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vixen7243 · 8 months ago

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Undivided Attention: Captain Price

John Price x AFAB!Reader | TF141 x AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | Gaz |Price | Ghost

MDNI!!!

You had been separated from the team, mostly due to you pushing your captain out of the way of another solider attempting to strike him, while wresting with the man the two of you fell off a ledge, last thing you heard was John yelling your name before slamming into the ground and loosing consciousness for a moment. You all had been looking for reports or a nuclear bomb that was in the midst of being sold to Russian terrorists. Coming to, you quickly moved to look around yourself remembering who you had fallen with, seeing them laying by you, you turned them over and they had fallen on their knife, impaling themselves in the throat. Shaking your head you made to get up flinching, "Fuck." Groaning you hobbled around corners, occasionally having to fight for your life, hearing a group making their way down a hall, more than you knew in that moment you could realistically handle, you made to try and hide in any of the rooms around you, but the doors were locked. Huffing you leaned behind a pillar, tears building at your eyes, even though you knew death was a guarantee with this work, your heart wasn't ready, you never got to tell any of the lads how you truly feel, you didn't get to even say good bye. John.

Oh, you know John will rot with this, his mind will never let him forget this, you wished there was something you could do for him, make your death less of a burden, a weight. He never wanted to let you come here, but you insisted, you had been growing restless at the base, promising to stay glued to their side and out of harms way yet you threw yourself right into the way. Grabbing your hand gun you checked the magazine hitting your head back, out, patting yourself down you groaned grabbing your tactical knife from your hip, waiting till they were closer. Getting a hold of the end of a AK47 you turned out knife about to go straight into the guys throat before you froze, it was, "John?"

"Y/N, oh god." Wrapping you tightly into him you wrapped your arms around his waist, trying not to wince at the force of his embrace. "Come on." Picking you up he turn and they started making their way out back to their Ronda Vue point for Nikolai to pick them up. Grunting with each rapid movement and step up some stairs, you looked up to Johnny, he looked so damn sad and worried, made you ache, wanting to comfort him, comfort all of them. Getting to the top of the building, John handed you to Simon before you were set into a seat and strapped in, "Let's go, now!"

---

You were taken to med bay by Simon, Johnny and Kyle, they stuck by your side the whole time as you were stitched up, wrapped up and given tests. Your arm was put into a sling after noticing that you had indeed broken your right clavicle you were brought into a back room to have a plate screwed to the outside of the bone. You were knocked out when the lads say you next, had been for a few hours, they never left you, John was still away, where none of them was sure, most likely holed up in his office burying himself in work and papers.

When you did come to, you reassured the guys, apologizing and hugging each of them, the door closed and locked, blinds drawn close as Simon carefully held you, kissing your head. "Where's Cap?"

"Probably in his office." Kyle said, his hands on your back and hips. Moving to get out of the bed he tightened his grip slightly stopping you. "Where r'you goin?"

"Check on him, I'm fine, truly, guys, let me go." Pushing their hands from you, you gasped as you tried to wrap your button up around your shoulders. "Shit."

"Here bon." Johnny helped you set the shirt around you, "You sure you don't want to rest a bit more bonnie?"

"I'll be fine Johnny, thank you. You guys know I've been through worse." You chuckled as you unlocked and left the room, all of them close to you, glued like guard dogs, everyone making a clear path for you. Nearing John's office you ushered them away, knocking on the door and not hearing anything you stepped in and looked around confused when you didn't see him inside. Now making your way to his room you knocked as you slowly opened the door and looked in, hearing the shower from his bathroom.

Closing the door and locking it behind you, you went to the bathroom and stood in the door frame frowning, "Captain."

His head spun around so fast you were sure you heard a crack, "What are you doing?"

"Came to check on you." Walking in some more you looked into his eyes, he looked so pained staring into you, before they went down and took in your arm and collarbone. Shrugging the shirt off slowly, you used you good arm to undo the sling taking it off.

"What are yo-"

"Help me with my shirt will you?" Stepping right into the shower with him, the water splashing off his shoulders and head hitting you, his scowl deepened, as he opened his mouth to speak you rested your hand on his cheek, "John, help me?" His hands were more gentle than ever as they guided your clothes off of you, kneeling down undoing your boots and tossing each soaked piece of clothing out of the shower.

"You should be resting." Standing back up he retracted his hands moving to make room for you under the water.

"I will, after this." Stepping back into his space, you pushed your hand into his stomach before gliding your fingers through his chest hair and then gripping his shoulder pulling him to you. "Y/N."

"Don't pull from me John, I'm fine, everything's okay. I'm sorry, truly, it's my fault, I nev-"

"Stop." Closing his eyes he tilted his head back, "You've nothing to apologize for darling, this is my fault."

"It's not your f-"

"I said you wouldn't be out on the field, I caved, you got hurt protecting me when I promised I would protect you. This should've never happened, not for me or because of me." His eyes were so broken, voice almost cracking in the end, guiding him back to you, you leaned up onto your tips gently kissing him.

"You've up held to your promise John, there's nothing you could've ever done to prevent me from protecting you. As much as you don't want anything happening to me, I don't want anything to happen to you, to any of you. As I belong to you all, ALL of you belong to me too." You used your good arm to wrap up and around his shoulders, your right arm carefully going to his waist and massaging his lower back, whatever you could comfortably reach you did.

"Darling." Leaning the both of you under the water, he kissed you, enveloping you into his arms. Reaching his hands down to behind your thighs you grabbed his bicep and jumped, wrapping your legs around his hips he leaned back, his back hitting the wall, locking his lips with yours, tongues slowly easing into the others mouth. Each moment the two of you would pull back for a gasp of breath your would continue to reassure him, claiming him, the team, telling him continuously that you belong to them, calming his nerves, kissing the anger fueled tears from his cheeks. He wasn't mad at you, couldn't ever be, he was angry at himself, your words soothing his soul.

Feeling the water start to cool against both of your skin, John slid your hips up along him a little more groaning as your slit dragged along his shaft, holding you to him he turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a towel setting you on the counter drying you. Before he tossed the towel, you grabbed it from him and returned the favor also patting him dry smiling when he kissed along your neck, jaw, shoulders and laying gentle kisses to your collarbone. Shuddering at the soft touch you let the towel slide from your fingers as you drift your fingers into his hair lightly clenching and redirecting his lips back to yours, picking you back up he carried you to his bed, ever so carefully laying you on your back in the middle, bringing the other spare pillow he had under your hips.

As gentle as he was being you could feel the tremble in his body, unsure of if it's just being a build up of passion or something else you tried to move your hips with his, arching your back into him as your clit rubbed against the tip of his dick. "Don't move, I'll take care of you." Pouting as you watched him kiss a trail down your stomach and hip you moved your legs for him, moving your hips up the hip as his hand gently slapped your pussy making you gasp, surprised. "Darling, don't move."

"But..." Looking to the side before looking back to him, "You want more, right? I'm fine, you can take me how you need Captain."

Huffing he pushed back up, "Y/n, you're hurt."

"But I'm FINE, take me, if it gets to be too much, I'll say my safe word. ... Take me Captain." You were pushing him again, just like you had when you begged to go on the mission, his body itching as he grabbed the back side of your left knee he pushed it up to your chest slapping your cunt a little harder this time.

"You are damn stubborn sweat heart, I tell you no again and yet you keep pushing. You never want to listen, I'm trying to look out for you, why won't you let me do this for you." Slapping your cunt again a little harder again, you gasped jolting, "Begging me to just fucking take you, you'll say your safe word? What if you can't?" You clenched around nothing just before he moved your leg to the side a little more exposing your clit and slapped down making you moan, "I'll take you darling, I'll fucking take you but damnit Y/N. Why must you push me?" Pouting you looked down, watching as he lined himself up and started easing into you. "Fuck." Grunting the both of you jerked into the other panting as he slowly moved in and out of you, your slick collecting around the base of his cock.

"John." Huffing your hips started moving, meeting his, the sound of skin slapping ringing in your ears making your head spin from how much he was stretching you. Feeling his fingers dig into your hips he pushed your hips down into the pillow growling.

"No moving damnit, urgh, gonna make me lose it darling. You want to cum?"

"Yes, please, Captain, please sir." Feeling his dick twitch against your gummy walls you moaned, "Captain."

John swirled his fingers around your clit, lightly pinching it, a small twist before pushing his thumb into you drawing circles. Arching up from the bed you whined cumming, walls spasming around him, he didn't relent as he continued to riding out your orgasm. Huffing he drew your legs up to his chest, pushing down to you, he gripped your neck, squeezing the sides, "Again darling, come on." Slamming his hips down your cunt started squelching, taking each thrust you rolled your eyes back trying to arch into him and move your hips but with his weight over you, you couldn't move. Feeling him squeeze your throat a little tighter you gasped grabbing his forearm moaning, "Darling." Loosening his hold your grabbed the side of his face and pulled him down kissing him.

Breathing heavily the both of you pulled back and came, John grasping the pillow under your head pushing his forehead into yours grunting after he picked his rhythm back up, overstimulating the both of you, "Oh, John, wait..." As you whined, he pulled out, sliding you onto your left side, laying behind you, raising your leg and slinging it back and over his thigh. Taking labored breathes you moved your hips back into him moaning when he helped guide you this time rather than try and stop you, "Oh John, yes, good." Feeling his hips picked up, your body getting jostled, the sheets getting kicked and pushed to the floor, the pillow that had been under your hip also being pushed to the ground.

John slid his arm under and around you neck, putting you into a choke hold from behind, your third orgasm flooding over you, your body shaking as he didn't stop. Gasping you grabbing the bed sheet and trying to push his forearm only making him grunt, "No, you're going to stay right here, fuck. Right here, where I can see you, hold you." Scowling you tried to hold out but when your fourth orgasm was slowly building up already you felt tears prick at your eyes, your cunt felt too raw, already clenching so tightly around him, his girth stinging slightly more than the pleasure that was building. Huffing you tried pushing again against his arm, before shaking violently against his front whining patting his arm.

"Red, John, red please." Gasping you gathered your breath as he froze, his hips pushed flesh against you. Feeling him slowly pull out of you, you whined when he pulled away, collecting the blanket from the ground and the other pillow, he got back in behind you gently massaging your hips.

"I'm sorry darling."

"You did nothing wrong John, Just over stimulated a bit quick today is all." You interlocked your fingers with his smiling as he wrapped his arms around you gently.

"You're too good for me, Y/N."

"No, you are ... me." Your eyelids growing heavy, you yawned and snuggled back a little more into him before falling into sleep.

"No, you truly are, for any of us, you deserve better."

Ghost

#call of duty #task force 141 #x reader #john price #smut #18+ mdni #john price smut #john x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #self hatred #undivided attention

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paingoes · 3 months ago

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Rubies - Trial II

hiiii. i have such a headache omg. help meeeee

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past child abuse, conditioning, dehumanization, electrocution, physical abuse, verbal abuse, bruises, broken bones, institutionalized child abuse, institutionalized slavery, (internalized) victim blaming, self hatred, retraumatization, whump aftermath)

He had still felt the chill of the ocean when they had first brought him back to base. They’d had to recast his arm for the final time. They’d spotted the broken ribs that had barely had time to heal, not helped at all with the impact he’d made into the water. The fever dreams crept all around the corners of his eyes.

After Levon had left, the nurses had made a request of him.

He did not have to stand for it, luckily. He sat up on the bed and let them undo the jacket, folding it back against his waist to reveal his bare torso.

He was so covered in bruises then that it almost looked natural on him.

The marks themselves were not the shape of anything in nature, though. Not unless you counted the handprints. Instead, they showed the imprints of rulers and rings. Whip marks. Chains.

They really tried to be respectful as they aimed the camera at him.

Two and a half months later, in the new and sterile room, all the bruises had faded. It was the longest he’d ever gone without them. There was still a tenderness in his ribs, but it felt more like a phantom pain than anything real. The cast had finally come off of his wrist — and he appreciated the new dexterity it afforded him.

He sat on the white floor and watched Kitty hesitate for a long while with her rook.

He was not allowed outside of his room, but he could have her inside of it. He’d had Apollo there too, but from what he understood, the medic had immediately been thrown back into clinical rotations. Kitty’s role in IT afforded her much more free time. She’d spent most of her absence working too, so there was no real change in their schedule.

She put the rook down indecisively, but seemed to tire of the game. She glanced back at the door, furrowing her eyebrows at the lock placed upon it. She folded her fingers up beneath her chin.

“This whole thing is a waste of time.”

The anger in her voice caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, drawing his hand closer into his lap.

She looked up in surprise, a bit of guilt seeping into her expression.

“I’m not mad at you,” she clarified, “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s the thing. Levon knows you’re innocent. You shouldn’t have to go through all this.”

He didn’t really feel like he had been through anything, but he didn’t argue with her. He processed the words slowly, trying to work around the irritation in them. It still made him antsy.

“Hey,” she spoke gently, trying to draw his attention back, “I’m not mad at you. You’re not in trouble.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “Sorry.”

He moved his bishop to put her in check. She sacrificed the knight in the king’s stead. Before he could capture it, a voice sounded through the buzzer, directly on the other side of the door.

“Maryam Pike. Can I come in?” It crackled through the static.

Kitty gave Delta a concerned look. He blinked, unsure what she was waiting for.

“Do you want her to? You don’t have to let her into your space,” Kitty said.

He shrugged. She was just doing her job. There was nothing he could really do to avoid questioning, anyway.

Kitty stood up from her spot on the floor, stalking over to the entryway. She opened it up.

“Does it have to be here?” She asked Maryam, “It’s his room.”

The older woman shrugged just the same.

“His choice. I have the office too, if you want to take the hike.” She glanced over Kitty’s shoulder, addressing Delta. “You want to get out for a little bit?”

He did, actually.

They were back around the table. Apollo was absent this time, but everyone from the council was still in attendance. Levon leaned against the back wall casually, sorting through the folder he’d been given. His expression was unreadable.

They knew how impossible it was to get Delta to speak in front of people. He had his gaze all the way down even as he sat at the table. It was too difficult to try and have him give testimony. They’d had to resort to other ways.

Maryam slid the cassette player into the center of the table. She looked at Delta, giving him a final chance to amend it. He had nothing to add.

He still cringed to hear his own voice play over the tape.

[

Q: What is your earliest memory?

A: …I was playing with a baby pool, filled up with all these little fish. The staff were asking me if I could move them around, but without using my hands. It took hours, but eventually I could focus enough to push them around just by thinking about it. I made them swim upside down.

Q: Where did this take place?

A: One of the lower levels of the Institute. It was one of their wet labs.

Q: What were your parents like?

A: I never knew my parents, ma’am.

Q: How did you feel about other children your age?

A: …Indifferent.

Q: What is the primary emotion you associate with your childhood?

A: …I don’t know, ma’am.

Q: What were the rules at the institute you grew up in?

A: No running. No fighting. No talking back. Be respectful when addressing a superior. Wait for explicit permission before using your powers. Take your medicine as prescribed.

Q: When you were a child, did you ever make any attempt to escape or to disobey your handlers?

A: Never to escape. And I never, um. Never intentionally disobeyed. But by accident sometimes, yeah.

Q: By accident? What did you do?

A: …I was getting fussy one day after drills. There are these kind of growing pains you get if you move up a new level — and I was getting them really badly that day, and I guess I was lashing out too much. I wasn’t really listening.

Q: And what happened?

A: Got some warning shocks. When that didn’t work, they. Um. Increased the voltage until I was ready to listen.

Q: To clarify, are you saying they electrocuted you?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: Did this happen with any frequency?

A: Not to me.

Q: Not to you? What does that mean?

A: Not to me, ma’am. It happened to the other students a lot more. I didn’t need as much correction, ma’am.

Q: And you witnessed this “correction” personally?

A: Yes, ma’am.

Q: How frequently did this happen?

A: In the first years, it was multiple times a day. It didn’t happen as often later on. A lot of the problem students had already been eliminated from the program at that point.

Q: I see. And you never once attempted escape?

A: No, ma’am.

Q: Why not?

Q: What was that?

A: I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

]

The tape clicked off. Delta folded his hands in his lap.

“We also have testimony from other alumni of the Beldam Institute,” Maryam declared, though Delta disagreed. You couldn’t be an alumnus if you didn’t actually graduate. She’d gotten testimony from the drop-outs. It’d been edited into a neat and digestible format, though to him it seemed a bit hokey.

Levon pulled it up onto the projector, his expression still unreadable.

The woman in the video was in her mid-20s, which meant she hadn’t been there from inception, and that she hadn’t stayed long. She said as much in the video. She was a kind of lightworker - lasers, burns, flash bombs. She’d been transferred to the Institute out of foster care.

“-would’ve been unethical to have adults working those hours. 16 hour days — and there were younger kids there than I was, ones that needed like ten hours of sleep, and they never got it. I don’t think I had a single moment of free time while I was there. The amount of-“

“-and of course they hit the kids. Where I went, at every house I’d been to, they hit the kids. That was nothing new to me. But they had the kids hurting each other. And these were untrained psychics who were still learning to use their powers, they didn’t know their own strength. And they were learning to use it on whoever was lower in the hierarchy than they were. Some of them would get messed up bad. One time-“

“-said pack your shit, get out. I didn’t have any more value to them anymore. I had been fucking gifted. And they just burnt me out like I was nothing. Glad they did, though. The only way kids ever left that school was burnt out or in a body bag. I still haven’t-“

There was no footage of the Institute. No cameras had been allowed inside except by licensed professionals. What they did have were the scans of the old photo books. Delta recognized the backgrounds so clearly, even though it’d been years since he had stepped inside. He felt only some dull recognition for the children in the photos — there’d been too many to keep track of. He’d never cared for them much anyway.

He felt the air in the room stiffen as the pictures got progressively gorier. Training accidents. Wrong dosages. The stripes they’d whipped into the backs of the worst kids. He wondered how much of his survival had been pure luck. He hadn’t known just how mismanaged it’d been at the time. Though he did have inklings.

“It’s clear the defendant was raised in an environment in which his every move was controlled under threat of severe physical punishment or death. His surroundings instilled a sense of learned helplessness within him. From an earlier age, he has been made to feel he has no option but to obey. Due to that conditioning, we can reasonably say that any exhibit of his powers has been under duress. It’s absurd that he should be held legally or morally responsible for his actions.” Maryam had a practiced cadence, especially on such short notice. She looked at nobody and nothing in particular when she did it. Levon watched her like a hawk.

She took a deep breath.

“There’s evidence this coercion continued beyond Beldam Institute.”

She switched between files on the computer. A new screen filled the projector.

“Hold,” Levon held a hand up, “Delta, you don’t have to be here for this. You can take recess.”

She couldn’t get him to talk about Paris. It’d been a no-go. His chest tightened up whenever he tried. The questions made him dizzy.

She had other ways, though. She was surprised she’d managed to dig them up. There’d been so few photos or videos of Paris anywhere. By now, the videos of his time on-the-run far outnumbered any from his reign. He couldn’t imagine how much effort it must have taken her to find this one.

He shook his head. He didn’t see any reason to, did not want any reputation for sensitivity. Keyglades didn’t even stand out as one of the bad ones, anyway.

“I’m okay, sir,” he said softly.

The video began to play.

It had sound.

Paris’s voice cut through the white noise. It was distant, grainy with analog. Still, Delta felt his ears perk up, immediately rapt. Unable to pry his attention away even if he had tried.

He could pick up on the irritation from the first syllable. The tape showed surveillance footage a hallway within Keyglades’ city hall. It led away from the main conference area and twisted up into the further reaches of the government building. Delta had been pretty sure at the time it was restricted territory, that they shouldn’t have even went that far.

Paris’s speech had risen to the rapid-fire pace it always took when he was pissed. Delta swore he worked himself up just for sport sometimes. Paris didn’t want a solution, he just wanted to be mad. He should’ve known better than to interrupt.

On the tape, Delta’s voice was low enough that the exact words were indistinct. But the sound of the ringed hand coming down hard against his face had been picked up in crisp resolution.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?!”

It had caught him off-guard. It seemed to catch the others in the room off-guard now, some of them visibly flinching at the abruptness. In the tape, he had reeled, though he did not have long to do so. Paris’s hand caught on the loose fabric of his shirt collar and slammed him into the wall. His grip moved upwards, onto his neck. Tight and uncomfortable, but not actually choking. Just meant to hold him there. Make sure he couldn’t avoid it.

“It’s not about the fucking tax, it’s about the principle. That’s all it ever is with these people. Can you stop acting like you know better than me? There’s a reason nobody fucking asks you. Who the fuck even gave you permission to speak?”

Delta frowned, looking down as if he was getting scolded in that same instant. It had the same effect. He tucked his legs further beneath the chair, shielding them. In the tape, Paris pushed him to the floor — not a hard thing to do — and stomped down on his wrist. It was too mild for him to really consider a beating, but some blood had dripped from his mouth while he was on the floor, which is probably why she’d chosen it.

Maryam cleared her throat.

“Would you say there was anything exceptional about this event?”

It took him too long to realize the question was directed at him. He knew they were all looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor.

“No, ma’am.” His hands balled up in his lap.

“And was this an atypical occurrence?”

“No, ma’am.”

“How often would you say you experienced this level of violence?”

That level, specifically? That much was hard to quantify. It depended on how quickly operations were moving, how much the plan was working, how badly he’d fucked up. He’d like to say he had a good track record when it came to his powers. He aimed to please. The worst of it came when he didn’t. He would have answered monthly if he’d been asked how frequently he was actually beaten. Those were the standout ones, the ones that left him sore for days afterward, the ones he most thought of as deserved. Well, justified. He deserved all of it.

But the tape hadn’t shown a severe beating. That kind of pettiness came much more frequently. Weekly, he guessed. Biweekly if things were going well. The other kind of biweekly if things were going poorly. If he counted the smaller things — the shoving, the hair-pulling, the grabbing — he would have said almost daily. But he didn’t count those.

“Weekly, ma’am.” He didn’t let his uncertainty show in his voice. He couldn’t pose it as a question; it wasn’t something they could answer. Weekly was a good enough approximation.

He saw Kitty’s eyes narrow dangerously. Her claws carved lines into the woods of the chair from gripping it so hard.

“This caused significant injury, as evidenced by the condition he was in when he first came to Galatea.”

The screen clicked abruptly to the photographs the nurse has taken just before she’d cast his arm. There were several of them, taken from different perspectives. The broken angle his wrist was held at. The thick, dark bruise against his ribs where they’d been kicked in. There was a whole litany of other bruises along his arms and neck. Handprints, implements. Nobody could argue they were obtained in combat. None of the photographs showed his face.

It was his first time seeing the full mosaic. He’d avoided the mirror whenever he could while it was happening. He remembered how badly he did not want Simon to see them, to have the proof of his failures be written out so clearly on his body. It felt a million times worse for Levon to see him like that. He wanted to apologize. He’d promise to do better, if he was allowed to. His lip bled from how hard he was biting into it.

The bruises were bad. Each of his separate ideologies burned in his brain, building and fighting each other. He’d failed. He’d earned it. Paris was fucking crazy. He’d never be able to please him. He’d deserved it. He was supposed to be better than this. He deserved worse.

Kitty’s hand brushed against his. He flinched, but forced himself not to withdraw it. Too well trained to pull away. She seemed to pick up on this as she drew her own hand back.

“Where are you?” she whispered. He couldn’t answer.

When he looked up again, Levon was staring straight at him, not at the bruises on the screen. As soon as they made eye contact, Levon looked inconspicuously to his watch.

“Think we’re gonna call it for today,” he announced.

He’d expected to return straight back to his room afterwards, but nobody escorted him. Kitty led him through the airy hallways instead. This section of the building was made mostly of glass and white tile.

“I swear this is their best kept secret,” she said as she pushed open the outer doors.

They entered into the bio-pond. The algae green ambiance contrasted sharply with the tidiness of Galatea’s interior. Despite her claim, a few other people drifted around the edges, absorbed in their own work. They didn’t pay the pair of them any mind.

It was the first time he had stepped outside all week. The damp air was suddenly much easier for him to breathe. She sat him down by the edge of the pond. A row of turtles sat on a log in the center of the water. The grass was soft, slightly damp. It felt cool against his palms.

Kitty leaned forward over the water, pointing out the fish that lived inside of it. He saw her claws poke out like she wanted to snatch them straight from the water, but she held herself back.

He didn’t speak. Subconsciously, he tried to shield his arms, covering up the bruises from her sight. Of course, they weren’t there anymore. And when they had been, she’d seen them already.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, but he saw the sky slowly fading to purple by the end of it. The mosquitos were starting to bite.

“Why don’t you hit me?” He’d asked when he finally had to return to his room. She went in with him, just for a little while, until she had to go back to her own. His head had drooped a little when he asked in, in its exhausted state.

“Whyyy would I hit you?” She asked instead, hooking one finger around his. This time, he didn’t flinch, felt no urge to withdraw it.

Because he was difficult, more needy than he’d been in years. Because he was evil, because he deserved it. Because she could. Because everyone else always had.

He shrugged.

“Never,” she promised. She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently.

His chest ached.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

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afriblaq · 7 days ago

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Protecting whiteness ?

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tryingtogetaway · 1 year ago

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as you grow into yourself as a young adult and leave your childhood home behind, it is crucial to remember that the way you were treated there is not necessarily representative of how others will treat you.

as children, we often believe our parents mirror what the world is like, and we begin to subconsciously understand their worldview and behaviors as commonplace and normal — as what everyone must be like. but if your home was not a safe place for you (whether that be physically and/or emotionally), it is imperative that you unlearn that way of thinking.

it was your parents who treated you cruelly, not the world.

it was your parents who made you feel like shame would always be your most powerful emotion, not the world.

it was your parents who never loved you the way you deserved to be loved, not the world.

this world and the people in it are so much kinder and gentler than you were made to believe as a scared, lonely child hiding in your bedroom. allow yourself to accept that kindness without shying away from it for fear that you don’t deserve it, for fear that you didn’t earn it. you don’t need to earn love — you never did. and you have always deserved it.

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ivynightshade · 5 months ago

Text

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice’.

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aannonn · 7 months ago

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I FINALLY FINISHED ITT LETS GOOO

(to anyone who wanna read it on ao3 instead! ><)

not-actually-so-funfact; my computer started to burn in the middle of the translation :D (im brazilian so i write my fics in brazilian before translating them to english- xd)

anyways!! hope u enjoy the read just as much as I did while writing it! <3

- , "Ruined. All Ruined."

(updated/fixed) Tags ;

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences Warning : Graphic Depictions of Violence Tags#1 : rated t mainly because of the swears // violent thoughts // threats of violence // whump // self hatred // self depreciation // self esteem // self esteem issues // angst // angst and feels // heavy angst // hurt no comfort // emotional hurt // crying // selective mutism // talking in musical notes Tags#2 : hurt/comfort // comfort // emotional hurt/comfort // emotional // inner dialogue // minecraft mechanics // neurodivergent // {not exactly the focus but y'k- its there} // author is projecting

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Ruined.

All ruined.

Green sat on his bed, the tie tied carefully around his neck crumpling from the tightness of his knees being hugged close to his chest. A crumpled tie was certainly not something he would take lightly, and he would quickly fix his posture so he could tidy it up and leave it the way it was before, perfect as it should be. But- honestly? Green felt no motivation to do so right now.

He doesn't understand what he did wrong. Did he prepare too much? Did he create a lot of expectations? Did he let his anger and arrogance get the best of him again?

Everything seemed perfect, everything was perfect, but then that silverfish suddenly emerged and, in the blink of an eye, everything around him seemed to be shattering; All the months of planning and preparation and so, so many songs he wrote and scratched because none of them felt perfect enough felt like they had been stepped on, crushed and thrown into lava, slowly burning right before his eyes.

Is not fair. None of this was fair. He worked so hard to get to this moment, to improve his musical skills and impress an entire audience with his music, his passion. His friends, friendly acquaintances - everyone he knew was there - even Orange was there! They were all there for the concert, for the performance, for him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, happily boasting about the praise and applause floating around him like birthday confetti, roses being thrown at him as a sign of love and admiration - His friends and family were congratulating him and looking at him with so much admiration and love and affection for his amazing and so well-planned, so well-done, so perfect performance.

He felt so adored, like the celebrities he saw on YouTube, being praised and complimented and talked about by many, many people, with so much admiration and adoration in their voices when talking about them. He felt so envied, as if several people adored him so much that they wanted to have his talents, they wanted to be him. He felt so loved, friends and family being so proud of him that he felt himself laughing happily, smiling so big that his cheeks hurt.

...Then a silverfish rised onto the stage, stepped on his noteblock, and the adoring, gazing eyes of the crowd - of his friends - were on the mob, and suddenly it seemed like it wasn't his concert anymore, but rather a random silverfish who just invaded the stage and stole his place, his audience, his moment.

Green clenched his fists, bringing his knees even closer and crumpling his tie even more; Is not fair. None of this is fucking fair. He worked so hard for this, he worked so long for this, and now it's all ruined. Everything is ruined.

The audience applauded and the show was a success, but the silverfish was the one in the spotlight; It was what was being boasted about, congratulated, adored, happily applauded for its' incredible performances.

Meanwhile, Green was collapsing in pain in the middle of the stage and suffering from a horrible concussion.

He felt humiliated, awfully humiliated. Shame, disappointment, and anger flooded his entire being, and the moment he woke up in his room, in his bed, with an ice pack on his head and a potions kit right on his desk, the only thing he did was have a staring contest with the ceiling with hazy eyes, his mind was a complete fog as he felt himself swinging his leg from side to side, jiggling it repeatedly distractedly.

They cheered, the audience cheered, his friends cheered, but none of the cheers and joyful whistles were directed at him, as if the show had never even belonged to him in the first place.

Green clenched his fists so tightly that he felt the faintest hint of blood coming from his palms, tears stinging his eyes distressingly, falling and spilling and wetting the mattress like rainfalls.

Small bubbles appeared in his throat and made him let out soft sobs while small melodic notes came out of his mouth, making unbearably unpleasant and hostile noises, seeming as if a million instruments were being played at the same time, forming a loud and unpleasant noise for the ears. Fortunately the canorous notes that came out were small and therefore you wouldn't be able to hear them properly if you weren't close enough to his face.

He felt so pathetic, so ridiculous. It wasn't even that bad; Everyone in the audience loved and genuinely enjoyed the show, his friends even formed a band and Orange finally played the electric guitar he had after years of not even touching it! So why was he so sad? Why did he feel like his entire world had just collapsed? Why did he feel so angry at the silverfish that only wanted to play with him?

Because he was so selfish. So selfish and arrogant the little musician.

He wanted to pull his head off, his stupid head with a stupid brain that only knew how to think about itself - He wanted to find that stupid silverfish and sink the tip of the diamond sword at its' stomach, jab it and stab it and all over again until all that was left of the mindless mob were little white clouds signaling its permanent death.

He wanted to punch himself, spank himself - He wanted to be vengeful, he wanted to scream - He was so angry at himself, so angry at the silverfish, so angry at his brain, so angry at his feelings, so angry at his friends who didn't even try to help him get the silverfish off the stage and bring everyone's attention back to him, so angry at the world that was never merciful to him, hurting him again and again and again and again and again and again like a fucking punching bag.

He wanted to isolate himself from everything and everyone to show the world how fucking angry and tired he is right now. He wanted his friends to invade his room to shower him with love and affection, hugs and apologies and promises that they would take better care of him, that they would never try to hurt him again, that they would never let the world hurt him again.

He wants the world to burn, he wants the world to hold him like a baby.

He's so selfish. Selfish and arrogant little adorable musician.

His mind was a fog full of thoughts as his emotions took control, his body swayed slightly from side to side like a mantra, all of this making his brain unable to register the sound of footsteps approaching his position on the bed or even extra weight being added to the green mattress.

Green jumped when he felt a hand holding his arm gently, rocking his body serenely and distracting his mind from thoughts for a few brief moments. He still didn't take his face off his knees, but he didn't take the hand off his arm either.

Faint sobs and small musical notes echoed through the spacious house, the fog of dark thoughts in his mind gradually fading until all that was left were just faint sobs and dry tears gracing his face, a few tears still running down his chin towards the bed, small drops of water, some already old, wetting the mattress.

He didn't register and didn't want to register how long it had been since he and the familiar but currently unknown stickfigure had been sitting on the bed. The stickfigure just rocked him calmly and slowly, distracting him from his thoughts that only got darker and darker, while also giving him time to calm down at his own pace, which Green deeply appreciates.

Eventually, his breathing seemed to have finally eased and he opened his eyes, raising his head slowly and groggily, somewhat destabilized after the horrible mental breakdown he had just had.

Yellow's composed and slightly worried face greeted him, the gentle movement of his head cooled off the nervous spasms he felt in his body after his brain had correctly registered the pathetic and disappointing scene he had just made, right in front of one of the last people he wanted for to see him in this state.

Yellow remained quiet, his hand still on Green's arm as he continued to rock him gently, his movements filled with nothing but pure affection and concern for him. For Green.

Green raised his head groggily, feeling light bubbles rising in his throat again and a new spiral of crying emerging before he pushed it back by force, several carefully chosen words in his head ready to start a conversation and break the suffocating silence, even though none of them had any actual desire to actually produce real sounds.

He coughed, a hoarse, noisy wet cough, taking a deep breath - with some difficulty - before merely forcing a sound out of his throat, words in his mind all jumbled together - he just wanted to break the silence, a silence so quiet and still and suffocating.

- W.. what." His voice was hoarse from crying and small musical notes were muddled with the words, making the words that came out of his mouth a confusing cacophony of sounds and verbs without a correct direction.

Yellow patted his free hand on his knee nervously, whispering softly; - I just wanted to check up on you."

Green no longer felt any motivation to actually form words and say them out loud, so he just shook his head sharply and pushed Yellow's hand away from his arm, a small musical note faintly leaving his mouth; a twisted, angry, broken sound.

Go away.

Yellow quickly understood the message the older one wanted to convey and tapped his hand on his knee nervously again, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders lowering in defeat before he stood up and walked to the door, his steps light, but steady, echoing in the now empty space; where a single green stickfigure sat on his own bed of the same color, hugging and consoling himself from the world that only knew how to hurt. The only sounds that could be heard were his own whimpers and small melodic notes that the form curled up like a ball of the arrogant little musician emanated.

It's so quiet. The world seemed so much lonelier and more dangerous when it was quiet.

It's just him, and the world that hates him.

At some point in his breakdown; round two(2), Green fell asleep; spilled tears still dripping onto the mattress while light, dry remnants clung to his cheeks. Honestly, Green isn't sure if he actually fell asleep, all he remembers is that his perception of his surroundings was momentarily desensitized and he found himself lying in his bed, a pair of hands on his shoulder shaking him with enthusiasm to side to side, presumably being the reason why his brain seemed to have regained awareness of his surroundings when he felt a sudden and unexpected physical contact stirring him impatiently.

Red's excited and unbearably happy face was what greeted him this time, determination and enthusiasm adorning his movements as he continued to shake him the way he normally would when he had done something cool and desperately wanted to show to someone.

Noticing the slight movement of Green's head moving towards him, Red let go of the shorter stick's right shoulder and jumped back, his arms bobbing up and down happily before grabbing Green's hands and pulling him in a way so that he was now sitting on the bed, relinquishing him and quickly rushing to the door, giving him one last look (still jumping up and down and waving his arms happily) before jumping out of the house, his steps happy and hurried resonating even outside the household.

Green just stared at the door now open to him, not moving a single inch to follow Red to wherever the latter wanted to show him, an internal debate in his head with the decisions he could make.

Getting out of bed, let alone walking to the door, seemed like a challenge. His body had little to no motivation to exercise and his head was still a fog that momentarily distracted him from his surroundings. He really didn't want to get up.

But there would be no more silence if he did. The world would no longer seem so dangerous and immense for him if he went outside.

. . .

Green sighed, staring at the floor for several long moments before merely forcing his body to stand, stumbling a bit in disorientation after sitting for so long, before practically dragging himself to the door, his slow, sloppy steps echoing through the silent residence.

The entire time he walked towards the open door, Green stared at the ground, absentmindedly counting the pixel particles of the blocks he passed in his mind.

He really had no desire to do anything... But the silence he was in was too suffocating and oppressive for him to bear.

As he walked, Green quickly noticed that the light gradually dimmed with each new block, getting darker and darker until he couldn't even see the color of the staircase.

Green took his eyes off the floor and raised his head, noticing how the computer's lighting seemed to have suddenly faded, enveloping both him and the programs and the PC's characteristic background in immense darkness - Much like when he himself removed the brightness of the computer to blast his latest music at that time.

Green straightened up, feeling goosebumps all over his body as he took his cell phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, quickly taking out his diamond sword from his inventory and holding it tightly, keeping his guard up for any possible mobs or whatever it was that could suddenly jump on him.

He slowly descended the steps, his steps light and careful as he illuminated the darkness around him and kept his ears open for any sign of movement or noise.

He wonders where his friends are...

Suddenly, red and orange and yellow and green and blue lights illuminated the computer and momentarily blinded him, causing him to stagger back in fright and throw his sword and cell phone into the air before quickly grabbing the sword in alarm, pointing the sharp tip towards the light source as he vaguely registered the sound of his cell phone falling to the ground with the flashlight still on.

A stage - his stage - his concert stage - greeted him back, colorful lights enthusiastically illuminating the center of the stage, where stood his dearest friends that he had known for as long as he could remember.

Friends who also just watched as his concert was ruined by a fucking silverfish.

Green shook his head sharply to dispel that thought, slowly lowering his sword as he quickly settled down, no longer feeling the impending danger scratching the back of his neck, though that also didn't mean his irritation had disappeared.

He simply stared at the four(4) stickfigures on the stage, irritation was obvious in his movements as he gave them the silent treatment.

Blue clasped his hands together nervously, Red dragged his feet on the floor without looking at him while Orange shifted uncomfortably; The only one who seemed more balanced and stressless of all was Yellow, although Green could detect a slight touch of nervousness in the movement of his shoulders.

None of them said or made any movement as an indication that they were going to break the silence, Green just stared at them demanding an explanation while the others just moved and looked at each other nervously.

Blue turned to Red, grabbing his shoulder before pushing him forward. Red stumbled before immediately shaking his head roughly and pushing Blue forward, to which Blue grabbing Orange's hand and pulling the shortest one in front of him, pushing him nervously to be in Green's gaze. Orange looked back and forth between Blue, Red and then Green, staring at the ground while rubbing his arms nervously, before finally taking a single step forward before Yellow suddenly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder and pointing at himself, to which the youngest nodded in thanks and quickly went to Red's side.

Yellow took a deep breath, only taking three steps forward before finally breaking the silence, his voice a soft whisper with varying degrees of guilt and apologetic tone emanating from it.

- We're sorry."

Green bounced in surprise, confusion adorning his movements.

At the sound of Yellow's voice, the other three(3) seemed to find courage and quickly echoed their own apologies with equal degrees of guilt and apologetic tones, a cacophony of voices over one another as they made several sudden and clumsy movements.

- We had fun but you didn't have fun and that wasn't- It wasn't what- It was not cool. Nothing cool."

- We're really, really sorry- The show was horrible- It was horrible to you- It was scary, wasn't it? It was terrifying... We laughed but- And- We didn't even think how hurt would you be..."

- We didn't try to help you when you needed it most, and we completely understand if you- How angry you might- How angry you are and we won't force you to forgive us or anything-"

Sincere. Genuine. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Don't forgive us. You don't need to forgive us. We are really sorry. We will take better care of you.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry-

- So we thought about- Ah. To repair. Give you the concert you truly deserve."

The firm tone emanating from Yellow's voice quickly interrupted the fog that was beginning to form in Green's head, turning his head towards him to realize that the taller one had raised his hand and stopped everyone from continuing with the cacophony of voices. Of I'm sorrys. Of apologies-

Oh wait.

Oh. Oh.

The stage was for him?

- I know nothing will fix the damage that silverfish caused- The damage we didn't even try to cease- But." Yellow paused, clasping his hands and fidgeting nervously in his seat before taking a deep breath and continuing; - That's- The concert really mattered to you, so. We wanted to- Give you a chance to- A second chance to. Show to the world-

- The world being us."

Yellow elbowed Red. - Your performance. And just your performance only. No silverfish to take your place."

The stage was practically the same as the show, although it was significantly reduced to fit the computer and not cover the entire space to the point of being almost claustrophobic.

The instruments from before - from the villagers who agreed to help him with the concert - were not there, just the blocks and noteblocks that had been used previously in the concert. On his concert.

It was his show. It is his show.

The stage is his. The performance is his. The audience is his.

Green just stared at the stage, then at the instruments, then at his friends.

Millions of emotions flowed like musical notes, the fog in his head forming like fluffy, adorable clouds, and suddenly he felt an immense urge to jump and bounce and play and scream and stim and-

A single musical note, so small and confused and twisted and broken - yet joyful and hopeful and excited and free - floated from his mouth, the harp-like sound echoing so low that Green is sure none of them would have heard it if the room was not in a complete silent.

For me?

Yellow tilted his head gently, Blue touched his hands like he always does when he's excited, while Orange nodded and Red happily waved his arms up and down, encouragingly signaling the older one to come on stage.

For you.

Green timidly walked to the stage, Blue and Red quickly helped him by grabbing his hands and pulling him up, Orange walked towards him and gently pushed him to the center where the noteblocks were carefully placed in a way that formed a piano, patting his back in encouragement before going to join Red and Blue on the chairs in front of the stage, sitting right next to Red who was resting his parrots on his shoulders.

Yellow had the staff in hand, placing his hands on his hips in a sign of lighthearted annoyance, confusing Green momentarily before realizing that the taller stick was looking at the crumpled tie with small traces of dried tears.

Oh.

Green looked down at his shabby tie, dismay filling him at how careless he had been with his beautiful tie, before perking up when yellow hands suddenly grabbed his tie by the ends and stretched it, trying to straighten it back to the way it was before. Finishing, Yellow walked away and placed his hands on his hips as a sign of pride, while Green just stared at his tie, now even more messy and shabby than before.

Such a mistake like that would freak him out, reprimand the causer and quickly fix the damage done.

Now, somehow, he found no reason to care.

It was perfect. It is perfect.

Green took the staff extended to him with such delicacy and care, as if the staff would break with a single sloppy touch, holding it close to his chest like a plush.

Yellow patted his head, touching his forehead to Green's in a tender and gentle manner, before retreating and getting off the stage, sitting right next to Blue and putting all his attention on Green, on the show. On Green. On the performance. On Green.

All eyes and heads were on him, all attention was on him and him alone.

Playing his slightly altered melody as he now played solo, he felt on cloud nine. Gloatingly boasting of the enthusiastic applause and whistles of his beloved audience, who adored every performance he performed no matter how imperfect they seemed to him. Of his friends, who would always be there welcoming him with open arms and would help him in any way they could. Of his family, who adore him and love him so, so much.

It was perfect. It is perfect.

He is adored. He is accepted. He is loved.

He always was. And he always will be.

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