#the looks on their faces screamed hostage situation honestly

[in-kyblogs]

.

[training4theapocalypse]

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

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Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy. 

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate. 

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side. 

It’s him. 

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat. 

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat. 

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy. 

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great. 

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself. 

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.” 

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older. 

You shake your head. 

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music. 

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists. 

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?” 

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.” 

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit. 

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet. 

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask. 

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists. 

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest. 

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.” 

What are you doing? 

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you. 

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...” 

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty. 

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.” 

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump i​​nto Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.” 

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble. 

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse. 

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits. 

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!” 

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.” 

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything. 

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him. 

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.” 

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt. 

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings. 

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise. 

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late? 

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Hostage Secured

John Soap Mactavish x gn!reader

Soooo.. I got a nonnie asking for Soap and his partner in an actual hostage situation but this turned kinda dark...

Also I hope showing readers thoughts getting fucked up worked and isn't confusing while reading

Warnings: torture (not explicit), violence, implied sa (but like only in passing in one sentence), also I'm shit at spelling

Wordcount ~1,8k

You’re not sure how long it’s been. A few hours? A few days? Time is a blur when you drift in and out of consciousness.

You open the door to your apartment, excited to get started on cleaning and preparing everything for Johnny’s return. Tomorrow he’ll come back from deployment and you feel like dancing when you fantasize about being in his arms again. You can practically feel his burly frame against your back, his thick arms wrapped around you. Your smile is giddy as you swing the door open and walk into the apartment.

You don’t even have time to scream when arms emerge from the darkness of the hallway, encircle you and press a cloth to your mouth. The last thought in your head is Johnny. He’ll be so worried when you’re not here tomorrow.

The first time you woke up you were dizzy and disoriented. Before you could even get a good look at the room you’re being held in you have to tilt your head to the side and violently vomit onto the floor.

You have no idea what they did to you but your whole body tightens painfully in the effort it takes to empty your stomach. You sit back up straight, heaving for air.

The chair you’re strapped to is uncomfortable, the ropes on your wrists and legs painfully tight, rubbing against your skin when you shift.

You can feel panic begin to overwhelm you, crawling up your back with ice like claws. Your throat tightens and you feel like vomiting again so you close your eyes tight and think of Johnny. The way his mouth would curve when he teasingly smirked at you. The way he’d hold you. Warm and safe.

Honestly you’ve talked with him about situations like the one you’re currently in. Prepared for the worst. Talked about how not to give information away. How to behave smartly.

Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh reality. The panic is nearly overwhelming and you’re barely keeping yourself from hyperventilating. Your stomach painfully cramping.

No one ever told you, that you could be so scared you’d feel like you’re dying.

That’s when steps approach you from somewhere and you open your eyes again. When the person steps into the light you have to hold onto everything in you not to break out into sobs.

Whoever it is, he’s wearing a red mask that’s identical to Johnny’s. The one he’s shown you in the safety of your shared apartment.

The voice is muffled by the mask, hiding the real sound of it but the grin in it makes you feel sick again, when he says: “I don’t have any questions for you, sweetheart, I’m afraid.”

You grow confused. What is this if not to get information on the task force? Your teeth are locked tight though, not a squeak escaping you. You’d like to claim it’s because you won’t give this scum anything but truthfully it’s mostly because you’re muscles are locked in fear.

The man drags a chair from the shadows with an awful screeching noise and turns it with the backrest towards you, straddling it. “This is purely for our satisfaction. Your man and his little friends fucked with us. No one fucks with us without paying the price.”

Ice cold dread settles in your stomach when he stands again. He slowly walks towards you like a lion approaching his already fallen prey.

You’re forced to look up at him when he reaches into his pocket, pretends to search for something, getting sick satisfaction from the way your eyes track his hand warily. He whips his empty hand back out, already giggling when you flinch and backhands you so hard you fall over with your chair.

Pain races along your face, the shoulder you landed on immediately starts to throb. The man’s laughter is giddy and happy. Hearing it come from behind Johnny’s mask nearly makes you scream but you grit your teeth and stay quiet.

You don’t know how often you’ve lost consciousness since then. You can’t remember the last time you felt anything other than pain. The body you’re trapped in seems to be made of pain and you find yourself wondering when they’ll finally kill you.

You’re not sure you dread that anymore. Not after everything they’ve done.

Still you make the effort to open your eyes, just to discover that you can’t anymore. They’re finally completely swollen shut and the dried blood crusting them doesn’t help with that.

You can faintly make out voices over the static in your ears, or is the static in your brain? You’re pretty sure you can feel ants crawl along your brain, filling your scull with their tiny scratching feet.

Someone should drill a hole in your scull and let them out.

“… had enough fun. They’re probably looking for us, so we should end things now and get going. We have to regroup and rebuilt. But this time they’ll know not to get in our way.”

There’s steps drawing near but you can’t even raise your head in defiance anymore. The last spark of any of that had left you the first time they’d torn the clothes from your body. Some meek little part in you wonders if Johnny is even looking for you.

The mask is burnt into your memory by this point. It’s weird how much it messes with you that they use something you associate with Johnny. Or maybe Johnny really is the one doing all of this to you.

That would explain why he hasn’t come for you. He probably gave up on you. If you concentrate enough you can feel his soft hands cupping your face: “Whatever happens, bonnie. I’ll always make sure you’re safe. I will always come for you.”

Maybe you’re slowly going mad but you could swear it’s his voice when the familiar dark chuckle meets your ears. “It’s time to end this. Was a pleasure playing with you.”

You hope Johnny forgives you for perking up at that. Maybe he can forgive you for hoping they finally put a bullet through your head. They probably won’t, too quick and gentle of a death. But whatever it is at least this time there will be an end to it.

You can hear fabric shift and someone impatiently shouting. “Make it quick, we have to pack our stuff and get going.”

There seems to be mercy in death because you can hear the soft click of a gun. You pray Johnny doesn’t have to see your body, once these guys are done. You pray Johnny puts the bullet through your head.

A deafening bang resonates through the room.

Maybe death isn’t painless after all, you think before all hell breaks loose. Gunshots everywhere, muffles noises of hits and blows being exchanged, men shouting. You can recognize some of your captor’s voices and you feel like laughing when you hear them scream in pain but every single breath hurts.

And then someone approaches you. You’re breathing speeds up again. Then there are hands on you, cutting loose the rope you’re being held with.

“Hostage secured.”, an all too familiar voice rasps and then: “It’s me, bonnie. Ye’r okay now. A’ve got you.”

This must be heaven because that is Johnny’s voice in your ear and his hands on your bruised body. Even blind you recognize his touch. The chaos around you becomes unimportant.

He’s here, he came for you. Johnny is here. You can feel darkness slowly crawl along your spine, reaching your brain, when you finally allow yourself to relax just the tiniest bit.

Strange did you start crying? Your eyes feel wet again. Is it tears or blood? You’re  not sure.

As soon as the ropes are cut you start falling, he catches you and a pained gasp escapes you. No part of your body is untouched and even his gentle hold brings you a new wave of pain.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”, Johnny says and if you were more conscious you could hear the wetness in his voice. “Someone get me a fucking medic over here!”, he screams and you flinch.

It’s a tiny movement but immediately his voice grows gentle once more. Funny, you don’t think you’re ever heard his voice sound this frantic. Not your Johnny. He’s never scared but now his voice sounds terrified.

“I’ve got you, bonnie. I’ve got you, never gonna let you go again. It’s okay now. Just stay with me. I’ve got you. Hold on.”

Why does he sound so scared? You can finally relax in his arms? You can finally feel your breathing slow down and it hurts less. It feels almost light.

“Please, baby.”, Johnny begs and you want to tell him it’s okay but you can’t.

You start shivering in his arms. When did it get so cold? When did your heartbeat start to hurt? Your skin feels raw and someone drapes some sort of fabric over you. The sudden pain makes you scream. Weird, you didn’t think you could still do that.

Johnny’s hands tenderly cup your face and the sudden pain makes you sob, near hysterics. Fascinating that you still have enough energy to grow hysterical. Finally you grow hysterical, after all of that.

Medics try to take you from Johnny’s grasp and he growls at them, the sound more animal than human. They have to wrestle him away from you, getting you into an ambulance while he is being held back, snarling like a rabid animal.

“Who did this, bonnie. Who?!”

You whimper, nearly delirious and finally find the strength to answer him with a wet rasp: “You…”

It’s probably for the best you’re too out of it to realize how still Johnny becomes,, processing what you just said, while you’re being taken away.

You miss the way he walks over to Price, looks at the bound men and catches sight of one wearing a replica of his red mask. His fists clench tightly, shaking with effort to hold himself back.

You miss the way he asks: “Do we need him for interrogations? Information? Anything?” The rage in his voice barely contained.

You miss the way price shakes his head and goes: “He’s already bound, Johnny, he’ll get what he..:”

You miss the way Price can’t get out the rest of his sentence before Soap has grabbed the man at the collar and drags him forward.

What follows is a series of sickening crunches, rattling breaths and a concerning amount of gunshots.

Simon and Gaz walk over and stop next to Price, watching the scene. They’re quiet while the man wails in pain. Finally his sounds die down, his breaths growing wet and uneven.

Price sighs and lights his cigar. “One of the targets is KIA, I guess.”

He approaches Soap and puts a hand on his shoulder, looking at the dying man before them.

“You did well, son. We got here just in time, it will be okay.”

[virgo-mess]

Kidnapper for Hire

Chapter Two

This is going to be a two part chapter and this part is on the shorter side but I hope you like it anyway. I will probably do a little editing after I upload but there should be no serious changes

TW: Mentions of murder, Reader is being held hostage, police corruption, Cash is sending mixed signals but I think he's genuinely as confused as reader is, and I guess you could say the kiss boarders on dub con in this situation given the circumstances.

Kidnapper for Hire Chapter Two: Officer Giraffe

Reader’s Pov

You let out a soft sigh as you lay your head against one of the trucks seats with heavy eyelids. Your abductor had been driving for at least two hours now making small talk with you every so often, in what you think is an attempt to soothe you. Which you still find utterly confusing considering the circumstances, why didn’t he just get this out of the way this afternoon. You’d never admit it out loud but, he could’ve coaxed you into his truck at the café quite easily if he actually tried because although you found him intimidating you couldn’t deny you found him incredibly alluring. You would’ve thought a man as attractive as him would have at least an ounce of James Green’s inflated ego, you would argue someone as pretty as your kidnapper actually deserved to have such an ego. Sure, James was rich but truthfully that was the only thing moderately attractive about him and he knew it, you were honestly surprised he sent a man this handsome to get you because everything about James screamed insecure. That was why he had to buy everyone off, that was why he tried to buy you and Simone off, he knew deep down that regardless of money you wouldn’t pick him, especially not with options like the man he hired out there. Honestly, if James hadn’t sponsored that pageant, and you had simply passed him on the street you wouldn’t have given him a second glance. You assume the only reason he picked this man was because he was a cop, a dirty cop at that, you can’t help but wonder what James offered him in return for doing this and you also wonder if he knows he won’t actually be getting whatever it was he offered him. It was clear to you that after all had been said and done the only person with their hands dirty in the end would be him.

You continue to stare up at him from your position on the floor admiring the way the lights on the highway illuminate his pretty blue eyes. You can’t tell if he’s taking you out of the city, he got on the expressway a while ago, but you consider this may just be an attempt to throw you off. Amy already told you he was renting one of the properties near the Cape May Lighthouse, that should’ve been you first clue that something was amiss, families spent thousands to rent out the beach front houses on a weekly basis in the summer and most of them were from the wealthier parts of Manhattan. He didn’t strike you as a trust fund baby and the odds of a cop being able to afford one of those houses on a policeman’s salary were slim. You glance at him again and wonder why he’s still bothering to wear a ski mask when you already knew what he looked like, and he didn’t have a face that was easy to forget. Part of you just wanted him to take it off so you had something beautiful to look at in your numbered days left on this planet. Your love and sex life had been high and dry long before you ended up on that roof in Seattle. Contrary to what most people wanted to believe, even beauty queens struggled when it came to love and relationships. You never knew if someone genuinely liked you or if they just liked the way you looked, such was the case for your last serious relationship, the first and only one you’d ever really been in, and it only lasted your senior year at UCLA. To this day you still aren’t sure if your ex ever actually liked you because it seemed to you, he only liked the way people looked at him when he was with you. Sure, he bought you flowers once a week, but he could never remember what your favorite one was or what your favorite color was or even how you took your tea and coffee. Your split was amicable, but you regretted ever trying to be intimate with someone who didn’t even love you, you could count the times you had something resembling sex on two fingers and both times were awkward and deeply unsatisfying. To the point where you just didn’t have a desire to ever do it again.

So, needless to say, that sudden wave of arousal you felt while you were being taken against your will was bewildering. Even as you stared at him now, with your heart still heavy with trepidation, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him for some reason. You wonder if he knows he’s leading you to your impending doom right now, you still didn’t know why James killed Simone, but you were sure he thought you turning him in was a thousand times worse than whatever it was he thought she’d done. Considering he went through all this trouble to track you down, how he was able to find you in the first place was another issue entirely. He had to have had a connection inside the U.S. Marshals Service, you were beginning to regret not taking Jim’s call, but you can’t help but wonder if Jim was your betrayer.

“What are you thinking so hard about down there, princess” his deep teasing voice floods through the truck pulling you out of your thoughts, you feel a blush sweep across your cheeks as you realize you’d been staring at him for at least ten minutes. You blink a few times letting your eyes trail over his tall, muscled form as you contemplate what question to ask him first.

“Why are you still wearing a mask, I hate to break it to you, but I already know what you look like, Giraffe” you quipped, toying with one of your shoelaces absentmindedly as you stare up at him. You see his eyes narrow slightly as he let out an annoyed sounding sigh under his breath, you can’t help the amused smile that twitches on your lips when he yanks the mask off and plops it in your lap. His grey hair is a tousled mess, sticking up at odd angles but he somehow still manages to look like he belongs in a magazine spread. You wonder why he even bothered to become a cop if money was all he cared about in the world, he could’ve quite easily have been a successful model, actor, or dare you say male escort….

“Forgot it was on. Oh, Giraffe, that’s really cute princess. I don’t think anyone has called me that since I was ten” he said sarcastically, you don’t miss the snarky eye roll he gives you even in the dim lighting and you can’t help but roll your eyes yourself.

“What do you expect me to call you, it’s not like you introduced yourself when you broke into my house and kidnapped me, did you. I can think of a few other things to call you if you’d like, none of them will be quite that cute though” you said in a bratty tone with a slight scowl making its way onto your face as you stare up at him. Wondering where he found the audacity to be the one complaining right now. His body tenses slightly, as he glances down at you with an unreadable expression on his face before focusing his icy eyes back on the road.

“I’m not sure what you think you have to lose by telling me your name. We both know I’m not making it out of this alive anyway, surely James Green told you that. Since you’re the catalyst of my impending demise the very least you could do is tell me your name, officer Giraffe” you quipped sharply, you don’t miss the way his large, gloved hands tighten around the steering wheel, you find yourself wishing it was your neck instead, silently begging him to put you out of your misery. You watch his chest rise and fall with every deep breath he takes before meeting your gaze with intense blue eyes filled with a shocking amount of anguish as they stare back at you.

“He assured me you weren’t going to die, Y/N” he said calmly, you scoff looking up at him incredulously before letting out a bitter humorless laugh at his mock ignorance. If that was all it took to get him to kidnap you then he was a dirtier cop than you thought, no one could be that stupid.

“Don’t tell me you actually believed that I know you’re a dirty cop but not even you could be that stupid. You know it’s not true, you want to believe it is to make yourself feel better about what you’re doing which is fine but at least admit that to yourself. You’re a shitty person, own it, accept it, you’ve already decided my life is worth less than whatever it is he’s offering you so, you don’t have to convince me my life meant or means something to you at all. If it did you would’ve asked me why I moved across the country to get away from him, why I’m always alone when I clearly don’t want to be, or why I lock down my house every night like it’s the god damn white house. So cut the shit or shut up” you snapped, feeling your eyes sting a bit with fresh tears welling up in them, feeling completely overwhelmed. You take a few calming breaths but let the tears fall from your eyes because you can’t remember the last time you had even cried in the last two years. You didn’t cry at the station, and you never got to go to Simone’s funeral, so you didn’t go through the whole grieving process. You just shut down and went into a constant state of emotional numbness, you had no one to lean on the program required you to not contact former friends and family that weren’t in the program, and you were told to never return to San Francisco. The place where you and Simone grew up together, you had so many memories of riding the cable cars down to Fisherman’s Wharf to ride the carousal and seeing which one of you could eat a whole Killer Crab at the Crab House. You often wondered what your parents and Simone’s parents think happened to you or if they thought of you at all, at the time you thought it would be best to not get them mixed up in the mess you had found yourself in. You never considered the fact that to them it might feel like they lost two daughters that night, you always reassured yourself they would at least get closure once the Feds finished their case against James Green but now that possibility seemed more and more unlikely.

“Y/N, hey, shhh” he said softly, you jump slightly in surprise when you hear that name fall from his lips again, it still sounded so foreign, but you like the way it sounds when he says it for some reason and you hate yourself for it. You don’t reply as you curl your body away from him resting your head on the seat and pulling your knees into your chest. You watch the tops of glowing streetlamps pass the passenger window with silent tears rolling off your cheeks onto the car seat, two years’ worth of repressed emotions finally freeing themselves from their confines.

“What’s your name” you breathed out just above a whisper, you feel his arm stiffen slightly, halting the soothing passes, a bewildering wave of panic curses through you when he starts to pull away. “No, please don’t stop” you whined, turning your body to face him. He gazes down at you for a long moment, the soft yellow orange glow of a traffic light dancing on the side of his face as the truck comes to a stop indicating that you’re no longer on a highway. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you remember what’s actually happening and what he’s actually doing. You let out a shaky breath aggressively wiping the rest of your tears away as you move further away from him. Slightly angry with yourself for allowing that moment to even happen, you didn’t deserve to be comforted, you didn’t comfort Simone in her final moments, so why should you be comforted in yours.

You’re surprised to find that crying actually makes you feel better, relieved even, like the weight of some of the emotional baggage you’d been carrying around for two years was finally being lifted off your shoulders. You hear your kidnapper shuffling around for a bit before you feel his hand making soft passes through your hair, his fingers tuck some of it behind your ear and you notice he’s no longer wearing a glove. As he drags a knuckle gingerly down the length of your cheek, wiping a few of the tears away, you absentmindedly lean into his touch liking the way his slightly callused skin feels against your soft skin. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched or comforted you, let alone like this. So, you let him continue dragging his warm rough fingers down your skin and through your hair for what feels like forever, the gentleness he seems keen on showing you is still confusing. You’re sure James told him to keep you alive but a small part of you would be more accepting of your impending demise if your perplexing kidnapper cop was the one doing it because, at least then you’d know you’d die feeling somewhat content.

“Forget what I just said, I don’t want you to touch me, and I don’t want you to comfort me. Not now, not when you’re doing this to me, okay.” You snapped, surprising yourself with how confidently it came out because although you were strangely attracted to him, you were still very much afraid of him. You wonder how a cop, someone sworn to protect and serve others, could stray so far down a path like this. A green blue hue from the traffic light illuminates the truck and the side of his face but he makes no effort to hit the gas, still staring down at you.

“My name is Cash and I promise you’re not going to die; I will not let it happen, okay” he said just above a whisper, ignoring the angry blare of the car horn behind you as he looked at you with sincere blue eyes. Cash reached one of his hands out toward you, tucking it under your arm he pulled you onto the passenger seat with ease, he peels his eyes off you for a moment to step on the gas. You can’t bring yourself to focus on anything passing the windows because your eyes are locked on him, taking in his every move, every mannerism, with perplexed fascination.  Cash keeps his icy eyes on the road with furrowed brows, looking like he was having an internal battle with himself as his glove free hand leaves the steering wheel to hover over your smaller one several times.

“I was really hoping you’d fall asleep before we get there, y/n..” He trailed softly, you tense up uncomfortably despite the gentle tone he uses, a soft whimper escapes your lips as you stare at him with untrusting eyes. Cash seems to resolve his internal dilemma upon hearing the sound fall from your parted lips his large glove free hand falls on top of your smaller one, dragging his calloused thumb over your soft skin gingerly. Another faint red glow flows through the windshield, and the truck rolls to a slow stop, the rev of the engine still vibrating through the leather seats. Cash’s large, muscled form ghosts the side of your body almost teasingly as he finally meets your gaze his eyes look less icy as they stare back at you this time, looking almost inviting in the dim glow of the traffic light and passing headlights.

“James won’t be there, y/n, I promise” he cooed into your ear, his lips lingering next to your face for a moment before settling on your cheek in the form of a kiss. The tender peck sends a shiver down your spine and a blush flooding to your cheeks as he pulls away to gauge your reaction. You furrow your brows as your perplexed fascination with him deepens, taking in his every move with curious eyes. Cash cocked his head at you, his eyes searching yours for something with a slight smirk playing on his lips in the dim lighting his thumb is still stroking the back of your hand slowly.

“What was that for” you said softly, staring at him intensely as he flicked his eyes back towards the now green traffic light wordlessly hitting the gas pedal.

“Why, do you want another one, how about I do you one better. I’ll give you a real one if you promise to go to sleep for me right now, princess and then I’ll tell you what it was for in the morning” he coaxed flirtatiously, you gasped softly staring back at him in disbelief.

“What” you said, Cash glanced at you with an unreadable expression as the truck slowed to a stop once again, his blue eyes were still soft as they scanned over your face for a moment.

“If you say, “I promise to go to sleep Cash”, I’ll give you a kiss goodnight, y/n and then you’ll go to sleep.” he crooned smirking at you in the dim glow of the traffic light. You cock an eyebrow at him in bewilderment as you stare at him with calculating eyes, wondering if he was being serious or just toying with you out of spite.

“I promise to go to sleep… officer giraffe” you said coyly, innocently batting your eyelashes at him but still somehow managing to keep a straight face as you gauge his reaction.  He doesn’t seem half as bothered as when you called him that twenty minutes ago, in fact you think you saw an amused smile play on his lips for a moment.

“I suppose that close enough for tonight, princess” he said softly, slowly leaning his face towards yours, you feel your heartrate pick up suddenly feeling very nervous, you didn’t think he was actually going to do it. And now you couldn’t believe you were contemplating letting him do it, letting him kiss you when he had just taken you against your will mere hours ago. You find you can’t really think straight as his blue eyes inch closer to you, until they're indistinguishable blue blobs.

“Ready” he breathed out, his hot breath washing over your lips gently, your heart is pounding so fast you’re sure he can hear it above the faint sounds of car tires rolling over pavement. You inhale sharply, only giving him a sound of acknowledgement as your brain doesn’t seem to be forming words right now. Cash makes a pleased sounding murmur before letting his lip touch yours in a feather like peck that could hardly pass as a real kiss, it’s teasing at best, and you’re surprised to find yourself annoyed with him for it.

“That’s not a r…” your words die in your throat when he captures you in a second more intense kiss that had you fighting back a moan as you kissed him back. You hadn’t kissed anyone in about five years, and you couldn’t remember one ever feeling like this one and you couldn’t help but hate yourself for it. Cash pulled away abruptly, breathing heavily as he looked at you with dark almost confused eyes.

“Now, what did you promise me, princess” he coaxed, leaning back against the driver’s seat with an almost adoring smile despite the way the events have unraveled in the last couple hours and your impending doom on the horizon. You open and close your mouth to speak several times but can’t seem to find the words as you throw you head back against the car seat defeated.  “Why don’t you lay your head on my lap, so you don’t hurt your neck, princess…” he said softly…

[queerfables]

911 season 5 part 2

5x03

Gosh this is so scary, I hope Harry is OK!!

He's out of the car, I'm so proud of him

Holy fuck, Bobby

Yeah, when Athena sent him back to work I thought that was a bad idea. As if he's not freaking out too.

LOL Athena shot off his dick?? That's fucking hilarious

Oh man this is a great scene, with Michael breaking down and Athena calming him down. Two great actors doing their all.

Oh Harry was so smart getting the lady to film

Harry!! He's safe!!!

Lmfao of course the power comes back now

Oh Ana knows what's happening

"I thought it would work"

Oh Maddie. This is rough.

5x04

Oh Chimney is not okay

Oh jeeze they've mixed up the girls, haven't they? She wasn't telling them her name she was trying to ask about her friend T_T

Oh Chimney. That was a beautiful scene, him talking about Maddie and the baby and how scared he is and him feeling like he wasn't there for Maddie enough

Yeah, the girls got mixed up and they told the parents their daughter was alive and she's not OOF

Hen I don't think you should be the one to do this

Oh I'm so emotional about them hugging the other parents

Oh God this is horrible

I wondered if Buck had spoken to Maddie. He seemed remarkably calm about her disappearing again

Oh no this is cute, Harry and May talking about their stuff together

Harry telling May to be mean to the mean lady at work, delightful

Hen and Chimney are such important besties. I love their relationship so much.

5x05

Athena what the FUCK

You just hit your kid that is NOT OK

I have enjoyed this episode but I haven't had much to say about it

5x06

Oooh another name I recognise as being a good Buddie-sode

Wait is that Mark Pellegrino?

Hi there familiar face

Oh shit did Buck and Eddie just get kidnapped?

Sorry that "escort" just seemed super shady

Haha omg yessssss

Oh they're so pretty when they have guns on them

Aaaah Buck just got hit in the face protesting against them threatening Christopher I'm so!!

This is a great set up

Oh jeeze they took the transponder out of the ambulance

No one knows where Buck and Eddie are. delightful.

Jeeze I hope Probie makes it out ok

Buck does not want to leave Eddie in that ambulance

Aaah so it should be good news that the police ambushed them but of course EDDIE IS STILL IN THE AMBULANCE

Hostage situation baybeeeeee

Oh man his demand is empathetic and impossible, what a great narrative device

Lmfao oh no he's won over Eddie with his sob story I love this

Oh Eddie he's not coming out

God, Buck's face when the gun went off. Running outside screaming Eddie's name!!!

This is a great episode

Ugh Eddie and Christopher being soft at the end

5x07

Buried alive again!!! Great trope. I hope someone from the 118 has it happen to them next

Oh he's OK thank goodness

Hey it's detective friend!! Looking cool with his badass throat scar

"That was weird right" "No comment" I love Taylor, and everyone else's antagonism towards her

Honestly they're kind of making her too nice, I would like her vulnerable side to go back to being a little more hidden. I like her best when she's a bitch.

I'm really enjoying Taylor and Lou trying to solve this case in tandem

Ok I think I've got it. My sense was that the guy wasn't just cagey when talking about how he ended up buried, he was nervous or guilty about something. My guess is that he was trying to kill and bury someone out in the woods, possibly this missing wife, but they got the jump on him and buried him instead

Oh they've come to opposite conclusions I love that

It's gotta be something else then

Maybe it's the guy she's having an affair with?

"I'm so confused" that's hilarious

Okay listen I was feeling super moved about Harry going back to the house where Jeffrey took him, but when he fell through the floor two feet from the wall he almost died inside I couldn't help but laugh. That house really has it out for him.

Oh I'm really happy Harry has someone he can talk to who he feels like understands him finally.

Oh Harry I'm so proud of him for dealing with this

5x08

"I'm going there" Wow that's one way to discuss a life changing international move with the guy you've been living with for over a year

Oh they are really soft though

Omg he's gonna propose!!! T_T

"Now I'm gonna have three dads. Father's day is gonna suck." Lmfao aw Harry you're so cute

Oh Michael's whole family helping him is so cute. I bet none of them could have imagined it being like this back in season one when everything was so painful and new.

An explosion?????

Oh no I'm gonna cry this new big brother is so sweet. But also this is why you don't tell kids that looking after another person is their responsibility, because they will take it VERY seriously and maybe put themselves in danger trying and never forgive themselves if they can't

All of the firefighters evacuating the babies is very cute even though it's scary

Oh no the big brother is looking after his baby sister T_T

I don't think that is room 318. It didn't look like a 3. Maybe a backwards E? Could it be a reflection?

Eddie and Buck doing stupid reckless things together to save people <3

Yeah ok now I'm sure they got the wrong room. Those kids aren't dead!!

Ugh Buck talking Eddie through it T_T

See!! They're OK!!!

Told you!! Reflection!!!

Crying with laughter over Bobbie high key proposing to David for Michael

Oh no Athena is so sad Michael is leaving

Ugh this montage saying goodbye to him is making me tear up. I knew he was leaving but I'm still saaaaad. I really loved the character, it won't be the same without him.

5x09

Omg I hope these two ladies have a thing, they're cute. Gabbi and Chloe.

Oh they are definitely flirting

This is a hell of a meet cute

LOL ATHENA check who is at the door before you start flirting with them

"Tay" that's a cute nickname

It's fun that we're getting an episode with a focus on Hen's mum

"My Abuela would eat this up, she loves a good telanovela" "Oh, cause you don't?" Love when Buck and Eddie dunk on each other in a way that shows how much they know each other

Awwww Buck showed up for Taylor even though she said not to

Aaah the ladies from the start of the episode

Jesus for a moment I thought Buck's only reaction to Taylor saying "I love you" was gonna be "Good" thank goodness the boy has some sense

That was a cute episode

[hooman4ever]

!SFW! Slasher's Hanging Out With S/O's Child

Requested by Leaf_2008 on Wattpad

Contains: Fluff, Brahms Making Clothes Because Why Not, Stu & Billy Hostage Situation, 5 Short One-Shots, Gender Ambiguous Reader & Child

Bo Sinclair 

It was honestly cute how Bo ran around shouts of protest flying from his mouth, hands outstretched, as he chased a toddler. Joyous giggles filled the outside of the gas station Bo spent most of his time in. “Get yer butt back here!” Bo yelled a playful grin on his face. “Never monster!” the child called clutching a wrench Bo was currently using in their small arms. 

With a screech, the child was lifted from the ground, “Caught ya.” Bo dramatically roared snatching the wrench from the child's arms tucking it into his back pocket. 

Your child caught sight of you in their peripheral vision. Twisting in Bo’s arms little hands reached out to you, “Saveeee me!” they cried out through a smile only to burst into laughter. 

You gasped feigning horror before chasing Bo in an attempt to save your poor baby. 

Vincent Sinclair

Warmth flooded your chest at the sight before you. 

Vincent and your child were sitting side by side leaning on one another as they slept. A child's book was on the floor in front of the couch Vincent and your child rested on, the cover was open still, the pages pressed awkwardly against the rug below foot. 

They must have dozed off with reading, as silently as possible you moved about securing a fluffy blanket before draping it over the duo. “Rest well, my loves.” 

Lester Sinclair 

Hushed whispering caught your attention when you first entered your and Lester’s shared home. Soft words and giggles made you smile a “They’re never gonna find us,” from a small voice making you brake out in a smile. 

With one hand on your hip, you loudly said “Now, now. Where could my babies be?” creeping into the home further you let yourself spend a good time walking around. Occasionally checking obviously empty spots until the barely stifled chucking came from right in front of you. 

With a shout, you yanked open the cabinet door “Found you!” you exclaimed your voice being dwarfed by giddy shouting and Lester’s, thankfully, fake screaming. 

Stu & Billy 

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

The front door slammed against the wall, the atmosphere in your and your lover’s shared home growing tense as you gazed at the heaps of toys coating the floors for as far as you could see. It was a complete mess.

“Were dead-” “Shut up, Stu.” 

As soon as the voices met your ears you were off in the direction of your child's room. Swinging the door open before making your way inside. The two men sitting around the small tea table sweating as you glared at them. All it took was a second and your rage turned to shock, then to laughter. 

Both Billy and Stu were held captive, their wrists tied together with slinkies and yo-yos, your child smiling up at you proudly. 

Brahms Heelshire

“Look!” 

Softly you laughed eyeing the small cardigan that was suddenly shoved into your arms. “What’s this?” you questioned eyeing the handmade apparel “Brahms helped me make it!” your child was gushing an embarrassed Brahms standing behind them, his hand being held by much smaller ones. “We made you one too!” 

With that, the three of you were clad in matching cardigans for the day. With glee, you joined the duo letting Brahms help you and your child fashion a multitude of crude but useable clothing items. 

While the activity in itself was nice the best part was seeing Brahms and your child interacting, the both of them holding bright smiles the whole time as they helped each other; despite neither of them truly knowing what they were doing. 

[pedrito-friskito]

❤️‍🔥 could i please request:

❝  i would do anything for you.  all my lines and rules.  they mean nothing when it comes to you.  it’d cross and break them all just to make you happy.  ❞

❝  you need someone.  let me be that person.  let me be what you need.  ❞

with matt murdock? maybe a best friends to lovers situation

whatever nonnie wants, nonnie gets. ♥️

love me some yearning matt murdock!!!

🔥friday night fever!🔥

You never thought that being friends with Matt Murdock would be dangerous.

Sure, he’s dangerously attractive and he’s so quick-witted it gives you whiplash sometimes and he has this odd ability of knowing what you’re feeling and thinking before you even say anything, but he’s just a friend. You’re just friends. Period. Despite Foggy’s constant litany of jokes and comments that the two of you would look really sweet together, or Karen’s gentle prodding of are you sure you’re just friends? I see the way he looks at you.

Yes, it’s a little hard sometimes, because it’s hard to deny the attraction when there’s just something about him that draws you in, but you know better. Past experience has taught you well, and honestly, you don’t know if there’s anything that could be worth losing him. So, yes, just friends. And it’s enough.

But you never thought it would be dangerous.

They grabbed you on the street right outside your apartment, a cloth over your mouth and a thick arm around your throat. You didn’t have time to react, to even scream before the world went black, your body falling limp. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you came to, but you woke in a damp room, a stained mattress on the floor, flickering lights buzzing overhead. Your hands were bound, stuffed into the corner of the room, and there were other people too. Other girls were packed into the room, some of them moaning and whimpering, all with their hands bound just like yours, rags tied around their heads, streaked makeup and ruddy faces looking back at you.

Definitely not good.

You try your best to stay alert, to figure out who took you, what they’re doing with you, how much time you have. They took your phone, obviously, and the other girls have the same or similar stories as you — taken outside their homes, drugged unconscious, woke up in the room. After a while, a few days of barely any food and paltry amounts of water, you’re starting to lose hope. This is your worst nightmare; you’ll never see your family again, never see your friends.

You’ll never see Matt again.

It aches, the feeling sitting high in your chest and leaving you shaking, the last dregs of hope in your heart sinking away with every moment that passes. You try to comfort some of the younger girls, but it doesn’t help much. You’re all feeling something similar, and with each day that comes and goes, every harsh word from your kidnappers, it’s more and more obvious that no one is coming and none of you are safe.

It’s been three days, you think, the nights and days blurring together but you’re trying your hardest to stay alert. You’ve stopped listening to the questions, trying to figure out an escape route or a way to disarm the people holding you hostage. You’re half asleep in the corner of the room, completely drained, but then you hear it.

Grunting, shouting, gunfire. The impact of bodies hitting the floor, fists hitting skin, a low growl that sends a chill down your spine. The other girls are scared, gathering together while you wander towards the door, stumbling back a step when it’s broken open, revealing…

Your throat goes dry. He’s tall, dressed all in black, a mask covering his eyes, showing only a strong, stubbly jaw and the tip of proud nose. Something in the back of your brain twinges, but you ignore it, throwing an arm out, trying to protect the girls behind you. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to help,” a gravelly voice says, and something ticks in your mind again. Something…familiar? No. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.” He pauses, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, gesturing around the room. “All of you.” He extends his hand towards you and slowly, almost hesitantly, you take it. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

The world outside is dark as the masked man leads you through the building. It’s a storage facility, out on the docks, right on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen. The rest of the girls follow, and you’re doing your best to keep up, but you feel so weak, your legs giving out the farther you go. Before you can fall, there’s a muscled arm around your waist, and he’s keeping you upright, letting you lean your weight onto him.

“It’s all right,” he says softly to you, “I promise, everything is gonna be all right.”

Once you taste the night air, most of the girls disperse, running off into the night, but you don’t know where to go, disorientation getting the best of you. You let out a tiny noise, and the masked man tightens his grip on you. “Come with me.”

You let him lead you away from the building, clinging to him now, and as soon as you’re down an alleyway, the moon the only light overhead, no one around to see, the mask comes off.

“M…Matt?”

“Hi.”

You can’t say a word, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close with what little strength you have left. He lets out a quiet chuckle, hugging you back tightly. He smells like cooper, the sharp tang of blood, and it makes you pull back, realizing that his nose is bleeding, a cut higher on his forehead that had been covered by the mask. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.” His eyes are shining in the moonlight, deep pools of brown that move over you without seeing you, his hands moving over your arms and shoulders. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head slowly, but you’re still processing. The mask, the violent noises you had heart. Matt’s…blind. Isn’t he? “You came for me.”

His brow pinches slightly, tiny grin pulling at his lips. “Of course I did.”

“You’re a lawyer.”

He laughs. “Something like that.”

“You…” You just trail off, shaking your head. This seems surreal. He’s… “You could have gotten yourself killed, Matt. For me?” You shake your head again. “No, no, you can’t, I don’t—”

“I would do anything for you,” he says instantly, and his hands are on your cheeks now, brushing softly over your skin. It makes your heart stutter in your chest. “All my lines and rules, they mean nothing when it comes to you. I’d cross and break them all just to make you happy, just to keep you safe. You…” His mouth quirks again, that handsome smile you’ve come to know so well appearing. “You mean the world to me, you know that?”

You just stare back at him.

He turns sheepish, but he doesn’t move, still holding you close, letting you lean into him. “Sorry, probably not the best time for grand confessions.”

“Matt, I…”

“When I found out they had taken you,” he says, his voice going tight. “I didn’t…I should have said this to you so long ago, and I realize that now. I just…You need someone,” he continues, the words faster, like they need to be out of his head and reaching your ears. “We all need someone, and I…I want to be that someone for you. Let me be that person. Let be what you need.”

You just stare back at him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he keeps talking, but he’s still holding you. “Let me…let me get you home, get you some food and a hot shower and—”

You kiss him.

It’s soft and it’s gentle and everything in you is already aching, but it melts slowly into another kind of ache. You’re sure your mouth tastes like the worst kind of morning breath, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you sink into the kiss. It’s…everything. It’s safety and it’s softness and it’s every emotion and feeling you’ve been stuffing down when it comes to Matt Murdock. Your saviour. Your best friend.

And as you draw back, his mouth still chasing yours, leaving one last delicate kiss on your lips, you think, he’s even more than that. He is that someone. He’s exactly what you need.

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

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[emilyprentissslut]

Wanda’s prize II

warnings: hostage situations, dark themes, Wanda uses her magic for evil, nightmares, let me know if i left out anything!!

A/N: Christmas is coming early :)) now that i’m on break, expect a lot more updates <3

You were tense as you stood in a universe parallel to your own. With teary eyes you stood in front of what would’ve been your apartment building. Tugs on your invisible leash broke you out of your trance

“Let’s get moving, honey. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to find the boys”.

Wanda’s voice, sweet as ever gave you a false sense of comfort. You meekly responded with a small “Okay”. The witch smiled at your submission.

Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure who Wanda was before all this happened. You knew she was an avenger, but that’s it. Wanda was no longer a hero to you, she was a kidnapper, and a crazy person.

You followed Wanda like a lost puppy as the two of you trudged through an opposite New York. As much as you wanted to fight her, you couldn’t if you ever wanted to see your universe again.

You watched as the parallel New York moved through its day. Not much felt different to you. At the end of the day people were just trying to survive.

Wanda walked the two of you through the city. You wanted to ask where she was leading you, but you decided against it. The more you followed her, the more your anxieties started to grow.

Your mind raced back to the first thing she said to you once she took you. Something about “our boys”? Curiosity took the best of you as you cautiously stopped in your tracks.

Your eyes wide as ever as you looked at your captor.

“Um…. who are Billy and Tommy”.

Wanda gave you sweet smile and held your chin in her hands. Her grip was soft as she spoke to you.

“Our sons, sweetheart. Billy and Tommy are our boys.”

Confusion coursed through you but you weren’t going to push your luck. You studied Wanda’s face as her green eyes pierced yours. Suddenly, her grip on your chin tightened. You whimpered under her gaze.

“We’re gonna find them baby, and you’re gonna help me”.

The redhead promptly kissed your lips.

“I know this is hard for you baby, but I’ll be with you every step of the way”.

You nodded as she released your chin. The two of you kept walking until you found a place to stay for the night. The hotel that Wanda had brought you was more lavish then you were ever used to. It screamed 5+ stars. You wondered how Wanda was gonna pay for it.

The two of you approached the front desk. As you took in your surroundings, a voice rang out in your head.

“Don’t say anything or draw attention to yourself, honey. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you”.

The realization that she could not only read minds but get inside your head made you sick. Your brain racked through possibilities of her power.

While you were off in your thoughts, Wanda spoke with the desk attendee. You barely noticed when your captor’s eyes glew red, or when the attendee’s eyes turned red shortly after. Bile rose to your throat.

“Thank you so much, and have a great night”.

Wanda held her hand out for you as finished with the worker. You reluctantly took it, fearing what else she was capable of. The witch’s grip tightened on your hand.

As you exited the 9th floor elevator towards what you assumed would be your room, the color drained from your face. The thought of being alone with Wanda, no witnesses, made you sick. As the older woman pushed open the door revealing a penthouse sweet, your mouth dropped.

“Do you like it sweetheart? I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

That pit on your stomach returned. You quickly thought of a way to excuse yourself from her presence.

“Uh, I-I’m super tired. Can I go to bed”.

A vicious smile crossed the Sokovian’s face. She once again held out her hand and you took it. Leading you to the master bedroom, Wanda watched as you settled under the covers searching any kind of comfort.

“Sweet dreams, детка”.

With a wave of her magic, you instantly fell asleep. As you got your well deserved rest, you haunted with images. Images of Wanda’s losses, the events at Westview, and the twins. You saw the boys at what you didn’t know was two days in the future. You were haunted by red eyes glowing straight at you.

With a violent jolt, you awoke to heavy breathing and light sobs. Wanda who was sleeping next to you searched your eyes worriedly for any answers.

“What did you do to me?” You choked out.

[localcactushugger]

Does anyone else ever get sad thinking about the abuse Hawks went through as a kid? Because I keep making myself sad thinking about it.

It's so many different kinds of fucked up that just mixed together and created one huge toxic environment.

#1) The physical abuse.

Right off the bat, Chapter 299 starts with Keigo getting hit by his father for leaving the house. It doesn't actually show Keigo being smacked, instead it shows a panel of their "home". (although it's extremely small and looks more like a broken down shack in a field to me)

But the sound of the "smak" is very much punctuated in the panel, followed by Keigo hunched over with marks on his face:

The marks on his face are prevalent. Even in the smaller panel, Keigo still has a very obvious bruise under his eye and above his eyebrow.

THEN he gets kicked in the side/stomped on for "turning his back" on his father?? (Aka doing nothing. Literally what did he do?? Wtf?):

He's getting smacked and kicked around, but instead of crying or getting upset he just endures. Which brings me to:

#2) The Emotional and verbal abuse. (Strap in cause there's a lot of it.)

Keigo apologizes after his father kicks him for no reason, then he curls up into a ball, clings to his Endeavor plushy, and listens as his own father rants about how much he wishes that Keigo was never born.

^^^^^^^ LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID ASSHOLE. HE'S LITERALLY CLINGING TO HIS PLUSHY FOR COMFORT!! WHY ISN'T ANYONE HUGGING HIM??? CAN I HUG HIM??

Keigo says that he knew his parents were broken, so he endured because he wanted to avoid their fate.

Basically: "I know my parents are broken, but need to endure because I don't want to become broken too."

That's a horrible mindset for a child to have?? He's basically saying that he just needs to take the abuse and hope that he doesn't break because of it?

And I don't know how he wouldn't break from it with the way his parents talk to him, and all the horrible things they say:

The constant screaming/yelling. Like Shit.

"Don't do a damn thing!" " Who did you sell me out too?? You can't fool me!!" "Don't leave this house!" "Don't you dare lie to me!!" "Don't go talking to anyone!!" "You thought you'd get away with it didn't you??"

"How many times have I told you not to turn your back on me??"

"If only that punk was never born I'd be free."

"Why were you even born?" "Why do you even have those wings?"

He's gotten it from both parents. And every time it happens he just hugs his plushy a little tighter.

#3) The neglect.

In pretty much all panels of Keigo's home theres Trash everywhere. If you go back and look at the house there isn't a single panel without some kind of trash in the frame. I see beer bottles, wine bottles, wooden planks, trash bags, newspapers, dirty rags, dirty laundry hanging from the wall & hangers, floor boards coming up, leaks from the top of the walls.

The "house" is barely holding together as it is. It looks like it's about to collapse, and the inside makes you think a tornado ran through it. Nobody is bothering to clean up the mess. In fact the only person who seems to be patching up the house is Keigo. This seems to be a routine for him since he can be seen picking up a wooden plank to fix the wall. Too bad his father kicked him before he could repair the hole 🙃.

Seriously does the "house" even have running water? The windows are broken the walls are made of tin roofing tiles. Does it even have heating or insulation? It's obviously not suitable for a child. I'd be afraid that the roof was gonna fall on me while I was sleeping.

I understand they can't buy a proper home. But it wouldn't be so bad if someone acutely bothered to clean the inside a bit. At least maintain the house so your kid doesn't step on a nail, or glass from a beer bottle. IF A CHILD CAN PATCH UP A WALL SO CAN YOU. WHY IS KEIGO DOING ALL THE WORK?

You people are gonna get rats and bugs. (If you dont have them invading your "house" already)

And that's only the house.

What about Keigo? He doesn't even have shoes. His shirt is torn at the seams. And his parents didn't even notice when he left? Keigo's dad yelled at him for leaving the house and going outside, but was anyone even watching him in the first place? How does your child leave the house and make it halfway to the city before you notice? This little bird looks like he weighs 5 pounds! He's gonna get kidnapped!!

His mom is obviously unstable and she stares at the wall all day. And his dad hates him for existing. So I guess no one was watching him?

His mom also doesn't really seem to care when Keigo gets yelled at, hit, and kicked either. She just kinda stares at the wall. Then when her and Keigo become homeless and start living in a train station she guilt trips him into stealing for her. Like Really??

HE GOT INTO A CAR ACCIDENT TOO! You sent your child out to steal for you and he literally got into a car accident. He managed to save everyone involved but still, are trying to get your son hit by a truck? This is why I have so many mixed feelings about Tomie.

#4) Being held hostage in his own home.

This one is self explanatory. Keigo got hit in the face just for going outside. He was held hostage in his home for so long that he didn't even know heroes existed. And this is a society where heroes are everywhere. I'm sure it was a lonely childhood, kinda hard to make childhood friends when you get beaten just for leaving the house.

#5) Whatever the fuck "rough training" was.

I know we haven't seen Keigos "rough" training yet. Horikoshi only went into a little bit of detail about it when he mentioned that the commission taught Hawks negotiation skills as a kid. And then theres that one image in the Season 4 outro where Keigo has a blindfold on as a child during training.

But I still would like to know more.

Why would you put a child through "rough" training, strip him of his name, and tell him it's all because he's gonna become a "special hero" right after you've pulled him out of an extremely abusive situation. Like, you aren't gonna wait a bit? Preferably until he's a teenager? Not gonna give him therapy or something?

Isn't pulling a child out of an abusive situation and putting them through "rough training" kinda like transfering them from one abusive household to another?

LET THE BOY REST! LET THE KID BE A KID. YOU ONLY HAVE ONE CHILDHOOD AND HE'S ALREADY MISSED OUT ON MOST OF HIS!!

The training can wait.

If you want help him and support his family, do it out of the kindness of your heart and not because you think he'd be a useful hero.

I honestly don't know how this "training" went for Keigo, but considering that he doesn't currently have the best relationship with the HPCS . . . Well I don't know. All I know is that he never really seems too happy around people from the commission. He doesn't seem to agree with any of their ideologies either.

Honestly I just want him to find peace!

Based on what we've seen so far, (*cough* especially from the Todoroki family *cough*) you really shouldn't be training a child to become a hero in the first place. The training can start as a teenager if someone chooses to train.

Look at the way you massacred my boy! Give the kid a break for fucks sake!!

And these are just the early years. Don't get me started on everything else ✋🙄

[fruitydiaz-archived]

safe (with you)

s5 speculation based on the new bts because idk how to be normal about this

3,049 words

AO3 link

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway Buck’s hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

He vividly remembers that day he spent driving around Los Angeles with Abby, searching for her mom, the day they saved the little girl in the pool. He remembers the way he lined his hand up with hers and told her that the first couple of weeks on the job he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking with the adrenaline. But Abby was good at compartmentalizing; her hands never shook.

Buck still hasn’t learned how to do that with the people he cares about. He’s beginning to think he never will.

Eddie had been held hostage for under two hours and made it out unscathed, and yet Buck couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking. He felt like a wire with the coating stripped off, ripped down the middle, frayed open, ready to spark and catch fire at any moment. But he’d been feeling like that a lot lately if he was being honest. Not that anyone asked.

And he didn’t expect anyone to because everyone else had their own problems and it was his job at the moment to just pull his shoulders back and keep it together. That was all he was supposed to do. He could do that.

“Uh, let me get your bag,” Buck mumbles as Eddie opens his side door to climb out. He switches the engine off and jumps out before he can see the glare Eddie shoots in his direction.

He still feels it anyway.

“I can get my own bag,” Eddie says, his tone flat. He feels too tired to argue but there’s an energy vibrating under his skin that he hasn’t been able to shake since they pulled up to the scene and he found himself staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun. It’s making him irritable and jumpy and all he wants to do is climb into bed and forget.

Buck doesn’t even grace him with a response, pulling both of their bags out of the back seat and slinging them over his shoulders, glancing once at Eddie before marching towards the front door.

“Nothing even happened to me, Buck,” Eddie calls after him, following on his heels. “I’m fine.”

Buck still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the front door. He slips off his shoes in the entryway and drops both of their bags by the couch. Eddie follows him into the kitchen.

“Buck - Buck, come on man you don’t have to take care of me I’m-“

“Stop telling me that you’re fine,” Buck growls suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. “I am sick and tired of hearing it. You got shot, Eddie, okay? Five months ago you got shot and you started having panic attacks and you hid it from me.”

Eddie blinks at Buck for a second, shocked, before his brain kicks back on. Being around Buck is one of the easiest things for Eddie to do, but the moment Buck starts to care too much, when he starts to push - either with wide eyes full of nothing but love and care that make him want to crawl into himself and never come back out - or like this, with venom and anger that coat the underlying fear and worry, it becomes hard.

He defaults to anger. He wishes it wasn’t so easy but it’s the one thing he’s been prepared to do his whole life; fight.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was managing it on my own.”

“You’re my partner.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t about work,” Eddie stresses, feeling antsy. He turns away from Buck and takes a couple of steps around the corner. He needs to put some space between them. “It was personal, okay? And I dealt with it.”

“Right,” Buck said, voice dripping with the kind of bitterness that Eddie can feel creeping onto his own tongue. “Because you don’t panic anymore, right?”

Eddie’s eyes flick down. The familiar sensation of bile laced with the accusation of liar rises in his throat and he struggles to swallow it down. He still panics; he just didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I can handle it on my own,” Eddie says quietly.

“When are you going to realize that you don’t have to?” Buck pleads, leaning against the counter opposite Eddie. “When are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t need help,” Eddie says, retreating back and looking anywhere but at Buck. God, he was just trapped at gunpoint for nearly two hours can he catch a fucking break? He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eddie, you got shot.” Buck is begging him to talk about it, screaming practically. And he’s been screaming for weeks, months, doing all but dropping to his knees in front of Eddie and begging him to open up and talk to him about it and Eddie gets it but ultimately. Ultimately.

Eddie wishes Buck would shut up.

You got shot, remember?

He wishes he could make him shut up. He wishes he could make Buck leave his apartment and get back into his jeep and drive to his own place and never fucking talk about any of this again. Because of course he remembers getting shot. He remembers all of it.

He remembers standing out in the middle of the street thinking about hopping into the ambulance with Charlie right before a bullet ripped through his one good shoulder. That’s four times now. He remembers hitting the hard cement and feeling the blood pool under his body, remembers the familiar sickly feeling that comes with the realization that you’re losing too much blood, before you start to lose your grip on the world around you. He remembers staring across the pavement at Buck and thinking it would be okay, because Buck was okay.

He remembers waking up in the hospital, drugged up and confused and searching for blue eyes and a blood-splattered face. He remembers waking up to Ana smiling down at him with watery eyes and he remembers the way she barely concealed her disappointment when he immediately asked for Buck - but he was passed caring at that point. He remembers the day he had to wait, slipping in and out of consciousness, Ana making occasional small talk, until he was finally cleared for more visitors, and Buck came rushing into the room like a vision of something holy, his face clean, his smile bright.

He remembers the moment Buck said he wished he had gotten shot instead and when Eddie slipped back into another drug-induced sleep the only words on his mind were no, not you. Never you.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Buck, the distance between them too much and not enough at the same time. He remembers struggling to find the right words, fumbling to find his footing, feeling stripped bare as he told Buck that he loved him. But the words came out you act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong instead.

He remembers never feeling so cracked open and vulnerable in his entire life and it was terrifying. So he did what he does best and he retreated into the shadows and licked his wounds in private and put himself back together as best he could so that the next time someone saw him they didn’t look at him as if he were about to break.

And maybe it was a shit job and he still felt like he was barely held together by string most days but he was doing fine. He was back at work and Christopher was still happy even without Ana around and he was making it work.

So he didn’t give a damn if Buck thought he wasn’t doing enough. He didn’t want to relive the shooting again, he had moved on. He was fine.

He was fine.

Or at least, he was fine up until 7 hours ago when they got a call to an office building that turned into a goddamn hostage situation and Eddie spent the better part of an hour with a gun to his head.

He was fine.

He was fine.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is loud and sudden in his ear and Eddie startles, staring up at him. He blinks a couple of times before he realizes that he’s on the floor and that Buck’s kneeling over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck’s saying over and over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Another panic attack.

Maybe he can’t pretend that he’s fine anymore.

“Buck,” Eddie says. Buck’s eyes fly to his and Eddie feels the bile rise again when he realizes Buck is crying.

This isn’t the first time tonight that Buck has cried. Over him.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Buck says again, his voice worn, and Eddie remembers him screaming. For him. “I just almost lost you again and I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Buck stares at him for a second, eyes wild, before he squeezes them shut and stretches his legs out in front of him, settling down on the floor across from Eddie.

It’s dark in Eddie’s apartment, the only light spilling in from the entryway, cloaking the two of them in warm dim light.

Eddie always found it easier being honest in the dark.

“I’m scared too,” He admits quietly. Buck’s eyes look too blue in the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I just…I never wanted to make what happened about me…but I can see you struggling and it’s like - the only thing I know how to do is push. I can see it eating away at you.”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” Eddie says quickly, honestly.

Buck licks his lips. Nervous. “I get that. But…ignoring it doesn’t mean it never happened, you know?”

“It just…feels easier.”

“It’s killing you, Eddie.”

I was never meant to live this long anyway, is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue - but that’s too dark. Too much. Too honest. He shoves it back down.

One day something’s going to take him. Maybe it’ll be a bullet, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be the crushing guilt he’s carried ever since he was a kid, too young to learn what that kind of guilt felt like.

“At least Chris will be taken care of if it does,” He says before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that that’s something he shouldn’t say out loud. The pained look on Buck’s face feels like a slap in the face.

“What about you?” Buck grinds out, voice still hoarse. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you - now?”

Eddie shrugs, “I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” Buck snaps. “Full offense but I’ve seen the way you care for yourself.”

“It’s what I do, Buck,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the cabinets and squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s - I can handle myself. I can’t…do this to anyone else. It was too much for Shannon - hell, even as a kid I was too much for my parents. I can’t.”

“Let me take care of you,” Buck says quickly and earnestly and the words shoot straight through Eddie’s heart. He couldn’t.

“No,” Eddie starts, sitting up straighter.

“Eddie, I can’t lose you,” Buck says with enough conviction to shut Eddie up for a second.

Because some part of Eddie has always been aware of the lengths to which Buck would crawl through fire and rain for him - because that’s who Buck is. Buck is the guy who puts everyone else before him, who will always put his life on the line first. Not because he wants to be the hero - but because he never thinks his own life is important enough to stop and consider the consequences.

Or at least, that’s what Eddie thought. But Eddie’s seen him hesitate more lately. He’s seen him pull back, actually listen to Bobby. And Eddie thought it was the will that was holding him back. And that was almost enough to soothe the constant ache in his chest.

But then Eddie got taken hostage. And it was like they were on that street again. And Eddie watched the fear strike Buck like a bolt of lightning, lighting him up from head to toe, nervous electricity in his veins. He saw the raw determination in his eyes, the devotion and instinct at war with responsibility and promise.

For a second, among the buzz at the base of his skull and the shrill ambiance of police cars, swat, and the ambulance, it hit Eddie. It wasn’t Buck being Buck. It was Eddie. It was Eddie that turned off every switch in Buck’s brain but his inherent instincts. It was Eddie in danger that broke him.

Eddie had never seen it before. And he’s been trying his damned best to shove it in the box labeled DO NOT TOUCH along with all of the other shit he’s been ignoring for the last five months.

It seems like it’s all coming out tonight.

Buck continues, “I don’t. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. Five months ago you sat with me in the hospital and - everyone always tells me that I’m reckless, you know? Or that I’m dumb or that I don’t think or that I want to be some hero. But you…you didn’t say any of that. And - and you made me feel like I was important. Like my life…was important. Is important. And I needed that, Eddie. So bad.

“Let me do the same thing for you,” Buck’s on the edge of begging again. “What do I have to do for you to realize that you’re important? That I need you? Because I do. God, Eddie, I need you…”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. He’s never been loved like this before, has he?

Because that’s what this is. There’s no denying it anymore. That’s what Buck and Eddie do. They love each other. With some sort of deep-running unbreakable devotion that wraps around them constantly and pulls them closer and closer together.

That’s what Eddie’s been fighting all these months. The closeness.

Because it was easy before - to keep getting closer to Buck because it was safe, it meant they cared about each other, it meant that Buck would do his best to get Eddie home to his son and if all else failed Chris would have someone who loved him, who would look after him. That was good. That was safe.

But when the shooting happened and I have your back turned into I can’t live without you and Eddie realized that what he thought was a contingency plan that he had been slowly and methodically setting up was actually a living breathing family that they’d built - and all of a sudden the only way he ever wanted to live his life was with Buck and Christopher safely by his side - it wasn’t safe anymore. It was dangerous.

Eddie had been fighting so hard to keep Buck at arm's length so he could protect this system that he had come to rely on. Because now when he looked at Buck all he could see was the love and devotion reflecting back at Eddie. And that was terrifying.

Because Eddie had opened himself up to being loved before. And that ended in years of separation, divorce, and ultimately Shannon’s death. Maybe Eddie didn’t believe in signs - or maybe he just wanted to keep pretending the signs weren’t there. Because he was fairly certain that if the universe did send signs then Shannon’s death was the ultimate sign of them all, a symbol of what Eddie did to people.

He didn’t want to let Buck love him because he didn’t want to risk losing Buck.

But he is risking losing Buck the more he pushes him away…he’s risking breaking Buck. And ultimately he’s risking breaking himself. Because he can’t do this without Buck either.

“I need you too,” Eddie says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

He’s crying. It’s like a dam broke loose with the quiet admittance and now it’s all coming out. He’s scared. He’s frightened. He’s terrified. He’s in love.

Buck’s crowding into his space, shoving himself up onto his knees between Eddie’s legs and crushing their bodies together, his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, tucking his head under Buck’s chin until he feels safe, protected, in Buck’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s hair. Just a couple of hours ago they were in this same position, on the grass outside the office building, just after Eddie was released and SWAT rolled in. Eddie thinks that the safest place on earth might be right here in Buck’s arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” Eddie croaks, hands clawing at Buck’s back. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Buck says with the stubborn confidence that’s inherent to Buck. And Eddie believes him, he does. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you, okay?”

“I need you.”

“You’ve got me. You always have, Eddie,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

I love you is what he wants to say. He wants to say it every day; when Buck walks into the locker room and greets Eddie with a private smile like it’s not 6 am and he’d rather be anywhere else, when he bumps Eddie’s shoulder as they walk to the truck, when he pulls his helmet off after a tough call and holds eye contact with Eddie just long enough to communicate are you good?

Maybe he can’t say it just yet.

Maybe this isn’t the right time or place.

But he thinks Buck knows. And he thinks - no he knows, Buck feels the same.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

But tonight it’s enough to just hold each other, to feel the solid, warm reminder that they’re alive.

It’s enough, for now, to just be together.

[crimsonrae]

Drowned Desires

Summary: Pirates plunder wasn’t always jewels and gold. Sometimes their bounty was flesh. Captain Cavill had found his treasure in the shape of a feral woman.

Pirate!HenryxOFC

Warning: Kidnapping, coercion, trapped, spanking, ultimatums, dry humping, masturbation. Dark Themes below. read at your own risk.

A/N: I have written and rewritten sections of this several times, but it took nearly deleting it all by accident to get me to post. I hope you all enjoyed. 

Drowned Desires

Wooden planks whined and groaned as waves licked and lapped at the ship's underbelly. It was a familiar tune, as much as the heavy thumps of feet upon the deck, the clash of swords, and the cries of men – so familiar that the Captain heard none of it as he perused the papers and trinkets hidden away in the desk of his now fallen counterpart.  

His men never understood his predilection for ship diaries and official correspondence, not when there were shinier prizes at hand. Yet, he understood what they did not...information would always fetch a far higher price than any piece of jewelry – not that he didn’t take his share of that too.    

A faint smirk spread lazily across his lips as he drew his finger across beautifully inked letters that denoted the mark of nobility. His mind already hungered for the letter's contents – for what could nobility want in the Caribbean wild?  

“Captain!” Sapphire-iced eyes flicked to the cabin door with disinterest before returning to his venture, “Captain!”  

With a roaring slam, the door flew open to reveal his first mate, but he was not alone. A wild maelstrom of silk impressively blocked the large man from view as guttural grunts and screams filled the cabin.  

Henry raised an innocuous brow as he watched the virulent struggle, silently amused by the brief glimpses of frustration on Brooks’s face as he maintained his hold on what Henry could only assume was a feral girl.  

“Be quiet!” Brooks barked, finally having enough as he shoved the girl to the ground. His bulky frame took up the entirety of the cabin’s exit as he glared almost mutinously at his captain.  

Henry licked his lip and smirked before peering curiously over the edge of the wide desk to the sprawled form below. A mass of hair flipped back to reveal a startlingly beautiful and mature face. Unbidden, lust stirred within his veins.  

Not a girl, then. A woman.  

A very angry woman, Henry mused as he sat back and stared at his first mate, “Is there a reason why she’s not locked in the stores with the others?”  

“She ripped Thatcher’s ear clear off, Captain. He’s demanding recompense.” Brooks intoned wearily as he kept a watchful eye on the now oddly quiet woman.

Henry’s brow arched higher, if possible, as again he leaned over the desk to take in the fallen woman. She was paying him no mind, having come to her knees. Her eyes shifted about the room as if looking for an exit or a weapon. It was then that Henry was able to note the faint glimpse of red staining her skin – not on her hands, but her neck and mouth. It wasn’t hard to deduce what Thatcher had attempted that had cost him his ear.  

“I take it young Mr. Thatcher, is currently being attended to which is why he’s not here to plead his case.” Henry murmured, as he took in the long line of her throat and the gentle swells that teased the hem of her bodice. Blood had stained her flesh here too, but he found his cock twitching despite her dishevelment. He could see why Thatcher had chosen her.  

“Aye, Captain.”  

“And what say you, woman?” Henry queried lightly, smirking as her gaze finally alighted on him. Wariness, fury, and a touch of fear – but not as much as he expected, “Should I let Thatcher have his pound of flesh?”  

She said nothing, her fine eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. It made him want to grin. How had Thatcher missed the fire she emanated? But then, the deckhand was not the brightest of his crew.  

Henry tilted his head, “Oh, don’t play mute now. Not after the ruckus of your entry.”  

He barely had the words out when something wet hit his cheek. If it were possible the entire cabin stilled, even the creaking of the ship had quieted. The captain’s amusement with the situation had disappeared as he stoically wiped the spittle from his person.  

“I suppose I should be grateful to still have my ear.” He muttered with deceptive gentleness as he leveled a cold stare onto the woman. She stiffened in preparation of an attack, but none came as his attention turned back to his first mate, “Leave us.”  

There was a moment of hesitation before the cabin door swung shut with as decorous a roar as it had been opened. To the woman still kneeled on the floor, it was almost like hearing a nail pounded into her coffin. There was little point in trying to leave. She would merely end up on the deck with the savage crew that had taken the ship hostage. If she were lucky then she might make it to the water, but that was only a slower death.  

“What’s your name?” His words were measured and deliberate, “And do not spit at me again lest you wish to feel the back of my hand.”  

“...Mary.” She muttered after a moment.  

Henry snorted, her pause had given her away, “Too pious a name for you. Try again.”  

She huffed indignantly, but acquiesced, “Elowyn. Elowyn O’Dara.”

There was a faint lilt to her voice that agreed with her name, though even this moniker seemed too tame for her spirit, “Ms. O’Dara, why aren’t you locked in the stores with the other passengers?”  

If eyes were daggers, he’d be dead as her glare became pointed, “Your man already told you.”  

“Surely, you don’t simply have a predilection for tearing off ears – or shall I say a taste.” He prodded, wanting his suspicions confirmed, “What exactly provoked you?”  

“He looked at me funny.” Elowyn hissed bitingly.  

Henry pursed his lips, a reproach on the tip of his tongue when better sense prevailed him. Despite the grand silks she wore, her gown was ill-fitted. The sleeve came within a breath of falling off her shoulder and her speech while refined was far blunter than any gentlewoman. He had a new suspicion about his little spitfire.  

“Is that all it takes?” Henry taunted as he towered over her. Well aware that her dangerous mouth was aligned to an appendage far more valuable than an ear. In fact, it was the image of her mouth and that appendage which enticed him to draw closer still, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and avoid undue embarrassment. He swore that he could feel her breath even through the thick leather of his trousers.  

Elowyn growled, though the flush of her cheeks belied any indifference, “Why should it take more?”  

“I think it would take more.” He stated quietly. His finger curled under her chin and urged her to stand. He wanted the full measure of her. Not the defiant victim she had curled herself into.  

The fabric of her gown swished and whispered as it draped around her body like a protective cloak. Her eyes sparkled wildly at him, warily – like twin pillar flames of a candelabra. He had no doubt that she would attack him as fervently as she had his man if he were to push his luck. He was tempted to try anyway...but a greater desire lurked in his heart.  

She would bend to him first.  

He let his finger trail down the line of her throat as he kept his gaze locked with hers, taking in every twitch and tremble that she tried so valiantly to hide. His touch smoothed across her shoulder, warm and chafing against her delicate flesh until, at last, he reached that clinging hem.  

Almost thoughtfully, he traced that strained neckline, “Tell me, did your mistress press you into her dress to hide, or have you been trying to pass yourself off as a gentle lady for your voyage? Graces and airs do open many doors.”  

Elowyn stilled as his words took home, “I’ve no idea of what you speak.”  

“I’m sure you don’t.” Henry hummed knowingly, “A good liar you are not, Ms. O’Dara. Which makes me inclined to think you were pressed into this gown. However, like recognizes like and I think I’ve merely unsettled you.”  

“The devil would be unsettled by you.” She murmured; heat resonated through her bosom as his fingers hovered over her swells, but he didn’t touch... just teased.  

He grinned roguishly, amused by her scorn, “Either way... it does beg the question, how are you going to keep yourself from ruin? Even if you leave my presence – and that of my crew’s untouched – you’re still caught in something of a predicament, lass.”  

Confusion furrowed her brow at his words and only deepened as he stepped away from her to lean against the ornate desk behind him. Smug and insufferable it galled her to ask after his meaning, “The only predicament I’ll have is giving the navy a name for the swine that dared board this ship.”  

Henry barked a sharp laugh before giving a mocking bow, “Why Captain Henry Cavill at your service, milady? But do you honestly think that if I were to return you to the stores below that assumptions wouldn’t be made?”  

Elowyn’s lips pursed, a silent refusal to entertain his inquiry. It only delighted him.

“You’ve been gone too long, lass. They know why Ole Thatch took you. Probably already assume that you’re dead. And let’s say you were pressed into this gown by your mistress... Loyal though you were, what use does she have for a spoiled maid? Best to send you on your way. And if you are a gentlewoman, word of your ruin will reach all and sundry before the ship is even done being berthed. No hoity-toity wealthy gentleman will look at you twice. All your prospects gone.”

Her cheeks were scarlet with humiliation, and she gritted her teeth as she scolded him, “Does this please you? These cruel games? I demand to be taken back to the stores.”  

His eyes twinkled mirthfully, “Oh that’s it, Luv. Not bad for a gentlewoman, but you should tremble a little more to sell it.”

She barely bit back a snarl, even as her body moved without permission. To the surprise of both Henry and Elowyn, her slim hand snatched the pistol tucked into his belt and had it pressed under his chin before either could blink.  

“Get. Off. This. Ship.” She sniped, hand minutely trembling as she stared straight into his now unimpressed eyes.  

Outside the sounds of battle and the thumping of steps had dwindled to a steady few. His crew had overwhelmed the other and were taking what ever they could find back to the Kalliope. His time aboard was limited anyway... but still, it wouldn’t do to have this slip of a girl think she gained the upper hand. No longer was he willing to see her submit, but he would see her pride broken.  

It was time he acted like a pirate.  

“I intend to.” He murmured.  

It wasn’t what she had expected him to say, and her moment of bafflement worked to his advantage as he ducked down and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed in much the same way she had in entering the room.  

He heard the soft click of his gun and grinned when she comprehended that there was no bullet to be shot. He had used his powder on boarding, his pistol now a pretty decoration for his ruthless image. Her screams became even more enraged.  

He chuckled and ignored her pounding fists to his back as he stepped out to the deck, “Brooks!”  

His steadfast first mate appeared with nary a word and a raised brow. Yet, Henry knew he wouldn’t ask the question dancing on his tongue, “Ms. O’Dara will be joining us. See to it that the rudder of this ship is disengaged and gather the men back aboard Kal. I want to be sailing with the wind within the hour.”  

“Aye, Captain.”  

No further words were spoken nor needed between the two though that hardly stopped the squalling of the harridan thrashing his back. Grunting in frustration, he crossed the boarding ramp in two steps as his palm placed a resound slap onto Elowyn’s wriggling rump. A silent warning to be still which she did not heed.

“Put me down!”  

It must have been the hundredth time she had shrieked this, but as Henry crossed the threshold of his cabin he decided to finally obey, “Very well.”  

Grim amusement touched his lips as he tossed her onto his bed, her skirts flew wild, and he caught a tempting glimpse of the thin cotton of her bloomers. Those would not last long, like the whores of Nassau she would learn to stay bare beneath those skirts.  

Ever defiant, Elowyn flew up from her supine position and slid from the bed before he could blink. Her speed was impressive, but she was not fast enough to beat the closing of the door as the lock clicked into place. Smirking, Henry seized the bottle of whiskey from the corner of his desk as he fell languidly into his chair to watch the despairing storm that descended upon his captive.  

Elowyn yanked heartily on the handle, a torrent of panic and anger spurning her heart. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she was furious to find a sob pulling at her throat as the sands counting down her freedom quickly dwindled. She could not be trapped here. It simply was not to be born.  

All the while, Elowyn could feel his gaze burn into her back. Not for the first time her stomach clenched under the weight of his attention. She detested the stirrings of lust his visage had enticed; his quiet perusal of her body had done much to set a simmering awareness along her skin that could only be calmed by the touch of another.  

She slammed her palm against the hardwood of the door as her head became bowed with defeat.  

“I am no one’s whore.” Her voice hoarse from her screams broke the expectant silence.  

For a moment, the captain wondered if she could read minds. However, the longer he was in her presence the more he thought she was an innocent maid... if only her protest had not been so despondent. Tired. Bitter. As if this was a situation not uncommon.

“Aren’t you?” The words were spoken with seemingly little thought as Henry took a light swig from his bottle. A pleasantly harsh warmth burned over his tongue and down his throat as the dark liquid sought out his blood.  

A low snarl emanated from her, and Henry watched curiously as she whirled to face him. His breath was stolen by the fury in her watery gaze. Her lips had curled back into a sneer, and she stood defiant. Wrathful, proud, and stunning. She was Circe reborn.  

The entertained glint that shined in the face of her rage, merely cemented her ire as she strode across the room with the full command of a Goddess. She let the dress fall from her shoulders to twist and drown around her torso before falling lost to the floor. She trod on it and over it with little care.  

Henry devoured the view of her corset and bloomers. Her curves were more pronounced with the clinging material of her undergarments and yet not enough. He’d rather see her bare.  

Elowyn pointedly ignored the hunger of his countenance and snatched the whiskey from his hand. Her throat bobbed deliciously as she downed one mouthful and then two before throwing the bottle at the very door she longed to escape through.  

A sharp thunk and the glittering clatter of shattered glass echoed through the cabin. Henry arched a brow in mild disappointment, “That was a very expensive bottle.”  

“That I’m sure you stole.” Elowyn countered as she moved to straddle his lap. Her gaze was taunting as her fingers laced into the collar of his shirt, “Is this what you wanted, Captain?  

He hummed, amused by her show of bravado, and respected her attempt at taking control, but he could see the quivering girl just below the surface. He delved his hands beneath the hem of her corset, gliding calloused fingers around the satin flesh of her waist. Goosebumps raised like waves in a storm at his touch.  

A sharp gasp left Elowyn’s throat as one hand slid down beneath her bloomers to grasp the firm muscle of her bottom and squeeze. It was like lightning had been released across her hide. Visceral mordant liquid pooled in her loins, and she tried not to squirm. She didn’t want him to see how affected she truly was, even as evidence blossomed across the flimsy material guarding her.  

Yet, as she held his dark stare, she swore that the staccato beating of her heart had given her away. A cool thrill shivered across her skin, only to be chased by a flaming warmth that she could not control. Beneath the rough cotton of her corset, her nipples puckered and pebbled, and she felt a shameful heat spread over her breasts to her collar and up her neck.  

He hadn’t even kissed her.  

He leant forward, teasingly drawing his lips along the shell of her ear. Henry grinned at the small shivering whimper that spilled from her lips at such an act. He had to wonder if she was worried that he would do to her what she had done to Thatch. Tauntingly, his tongue shot out and suckled her delicate lobe into his mouth as her knuckles whitened to match his collar.  

She mewled prettily and arched into his hold, unable to voice the word stop. He wouldn’t have, even if she begged.  

He lathed attention to her sensitive appendage for another few seconds before gently nipping the tender flesh, “I think this what you wanted, lass.”  

She swallowed tightly and tried to bring forth the dispassionate woman that had brought her to his lap, “No.”  

“No?” Henry almost sang, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. He nuzzled the plush swell of her cheek, breathing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as his fingers made quick work of the laces of her corset. A faint copper taste dazzled his tongue – had she enjoyed the taste of Thatcher’s blood?  

Her breath hitched as she felt the boned fabric slide from her bosom. It took every ounce of strength not to fold her arms in and hide. She had tried to out bluff the monster but had goaded him into action instead. Brute violence would not remove her from this situation. She knew this instinctively, and as his bristled cheek chafed against the silk of her neck and chest, Elowyn became uncertain if she wanted to be removed.  

Gossamer licks of pleasure pulsated from his rough skimming, and his hot breath ignited a current of desire that made her stomach clench with need. She felt suddenly empty and as his supple lips latched onto her pointed teet, she keened. Unthinkingly, she rocked into his pelvis in a feeble attempt to fill the throbbing void between her legs. Her cunt dripped and twitched needily as he suckled.  

Elowyn sputtered and gasped at his forceful pulls, pressing down harder into his lap and ultimately onto his erection. She wasn’t sure when, but her fingers had delved around the bandanna holding back his wild mane as she tried not to fall into his ardent mouth, but she was helpless against his assault. He would devour her.  

“Please.” She breathed.  

Henry smiled and lightly bit down on her tortured tit, admiring the dark hue her sensitive flesh had garnered from his attentions, before moving his attention to her other breast, “Please, what?”  

She arched as he began his attack anew. Her hips coming alive as she undulated frenetically against him. A pressure had started to build, a delicious force stood just out of reach and she just... just needed.  

Henry’s strong hands dug into her hips stilling her movements. He knew that she was on the cusp of climax. He could smell the heady scent of her arousal, but such satisfaction would not be had until she took his cock.  

Elowyn wailed in frustration, “Please!!”  

“Please, what?” He iterated again. His fingers latched onto the seam of her bloomers. One fierce tug would be all he needed to tear her undergarment in two.  

Her pride screamed at her to remain silent, but the wanton in her demanded she cave. Elowyn bit her lip as she tried to stave off another plea. Instead, she sought out the lace of his breeches and swiftly freed him of his leather confines.

Henry allowed her this and watched with a jovial grimace as she took in his hidden pistol. Her eyes widen at his size, her thighs clenching over his at the thought of taking him. He would not fit, but he would certainly fill her. She dragged a curious nail over his weeping head, jolting as his manhood twitched and bobbed under her innocent exploration.  

He hissed, “Either suck me off, lass, or finish your request. If I must choose what comes next, you will find little pleasure in my actions.”  

Her gaze flew up to his, noting the seriousness she found staring back at her. She swallowed tightly, “T-take me.”  

A cruel grin twitched at his lips, “Take you where?”  

She bristled at his mocking, “Copulate with me, like the pig you are.”  

SMACK!  

She gasped at the pain that flared through her hind-side and barely refrained from moaning as the reverberation echoed with her desire.  

Henry tutted, “Name-calling when you’re begging? Not very gracious. Especially as you were the one to come to me, Luv.”  

“Bastard!” She spat and choked on another moan as he assaulted her rear once more.  

He grinned, “Enjoy that do you?”  

She cursed him again and he laughed, “Should I take the cat and nine tails to you? What a saucy minx you’re turning out to be.”  

“I loathe you.” Elowyn murmured through gritted teeth, “What do you want from me?”  

He smiled bitingly at her, “Ask nicely and remember my title.”  

She growled and tore from his hold as her pride won out for the moment. He watched her with the gaze of a predator as she discarded the last of her garments. She flung herself onto his bed and splayed her legs wide. She would not capitulate to him.  

At least not verbally.    

Henry’s mouth watered greedily as her nimble little fingers delved and played with her soaked mound. She was playing a very dangerous game. She stroked her sweet little nub with feverish intensity, allowing her moans to fill the cabin like a sonorous symphony. She put on a lovely lurid show and he couldn’t pull his gaze away as she ran a finger along the edge of her cunt, teasing him with a view of her seeping hole. It took little time for her to find that pleasure peak again and even less for him to lose his patience.

In less than three steps he was between her legs, knocking her hands away from her lush garden.  

In two breaths, he was poised at her entrance.  

In one kiss, he speared her with the intensity of a hunter claiming his prey.  

He swallowed her raucous cry and reveled in the silent tear the swam down her cheek as he brutal entrance. Unbridled heat scored up his manhood as her wet cavern suckled him reluctantly to her womb. He had warned her what would happen if he were to choose.  

Groaning, he could not still for long and raised his knee for leverage as he began a brutal pace toward release. Despite his harsh embrace, it was not long before her hips met his, seeking salvation from his unrelenting torrent.  

Her muscles strained from being split, but the sharp ache was diminished by the relief of being so completely stuffed. Her pride wailed in horror at being proven the whore, but Elowyn cared little. Pleasure scalded and overwhelmed her like a bubbling hot spring. 

Henry was everywhere.  

Grasping, biting, prodding, and shoving. 

He pulled sounds from her throat she had never heard before... but she was no better. Willing, she spread her thighs wider for him, welcoming his passionate tempest as he soundly cast her to the waves of ecstasy.  

She cried out fervently as she drowned, and her body clung to him as if it were a buoy. Her walls became a vice, now trapping him to her as she fell victim to her carnal desires, “Captain!”  

Henry watched her erupt through half-hooded eyes, captivated by the euphoria that descended upon her. He groaned as her walls clenched even tighter around him, demanding his seed.  

He thrust once.  

Twice.  

Thrice more before he gave in to her delicious demand and came with a roar, filling her to brim as he enjoyed the way his cock spasmed in time with her tremors. Lazily, he pressed a kiss to her temple as she quivered against him.  

Elowyn peered up at him with wide eyes, shame seeping into her mien as the weight of her actions crashed down onto her. She tried to cover herself, but Henry refused to let her move. He trapped her wrists above her head as he trapped her stare with his, “You have a choice now, lass. Be a good girl and warm this bed or walk out of this cabin and warm my crew’s. Either way, you’ll be a whore, but whose... well that remains up to you.”  

Tears welled as he pulled out of her with a wet plop. Only then could she see the image she painted. Ruined and laid bare before the man who had stolen her as he fixed his trousers and shirt. She hated how little she had resisted him, how much she still wanted him. She had no recourse. He had extracted his pound of flesh as she drowned in her desires. 

She would be his whore.  

It was then she knew that Captain Henry Cavill wasn’t merely a pirate, he was the devil too.

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

Hi! How are you!? Hope you're good 😁 Could I request a BuckyxFem!Reader oneshot? ❤️

A mission goes wrong. The reader and Bucky are trapped in a cell surrounded by several HYDRA agents. One of them says the keywords to activate the Winter Soldier just at the moment when Steve and Tony appear to help them, they fight against Bucky trying to make him the same again until a scream takes him out of that personality: the reader is wounded, wanting to protect him from another HYDRA agent getting in the way of the bullet. Bucky becomes him again and takes the reader in his arms to return to the quinjet.

Maybe lots of angst and fluffy ending with them confessing eachothers love at the hq?

Thank you so much!!!!!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

A/N: Hi guys! Wow it’s great to be back and free from college stress. I received this request two months ago, and again I am so sorry it took this long for me to make it, but writing academic papers had absolutely kicked my ass this past semester. This ask obviously takes place where Bucky has not been to Wakanda yet to get his trigger words removed. I hope you guys enjoy! I am a little rusty, and not sure if I should write from the first person perspective or third person perspective for Y/N fanfictions so let me know what you guys prefer. Happy Summer!

Pairings: Bucky x female!Reader

Warnings: Talks of blood, gun violence. Other than that I don’t think there is anything else.

Word Count: 2.5k

You’re My Endgame

The floor was cold. It’s not like you haven’t endured worse, but the concrete you had been resting your head on was less than inviting. Your body was rigid due to the freezing temperatures and the uncomfortable position you curled your body into. The HYDRA facility you had been captured at was in Lithuania, Bucky promised he knew it like the back of his hand. Things had changed since his work and internal torment as the Winter Soldier, something he wasn’t expecting due to lack of funds on their part. Unfortunately, no one could’ve predicted there were spies in SHIELD funneling crazy amounts of money into new buildings and updating new HYDRA facilities and weapons.

You decided to sit up and stretch your limbs. It had felt like weeks you were being held hostage, but in actuality it was only a day at most. The HYDRA agents kept you and Bucky busy with periodic torture. You’ve been kicked, punched, beaten into the ground even but neither of you talked. Bucky was more familiar with these torture treatments than anyone, but he focused all of his attention on you.

He was the first real friend you had made at the Avengers’ campus. He had trauma, you had trauma, one of the best bonding factors you had both concluded. He listened to stories of your abusive childhood, being trained by your father as his own personal assassin, and he would share whatever he was comfortable telling you. You never poked and prodded. You knew you were more open than most when it came to over sharing experiences. Talking helped some people, others not so much.

You stood up and shook out your arms and legs. Once you stopped, you assessed the bruises on each body part, counting how many had accumulated over the canvas that was your skin. 48 in total. A new record.

You looked over at Bucky to see he was lying in a similar position to you, close enough that you were in arms reach but not too close that you were uncomfortable with his touch. You were both exhausted from the continuous torture, touching was not in anyone’s best interest at this point in time.

He groaned softly, beginning to stretch his limbs out as well. Trying to turn a horrible situation into a lighter occasion (as if that were possible), you cracked a joke in Bucky’s direction.

“Good morning sunshine, I see you decided to join me for our delicious gourmet breakfast” you gestured to nothing behind you on the concrete floor.

Bucky cracked a smile “Good thing I didn’t miss it, I’m starving” he joked back. You understood each other’s humor and personality so well.

“How’re you feeling Buck? I know they did a number on you after me” you looked down at him somberly.

He shook his head “Don’t worry about me. Show me your arms and legs. I wanna see how much they hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buck I’m fine. I can hold my own just the same as you. We are trained for these situations.”

Bucky rolled his eyes back at you. “Did I ask if you were trained? No. In fact I didn’t ask you anything at all. Show me your goddamn body Y/N”

You didn’t want to stress him out anymore, so you just knelt down in front of him and started showing him your arms. He hovered over them, careful not to touch your delicate flesh. His phase was full of confusion, anger, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He shook his head, not even wanting to see your legs if this is what your arms looked like. He didn’t want to upset himself even more, which would in turn make you upset.

“Lay back down Y/N. You need to rest, even if it is on concrete. We can’t have your pretty self looking like that when we get back to the compound now can we?” Bucky replied, trying to lighten the mood once again. It was worth a shot.

Bucky always told you you were pretty, never really thinking anything of it. Steve or Natasha was his endgame, and you respected that. You were best friends and best friends always complimented each other like that. You definitely didn’t need to make your relationship more complicated, even if you were desperately in love with him. You would keep those feelings locked down in the deepest crevices of your brain, unwilling to share with anyone.

You smiled towards Bucky, getting ready to sit back down when you heard the door to the basement unlock. You both winced at the sound, turning to look at each other with dread in your eyes. 

Please dear god no more. We can’t take anymore. 

You wanted to keep Bucky safe from HYDRA’s wrath, and he wanted to do the same for you. Given the circumstances however, it was near impossible. Bucky felt helpless that he couldn’t properly protect you against their torture, only adding to his mental torment. He was in pure agony, and hearing that door again made him want to scream out to a higher power he didn’t believe in. 

“Rise and shine dirtbags, we have a new surprise for you today” the first HYDRA agent said with a small smirk on his face. 

You had no idea what they had in store for you today, always expecting the worst. You definitely were not prepared for what they were planning to do to you today.

“You, girl, have you ever met those they call the Winter Soldier?” the second HYDRA agent asked.

You had no idea what he was talking about, honestly thinking he was talking about Bucky. You knew he had been called the Winter Soldier in the past, but Bucky never shared much of his trauma. You didn’t know to the full extent what he was capable of, he never wanted you to know what he was capable of. In response, you nodded with a confused look on your face.

Bucky, however, knew exactly what he was talking about. His heart felt like it had dropped to his stomach, unable to prepare for what was about to happen. He started shaking his head furiously, begging softly. “Please, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything, just please don’t do this. Not with her.” You could see the pain in his eyes.

A third HYDRA agent strutted into the room, just as smug as the other two. He was holding a red book with a black star on it. You thought it was just a log of what torture they had performed on you, but it was much more sinister based off of Bucky backing up into the far corner of the room with absolute dread in his eyes. That’s when the third HYDRA agent started to speak.

“Longing, rusted, seventeen.” Your confusion only grew as the HYDRA agent spoke these words, but your confusion slowly faded as concern took over. You looked over to Bucky who was squinting his eyes as he hugged his rigid body. He was whispering “No, no god please no, please stop.”

You walked over to him gently, crouching. “Bucky? Bucky what’s wrong..”

The second HYDRA agent took the book from the third, continuing reciting the words “Daybreak, furnace, nine.” Everyone’s smile grew wider except yours and Bucky’s. He was starting to shake from fear and anger, knowing what was about to happen. Bucky screamed at you, something he had never done before in his life. “Y/N, get away from me. Just stay away!” 

You were a strong woman, never faltering during a mission, especially in times of crisis, but you felt like curling up into a ball and crying. You were worried, disoriented, and even worse, you couldn't do a damn thing about it. The words kept flowing from the HYDRA agents’ mouths. 

“Benign, homecoming, one” the HYDRA agents spouted in unison. Bucky was screaming in pain. You couldn't bear to look at him, tears streaming down your face as you heard his agony. This was far worse than any torture inflicted on you yet. 

Then, the final word was spoken. 

“Freight Car”

Bucky’s eyes shot wide open. His rigid body remained the same, only beginning to stand instead of hugging himself in the fetal position. That’s when he spoke.

“готов подчиниться”

You understood the meaning, but didn't understand what your best friend had become. That’s when an explosion behind the three HYDRA agents erupted, causing everyone to become disoriented. 

Debris had been blown everywhere, dust clouding your vision and settling all around you. You didn’t see Bucky, you didn’t see the HYDRA agents. All you could see was a glow. It came from beyond where the explosion came from. You began squinting, trying to identify what was heading in your direction. That’s when you began to see flashes of the one and only “Hot Rod” red, along with the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Although you wanted to smile at your rescue, your thoughts were all encompassed by Bucky. You hadn't known what happened to him, only knowing he was in extreme pain, now missing. You yelled out to Tony and Steve. 

“Over here!! I’m over here. Do you guys see Bucky??”

That’s when you heard a shift in the rubble, only a few short feet from where you were lying. A metal arm had popped out of the ground, reminiscent of the scene in the Evil Dead. 

Thank God. At least I know where he is. 

You worked slowly over to where he had appeared out of the ground. You began removing the stones off of his body with vigor. You could finally see his face and somewhat of his body, calling out his name. 

“Bucky? Bucky tell me if you’re hurt. Bucky please talk to me. You’re scaring me”

His expression remained blank, awaiting orders from whoever was willing to give them first. 

That’s when you heard the faint commands of a fallen HYDRA agent, determined to finish his job. 

“Attack”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate. He grabbed your throat with force, causing you to claw at his metal arm with what little energy you had left. Gasping and kicking your feet as he held you in the air, you tried calling out to him. This was your best friend, surely he had to recognize you. That’s when Steve threw his shield directly at Bucky’s legs, causing him to loosen his grip on your neck.

You fell to the ground coughing, your body begging for air as you inhaled so sharply you thought your chest would explode. Your coughing didn’t stop for a few seconds, only being brought back from reality when you heard the clash of vibranium on vibranium. You looked up to see Steve and Bucky fighting, Steve screaming “Buck! Buck it’s us!”

Bucky replied with angry grunts, not understanding anything but his commands. While Steve and Bucky fought, Tony was busy securing the area, taking out other HYDRA agents who had flooded the scene. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew Bucky was your top priority. You called out to him several times, hoping he would realize it was you. Your cries fell on deaf ears, however, as he continued to fight Steve with all of his might. 

You quickly glanced at everything going on, that’s when you noticed a HYDRA agent Tony had missed while fending them off. He was holding a loaded pistol, directly in Steve and Bucky’s direction. Before you could truly process what was going on, you heard the gunshot go off. At this point you weren’t too far away from them, sprinting in their direction to protect them from the bullet. You launched yourself in their direction, screaming in pain as your body was pushed to it’s limits already in pain. As you fell to the ground, you barely noticed the bullet had entered your right shoulder. Figuring the pain was from landing on sharp stones, you groaned loudly. 

As soon as you screamed, Bucky was ripped from his Winter Soldier persona and back into reality. However, Steve didn't see his realization, landing a punch straight to Bucky’s jaw, sending him staggering back. Both Steve and Bucky turned their attention to you, lying on the ground and bleeding everywhere. Bucky, who couldn’t care less about the fact that he just got punched in the face, moved over to your body with haste.

He looked down at you softly, covered in dirt and blood. His heart wretched in his chest, knowing all of this could’ve been avoided if he just double checked the layouts of the base before invading the building for their mission. “Y/N? Y/N sweetheart talk to me please” he said as he picked your head up gently to lay in his lap. You coughed up a little spittle of blood as you turned to look at him with tenderness in your eyes.

“Bucky? Is, is it you?”

He smiled down at you, with tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Yes sweetheart, it’s me. Just hang in there for me okay? We’re gonna get you to the quinjet. It’s gonna be okay.” You could hear the cracks in his voice as he spoke to you, but couldn't focus on it for too long. Both your vision and your hearing were starting to waver, going in and out as the chaos ensued around you. 

The last words you remembered hearing before everything went back was Bucky’s voice. 

“Don’t leave me now sweet girl, I need you. Please don’t go, you’re it for me.”

He continued talking, but lost consciousness as he spoke. Everything was dark.

_______________________________________________________________________

You woke up, looking at an absolutely blinding light. You squinted as you opened your eyes, not fully able to open them completely thanks to the mini sun above your head. 

You began to move your limbs, realizing that someone was holding your left hand. You looked over to see Bucky, sitting with you in the quinjet infirmary, his head hung low and gentle sobs escaping his mouth. 

You spoke up softly, unable to speak at a normal tone. 

“Bucky?” 

Bucky picked up his head, eyes puffy and red from the crying, not expecting you to be awake so soon after how much blood you had lost. 

“Y/N? Oh god, oh sweetheart” he stood up and kissed your forehead, not wanting to move your body by embracing you with a hug.

You smiled up at him as he hovered above your face, taking in your beauty.

He spoke with a quiver in his voice. 

“I, I thought I’d lost you. All because I was a fucking idiot who couldn't do my job before the mission, Y/N I am so sorry, I don’t, I never wanted you to see me that way. I’m so stupid, I’m-” you stopped Bucky from continuing his pity party by raising your left hand to his lips, shushing him with one finger. 

You gently removed your hand and lifted your head slightly to meet his lips with yours. You both closed your eyes as your lips met, savoring how delicious you both tasted, even post mission. You deepened the kiss slightly, angling your head so you both had more access to each other’s mouths. You held the kiss for what seemed like forever, finally decided to pull away softly. 

Staring into his beautiful ocean blue eyes, smiling up at him while holding the back of his head, you spoke softly “You are Bucky Barnes, and you’re my endgame.”

[babyyweebbitch]

Please stay with me — Remake

Soo I reread the one I did before and I wanted to remake it because it wasn’t as good (heres the first one) I hope I can make this one better 😭😭 Also, grab tissues. I made this TOO sad

TW // death ; blood ; funeral ; severe depression & relapse

summary: Chris Redfield and his wife were on a mission a seven months after Piers’ death. His wife has been Captain of their team ever since that day.

Seven months ago Piers Nivans died in order to save Chris’ life and for the BSAA. Chris was still fucked up after that day and he thinks about it almost every day. He took a break from the BSAA since his wife made him. It wasn’t a very long one though, he missed being at work, he missed his coworkers and he missed her

Chris resigned as Captain and let his wife replace him. It was a very emotional day not not only for her and Chris but for the entire BSAA because they’ve never had a woman as Captain before. She was a good captain probably even better than Chris. Despite her height, weight and basically being the youngest on that team at 28. She was undoubtedly the best captain in years

Her team along with Chris were on a mission. Their mission was to take out the enemy, find three hostages and disable the bombs set in the building “Okay men… we’re gonna be splitting into three teams since there’s a lot of us here. Team A; Corey, John and Andrew. Your job is to find out where the bombs are and disable them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes ma’am!” The three went off to do their job as told

“Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark, you’re in charge of finding and getting the hostages to safety out of this building. You three can split up, stay together I don’t care. As long as your job is done”

“Ma’am” the three left

She turned to Eric and Chris who were standing together “what a coincidence, you two are with me.” She said with a slight smile on her face, walking ahead of the two Eric leaned over to Chris “She’s so cool…” Chris thought of Finn the moment he said that, he couldn’t help but to smile and look at him “I know…”

“Stop standing around we have a mission you know!” She yelled out to the two of them. Chris and Eric quickly made their way to the door the enemies were behind, Chris was silent the entire time before he was quickly checked back into reality with a pat on the shoulder “you okay? We need you fully here for this” his wife said as he looked down at her and nodded “yeah I’m okay…”

Chris, his wife and Eric all prepared as the door was blown open and guns were firing. The three did take cover just in time. After about five minutes of gun fire and fighting it finally stopped, thinking they had all the enemies taken care of they all stood up “good job! We did it — Chris!” Y/N called out as she did catch a glimpse of an enemy that didn’t die somehow standing up and pointing their gun towards Chris.

She quickly ran towards Chris and pushed him out the way, for Chris it’s almost like everything was happening in slow motion. He had to process everything leading up to that moment. He heard a scream of pain when his head finally cleared, looking up to see his wife shot in the sternum and Eric shooting the enemy down

She started to fall and Chris caught her before she hit the floor, his eyes started filling up with tears as he looked at her “baby please… tell me this is a joke!”

She knew she was dying, her body felt so cold from the inside out she, she coughed before reaching into one of her many pokes on her pants “c…Chris… do me a favour okay? Please…. stay safe” she handed him her wedding ring, she never wore it during missions to avoid it getting broken, rusted or something. So she held it in her pocket where it was safe “I… feel so… cold”

Chris looked at the ring then at her “no don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! You’re gonna be fine! Please stay with me!” He started crying, Eric stood by as Team B; Phil, Jean and Mark came in. They surprisingly finished the bomb quicker than expected “Captain w—“ Mark was starting to talk but he quickly stopped when he realised what was happening

“Guys… take care of him for me…” she struggled to talk. She looked up at Chris to see him crying, she lifted her Hand up to his cheek to wipe his tears one last time “no no… don’t cry hon… I’ll tell my parents you said hi… I love you..” Chris held onto her hand and his heart practically stopped the moment he felt her hand and body go heavy and her head fall back … she was dead now

“No…. Please come back! Please don’t go! Y/N!!!” He held her body close and just sobbed, Eric and team B were tearing up and trying to wipe their tears

It took a while to get Chris to let go of her body and let them put her on a stretcher and on the truck so they can go back. When they finally did everyone on the team was there. It took three guys to pry him off of her This was the first time they’ve ever seen him cry like this

—————————

It’s been almost a month since she’s died, Chris looked horrible. He hasn’t shaved, left the house, he started drinking again and Claire had to clean him up at night since he wasn’t sober enough to even do it himself. The house looked like shit especially the room Chris and his wife shared

It was the day of the funeral and Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the picture of him and her on their wedding day back in 2007. He somehow managed to even get up that day and not drink. He showered that morning, got dressed in a suit and did his hair. He still didn’t shave though

Claire came in “Chris? You ready?” She asked. She had on a black dress on “I guess so…” Chris responded. He stood up and placed the picture down on the night stand and grabbed the necklace he had with his wife’s ring on it.

Claire fixed his tie and jacket before they left. Chris was always taking care of her when she was younger so now it was time for her to take care of her older brother “good. Let’s go” Claire let him walk in front of her to the car. She drove because one he couldn’t think straight enough to drive and he was completely hung over from drinking too much

After about a 45 minute drive they arrived to where her funeral was being held at. Everyone they knew was there, Leon, their BSAA team, Her family. It was hard for him to see her brother and sister at their older sisters funeral

The ceremony, the viewing and speeches all happened and Chris barely even got through his speech without crying

(Im so so so sorry for this next part)

Chris’ speech: “Y/N was an amazing person, she always took care of everyone, me, her siblings, our team, Claire… everyone. She put everyone before herself no matter who they were. She joined the BSAA not because of herself because of her parents death in Raccoon City. She promised them she would do something in any way to stop what happened in Raccoon from ever happening again. She treated our team like her family and even the rookies as her kids even if they were a few years younger then her. She was an even amazing person and wife. And I miss her dearly.”

There wasn’t a single dry eye in that room when Chris said his speech. After everything, everyone went inside to eat and talk.

Chris sat with Claire and Y/N’s siblings. He just picked at his food and stared at the plate. He was terrifyingly silent before Leon came over “hey Chris… how are you holding up?” Leon asked as he stared at Chris. He could tell how hard this has affected Chris. “I’m fine…”

“Chris… You need to eat. All you’ve done in the past month was drink, workout and cry… You need to at least eat something” Claire said “she wouldn’t want this… Her or Piers wouldn’t want you to be like this. Y/N would be yelling at you if she saw you picking at your food like this. We both know she would”

Chris’ eyes started to water once again before he spoke “I…. I know.. but I just miss her so much, Claire… we were gonna start a family together… she wanted to have kids and get a bigger house so we can have a big family… now I can’t have one because she’s the only person I wanted a family with…” Chris sighed softly as he wiped his eyes

“I miss her too… we all do…” Leon commented looking down at his plate. Chris eventually ended up eating his food and everyone left to go home. The entire drive home was deafening to the point you can hear a pin drop

When he got home he changed inside a fresh pair of clothes and he started to clean the house, starting with the bedroom and ending in the Kitchen. He cleaned it exactly how she’d like it and when he was finished around 3:32 am he sat on the couch and sighed

They were right… She would yell at him if she saw the way he was, how the house was when she died

—————————

After a few years pass it’s before the entire Village situation. Every week since the funeral Chris visited her grave and just talked to her for a bit. On her birthday he spent almost half the day there, on new year’s he watched the fireworks by your gave.

He still hasn’t moved on since her death he can’t even get into another relationship with a woman since her death but it’s not like he can find anyone else like her… and honestly he didn’t want to.

IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR MAKING THIS EVEN SADDER tbh tho I started tearing up writing this

[littlemisslol-fic]

Day Six: Future

Summary: My submissions for Effin' Varigo week! Big thanks to battybatzgirl for setting it up! Hugo and Varian have been dating for three years, and are finally ready to take their relationship to somewhere a lot more serious. However, the world has other plans. With Hugo's proposal in shambles, and Varian focused on saving their friends, they think things can't really get any worse.

They would be wrong.

Prompts are Family ‧ Firework ‧ Fever ‧ Flirt ‧ Fight/Forgive ‧ Future ‧ and Free Day!

Notes: The problems come to an explosive finale

Hugo’s half ready to just give up and jump off the waterfall again.

They’d been dragged all the way back to the meadow. Hugo’s leg is fucking killing—even with the two goons holding him basically carrying him for the last mile. Varian was being pushed along right in front of him, bullied and jostled like an unruly toddler. It boils Hugo’s blood, but for once he knows better than to open his big, stupid mouth.

It’s hard. He wants to tell them to lay off, to scream at them to fuck off, get away from us, but he holds his tongue. Their hands are tied—literally and figuratively. The awkward feeling of having both arms tied behind his back also doesn’t help this whole situation.

Varian’s spine is tense when they arrive back at the meadow. It’s mostly the same, still beautiful and idyllic and calm, but there’s been obvious upheaval. Massive craters are scattered around, cutting through the grass and showing the dark, loamy soil underneath. Deep wounds across the earth. Even the sky today is much cloudier, cutting the sun in rolling shade. The cart is still there, though Max has been roped to a tree to keep the horse from running.

And before it all stands the Baron.

There’s no sign of the others. It’s both a blessing and a curse—they’re still in the meadow, but where? Are they okay?—but Hugo can’t help but focus on the massive man in front of them. He stands before the two… wait, two? Two carts.

Their wagon is there, yes, joined by what is very obviously a stolen police prisoner transport. Hugo will bet dollars to donuts that the princess, Eugene, and Lance are in there; the way multiple guards circle around it like vultures over a kill cements the thought.

The Baron smiles as they approach. The blond of his hair is like straw, thin and cracking in the wind. It’s obvious that he’s getting old, probably older than Donella, but the way his body bleeds strength makes him threatening to Hugo in a way most old men aren’t. It’s all capped off by a splatter of green sores that cover half of his face; they look painful, the infection constantly cracking the skin every time the man moves. Hugo swallows thickly at the sight. 

He and Varian are shoved down next to the fallen tree. Hugo’s leg kills at the roughness; he has to bite his cheek to keep from crying out. At the very least they’re side by side again; Varian scowls up at the man holding them hostage—gods he’s so brave. Hugo personally feels ready to bury himself alive.

Varian’s arm is warm next to him. It’s the only comfort he has as the Baron strides forward and crouches in front of them. There’s a pregnant pause between the three of them. Varian’s obviously playing a game of wills, more of a who’s going to break first, but Hugo honestly just wants to curl up and die. Eventually the Baron sucks in a long breath, smiling widely. The noxious green skin cracks with the motion, the infected pores leaking nauseatingly. Hugo’s going to throw up if that keeps happening.

“Well boys,” the man says in his deep, gravelly voice, “you definitely gave my men a run for their money. It was clever to stay away from the river—but I guess I should have expected as much from you two.”

Varian doesn’t say a word. Hugo follows his example. Donelle had always told him to shut up during times like this, so… sure, let’s give it a try.

The man doesn’t seem upset by the silence. “Smart, yes, but not smart enough. Unfortunately you boys are going to be staying with us for a while, but don’t fret. I can be a gracious host.”

Hugo feels the body next to him tense. “Where are the others?” Varian asks.

“Oh, so you can talk.” The group around them laughs at their boss’s joke. “Why, are you looking for a family reunion? I suppose I can oblige.”

He waves a massive finger, like how one would call a waiter, and his men snap to attention. Hugo can’t see past the mountain of a man, but he hears a series of shouts from familiar voices and the noises of a struggle. Varian wiggles to try and see around their captor—whatever he sees must not be good. He goes frightfully pale.

The Baron stands, walking to the side. Hugo’s stomach sinks as their friends are dragged out from the prisoner carriage—had they been in there for the last two days? Horrifying—and are brought front and center. All of them are bound the same as Hugo and Varian are. Not good.

“Shit,” Varian whispers. Eugene spits something very UN-princely, kicking his feet and trying to take out anyone’s ankles he can reach. Rapunzel walks with dignity, or as much as she can have with her arms tied. Lance has just completely dead-weighted himself, content to let the thugs struggle to drag him through the dirt. What a king.

They end up knocked to their knees in front of the two alchemists. It’s not good. It’s not even close.

 “Varian? Hugo?” Rapunzel looks so, so distraught to see them. “I thought I told you to run!?”

“Tried it, didn’t get very far.” Hugo sighs. He wiggles the foot of his fucked-up leg. “Got a bit of an owie.”

“Shit, kid.” Eugene sounds concerned. “That’s not looking so good, is it—?”

“Probably not. Can’t tell for sure.”

Eugene’s frown deepens, but any other conversation cuts off as the Baron makes himself known again.

“Well, now that we’re all here, first thing’s first. Search them.”

Hugo squawks at the feeling of hands patting him down. They quickly turn out his vest pockets, then his jacket—but then they reach his pants, meaning they’ll find…

Oh shit!

“Put it down!” Hugo snaps as one of the grunts pulls out the ring box. Hugo flicks a nervous glance at Varian, but thankfully his boyfriend is too busy trying to kick Weasel’s stupid hat off his head to really notice what’s going on with Hugo. Thank the Maker. His gaze flicks back to the goon in front of him and the heat of anger boils high as the man opens the box with a teasing look.

“Give it back,” the blond hisses. “I’ll fucking kill you—”

The goon only smirks and closes the box with a little snap. Hugo’s anger hardens into rage as the man stuffs the ring into his own pocket, tutting with a mocking tone. “Pretty ring,” he says, “should get me a good price. Should have taken better care of your things, boy.”

Hugo’s heart sinks as the ring disappears, and his future along with it. Fuck, fuck! He needs that back, needs to give it to Varian—fucking hell!

Weasel’s finished searching Varian, pulling out what looks like a few chunks of willow bark and the matches. The alchemist kicks at him, successfully hitting Weasel in the knee, before the man retreats with his meager gains.

“They’ve got nothing on ‘em,” the man says. The man who stole Varian’s ring stands as well, shrugging.

“Same here.”

Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuck. Hugo grits his teeth and levels as much of a glare as he can muster to the man. When he gets out of here, and he fucking will, that man’s dead. Dead. Hugo didn’t keep that little box safe through all this for it to get stolen. Not in a million years.

He shifts his good leg to try and relieve some of the pressure on the busted one, only to pause at the feeling of something in his boot. Oh. Oh holy shit.

The knife.

Varian had given him the knife back in the cabin. Hugo had stuffed it into his boot for safekeeping. And then man who’d searched them had missed it, too busy thinking about the ring. A wicked feeling springs up in Hugo’s stomach. They might not be out of the woods yet, but this?

This he can work with.

But he keeps it quiet for now. It’s not a good time—not with everyone watching. He’ll have to time it right… and then he can totally fucking murder the guy who stole his ring.

The Baron smiles down at the five of them. He looks like a miser counting gold; it puts a sick taste in the back of Hugo’s throat.

“With that out of the way, here’s how it’s going to play out,” the man rumbles. “I have unfinished business with Rider and Strongbow.” Lance and Eugene flinch at their names. “And as for the princess and Donella’s boy here, well I know a couple people who would give anything to have you two back in one piece.” The man laughs, focusing on Hugo with a smug grin. “How is ol’ Donella anyways? She’s been running circles around us for years; I can’t wait to see the look on her face once she finds out you’re in our company, boy.”

It makes Hugo want to scream, the idea of this guy threatening his mentor. Mother. Mom-tor. Whatever.

Either way, if Donnie gets a ransom note with Hugo’s name on it he knows she’ll pay it. She’ll bitch the entire time, but she’ll pay it. And then she’ll shake him so hard his brain will leak out of his ears. It’s not a favorable outcome for Hugo, and it’s one he’d like to avoid thank you.

It also looks like Varian had been right on the money. Rapunzel and Hugo for ransom, Lance and Eugene for a statement about double crossers… but Varian’s fate is still uncertain. It’s almost worse, not knowing.

Varian must have the same thought. He shifts awkwardly; his elbow bumps against Hugo’s just a brush, but it lights Hugo’s skin aflame. It’s also, unfortunately, enough to draw the Baron’s attention.

“And then we have the Alchemist,” the man says. The problem is, he doesn’t say it as an insult, like Hugo might have a thousand lifetimes ago. He says it like it’s praise. Varian flinches at the name like it’s a slap.

The Baron whistles a small tone. “You know, from the stories I thought you were bigger. And older.”

Varian bristles. “Sorry to disappoint.”

That gets a laugh out of their captor. “Eh, good things in small packages. For you, my young friend, I have a job.”

“Pass.”

If the Baron’s insulted, he doesn’t show it. “I’m afraid you don’t get much choice. Well we’d prefer you to agree, it’s not important. I have things I want made, and you’re going to make them. Easy.”

Varian’s face goes downright murderous. “I said I’ll pass.”

The Baron frowns, but it’s more mocking than an actual expression. “Such a shame. I guess Donella won’t be getting her boy back, after all.” He starts to draw a knife from his belt. Hugo shrinks at the sudden glare the man sends his way. Varian goes pale, flinching at the sight of the blade.

“Wait—” he stutters, “—wait, okay, fine! No one needs to get hurt.”

Eugene starts to say something, an argument surely, but he’s stopped when one of the grunts kicks him in the stomach. Varian’s eyes go wide, desperate.

“If you promise to let Hugo go, I’ll build whatever you want.”

The Baron smiles like it’s his lucky day. “Glad you had a change of heart. In that case, welcome to the crew, Alchemist.” He looks out to his men, all of whom snap to attention. “We’ll head out at dawn tomorrow,” the man announces. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

Hugo does his best to keep quiet. The knife in his boot burns with promise, with a looming presence. The blond takes another long look at the man with Hugo’s future in his pocket.

Oh yeah, tonight would be a celebration for sure.

———  ✧  ———

The sun sets slower than Hugo would hope.

The Baron’s men sure seem ready to party. While the man mostly retreats to his own caravan, his crew easily start to break out wine and gin, passing it around and getting steadily drunker.

Hugo testingly pulls at the rope around his wrists. No give, as expected—and even worse is that both he and Varian are tied to a tree that really has no chance of giving way. Varian, next to him, huffs with the movement as it pulls on his wrists.

“Ow,” his boyfriend whines. “What’s that for?”

“Trying to find a weakness,” Hugo mumbles back.

Varian seems content with that for an answer. He slouches into the tree and goes back to watching the nearest fire. The alchemist seems almost listless, so despondent in the face of being threatened into casual inventor-slavery. Hugo bumps his shoulder in solidarity before casting his gaze elsewhere.

Eugene and Co are tied around another tree. Lance, bless his soul, had tried to pull their tree right out of the ground—he’d failed, of course, but it was incredibly fun to watch. Rapunzel and Eugene are whispering to each other, who knows about what.

Around them the men continue to make merry and drink themselves stupid. The moon raises higher and higher in the sky, a ticking time bomb looming over them all.

Though it takes ages—too fucking long, waiting is like slowly grinding his own teeth into nubs—eventually the party begins to die. If Hugo had to wager he’d bet it’s around midnight, maybe later.

A majority of the men are finally falling asleep. They’ve passed out in large groups around the fires, lumped into somewhat normal sleeping arrangements. A few stragglers are wrapping up for the night at a distant fire, nearly twenty-five meters away.

Probably to keep from waking up the boss, Hugo thinks. It’s a good a chance as any.

He starts to wiggle. Slowly he manages to get his good leg awkwardly bent under him; his bound fingers just graze the top of his boot. Another inch or two should do.

Varian snuffles awake next to him. “What’re you… doing?” he mumbles. Adorable.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Hugo whispers, “I have an idea.”

That chases away the last of the sleep from Varian’s mind. “What? What idea?” At least he’s keeping his voice down.

“The knife,” Hugo breathes. “The one from the cabin. It’s in my boot. They missed it.”

Varian’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit.”

Hugo only smirks and wiggles his leg again. It’s closest to Varian, who also shuffles to give Hugo more lax on the rope keeping them tied to the tree. So close… just another bit…

“Fuck yes!” Hugo gasps as he tugs the pocketknife from his boot. “Maker above, it’s about time.”

It’s barely more than a whisper but Varian still shushes him. Hugo only smiles, deftly flicking the knife open and starting to saw at their bindings. It’s a little awkward, seeing as he’s doing it behind his own back, but he can make it work.

“See, I’m a great boyfriend,” Hugo mutters to himself, “who else can say they always have a stabby thing in their boot, huh?”

Varian snickers and presses a kiss to Hugo’s cheek. It’s a little awkward, but it’s more of a victory trophy than Hugo’s used to getting.

“You’re a fantastic boyfriend,” Varian grins, “And I’ll be sure to reward you if you can get us out of here properly.”

Hugo starts sawing like his life depends on it.

The ropes aren’t insanely thick. They fall away quickly, dropping to the dirt. Both Varian and Hugo breathe a sigh of relief as their wrists can finally return to their proper places—Hugo’s shoulders have been killing for the last hour or so.

“Okay,” he whispers. Hugo’s quick to pass the knife to Varian, who blinks. “Go free the peanut gallery and get them into the cart with Max. Hopefully We can book it before they all wake up.”

Varian’s eyebrows screw together. “What about you?”

“I have something I need to grab. Don’t worry about it, just focus on getting the others. Easy peasy, right?”

His boyfriend looks doubtful but nods all the same.

“Easy peasy. Sure.”

———  ✧  ———

Hugo’s a man on a fucking mission tonight.

He slips soundlessly through the group of men, searching. That motherfucker has to be here somewhere.

The face of the man who’d stolen his ring is burned into Hugo’s retinas. Hugo scans each grunt, looking for the one. The first ring of grunts is a failure, as is the second, but the third… there he is.

In the distance Varian’s already got the motley crew free. Hugo can see them all starting to pile into the cart. Eugene’s hooking up Max—and Hugo’s running out of time.

But the man’s here. Right in front of Hugo’s feet, sleeping like a baby. A drunk-ass, passed out baby. Delightful.

Either way. Hugo’s pretty sure the ring’s in one of the man’s coat pockets—easy enough to grab.

Hugo crouches. He winces at the pressure it puts on his busted leg, but he still starts to reach forward. There’s a lump in one of the pockets… surely…?

Behind him, Max snorts once. It’s not loud enough to wake anything, but it’s as much of a signal as Hugo will get. He needs to hurry.

His hands shake as he gets closer to dipping into the man’s pocket. What if it’s not in there? His what-if, lost to him like so much else.

His fingers dip into the man’s pocket. Hugo breathes a sigh when his fingers graze crushed velvet—only for the noise to turn into a gasp as the man snorts awake oh shit!

The grunt’s eyes blink in confusion for only a second before they zero in on Hugo’s horrified face. He snarls something about escaped but Hugo doesn’t stick around to listen. His fingers close around the box and he yanks his future out of the man’s pocket before turning to run.

There’s more shouting behind him. All the men are starting to wake up, alarm bells being rung. Horses bray.

But ahead of it all, Hugo focuses on a pair of frantic blue eyes and an offered hand leaning out of a familiar cart.

“Hugo!” Varian cries. No need to be quiet now. The others hover around Varian’s shoulders, shouting at him to run, asshole!

He’s never run so fucking fast in his life. Though his leg aches and his lungs burn, Hugo fucking runs, spurred on by the feeling of weight in the palm of his hand.

Varian reaches farther. Max startles and starts to move, slow enough for the blond to catch them but not enough to be caught.

They’re so close. Hugo’s only a few feet away from Varian; the alchemist looks so desperate as he reaches out, his hand splayed wide.

“C’mon!” Varian cries. His face is so pale, so panicked. “Hugo!”

The thief throws a thin hand out. It barely grazes Varian’s, so close yet so far—and behind him, he hears the shouting grow closer. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!

Varian looks ready to scream. Hugo tries one last time, putting his all into a final burst of speed. For a frightening second he thinks it’s not enough, that his fingers will just brush Varian’s and he’ll be left behind with the people who wish them harm, trapped like a rat in a nest—

But he feels warmth on his palm. A strong grip.

And Varian starts to pull. Hugo’s tugged right up and into the back of their cart, nearly toppling right over himself, but he’ll take a bit of discomfort for the feeling of solid wood under his face.

“Go, Max!” Eugene hollers from the driver’s seat. There’s an answering whinny before the cart jostles. There’s a swooping feeling, one of acceleration, before the trees beside them start to fly past. Hugo sucks in another breath, gasping after his run, and looks back with a small huff.

The Baron’s men are still in chaos trying to orient themselves. They’re like headless chickens, scattered and disorganized. It’s good; they’ll have much more of a chance of making it out of here if they’re not followed.

Hugo feels a set of hands on his shoulders and the world tilts. Suddenly he’s sitting upright, facing a frantic Varian.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Your leg?”

“Yep, nope, and owie,” Hugo grins. Varian looks half ready to strangle him but instead graces Hugo with a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

There’s another shout from the group behind them. It seems the Baron’s woken up, the man leaning out of his carriage and glaring at them. He’s getting smaller quickly as Max sprints away.

But they’re not out of the woods yet.

Literally and metaphorically; some of the men have finally gotten their shit together and are hopping on their horses. Their lead won’t last long with five people and a cart against one rider on a horse. They’ll need a distraction.

Varian seems to be thinking the exact same thing. He starts to paw under the benches, frantic. Hugo starts the same; they’d been in more than one cart chase before, thank you, they’re seasoned professionals by now. Under the bench Hugo’s hand hits wood, wood, more wood and—

Ting.

Metal.

His eyes widen at a familiar feeling. He tugs, pulling out the butchered version of project obsidian. Hugo lets out a wild, evil little giggle—he probably sounds deranged.

Varian’s head whips around at the sound. He knows it well. His eyes go wide at the sight of the gun.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, that could work.”

Hugo lets an evil smile curl across his lips.

“It will indeed,” he croons. It’s with a quick movement that he settles the gun on his shoulder, aiming out the back.

Rapunzel and Lance quickly skitter to the other side of the cart, hiding behind the alchemists. Eugene doesn’t even register what’s happening. Probably better, the guy’s got enough to worry about. Thing are about to get so very explosive.

Hugo lines up his shot, waiting. Varian sits to his side, reaching over and flicking a lever or two.

“They didn’t even take the range inhibitor off,” he mutters. “Fucking amateurs.”

That gets another snicker. Gods Hugo almost missed this; a little destruction is always good for the soul. The cross section of the gun slowly lines up with the main path.

Hugo takes a deep breath and holds it. His finger wavers for only a second before he pulls the trigger.

The gun’s kickback isn’t a small one. The blond’s nearly knocked on his ass, but Varian offers a steady hand as a rocket bursts from the barrel. The fweeeeeeee-POP is so much louder this close to the thing—and the purple smoke is close to blinding.

In the distance, the sound of screaming.

As the smoke clears it’s easy to see that Varian’s settings made a hell of a difference. The path, once a flat, simple cut through the thick trees, has been totally uprooted. It must be a meter deep dip in the earth, cutting the entire road in two.

The horses of the Baron’s men all whinny in fear as their riders try to force them down it. A brave few try to jump the crater only to fall in. Hugo winces when one guy eats dirt falling off his horse.

“They’re not making it past that any time soon,” Varian says flatly. “Unless they want to hack through the brush and go around.”

“It’ll take ‘em hours,” Hugo agrees with a smirk. “What a horrible tragedy.”

“Just terrible.”

Rapunzel, bless her, only sighs. Eugene starts to curse up front, snarling, angry things about explosions and his old, frail heart. Lance laughs something belly-deep. The princess holds her hands out. Hugo obediently drops the gun into them; she shakes her head fondly.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Hugo slouches back against the side of the cart. Max starts to slow now that they’re out of immediate danger. He grins at the princess and shoots her a couple finger guns. His future sits heavy in his pocket.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

[fa-headhoncho]

Untitled TFATWS Fic: Part 4

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: You raid the Flag Smasher's base with Walker and Hoskins, bringing back unwanted memories.

Word Count: 2701 (sorry lol)

Reader: Female

Warning: non-con kissing, nudity, blood

Author's Note: lmk for taglist

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

=====

“Ich habe keine Ahnug, wovon du sprichst.” The man sternly says, taking a step to size up Hoskins. “Ihr Amerikaner seid brutal geworden.” He insults causing you to tense, but in a way you knew he was right and it frustrated you. The GRC had good intentions but they didn’t understand what these people were going through.

Hell, you didn’t understand what they were going through. When Steve and the Avengers took you in, it wasn’t exactly a bad situation compared to what others had to deal with during the Blip. Especially with the ones who came back to nothing to their name anymore. The volunteer work made you realize that and it conflicted you. The Flag Smashers had a worthy cause and they were banding together in the wrong way.

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit!” Walker whines out causing you to tense. The tone wasn’t nice and you knew the three of you didn’t come all the way to Germany for nothing. He was getting angry, there was something here and something he had to prove. “We know she came through here. Now, where’d she go?” He demands, his voice threatening.

The man directs his attention to the Captain and looks him up and down. Walker’s stance straightens and you can see his fist balled at his sides. Over the short time of getting to know the new Captain America, you could tell he was falling apart a bit in this situation. Honestly, he wasn’t the worse guy when it came down to the bare bones of things but power can do wonders to a corrupt mind.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when the German fellow spits on America’s new golden boy. The blonde lets out a sigh, showing he was physically restraining himself to jump on the guy. He looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowing and his head tilted towards the target. The look was the familiar that made your mind flashback to the countless times a Hydra official gave the same look.

Mind going into autopilot, the boys separate like they’ve done these a million times. You stalk forward and brace your forearm, shoving the man back and holding him against the pillar behind him.

“Do you know who I am?” Walker screams out from behind you making you snap back to reality. You immediately release him and step back, the blonde taking your spot in front of him with a threatening gaze.

“Yes I do, and I don’t care.” The man spits back and you see a shift in Walker’s eyes. There was a flash of hurt then it switched to frustration, quickly regaining his facade, blocking out any emotion in his eyes. He leans forward slightly and you think he’s about to punch the guy but he steps back.

The officers start to cuff the man while Walker whispers something to Hoskins and then walks away. You watched with a dazed expression on your face, not believing you fell back into your old ways so quickly with just one gaze. There was a part of you still stuck in your past that you didn’t know about until Walker had you join him in this assignment. It frightened you.

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder bringing you out of your negative thoughts. Looking up, you see Hoskin’s kind eyes. “You okay?” He asks in a sincere tone which slightly surprises you. The little voice in the back of your head told you that it was just him trying to manipulate you like they used to and that it was their fault that you were back into all this however a much louder one says otherwise.

You shake your head, forcing a tight-lipped smile to appear on your face. “Yea,” You breathe out and slowly repeat the mantra your therapist had taught you years ago. He stands there for a moment, the internal battle in his mind playing in his eyes.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation for you but we really do appreciate your help.” His grip on your shoulder tightens in a comforting manner. “I understand Walker hasn’t been the… kindest to you and I can’t apologize for him. He’s still figuring this stuff out, I promise he isn’t always this much of an asshole.”

You nod, letting his words sink in. You never thought how much stress this could be on him. He went from a normal life to being thrown into this hero thing with the title and responsibility Steve took years to build up. It was a lot for him and he didn’t need you reminding him of what he wasn’t.

Hoskins notices your demeanor change and releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes his hand off of you and takes a glance toward the hallway where his best friend left then to his left where all the Flag Smashers computers laid out unattended. “I heard you’re pretty good with intel.”

You let out an ironic chuckle, of course, he chose his moment to bring that up. “You had to ruin it.” An apologetic look comes across his face and you wave it off, knowing that it’s time to get back to the task at hand. “Go after your boyfriend, I’ll see what I can do.”

He rolls his eyes at your comment before jogging off to follow Walker. A small smile sneaks its way onto your lips as you watch him leave. It was nice to get an insight on Walker and have a little banter with Hoskins. It made you relax, feeling that you were no longer a hostage in a pretend game of hero.

The police officers around you start collecting what minimal things were in the Flag Smasher’s base. They grab the files in the cabinets, the food they have in the other room, and they even grab the goddamn chairs. They weren’t leaving any stone unturned when it came to this and you understood why... this was Walker’s first mission leading as Captain America and he wasn’t going to mess it up. Your heart goes out to him but that didn’t mean you liked him.

You hold up a hand to the man in uniform as he goes to take the laptop, signaing that you wanted to use it. He nods in understanding and moves to collect other objects. Plopping down on the metal chair, you turn and start typing away.

=====

The room was luxurious like the rest of the mansion. The walls were high, windows extending from the floor to ceiling, giving a breathtaking view of the landscape behind the home. It was a bedroom, a large California king against the wall opposite of the windows. A large desk with a dramatic-looking chair sat near the bathroom causes an evil smile to appear.

“Here it is.” The American turns around while holding his arms out.

“Wunderschön.” You respond, forcing an astonished look on your face. The dark-haired man furrows his eyebrows in response. “Uh… very pretty.” You pretend to struggle with your English to keep up the persona your file had described. He gleams at the compliment and moves to close the distance between the two of you.

He slips his hand around your waist, pressing his body against your scantily clad one. You wanted nothing more than to push him off and slit his throat but your bosses would be punish you for not following the mission orders. Especially when he starts trailing kisses down your neck.

You throw your head back and allow him access though. The kisses and nips were numb on your skin as you lazily trail your eyes around the room. The black dress left no room to hide anything so that meant anything pointy had to be disgusted in your purse… which was left on the dresser next to the closed door. You inwardly cringe at your mistake, saving it in the back of your head for future undercover missions.

There was no chance to lead him back to the entrance so you had to think fast. Gently pushing the man away, he doesn’t take the hint to get off of you and attaches his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in surprise but you quickly recover.

He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes and it made your stomach turn. Finally, he pulls away and you take the opportunity to look up at him through your lashes. That was enough for him to start fiddling with the zipper on your back. You let out an airy giggle at the way he struggles with it.

“Here.” You turn around and pull your long hair over your shoulder to give him better access. He hums out and starts to pull the metal tag down. Mind trailing off again, your eyes land on the laptop on his desk. The object of the whole reason why you were here.

The mission assigned was simple since it was your first undercover mission for Hydra. They thought you would be a good candidate considering you were young and “perky” in their words. Having no other choice than to compromise, they dressed you up and gave an identity to play as to get close enough to take the information off the computer.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see a glimmer of light bounce off something in the corner of the room. The man paid no mind to it as it was a coincidence to your dress hitting the floor and the cold A/C of the room hitting your skin. You squint your eyes and try to make out the figure but it’s interrupted by the man spinning you around and throwing you onto the bed.

You stare wide eyed up at the man while he stands above you. A feeling of fear courses through your body at the thought of what’s about to come. The original plan was to sneak off with the target and tranq him but you fucked it up. The boss was going to have your ass if you didn’t figure out a way to get to that laptop.

You didn’t want to do anything further with this sleazeball but you also didn’t want to starve for the next few days. Closing your eyes, you wait for it all the happen. You’ve endured worse at the hands of Hydra so this would sadly come easy for you to block out.

A loud gunshot rings through the room and you feel something warm splatter across your body. Your eyes snap open in a panic to figure out what just happened. The man who was once hovering over you is now lying on the floor with a bullet in his head, blood pooling underneath him. Slowly, your gaze trails up to your own body causing your breath the hitch in your throat once again. Dots of blood litter your skin and undergarments which only meant--

“Are you okay?” A raspy voice calls out, one that you’ve never heard before. A piece of cloth comes into view, the metal hand attached to it surprises you. The Soldier has never shown this type of kindness to you, well anyone, before and it made you nervous. You hesitantly grab the wet cloth from him and start wiping the blood off of your body.

His stare was directed on the floor to give you some type of privacy. It was weird that the Soldier was showing you such care that you didn’t even think could be possible. You knew of his story, a brainwashed POW victim that was programmed to kill. But here he was, waiting patiently for you with your dress in his hand.

Once cleaned up, you stand up and bump into him. His head turns to you causing you to melt instead of flinching away like you usually would. His piercing blue eyes send a shiver down your spine. There was emotion in them. Concern.

Carefully, you reach out and place a hand on the metal appendage. The Soldier’s body immediately relaxes under the foreign soft touch. “Thank you, Soldat.” You whisper out, fearing that any hostility would send him back to his murderous state. Something flashes behind his eyes as he nods in response.

You wake up with a gasp, blankets are long forgotten on the floor. Your chest was heaving up and down as you try to compose yourself from the memory that forced itself into your dream. It’s been a while since you had a nightmare and you were confused. Maybe going back into the field wasn’t good for you. It was bringing back the part of you that you worked so hard to get past.

The abrupt sound of a phone ringing makes you flinch. You reach around blindly until your hand feels the cool touch of your phone laying on the bed next to you. Not even looking at the screen, you slide the green bubble and bring it up to your cheek.

“Hello?” You answer, cringing at how weak you sound.

“(Y/N).”

You close your eyes and release a deep breath, your body physically relaxing at the familiar voice. “Yea, what’s up, Buck?”

“We haven’t heard from you all day, we were wondering how this morning went. Did you find anything?” His tone was soft and steady in contrast to the bustling of the environment behind him.

You shake your head and bring your hand up to run it through your messy hair, “No, not of importance. I went through their laptop but most of the significant information was remotely deleted or something… Found the files but not the documents.” You shrug and fall back onto the pillows behind you. His hum is followed by comfortable silence… until you hear someone whine in the background.

“Are you gonna talk to her or are you gonna sit there like lovesick teen-- Hey, not with the metal arm!” Sam is cut off with what you assume is Bucky slapping him. You giggle at the sound of metal hitting concrete. “Jesus, man, you’re crazy.”

“I won’t miss next time.” Bucky threatens with his teeth clenched, you can imagine him pointing his finger at him with a scowl on his face. The silence resumes while you stare at the lamp on the bedside table. “Are you okay? You’re oddly quiet.”

You hesitate for a moment, your dream flashing in your head. “Yea.” You softly confess, “Just had a weird dream.”

He waits for you to elaborate, knowing you would do the same for him.

“Hydra.”

“Oh,” He lets out a breath and takes a few moments before continuing, “I’ve been having some of those too.” He admits, “More than usual, I guess. Being back out here is triggering some memories and not the normal ones.”

A sense of relief washes over you at his confession. Knowing he was going through the same thing sends a pang to your heart but it was a good thing to know you weren’t alone.

“Well, I have to head out. We have a possible led and we need to check it out before it’s too late.” Bucky announces, you frown. It was nice to be able to talk over the phone with him even though you saw him recently and you didn’t want it to end. “Text me if you need anything, doll, I’m only a message away.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his nickname for you. “Same for you, Buck… Be careful.”

“When am I not careful?” He chuckles out, you can hear Sam snort and mumble something in the background. “I didn’t ask you, Wilson.”

“Just, please, be safe.” You beg, you knew the two didn’t have any restraints and would do whatever it took to get the information they needed. Sam has broken the law for him once and you’re sure he would do it again for a good cause. “I…” You hesitate for a second, the words you wanted to say didn’t come out. “I don’t know what I would do if something bad happened to you…”

“Don’t worry about me, doll.” He tries to calm your nerves but there’s a twinge of nervousness in his tone that makes you uneasy. “I promise.”

_____

taglist: @crowleysqueenofhell @mischiefmanaged71 @thewinterrbucky @lizajane3 @ahahafudge @spookycereal-s @a-girl-who-loves-disney @kittengirl998 @ sebby-staan @felicityofbakerstreet @sltwins @tanyaherondale

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Blüdhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.