#no. i will not touch grass. i have enough reality checks every day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cottonkendi · 2 years ago

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Betrayal | 10

MASTERLIST

Kunikuzushi x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: angst

Warning: some gore, like, an organ just out and about, a bit of a fight scene, profanity

Synopsis: Devastation

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

a/n: third day streak~ here’s to hoping that I finish this series soon ksdsdkjsad but we’re barely halfway there i think. :((

They say that history repeats itself.

You have always dreaded such a phrase, having been one of the beings that was part of history.

You wished for Celestia to pity the mortals that walked this land, hoped for mercy for the ones who you hold close.

Alas, it seems as if your prayers have been ignored as per usual.

The hellish fire that licks at your skin feels as if its seeping into your veins as you clutch Kunikuzushi’s body close to yours, your legs taking you around the area, hoping to find that of the body of Niwa under all of the rubble and smoke that’s licking at every crevice of your body.

You’d have teleported the two of you out of this place the moment Kunikuzushi uttered your name but the boy before you had whispered his pleas for you to find the man who had cared for him for months. Treating him as family.

And as usual, you can never ignore such pleas from Kunikuzushi.

Perhaps it was minutes or mere seconds but soon enough, you see it.

In the corner of your eye, in the middle of the burning furnace, you see the familiar cloth that was wrapped around Niwa’s head, but instead. It lays on a burning piece of wooden beam, wrapped around something small.

It makes your insides curdle as you run towards it, hand quickly snatching it up and immediately teleporting yourself out of this hellscape.

As soon as you’ve made it to somewhere safe, you carefully set Kunikuzushi down on the ground, already treating his wounds with some salve that you take out from the plants, staying silent as you do so, hoping that your mind will follow suit with your own silence.

“His scarf…” The boy before you whispers as he tries to reach out to the scarf beside you.

Taking it out once you’re sure that you’ve taken care of every wound that he may have, you take in a deep breath, a little apprehensive with what the scarf is hiding inside. Carefully, you place it on your lap and slowly unfurl the scarf.

…

A heart.

Hidden away in Niwa’s scarf is a heart, the blood staining the cloth as you continue to stare at the organ on your lap.

Your hand can’t help but reach out and touch it, unable to stop yourself from checking if what you’re seeing is reality.

Oh how cruel can fate be…

How merciless must Celestia be to let such a thing happen to him?

It feels like you’re stuck in a trance, only ever looking as the organ starts to disintegrate before your eyes.

Like it wasn’t even there to begin with.

The only thing that pulls you out of your thoughts is the sound of retching.

In a second, you’re beside Kunikuzushi, pulling his hair away as he throws up on the grass, his tears, saliva, and other bodily fluids mixing together as he coughs it all out. The sight alone makes your insides churn, regretting ever letting Escher stay in that village without you there to keep an eye on him.

Oh how you could’ve stopped his plans if you had only warned them all sooner, or much less, taken Escher out yourself. Maybe then the village in Tatarasuna would still be standing.

Perhaps the villagers would still be happily going about their day, calling out for Kunikuzushi, listening to his stories, teaching him what a normal life is.

If only you had taken your weapon and ended him yourself…

Kunikuzushi only lasts for a few more seconds before he leans on you, eyes fluttering close as the tears leave streaks on his porcelain skin.

Cradling him against your body, you carefully take the scarf that’s been laying on the grass, folding it up before tucking it away, the remaining dust of the organ that was previously tucked inside now carefully concealed.

Niwa…

If only you had done something to save them all.

Standing up with Kunikuzushi in your arms, you’re about to teleport away, somewhere far from this place. Somewhere safe…

But instead, you feel a familiar presence getting closer.

Your hair stand up on edge as you stand rigid, your hold on Kunikuzushi getting tighter as you feel the hilt of your weapon against your palm, ready to attack if necessary.

“I see that you’ve seen my present for the village. What did you think of it, adeptus? In my opinion, I thought that the plan was quite lacking, a bit rushed.” The masked figure appears behind a tree, a smirk placed on the man’s face as he gestures behind him. “Personally, I would’ve liked to do it a few days later though I’ve had a feeling that you were catching on to the plan, we wouldn’t want you getting in the way now, do we?”

Gritting your teeth at the way the man chuckles at his own words, you point the blade towards him, the act making the man take a few steps backward with his hands up in mock defeat. “Il Dottore of the harbingers… what is your purpose here? Do you wish for my blade to end your fate now?” You bark out, hand trembling with suppressed anger as the man merely gives you a lazy smile.

“I do not believe in fate. I control my own fate. I control my life. No god shall ever control me-”

“Is that why you grovel at the feet of the tsaritsa? Wasting your knowledge from the akademiya in order to do the cryo archon’s bidding?” You hiss out, emotions going a little out of control when you notice the way the harbinger’s been eyeing Kunikuzushi who’s still tucked away in your arm.

Shaking his head, Dottore crosses his arms. “I wouldn’t say that I’m awfully loyal to the tsaritsa… it’s merely the fact that we may share some goals…”

“And that would be?”

A chuckle leaves his lips once more before pointing at you…

No.

Not at you…

At Kunikuzushi…

Immediately, you’re encasing Kunikuzushi in some vines and other flora before you launch your claymore straight at the harbinger, the metal cutting his cheek as he tries his best to dodge, a yelp leaving his lips when he sees just how close you are to him.

Your claymore flies back to you, another cut marking its way onto Dottore’s arm as he chuckles at his predicament.

He should’ve known not to mess with the adeptus… for how smart he is academically, he sure is foolish.

With every swing of your claymore, the blade gets closer and closer towards his neck, the ground also starts to rumble as more vines spring out from the ground, desperately grasping at his limbs which makes it harder to move.

He really did fuck up…

Before Dottore can even think of teleporting away, he feels a tight grip around his neck, your face merely inches away from his as you glare him down, your other hand holding your claymore above your head, ready to bring it down and end him with a single swing. “Harbinger… what do you want with Kunikuzushi? Answer me now or else you’ll be facing your end now.”

“Even if you kill me now, I have hundreds of segments roaming Teyvat and they’ll hunt you down.” The harbinger tries to threaten you, a smirk plastered on his face in order to show a facade of bravado but alas, you do not care for such things.

Tightening your hold on his neck, you scoff. “Then so be it. I shall tear every single one of your segments to bits and send your body to the tsaritsa. Do not test me, harbinger. You will not like it.”

By now, your hold on his neck has gotten too tight, Dottore’s air circulation has been cut off causing him to cough and gag, his hands trying their best to claw at your arm, hoping to push you off as best as he can.

Alas, it is useless.

“Let m- augh me go now - Irminsul knows of his f-fate! Saving him is fruitless-” With one swing from your arm, the sharp edge of your claymore makes contact with his neck, effectively severing it from his body.

Huffing, you let go of his body, letting it fall limp on the ground as the flora start to emerge around his body, burying itself inside his remains until he’s completely covered in it. “Let your segments know of your fate… this too shall be theirs if they continue your plans with Kunikuzushi. I will exact the wrath of the archons upon you.”

Turning your back, shed your weapon away from you, willing it away as you open your arms for Kunikuzushi, the flora that was protecting him opening up for you to take him back in your arms, glad that he was not touched by the harbinger.

Ever so carefully, you wipe away the remaining tears that cling to his lashes as you open up your abode, taking him back to where you think he is safest.

Maybe now you won’t be so willing to bring him out into the real world…

Maybe then you’ll finally be able to protect him from all the hurt and pain…

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#genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fics #genshin impact fics #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #dottore #scaramouche angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #scaramouche fic #scaramouche fanfic

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mediamixs · 11 months ago

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Reality Shifting: true stories, Second Part

Bleeding, Blisters, Vanishing Woman & Levitating Candle Greg Brisbane, Australia

When I was a young boy, from the age of 8, my mother and her 'New Age' friends were teaching me meditation. Since that time I have seen:

* My mother held a crystal to her face and her face bled. There were no cuts, bruises, or abrasions. When the crystal was removed, the bleeding stopped. It wasn't a torrent of blood, but there was a constant 'drip'.

* When I meditated, Mom occasionally handed me a wind up watch. EVERY time if I was meditating the second hand, then the minute hand would wind backwards (never stuck around long enough to check the hour hand).

* After meditation one night, a friend of mine went to touch my crystal. Blisters formed on her hand. Once she put the crystal down, I placed my hands over hers and the blisters went away.

* Sitting down in the City Mall one day, I began talking to a lady sitting next to me while waiting for a friend. When my friend arrived I went to introduce the lady to my friend, but she was gone. My friend said that there wasn't anyone sitting there when she approached me, and she saw me from about 100 metres away.

* During meditation one night, I opened my eyes. This was very out of character for me -- however when I did, I saw the candle I was using that was placed on the ground had risen to eye height. It was levitating at a height of about 1 1/2 feet above the floor.

Appearing/Disappearing Brother-In-Law Kerry Brisbane, Australia

A couple of years ago, I was standing in my front yard when I saw my sister's husband walk to the letter box, open it and walk away as my daughter passed him close by. My sister lived just a couple of doors down, so I looked to see that his car wasn't in the drive... and I knew he should still be at work. I went over to my sister's house, and he wasn't home. I then asked my daughter if she'd noticed passing him, and she told me she did not see him -- even though I saw her pass him! He was wearing a very bright orange shirt that he liked to wear, but when he arrived home, he was wearing something else. I know I saw him... it was very strange.

Money Appears In My Hand Ray Northwest Arkansas

I believe that our awareness of our own creative nature becomes more acute as we become more conscious. Several years ago I spent a weekend in Phoenix at an intensive spiritual workshop. I left the group in a blissful, joy-filled state... a much higher level of consciousness than I usually experience. I stopped for gas in my rental car at a gas station, and went inside the store part of the station to pay the cashier after I filled the tank. As I was paying her, I realized that I was creating the money with which I was paying her! I realized that the bills were coming into being as I handed them to her. A handful of coins appeared in my hand, and I knew that it would be the correct amount of change required... and what is more I knew that the cashier was aware that I was aware of what was going on and was enjoying it all. Without thinking much about it, I simply knew this was a moment of "higher self" awareness for both of us. Because of my spiritual training I am able to remember the experience. I know that the cashier does not (because nothing "unusual" actually happened from her perspective). Since we normally live in 3D consciousness, we create belief systems with our minds to explain where money (and everything else) comes or doesn't come from.

Sometimes these explanations just don't make "sense". It is then that we have anomalies...and stories to tell. I believe that this will become more and more common as our paradigm continues to shift. Your website is a wonderful contribution toward our realization of the nature of our developing consciousness.

Vanishing Ring Mary Ellen East Meadow, New York

I was wearing my late grandmother's heirloom (circa 1900) pre-engagement ring one day when I was watering the grass by the side of the house. Later on during that same day, I suddenly realized my precious heirloom ring had disappeared from my finger! I panicked, and both my hubby and I searched for the ring outside, and couldn't find it. One morning about a month later, I went downstairs in the house to my washing machine to take the wash out and put it into the dryer. Imagine how shocked I was when I opened the washer door and lo and behold! There was my Grandmother's ring sitting right there on top of the wash!!!!!! I SCREAMED with delight and shock at this surprising discovery. I wondered HOW it got there, and how I didn't see it when I was doing the wash for the whole month since it was missing? My grandmother passed away in 1977, and before her passing, we were very close, with a very special bonding.

Grapefruit Appears Yvonne Madison, Wisconsin

Many years ago while living in Madison, Wisconsin, I got up very early just as the sun was coming up. I had an intense craving for a grapefruit, but it was too early for the neighborhood co-op to be open, so I tried to forget about it. I went for a walk, thinking about what a beautiful day it was. As I was walking along, I glanced down in the grass near the sidewalk to see a beautiful grapefruit. I looked around in disbelief, but there was no one around who might have brought it to me. I picked up the grapefruit and walked down to the lake to eat it. I really don't think that piece of fruit was from this world. It was the best grapefruit I've ever tasted. It was incredible.

Vanishing/Reappearing Necklace & Medication Bottle Roby California

I had kept my necklace with pave set diamonds that spelled "love" locked in my safety deposit box at the bank. When I went to get my necklace out of the safety deposit box one day, it was not there. I questioned the bank, who reported no wrongdoing. I wondered for a long time where I might have put the necklace as many months passed by, and the necklace didn't turn up.

Then one day I was shopping, and I noticed the clerk had on a necklace identical to the one that disappeared. I told the clerk the story of my necklace and admired hers. I remembered how I'd had trouble with the chain on my necklace breaking several times, as it was attached to the pendant itself. I asked her if the chain on her necklace ever broke. As she replied, "Never", she put her hands on her necklace in the same spot that my necklace always broke... and the necklace instantly broke in the same spot as mine did! The clerk gave me the strangest look, as if I were a witch or something. Somehow I think that was the same necklace.

I usually keep a couple of bottles of my heart medication at all times in the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom of my home. Since this is a medication that can't be discontinued all of a sudden, I make sure that I have enough on hand. When it came time for me to open a new bottle of medicine, I went to the cabinet to retrieve the medication. I was sure I had a couple of bottles, yet the medication was not in the cabinet where I put it. I asked my family members if they had seen the medication, and of course the answer was "no"! I persuaded my husband to look into the cabinet, to see if I missed seeing the medication. He could not find the bottles, so I called the pharmacy and ordered more medication. I had a feeling on the way home from the pharmacy that the medication would be in the cabinet the minute I came home with the new prescription. Sure enough, one bottle was on the shelf. The other bottle never did return. Similar reality shifts have happened to me in the past, so although I am in awe, I was not surprised that this happened. It still makes one feel like they are a little nuts at times!

Toy Car Gift Reserved Wanda Dryden, Michigan

I received a sale paper from Walmart, in the mail. Inside was an ad for a little car I wanted to get for my grandson for his birthday. I decided to go to Walmart after work on Sunday to get one. I went back to Toy Department, and found that there was only one little car left. On it was a yellow sticky note, with a message: Please save for Clark. Clark is my last name, so thinking my husband may have called to have one saved for me, I ask a gentleman to help me put it in a cart. Then the salesgirl asked if I needed help. Telling her "yes", she asked if I was Clark, so I said "yes" again. She said, "I thought a guy called. I ask her if she wanted to see my ID. She said no, and took it to checkout for me. When I got home, I told my hubby thanks for calling Walmart for me. He looked at me like I was crazy. Said he didn't know I was going there today. So I told him the story, and we laughed. We had a son pass from suicide, so I really think he helped in getting this gift for his nephew. I just say, WOW!!!! This is wonderful.

Love Letter in the Sky Doug Roanoke, Virginia

My sister in law, Sherry, was diagnosed with cancer in November 1996. She died four months later, on March 27, 1997. My sister and I had to get my brother Sam away from the cancer center when Sherry died so the funeral home could prep and transport her! We went to a nearby restaurant to try to get our thoughts together. My sister was the first out of the car. I heard an airplane and my sister told us to look at what it was writing, about the time we looked up, out it came in puffs of white smoke, first an "I"... then a heart shape... then a "u" and then a big "S". All three of us saw it. To this day I believe God gave Sherry a last request and it was to assure or confirm Sherry's love for Sam. After we saw the "I love you S" message, The "S" turned into a $ sign which was an advertisement for the Virginia lottery jackpot. But still we saw what we saw at the beginning!

My brother is still grieving Sherry's loss. Sherry's son, Daniel, is now 4 years old and he talks quite often about his mom. When the ambulance came to their house to take Sherry to the hospital, Daniel didn't understand that his mom would never be home again. My sister mentioned to him that the ambulance would help mommy and to this day when he hears an ambulance, he'll stop... listen... and repeat the words, "Help mommy". Daniel is so precious, and I thank God for him.

Boy Thrown Clear of Oncoming Bus Ellen Limburg, the Netherlands

Many years ago, I was raising my six children alone after a divorce. One day I was looking out the window when I suddenly saw through my inner eye that my son, Jeffrey, was going to get involved in a car accident. I saw a huge bus and then I saw Jeffrey getting run over by the bus. Before I realized what I was doing, in a flash of light I swiftly shifted out of my body and arrived at the spot where Jeffrey was. I threw my body with my entire weight against Jeffrey, which threw him off his bike onto the footpath. I looked back to see his bike run over by the bus, smashed into crumpled scrap. I whispered into his ear, "Go home, naughty boy. You were not supposed to be that far away from home." Then I flashed back into my body, with a sigh, and was shaking all over. I did not realize at that time what had overcome me.

When my foster son arrived home, he wanted to tell me about the near accident. I interrupted him to say, "Do not tell... I know... I was there to save my child", and I told him what I had just seen, and also that I had seen him driving past the spot of the accident. He then told me what he had seen... a miracle had pulled the child off of the road onto the footpath! I could only smile and thank the Lord.

#reality shifting #true stories

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hymns-across-the-stars · 11 months ago

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She shrugs. A blade of grass strains between her fingers, neither able to ease back into its place nor finally break—tension without release.

"Of course I've questioned reality before; like I said, everyone's thought about it at some point. But that's never really been the persistent problem for me; that'd be existentialism."

And she could stop talking about herself there. He's smart; she's sure he can draw his own conclusions from that. She doesn't have to make herself vulnerable again.

Yet, still... she finds herself continuing.

"When the feelings that came with it used to permeate my every waking moment, I felt like we were nothing more than dust in the wind; no matter what we might do, no matter what legacy we might try to leave behind, we were all doomed to the same oblivion after we die. Nothing that had been or ever would be done could ever truly matter."

Then there was a fateful crash with a stranger, who was there and gone after that day... and yet, in that relatively brief interaction, they had managed to left an imprint on her way of thinking. Wasn't that proof enough, in a way, to their point?

She continues.

"But that doesn't mean those feelings are right, or that I'm weak—just like falling victim to questioning reality doesn't make you insane. Sure, what you're going through now and what I went through—what I'm still learning to deal with—they're not the same. I know that. But that dread—your dread... it's familiar. Call it misery recognizing misery if you want, but I can still lend a sympathetic ear."

And look at her now, trying to extend similar reassurances to Gabriel as the stranger did to her! Speaking of the senior, though—didn't he joke about hoping his good will would rub off on her? She almost expects to feel a flicker of irritation, but all she feels is a quiet something that reminds her of relief.

But that's quickly shattered with the next questions. The blade of grass finally snaps. The questions are definitely still referring to him, how he's feeling, but... they hit home in such a strange way that she needs a moment to recollect herself—and even after, the words are decidedly more careful, though no less trying to provide comfort.

"...authenticity, or the lack thereof, shouldn't change the fact you are here and exist. Maybe a facet is just an act, in a way—"

Or there's a part of you that shouldn't ever come up, even if it's so deeply engraved in your being that no amount of mangling can ever change what you fundamentally are.

"—but, ultimately, someone has to be putting it up. But even if you didn't know you were acting, and that suddenly came to light—you might not feel the same, you might never be the same, but... at the end of the day, it's still you."

But, oh! That rush of relief when he takes offense to being called old and un-happening (who even uses 'happening' in this context??) just makes her start to laugh, even though there's a nonzero chance he's serious.

"Accusing? No, I'm just stating a fact: I've never heard anything less 'hip' than that."

And then he laughs too—God, she's glad that silly display of ~confidence~ hit right—and moves, breaking a just slightly too-long touch of shoulders because it turns out he really is built like a brick and she doesn't really bounce on contact. But for what it's worth, she's unfazed and definitely ready to respond with some teasing.

"I think the only way you'd have fallen for a mirage is if you fell for me~ Everything else seems to check out; after all, I'm right here, sitting next to a friend of mine and talking to him."

A friend! She doesn't even realize she's called him that until after she's said it. But that... feels right. Feels good. Friends do things like this, she thinks, and... it's nice to be able to just sit in the grass and laugh together.

As both their laughter fades and he tells her that she's managed to help—somehow—she tilts her head, optic gleaming.

"I'm glad I could, then."

And if he had any doubt before, there's definitely no mistaking the smile in the audio now.

✞ He wished the laugh was genuine too. Or even if it wasn't, he wished his nerves were steady enough to hide it convincingly. But, there's something pleasant about the grass... it strikes him, every now and then, this unusual affinity for the most mundane of things, like his attention gets snagged on it. Just a grateful nature, he supposed. Even things most resent, like tests or pressing a uniform. And now it was the grass. She can't see his eyes watch how the joints in her metal hand bend to play with the blades, absently running his own hand through the grass as they speak.

" And, has it happened to you? " He softly responds in earnest curiosity, the thought that perhaps it wasn't so unheard of a comfort on it's own. The way they so fluently explore the thought, most would have gladly laughed the subject off, as he's sure the council would. He can't help wondering where the experience with the subject is coming from.

Funnily enough he knows the words of Latin before he even recalls who Descartes is. I think, therefore I am. " That is... an interesting perspective. Is that to say being at all is sufficient, even if some aspect of your being could be... in some way... inauthentic? Well, I suppose that would best apply so long as one is never told... If you did know, do you think you could ever feel... like yourself again? " He felt he was being vague-- but his thoughts were vague. Why did he even suspect anything was not as it appeared? He couldn't quite put it into words. It was a mere feeling. Nothing he could rationalize. Though the thought of proving such a thing lingered with him more than he mentions. She says its impossible. Then to pursue it, even briefly, would be... a waste.

" W-what do you mean? " He's immediately ripped from thought by that remark, placing a hand to his chest in offense. " Old? Are you accusing me of sounding un-hip? Un-happening? " It is alarmingly hard to tell if he's joking.

When they bump him it's a bit like bumping a marble statue he's so sturdy a figure, but with a beat of pause he laughs. This one is very sincere, a sound that's bright and strong, you can tell by how he covers where his face would be and curls away. Or maybe he was shy. " I see! Have I fallen for a mirage, then? Too good to be true? " This was the first he's seen of such lighthearted confidence from her, it felt impossible not to smile. And that was what mattered, wasn't it? This warm feeling? He swore he could almost hear her own smile in her audio. " Well, in truth... you have helped some, actually. " He admits in earnest between stray chuckles.

#heaven-said #[ ooc ] // WHY IS IT LONG. WHY DID I MAKE IT SO L O N G #[ prettiest girl in town ] - mirage / verse - main #[ all-imperfect love song ] - mirage #[ written in the stars ] - roleplay / ic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention.

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes.

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger.

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator.

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me.

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sugar daddy au #au #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #sugar sugar #marvel #mcu #captain america

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bullyhunter--69 · 4 years ago

Text

"She's so sweet, really."

Pairing: Izuku x fem!reader

Summary: When you and Izuku started dating, you were as happy as could be. He was beyond sweet and caring, and helped you forget about the bad in your life. But after he introduces you to his mother, Inko, and you start to be a more frequent visitor at the Midoriya household, you realize it's starting to take a bigger affect on you than you thought it would. Why can't your mother be like that?

Tw: mentions of family issues/absent family/family death, bottling up emotions and eventually breaking, a stressed Izuku, ends with soft fluff

A/N: This turned out so much longer and more angsty than planned but I'm really proud of it, tell me what you guys think! 🖤 (This is also my first ever angst written so--)

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Today was a beautiful fall day. Colorful leaves fell around you, the sky was tinged with a deep orange, and the soft grass beneath you made your time all the more comfy. You were snuggled next to Izuku beneath a huge tree on campus, who was currently going on and on about his latest quirk findings. The goal you guys originally had set was to review for the upcoming test, but the topic quickly shifted to Izukus day once your fingers intertwined with his and you inquired about it.

"-and so then once I asked Mr. Aizawa about it I found that- Hey.. are you okay (Y/N)?" You really were listening, but had found that you zoned out. Izukus concerned, soft voice brought you back to reality, and a small smile crawled it's way onto your features. "Yeah 'zuku, I'm all good.. I just was thinking about some stuff and was focusing on your voice. It always helps." You ended your reply with a squeeze of his hand, which all together resulted in his face blooming into a shade of deep red.

"Well, uh.. T-thank you, I'm happy to help!" He stuttered out as he felt butterflies all throughout his body. "Oh, also!" Izuku started, turning his body to face you more, holding your hands in his lap with a nervous look in his eyes. "(Y/N), I was wondering.. we've been together for a bit now and I.. I want my mom to meet you."

As soon as the word 'mom' reached your ears, you tensed up. It was always a sensitive topic, even if it wasn't your parental relationships in question. You knew Izuku had noticed, as the hold on your hands got tighter. "I understand if you're scared or nervous but I know She's gonna love you! She already says you're really pretty and smart just basing off what I've shown her.. she really is looking forward to it, and we don't have to stay long if you don't want to." The gentle rub of his thumb on the back of your hand and the puppy dog eyes was enough to soothe your nerves. If Izuku talked so highly of you to her, and if she was anything like him at all, you figured it wouldn't be that bad to meet her. She would be your mother-in-law someday, so you might as well get it out of the way now and not later.

When the day finally came, you were beyond nervous. The thought of meeting Izuku's mother and her not liking you made a wave of sickness and dread fill every inch of your body. Whether it was a friend, or a boyfriend, meeting mothers always gave you a bad taste in your mouth. It brought back all the feelings that you tried desperately to hide away and fight daily.

See, you were almost fully open with Izuku, but there was one thing he didn't know. Your family, to put it bluntly, was shit. Your mother always belittled you for every single little action you ever made and everything about you. Nothing was ever good enough. As a small child, it was always under-the-table, backhanded compliments with passive aggressive undertones, but after the passing of your father, it turned into raw, brutal words. She was never proud, and never actually loved you, she just used your desire to be a good daughter against you. It was cold, hard, manipulative behavior which resulted in you finally refusing to talk to her after you got accepted into U.A. The mental gymnastics you had to go through to hide all of this, especially from Izuku, was taking a toll on you. You never talked of family and never left the dorms, and had an.. unusual amount of luggage stored away in your room. It seemed like you packed your entire life up in a suitcase and ran.

Which is essentially what you did.

As bad as it sounds, you never planned on telling your love any of this. You just needed to forget all of the childhood trauma you were put through and focus on showing your mother she was wrong. Everything she said about your quirk being useless, to you being intolerable and a bad daughter, would be proved wrong. But, the biggest thing you planned to show her? Is that your father would be proud. She always used him against you, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't prove that point the most ridiculous of them all.

A soft knocking on your dorm brought you out of your deep thoughts, and your gaze slid to the door. Your hands shot to your face and you quickly dried your tears. "O-one second, I'm still changing!" You knew in the pit of your gut that it was Izuku coming to pick you up, and your thoughts were confirmed when you heard him on the other side of your locked door. "Alrighty baby, take your time!" God, he sounded so sweet.. this was hell keeping from him, but it kept him from worrying.

The night went on so much better than expected, and it genuinely surprised you. You had never met a woman as sweet as Inko was. She cooked your favorite food and had your favorite drinks, and even baked you your favorite dessert. She asked about how you were doing in school and once the topic of your quirk was brought up, she was beyond ecstatic to hear you talk about it. She even added on how she felt it would be useful in battle. The night was amazing. Nothing felt real, it all was like the fantasies you made up while lying in bed at 4am sobbing, so sleep deprived you almost can't move to get ready for your class that starts in just a few hours. It's what you've always wanted in a mom-- a beautiful, sweet woman who cares.

Why can't your mother be like that?

As the weeks went on and Izuku kept inviting you over for weekly dinner and game nights with him and Inko, you found it harder and harder to conceal exactly how much your mental health was struggling. Yes, you absolutely adored both your loving boyfriend and his equally loving mother, but it was just so fucking.. hard. Every smile she gave you, the loving, motherly twinkle in her eyes when she talked to Izuku, the amazing dinners, the endless support for both of you, the pictures she insisted on taking of you and Izuku-- it was all too much. You started to dwell on this every single night, and resent yourself for how much anger and jealousy you felt. This wasn't right, but you couldn't help it. It wasn't your fault that your mother hated you for every fiber of your being and Izuku had the best mother imaginable. He was your boyfriend, you should be happy.. right?

You didn't realize how hard you had been sobbing until there was a hushed yet firm knock on your dorm door. The tears that blurred your vision made it even harder to read the clock on your nightstand through the pitch black room you sat in, huddle up in a pile of blankets, All Might plushies and Izuku's hoodies.

9:54 p.m.

The pain that was radiating through your torso from the wreck you had become from however long you had actually been crying was torture. It felt like needles were being shoved into your lungs and your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip. Breathing felt impossible. Your throat was raw. But the thing that hurt the absolute worst, out of everything?

"(Y/N)? Baby, please let me in.." Little Izuku's voice sounded like the biggest bomb going off, the jiggle of your door knob making emergency alarms go off in your head. There wasn't any possible way to get out of this, and this might just be your biggest fear. Facing those soft emerald eyes and that sweet smile that has been open and honest with you over the entirety of your entire relationship, and even before. Telling the love of your life all the trauma you've endured, and then willingly decided to hide from him. No.. it's the disappointment that you're positive will shine through his features that's truly your biggest fear.

You don't know how long he had been listening, but one second was more than enough for you to know Izuku wasn't going to leave. He loved you endlessly and never left without making sure you had a smile on your face. So, with limbs that felt like cement, eyes that felt as if you were crying spikes, and an aching heart, you got up and made your way to unlock the door. It took a minute-- your hold on the cold knob firm and extremely hesitant.

3... 2.. 1.

Finally, Izuku had enough room to gently push your door open, and his breath was taken away when he saw you as the golden light from the dormitory hallway illuminated your entirely wrecked appearance.

Bloodshot eyes, make up filled tears streaming down both checks, snot dripping down to you mouth. The cuffs of his hoodie that covered your shaking body were soaked in black, wet mascara. Your hair was messy and tangled. You were.. broken.

After taking in every little detail of your appearance, a struggled gasp last your body when his arms were suddenly around you. The touch of his warmth around you was electrifying, and instantly brought you to your knees. As Izuku shut and locked the door behind him, still holding you in his strong arms, he sighed softly. "What's wrong?"

These are some of the only words that you really didn't want to come out of his mouth. They stung and tore through your heart like the sharpest of blades. They made you regret not opening up sooner, his tone overflowing with worry, fear, and dread. You knew not to make eye contact, but you couldn't even if you wanted to. Once those words entered your ears, soft and delicate as if you would shatter into a million pieces if he spoke too hard, another strangled sob was unleashed out of what felt to be your core.

"S-she's just so sweet.." Your voice, although strained and crackling, came out with an emotion Izuku had never heard from you before. A mixture of jealousy, rage, disappointment, and disgust is all he could pick out, but it sounded like something was hidden beneath it all. Something that you didn't know how to express, so emotions just came seeping out of you in the easiest way.

Picking you up was an easy task, as your body had long ago given up the fight to stay standing. The sweet boy made his way to your bed and sat with you cradled to his chest, your nose tucking away in the crook of his neck instantly to breath in his scent. It calmed you-- he calmed you, but you couldn't help but to shamefully pull your head away and look across the room.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me more. Who is 'she'? I want to help you.." His voice still held a delicate tone, his fingers combing through your hair with one hand and the other still holding you tightly. After what seemed like forever of Izuku just holding you and letting you cry every single ounce of emotion you held in your body out, your sobs slowly came to a stop and you took a soft, shaking sigh.

It was time to come clean.

"'Z-zuku, I'm sorry.." You started, slowly and steadily while trying to steady your breath further. The gentle back rubs from his warm hands helped sooth you, and gave you the strength to continue.

"I haven't been exactly.. truthful with you." As you took a second to find your words and sniffle, you could sense Izuku tilt his head to the side curiously. "You always ask if I'm okay-- if I'm happy-- and I always say that I am. I love you so incredibly much and you do make me feel happy and safe and welcomed and-" Your ramble was cut off with a kiss to your temple, which was a silent signal of Izukus trust and time.

"Because of how incredibly happy you make me, I dont want you thinking that this is your fault at all. Its mine.. I shut you out and bottled myself up when I should have just told you in the first place. I just.. don't know how to say it other than to say it outright."

Your shakey tone made Izukus heart race even more. He was staying calm and supportive on the outside but on the inside, he was a wreck. He was currently going over every single one of his actions, words, and notes that made what you and him were-- absolutely scraping the bottom of the barrel for anything and everything he could have done wrong. That stuff, though, was shoved deep so he could help you, because that was what was important right now.

"I don't.. Izuku, I love you and I love your mother so incredibly much. I feel at home with you guys but it's just so hard. Seeing how sweet and caring she is, how She's invested in both of our lives, how she.. s-she said she loved me.." You body was quickly starting to shake again, so Izuku pulled you in closer. "Why can't my mother be like that?"

There it was. It finally clicked in Izuku's mind. Everytime you avoided the topic of family, how you never had pictures with them, how you never had a place to go to during break, how every day after spending time with him and Inko you seemed drained the next morning as if you had stayed up all night.. it clicked as to what might be wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when you continued.

"M-my mother hates me and she has my entire life. I have never received an ounce of love or respect from that filthy woman and it's always on my mind. Her degradation and her mocking laugh and her hideous presence. She used my dead fucking dad against me to make me feel like I'd never make it in this world and I just-- I-I want to escape the horrible memories but I can't. I just want a mother like yours.. it's what I've always wanted and I don't understand why I had to be the one stuck with a dead dad and a mockery of a mother. Seeing how absolutely amazing your mom is fills me with love and happiness and a sense of home I've never gotten before but at the end of the day, it just reminds me of how shitty my life was up until I got to U.A. I don't have a mom. I don't have a home. And its not fair that I'm upset over the fact that you having those things happens to remind me of that. I'm sorry."

Izuku was speechless. His comforting ministrations had stopped and he just looked at you. Even with the pitch black void that was your room, his emerald eyes shined bright.. and brimmed with tears.

"I.. I had no idea, baby, I'm so sorry.." Izuku was choosing his words incredibly carefully. He held nothing against you, nor was he upset or disappointed at you. He was a person that could put himself in someone else's shoes very easily and see through their eyes, and your emotional monologue was enough to paint your story for him. He just wanted to comfort you and show you everything was okay.

"I don't want you to be sorry, there isn't any need for you to be. You can't help what your mother put you through, and how horribly unfair to you that it was. Nobody can control how others actions affect them-- it's just how humans are.." Strong arms turned your body to face him, your limbs wrapped around his torso and your cheeks gently held in his hands. As tears streamed down his cheeks, he stared deep into your eyes. "You're so strong and beautiful, and I understand as much as I can. I love you so much.. Baby, to hell with her. I know it's hard, but she doesn't have to mean anything to you anymore. Me and you, and mom, can be our own family. We're your home now.."

A sob managed to choke it's way out of your throat, but this one was different. Your head fell into Izukus neck and you held him as tight as you possibly could, soaking his chest with more snot and tears. His arms held you back just as tightly as he peppered soft butterfly kisses along your hairline. This is how you stayed for the rest of the night until you calmed down and passed out on his firm build. Laying back softly, Izuku tucked you both in and kept his tight hold on you.

"Goodnight, love.. You're home."

#bnha scenarios #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #izuku #izuku smut #my hero headcanons #my hero academia #my hero imagines

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multi-fandom-imagines-stuff · 4 years ago

Note

could you do one where the reader was natasha and yelena’s “sibling” when they lived in ohio, and reader was taken by the red room with them, and then when reader was a teenager, they managed to escape, leaving natasha and yelena behind, thinking reader was dead. after they take down the red room, they find the reader and have a sibling's reunion? and could you keep it gender-neutral please?

Castle on the Hill

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/sibling!reader, Yelena Belova/sibling!reader

Description: The reader was Natasha and Yelena's "sibling" when they were undercover in Ohio, and gets taken into the Red Room with them. After escaping as a teenager, the reader stays alone, leaving everyone to believe they are dead until one day, they recieve a call from a familiar voice.

Warning: mentions of the Red Room and the torture they caused, i think that's pretty much it

Word count: 2,002

A/N: i had so much fun writing this omg it seriously made me want to cry! i hope you enjoy it!!

✩❀✩❀✩

“Tasha, stop!” I cried, giggling slightly as my sister and her friend chased me through the fields that were located a few blocks away from home.

The fields were my favorite place to play. My older sister Natasha, who was three years older than me, always liked to come to the fields with her friends. A few months ago, I had turned six and mom told me that I was old enough to go play in the fields with Tasha. My younger sister Yelena was only four, so she was still too young to play with us. But that was okay, I still liked to play with her in our backyard. We even had a playground. Tasha had taught me how to do the monkey bars without getting scared, and I passed the skill on to Lena.

Today, I was playing tag with Tasha and her friend. Of course, with them being nine and me only being six, they were a lot faster than me. Being faster than me meant that no matter how fast I ran, they would always catch up to me. Nat reached her hand out and shoved me lightly in the back. However, I wasn’t expecting it, and it caught me off guard, making me stumble a bit. My foot caught on a rock and I went tumbling forward, rolling down a small hill. The smell of grass overcame me as I continued to fall, hearing a sickening crack followed by a blinding pain in my leg. Finally, I came to a stop as I reached the bottom of the hill. I looked down at my leg. It was bent at a weird angle, and the pain was almost unbearable as I started to wail.

“Y/n!” Tasha screamed as she ran down the hill after me. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I cried, grabbing her and burying my head in her shoulder. “My leg really hurts.”

“Okay, hold on, we’re gonna get you home to mom, okay? She’ll know how to make it better,” Tasha reassured me.

I nodded feebly as she helped me up, sitting me in the basket of her friend’s bike before riding back home to get help.

——

My eyes shot open, tearing me from my dream. It was rare that I dreamt about my childhood. I had very few memories from that time, and the one I had just dreamt about was one of the most vivid. I broke my leg that day, and it took two months to heal. I remember Yelena being upset because it meant I couldn’t play outside with her for a while. As much as I didn’t like to recall that time in my life, I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Amongst my other memories from my childhood, there were things like my first crush—a kid in my kindergarten class—when I was five, the friends that I had made and had to leave behind, and family dinners every night. But what I remembered more than anything else were the fields we always used to play in. In the distance of those fields, there was a huge mansion made from stone, and Natasha and I always used to imagine it was a castle. Whenever the sun was setting, the orange sky made it look like there was a dragon in the castle blowing fire into the air.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my memories by the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at it sketchily. I never gave my phone number out to anybody, so the odds of getting an actual phone call were extremely rare. Against my better judgment, I picked up my phone and answered the call.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” I asked, trying my best to sound intimidating.

“Y/n?” A voice came through from the other end.

The voice almost sounded familiar, like I had heard it before, but I couldn’t place it.

“I’m not going to ask again,” I said, my fist balling up at my side. “I am not the kind of person you want to piss off.”

“Oh my god, Yelena, it’s them,” the voice spoke, but it sounded far off like the speaker had brought the phone away from their mouth.

Did she just say Yelena?

“Tasha?” I questioned, my voice cracking ever so slightly as realization set in.

“Yeah, it’s me,” She whispered reassuringly. “It’s me.”

I fell speechless, the phone almost dropping from my hand as I moved to wipe away the tears that were already beginning to roll down my face.

Natasha, Yelena, and I were all brought into the Red Room at the same time. Natasha was eleven, I was eight, and poor little Yelena was only six. What we went through was something that no child—or grown adult for that matter—should ever have to go through. I was there for ten years. Ten years of being held prisoner, of being tortured, of being forced to kill.

I was sixteen when I graduated the Red Room. I thought it meant things were over, that I could run as far away as I could and never look back, but I was wrong. The Red Room continued to control me for two years after that, until one day I faked my own death and got out. It killed me inside to know that Lena and Tasha thought I was dead, but I knew I had no future if I stayed. My only regret was that I couldn’t save everyone else.

I distanced myself from the world, afraid of what I had become, what I had done, and what I was capable of. I escaped eleven years ago, and I’ve been alone ever since.

“Y/n, are you there?” Natasha’s voice came through the phone again, drawing me back to reality.

“How did you find me? I’m supposed to be dead.”

“I know a guy,” She responded, and I could practically hear her smirking.

Right. She’s friends with the Stark guy who owns practically the best technology on earth.

“Listen, there’s a lot we need to tell you about, and I think a reunion is in order,” Natasha explained. “We have your location and we’ll be there in an hour. Be ready.”

With that, Natasha ended the call, leaving me alone in silence. Half of my brain told me this wasn’t happening. That wasn’t really Natasha on the phone, it was just some cruel way for the Red Room to find me. But the other half of my brain believed that everything that just happened was real. As much as I wanted to err on the side of caution, the thought of seeing my sisters again made me the happiest I’ve felt since I was a child.

I glanced down at my phone to check the time. Ten minutes had passed since the phone call, giving me about fifty minutes to pack up my things and get ready.

Packing wasn’t hard. I lived a very minimalistic lifestyle, mainly due to the fact that I didn’t have a proper job, and I was always ready to run at a moment’s notice if I ever caught wind of the Red Room near me.

I finished packing and proceeded to pace the floor until the hour was up and I heard a knock at my door. Deciding that I could never be too cautious, I grabbed my handgun and checked that it was loaded before pointing it at the ground and approaching the door.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“It’s us. It’s Natasha and Yelena,” A voice with a thick Russian accent called back.

Yelena.

“Prove it,” I said again, still keeping my guard up. “Tell me something that only you two would know.”

There was a moment of silence before someone spoke up. This time, it was Nat.

“When we were little, you would spend almost every summer night catching fireflies because I told you they could grant wishes. When you found out they couldn’t, you were so mad, you didn’t talk to me for a week.”

I smiled slightly at the memory. Turning the gun’s safety on, I tucked it into my waistband and opened the door, staring face-to-face with my sisters for the first time in over two decades. Almost immediately, the two of them embraced me in a tight hug, and I never wanted to let go.

“So, what did you need to tell me?” I asked once we all pulled away from the hug.

“We’ll tell you in the car. We have to get going though, we have a long journey ahead of us,” Nat told me.

“Where are we going?” I questioned.

“Home.”

——

Natasha and Yelena explained everything to me. About how they teamed up, about how they killed Dreykov, and about how the Red Room was finally gone.

“So, the other widows, are they safe?” I questioned, processing everything they had just told me.

“Yes,” Yelena answered from the passenger seat, turning around to face me in the back. “There is no one controlling them anymore, and we are currently working toward undoing all of the mind control the Red Room created.”

“I can’t believe you guys took down the Red Room without me!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms. “I would’ve loved to help.”

“Y/n, we thought you were dead!” Nat tried to reason, but I wouldn’t listen.

I wasn’t seriously angry with her, and she knew that. Teasing each other was something we did all the time as kids.

“You can’t be mad at us,” Yelena raised her hands in mock defense. “We literally just saved so many lives.”

I continued to cross my arms, ignoring them both.

“C’mon, y/n, talk to us,” Nat glanced back at me through her mirror as she drove.

Still, I said nothing. I was extremely stubborn as a child, and I guess somethings never change.

“I’ve got an idea,” Lena whispered to Nat.

“February made me shiver,” Yelena started singing. “With every paper I’d deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step.”

“I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride,” Nat joined in. “But something touched me deep inside. The day the music died.”

The two of them went quiet and I knew they were expecting me to sing the next part. Yelena looked back at me, and eventually, I caved.

“So bye-bye, Miss American Pie,” I sang slowly, a smile creeping onto my face. “Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. And them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singin’ ‘this’ll be the day that I die. This’ll be the day that I die…’”

Suddenly, all three of us were singing as loud as we could.

“Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in god above? If the bible tells you so. Now, do you believe in rock ‘n’ roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

I burst out laughing with glee, causing Yelena and Nat to follow suit. We laughed for what seemed like an eternity, until we were all red in the face and gasping for air.

Trying to catch my breath, I looked out the window just in time to see us speed past a sign that read:

Welcome to Ohio

I continued to stare out the window as I watched the fields fly by. The sun was just beginning to set, and out in the distance, I could see the “castle” that we always used to admire.

Suddenly, I thought back to when we were kids. I was filled with all the memories we made in Ohio, as a family. Even though I knew it was all fake, it was real in my head. Melina and Alexei were my parents, and Tasha and Lena were my sisters. Ohio was my home, and nothing anyone said or did could take that away from me.

#request #mcu oneshot #yelena belova #yelena belova one shot #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff oneshot #mcu x reader #black widow #black widow spoilers #mcu

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yourtamaki · 4 years ago

Text

a kind dream, a cold reality

keigo x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, neglect

there was peace in stability. when exciting beginnings morphed into routine, safe knowing exactly how your days would pan out.

there was also distance. when love declarations became monotone, more habit then heartfelt and kisses become another chore to check off a list.

when did domesticity become purgatory, doomed to repeat actions until all sparks of life had been drained away?

you stood in the kitchen, preparing dinner nearly on autopilot. you didn’t have to look at the time anymore, you’re own internal clock telling you there was 30 minutes until it was done, perfectly timed for when keigo came home from work.

for when he’s supposed to come home at least.

you tried to not think of how many meals had gone cold while waiting for him to return from wherever it was he decided was important to be then with you. at least the neighbours loved you, accepting the countless dishes that would otherwise have gone to waste. you wondered what lie you should tell them today. that you had made too much? that you were trying out a new recipe? you had plenty of time to decide.

setting the table was now a mindless activity, each plate and piece of cutlery placed just so across the dining table. when everything was in its rightful place, you brought out the pasta dish, setting it in the middle in a large bowl with tongs propped up inside. you could never guess how much keigo would eat on any given day so it was always best to let him serve himself. with nothing left to do, you took your seat before the empty plate, staring blankly ahead at where keigo was supposed to be.

you used to love this table. it had been the first thing you and keigo had bought together when you first moved in together. not a bed or a couch. a dining room table from a second hand store he insisted you had to go to because, “we need something alive with memories, songbird.”

you remember how you had both spotted it at the same time. tucked away in the corner, legs scuffed to hell but with the most beautiful dark oak surface you’d ever seen. you hadn’t realized how small it was either until you both sat down for the first time with shitty takeout because neither of you had thought to buy cookware. it was impossible for your knees not to bump into keigo’s, for his thigh not to end up between yours. you both loved the table too much to return it so you had to learn to adjust. now, it was your favourite aspect about the table, the added feeling of closeness as you shared a meal with the love of your life. it set the tone for the rest of your house, turning it from somewhere to live to a shared home.

these days, you had more space then you knew what to do with, your legs could swing under the table unobstructed. you hated it.

your stomach growled, the sound quickly swallowed up by the vast silence. you didn’t want to eat. not yet, not while there was a chance he showed up and you wouldn’t ruin your first meal together in who knows how long just because you got a little peckish. you could wait.

and wait you did.

you plated up a portion for yourself as the setting sun darkened the house, eating mechanically until your fork had nothing left to pick up. the next part was almost a ritual at this point. storing the food away in tupperware, cleaning the dishes, wiping down the kitchen so come morning you could start the cycle once more. you had perfected the routine down to every last detail. there was nothing left to do but get ready to sleep and lay in bed, idly playing with the crimson feather that hung around your neck.

you could refrain from touching it throughout the day but you couldn’t stand not holding it when you were alone in the too wide bed. you were supposed to be surrounded by hundreds of these feathers. you missed the way his wings would wrap around you during the night, pulling you into keigo’s chest. sleep wasn’t the same without them but you had no choice but to make do with the lone feather.

was this going to be the rest of your life? cooking meals no one would eat, cleaning an already spotless house, sleeping cold and alone? this isn’t the future keigo promised you when he got down on one knee, tears already streaming down his face. you weren’t naive, you knew there would be hard times in your marriage. it couldn’t be sunshine and roses all the time. you just thought he would be by your side when those times came.

a tapping at the window had you shooting up in bed in fear, head whipping towards the sound. an all too familiar outline was hovering outside, waving for you to open the window. you carefully made your way across the dark room. you’d unlatched the large window so many times it had become muscle memory and soon enough, your husband was flying through, landing lightly on his feet.

for a brief moment, a warm burst of love filled you. he was home, just an arm’s length away. you knew you’d forgive everything, everything, if he wrapped you up in a tight hug. the one that hurt your ribs and left your feet dangling in the air as he swung you around. the one where you felt his laugh more than heard it, you were pressed so close to his chest. that’s all you needed to remind yourself what you were fighting for. just one hug.

keigo walked past you without a word and the moment died. you think a piece of you died with it. an important piece. it would remind you of the better times, when you weren’t a wife but a girlfriend. when you were a priority in his life, when you could count on him dropping everything if you needed him. the piece that kept you together, kept you whole was gone and in its place was not emptiness but indifference.

“you’re really not going to say anything?” you didn’t understand why your voice came out so hoarse until you realized it was the first time you’ve used it all day. keigo didn’t pause as you broke the silence, continuing to undress with his back to you.

“‘m tired, songbird. can we do this later?” can’t he feel it? the precipice your relationship is on the edge of, threatening to fall and shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment? it dawns on you, watching him yawn and stretch, shaking out his feathers, that no. he doesn’t.

“keigo.” he turned to face you, blinking at the use of his name. always kei, never keigo. “i think i need a break. ”

he huffed out a confused laugh. “break from what?”

“a break from us.” you never knew silence could be so cold. so cold it left you shivering in its grasp. that’s the only explanation of why you were shaking so hard you had to clench your teeth to stop them from chattering.

“that’s not funny, dove.”

“i’m not joking.”

“why?” it was your turn to laugh, a broken, shrill thing that hurt your ears.

“you can’t think of one reason? one reason i’d have to be unhappy in this relationship?”

“look, i know i’m not around much these days but-“

“days? try months.” you felt nauseous at the sight of him, pale faced and eyes that darted around like a cornered animal looking for an escape. distantly, you realized this was unfair to him. you had ambushed him, gave him no preparation for what was quickly turning into a fight. but the hurt that had been growing inside you, gnarled and twisted with thorns that wrapped around your heart and shredded it with every beat demanded to be heard. you could flood your home with all the pain you housed.

“i’m sorry, songbird but i’m a hero. i work the hours commission tells me to. i can’t be here all day with you and you knew that when we first got together.”

“don’t try to make me sound unreasonable for wanting to spend time with my husband. i’m alone, keigo.”

“i know.”

“no you don’t! i am alone. i don’t have friends cause they all used me to get close to the number two hero. i had to sign a contract that said i wasn’t allowed to tell anyone where we lived. i don’t leave the house cause i’m terrified of someone recognizing me and using me against you. i am alone, keigo. with not even myself for company cause i don’t know who i am anymore outside of being your wife.”

he bowed his head, shoulders shaking though you didn’t know from what, his wings curling in as if to protect himself from your rant. “do you still love me?”

you sighed, your mouth opening and closing trying to think of how best to phrase what you felt towards him, “if i didn’t love you, i wouldn’t be telling you all this. i would’ve just left.”

“then stay. please. we can work through this. i'll be better, i’ll cut my hours. please, y/n. i can’t lose you.”

“i love you, kei. but i don’t think i was ever meant to be your wife.”

he was openly crying now, teary eyes meeting your dry ones. you didn’t know when you’d moved past that stage of grief but you were beyond grateful. it gave you the strength to power through this for the both of you. you owed him at least that kindness.

“that’s all you wanted once.” he whispered.

“the dream was kinder to me than the reality.” the truth of your statement was a punch to the gut. you’d wanted nothing more then to marry him, had daydreamed about it long before he popped the question. it felt like an inevitability. an intrinsic truth. the sky was blue. grass is green. you would be keigo’s wife someday. but love alone wasn’t enough to keep you two afloat. not when you’d been left alone to man a sinking ship. “i’ll take the couch and pack in the morning.”

“no! please if… if this is the last time…”

“it’s not forever, kei. just until i remember who i am outside of these walls.”

“still, can i hold you? please? just for tonight.”

you never could refuse him.

your bodies fit back together as though no time had passed since they’ve last held each other. despite the air still tense with emotion, you felt your body relax in his grasp, conditioned to associating the warmth of his chest against your back with safety. you knew in the morning, you’d wake up happy. the memories from tonight would be slow to trickle back in. but that was a problem for the future. tonight, you would savour the bliss of falling asleep with the person you loved most in the world. and you did love him. loved him so much it hurt. loved him enough to take this step back so he wouldn’t blame himself when he woke up one day and realized his wife had become a shell of herself.

#hawks x reader #hawks imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #keigo imagine #keigo x reader #mha x reader #mha imagine #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo imagines

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ohheyitsokay · 4 years ago

Text

opening weekend

part 1 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 1.9k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! That no one but me and @beautyagegoodnesssize asked for but I’m telling you... just give it a try. Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the groundwork for the series is laid: Frankie is a catcher, and your grandpa is the biggest fan of his team.

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was warm on the back of you neck and it was the bottom of the fourth. It was loud with chatter and announcements, music and cheers, and there were flashing advertisements and seas of merchandise – a typical opening weekend. If you were being honest, it wasn’t really your thing. Or it was, but it shouldn’t have been.

The man beside you was beaming with absolute joy, barely sitting as he leaned forward eagerly as if hoping desperately that it would bring him onto the field with the players.

It was always like this, every few weeks, every summer for years. His name was James, and years and years ago you’d grown close and he’d shared the single constant in his life: the game, and his team. It became your way to stay close, throughout all the chaos of the world, you always made time to make it to as many home games as you could to sit by his side and hear his stories and soak up the wonder in his eyes as he watched the ball and the bats and the sun on the grass. Season passes were his gift to you every year, and today was more exciting than normal, because it was finally time to pay him back.

He loved this team. Of course, it was constantly changing, but for such an old man, he could remember all their names and numbers and statistics. He collected the cards and loved the boys so much it was almost like they were his grandkids.

“No autographs,” he would tell you. “They’re already giving us their best, who are we to ask for more?” and you would melt a little, inside. He was careful not to idolize them, clicking his tongue when bad headlines would come out, constantly reminding you they were just humans, “Just boys! Leave them alone! They’re figuring it out,” he’d say, angrily. It made you laugh, how much he cared about them, and it warmed you heart.

“You want some nachos, Jimbo?”you asked, standing as the ads played and the mascots ran out into the field for extra entertainment. “They’ve got some picked jalapeños with your name on ‘em.” He squinted up at you and you shifted, blocking the sun from his sweet, wrinkled face. A nod and a smile was all you needed before you caught his hand, reminding him to let you pay. You shuffled towards the steps, trying to avoid the drinks and snacks and knees of the people in your row, whispering excuse me’s and apologies. Once you made it to the outsides of the arena, you ducked behind one of the looking pillars, checking your phone before making your way to the quieter, less commercialized area. A security guard checked your phone and ID, and you were ushered into a large office, show awards and photos and expensive amenities filling it to the brim. A man was leaning against a impossibly giant desk, an air of hurry about him, and he shook your hand.

After hasty introductions, you jogged his memory, reminding him that you had submitted an application and been chosen by the board to have your grandfather honored by the team, and today was the day.

He nodded absentmindedly and began to wave you off, ears listening to other words, you were sure. They assured you a team of security would come and escort him to the meeting area when it was time and you said quick thank-you's before stopping.

“Sir, one last thing,” you stood your ground against the rush, determined to be heard. “He’s not just a crazy fan, he’s a sweet old man. I know this is routine for you guys but…” finally, the man in the suit met your eyes. “Please remember how special this is to him.” And he nodded, a swallow pushing down his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but this was important to you.

As you walked back, you got the biggest tray of nachos you could find, and tried not to trip over your own shoes.

It was a beautiful day.

Frankie was hot and sweaty and tired and having a great time. It was the first real game of the season and he hadn’t gotten sick of the noise… Just yet. People were cheering, spirits were high, and for now, Santi was pitching right into his glove.

Just outside the dugout, he and the others paused, hearing the announcer powering up for something unique. Normally, they tuned it all out, but for these, it was basically required that they pay attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today with us we have a very special –” he blared, but it faded to the background. Francisco had been told, with everyone this morning, that the board had chosen a submission of a dedicated fan to honor, someone they’d all have to say hello to, but he hadn’t expected… this.

All over the screens around him and front and center of the megatron was a shocked but beaming elderly man. He wasn’t screaming, or decked head to toe in merch, just smiling, with a tshirt design Frankie barely recognized from years and years ago. It had been washed enough times the team’s logo was barely visible, and that alone was awesome. More importantly, he was tugging at the hand of the most beautiful woman Frankie had maybe ever seen.

Of course, he’d seen lots of beautiful people, it was one of the stranger side effects of his job, but you… were something else. Maybe it was the joy on your face as you nodded, eyes fixed on your grandfather, maybe it was the way the sunlight was hitting your hair just right either way, his heart did a little flip in his chest, and on his shoulders the padding felt suddenly light. He was at loathe to put on his helmet, knowing the face cage would obstruct his view of you, but then you were gone, the ads replacing your face, and one of his friends was giving him a shove towards his corner.

It wasn’t until a ball was mere feet from his face that he remembered he was supposed to be catching it.

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

And then in a daze, he was making his way to the locker room, with a crowd of trudging cleats and sweaty scents, the roar of the crowds behind him.

Claps on shoulders, showers, and banter passed, and they all filed like sheep into a big, open room. The energy was different, though, less strained than it might have been, if it were an obsessive teenager, or an arrogant know it all.

Frankie’s ear pricked when he heard one of his teammates say, “Hope that girl comes along, she was hot,” all jokes and winks and maybe a crude hand motion or two. There was a twist in his gut, which was absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t have time to ponder it, because suddenly the door was opening again and there you were.

The main event, of course, was the kindly man at your side, and Frankie tried to seem natural and he strained to see around his friends.

The news reporter was chattering, and he was vaguely aware that everyone was watching the manager give his speech – everyone but him and you. He watched, transfixed, as you tenderly tucked your abuelo's hand into your elbow.

Frankie was busy thinking he’d never quite felt so comfortable in this room before, never seen someone who made him wish he was at the front of the crowd, when your eyes were suddenly in his.

You gave him a half-smile and your fingers wiggled in the tiniest of waves.

It was just for him, not everyone else, and Frankie gulped, too pleased and too shocked to react properly.

When it was his turn to talk to the pair of you, Frankie felt more nervous than he had this morning, walking onto the field. He didn’t even know your name – something he begrudged the staff – and yet he was somehow aching to make a good impression, on you both. But then your abuelito stole his hat and ruffled his hair and he was grinning, and it was a beautiful day.

When he walked back to the lockers, he was pretty sure his heart stayed right in that room, somewhere next to a beaming little old man.

The two of you went separate ways but not at all the same as you’d been that morning.

Frankie ducked out of the after party at Tom's bnb. The boys were rambunctious and loud and more importantly they kept talking about you and he just didn’t want to hear any of it.

The memory of the little wave of your hand was burrowing into his chest, into his stomach, feeding him like food after a long, hot summer day.

Santiago’s footsteps were familiar, even off the sand and the grass of the field. His hand was warm on Frankie’s shoulder, pulling him slowly back to reality.

“Everything okay, hermano?” His voice was equal parts genuine and teasing.

Frankie shrugged. What could he say? He didn’t even know your name, and even if he did, so what? It's not like his mind had already created a scenario in which he'd chased after you in the long, curved corridors and you had beamed, happy to see him, and touched his hand with yours.

It’s not like he was kicking himself for letting you walk out the door without trying, anything. Not like he hated hearing the other guys joke about how innocent and sweet you looked. He certainly couldn’t explain how possessive he felt over a girl he’d only sort of met.

So he ignored the thump in his chest and just looked a the stars and shrugged.

As for you, James was seated next to you, trying to start sentences and getting overwhelmed with joy. Your hands slid over the steering wheel, listening to him as much as you could, filling in the ends, mind still on the handsome player who’s eyes had followed you through from over the sea shoulders and hats.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked, pulling you back to reality.

You hummed noncommittally in response. Lying to him was absolutely out of the question so you pondered your options, while he watched you, amused.

“What’s the name of the catcher?” you asked, finally, feeling heat in your face as you remembers his broad shoulders and the twitch in his hands.

His laugh was adorable and mischievous and you felt almost silly. You weren’t a little girl watching t-ball, after all, that was a real, actual man.

A real man with dark, deep eyes, and tan skin and fluffy curls.

You shook your head.

“Never… mind.” He was also undoubtedly also a man with a life and a girlfriend or wife, and no lingering thoughts of you.

James laughed again and dropped the subject.

But you walked him into his home and he grasped your hand with newfound determination. He winked and whispered and you felt a thump in your chest.

“Francisco Morales.”

translations:

abluelo: grandfather

abuelito: literally, little grandfather, it’s affectionate

hermano: brother

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #maybe i don't know people

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thesunshinebunny · 4 years ago

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VI)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: After weeks of tension and mutual pining, Eren and reader finally succumb to their most carnal and animalistic desires.

Word Count: 7.9k

His cold hands were still resting on my skin. The body heat of each of us was reversing until we became the temperature of the other. In what had been burning for a moment, now my cheeks felt cold, icy, the skin on my chest and hips began to feel discomfort and the wind that was blowing did nothing but make me shiver. Instead, Eren's hands became warm, pleasant to the touch, but uncomfortable and unsure at the same time towards my sanity. The fingers of his left hand were moving over my hip in an attempt to massage a bruise that had just risen above the bone, a bruise that I had just noticed when his hand moved slightly up my shirt to lay flat on my skin and flesh. His right hand, still positioned on my cheek, ran the few tears that continued to fall, just as the trail of the already dry traces that this salty stream had left behind disappeared.

The situation wasn’t comforting at all. The burning sensation and fever that had reigned over my body moments before, had dissipated like a bucket of cold water on a small fire. Now I was cold, stiff, shivering and with memories of previous years haunting my mind, memories that once were to be saved to treasure when we were all old and at peace, but now it seemed that they only brought sadness and misfortune.

My eyes were fixed, unseeing, on Eren's bare chest. His skin showed no signs of hits or bruises like mine, damn it, the only thing that could be distinguished was his beefy abs, worked for years, stained with dirt and a few tiny blades of grass stuck to them. I watched as his chest swelled with each inhalation he took, his breathing calmed, no traces of the hectic fight or the makeout session. My hands, already tired from continuing to maintain pressure, now I limited myself to moving my fingers from the inside and out of my palm, occasionally brushing Eren's pelvis with my nails. I stretched them out, letting my fingertips rest on his hip, the small leaves adhering to his skin tickled my fingers and with slight movements I took them out one by one and left them on the grass around us... Some of them stuck to my fingers because of the humidity and the mud accumulated on the rib.

I cleaned them with my palms, but noticing that they didn’t come off easily, I simply ran my hands through my pants, staining them even more with dirt, some leaves fell to the floor due to friction in front of the fabric, others were beautifully placed on the thighs, in U-shapes or even folded into a perfect spiral. Some even broke in two and left little green spots on top of the brown ones. Eren withdrew his hand from my cheek when felt my fingers and nails stop passing through his pelvis and began to play with the small leaves. His hand removed mine from my thighs and ran every trace of wet leaves to the floor in one simple, clean motion. Now that hand was the one that rested on the flesh of my left thigh, moving up and down, occasionally grasping the soft parts and squeezing them from time to time.

I placed my hands over my thighs again, this time over the connection between my legs and my hips, preventing some unseemly movement of Eren's hand from reaching that area without my consent. I fixed my eyes on these and just at that moment I could notice how pale they were, the bruises were still visible and the blood had completely dried, the knuckles were red and little skin began to come out as bruises began to form on top all the long fingers. My left wrist had received the same treatment, a huge bruise covered a large part of the ligament and the bone of the arm, it was even slightly displaced, probably dislocated, but I didn’t feel any pain, not even when moving it, even if it was a few centimeters. As for my right hand, I had only received a few blows on the knuckles, the occasional broken fingernail, but without showing the lower flesh.

My palms, well, I don't know if I could call them palms anymore. I turned both hands to check them and the sight didn’t make me feel better, it only made me relapse into the realization of how mistreated my body was; both were full of dirt, green spots, the product of the viscous liquid that the broken leaves left, and dried blood, apart from the large superficial cut on the right palm. They looked like shit, I have to admit. I let out a long sigh at such a miserable image. My eyes burned, but I couldn't give myself the freedom to close them because I knew that if I did, more tears would shoot out.

"Hey" Eren's hand that was for minutes massaging my hip was placed under my chin and raised my head once more, without heaviness or restrictions on my part.

My view was blocked by his long fingers, which like his torso, didn’t show any sign of injury or bruises, except for a few small traces of dried blood, my blood. I couldn’t see with complete clarity if his fingertips were equally stained, I tried to turn the head to where he was caressing me a few moments ago to find some indication of blood or injury, but Eren prevented me by bringing my face back to his, lifting it more and bringing it closer to his eyes. They were the same as I had seen them a few minutes ago, greyish turquoise and glowly. God, that glow, that damn glow. Within all possible situations, in any place, they had to return to shine here and now. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

I directed my hands to his face, placing each one on his cheeks and cradling him between them. I couldn't tell if the action caught him off guard, what I can say is that I could feel, for a thousandth of a second, his eyes widen at the touch. Color that had been lost for months had returned for a moment, as a small blush on his cheeks. For a moment, I swear for a moment, the Eren I knew was back. My eyes inspected his, trying to find that color that I had spotted, trying to find a sign of the Eren that I had loved so much, a sign that he was still there, hidden, curled up like an infant before the oh so many shadows surrounded him.

"You have beautiful eyes" It was a cruel reality but true in the same way.

His eyes were always one of his most impressive features I had ever noticed from a person. Huge, with a lot of accumulated life, a strong and bright color, unable to take my eyes off them. Those same eyes that brought security were the ones that made me doubt my actions and generated deep sadness in me; Those eyes that once made me tremble with exaltation now made me cry.

It was the same eyes that I had lost myself in on a hot sunny day at the cabin along with Levi and our little squad. That spring day, pollen in the air, the cabin full of dust and cobwebs, the boys doing their homework, while Eren and I were cleaning up. Each one cleaning in our small space, without speaking to us unless necessary, such as asking for help to move a piece of furniture if one couldn’t, or ask for the cleaning tool the other had to clean a small cobweb under a window frame. The dirty and torn glasses, in need of a delicate hand that could remove all traces of the excessive abuse during the years that this small home was disabled. I decided to clean all glasses on the lower level, leaving Eren to clean the door on both the outside and inside.

As I was cleaning the window closest to the front door, I noticed how the frames were starting to crack, a few splinters coming to the surface and being capable of injuring anyone who was not careful enough. I ran the rag through a fairly open crack, trying to remove as many splinters as possible, even dislodging the broken piece out of the frame entirely. Little by little the wood was detaching, some pieces stuck to the skin of my fingers, others fell right on my feet, and when I was finally able to completely detach the broken piece, I left it on the table in full view of all of them, so that when someone re-entered the cabin, I could warn them of the care with the respective window.

I decided to investigate more parts of the frame to see if I found more loose pieces when out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure move outside the window. During my little out of all reality I had completely forgotten that Eren was cleaning right on the other side of the wall. I could see him perfectly from where I was standing. His arms, while long compared to mine, didn’t reach up to the wood of the door, having to stand on tiptoe and stretch a little to reach the dust that had accumulated in that area. His hair gathered in a cloth, preventing dirt from falling on it, made a funny image at the same time... almost cute. His young face, now half covered with the cloth, was getting younger and the way in which he stretched, reminded me of the image of a little boy in the middle of the bazaar of my town trying to reach a basket of cookies without the mother found out.

But it was neither his figure nor the way his hair was flattened and took that shape little by little, but the way in which the sunset sun reflected exactly on his eyes, turning them a lush green, much lighter and more colorful. Although his eyes were directed towards the door, I could see them without complications; I could see his eyelashes rise up and the smallest of the ends bent and tangled between them, I could see the small shiny points turn a warm color while the clean wood of the door was reflected in the iris.

At some point, I opened the window outward, allowing me to stretch my body and settle on the lower wood, resting my abdomen and elbows, holding my head in my hands as I watched the incredible scene in front of me. The sun's rays hit Eren's body, giving him an orange ring of light over his entire figure, the cloth about to come loose and fall from his head because of how badly tied it was and his hands were dirty while also being delicate when holding the rag between his fingers, perhaps an act Levi had taught him while he was alone in his squad.

The rag slipped from his hand and the moment he reached down to grab it, his face turned straight to mine, allowing me to see his eyes much more conspicuously. The play of light and shadow, the way that nature itself reflected in them was the greatest work of art that I had ever seen, perhaps it was due to the fact that I hadn’t seen many people with green eyes, much less with that tonality. of green that Eren had inherited. What beautiful eyes. I thought I had said it to myself, but apparently I had unconsciously let it out in a slight sigh, as Eren raised his head in less than a second, straight at me. His eyes were wide and his face reflected surprise.

Those eyes in which I had been spellbound for long minutes were staring at me, penetrating strongly on mine, as if looking for a sign that his owner had clearly heard what the wind had brought to his ears.

"What? Did you get lost in my incredible eyes? " his humorous words and his wicked smile were what brought me back to reality. They were like an open hand spanking across the face.

My face was decomposed for a moment, eyes open and my mouth ajar, even my hands stopped supporting my head causing me to almost fall to the ground. I tried to compose myself as best I could, fixing my shirt, eliminating the wrinkles that had formed from being with my torso on the uncomfortable wood, and pulling some hair that had fallen over my eyes to one side.

"Yeah, you wish" I threw my body back and stretched out my arm to close the window, but not before giving him a half smile and admiring his eyes for the last time before going back to work.

Now I was in front of those eyes once more, with that memory stabbing a knife in the middle of my heart and mind, but with my body being drawn to them like that hot spring day.

I brought my face close to his, one hand running through his hair while the other roamed his chapped, swollen lips. The moment felt soft, calm, even though the weight on our shoulders was harder and more invasive. His hand on my chin was now caressing my neck lightly, as if he were passing a feather over my jugular, the hand that had been caressing my leg, now had placed on my lower back, stretching the fingers and feeling the greater amount of skin under his as much as possible. We both leaned forward and when our lips met again, time seemed to melt.

This time, there was no fight between our lips, there was no resistance, we just dedicated ourselves to melting into each other along with time. Everything felt delicate, Eren's touch on my back, my fingers on his scalp, his hand on my neck pulling me closer to him. Chest to chest, an almost impossible union for less garments that both of us had on, but still it was enough to feel the beating of the other's heart. No heartbeat was neither too fast nor too slow, they were just in perfect harmony, it was… perfect.

I could feel his lashes brush against mine with every turn of the head I took to sink the kiss, his locks tickling my cheeks, and his tongue, intrusive as it was, was welcome. My senses intensified, causing me to wrap myself in a sea of sensations and little by little the current took me to the deepest waters, feeling how the weight of my body was getting smaller and smaller, as if my body itself made smaller.

I felt vulnerable and it was the same Eren who brought these senses to the surface, the same one who could put them in a bottle, throw them into the sea and lose them in the waves, at the same time that he could bring them back with the simple movement of his hand.

We parted ways to reconnect once more, this time harder and needy. His hands were placed on either side of my waist, pulling me closer to him with more force, connecting our torsos even more and bumping our hips. I groaned when I felt his crotch against mine, I was perfectly positioned on him and every feverish kiss, every movement, made me grind on him. His tongue ran through my mouth as if it were the last time he would do it, it felt abrupt, as if a prayer was taking place, wishing that we would never disconnect from each other. He ran through every part of me, colliding with mine even my teeth, he was desperate and it showed. His teeth took my lower lip between them, biting and tugging slightly, giving me the perfect opportunity to elicit a guttural moan as I felt his cock already erect against my entrance.

He took my mouth back into his, sliding his hands down to the soft flesh of my ass, each hand over the round cheeks, and squeezed, marking his fingers hard over them. He took the opportunity to guide me on his cock back and forth, movements slow but accurate and hard, each grind felt like fire on my center, traveling up my back towards the brain. I was beginning to feel light in the head, my coherence was clouded and the only thing I could think was more, more, more.

At this point I just grunting at every grind he made me do, lifting me slightly to come down again and position myself even closer to his crotch. I bit his upper lip in an attempt to stifle a moan as I felt a wet spot begin to form in the middle of my pants and his dick leaning right in that same spot.

"Don't keep the moans to yourself" he lifted his lips from mine and moved down from my cheek to my neck.

I kept grinding on him involuntarily, no longer with his help, but still feeling his colossal hands squeeze my ass and hold me steady in my movements. He didn't want me to stop and honestly, I didn’t to stop either. The pressure I felt on his dick was too much, even his lips would detach from my skin from time to time, releasing small but notorious grunts, given the pleasure that this simple but filthy action generated to us.

"Fuck, Eren" I moaned as I hit his pelvis once more, this time harder than before. I felt him chuckling as I noticed how my moans began to come out of my vocal chords, with no intention of stopping. The friction felt delicious, we were both getting off with each other without even being in the main event.

My fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face impossibly closer to my neck. I felt his lips leave a thin wet line on the hollow of my clavicle and sting lightly with his teeth. His hands couldn't stay still, the more friction we generated, the more I grinded on him, the more they moved through my body; they passed over my thighs, my back, the sides of my stomach to my chest.

I expanded my chest on the touch of him, preparing myself for what was to come, letting out a groan as I felt his fingers reach the limits of my nipples. They were a little cold and generated a perfect contrast with the heat that began to emanate from within, starting to make my nipples erect under his fingertips. Took one between his two fingers and the heat that was gradually forming in the tip of my stomach was getting bigger. The need for him not only generated great pleasure on my fibers, but also impatience, Eren was characterized by being a damn teaser when it came to sex.

His fingers eased my poor, swollen nipple and pulled my shirt off my shoulders, leaving only my leather suit like Eren, both now in direct contact with our body heat. The shirt fell to the ground at the same time that his lips were detached from my neck, he dedicated himself to arranging the shirt on the grass while still having me straddling him. The same happened with his jacket and shirt, which had been much closer to us than I had imagined. The three garments made a poor case of cover on the grass, but that was enough for Eren to roll me onto his back and settle on top of me.

Lips against lips, hands running over each other's body, savoring on our fingertips the heat of the skin, each muscle and bone marked, the hair of both getting tangled up in the environment, spread over the fabric in my case or Eren's falling towards my face if not spread over my fingers.

Eren settled to the side, leaving a small space between us, and let his hand run over my stomach, slowly, delicately, roaming around my entire torso until it reached my hips. His hand stopped to explore, feeling the bones outlining the body and the beginnings of the legs. His touch was so soft that he even tickled me. His fingers reached a sensitive area, drawing little giggles against my lips, but Eren's intentions weren’t to make me laugh and they were more than clear. Noticing my giggles climbing, he took the opportunity to reach under my pants, even under my underwear. Now the giggles were transformed into moans and sighs when I felt his finger brush my most needy area.

He was starting to burn, little beads of sweat were forming on the back of my neck and forehead, and he wasn't being fair at all. His finger was just brushing, again, and again, and again through my center, giving me the necessary pleasure to moan in his mouth, but never enough. It wasn't enough and Eren knew it, he was torturing me in the most delicious and infuriating way he knew. I guided my hand to his, undoing the buttons on the stained pants, now having more space and comfort, and placed it over his, applying just enough pressure for him to realize how needy I was.

And it worked. Eren heeded my silent prayer and inserted a finger, coming into contact with my wet walls. I moaned as I felt his finger slide slowly inside, his simple finger never fails to make me see stars and this case was no different. It's pumping slowly, too slowly, too much. This was no time for delicacies. The tip brushed the right places, driving the heat in my stomach to expand more, more and more.

"Eren" I growled hoping that my pathetic voice carried enough prayer to give me what I needed.

Eren inserted another finger, twisting it and applying more pressure to my sore spot. I felt like my body was becoming lighter as the pleasure was taking possession. Each twist, each impulse, each pressure was like an electric shock on my spine that ran through the veins and spread throughout the body, until there was no space left untouched. My back arched as I felt both fingers brush against my sweet spot, making Eren giggle over my ear.

"How do my fingers feel inside?" he whispered dangerously into my ear, biting the lobe and generating a new electrical reaction over me.

It was impossible for me to speak, the only thing that came out of my mouth were moans after moans. My free hand went to Eren's neck, I pulled him as close as I could to my face. My gaze was cloudy and narrowed, it was difficult to maintain control. His eyes were not on mine, rather they were on my crotch, seeing how his fingers disappeared without difficulty inside me and came out again and again, wetting them in the process. I tried to draw him to my lips to avoid giving an answer to his question, which had entered one ear and left the other. His fingers wreaked havoc inside me and every time I tried to open my mouth to answer, a new moan came out, making me impossible every second. I was sure that if this continued, I would end up forgetting the question.

"Say it or I'll stop and I'll leave you naked for others to find you" his voice had deepened, and being so close to my ear it only generated more vibrations under my spine.

My head was spinning, trying to formulate an answer before stammering it. It was difficult considering that his fingers had picked up the pace, moving in and out of my hole with a steady rhythm and able to propel my body along with them, and his breath over my ear and neck.

"It - ah - it feels good" it really felt good, I hadn't felt this good in months.

My answer made him smile, apart from twisting his fingers once more before applying pressure to my weak point. I couldn't tell if what came out of my mouth was a moan or a scream, or perhaps a guttural groan, but what I was sure was the fact I was close, too close, to cum. I felt like that heat at the tip of my stomach expanded more, almost without having more space in my body to expand. I was close, my legs twisting on the clothing, spreading it and disarming the covering, and just as I was about to feel the long-awaited launch, it stopped. The damned bastard had stopped.

My eyes went wide at the desperation in my body to break free. Internally I was screaming, I was angry but the trembling of my legs and my arms didn't let me do much. He wanted to curse him, ask him a thousand and a few things, demand an explanation of why in his right mind, if he still had one, it occurred him to stop. Before I could utter a word, Eren straightened up and placed his hands on my hips, exactly above the limits of my pants, squeezing them firmly but gently. I looked at him expecting him to do something, but when he didn't move after a few seconds, I looked up at his. He was looking directly at me, and he was the one waiting for a signal to continue.

I swallowed hard, placed my hands over his and guided them down, raising my butt just enough that we could remove the annoying garment. In our rush and clouded heads, we didn't realize that the shoes were still on, the pants got stuck, and we only realized our mistake when we couldn't get it down after multiple fussing. We turn our gazes to the pants, then to us. We started laughing, it was like reliving our first time, clumsy, inexperienced, but at the same time funny and careful.

Eren shed my shoes, trying to caress my legs every time the worn leather slipped off me. From so much being using them for two days in a row, using them not only for walking and treating patients, but also for running where they shouldn't be used, the leather had stuck to my legs, marking them and leaving blisters and bruises from the knees to the toes. Eren ran his hands over each one, being extra careful when he came across a blister or where the flesh was hot red. He stroked each mark that had formed on the skin, running down to his ankles, lifted my right leg over his shoulder, and began to kiss those same marks around my foot. The kisses were soft, as if it were the skin of a newborn baby, his strong but secure hand held the inside of my leg and massaged the area, which I had not realized how tense and beaten it was until I stared at the scene Eren was putting on.

Between that tour inspecting the discomfort in my leg, my eyes were at the mercy of Eren's, feverish and dark. My gaze, my half-parted lips and my ragged breathing was what Eren needed to place my other leg on his other shoulder and massage both equally, giving the same treatment that he gave to the right leg to the left. Now with half my body suspended in the air, I couldn't help but think about the notorious wet spot that surely had left seconds behind thanks to the excitement. I could feel it stick right in the middle of my crotch.

Without taking his eyes off mine, his fingers slowly descended to the strap of my underwear and slowly slid it over my legs until they reached my ankles. I pulled my legs away from his shoulders and pulled them together so he could peel off the fine fabric and discard it somewhere on the grass. My heart was beating uncontrollably in my chest, like I was about to shoot out. After Eren got rid of that miserable garment, I reconnected his lips to mine, stretching and spreading my legs so I could position myself between them. The kiss was short but effective, pulling me out of any thoughts that might have appeared without permission.

I felt Eren's hand on my leg, cupping below the knee and going palm down toward my ankle. His lips were now kissing my sternum, pressing gently on my rib cage. He looked at me, trying to find ... any reaction? Doubt? But there were none. I let my head fall back, letting my hand run through his hair as he roamed my chest and stretched my legs even more with his hands. Every now and then he bit my light skin with his teeth, generating gasps and grunts from me; Reactions that went straight to his cock, still covered and leaning against my core.

I raised my hips to connect with his dick, receiving a gasp from him as a groan escaped me as I felt him hard and throbbing against me. I hadn’t realized that Eren was just as excited as me, his kisses made thinking much more complicated, each pressure from his mouth made the knot in my lower stomach become more present. He went down, leaving a path of kisses for each part of my skin, until he reached my crotch and reached back to see how his work was reflecting in me.

He brought his face in front of where I needed it most and without being able to say anything to him, not even asking what I wanted, he leaned forward; I could feel how his eyes were fixed on me, his gaze penetrating and even if I wasn’t looking at him, I knew that he was observing every reaction, involuntary or not, on my face and on my body. He was so close that I could feel his breath on me, I waited patiently to feel his mouth on that area, but my mouth opened wide when I noticed that his tongue had gone directly to my thigh, giving it a long and wide lick against my fold.

He knew what he was doing, he knew it very well, and he knew he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. Between licks, he gave himself the opportunity to bite the inside of my thigh, making me moan and, according to what he had told me once, were sweet and addictive.

"Eren-" my voice was half out when I felt his tongue pass my core.

He gave a long lick, not once but twice. My hand settled on the back of his head, trying to draw him closer to me. My fingers applied too much force just as my legs involuntarily closed over his head, crushing it against my thighs. He felt warm and soft, softer than his fingers, but at the same time it wasn't enough. It was not a virtue of me to be patient and knowing him, I knew that he would torture me and tease me until I was left as a wet and needy bundle, begging for a release. I was writhing and shaking, my thighs crushing his head more and more with each passage of his tongue as the arousal spread over my stomach.

He raised his hand to my chest, pinning me to the floor as he left cat licks on my crotch, the other instead going to his underwear, running it down far enough to remove his dick. In my damn delusion, he was preparing me to feel his fingers enter my wet hole again, but Eren had other plans. He grabbed the back of my thighs and wrapped them around his waist, positioning himself in between and letting his cock rest between my stomach. He moved his hips forward, giving him all the pleasure against my skin. I looked at him, my lips apart, releasing long sighs, waiting for him to move a little more or turn his attention back to me, avoiding giving his sweet toss a second time.

He guided the tip of his cock towards my entrance, trying to insert it without a little preparation before. Okay, I was wet, but the situation was getting unfair at any moment. Not only unfair, but also too fast and violent. He lunged in, making me scream at such intrusion, instead he groaning as he slid his cock through my walls.

"Fuck" he growled as he placed himself completely inside me.

After weeks, months, without any interaction, or anything like it, the feeling was overwhelming. My muscles flexed at his grip, fluttering around his throbbing, venous cock, his raspy, low voice continuing to send tingles around my spine. I didn't have time to fully adjust to him, moving quickly on top of me, thrusting in and out at a fast pace, hitting the areas most in need within me. It was pleasant, but it hurt, and discomfort outweighed pleasure.

"Wait, just-wait a minute" I tried to sound straight but his shoves clouded my mind, at the same time that they tensed my body, immobilizing me.

I brought a hand to his chest, trying to stop him, but I only made his thrusts go deeper, more intense from him.

"I said wait a fucking minute!"

I reached forward, now both of us face to face, without any bond between our bodies. My hands formed into fists and went straight to his shoulders, pushing him backwards, staying within the limits of our clothes. Without waiting a second, I straddled him, taking his cock right under my entrance. I felt it throbbing, spasming, the heat that emanated from my crotch was enough for him to growl through his teeth. I guided my hand to where our hips met, lifting a little to reach his cock without complications. I could feel every one of his prominent veins on the palm of my hand, it was radiating heat and starting to leak pre-cum from the tip. I ran my thumb through his veins, going from the base to the tip torturously slow. Pumping his cock firmly, examining his reactions; I felt like my ego was inflated when I saw him with his lips parted, moaning on my hand, it was like having him at my complete mercy. To be honest, seeing him in that state, needy, slowly breaking apart beneath me, was the boost I needed to completely destroy him, as he had broken me. I felt powerful and all I needed was to get his dirty cock in my hand and give him a hand job to have him like a wet stray dog.

But ... as I said before, patience was not my virtue, so just as quickly I had started pumping him, I quickly carried him towards my core, sliding his cock back inside, moaning down my throat as I did so. The way his body trembled at the feel of my walls contracting was delicious.

"Fuck you're so tight," he moaned with his jaw open.

Now it was me who created the rhythm, each thrust I took increased the speed slightly. I stood on his shoulders, moving my palms between his collarbone and his neck, I didn't know what to do with them and I couldn't keep them still. The excitement was building very well and my body was responding on its own. Eren placed one hand on my hip, helping me maintain my thrusts, while the other positioned himself in the crook of my neck, bringing my forehead against his.

"You like this, uh? Do you like to be fuckingthe damn traitor of the country?"

I did nothing but moan at such a vulgar comment, but worst of all, they had reached my crotch; my walls had twisted when I heard him so close to me. My voice had caught in my throat, suffocating me, nothing else came out of my mouth but combinations between moans and grunts. Eren seemed to like it as he began to move more vigorously, he sheathed himself completely inside me, opening his mouth to moan under his breath as he bottoms out.

"You feel so good baby, so so good, my good little baby"

I was tighter than other times, maybe the situation, maybe the position, but fuck the reason, it felt so, so good. I buried my face in the hollow of his shoulder to keep my moans from coming out more prominent, the way his cock settled inside me and brushed every wall virtuously made my body shudder and my eyes go blank. A thrust that touched my sore spot and pulled me closer to Eren at the way he thrust, made me bite his shoulder, hard and deep.

Eren let out a groan as he felt his skin break open and begin to bleed, I could feel the taste of iron on my mouth. It hadn't been my intention to hurt him, but I couldn't control my strength or the way my hips circled as the thrusts picked up speed.

He reached out his hand to grab my hair and bend my neck back, exposing my face to him.

"Shit, that's it baby, mount that cock, I know you like it" the way our hips moved up and down and back and forth in a fiery way until they reached the flush of butt made me shudder. The way he was buried in me seemed like he was trying to reach even deeper, trying to reach my stomach; and it was right there where I felt it most. "I know you love it, you always loved it"

Every movement of him in and out was majestic, it was the best I had felt in months, even better than our previous times. His movements grew steadier, faster, and harder. I felt my body tense up completely, I arched my back against him and kept moving my hips faster, having more friction to work with as I felt the orgasm reach me.

“Are you gonna cum? I can feel your walls tightening"

I nodded my head repeatedly, unable to formulate a word. Eren captured my mouth with his, moving us both at a speed I would never have imagined, our skin colliding over and over and over. The only thing around us was the rapid slapping of skin against skin, the dirty sound of my hole taking him so well, squeezing him more and more.

A strong thrust was what I needed to collapse. I screamed, not caring if anyone was near to listen. Eren's name slipped from my lips repeatedly, as if I was saying a prayer and he alone was my salvation. My back arched again, my hands went to his hair, tousling it and letting brown strands fall over his forehead. My body felt light, much lighter, as if the stress had been released along with the orgasm. I creamed on Eren's cock and his thighs, our legs were wet and my spasms moved any liquid in different directions over our bodies.

In my bliss I hadn’t realized that Eren had never stopped moving, the difference was he’s now going in and out more slowly, much more slowly than we had started.

While we were going slow, I was completely sensitive, and the more thrusts Eren made, the overstimulation took my body by leaps and bounds. No longer moans came from my mouth, but small and soft whines every time he buried himself inside me.

"I love you" his voice came out as a sigh, even lower than that, but loud enough for me to hear.

He froze me a second time, it was already becoming a bad habit on his part. His words were like a dagger to the heart, one that stabbed me over and over and over again. I felt my chest begin to ache, but our movements never stopped. Eren kept pounding against me, like he wanted to accompany his movements with his "sweet" words. My nails dug into his shoulders, trying to dissipate the emotional pain from my chest to the physical pain above him.

"Shut up" I tried to speak still with my head turning thousands of times, avoiding letting out a moan.

His cock kept pounding in just the right places, the rhythm our bodies kept was too sweet, my still erect nipples brushing against his chest, generating more friction than he wanted. His lips still on my neck, each thrust was an open kiss on the jugular.

"I love you" again. There were those filthy words again, words that I needed to have been told months ago, even weeks just as we were returning from Marley. I didn't need them when we were in the middle of a heated sex session in the middle of the woods.

"Stop lying" I bit my lower lip as I felt my walls begin to contract.

We weren't moving at the speed I wanted and that was making me hysterical. I tried to move at my own pace, to move my hips over his pelvis and have the friction that I badly needed to cum, but Eren stopped me. He had a strong grip on my hip and no matter how many inches I moved, he would bring me back to the original position, torturing me with his slow step. His lips moved up to my cheek, giving me a small kiss before moving again and pushing me against him, both of them being chest to chest.

Another kiss, and another, and another. Each one to the rhythm of our tapping.

"I'm not lying" Eren moaned into my ear, reaching for my hair and pulling it back. His mouth now close to mine, a few millimeters closer, reaching out to kiss me.

"SHUT UP! ... please ... shut up" I pulled him away from me, throwing him to the floor, now I was on top of him.

His face twisted as he hit the ground and he closed his eyes due to the pain on his back. My hands were on either side of his head, giving me more room to settle in and examine his face perfectly. A small layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and the root of his scalp, little hickeys he had left behind, which were already fading, and his hair was already completely matted; What was once a bun, now it barely held a few strands, leaving the vast majority of the hair down and spilling over the clothes.

His eyes widened again when I placed my hands on his cheeks. His gaze was the same as always, perhaps he was showing a little sadness, or perhaps fatigue.

Please, just ... don’t

"…okay"

I began to move my hips again in a slow, gentle circular motion, trying to rebuild the mood. We maintained eye contact, neither of us wanted to stop looking at the other, even though our eyes narrowed for the little pleasure. My mouth parted as I started to increase my speed, but still going slowly, without having any hint of speed or exasperation in my movements. It was sensual, tender… desperate. His cock went in and out without difficulty, feeling it on every wall, noticing how it began to twist and get bigger as my walls tightened.

My hands didn't hold me for long, ending up collapsing on his chest. Eren never took his hands off my hips, now they helped me keep up, occasionally massaging the softness of my butt cheeks. I moaned as I felt the tip of his cock reach my deepest spot repeatedly.

One of his hands went straight to the back of my neck and squeezed, drawing me to him and capturing my mouth. His thrusts were increasing in speed and hardness, the rhythm already lost and our kisses sloppies and disheveled.

“Fuck-I’ m…”I spoke between kisses, unable to articulate words between his thrusts and his lips didn’t detach from mine. I wasn't going to last long, I knew it. Eren groaned at hearing my shaky voice and his breathing became faster.

"I know, cum again baby, cum on this cock" our hips moved in unison at a rhythm impossible to explain, if there was a rhythm to begin with. We were going fast, but at the same time slow, we tried to impact our weak spots with each other. We avoided separating, even grew closer, as if we were about to merge. Eren was holding me against his chest as close as possible.

The knot in my stomach, that familiar feeling, accumulated and began to expand in a gigantic way, my eyes narrowed but able to see the height of Eren in his eyes, as well as mine reflected in them. "Please, cum with me"

It was all I needed. My walls contracted and fluids began to flow out of my core, soaking us both and leaving a mess not only on our bodies, but also on our clothes. I moan his name in that moment of ecstasy, wasted, tired and satisfied. Eren, still at his prayer, followed me shortly after, shooting in and his heat filling me completely. His body tensed for a few moments beneath me, his hands circling my back and head as he continued to spread his cum inside me.

I felt him shooting each load, filling me up really well. I kept contracting, still gasping for air and shaking, but neither of us had any intention of separating, much less Eren of coming out. After weeks of languishing a bit of peace, as much as the situation wasn’t the right one, we had both found it. I rested my cheek on his chest, listening to his racing heart and allowing his fingers to wrap around my hair.

We were calm, only our breaths were heard around and our hearts trying to return to their normal rhythm. I relaxed when I felt his hands caress me in the same way that he had caressed me in our previous times, it was that kind of caress that allowed you to stay all the time in the world in the arms of your loved one. They were those caresses that I had longed to receive, the same ones that I was afraid of being used against me and confusing me more than I already was.

Eren gave me a light kiss on the temple, massaging my lower back and still keeping me close to him. I let him cradle me to his chest for a while longer, realizing that the moment we changed, we would be back on our own sides, ready to continue fighting for what we believed was fair.

This time, only this time, I would let myself be carried away, even to the point of being unconscious in his arms and succumbing to a much needed sleep.

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#eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager #Eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #when the world falls apart #eren smut #eren angst #eren x reader #when the world falls apart updates #when the world falls apart update

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bill-y · 4 years ago

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second.

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them.

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height, ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain. I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

#hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #male reader #hunger games #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #katniss everdeen #male x male reader

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

Text

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now.

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @all-hallows-evie

#writer wednesday #javier pena x reader #javi x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javi x f!reader #javier pena x you #javier pena drabble #narcos x reader #agent pena x reader #pena x reader #steve murphy x reader #narcos #javier pena #steve murphy #tw dog death #tw major character death #molly writes

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sequinsmile-x · 4 years ago

Text

Riptide

A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins.

Chapter 2: The Middle

Words: 5k

Rating: Mature. Major Character Death.

You can either read over on a03 or below the cut.

I would love to know what you think.

November 2025

Six weeks after Aaron dies it’s the anniversary of Haley’s death. The date had been burned in her brain long before they were together, the memory of hearing Haley begging Aaron to teach Jack about love was something she was sure she would never forget.

Emily’s still laying in bed when she realises what Aaron no longer being around meant. That he wouldn’t be there to leave flowers at her grave like he did every year with his son. Emily wasn’t even sure if Jack was in town or if he was back at college, his responses to her attempts to reach out short and sharp.

It’s the easiest she’s gotten out of bed in weeks. Determined to do this one thing for the man she loves and the woman he had loved before her. She dresses quickly and throws her hair up in a bun. She goes to a nearby florist and buys the most expensive flowers she can, feeling as if flowers from the grocery store just wouldn’t have been enough.

When she gets to Haley’s grave she falters, wondering for a moment if she has somehow overstepped. She swallows against the feeling and places the flowers down on Haley’s bare grave and she sits down, the damp grass pressing into her knees through her thin yoga pants.

“Hi Haley.” She says, looking at the flowers she had just put down. “I used to do this for him when he was in witsec. I didn’t even know back then that it was what he did when he was around, it just felt right.” She shakes her head at herself. “I think he’d want me to carry on now.”

She remembers what he’d told her once, that in another life, one where they had sorted themselves out sooner and Haley had lived, he thought the two of them would have been friends. Bonding over his annoying habits, how frustrating he was to live with at times. Emily liked to think that was true.

“I don’t really know what I’m hoping for.” Emily admits as she looks at Haley’s headstone. “That he’s with you wherever you are, or that he’s somewhere waiting for me.” She wipes at her cheek with the heel of her hand, getting rid of tears she didn’t think would ever stop. ______________________

He joins her on the balcony, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her back into his embrace. Emily leans against his back and smiles as he presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to do this?” He murmurs against her skin. He tangles their left hands together, their wedding rings hitting each other with the motion.

She tilts her head to look at him, and is unable to stop herself from kissing him, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him in place. She pulls back so their noses touch. “I’ll admit a honeymoon wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”

He kisses her again, smiling too widely against her lips for it to be more than a brush against her. “Where are you taking me first, tour guide?” ______________________

When she first wakes up she can still feel his touch on her skin, and the ghost of his lips against hers. It feels so real she half expects to turn over and find him laying next to her.

Then reality starts to kick in, the harsh truth seeping in through the lightness that her dream had created. The heaviness of her loss taking its place back in her chest. Tears blur her vision as she checks the time on the alarm clock on her nightstand.

2.30am

Emily sighs as she gets out of bed, knowing she wouldn’t sleep again that night. She grabs a box out of the nightstand as she leaves their bedroom and walks downstairs.

She sits in the living room, curled up in a blanket Aaron had bought her because she always complained how cold she was, and she opens the box. She takes their wedding rings back out and holds them in her hand, hoping she can find some of him in a ring he never wore.

______________________

She buys a long chain and loops it through his wedding ring. When she places it around her neck she feels the tiniest bit of relief when the cold metal settles between her breasts.

She slips her own wedding ring onto her finger, settling it against her engagement ring. She stares at them together for a moment and decides to leave it on.

She had already felt married to him anyway.

______________________

Emily goes back to work after Christmas. She doesn’t tell the team about her return, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. The way the bullpen practically grinds to a halt when she steps out of the elevator tells her that she had failed.

She makes it to her office without being stopped, and as she steps into the room she realises her hopes of getting away from him for a few hours, from feeling anything other than sadness wasn’t going to work. It had once been his office too. As she sits down at her desk she remembers the first time they met, how rude he was to her. She used to tease him for it, poke fun at him for how much he hadn’t wanted her around those first few months.

Emily remembers when he first left, entrusting the BAU to her. It was the first time she had walked into his office, her office, when she felt the true pressure of what he had left her. The BAU was precious to him. She had walked over to his desk and picked up his nameplate, tracing her fingers over his name and job title.

She had put it in the top drawer of her desk. At first it felt wrong to get rid of it. Some part of her sure he’d be back eventually. But then they stopped Scratch. His death the end of the danger that Jack was in, and he still didn’t come back.

After that she kept it as a memory, a talisman of sorts of the man she had more complicated feelings for than she would ever have admitted. A piece of him that she had left.

It took on new meaning when they got together. When she knew how it felt to be loved by him, to be taken apart by him. How his skin felt pressed against hers. She’d look at the nameplate when she was at work and missed him, feeling ridiculous for feeling that way when it had only been a few hours since she had last seen him.

When they got engaged, she got an idea. An ongoing joke between them, that his love of the BAU was so great he was marrying into it, that she could turn into a keepsake for him. A small wedding present she knew would have made him laugh.

Emily pulls the drawer open and looks at it, picking it up and looks at its new engraving. She runs her thumb over the words and feels the now familiar tug of pain in her chest.

Aaron Hotchner Husband of the BAU Unit Chief

There’s a knock at her door and she puts it back, wanting to keep this one thing just for her.

“Come in.”

JJ opens the door, a smile on her face that seemed forced. “Em, we didn’t know you were coming back today.”

Emily clears her throat and tries to smile at her friend, “I couldn’t stay home forever.” She sees the case file in JJ’s hand.

“Em.”

“Do we have a case?” She asks, desperation in her tone. She just wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

JJ steps into the office and eyes her cautiously. “Yeah, a serial killer in Kansas.” She hands over the file and Emily reaches for it with her left hand. She doesn’t miss how JJ’s eyes land on her hand, the slight crease in her brow when she realises Emily is wearing two rings. She quickly retracts her hand, reaches for the file with her right instead.

She clears her throat and hopes JJ doesn't hear how her voice wavers. “You can brief me on the jet. Wheels up in 30.” ______________________

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Emily puts the spatula down, sighing as she turns to see him, eyes narrowing at the smug look on his face as he leans against their kitchen counter. “You could help you know.”

He closes the gap between them, places his hands on her hips and he kisses her. “Well then how will you ever learn to cook?”

“That’s what I have you for.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, places his hand under her shirt, his skin burning into hers. “Is that all I’m good for?”

She leans forward and kisses him, biting his lower lip slightly. “One of many things.” ______________________

She wakes up on the couch, unsure when she’d even fallen asleep. Emily closes her eyes in frustration, tears leaking out as soon as she opens them again. She can still feel his hand on her skin, the width of it scorched onto her back. “Damn it.” __________________

She dreams of the car crash they’d got into on their first anniversary. A car running straight into the back of them as he told her a terrible joke whilst they waited for traffic lights to change. He’d hit his head on the steering wheel and become unconscious as the car spun.

The fear she felt when he wouldn’t wake up still sat in her belly sometimes. The thought she’d lost him just as she’d got him overriding her every thought until he had woken up in the hospital several hours later, immediately concerned for her.

Emily still dreamt about it up until the day he died. Her nightmares telling her he had gone, that she was stuck in a car with his body and unable to move herself. Aaron would always soothe her awake, able to tell what had scared her just by the look on her face.

She has the dream again, but this time when she wakes she is alone.

______________________

“Don’t smile at me like that.” She whispers, running her thumb over his lower lip, marvelling in how warm it was.

His smile widens, his dimples coming out for her to trace her fingers over. “Why not?”

Her hand falls away from his face and she sighs, the sound catching in her throat. “Because this isn’t real.

______________________

When she wakes up she is angry. Tears already on her cheeks. And she misses the days when she could forget he was gone when she was dreaming. Moments when her subconscious would let her think he was still here, still beside her like he should be. ______________________

One night, around seven months in, Emily is desperate. Too many dreams about him lingering in her head, traces of him at every turn that she loves and hates in equal measure. Nothing smells like him anymore, and she realises in a harrowing moment she doesn’t even remember what he smelt like. She sprays their bed in his cologne and it’s not quite right. Whatever scent he had, something uniquely Aaron, missing.

A letter inviting her to the court date, to hear details about how he died yet again, tips her over the edge. She goes out, wanting to feel anything other than the all consuming grief that had become her normal.

A man across the bar she finds herself in keeps looking at her, throwing her looks in the dim lights. She drinks just enough to convince herself it's a good idea, that it would help.

If the fact she is wearing a wedding and engagement ring bothers him he doesn’t show it, doesn’t comment on it as she pulls him into the alley behind the bar.

The man kisses her. She moves her head, not wanting his lips pressed against hers. He presses his lips against her neck and she feels a stone drop in her stomach. His fingers trace her arm and they are too soft and she wrenches herself away from him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” She walks away, ignores how he shouts that she should just go home to her husband after her, and she hails a cab. She cries the entire way home.

For the first time, for only a moment, she hates Aaron. Hates him for loving her so much, so well, that she can’t forget how it felt even for a second. ______________________

“You’re sad.”

She closes her eyes as he settles behind her in bed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Of course I’m sad.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head and she sighs, settling into his embrace. “You can’t be sad forever, love.”

She brings his hand up to her lips, presses them against him. Feeling his skin and the metal of his ring against her. “I don’t know how to be happy without you.” ______________________

August 2021

Emily is nervous the first time they have dinner with Jack after they get together, and Aaron finds it very endearing. She comes to his apartment and he can immediately tell she is on edge. Signs he hadn’t seen when Doyle came on the scene all those years ago. Little changes in her demeanour he had gone over in his head again and again when she was in Paris, a fake grave for her too close to where he lived that made his lungs fill with regret.

When she came back, nervous and on edge, he had purposely looked out for them. He’d seen her need to leave them before she even had, and he’d let her go, despite everything in him wanting to beg her to stay.

Aaron lets her into his apartment, explaining Jack was just on his way home from after school soccer practise, and she walks into his kitchen, helping herself to a glass of wine like she lived there. It takes all of his self control to not ask her to move in, knowing they’d only been together two months, as he watches her sit at the dining table. He sighs and sits next to her, taking a sip of the wine she passes to him, and he smiles as he realises she had poured it intending for them to share.

“Sweetheart.” He places a hand on her bouncing knee, soothing the joint with his thumb running back and forth over it. “Jack’s known you almost his entire life.” He says, not missing the way she rolls her eyes when he knows that is wrong with her without anything being said.

“I know.” She says, teeth immediately going for the cuticle on her thumb before he grabs her hand, subtly surveying the damage she had already done. “I know I’m being ridiculous. But…this is different.” She grabs his hand off her knee and links their fingers. “We’re together now. I love you. I’m not just a friend or someone you work with.”

He can sense the spiral, the self doubt seeping into her pores. “Emily.” He gently cups her face and makes her look at him. “Jack loves you. When I told him we were together, do you know what he said?” He smiles as she shakes her head at him. “He said ‘about time.’”

She laughs at that, a beautiful sound that makes his heart sing. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” He promises, kissing her firmly. “Well, he actually said ‘about fucking time’ but I told him off for cursing.”

Emily laughs again, her nerves finally seeming to uncurl and she kisses him this time, her love for him clear as she wraps her hand around the back of his neck.

Dinner goes well, and Emily becomes a pretty permanent feature in the Hotchner’s apartment after that. ______________________

The way they easily fall into their relationship surprises him. Aaron had always pictured their relationship, when he’d allowed a little bit of dangerous hope to seep in, to be fiery. Both of them too used to being alone, to being self reliant to give enough of themselves to make something work between them. But it’s not like that.

They communicate. They love each other openly. And every time she touches him, which she does almost constantly, he feels like something in him clicks into place for the first time in his life. A piece of the puzzle he didn’t realise had been missing. ______________________

Aaron wakes with his head on her chest, curled around her in a way that made it hard to determine where she ended and he began. Emily was running her hand through his hair, her short nails scratching against his scalp.

“Morning.” She says gently, her thumb skating over his temple.

Aaron doesn’t move from her chest, but tilts his head so he can look up at her. She smiles at him, adoration all over her face despite how tired she looked. “It’s unlike you to be up first.”

She hums. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He does lift his head at that, and he moves his hand from where it had been resting at her waist to cup her cheek. “Did you sleep at all?” He sighs when her answer is a shake of her head, sitting up and changing their positions so she’s resting against his chest. “You should have woken me up, baby.”

“You need your sleep too.” She grumbles, but he can feel the smile she presses into his bare chest as she protests.

“What kept you up?” He asks, his finger tracing the scar at the top of her left breast, as if he already knew the answer.

Emily rests her chin on his chest so she can look up at him, hand skirting over one of his scars. “It feels stupid, because its been so long now.” She smiles sadly. “But sometimes I feel like I’m still in that warehouse in Boston. Like part of me never left.”

“That isn’t stupid, Emily.” Aaron says firmly, catching her hand in his own. He wonders how many people had told her since Ian Doyle had torn through their lives that she needed to move on, to leave it behind her. “If anyone understands how it feels to be haunted by their past like that it’s me.”

Emily smiles at him and pushes down at his chest so she can reach up and kiss him before she lays back down. They don’t say anything else, and she certainly doesn’t get any sleep, but they spend hours just laying together that morning.

Aaron thinks, not for the first time, that they understand each other better than anyone else ever could.

______________________

He knew he’d been moody for a few days, the anniversary of Haley’s death looming over him. Aaron is shorter with her than usual, and he even ignores a couple of calls from her when she tries to check in when she’s away on a case.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, it was quite the opposite. She knew him well enough to pull his emotions out of him until he felt raw, and this was something he didn’t want to put on her. To make her comfort him as he grieved another woman. Emily takes to texting him instead, simply asking for a response to let her know he’s ok. He replies, just a one word text, and she leaves him alone after that.

It's very late in the evening the day before the anniversary when she lets herself into his apartment. The key he had given her only a few weeks into their relationship scraping in the door was his first sign that she was coming over. She has her go-bag slung over her shoulder, an indicator that she had only just landed and hadn’t even been home.

“Hi.” She says, a soft smile on her face that he isn’t sure he deserves.

He clears his throat, just seeing her making all the emotions he’d been suppressing climb up his chest, threatening to spill out. “Hey, Em. Look I’m-”

“I know what tomorrow is.” She interrupts, placing her bag down by the door. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Aaron sighs, and he rubs his hands over his eyes. Of course she remembered. She’d been on the line when Haley died, heard her final words at the same time he had. “Emily.”

She moves so she’s stood in front of him, somehow having taken her shoes off without him noticing so their true height difference is noticeable. He looks down at her and she's looking at him so kindly, her eyes full of so much love and understanding for him that he almost loses it there and then.

“Is Jack in bed?” She asks as she grabs Aaron’s hand, smiling as he nods in answer. “Let’s go to bed, love.”

She leads him to his bedroom and gets ready in silence. Getting pyjamas, that used to be his, out of the drawers that now have more of her clothes in than his, and changing quickly in front of him, encouraging him to do the same.

Emily gets into bed and sits with her back against the headboard, patiently waiting for him to join her. He does, he sits next to her and pulls the covers over them both, the chilly November air feeling sharper now he is in bed. She drags him down to her, makes him rest against her as she puts her arms around him, and that’s what makes the dam break.

Aaron rests his head on her shoulder and presses his face into her neck, trying to hide his tears from her even though he knows she’ll be able to feel them against her skin.

Emily holds him tighter to her, she cups the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair, and she kisses his forehead. “You’re ok, honey.” She whispers against his skin, her nose pressed against his temple. “You’re ok.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologises, looking up at her. The look of annoyance at his apology on her face almost makes him laugh despite the circumstances.

“You don’t have to apologise, Aaron. You loved her, you still do.” She says, pushing some hair off of his forehead. “Grief doesn’t just go away after a certain amount of time.”

She shifts them so they are laying down, and she curls around his back. Presses her body into him so he can feel all of her. She rubs her hand in gentle circles on his chest until he falls asleep.

When he wakes in the morning he’s curled around her, taking comfort from her kindness and her warmth. Her fingers gently skipping over his temple tells him she is already awake.

“Good morning.” She says quietly, as if she is worried she’ll disturb him.

“Morning.”

“What are you going to do today?” She asks gently, running her hand through his hair.

“What I usually do.” He says, grabbing one of her hands and linking their fingers together. “Take Jack to her grave and put flowers there. I try to think of a memory I have of her that I haven’t told him yet, give him something new about her.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles at him, nothing but adoration for him on her face. “What did you do when you were gone?”

“There was a nice park near where we lived that she would have liked. We took flowers there. It was nice.” He reaches out and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Jessica told me that someone always put flowers on Haley’s grave whilst we were gone, but she never figured out who.”

“Oh.” She replies, suddenly looking unsure about something. She bites her lip before she looks at him. “That...that was me.”

He sits up suddenly, dislodging her from him. She sits up too, looking more unsure than ever, as if she was worried she had overstepped.

“Really?” He asks and she nods. “Why?”

Emily shrugs. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

He closes the gap between them and kisses her gently, before resting his head against hers. “I love you.”

She smiles at him. “I love you too.” ______________________

They are laughing together when it happens. Sat at a junction in his car on the way to their first anniversary dinner when the car behind them doesn’t stop. The car spins, and the sound of Emily’s scream echoes around his head.

All he remembers is a sharp pain in his head, Emily trying to talk to him, and then nothing. ______________________

He wakes up to the sound of her shouting at someone. His head hurt, more than he ever remembered it hurting.

“I’m not going anywhere until he wakes up.” She says her tone a challenge to whoever she is speaking to.

Aaron opens his eyes and the room comes into focus slowly. He’s in a hospital bed, and he suddenly remembers the car accident.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, her face softening as she looks at him. She has a bandage on her forehead, and one on her wrist. There's a small cut on her cheek that has been cleaned.

“Oh thank God.” She says, walking over from where she was standing at the end of his bed to sit on the edge of it and she grasps his hand in hers. “How are you feeling?”

His eyes flick to the nurse who was still at the end of his bed, and eyebrow raised at the pair of them before she shakes her head and walks out the room. He refocuses on his girlfriend. “My head hurts.” He lifts a hand to run a thumb over the cut on her cheek. “Are you ok?”

She scoffs. “I’m fine, they’ve already discharged me.” Emily takes a deep breath and her chin trembles. “You took the worst of it.”

“I’m ok, sweetheart.”

“Aaron. You wouldn’t wake up.” She says, her fingernails digging into his hand as she holds it tighter. “I…I was so worried.”

“Em-”

“You can’t do that to me again.” She smiles at him but it’s shaky, a tremor to her bottom lip that she doesn’t try to hide from him. “I’m too old to start over.” She jokes, lifting their joint hands to her lips to press a kiss into his skin. “And I quite like having you around. So please, no more dramatics ok? I think we’ve both been through enough.”

Aaron considers trying to reason with her. To remind her it had been a car accident, one that was completely the fault of the other driver. He couldn’t have stopped it. But she looks so upset, so wrecked by whatever had transpired between their car being hit and him waking up in hospital, that he simply nods.

“Okay, love.” He can’t help but smile back when she smiles brilliantly at him. “I’ll do my best.” He kisses her, but the movement strains his chest making him groan. “We may have to take a raincheck on our anniversary plans.” ______________________

It’s another month before they can actually celebrate their anniversary. Jack is with Jessica for the night, having made a crass comment about giving Aaron and Emily space that made both of them blush and the teenager laugh.

He makes her dinner, her favourite pasta accompanied by a wine she likes. They share a glass despite not needing to, sitting pressed together on his couch. That's when he asks her to move in with him.

He’s ready for a fight over it. Arguments in his head are already planned where he tells her she spends most of the time at his place anyway, that he can’t remember the last time they spent apart when she wasn’t away on a case. That when she says the word ‘home’ it never means her own apartment anymore.

Emily agrees immediately, smiling widely at him as she climbs into his lap. Kissing him as she asks him what took so long to ask her.

They barely make it to the bedroom, him pressing her against the wall, not wanting to wait another second until he’s inside of her. Her laugh turns into a moan, and any quip she had about him being too old to fuck her that way dies on her lips as he does exactly that.

He carries her to the bed afterwards, holding her close to his chest, his hands running up and down her spine. He hopes she sleeps. The car crash they had been in had featured in most of her dreams recently, her waking up and thinking he was dead. It always took him time to calm her down, to remind him that he was right there.

“Aaron?” She murmurs, half asleep against him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Let’s find somewhere new.” She turns her head to press a kiss into his chest. “I’ve always wanted a house. A small garden where I can fail at growing vegetables.”

He laughs against the top of her head before pressing a kiss there. “Whatever you want, Em. Let’s find somewhere to call home.”

She’s mostly asleep. The way her words fall unbidden from her but slurred together give her away. “You are my home.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #angst #just so much angst #Riptide

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 3

Summary:

Woods is out for his usual, morning run. Everything is fine... you know, except that it goes just about as bad as it usually has been lately. With results even less stellar then usual and a weight of worry unlike anything he's felt as of yet on top of it, could a chance meeting with you be enough to turn things as bleak as this around?

Tags: Slow burn, fluff

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 4 | Warnings: None except language

No music, no people, and just the barest rays of sunlight.

It’s just after seven am, and Frank is out for his morning run.

Every morning starts off like this, just him and the road, while he organizes his thoughts for the day. Most days he plans out all the shit he has to do and measuring out his time into neat compartments, but lately…

He can’t get his mind off of you.

A single sound byte of you calling him complete with varying, imagined inflections from that one day with Mason, plays over and over again.

Sargent! Sargent Woods! Woods! Woods!

Woods…

A small, secretive part of him wishes he could hear you call him Frank. Just once.

Or... no.

No, he doesn’t.

This is crazy. Even if he ignores the fact that he’s met you a grand total of twice in his entire life… He doesn’t have time for a, a girlfriend. Besides, you’re young and pretty… two things of which he is not. How does he know you don’t have someone already? And, for argument’s sake, let’s say you didn’t. Why the fuck would you want him?

Such is the state of the ongoing debate in his mind.

Woods shakes his head, breathing hard and attempting to refocus on the road before him. He checks his watch and picks up the pace. He’s behind again.

In fact, it’s been far too long since he’s reached a new best, no matter how hard he pushes. He runs and he runs until his lungs burn like a knife in his chest and an eerie darkness creeps into the edges of his vision. At last, he can’t go on any further, and slows to a walk. Gasping for air and dripping sweat, he trudges up to the lamp post he’s been using as a finish line and gives it a tap.

With a great heave of breath, he checks his watch a final time. Off from his best by nearly a whole minute this morning.

He runs a hand through his soaked hair, every inch of his face down to the very air he breathes conveys his dismay and suddenly he feels far too aware of his own body. The fine lines and creases slowly drawing in around his eyes and forehead. The chilly kiss of wind as it blows over patches of his scalp that he swears it didn’t use to. The clicking and dull, constant ache in his back and joints.

And suddenly the dreaded phrase, “getting too old” worms into his mind.

The street light shuts off, pulling him out of the thought induced stasis. He wipes his forehead and takes a look around. Not a soul in sight. Normally he’d find such conditions ideal, but suddenly, he feels very... alone.

All this life lived so far, and what does he have to show for it?

A case of medals, a shitload of exclusive skills and tactics, and… and…?

An empty, hollow house to bar out the rest of the world? A cold bed for two, one side always perfectly made and never disturbed? A fridge of beer and a cable tv, always set to the same, droning channel, to give the illusion of company as he drinks alone on Friday nights?

What happens when he retires and the fighting is done?

These... things. These meaningless, empty things, will be all he has left.

For all the gruff exterior. All the ‘fuck you’ and ‘watch this’ attitude. All the pomp, and arrogance, and pride, and passion, and creativity, and humor, and zeal for life and living… Is it too much to wish that, maybe, he had someone to share it all with?

Fuck.

Lost in his thoughts once more, his breath hitches as his shoe kicks a familiar glass door. He looks up and reads the sign. It’s the same coffee shop he stops at every morning after a good, hard run well done.

Frank looks down and gives his ever so slight, and yet slowly ever developing, gut a pat. Ugh, he winces. He remembers a time when he was still able to say ‘his abs.’

For a moment, he considers skipping this time, but… fuck it.

He orders his usual and a plain bagel for breakfast as he goes to find a seat. As of now, he has the whole place to himself, but before he can go back to reflecting on his own loneliness again, the door chimes and a lone figure power walks in. Frank nearly spits out his bagel in an effort not to choke as he watches you hustle up to the register in a sharp, white pantsuit.

You look… like… an angel. Draped in white and floating across the floor in the loose, but flattering fabric. It’s then that he catches that same fluttering feeling in his chest, just as he did when you were calling for him last time. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you turn around and catch his gaze.

“Oh, hey!”, you smile and wave politely, even bothering to make your way over while you wait on your order.

Woods snaps to attention, ripped out of his daydream at the sound of your voice. He takes in a sharp breath as he sits up a little straighter, hoping against hope that he looks more impressive then he’s been feeling thus far.

“Good morning Sargent, wh-”

“Frank”, he grunts, realizing a bit too late that he sounds far too harsh. “Uh, please. You know, I’m off duty and all...”, he trails off, taking a convenient sip of coffee to mask the awkwardness.

You make an ‘ah’ shape with your mouth and give a nod. “Frank”, you give the name a test and, as far as he can tell, decide that you like it. With a smile, you ask if you can join him at the table and introduce yourself by name in the process.

And in that moment, he commits it to memory where, from then on, it will stay safely locked away, exactly as you said it, til the day he dies.

“So, what are you doing out so early?”, you laugh.

He quickly explains he’s been out for a run, hoping that you won’t press for details. Luckily, you do not, and he takes the opportunity to ask you the same question. Likewise, you quickly explain that you’re headed to work and running a bit behind.

After that, it feels like you’re out of conversation material, and a thick silence settles between you. But, before things get too awkward, Frank decides to pick up the conversation, “So, uh… I’ve been meaning to uh, apologize…”

You cock your head in confused interest, but say nothing.

“You know, when we first met and all… I um, I’m sorry I said that stupid shit before I left like that. I don’t want you to think I’m… you know, crazy or something, heh”, he laughs humorlessly, and looks away, itching at the back of his neck nervously.

“Hm? Oh, it’s no trouble, I honestly forgot about it for a moment there”, you laugh, and it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Like a fresh breeze in summer, carrying with it the smell of clean linens on the line and warm grass….

Your eyes smile deeply into his as he holds your gaze. For the briefest of moments, he feels connected to and understood by another human being like he never has before.

He takes a breath and it's as though he can feel the very scene he described. Gone is the smell of stale coffee beans and dried sweat. No more pain in his lungs or cramps in his legs. No more worrying about all the years and age slowly building onto him. No more haunting fear of loneliness.

Just the sensation of you.

Without his perception, his rough, callused hand slides in stuttering increments closer and closer still in the direction of yours. And just like that, the trance is broken as the barista calls your name. You jerk your head around to look, and the broken eye contact brings Woods screeching back into reality. He blinks and refamiliarizes himself with his surroundings.

Everything looks… dull in comparison to the vivid daydream held in your eyes.

You look back towards him, wearing that same smile, “Well it’s been nice catching up, but I have to go…”, you reach out and give his hand a friendly squeeze, “Take care now!”

The Sargent tries to return the sentiment, but all he can manage is a winded sounding grunt. He never knew someone’s skin could feel so soft. And warm.

Even after you’ve left for the door, his entire arm is still buzzing with electricity as every nerve from the tips of his fingers to the length of his spinal column light up with an excitement that he couldn’t put to words in a thousand years.

He brings up that same hand to where he can see it, turning it over slowly and flexing his fingers experimentally, as though noticing the extremity for the first time. It feels… new, after coming in contact with your disarming touch, and suddenly he doesn’t feel so aged and wizened as he was just minutes ago.

And when he’s good and through with his coffee and bagel, he makes up his mind to achieve something he hasn’t in a long time… With a few hops to limber up and a deep breath for luck, he manages a run all the way back home.

#call of duty #black ops cold war #frank woods #frank woods x reader #cod fanfic

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winter-fox-queen · 4 years ago

Text

The Gentry’s Gifts: Pero

Pero Tovar might meet the woman of his dreams, if he can make himself trust a mysterious visitor. My Writer Wednesday thingy. I am tagging @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: No smut, a little kissing, eating but it’s Tovar so the pace of that is quick, the S/O is female blank canvas. I think there is cursing. Not beta’d — I should be working on something else but this bit me hard, and there may be a second part with Max Phillips. I have this idea of connecting each story and telling several tales but you know how speedy I write stuff. So if there are any mistakes, I am sorry. Basically wrote this and did not read it over even.

Pero’s dreams were sometimes horrible things.

Sometimes he dreamt of monsters surging over a wall. Of death and blood, of his sword, or his axe, slicing through men and beast.

Sometimes he dreamed of the wide sky of the desert, the starts shining bright, almost as numerous as his regrets.

And sometimes. Sometimes. He dreamed of you. It filled him with such longing he would wake to the alarm clock’s cry to realize his face was wet with tears.

But, he would put on his suit (wool or polyester, not leather and metal) fill his satchel with the armor of his craft (law briefs, good pens, post it notes) and step out into the world.

He would look for you. He would look for you on buses. In bars. Sometimes he would think, “If I were her, where would I go?” And he would find himself in libraries. Museums. Once he took High Afternoon Tea at a Victorian style house, a dark, grumpy shadow alone at his pwn table, surrounded by ladies wearing fancy borrowed hats and gossip.

The one place he never wanted to see you was the other side of his desk, and so far he had lucked out. He was a public defender, and the people who came to his door were almost always desperate.

Almost always. The woman across from him was not. Steel grey hair in a chignon, cool dark eyes that seemed to be able to read everything about him, a story in every wrinkle, in the scar over his eye, in the silver in his hair.

“We’ve been here before, you and I.”

She said it so seriously, he took it as such…looking at his pile of files. “Have we? Forgive me, I have a lot of cases…what is your name, again? My secretary wrote it down, but it smudged.”

She placed a hand over his, stilling his search. “I know how you got the scar over your eye. The first time. And the second.”

He shivered, pulled his hand away. “What are…”

“You dream of the Great Wall of China. You dream of monsters with scales and monsters who are men. Sometimes the monster is you.”

His back straightened as his heart started to race. “Lady…”

She folded her hands on her lap. “I know your dreams because they are not dreams. You helped me, once. You could have demanded payment, but you did not. You told me such stories. Stories about the endless desert. About your friend William. And about her.”

He looked in her eyes. “You are not yourself. Let me call a friend — we have social services in this building, they can find you someone to talk to, to help you.”

She stood with an amused smile. “You didn’t believe me last time, either. But my people…we always pay our debts. I will not rest until I have paid mine.” She leaned forward and whispered your name in his year, like a lullaby, like a promise, and his hand, hovering over the phone on his desk, froze.

She threw a card down on his inked over desk calendar. “If you want me to help you find her, come here tonight. Dress nice. Surely you have something better than that suit.”

He picked up the card. Writing appeared, an address, in shimmering emerald.

It wouldn’t rip in half. If he folded it, it popped back, pristine.

It wouldn’t fall into the trash — it stuck to his fingers like tape.

But it would slip into his breast pocket, where it burned throughout the day.

Pero’s after work plans were boring as usual. A new Thai place opened up on the way home, all beautiful paint and murals. He thought, maybe, maybe you would like it. He stood in the doorway, he looked at the people within.

You know where she might be, a voice reminded himself, the card burned.

He backed out. “Fuck it.” He muttered. “Subway is good enough.”

He ate quickly, hunched over his food in his green and yellow booth. He was angry. He hated being manipulated, he hated the idea that his life, his dreams were all a game to some white haired woman who thought being mysterious was cute. Well. He’d show her.

He threw out the wrapper and stomped out the door,

He slumped in his car and looked at the GPS. The card burned in time with his heartbeat. He took it out. “If I can’t find the address in the GPS, I’m going home, having a beer, and calling tomorrow off.”

The GPS found the address before he even typed most of it in, and the card flashed in his hand, as if saying, “I told you so.”

“Fine.” He said, pulling in his seat belt. “But I’m not getting dressed.”

He did check his teeth in the mirror, take off the tie and unbutton a few buttons, fix his hair, chew a couple of Altoids…

And drove.

It was dark, by the time he got there. One window like a gold beacon. “Not exactly the place I’d go to make all my dreams come true.” He muttered.

Well, not the GOOD dreams, anyway.

He climbed up on the porch. A man with short hair in an immaculate business suit that cost more than Pero’s whole wardrobe was seated at a card table. The Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Spades face up before him. He stared at them like a man trying to decide which chalice was poison.

Pero stood over him a moment. The other man glanced up. “She’s inside.”

“What are you doing?”

The other man placed his hands on either side of the Queen cards. “Trying to choose.”

“Between?”

He smiled a little, his lower lip catching on a fang. “Life and death. Go on in. She;s waiting for you.”

Pero grunted and opened the door.

“Be kind to her,”. The other man’s voice added softly. “She’s a good woman.”

He walked down the hall, looking into room as he passed them. The place was like some screwy version of the TARDIS and was much, much bigger on the inside. He passed three libraries. A gallery. A room with a pool table and another room with a pool.

And there, in the last room was a cozy parlor where two women sat talking. One of them was the stern woman with iron colored hair.

And one of them was you.

“Pero!” You almost knock over the table in your excitement. He held out his arms, shaking, and you plowed right in. “I thought you were a dream! I thought you were nothing but a dream!”

He gathered her close, trying to focus past the sudden blurriness in his eyes. “I never stopped looking. I didn’t know if you were real but I couldn’t make myself stop looking.”

The woman at the table smiled. “One debt down.”

He ignored her, looking down into your eyes. Your hands came up to gently trace his cheeks, to wipe away the tears. You beamed at him. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world,”

“Kiss me,” You whisper. “I have waited far too long…”

And he did.

The clock started to toll. “Midnight. Good. Take her hand, Pero, and take her out of here…and don’t look back. Take the stupid vampire with you, if he’s not already left.” The grey haired woman started pushing them out. The hall was shorter.

“Th…”. Pero starts to say, wanting to thank her for her help, for bringing you to him. The older woman pushes him hard. “No. No thanks. No more debts!”

“I…I understand your kindness.”

“That was good!” You say. “I like that better than what I said to her, earlier…”. You both step out onto the porch. “Where’s Max? Max is my boss. I don’t know why she called him a vampire…he’s very nice.”

It’s empty. Good. “I don’t know, but he had his own troubles to think about.” Pero pushes you into the car. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.” He says. “I do not want you to be taken away from me…I do not know how this miracle happened, but I will follow the rules.”

He turned the car around with his eyes closed, hoping that his memory of the wide drive being surrounded by grass was true. Good. The car did not hit anything, and soon they were heading down the driveway.

“Are you hungry?” He says a moment later. Your hand is curled in his, and he feels lighter than he’s ever felt. “I know a great place that’s open late…”

“Take me home.” You say, instead. “I want to sit up late and find out everything about you.”

“I want to do everything at your pace,” he says, as she types her address into the gps. “But I don’t need to wait. I know perhaps once you get to know me you’ll think the dream far better than reality, but…”

She touched his face. “But it’s a dream we’ve both had for a long time. We will have to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“We don’t want family and friends to be like, who the hell is that? Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed. Snagged your hand again so he could kiss it.

“But I won’t ever let you go. I did it once. But I will never, ever do it again.”

#writer wednesday #Pero Tovar #pero tovar x you

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