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artficlly · 3 months

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a dish served cold (mini series - part six)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader

after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, guns, violence, kidnapping, mentions of murder/death, sexual tension, death of parent, verbal fighting/argument, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, betrayal, animal death, hunting, mention of bounty hunters, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: part six!! we're in the end game now, let me know your thoughts sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky transformed into a canvas of deep purples and fiery oranges, casting the landscape in a warm, otherworldly glow before darkness took hold. You and Bucky watch the transition silently, feeling the cool evening breeze ruffle your hair and send shivers down your spine. The crackling flames of the campfire provided a comforting warmth, but you couldn't help but notice the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

Setting up camp near the winding river had advantages; the proximity to water made it easier to replenish your supplies, and you planned to follow said river to an eventual civilisation, but it also meant lower temperatures. In the distance, the silhouettes of deer and rabbits darted across the plains, their movements accompanied by the gentle rustling of bushes. The haunting sound of coyotes filled the air, their distant howls echoing through the stillness of the night, a constant reminder of the untamed wilderness that surrounded you.

You had cooked up the last food, two cans of beans. One for you, one for Barnes. You were both starving after days of travel, so you did not bother to scrunch your nose at the food. A comfortable silence had fallen over both of you, but you couldn’t help but notice how Bucky’s eyes often drifted over to you. You wondered if he was sizing you up. The fire crackled and cast a warm glow on his rugged features, accentuating his intense gaze. You found his silent scrutiny both unnerving and intriguing, wondering what thoughts ran through his mind as he observed you.

Exhaustion weighed heavy in your bones, and you hoped the outlaw would fall asleep soon. It was unsafe to be the first, in case he slipped his binds and ambushed you. You can feel the weight of your eyelids as your head bobs slightly, trying to keep yourself awake. You scan the surroundings, the flickering light of the campfire casting eerie shadows across the clearing. Every rustle of the leaves or crack of a branch made your heart skip a beat. The thought of being murdered in your sleep undoubtedly motivated you to remain vigilant. You didn’t take Bucky for the cruel type. He was violent, yes, but not sadistic. At least you hoped.

“How’d you get into this business?” The outlaw's voice breaks the silence, and your head jolts upward to meet his steady gaze.

“Why?” You ask, voice tinged with suspicion. Did he still think you were just a bounty hunter after everything he'd seen?

“Just curious, that’s all.” It was as though the quiet unsettled him too, and he was anxious to fill it.

You consider his words, sucking on your teeth thoughtfully. Your mission wasn't driven by money; it was fueled by revenge. Vigilante was a more fitting title for you. Many had asked you the same questions along your journey. You'd stroll into ramshackle saloons and bars, ensuring to unbutton your bodice or blouse and wear a coy smile. Men, often foolish and drunk, rarely thought beyond their desires. It was easy to pick up a breadcrumb trail, piecing together murmurs and rumours circulating through the small trading towns. Each time, you spun elaborate lies; the truth was more mundane than any story you could fabricate. You'd tell them you were a descendant of a long line of bounty hunters, seeking revenge on the man who killed your one true love, or trying to impress a hardy gentleman back east.

Maybe tonight you could tell the truth. The two of you are alone now. His quickly approaching date with death warranted some honesty between the both of you. He didn’t even know half the story; at least, he hadn't picked it up. He had taken one look at your attire and fluttering eyelashes and dismissed you as harmless. Not a threat. He didn’t even know why, out of all the outlaws in the country, you had chosen him.

“‘Cause of my Pa,” you hum. Your voice is a soft melody in the stillness. You pick at some softer grass that protrudes from the earth. “He’s dead now.”

“I remember. You told me back in Crimson Junction.”

A genuine smile emerges on your face at his words. So he had remembered. “He was a hard-workin’ man, a blacksmith. He worked hard to keep me and my Ma fed. We were close, ‘least I was closer with him than I was my Ma. She always took it kind of hard, I think. Called us thick as thieves. One day, he and my Ma went a couple of towns over on the train for their wedding anniversary and left me alone at the house.”

You pause, taking a deep breath, before continuing. Your smile falters. “The day they were supposed to come back, they were late. I waited up all night, sick to my stomach. I went over all these terrible things that could’ve happened to them. Until my Ma returned home early in the mornin’, covered in blood, cryin’ her eyes out.”

Your face tightens, the muscles around your mouth drawing into a grimace. “There had been some holdup on the train, some robbery gone wrong. He was killed. Shot in the back of the head like some animal. My Ma, she watched the whole thing. She couldn’t do anything. Just screamed.”

You lift your gaze, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a hard stare. “They never caught the guy.”

The blood drains from Bucky’s face as he listens. You continue to fidget with the grass, your brows scrunching in thought, the memories as vivid as the day they occurred.

“Every day I would go down to the sheriff station and look at the bounty posters. I would look at the faces of the men. My Ma pointed out the poster of the man who she claimed was responsible. And I would stand there, and I would stare, wonderin’ if we would get the justice we deserved.”

“Where was this robbery?” Bucky questions, his voice strained. You ignore him.

“The law lost interest, some rich stagecoach was robbed, and all their eyes turned away.” You continue, a bitter edge creeping into your tone. “It made me sick that those men, the men who swore they would bring justice, abandoned us so quickly, all for a few more dollars.”

Bucky’s face twists with horror and guilt as the weight of your words settles over him. You watch him for a moment, your expression cold.

“Me and my Ma had some money, but we were gonna starve without my Pa’s work. We couldn’t work the forge or have a bank account… so we sold it. The best I could do was marry and send money back to my Ma but… but all I could do was stare at those posters. So I bought a horse with what little we had left, took my Pa’s rifle, and rode out. I followed hints and leads until I found a trail.”

“Ya don’t understand—” Bucky speaks up again, near-begging. Your eyes snap upward, and you lift your chin high, your mouth set in a firm line.

“That trail led me to Crimson Junction. It led me to you.”

The silence returns, thicker and uncomfortable. Bucky’s eyes are downcast in shame, like a scolded dog. Your stomach twists, a nauseating frustration gnawing at your gut. You rise to your knees, your knuckles white as you aim your rifle over his heart.

“And to think, I spent weeks or months staring at your picture on a poster," you continue, your voice akin to a snarl. "I thought when I found you that you’d be some monster. I knew in my heart that you were evil because you shot my Pa. In the back of the head, no less, like a coward. You couldn’t even shoot a man who was lookin’ you in the eyes."

You pause, a mix of exasperation and disbelief in your tone. “I wondered if you’d have horns like a devil or hooved feet. But when I saw you… you were normal. And instead of this wickedness I had prepared myself for, you showed me kindness. In that saloon. You didn’t know me, yet you protected me.”

You lock eyes with Bucky, demanding an answer. “Why?”

Bucky remains silent. You lurch forward, still aiming the gun.

“Why?!” You scream at him, your voice echoing through the quiet of the night. The outlaw doesn’t even flinch.

“Because it was the right thing to do.” Bucky replies quietly, his eyes casting down again for a moment before meeting yours again.

You sneer at him.

“The right thing? The right thing to do?” You scoff, your tone laced with utter disbelief. You let out a sharp, almost delirious laugh. “You killed my father. You. You killed him. He turned his back, and you, like a coward, shot him. You pulled that trigger.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Ya left your home, marched out into this desert… all because of yer father?”

“Yes.” You say, chest heaving with each breath. “My mother is still in mourning, you know. Dressed in black each day, that’s if she even gets out of bed. It was never about the bounty money, but justice. It was about revenge. I would bring you back to Aramiah and I would watch you swing. You’d take your last breath, and the last thing you’d see would be me and my Ma smilin’ up at you.”

“That’s why you’re draggin’ us all the way to Aramiah? For revenge?” Bucky barks.

“I’m beginnin’ to think I should’ve shot you out here and put you down like the animal you are. ‘Least I’d have the guts to look you in the eye while I did it.” You hiss.

Bucky rises to his knees, his movements slow and deliberate as he shuffles towards you. Your shoulders tense involuntarily, and your hands are steady on the rifle as you watch him pause before you.

“Then do it,” he challenges.

The pounding of your heart reverberates in your chest, feeling as if it might leap out of your throat. The sound was as deafening as the rushing flood waters that had devastated Crimson Junction. You could do it. You could end the journey that you had foolishly started. You could end this cycle of violence and suffering.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your arms began to tremble under the strain. Bucky did not move an inch; his eyes were locked with yours. Silent acceptance. It made you sick.

Would killing him really end the cycle? Or would the wheel spin once more, creating a new path of destruction through your actions? Your head ached with the weight of the decision, and your palms were slick with sweat. Was this the path of righteousness, or was it wickedness in disguise?

You could kill him; you could end it. But it still meant your Ma would starve. It still meant you’d have to return the same as you left. You’d still have to marry and carry the weight of all you had been through and all that was to come. Even if you were not the one to pull the trigger, even if he swung… would you feel better? Would there still be a pit in your chest that seemed to deepen with each passing day?

It would pass.

It will pass.

You threw the rifle to the ground with a grunt, sitting back on your haunches. Bucky observed you with a grim expression, mirroring your actions as he lowered himself to the ground across from you.

“I will watch them hang you.” You tell him, hands shaking. “I will watch you die, and the world will be better for it.”

—

A fine, ethereal mist lay over the landscape in the early morning, casting a dreamy veil over the terrain. Dew clung to every surface, tiny beads of moisture coating the grass and bushes like delicate jewels. Even your hair and clothes were damp, the moisture seeping into your skin and leaving a slight ache in your bones when you awoke.

Both you and Bucky were quick to rise. There was no need for words; you both understood the urgency of covering as much ground as possible before the midday sun turned the desert into a scorching furnace.

This wordless routine continued for several days. Each morning, you would wake early, drink from the river, and follow its current through the arid landscape. Bucky, his hands bound, trailed behind you on the horse. By midday, you would seek out any available shelter—a rock, a tree—anything to provide respite from the relentless heat. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you would resume your journey, travelling until darkness enveloped the land. Then, you would light a fire, rest, and prepare to repeat the cycle the next day.

The two of you did not speak again until the third day.

The river's water kept you both hydrated, but the cool liquid did little to sate your hunger. The two of you sat under a sparse tree, its leaves rustling in the gentle breeze as shadows and light danced across your skin. The patch of shade was so small that your shoulders were pressed against each other, despite your mutual disdain.

Bucky leant his head back against the trunk, loose strands of hair tickling his forehead, his eyes closed. You, meanwhile, eye him cautiously, your arms hugging the rifle in your lap. Despite his constant nonchalance, you never let your guard down around the outlaw.

Just as you thought he had drifted asleep, Bucky’s eyes crack open as your stomach growls. It has been grumbling for the past two days, the lack of food and constant exertion were wearing you down to exhaustion.

“Ya know, we see animals all the time while we’re walkin’. Why don’t you shoot one and feed yerself so we both don’t have to listen to yer stomach wailin’ all the time?” He asks with a sigh.

You swore he was asleep. You had counted his breaths and listened as they grew slow and deep. Now he was peering across at you. His tone didn’t sound hostile, but it certainly wasn’t concern laced. He was rather frustrated, like he had discovered the solution to the mystery, but you were still struggling to solve the first clue.

“You really think I haven’t already thought about that?” You snip back, your voice sharp. Bucky’s eyebrow twitches, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he leans back against the rough bark of the tree.

“Ya know how to hunt, right?” He asks, his tone flat and expectant.

You remain silent, tilting your head away so you don’t have to look at him, staring instead at the distant horizon where the distant, blue mountains stood ever vigilant.

“Yer Pa taught you how to shoot, but he didn’t teach ya how to hunt?” He questions again, astounded.

“He taught me how to protect myself from other people. People like you. His lessons were usually of the ‘wherever you shoot you’re bound to hit something important enough’ variety.” You retort, bitterness creeping into your voice as you clench your fists in your lap.

“That don’t answer my question.” He presses, eyes narrowing.

“People are big, usually runnin’ towards you. So we would line up bottles and cans… I never had movin’ targets.”

Bucky sighs in disbelief, his bound hands raising to rub his face in exasperation. “So yer gonna let yerself starve? On account of what—pride?”

“And what do you suggest I do? I’m not wastin’ bullets teachin’ myself out here.” You snap, turning your head to finally glare at him.

“Well, I know how to hunt.” He offers, his voice calmer now, almost coaxing, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You don’t seriously think I would give you the gun?” You scoff.

“It was worth a try.”

“Unbelievable.” You mutter under your breath.

“I could teach you. Tell you how hunt… how to aim right—” Bucky starts, his voice more earnest now, leaning slightly forward.

“I’m not givin’ you this gun Barnes—” You cut him off.

“I weren’t sayin that—”

“Then what are you sayin’?!”

Maybe it was the relentless heat bearing down on you both, making the air thick and maddening, but you wanted to wring his neck out of sheer frustration.

“I can tell you what to do. You hold the gun and I can guide you.”

You pause. The sweltering sun seemed to amplify every irritation, yet you couldn't deny the practicality of his offer. You study his face, searching for any trace of deceit. The hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his eyes all speak to his desperation—a desperation that mirrors your own.

“Would that really work?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, his gaze unwavering, the honesty in his voice catching you off guard. “But it sounds better than starvin’.”

You narrow your eyes at him, weighing the risks, your fingers digging into the coarse fabric of your skirt. The memory of your father, of what Bucky had done, gnaws at you, but so does the gnawing emptiness in your stomach, the fear of dying out here alone.

“Alright,” you finally concede.

A reluctant truce.

—

When the overhead sun slowly began to dip across the blue skies and the late afternoon heat started to sizzle out, you and Bucky emerged from your shade. The heat of the day gave way to a more bearable warmth, and the sky began to change colours as the sun descended. Bucky had explained to you earlier that rabbits were most active at dusk or dawn, which worked well for you since your skin already felt burned to a crisp.

The two of you lay parallel to each other, downwind from an active burrow the outlaw had spotted during your short scouting mission away from the riverbed. Tall grass tickled your skin as you settled into position, the skies blooming in beautiful oranges and pinks as the sun sank below the horizon.

You lay close to one another so that Bucky could whisper instructions to you without alerting your prey. Your forearms and shoulders knocked against each other occasionally as both of you leaned on your elbows, scanning the environment for any signs of movement. The proximity was necessary, but it also brought an unexpected sense of intimacy that neither of you acknowledged.

It was strangely peaceful, as if the tension between you had been cut. You had spent so many days boiling over, caught up in your terrible thoughts that repeated in circles in your head. Having a moment to focus on something other than your misery was weirdly pleasant, even if the company wasn’t.

“There. By that bush,” Bucky hisses beside you, his voice barely a whisper. His body is tense, every muscle coiled in anticipation. You follow his gaze, your own limbs frozen, acutely aware of the need for stillness. “Ya see it?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice equally low and hushed. Your fingers tightened around the metal of the rifle, the surface warm and slippery from your sweaty touch.

“Aim up yer shot like you would normally.” The outlaw instructed, his head dipping slightly as he remained locked onto the rabbit through the tall grass.

You follow his instructions, moving slowly and deliberately. Using the sights, you guide the barrel to the left, aligning it with the small, delicate form of the rabbit. Your heart pounds in your chest as you rest your aim over the rabbit's shoulder, sucking in a slow, steady breath. Through the sights, you can see its twitchy little nose sniffing cautiously and its beady eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

“Good.” Bucky’s voice was low and grumbling. The praise left a heat in your gut. “Aim over the head if ya can. Better to save as much meat as possible.”

You follow his guiding words once more, adjusting your aim and lifting the barrel slightly. The rabbit moves forward a step, its ears twisting, still unaware of the danger.

“Now, deep breath. Squeeze the trigger nice and slow,” he instructs, his voice a low, calming murmur. You can feel his warm breath ghosting across your cheek.

You follow his words, your fingers hovering over the trigger as you breathe in deeply. The rabbit's whiskers twitch and its nose sniffs the air cautiously. You exhale slowly, centring yourself, your finger now steady on the trigger.

The shot rings out—a sharp, deafening crack that echoes across the empty plains, momentarily drowning out all other sounds. Around you, wildlife scatters in a flurry of motion; birds take flight in panicked flocks, and deer bound deeper into the desert, their white tails flashing in the fading light. You grit your teeth, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as the rabbit's white tail disappears into its burrow, unharmed.

“I told you this wouldn’t work.” You grumble, pushing the rifle away with a rough shove.

It was not like you to be quick to give up. You had always been fiercely determined your entire life; that’s how you ended up in this mess in the first place. You did not falter when faced with difficult or even seemingly impossible tasks. But this journey, this desert, had worn you down. Maybe it was the hunger and heatstroke talking, but you felt as though holes had been worn into your very being, draining you of the strength that had always defined you.

With a groan, you roll onto your back, your arm draped over your brow as you stare upward at the sky. The deep blue was darkening, and the warm light of the sunset was casting the world into a purple haze as the twilight hours descended. The stars began to peek through, tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse above, indifferent to your struggles.

Bucky was silent beside you, but when you glance over, you realise he was watching you with an uncharacteristically soft and unguarded expression. The usual brooding edge of his expression seem to soften in the fading light, his eyes reflecting a quiet concern.

“We still have time. Sun’s not set yet,” he says, his voice gentle, almost coaxing.

You consider his words, your empty stomach clenching so hard it was nauseating. “This isn’t working,” you repeat yourself. The outlaw frowned, his brow furrowing in thought.

“It’s not that it’s just—” He sighs, tilting his head slightly as if searching for the right words. “Yer too tense, you need to relax a bit, yer shot jerked up.”

“Barnes—” You begin with a grumble and he cuts you off.

“One more try. I think I might go mad if I have to listen to yer stomach wailin’ any longer. If ya untied me, I could guide ya better,” he says, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious.

You scowl at him, the idea of untying him again makes you uneasy. There was an unspoken truce between the two of you. You had untied the man before, and he had not moved to attack you. He had kept his word, proving to be more useful than you ever wanted to admit. Maybe his help would get you this rabbit... but you certainly would not be giving him the gun.

As you mull over the decision, you can't ignore the twisting hunger that makes every second feel like an eternity. The analytical side of you recognised the sense in his suggestion. With a reluctant sigh, you reach over and begin to untie the ropes binding his hands. Bucky remains still, his eyes never leaving your face.

Once freed, he flexes his wrists, rubbing at the raw skin before turning his attention back to you. “Alright, let’s do this proper.” He says, his tone more focused now.

Once again, you find yourself in position, stomach flat against the ground, shoulder-to-shoulder with Bucky. The earthy scent of the soil mixed with the faint fragrance of prairie grass fills your senses, grounding you. It didn’t take long for the rabbits to reemerge, their eager movements a testament to their obliviousness to the two of you tucked between blades of grass downwind.

Your sights rest on a clear shot, a rabbit out in the open, less obscured by foliage. You watch it as it sniffs around.

“You need to breathe, sweetheart,” Bucky hums from beside you, his voice a low, calming murmur. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, your mouth set in a determined line, and your shoulders tense. Bucky shifts beside you, his movements are deliberate and slow. Your head swivels away from your prey to look over at him in disbelief.

“What’re you doin’—” you protest, only to cut yourself short. The outlaw had pushed himself up on his elbows, his hands coming to rest on your shoulder blades. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, locking you in place.

“Relax,” he mutters, his voice soft yet firm, as he applies gentle pressure with his palms against your upper back. The word was more of a command than a suggestion, and it resonates deep within you.

Brows drawn together, you face forward again, focusing on the rabbit. You’d have to process the outlaw nearly being on top of you later. His palms smooth across your shirt, the rough texture of his calloused hands against the soft fabric. He gently guides your pose until your shoulders are relaxed, and the tension gradually dissipates under his touch.

You try to focus on your breathing, each inhale and exhale is measured and slow. Bucky continues to adjust your arms, indicating small movements with the slightest nudge of his hands. His touch is careful, almost tender, as he directs you, his fingers brushing against your skin. Then, his hands sweep down until they rest on your lower back, the warmth of his palms seeping through your shirt. His chin comes to rest over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear.

Much to your annoyance, you find that his silent suggestions were indeed helpful. Your body feels strangely at ease, even with him practically perched atop you. Your skin burns under his touch, heat flooding your cheeks as you try to focus on the task at hand.

“There you go, darlin’.” He whispers into your ear, his breath warm and his voice a low, soothing rumble. You can feel the vibrations of his tone through your back. Turning your focus to the rabbit once more, you breathe as he instructs, the rise and fall of your ribcage pressing against his chest with each inhale and exhale.

You pull the trigger.

To your disbelief, the rabbit drops dead instantly.

A profound silence envelops both of you as the final echo of the gunshot fades into the distance. Bucky straightens up and offers a lopsided grin. You finally turn your head to stare at him in astonishment.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, but a smile begins to tug at your lips.

The tension that had coiled tight in your chest unravels all at once, replaced by a surge of elation. Laughter, raw and unfiltered, bubbles up from deep within you. It's a mixture of disbelief and relief.

Bucky shares in your joy. His chuckle is a deep, rumbling sound that mingles with your laughter, a genuine grin spreading across his rugged features. "Hell of a shot."

Overcome with emotion, you surprise yourself by throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. His body stiffens momentarily, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Then, as if suddenly remembering he had control over his own body, he relaxes into your embrace. His hand finds its place gently on your back. You feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your rapid pulse.

Then, as quickly as it surfaced, you jerk away with flushed cheeks.

His gaze flickers, darkening with a primal intensity.

You remain shoulder-to-shoulder in the grass, the warmth of his body lingering where your shoulders, arms, and hips meet. A gentle breeze sweeps through the prairie, causing his dark hair to flutter. You swallow hard, but you can't bring yourself to look away from him.

The brief moment of triumph from shooting the rabbit—a moment of success after days—begins to fade. Bucky reaches forward, wordlessly and tenderly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Hunger still bites at you, but alongside the physical ache, there’s another hunger—an unsettling, confusing desire for the man beside you.

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. A part of you craves more. You want him to trace his fingers down your cheek, across your collarbone, and down to the swell of your breasts. You want his touch desperately, painfully. You're starving for him, your entire body trembling with need as you imagine his hands roaming lower, his lips searing against your skin. You long to feel his sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips, to draw unimaginable sounds from him with just your hands and mouth.

Maybe it's the madness of being under the sun for days on end, a blend of starvation and lunacy. Food is just meters away, yet you can't tear your gaze from him. Not as you lean into his touch, not even as your lips part.

Not even as you foolishly reach out, running your fingers through his hair.

And maybe he is just as foolish and hungry as you, because the outlaw grasps your face gently between his palms. His calloused hands are warm against your skin. He hesitates for a heartbeat, searching your eyes for any sign of resistance. When he finds none, he leans in and kisses you.

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ofrolysdogs · 3 months

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demon slayer oc

last edited: 07/14/24 | 14/07/24

spoilers are below btw.

trying my best at a photo id so bear/bare(?) with me here: hoshiko sora is a dark skinned woman with short, dark brown hair with reddish undertones in the style of a mullet, her longer hairs are colored purple with blue tips, her eyes are a deep bluish purple with a normal purple gradient, her characteristic is her dark under eyes, besides the standard demon slayer uniform, her haori is a dark purple with a vivid purple gradient consisting of white stars, her kyahan is a darker shade of blue with sparkles and stars.

- some lore on the oc in question, i decided to name her hoshiko sora, it's not her birth name but it's a name. - oldest of 2 other siblings, and is the second ever foreigner to become a hashira, after the death of her mentor, yukiko, ice breather, -- hoshiko was very close with her younger sister, yumeko, who turned out to be a "fallen angel," later having to kill her, her younger brother is in the care of the other ladies that live with her. - she lives with 15 women, all of them non-japanese, and 14 foster children named after colors. - her birthday is october 25th and she is 19 years old. - she's the star hashira and uses celestial breathing and to be real i don't give a rats ass if it's mary sue (she's already self insert so come at me bro) - her eyebags are genetic, not because of a lack of sleep, her mother and sister had the same eyebags. - she rides a giant sentient star she names sirius, and has even smaller stars she keeps as pets, their names and stuff are linked here. - her hair is based off a hairstyle i did back in 2022 minus the mullet. - she can sing, really good. -- when she was younger, she would sing yumeko and her brother lullabies she made up, and her voice is described as "otherworldly." - she's like 5'9 or 176 cm, the exact height of giyu, she weighs about 185 pounds - while her main love interest is kyojuro and is the one she chooses in the end, she can be shipped with all of the hashira (minus the 14 year old kid, he was with yumeko until you know what happened.), since they all find her to be beautiful. (ok fine i own up to it, she's mary sue, but hey, at least im free from cringe culture.) -- when she first joined, she had a crush on obanai, but after she found out that he was not only afraid of women, but he was... simultaneously in love with one, she was so heartbroken she contemplated on retiring as a demon slayer, and was also deeply resentful and jealous of mitsuri, but, her sister talked her out of it, and once yumeko had joined the hashira, she helped hoshiko get along with mitsuri better. - her personality consists of her being laidback, down to earth and composed, very go with the flow and tends to stay out of unnecessary conflict, she can be pretty comedic too. -- i guess when it comes to her personality, think a little of sans from undertale? - in the kimetsu academy au, she studies at a university overseas as an astronomer, while her descendant is an astronaut.

those other stats

- she shares a rank with tengen when it comes to physical strength, why? as a child she had a weird fixation for lifting heavy things, no one not even she knows why, weird childhood things i guess. - she's not the fastest, but isn't slow, either, ranks between giyu and obanai. - on the openness scale, she's around 75%. - on the kindness scale, she ranks between gyomei and obanai.

her opinions on everyone

"she's a pretty nice gal! however... something about her bugs me... if you catch my drift, also, i'm not a fan of bugs." - insect hashira "the same age as my dear sister, he's taken a liking to her, and what can i say? i don't blame him, they'll get married for sure! but not both of us, kid!" - mist hashira "im sorry to say it, but the man's awfully cringe, and no, i'm not taking up on the offer to be the fourth wife, nice nails though! which wife did them?" - sound hashira "he's got that mysteriousness to him i find attractive in men, but, we don't always get what we want, do we? but hey, at least i don't have to worry about being bitten by a snake, right?" - serpent hashira "honestly, i don't have a real opinion on the guy, he's pretty cool i should say, however he's got some secrets the rest don't know, thats my favorite part about him. ;)" - stone hashira "a gloomy fellow he seems, but, if you put it past you, he's got more to him, it makes me sad how the other members treat him like that." - water hashira "loud as can be, gives me an array of compliments, the others are saying 'give him a chance, can't you see? he's in love with you!' ... hmm, i can admit, he's got an essence." - flame hashira "dear god, why can't i be blessed with such beauty? the man i had fallen for has fallen for her! why does this always happen to me?" - love hashira "now, can i say he's terrifying? not really, but am i lying when i say those eyes don't freak me out just a little? also yes." - wind hashira

everyones opinions on her.

"a celestial breather? well thats certainly unique!" - insect hashira "she's like a jellyfish, she's very flowy and beautiful, she also has a very pretty sister." - mist hashira "she's very flashy! if i had the chance to choose my wife, she would've been my first pick, she has the best hips for childbirth here!" - sound hashira "i heard she likes me... ew, but at least she's pretty." - serpent hashira "she has a beautiful singing voice, rengoku is deeply in love with her, but she loves obanai..." - stone hashira "she's very kind to me and understands me well, i like her very much." - water hashira "she may not look it, but she's very ruthless during battle, she's also the most beautiful woman i have ever laid my eyes on!" - flame hashira "she's very beautiful, i have never seen rengoku so flattered! but, i don't think she likes me much.." - love hashira "she's pretty cool, actually." - wind hashira

#demon slayer #demon slayer oc #kny #kny oc #oc #original character #kimetsu no yaiba #self insert oc #cringe culture is dead

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regulatedstrawberry · 9 months

Text

Reaching New Heights : A Tails Adventure - Chapter 12

Happy Holidays everyone! Newest chapter of my fic is out, with a preview below the cut - the longest chapter yet. Hope you enjoy, and I'll see all you readers in the new year!

Summary:

“When this is all over… I think I need to go it alone for a while. I can’t grow into my full potential if I always fall back on you.” Tails decides to embark on his own journey, without Sonic. Amy goes on the girls trip of her dreams, with Cream and Sticks. Sonic receives a surprise visit from the future. Takes place after the main storyline events of Sonic Frontiers.

Rating: T Words: 34k+ Chapters: 13/?

Read the Prologue Here!

Sonic and Silver were wiped.

Since infiltrating Eggman’s base yesterday afternoon, the two of them had spent the entire night through the morning, searching for something that could explain the time paradox threatening the future. Aside from Eggman’s wrath, and the phone call with Amy, they hadn’t made it any farther than where they’d started.

Exhausted and fruitless, the two hedgehogs trudged to the wooden picket fence of Vanilla’s cottage, and opened the gate to the yard

“Ugh…” Sonic yawned, covering his mouth lazily, before turning to look at Silver with bags under his eyes. “Sorry we didn’t find anything. We’ll start back after…” Another yawn. “After we get some sleep.”

Silver’s usual gentle smile was replaced with a worn, grumpy expression. He took a deep breath, trying to fight the tiredness. “Okay,” he mumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes. “Remind me why we didn’t go to Spagonia again?”

Sonic rubbed his face, groaning. “Because Amy is there,” he explained. “And she’s helping out the citizens of Spagonia recover from the earthquake. Plus, I want to let Vanilla know that I talked to Cream, and that she’s safe.”

It wasn’t a full answer, but Sonic was too tired to really explain it to Silver again. He’d explained this to Silver in the middle of the night, while they were walking. Amy wanted to go off on her own, as she put it, to ‘share her love with the world’ . If Amy learned about Silver’s situation, she would drop everything to help them – or at the very least stretch herself out thin between them and the Spagonians. Sonic was lucky, really, to have such good friends that he could call upon and rely on in a pinch.

But this was Amy’s time to be independent. It was all she’d asked of him - the least he could do was honor her request… by making sure he handled it himself.

Sonic dropped his hands from his face. Despite what felt like a solid and straightforward explanation, he still felt like there was a feeling… unaccounted for. It felt unnatural for these things to weigh so heavily on him. Like there was some subconscious feeling he couldn’t quite name .

He shook his head, deciding to chalk up the spiraling to sleep deprivation, and shoved the feeling down in his chest. Sonic didn’t want to think about it any further - he wasn’t used to having such deep thoughts for so long. He just wanted to lay down.

Silver let out a heavy sigh through his nose, reaching a hand to rub the corner of his eye. “Okay,” he said quietly, faintly remembering the conversation. The situation in the future had Silver on edge; it was difficult to focus on anything else. He was more upset that they ended this search with no leads, and for once as a time traveler, that was something he was now running out of. If it wasn’t for his weakening body, he would have kept searching on his own.

But the sight of Vanilla’s quaint cottage, the worn surface of her wooden door, felt comforting, with the smell of home-cooked food wafting through the windows.

“We’ll get back to it after our power nap,” Sonic reassured, his little quips still coming easily to him. He grabbed the handle to the front door, and turned it, looking over at Silver. “Let’s just get some…”

The door opened. Neither hedgehog was prepared for what they had walked into.

Read Chapter 12 Here!

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #silver the hedgehog #sonic frontiers #sonic fanfiction #strawberry talks #reaching new heights fic

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springtyme · 3 months

Note

Firstly, CONGRATS on 2k what the heck!? That is a total dream for my blog!! You absolutely deserve it!!!!

I have come with a ✨Luca request for your celebration ! (Quite a random one, sorry hahaha)

But omg idk if you’ve seen the knafeh pistachio chocolate bars on tik tok?! Not sure if it’s because my period is coming - but HO. LY. SHITE!!!! They look fuuuucking insaaane!!

I know my hubs Luca would see me watching video after video for nights in a row and then one night coming home with it not knowing it was a particularly hard day 💖💖

𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much, dear! And thank you for the request, I was so excited to get to write for Luca. I had to google those chocolate bars cause I don’t have tik tok, and omg they look sooo scrumptious!! ♡

Chef Luca x afab!reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: Dating a pastry chef comes with it's perks. And 'I love you' doesn't always have to be said with words.

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: Fluff/comfort. Food as a metaphor for love. Mention of periods/cramps.

You are completely drenched from the waist down, the wet denim of your jeans sticking uncomfortably to your tired legs, who feels immensely heavy as you drag yourself up the stairs to your apartment. Finally reaching your door, you fumble with your keys, fingers cold and stiff from the chilly downpour. The lock clicks open, and you stumble inside, dripping water onto the hardwood floor as you kick off your sodden shoes, letting them land haphazardly by the door.

You drop your bag on the floor with a heavy sigh, today has truly been one of those days where everything seems to go wrong. Work had been exhausting and you had been counting down the hours until you could finally escape and return home, then when you finally were heading home and came up from the metro station at Skjolds Plads, the sky had opened up and poured down on you without warning, the little travel umbrella you always have in your bag had saved your hair and made sure your makeup didn’t run down your cheeks, but had otherwise been no match for the torrential rain. It felt like the universe was purposely trying to make your day even worse, leaving you drenched and cold and miserable. And on top of all that your period is coming and you can feel the familiar cramps starting to settle in.

You shred your wet clothes, stepping into the kitchen to throw them into the washer before you trudge into the tiny bathroom. You quickly strip off your underwear and turn on the hot water in the shower, the warm water cascading over your chilled skin, slowly thawing you out. The heat soothes your tired muscles and eases the tension in your body, providing some much needed relief, and for a moment, you can almost forget about the chaos that had been your day.

You let out a deep sigh as you close your eyes, letting the water rinse away the stress and frustration of the day before you begin to lather up your body and scrub away the feeling of being weighed down by the events of the day. The scent of lavender from your body wash fills the steamy air, calming your senses and allowing you to relax for the first time all day.

You finish up your shower and after drying off and putting on lotion you shuffle towards the bedroom, you put on a cosy oversized t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, feeling comforted by the soft fabric against your skin before leaving for the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. You fill the electric kettle, trying your best to ignore the pile of dirty dishes in the sink that you had meant to wash when you came home, before placing it back on its stand, pushing the button and watch as the little light turns on, indicating that it’s heating up.

Once the water is ready, you pour it over the tea bag that you have plopped into your favourite ceramic mug, the warm and soothing aroma begins to fill the air as you bring the steaming mug with you into the living room, letting the warmth of the mug seep into your hands as you sit on the couch, the rain still drumming steadily against the window. You take a few sips, before placing the mug on the coffee table, curling up on the couch and wrapping yourself in a warm, cosy blanket.

You miss Luca, all you really feel in the mood for right now is a cuddle, but he still won’t be back from the restaurant for hours. You feel a pang of loneliness wash over you, wishing he was here with you. But you know he is working hard and that a place like Noma is worth the long hours he puts in. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to push away the feeling of loneliness that suddenly threatens to consume you.

You love that he is able to pursue his passion and excel in his career, but some days, like today, you wish he had a more regular schedule, so that you could spend more time together.

You grab your phone, to mindlessly scroll through social media, trying to distract yourself from the pain and exhaustion that weighs you down. The warm steam in the shower had soothed your beginning cramps, but the uncomfortable, dull ache that always warns you of the impending storm in your lower abdomen is starting to make itself known again as you mindlessly scroll through your feed. You try to focus on cute cat videos and funny memes, anything to take your mind off the discomfort.

But it does not take long for the algorithm to begin showing you your latest obsession, and suddenly you are fed video after video of the most criminally delicious looking pistachio filled chocolate treats. You close the app with a groan, disposing of your phone on the coffee table and burying your face in the soft blanket, trying to distract yourself from the cravings that are starting to creep up on you. Chocolate is always your weakness, especially when you’re feeling low, and right now, all you want is a big bar of rich, creamy chocolate to indulge in, but you don’t have any and you are not going outside in this weather again just to go out and buy some.

You close your eyes, letting your tired body sink deeper into the soft cushions of the sofa as you focus on the sound of rain outside, the gentle pitter-patter helping to calm your mind and soothe your nerves. It’s nice, but you are only going to stay here for ten more minutes, then you’re going out to wash the dishes and start the laundry. Or at least that is what you tell yourself.

But as the minutes pass and the rain pounds against the windows, a steady rhythm that lulls you into a state of semi-consciousness, and soon you find yourself drifting off to sleep. The warmth of the blanket, the soothing sound of the rain, and the exhaustion of the day is finally catching up to you, pulling you into a peaceful slumber.

You have no idea how long you were asleep for when you are pulled back to consciousness again by the sound of the front door opening, slowly gaining your senses back, and finally opening your eyes as you feel the couch under you slightly dip. You blink blearily, your eyes adjusting to the dim light as you focus on the figure that sits on the edge of the couch by your feet. A gentle hand, squeezing your calf.

“You’re already home?” you murmur sleepily, still feeling disoriented from your nap, but very happy to see him.

“Already? Babe, it’s the evening,” Luca says softly.

“Oh,” you reply, reaching out to check the time on your phone. “I wanted to fix the kitchen before you got home,” you mumble, feeling guilty for having slept the afternoon away and not gotten anything done.

“We can just fix it together.” He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But let’s do it later, though.”

You smile up at him, feeling a rush of warmth and contentment at his presence. “That sounds good.” And it really does, you normally hate doing the dishes and fixing the kitchen, but doing it together with Luca could never bother you.

“Your tea has gone cold,” he observes, yet he still reaches for the mug on the coffee table and takes a sip, immediately wincing as the cold liquid hits his tongue and you can not help but laugh softly at his reaction. He chuckles as well, placing the cold mug back on the table. “Want me to make you another one?”

“No, that’s okay, but thank you.”

“Then scoot over and make some room for me,” he then says with a tired grin, softly tapping your thigh as you scoot up against the backrest, making space for him to lay next to you. But before he lays down, he puts down the little white pastry box that you hadn’t noticed he had been holding until now, on the coffee table.

He plops down next to you, wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. You lean into him, feeling the comforting warmth of his body against yours, the stress and frustration of the day melting away at his touch. “What’s in the box?” you ask, curiosity piqued as you lean forward, or at least as much forward as possible while being wrapped in your boyfriend’s bear hug, to inspect the cardboard square.

“Dessert,” he replies nonchalantly, not helping in the slightest in satisfying your curiosity.

“Now you are just being cryptic on purpose.”

“I said it was dessert, didn’t I? You don’t have to worry about it until I have gotten some real food in you,” he teases, giving you a playful squeeze and your stomach comes in clutch with perfect comedic timing as it growls loudly by the prospect of dinner. Work had been so hectic that you hadn’t had time to eat a proper lunch.

“Okay, okay, dinner then dessert,” you surrender with a huff. “Want me to whip up something? Maybe pasta?” you offer, trying to be helpful, you are nowhere near as competent in the kitchen as he is, but you can manage to cook a decent enough meal if you put your mind to it and you still feel bad that you have been napping for the last few hours while he has been at the restaurant from dawn to evening and only just got home.

“Nah, you seem tired, let’s just order something instead. Or I can run down to Alanya.” He offers. “Lamb goes really well with pistachio.”

“I can run down to Alyana, I’m the one who has been napping the whole afternoon.”

“That’s just good. I’m happy you got some rest, you need more than you get.”

“Says you?! You’re the one who needs more rest than you get, you have to get up at 4 most days,” you argue.

“I’m used to it,” Luca shrugs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And 4 am is late for bakers, trust me it could be much worse.”

“You’re a pastry chef, not a baker,” you remind him, nuzzling against his broad chest. “You made that very clear on our first date, remember?”

“Eh, I was pretentious back then.”

“Still kind of are,” you tease, poking his side lightly. “But I love you anyway.”

He chuckles, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. You lay like this for a little while until you break the silence again.

“But what did you mean with ‘lamb goes well with pistachio?’”

“Well, we had a bunch of extra pistachios at the restaurant, so…” he loosens his grip on you and sits up, reaching for the pastry box on the table to open it and show you what’s inside.

“Have I been dating a psychic this whole time?” you say half jokingly and half in disbelief, eyes widening in surprise as Luca reveals the content of the box. Inside are beautifully crafted pistachio-filled chocolate bars, each one looking like a work of art. The rich chocolate coating is sprinkled with crushed pistachios. You can feel your mouth watering just looking at them, the cravings you had been trying to push away earlier coming back with a vengeance, yet these look somewhat even more delicious than the ones on tiktok. “I’ve just been thinking about how bad I’m craving these, and I have never even tried them before. How do you even know about these? You’re never online.”

“You watch those videos constantly, how could I not know?” Luca says it with a gentle smile. The soft lighting of the living room casts a warm glow on his face, his blue eyes twinkling with affection. “You should really cut down your screen time,” he teases, disposing of the pastry box again to wrap you in his arms once more in a sweet, lingering kiss. You melt into his touch, savouring the warmth and love that radiates from him. In that moment, all the stress and worries of the day fade away, replaced by a sense of peace and happiness that only he can bring.

As you break apart, you can not help but smile up at him, feeling grateful for his thoughtfulness and the way he always knows how to make you feel better. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

“Anything for you, love,” he replies, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead, tattooed arms holding you tight as you connect your lips again.

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simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair · 3 years

Text

DEGRADATION TAKEN TOO FAR

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

#includes: Tsukishima and Suna

#genre: Smut, hurt/comfort, fluff ending i guess?

#description: when they take degradation too far and hurt your feelings. Idea from @heartzdesirez

#warnings: heavy degradation, words like: bitch, slut , whore etc, roughish sex, fem reader, restraint, tears, kinda toxic.

Minors for the love of all that’s holy please DO NOT interact , thank you :)

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

TSUKISHIMA KEI

Tsuki had always been a bit mean when it came to the bedroom , always preferring degradation over praise and for the most part you were okay with it. He never done anything you were uncomfortable with and always made sure to check up on you before and after, because that was and always will be his main priority.

He had come home after a practically rough day and just needed something or someone to take his frustrations out on and what better way than to have sex with you. You also weren’t having the best day so you immediately reciprocated Tsuki’s rough kiss, hoping it would take your mind off all the shit that’s weighing down on it.

One thing led to another and you found yourself pinned under him while he roughly thrusted in and out of you without a care. “You like that you little slut? Of course you do because that’s all you’re good for, a tight little clocksleeve for me to take my frustrations out on” you don’t know what it was , normally you’d eagerly nod your head and agree with him but today you just felt off. The sex wasn’t making you feel better it was making you feel worse and his words that used to turn you into a wet mess now pierced your heart. Tsuki noticed the slight wobble of your lip and thinking it was all part of the act , he continued his humiliation “ Aww the stupid little baby about to cry” he condescendingly laughed. You attempted to push him away with your hand on his chest but he gripped both wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head “is it too much for you whore ? Aw what a shame”

You turned your head away in an attempt to hide the tears that were making their way down your face but he gripped your cheeks in his hand and turned your head to face him , “Look at me when I’m fuc- shit baby , are you okay?!” You don’t know if it was the tears on your cheeks or the disheartened look in your eyes that made him stop but you were glad he did. He immediately pulled out and took you into his arms so your head was now laying on his chest. “Fuck I’m so sorry baby , did I take to far?” He asked while rocking you back and forth and once he got the confirmation that that was the case he placed a multitude of kisses on your head while stroking your back. “God I’m so fucking sorry love. You know I didn’t mean any of that right?” when he gets no response he shifts you so your facing him and looking him dead in the eye. “Look at me pretty girl, I promise you that I didn’t mean any of it. You’re the most important person in my life, fu-fuck I don’t know what I’d do without you, I love you so much” the sincerity in his voice and loving gaze was enough to comfort and reassure you that he did love you. “Promise?” You asked weakly. “I’d put my whole life on it” he lovingly strokes your cheek and carries you into the bathroom to start a warm bath “I’m going to show you just how much I love you”

SUNA RINTAROU

“Whiney…fucking…bitch” each word was punctuated by a deep hard thrust. Hate sex was nothing new to you and Suna, it occurred most of the time you guys got into arguments. It was an easy way to release your frustrations out on each other. However, today it was different, you weren’t reciprocating the same energy you normally would and that’s probably due to the nature of the argument that led you to be face down in the mattress.

The argument had started after you expressed your distaste in the way girls flirted with him and how he didn’t do anything about it and while he didn’t entertain them he also didn’t push them away which hurt. Once you voiced these concerns he mockingly laughed at you and told you how you needed to be less insecure because it was harmless. And yeah maybe you were insecure, because you know the way girls look at him and how they talk about your relationship , you just wanted reassurance. All you wanted was for him to tell you that he loves you and those girls mean nothing but instead you were met with harsh words instead , “You should be lucky I’m fucking you. You know how many girls would love to be in your position? Me fucking you should be reassurance enough” he followed his words with a harsh slap to your ass.

That was your breaking point. Your sobs were muffled in the sheets as he held your head down and continued to roughly thrust in and out of you. “This pussy is the only thing that’s keeping me here” you desperately clawed at his hands in hopes that he would get the message and remove them which he did. Once you lifted your head up , he could tell something was wrong and halted his movements “hey.. you okay?” You shook your head while your shoulders shake with your sobs and you desperately try to catch your breath. Suna quickly pulls out once he realises you’re not okay and rushes to your side. “Shh shh , what’s wrong baby? Talk to me” “is my body really the only things that’s keeping you here?” You got out through your sniffles. “Shit , of course it isn’t baby, I shouldn’t have said any of that , I was just angry , I’m so sorry baby , so fucking sorry” he pushed your head into his chest and soothingly stroked your hair. “I love you so much, im just a fucking idiot, no girl other than you means anything to me , you hear that? I was just mad that you couldn’t see that I only have eyes for you beautiful” “that’s all you had to say you idiot” you meekly chuckled. “I know I know I was just defensive and im sorry, it’ll never happen again” “I love you” “I love you more baby”

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

Note: Hopefully I’ve done your idea justice @heartzdesirez

;)

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homeofthelonelywriter · 3 years

Text

Better times (Luke Castellan x f!Reader)

(A/N) Sooo...I’m back? Kinda? I don’t even know.

I tried to combine @tomorrowtrue ‘s and @dreamerinthesun ‘s requests into this. I haven’t written anything in so long, so I am really sorry if this sucks.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x f!Reader

Warnings: fluff and slight angst at the end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N?”

“Hm.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmmm.”

“Y/N, we need to get up.”

“Hmm…no.” A chuckle left my mouth.

“Yes, hun, we need to get up.”

“Hm…why?”

“Because Chiron will be mad if we miss our afternoon activities.” Y/N let out a deep sigh and pushed herself up onto her elbows just to glare at me. “Hey, I don’t make the rules babe!” With a huff, she turned around and sat up, glancing around the room.

We were completely alone, no one came back to the cabin for a after-lunch-nap. Good, otherwise we would be in trouble. I watched my girlfriend sluggishly get out of bed. When she turned around and saw me still lying down, she grabbed her pillow and smacked me in the face.

“W-What was that for?”

“For waking me up and playing by the rules.” I grinned while getting up myself. “It won’t be that bad, we have all our activities together.” She sighed.

“I’d still prefer to be in bed…” A smirk spread across my lips, and I pulled her close by her hips. “Is that so?” Her hand met my face and she pushed me away. “How are you the head of the cabin, but still act like a horny fifteen-year-old?”

We quickly changed into our camp shirts, her wearing one of mine, before we headed out of the cabin and made our way to the first activity of the afternoon.

The activities ended at around five p.m. and we had an hour of free time before dinner. We chose to go to the woods and plan our tactics for capture the flag, which was going to take place after dinner.

We tried to be optimistic, but the last three losses weighed heavy on our shoulders. While discussing different strategies, we went further into the woods until we landed in front of Zeus’s fist.

“The Ares kids aren’t too good at climbing…we could try and put the flag on top of the fist?” Y/N didn’t seem too convinced about her own suggestion. “Is that even allowed?” A chuckled left Y/N’s mouth and she shook her head. “What is it with you and following rules today?”

Not waiting for an answer, she turned her back on me and pulled herself onto the formation of rocks. With a sigh, I followed her. “What are we doing up here?” She flopped down onto the stone and patted the space next to her. I sat down next to her.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s skip the games today, okay?” I thought for a second…we would get in trouble with Chiron for sure, but did that really matter? “Fine.”

She grinned at me and quickly pecked my lips. She pulled away, but my hands quickly pulled her face back to mine and I deepened the kiss. Both of our lips pulled into smiles, and we continued to make out on top of Zeus’s fist.

I soon started to lean into her, causing her to lean back, but before her back could hit the stone, a horn sounded through the air. It was time for dinner.

We ate as quickly as we could without pulling any attention towards us and as soon as we were done, we made our way out of the pavilion and towards the armory. Of course, that wasn’t where we were planning on going, but we had to keep up appearances.

As soon as we were out of sight of the other demigods, we instead made our way back towards the Hermes cabin. We hid until we were sure that the games had started, and no one would come looking for us.

Y/N had the idea to sneak into the Big House until the games were over. Mr. D was at a council of the gods and wouldn’t be back for a few days, so we just entered through the main entrance.

I knew where Chiron kept his CD player and CD collection, so I quickly gathered both and met Y/N back in the room with the table tennis table, which Y/N had already moved to the side.

It’s become a routine a few weeks back, to sneak into the Big House and dance to some of Chiron’s music. It only started after Y/N told me that she’d always dreamt of dancing at a big ball in a beautiful gown. So, to fulfill at least a little bit of that dream we’d been dancing at least once a week.

Once again, we were twirling through the room, laughter spilling from Y/N’s mouth, while I just basked in her beauty. The whole world could’ve ended in that moment and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Which also explained that I didn’t hear the screams for help, until Y/N asked me to tune down the music. “What’s that?” I was confused, but Y/N just grabbed my hand and pulled me outside.

There, on the hill, we could see two figures, one more or less carrying the other, running towards us.

“Is…Is that Grover?”

“There you two are!” We both jumped at the sudden voice and turned around to see Annabeth behind us. “We were wonder-…” By then, she had also noticed the two figures, which had reached us by now.

“Help me.” After those words left the young boy’s mouth, he collapsed. Y/N and Annabeth immediately jumped into action to help the stranger and Grover, but I couldn’t move. Not while hearing his voice in my head.

This is the demigod I told you about.

#pjo #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke #percy jackson imagine #fanfiction #request #fluff #bit of angst

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strayen-fx · 3 years

Text

Red.

》 HHJ x reader

》 angst, vampirish theme

》 warnings: mentions of blood, hints of physical assault

》 2.1k words

》 a/n: short and simple, after months of writing break. Hope you guys enjoy regardless :)

“Stay away from them, my dear. Save your blood from the horrors of their fangs. Be wary of solitude, and be wary of the crowd.”

It was a day not unlike any other. My morning kicked off lazily, with me waking up almost an hour later than a college freshman was supposed to. Nothing unusual there. I did my usual morning prep, took a cup of grandma’s tea in one gulp, and went my way. I was already late for the train—I had to run after a departing bus with an exceptional speed that would put Olympiads to shame. I got in the room just in time as the bell rang for first period. I came in huffing like an old man, but it’s alright. Way better than walking through the early jam-packed hallways.

The first aberration in my daily humdrum existence happened on my way to fourth period. A student from another department stopped me on my tracks. I knew him; he was a member of the student council. Was I in some sort of trouble?

He introduced himself as Han Jisung, then proceeded to ask if I have seen his friend.

“He’s tall,” Jisung explained. “But like, not super tall. Not the towering-over-people kind. He has a mole under his eye. He’s got black—no wait, I think he dyed his hair again the other day. Anyway, have you seen someone like him? He’s noticeably handsome. I guess. I’m more handsome, though, but you know what I mean.”

The whole school would know who he is talking about. The one and only Hwang Hyunjin: champion swimmer, council member, and just a general talk of the town. The Prince. Even if I did see him around, though, I wouldn’t know. I never pay attention to the people I walk by.

I shook my head and muttered a soft sorry. I did feel bad for Jisung. He looked so worried and dejected, and I can’t blame him—not after after the incident with Seungmin. I can’t really take it against him to worry about his friends. I sauntered off to my next class, my mind still stuck on the fact that a normal person in my school has actually talked to me, and I was able to keep my composure.

Fifth period: P.E. I don’t even know why we still have this subject in college. I opted to take a stroll instead. You see, a huge, dense forest is situated right behind the main school grounds. You could say that the school itself lies within the bosom of greeneries. Unkempt bushes and rows of towering trees stretched over several miles deep, starting from the edge of the campus to god-knows-where. It is my goal to scout the whole area before graduation.

Weighed down by my personal monstrous beast, I trudged through. I walked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally reached the spot—my spot. Sheet of decaying leaves cushioned a huge gray boulder, standing at least ten feet tall, shaped like an odd piece of egg smashed against the forest floor. Against it stood a larger stone, this one dotted with moss and weathered with cracks. They were propped against each other for support, as if stopping one another from tumbling to the ground.

There was a smaller rock at the foot of the smaller stone, and I use it as leverage to climb up and sit on top of the largest boulder. It was my favorite place. Most times I could just pretend that I was alone in my own tiny bubble, at the center of that clearing that nobody else ventures but me. I don’t feel the breath of people suffocating me with every step that I take. I don’t feel my heart thumping with the sight of anyone else. I don’t need to hold back. Here, I don’t feel weird.

But today felt somehow different.

It was awfully silent. The wind felt sharper and colder. Electricity was humming in the air, leaving my skin prickling with discomfort. There was a tension in my veins that I couldn’t quite explain—it felt like an omen of an incoming disaster.

Time ticked slow. A couple hours could have passed—or maybe it has only been five minutes—when a nearby rustling perked up my senses.

Trying to keep my movements as quiet as possible, I hopped down and took up a defensive position, which wasn’t easy to do for a student with no actual weapon aside from an almost-empty bag and a worn-out calligraphy pen. My instincts told me to take cover—but my feet seemed glued to the ground. Sweat trickled from my forehead. My hands started to feel clammy.

And then, just as I was about to scamper away, a figure crashed into view from behind the nearest oak tree. I almost threw my bag towards the person’s direction, until I had a clear view of the intruder’s face.

It was Hwang Hyunjin, wide-eyed and disoriented, with his cheeks and uniform smudged with traces of blood.

“Help me.”

His voice came out as a tiny croak, as if his throat was filled with acid. He stumbled towards me, reaching out his hand for support. I wasn’t able to move an inch—and who could blame me? The situation was way too hard to process.

Hwang Hyunjin, the university prince, was hunched huffing before me, his clothes caked with mud and dried blood, his hair a nest of mess on his head. He had a cut on his cheek, I noticed. His breathing was heavy and labored, as if the mere act of standing on his own two feet required all the effort he could muster.

“Help me,” he repeated.

“What happened to you?” I managed to blurt out. My initial thought was that some random outsiders kicked his butt for stealing their girlfriends. But no—someone like Hyunjin would have been able to handle that. Plus, something in his eyes showed an elaborate fear—something only a beast would be capable of instilling. I should know.

My heart began thumping faster, a colossal drum barreling in my chest.

Just as my schoolmate was about to open his mouth and explain, a loud rustling broke the stillness of the air. Before I could process what was happening, Hyunjin grabbed my hand and bolted away, dragging me with him.

“Don’t look back!” he warned.

I did.

At least a dozen feet behind us was another male, probably as old as Hyunjin. He was sporting our school uniform, walking casually under the shades of trees as if time wasn’t of any matter. What puzzled me, though, was the fact that we can’t seem to distance ourselves from him despite the heavy efforts Hyunjin had been exerting to drag us both away from this newcomer.

I took another glance behind me, and to my surprise, the young man wasn’t there anymore. Nowhere behind us, as if he dissipated without a single trace.

Hyunjin took a sudden stop, causing me to bump my head against his back. I was about to call him out for stopping, but then I saw the looming figure a few meters in front of us.

“You…?” I began, my mind a juggle of unanswered questions. How on earth did that happen? How is he—

Hyunjin's friend, Kim Seungmin, stood before us in his dirty school uniform. He looked pale, his eyes bloodshot, but he was standing there in full grace, very much alive, giving us a toothy grin. “You’re hurting my feelings, Hyun. Why are you running away from me?”

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand went tighter. “Seungmin...”

“Friends are supposed to help each other, am I right?” Seungmin continued, faux dismay dripping in his voice. He bared his fangs, its tips dripping with fresh blood. “So help me, Hyunjin.”

I felt my body run cold. I wanted to scream, run, anything—anything to get away from this. From him. From the two of them. From everything. But Hyunjin's hand remained strong around my wrist, and my legs were close to turning jelly. I could start to feel the fullness in my mouth, the pointy ends of my incisors. Something that only happens when I'm in an extreme hunger or danger.

“Stay away from them,” grandma said. “We are the same kind, but we are different. Weaker. They see us as preys, as special commodities. They can smell your blood despite my concoctions, my dear, remember this!”

Seungmin tilted his head to one side, finally regarding my presence. “And you, over there. I’ve never tried drinking such special blood.” He grinned. “Satiate my thirst.”

The last thing I knew, a strong hand was pressing tightly around my neck, turning my vision green.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Have you heard of the news?”

“What news?”

“Kim Seungmin was safe! They found him in the forest yesterday.”

“Thank goodness! Was he hurt?”

“He had a few gashes, but he’s fine. Hyunjin found him and brought him to the hospital right away.”

Students filled the corridor, everyone bustling and hustling about the news: after his sudden disappearance, Seungmin was finally found by his best friend, Hyunjin. The latter saw him in the forest, hungry and disoriented. They went straight to the hospital to treat his minor wounds, and that was that—nobody bothered to ask how he managed to lose himself in the wilderness, or how we managed to survive seven days on his own. Nobody asked him stupid and unnecessary questions. Seungmin was safe, and that was all that mattered.

I brushed my way past the milling crowd, flinching at every accidental touch. I kept my eyes on the ground, forcing my mind into silence. I was expecting everyone to be in their respective classrooms at this time of the day, but apparently, the news of Seungmin’s return has become enough reason for everyone to wander about and neglect their individual duties. It was a grand miscalculation on my part—I hadn’t braced myself for this huge number of people.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

I just have to get back home, and then it’ll be over. My insides would stop churning once I’ve drunk grandma’s tea—that has worked for 18 years now. I can stop this. I can stop me.

I made a run towards the comfort room. To my luck, nobody was inside. I washed my face over and over, as if doing so would cleanse me from the impurity stamped on every drop of my blood. The face on the mirror horrified me—I had to stop myself from punching the glass over and over.

The moment I stepped out, I felt his presence.

He was there, leaning against the wall, lurking behind the shadows. There was a faint gleam of terror in his eyes, but at the same time, I can feel it: the hunger. Lust for meat. Thirst for blood.

“Don’t be like him, Hyunjin,” I pleaded. “Don’t be like us.”

He shook his head in resignation. “It’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Another. He kept on walking until he stood right in front of me, too close I can feel him breathe.

Too close I can see the faint traces of blood on his lips.

“I’m still hungry,” he sobbed. “I’m still hungry…”

Fear was apparent in his eyes—fear of what would happen to him, fear of what he had become. “You will be fine,” I offered, taking his hand in mine. “Trust me on this. It will be fine.”

And then I felt it, stronger this time—the hunger he was talking about. The thirst. My stomach growled in protest at the sight of Hyunjin’s pale flesh. I can smell his blood—I can feel its steady rhythm as it flowed through his pulsing veins.

I need to get home. Maybe my grandma could do something about Hyunjin, too. Maybe she could produce a stronger tea, and both of us wouldn’t have to worry about our instincts anymore.

We stood next to each other for a full minute before he broke the silence.

“We need each other to survive,” Hyunjin whispered. “If we drink the blood of our own kind, we can last for a month without feeding on others.” He freed his hand from my hold and gripped my shoulders tightly. “I need you. And you need me, too.”Hyunjin leaned down until we were staring at each other at eye level. He closed the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I allowed my monster to take ove.

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babyboibucky · 4 years

Text

Undeserving (Deserve Better Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront Bucky about his decision to abandon you.

Word Count: 2,868

Warnings: More angst lmao I’m sorry for this

A/N: Honestly struggled with this because 1) I couldn’t decide on how to end it and 2) I was pressured from the feedback I got from Deserve Better. I’m not entirely happy with how this came out and initially, I planned on doing an epilogue for those who’d prefer a different ending but decided against it. Anyway, if you guys have more questions about this, send me an ask! I’d love to discuss more about this lol luv u all as always. Feedbacks are highly appreciated and I hope this was good enough for y’all who enjoyed Deserve Better xoxo

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

You chose to stay.

Despite seeing the love of your life— whom you had waited for years— in the arms of another, you stayed at the gala. It was after all, to honor Steve’s legacy and you respected him enough not to walk away and miss out on the speeches given by people dearest to him, Bucky included of course.

You weren’t sure if he had seen you and the way your eyes brimmed with tears when everything finally made sense to you. He wasn’t far from you when you stopped in your tracks, mouth parting as a soft whimper escaped past your lips.

You had never imagined that heartbreak could be so physically painful. And it wasn’t the regular pain you’d feel after an intense workout or when you scraped your knee. The hurt was different, like your heart was being tightly squeezed into someone else’s palm. It was choking you, constricting you of oxygen as if you were drowning. No matter how much you tried to reach the surface, the pain just kept on pulling you down until there was nothing but darkness and well, pain.

Once the program was over and all the guests were left to mingle, you carefully slipped out of the crowd. Mindlessly, you walked and walked and walked until your feet began to hurt from the heels you were wearing. When the cold and crisp air of the evening embraced you, it was then that you realized that you reached the compound’s garden, just behind the main hall where the gala was happening.

The quiet gave you time to think and process everything that had happened. Bucky left to find himself and to become better, that he did. And you waited only to discover that he’d been back for quite a while now but chose to be with another.

As you looked out in front of you, your vision turned blurry as a new wave of tears escaped your eyes. Your grief had resurfaced after repressing it for so, so long. Grief from Bucky’s goodbye, from his absence and from waiting, grief from seeing him with someone else; no matter the cause, all in all it was grief nonetheless.

Bucky’s soft voice calling your name echoed in the evening air, it was so soft that you almost thought that you were hallucinating. But then he’d called you again, using the pet name that used to make your stomach flip and your heart to flutter. It still had the same effect now, you realized, only that it came along with an immense amount of pain that made your blood boil.

Hearing Bucky call you that, it almost felt like poison. It was quiet, gentle even but it left a bitter taste in your mouth as you felt its venom run through your veins until you could no longer feel anything but pain.

“Doll—“

“Don’t.” you seethed and turned around, pointing a shaky finger right at Bucky. “Don’t call me that when you’re with someone else, James.”

Bucky flinched at the way you had addressed him. You saw how his face faltered upon seeing you like this. His vibranium arm was restless against his side, as if he wanted to reach out to you but knew better than to do so.

“I waited for you!” you spat.

If he found somebody else to become better for, he could at least let you know. But he didn’t and you needed to know why he chose to abandon you. You needed it so badly, for your own peace of mind. For closure. You deserved that, at least.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, you don’t get to say your side until I’m done with mine!” you insisted. “I have every right to be selfish right now. I can choose to lash out on you or refuse to even listen to whatever your reason is for abandoning me no matter how valid it is. I fucking deserve that, Bucky.”

Bucky closed his mouth and nodded; you hated how he was staring at you as if he just lost his moonlight, as if he still loved you. If he did, you wouldn’t be confronting him like this and you wouldn’t have seen him with someone else.

“When Steve told me that you disappeared, when it felt like there was no way to bring everyone back, I waited. It didn’t feel right for me to move on from you just like that and deep inside I knew that you were going to return. Five years, Buck. I waited five years for nothing.” you said quietly, recalling how devastating those five years were.

You didn’t know what would happen then, nobody knew. Would they still come back? The chances were slim and yet you trusted your gut and decided to remain hopeful. It wasn’t easy to wait for something or someone that may never come back. But you still did and it never even crossed your mind that you may just be wasting your time.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “And then you came back and I felt alive again. But then you said goodbye.” you pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back your tears but to no avail.

It took you a while to collect yourself and Bucky let you, until you spoke again and told him how much it destroyed you when he walked away from you.

“Everyone else told me that I shouldn’t wait. Not again after those five years. But it felt easier this time around because you told me you wanted to get better. For me. And I was excited, Bucky.” you told him with a chuckle. “I was excited to see your return. I looked forward to how we’d spend our time together when you come back, if you’d cut your hair. If you’d wear the same cologne that I loved.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you recalled those times you daydreamed about Bucky’s return. The wait was agonizing but it gave you something to look forward to. At least you weren’t waiting for nothing anymore. Bucky was leaving but only temporarily, you were sure he’d come back. But the smile vanished as soon as it appeared and before you knew it, you were sobbing again.

“And now you’re back and so much better. But you aren’t mine anymore.”

At this point, your grief had consumed you both physically and mentally. You knees wobbled but you didn’t hit the ground, no. Instead, there was warmth against your skin followed by the smell of a certain cologne, enveloping the air around you. Bucky caught you in his arms and he held you tight as you cried into him.

“Shh, doll. I’m here now.” he whispered before pressing a kiss onto your crown.

As much as it felt right to be in Bucky’s embrace, it wasn’t enough to overcome the betrayal he did. You groaned in frustration and pushed him away, stepping back and hugging yourself instead.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“I need to know why and how we came to this.” you asked, almost begged for Bucky to give you the closure you badly needed.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he paced before you, his cheeks stained with his own tears. “I came back for you.” he said.

You frowned, “When?”

“I couldn’t wait to see you again and as soon as I got back, I went straight to your office. But then you weren’t working there anymore, I found out that you finally landed your dream job at the law firm.” he said with a small smile. “I was so proud when I heard that. I was supposed to go to your apartment but something came up and I needed to meet with Sam first. Weekend came and I was on my way to your place when I saw you. And you were with someone else and you looked....happier, the happiest I’d seen you.”

Something clicked and you quickly shook your head, “Andy. No, he’s not...we were never together. This is a misunderstanding, Bucky. He and I were never—“

“I know.” Bucky admitted.

“What?” You asked, voice soft from utter confusion.

“You looked happy with him, not because of him. I know you weren’t in love with him because if you were, you would have looked at him the same way you’re looking at me now.” He explained sadly.

Hearing Bucky’s explanation made you angrier. If he knew that, then why did he still leave? What reason could be bigger than that to make Bucky wake up one day and decide that he no longer wants to come back to you?

If he knew you loved him so much to actually wait, why did he leave you like that?

Your brows creased, “If that’s not the reason, then what?”

Bucky shrugged, “I realized that you didn’t deserve me. I left to better myself for you, god I really did. But when I saw you and how you managed to be successful without me by your side, I figured that you were better off without me. I thought I got better, but seeing you again looking so beautiful, happy and just...maybe I’ll never be the right one for you.”

You bitterly chuckled at Bucky’s revelation, “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Bucky. You chose to abandon me because you thought I was happier without you?”

You felt offended that Bucky even thought of that. Did he not trust you when you told him you’d wait for him? He didn’t even show up to tell you that, to give you the chance to reassure him how much you love him. He just decided that it was better for him to leave you hanging?

“That’s bullshit, Bucky.” you spat. “You left me hanging because you thought you were weighing me down and the next time I see you, you’re with Sharon now. Who by the way, used to date your best friend. I don’t understand any of this.” you told him.

Bucky looked at the ground as he evened out his breathing. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of you. Only heavy breaths and the distant sound of the music from the gala lingered in the air. It was almost comforting. Almost.

“Sharon and I...it wasn’t easy for us when Steve left. It was something that we both had in common. We wanted to fix ourselves and in the process we just...it happened. I didn’t mean for it but it just happened.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pain was replaced with grief and then anger. A little sympathy was thrown in the mix too upon hearing Bucky’s reason but now you were back to square one. Pain.

“You worried for her when Steve left but didn’t worry about me when you chose to leave me hanging? You told me you needed to fix yourself alone because you didn’t want to hurt me in the process of doing so. Guess what, Bucky? You hurt me all the same. Even more so when you chose to stay for Sharon and when you allowed her to help you fix yourself.”

Bucky remained silent as he simply gazed at you and let you say your piece. You just couldn’t understand where he truly was coming from. You knew about his insecurities and you accepted each one of them. You’d wholeheartedly accepted Bucky from the moment you knew you loved him, that included his flaws and demons, even on days he hated himself.

“Don’t shut me out like that again, please?” You asked Bucky, when he finally let you inside his room after isolating himself for days.

He had those days, when he couldn’t bring himself to come out and just...live. He’d push people away and torture himself with negative thoughts. But you always stayed no matter what.

“‘m sorry doll, I just...sometimes...I love you so much but sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough of it to actually show you. And you don’t deserve that.” He explained.

You smiled and cupped his cheek, “That’s okay, Bucky. I love you and the amount of love I have for you is more than enough for both of us.”

Was your love not enough for him all along? For him not to consider how you would feel if he just decided not to come home to you anymore? You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for everything, you did your part. But you couldn’t help but wonder whether it was because of you that Bucky chose to walk away.

“I love you, I really do. And you deserve the best and I’m not...that. I chose to let you go so you can have that.”

“I don’t need the best version of you, Bucky!” You quickly cut him off. “I just need you.” You added.

When Bucky decided to leave to get better, you let him even though you hated to see him walk away. You’d be selfish not to, especially when Bucky was finally free to decide things for himself. It was for the best, but honestly speaking, you didn’t want a better version of him.

Whether it was the Winter Soldier or James Buchanan Barnes, whatever version of him he’d give to you, you love Bucky all the same.

You love Bucky so much that it was so painful for you to hear that he actually thought you’d be happier without him.

“You don’t deserve someone as damaged as me. Even if I got better, I’m still struggling and I don’t want to make things hard for you.” Bucky said.

“And you don’t get to decide what you think I deserve! You don’t get to abandon me like I was nothing, like we were nothing to you.” You seethed.

Bucky looked away, blinking his tears away as he tried to compose himself. His jaw tensed as he looked at you with an apologetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. You didn’t have to.” He said the same thing to you when he left, and it hurt just as much.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

“I know. But in all those years you were gone, I woke up each day and chose to wait for you. I always chose you, Bucky.” You said with a sad smile.

You stumbled a bit and lifted your dress enough to reveal your bleeding foot. You’d walked that long, for your feet to get wounded and ironically, you couldn’t feel anything but the pain of seeing Bucky again. He tried to approach you and help you out but you waved a hand and kept him at an arm’s length away from you. You removed your shoes and straightened up, looking at Bucky and his ocean blue eyes for one last time.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you weren’t enough. You’re more than enough for me, Bucky. I really thought that I could love and fight for the both of us, but I guess not.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else, and you hoped he would. It might have been pathetic of you to wish that he’d come back to you, but you really hoped he would say something to fight for you. He didn’t and that was enough for you to make a decision.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

You bit your lower lip as you turned around, holding back your tears as you jogged back into the gala. You walked past everyone in the crowd in a hurry, wanting to head home as quickly as possible. And then you came face to face with someone you weren’t prepared to confront.

It’s as if time stopped when you saw her, Sharon. She must have found out about your presence. Did she know of Bucky’s decision to abandon you? You wondered how she helped Bucky better himself, why he let her stay as he fixed himself.

Why Bucky chose to be with her instead of coming home to you.

You could feel your chest constrict again, the pain continuing to consume you whole. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might break.

“Do you love him?” You asked her softly.

Without missing a beat, Sharon nodded her head. “I do.” She whispered.

“How much?” You asked again.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” Sharon responded and you could feel the sincerity in her statement.

The way she said it wasn’t meant to hurt you nor mock you. It was reassuring, in fact. Like she was making you a promise that she was going to take good care of Bucky the same way you did. Maybe even more. You swallowed as you nodded, forcing a small smile before looking away to wipe a tear that slipped.

“That’s good.” You simply said. “Because I’d do anything for him too.”

Anything. Even if that meant walking away and giving up on a battle that you’d already lost the moment Bucky decided to abandon you.

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#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #sebastian stan

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lacontroller1991 · 2 years

Text

Support System (Ed Baldwin x F!Reader)

For my friend <3

Main Master List

Misc Master List

Warnings: mention of death, blood

The moment your face falls with your hand dropping the phone, Ed knows something is wrong. You're normally cool and collected, trying to be the support system for Gordo, for Danielle, for even Ed, which is why it gathers his attention the moment you tense up. Your breathing hitches in your throat while your eyes gloss over with unshed tears.

Ed quickly rushes over, taking the phone out of your hand and replacing it on the wall before guiding you over to the couch in your shared home. Never in 10 years has he seen you bottle yourself up to the point where he can't even reach past the exterior you put up.

"Honey, please tell me what's wrong? What's going on?" His large hand runs up and down your back, trying to soothe you out of your state of shock. Slowly, your body begins to loosen up as you fall back into his frame, trying not to cry.

"My mom, she fell and is in surgery." Ed's jaw clenches as he turns away, thinking of what to do. Despite being a highly trained pilot and astronaut, nothing could have prepared him for your words. After a minute of thinking, Ed gets up and grabs your jacket and his before coming back over to the couch and collecting you in his strong arms. "Ed?"

"We're going to the hospital."

"Ed, we can't. We have work in a little."

"Yeah, it can wait. Come on baby."

The hospital waiting room is cold, just like your posture. Doctors and nurses run past you as the speakers blare different codes and calls. Ed sits next to you, his elbow on his knee and his face on his palm as his hazel eyes watch you, expecting you to make a move. You don't.

Suddenly a doctor appears out of the mass chaos. His hair is disarrayed and there's flecks of blood on his scrubs. You try your best to ignore it. "Mrs. Baldwin?"

You let a shaky breath leave your body as you brush the hair out of your face, trying to appear collected despite the fact that you're falling apart on the inside. "Yes, that's me. How is she?"

"It's best if you and Mr. Baldwin follow me," his tone is sober, a heaviness weighing down his face and you know what he needs to say. Nodding your head, you and Ed stand up together, your hand reaching out and interlocking fingers with his as he squeezes back in a silent support. You follow the doctor into a smaller room and he takes a seat with a sigh. Ed follows example first, taking a seat before pulling you down into the chair next to him. "Mrs. Walls came in today with a compound fracture in her left leg. We were able to repair the bone itself, but the bone severed the femoral artery beyond repair and despite our best efforts, Mrs. Walls bled out on the table. We did everything we could. I'm very sorry for your loss."

The room is silent, not a noise was heard besides your deep breaths. "Would you like to see her?" Ed looks up at the doctor before looking back to you.

"Can you give us a moment?"

"Of course," the doctor makes haste exiting the room as the door shuts with a soft click, leaving you and Ed alone.

"Honey?" His arm wraps around your shoulders as his other hand holds onto yours, trying to give you the support without suffocating you. "What can I do?"

"She's gone, Eddy. Just like that, she's gone." Your voice is quiet and broken as tears water around your eyes. You turn to look at your husband, "she's dead."

He nods slowly, not really sure what to say. He had lost his own father during Korea and he wasn't home for the funeral. So he isn't sure how to handle a death within this close of a proximity. "I'm sorry, baby girl. How can I help you?"

Your lip quivers as you try to hold back the tears. But one quick look into his concerned eyes has all resolve breaking down. "Hold me?"

Ed quickly scoots over, taking you onto his lap as you break down into his shoulder, your body shaking as the tears you've been trying to hold back finally escape and fall onto his jacket. Ed wraps his strong arms around you and holds you flush against his chest, rocking your body with his as he tries to comfort you. "She's gone and I wasn't able to help her." Your sobs break Ed's heart as tears of his own prickle the corner of his eyes. Your mom had been as much of a mother to him as his own mom was and a kinder soul. Ed can't imagine what you're going through.

"It's okay, honey. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe. Breathe in and out," he takes exaggerated breaths, his chest puffing out and caving in as you struggle to breathe in tandem. After a couple of minutes, the tears finally subside. Pulling back, you look at Ed whose hand reaches up and brushes the trails of tears away. "I hope you know that she loves you very much and is in a better place now."

"I just wish I could've said goodbye," you mumble, wiping your face with the back of your hands as Ed holds you close to him.

"You still can, hun. Why don't we go say goodbye and then go home and get some rest? How does that sound?" You nod your head as you sniffle. Ed stands up and places you on your feet, his hands not leaving your body as he heads toward the door.

"Eddy?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Thank you for being here for me," Ed smiles softly at you as he pulls you back into his arms and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

"It's gonna be okay baby. You're gonna be okay."

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @yelenas-lova @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @infatuatedjanes @niki-xie

Joel Related Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester @loverhymeswith @xoxabs88xox @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @witchygagirl @the1redrose @ratcatcher2world @green-socks @heart-0n-fire @weallhaveadestiny @yourjacketisnowdry @rachelh1992 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @knivesareout @bubblegloopswampwitch @waspswidows @burntghoost @mattymurdocksbitch @katjnordstrom96 @bb-skyrunner @edwardbaldwin @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @klmurr @madkovacs @wxr-zxne @wtfobiwan @alieninoklahoma

#Joel kinnaman #joelkinnaman #ed baldwin x reader #ed baldwin x you #Edward baldwin #Edward baldwin x you #Edward baldwin x reader #admiral ed baldwin x reader #admiral ed baldwin #astronaut ed baldwin #for all mankind #for all mankind apple tv #apple tv plus #Joel kinnaman x reader #space d.a.d.d.y.

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frogtanii · 4 years

Text

WRITTEN BIT BABEY :)

you leave the room with a heavy weight sitting on your heart that is only amplified by the serious look on kenma’s face. you ignore it in favor of turning on the tv and going to disney+, queuing up the original mulan knowing how into the story hinata would get. still refusing to face your friend, you move to the kitchen digging around the cabinets to find snacks.

“yn,” the sound of your name jolts you out of your focus even though you were expecting it. “can we please talk?”

it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, the only thing remaining being a heavy blanket of tension draping over the two of you. when you chance a look at kenma, you’re taken aback by the unreadable look on his face--it's overwhelming and you have to take a step back.

you turn away from him, unable to look for long without your mind racing and heart clenching with unknown guilt. a hand gently touches your shoulder, the feeling sending a shock of discomfort down your spine.

"we need to talk about kuroo," kenma starts, his golden eyes desperately searching for your own but you refuse to make eye contact, too afraid of what his expression might hold. when you don't move to face him, kenma sighs and moves somewhere behind you. the sound of a barstool scraping against the tiled floors alerts you that he's probably sitting down which signals a long and emotion-packed conversation.

"he texted me today." the relatively innocent statement is weighed down by the many implications behind it. your mind begins to race--what could that even mean? did he talk about you? your childhood? what he had done to you and more importantly, why? "what did you guys talk about?" the question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, desperation creeping into the edges of your voice.

you finally, finally, shift to face him, mentally steeling yourself for the upbringing of things you'd much rather forget.

"he's playing with you yn. you know it, i know it, he knows it. you need to separate yourself from him," kenma says, his voice monotone and soft. "i-i love you, you know that right?" you nod but remain tight-lipped, allowing your best friend to finish his piece.

"i know you think he's changed but some people never do. i just- i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i didn't say anything and let him hurt you like before." he lets out a deep breath and runs his hands through his almost entirely brown hair. something glints under the soft kitchen lights and you recognize it as the bracelet you'd bought him back in your first year of high school. you smile to yourself, not noticing the look of admiration in his eyes and the soft smile gracing his lips.

the sound of a door opening startles the both of you from your silent reverie, your eyes trailing to the hallway where hinata stands bundled up in four blankets and looking absolutely miserable. "oh shō," you whisper, his puffy eyes already welling up with tears.

kenma moves faster than you, kindly (well as kind as kenma can be) moving the hinata burrito to the couch with you following closely behind. you plop yourself down right next to the redhead, his body coming to rest in your lap. you can't help but lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, running your fingers through his orange locks.

"w-what were y-you guys talking a-about?" shōyō asks, his voice watery and thick with tears. you shake your head at his question, not wanting to bog him down with depressing tales about one of his friends. "nothing baby, nothing. how are you feeling? do you need anything? water, snacks?" your fingers never leave his head, even when he turns to look at you frustratedly, his cheeks puffing in annoyance.

"i want you to tell me what you guys were talking about," he orders, fumbling his body burrito until he's sitting upright between you and kenma. "i'm not a baby, y'know."

kenma barks out a laugh, leaning over to ruffle hinata's hair. "says the one who's been crying all day," hinata giggles at the contact before kenma adds, "baby." you grin as hinata tries to force a pout on his face but it doesn't work, a small smile worming its way there instead.

"we can talk about it later, hm?" you say as you stand before moving to the kitchen to get snacks. hinata nods and snuggles into kenma's arms while mulan begins to play in the background. you're quick to join them, handing a bag of chips to kenma while shō presses a kiss to your cheek before settling in to watch the movie.

------

turns out the later was much later--you'd gotten through all of mulan, frozen one and two, and half of moana before hinata tried to bring kuroo up again.

"shō, you really don't want to hear about it," you groan while cleaning up the kitchen, carefully evading hinata as he follows close behind. "but you promised," he whines, finally grabbing hold of you and resting his head on your shoulder. kenma pops his head from around the corner with a mouthful of pocky's and shakes his head before speaking up. "you should tell him--he deserves to know why you transfered to karasuno in our third year."

you roll your eyes before bopping hinata on the forehead, sending him to the ground with a moan. "fine but if i'm going to be forced to relive the hell that was my high school years, i'm gonna do it over text." with that, you playfully stomp back over to the couch, bringing out your phone and lying down, determined to get this conversation over with as fast as possible.

storytime!!

series masterlist

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an: holy shit this took me FOREVER AND IT SUCKS ASS IM SO SORRY this is not how i wanted this explanation to go but my writing juice dissipated i am so sorry 😞 don’t worry abt feeding me idk if i wanna hear it for this trash LMAO

EDIT: I REDID IT SO KUROO IS LESS EVIL PLS DISREGARD EVERYTHING YOU MIGHT HAVE READ EARLIER GOMEN

taglist: if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@suhkusa • @tamaguchi • @heyyourecute • @yn-tingz • @mymelodysbreakfastburrito • @tadashi-simp • @bbyouamazin • @1987hotschott • @elianetsantana • @sunflowerirl • @amberalisa • @animeboihoe • @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney • @xo-lovelyreign-xo • @vitalthot • @starry-magicshop • @mariachiii • @karasunobbys • @underratedmage • @seomisaho • @timeturnerss • @h0ngh0ngh0ng • @myeggodied • @nekomacam • @smuttyanimeslut • @iminlovewhaikyuu • @saturnfarie • @dreamstormings • @spikertrash • @just-snog-already • @quiche-inoya • @strawbabytsukki • @sky-has-a-main-ig • @xxsweetbubblegumxx • @imnotyourramonaflowersbruh • @naimalove143 • @bakarinnie • @bakudad • @birdiewolf • @letthemreadfanfiction • @tsukkiboii • @misluck

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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years

Text

Supposed to be Sleeping (Spencer Reid x gn!reader)

Summary: SPOILERS FOR SEASON TWO Hotch sends you and Spencer to the hotel with explicit instructions to get some sleep and come back to the local police station in the morning. You can’t sleep, however, and you two get to talking about why the case bothers you so much.

Content: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Allusions to Spencer’s abduction/torture by Tobias Hankel, disordered sleeping (not sure if that’s a trigger but better safe than sorry), nightmares, references to kidnapping

Word Count: 1385

A/N: This was originally posted as a one shot with a gender neutral main character (so using first person POV), but I went through and edited it so that it’s in second person, since no names or pronouns were ever explicitly mentioned. So if you read it before and are wondering why it looks a bit different, that’s why! :)

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The only sounds in your ears were your pen scratching and Spencer’s soft snores as you read through the case file again in the dim light. You had the lamp on the lowest setting, occasionally scrawling down notes as a new idea came to mind.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes to try and keep yourself awake as you pulled out your phone, quickly Googling the answer to a question related to the case before you set it back down again, returning your attention to the task in front of you.

Technically, you were supposed to be sleeping. Hotch had sent you and Spencer to the hotel, knowing that you were running on almost two days without sleep and Spencer close to three. When you got there, he’d changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt and collapsed; much to you surprise, given his addiction to coffee and his constant reluctance to go to sleep at all.

Not that you could really judge him for that though, considering most of the BAU did the exact same thing.

He’d pulled you into bed with him, but you laid awake, unable to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind. Finally, he’d fallen into a deep enough sleep that you could slip out of bed, pulling open your copy of the case file and your notes from the backpack you’d brought. His messenger bag had been abandoned by the door when you arrived, and you glanced over at it with a small grin before returning to your work.

As much as you tried to convince yourself you weren’t tired, there was no way you could ignore how heavy your eyes were getting as you blearily stared at the papers in front of you. You were weighing the pros and cons of sneaking downstairs to see if the hotel’s coffee station was still open when you heard a voice from across the small room.

“Hey… what are you doing up?” Spencer’s voice was lower than normal, raspy even after only being asleep for about an hour.

“Couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed baby, I’m just going over the case again,” You tried to brush him off, but he only became more awake.

“You’re not tired? You haven’t slept in, what, a day?”

“Two,” You corrected, “And no, I’m not -”

You tried to stifle it, but weren’t able to fight off the yawn that ambushed you in the middle of your sentence. He laughed softly, and you heard him climb out of the bed, coming over to wrap his arms around you from behind as you sat at the desk.

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I told you already, I couldn’t sleep. I’m not tired.”

“Your yawn said otherwise - would you like me to bore you to sleep with facts about the R.E.M. cycle? Or will you come willingly?”

“Spencer…” At this point you couldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired - you were about to fall asleep where you sat - it was that you couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in your gut every minute you spent not working on the case.

“You’re worried about the case, aren’t you?” He asked, practically reading your mind.

“It’s not even as much worry as it is - well, never mind. We don’t need to go dredging up -”

“The unsub reminds you of Tobias Hankel, doesn’t he?”

You were quiet for a moment, not really wanting to go down this line of conversation. You didn’t want to bring up old memories for him. But after you didn’t speak for a moment, he filled the silence.

“Hey, you know I’m ok, right? It’s been a little bit over a year, I’ve gotten counseling - I can’t say I never think about what happened, but in the grand scheme of things, I’m ok. Just because the unsub has Dissociative Identity Disorder doesn’t mean one of us is going to be kidnapped.”

“I know that, Spence, I just… I just want to catch this guy so we can be done with it. So we can go home. So no one else gets hurt.”

“I know,” He kissed the top of your head in comfort, “But there’s nothing you’re going to be able to figure out tonight. We’re more likely to make progress if the both of us get some sleep and look at this with fresh eyes in a few hours.”

“Excuse me, Dr. ‘I only eat food so my coffee has something to land on throughout the day,’ you’ve got no room to talk to me about sleeping habits,” You offered in a sleepy rebuttal.

Another yawn basically killed your whole argument, though, and Spencer moved to grab one of your hands, pulling you up out of the chair like you were merely a puppet.

“Come on, baby… we both need to sleep.” You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, and just let him gently take the case file from your hand, sitting it on the desk next to the notebook you’d been scrawling in.

“There we go,” He guided you to the bed, helping you climb under the covers and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too, Spencer,” You replied, though it came out in a sleepy mumble that made him grin. He climbed into bed next to you, moving under the covers before putting his hand gently on your shoulder.

“Can I hold you? I think it might help if you had something else to focus on so you wouldn’t worry so much about -”

He cut himself off as you rolled over, laying your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He placed another soft kiss on your forehead, and you felt your eyes drift shut as you laid in the comforting warmth of his embrace.

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You jolted awake in a cold sweat, hot tears running down your face. You must’ve been screaming in your sleep, because Spencer had sat up next to you, trying to get your attention as you scanned the dark room, your mind erratic.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here - baby, I’m right here!” The sound of his voice grabbed your attention, and you turned towards it, struggling to focus on his face in the dimly lit hotel room.

“Spencer… holy shit…” The images from your nightmare replayed over and over again in your mind, and you reached out for him, desperate to feel him solidly in your arms. The minute you grabbed his arm, a choked sob slipped out of your mouth, and he pulled you into a hug.

You clung desperately to his shirt as you cried, and he shushed you, whispering softly in your ear.

“Everything’s ok, I’m ok. I’m with you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head again, one hand rubbing the bare skin of your arm and the other wrapped tightly around your back, holding you close. You laid like that for a moment before he spoke again, your sobbing reduced to soft cries as you attempted to force the nightmare out of your mind.

“It was Hankel, wasn’t it?” He asked. You nodded, your head against his chest. “You woke up screaming my name.”

“I’m sorry,” Your voice was shaky as you sniffled, trying to steady your breathing, “You shouldn’t have to be comforting me after a nightmare about the trauma you went through. I just -”

“Stop that; you can’t feel bad for having a nightmare. I might’ve been the one who was being tortured, but you were still the one who spent two days searching for me, who wasn’t sure if the man you loved was ever going to come home. Hankel put us both through a lot, love.”

Just hearing him talk was already starting to calm you down, and you looked up at his face, smiling despite the tears staining your cheeks.

“God, I love you so much. More than words could ever say.” You put every ounce of sincerity you could into the words, sitting up to press a kiss to his lips, relishing in the fact that he was there, that he was ok.

When you pulled away, he smiled, and everything was right with the world.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #fanfic writer #spencer reid hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #bau #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #tw: nightmares #tw: kidnap mention #tw: trauma mention #tw: sleep deprivation #spencer reid x gn reader

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novaiya · 3 years

Text

Walk Cut Short - Arthur x Reader

Summary: The tension hung thick and heavy as you walked down the deserted main street of Rhodes. “This don’t feel right,” said Arthur. That would be an understatement, you thought as you looked around the town that usually bustled with people, currently looking like a ghost town. Suddenly, a gunshot rang, sending everyone in action, and you on the ground. Was this it for you?

Words: 2,152

Tags/Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Fluff, Established Relationship

A/N: Based on this request; Oooooo could I get a scenario or headcannons for Arthur Morgan x FemS/O. Where during the gunfight in Rhodes, instead of Sean getting hit Arthur's s/o does take the hit instead. (I can't handle angst so a happy ending please 🥺) Click this link to read it on AO3.

You could feel it in the wind. Could feel the tension, thick and heavy, as it hung in the air. You felt the curious glances of people from the windows of the stores, quickly averted as soon as they saw you looking. The main road was empty, a contrast to how busy and loud it usually was, with people driving by on horses or wagons, kids selling newspapers and women chatting at every corner. It looked like a ghost town, and something told you there was more to it than met the eye.

You gulped down as you kept walking, following Bill, Sean and Micah who seemed to not notice the glances the five of you were getting as you walked. You held your rifle close to your chest as you turned to look at Arthur. He returned the look, and you could see that he was thinking the same thing.

As Micah talked, you walked closer to Arthur,

“Arthur,” you said, making him turn his head towards you and slow his pace, “I have a bad feeling.” He could see fear in your eyes as you spoke. Saw how tightly you held the rifle in your hands. The sight made him angry at himself for putting you in this situation in the first place. He knew you could defend yourself, knew it better than anyone, having seen you in action countless of times. Still, if he could do so, he preferred to keep you safe.

“-that Catherine Braithwait-“ Bill was saying, but Arthur interrupted him, saying “Hey, hold up” making all of you stop. It was dead quiet as you stood, not even the birds singing.

“This don’t feel right,” Arthur said, vocalizing what you’ve been thinking for the past few minutes.

“Now it don’t feel right?” Sean said, turning around to look at Arthur, “I could’a told you that-“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence, as a loud sound of a gunshot pierced through, making everybody look each and every way to see where the shot came from, only Arthur noticing that you fell to the ground.

He screamed your name, scooping you in his arms and laying you down behind a couple of crates, away from the gunfight that Micah, Sean and Bill started to engage in right away.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice shaking as he looked all over you, his eyes stopping on your abdomen where the clothes already soaked the blood.

The pain was like nothing you ever felt, and you felt both energized and drained as your body went into overdrive. He put pressure on where the blood was coming from, making you moan in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, instantly stopping. He could hear Micah and Bill call his name, screaming, “Need a little help here, Arthur!” but he didn’t listen. They could all die for all he cared. All his attention was on you, on your quickly paling face and your abdomen.

“Morgan, over here,” you heard Bill’s voice scream, sounding a few feet away.

“Arthur,” you wailed his name, holding onto his shirt. “Don’t leave me.” Your voice was broken and hoarse as you spoke. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, either from the immense pain you were feeling or from the blood loss.

Arthur gave you a broken, sorrowful smile as he said, “Never, sweetheart,” and kissed your forehead.

You knew from the beginning, as soon as you shot your first bullet, that you would die from one one day. It’s a fact that you came to live with and knew would happen sooner than later. You just didn’t expect for it to happen today.

Arthur sat next to you against the crate, peeking his head every now and then to shoot a few Grays that were getting too close.

You held onto your rifle the entire time, but as seconds passed by, even that proved hard, and soon enough the weapon fell from your hands. The sound of the rifle falling to the ground alerted Arthur, and he turned around to look at you. Your eyelids were dropping, and you were barely holding yourself upright. He called your name, but it sounded miles away as you tried hard to keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered seeing was Arthur’s eyes, full of tears as he spoke your name, again and again and again.

You could hear a voice, faint, sounding like it was coming from miles away, speaking. “-second I saw you, I knew I was done for. Couldn’t have ever imagined in my wildest dreams that you’d feel the same way-“ the voice spoke in the darkness. Your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton and you couldn’t open them. Soon enough, the voice disappeared and you once again fell into the abyss.

You couldn’t tell where you were, or if you were at all. You were in constant darkness and silence, and whenever you heard someone or something speak, it was for a few seconds before it disappeared. For all you knew, you’ve died, and this was the afterlife.

Arthur sat on a chair next to where you laid on the cot. As soon as the Grays were dealt with, he brought you back to camp so he and the rest of the gang could help you. The details were fuzzy to him; everything blended together as he laid your body on the cot. His hands, which were all covered in your blood, shook as he tried to figure out what to do next. As soon as Susan came up with a bucket of water and all the necessary items for the procedure, she told Arthur to go on a walk. He remembered fighting her, telling that he had to stay, but in the end, she managed to convince him and he went out while Susan, the girls and Reverend worked to keep you in this world.

For the next few days, he barely ate, barely slept and didn’t do anything but sit on the chair next to your cot, waiting. People would come up to him and try to strike a conversation, inviting him to have dinner with the rest of them. Sometimes he would politely decline, but most of the time he simply wouldn’t say anything, his mind too exhausted to even form words.

At night, when everybody was asleep, or even during the day, when there weren’t many people around, he would talk to you. It would be the only time he would smile as he brought to life certain events the two of you shared. He would remember the time the two of you met, how from the second your eye met he was under your spell. He remembered how the whole world ceased to exist when you kissed him for the first time, your lips like rose petals, soft and inviting. The memories of the time the two of you shared flooded his mind like a tsunami, and he couldn’t stop them.

As he sat there, watching your vulnerable, unconscious form, he made a promise to himself and anyone above watching, that if you pulled through, if you came back to him, he would do everything in his power to get you out of this mess, the gang and Dutch be damned.

You winced in pain as you cracked upon your eyes. The sun was too bright for your unaccustomed eyes, and closed them just as fast as you opened them. You were disoriented, and you couldn’t tell when or where you were. You tried to get up, to move your legs, but your whole body felt like it was made of lead and you failed to move even a muscle. Everything ached as you laid still, trying to gather your thoughts and strength for yet another shot at movement. You tried to focus on your breathing, the only non-painful action, and listened to the sounds around you. It was quiet, with nothing but the sounds of birds and leaves around. You could fairly hear what sounded like the chatter of people, but it was too far away to understand. With enough strength, you opened your eyes once again, this time slower. As you did so, you saw that you were in camp, your camp; in the distance you could see the main campfire, deserted but still lit. You could see Pearson working by his wagon, chopping meat. You turned to look to your side and saw Arthur, his head slumped down, asleep on a chair.

You tried to say his name, but when you opened your mouth, no sound came. You tried a few more times till you finally managed to say, in a hoarse, small voice, “Arthur.”

Your voice was like a gunshot, loud and clear in an otherwise quiet air. He raised his head instantly, his eyes falling on you. You looked small and fragile as you laid there, but you were awake, your eyes open and looking at him. He quickly left the chair to sit next to your cot. He eyed you all over, looking for any signs of discomfort, till his eyes finally landed on your face. For a moment, he thought that maybe the lack of sleep had gotten the better of him and he was hallucinating. He reached out with his hand, running it down your hair and to your cheek. You were real. Solid and warm under his palm. He spoke your name, his voice shaking as he did so.

“How you feelin’?” he said.

You coughed a few times as you tried to clear your throat before saying. “Tired. Everything hurts. What happened?”

Arthur took a deep breath as he brought up what had happened on that seemingly quiet, serene walk down the main street of Rhodes. As he spoke, you started to piece together the events. You remembered walking with Arthur, Micah, Bill and Sean. Remembered the hostile glances from the people who stood at the porches, remembered how deserted the town looked. You remembered the excruciating pain you felt as you heard the gunshot ring, sending everybody into action and you, on the ground. It all came back too quickly and too strongly, and for a moment you felt like you were going through the entire encounter once again.

With Arthur’s help, you spent the next few weeks getting back on your feet, literally and figuratively. The first time you tried to get up from the cot, you almost fell straight to the ground, but thanks to Arthur, who stood next to you, you didn’t. As he always was, he was with you through your rehabilitation. From helping you to get up from the cot, to feeding you and helping you change, he was with you almost every waking hour. Whenever Dutch or others tried to come up to him and tell him about a possible new job, he wouldn’t think twice before declining, turning his attention back to you. You could see the way Dutch and others would glance disapprovingly at him, but Arthur couldn’t care less, he was completely devoted to helping you.

After a few weeks, you finally felt like yourself again. The pain in your muscles was gone and your abdomen didn’t bother you as much as it did in the beginning. The only thing to remind you of the event was a scar that now graced your abdomen.

You sat at the shore of Clemens point facing the water and letting the wind play with your hair. You thought about the future, and how you were supposed to move on from something like that. The wound might’ve healed, but the scar it left was deeper than it looked.

Without turning away from the view, you said, “What do we do now?” to Arthur who sat next to you.

“We keep going. Together.”

He placed his large hand over your small one, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You turned away from the lake to look at him. He looked worn down; there were bags under his eyes, and his beard had grown out. Since you awakened, he’s spent almost all his waking hours tending to you, completely disregarding himself. You covered his hand with yours and leaned closer to Arthur, laying your head on his shoulder. ‘Together’. His words echoed in your head as your eyes fixated on the glittering water. Behind you, you could hear the buoyant voice of Dutch, delivering a speech to the shaken up camp members.

“We will get through this,” his voice sounded through the camp. “Together, we will. Stay with me, people.”

You heard his words, felt them linger in the air, carried through the camp by the wind, but not reaching neither you nor Arthur. You didn’t know what the feature held for either of you. All that mattered was that you were going to face it together.

#arthur x reader #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfics #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption imagines #red dead redemption headcanons #red dead redemption #rdr2 imagines

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

Text

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

#adam sackler x reader #adam sackler #tw:mental health #adam sackler x you #adcu #adcu fic #adcu summer fic exchange #adcu fic exchange

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stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years

Note

19 for the angst and h/c prompts

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt and I'm SO SORRY it took so long!!!

(prompts now closed)

Ao3 Link

Here ya go!

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Anakin nervously tugs on his braid as he awaits his turn to compete.

He can’t stop himself from glancing back at the door no more than he can stop himself from hoping Obi-Wan will walk through it.

He’s just late. He’ll be here.

Anakin says this to himself knowing full well that Obi-Wan is never late. Anakin begins to face the fact that Obi-Wan will not be showing up for him today.

He pulls on his braid again, a little more bitterly this time.

Obi-Wan is away on a solo mission — an important one supposedly. But this is important too. Anakin is competing in one of his first Padawan tournaments and Obi-Wan is supposed to be back by now so that he can watch. If Anakin wins the tournament, Obi-Wan is supposed to be the one to weave a brand new bead into Anakin’s braid.

It’s a big deal.

The Padawan Tournament consists of three rounds: an obstacle course, the Show of Force (pun very much intended by the Jedi Council who all thought they were so funny), and a lightsaber duel.

The obstacle course is difficult for most of the Padawans, but Anakin always breezed right through it in the many practice rounds Obi-Wan made him do.

The Show of Force, AKA, lifting various objects for various amounts of time with only the Force was a little more challenging for Anakin at first, but Obi-Wan drilled him over and over until he got it.

One time, Obi-Wan had drilled him on it for so long, his nose started bleeding and he almost passed out. Anakin remembered sensing Obi-Wan’s overwhelming guilt through their bond, but Anakin didn’t really mind. It was only a minor headache and he got a couple of milkshakes out of the deal. Not to mention, the smug feeling of satisfaction he got from Obi-Wan admitting he was wrong. Besides, he did get pretty good at using the Force in ways he never had before, despite the minor case of Force exhaustion he got out of it.

But out of all the events in the Padawan Tournament, the lightsaber duel is Anakin’s favorite part. Mostly because it meant he got to do extra lightsaber training with Obi-Wan which is his favorite thing ever. Though Anakin is excited about the duel, he can’t help but feel nervous for it.

The lightsaber duel is the main event of the Padawan Tournament. Everyone in the temple stops what they are doing to come watch it.

For months, Anakin has been practicing extra hard with Obi-Wan, but now he is worried that was not enough. Obi-Wan said he was ready, but Anakin had never even beat Obi-Wan. Anakin rarely fought against Padawans his age, so he is not sure what he is up against.

A blaring timer goes off, signaling that the Padawan before Anakin has finished his obstacle course. Anakin looks back at the door one more time. It remains closed.

Fighting back his anger and his disappointment, Anakin steels himself for the obstacle course.

“Are you ready, Padawan?” Master Windu asks quietly. Anakin can hear the faintest hint of sympathy in his voice and it makes the rage bubbling inside of him spike.

“I’m ready,” he growls.

“Alright then,” Master Windu says, stepping to the side.

A whistle blows and Anakin takes off. He soars through the obstacle course like it isn’t even there. He leaps from rope to rope and climbs over walls purposely slicked with oil.

It is nothing to him.

He gets through the obstacle course in record time, easily overtaking the other Padawans and then some. He has hardly broken a sweat by the time he gets to the Show of Force.

Anakin must lift weights onto pressure-sensitive platforms in order to release the next weight from its hold. Anakin repeats this process over and over until finally, he is at the last, and heaviest, of the weights. The final weight is small in size, but dense. It weighs roughly the same as a standard Republic-issue starfighter. Anakin splays out his hands and concentrates all of his will into the heavy object. He feels its weight in the Force and rejects it. He bends the air around it to his will and though sweat beads upon his brow and his arms tremble with exertion, he does it. The weight lifts into the air and lands gently on the final platform. No more weights are released and Anakin lets go.

He pants heavily even as the gathered crowd applauds his success. Most Padawans did not make it to the end, let alone complete the final challenge successfully. He allows himself a moment of pride and glances at the stands in search of Obi-Wan’s face, only to remember the crushing reality of his absence.

Whatever.

He doesn’t need Obi-Wan. He is winning this tournament with or without him.

Anakin marches over to the makeshift ring they set up in the gym specifically for this event. His new lightsaber is waiting for him. The power settings are adjusted to a low frequency to avoid any serious injuries, but a touch from the blade would still sting the opponent. Today, Anakin’s opponent is a Padawan who is thirteen like him, but unlike him, this Padawan is tall. He has clearly hit some sort of growth spurt that Anakin has failed to reach, and the other boy towers over him in the ring.

Anakin hides his fear behind a careful mask. He will not show this other Padawan his nerves.

The two Padawans circle each other.

“So, they put me against Skywalker,” the boy taunts. “How come you never spar with the other Padawans? Too scared to fight with anyone except your Master?”

“I’m not scared!” Anakin says. “You’re lucky I only spar with my Master.”

“Oh, and where is your Master now?” the boy asks, looking around the gym. “It’s Kenobi, isn’t it? I don’t see him around here.”

“He’s on a mission!”

“And that’s more important to him than you are? I think that says enough.”

The whistle shrieks and Anakin growls, lunging forward at the other Padawan. Anakin’s strikes are blocked with ease and with a surprising amount of power behind them.

“Center yourself.” Obi-Wan’s teachings reverberate through Anakin’s mind.

Even when he’s lightyears away, Obi-Wan still has a way of getting in Anakin’s head.

Anakin takes a deep breath and changes his strategy. He switches from offensive to defensive and lets the other Padawan tire himself.

“Your blade is an extension of your arm. Wield it.”

Anakin twists his blade around the other Padawan’s blade, confusing him and giving Anakin an opening. Anakin lunges forward and delivers what would have been a killing blow if his lightsaber was not set merely to stun.

The Padawan looks at Anakin with surprise.

“Skywalker wins the Padawan Tournament!” Master Windu’s voice carries with a subtle sort of excitement throughout the gym. Anakin lowers his blade and turns to the crowd of Jedi and Padawans, all cheering for him. He smiles hollowly. He doesn’t want them to know that he doesn’t care about any of their opinions of him. There’s only one opinion he cares about and he is not here to offer it.

Master Windu joins Anakin in the ring and escorts him to a platform.

“Not only has Padawan Skywalker won this year’s Padawan Tournament,” Master Windu announces to the crowd, “but he has also broken records for time spent on the obstacle course and weight lifted in the Show of Force. All Padawans performed very well today, but only one has earned the title of champion. For that, Anakin will receive this bead to commemorate his victory.”

Master Windu holds up a bright red bead to the crowd. He stands behind Anakin and silently undoes his braid.

This is wrong. It should be Obi-Wan, not Master Windu.

He can feel the pity from the other Padawans and Masters and he wants to squirm under their sympathetic stares. His eyes burn and he blinks rapidly while Mace weaves the bead into his hair.

This part is harder than anything else he did in the Padawan Tournament today.

“Congratulations Padawan Skywalker,” Mace says as he finishes tying up the braid. Anakin bows politely and tries to refrain from racing off of the stage.

Slowly, he mixes into the crowd until he is camouflaged enough to make his exit. He slips out of the door and into the deserted hallways.

Anakin walks dejectedly back to the quarters he shares with Obi-Wan, fighting back tears the whole way.

***

Anakin spends the remainder of his afternoon slumped rather lazily on the couch. His peers are all out celebrating the day’s events with their Masters, but Anakin sits alone. He tries watching the holo but can’t pay attention. Frustrated, he switches to his datapad and tries to play a few games. His interest is not captured. He sighs and flops backward, staring at the bare white ceiling.

The soft whooshing sound of the front door opening is the only thing that pulls him out of his current thoughts. Anakin sits up straight and watches Obi-Wan shuffle through the front door.

“You’re back,” Anakin says plainly like he doesn’t care at all.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, dropping his bag heavily in the foyer. “Anakin, I’m so sorry.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and turns away from Obi-Wan.

“Anakin, Padawan, please look at me. I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried to get here in time, but the situation on Corellia got unexpectedly dicey.”

“You should have expected it. You should have planned for it,” Anakin says, still not looking at Obi-Wan.

“I know and I’m sorry.”

Somehow, these apologies did not feel as good as the time Anakin got Force exhaustion.

He doesn’t have to take this. Anakin stands up and starts to make his way to his room.

“Anakin wait,” Obi-Wan says a little breathlessly. “Ana– Anakin can we please just sit and talk about this?”

“No!” Anakin shouts angrily, whirling back around to face Obi-Wan. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say! You weren’t there for me. Why should I be there for you?”

“I understand, Padawan, but—”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand! All of the other Padawan’s Masters were there and they didn’t even win. You were supposed to be there! You were supposed to be there for me and you weren’t . We’re a team Master and you weren’t even there.”

“Anakin, I don’t know how to make this up to you,” Obi-Wan says. If he looks a little pale, Anakin doesn’t see it through the red-hot filter of his rage.

“You can’t. It was embarrassing. Master Windu had to put my new bead in. It should have been you!”

“Anakin can we please sit down?” Obi-Wan asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

“No,” Anakin says. “I’m done talking to you.” Anakin begins walking back towards his room.

“Ana— Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, and this time, Anakin catches the breathlessness in Obi-Wan’s quiet plea.

“Master?” Anakin turns to see Obi-Wan’s knees buckling underneath him. His face is pale and lax as he crumples to the floor. Anakin lunges forward to catch him, but Obi-Wan is heavier and he drags Anakin to the floor with him.

They land in a pile of tangled limbs and Anakin has to put all of his strength into rolling Obi-Wan off of him and onto his back.

“‘m sorry,” Obi-Wan slurs.

“Master? Obi-Wan?” Anakin says quickly. “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan groans. “‘m sorry,” he murmurs again. “Sorry I wasn’t there. Shoulda been there. Shoulda found a way.”

“It’s okay,” Anakin says, his panic making him forget about his anger completely. He peels back Obi-Wan’s dark outer robe to reveal a large red stain just under his rib cage. “What happened?”

“Told you,” Obi-Wan mumbles. “Told you things got dicey on Corellia.”

“You didn’t tell me you got shot !” Anakin protests. He pulls back Obi-Wan’s tunic to reveal the skin underneath. There is a makeshift bandage affixed to the wound, but it has been bled through. The skin around the wound is red and hot to the touch. “Master, what? When did this…? Why didn’t you go straight to the healers?”

“Needed to see you,” Obi-Wan says. “I was trying to get to you the whole time, but I couldn’t.”

“Master, this is bad . How long have you been—”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, blue eyes shut behind closed lids.

“No, no, wait. Stay with me, Master. You just got here, you have to stay with me.”

If Obi-Wan hears Anakin’s pleas, he gives no indication. Anakin shakes his shoulders and receives no response.

Anakin scrambles to his feet and heads for the door. He has to go find some help. He knows everyone is out celebrating, but someone has to still be in the temple.

As Anakin opens the door he jumps back in surprise. As it turns out, someone still is at the Temple.

“Master Windu?”

“Oh, Anakin! I was hoping I would find you here. I just wanted to check in on you. You seemed a little upset after the—”

“Master Windu,” Anakin interrupts. “I need some help!”

Mace stiffens. “What’s wrong, little one?”

“It’s Obi-Wan! He just got home and he collapsed. He’s over here.”

Mace rushes in behind Anakin and kneels by Obi-Wan’s side.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into now, Kenobi?” Mace says more to himself than to anyone.

Mace manages to pull Obi-Wan up and throw his arm over his shoulder. He begins dragging Obi-Wan towards the door.

“Where are you taking him?”

“To the healers,” Mace says patiently.

“Is he going to be okay?” Anakin asks nervously.

“We need to get him to the healers.” It’s not the reassuring response Anakin is hoping for. Still, he follows along dutifully until they reach the healers.

The halls are busier than usual. The Padawan Tournament has always warranted a few superficial injuries and this year is no different. Masters hover around their injured Padawans and Padawans try to hide their wounded pride. At the sight of the Master of the Order dragging Obi-Wan along with a very frightened Anakin in tow, the crowds part.

“Bring him here,” Vokara Che says, calm and collected as ever.

Anakin watches Master Windu carefully lay Obi-Wan down on a gurney.

“Mace?” Obi-Wan says weakly. “Where’s ‘kin?”

“He’s here, Knight Kenobi. He’s alright. Now let Master Che take care of you.”

“An’kin?”

“I’ve got him, Knight Kenobi. Just listen to Master Che now.”

Obi-Wan lets his head fall back on the pillow and his eyes close. Anakin watches healers swarm around him and take him to a back room.

The young Master and his Apprentice are separated once more.

***

A sharp elbow to his rib cage is what wakes Anakin from his light sleep.

“Ow,” he complains.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan murmurs. “What...?”

“Master!” Anakin exclaims, sitting up so he can turn and look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan rubs a hand over tired eyes before he focuses them on Anakin.

“You’re in my bed,” Obi-Wan observes.

“I was tired,” Anakin says defensively. He, of course, can’t tell Obi-Wan that he had squeezed himself into the tight medical bed because he just wanted to be as close to him as possible. He can’t tell him that he needed the physical confirmation of his chest rising and falling to know that he still breathed, still lived, even after the healers insisted he would be fine.

“Fair enough,” Obi-Wan says mildly. “Though, you could have slept in your own bed.”

Anakin remains silent and looks away.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” Obi-Wan amends.

Anakin’s chest warms and he perks up to meet his gaze.

“You didn’t have to be here. Especially after I… Well, I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” Obi-Wan continues. Anakin can feel the guilt through their bond.

“Am I sensing more milkshakes in my future?”

“Your senses have become quite attuned, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan gives him a conspiratorial grin and Anakin giggles at him.

Anakin lays back down and rests his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Master,” he says softly.

“I’m glad I’m here too, Padawan.”

#prompts now closed #my writing #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #thanks for the prompt!

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