#i cried the entire hour i was on the phone with the cops (did not want cause that thing is never gonna be seen again but insurance insists) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deyadee · 2 months ago

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I Was Put in a Mental Hospital

Well I guess the secret was gonna come out sooner or later, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna be pissed when it finally does. Six days ago I was put in a mental hospital. I stayed there for 4 and a half days before they finally let me out.

It all started when I was having another 3 in the morning crying session. I have a lot outside of the blog, unsurprisingly. I only really blog on here when it gets *bad*. Though this time I decided not to. I felt like I was really going to finally fucking end this once and for all, but of course I decided to text the hotline because I’m too much of a pussy to ever actually go through with it. It took them a fucking hour to text me back any reply. I’ve texted the hotline a handful of times before, and usually they don’t sound like a text generator but this time I swear everything this bitch said was so robotic and apathetic like she was texting out the same fucking template she sent everyone. I’d ask her a question and she’d respond with the usual spiel you hear from every chat bot along with the “do you have any weapons and can you get away from them”. Blah blah blah all shit I’ve heard before and nothing sounded like something an actual goddamn person would type, even if they have to stick to strict protocol so they don’t get someone to kill themselves. The damn chat bot took so long to respond between each message that I was practically falling asleep by the end having cried so much. Each line hurt more because it felt like not even a real goddamn person cared about me dying that they had to get a fucking machine to say “There there you fat stupid fucking pig, you shouldn’t die! Who will work at McDonald’s and serve the other useless sacks of shit in society if you die? Your life matters because we can make so much money off of you if you live!”

So eventually I’m just fed up and exhausted with my heart just empty afterwards so I pretty much text “Yeah, I’m fine. I won’t do it, even if you’re a piece of shit robot. I’m going to bed because I cried so much.”

And usually in Kentucky that would result in nothing. I get off the chat, go to sleep, and that’s the end of story. But that’s not how shit goes in Florida.

I woke up to my dogs barking and freaking the fuck out at the door, I ignore it and go back to sleep. My mom wakes me up a second later saying there are police at the door. I freak the fuck out thinking that a murder happened or something, but she says that said something like someone was going to commit suicide at the house. She’s confused who it would be and asks if I did it. I freeze. Do you lie and get the police to fucking shoot you or some shit or tell the truth and let your mother know you’re a goddamn pathetic whore who bitches about her life for no reason? I choose the second and she starts crying, taking me to the door. The police say they legally have to take me to see someone. I think it’s a therapist or something but I was fucking wrong. They give me a second to actually throw on clothes and shoes so I can go and they take me into the back of a police car. The guy driving tries to be nice letting me pick out the music and apologizing that he has to take me but I just sit in the back bawling my eyes out because my entire fucking life is crumbling around me. My family knows my secret and now I’m being taken away to who knows fucking where in a goddamn cop car.

I get dropped off at a white building in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, they take me through a fucking Metal cage hallway into the facility. They strip me, take my clothes and phone- then make sit in a room with a bunch of fucking crackheads that are walking around screaming at each other and at the nurses- who are also screaming back at them. Every single dude looks like a fucking pedophile or molester so I’m freaking the fuck out in my chair as I wait for a nurse to come back to get me. After a fucking hour of paperwork I see a cute girl sit in a chair across from me wearing the same huge purple robe. She looks cute and around the same age as me so I end up looking over at her a lot, but I feel like a fucking pervert because it’s hard to tell between the ages of someone in their later teens or early twenties so I stop myself from looking. One of the crazy bitches sends me over to get lunch, I grab a box and sit down. I only eat part of a sandwich and a cookie before I notice the other girl doesn’t have food. I stand up and ask her if she wants part of mine since she didn’t get any and she accepts my milk carton.

Another fucking hour of paperwork later they tell me they don’t accept my insurance and that I have to go to a place across the street.

They put me in this van with bars along the windows, still wearing this huge purple robe and shitty flip-flops they gave me that were too big to walk in. I get out and sit in another waiting room of a different place, though this one feels like a full hospital instead of just a warehouse they shove nut jobs in. I get taken for more questioning and paperwork before they finally bring me upstairs to this room with more crazy people. Though these people are a lot less screamy and about twice my age at least. I get assigned this room with this older woman in a wheelchair. We get forced into a group activity and I mostly sit in the back being quiet so I don’t get noticed. I already know I’m gonna go fucking insane in this place. No phone, no people even relatively around my age, no doing anything but going to mealtimes and doing group activities. I start freaking the fuck out and spiraling thinking I’m gonna fucking find some way to kill myself one way or another in here-

Until the girl from the last place comes in. Halle-fucking-lujah. At first I don’t approach her as they guide her around just so I don’t seem creepy and desperate. I mainly wander around the space to look for anything to do.

We all get lined up for a group time and finally she gets closer to me and as I was trying to think of what to say she tells me she didn’t feel comfortable with literally anyone else in this facility- but me. I say the same thing and it’s like we became instant friends. It was nice. We were pretty much inseparable for the first three days we were there, until two other girls arrived to add to our small group suicidal girls. I did feel a little creepy talking to them since I was 22 and they were all 18, but I guess it’s only a four-year gap.

I don’t remember everything, and I’ll probably get on here later to make a part two- but I’ll say I did feel bad around them for a bit since they all had boyfriends/fiances and never shut up about them. The girl I befriended even HAD A KID. I didn’t want to admit it but every time they would bring up their partners or her kid I felt like I wanted to kill myself even more. It’s not like I really want a kid right now, but it doesn’t help when your mom says she was your age when she had you. Oh, and one of the girls kept calling her fucking boyfriend her “partner” or her “significant other” like bitch just say Boyfriend B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D. That always gets on my fucking nerves. Like what are you ashamed of? It’s not like you have to hide that you’re straight and have a boyfriend, just fucking say boyfriend. Once the third girl of the group showed up they never shut up about their damn romances while I sat there like a fat ugly fucking pig. They’d be like “Oh I’m so glad I found them, they’re my everything. My boyfriend’s so sweet he loves me so much!” God I wanted to die right there. They’re four years younger than me and have partners- one’s even ENGAGED. While I sit here wasting my fucking life being a damn loser. That and the shit living conditions of the place made me want to die even more. It’s not like I’m already fucking spiraling knowing everyone knows I’m a fucking wacko now, let’s add on that we have partners who love us and we aren’t going to die alone! I didn’t want to say anything but that third girl was really fucking annoying too, but I didn’t wanna say anything since the girl I first met was really nice and liked her. God she never fucking shut up about goddamn anything especially her fucking “partner” GODDAMN JUST SAY BOYFRIEND BITCH.

I’ll probably continue this in a part two cause I don’t really feel like bitching about it right now so tune in for that

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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

For the prompts, 49 with doppio? >:3 Idk what it is about him I just look at him and think “oh you’re NEEDY needy, huh?”. Thank you so much, you’re a really good writer! :)

No problem buddy, thanks for the request! >:3

Warnings: not sfw, dubcon/noncon, abduction, dark themes, yandere, etc.

Also, my requests are still open, if anyone else is interested!

Enjoy!

Yandere prompt with Doppio, “You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” afab reader, dub/non con

All you wanted to do now was go home. You had had a long week at work, your parents were nagging you again, and to make things worse you had a headache that would not go away. After an exhausting day that began before the sun was out, and ended after the sun had set, you certainly deserved to do nothing more than go home, eat some junk food in your comfy pjs, listen to a podcast while you took a bath and pampered yourself, and maybe jerk off before bed. Unfortunately, you had a “girls night” tonight.

Your friends (your IRL friends at least) complained that you never went out with them anymore (nevermind that whenever you suggested doing something with them, or wanted to chat or text on the phone they were busy) and had forced you to go clubbing with them to celebrate the three-day weekend ahead. You weren’t much of a drinker, and really weren’t much of a dancer, so you had been given the purses to hold while you waited for them to be ready to go home.

You wrinkled your nose in frustration, glaring into the blurry screen of your phone looking at the late time: this was unfair. You were a hard worker, kind to a fault to those around you, and you deserved better than this. Sitting in a corner of a crowded club, everyone in the place having a great time except for you, tired and alone. At least in your apartment, you chose to be there, and at least no one actively ignored you: places like this just pointed out the flaws you hated about yourself more: you were bad with people, and easy to ignore.

Once one of your “friends” stumbled over to the group’s table, you left them with everyone's purse, mumbling you were going to the bathroom (you didn’t know if she heard you and you didn’t care) and left before anyone could stop you. You stumbled your way to the restroom in heels way too high for you to walk in, trying to clean yourself up and find a quiet place to text your goodbyes so your friends wouldn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Leaning over the sink counter, you wiped a makeup smear off the corner of your lips, noticing a second too late someone behind you.

“Hey, there’s another sink-” You began to say to the blurred figure way too close to you, before a sudden eruption of pain hit the side of your head, and you were out in a flash…

The next time you regained consciousness was several hours later, but it was still dark when you opened your eyes, trying to remember what happened and where in the world you were. The stale cigarette smell, the unreasonably cold ac, the bedsheets starched so strongly that the sheets felt like plastic- this was definitely a motel. But where, and how long had you been here? As you began to sit up, you heard a surprised, timid voice.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake, I was beginning to worry about you! Hold on, don’t move so suddenly, i’ll help you sit up.

Sure enough, as you started moving, your head lit up with painful throbbing that made last night’s headache seem like nothing in comparison. You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell happened to me last night?” you grunted through your teeth, rubbing your temple as gentle hands helped slowly sit you up propped against cushions.

“Haha, you had a lot of bad luck last night, running into my boss. He was waiting for...an employee in the restroom and thought you were sent after him. He’s a bit paranoid, and he may have...accidentally clobbered you.” The voice apologized, gentle as he handed you what felt like a glass of water.

You forced yourself to open your eyes; it was still dark, but you could tell it wasn’t because of the time of day but rather a lack of light and closed curtains. You looked at..you looked at the person in front of you. Like whoever had attacked you last night, they had long pink hair, braided and side parted. Their eyes were green and wide, and they looked particularly juvenile with a crop top and freckles. They were on the smaller side, perhaps even shorter than you (hard to tell from while on the bed) and their eyes were crinkled in apprehension, like he was afraid you were going to hurt him.

“Erm, don’t worry though, I talked him out of doing anything too..extreme, after all I'm his right hand man! Besides, you seem like a perfectly nice person, I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you. Sorry, I'm rambling! Umm, do you want something for your headache? You were groaning in your sleep, I'm sure it doesn’t feel so good right now-” He went on and on, pulling out some painkillers to take with your water.

After thanking him, you were about to swallow the pill before pausing, looking at the strange man who’d taken you to a remote hotel after his boss had nearly killed you. Sensing your suspicion, doppio exclaimed, “Oh, don’t worry, they’re safe, name brand painkillers! Um, hold on, lemme just-” And he made a show of popping some of the pills you were holding into his mouth and swallowing, sticking out his tongue and opening his mouth to show you he’d ingested it.

Satisfied, and more importantly in a lot of pain, you took some of the pills yourself, much to the relief of the pink haired man.

“Oh good, thank you for doing that! I was so worried watching you asleep, you’ll feel much better now! By the way, my name’s Doppio, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Oh! And I know your name’s y/n because you had your purse and ID on you! Haha, sorry for going through your purse, I was just hoping to find any info on you that might be, you know, important.” he sat on the bed, scooching closer and closer to you.

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say, and the watchful eyes of Doppio doing nothing to make you feel better.

“Well, um, thank you, Doppio. I appreciate you, um, saving me? Sorry for any inconvenience, I'll just, um-” You try to get up to leave, only for Doppio to place a hand over your leg.

“Don’t go! What, I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You probably have a concussion, and also you haven’t had breakfast? We could eat together and-” Doppio stammered, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his sweaty, cold fingers.

You had to stop him, before things got out of hand.

“Thank you, Doppio, it really was very sweet of you to take such good care of me, but I-”

“Please! You don’t understand, I mean-” Doppio fumbled with his words, clearly trying to make you stay at all costs.

“Doppio, i can’t stay here forever, i need to go home. My friends are probably worried about me by now.” You tried to press on, you didn’t want to upset the man with a powerful boss, but you felt increasingly claustrophobic with Doppio pawing at you.

“You mean those mean girls who left you with their purses all night? Why would you care about what they-” Doppio covered his mouth with both hands quickly, realizing what he just said.

Your blood ran ice cold; how did he know so much about them? Had he been watching you before the “incident”

Using his moment of weakness, you got up from the bed and tried to reach the door; it was time for you to go home, if not call the cops.

Doppio yelped, Throwing himself in front of the door before you could make your escape.

“Please, don’t be scared y/n! I didn’t mean to upset you, I only meant that I can treat you much better than your friends can. I mean, look at how good I've been for you so far?? I didn’t make you dance with me at the club, even though I really wanted to. I didn’t just have my fun against your will in the bathroom stall like the boss told me to do.I saved you from a concussion, or worse! I got you your own hotel room for the night, and didn’t take advantage of you or touch you while you were asleep! I want our first time to be special, after all! Isn’t that what you want?” Doppio pleaded, eyes wild as he tried to smile, trying to calm you.

You were anything but calm however, this guy was clearly obsessed with you, and had been for longer than just one night. Even if at first he had merely seemed like a pathetic “nice guy” you no longer had any pity or time to give him.

“Doppio, get away from the door and let me leave, now.” you demanded in your best authoritative voice. Doppio whimpered, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, you were supposed to love him!

“You can’t! Boss and I won’t let you!” He cried, covering the door with his body. With no other choice, you slid out of your shoes and charged at him full speed. You managed to give him a good blow on the head, and threw him out of the way of the door. He cried, crumpled on the ground. If not for the fact that he had kidnapped you, you might have felt bad for hurting him like this, but you had to think of yourself at this moment.

As you finally unlock and pull open the door, heading towards freedom, you hear the strangest noise behind you.

“RingRingRingRingRing!” Doppio calls after you, in an unnatural, high pitched tone. You try to ignore it, you literally don’t have time for this, but with strength he had not previously displayed, Doppio grabs one of your arms, twisting it behind your back and up to his ear, holding it like a telephone.

There’s a trickle of blood, and one of his eyes is rolled back in its socket, but he calmly says, “Hello, this is Doppio,” Into your hand, as if he was having a normal conversation on the phone.

You scream out, doubled over by the pain in your arm, Doppio silent as he “listens” to his “Phonecall” oblivious to your suffering. Where did all this power come from? He was acting like an entirely different person, and frankly scaring you. Doppio nodded, pulling your hand closer into his ear and intently listening to nothing but air before “Hanging up and pulling you back into the motel room.

He threw you on the bed ( his arms felt much stronger, and more muscular for some reason) before crawling on top of you and pinning you down. You were too stunned, and frankly too scared, to come up with any means of escape, just weakly struggling to throw him off of you to no avail.

“Doppio, please-” You whispered, eyes blurry with tears.

“I talked to the boss, and he helped me figure out what to do. He wants our relationship to succeed after all!” Doppio exclaimed, additude reverted to how he’d first spoken to you. You were confused, you’d neither seen nor heard anyone in or around the room, who was he talking to and how?

“Boss told me that people like you need some discipline in order to be obedient, or you’ll walk all over me. If I can do that, then I can make you love me, and we’ll be happy together, isn’t that what you want?” Doppio told you, stroking your cheek.

“This is not okay, Doppio!” you yell, thrashing against both arms, “Let me go or i’ll-”

...

Wait a minute, both arms?

Then how was he…?

You look over to one side in shock, only to see a floating metallic and red arm holding you down, one on either side. You screamed, overwhelmed by a stalker and strange supernatural forces you couldn’t understand.

“Oh, you can see King Crimson's arms? Interesting, perhaps because of your near death experience with Boss, you can see stands now? Although, it would be bad if you developed a stand, what to do?...” Doppio pondered to himself, speaking apparent babble.

You cried, trying to wake up from this obvious nightmare with no luck.

“Awww, hey y/n, it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you! Not if you be good for me and Boss.” Doppio cooed, kissing your cheeks and forehead. “I talked boss into keeping you with us- you’re always so lonely at home, and never have a good time with others, right? You don’t have to lie anymore, I've been watching you for a while. Nobody else seems to, though, they’re too self-absorbed and stupid to realize how incredible you are!” He continued, oblivious to his words not helping, but hurting you.

“You’re perfect for me and boss, we can take really good care of you. Forget this lousy motel, we have mansions and villas all over Italy that we can take holidays to. We have billions of Lira from work, you’ll never have to lift another finger and we’ll pamper you to death. And best of all? You’ll never have to see your awful friends or family again! Isn’t it awful how they treat you? We can get rid of them, so they can’t hurt you!” He finishes, grinning ear to ear, but his eyes hollow and lifeless, staring unblinkingly into yours.

This guy was sick, there was no other word to it. You might have had issues with your family, and yeah your friends could be assholes sometimes, but you didn’t want them killed! What good would that do you, or anyone for that matter?!

Doppio seemed to read your thoughts, “Look, I know it's a lot to take in at once, but trust me. Boss and I have planned this out for a while now, and we’re always going to do what’s best for us, ok? So don’t worry so much, and please stop struggling? Boss warned me if you got too unruly he’d take over and finish what he started last night.

A wave of nausea slithered through you as you remembered, thinking how close you were to dying. You gave up, lying limp on the bed, praying for this to end.

Doppio smiled again, this one almost seeming genuine, and gave you the softest kiss to your lips. It was childish, almost, and he clearly lacked experience, but he gained more confidence from your lack of struggling. With the mysterious hands holding you (stands? King crimson?) his own hands were free to touch you. He started With your cheeks, your face, your hair, your neck, stroking you with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing each curve, digit and flaw like he was trying to memorize it all.

“Finally… I finally get to touch you like this… I’ve been waiting for so long, y/n. Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck, cradling your cheek to his. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to, but Doppio told you anyway.

“I’ve been watching, waiting...for so long. Following you home from work, listening into your calls, finding your online accounts. I’ve known since I first saw you that you were the one for me, and now I get to prove it to you. I get to show you all the things I've been meaning to do to you. You’ll never be lonely again, not with me around. We’ll never be lonely~”

He giggled the last part, giddy with excitement, as he slid his fingers down your ribcage, your sides, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You wriggled, trying to fight him off again, only to your dismay Doppio giggled even harder at your reactions-perhaps because he knew you could never overpower him.

“Ohhh~ still so shy? Don’t be so uptight, y/n, you need to live a little! I know how much you want this; you complain about it all the time on your personal blog-” You could feel the blush on your cheeks heating up your face, desperate to make him shut up, “ How you want someone to have their way with you, to make you forget everything else in life. You’re desperate for someone to truly cherish and understand you; mentally and physically. You want me to love you? You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” Doppio rambled on and on, ripping your shirt off with strength he hadn’t had before.

You yelped, goosebumps forming on your skin as Doppio cackled, rubbing his face on your stomach, and into your cleavage poking out from your bra.

“Yes, let go for me! Show me every emotion, everything you’ve been holding back from me for so long- i need it, I demand it!” He snarled, splitting your nicest bra in half, and biting down on your neck, hard.

You screamed, legs kicking uselessly as the pain blurred your mind and you were operating purely on instinct. Doppio didn’t seem bothered in the least by it, you could still feel his laughter against your sore neck, as he sucked down on it, trying to bruise and mark you. His hands couldn’t help but find their way to your breasts, toying with them and squeezing them with admittedly little expertise. But he was a quick learner, making note of each little gasp and twitch according to how he touched you, and improving his technique from there. He twisted your nipples a bit roughly, already hard from the chilly air and sensitive to touch- you couldn’t help but moan a little in satisfaction. It had been awhile.

Doppio’s moans echoed yours, as he kissed his way down the crevice of your breasts, and licked each nipple in turn. You squirmed, not in fear or anger but pleasure, angry at yourself for letting this strange man win your body over so easily. Doppio kept his eyes on you at all times, studying your face to see how you felt. He’d had to watch you for so long from so far away, alone in your bedroom, or so you thought… it was time to use the knowledge he’d gained to make your body crazy for him.

You jumped at Doppio’s hands, cupping your groin through your pants, trying not to buck into his hands . It was getting harder and harder to deny him, though, why couldn’t you just-?

Doppio pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties with it. He groaned audibly at the sight- your pussy was so wet and dripping, there was still a trail connected to your underwear.

“No, don’t-” You cried, snapping your legs shut, visibly scared at what was taking place again. Doppio was losing patience, crouching down and prying your legs open,

“Stop fighting me, y/n, you clearly want this!” He cried, eye twitching in annoyance. He managed to open your legs again, and buried his face into your pussy. He moaned, licking up a wet stripe against your labia, warm and puffy and so wet for him- he knew you would be, he knew you loved him.

Tears streaked down the sides of your face, this was so much and so intense. Your thighs clamped down on Doppio’s cheeks and neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. Not hard enough, apparently, as he just started giggling again through a full mouth and busy tongue “Ssho good, y/n, why have you been hiding thissh from mee~?” he moaned, tongue circling your clit. You flung your head back into the pillow, gripping the mysterious hands that held you for any source of strength or comfort.

Watching you whimper so pitifully with his head between your legs, obviously blissed out after being so needy and alone for so long, just did things to doppio. He loved the pained, fucked out expression on your face- you couldn’t even keep your eyes open as he snuck one, two fingers into your aching pussy. You whimpered so cutely, and it was all for him and him alone. Finally~

“Y/n, please, i can only hold back for so long, let me make sure it’s not painful… be good for me, please?” Doppio begged, grinding his hips into the mattress before he could help himself. Begrudgingly, you moved your thighs back just enough for Doppio to push them away, when he got a wonderful idea. King crimson, or what Boss had lent him of his stand to use, sensed his thought, and grabbed both your hands in one arm. Doppio pushed your thighs back and up, effectively bending your knees into your chest and displaying your pussy in such a beautiful way. You cried out, surprised by the sudden movements and embarrassed by how exposed you were, but there was nothing you could do about it. Doppio was just too strong.

The other free hand floated down, spreading your lips apart to give Doppio a nice view before pummeling two of his thick, strong fingers inside of you. You screamed, crying as the fingers curled directly into your sweet spot, massaging with robotic-like precision and speed. The sounds you were making were wet, animalistic, and you were quickly brought close to the brink.

“Perfect, y/n! Just like that, let yourself go! It makes me happy to see a side of yourself you never show anyone else- and you never will to anyone but me! Remember, I'm the one making you feel this good, right y/n? You couldn’t possibly find anything half as wonderful from anyone else but me! Me, got it?!” Doppio exclaimed, his voice cracking and becoming much darker, scarier. For a second, you could swear he looked like a different person entirely, wild, angry and dangerous- but you blinked and Doppio was just as before.

Doppio licked his lips, sweating and anxious, this was good enough to make you love him, right? This was what he had to do to make you happy? Boss’s words from before appeared in his head though, and he remembered how Boss had always been right before. Doppio trusted him, and was determined to win you over. Doppio let go of one of your legs-you seemed adequately distracted and restrained to get away from him- and unzipped his fly. In truth, he would’ve preferred to get all the way naked with you for the first time, so you could see and feel the real him as well, but clearly the two of you were too desperate and impatient for him to get fully naked. This time.

You whimpered at the sound of a zipper, feeling the fingers pull out of you. You heard the crinkle of a wrapped, and the muffled groan as Doppio probably rolled a condom onto himself, but you were too afraid to look. The strong floating hand, still wet with your juices, gripped your cheek and forced you to look at Doppio, staring you down with much more restraint and calm than he had been. Doppio kissed your cheek, then your lip, and pushed his warm cock achingly slowly, gently, into your waiting pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from moaning, grabbing at the hands that held you, thrusting yourself onto Doppio’s hard and hot cock. He bit his lip, feeling you twitch and squeeze around him; he was trying so hard to be gentle for you, why were you still making things so difficult. He chuckled to himself, and motioned for King Crimson to let you go; finally you were beginning to relax and enjoy yourself, and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Doppio, holding him close to you. Your mind was a mess, your body even messier, you didn’t know what to think or do about your abducter/rapist fucking you so tenderly, and you were tired of fighting. So you let him fuck you, slowly and gently and way way emotionally. Doppio wiped away new tears you hadn’t realized were there, shushing you, “It’s okay, my sweet y/n. Just relax and let me do the work. Don’t fight it any more, just let go.” He whispered, pressing kisses into your lips and cheeks far too sweetly.

So you did, you relaxed and sank into the mattress, pulling Doppio down with you. He let go of your thighs, and held you tightly to him as he fucked-no, made love to you. He gradually picked up the pace, huffing and whispering words of admiration to you about your body, or how much he adored you. You took it all limply, the fight having gone out of you and desperate for comfort. The floating arms, which you had forgotten about, reappeared and stimulated your nipples and clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Doppio sped up as well, he knew this would have to end, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. This was your first time together, after all. He wanted to make it special. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer into you. You could feel the spongy head of his dick rub your inside so sweetly, you were starting to get addicted to the feeling. Doppio buried his head into your neck, mumbling nonsense as he pushed in deeper and deeper, faster and faster, as his restraint gave way to passion.

“Y/n I- I don’t know how much longer I can last, but-” He kissed you, as the stroking of your clit sped up. You groaned loudly, you were so close, “Just a bit longer, please~” You begged, biting your lip. Doppio took a deep breath, steeling himself as he was determined to make you come first. He pounded into you, urging you closer and closer, four sets of hands circling your body and drawing out noises and gasps from you out of your control.

“Almost there, please, almost~!!!” You cried, throwing your head back with a final sigh as you came hard and fast, your core heating up and washing over you as Doppio helped you ride it out with clit rubs. Your walls fluttering around him, the face that you made as you came from him, for him, it was too much and he quickly filled his condom inside of you, moaning even louder than you had as he thrust without abandon into your wonderful, most precious place. He didn’t want to stop, thrusting almost to the point of overstimulation, before he had to stop, and collapsed on top of you. He cooed and kissed his praises and thanks into your shoulder and skin, before he noticed the soft sound of you snoring. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself, you’d really worked yourself up.

He reluctantly pulled out, after indulging in 5 minutes of cuddling your sleeping body and listening to your heartbeat. Doppio cleaned the two of you off, and tucked you into the covers of the motel- now would be a good time to set up moving you into your new home. After all, The whole reason you were in the motel is because the moving company Boss had hired to move your things into the main base would take several hours to complete their job, and Boss didn’t want anyone seeing you or Doppio at home. Doppio ruffled your hair as you slept, pulling out his cellphone to check in with Boss and give him the full update he’d requested.

Tonight was going to be very busy.

#sluttbuttstuff #fic #mine #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #vento aureo #golden wind #doppio #vinegar doppio #yandere #reader #yandere x reader #doppio x reader #not sfw #yandere prompts

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Note

Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

my hero

— Walking alone in the middle of the night isn’t the best of ideas, but that’s okay, you had a hero waiting to save you.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, exhibitionism, strangers fucking, dirty talk, praise, belly bulge, attempted kidnapping

word count: 5,197

a/n: and we’re back! sorry for the super late uploads, I hope you can forgive me. pls enjoy, I had fun writing it :D

kinktober day 18 main kink: exhibitionism | kinktober masterlist

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You really needed to stop walking the streets so late at night.

It was a bad habit you’ve grown in the past few months. Your building anxiety and untouched, restless energy made you bounce around your apartment. But you didn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything but pace from corner to corner.

The wood of your apartment floor must have been streaked with the dye of your socks, and you swore you could see the small indents from where you drag your feet to and fro your wall. The restless energy you had was untouchable, and your friends soon became worried about you. Eventually, after one night of taking a new 5,000 steps in the small living room of your apartment, your friend said to go for a run.

Sure, it was six in the evening, and yeah, maybe the spring night was cold, but Jesus fuck please, your pacing made them anxious. So, that’s how you began your journey of running at night because your once six pm runs evolved into eleven pm jogs. You had always been one to carry your pepper spray in your pocket and had a concealed sharp key in your fist as you ran. You were still prepared, even if you never ran into a situation that caused you to need either item.

But tonight was different as it always was.

You were dressed in your black joggers and a dark grey sweatshirt.

The slight chill of the fall night barely seeping into your skin that was hot with your exhaustion. It was late out, and as you went from a jogging pace and slowed into a stroll as you entered the park approximately two blocks away from your home, you stopped.

Stretching your arms over your head, you stretched out your slightly sore limbs and took in the tranquility of the park at night.

The park was a beautiful one, in your opinion.

It was thick with trees; every ten steps you took, there was a new tree. Wooden benches and picnic tables littered the floor and winding concrete everywhere, showing just how great the place could be to enjoy while the sun was out. There was a playground by the entrance you came through and a basketball court at the gate you exit from.

Altogether, it was beautiful and simple.

But as you pressed the sleeve of your sweatshirt to your forehead, wiping the beaded sweat on your skin, you froze when you heard the sound of leaves crunching behind you.

You froze as you turned around, your eyes wide and lips falling open when you saw a man stumbling toward you. There was no reason to panic, probably, you thought as he looked occupied on his own phone, his head down, his steps quick and focused. But there was no denying the small, almost horrible feeling that pooled into your stomach as you watched him approach nearer and nearer.

You grabbed the pepper spray that was in your pocket as a premature, ready to fight movement, your feet moving to get out of the path in case he tried to do anything. Your breathing was soft, not entirely too loud, but to you, It seemed to ring loudly in your ears as he got nearer and nearer.

He passed by you, his eyes not even trying to look your way as he went one step, two steps, three steps away from you. You wanted to sigh in relief about your stupid freak out; of course, it was nothing, it was always nothing, so there was no reason for you to freak out. But then he stopped, and you were too late to see the twitch in his shoulder, the way he spun around faster than you could scream and tackled you to the floor.

His hands were all over you, grabbing you, shoving his dirty, grimey hand into your mouth to silence you, fisting into your mouth so that even your biting, snapping closed jaw was stupid weak against him. Tears welled in your eyes as his knee buried into the center of your lungs, shortening your breaths as you struggled to get the pepper spray from your pocket.

You found that you couldn't.

You couldn't grab the canister from inside your pocket as the man's smile grew wider, terribly cunning as you struggled to do all that you could to get him off you.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Weak.

Tears began to stream from your eyes, the fear that twisted and rotted in your stomach festering like a stench as you cried against his fisted hand. You wouldn't be heard, wouldn't be seen. You were being assaulted with no way of being saved because no one went out here this late at night. You cursed your inability to do anything on time, cried that your dumb anxiety only felt better after running for an hour, and your lungs burned with the slowly depleting oxygen coming to your veins.

But just as your eyes were beginning to close, your hope and ability to wish for the best outcome was simmering into nothing but ashes and smoke, something large, hard, and fast knocked onto the man on top of you. You gasped for air as you immediately turned onto your side, your hands and knees buried into the dirt floor as you gasped and choked for air.

There, finally, was the sweet taste of grass and nature that filled your senses, but your watering eyes fell onto your attacker and the... the man?!

Your savior was another man.

His red hair still somehow easily discernible in the darkness of the night, and his large, strong muscled body absolutely punching and keeping your attacker down.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?!" your savior demanded, his hand grabbing the hair of your attacker and slamming his bruised and swollen face to the ground, the win most obviously won by your savior. You looked at the anger-fueled rage on your saviors’ face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together, and how his lips were pulled back into an angry snarl. The fight had been obviously won by your savior, and you couldn’t help but keep staring as the workout clothes clad savior took a few more deep, almost shaky breaths before he turned his gaze onto you. “H-Hey? Are you okay? Call the police, and I’ll keep on this bastard!”

“I-I’m fine!” your voice rasps, your hand rising shakily from the floor to softly rub your tender throat. “I’m fine, it’s okay! You can let him go!”

Your savior freezes, his eyes looking at you like you’re batshit crazy, and honestly, you probably are, but you don’t want to deal with writing up a police report or anything of that. It just wasn’t worth it since you ended up okay.

“You… do you want me to let him go?” your savior asks again, his eyebrows shot up, obviously not buying your words in the slightest.

You nod your head, you collapse down so that you’re sitting on your knees. Exhaustion is slamming into your body post the sudden demanding rush of adrenaline.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you smile weakly as your red-headed savior frowns. He sighs, obviously not in agreement with what you wanted to do, but he turned his attention back down to your attacker, who was still struggling against his weight and strength.

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here, or else I won’t hesitate to kick your ass and call the cops myself,” the man snapped, shoving the man further into the ground for good measure before climbing off of him. The red-headed angel walked in front of you. His considerable height incredibly intimidating to even you as the man on the floor wheezed before running off, his tail between his legs until the echo of his feet hitting the grass can no longer be heard.

“Wow, that was crazy,” he spoke softly to the wind, his hands resting on his hips before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide with concern. Even with the minimal light of the light post in the park and the moonlight that barely pierced through the canopy of tree leaves, you could see as clear as day that your savior was handsome. There was a scar over his right eye, and his red hair was styled and pushed back with a bandana. He had a windbreaker on and gym shorts but still looked ridiculously handsome. He turned to face you, crouching as he spoke, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you flush, your eyes dropping to your dirt-covered hands that rest on your lap. “I’m fine now, at least. That was pretty scary, I have to admit.”

“Fuck, I bet,” the man agreed, his head nodding as he drops onto his butt. “I’m glad I decided to come through the park to get to my car today. Typically I walk all the way around this park.”

Indeed seemed like fate, you thought, your smile spreading small and thin on your face. “I was running; it helps with my restless energy. But, this is the first time anything like that has happened.”

“I’m sorry that had to happen at all,” he frowned, his face full of genuine remorse and guilt. “That was entirely cowardly of that asshole to do; I’m glad you weren’t hurt, though.”

“Ah, I got thick skin,” you slightly joke, enjoying the way the sweet smile spread on his face. Remembering your manners, your eyes shut, your head shaking slightly at your rudeness. “Um, I’m y/l/n y/n, though. Thank you for saving me from whatever that could have become.”

“Kirishima Eijirou!” the man cheerfully introduced himself too. “And it was no problem; literally, any good person would have done what I did!”

Modesty was somehow disgustingly, hotly attractive on the large, muscular stranger, and you wet your lips as you stretched your body closer to his. “It wasn’t just ‘no problem,’ though,” you state, matter-of-factly. “You quite literally saved my life; you’re a hero. You’re my hero.”

Although you couldn’t see the color flushing against his skin, you were without a doubt that he was blushing as profoundly as his hair if the riddled embarrassment in his eyes and face had anything to say about it.

“I-I, oh, aha, um, well, that’s very kind of you to say! I was just trying to be a manly guy, and really that was nothing?” Kirishima embarrassingly rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you found yourself drawing nearer and nearer to him.

Your warm hand found itself pressing onto his strong knee, your upper body leaning even closer to his flustered state. His eyes were shifting everywhere, not quite looking at you, but would linger on your body as you drew nearer and nearer. For some reason, you couldn’t help the jarring sense of attraction you had for your hero before you, the way the familiar warmth in between your legs made your voice hum as you grew nearer.

You wanted to show him just how grateful you were to have had him saving your life.

“That was nothing? You saving my life was nothing?” you tease, your words slow and thick on your tongue as you find yourself by his side, mouth brushing teasingly soft against his jaw.

“W-Well, of course not! It was a valuable life, don’t get me wrong! It’s just me doing that was nothing! I’m no hero!” Kirishima stammered, his voice in a soft whine as goosebumps flashed across his neck, where your breaths warmed his skin.

“Hm, that’s too bad,” you whisper, your tongue wetting your lips as you drew in closer. Your heart was hammering loudly in your ears, but you didn’t care, way too transfixed on the way the heat emitting from between your legs demanded Kirishima’s cock. “I like showing my gratitude to heroes in the world, ya know?”

His face finally turned to you, his wide eyes meeting your half-lidded ones in an electric gaze. No one spoke; only the softly chirping crickets and the wind brushing through the leaves made noises.

“Y-Yeah?” he whimpered out, his voice weak and caused great pleasure to crawl down your spine. “How do ya’ suppose you show your gratitude?”

You hum, thinking about it, but as the adrenaline from your attack finally was replaced with the blatant, blistering want for the huge red-headed man before you. You find yourself straddling his lap, slowly sinking onto him. Your knees once more buried into the soft, dewy grass of the park.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his eyes wide and incredibly expressive as his large hand’s press to your waist.

“Any way you crave me,” you speak with finality, placing the future of your actions into his hands.

“Holy fuck,” Kirishima curses, and without a second more of hesitation, his lips and mouth are crashing against yours.

There’s something unworldly attractive about making out with a practical stranger in the middle of a public park at nearly midnight. Your hands move possessively against his back, fingers digging into his fabric as he draws you nearer, your torso pushed tight against his. His lips move expertly against yours, the sharp points of his teeth dragging and biting into your bottom lip until he pulls away, your lip in his teeth, his eyes dark and full of lust. That lasts less than a few seconds as you’re back on him, mouth desperate against his, tongue curling into his mouth to move languidly, possessively against his.

His body radiates heat, the warmth of his body quickly seeping past the sweaty thickness of your own sweatshirt as your hips begin to roll against his growing bulge.

“S-Shit,” he gasps, your lips trailing down his hot neck, his throat muscles clenching as he gulps. Your smirk against his skin, sucking and nibbling on a concentrated spot as he helps you to roll your hips against his hot, thick length. “I-I don’t live nearby; it’ll be a bit of a drive.”

“I’m two blocks away,” you confess, pulling away from the dark purple and red bruise on his neck that makes you drunk with lust. “But I don’t think I can make it.”

Kirishima splutters, his hips instinctively bucking against your slowly throbbing core that sends your teeth biting into his thick skin again. “Do you wanna, fuckk… Are we gonna—?”

“Don’t tell me my hero is afraid to fuck in public?” you tease, your hands traveling down his tight, muscular torso. You admire the way you can feel his trembling abs against your hands, and you grin when his head dips backward when your fingers find their way against the waistband of his sweats, your weight shifting harshly against his cock as you tease along his upper crotch. “It’s late. No one’s around. I got a strong man to protect me. And I want him now,” you speak against his jaw, your lips pressing hot kisses between every sentence.

You notice that his eyes are red as your lips come up to brush against his, teasing the both of you as neither of you moves to seal your fates. Your position on the situation needs to be resolved, needing an answer from him.

“Whatcha gonna do, big guy?” you asked, lips ghosting against his, and at that moment, you shiver at the way his pupils expand to the edges of his iris.

His mouth is against yours in a renewed passion, lips pressing and pushing fervorously against yours, making you tremble in his arms, completely lust-taken. You kiss him back with equal force, hips rolling against his in your accepted need.

“Fuck, you know what you’re doing, huh?” Kirishima gasps the moment you grind your increasingly wet cunt against his mountain bulge in a way that has his hips snapping up towards yours. You laugh, teeth pressing onto his lower lip and pulling away, eyes focused on his through the curtain of your lashes before you let go of his lip.

“I aim to please,” you bat your lashes, your hands working their way under the waistband of his shorts. “Now, you want me to suck your dick, or what?”

You had never seen a man’s face go through such wild, intense agreement. The blackened look in his eyes and the way a shiver so obviously tittered down his spine had you smiling like a champion.

Mouths came back together in a blazing, needing kiss; you shift up onto your knees, the kiss becoming a clash of sharp teeth and simmering tongues. Blindly, your hands come down to his shorts and assist him in getting his pants off. Shock and amusement rushing through you the second you feel the top of his cock slap the back of your ass. The heat emitting from the skin burning through your own layer of clothes.

With your lips sucking onto his tongue, your hand moves behind you, grasping and pushing the throbbing, thick cock between your ass cheeks. And for a moment, for a few painfully slow grinds, you press him to your ass as you grind against him. Kirishima moans loudly, his hands shifting all over your body, fingers rubbing your skin from the dips of your hips to your soaking wet cunt.

The air is static, disgustingly hot that you swear with the heaving, panting breaths emitted from both of your mouths, you swear you can see the condensation.

“C’mon baby,” Kirishima rasps, his tongue finally permitted back into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat. “I thought you were going to suck my dick?”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?” you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your thumb that is on his cock pressing onto the slit of his dripping cock. “What if I want you in me now?”

“Suck my dick with that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise you — your hero promises you that I’ll fuck you better then any other fucker has,” Kirishima grunts into your skin, his biting kisses bruising your skin.

Well, you didn’t need to be told twice.

You shift backward, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cockhead spreading his pre-cum all over your own leggings. But that doesn’t faze you, nor do you care enough as you finally get to see the near monstrosity of a cock Kirishima has.

Long, thick, veiny, and with curly soft black pubes.

“Not a natural redhead?” you tease, your body leaning down, making sure to accentuate your breasts as you begin to slowly stroke his thick length. Kirishima can only shake his head as your tongue pokes out to give his swollen head a kitten lick. “Mm, I bet you look hot with black hair too.”

There’s no room for a second opinion for your mouth sinks entirely onto his length, just enough to be the slightest bit uncomfortable, but the results were immediate. Kirishima’s head slammed to the wood of the tree, his hands gripping your head as you bobbed against his length. The musk and scent of his dick were strong yet pleasant. You found yourself sinking lower and lower onto his size, pleased with the way he was tearing into his bottom lip to keep his ringing moans from being heard, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair as he meets your sinking mouth in sloppy, restrained thrusts.

Your tongue traced the bulging veins on his length, swirling and twisting around his girth, a desperate attempt to show that his size didn’t scare you, that you were taking him all in. But his lust clouded gaze on you thrilled you. The pure, unadulterated passion that settled on his eyes and gaze made you shiver; he was so responsive, moaning, and gasping for you in every right action you made. But you want to get bigger, bolder reactions out of him, and closing your jaw just the slightest bit, you let your lower teeth scrape just gently against his sensitive skin.

The result was immediate, and much wanted.

Despite the immediate relaxation of your jaw and throat, Kirishima burying his entire length down your throat made you choke, gagging as your nose buried into his pubes. He was entirely large, uncomfortably thick in your throat as your muscles flexed and fluttered around him.

“Take it, take me all in,” Kirishima gasps, his hips shifting into small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your awaiting mouth. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You are so good at this shit, baby. F-Fuck… you’re amazing! So fucking perfect!”

The praise makes you whine, the drool that seeps from your mouth helpless and joined with the tears of discomfort from your eyes. But you continue to impress him, continue to let him fuck your mouth and throat wholeheartedly without restraint or worry.

Soon, the wet gagging noises fill the air, your throat feeling raw as Kirishima is unashamedly fucking into you with more significant, more powerful intent. He praises you without hesitation, the words curling warmly into your gut, making your cunt throb and demand attention as you hollow your cheeks. Kirishima nearly howls at the vacuum sensation, the lustful, long noise growing in his lust as you raise up to his cockhead, your tongue lashing around the salty pre-cum that is weeping from his swollen tip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, wait!” Kirishima gasps, his hips bucking wildly, trying to go further into your mouth again. But your grip and commanding are more robust than he could ever be, and he can’t sink his cock further into the wet heat he so craves. “Wait, wait, wait! I want to cum in you, baby! Please let me cum in you!”

You’re off him immediately with a sharp, loud pop.

His eyes are unashamed in his request, and you think about the issues of an absolute stranger busting a nut inside of you. Your tongue dips out of your mouth to lick the pre-cum that’s dribbled onto your lower lip, and you whine at the back of your throat.

“O-Okay.”

His response to your approval is immediate.

You shriek in slight fear when he tugs you up onto your feet, twisting you and shoving your back against the cold hardness of the tree he was resting upon. Your breathing is unsteady, heart absolutely pounding in your throat as his lips consume yours again. Just as you did before, you melt into his kiss, his touch as his hot, calloused fingers shove your shorts down your legs, exposing your throbbing, wet cunt to the cold air.

Hissing at the contact, you feel your voice being smothered by a wet moan that escapes your mouth. Kirishima has his cock rutting between your wet folds, his fingers leaving lasting bruises on your waist.

“Want you so badly, baby,” he grunts, his mouth swallowing your moans and pitched whines as you grind against him, shaking against his hold. “Want to see you take me all the way in.”

“Put it in,” you keen, hips bucking and thrusting faster and faster against his waiting cock, your actions pathetic and needy. “Put it in Kiri, I want you in me, fuck me already, please fuck me.”

In what you could only describe as being the strength of god, Kirishima lifts you up, hands shifting from your soft waist to the mounds of the flesh of your ass and pressing you into the tree. You squeak, embarrassed, and entirely self-conscious of your weight despite the lust haze clouding your mind. Your struggle in his arms is fruitless, his broad, thick chest pressing up against yours as you find your mind absolutely melting when his thick cockhead pushes against the clenching wet cavern of your cunt.

“P-Put me down,” you gasp, squirming despite the fire that burns in your core and cheeks. “I-I’m too—”

“I’m your hero,” Kirishima speaks calmly, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locking on yours in such a way that was too intimate for strangers, too world-shifting for two unknowns. “I can carry you just easy, ya know. These muscles aren’t just for showing off.”

The grin on his face is childish, almost too boyish if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes held that profound, pristine promise and want for you. So, in an action that has your back arching against the wood, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs tightened firmly around his waist as he buried his cock into you.

Melodious moans echo between your mouths, horribly silenced by your crashing mouths because, dear god, you’re fucking in a public park.

He kisses you with a passion and a soul that strips you bare, and his hips begin to fuck up and into you without hesitation, the full feeling in your core stretching and fluttering with every driving intent from him. In and out, his cock goes into you, up and down your hips grind against him.

It’s a synchronized dance, a coming of your bodies that sends your toes curling as he begins to fuck into you just a bit harder, just a tad faster. It makes you shiver, makes your fingernails bury into his skin as you moan and beg for his name.

Kirishima curses as you clench around him, his hand grabbing your wrist and slamming it onto the tree, holding it there as he fucks you with growing strength and speed. Every snap of his hips sends a burst of colors to the back of your eyelids, and every squelch of your meeting, sloppy wet sexes sends a blabbering, incoherent sentence from your lips.

“More, more, more,” you beg, the tree trunk absolutely uncomfortable against your skin, but you can’t feel it anymore; you don’t care about the pain. You crave it, you want it. “Give me more.”

The curve of his cock, the girth, and the veins that drag up and down your puffy velvet walls are driving you insane. He holds insane power with every admittance of his cock in your clenching cunt, and he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and nods his sweaty head.

“Can you take it? You gonna be able to take my cock fucking you entirely?” Kirishima gasps, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and for some reason, that makes your brain shut down.

Fingers buried into the dyed red hair at the nape of his neck, you tug his head back, your legs tightening around his waist so much that he can’t fuck you anymore. The both of you are there, staring at one another as you hold him, bottomed out in you, your stomach stretching just a bit from having him entirely within you.

“If you don’t fuck me with everything you have,” you breath, your nose brushing against his, lips avoiding his that seek yours out for contact. “I’ll scream.”

“You seem like a brat,” Kirishima teases, his hold shifting on your ass, pressing you even more uncomfortably onto the tree.

“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants,” you bite back, allowing him to shift your arms so that you were supporting part of your weight onto the tree, allowing for a better balance.

“Brat,” Kirishima enunciates, his lips spreading into a teasing, seductive smirk.

But before you could fight back, before you could argue that you were, in fact, not a brat, Kirishima begins to fuck into you yet again. Your jaw drops immediately, the burning nearly exquisite pain-filled pleasure of his untapped strength fucking into you.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the tree was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Kirishima’s fingers shove into your mouth, silencing your words and noises as he fucks you again and again and again.

“You’re so fucking loud, baby,” Kirishima chuckles, his voice strained with his exertion of energy, his hips slamming so powerfully into your clenching core that his balls were slapping against your soring ass with no restriction. “So fucking loud, but we’re not in the place for you to be wailing my name unless you want to be caught. Do you wanna be caught, is that what it is?”

You shake your head pathetically against his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling and inserting itself between his parting fingers as you moan. Your head is spinning, the overstimulation of his conquesting cock, the rising orgasm in you, and the thought of someone walking through the park and seeing the two of you fucking under the yellow light of the park light making your walls flutter. His cock twitches with the flutter, and the both of you moan inexplicably loud.

“Such a good wet cunt,” Kirishima gasps, his fingers beginning to reciprocate the length and rhythm of his pounding cock in your throat, something you take without a second of hesitation or doubt. “I’m so glad I got to be your hero today, aren’t you so glad?”

“Mm-mhmm,” you gag around his fingers, your hips bucking with near madness as your vision swims with lust and need. You were so happy that he found you, so delighted he saved you, that he was your hero.

But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“C-Close,” you manage to gag out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose.

Kirishima nods, removing his fingers from your mouth, the string of cold saliva dangerously cold against your blazing hot chin. “I want you to look at the way your belly bulges when I fuck you, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum, baby.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering cock. And just like that, you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Kirishima, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure before the both of you sink to the grass. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

“So um,” you rasp after a moment, the silence warm and comfortable. “You gonna walk me home?”

“Depends,” Kirishima mutters into your sweaty neck.

“On?”

“Will you give your hero your number?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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bi-bard · 3 years ago

Text

I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt.4) - David Budd Imagine (Bodyguard)

Title: I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt. 4)

Pairing: David Budd X Reader

Other Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,613 words

Warning(s): mentions of bombs, death, and violence

Summary: After losing Julia, (Y/n) was heartbroken at David's sudden silence. However, (Y/n) was more heartbroken at how the two of them reconnected.

Author's Note: This is the second to last part. The last part is going to be an epilogue more than anything.

-----------------------------------

I didn't see David after the day at the hospital. He was busy, I knew that. I also knew that he wasn't really my bodyguard, he was Julia's.

I still wish he was there.

He was obviously in pain. I was still in pain and all I wanted was to have someone there that could understand my pain.

I didn't leave my room in the safe house. They still wouldn't let me go home so I laid in a bed that wasn't mine and tried to grieve.

One day, I finally woke up with enough energy to get out of bed and get ready. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

At first, I noticed the results of my crying. Tired eyes, messy hair, distinct parts of my skin that look like I had cried. It was awful.

Then, I could only see Julia. I could see every similarity I had to her. It was like whatever force was in power was taunting me. Reminding me that I had to cope with Julia being stolen from me.

"You did so much more than I could," I mumbled quietly, like a prayer to her. I leaned down, rinsing my face with water.

I was finishing up my process of showering, getting dressed, and my other things when there was an emergency broadcast on the news.

I watched for a moment before my breath stopped.

David. In the middle of a park. A bomb strapped to his chest. He looked panicked. He was yelling something but it didn't seem like anyone was even attempting to listen to him.

I jumped when the door opened. A bodyguard was standing there.

"We need to evacuate," he explained quickly.

I followed him until we got outside. I asked where we were going. Once I found out what direction he was going, I ran the opposite way. I wasn't sure why I thought that this was a good idea. I wasn't going to be of much help but I felt a need to be there.

I found the group there. The police and... the woman that I was assuming was David's ex-wife. I walked over, ignoring the officers trying to keep me away.

"You're Julia Montegomery's sibling," one of the officers said as I kind of shoved my way into the group. "You need to go."

"No," I replied simply.

"We have reason to believe that this man is behind your sister's death," she explained.

"Good thing I know better."

Blind faith was not something that I was used to but David and I had been through a shit ton together. In a matter of maybe weeks, I felt like we were connected on a different level than most.

I'm pretty sure they called it trauma bonding.

"David," I called.

"(Y/n)," he called back, confused. I nodded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged. I didn't know. I needed to be though, I just knew it.

I turned to look at his ex. She seemed confused to see me.

"You're the one he was on the phone with," she mumbled. I thought she was going to be angry with me. I nodded. "You really helped him that night... I'm sorry about your sister."

I nodded again, not sure how to respond.

The rest of the experience was a blur.

David led the entire bomb squad out of the park, down the road, and to an alleyway that I didn't recognize. He knelt on the ground, holding his arms out. He was talking about something, something to do with my sister's death but I didn't understand a word of it.

The people were talking about how best to defuse the bomb, the danger of someone being there to do it, or the risk of David doing it on his own when he didn't know.

I was too worried to care about my own safety. I grabbed their camera and the kit, walking it over to where David was.

"(Y/n), get out of here," David snapped quietly.

"Shut up," I mumbled. I turned to the police. "Tell me how I need to move this thing!"

"This is so stupid," David said.

"I'm not defusing it," I replied. "I'm just trying to speed up the process before they let you die."

"I didn't choose to do this... I didn't- I didn't kill Julia."

"I know," I looked him in the eye as I laid out the kit they had. I moved the camera however they told me.

When I moved back, I stayed next to the camera. I didn't want to leave David during this time. I couldn't. I physically couldn't pick my legs up to walk away from him.

"How many times are we going to be connected by an explosive," I asked.

David had just taped the weight down on the dead man's switch. He looked at me for a moment as he stretched his cramping hand.

"I hope this is the last time," he replied. I grinned a little. "Coffee would be better."

"Are you making a joke right now?"

"Coping, sorry," David muttered before looking to the group of people for the next explanation.

He was just finishing up the process when he looked at me again. I picked my head up a little bit, letting him know that I was here to help.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows.

He finished the process, took off the vest, and then ran. He jumped over the half-wall on the other side of him.

"David, no," I yelled, going to look over the wall's edge.

A cop grabbed me, leading me away from the scene before I could even look for him.

After that, I didn't hear anything. I watched the news as much as I could but no one had any new information. The cops wouldn't tell me anything, despite keeping me in their main office for an extended period of time.

I was finally led to the safe house hours later.

They wanted to move me because David was still considered dangerous. I held onto my blind faith, refusing to go anywhere.

"I have guards and he can't scale a building," I explained. "I'm fine here. I'm safe."

I shut the door in everyone's face. I was not going to spend my life jumping from safe house to safe house. I wanted to go home but I didn't get everything I wanted.

It was the next day maybe when I heard about the arrests and the developments in the case.

"Sir," I asked the bodyguard outside my door as he hung up his phone.

"Mr. Budd has been proven innocent," he confirmed. I smiled widely. It was the happiest I had felt in weeks.

"I wanna meet with him," I said quickly, going back into my room to get dressed and cleaned up.

I was sitting at the counter of a small cafe, my obnoxiously sweet coffee sitting in front of me. I would drink it but it was too hot and I was honestly too nervous.

I looked at the door as David walked in and started walking over to me.

I stood up, taking in his appearance. Tired eyes, bruises and cuts on his face, and hair that was an absolute disaster. He seemed overwhelmed seeing me.

I grinned, tears in my eyes.

"Thank you for trusting-"

I hugged him tightly. He stopped talking, clearly not expecting the hug. I was usually good with boundaries... well I thought I was. I felt David slowly hug me back.

"Thank you for trusting me," he mumbled into my ear.

"It was really easy," I said quietly, chuckling through the tears building up in my eyes. I slowly stepped back, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he nodded.

We sat down at the counter after David had gotten a drink. We were talking about everything. What happened on the train, what happened to Julia, the fact that he was just almost named a terrorist. All of it.

"It's strange to think about," I said. "We are only in each others' lives because of tragedy."

"We can help each other," David suggested. "Heal together."

"'Together,'" I asked.

The idea seemed sweet at first glance but it didn't sit right in my stomach. Something told me that doing this wasn't going to be a good idea. Linking our progress wasn't going to be good for either one of us.

"David-"

I was caught off guard by David leaning over and kissing me. It was soft, nervous. I almost got lost in the moment before I realized what I wanted to say. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

"David," I said softly as I pulled away. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. "I'm sorry."

I leaned back completely.

"I... I don't think this is healthy," I explained. "I want to be with you, I do... more than anything. But neither one of us is okay. Not right now. I think going forward now would be good for us."

David slowly started nodding, leaning back, away from my hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no, I understand," he replied.

There was a moment of silence.

"Maybe one day," he asked quietly.

"Maybe," I replied, grinning at him.

Soon after, we went our separate ways. I tried to hide any of my tears as I was led back to the safe house. I instantly started packing my bags. I was going home as soon as possible to pursue normal life... with the addition of much-needed therapy and professional help.

I had stumbled into David's life at exactly the wrong time... and nothing broke my heart more.

-----------------------------------

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primasveraas-writing · 3 years ago

Text

"the holy or the broken" -Ted Lasso

I'm so sorry.

WORD COUNT: 2401

XXX

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and they’re all defined by the same woman.

The third echoes the first: Roy Kent, angry at the world with no one to pull him out of his frustration. It’s also worse, though, because before, Roy lived in blissful ignorance of the joy and sorrow that laid ahead.

Rebecca and Ted express their surprise at Roy’s anger. They thought him changed, or perhaps that grief would prevail over rage, and they were wrong. Because Roy Kent, when stripped of everything he is -his athleticism and grim humor and the love of his life- has anger. Nothing less and nothing more.

At first, he can’t say her name. He doesn’t even think it, because every reminder of her is a reminder that she’s gone. Despite her mark on everything- the furniture they picked out together, the bed they shared, her usual seat at the dining table, the compliments she gave his hair and clothes- Roy doesn’t think of her. Which means he doesn’t think at all, so he becomes his anger and his pain, and nothing else.

He stops coaching, obviously. Nobody asks him if he’ll keep going, nor does he announce his departure. His absence, professionally, personally, emotionally- is expected fully. Though people still coming to the fucking house. He tolerates her parents, and Phoebe once or twice, but eventually the visits dwindle, and Roy doesn’t check his phone or answer the door. There’s shouting, sometimes- inevitably Ted Lasso- but Roy has soundproof headphones for a reason and he’s perfectly fine with calling the cops on Ted. And he does, more than once.

His sister begs him to talk to her, or at least to Phoebe, and Roy, in all his anger, doesn’t have the heart to turn his niece away. So it’s just her and Roy, a few days a week, and they order food directly to the house and Phoebe tells him about school, and he grunts in acknowledgment. She cries sometimes too, and that’s when he holds her. No words are exchanged, but he comforts her, enough so that the sobs stop. The numb feeling he has remains intact.

The yoga moms scout his address, somehow, and drop off a wine basket- they drink in relative silence, and clean up his house and make a few casseroles. He picks at the food, but they slowly disappear, and it’s almost nice to eat more than once or twice a day.

It doesn’t get easier. People tell him it will, that the pain will start to lessen, but it doesn’t. Not three weeks after, or four, or five, or when summer emerges and the lilies bloom.

Roy’s not particularly good at adapting. He never wanted to be. And it’s bullshit that he’d have to start now, for some shit fucking luck and life-alerting occurrences he never saw coming.

Because he never expected that there would be an “after” regarding Keeley Jones. It’s not something he planned for and certainly not something he ever wanted. It’s just: one breath she’s there and the next, she’s not. Gone and the house empty, her office too, and suddenly every space at Richmond is filled with flowers because Roy doesn’t accept a single bouquet.

He does start to say her name, although only to his sister- the only adult he talks to. He spits it out, with venom, and he suspects that it’s this habit that prompts Rebecca to show up at his house.

She sneaks her way in, the stubborn shit. Apparently, she hid down the street until he ordered food, bribed the deliverer with an obscene amount of money, and rang his doorbell herself. Rebecca slips into the entry before Roy realizes it’s her, and slams the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses, and to her credit, Rebecca doesn’t flinch. She gives her best businesswoman smile, the one that so directly contradicts the flint in her eyes, and straightens.

“Someone informed me that you made developments in your grief-

“Fuck you-”

“-so I thought a visit was due.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Somebody told me once that I was always welcome in her home. Has that changed?”

“Yeah. She’s fucking dead.”

Rebecca does bristle at that one but she doesn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she clears her throat, setting Roy’s food down on the table in the foyer.

“Your sister told me how quiet you’ve been. And that any time you talk about Keeley, you do so with an incredible amount of anger.”

Roy doesn’t deign to respond, glowering at Rebecca instead. She takes a look around the room, in all its dusty glory. Lights off, trash piling on the floor, clothes strewn over backs of couches. It matches Roy, in terms of appearance. Unkept. Uncared for. Unloved.

“I’m calling the police,” Roy decides, scanning the room for his phone. “You can’t fucking impersonate a food deliverer. Or fucking be here when I don’t want you to be.”

“I paid him handsomely-”

“-illegal. And fireable.”

“-enough so that his salary for the next few months should be covered.”

“Get out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’re here to fucking do or say. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“And leave you to stew in your anger and your filth? I don’t think so.”

And Rebecca struts into his living room and seats herself on a sofa.

“Dr. Sharon proposed to me that your anger had legitimate grounds. Not just your usual brooding about playing and coaching a game for a living, but you know,” Rebecca gestures to Roy. “Real reasons to be so surly.”

“My fucking wife died.”

“Yes, well. My best friend died yet I’ve been outside over the past few months.” She gives Roy another placid smile. “Despite the fact that I’m mourning.”

“It’s different.”

“Undoubtedly, yes. You’ve been much unhealthier in your habits.”

“Fuck you,” Roy growls. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.” Keeley would refer to that as Rebecca’s scariest tone. “I came to talk.”

“I don’t care.” His hands clench into fists.

“You’re angry at Keeley.”

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your fucking break-in habits. Did you fucking compare notes with fucking Lasso?”

“You need someplace to direct your anger, and since fate dealt you both such a terrible hand, the only thing you can think to do is blame Keeley.”

“That makes as much fucking sense as you impersonating a takeaway driver. Fuck you.”

“So you go from not being able to say her name to saying it like a curse because you’re much more comfortable with your anger than sorrow.”

“I can say Keeley’s name.”

“Can you say it without sounding like the angriest person on the entire planet, Roy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Rebecca stands. In heels, she towers over Roy, who glares right back at her. “Show me you can, Roy.”

“I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“No. But I asked you to.”

“I’m not fucking angry at my dead fucking wife.”

‘You’re angry at someone.”

“Yeah. You.”

“Come on now, Roy. Do better.”

“I’m NOT fucking angry at Keeley!”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Fuck you.” Roy paces before her, ignoring how every step makes his knee throb. “Fuck you, fuck off. Fuck you.”

“Are you even sad?” Rebecca says quietly, and Roy freezes, his muscles clenching painfully.

“Ask me again,” he dares, his tone low. He takes a step closer to Rebecca, who remains unfazed.

“I said: are you sad your wife died in your arms, Roy?”

“Fuck you!” Roy bellows. He spins away to upturn the coffee table, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

“Do you miss her? Do you wish she hadn’t died?”

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

“So I’ll see Keeley again. How lovely.”

Roy roars, using the full force of his body to punch a hole in the wall. His fist comes out covered in plaster, bright red blood leaking from his knuckles dusted white.

“She fucking died in a freak fucking accident. There’s nothing- nothing- she could have done differently.”

“But she left you.”

“She fucking- she-” Roy’s chest heaves as he looks wildly around the room, at anything but the woman in front of him. “She was supposed to get her fucking nails done. We were going to get Thai for dinner. We had a sexy fucking weekend planned, and she was going to come home and it all would have been fucking fine.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“We can’t do any of that shit. Can’t fucking fall asleep next to her ever again. Or hold her fucking hand. We had fucking plans-” His words catch in his throat, and he looks away, examining the new damage to the wall. “We had plans.”

“Roy-”

“Don’t.” He closes his eyes. “You riled me up. Is that what you fucking wanted?”

“Yes,” Rebecca admits, and she retakes her seat on the couch, disregarding the surrounding wreckage. “Since the one person you want to talk to is gone, I figured I’d substitute.”

Roy glances around the house, at the forgotten groceries by the entrance, at the overturned table, and at the destroyed wall. “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca says swiftly. “I figured I’d be better at it than Ted.”

“I’d have fucking killed him.”

“I thought so.” Rebecca sighs, massaging her temple. For the first time since her arrival, her bravado fades and her shoulders slump. It’s a familiar sight, one Roy witnessed the last time he saw Rebecca- at Keeley’s funeral, where all traces of the usually confident woman had faded away, and a grieving shell stood in her place. “Is that it, then? All the anger is for what’s never to be?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“And this is the first time you’re realizing it?”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, it is.”

Rebecca shrugs. “Okay.”

Silence prevails for a long while, then Roy sighs and takes a seat next to Rebecca.

“You know, my office has quite literally never been quieter. Even with Ted bursting in at all hours, it’s just… not the same. I started to get frustrated at Higgins trying to coordinate with me simply because he’s not the person I want to see. And then I woke up angry, too. Absolutely pissed at the sun just for rising. Because every day that I experience is one I should be sharing with her.”

She looks down at her hands, which tremble slightly. “It’s not fair. And I have nowhere to put all my anger and blame.”

Roy wordlessly gestures to the wall, and Rebecca gives a soft laugh.

“There’s one option.” Then, she swipes at her eyes, and sniffs.

“Keeley would have never forgiven any of us if we gave up on you, Roy.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “She told me as much. About me.” He rolls his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “I’m not supposed to give up on myself.”

“Good job,” Rebecca retorts, and Roy growls, but Rebecca gives another breathy laugh. “You didn’t call the police on me. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

“Don’t let it go to your fucking head.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Thank you,” Roy says very, very quietly. Rebecca takes his hand and squeezes it briefly. Her palm comes away coated in dust and blood.

“Clean up, Roy,” she tells him, standing. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Rebecca leaves, but she sends over a team of cleaners and a fresh batch of groceries. For the first time since Keeley died, his fridge is fully stocked with food for him to make into meals, and the house is spotless. He sends a text to his sister, telling her to fuck off in a way she’ll know means thank you, and showers. He trims his beard and dries himself off with a freshly laundered towel, then he falls asleep ass naked on the bed and sleeps for twelve hours.

He goes to see Phoebe and the rest of his family. They catch him up on all the petty bullshit he doesn’t give a fuck about, and it’s nearly normal, except that he drives home alone to an empty house.

He goes back to yoga, and every stretch feels like he’s never done a downward dog before in his life. Still, the wine after is good, and he ends up going home with a spare bottle and another casserole, and so another part of his life resumes.

It’s a slow process. Richmond is a hard place to face, with Ted trying to be casual as he checks in on him, and the boys stepping around him like glass, and Jaime Tartt in tears when he first catches sight of Roy. Her office, the lack of visits from his wife during the day, and the plaque commemorating her on the wall hurt like getting that phone call all over again. But it’s the beginning of the mourning process, Dr. Sharon will tell him, and now that it’s started, the hurt will eventually lessen.

With every end, a beginning.

Roy takes his first steps.

There are three eras in Roy’s life, and a thousand different Roys.

There’s the prodigy footballer, eight years old and scoring goal after goal in every match. There’s the Chelsea player, a championship winner, then the Richmond player, bittered by age. Injured Roy Kent, retired, coaching his kid niece’s football team. Then, briefly: professional commentator. Richmond coach.

Roy Kent, who fucking hates Jaime Tartt except usually his girlfriend is nice at least. Roy Kent, Keeley’s boyfriend. Roy Kent, Keeley’s fiancé, husband- widower.

Roy Kent- a bastard luckily enough that Keeley loved him too. Roy Kent, who lit up when she walked into the room, who smiled more during their time together than he ever had before in his life. Who wanted to start a family with her. Who doted on his wife and promised her the world and a thousand other cheesy things, because she had that power over him.

Roy, who was beside her at the very end, who evoked her last words and smile. Roy, who had that horrible, painful privilege of easing his wife’s passing with reassurances and small comforts and anything he could do to make her feel his love.

Roy, who loves her still. Who’ll die loving her and missing her, and wishing they had just one more day.

Roy, who learns to live to make her proud.

#roy kent #keeley jones #roy x keeley #roy x keeley fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #roy x keeley fanfiction #roy x keeley imagine #roy kent x keeley jones #keeley x roy #angst #oops im so sorry yal #rebecca welton

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enchantedblackrose · 4 years ago

Text

Safe Again

Not my image. Google image search

Pairing: Antonio/Fem Reader

Requested @fabyoliveira1999

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped when an undercover assignment goes wrong

¡Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, allusions of sexual assault, potential police brutality? All very in line with the show

A/n 1: this is a work of fiction. The gang and names used are completely made up and not meant to reflect any real persons. Thank you.

2: Part 2 will be a fluff drabble

Safe Again

A darkness overcomes you as you slip out of consciousness. The steady beeping of the machines around you are now frantic, their shrill sound piercing the ears of everyone around.

Antonio yells out your name as hospital staff force him from your room. It isn't until Hank and Kevin pull him by his shoulders does he fully retreat. He sees a familiar face in the hallway and remembers a conversation he's been meaning to have.

"Halstead!" Antonio's voice shakes in anger. He stands face to face with the younger detective. His finger accusingly pointing.

"How the hell did this happen in the first place, man? You were supposed to have her back!"

Jay's voice was quiet. "I know." He drops his head in hands. "I'm so sorry, man. I should've pulled us out of there."

"You were supposed to watch her." Antonio strains to speak, his tone is much softer this time as he fights back the tears threatening to spill. Wordlessly, he claps Jay's shoulder, giving it an affectionate and apologetic squeeze. None of this is Jay's fault. Antonio knows this and instantly regretted taking his emotions out on his colleague.

-72 hours prior-

You're sitting in the bullpen, having just been assigned to go undercover with your partner acting as your boyfriend. The idea being that the two of you would infiltrate the known drug gang the Scorpions as potential buyers and dealers for the more upscale neighborhoods the leader, Sammy, was trying to reach.

Your actual boyfriend is the first to speak. "Oh hell no. You're not doing this," Antonio tells you, earning a hard stare from you in return. "She's not doing this," he shifts his attention to Voight. "These...thugs are ruthless. They're killers."

Hank's eyebrow shoots up, wordlessly questioning Antonio. "Watch yourself there. Last I checked this was my unit. I give the orders."

"Sarge, if I may," you interrupt. "I'm willing to do this. I've successfully gone undercover before and I've gone alone," you remind not only your sergeant, but your boyfriend. "I want to do this." Your eyes fall to Antonio momentarily before looking back to Hank.

"Do whatever you need to prepare," he orders. You nod, reaching for your cell phone. Hank turns around and heads into his office. Antonio is hot on his heels, letting the door slam shut behind him after giving you a displeased look.

You huff an angry sigh. From his desk, Jay offers a sympathetic smile. "He's coming from a good place, y/n," he reminds you. "He's just scared. He knows you're more than capable of handling yourself out there."

Appreciating Jay's words, you nod your gratitude and make the call to set up this meeting.

You are fuming the entire walk up the stairs to your apartment. Antonio follows closely behind. You wait until the door closes completely before angrily spinning back in your heel to glare at him.

"Do you have any idea how demeaning and humiliating it is to not only have my boyfriend, but a superior colleague to react that way in front of my sergeant? Our sergeant? This is important, Antonio! And I'm not some rookie. I've done this before! You have no right-"

"You're right," his voice is calm and not at all what you expected to hear. "And I'm sorry, mi amor. I made sure to tell Voight before we left that I support you doing this and promised to not let my feelings compromise this case."

"Oh." You feel your anger start to dissipate. "In that case…can you order dinner, please? I'm going to take a quick shower." You stand on your tiptoes, pecking his lips softly with yours before heading to the bathroom.

Today was the day you and Jay, or rather your aliases Roxie and Ray (you relentlessly teased Jay about his lack of creativity), were meeting Sammy, having already built a rapport with some of the other members lower in the chain of command. If it went well, today should be the day you make the bust. Both of you step into the garage to meet the team and go over plans one last time. You're in a body flattering dress hitting right above your knees, Jay in a suit sans necktie.Your friends whoop and catcall Part of your personas was playing a bored, wealthy, money-motivated couple and you had to look, not just act, the part. As Antonio approaches, Jay excuses himself saying he'll be in the car waiting whenever you're ready. Antonio's voice is quiet. "There's still time. Don't do this."

"I thought you supported me."

"I did...I do! I just can't let you-"

"Let me?" You yell, earning the unwanted attention of those nearby. You shake your head, hurt and disappointment shine in y/e/c eyes. You walk away without another word, getting into the passenger side of the car

You reach the autobody garage the Scorpions use as a front. Immediately they pat you both down by a few members you've met during the time undercover. You're positive your inspection is more thorough as he squeezes your one ass cheek.

"Hey man," Jay shouts seeing you get groped.

"It's alright, babe," you wink. "Rico's only appreciating a good thing when he sees it." Rico smirks before declaring, "They're both clean."

Sammy, and another man you recognize from case files, Nic enter. "What's this? Who did you bring me?"

"These chumps are gonna be your new sellers."

Sammy's eyes hone in on you. You hold his gaze. "Hell naw," Nic says. "They brought you cops."

"Oh, please," you say, rolling your eyes. "With this face and ass-he knows, he felt it," you point to Rico, "I'm too fine to be a cop." You flash a cheeky smile.

"Bitch, shut up!" The back of his hand connects with your right cheek. The stinging causes your eyes to water. Beside you, Jay flinches; it's hard from him not to react.

'Listen man, I don't know what you think is going on. We just-"

"You can shut up, too."

You hear the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking, turning to see it pointed at Jay. Sammy gives a nod to one of the others.

"Look out," you try to warn Jay, but it's too late. The butt of a gun hits Jay in the temple and he gets kicked at the back of his knee until he falls to the ground. His head hits the cement flooring hard. You don't understand why the team hasn't busted in yet.

Nic's gaze is on you. "You testified at Dierk's hearing." His fist swings and it makes contact with your jaw. It's enough to make you sway but you remain on your feet. "He was my cousin you, stupid bitch. Get her in the car. Leave him."

As you're forced into a black SUV, you manage to choke out a weak,"Jay, " your stained voice sounding unrecognizable to your own ears.

The equipment they sent you in with was faulty. Voight was furious as was Antonio. They whole worked diligently to get video or audio, anything to keep tabs on you and Jay. It's not until the SUV, with you unbeknownst to them inside, peels out, that the whole team moves in and finds Jay bleeding and unconscious on the floor. Kevin reaches him first. "He's alive!" he shouts to the others. Adam radios for an ambo before he and the others continue to clear the building. Kevin gently shakes Jay awake. He groans, hands instantly reaching the side of his head. He makes to stand.

"Easy there, brother," Kevin warns. Jay lets Kevin help him to his feet. "We've got a bus on the way."

Jay nods, "I'm fine. Where's y/n?"

"She's not here. No one is," Hank answers as the rest of the team draw near Jay. Jay's stomach plummets as he realizes they've taken you, his partner.

"Son of a bitch!" Antonio yells, kicking an oil drum.

"We work fast to get y/l/n back," Hank declares. "Check for surveillance, witnesses. We find that SUV and we find y/n. Alive

Any means necessary. Let's move." The team disperses and his hand clasps Jay's shoulder. "You get checked out by medics first." Jay opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. He nods his compliance. Hank and Antonio follow him to the ambulance that's just arrived.

"Hey boss," Jay speaks, with a tentative glance to Antonio. "This went south when Nic recognized y/n as the detective who testified against his cousin. Hank pursed his lips, but even in his anger, the color drains from Antonio.

"Voight," Antonio's voice almost cracks.

"We'll get her back."

Bloodied and bruised, you're alive with very little clue as to where you are. Your survival skills kick in.

You take note of your surroundings. You think you're in an unfinished basement of a residence. Definitely a lower floor as you remember being tossed down a flight of stairs. Your hands are bound behind your back and tied to a support beam. The door to upstairs is locked and even if it wasn't, based on all the noise coming from the floors above you'd never make it out undetected.

The door opens and heavy footsteps make their way towards you. Nic comes into your line of vision.

You try reasoning with him, "As far as I'm concerned, nothing's been done that can't be undone. You just gotta let me go."

"You don't get it, do you? Maybe this will clear things up for you." He draws his gun, pressing it into the middle of your forehead

"But first I'm gonna fuck you real hard." His face inches from yours. Nic pulls the gun away. His stale, hot breath reeking as he stands too near. You couldn't help but scoff before you throw your head into his, headbutting him with all the might you could.

He cries out in agony.

"Stupid bitch." He backhands you. Then grabs you by the chin. His furious eyes never leave you and a rough hand claws at the skirt of your dress. You feel cold metal pressed against your thigh. "First, I'm gonna fuck that tight pussy with my gun inside you then-"

"Why?" You smirk. "Afraid you won't be able to get it up?" So much for those survival instincts. Anger flickers across his face. His free hand makes a fist. You dodge his swing and he instead makes contact with the pole. This enrages him more. Hastily Nic puts the gun back in his pants. Both his hands wrap themselves around your neck.

14 hours have gone by. That's how long it's been since Antonio's last seen you. He's hurt and getting desperate. With less than two hours of sleep (Antonio only went home after Voight said he wouldn't be any help without some rest), he was out trying to find any witnesses, checking traffic cams, and placing calls to all his CIs in hope that any of them might be able to give a lead. When one of them started stringing him along, Antonio jacked the guy up against an outside brick wall near the precinct. That's when Kim found him.

"We got something," she says in a hurry, fearing Antonio may do something he can't come back from.

The team picked up two Scorpion members and one is currently in the cage.

"Five minutes, Hank. Just give me the key and five minutes alone with this guy," Antonio pleads to his sergeant. From the cage, the Scorpion chuckles. Antonio lunges causing the chain links of the cage to rattle. He appears more animalistic than human and the laughter does immediately. "Where is she, you bastard?" Hank looks at the guy, still refusing to talk, then he unlocks the door for Antonio.

"Are you crazy? You can't let him in here with me," he shrieks.

"Your boss has one of our own. And she just so happens to be his girlfriend, so you're crazy if you think I could really stop him if I wanted to," Hank answers before moving away from the door and heading upstairs. The door barely swings open before Antonio steps inside, knocking the guy to his ass with one punch. He picks him up by the shirt collar preparing another blow when Jay and Adam come flying down the stairs.

"Get outta here!" Antonio yells.

"We got an address. Atwater and Kim they picked up another member and he talked," Adam says breathlessly. Antonio hesitates.

"C'mon on man," says Jay, "He's not worth any more of your time. If y/n's there, let's go bring her home."

Hours have passed. How many you're unsure, but as they ticked by your hopes of being found or escaping dwindled. Pain flows through your entire body. You sit on the cold, hard basement floor, unable to stand anymore. Nic had strangled you until you passed out. He never touched you like he promised and when you regained consciousness you were alone.

Shouts came from upstairs. You're unable to hear every word, but you catch enough to know they're talking about you.

"We need to move her now. We've kept her alive too long!" You hear footsteps and then the opening of the door. Nic appears before you, with a sinister grin. Your heart races as he nears. His eyes roam your body as he undoes his belt. He pulls you to your feet by your hair. A whimper escapes you and he laughs. Once again, his hands pull at the skirt of your dress. His hands travel along your thighs and ass squeezing both. His touch makes your skin crawl that you actually shudder. His fingers start to tug your underwear down when there's a commotion from upstairs.

"Freeze! Chicago PD."

"Drop the weapon!"

"On your knees! Face down."

"I said drop it!"

Your heart flutters with hope, but then shots ring out and you have no idea who's firing or what's happening up there.

"Down here!" You yell. The basement door opens.

"Chicago PD!" Antonio and Jay's voices ring out.

"One male. He's got a gun," you warn. As they rush down the stairs, Nic pulls his gun on you.

"Drop your weapon!" Jay orders. His eyes perfectly fixated on the gun in Nic's hands. Antonio eyes you carefully and while seeing you bruised and a gun to your head isn't ideal, he's relieved to see you alive. Your colleagues' guns stay fixed on your offender. "You won't be told again. Drop. Your. Weapon." Your eyes lock with your boyfriend's beautiful brown ones and you nod ever so slightly. You slide down the pole as Nic moves towards you as if he was going to use you as a shield. Both Antonio and Jay fire their guns. Blood splatters onto you. Jay moves to check the body, but all you really notice is Antonio running to you and it's honestly a beautiful sight. "Baby, baby, baby. Hang on. I got you," he soothes, working quickly to free your hands of the zip ties. Your head falls into his chest. Really your whole body just collapses into him. Antonio holds you close, careful not to embrace you too hard, but his touch has never felt better. You sob uncontrollably as he begins to rock you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you repeat.

"Shh. You did nothing wrong, mi amor. Shh, now, baby. I got you. You're safe again."

Immediately you're taken to the hospital. Blood is drawn,xrays taken, exams given. You've sustained several injuries, but nothing critical. Mostly you're bruised and exhausted, so when the machines you're hooked up to start beeping erratically, Antonio is confused and scared again, clearly demonstrated by that outburst directed at Jay.

He opens his mouth to apologize when Will Halstead exits your room.

"You can go back in now," he says simply.

The intelligence team looks at him, confused.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Y/n wasn't breathing properly."

"What?"

Will puts his hands up. "No no. She's fine. She can breathe. She was sleeping and wasn't breathing deep enough for the machine to register it. I promise she's fine."

There's a collective sigh of relief from everyone.

Antonio coming back into your room is a most welcoming sight. There's so much to say, but your eyelids are heavy with sleep. Instead you take his hand in yours. Antonio's free hand lovingly caresses your face.A feeling of safety washes over you and you drift off into a peaceful dream.

#antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #antonio dawson #requested

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searchingwardrobes · 3 years ago

Text

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns, my beta @demisexualemmaswan, and my artist @cocohook38. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded.

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours.

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath.

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped.

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him.

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake.

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car.

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat.

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside.

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward.

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break.

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now.

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won.

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on.

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home.

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps.

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind.

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep.

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb.

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position.

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek.

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual.

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.”

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes.

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #ghost story #horror #strange lieutenant duckling #lol trust me #happy ending of sorts

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ahockeywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Baby, I’m Yours

Warnings: Pregnancy, children, explicit female reader

Matthew lifted up your knuckles to his lips and pressed four kisses to them. One for each member of the family you had created. The first was for you, always. You were the first one who he knew he had loved. The second was for him. Some might think it was strange, but it was his reminder to you that he was a part of you. The third was for your eldest child, Jacob, as soon as your husband’s eyes looked at him, he was smitten. The fourth was for your unborn daughter who already had her father wrapped around her little finger. He couldn’t imagine loving a family any more.

He let his eyes wander down your sleeping body, slightly uncomfortable from the bump you had, and watched the light reflect off the rings that adorned your left hand and softly smiled to himself.

Watching you walk down the aisle of the church in St Louis, wearing a white dress that fitted you so perfectly was something he could never forget. The tears the two of you shared as you read your vows and the little giggles you made when he started explaining some of the reasons why he loved living with you, including the abundance of ice cream in the freezer and the random pieces of paper he would find around the house with notes written to yourself. He could never picture loving a family more than the one you had.

The cries of Jacob rang around the house, waking you up. Matthew gently caressed your shoulder and told you to keep sleeping. Having a rampant, curly headed 2 year old running around the house wasn’t how you expected your first few months of marriage to have gone, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It was perfect for the two of you.

To say that your first pregnancy was a surprise would be an understatement. It wasn’t that the two of you were actively trying for a baby, especially because you were taking your pill at the same time everyday, but one morning you must have forgotten and around a month later, when you were on placebo, you noticed that your period hadn’t come. To begin with, you didn’t think anything of it but then certain smells that you used to love, suddenly you couldn’t stand. You texted your future mother-in-law, Chantal, because in her eyes you were already part of the family and anything you needed to talk about, you could talk to her about. She was initially confused and suggested you see a doctor but then it all clicked in her head. You were experiencing the same symptoms she had experienced with her three pregnancies.

Chantal was hesitant to mention it, especially as your engagement was very new, but the two of you had one of the strongest relationships she had ever seen and knew that this would not put a dent in the life you had planned together. As soon as she mentioned it, over a Facetime call because she refused to say it over text, everything was out of the window. It all made sense now, and the only thing left to do was to take a test.

They were the longest five minutes of your life. Waiting for the word to appear behind a small plastic window scared you more than anything else. You had the potential to be carrying a bundle of cells that would form into a baby. As you sat waiting, you let yourself picture the family that this baby, if there was one, would become a part of. The love of hockey would run deep and Matthew would probably have your child on the ice as soon as they could hold their own head up. It would be a family that would go to the ends of the earth for the simplest thing if they knew it would make one member happy.

The alarm sound on your phone started you out of your daydream. You allowed yourself to glance at the three tests you had taken. All three said the same word. Pregnant. It was like you had forgotten to breathe as you let out a sigh, of relief? Concern? You really weren’t sure. It wasn’t like Matthew had never mentioned kids, he had just never explicitly said when he wanted them. But then you remembered how he was with other people’s children, always making sure they were entertained and giving them his full attention. It always made you want kids with him, even early on in your relationship before he put the ring on your finger. You weren’t traditional by any means, but you always hoped you would go down the path of engagement, moving in together, marriage, children.

Now, you did move in with Matthew approximately 30 minutes before he proposed because he couldn’t hide the ring from you any longer than he needed to. But this wasn’t the same as a ring. With a ring, you had as much planning time before the wedding as you wanted. Finding out you were pregnant, it was a limited time until you had an addition to the family.

You didn’t know if 5 minutes or 5 hours had passed by the time Matthew arrived back from practice. You were still sitting on the bathroom floor with a glass of water by your side. He shouted a few times before popping his head into the bathroom where you meekly greeted him. You were usually so excited to see him after practice, especially when you had been working from home all day, but as soon as he saw your face he knew something was up. It was an expression he almost never saw, fear. “Matty, I’m scared,” you whispered, pointing at the tests you had taken.

He looked over to the counter by the sink and saw the tests. He let himself smile, he had always hoped this day would come, this might have been sooner than he had expected but it was something he wanted. “Why are you scared?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m too young to be a mother, you’ve just signed a big dollar contact and don’t have time for a baby whilst being the face of a franchise and I don’t even know if you want this baby,” you let out, allowing the tears to flow. Matthew wrapped your body into his in a tight hug and allowed you to let your feelings out. He rubbed your back gently and you curled yourself into his chest.

“Baby,” he started, still allowing your tears to fall, “the ring on your finger means I’m not going anywhere, and the baby. The baby we’re gonna welcome to the family soon, I am so excited to meet them, you wouldn’t believe it.” Matthew began tearing up at that and you were able to let out a little giggle. It was something the general public never got to see, the instigator of many fights letting out his emotions in a different way.

“Just can’t believe we’re expecting,” you exclaimed.

“Whatever worries you have about this, I’m gonna be here for the two of you,” Matt reminded you. He was always by your side even when you didn’t expect him to be. “Say the words, I’ll be here physically for you.” You let yourself smile, the first one since finding out you were expecting.

The first few months of your pregnancy weren’t as bad as you had expected. Yes, you did have your head in the toilet more often than you would like and turning down a glass of wine at events was difficult but Matthew was always there beside you and you couldn’t thank him more. It was also a challenge to keep Matthew’s big mouth shut around other people, both of your families knew the news but you kinda wanted to keep it to as few people as possible. He tried his best, but there was only so long he could keep it a secret before blurting it out to everyone.

The boys in the locker room had noticed something was up with him before he even mentioned it. He was heading home earlier on nights out, whenever the two of you were together he had to have some form of physical contact with you and he had stopped drinking anything alcoholic. He also got himself in less fights and was less physical on the ice. Many of the boys had asked him why he had been changing his habits and his response was always the same, “I’m getting prepared to become a family man, with the wedding planning and all that, I want Y/N to know I’m serious about settling down.”

Matthew eventually shared the news with the team after a strong win over Edmonton. Everyone, even the married boys were heading out but he knew you would already be half asleep after the game. Elias kept pestering him to come out and he finally snapped, “I would love to spend more time in your company, but some of us have pregnant fiance’s to go home to!” His eyes widened as soon as he said that, knowing that you wanted to keep it quiet. The entire locker room erupted in cheers but all he could think of was your face and how disappointed you would be when he explained that he just wanted to come home to you.

He rushed home, expecting you not to have heard congratulations from the other girls, but your phone blew up as soon as they found out. Did he really expect his teammates not to share this news with their other halves? You were surprised, it had taken him until you were 20 weeks pregnant for him to share the news with the team, you remembered that you now owed Taryn money as she had bet $50 that it would be after 18 weeks and you said before 18 weeks.

Matthew ran into the house, panting, to see you sitting on the couch with a large bowl of buttery popcorn on your lap. It looked so normal to him and he didn’t want to disappoint you. However, you knew better. “Matty, I got loads of texts in the girls’ group chat today,” you started, watching his face drop, “and they were congratulating us? I even got one from Johnny saying, and I quote ‘didn’t know Matt’s sperm was that good’. Anything you want to say?” You really tried to play bad cop but you couldn’t so you burst out laughing.

Matthew sighed, knowing that he should have expected this from you. He walked over to the couch and just dropped into your arms, being careful of the bump you were showing. You both relaxed into the cuddle and suddenly all the worries you had ever felt about being pregnant were gone. You were so comfortable that you ended up falling asleep.

It can’t have been more than an hour after you had fallen asleep, but you were woken up by the sounds of someone whispering. “Heya there buddy, your mom and I are so excited to meet you. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms and make you the happiest kid in the world. I don’t think momma wants you on the ice soon, but as soon as she says it’s okay, I’m gonna bring you with uncle Brady and auntie Taryn and we’re gonna have so much fun together,” Matt was whispering because he didn’t want to wake you up but you sniffling and trying to hold back the tears was more than enough to let him know you were awake.

“You okay there Y/N?” Matt asked, concerned that he had gone too far talking to the bump. He was always so respectful when it came to touching the bump and towards you in general.

“I’m, I’m just so happy,” you exclaimed. “We have a beautiful house, and we’re expecting a baby. I just didn’t think I’d be waking up from a nap to you talking to the baby. I promise, these are happy tears.” Matthew smiled at you and you just knew at that moment this wouldn’t be the only baby you had together.

And you were right, almost as soon as Jacob met the world, your fiance wanted another one. You swiftly reminded him that you had just pushed his son out and just had stitches down there and weren’t even thinking about sex. The sight of Matthew with his son resting on his chest was something you were never able to get used to.

Matthew looked at you in your hospital gown, sweat still dripping from your forehead, hair splayed everywhere and thought you were the sexiest woman alive. The pain you had gone through, just to give him a child was something he could never repay you for. “Baby,” he spoke quietly, “get some rest, we’ll be here when you get back.” You listened to him and allowed yourself to sleep, even if it was only for a short while.

The second pregnancy was not planned either and the two of you found out together, in St Louis. You had both returned there to have your final fittings before the wedding, which was about a month out. The room in the back of the bridal boutique was beautiful and you allowed yourself to take it in for one last time before the wedding. Chantal and Taryn were there gushing over how beautiful you looked, even without the fancy hair and makeup.

“Matt’s not gonna know what hit him,” Taryn giggled. You smiled softly, looking at yourself in the mirror. The dress clung to your curves perfectly, the lace along the arms was delicate and the skirt made you feel like a Disney Princess. But you couldn’t shake the ick you had been feeling all day, to begin with you had put it down to nerves with this being your final fitting and Matthew, Brady, Jacob and Keith being left to their own devices at the tailors. The feeling didn’t go when you arrived back at the Tkachuk residence for dinner either.

You excused yourself from helping with dinner, telling Chantal that you needed to finalise something with your maid of honour which she understood. As you made it to your room, you instantly realised you needed to find a toilet quickly, luckily you had one attached to the bedroom. You let yourself empty the contents of your stomach and quickly found your phone. It took a few moments to find the app you needed, white with red overlapping circles. 40 days without a period. It couldn’t be, not this close to the wedding. You had to text Matthew and get him to make a stop on the way home.

You: This is gonna sound very weird, but could you go to the drugstore on your way back?x

Matty: Sure, what do you need? Pads? Tampons?x

Of course, you thought, the only time you asked him to go to the drugstore was to get things for your period. Sighing softly, you replied.

You: Actually, could you grab a few pregnancy tests?x

Matty: Oh shit, you think again?x

You: Yeah, just had my head in the toilet and apparently I haven’t had a period for almost 6 weeks. Grab some things for Jacob in there too in case Brady wants to be nosy x

Matty: Ofc baby, we’re gonna leave soon so I’ll see you then. Keep drinking water, you know my mom will do anything for you x

Matthew let out an audible sigh, the two of you weren’t going at it like rabbits like before Jacob was born but you were both being careful making sure you used protection every time. He racked his brain to try and remember where the two of you were 6 weeks ago, Florida. It hit him like a ton of bricks, Jacob had stayed at home with Keith and Chantal, who wanted you two to have a holiday in the summer because the honeymoon planned involved Jacob. The infinity pool and hot tub were too tempting for you not to get intimate in. He remembered the moans you made as he rolled his hips into yours, the scratches left on your back and hips, the bruises that littered your collarbones. He allowed himself to get lost in the memory for just a few moments before exiting the dressing room to see Jacob giggling in Brady’s arms.

Running, as much as he could in his suit, towards Jacob, Matthew picked up his son and spun him around a few times. He imagined what it would be like if the two of you had another kid. Another curly haired, energetic person in the house. To him, it sounded like heaven but he was never going to force you into something you didn’t want. He must have zoned out for a few too many moments because Keith had to shake him out of his daydream, asking if he was okay. All he could do was respond with a hesitant nod.

“We good to stop by a drugstore on the way back? Y/N wanted me to grab a few things for this little man here,” Matthew said whilst tickling Jacob lightly. Both Brady and Keith gave him a funny look, they were both sure that anything Jacob needed was already at the house but let him have his way. It was only 5 minutes out of the way, so it couldn’t be too bad.

Well, it wouldn’t have been that bad if Matthew knew his way around a drugstore. He found himself down the shampoo and conditioner aisle more times than he would like to admit to anyone but you. Eventually, he had picked up some extra diapers for Jacob and the pregnancy tests. He debated picking up some prenatal vitamins but knew that it could be taken the wrong way, especially if you weren’t pregnant. He also ignored the strange looks he got from the cashier but knew that he needed the things to be bagged quickly.

Matthew tumbled back into the car, next to Jacob, and started making faces at the young boy. He was careful to make sure that the bag didn’t get too close to Brady because he just knew that he would rummage through the bag to find out the real reason why he had gone to the drugstore, more to confirm his and Keith’s suspicions. It was always a when would Y/N and Matthew have another one, not if, and they knew Matthew well. He would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with you in more ways than one.

Chantal also had her suspicions something was up, you weren’t as energetic as usual when it came to family games outside and the slight concern on your face in the boutique made her a bit worried. She hoped that you weren’t getting cold feet and planning how to get out of your own wedding. She gave you a smile as you came down the stairs back into the kitchen and opened her arms to invite you in for a hug. “How close to the wedding can we get the dress altered?” you asked, sniffling.

As you pulled back from the hug, she gave you a knowing look. “Matt’s coming back with tests, I’ll take them before dinner,” you let out. She pulled you back in for another hug and rubbed your back. Chantal always made you feel loved and was a second mother to you, she had the motherly senses you wished you could learn.

“The dress can be altered whenever you need love,” she spoke softly, “but we need to know if you are first, no stress under this roof. Go back upstairs and rest until the boys are back”

If Matthew entering the car was amusing, him leaving it was a whole new level of funny. First, he struggled to open the door, second, he left his son for Brady and Keith to look after and third, he kept using the wrong key to open the front door. When he finally entered the house, his mother looked at him sternly. “She’s upstairs, waiting for you, I’ll keep the other boys busy,” Chantal spoke. Nodding meekly, he ran up the stairs to find you laying on the bed. He gently tapped your shoulder to let you know that he was home and offered you his hand to walk to the bathroom.

These five minutes seemed longer than the first time, even with Matthew there to try and distract you. He told you that Jacob really enjoyed the ice cream they had before they went for the fitting and just how cute he’s gonna look in his tux for the wedding. This time it was Matthew’s alarm that went off and he looked at the results first. “I think we need to get another room ready back in Calgary,” he whispered, looking at you with all the love in his eyes.

“We’r- I’m pregnant?” you asked, you couldn’t believe it.

“We’re having another baby, baby,” he whisper-shouted. The smiles on your faces were huge, even if you had found out you were pregnant so close to the wedding, you wouldn’t have changed anything for the world. The three of you made a perfect family and the only way to make it more perfect was to add a child who was going to be the most loved person in the world. You pulled him in for a massive hug, you were 8ish months away from becoming a family of four.

It was almost impossible to hide the smiles the two of you were wearing as you walked down the stairs to the family room. “Got enough love to share with another Tkachuk? And not just the one that is going to become one in a month?” Matthew teased his mother. Chantal let out a small scream and ran over to hug the two of you. Another scream came from the patio outside and it belonged to Jacob.

“Clearly someone is excited to be a big brother, aren’t you,” you spoke as you walked outside to see Brady swinging Jacob around.

“Big brother?” Brady asked, slightly confused.

“I suppose, congratulations are in order for the two of you?” Keith questioned jokingly. He saw the sparkle in Matthew’s eyes whenever he had some news to tell about the two of you. It was there when he told them of the house, the engagement and the news about your first pregnancy.

“Yeah, found out about 10 minutes ago. There’s gonna be another little one around soon,” Matthew said with a massive smile. The embraces continued and this time you allowed Matthew to share the news a bit earlier, especially as the wedding was coming up and people would start asking questions about why the bride and groom weren’t drinking.

The day of the wedding came around much faster than you or Matthew had expected. Taryn made sure that Matthew was kept away from the house as the two of you were trying to keep some traditions. Chantal had made sure that you had stuck to the something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue and you kept reminding her that she didn’t need to see the something blue because it was underneath the dress.

Your maid of honour let out an audible snigger at this as she had been there to help you buy it, but she didn’t anticipate you being three months pregnant at the time of the wedding. You were very thankful for the heavy layer of foundation that graced your face, hiding your incredibly blushed cheeks. You had received multiple photos from Brady of Jacob causing havoc in their hotel room and it almost made you cry with happiness, and it wouldn’t be the first time that happened on this day.

Eventually, it was time for you to make your way to the doors of the church but first Taryn went to collect Jacob as he had the very important role of being ring bearer. His little legs had been carrying him around most of the day so Taryn agreed to carry him down the aisle as long as he kept the cushion very still to which he nodded excitedly. You looped arms with your father who gave you a smile and then the music began to play.

As soon as Brady heard the music start, he looked over his shoulder to see Taryn holding his nephew, who was trying to wriggle out of her arms. Brady giggled as his sister put Jacob down and allowed him to run to Brady. He picked him up and spun him around a few times, then settled him on his hip and allowed the bridesmaids to enter, followed by you.

“Matt, you are one lucky man,” Brady whispered into his ear as he had allowed himself to take a quick peek at you. Matthew tried to turn around to see you but Brady stopped him. You let out a little laugh at the exchange between the two brothers. It made you excited to be joining a family with so much love to give.

The altar was adorned with ivory and navy blue flowers and you couldn’t have imagined the day to be any better. Even when your dad whispered something to Matthew that you couldn’t hear, the slightly scared face he made just made you want to smile.

He took his time as he looked over you, one of the final times he would do that before you became a Tkachuk. “You are so beautiful, Y/N. You’re gonna make me the happiest man on earth,” he spoke softly, trying to hide the tears. The lace bodice allowed him to see the smallest of bumps that only someone who knew you were pregnant would notice.

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself Tkachuk,” you let out. His black tux and bow tie made him look like a godsend, and you already couldn’t wait to get him back to the hotel room. The parts between that and the vows moved much quicker than in the rehearsal.

“And now the vows, Matthew, if you could begin,” the vicar spoke softly.

“Y/N, where do I begin,” he said with a giggle. “I remember the day we met like it was yesterday. A little someone who may be the maid of honour was trying to get you to dance at one of the events we had, as you were working for one of the sponsors. Elias had tried flirting with you already in the evening, so let’s just say my hopes weren’t particularly high. But we ended up chatting for a bit, and I did go over to speak to you with the intention of flirting and then leaving but you were just too enticing to leave. Then, I somehow got your number and then the rest is history as they say.” You laughed, trying to hide the tears that would surely be falling soon.

“I remember the first note I found lying around your apartment. I had stayed over after a tough loss against Edmonton, and when I woke up in the morning you had left a post-it note on your pillow encouraging me to come into the kitchen for breakfast along with a very badly drawn picture of the two of us smiling,” he continued, smiling as the memory played through his head. “You were a mess in the kitchen, still are.” At that the entire congregation let out a laugh, “but you had pancakes, waffles, fruit salad, bacon and eggs covering the tiny island. It was at that moment I knew you were the one, at 2 months in.”

Matthew reached up to wipe away a tear, then spoke, “When I told my mom about you and your never ending love of ice cream before your first trip to St Louis, she just looked at me and asked if I knew. It couldn’t have been anyone else other than you. Y/N, I promise to always compliment the little drawings you do on post-it notes that live around the house. I promise to never come between you and the tub of ice cream in your hand after Jacob has gone to bed. I promise to always be by your side, through anything that may come our way.”

At this point, you were full on crying and Brady tried chirping you before you shut him down and he passed you a tissue and the vows you had prepared.

“And now Y/N, your vows,” the vicar said as he motioned for you to speak.

“I don’t really know how mine are going to live up to yours Matt, but I have to try,” you spoke. “Matthew, you caught my eye as soon as I walked into that ballroom that looked way too fancy for me to be in. I mean, it wasn’t hard to notice you seeing as the Flames thought a good marketing campaign would be sticking your face on almost every billboard in Calgary. When you came over to speak with me, I really hoped your on ice persona wasn’t your real life one. I am thankful to report, the on ice Matthew only comes out when he’s around Brady.” This made all the attendees roar with laughter and it gave you a chance to look into Matthew’s eyes. They were a bright blue, and were looking at you with such love, he ran his thumb over your knuckles as you started again.

“It must have been a few months after we started dating, I was going through my closet to find something,” you started laughing as you saw Matthew’s face. He knew exactly where this story was going, “I had been in contact with the loveliest almost brother-in-law that there is, and he had been so lovely to send me one of his jerseys as soon as he had found out that Matt hadn’t got me one yet. I just so happened to throw it onto my bed as I was looking for a denim jacket. And he just looked at me with the most confused face ever. He never realised that his parents spoke to Brady about his love life and that Brady can do things by himself. But, I find my jacket and we go out for the evening and I don’t think any more of it. But when I get back from work the next night, it’s gone and in its place is about 20 Calgary jerseys all with the number 19 on the back and a post-it note attached to one of them saying, ‘if you’re gonna wear a jersey with your future last name on it, make sure it’s the right team and number’.”

Most of the attendees hadn’t heard the story and now it seemed like one that they would never forget. “Matthew, I promise to only wear your jersey to games, even when you’re playing against Brady and the number seven seems like a better choice,” you said. Matthew rolled his eyes, but allowed you to continue. “I promise to always order an extra portion of spring rolls whenever we order Chinese food because you like eating them cold the next morning. And most of all, I promise to never leave your side, from the good times to the bad. I’m gonna be here for you.”

You looked over to see your mother wiping the tears from her eyes, and your father was trying to keep a strong exterior but as soon as you caught his eyes, the smallest tear fell. It wasn’t like Chantal and Keith were doing any better. Keith was onto his second pack of tissues and Chantal was thankful that there was a decent enough time between the service and the reception to redo her makeup because there was no way that she hadn’t smudged some of it with all of the tears that had been rolling down her face.

“Thank you, both of you,” the vicar continued, “and now, if the couple could join hands.” You two did as he suggested because today was not the day to get in the vicar’s bad books. “Now, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. Matthew, you may now kiss your wife,” it took Matthew all of zero seconds to press his lips to yours and invite you in for a passionate kiss, one that might have been considered to be too passionate to be shared in a church.

“Mrs Tkachuk has a nice ring to it eh,” Matthew said before pressing his lips against yours again.

All you wanted to do was sit down with a glass of wine and your husband, but bridal duties and pregnancy meant you could do none of those things. You had greeted all your guests with a feeble glass of water in your hands rather than the wine you craved so dearly. The looks the guests had given you were of confusion because to them, it made sense for the bride to get plastered drunk, but there you were as sober as you were the morning you woke up. But rather than drunk on alcohol, you were drunk on love. The love that Matthew showed you, Jacob and the tiny bump you had showing. The love that all both of your families and all of your friends showed by coming to your wedding.

You had the opportunity to sit down properly for all of five minutes before Brady and your maid of honour stole the microphone to announce that it was time for your first dance as a married couple. Matthew stood up first and offered you his hand to help you up, he already knew that your feet were aching just from the sheer amount of time you had spent on them during the day. You sent him a thankful smile and made your way to the dance floor.

Both of your husband’s arms went around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck and you allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, trying to not to transfer too much makeup across to his white shirt. “You know, it’s crazy how many Tkachuk’s we’ve welcomed to the world in the past two years and how there’s gonna be another one soon,” Matthew said softly.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you spoke, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss. Once the song had finished, the two of you excused yourself from the events hall and made your way to the room where you had gotten ready for the reception. You flung your shoes across the room and very gracefully flopped onto the sofa that was in the room.

“You know, you don’t want to get a crease in that dress,” Matthew laughed. You shot him a stern look then pulled him down by his collar to lay on top of you.

“And you didn’t want to crease your shirt either but I think carrying Jacob did it for you,” you whispered and then passionately pressed your lips against his. His tongue swept along your bottom lip and you granted him entrance. You pulled back, “they’re gonna notice if we’re gone for too long you know,” you taunted him, knowing that he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“And you think I care because?” he taunted back, “uncle Brady and auntie Taryn are doing a great job looking after Jacob, isn’t it time I looked after my wife?” You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

You had to check your hair in the mirror before you left and reminded Matthew that he might want to put his now untied bowtie back on otherwise people might suspect something. He just flat out told you that it had been half an hour, what else would a newly wed couple be doing. Just before you opened the door to reenter the function room, Matt wrapped his arms around your stomach from behind. “I can’t wait to meet the little one,” he exclaimed as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Neither can I Matt, neither can I.”

#ahockeywrites #Matthew Tkachuk #flames19 #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

Text

You Look Happier

Shigaraki x F!Reader x Overhaul

Warnings: Angst, toxic relationships, cheating

~~~

You sit on your boyfriends bed as a sigh escapes your lips. It’s been like this for as long as you could remember. You, sitting on the edge of his bed while he sat at his computer utterly ignoring your existence. You knew deep down he loved you, at least that’s what you hoped.

It felt like the same thing over and over and over again. You feel ignored and you go to ask your boyfriend for some time together then he just ends up yelling at you for making him die. It was a process that always repeats itself.

But no matter how much it pissed you off you always stayed. Why because to you, he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. But you slowly were beginning to think he didn’t feel the same.

“Hey um, Tomura?” You asked as you gently tapped his shoulder which resulted in him slapping your arm away.

“What?” He said in a irritated tone.

“I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner...” You said quietly.

“McDonalds.”

“But, you ate that last night. Can i make you something a bit more healthier at least?”

“You asked what i wanted and i said McDonalds.”

“Oh o-okay...” You voice sounding like a scolded puppy. You turn away and walk out to your car and turn the key.

~~~

Once you had gotten McDonalds you walk out of the store and go to your car...only to find it’s gone.

“W-what happened to my car?!” You gasped. Looking around to see no trace of it.

“I guess thats what i get for leaving the door unlocked...” You sigh as you felt tears prick against the corners of your eyes.

You begin moving your feet towards you home as tears stream down your face. First your boyfriend ignores you, then was being an asshole and now you’re car was stolen.

~~~

You could see your house from where you stood. After an hour of walking you made it home in no time. You sigh in relief before you felt a gun being pushed against your back.

“Give me all your money or i blow a hole through your damn chest.” More tears was coming out of your eyes.

“I-I dont have any money...it was stolen along with my car...” You’ve been to McDonalds so many times that you know the exact price of your boyfriends favorite food by heart. Thats why you only took some money from your wallet and left the rest in the car.

“Bullshit! You have McDonalds in your hands. I’m gonna say it one more time give me the money or I’ll-AHH!” A liquid hit your back and the feeling of the gun was no more. You turn around and saw a puddle of blood and a man with a plague mask next to it.

“Disgusting honestly-”

“Thank you so much sir!” You cried as you dropped to your knees. you held the fabric of your jeans in your hands as the McDonalds splatter all over the ground.

“Why didn’t you use your quirk? Everyone-”

“I don’t have one. So i guess you could say i was born unlucky.” You laughed trying to stop your tears.

“Quirkless eh? People go after you guys all the time since you have nobody to protect you.”

“I have a boyfriend but..he doesn’t seem to care about making me safe i guess,” You chuckle but your tears keep streaming as you look up at your savior.

“That’s unfortunate.” He looked down at you before scrubbing his arm.

“Not a fan of germs I see?” You smile up at him.

“No.”

“Well i guess im not a fan of germs myself haha..” You get up and look at him smiling even through your tears.

“Ah i see.” You only giggle making him raise an eyebrow before you hear your ringtone that you set for your boyfriend. You laugh nervously before picking up the call and the first thing you were greeted by was yelling.

“Where the hell are you?!” You boyfriend screeched.

“I’m s-sorry. My car got stolen and i had to walk back.” You said facing away from the man that saved you not seeing him furrow his brows.

“Well it’s probably cold now!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time...I love yo-” Your boyfriend hung up the phone before you could finish.

“I’m sorry you had to see that sir, it’s best i be going now.” You said grabbing the McDonalds and throwing it away.

“Here.” You turn around and saw him holding a piece of paper. You grab and see a number on it.

“Thank-” You look around and see the once mysterious man disappear. Even if he was gone you couldn’t help the smile on your face. Maybe you would actually have a friend that didn’t ditch you after you got a boyfriend.

~~~

“Hey...I’m back...” You said opening the door to your apartment only to hear rough moaning coming from your you and your boyfriends shared bedroom.

You tip toe towards your room and put your ear towards the door only for a blood consuming sadness washed over you.

“I can’t wait to meet you next week! All this online sex is getting boring.” A feminine voice rang.

“Yeah just gotta make sure my girlfriend wont suspect anything.” Thats when you lost your shit. You kicked open the door and stomped your feet all the way over to your shitty boyfriend.

“Get.The.Fuck.Out.” You said grabbing him by his collar and yanking him out of his chair and turning his computer off.

“You look so much happier with her! Go be her boyfriend for all I care! I’m sick and tired of doing everything for you only to be treating like crap. Tell me Shigaraki Tomura, did you ever love me.”

“W-what?”

“YOU FUCKING HEARD ME!” You screamed at him, tears rushing down your eyes and onto the hardwood floor. Making a tiny puddle.

“I did...”

“Then why?” You said as you felt your entire world start to crash around you.

“...”

“I can’t believe i even wanted to marry you! Have kids with you! I can’t believe i even thought a selfish prick like yourself was capable of love!” Shigaraki’s eyes widened. He was at a lost for words. You wanted to be together forever. You wanted to start a family with him. And now because he was so closed off and refused to believe you truly loved him he ruined it. He was so stubborn and in denial that you truly loved him he destroyed the only person who would have cared for him in his darkest days.

“I’m giving you 2 hours to get your shit and leave. Stay here any later and im calling the cops.” You said before walking out of your bedroom and going to the kitchen.

~~~

2 hours were almost up and Shigaraki had all his stuff packed. Everything he owned was out the door except for a necklace that you had given him for his birthday. It had a picture of you and him in it. He shivered as he remembered the day you took it.

He stepped out of the bedroom and went to go to the front door where he saw you in the kitchen. Tears whelmed up in his eyes before turning around to leave.

“I paid for that locket. Leave it here or destroy it.” He froze in place. Did you really mean it? Couldn’t he have just one memory of a good time you both had?

“You don’t deserve to remember me.” Shigaraki started to shake as he held onto the locket tighter. He held on it like his life depended on it before he felt it slip through his grasp. He turned around only to see you holing the chain in your hand as the locket dangled in front of him.

“Please give it back...” His voice sounding so weak and vulnerable. His heart pounded in his chest before stopping as he saw you throw the locket to the ground and stepping on it making the locket break to the point of no return.

“There I did it for you.” You said before grabbing the back of his shirt and tossing him out of the door and shutting it. Making sure he heard you turning the lock.

~~~

1 year later

Your laughter was music to the mans ears. Ever since he met you on that day where he saved you from being robbed he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

After he heard about your breakup he swooped in and immediately was your shoulder to cry on. He didn’t know what it was about you. You were just his everything after he met you. Pretty much to the point where it annoyed him.

“You jacket looks cleaner today, did you wash it?” Boom there it was. Everything you said and did always made him fall deeper in love.

“Why I did thank you for noticing, by the way, I have a meeting tomorrow with someone and i was wondering if you would like to accompany me?”

“Of course! I would do anything for you Kai!” You said smiling as you wrapped your fingers in his gloved hand before brushing your cheek into his sleeve.

“You know you look so much happier then you did when i first met you.”

“Well before then I didn’t have you!” You giggle before planting a kiss on his mask making him blush a bit. You never kissed him on his skin only on his mask. Which he greatly appreciated but he did want to feel your lips on his once.

~~~

You and your boyfriend sat on the couch while you heard footsteps coming closer to the door. You scoot closer towards your now boyfriend and intertwined his gloved finger with yours. Making him hold your hand tighter.

“Right this way.”

“Fine whatev-” Silence. There stood your ex boyfriend Tomura Shigaraki. He looked so much different. Your once happy face slowly dropped to a emotionless one. No noise was made as Shigaraki made his way to his seat.

“Now Shigaraki lets talk.”

Overhauls voice meant nothing to him. All he could do was stare at you behind father. And you knew he was staring at you too. He couldn’t believe it. His ex girlfriend, the one who he let get away, was with Overhaul.

What hurt the worse is that while shigaraki was in Overhauls office he noticed all sorts of pictures of you two together. Smiling and happy with one another.

When was the last time you smiled at him like that?

“Shigaraki! Are you even listening?” Overhauls voice dragged him out of his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Good, now I have a question for you.”

“What?”

“Why are you staring at my girlfriend?”

“Because she looks happier.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I think you know...”

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pedro-pascal-love · 4 years ago

Text

The Abduction

Chapter Eight of Well, This is Awkward

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist

Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 4k+

Summary: Tom is back. Things take a very dark turn.

Warnings: Language, angst, violence, sexual assault/rape, somnophilia, MAJOR TRAUMA, kidnapping, escaping kidnapping, blood, miscarriage, some slight smut (not the good kind), soft!Dave

A/N: I’m putting a trigger warning for certain scenes. If you’re not comfortable with any of the major trauma listed in the warnings, please skip the parts between trigger warnings.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

You groaned as you opened your eyes, pain running through your entire body. You began to regain your senses as you took in where you were and what had happened. All you remembered was Tom’s voice as you were getting dressed in the York home and then nothing. You saw that you were in a dark room with a light in the corner as you looked around. You were seated in a chair, and you felt your hands were bound by rope. Your ankles were also bound as you tried to move your legs, and immense pain shot through you when you moved your lower body. How long had you been out for? You looked down at yourself and saw that you had clothing on but were barefoot.

At least I’m not naked, you thought, thankful that Tom had the foresight to at least dress you before bringing you to wherever you were. You thought about what was happening with Dave once he found you missing. You knew that he had your location through your phone and car but guessed that Tom probably ditched both of those things. Even with Dave’s endless resources, you knew it’d be a long shot if he found you, but you still hoped. You tried to steady your breathing in hopes of calming yourself down, knowing that now was not the time to panic. As you took a few deep breaths, you heard a door open and close, and then footsteps echo through the room. A dark figure stood just outside of the light and stared at you through the shadows before finally coming closer.

“Tom,” you spat out in disgust.

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” He asked. You bared your teeth at him as you tugged on your restraints. Tom shook his finger at you.

“Now now, babe. You hurt me the other day when that guy showed up. Who is he, new boyfriend? He’s a little old, don’t you think?” Tom taunted.

“Shut the fuck up!” you snapped at him.

“You don’t want to piss me off, baby,” Tom growled as he grabbed your chin and looked into your eyes. You felt fear creep inside of you, and you whimpered in his hold, trying to shake your head free. Tom pulled out a knife and held it up to the light, watching as the blade caught the light, and it seemed to twinkle.

“Tom, please,” you begged. Tom tutted at you.

“Now now, babe. I’d hate to have to use this on you,” he replied as he waved the knife in front of you. Your mind flashed with the last time he had a knife in front of you, and you froze. You remembered the pain, the dull ache of the blade plunging into your body, and the warmth of blood seeming out. You shook your head at the memory and narrowed your eyes at him. No, you weren’t going to give him any power over you again. You took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

“I dare you to do it, Tom,” you taunted, hoping your confidence would throw him off. Tom looked at you and scoffed.

“Oh baby, I don’t want to end it so soon. Where’s the fun in that?” Tom said as he put the knife back into its sheath at his side. “I want to draw out our fun. I’m owed three years’ worth after all.” Your blood ran cold at his words.

Three years and then released for good behavior.

What a fucking joke.

“I owe you nothing,” you sneered back. Tom narrowed his eyes at you and bent down to your eye level.

“Baby, you owe me everything. You’re lucky I want to draw this out because either way, I plan to finish what I started,” he threatened as he stood up and walked away from you. You heard the slam of the door, and you broke down. You hoped that Dave would somehow find out where you were and get you, but if Carol were home by now, then he would have his hands full with her and forget about you. You sobbed harder at the thought that you were alone in Tom’s clutches, and nobody was coming to save you.

Dave was livid. He was already pissed and on edge when Carol got home, but when he looked at the camera feed to check on you several hours after Carol had left the house, he was taken back seeing you gone.

She couldn’t have left without me knowing, Dave thought as he rewound the feed. He felt his anger ignite at the image of a figure opening your window while you were in the shower and climbing in to hide in your closet. He felt his blood boil, watching the figure come up behind you and knock you out, amid getting dressed. His blood ran cold when he watched the figure undress and redress you before dragging your limp body out the window.

He changed the camera feed to the street and watched as the figure dumped you into the trunk and took off down the road. Dave was pissed. He was fuming, to the point where you might think there was steam coming out of his ears. He’d been so preoccupied with Carol that he didn’t even think to check on you. Granted, you were asleep last time he’d checked on you, but he’d been so distracted that Tom was able to sneak in and abduct you right under his roof. Oh no, Dave was beyond pissed; he was downright infuriated. Dave was ready to get his hands dirty. More than usual, at least. Dave picked up the phone and begrudgingly dialed Carol’s number.

“Carol, I need you to come back to the house to take care of the girls. Our fucking nanny has been kidnapped,” he angrily spat into the phone.

“What? What happened, Dave?!” Carol screeched into the phone. Dave held the phone away from his ear as not to go deaf from her outburst.

“I said, you need to come back to the house and be a goddamn mother to my daughters for once,” Dave spat. Carol grew silent and whimpered.

“Ok, I’m on my way,” she said. Dave replied with a grunt and hung up the phone, and dialed Resnik.

“Resnik, I need you to pull the street footage from the last day and look for Tom’s fucking car in the neighborhood. You were supposed to be on fucking top of this, and Tom came into my house and took her,” Dave seethed into the phone. “My own goddamn fucking house!” Resnik had been in charge of maintaining your security and safety but had clearly slipped up.

“On it,” Resnik replied. “Sorry, Dave.”

“You’ll be more than sorry if you don’t find out where he took her,” Dave replied angrily into the phone. Resnik gulped on the other end of the line before Dave hung up.

“FUCK!” he shouted as he kicked his desk. Dave was going to do whatever it took to find you. No matter what he had to do.

—TWO WEEKS LATER—

❗️TRIGGER WARNING❗

“Baby,” you heard groaned into your ear as you slowly awoke. You felt a weight on top of you, and you whimpered in pleasure. You were having such a good dream, and it felt so real. You dreamt that Dave was with you in bed, holding you close, before he decided to slide himself into your heat and claim you. It took you a moment to realize where you were and who exactly was on top of you. Your eyes bolted open with fear as you gazed into the eyes of Tom as he thrust back into you with a grunt.

“Oh, baby,” he said as he saw you’d opened your eyes and were awake. “You’re finally awake, baby.” Your throat tightened, and you lost your breath.

No.

This was not happening, you thought. You felt Tom’s hands on your thighs, spreading them further as he drilled into you. Tears began to stream down your face at the truth of what was happening. You felt dirty. Disgusted. Violated. You tried to push Tom off you, but he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Now now, baby. Don’t be a bad girl. Just take it like a good girl, and it’ll all be over,” Tom jeered at you. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to disassociate yourself with this. Instead, you thought of Dave and of happier times.

“I don’t think so. Open your eyes,” Tom demanded as he slapped you with his free hand. Your cheek stung at the contact, and you gave in to his demand. The less you fought back; the less likely Tom would hurt you. You silently prayed that Dave would find you or Tom would just put you out of your misery.

Please, I just want it to be over.

❗️END TRIGGER❗

—TWO MONTHS LATER—

It had been months now, that much you knew. You’d been trying to keep track of the days by how much light shined through under the door, but it was harder than you thought. You knew that people had probably thought you were long dead by now. You imagined your family having a funeral for you, your friends being there with them, and maybe even Dave and the girls. Your heart broke at the thought, but you’d run out of tears to shed. You’d run out of tears nearly a month ago when you realized that nobody was coming for you. Tom had told you himself a month ago that the news outlets had stopped posting your missing person poster and that the cops had stopped actively looking for you.

“I’m better off dead,” you said to yourself as you hugged your knees to your chest and cried. This was torture, and you knew that sooner or later, Tom would kill you anyway; you just knew that the sadistic bastard was going to draw it out for as long as he could.

—THREE WEEKS LATER—

You groaned as you threw up into the bucket for the fourth time today. This was the third day in a row that you’d thrown up, and you were exhausted. Tom had still visited you almost every night but was starting to treat you somewhat better than he had been. By that, you meant that he’d given you a little air mattress, thicker blankets and would now escort you to the bathroom for a shower once a week. It was better than how he’d been treating you before, but you knew he’d snap at any given moment. Despite how you acted around him, you still wished that he’d just end it all or that someone would somehow save you.

You hoped, but you knew that the chances were getting smaller and smaller with each passing day. Tom took great pleasure in reminding you that nobody would come looking for you if they hadn’t already. You sat back on the air mattress holding the blanket to you and tried to think of the days before Tom held you captive. You thought of the random day that Dave surprised you with flowers in bed after you’d put the girls to sleep. The memory brought tears to your eyes, and you sniffled, trying not to make any noise lest Tom decide to come in and punish you for being too loud.

Too late, you thought as you heard his steps coming towards the door. Tom swung the door open, and blinding light enveloped the room.

❗️TRIGGER WARNING❗

“Get up,” he commanded. You clung onto the blanket as you stood up, trying to shield your body from Tom and keep yourself warm. Tom wasn’t having any of it today, it seemed.

“I said GET UP!” he shouted as he grabbed your arm and yanked. The force of his actions sent you toppling towards him, and he moved out of the way as you fell onto the floor outside your makeshift cell. Tom took the opportunity to kick you in the stomach several times as you grunted in pain. You laid on the floor for a moment before Tom grabbed you by the hair and slammed your face onto the floor as he punched your sides, causing you to cry out in pain.

Those were going to definitely bruise.

“Fuck, you’re pathetic. Get up so you can get the shit smell off you,” he said as he grabbed you by the arm to drag you toward the bathroom. As you walked through the hall, you spied a window at the end of the hall, and it looked to be daylight out.

Why haven’t I noticed that before? You thought to yourself as you began to formulate a plan—a very risky plan, but one nonetheless. Tom walked you into the bathroom and pushed you into the shower. You stumbled but managed to grip onto the wall of the shower for support before Tom started the water, and you felt the cold sting hit your body.

“Hurry it up,” he sneered as he leaned against the wall, watching your every move. You turned and began to strip out of your clothes and used the bar of soak to lather your body.

“Tom?” You croaked out meekly. Tom raised his eyebrow at you. You hadn’t bothered to speak the last few months except to say yes or no, so your speaking took him by surprise.

“What?”

“I – I realize now that you’ve only ever cared about me, and I’m sorry,” you stuttered out. Tom stepped away from the wall and looked at you, unsure if you were serious or not. You took the opportunity to lean out of the shower and kiss him, putting everything you had into the kiss. Tom, loving the newfound affection you were willingly giving him, took the opportunity to join you in the shower, coming to stand under the spray of water with you as he gripped your head and deepened the kiss. It took every fiber of your being not to gag, but you knew that you had to play your part. You took the opportunity to slide your hand down to Tom’s pants and slip in, taking hold of his hard length and began to pump.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he groaned out as he closed his eyes and nuzzled your neck. “Just like that.” You kissed his cheek and then began to get on your knees, gazing into his eyes.

“Let me show you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” you said seductively. Once fully on your knees, you looked up at him as you took his length into your mouth and started to bob your head. In and out. In and out. Tom’s moans filled the bathroom as he turned the water to hot and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“Oh yeah, baby. Such a good girl,” he said as he gripped the back of your head with his free hand. You felt him grow closer to climax and sped up your movements, hoping that your plan would work. You felt Tom grow harder and felt his balls tighten, and just as he was about to hit his peak, you bit down. Hard. Blood poured out of your mouth as you felt the flesh part beneath your teeth.

“FUCK!” Tom yelled as you grabbed his testicles and twisted. He howled in pain as you took the chance to push him down and run out of the bathroom, making sure to close the door to put some distance between the two of you. You could hear Tom yelling out in pain, still in the shower, and heard him stumble, trying to get up. You glanced at the front door at the end of a hallway to the left of the bathroom, and you bolted.

Thank god he didn’t think I’d ever try to escape, you thought as you yanked the front door open and ran outside. You ran out into the street as fast as you could and turned, running to the nearest house, which was a good hundred yards away.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH GET BACK HERE!” You heard Tom yell as you made your way to the neighbor’s home. You chanced a glance over your shoulder and saw Tom holding onto his groin, bleeding onto his pants, as he tried to run after you. You managed to make it to the other house and began to pound on the door.

“PLEASE!!! HELP ME!!!” You shouted in desperation. “PLEASE, OPEN THE DOOR!” You heard a rustling behind the door, and it quickly opened. You came face to face with a middle-aged man and woman, eyes wide, with two children sitting on the couch behind them. You must’ve been quite a sight, completely naked and bruised, running for your life, with blood around your mouth and face. The man saw Tom behind you and quickly huddled you into the house as his wife grabbed the phone and called 911. The man shut the door and locked it as Tom finally made his way to the door to start pounding on it.

❗️END TRIGGER❗

“Get your ass out here now, you bitch!” Tom howled. The wife had brought over a blanket and given it to you as you sat cowering in the corner. Within minutes you heard sirens blaring and cars screeching to a halt outside the house.

“FREEZE!” You heard an officer yell, and Tom cursed. You chanced a look out the window and saw Tom had his hands up and was kneeling on the ground as an officer came up to cuff him, while another officer came to the door. The couple who’d taken you in opened it, and they looked at you.

“Ma’am, I’m officer Smith; I’m here to escort you to the hospital. We have an ambulance waiting outside,” he said as he held out his hand to you. You clutched the blanket tight to your body as you got up on shaky legs but then collapsed. Officer Smith took it upon himself to pick you up bridal style and carry you to the ambulance as you watched over his shoulder as Tom was placed into the back of a squad car, yelling obscenities the entire time. You looked back at the house and saw the couple watching through their doorway, and the woman nodded to you as you gave her a small smile. You felt pain radiate through your entire body, but you were finally safe.

—AT THE HOSPITAL—

You laid in the emergency room waiting for a doctor to come and see you. You’d been poked and prodded by several nurses and techs, and you were now awaiting the results of the bloodwork and scans that they’d done to see the extent of the damage Tom had caused. You had been given some painkillers to help with the pain, but it didn’t seem to do much. You laid there staring at the ceiling and hoping that this hell could be over with. You heard the door to your room open, and a woman with a clipboard in her hand pulled the curtain back.

“Hello, dear, I’m doctor Chase. How are you feeling?” She asked. You shrugged.

“The painkillers have been somewhat helping, but otherwise, I feel like absolute shit, doc,” you replied. She gave you a small smile and looked down at her clipboard.

“I’m not sure, but has anyone come in and told you the results of the tests?” she asked. You shook your head, unsure of where this was going.

“No, I’ve pretty much just been waiting,” you replied. Doctor Chase sighed and came over to take your hand in hers.

“Sweetie, I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but you were pregnant,” she stated. Your eyes widened as you looked at her.

“I – what? Were?” you managed to croak out in disbelief.

“Judging from your hormone levels and the size of the fetus, you were about four to four and a half months along,” she said. Tears brimmed your eyes.

That meant that it was Dave’s baby.

You had lost Dave’s baby.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, dear, but with the abuse that your body had gone through and the lack of nourishment, you just weren’t able to sustain the pregnancy any longer. It looks like what caused the miscarriage was the injuries you’d gotten to your abdomen,” she explained. “We will have to perform a procedure called a dilation and evacuation, or a D&E, to make sure that your body doesn’t go into shock and cause any issues.” You nodded at her words as she got up, but you were still processing the news.

You’d been pregnant.

With Dave’s baby.

A life that you had created with him.

And Tom had killed your baby.

Again…

Tears streamed down your face as the nurses came to wheel you to the operating room to perform the procedure, and as you were being wheeled, you grabbed the nurse’s hand nearest to you and looked at her.

“Please, could you call Dave?” You begged, not wanting to wake up alone without him.

“Dave?” she asked. You nodded.

“Dave York, please.” She nodded, and you thanked her before they got you under the glaring lights of the operating room. You felt them put a mask over your face and told you to count down from 10.

10…

9...

8…

And your world went dark.

RING! RING! RING!

Dave glanced down from his computer and saw Resnik’s name on the caller ID.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Dave, it’s about her. She’s been found,” Resnik said into the phone. Dave’s heart stopped. He’d been looking for you nonstop since Tom had abducted you, and he’d grown more and more agitated with each passing day. You’d been gone for three months, and the authorities had given up on you. Dave was a little impressed with how well Tom had disappeared from the face of the planet, but his rage was beyond comparison. He was ready to do rip Tom apart piece by piece when he got his hands on him.

“Where is she?” Dave said as he got up from his desk and made his way to his car, ignoring Carol in the kitchen as she looked on curiously.

“She’s at the Lawrence Memorial Hospital of Medford. I’ve sent you the address,” Resnik replied. Dave thanked him and hung up, punching in the address to make his way over to you. He’d driven nearly two hours before he was within city limits and when his phone rang again, this time an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered as he grew closer to the hospital.

“Hello, is this Mr. York?” said a voice.

“This is he,” Dave responded.

“Hi, Mr. York. This is Jenny calling from Lawrence Memorial Hospital. I have a,” she paused, shuffling some papers around and read him your name. “I have her asking for you. She told us to give you a call, but you’re not listed as an emergency contact.”

“I’m a close friend,” Dave replied. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Ok, when you get in, please go to the emergency room lobby and let them know you’re here.” Dave ended the call and quickly sent Resnik a text to track down Tom and get him out of the authorities’ hands. He wanted to deal with Tom himself. Dave pulled into the hospital's parking lot and made his way inside to the emergency room lobby as instructed. When he walked up to the receptionist, he wasn’t sure what he would say, but he braced himself for anything.

“Hi, I’m Dave York. I believe I spoke with a Jenny earlier when she called me,” he suavely said as he looked at the receptionist.

“Hi, Mr. York! I spoke with you earlier, yes,” Jenny replied, swooning at Dave. “She is recovering in room four from surgery, but you can go on back.” Dave nodded to Jenny with a wink and walked over to the door to take him to the rooms. He heard a buzz and the door unlock, and he swiftly made his way to room four. Once outside, he saw a clipboard and a file. He looked around to ensure he wasn’t seen and opened the file, and read the contents.

Multiple fractured ribs.

Bruising on thighs and arms.

Lacerations on the lip.

Mild concussion.

Miscarriage – D&E advised.

Dave looked at the last bit before rereading it. And again. And again.

What?

It can’t be.

She - no, he thought to himself as he placed the file back into its place and walked into the room quietly. He drew back the curtain, and his breath hitched in his throat. There you lay hooked up to several machines with the quiet beeping of your heartbeat on the monitor. You looked beautiful, even with all the bruising and injuries. He walked over to your bedside and saw that you were still asleep, so he pulled up a chair and grabbed your hand, laying a gentle kiss on it

“I’m here, sweet girl,” he whispered as he kissed your hand and waited. “I’m here.”

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

#pedro pascal #dave york pit #suburban murder dad #dave york x nanny!reader #dave york fanfic #dave york x reader #dave york #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction #Dave York #well this is awkward series

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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A Dangerous Game

part 4

masterlist

Never in Y/N’s life had she run so far so fast. She almost thought her heart would explode but whether that was from the exertion or from the panic she didn’t know. The only thing she consciously knew was that she had to get away. She had to get away quickly.

She ducked into a coffee shop and ripped out her phone hurriedly searching for Eun-ho’s number. Each ring of the phone seemed like a knife to her heart, and she could only pray that Eun-ho would answer his phone while constantly peeking out of the window in hopes that neither RM or his men had followed her.

“Y/N?”

She nearly sagged to the floor in relief. “Oh thank God.” She sobbed.

“Y/N? Y/N, what’s wrong?” came the confused voice from the other end of the phone.

“He knows.” She spoke hurriedly panic coloring her tone and drawing the eyes of the patrons in the coffee shop. “I was in the market and he was there. He knows.”

“Who knows?” he asked and one could practically hear him scratching his head in confusion. “And what does he know?”

“He was in the market, and he knows I’m trying to go home. He has someone at the station. He knows everything.”

There was a pause that seemed to go one for ages before he spoke again hushed and suddenly just as worried as she was. “He has someone in the department? Our department?”

“Yes.” She hissed gazing out the window keeping a sharp eye out for RM, Jimin, or any of his lackeys that she might be able to identify, anyone even remotely suspicious really.

“Where are you?” he asked and she could hear movement on the other end of the phone. “I’ll come get you.”

“I’m at a coffee shop near the market. I… I don’t know what to do. I just ran out of there. He could still be in the market. He could be coming here. I don’t know I just… I panicked. I ran!”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Hurry.” She begged. “Eun-ho!” she suddenly yelped just before he could hang up.

“Y/N?”

“Don’t tell anyone. I don’t know who he has on the inside.”

“I promise. Just stay there, and I’ll be there soon.”

She didn’t know how long it took Eun-ho to get there but it felt like hours. Each moment moved by at a snail’s pace. She sat there staring out the window with her heartbeat pounding in her ears like a drum counting off the endless seconds. Each moment that Eun-ho wasn’t there was another moment were RM or his goons could find her and take her away to whatever fate RM had cooked up for her. He was a man with a plan and somehow over the course of a few weeks and two meetings, he had decided that she was a part of his plans.

What could he want with her though? She wasn’t of any use to him. She didn’t have connections or money. She had herself and a cat back home that looked more like a loaf than a cat, and she doubted RM’s interest was in her loaf of a cat. What was his interest?

Marcus was dead, and most of his associates were in prison or dead. And Marcus wouldn’t have had enough influence to even be noticeable to a man like RM so it couldn’t have been because of him or his former partners. Jackson. She needed to call Jackson.

She dialed the number with shaking fingers and waited for him to pick up. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. She was about to give up hope when the familiar voice echoed through the speakers. “Hello?”

“Jackson!” she cried out in relief thankful that the man had answered.

“Y/N? What are you doing calling here? Are the cops over there not taking good care of you? Need me to beat someone up?” the man joked not knowing the seriousness of the situation at hand.

“Papillon.” As soon as the word was spoken there was dead silence on the other side of the phone.

“Y/N.” his tone was solemn. He knew just as well as she did what that word represented. Of all the people from her life before, Jackson was the only one she still had contact with, the only one she trusted. “Y/N, what happened? Are you safe? Can you speak freely?” It had been years since either of them had had need of this system, and they had both hoped there would never be a need for it again.

“I’ve run into a problem, and I’m coming home. If you haven’t heard from me within the next two days, something went wrong, really wrong.”

“Damn it.” He hissed. “I knew sending you over there was a bad idea. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’ll take twice as long to get out of here if I wait for you to come.” She shook her head though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll be back as soon as I can get on a plane, but I needed to let you know what was going on.”

“Who is it, Y/N? Who did those bastards get you mixed up with?” he growled.

“I don’t know what his real name is, but they call him RM. And he’s…” she paused taking in a shuddering breath. “Jackson, he’s worse than Marcus ever was. The guy’s like a freaking James Bond villain.”

“Two days, Y/N. If you’re not home in two days, I’m coming to get you myself.”

“Okay.” She whispered relieved just to hear his voice, relieved that he knew.

“Two days, Y/N.” he sighed heavily, and she could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work out a plan. “Be safe, Y/N.”

“I will.” She promised as the phone clicked signaling the end of the call.

She took another deep breath and peeking out the window again to see if Eun-ho was there yet. Having Jackson know the situation had settled her racing heart somewhat, but she wouldn’t be able to breathe gain until Eun-ho was here and she was safely on a flight out of Korea, far away from RM because whatever he wanted from her it couldn’t be good. God, how she wished she had never come here.

She could have been home. She could have flat out refused to come, and she should have. She never should have let them talk her into this. She knew it was idiotic, but then again maybe she was an idiot. She’d been an idiot all those years ago when she’d first become involved with Marcus and she was an idiot now.

“Y/N!” Eun-ho asked walking into the coffee shop looking every bit as frazzled as she felt. Granted she probably looked just as frazzled.

She rushed towards him and pulled him right back out the door. “We need to go.”

The rest of the day was a blur, a horrible blur. Every moment was spent glancing over her shoulder to ensure that she wasn’t being followed by a man she was coming to firmly believe was the devil. There were plane tickets to buy, suitcases to pack, a landlord to tell that the apartment would no longer be in use. And all of this had to be done with just the two of them because who else could they trust?

They knew that there was someone in the department who worked for RM, but was it only one? She wasn’t entirely sure that she could trust Eun-ho, but she didn’t exactly have another choice.

“Y/N? We need to go to the airport.”

They had been extremely lucky to get onto a flight out of Korea on the same day, and neither of them was willing to risk being late to the airport especially for an international flight especially when it was already so late at night.

“I know. I’m coming.” She called after him pulling her suitcase behind her as she went hurrying to the car.

Within the next few minutes they had packed up the car and were on their way to the airport.

“Deep breathes, Y/N ssi.” He smiled at her though neither of them found the gesture particularly comforting. “You’ll be on a plane and out of here in two hours.” He promised. Though she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled like a rock in her stomach.

There was a chance no matter how careful they had been that RM knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. There would always be a chance with that man. She might not have known the man well, but she knew that with such absolute certainty that it was ingrained on her soul. There would always be a part of her that even when she was safely home with her loaf of a cat and Jackson that was looking over her shoulder for RM just like she would always be looking over her shoulder for the remnants of Marcus’ old empire.

“You’ll go home, and he’ll lose interest.” That should have been reassuring. That fact should have been like a weight lifted from her shoulders, but it wasn’t all because of that dread that had made its home within her.

“What does it mean?” she suddenly asked looking over at him. “The word he called me before I ran. What does it mean?”

Even though it was dark she could still see the way he tensed his hands gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it. “It doesn’t matter.”

Somehow she was unconvinced. “Eun-ho.”

“It doesn’t matter. Trust me.”

“You’re holding onto that steering wheel like it owes you money. I think it matters.” She glared at him though he couldn’t see it with the way his eyes were glued ahead of him in an attempt to avoid her gaze.

They sat there in a tense silence for a few minutes before he finally relented. “It like dear or sweat heart or honey. It’s a term of endearment.”

The silence returned only heavier this time. “Oh.” She murmured the word barely even a sound as it left her. He was right. She didn’t actually want to know that.

Jagiya. It was her new least favorite word. Knowing that he had called her that sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. Marcus had had pet names for her. Doll. Babe. Bitch. Slut. Marcus had called her a lot of things over their time together not all of them either good or endearing, but she had never hated a pet name more than she had hated jagiya. Or perhaps it was the fact that she hated the man who said it. As much as she had hated Marcus he had never frightened her as much RM did.

“Hey, Eun-ho. That car behind us is really close.” Her gaze was glued to the car riding their tail. “They’re getting closer.”

Everything in her was screaming that something was very very wrong. Eun-ho hummed his agreement and sped up hoping to put some space between them and the SUV behind them.

“Eun-ho.” Her voice warbled as the panic began to rise as the car sped up as well.

“I know. I see them.” He assured her while speeding up a little more.

“Eun-ho!” she shrieked as they collided with the car behind them.

The world was all spinning and screeching tires for a few horrifying seconds. There was screaming but whether it was her own or her companion’s she didn’t know. And then they were still again. She looked over at Eun-ho only to see him still bent over the steering wheel. Blood was dripping from a cut on his forehead.

The next crash was just as unexpected as the first. It was as though a bull had ran head long into the driver’s side pushing them even further off the road with a sickening crunch a spray of glass. This time she knew the scream was hers before the world was black.

There was a buzzing in her ears, high pitched and annoying. Where was it coming from? Wherever and whatever it was did not make the pain in her head any better, it even seemed to make it worse. it was a harsh throbbing pain spreading out from the crown of her head and working its way back. But it was the buzzing that bothered her most.

She tried to move a hand to her forehead but found herself whimpering in pain instead. The movement had exacerbated both the buzzing and the pain causing instant regret.

“Don’t move, jagiya.” Cooed a voice to the side of her, or at least she thought it was coming from her side.

“Eun-ho.” She groaned out searching for the other passenger, wincing as the buzzing became worse.

“Everything will be alright, jagi.” The voice cooed as she was gently shifted out of the car though the movement still elicited a pained whimper from her. “I know.” He cooed. “Hush, jagi.”

“Eun-ho.” She whimpered again as she was settled into what she assumed was a pair of arms. It was either that or she was floating. The buzzing and the pain made it hard to tell.

“I know, jagi. Everything is going to be fine now. Just sleep.”

And she did.

part 5

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon #mafia namjoon #rm #rm x reader #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #soft yandere

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adezahnae · 4 years ago

Text

My Protector (Part 4.1)

A/N: This is FINAL PART FOR MY PROTECTOR!! This is a long chapter so there will be TWO parts for this one! This seems rushed or fast but there will be a time skip in here so no one will get confused! I hope you enjoyed this series💕😭

Warnings: Shooting, angst, cursing, slight smut, death, plot twist, betrayal, etc..

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Tagged People: @ahgasearmyfan @whoreforshuaaa

A month and week later...

Ten’s POV

I watched as Bailey played with her toys as she sat on the floor. Y/n was on the phone with Jacob. That bastard.. “Okay. Love you.” She said and then she hung up. “Okay Bailey, Daddy isn’t coming back home tonight. It’s just me and you.” Y/n said. “And Ten!!” She exclaimed. I smiled. “Yeah. And Ten.” She said. I smirked at her, hinting at what she meant. Apparently me and Y/n are just fucking everyday now. And she said a one time thing...One time thing my ass.

I wanted to be happy but I had a lot of things on my mind. This week was my deadline. I kept asking for time but this is final line, it has to be today. I haven’t made a move to kill neither person. Jacob is never here and I’m not killing Y/n or Bailey. My plan is to kill that bastard. He is who I want dead in the first place. I have to find a way to get him here.

As I was looking around, I seen that there was suitcase. I seen that it was one of his. I smirked. He has a reason to come back now. I was taken out of my thoughts by Y/n. “Ten?” She called. “Yes?” I replied. “Bailey is napping.” She said. I looked down and seen that she was in a robe. I smirked.

I took her by the hand and led her upstairs to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and pressed her lips against mine. If I’m gonna be leaving this world soon, I might as well get one last fuck in with her. We laid down on the bed and you know what happens...

Your POV

I moaned out as Ten rolled his hips into me. I groaned out scratched down his back. He was ramming in me like it was the last time he would be with me. He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head.

He groaned out my name. “Fuckkk Y/n..” I whimpered as I felt myself reach my high. “Ten I’m...I’m gonna. He took my leg and put it on his shoulder ramming his hips harder. I screamed out and gripped his hands that were on mine. He came after me and groaned into my neck. He planted kisses on my neck as he came down from his high. I felt my eyes get drowsy from the exhaustion of two hours of sex. He pulled out and got off the bed. I was too sleepy to care at the moment. I fell asleep softly.

Ten’s POV

I looked over to see Y/n fast asleep. I put my clothes back on and took her phone. I texted Jacob telling him that he left one of his suitcases here. I waited for a reply and he said he was fifteen minutes away. I sat her phone down again and walked downstairs, loading a gun. I closed her room door and waited in the living room for him to come in the door.

I shut out all of the lights and sat down in a chair. After 12 minutes, I heard the keys unlock the door. He opened the door, calling Y/n’s name. “Y/n!! Where are you Y/n?!” He yelled. He cut the lights on and it revealed me. He jumped and I smirked. “Hello..Jacob.” I said.

No one POV

“Where is my wife?” Jacob asked Ten. Ten hummed, sitting back. “She’s upstairs, asleep and fucked out.” Ten replied. “Fucked out? Excuse me?” He asked. Ten rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, I fucked your wife.” Ten said. “You did WHAT?!” “Shhhh...don’t wake up Bailey and Y/n..” He said. Jacob started to walk towards Ten but he stopped once Ten’s gun aimed at him. “Sit your ass down and don’t fucking move..” Ten said.

Jacob hurriedly did so and put his hands up. “Okay..Ten let’s talk this out..” He said. Ten laughed. “You know..the fact that you even think I want to talk to you after all of these years is hilarious.” Ten said. “What? Do I know you?” He asked. “Aww you don’t remember me? Don’t ‘broke down slave’ ring a bell?” Ten asked. Jacob gasped.

“Chittaphon..” He said. “Ding. You got it asshole.” Ten said. “Chittaphon what the hell did you do with my wife?!” He asked. “I told you I fucked her.” Ten replied bluntly. “You bastard! You fucked my wife! I outta Kill-“ Jacob was cut off by a gunshot. Ten shot the floor beside him. “Shut up Jacob, you don’t give a damn about Y/n.” Ten said.

“Let me go, Chittaphon. I’m you’re friend to the very end-“ “BULLSHIT! RIGHT WHEN YOUR PARENTS BUILT THEIR COMPANY, YOU DITCHED ME AND TREATED ME LIKE I WAS YOUR SLAVE!” Ten yelled. Ten shot the wall beside Jacob. “OKAY OKAY! LOOK! I KNOW BUT PLEASE, THIS ISN’T RIGHT! YOU HAVE NO REASON TO KILL ME.” Jacob yelled. “Have many damn reasons to kill you and I won’t go go jail for it neither.” Ten said.

“Just let me go...please Chittaphon.” Jacob begged. “No.” Ten said pointing his gun at Jacob. Just then, Y/n came downstairs and gasped. “Ten what are you doing?!” She yelled. “Go back upstairs baby.” Ten said smirking. “You don’t tell my wife what to do. Y/n stay right where you are and call the cops now!” Jacob said. Y/n sat there in confusion of what to do. “My kitten, are you gonna listen to me or are you gonna listen to your husband?” Ten asked. “Chittaphon, shut the hell up! Y/n, honey call the cops for me.” Jacob said.

“You have no right to tell her to do something for you.” Ten said. “What do you mean?” Y/n asked. “Jacob tell Y/n why you were in New York, fucking a high school slut?” Ten asked. “What?!” You exclaimed. “Yes baby. Your loving husband here has been having an affair the entire time he away or what he calls ‘working’” Ten said with air quotations. “Baby, listen to me. Nothing happened.” Jacob lied. I sighed. “And Y/n you know that shoot out that happened at the restaurant? Ask him who called it.” Ten said. “Y/n. Call the cops!” Jacob said. “Who called it Jake?” Y/n asked.

Jacob groaned of frustration. “Damn it bitch! call the-“ “BITCH?!” Y/n exclaimed. Ten shot at the floor in front of Jake making him jump and scream. “Watch your mouth.” Ten warned. “Who called it?!” She yelled again. “Don’t make her ask a third time.” Ten said. Jake sighed. “I did...” “WHAT?! WHY?!” Y/n exclaimed. “Tell her why, damn it...” Ten growled. “I wanted you out of the picture..” “ And why was that, huh? HUH?!” Y/n yelled. “I wanted to have it all to me and...Megan.” He said. “You sick asshole...YOU WERE GONNA REPLACE ME WITH MEGAN?! MY BEST FRIEND?!” She yelled. Jake sighed.

“Y/n..baby come here. I’m sorry..” Jake said with hurt in his eyes. “Come here baby. Come to me.” Ten said. Y/n walked towards Ten and Ten pulled her on his lap. He kissed her neck. “Good girl..” He praised. “Y/n, this man is dangerous..He’s an assassin!” Jacob blurted. “What?!” Y/n said turning to Ten. Ten seemed unfazed. “Yes! He’s also from a rich family! His family left him in the dust he had to live with grandmother!” Jacob spat.

“Why did you do this? Why did you become an assassin?” Y/n asked. Ten pulled Y/n closer towards him. “Don’t worry about that..” He mumbled in her ear, kissing it. Y/n shuttered at his lips on her ear. “He was supposed to kill you!” Jacob said. You pulled away from Ten and gasped. A tear fell down your eye. “You wanted to kill me to?” She mumbled. “Yes!! He was going to! That was his mission!” Jacob exclaimed. “I can’t believe this, you tried to kill me. but...you didn’t though..he did..” Y/n said turning to Jake.

“That’s right. You see, dumbass, the mission was to hurt you. So I was assigned to kill Y/n to hurt you. But it’s not like you would have cared anyways. You cheated on her five times in two days.” Ten explained. “Why didn’t you kill her?” Jake asked. “I fell in love with her while I watched over her.” Ten admitted. Y/n felt her heart pump at those words. Jake grunted. “Y/n..this man is dangerous!” He said. “Yet you hired an assassin to be my bodyguard? You knew that he was dangerous! What if he did kill me and Bailey? Huh?!” Y/n exclaimed. Jake sighed.

“He wanted me to. Am I right?” Ten asked. Jake sighed. “Y/n, grab my phone and call the cops. Here take it.” Jake said. “No.” Y/n said. “No?! What do you mean no?! Do it!” Jake said. “Honey please..I need you for this!!” He begged. “Don’t listen to him, baby. Listen to me.” Ten whispered while turning your head in his direction. He placed his lips on your and gave you a loving kiss. “Y/n don’t fall for it!” Jake yelled.

She wrapped her hands around his neck, getting lost in the kiss. “Y/n! Baby...Please! I love you!” Jacob begged tears running down his face. Ten pulled away and caressed her chin. “Who are you gonna listen to, hm?” He asked. “You, baby..I’ll listen to you..” Y/n mumbled. Ten smirked. “Good girl..” He whispered. “You dumb bitch! You chose a dangerous man over me?! Your husband!? He has nothing for you!! You are to love me! Not him!!” Jake yelled. Ten shot him a look. “Aww, now are you hurt?” Ten asked. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!” Jacob yelled

Just then, Bailey came downstairs. Y/n rushed to Bailey, picking her up. “Bailey, go back in your room okay?” She said. “But I wanna see Daddy..” She mumbled. Jake gasped. “Come to daddy! Come here Bailey!” Jacob said. Just as he thought Bailey was coming to him, she went to Ten, hugging his legs. “You turned my daughter against me?!” Jacob cried. Ten kissed Bailey’s forehead. “So what?” He asked.

“So what?! Ha! She’s my daughter, she’s only three. She’ll come back to me. You can hold her nor Y/n. They need me..” Jake growled. Ten chuckled and placed a hand over Y/n stomach and kissed her cheek. “You sure they would come back?” Ten asked. “No...you didn’t..” Jake mumbled. “Yeah, gave your wife the baby she always wanted and your daughter the sibling she always wanted..” Ten said. Bailey put her hand over Ten’s finger, feeling Y/n belly as well. “Baby brother?” Bailey asked. Ten smiled at her. “Maybe..” He said.

“Bailey, I’m daddy! Listen to me!!” Jacob said. “No..Daddy..” She said while hugging Ten tightly. “Y/n! Say something!!” Jacob cried. “No..I hate you...” Y/n said crying. Jacob growled. “Fine then..YOU WILL ALL DIE!” He got up of the floor and grabbed his phone. Ten growled lowly. “Cover your eyes Bailey.” Ten said. Y/n quickly grabbed Bailey and covered her eyes. “HELLO?! CALL IT IN NOW!” Jacob yelled. He hung up the phone and turned to Ten. “You’re done for Chittaphon!” He yelled. Ten shot Jacob in the head making Y/n scream and Bailey cry. “Rest in hell, best friend..” Ten said.

#ten x reader #wayv ten #wayv ff #ten nct #wayv x reader #nct x reader #nct ff #super m x reader #ten smut

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in-tua-deep · 4 years ago

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Prompt idea that I sincerely don't know anywhere else to put out, but what if, one mother of the seven like... delayed giving up the baby idk why, but like, in the end the child goes to the academy, but like... they know the world outside this mansion full of all sorts of abuse and violence, and so is trying to bring good sense and awareness to all of other children somehow, even though like... you don't know very much or correctly the things in general, but is trying anyway because yeah

okay okay i will bite

it's gonna be Five bc u know how I roll by now and you didn't specify a child, so this is a non-twin world uwu

I see some people naming him Fievel so we're gonna have to go with that, nicknamed Five by the other kids who thought it was absolutely hilarious to ask "which one?" whenever Reginald snaps “Five!”

Though officially, of course, Five is number seven.

So Fievel is born in a park to a mother who was never prepared to have achild, but held him in the hospital and looked into the eyes of a man offering her money for her newborn and she says - no.

Because she’s poor, yes, and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet, and this man might be able to provide for her child but - she doesn’t like the fact that he offered her money. As though he could place a price on a human life.

(His stupid mustache might have played a role as well. Bastard.)

So she keeps little Fievel, and it’s hard. It’s so hard. Babies are expensive, and she was barely making enough as it was, but her best friend works from home and offers to take him sometimes during the day instead of a more expensive daycare. Some of her other friends ask around relatives and friends and hunt through garage sales until she has a passable amount of baby items.

It would be easier if Fievel wasn’t such a precocious child. He’s curious and into everything, a loud baby that demands attention.

“C’mon Fi,” She begs her three-year-old son from where she’s draped across the sofa. Aren’t kids supposed to sleep a lot? Why did she end up with the one kid in the world who is on the go twenty four seven? “Can we please take a nap?”

“No.” Fievel says with a mulish look in his eyes and he shoves a book towards her face and almost takes her eye out with a corner of it, “Wead to me.”

And she sighs, and she’s so tired, but she hauls herself up and pats the sofa next to her and her little boy beams at her with such - such love that it almost takes her breath away. “Dogger, again? How many times have we read this?”

Fievel kicks at her with his little soft foot, and she catches it in a hand and smiles and she drops the book in her lap to bring her other hard over to dust feather light fingertips against her baby’s sides.

He’s terribly ticklish and giggles even as he shrieks “NO” loud enough that their neighbors will probably complain to her about it again. But in that moment she doesn’t care as she brings her head down to blow raspberries on her son’s stomach and make him laugh.

She loves him so much.

(But she never has any time. Her friendships are more distant now, because she’s either at work or spending time with her son. She’s always exhausted because she works such long hours and Fievel keeps her awake when she’s a home. She doesn’t blame him, he didn’t ask to be born into the world any more than she asked for him, really. But it’s hard.)

Fievel is a curious child. She takes him to children’s museums and zoos on the discount days and watches him run around with seemingly endless energy. She has to keep a careful eye on him otherwise he will disappear, get distracted and wander off no matter how many times she’s tried to tell him to never do so.

Then he turns four.

Her baby is so smart. And he’s restless. And even though the place she works has a daycare through them, the people there are one incident away from banning Fievel. She thinks that’s dumb, considering they’re the ones that didn’t watch Fievel closely enough and lost him almost four times in recent months.

So she signs him up for preschool.

She gets him a brand new outfit for the day, fussing over him until he’s all squirmy and pouty and slapping her hands away with all the grump that a four-year-old can muster.

She sends him off to daycare with ruffled hair and a wide smile and tries not to worry too much.

She’s at work when she gets a call from the school informing her that they’ve lost her son. She hurriedly lets her boss know and sweeps out of work without a backwards glance, showing up at the school just as her phone rings again and a flustered individual informs her that they’ve located him.

“I have no idea how he got out.” The frazzled teacher looks close to tears when she meets with the poor woman, giving Fievel a fierce look that promises that they will be having a talk about this.

“I din’t do anything.” Fievel pipes up mulishly, “I didn’t go nowhere, the class did.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, and faces the teacher apologetically. After a pointed comment from a friend, she’s been vaguely looking into ADHD since her kid is like this, “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’ll - I’ll make sure to keep a better eye on him.” The woman looks floored that she isn’t tearing strips out of the school administration for losing her toddler. Actually when it’s phrased like that she probably should be more pissed off. But she also knows her kid and what a handful her is.

So she takes him home and sits him down.

“This can’t happen again, Fi.” She tells him, and he’s got his little arms crossed and he’s pouting with his entire body. “I mean it. I had to leave work, and you know I have to work.”

“You don’t hafta.” Fievel says harshly, “What about me?”

She sits on the couch next to him, heart heavy, “Baby, you know I have to work so that we can have things and go places.”

Her son scrabbles up on his knees and puts his hand on her arms and gives her big eyes, “I don’t need lotsa toys. An’ we don’t hafta go to the zoo.”

“Oh baby,” She pulls him into her arms and lets him snuggle into her, “I gotta work. And you gotta go to school and be good. Okay? You can’t be leaving the classroom again.”

“I din’t mean to.” Fievel sniffles, and she hugs him just a little tighter as the tears start to flow.

“It’s okay.” She murmurs into his hair, “I got you.”

To his credit, Fievel does his best. He still manages to leave the classroom somehow, seemingly whenever the teacher is looking away. No one seems to know how he does it. Emma who sits next to him exclaims that he just vanished like he went BAM and wasn’t there all of a sudden!

(Oh, the imagination of four-year-olds, the teacher thinks to herself.)

But whenever he does he seems to come back within fifteen to thirty minutes. Sometimes the teacher doesn’t even notice he’s gone before he’s knocking on the (locked) classroom door to be let back in. They don’t call his mother about the incidents anymore and the teachers nickname him Houdini with a sort of despair.

Fievel is four-and-a-half when he’s taking a walk with his mother down to the park. He’s got his little rainboots on because he always wades into the pond and he likes the slosh of the water on his feet when it goes over the top, and his little duck shirt. He’s making loud quacking noises which don’t actually sound anything like a duck but when he looks at her for approval she nods with a smile.

They’re crossing the road at the crosswalk, holding hands because they always do, when the car comes careening around the corner.

She can’t react in time, eyes widening and she’s hollering and she moves to push her son and she only has eyes for him as she places her body between him and the car and -

She watches his eyes go wide and afraid and she

watches

him

disappear

and then the car clips her and she’s sent sprawling and that’s the last thing she remembers.

She wakes up in the hospital hours later with a concussion, a broken arm, several broken ribs, and a lots of scrapes. She’s lucky, they tell her. She demands to know where her son is.

Hours later, when she’s worked herself up into a right tizzy, her son sprints into the room followed shortly by some very harried looking cops and she has to haul him into the bed so that he doesn’t hurt himself getting up.

“Gentle, gentle.” She warms him, wincing when he bangs a knee into her bad ribs, “I’m a little tender at the moment, baby.”

“You got hurt!” Fievel yells at the tops of his lungs and then immediately bursts into loud and terrified tears. So she ignores her bad ribs and messed up arm and cradles him close to her making shushing noises and stroking his back until he’s cried himself out and drops off right there in the hospital bed.

She gets out of the hospital with a cast and a bill she can’t afford right now and she sits Fievel down on the couch.

She wants to write off the fact that her son literally vanished before her eyes to the concussion. But - she thinks about a locked preschool classroom and a son that has a tendency to vanish when she takes her eyes off of him and -

It makes too much sense.

“Baby.” She asks, “Can you teleport?”

“What’s tell-ee-port?” Fievel asks, scrunching up his nose.

“Do you find yourself in other places without getting up and going to them?”

“Yeah.” Fievel states it so easily, like she’s dumb. “I told you so.”

She pressed her fingers to her face, “Can you do it now?”

Fievel frowns and then scrunches up his face real hard and then -

He’s gone. And then he’s opening his bedroom door and scurrying back out. He runs over and tugs at her pants eagerly, “I did it! Did I do good?”

She crouches down and ruffles his hair even though it kills her ribs, because she can’t pick him up with a broken arm. “Yeah baby,” She praises him, mind moving at an hour a minute, “You did good.”

That night she lays in her bed and watches Fievel’s chest rise and fall as he sleeps. He sprawls out like a starfish but sometimes in the night always buries himself into her side like a tick. She’s put a pillow in between them to try and spare her poor ribs, but she has doubts it will work.

Her son can fucking teleport.

That’s when she cries. Because she loves her son, but he’s a handful. She didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice that he son has a superpower. Doesn’t that make her the worst mother in the world?

Crying is a terrible idea. Her ribs are painful enough that she can’t sleep. She needs to ration her pain medication because they really can’t afford it.

How is she supposed to handle this? How is she supposed to raise a child that can vanish without a second thought? Her bright beautiful boy who loves feeding the ducks and being pushed on the swings and playing unfathomable games with his friend Emma that she can’t even begin to understand the plot of.

(She’s almost certain one of them is supposed to be a cheetah for some reason? Or a lion? There’s a lot of running involved in the game, and hiding.)

It’s a few months later when her arm is healed and her ribs are better and Fievel is turning five when everything comes crashing down. Because she doesn’t get a call from the school. She gets a call from the police.

Apparently Fievel managed to get out of the school far enough away that he got lost. He admits tearfully to her that he’s been getting further and further away when he ‘jumps’ - and it’s not his fault. He tries not to jump. But it happens whether he wants it to or not and if he keeps getting further and further away then -

She thinks of a car and a road and putting her body between death and her son. And she thinks about the fact that when he jumps, she isn’t there.

Look. She’s not stupid. She always knew that her kid wasn’t exactly a normal child.

(Hello. He’s practically a miracle. She wasn’t exactly a virgin but that doesn’t really matter when she was very suddenly nine months pregnant where she hadn’t been before.)

So she reckons that the powers have something to do with that. And who does she know that definitely has a child who was also one of the miracle babies?

(He’d mentioned he’d already acquired like, what, four kids when he came to see her. As though that was supposed to make her want to give up her kid even more.)

So she requests some vacation days (that she can’t afford) and she pulls Fievel out of preschool for a week (it’s preschool it’s not that important) and they fly over to a city where she can hopefully get some answers.

(Fievel spends the whole flight with his face pressed to the window and his plane toy clutched tightly in one hand and his stuffed dog in the other as he enthusiastically makes whooshing noises.)

And she goes up the the big mansion thing and knocks and goes inside where she smiles at Fievel and tells him to go play with the other children while she talks to Mr. Hargreeves, thank you baby.

As she clenches her hands into fists and listens to Sir Reginald Hargreeves condescend to her about her ability as a mother, Fievel enthusiastically bounces over to the kids his age who stare at him like they’ve never seen anything like him before in their life.

(“I’m Fievel!” He introduces himself loudly, “And this is Doggy! My mama is here to speak to your dad.”

“Uh. I’m Six.” A bewildered little girl says back.

Fievel blinks, “Oh! I just turned five.”

The girl giggles, “No! No I mean my name’s Six. but I’m five-years-old as well.”

“That’s a funny name.” Fievel says.

“Nuh uh.” The girl refutes, “Your name is weird. See, ‘cause we’re all numbers ‘n you’re not.”

And he’s introduced to them all. One is tall and awkward looks. Two hides behind the others a little bit. Three has her hands on her hips and she looks at him, but softens when he tells her that he likes her hair. Four is a skinny wisp of a kid, with big wide eyes and no sense of personal space. Five sticks pretty close to Four. And Six, of course, is the one who talked to him first which obviously means that they’re temporary best friends.

Temporary, because of course Emma is his best friend. ‘Cause she’s in his class and they sit near each other and play together with each other first.)

And his mother comes out to Fievel bossing the others around and them going with it, all with bewildered little expressions on their faces. Fievel is balancing on the back of the sofa next to a little girl who is holding Doggy, possibly in the middle of an evil villain speech? The little girl is solemnly petting Doggy like she’s a Bond villain at the very least.

It makes her smile, just a little bit.

“Fievel, baby, can you come here for a second?” She asks, and her son beams at him and vanishes from his seat over to by her leg where he pulls on her leg so that she’ll sweep him up into her arms.

(The children gape at him, all wide eyes and staring between them and their father like they’re shocked. And they probably are. Reginald has informed her that none of them can teleport, but they do have a variety of weird powers between them.)

“You know that you’re getting big.” She says, and she tries not to cry, “And you’re not going to be in preschool soon enough.”

“Yeah!” He enthuses, “Gonna learn real stuff!”

And that’s just like her son. Voraciously hungry for knowledge.

“Well, this is a school for very special people.” She tells him, and watches his eyes go big and round, “People who... can teleport, for example.”

Fievel considers that. And then twists around to look at the other children, “You can teleport?” He demands loudly, like it’s a betrayal of the highest form that they’ve been friends for an hour and this hasn’t been brought up. And maybe it is. She doesn’t claim to understand the intricacies of children’s hierarchy.

“Uh uh!” A little boy exclaims, frowning. “I can just throw stuff real good.”

“I’m strong.” Another little boy offers. And then proceeds to demonstrate this by picking up half the couch and sending the little girl careening onto the floor with a shout, but she gets up and dusts herself off easily enough.

“Okay.” Fievel says brightly, appeased by this somehow as he twists back to his mother expectantly.

“Okay.” She says, her mouth dry. “Well. This is a special school for special kids. It’s, uh. It’s a boarding school.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you stay here.” She tells him. “I’ll - I’ll come and see you when I can. And you can call me whenever you want. But you have to stay here.”

“Like a sleepover?” Fievel asks, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“A little bit.” Her smile feels weak and forced and she can’t even see it. “Like a lot of sleepovers all in a row. And when you wake up, you don’t need to go anywhere because you live at the school.”

“Uh uh. I live at home.”

“Baby...” She cards her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s scary. I don’t want you to go either - ”

“Then I don’t gotta.” Fievel says, matter of fact as he starts wiggling to get down. She hefts him up in her arms.

“Baby. Fievel. Listen to me.” She says firmly, “I can’t take care of you well enough.”

He looks at her with betrayed eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t control your powers.” She tells him softly, because she loves him and she doesn’t want to give him up but - “I can’t keep you safe, baby. And the teachers can’t keep you safe. But you’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want to.” Fievel says, loudly. In the tone which says that a tantrum is approaching.

“You’ll learn how to control your powers!” She says in a forced cheery voice.

“I’m going to school with Emma.” Fievel insists in a slightly louder voice.

“You’re already getting along great with the other kids.” She insists.

“NO.” Fievel says, at maximum volume, and then he’s gone from her arms and she’s stumbling because it’s weird to go from holding something to nothing.

“He’ll show up in a bit.” She assures Sir Hargreeves, beyond tired. He’s been watching the whole interaction and she hopes he hasn’t gotten a negative impression of her son.

If he’s able to handle six other super powered children then surely he can handle hers. No matter what he asks. No matter how difficult it was to sign over the rights to her child. He promised that she can visit Fievel on weekends whenever she wants, for however long her son wants to do so.

He’s going to keep her child safe. He won’t be running out onto streets. He’ll be able to train his powers, be able to control them, and maybe one day -

(Maybe one day she’ll get her baby back. Safe and sound in her arms and able to control his powers so she doesn’t have to worry at all.)

So she leaves, and she leaves Fievel alone. And no matter how much he screams and cries and begs, no one lets him go back to his mother. He tries to run off, tries to jump away and follow after her - but a blond woman in pristine skirts comes and retrieves him.

(He tries to jump away, but she keeps coming and finding him until he’s too tired to protest when she carries him back to his new (prison) school in her arms.)

Reginald tries to lock him in his room. He jumps out. Reginald tries to put him in time out. He jumps out. Reginald says he doesn’t get any dinner. Fievel jumps downstairs and raids the cupboards in the night.

It becomes an intense battle of wills between Sir Reginald Hargreeves and little Fievel.

Locks go on the cabinets, Fievel breaks them off by bashing them with one of the bookends he manages to snag. Reginald refuses to let Fievel play with the others. Fievel runs away again and has to be brought back by the blond lady.

(“You can call me Grace if you’re so against mom.” she had told him demurely, after he yelled himself hoarse telling her that she’s not his mother that he has a mother and that she’s so much better in every way)

Then Reginald takes Doggy away, and Fievel begrudgingly has to fall in line lest he risk his stuffed companion. One of the only links to his real life he has.

(He doesn’t even get to keep his clothes. He has to wear the stiff awful uniform that the other kids wear. It’s the absolute worst. He looks stupid but no one listens to him.)

When his mother comes to visit, Fievel is sullen and still angry with her for abandoning him. He sulks and doesn’t talk to her a lot.

He grows like this. The Umbrella Academy turns six, and then others receive names after Fievel loudly points out that having numbers for names is weird and that no one should ever trust a man who names his kids numbers it’s lazy and stupid.

So One becomes Luther and Two becomes Diego and Three becomes Allison and Four becomes Klaus and Five becomes Ben and Six becomes Vanya.

And Fievel becomes Five.

They all think it’s really funny, that they all get names instead of numbers and Five gets a number instead of a name.

He’s six and Reginald sits him down and tells him in no uncertain terns that his mother essentially sold him. That Reginald controls him. And if Five isn’t a good boy then... well. Bad boys don’t get to visit their mothers.

(Reginald finds a far more... effective way of controlling Five than a stuffed animal.)

(Good boys also don’t talk to their mothers about their training. They smile and act happy and lie because they want to keep seeing her. They don’t tell her about how scary it is, how they desperately want to come home, how maybe their mother could take all the kids because they don’t even have mothers and it isn’t fair.)

So Five grows bigger, gets new uniform, clashes with Reginald as much as he dares, and settles in to life at the academy. He sprawls across Vanya’s floor and tries to remember all the story books he read with his mother.

(There’s only grown up books in the manor that they’re expected to read. And Five likes them, he loves to learn, but - he misses storytime. He misses the wonderful books about adventure and other worlds. He misses when he felt like he was going to go on an adventure because he had powers and was special!

He doesn’t wish he’s special anymore.)

Vanya asks him once why he hangs out with her, because she’s normal. Because she doesn’t have powers.

And Five looks at her and tells her that that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. He spend years surrounded by people without powers. He tells her about his best friend Emma, who definitely didn’t have powers.

“I wish I had a best friend.” Vanya tells him, face sad and drawn and Five pulls her into the fiercest hug he can.

“You’re not my best friend,” He tells her, and she looks even sadder until he finishes it up with, “You’re my sister.”

“But you have a mother.” She says, sounding confused.

Five shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. Reginald is legally my dad, and he’s legally your dad, and so we share a dad. That makes us siblings.”

“Is a sibling better than a best friend?” Vanya asks after a long moment of silence.

Five doesn’t think so. He misses Emma. He misses his preschool. He misses his life, the life before the Academy. But Vanya looks so sad and pale that he hugs her again and says “Yeah, of course. We’re family.”

The others tolerate him in varied amounts. Luther thinks he’s dumb because he’s always mean to Reginald. Five thinks Luther is dumb, and he’s definitely right. Allison constantly bugs him for information about what she terms “the outside world” and Five has told her about birthday parties at least a dozen times and she still looks wistful and asks him to tell her about them again.

(They turn eight and Five produces a paper crown for his sister because she looked so wistful when he described Emma’s birthday tiara. Allison wears it until Reginald snaps at her to get rid of it, but Five sees her tuck it in the waistband of her skirt rather than throw it away.)

When Reginald snaps at Diego for his stutter, Five snarls and snaps back, getting between the man and his new brother and yelling because he knows that’s not how you help kids! Yelling doesn’t help! His teacher said so! And his mama!

Diego is never particularly thankful for his interference, but Five doesn’t care.

Five is nine and he jumps into the mausoleum with Klaus and holds his most fragile brother and snarls, threatens to run away. To take Klaus and just go, that they’d go to Five’s mother and she would take them away from Reginald and this place and -

Klaus always buries himself into Five’s side with his hands over his ears until the morning when Five either jumps away or glares with furious eyes at Reginald even when he’s punished after.

He’s nine when he gets into a screaming match with Diego who says that Five isn’t one of them that he has his mother and if he had the chance he would abandon them in a heartbeat.

Reginald threatens to cut off his mother’s visits if he finds Five interfering with “Number Four’s training” one more time.

Five looks at Klaus, who is his brother. Who is frail and skinny and pale with dark bags underneath his eyes.

Reginald looks satisfied because Five has always backed down before when his mother is threatened. It’s his ultimate trump card.

Five is so very very tired of his mother being used against him. And he loves Klaus. And these kids, they are his siblings. (He tries not to think about the fact that next year he’ll have officially been here just as long as he was with his mother. He hates it.)

Reginald finds Five in the mausoleum with cobwebs in his hair and his brother against his side and a glare on his face and Reginald forbids his next visit with his mother.

Five keeps jumping into the mausoleum. Klaus looks at him with wonder in his eyes and Five pries up the floorboard that hides Doggy (because even after Reginald found a better way to threaten him, he remembers) and cries himself to sleep.

“You chose us.” Ben states instead of asks, very quietly, when they’re studying together.

“My mother can look after herself.” Five says stiffly, not taking his eyes off the page. “Klaus can’t.”

Ben doesn’t say anything more, but Five feels eyes on his back for a good long while after that.

When Five is ten, they debut for the first time. They go to the bank, and stop the robbers.

(“We can’t send Ben in,” Five insists, “They’ll die!”

“They’re robbers.” Luther scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still people.” Five insists. “You definitely aren’t supposed to kill people. It’s a law.”

“Shut up, Five.” Diego says grouchily, “We just need to get this over with.”

“Dad’ll be pissed off if we let any of them escape.” Allison says, and the whole group goes quiet as they consider their father’s disappointed fury.

“I’ll go.” Ben mutters reluctantly, and Five tries to meet his eyes but the other boy slips into the vault before he can. The group stands silently as they listen to the screams and watch the blood splatter.

“This is wrong.” Five whispers.

“This is how it is.” Klaus whispers back, sounding defeated.

They don’t talk about it, after.)

Five smiles for the camera and lets Klaus lean on his shoulder and steals a thing of tissues from a reporter’s purse and uses them to wipe more of the blood from Ben’s face with a tight smile and the world goes on.

(He doesn’t know his mother watched. Doesn’t know the fury she flew into. Her son was supposed to be safe - he was supposed to be at a school. Why the fuck was he stopping a bank robbery like some kind of little child soldier?

She becomes a problem. And Reginald can be awfully practical about problems.)

Five is ten-and-a-half and he hasn’t seen his mother in a year and a half. And he’s tired and he’s rebellious so one day he sneaks out and finds a pay phone and the only reason he remembers his number is because his mother made him memorize it and quizzed him frequently.

(He’d gotten lost so often from wandering away and accidentally jumping. His rules were to approach either women with children or people who worked wherever and ask them to call her.)

Except the call can’t connect. Disconnected number.

Five frowns, and end up doing some research which involves massive lies to the library, and then he has a picture of a newspaper obituary in his hands and a hole in his heart.

Car accident, the paper says.

Five crumbles it up, and then smoothes it out again because there’s a picture of his mother next to the article and Five doesn’t have any pictures of his mother. So he hides it under the floorboards next to Doggy and cries himself to sleep and then he gets up and does his training and doesn’t talk about it.

He doesn’t tell his siblings. Not even when Luther blows up and calls him a stuck up brat who can go cry to his mommy if he think it’s so bad here. Not even when Klaus jokes about running away with a cracking voice in the mausoleum, not really jokes at all. Not even when Vanya asked him for another of his mother’s stories and he started crying in the middle of them. He’d just told her it had been a hard day of training.

(Vanya never asks him questions if he mentions training. He feels bad about lying to her and using it as an excuse but...)

He waits for Reginald to tell him. He waits, because surely someone would tell him that his mother is dead. He’s her son.

Reginald never tells him. He tells Five that he’s bad and still hasn’t earned back his visiting privileges. Five hates him so much. So so much.

Five is twelve-years-old and he is sprawled across Vanya’s bed after a particularly brutal day of training. Reginald has been trying to overtrain Five the day before he puts Klaus in the mausoleum overnight so that Five will be too tired to jump in. It doesn’t work, but it’s an exhausting enough punishment.

“I wish I didn’t have powers.” He tells Vanya.

“No you don’t.” Vanya says back fiercely, fists clenching in her blankets, “Not having powers sucks.”

Five tilts his head and looks at her, “No.” He says gently, “No one knew I had powers. And I was loved. I was so loved, Vanya.”

“Stop it.” Vanya says, face tight. “If you were so loved, why did she leave you here?”

And Five opens his mouth and nothing comes out, because it hurts.

“You don’t wish you had powers, Vanya.” Five tells her finally, and there are tears in his eyes but he’s looking at the ceiling not at her so it doesn’t matter. “You wish you had a family. A proper family. Not this - this stupid academy. I hate it. I hate it here.”

“Don’t call it stupid.” Vanya says, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have a family and we just - we just have the academy, okay? So don’t call it stupid.”

“We deserve better. We deserve a childhood.”

“We have a childhood.” Vanya scowls, “Just because it’s not as nice as yours was or whatever - ”

“This is my childhood, Vanya.” Five snarls, propping himself up to face her, “I know you all think I’m so spoiled and - and I’m not one of you or whatever, but I came here when I was five. My memories of before - Vanya they’re fading. I couldn’t pick Emma out of a crowd if I tried. I’ve been here for years longer than I was ever there, and it’s not fair.”

“You still have a mother - ”

“No I don’t.” Five cuts her off, his voice ice. Vanya’s eyes are wide, startled by his tone. “Vanya, look around you. When was the last time I saw my mother?”

Vanya’s lip wobbles as she realized she can’t remember.

“It’s been three years.” Five tells her, eyes hard and cold and angry, “She’s gone. I made a choice, and I chose you. I chose the academy. Because despite everything, I love you guys. You’re my siblings, even if sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“Five - ” Vanya tries.

“No.” Five cuts her off, hopping off the bed and shaking his head, “I’m going to - I’m going to go to my room. You get some more practice in or something. I think Pogo picked out this piece and you know what he’s like.”

He doesn’t let her get a word in before he jumps up to his room.

Five is twelve when he stands in front of Reginald and says “I’m not using my powers anymore.”

“You have an assignment.” Reginald says severely.

“No.” Five refuses politely, and his family watches with wide eyes from the sidelines. The only family he has left. “I’ve got control now. I’ve decided I’m going to be normal now.”

Reginald locks Klaus is the mausoleum early and watches with unimpressed eyes as Five picks the lock and strolls in.

Reginald handcuffs Five to a rail. Five plucks a paperclip from his sock and picks those as well.

Reginald locks Five in a room from the outside and tells him that he’ll get dinner when he jumps out.

Five opens the window and shimmies down the drainpipe and has to be picked up at Griddy’s where he’s charmed the owner out of a free doughnut and hot chocolate with a sob story about school bullies to explain his grubby appearance (the shimmy down the drainpipe hadn’t exactly been graceful. or clean.)

He locks Five in the basement in a weird room that’s soundproofed. Five tries to hunger strike but - it’s so quiet. He can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. He can’t stand it. It’s like the room was made specifically to torture him.

(He looks at the little bed in the room. The sheets were dusty. This room has been around for a very long time. He wonders who it’s for, Allison, perhaps? She’s always been fairly obedient, maybe this is the reason why.)

He jumps out on the second day, and doesn’t talk to anybody. Reginald is smug like the cat the got the canary, and Five hates it.

Then Five is messing around, and something slots into place, and he realizes - oh, he might be able to time travel.

Once he figures it out, he’s desperate. He’ll save his siblings that way. He’ll take the to a time where Reginald can’t get them. They’ll be out of reach.

(maybe - maybe they can travel back in time. maybe he can save his mother -)

Five is thirteen-years-old when he time travels for the first time. When he runs out of the house like he’s done so very many times before, except he’s angry and frustrated and he’d tried to bait Reginald into telling him his mother’s dead again and he hadn’t and -

Five jumps. It’s snowing. He did it. He jumps again, laughing. He jumps again -

Ash.

He tries to jump, but his power fizzles out. He calls for his siblings. No one answers. He finds the academy - rubble.

So Five lives in the apocalypse. He tries to go home, he does. He buries his siblings as well as he can. He wanders around gathering food and textbooks. He picks up a mannequin and names it Dolores.

(He searches the rubble of the academy, but he can’t find Doggy or the picture of his mother. Either they were found and removed years ago, or they’re buried beneath too much rubble. Five doesn’t know.)

He takes Dolores on a road trip. He tells her it’s to see if they can find any people, any survivors.

he arrives in a graveyard and traces his mother’s name with trembling fingers. this is the first time he’s been to visit her grave. this is the first time he’s seen her in four years.

So he survives. He grows up, desperately clinging to life by his fingernails. He does complex calculations, wondering what his mother would think of him now.

He meets the Handler. He becomes an assassin.

(he’s glad his mother is dead, so that she will never see what he has become.)

And then one day, he gets home. He falls into the courtyard, and looks at the faces of his grown up siblings and -

(he’s so tired of losing people. he’s so tired of being taken away from his family.)

He hops to Griddy’s, he gets into a fight with assassins, he cuts a tracker from his arm, and he goes to Vanya’s apartment.

And he’s Five, but he’s also Fievel. And somewhere inside he’s still that same kid who loved his mother and wanted her to fix thing, who trusted her even though she didn’t have powers. His mother wasn’t ordinary, and he’s never seen Vanya as such.

So he asks her for her help.

(Later, she tells him that they hunted down his mother when they were fifteen, because they’d been absolutely convinced he’d just run away and gone back to herno matter how much Reginald insisted he was dead.

That’s when they found out about her death. Her date of death.

“I’m so sorry, Five.” Vanya says, tears in her eyes as the whole family shuffles and looks away.

And Five puts his hand on Vanya’s. “I knew, Van.”

Her head snaps up. Klaus blurts out a what in the background.

Five shrugs, “I’ve known since we were ten. It’s okay.”)

Five sends Vanya to investigate the eye.

(He asks Klaus - “Have you - ”

“No.” Klaus says instantly, shaking his head. He knows what Five is asking.

Five considers that answer, then shrugs. He’s not sure if it would be better or worse for his mother to be one of the ghosts that tormented Klaus. “After I - after, did dad get worse?”

“Yeah.” Klaus says simply, because it’s true.

Five hadn’t been there to jump into the mausoleum and try and shield his brother from invisible enemies.

“I’m sorry.” Five says quietly.

“Me too.”)

Vanya comes back and the eye hasn’t been made yet. Five swears, loudly and at length.

And maybe in another world Five snaps at Klaus and denies Vanya and goes off on his own and ignores Allison but -

In this one, Five was the only kid who not only didn’t care that Vanya was ‘ordinary’ but actively challenged her on it. Who told her in no uncertain terms that he was jealous of her.

(It’s a very different book that comes out.)

In this world, Five shielded Klaus and challenged Reginald. He jumped into the mausoleum and hugged his brother and, most importantly, he chose Klaus over his mother. And Klaus knows that. Klaus has... a lot of loyalty to Five, and even though he’d though for a long time that Five abandoned him... he knows better now and he feels - he feels guilty for doubting his brother. That guilt may or may not manifest in being a bit clingy.

In this world, Allison thought Five was fascinating because he’d been in the real world. He’d been to real school. She remembers him telling her about his mother, about trips to the zoo and the museums and the birthday parties, about sleepovers and playdates and parks.

(She has a daughter, and she takes Claire to the children’s museums and to zoos. She tries her best for her daughter and hears Five’s voice telling stories in her ears. She does her best to be a good mother, she tries so hard.)

It’s a slightly more united family that stands against the apocalypse.

But there’s always something with them, isn’t there?

“Don’t you know?” The Handler says, with her perfect lipstick smile, “I don’t have to win, I just have to take you out of the game. Your weak spot has always been the same, hasn’t it?”

“You don’t have shit.” Five says, unimpressed. “My family is fine.”

“Are you so sure about that, Fievel?”

(Five already chose his siblings over his mother the first time. The choice is... much more difficult the second time.)

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