of all places? Does this mean...did she get more attached to me than she let on? He mused to himself while crouching in front of the drawer, holding the flimsy card in his pale hands while his grey eyes looked up at where you laid on your bed, watching your peaceful, (s/c) face until he felt that annoying foreboding bubble in his throat for the second time since he'd entered your home. However, before he could stop himself, the coughs began to rake through his thin body, making him drop the card in a rush to slap a hand over his mouth to attempt to muffle the honking sounds of his bad lungs. "Wh-what the fuck?!" And this is why I'm not the assassin. You were now sitting up in your bed, your (e/c) eyes frantically fighting to adjust to the lack of light while Akutagawa did his best to bite back the last few coughs that fought to escape. Finally, your wide eyes met his cold, dark grey ones the moment they could make out his huddled sillhouette in the darkness. Instantly, the air filled with a thick tension. Then, in a flash, you threw your comforter off of you and tried to bolt, a terrified rabbit having sensed a predator in the night. However, that predator reacted just as swiftly, and before you could even launch yourself from your bed, Akutagawa had ensnared you in the tendrils of his animated coat, binding your arms to your torso and coiling a ribbon of dark, iron-scented cloth around your mouth to muffle your scream of terror. He hissed out a curse and finally stood up, half glaring at you while his eyes scanned over the bits of your figure he could see in the dim, crimson glow of his ability. You were shaking pretty hard, he could almost feel your fear through the cloth of his coat, and your eyes were wide with fight-or-flight instinct, but you were helpless against the constrictor's grip Rashoumon held you in, so he relaxed just a bit. He might be in a bad situation now, but at least you couldn't fight back. That was one less thing to worry about in his bad mood. "Why are you such a fucking light sleeper?" he snapped, barring his teeth at you like a pissed off dog, but with the cloth over your mouth, you couldn't respond, not that he actually wanted you to. "One cough, and you're awake. What a fucking pain." He complained, wanting to say more, but through his annoyance and humiliation at being caught rooting around in a strangers home, he was reminded that it was a stranger's home. He couldn't berate you for catching him in the act here. So, he took a deep breath, holding it for a moment until he felt that tickle of a cough in his throat pass, and let it out, regaining some of his composure while running a pale hand through his dark, choppy hair. Now the air was thick, but this time with lingering aggression, anxiety, and the thrum of lethal energy Rashoumon exuded, the power's dim glow surely making the goth seem more physically intimidating than he was. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head, "Well, I can't just leave now." he decided, a small cough escaping, but strangling any other noises of weakness, "you'd probably call the cops and create a headache for me, so...you're coming with me." Of course, you struggled at this declaration, and the goth took a sadistic pleasure in watching your face contort when his power bit into your skin in a warning. "Listen to me, and listen good," he growled after you'd momentarily resigned yourself to your fate, leaning over so you could see just how serious he was in the light of his ability, "I'm going to let you go, and we are going to walk out of here calmly and without distress. Got it? If you try to tell anyone that you are captive, or you try to run, I will kill you on. the. spot." He could see tears beginning to well up into your (e/c) eyes as he spoke in a cold, quiet voice, a drop of blood leaking from a fresh gash on your cheek onto the blade-like ribbon squeezing your jaw so tightly, and watched you nod obediently when his tone and power made it perfectly clear that you had no room for argument. So, Akutagawa unwrapped you from his power, letting you meekly step down from your bed before wrapping his coat tie around your waist, just a bit of insurance as he led you out into the quiet night. Akutagawa had no idea how a simple mission to check if you'd kept his apology card had turned into this, but now he had to adjust. He had no room for you at home, so tomorrow he'd have to find a place to keep you. Where? He had no idea. But, what he did know, was that, despite the humiliating set up, something about having you with him, walking as far from him as your razor-wire leash would allow, in the quiet, peaceful night, brought some sort of comfort or joy to him in that moment. And he didn't want to give that up after tonight.

#bungo stray dogs #yandere akutagawa #bsd #yandere #Akutagawa x reader #scenario #x reader

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Text

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[008] — we meet again!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i was listening to hozier while writing this which explains why both bokuto and iwaizumi is whipped for the mc ✨

asking if you were okay was a good question. really, it is—too bad you didn’t know the answer to that very question no matter how grossly interchangeable the words were tossed around and scrambled into nuances phrases. if anything, it made your mood turn even more sour as your two best friends tried their best to calm you down. keyword: tried

kaori was too busy dying of laughter as she would tease the glaring look on your face. “you’re going to pop a blood vessel, honey.” she snickered, holding her stomach as it ached under the constant tension.

meanwhile akaashi was still profusely apologizing beneath the latter’s amusement. a sigh left your lips for the umpteenth time in the span of five minutes as your arms braided over each other in frustration. “what the fuck are you trying to get at, keiji?”

a gasp practically escaped kaori as she slapped her hand over her mouth, “(y/n) used your first name, that’s how you now she’s pissed off.”

akaashi could only roll his eyes. it was to his best bet to ignore any of kaori’s quips as she’s known to escalate things just by the power of that witty brain of hers. “nothing!” the editor exclaimed as he turned back to you, “i just figured it wasn’t a big deal since you and bokuto both said you guys ended on good terms. besides, i warned you to check the list.”

“okay, but that doesn’t explain the fact that iwaizumi is here!” it was at this moment that you were glad the music was pumping loudly through the venue speakers to hide over your shouts.

“i told you they work for the same team, but i didn’t know they were friends until i saw who bokuto wanted to invite!”

you groan, “unbelievable.”

“i just don’t think you should let their presence ruin the rest of the night, (y/n).” akaashi mentions flatly.

“i agree,” kaori suddenly cuts in, “it’s your party, you could kick them out if you want.” she suggests with an impish tone and an expression laced in provocation.

“i’m not going to kick them out, kaori—” you’re interrupted then as she swiftly elbows you in the breast, “ouch! what was that for?”

“sorry, i was aiming for your ribs not your titty.” she laughs briefly before motioning to a familiar figure making it’s way towards you three. perhaps it was his height that triggered a response in you to cause your heart to rapidly thump against your ribcage, but honestly, it was probably his spiked hair with white tips that was the perpetrator. “is that bokuto? oh fuck, he’s coming, act natural.”

great, you thought. you had to fight the urge to just walk away a leave, but you knew it wasn’t going to end well whatever you did. knowing your luck, you were going to stumble upon this man one way or another.

“akaashi, there you are!” bokuto calls out over the crowd, serpentining his way through groups of conversating individuals to reach his best friend. but in all honesty, akaashi knew what this guy was doing. bokuto didn’t listen to a word he said in his text messages as the volleyball player ended up coming over here either way just to talk to you.

you’re over (y/n) my ass, akaashi thinks to himself, feigning from rolling his eyes again because at this point, it was just a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

it almost felt like a target was on you, perhaps a red laser shining right in the middle of your forehead the moment bokuto flickered his attention to you. “(y/n)! it’s so nice seeing you again!”

you nod as an awkwardly smile melted on your expression, “it’s nice seeing you too, bokuto.” despite your meek demeanor, what you said certainly wasn’t a lie. you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t miss bokuto and his warming aura. you suppose it was the sudden meeting that caused your fight or flight response to suddenly kick in.

bokuto’s eyebrows furrow slightly, “bokuto? what happened to calling me kou?”

as if the situation wasn’t already difficult being in, it was as if he flicked another match into the burning dumpster fire of a party. “well... we haven’t seen each other in years, so i thought it was appropriate.”

“ah...” his voice trailed on as a few beats of silence ensued.

“oh shit,” kaori suddenly curses under her breath as she nonchalantly spilled his drink all over her arm. “um, akaashi could you come and help me clean this off?” she asks in faux concern, not bothering to give the guy a chance to answer as she tugged him away.

you couldn’t help but feel a faint smirk forming on your lips as you watched the two disappear into the crowd. kaori was always good at acting herself out of awkward situations that you honestly had to applaud her. maybe later you would teasingly remind her to audition for the webtoon’s live action just to spite her. it was just a little mindless payback for leaving you alone with your ex-boyfriend.

your striking gazes met again as you turned your attention back towards bokuto. at first glance, he looked exactly the same as you last saw him—then again, the last time you did see bokuto was when you two decided to break up on the day before graduation, you couldn’t remember much of him as it was dark under the midnight sky as tears blurred your vision. even when things ended up mutual with no hard feelings, you still couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heart when you recalled the way bokuto looked at you then.

it was hard to sleep that night.

it was a bizarre juxtaposition of comparing eighteen year old bokuto to him now. rather than appearing before you with messy hair and tears streaming down his face, he was beaming in some contagious lightheartedness. it was a feeling you never thought you would feel so nostalgic in as he still smelt like fresh chamomile. he was much bigger now, more buff as one would say and not to mention taller as well.

perhaps going professional really treated this man wonders as you had to admit how increasingly more attractive he has gotten.

“you look great, by the way.” bokuto says, pulling you out of your thoughts as you realize how long you have been staring.

“thanks...” god, this is awkward. this certainly wasn’t leaving a good impression on your part, “you don’t look too bad either.”

a red tint burned at the tips of bokuto’s ears as he scratched the nape of his neck like it was some kind of nervous tic. he usually doesn’t get nervous meeting people, new or old, yet there was something about the way you look at him even after all these years that would send his heart rate into the extremes. he hated how this all ended due to your differing aspirations. “congrats on having a successful webtoon. love cemetery is amazing and i’m obsessed if you couldn’t already tell.”

“i never really pinned you to be one of my biggest fanboys, you know.”

“i’ve always been your biggest fanboy,” bokuto assured with a smirk, “how about you, are you still my biggest fangirl?”

you playfully scoffed at his statement, “um...”

“um?” he pressed, finding the amusement in your eyes adorable.

“i dunno, i haven’t really kept up with volleyball after high school.” you chuckled, swirling the contents of your drink in your hand. “besides, i think you have enough fangirls drooling over you.”

“who needs all of them if i have you?”

you rolled your eyes as you took a sip from the alcohol in your hands. “you’re flirting again.”

“isn’t that the reason why you dated my in the first place?” bokuto jested, feeling the burning in his cheeks as he couldn’t stop smiling. this was progress to him knowing that this playful banter was enough to surely get you two to reconnect again.

you peered your eyes at him suspiciously, “you’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“you’re making it sound like i’m evil!”

“well, are you?”

“of course i’m not,” said bokuto, “i just wanted us to be friends again.”

“you’re kidding.”

he shook his head, “never in a million years.”

you weren’t sure if it was his words that made your chest feel warm or if it was the alcohol in your system. regardless, you refused to let bokuto affect you so easily in a span of a couple minutes even if you took your alcohol well.

“at least you weren’t kidding when you said you were going professional.” you hummed, leaning against one of the smaller round tables as you stared into the crowd. you were hoping bokuto would do the same, but he’d rather look at you than a congregation of random strangers.

“and you weren’t kidding either when you said you wanted to become an artist.”

“i mean, becoming a webtoon artist wasn’t exactly what i thought i was going to be, but i’m glad where i am now in life.” you answered as your eyes wandered the room.

“even without me in it?” god, what a flirt.

that infamous laugh of yours emitted from your cherry-colored lips. it was the type of laugh everyone found themselves attracted to and never annoyed, in fact, it was the laugh bokuto hadn’t even realized he missed so much until the moment it left you.

his mindless attempts at flirting was catching up to you now as you couldn’t fight the feeling of the heat rising to your cheeks. “well, you’re right in front of me aren’t you?”

“things are different know, though...”

“right but—” you tried to respond, but was inevitably interrupted by yuko.

she came up to you in a slight hurry, calling out your name before apologizing to bokuto. “sorry to cut your conversation so short, but i need (y/n) to come take care of something for me.”

confusion melted upon your expression as you turned to her, “we do?”

“we do,” she huffs.

“it’s alright,” bokuto says while motioning for you to follow suit of your manager. “let’s catch up more sometime, yeah?”

you smile at him, one that’s less mediocre and awkward and a bit more genuine. “of course,” was the last thing you could say before yuko yanked at your arm once again until you were in just another body in the crowd.

despite yuko’s hand firmly gripped around your wrist to ensure you wouldn’t get lost in the sea of people, it was difficult trying to focus at one thing at a time. at first it was the worry about your manager and her sudden interruption, but now it was trying your best not to spill your drink due to all the drunken bodies bumping into yours. were there really this many people on the invite list?

grumbling to your self, you threw your head back as you finished the last bits of drink in your hand while you were pulled through the crowd like a ragdoll. having to pay for a stranger’s dry cleaning due to a spilled drink was the last thing on your mind right now.

“what did you want me to help you with?” you shout over to your manager once she slowed down.

“nothing,” said yuko over her shoulder, “i was watching you and bokuto talk and you kept getting redder and redder i thought you were going to pass out.”

embarrassment flushed through, cheeks heating up again at the thought. “ugh, was it that obvious?” you groaned as your head fell from the utter humiliation that was coursing through your body at that moment—far too distracted that your humiliation could only worsen the moment you bumped into another.

“sorry, i wasn’t looking—” the apologetic tone in your voice subsided as your eyes flickered up to whoever’s chest it was up to a yet another familiar face.

“(y/n)?” he says.

“iwaizumi?” you say.

your names were jumbled up in unison just as much as your thoughts immediately dissipated into thin air. just my luck, huh? you swore you were dreaming. nothing in the absolute world could possibly make such a ironic turn of events as if you were in some melodrama yourself. call it fate or destiny, but bumping into both of your exes within a span of ten minutes was something you never would’ve wished upon yourself.

“it’s um... fancy meeting you here.” you start the second you flicker a look over to yuko as she could only give you a pitiful smile. “it’s been a while, right?”

regardless of the confident aura you were extruding right now, you were completely freaking out for the third time this evening. you knew today was going to affect you emotionally, but you wasn’t expecting it to be like this. you were expecting to get a bit emotional due to the fact your webtoon that you poured your absolute heart and soul into has come to an end and not because two attractive dudes from your past just coincidentally came back into your life.

and yet it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like iwaizumi could see through that little façade of false confidence in your expression as it felt like he was meeting you for the first time all over again. it fit all down to a tee from the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat to his breath hitching from the sight or to the infamous monarch butterflies tickling his gut.

“it’s nice to see you too, (y/n)...” his words trailed as you couldn’t help but notice how deeper his voice had gotten since the last time you’ve seen him. granted, he was fifteen back then and had a lot of time to grow up and become this absolute adonis.

iwaizumi certainly wasn’t planning on coming across you this evening either. if anything, you two both shared that internal panic when your eyes briefly met at the start of the party. however, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved knowing that in the end you two did manage to cross ways. he supposes that after seeing you and bokuto talk as if you two have known each other for years created an inkling feeling in his gut.

he hates the way you distracted him the majority of the night. it wasn’t like you two were on talking terms especially after years of not seeing each other, yet it felt strange for him to even let himself feel this way.

besides, iwaizumi felt absolutely terrible knowing satomi was trying her hardest to capture his lingering attention by making conversation about anything—literally anything.

anyone who had been friends with iwaizumi in the past know he’s an absolute sweetheart, but at the same time, he’s honest. he’s not the type to hesitate in telling someone the cold hard truth even if it meant hurting their feelings, yet whenever he would look at satomi, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t interested in the conversation.

you cleared your throat, pulling iwaizumi back from his thoughts, “so... i heard that you became the new athletic trainer for the black jackals.” the man before you nods as he was stilling taking you all in. was he staring at you for that long? “i thought were living in california, why the sudden change of plans?”

iwaizumi shrugs as he took a sip of his beer, “i ended up getting a better job offer here, so i decided to move back. why? have you missed me?”

the moment those words left his lips, he immediately wanted to slap his hand over his mouth and cringe. why was he suddenly so flirtatious with you? was it because he saw you and bokuto flirting earlier, was that it?

you chuckled in amusement as you nod. you honestly weren’t going to lie that his words did catch you off guard for a second. something like this was definitely not in iwaizumi’s handbook his (more or less) complicated personality, yet you decided to play along anyway. “of course i have, iwa! i’m not soulless, you know.”

iwa? the man before thought to himself, what happened to haji? he shook the thought out of his as he opened his mouth in attempt to speak, but he noticed your attention leaving his and onto the person beside him.

satomi cleared her throat as she looks at him innocently, waiting for iwaizumi to introduce her to you.

“oh uh,” he motions his head to the team’s physical therapist next to him, “this is yahagi satomi, she’s my—”

“—date for this evening,” she cuts iwaizumi off and answers for him, catching him a bit off guard and confused, yet he doesn’t correct her. granted, satomi was his plus one so it made sense.

you purse your lips as you took in her features. she was a bit on the shorter side with her long copper hair pulled back into a sleek high ponytail as her bangs were styled perfectly to fit her face. semi was right, she is pretty. it was then you stuck your hand out for her to shake, feeling who cold her palm was compared to yours. “it’s nice to meet you. how long have you two been together?” you ask out of the blue.

i mean, what’s wrong with a little curiosity?

“oh no, we’re not together.” iwaizumi is quick to answer, not even noticing satomi’s slight change in expression when she parted her lips to answer herself. “she’s just my plus one because bokuto told us to.”

you nod at his words, trying your best to ignore the intravenous relief that was coursing through you at that moment. you realized how long you had been standing there then, failing to notice that yuko was still by your side the entire time. if anything, she was just trying to help you out once again as she could literally feel the rising tension in the air. if you were to talk to satomi any longer, it would surely go wrong knowing your luck. luckily, she spots sugawara’s silvery hair just a few feet away.

yuko wasn’t entirely sure how in the hell she was going to get his attention to save your asses, but it was going to happen one way or another. she was just glad you were too preoccupied talking to iwaizumi and satomi that yuko was able to text sugawara to come over.

she watched sugawara feel the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, observing his every move as he pulls it out and read the text as the screen light shined over his face. he looked up then, eyes scanning the room briefly before landing upon yuko’s familiar figure standing next to yours.

the manager widens to eyes a bit at him like a warning to come over here.

she wasn’t sure what was so hard to understand from the pure helplessness in her expression, but sugawara was taking his sweet ass time.

yuko grumbled to herself. at this point, perhaps she was just trying to save herself.

it was then sugawara was finally making his way over to you and yuko. “oh hey, iwaizumi! long time no see, sorry to interrupt but i need to borrow (y/n) and yuko for a second.”

you gave sugawara a confused look as it washed over your expression. again? ugh, give me a break. however, before you could excuse yourself from the conversation, iwaizumi grabs your upper arm lightly.

“(y/n),” he stops you in place, “we should catch up sometime.”

you open your mouth to respond, but sugawara interjects before you could. “why not catch up now?” he suggests, causing all four of you to snap your head towards him, “i’m sure i’ll just yuko’s help will be enough, plus (y/n) has tons of time to talk to more guests.”

the silver haired man gives you a sly wink before taking yuko with him and leaving you behind. great.

you honestly couldn’t excuse yourself now as it would be obvious why no matter how many excuses you come up with, so you had to power through. besides, what could go wrong with talking with your first love and some random girl that somehow gives you a weird vibe?

“so how do you guys know each other?” satomi questions you, suddenly interested in your relationship with iwaizumi. it sounds suspicious, yet she was genuinely wondering if she was attempting to make moves on someone like iwaizumi was a good idea.

“we went to middle and a little bit of high school together,” you answer as a matter-of-fact. there was surely no need to lie.

her eyebrows rise in curiosity, “that makes sense... you guys must have been really close, huh.”

you flickered a look to iwaizumi, examining his reaction if he was also noticing her off words. “yeah... really close.” his expression melted into confusion then as you placed your gaze back to satomi.

iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck as the words remained at the tip of his tongue. why weren’t you mentioning that you two dated before? it wasn’t like it was a crime nor secret. he hated to think this, but could it be because you regretted your relationship with him?

he shook the thought out of his head quickly. the obvious answer was no as the breakup was mutual, yet after all these years of drifting apart, was that really the truth?

if he recalled correctly, one of the last words you said to him before you inevitably left for tokyo and never looked back was that you love him and would always be there for him no matter what. you even promised to text him as much as possible, yet after months had passed since you moved to your new life, it was as if the promise was nonexistent. however, iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to blame you. if anything, he had himself to blame considering how many times he had written that same text over and over again, yet never had the courage to send it.

“(y/n) had to move to tokyo after our first year so we kind of drifted.” iwaizumi answers. even now with the chance open for him to mention your previous relationship was out in the open, he was still do cowardly to say it.

perhaps somethings never change.

fun facts! —

iwaizumi wasn’t really keen on using social media back in high school, which explains why he never really found out about (y/n) and bokuto’s relationship

it wasn’t like (y/n) and bokuto liked posting about their relationship either at the time

satomi and bokuto have always been homies after they have gotten closer when bokuto injuredhis knee and had to go to physical therapy, but he never really talked about his past relationships, hence satomi not knowing about (y/n)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @skyguy-peach @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @atsunakaashi @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @kaiju-teeth @oh-tapeworm @scrappydaisies @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto scenarios #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi smau

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justaniche · 3 years

Note

Hey! I’m dying for more Daxton. I seriously can’t wait for season 2. Can you write something about Nalini realizing Paxton is good for Devi? Like he takes care of her/protects her and helps her deal with her trauma

Thanks!!

Hi!

omg let me say first, anon, thank you for this ask. youre the first person to take me up on my offer to write stuff for you so thank you again.

A little bit about this writing piece before I actually show it to you, there was a point when I was writing it when I wasn’t sure if it was going to reach 1K words but there was a point where the words just start to flow and I can proudly say it is 2.1K and that is not a lot but based on what I thought it was going to end up being it has come along way. and this is one of my first-ish never have I ever work of writing. I think it’s the first I’ve written entirely off the top of my head. My other ones are either not posted or it’s my work inspired by the episodes and its just everything through Paxton‘s point of view so it’s a bit different.

this is getting sort of long so anyway, without further ado. here it is. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think and if you like it please feel free to send me another!

Nalini had just about had it. The day’s raging dumpster fire began with traffic that resulted in her being late to work. If that wasn’t bad enough, a patient she saw a couple days ago came back complaining that her treatment caused a breakout. After a follow-up, she discovered the patient hadn’t changed any of their habits despite her advice! So was it really the treatment, or the fact that they don’t wash their face? All that suffices to say when Nalini got home she was already on a very short fuse. Kamala was out for school and let her family know she wouldn’t be home for dinner so it was known by both Devi and Nalini that they would be cooking without her today. Nalini gave Devi specific instructions so that, regardless of how late her day ran, they could have dinner at a reasonable time. Devi did not follow those instructions. Nalini came home to the door unlocked, closed but unlocked, the house a mess, and Devi’s part of dinner not made. No matter how many breaths she took, Nalini was mad. No, mad didn’t quite cover it. She silently walked up the stairs, hell-bent on seeing what caused this disaster, and if she didn’t like the reason she planned to riff for the rest of the night. But approaching Devi’s door she found it ajar. She peeked inside, and that's where she found them.

After winning his swim meet, Paxton was on top of the world. The school day had been what it tended to be, light. Filled with class and hanging with his friends in the hotpocket. But that was hours ago. It was early evening when he saw her, Devi Vishwakumar, they had sort of become friends over recent weeks but given the up and down nature of their relationship, Paxton was always very aware of her. Devi had a way of grabbing Paxton’s attention. He was always trying to figure her out. Of course she made a hell of a first impression, first couple of impressions actually. Devi was sorely different from anyone else in his circle and Paxton wasn’t yet sure how he felt about the sudden invasion. He pretended he didn’t but after unintentionally watching her Paxton began to notice Devi’s change in mood sometimes. Like right now, from where Paxton was he saw the set of her shoulders. The tension was apparent as Devi stalked across the school grounds. Confusion flooded Paxton’s mind and before another thought could register, he was jogging towards her.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” He called towards her but she didn’t stop

Devi cast a look over her shoulder, her voice was muffled when she spoke, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” her voice cracks, “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Paxton slows down for a second as he takes in the situation, Devi speeds up.

“Are you okay?”

Devi breaks into a dead sprint and Paxton doesn’t think, he just follows.

Devi was doing okay. Today was harder than most for a reason she couldn’t name but Devi was making it through. That was until last period art class. The teacher gave a simple assignment, and that was to paint your happiest memory. Immediately when the words left his mouth, a memory came flooding into Devi's mind like a tidal wave.

Devi was 8 when her father convinced her mother that going to a Californian beach as a family would be an adventure. Devi barely remembers the build-up, it was a haze of packing sandwiches and equipment. Leaving the house, only to discover something had been forgotten. A car ride that seemed to stretch into forever. But the beach was magnificent. At least it was in Devi’s memory. It was a gloomy day, the threat of rain looming, so the beach’s visitors were far and few in between. Devi remembers that feeling of warm sand under her feet. She remembers those first fragile steps into the tide, only to rush back as the ocean crashed forward chasing her back to shore. She could see her mom, in the distance, setting up their makeshift camp for the day. She was more content watching her family than participating. The ocean was vast and blue and terrifying. Devi could not urge herself to take more than a few steps. Devi doesn’t know how her dad saw her distress but it was like he could read her mind. He grabbed her and lifted her high then settled Devi on his shoulders. He insisted that she was safe there, she was too high for the ocean to ever reach. He held her hand as he walked slowly but confidently further into the waves. He stopped just as the water kissed her mid-calf but it was enough. From way up here, with her father by her side, the ocean wasn’t anything to fear, it was something to marvel at.

Devi had a firm picture in her mind of her happiest memory and it was her family’s adventure at the beach. But Devi couldn’t make a move to make this image a reality. Sadness crept up on her and got a vice grip on her heart. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t breathe. How had she ever breathed before? Was it always this hard? The bell rang, signaling the end of the day but Devi was on autopilot. Eleanor and Fabiola felt miles away, whenever they’d focus in the daze of her mind, the grip on her heart tightened and dragged her back to darkness. Devi doesn’t know if she said goodbye to her best friends,

She blinked, band began

She inhaled, band was over

She stood, the sun was setting

She gazed, the stress stiffened her movements as she walked around campus. Where was she headed?

Devi was desperate for light, for clarity.

“ Hey, Vishwakumar, wait up! ” The sudden noise broke the muddle, if only for now, she was again aware of the devastation and loss weighing on her mind and on her heart.

She recognized that voice and it was getting closer, she glanced over her shoulder. Paxton, no no no, she didn’t want anyone to see this least of all her newest and most popular friend, “Uh, Hi Paxton, I can’t talk.” Why was her voice cracking? “I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Devi finally knew where she wanted to go as she increased her speed.

“Are you okay?” Paxton’s question was the final straw, she couldn’t stop her tears and they fell uncontrollably past her cheeks. Paxton was going to catch up, and Devi was crumbling by the second. So Devi did the only thing she could. She ran, ignoring the echo of the beating steps behind her.

Nalini could hardly comprehend the scene playing in front of her. Devi, her only child, her entire world, looked so small folded up on the floor in front of her bed. Devi was always so strong, with a personality larger than life. She always seemed bigger than her stature, always taking up more space. Nalini's anger from the day deflates, leaving no trace it was ever there to begin with. Nalini tears her eyes away from the form of her daughter to take in the room. It was dark but the other figure inhabiting the room was clear as day. Paxton sat before Devi, his body language soft. He had one hand on the arms Devi wrapped around herself as he spoke to her gently. Paxton’s volume was soft as a whisper, any louder would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Witnessing this scene felt like a secret and the longer Nalini stood there the guiltier she felt. Devi never expressed emotions this deeply to her. Everyday problems with her friends or tests or Ben Gross, yes. But Devi never shared this.

Nalini's mind was going a million miles an hour as he crept back down the steps and began cooking dinner. She knew Devi would refuse but she needed to have something ready, just in case. When everything was mostly done, she was quiet as she moved around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the meal. Nalini knew he was trying to walk silently but she still caught Paxton as he descended the steps. Nalini kept her back to him as she called, giving Paxton an out if he needed.

“Paxton?”

“Um...yes, Hi Mrs. Vishwakumar” at the acknowledgment, Nalini felt comfortable enough to turn around.

Paxton was standing in the doorway, shuffling in obvious discomfort. What he expected her to say she didn’t know. Gods, neither did Nalini. Questions flew through her mind faster than she could catch them. She didn’t want to ask him about what happened, Nalini wanted Devi to share when, if, she was ready. Nalini realized, amongst these questions, that she didn’t know Paxton. Here was this kid, late in the evening comforting her daughter. She couldn’t even be upset that they were home alone when she recalled how broken Devi looked. All Nalini had done thus far was judge Paxton, he looked like a jock so she thought him dumb. She made these assumptions about him, that he’d peak in high school or that he was shallow or that he was a walking STI, but they were just that. Assumptions. This kid stayed with her daughter for she didn’t even know how long, she’d been cooking for close to an hour so it was at least that.

All these guesses and judgments were useless when she stood in front of him. Paxton had a rigid set to his limbs, Nalini thought it was probably from sitting in one position for so long, and he was still dressed in gym clothes. Paxton looked new in Nalini’s eyes and she regretted never wanting to know him before now. Nalini didn’t know where to begin, she wondered if he’d eaten.

“Would you like something to eat?” Nalini's silent prayer must’ve been heard because he accepted. She was being given another chance. She quickly worked around the familiar space, grabbing one of the good containers and piling more food than necessary, successfully straining the unyielding plastic. She was handing the meal over when she paused, they both had a hand on the object between them but Nalini couldn’t let go, not yet.

“Thank you, Paxton, really, I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but I saw what you did for Devi.” Paxton had the decency to look a little shocked. He hadn’t heard anything. Paxton was too absorbed before. His mind was a broken record repeating only, Devi.

The moment shatters when the front door opened, “I’m home!” Kamala’s voice fills the silent home. With the trance broken, Nalini’s hold on the container falters and she drops her hand allowing Paxton to leave. Words were failing him so all Paxton could give was a tightlipped smile in response.

“Thanks for the dinner.” Paxton’s smile was looser now and that gave Nalini courage.

Kamala was unloaded the day around her but Nalini was focused on making this right, “You’re welcome to come by Paxton, anytime.” She could only hope Paxton knew just how much she meant those words. His smile was burdened but bright, he nodded strongly and then he was out the door.

Kamala was fixing the table for a very late dinner when she called for Devi to join, Nalini hoped she would. “Who was that? And why was he here so late?” Pure curiosity laced Kamala’s voice.

“Paxton is one of Devi’s friends. He’s a good kid.”

Those details were all she could provide before Devi came bouncing down the steps. Nalini couldn’t be sure if it was the fact of what she saw or reality but Devi’s movements looked heavier than they normally were.

“What’s up guys?” Devi’s voice feigned casualness, “Dang mom, isn’t it late for a thousand-course meal?” She questioned as she took in the lack of clear surfaces on the dinner table.

Nalini just brushed it off, indicating for everyone to take a seat. “So how was everyone’s day?”

Nalini wasn’t looking for Devi to share but this was her family. She would always want to hear how they were, plus it was tradition. As they consumed insane amounts of food they were bound to regret eating this late at night, everything felt so normal and easy. But something had shifted in Nalini today and even though it was new and she was scared to death of this person entering Devi’s life with the propensity to hurt her. Nalini can’t say she minded too much because it was Paxton. He had proven himself worthy of a chance, and Nalini wouldn’t soon forget it.

#devi x paxton #devi vishwakumar #netflix original #never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #paxton hall yoshida #nhie #nhie netflix #ben gross #eleanor wong #fabiola torres #daxton #daxton fic #nhie season 1 #nhie fic #anonymous #anon ask #fanfic

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auroracalisto · 4 years

Text

she will be loved

Requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt: Hi! Can I please request an (platonic) Elijah x 3-4 year old fem!child oneshot where when Elijah went to Mystic Falls (when he needed Elena) and when he’s walking, he hears crying and finds her alone on the streets. I’m sure his heart would absolutely break at the sight and he would do anything he can to help calm her down. He obviously wouldn’t leave her on the streets, deciding right then and there that he wants to adopt her, so he brings her home with him. Omggg he would be such a soft (and veryyy protective) dad and all of the Mikaelsons (once they were undaggered) would love her so much 🤧 (Also Elijah would absolutely lose it if the Mystic Falls gang ever brought Y/n into any of the drama)

pairing: adoptive dad! elijah x adopted daughter! reader, mikaelsons x child reader

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: uh reader is female,,,, and was abandoned. OH and this is basically pure fluff so there’s that as well

author’s notes: WOW omg let me just say i loved writing this!! thank you so much for requesting!! also my gifs wouldn’t load and i wanted to use one that fit what he would have looked like towards the beginning of tvd so!! credit for the gif goes to the creator, but i wasn’t able to find the creator

The sound of soft sobs met his ears, causing him to stop in his tracks. He had just come from meeting with Elena… he should have gone straight home. But the cries he heard made his heart ache. A deep frown etched into his face and he hesitantly took a step towards the sound.

At his movement, it was obvious whoever had been crying had tried to stifle their noise. But he came down the long sidewalk, past the brick buildings that surrounded Mystic Falls. He frowned as he came upon a dumpster, and just beyond it was a small girl, maybe four years of age. Her eyes were big and filled with tears and her little body was trembling. She was terrified.

Elijah’s eyes widened. He slowly bent down in front of her, not wanting to scare her. “Hello,” he softly spoke.

She hiccupped, her little hands gripping onto her shirt. “Hi…”

He gave her a soft smile. “It’s so nice to meet you,” he softly said. “What is your name?”

“[Your name],” she said, looking up at him. She was starting to calm down—this stranger was captivating. She couldn’t help it. She tried to wipe her tears away, and she softly sniffled.

“My name is Elijah,” he spoke, hesitantly sitting down on the ground with her. Normally, he wouldn’t have done something so mundane. But this child was no threat.

She sniffled again and kept her arms close to her body.

“Why are you out here all alone?” he asked, not moving to touch her. He didn’t want to scare her in any way.

[Your name] swallowed thickly and she closed her eyes. “I… my mommy… she just… left me here,” she whimpered. “She left me.” The poor child looked up at Elijah with tears welling in her eyes.

His eyes grew wide in return. “Oh, no, my dear,” he softly said, gently holding a hand out to the girl. “I am so sorry… Let… me take you home. Gather you some clean clothes. Are you hungry? I heard your stomach grumble…”

[Your name] stared at his hand for just a moment before she hurriedly got to her feet, grabbing onto his hand.

Elijah’s features softened at the realization that this child trusted him.

[Your name] moved closer and suddenly hugged onto him, her little tears wetting his white undershirt. He just frowned and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry you were left all alone, [Your name],” he softly said, resting his chin on top of her head. “But I promise you, you will never be alone, again.”

—

“You what?” Klaus stared at Elijah in disbelief, looking at the little girl who was cuddled into Elijah’s side. “You cannot just adopt children off of the street, Elijah. Even…”

He trailed off, watching the girl. She was about to cry again, and she looked at Klaus with big, puppy dog eyes.

He sighed softly. “Fine. But I am not changing her diaper—”

“I don’t wear diapers!” [Your name] quickly defended herself, pouting up at Klaus.

Elijah let out a soft laugh. “Yes, well. Klaus, if you wouldn’t mind, I would trust you to watch her for just a couple of minutes while I go and find her some clothes and proper food…”

Klaus glared daggers at Elijah but he solemnly nodded, watching as Elijah sat [Your name] down. The girl gripped onto Elijah’s pant leg, clearly unsure of the man in front of her.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, love,” he said.

“Love?” [Your name] blushed and she couldn’t help the fit of giggles that overtook her.

Klaus rolled his eyes and bent down to her height while Elijah quickly took off to get her what she needed. [Your name] nervously stood there, her little hands folded and pressed against her tummy. Her stomach growled and Klaus frowned.

“Do not tell me you’re hungry.”

[Your name] rose both of her eyebrows, but she didn’t say anything. She looked away from him, her little lips pursed.

“Good God, woman,” he groaned and got to his feet. She looked up at him curiously. He held out his hand and she hesitantly took it, allowing him to lead her to the kitchen. But as soon as they had gotten there, Elijah was bag with multiple bags of things.

“Good, you’re going to make something for her?” Elijah asked, sitting some of the bags down. “I will go and get her settled into a room, if that’s alright with you, brother.”

Klaus stared at Elijah, dumbfounded of the newfound confidence his brother threw at him. Perhaps this little devil truly was good for him. Klaus rolled his eyes and looked at [Your name].

“What do you want?”

Her eyes widened and she looked towards the bags, gasping as she pulled out a small container of instant macaroni and cheese. “This!” she excitedly said, quickly bringing it over to Klaus.

He rose an eyebrow. “This is it?”

She quickly nodded and went back to Elijah.

Although Klaus knew this child would drive him crazy, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to protect the rascal. That, and he knew if he pulled anything, Elijah would stake him.

—

“Who is that?”

Elijah looked back to the entryway, spotting his little girl standing there with wide eyes.

Rebekah tilted her head as she watched Elijah. “Who is that?” she repeated.

“Daddy,” the girl began, gripping onto her pajama shirt.

“Elijah—a father?” Kol scoffed from where he sat, looking at the girl.

Elijah frowned and he walked over to [Your name]. He looked back at his recently awoken siblings.

“This is [Your name]. I adopted her just a few months ago. The two of you were still daggered. It so seems that she must have had a nightmare.” he frowned.

“She has been having quite a few of them, lately,” Elijah said, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. The girl cuddled into Elijah, keeping herself calm.

Rebekah’s eyes softened. She could hear her pounding little heart.

“[Your name],” she said, giving her a soft smile. “You are such a cutie. What have you been dreaming about?” she asked, hesitantly coming over. Elijah looked relieved that his sister was being mature about this.

[Your name] nearly began to cry again. She hadn’t even told Elijah what her nightmares were about. She shook her head, hiccupping in Elijah’s chest.

Kol scoffed once more and came over, pushing his sister out of the way. “Come here,” he said.

[Your name]’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.

Kol’s eyes softened and he held out his hands. “Really. Come here,” he said. “You can trust me.”

[Your name] looked up at Elijah and when he didn’t do anything to stop it, she went to the other man. Kol walked back over to the couch and sat down, keeping the girl on his lap. “What have you been dreaming out, little one? Surely, you’re much stronger than your dreams. You can do whatever you set your mind to.”

Her eyes widened. “I…” she began to cry again. “I am alone,” she said. “Elijah leaves me where my mommy did… alone. All alone,” she looked back at Elijah, who quickly came to her side.

“I will never let you be alone like that. Ever. I promise you, [Your name].”

She nodded and rubbed her tired little eyes.

“Come,” Kol cleared his throat. “Let your Uncle Kol tuck you in. I’ll be sure to scare all the nightmares away, alright?”

[Your name] nodded and Kol left right away.

Rebekah looked at Elijah in confusion. “Has your domesticity rubbed off on our chaotic brother?”

“It appears so,” Elijah chuckled. “I… apologize for not saying something sooner. It just did not come up into conversation.”

“It’s alright. She seems like a sweet child.”

“She is.”

“I will protect her with my life, Elijah… I do believe Kol will do the same.”

“Trust me,” Elijah chuckled softly. “Klaus has proved he would buy an entire country for her. She will grow up in a loving home,” he said, a bit of a strain coming to his voice. “I will never treat her like we were treated, I guarantee you that.”

Rebekah just smiled. “She will grow up loved.”

part two

#elijah mikaelson x reader #platonic #platonic elijah mikaelson x reader #dad!elijah x reader #dad!elijah #adoptive father #one shot #child! reader #child!reader #reader insert #female reader #tvd #to #the vampire diaries #the originals #mikaelsons x reader #mikaelsons x child!reader

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Text

The Bad Ending | Woods Didn't Survive the Crate

Welcome to the first installment of my Halloween month one shots! The title is pretty self explanatory, as they all will be.

Let's be honest, that's a long time to be deprived of water.

Tw: major character death (obviously), heavy angst, and semi graphic description of wounds

Not a single ray of light pierces the rusted out crate he's wasting in.

The only way he has any sense of day or night is when the metal all around him becomes too hot to lean on. Burns cover his back and shoulders, with no chance of relief or healing. Can't see them, but God can he feel them.

Pain doesn't bother him too much, but nothing could prepare one for the stench in this place.

Mutilated, piled up corpses of his fellow troops lay all around him in the pitch black dumpster. The darkness is disorienting enough, but how he's gotten so use to the smell is anyone's guess. He's been here for so long, he hardly notices it most of the time.

It's only when the sun microwaves them all inside this living hell that he feels the urge to be sick.

If only he could manage even that.

Woods lifts his arm off the hot metal and drops it onto his lap. He's been in here for days easily, perhaps almost a week.

No food.

No water.

And his skin... His skin feels tight, too tight, at all times. Like he's covered in plastic and itching to tear it off already.

What little water, if any, was left in the canteens on the corpses of his friends has all been consumed.

His mouth is completely dry to the point that he can feel the leathery texture of his tongue and all that it touches. His pores are burning, surprisingly not just from the heat. He thinks his body is trying to cool off and just sweat, but he simply has no more fluid to give.

He feels mummified in his own body.

Last time he checked, he could tell apart each rib just with his fingers. He's never been this skinny in all his life. Even his muscles seem to be gone, wasted away like everything else in this mass grave.

Wood's head falls back again the metal walls. He's too tired to hold it up anymore. His back is starting to singe from the heat, but he hopes maybe he'll go under again and get to escape it all.

Every day he's been holding on for rescue. Mason would never leave him. Not like this...

He doesn't know how much longer he can hold on, but hope is all he has left.

His eyelids drop, and his chest starts to heave. Fuck, he doesn't even have enough in him to cry.

Those same words echo back to him over and over again. Not like this, not like this... After all he's been through. After all he's planned out for his life. This is how he goes out?

Alone, while nothing but the tortured bodies and nightmarish memories of the past few months to keep him company.

A stream of liquid crawls down his cheek, and for a moment he almost feels hopeful that he isn't as dried out as he thought. A thought that's quickly squashed when the stream reaches his mouth. It's sour, thick and metallic tasting.

Blood.

But... once in a while, every now and then, he has a good dream. That one dream that takes him away from all the suffering...

Damn. As if he hasn't lost enough of that already.

His head starts to feel heavy again, like he's been awake for far too long. He lays back against the hot metal, but it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it usually does.

His dreams are filled with nightmares, nothing new there. All flashbacks of torture and brutality he and his squad suffered. Voices of the dead, and the smells of them too, haunt him constantly.

"You're gonna be alright, Frank"

The one where the rusty, fucking door opens. Where sunlight comes in, and just for once the sun is a welcome sight. It's warm and comforting instead of the fire that constantly scalds his skin.

There's no more reason to be afraid.

Alex came back for him, just like he knew he would.

That's what he says. Every time. And every time, he knows he means it. Mason would never let him down.

But the dreams keep coming, and every time they're just that. Dreams.

Every time, he wakes up to his tight, blistering skin and the rancid smell of the fallen.

Every time, he wakes up to pitch blackness, so much so that he often questions whether or not he's actually awake.

And every time, he knows more precious time has been lost while he slowly wastes away.

Come to think of it, he hasn't felt much of anything at all lately. Even his tongue hasn't been bothering him.

He's been falling sleep more often lately. Or maybe he's been passing out. What little track of time he's been able to keep seems to have totally vanished. He hasn't felt his back being fried in quite some time now.

Funny how that's the only way he can keep track of the daytime.

The only thing keeping him awake is the feable shivers jolting through him. When did it get so cold?

He's pretty sure he's never called for help out in the field in his life. But by now, it's too late. His throat is so dry, it hurts just to breath. Speaking isn't much better.

He can hardly get a word out. It's the same one every time.

"M-Ma... Mason?"

For the first time since he got stuck in this box, a thought occurs to him. Maybe help isn't coming.

No. No, he can't give up. Not now. This can't be the end, he's not going out like this. He just has to hold on...

Just a little longer...

The door scrapes open as it always does. A blinding light floods in, just as it always does. Mason coughs and gags, clearly not as use to the corpses as he is. You know, by now he's nearly forgotten they're there.

He's having that dream again. The one where Mason saves him. Except, it seems distant, even in his own mind. As if the whole thing is taking place under underwater.

Sounds seem muted and far away. Colors are dull, and the face that he knows so well looks less and less like it should every time.

"Frank? Oh God, Frank!"

A tiny breath of relief, although he knows the whole scene's a lie, escapes him at the sound of that voice. Mason's voice sounds a million miles away, but Frank would recognize it anywhere.

This is always his favorite part.

Suddenly, another voice pipes up, "Over there!"

Woods tries to turn and see who it is, but the light is too bright and just the simple act of turning his head chokes him, his throat is so dry.

Mason wades through the bodies and holds either side of Woods' head in his hands. Woods suspects this is still a dream. It must be, because he can't feel a thing.

"Hey! Hey, stay with me Frank, stay with me! We're going to get you out of here"

Alex slides his arm behind Woods' back only to yank it away just as quick. His sleeve is soaked with blood and fluid from bursted blisters. Otherwise, his friend's skin feels like leather, it's been burned so badly.

How long has he been laying here?

Mason fights against the bile making it's way up his throat and tries again. Once he's got a good grip, he has to tear the Sargent off his metallic perch.

He tries not to notice the scorched fabric and flesh now hopelessly fused to the metal that's left in Frank's place.

At long last, he's carried into the sunlight. Woods was hoping it would get rid of the constant chill he's been having lately.

Mason rushes over to show Frank's condition to Hudson. He doesn't remember this part of the dream...

Hudson displays no emotion as he checks Woods' temperature, but the urgency and shock are radiating out of him is palpable, "We need to get him to evac. Now"

Woods can hardly make out the words Hudson's speaking. It sounds like nothing to him, just gargled murmurs. He's so tired, he just needs to rest...

Mason shakes him abruptly, he seems so... small as he lays limply in his arms. He calls his name, once and then again, all the time more urgently.

"Stay with me!"

There's something different in his voice. So raw, and yet so far away.

Woods cracks his eyes open. The light is so bright out here, he'd nearly forgotten what the sun looked like. He must have forgotten what the jungles is like too, everything seems dull and desaturated.

His vision is hazy, and everything seems to be floating and doubled. He feels weightless, even as his dry, cracked throat closes off again as he turns to look up at his friend.

"A-", Frank croaks. It takes all his strength just to lift his arm. He wants to reach for Mason's face, but he can't get it to rise more then a few inches from where it hangs. "A... Alex..."

Tears stream down Alex's face. Why does he look so worried? He's just so happy that he can see his friend's face so clearly again, at long last. He was afraid he'd forgotten what Mason looked like too.

"Sh, don't talk buddy, save your strength... We-we're al... almost there"

Frank's head drops. Save his strength? That's a good idea. God, he's so tired from just that. So, so tired...

He's glad that this dream was a good one, he's never had one so vivid. It's almost enough to hold him over until the real thing comes along. When Alex comes for him, he'll be waiting.

His eyelids fall shut, a strangely serene smile on his cracked, purple lips, even as Alex shouts his name and begs him to stay awake.

He can't hear the gunshots whizzing through the jungle. He can't feel the torn, bleeding chunks of skin dangling from his irreparably burned back.

Everything is so quiet.

Mason will save him. He just has to hold on...

"Frank! Frank, wake up! Please, not like this- Come ba..."

#if E sees this im sorry girl 😪#call of duty #frank woods #whumptober #black ops 2

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