#i can still squeeze more trauma out of these two old men!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dearshelby · 9 months

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All I can give you (not what you asked for) | T.S

Summary: After being beaten up by Sabini's men, Tommy sneaks out of the hospital to go to London. After coming back home, he has to face his wife, who isn't happy in the slightest

A/N: "Stop writing little snippets your OC as reader inserts, Lora" no <3 I wanted to write something domestic, but at the same time something that showed what being with Tommy is really like + playing around with his trauma and the lack of understanding in the 1920s, I hope I managed to do that. Also, the song mentioned is by American quartet if you want to listen, it surprisingly fits the PB universe. That's it, hope you like it!

She's been visiting him every single day ever since. Bringing soup, cigarettes and books, everything so he wouldn't get bored, everything so he'd heal faster.

The night the phone rang, telling the news Tommy was beat up by Sabini's men, her world nearly crashed. Her lips dried, vision blurry as she sat on the cold floor, keeping herself from passing out. Her Tommy could've died, he would have if Inspector Campbell didn't have plans for him.

Guilt weighted on her shoulders when she saw him lying on the hospital's bed, injured and weak. At the same time she was relieved and pressed small kisses on his forehead, inhaling his scent and avoiding his cut lips. It wasn't then they'd take him from her.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she always said, trusting he'd be there, that he'd be back home soon.

Except that one certain morning he wasn't, Tommy's absence caught everyone by surprise, absolutely no one knew how a limping, beaten up man managed to sneak out of the hospital and in that distressing moment, her world nearly crashed again.

She ran back home, reaching for the phone to call Polly, Arthur, John, Lizzie, anyone Tommy could've gone to, none of them knew anything. However, in a matter of minutes, the phone rang back, Uncle Charlie's voice on the other side, "Tommy went to London, Camden town, he asked me to tell ya', he'll call when he get there,"

Her tense shoulders dropped, eyes burning with tears, a brief thank you was all she muttered before putting the phone down. Running hands through her hair, she breathed slowly in a failing attempt to calm down.

Somewhere in Camden, Tommy wandered around covered in bruises, perhaps unarmed and what for? What could be so fucking important he had to risk his life for?

Without option, she waited for his call, her heart beat stronger to the sound of his voice, he was fine and by then, it was all that mattered, she'd release her frustration once he was home, safe and sound.

More four, long days went by until his return, their daughter greeted him first, lifting her tiny arms with the demand of being picked up, which Tommy happily did.

When the two pairs of blue eyes looked at her combined with small smiles, she could swear her stomach swirled. A week and a half ago she thought she'd never see that scene again, perhaps it was the inconsistency that always got her so bad, that spun her world and brought bile to her throat, how life could change from a second to another, completely out of her control.

"What about you, eh?" Tommy drawled before her lack of reaction, "C'here."

Slowly, she joined the embrace, one arm around her daughter and the other around him. They were all she had, even if in theory she still had a mother and would never be helpless, they were the only people who truly mattered.

Tommy squeezed her shoulder in a soothing manner, the sigh leaving his lungs revealed how tired he truly was even if he didn't want to show in front of his child. He needed a bath, a decent meal and a good night of sleep.

Then night fell on, the house was silent except for the gramophone playing Moonlight Bay in low tone. Woodbine, a big gray cat, napped on the carpet, every now and then waking up to lick himself.

Once the baby - not actually a baby, already a two year old - fell asleep, Tommy walked back downstairs. He insisted on being the one to tuck her in, having missed her dearly in the weeks he spent between the hospital and London.

He found his wife sitting by the window with a cigarette hanging from her lips, an empty bow on her lap made him guess she only had a quick snack instead of proper dinner. Her hair fell on her shoulders, hiding the lace of her white nightgown.

"C'here, you," she weakly smiled, noticing his presence.

Walking to her, Tommy felt himself melting at her tender kiss, the cut on his lips wasn't fully healed yet, but he couldn't hold himself back from wanting more.

"No, Tommy," she faced the other way at his attempt to cup her cheeks, "I'm not exactly happy with you,"

"I know," he sighed, sitting on the armchair across hers, "that's why I got you this,"

Without taking his eyes off her, he took a small velvet box from his trousers pocket, the material alone told how expensive it must've been. Tommy opened it, showing a delicate ring adorned with a green stone.

"White gold and emerald," he explained, "saw it in a showcase, thought you'd like it,"

"You shouldn't waste money on jewelry, at least not for now, while the expansion isn't settled," she stared at the ring with a pout.

"It's not a waste if it's for you,"

"You only bought it because you thought it'd make me less mad at you," she accused, adopting a serious tone.

"...yeah," he admitted with a small smile, not catching up with her posture.

"Tommy, listen to me," taking the small box from his hands, she closed it and put it aside, "do you know how much I worried about you?"

Realizing what they were about to get into, he gulped, he knew leaving the hospital without telling her would have consequences, but he also knew she'd never allow his travel to London. He had no other option, she had to understand.

"Yeah, I do," he answered.

"And did you think some fucking ring would make me feel better?"

Tommy looked away from her, jaw clenching. She knew that face very well, it was a common occurrence after he came back from France, his eyes got empty, incredibly sad, then empty again. As if he momentarily stepped away from there, running away without actually moving a muscle.

"Well, this-" he negatively nodded, looking back at her, "this is all I can give you,"

"No, it isn't! What is it that you gave me?!" she argued, eyes widening in indignation, "Why do you always remove yourself? Isn't this our house? Our family? Our life?!"

He blinked, shallowing the dryness in his throat, "It is, love, it is, and I wouldn't have it if it wasn't for you,"

Rubbing her eyes, she sighed. She hated when Tommy behaved like a provider, as if he wasn't an actual part of her life and his presence didn't truly matter. That wasn't what she wanted from him.

"Well, I never asked for any of it," she blankly stated.

He didn't answer, looking down from her attentive stare.

"Do you even remember the only thing I ever asked for?" she questioned.

"Remind me,"

"You," she drawled, "I wanted to be with you, I asked to be, you agreed, so don't come at me with a stupid ring hoping it'll make forget the fact you could've died,"

"...perhaps," Tommy hesitated, "perhaps something more expensive then?"

"What?"

A tiny playful grin crept into his face, "Perhaps you'd forgive me if I had brought something more expensive?"

"I can't believe you! Tom, I'm not-" she tried to hold back a chuckle, but failed, "Tommy, the point is, I don't want you to think you can go around risking your life, doing whatever you want, then thinking a nice gift will fix everything, I worry about you,"

His face dropped in a quick mood swing, humorlessly smiling, he agreed, "That you do,"

"So, next time you think of doing something reckless, will you consider this?"

With a pout, Tommy quickly nodded, there was no use to discussion. Either way, he didn't have the words to explain the heart crushing feeling he got thinking of his family being vulnerable. He needed a guarantee and wouldn't stop, only be more careful by her request.

"Will you," he licked his lips, "take a look at the ring now?"

"Actually I was hoping you'd tell me how things were in London," she answered with a naughty smirk creeping into her face, "and then, maybe I'd let you take me to bed,"

"Maybe, eh?" he teased, "Or maybe not?"

"Depends on how much you're willing to talk, Mr. Shelby,"

Reclining on the armchair, Tommy lit up a cigarette, he knew her offer was more like an ultimatum, tell me what you're up to or else.

And only with her, he'd never retaliate.

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #OC Eleanor Shelby

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melancholicheart · 9 months

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All This Time- Chapter 8

cw: implied/referenced transphobia, trans male pregnancy (past, mentioned), angst, miscommunication, fluff and happy ending

Simon hears Johnny loud and clear. Nods his head a little and sits back into the couch. He tries to speak, no words coming from his mouth, and he eventually commits himself to silence.

He agrees with Johnny. He doesn’t want to die in the field, lose his life on foreign ground, potentially not even get a slither of his body back to even bury, and he can’t imagine Elizabeth having to cope with that. He doesn’t want her to end up as fucked up as he was.

Before he can comprehend even making a full sentence, his phone vibrates on the chair beside him and Price’s name lights up the screen.

“We can carry on talking later,” Johnny assures, “I know you’re going to want time, Si. Take Price’s call.”

Simon nods and grabs his phone, placing it to his ear and managing a small ‘yeah’ as he answers the call.

“I have answers.” Is all Simon gets. No hello, no ‘how are you?’, just work. “Gaz and I are going to come over, we need to talk in person. I take it you’re with John and the kid?”

Simon mumbles another ‘yes’ before Price can be heard by both men in the living room, “Wheels up in 30. Be with you in about an hour, two tops. Be good to see Soap again, more excited about meetin’ the little ‘un though.”

“She’s great, Price.” Simon mutters and Johnny watches him from the side, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Elizabeth peaking around the corner and she jumps back when Johnny spots her. He smiles at her and beckons her over, the little girl racing to Johnny and jumping onto him as she dives for the couch. He catches her under her arms and swings her up onto his lap. Simon places his phone down and sighs. He turns and sees Elizabeth sat on Johnny, playing with his hair and squeezing his face and smiles.

“Price and Gaz know something.” He informs, “They’re on their way over, wanna talk in person. I bet you’ve missed them, Gaz especially I presume. He’s missed you, I can guarantee that.”

Johnny nods and smiles, cuddling Elizabeth close and nuzzling her chin with his nose, making her squeal with laughter as he tickles her, “Papa stop!”

“Never,” Johnny growls, tickling her more and she shrieks out again, “I’m never letting you go!”

“Daddy, help!” She wails and Simon chuckles, snatching his daughter from Johnny and holding her away from him.

“He’s so cruel to you isn’t he darling?” Simon muses, holding Elizabeth like a baby and kissing her forehead lightly, “Such a meanie.”

“A big meanie.” Elizabeth agrees as Johnny pouts.

“Hey!”

For the umpteenth time in Johnny’s life, time seems to both halt and fly by. Before he knows it, there’s a knock at the door and Johnny’s breath stills completely. Five years. Five fucking years since he’s even spoken to his best friend and former Captain, never mind seen them. His stomach sinks as Simon clambers to his feet and answers the door.

Johnny grabs a tight hold of Elizabeth and stands, slowly making his way to the door too where he sees Price and Gaz. Price is carrying a folder, tucked under his arms, and a casual jacket covers his arms. His facial hair is most certainly within ‘old man beard’ territory now with his hair curling a little behind his ears. Certainly longer than Johnny’s ever seen it.

Gaz is timeless. There isn’t a hair out of place on his head, not a single wrinkle or crease extra to be found. His biggest change has nothing to do with aging at all, more like trauma. Blunt force, to be specific. There’s a bump on his forehead, no doubt aging now since it isn’t bruised, but fresh stitches cover a slight cut in it. Likely from the butt of a gun. Johnny’s own head aches as he remembers the many injuries of the like he himself sustained.

“Papa,” Elizabeth mutters, eyeing the men cautiously and nervously tucking her face into his neck, “They the men in the pictures?”

Johnny nods, “Yeah sweetheart, they’re mine and Daddy’s friends. Uncle Gaz and Grandpa Price. He ain’t really your Granda’, it’ll just drive him mad if you call him that.”

“Soap,” Price says, pushing past Simon with Gaz in tow. Gaz claps a hand onto Simons’ bicep before following after the Captain. Johnny feels like he’s about to be chewed out for dangerous decision making or the likes when Price stands before him until he takes note of the man’s eyes. Relief, “It’s bloody good to see you son.”

“You too, sir.”

Price turns to Elizabeth and holds a hand out to her, “I believe you’re Miss Elizabeth, is that right?”

She nods and gently puts her hand into Price’s, him shaking her hand with a warm smile on his face, “A pleasure to meet you, kiddo.”

Elizabeth wiggles out of Johnny’s hold and runs over to Simon, wanting to be held by him instead, and Gaz takes the opportunity to throw himself at Johnny. Johnny holds onto Gaz and feels tears brewing in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking moron, Soap,” Gaz mutters, “You and Simon. God I’ve fuckin’ missed you, brother.”

“I’ve missed you too, Gaz,” Johnny whispers, “Coulda done with you throughout all o’ this.”

Gaz chuckles, “I bet.”

Simon taps Gaz’s shoulder and gestures to the angry looking child in his arms, “She wants you to stop swearing.”

“Oh shit, uh, I mean, yeah, sure kiddo! Bad first impression of your Uncle Gaz, ai?” Gaz rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. Elizabeth giggles at him and nods.

“Papa swears all the time!” Elizabeth chuckles.

“No I do not!” Johnny yelps.

Price chortles, “Nothing’s changed there then has it MacTavish?”

“No Sir.” He sighs.

Before long, they’re all well acquainted once more and Elizabeth takes her time playing with each of them and gauging how she feels about them all. She has taken a liking to Gaz, mainly because he does silly voices when she plays with him, but she keeps gravitating towards Price and climbing into his lap when she gets tired.

Eventually, she only wants the embrace of her Papa and climbs up into his arms. She seems tired, presumably from all the running around and playing she’s been doing, and she starts to nod off whilst tucked in between Johnny and Simon on the couch.

Simon, always believing in ‘no time like the present’, turns his attention to Price and clears his throat, “Are you going to tell us what you found or just sit and make small talk all day?”

Price chuckles at the Lieutenants tone but his smile quickly falls, “Yeah it’s- well, it ain’t pleasant stuff.” He turns and looks at Elizabeth who is pulling on Johnny’s shirt and dancing one of her dinosaurs on his stomach as her eyes flutter slowly. “Perhaps she’d be better in bed?”

Johnny nods and goes to move with Lizzie but she just whines and clutches onto Johnny tighter, “Baby, don’t you want to go to sleep? I will tuck you and Ricky in.” Ricky is her dinosaur pal.

She shakes her head, “A wanna cuddle.”

“We’re going to be having a rubbish grown up conversation,” He tries to reason, “Are you sure?”

She nods fervently, “I go sleepy here, Papa.”

“Alright, love, come here.” He holds her more comfortably and strokes her hair softly as she goes back to drifting off. He gestures towards Price and allows him to proceed.

“I’ll cut to the chase then,” Price clears his throat and stretches back into the chair, “Gaz and I did some digging, got in touch with Laswell too. All the calls are recorded and such and, well, the ones from you were locked away. When we listened, it was General Sutton that shut you down. I think he heard about your ‘situation’, John, because the last thing we picked up on was you saying you were expecting before the line went dead.”

Johnny shrinks into himself, “I- I already thought they hung up on me. That was the day I found out, I was sat on the bathroom floor crying and begging for them to let me speak to you or Simon.”

Price nods, “We know, son. Turns out, Sutton had plans for Ghost. Sent Simon out near enough the following day. Every call of yours, every letter, it’s been blocked or returned. Sutton wouldn’t let this slip up. He had heard what you said and knew that if Simon caught wind of it, he would’ve left and he didn’t want that.”

“That prick,” Simon grumbles, “Damn near killed me on those jobs and kept me away from this? From everything!”

“Sutton didn’t want to admit it, but Gaz and I- well- let’s just say we ‘forcefully’ took him, and we questioned him about it. He spilled his own secrets pretty quickly. Told us how he hated MacTavish, couldn’t believe the 141 took him in, hated the image we were giving the military by having John yet he recognised that you’re a bloody good soldier, Soap. He said that with you gone, we couldn’t afford to lose Ghost too and so, he elaborated this whole coverup so Simon would never find out about Elizabeth. Made you think that Simon forgot about you and Simon- he made you think John moved on.” Price finishes.

Simon looks at Gaz who is staring at his lap. He has anger seething from him and Simon recognises that they’re all hurt by this.

He turns to Elizabeth, tucked into Johnny’s side snoozing away, and sees his daughter. He’s not exaggerating when he says he could’ve died. There were a few close calls, a couple near misses and some poor timing over the last few years that nearly stripped his baby girl from ever meeting him.

Just like Johnny said, regardless of what he thinks of himself, his daughter looks at him like he’s made of gold and the thought of dying in the dirt without ever seeing her beautiful face or without ever making her smile the way she does around him almost kills him there and then.

He clenches his fist and mulls over Price’s words. It doesn’t fully sink in before Johnny speaks.

“Y’know when I was a kid and I first came out, I thought about the other kid’s reactions. How I was gonna be treated by them was all that mattered. I didn’t think I’d still be dealing with how people treat me just because I am who I am.” Johnny mumbles, curled up on the couch. Elizabeth is flat out and panned across Johnny whilst Simon is tightly pressed on the other side of her, practically cuddling Johnny.

He reaches behind the couch and grabs a hold of the scruff of Johnny’s neck. He pulls him towards him and Johnny gets the message and rests his head on Simon’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

Gaz clears his throat and speaks up. His tone indicative of his fighting tongue; “Sutton has been discharged. Dishonourably.”

“Good fuckin’ riddance if you ask me.” Price mutters. He clambers to his feet and gestures to the sliding door that leads to the barely-there balcony of the flat. Smoke break. Johnny nods as he strides over to the door.

“Swear,” Elizabeth mutters, “No swearing.”

Johnny and Simon look down and Johnny pouts, “Oh sweetheart, you don’t look comfortable at all. C’mon, let’s get you comfy.”

He stands up and sits her on his hip, her head pressed to his neck as he carries her through to his room.

Gaz turns to Simon, “He’s a natural Dad, huh?”

Simon nods, “He’s fuckin’ perfect, Garrick. Could do it all on his own if he had to.”

“But you don’t want him to?” Gaz asks.

Simon shakes his head, “God no.”

Johnny sits on the floor beside Elizabeth’s bed, knelt on his knees as he ricks her in and makes Ricky the Dinosaur kiss her nose. She giggles sleepily and grabs ahold of Ricky.

“Love you, Papa.” She mumbles, snuggling her toy.

Johnny leans over and kisses her forehead, brushing her crazy hair back as he smiles, “I love you more, darling girl.”

He sits for a while, just watching her as she sleeps. He strokes her hair repeatedly and sighs softly, a warm smile on his face.

The door clicks behind him and his shoulders tense.

“Is she asleep?” Simon’s voice breaks the silence.

Johnny nods. He hardly trusts his voice right now. Simon sits beside him and a hand snakes around his waist, “Johnny? Talk to me.”

Johnny turns to Simon, makes momentary eye contact, and tears immediately trickle down his face. Simon falters but quickly bundles Johnny into his arms and holds him tightly.

“I’m sorry Simon, I’m so so sorry.” Johnny hiccups, “If I’d have just- I don’t know. You would’ve known her, you would’ve been here from the beginning if I’d have just been- if I hadn’t-”

“Johnny don’t you dare say that,” Simon shoves him aside a little and grabs his face, staring into his eyes, “Don’t you think for one second that this would’ve all been fine if you hadn’t of been yourself. We would’ve never met, Elizabeth wouldn’t even bloody exist and you- Johnny you wouldn’t have been you. Shit happens, especially to us, but we’re here now and we have a beautiful daughter to look after. Let’s leave the past where it bloody belongs.”

Johnny nods a little, not breaking eye contact, and the tears just coat his lashes whilst his eyes remain shiny with unshed pain. Simon pulls him in close again and feels Johnny hug back. A slight chuckle sounds from Johnny, “Never thought I’d hear the day you, of all people, would say to leave the past in the past.”

Simon laughs a little too and rests his head on Johnny’s, “Yeah well I’m a little sick of living in the past. I want to live in the present, right now, where I have you and I have Elizabeth. I have the two things I’ve always needed but didn’t know what I was missing out on until I had it. Until I had you both.”

“We need you, Simon Riley,” Johnny sighs, watching his daughter as she breathes peacefully through her sleep. Simon does the same. “We need you so much more than you’ll ever know.”

#call of duty #mw2 #ghostsoap #mw2 2022 #soapghost #john soap mactavish #ghost #soap #family #simon ghost riley #trans mpreg #trans man

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ingeniousmindoftune · 1 year

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THE RUNAWAY..P1

Description: in which you were a sex trafficked victim. Jay is undercover as Dorian when he meets you. Feeling unloved and distance between him and Upton, he forms a romantic and secret relationship with you. But, your romantic relationship could come at a deadly price.

Request: Can you do a Jay Halstead one?

Pairing(s): Jay Halstead as himself/Dorian Grey x African!American Reader.

This is part one of many. Think of this as the prologue.

Warning(s): unconsensual sex, abuse, mentions of gore, triggering actions, trauma, adultery, double life, some Smut, some fluff, and more. If you aren’t the age of 18 do not interact. Negativity will get you blocked. Read at your OWN risk! 2K words

———————————————

“Hi.” You grinned rolling over to his side of the bed, lying on top of him.

Your leg wrapped around his leg as he laid under the Snow White comforter and sheets in the fancy hotel room he’d gotten for the two of you. He planted a kiss on your lips. “Hey, Goodmorning beautiful.” You smiled, rubbing your hand back and forth on his chest. For months, you and Dorian (Jay) had been in an intimate relationship behind closed doors, and behind his boss. (Undercover)’s back. You were a runaway at the age of fourteen, you lived on the streets until you met a man you knew as Kevin Rayez, you thought he was kind and sweet and he was at first. He was kind, sweet and generous. He had taken you in, fed you, clothed you. He was grooming you, over time you and him forged a relationship. Sexual relationship. The creep didn’t even wait until you were old enough. He pursued you at just the age of sixteen.

Then once you were in your thirties, things went to bad.. to worse.

He would force you to sleep with his friends, and other men while he got paid for it. From there, he trafficked you around the world. Forcing men on you until you were in your twenties. When you were twenty-two, he forced you to start running the house with the girls he’d trafficked over the years. You were still his top girl so occasionally you’d still have to mess around with the men he told you to or he’d beat you. You’d tried to run, but that didn’t end too well.

Then, along came Dorian Grey. (Dt. Jay Halstead.)

[Flashback: The Introduction]

You sighed deeply looking at the red and blue bruises that covered your body, along with the bite marks from the man in the other room. “Get showered and dressed, I have someone coming and I would like you to be dressed and looking good, and cover those up.” He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Alright?”

“Ok.” You simply responded, he slapped and grabbed your bottom, giving it a nice squeeze. “Okay what?”

You looked up at him and forced a smile. “Ok, daddy.” He smiled. “Good, good. Be down in five minutes, be longer and things won’t be good for you. Okay?” He planted a kiss on your forehead then your head. You nod your head going to turn on the shower, you step inside delicately using your body scrub over your body, your soap and body wash. Once your routine was finished, you cleaned your coochie with water and the outside with your feminine wash. Having all of these men running through you, it made you feel dirty. You wanted out but it had become too hard to walk away from this life.

“You made it, and just in time too.” Kevin smiled up at you. “Come, come..”

You smiled a tight-lipped, forced smile, walking around the couch and sat next to him. You held your head low, and over to him. “Babe, this is someone I want you to meet..” he pulls you in closer, your eyes went from Kevin’s that was holding your wrist and pulling you closer to the man standing in front of you. Tall, beautiful man. His blue eyes pierced straight through her soul, the corner of his lip rounded as if he was about to form a smile. You nervously reached out your hand. “Hi.” Dorian shook your hand. “Hi. I’m Dorian.” He smiled.

“Y/n.” You introduced yourself back.

Kevin removed the two of your hands. “Dorian, this is my wife. As long as you’re staying in my home and, handling my business.. I would appreciate that you keep your eyes and hands to yourself,” he kissed your lips, then your neck. “This one’s all mine.” You forced a smile looking at Dorian in the corner of your eyes, he was observing the body language between you two. It spoke volumes.

“All right. I can assure you, I’m not here for that. I’m just here to help out here as much as I can.”

Kevin nods. “Good, you came highly recommended by Daniel, so don’t disappoint. I usually don’t let outsiders in on my operations, but, if Daniel says you’re cool.. you’re cool with me. Baby, why don’t you go and grab me and the man some drinks. And get dinner started? Yeah?”

“Okay, daddy.”

You stood up and walked out the room. You went to Kevin’s office grabbing his scotch and two glasses. Filling both with ice, walking out you handed Kevin’s to him, and went to hand over Dorian’s. His hand touched yours and it caused your hands to shake and a feeling you’d never felt down your spine. “Thank–” He started until you accidentally bumped your toe on the edge of the coffee table spilling the scotch all on Dorian. “Ouch!”

“What the hell woman?” Kevin stood up looking down at you, slapping you hard across the face sending you to the floor.

The glass broke and a piece went into your arm. Dorian’s jawline clenched. “It was an accident, Kevin.” He got down beside you, helping you clean up the mess. “She can take care of that on her own. She’s so incompetent.” You wiped your tears with your bloody arm. “I-I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” You apologized. Kevin scoffed. “Leave her, Dorian.”

“Boss, she’s hurt.. just let me wipe her wound.”

Kevin smacked his lip. “When you’re done, meet me in my office. Down the hall, first door on the right. We will get you another drink.” He looked down at you. “And when you’re done, you think you can manage to whip up dinner without injury?” You nod. “Words. Speak.” He pressed his fingers together moving his hand up and down. “Yes. I-I can manage.”

“Are you ok?” Dorian asks helping you to your feet

You just looked him in the eyes. He held your waist. “Y-yes. You should go.” He shook his head. “I'm good. Where’s the first aid kit?” You pointed towards the bathroom. “In the cupboard.” He nods, going to get that, you sighed and hissed as you looked at the blood running down your arm. Shaking your head, you just wanted this all to be over. And wanted to just.. go away. Dorian entered the room with the supplies, once he cleaned up your wound, he helped you clean up the glass.

“Thank you.” You said to him standing to your feet. Your eyes locked with his. His with yours.

He smiled lightly. “No problem, Y/n. How’s your toe?” He chuckled, you blushed shaking your head. You were about to answer when you heard someone clearing their throat. “Tonya.” You stepped back from Dorian, turning your attention to her. “What’s going on here?” Tonya was Kevin’s sister, and business partner. She also was the only one who truly seemed to care about you and your well being, and always protected you when she could from her brother. “Nothing.” She nods her head, “Run along.” She told you. You sprinted away.

[end of flashback]

“You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds out about us, Dorian.” You sighed, placing your chin on his chest

He leans down kissing your lips. “He won’t find out, and just trust me.. soon, I’ll get you away from him.” He ran his hand up and down your back as he held you in his arms. “I want you right now, climb on.” You giggle, getting on his stomach, pushing yourself down to his hard-on, you moaning as you slowly road his dick pressing against his stomach. “Mmm,” you moved your hair to the side as you rode him up and down, he held your hips, guiding you up and down. “Mm, shit. Give me a kiss.” You leaned down, careful not to break your rhythm, his lips pressed against yours. You both moan in sync. You giggle as he flipped you both over, thrusting in and out of you

“Mm, yes!” You moan.

You both stared into each other’s eyes intensely. You broke eye contact, you couldn’t no longer look him in the eyes as you moaned louder, creaming all over his dick as his thrust became harder and deeper. “Ohhh! Dorian!! Fuckkkk!” You screamed out in pure pleasure.

-Hours Later-

You sat up on your knees. “Mm, you leaving?” You pout.

“Yeah, I have some work I have to do. I’ll come check on you later. You sure you gonna be okay here until I’m able to make it back?” He holds your naked body to his clothed, his hands running down your soft brown skin, over the scars, the bruises. “I can’t wait to get you away from him, this life.. you don’t deserve this.”

“Dorian, let’s be real. You can’t take me away from him. He will kill me.”

He shook his head kissing your shoulder. “I’ll never let that happen, you hear me? I love you.” You looked him in the eyes. “W-what?” He smiled, kissing your lips. “You heard me. I love you. Imma protect you.”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

-As Halstead

Jay walked into the locker room, sighing deeply. He looked at the photo of him and Hailey that was taped to the locker. Jay was always an honest, caring, loving and noble man. And he loved Hailey. But he loved Y/N.. more if that made sense. Hailey and Jay had been having marital problems for a long time. She’s always been distant with him.. off putting. A little like Y/n in a way but, things with Hailey were just.. sideways. They were separated right now, and he’s been working undercover for the last couple months, but today was the day he’d officially came back to the unit.

His double life was starting to take a toll. He never intended to fall in love with you, but he had. He felt ashamed , unlike himself. And he didn’t know where to begin or.. how he would even tell Hailey that he’s stepped outside of their marriage— even if they were separated– and now you were carrying his child. And he needed to get you out of the situation you were in while Kevin was out of the country on business. “Halstead?”

Jay was knocked out of his trance. He grabbed his badge wrapping it around his neck, grabbing his jacket and closing the locker behind him. “Ruzek.”

The boys shared a brotherly hug. “So glad to have you back.” Jay nods and smiles. “Thank you.” Upton entered the room, she rubbed the skin between her thumb and index finger, Ruzek smiled. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He patted his back, before leaving. Jay rubbed his neck slightly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She smiled a toothless smile, looking at the man she did love but found herself becoming distant.

He didn’t know and she didn’t know the man he was becoming. “I been calling..” she trailed off. “Yeah, I know I’ve been meaning to get back to you, but you know how it is being under, I can barely get away. You know.” She nodded. “Yeah, but how’s things going?”

“Uh.. it’s gotten complicated but, I’ve gotten closer to–”

He was cut off. “Hey, upton- Halstead!” Kevin smiled walking over and embracing Jay with brotherly love. “Glad you here but hey, we just caught a case.” Jay nods. “We can talk about this later.” He looked at her, walking past and going to the briefing room. It all felt so weird, being back here, being around his friends. If all just felt weird and out of place. He looked down at his phone seeing a message from Tonya.

Tonya: 911. Out back.

He frowned. “Hey uh.. I gotta,” he didn’t speak another word, he grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around him rushing out, he closed the gate doors behind him and walked out the back of CPD. He furrowed his brows.

“So it’s true..” Tonya chuckled shaking her head. “You’re a fucking cop!?”

Jay held his hand up. “Tonya..” she scoffed shaking her head. “None of that matters right now, I went back t the hotel to pick up Y/n..” he furrowed his brows. “Okay and? What happened? Where is she? Please tell me you didn’t bring her here.”

“She’s missing.” Tonya told him. “When I got there..”

She was cut off by Upton running out back. “Jay, we leaving? You coming? Is everything ok?” He rubbed the back of his neck. Tonya laughs. “Wow. Jay? What’s your real name.” He sighs. “Jay.. Jay Halstead.” She sucked her teeth. “You go. Do your job. I’ll find her..”

“Wait,” Jay moved closer to her. “Don’t tell her about this. I want to be the one to tell her and don’t tell your brother.”

She laughs. “I won’t. Long as you keep me out of your little Investigation.. but there’s something you should know.. when I got back to the hotel, there was blood everywhere. You might want to come clean about being in that room or.. stall your people.. I’m sure they investigating it. I can have-”

“Wait hold up, go back, there was what? WHAT ARENT YOU TELLING ME, TONYA!?”

Upton just stood there. Confused, trying to make out what was being said until she heard him shout. Tonya pointed her finger in his face. “It’s gonna be handled. I’m sure she’s all right. I will find her.”

“No.. no.. imma find her.” He brushed past her. “Halstead!” Voight shouted.

Jay turned and looked at him and upton, “Get in.” He told Tonya, she ran around getting in the passenger. He got in his truck and started up the vehicle, speeding out the precinct. “Why you didn’t lead with that Tonya? I need details.. everything you saw or can remember..”

“I’m sure she’s fine.. Dorian, Jay whatever the hell your name is. My brother wouldn’t kill her. If anything he’d rough her up.”

Jay shook his head. “And you think that’s okay?” She shook her head. “No. But I did warn the two of you to stop what you’re doing. If she’s killed, it’s on you.” She spoke with venom looking away from the road over at him. “On you.”

“If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

She shook her head. “Well something did. I don’t know what happened in that room but I’m actually scared.” Jay’s phone rung with Voight’s number. He let out a sharp exhale, answering. “Halstead. Where are you?”

“Something came up. I have to handle it.”

He shook his head. “You want to explain to me why the hotel we’re investigating has your undercover alias name on file? And why I have a room a mess, ransacked and blood everywhere. Jay, what’s going on? Come talk to me before you do anything stupid.. we can do this.. together.”

“This is my mess. I’m going to fix it. Just tell me, is there a body?”

Voight went silent. Jay pulled over and slammed on his break. “Voight, is there a body?”

“Yes.” Jay and Tonya both looked at eachother.

—————

Tags: @xsweetdellzx @laylasbunbunny @hinatasfleshlight @skyesthebomb @bbygirlchristina @lovesanimals0000 @briana-mishell24 @piccasoe @wandasbitxh @90sisthenew80s @tribalqueen20 @panicsinvirgo @star017 @zenxn20 @pearlkitten33 @rosegoldcoco

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magicxc · 7 months

Text

Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music, and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Halloween they’ll never forget, proving that "the scare" is more than just a fantasy.

Word Count: 4027

Warnings: TRAUMA lol, detailed bloody scene

Chapter 3 - Lorenzo’s POV

Series Masterlist

“Oh my gosh, how the hell did we manage to get roped into helping you cleannnnnn,” Lynn complained.

“Guys we’ve been doing this since highschool, why are y’all acting brand new?”

“Dammit Lenny, I should’ve left while I had the chance.”

“Steph you’ve been drinking all night, how the hell were you planning on getting home without driving?” I countered.

“And as ritual would have it, I assume we’re all sleeping here then?” Emery asked.

“See, Em gets it and I got the guest room all set up for you guys.”

“Two rooms, five people. That gives us about 2-3 persons to each room,” Jason proposed. “Sugar and I are more than willing to squeeze one more in.”

“No, the hell we’re not,” she whispered.

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean five people? Where the fuck is Julez?” Steph barked.

“That sneaky bitch, she’s probably halfway back to the A right now,” Lynn suggests.

Ahhh fuck, Julez. I wouldn’t dare say it to her face but I for sure wouldn't mind if she stayed the night. Truth be told, this rift between us has gone on long enough. I was more ashamed than anything for several reasons - number one being that I was scaring the hoes. It was beyond unnecessary for me to snatch them out of their kiss like that and I felt like an antagonist straight out of a lifetime movie. Reason two being everyone saw it all go down. I swear I looked up and the lights were on, the record scratched, and this random bitch was clutching a pair of invisible pearls. Ok so it didn’t exactly go down like that, but a lot of people still saw that shit happen. And reason three being that work became awkward as hell and my coworker ended up putting in a request to transfer departments.

What’s even worse is that I’m not good with words. I’ll never in my life put a woman in any situation to feel uncomfortable or forced to do something she’s not down with. And the fact that my coworker felt the need to get away from me made me feel fifty shades of shitty.

Meanwhile Julez has actually been trying to mend things between us and like the dumbass I am, have been giving her the cold shoulder. Could you believe that? One of my best friends has been trying to squash our beef and I act like a bitch on her period.

Maybe I can blame it on my underdeveloped brain? They say men aren't fully mature until they hit 25, and even then there’s still some debate. Yeah, that’s the one. I can hear her and the girls now, cackling up a storm. They’ll never let me live it down, but it’s all good. I fucks with the homies and if communication is something I need to learn to keep them in my life, then so be it.

But after tonight tho; once I get some sleep in me and this alcohol out of my system. Hopefully Julez will be willing to hear me out, nah fuck that. I’ll fly down to Atlanta if I have to, but she’ll listen to everything I have to say whether she likes it or not.

“I mean the guest room is big enough right Steph, why don’t we let those three have it while you and I catch up for old times sake?” I teased.

“NIGGA THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

“Lenny, you know I'm down to help clean, but I'm pretty sure we can do this tomorrow,” Em yawned.

“Yeah man, I’m no lightweight but even I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“J’s right Lenny, we can finish this another time.”

Wow, it’s a full on bitch fest in here tonight.

“No we can’t Lynn, my parents are gonna be back here first thing in the morning and I need this place in pristine fucking condition,” I snarled.

“Well why would your dumbass host it here at the lakehouse then,” Steph screeched.

“Because Stephanie, it has more living room space and less valuables to steal; plus the scenery is cooler for Halloween.”

“Mhmm touché. A lake house on Halloween where there’s seclusion and nature, and creepy crawlies.”

“Really Jason,” Lynn butts in. “Since when do you like seclusion?”

“Since there’s no neighbors around to hear the sounds I’m gonna pull from you.”

“Guys please,” Steph gagged. “I know those mummy meatloafs weren’t the best, but I was really hoping they’d come out the other end.”

“Oh whatever, don’t hate just because my sex life is healthy.”

“Yeah a little too healthy. Now I see why they call you sugar,” Steph laughed.

“Dammit now I’ll never hear the end of this.”

“And y’all will never hear the end of me. COME THE FUCK ON, CLEAN AS YOU TALK.”

“Lorenzo, dude relax,” Jason chided.

“Lenny, it's not like your parents don’t know about your party lifestyle.”

“It’s not that Lynn. The lake house is in Escrow,” I explained. “The new owners are set to move in come Monday while we spend the weekend removing any last minute items.

“Ohhhh yeah, I would’ve fucked you up if I were your mom and dad,” Steph pointed out.

“Now really ain’t the time.”

Every get together is the same exact shit. They eat my food, drink my beers, then get to bitching when I need help tidying up after. We go on about how tired they are while they drag their asses and the next thing you know the sun is peeking over the horizon. What could’ve taken minutes turns into hours where we all sleep til evening and then laugh about it over some makeshift leftovers. But I’d much rather skip to the laugh over a meal part cause I’m getting real sick of the inbetweens. Next time I'll just let them host at one of their homes and see how they like it. Maybe then they’ll appreciate all the efforts I go through.

Just when I find myself ready to have another screaming match, it seems that Em has beat me to it. At first I thought she just wanted us to shut up, but the way she’s clawing at the glass has me on edge. The scratching of the window soon turns into hitting and I race over there before any real damage is done.

Grabbing both her hands, I try to pull her away from the window - my attempts damn near futile until Jason comes over, arms wrapped around her waist as we both work to calm her down. But a fist to my jaw has us pinning her to the ground entirely, concern thick in the air.

“Emery, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” I yell.

Nothing, just constant thrashing as her arms and legs flail every which way. The screaming hasn’t since stopped and I’m on the verge of having her committed because what the fuck? She was JUST fine a second ago.

Rushing over, the girls land on the floor next to her, trying but failing to understand exactly what's happening as they shake her shoulders for answers.

“Em please! Tell us what’s going on,” Steph sobbed.

“Em- Emery! EM, calm the hell down.”

“Lynn what the fuck did she see? Go and check the window,” Jason orders.

“Julez,” Em hiccups as she points to the window. “It’s fucking Julez. They’ve found me.”

“Julez? What do you mean Julez, Julez what?” I screamed.

“And who the hell is they?” Steph added

“Ohhh Em tell me you aren’t referring to the Resident Reaper?”

“Lynn, they’ve got her,” Em says weakly.

“The Resident - aye y’all what the fuck is going on?”

“Come on Lorenzo, your friend has obviously been through a lot.”

“J shouldn't have to remind you to be considerate Lenny.”

“I’m sorry Em, I- I’m still stuck on the Julez part is all, wh-what about Julez?”

A shaky finger pointed in the direction of the window is all Em can manage. Silent tears stream down her face and I get this gut feeling in the pit of my stomach that something went terribly wrong tonight.

It's like the opposite of butterflies, that instead of everything being light and airy my stomach feels heavy and sunken to the ground. But I didn’t think it could sink any further until I heard the gasp that Lynn lets out. It’s shallow and wrapped in despair, yet somehow it’s enough to have everyone flocking to the window.

I hear a mixture of sobs and screams alike and as I lock eyes with Em, I realised then and there that I wasn’t going to see my friend again. That we were never gonna get the chance to patch things up and that for the better part of a few weeks, I’ve been way too stubbornly foolish.

My feet feel frozen in place but I have to see for myself. Trudging over to the window, I stop just shy of the pane and peer out into the darkness, eyes adjusting as I try to make out what my friends are seeing. Their sobs get blocked out as I stare into the water and stumble upon the gaze of Julez.

Her eyes are bloodshot red and lifeless as she drifts with the tides, a serene scene under different circumstances. Oddly enough she looks content and I’m not necessarily religious, but I say a silent prayer to the big guy upstairs that she at least went peacefully.

Dropping to my knees I let out a sound that scares even me, roaring out my frustrations and sadness alike. That scene is something that’ll haunt me forever but what hurts most is wishing that I'd never seen it.

There’s a solemness to the air around us, thick with gloom and melancholy as everyone tries their best to gather their thoughts; scared to break the silence and confirm that this isn’t just a bad dream. Quiet sniffles and heavy breathing slices through the silent night until the stomping of feet cuts through it all.

Looking up, I see Steph marching toward the front door trying but failing to open it as she realizes that the deadbolt is locked. It's one of those deadlocks without the knob turn thingy simply because my parents felt it was better security in a house this far out. Essentially it needs a key to be unlocked.

“Dammit Lenny, why would you lock the damn door,” she shouts while jiggling the handle.

Wiping furiously at my tears, I stand up deciding that I’ll have to grieve a little later as my body goes into overdrive, panicking at the idea that someone took it upon themselves to lock us in here.

“Steph, why would I do that?”

“I’ll check the back door man,” Jason offers.

“What about the windows, any of them big enough that we could fit through?” Em questions.

“There’s bars on all the windows” Steph mumbles. “What the hell was your family trying to keep out?”

“Or maybe keep in?” Lynn induces.

“Now is not the time to place blame guys,” Em suggests.

“Back doors locked too and I’m not getting any cell service out here man."

“Alright everyone let’s just take a second to think this through,” I snapped.

There could’ve been a thousand guesses thrown my way about how I imagined this night turning out and absolutely none of them could’ve surmised just how fucked it’d get.

At worst I prepared for a nasty hangover, Tylenol on standby, not a damn murder mystery. And Julez of all people, she’s damn near the most wholesome one of the group and they- they watched as all life drained from her big, round eyes.

Dragging my palms across my cheeks, I straighten up as my body kicks into autopilot, revenge sourcing it with enough adrenaline to power through this shit show.

Even with anger coursing through my veins I can’t understand why? Why go through the trouble of killing Julez and locking us in here? It’s not like we discovered her right away, however it’s not something I have time to elaborate on. We need to find a way out of this death trap and call for help immediately

“Listen, the whole point of shitty cell service in the area is something my parents were banking on when they got this place,” I disclosed. “Some crap about family bonding time, but if I can just get to the -“

“This just gets better and better,” Steph blurted, while she rocked back and forth on her heels. “Escrow or not Lenny, I’m getting out of here even if I have to tear that door hinge from motherfucking hinge.”

“BUT IF I CAN JUST GET TO THE BEDROOM UPSTAIRS, MAYBE WE’LL GET ENOUGH SIGNAL TO CALL FOR HELP.”

“What’s so good about the bedroom upstairs,” Em questioned.

“It’s the only part of the house that picks up a bar, maybe two from the cell towers.”

“Bars on all the windows, deadbolts on all the doors, only available cell service is in the master bedroom,” Lynn criticized. “Just what the fuck were you four up to in here?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That maybe you guys ‘family time’ went beyond the occasional movie night,” she sneered.

“Baby, enough we’re not gonna get anywhere with y’all jumping at each others throats like this.”

“YOU’RE SICK! LYNN I SWEAR IF YOU WERE ANYONE THE FUCK ELSE I’D-“

“You’d what?”

“Guys please,” Emery sobbed. “This is exactly what that asshole wants, to see us turn on one another.”

“Lynn you’re fucked up for that one and you know it,” Steph admitted. “None of this is helping, so what do we do now?”

“I think the cell service is a great start Lorenzo, but we gotta find those keys man,” Jason suggested. “Where’d you last place them?

“I remember seeing it near the deviled eggs,” I sighed.

“You max this house out to the brim for a party and don’t even bother to properly secure the keys to your own home?” Emily screeched.

Inhaling a deep breath, I tilt my head upward desperately trying to hold onto what little patience I have left. Julez is out there floating against the currents and here we are arguing over a set of keys. My friends have never really struck me as stupid, but this night is chocked full of surprises.

“New locks to this place are getting installed come Monday Em. Between my parents here this weekend and the new owners after that, I couldn’t care less who had the keys.”

“And now we’re all going to die for it,” Steph scolded.

“Shut up, all of you,” Jason yelped. “Every minute we spend here is a minute more that sick freak has the upper hand, possibly plotting.

“And unless one of you can squeeze through those bars, the only way we’re getting out of here is through that door,” Em chimed in.

“Lorenzo, think man, does your family keep a spare key anywhere around here?”

“Uhh ye- yeah, I think so. Hell if I know where it could be at this point Jason.”

“Where is it usually?” Em asks.

“By a rack near the back door.”

“There were no keys when I checked back there,” Jason pointed out. “Fuck, we need to get moving NOW.

Facial expressions hardening, I can see the socialite version of him slipping away while his military brain kicks into overdrive. Feet spread at shoulders length and arms placed firmly behind his back, Jason goes on to dictate orders to us, a small thanks on the tip of my tongue considering we were all scrambling.

He directs me to the master bedroom to try and get some signal, Em to the second bedroom, himself to the kitchen and living room, Steph to the bathroom and any miscellaneous closet doors, while Lynn works on picking the deadlock cause God only knows how she picked up such a skill. Why am I surprised tho, this is the same woman who helped me open my car door after I’d accidentally locked my keys inside; criminal ass bitch.

We all race to our respective areas, more than ready to get this night over with. Upstairs, I make a beeline for the innermost corner of the room between the bed and window.

Stretching my arms until the phone touches the ceiling, I squint my eyes until they gloss over with no luck to any flashing signal. I dial 911 only to hear the mocking tone of the operator on the other end letting me know that the number I am trying to reach is unavailable.

Picking up the expensive floral vase from the night stand, I smash it against the wall until it shatters into a thousand tiny pieces; beyond overwhelmed with how everything is going.

Before I know it, my knees connect to the wooden floor beneath me, palms circling the perimeter of my face as I bawl my eyes out; teeth sinking into my skin to muffle the screams that tear through my throat. If someone would’ve told me 24 hours ago that I’d be stuck in my own damn house while trying to evade a possible serial killer, I would’ve told them to fuck off and yet - here I am.

The rage running through my body comes to slowing stop, adrenaline all but gone as the weight of exactly what’s going on crushes me further into the floor.

Sitting up against the bed frame, eyes puffy and throat sore, I briefly wonder if it’s even worth the trouble and come to terms with the fact that I may very well not make it out of here alive.

A low gleam of light pours in from the window above and the moon in all its fullness draws me closer, the same way its gravitational pull does the earth.

Fingers cradling around the lip of the pane, I pull it up and the gust of wind that whips across my face fills me with a fresh glimmer of hope. The stars in the sky twinkle so brightly and I wonder if that's the last thing Julez saw before her untimely end; a sliver of satisfaction filling me at the thought of her final view being something so serenely scenic.

Fingers slipping into my pockets, I dig out the cell phone lodged in there and stick my hand through the bars at shoulder length. Iron jabs at my skin the further I stretch my arm through the metal while small beads of sweat gather on my forehead and palms. Tongue slipping between my teeth and over my lips, it plants itself at the corner of my mouth; a telltale sign of my concentration.

Aiming my arm higher toward the sky, it starts to burn at the sensation and I make a mental note to get back in the gym once this is over with.

“C’mon you son of a bitch, I dropped $1300 on you, the least you could do is pick up a signal.”

Angling my arm a little to the left, I stand on my tippy toes in hopes of getting lucky and the small bar that pops up in the corner of my screen is enough to ignore any discomfort my body may be feeling.

Eyes brimming over with tears, it takes everything in me not to scream through my relief, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

Fingers swiping over those infamous three digits, I’m all but ready to hit send until my phone slips through the cracks of my hand. Watching as it free falls 20 feet to the ground, the screen breaks alongside my hope.

“Son of a BITCH,” I fumed, arms wrapped around the bars as I shook them senseless; annoyance growing once I realized that even after giving it all I had, it didn’t even budge.

After a few more minutes of me pacing around the room, I get this lightbulb moment of clarity that of the five of us left, there’s still four more phones.

Racing down the stairs in newfound anticipation, I burst through the doors of the first bedroom, all but ready to snatch Em’s cell phone; only she isn’t in there. Making my way to the front, I see the bathroom light pouring into the hallway and dash inside, eager to find someone, anyone really.

Slamming through the bathroom door, I get ready to scream the good news to Steph, yet the sight before me has me halting entirely.

Both hands covering my mouth, I have to physically swallow down the vomit that threatens to surface. Panic rises inside of me as the hands that once wrapped itself around my face now finds itself buried in my hair - frantically running through its tresses.

A low wheezing sounds from beneath me and I fly to the floor, knees sliding against the tiles until I reach her.

Blood is everywhere! Splattered drops line the walls as the once white floor slowly turns a shade of deep crimson. I look over to Steph, whose hands are weakly cradled around her neck and it’s only then that I can figure out just where all the bleeding is coming from.

“Oh shit, oh shit, shit,” I hissed. “Steph it’s gonna be alright, I just need you to hold on for a minute.”

Shuffling, I reach out to the adjacent wall to snatch a towel from the rack. Wrapping it around her throat, I try my best to make a tourniquet, loosening it as Steph starts to make these wet, gurgling noises.

Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at the fucked up reality of this situation and the fact that I can’t even sit down long enough to process just what the hell is even going on anymore.

With the towel securely placed around the wound, blood rapidly seeps through the cloth, my face sinking at the realisation of how futile my efforts are and how quickly she needs professional help.

“AYEEEEEEEEE,” I screeched. “YOU GUYS GET IN HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.”

Applying enough pressure to the wound to try and stop the bleeding but light enough that I don’t choke her, I finally let my tears fall.

Shoulders sagging and chest heaving, my body is physically exhausted from this terror filled night. My best fucking friend is getting paler by the minute and the blood that gushes from her neck shows no sign of slowing down. The pool of liquid quickly spreads beneath us and sinks into the tiled creases and I can’t help the wail that escapes me.

“Steph, baby talk to me,” I pleaded. “Who did this to you?”

Heavy footsteps approach the doorway and I hear a muddled mixture of screams.

Stephs raspy voice pulls me in and her whispered tone is indecipherable. Wrapping her in my arms, I quietly shush her as I rock us back and forth, urging her to save her voice and energy until we can get some help.

Feet splashing through the blood and plopping beside me, it takes a minute for me to notice that it's Lynn, begging for answers.

“I don’t fucking know Lynn, for goodness sake make yourself useful.”

“Both of you shut up,” Jason barks. “Dude tell me you got enough service to get us some hel- to get Steph some help.”

Silence is all I can muster up in this moment and yet it's enough to answer their million dollar question.

Jason frantically paces the floor, Lynn is hovering over Steph yelling out questions and assurances alike, and Em is sliding down the wall, legs cupped between her arms.

Stephs slow breaths stop hitting my neck, her light wheezing all but gone and it's then that the crushing weight of her passing dawns on me.

Eyes tightly squeezed shut, they do very little to stop the onslaught of tears, my rocking now intensified. Lynn catches on and her high pitched shriek sends a ripple effect of anguish into the air.

A deafening silence falls on the group, and after what feels like forever, a gut wrenching realisation hits me that it’s one of us - it’s one of us hurting our friends.

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #Spooky Szn #Halloween Kills #Halloween Series #Halloween #Hills and Valleys #Original Story and Characters #Horror #Drama is on THEE way #things def heat up here #rubs hands like birdman

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artekai · 2 years

Text

That quiz called me out bc this is exactly how I treat Dojiruki 90% of the time lol

#ramble #dojiruki #new day new rarepair #i can still squeeze more trauma out of these two old men!!#oh but when i say i will make them talk about their feelings i don't mean their feelings on each other #oh no that's gonna take a long time to come out #it's because they're both like #i miss my wife tails #and then they turn around and are like #is it insensitive to tell him i'm in love with him after what happened to his wife??#haha these two have a lot to work out before pursuing a romantic relationship with each other!

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you.

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you.

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop.

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes.

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy.

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him.

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before.

Happy.

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle.

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement.

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you.

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.”

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you.

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes.

Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground.

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath.

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but…

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin.

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.”

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free.

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit.

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth.

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen.

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come.

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion.

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–”

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you.

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips…

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it…

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him.

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #tw: noncon #tw:dubcon #tw: drugged reader #tw: infidelity #angst #pain #manipulation #fun times ahead

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view.

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg

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bubblesuga · 3 years

Text

Nothing

Summary: Taehyung was meant to be a father, and he proves that when you come home from a long night at work. W/C: 1,153 Genre: fluff, Tags: pregnancy, idol!au A/N: I was listening to Nothing by Bruno Major and started crying and thinking of Taehyung for some reason??? Anyway that lead to me writing this short fluff piece okay bye I hope you enjoy

Work lasts longer than you wish it did, and the drive home went by slower than it ever has been before. Yet, when you finally pull into the driveway of your home you feel relief flood you.

Never have you had a home. Never have you felt comfortable and reassured that you’ll be surrounded by people who loved you when you walked into the door until now.

Sliding your keys into the lock, you twist and open the door.

The moment you step inside, you hear a soft melodic tune playing in the living room. You toss your keys onto the counter and slip your shoes off.

“Taehyung, I’m home!” You call out, but there’s no reply. Instead, the soft melodic tune becomes more recognizable and Taehyung’s deep voice humming along with the melody. Rounding the corner, you glance inside the living room and spot Taehyung holding your 7 month old daughter in his arms.

“We’ll play Nintendo, though I always lose. ‘Cuz you watch the TV, and I’m watching you.” Taehyung sings while nuzzling his face against your daughter’s, still yet to have noticed your presence. “--but there’s nothing, like doing nothing, with you.”

A smile stretches across your face and you step into the room, careful not to startle your husband and daughter. You approach Taehyung, wrapping your small arm around his shoulders and noticing your daughter’s eyes are still wide open and she watches her father with an adoring smile.

Her two bottom teeth are beginning to poke out of her gums, and you notice then that she has Taehyung’s smile and your nose. Dimples poke in her cheeks and Taehyung continues to sing, though it’s not the same song.

“Mama’s come home now, ready to play. Daddy won’t let go of you today.” A giggle leaves your daughter’s mouth, light and adorable.

Your heart swells while you reach your hand forward and brush the long black hair from her face. “If Mama could sing, I promise I would. Daddy took all the talent for himself.” Her giggle repeats, and you finally meet eyes with Taehyung.

“How are you, honey?” He asks, swaying back and fourth while your daughter’s eyes grow tired.

“Tired like the little one,” your thumb runs across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed completely, “but I’m happy to be home.”

“That’s good,” he grins, his teeth shining. Leaning down, he presses a small kiss to your lips, “I made dinner earlier since you got home late. There’s a bowl in the microwave and rice in the rice maker.”

“Thank you, baby.” You kiss him again and allow your feet to carry you up the stairs and towards the kitchen.

You’re grateful for your husband. When he’s home and not travelling the world, he is the most in tune and perfect father that you could have ever wished for your child.

It came as a shock when you found out you were pregnant. Taehyung had left for tour roughly 2 months prior, and you still hadn’t gotten your period. Out of curiosity you took a test and sure enough it was positive. The phone call that followed was one of the most emotional phone calls you have ever made. Taehyung threatened to fly home immediately, but you convinced him to stick it out for the remainder of the tour. 4 months later you were six months pregnant and Taehyung had finally arrived home.

Needless to say he made sure you didn’t lift a finger for the remainder of your pregnancy.

You laugh when you look back at it now, Taehyung continues to be the first up at night when your daughter needs to feed or to be changed.

You feel arms snake around your waist and the familiar swaying returns, “She’s down for the night.”

You scoop some of the rice into your mouth and inhale, “Thank you for being so good with her.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He squeezes you tighter, “She’s you, but smaller.”

You turn in his arms, “She’s also you, but smaller.”

Taehyung giggles, reaching and pushing a piece of hair from your face. He kisses the tip of your nose, “Thank you for giving her to me. I’ve never been happier.”

“I’ve never been happier either,” you close your eyes while his hand cups your cheek, “I love you.”

Taehyung pecks your lips once again, and you inhale his scent. A mixture of baby lotion and his lightly scented cologne fills your senses. He smells like comfort, like love... like home.

“Let’s get you fed then we’ll go watch our show.” Taehyung whispers, but he’s unable to pull himself away from you. You laugh, carefully trying to slip the bowl of food between you two. Taehyung realizes the struggle and pulls away just enough so that you can eat comfortable, and the two of you have a conversation about your day. When you finish, you slip the bowl into the sink and Taehyung leads you up to your bedroom.

He sets the baby monitor on the bedside night stand and watches you lay on your stomach. He can’t help but giggle again, crawling atop you and straddling your hips.

Your show begins to play and Taehyung runs his hands up and down your back in a gentle massage.

You allow the tiredness to take over you because you know that Taehyung won’t mind you missing the show. He won’t mind your soft snores, or your light breathing. He won’t mind the way you reach for him in your sleep and he holds you against his chest, and he certainly won’t mind pulling himself out of bed when he hears his daughter’s cries.

Because this is exactly what he’s always wanted in life. You, his child, you’re both his happiness.

Earlier in the day, Jimin popped by with more presents. He insists on being her favorite uncle, though she lights up whenever she sees any of the members. Taehyung remembers holding back tears the day that he heard you were pregnant. Within a few hours after the phone call he was on stage, and he had never sang harder.

All of the members cried when Taehyung delivered the news after the concert when it was finally quiet. When the screams had subsided and all that was left was 7 men sitting in a room, eating fast food and talking about how their concert went.

Taehyung allowed the dam to break and hot, happy tears spilled and the members surrounded him to embrace in congratulations.

So now that Taehyung is listening to the soft snores leaving your lips, he realizes that everything happens for a reason.

All of the trauma, the pain, and the suffering he experienced as a teen and young adult has lead him here, in this house with the love of his life and the mother of his child. Again, another hot, happy tear slips from his eye.

He is finally home.

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts #bts x reader #taehyung x reader fluff #taehyung x reader smut

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masterofmunson · 3 years

Text

look after you (2)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, vomiting, explosions, needles, pining galore

Word Count: 4.7k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but to celebrate the season finale of tfatws as well as me getting fully vaccinated, I decided to post it a day earlier! As always, comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You take a day to rest and recoup before diving head first into the mission again. You slept decently and you hadn’t really thought about how exhausted you really were until you went to bed after your heart to heart with Bucky. It was a conversation that the two of you needed to have, and you wished it didn’t have to happen after you had gotten shot. You’re just glad that you’re on the same page now.

Getting out of bed, you’re careful to move around with your shoulder in mind as you wash your face and brush your teeth. You make your way to the kitchen and everyone, including Zemo, sits around the granite countertop.

“Good morning, Y/n. How’s your shoulder?” Zemo asked with a smug smirk and a cup of tea in his hands.

You glare at him and take three long strides to get to him. You slap him across the face and the smack echoes against the walls. “If you touch Bucky and I like you did last night again, I’ll kill you. Understand?” you snapped, spitting at him.

He grins and caresses the side where you hit him, messaging his fingers into the tender and red skin. “Completely.”

You walk away from him to the far side of the counter where Bucky and Sam are just staring at you with wide eyes. They hide their growing smiles behind their coffee mugs. You reach for the coffee pot and Sharon grabs a mug from the cabinet for you. You fill it with coffee and pour some creamer inside.

Bucky leans over your shoulder and mumbles in your ear, “Are you feeling okay?”

You smile softly at him and take a sip of your coffee. You nod slowly and lean against the kitchen counter. You don’t need to exchange words for Bucky to know that you’re doing okay. He knows with the small curve of your mouth.

“What’s the move now that all of Madripoor is trying to kill us? How are we going to find this Nagel guy?” you asked, looking between Sam and Sharon.

Sharon sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You should really steer clear of all of this for your own safety,” she sighed. “Especially you, now that you’re injured,” nodding over to your shoulder.

“We know it’s a risk, but we’re not going to leave until we find Nagel,” Sam interjected.

Sam and Sharon negotiate with each other as you walk towards the window. Now that the sun is up, you can see the entire skyline of High Town. It’s beautiful, all things considered since the entirety of Low Town is trying to kill you.

“You help us out, I’ll get your name cleared. Deal?”

Sharon sighs and shakes Sam’s hand. “I have a showing tonight, I’ll see what I can find. Just lay low and blend in. Stay out of trouble.”

She leaves the kitchen and disappears down the hall. You move back into the kitchen and poke around the pantry to see what kind of breakfast food she had for you to eat. To your own surprise and excitement, you see a box of Cheerios on the top shelf. You grab it and open a number of cabinets and drawers for a bowl and spoon.

“Want some, Buck? Sam?” you asked.

The two men shake their heads and Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a call, I’ll be right back.”

You hum and grab the milk from the fridge. You sit at the kitchen table away from Zemo. Bucky sits in the empty chair next to you and you playfully shove a hand in his face as he watches you eat.

“Stop brooding, Buck. It’s not a good look for you, gives you wrinkles,” you teased with a grin.

“I think I’m okay with a few wrinkles, honey. I look pretty damn good for a 106 year old, don’t you think?” Bucky teased in return.

You hum with approval and a mouthful of cereal. “Mhmm. You look great, Buck.”

You finish your breakfast and put everything away. Bucky reaches for your arm and squeezes your hand. “Can I look at your shoulder? I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nod and Bucky grabs the abandoned first aid kit before following you into the nearest bathroom. You climb on to the bathroom counter and Bucky ruffles through the kit for the right supplies. He gathers more thread, bandages, and anticeptant and places them beside you.

“Do you need me to help you take off your sweatshirt?”

Your laughter fills the bathroom walls and you raise your brows at the ex assassin. A flirtatious smile finds its way onto your face. “Are you asking me for a strip tease, Barnes?”

His face flushes an embarrassing shade of pink and it makes you giggle even more. It makes your heart melt at his awkwardness. He stutters over his words. “N-No! I can step out if you don’t need help. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He turns to leave and you gently grasp his arm, stopping him from leaving you. Your gentle smile and touch makes him relax. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Buck. You don’t have to leave. You might have to ask me out on a date after this, though. I don’t do this for just anyone.”

He just stares at you with a blank expression.

You laugh again, biting the inside of your cheek. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed that he didn’t understand your teasing. “I’m joking.”

“Oh.”

You slowly pull your hoodie over your head and wince at the burning sensation. You move your bra strap to the side and Bucky carefully inspects the bandages. Blood seeps through them and he’s careful to pull the soiled bandages off your skin and into the trash. He leans forwards to get a better look at the stitching to make sure they’re still intact.

Bucky takes a clean antibacterial wipe and swipes it around the wound, picking up the dry blood and cleaning the area. You wince at the sudden stinging sensation around the sensitive area of your wound. Bucky apologizes under his breath. It sends a chill down your spine.

His fingers are soft and gentle against your skin. His touch is feather light. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s trying his best, all things considered.

He bandages both sides of the wound with incredible care. He’s silent as he works. His eyes are focused and his hands move with incredible ease.

When he’s finished bandaging you up, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and it makes you freeze. Your throat tightens and your heart begins to race. Bucky pulls away and your eyes meet. He scratches at the back of your neck.

“Sorry. I used to do that when my sisters got hurt when they were younger. It made them feel better,” he explained with rosy cheeks. He turns to flee the bathroom and you pull him back again.

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s sweet. Thank you,” you said, fixing your hoodie.

He smiles awkwardly at you before finally leaving the bathroom. You follow behind him and ignore the weird feeling inside your chest.

….

You didn’t know what to expect when you went downstairs to the gallery. When you arrived last night, you didn’t have the time to look at the artwork in the building. You were in too much pain to notice what kind of art Sharon dealt with. What you didn’t expect was the number of people that showed up and how it seemed like a dance club rather than an art gallery.

You’re dressed in a nice pair of black pants and matching blouse. Music thunders in your ears and the bass of the music vibrates through your chest. You push through the crowd to get to the bar. You order three tequila shots and pass two of them to Bucky and Sam. You clink the glasses together before downing the liquor. It burns your throat and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod along to the music and make your way towards the gallery portion of the building. You walk past a number of Monet paintings, and you’re stunned that Sharon was able to get her hands on such priceless pieces. You’ve never been one to analyze paintings and artwork.

You walk around the entire gallery before returning to the bar. Sam and Bucky scowl as they watch Zemo try and dance to the music. You hide your growing smile behind your beer and reach for Sam’s hand, dragging him to the dance floor. He groans loudly but doesn’t pull away.

“C’mon Grumpy Gills, Sharon said to have fun. You don’t look like you’re having fun,” you noted with a teasing smile and a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. You move your hips along to the beat of the music and Sam rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his beer.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the same thing to Barnes? Why drag me out here instead of him?” Sam asked over the loud music. He slowly starts to nod his head to the music.

You laughed loudly and grinned at him. “I have to split my time evenly between my two children!” you joked. “I can’t make it look like I have a favorite.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head at you. A growing smirk fills his features and he spins you around on the dance floor. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart, least of all me. The two of you are like two lost puppies when you’re around each other. Put the old man out of his misery and tell him how you feel!”

Embarrassment washes over you and you try to hide your face with your arm. Was it really that obvious that you had feelings for Bucky? God, did Zemo notice too? For your sake and sanity, you hope not, and you know you’re not lucky enough to get away with it. He’s a perceptive asshole. The last thing you need is Zemo of all people to mention your behavior that seems more than friendly to Bucky.

It’s the last thing Bucky needs. He’s still healing and dumping your heart out to him is not a good idea. He’s figuring out how to deal with all his trauma and to adjust to life as a Bucky Barnes he’s proud to be. You don’t need to add to it. It’s not the right time and things are too complicated.

You shake your head. You can’t. You won’t. “It’s complicated, Sam. I can’t just dump it on him. He has too much to deal with and I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam shakes his head at you. You’re not surprised that he disagrees with you. He wants to knock some sense into you, but he won’t push it. “That’s not your decision to make though. You’re taking that choice away from him, and he’s had a lifetime of choices taken away from him.”

You take a step away from Sam at his insinuation. Your brows pinch together and you glare at him. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Sam. You’re not my therapist.”

He scratches the back of his head and you look away from him. He sighs. “Listen, I just want the two of you to be happy, but I won’t push it. I won’t say anything.”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes at him. This is what you get when you try to make Sam relax and have fun. He can’t just turn it off. You push past him and make a beeline towards the elevator. You had lost interest in the party and just wanted to be left alone. Sam ruined your mood and pissed you off.

When the elevator arrives to the top floor, you raid Sharon’s liquor cabinet and open the door to the balcony. You take a seat on the floor and your legs hang from the railing as you drink in silence. You stare out into the skyline and listen to the sounds of the city mix together. It makes you miss New York City.

Car horns blare in the distance as do the sound of the rap of bullets on the other side of town. The light in the city distorts the night sky and the neon lights mix together in perfect harmony.

You’d never admit it out loud or tell Sam, but you know that he’s right. You should give Bucky the choice, but it was so much easier to just ignore your feelings for Bucky rather than just telling him outright. If you told him and he rejected you, it would make things more complicated than they already were, and it was the last thing you wanted.

You don’t think you could handle losing Bucky, especially after Steve. Just like Bucky thought you were his last connection to Steve, you felt the same way towards him, but you’d never tell him. You don’t want him to live up to Steve’s expectations. It doesn’t matter what Steve thought and he was gone. The two of you just needed to move past it.

The balcony door slides open behind you and you don’t bother turning to see who it is that’s joining you. You know that Bucky was the one behind you. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you. You wordlessly pass the bottle of tequila over to him and he takes a drink without a second thought. He passes it back to you.

“What did Sam say to you?” Bucky asked, staring at your side profile. He runs his metal hand through his hair.

You busy yourself by taking another swig of tequila. You tear your gaze from the skyline and look over at Bucky. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Something I’m not ready to hear,” you answered vaguely. It’s a partial truth and you know that Bucky didn’t expect such a vague answer from you. You don’t want to talk about it, and he respects you enough to not push you to tell him when it’s obviously a sensitive subject for you. You’re not ready. “I guess it’s what I get for trying to get Sam to try and relax and have fun.”

Silence falls between the two of you and you take the time in between to drink. Bucky grabs the bottle from you and sets it beside him. You huff at him and watch him stand up. You look up at him and he holds his hand out for you.

“I’ll have fun with you. Don’t let him ruin the night for you,” he said as he helps you to your feet.

You smile and shake your head at him. You know he’s trying his best and it makes you adore him even more. “There’s no music, Buck.”

He shrugs and pulls you towards him. Your uninjured arm wraps around his neck and his own hands settle on your waist. You let him lead as you sway to the sounds of the city below you. He hums quietly and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I haven’t danced since 1943,” he hummed matter of factly against the shell of your ear.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you whispered. “You’re a good dancer.”

He gently twirls you around the balcony and a soft gasp leaves your lips as you cling to him as you’re dipped to the floor. He grins flirtatiously and pulls you back to your feet. For a split second, you see the man he was before the war, the man that Steve spoke so fondly of before he found him in Vienna all those years ago. This is the man that was notorious with the ladies and always took women dancing and stole their hearts. It makes you dizzy just thinking about it.

You hold your breath as his eyes find yours. “It’s all about finding the right partner,” he said, holding you close. “I have one hell of a dance partner, don’t you think, doll?”

Your heart beats erratically against your chest. You feel dizzy and it’s not from the tequila or the dancing. God, does he make you feel weak in the knees. You feel like you can’t breathe with him so close to you. He’s warm and intoxicating and it makes you feel like you’re about to do something stupid.

Your eyes find his cerulean blues and you feel like you’re drowning in him. They’re soft and gentle with a hint of something more hidden behind them. The haunted look in his eyes is gone as he stares at you like you’re the only woman in the world. Is this how women felt back in the 40s when they danced with him?

You stop moving, but you don’t pull apart. You don’t think you have the will power to. You like the way his hands hold your waist and how his touch lingers, making you want more. You’re a puddle in his arms. You only whisper his name as it hangs in the air.

“Yeah, honey?”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. His eyes never leave yours and your fingers grip the back of his black blazer like your life depends on it. His smile is soft and gentle. He doesn’t push or ask questions. He’s the perfect gentleman, but he wants you to make the first move. That much is obvious and you know when to take the hint.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask Bucky to kiss you.

He must feel the same, he has to. He wouldn’t say that to just anyone. It makes your heart race at what he’s insinuating. He wants you just as much as you want him. You tug him closer and open your mouth to respond.

You’re immediately cut off and interrupted by a hard knock against the glass door. It makes your heart leap inside your throat and you pull away from Bucky’s arms. Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that it’s Zemo of all people is the one that caught the two of you dancing together on the balcony. He won’t let you live it down now.

He slowly opens the sliding door and looks between the two of you. He smirks and clasps his hands together. “Terribly sorry to interrupt what you’re doing, but Sharon found the doctor. It’s time to go,” he said.

You don’t say anything. You’re too embarrassed and you just wanted Zemo to leave you alone. You don’t have a snarky retort that you’re sure that he’s anticipating. Instead, you nod without uttering a single word and push past him to reenter the building, ignoring the flush you feel.

Zemo and Bucky follow close behind you and the journey to the ground floor is silent as you stand in the elevator. The silence between you and Bucky is suffocating, but you keep your eyes forward and ignore the stares Zemo sent between the two of you.

When the elevator doors open, you race outside and join Sharon and Sam at the front of the building. You ignore the weird look Sam sends you and climb into the front seat without a word as the others trail behind you.

You’re silent the whole way to the docks. You listen to Sharon quietly and keep your gaze out the window. She parks in front of the loading zone and you step out of the car, waiting for Sharon to walk you in the right direction.

Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you behind the rest of the group. It makes your heart race and jump inside your throat. He squeezes it gently.

“You should stay behind. I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Bucky murmured.

Your brows pinch together and you drop his hand. He has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to stand around and do nothing. It’s not in your nature. It never has been.

You won’t let whatever’s lingering between the two of you get in the way of doing your job. You don’t care that he wants to keep you safe and look after you. You’ll be fine.

“Is this your way of telling me that I’ll just slow you down?” you snapped, walking past him with a huff, rejoining the group.

Bucky runs after you and shakes his head. “No. You’re injured. I don’t want you to get hurt again. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

You walk away from him and enter the metal container after Sam. Sharon’s voice echoes through your ear and your hands trail against the back of the container and gently push against it. It opens under the pressure on your hand and you turn your head to look at Sam.

You pull your gun out of its holster and hold it out in front of you. You let Sam lead the way and you follow close behind. You're soft on your feet as you walk further into the building. You can hear music ahead and it grows louder as you walk through the lab and see the back of Dr. Nagel.

Sam pulls the needle of the record player off, stopping the music and the doctor spins on his heels. You aim your gun at him as he looks between the two of you. His eyes widen as he looks behind you. You know that without looking that Bucky stands just behind you like a lingering shadow. You don’t know if he’s doing it to intimidate the doctor or to protect you.

Bucky moves from behind you and stalks over to Nagel. He presses his gun against the doctor’s temple, shooting a warning shot just beside him in an effort to get him to talk. Dread washes over you when you realize that the man standing in front of you is responsible for the serum that Karli and some of her followers had taken and that there were 20 or so of them running around the world causing chaos.

“Is there more serum in this lab?” Bucky asked, pressing the gun further against his temple.

“No,” Nagel answered. “Karli took them all. She wanted me to give the serum to some woman named Donya Madani and I refused.”

You roll your eyes and glance around the lab. Sharon shouts in your ear, telling the four of you that it was time to go now that bounty hunters were here looking to kill you. You look at a number of vials that were a variety of different colors and keep a close eye on Zemo as he wanders around the lab.

You should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve kept a closer eye on Zemo as he walked around when he shot the doctor in the chest, killing him instantly. Sam knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall. You aim your gun at Zemo’s head when Sam lets him go.

“Give me one good reason not to kill him right now, Sam,” you snapped. “He killed our one and only lead!”

Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder and you brush him off, glaring at him. “We need him, Y/n.”

“The hell we do! He killed our lead!”

“We need to leave, now!” Sharon shouted, running into the lab, completely ignoring the dead doctor on the floor.

Suddenly, you’re flown from your feet as the lab bursts into flames. Your body slams against the container and it knocks the wind out of you. Your shoulder burns with pain and there’s ringing in your ears. Pain erupts against your spine and you’re in a daze. You can barely breathe. You groan and gasp loudly. You roll on your side and can barely pull yourself up. You can’t see straight and you feel like you’re about to puke.

The sounds of Bucky and Sam yelling your name feels so far away. You can barely make out Bucky’s blurry figure above you as he hauls you to your feet. You sway on your feet and Bucky’s hands grasp at your face, gently shaking you out of your daze.

You stumble out of the container and the sound of bullets fill your ears. You still can’t see straight and can barely hear Sam and Bucky yell at one another over the bullets and ringing in your ears. You duck under some shrapnel and squeeze your eyes shut.

Bucky drags you from the shrapnel you’re hiding under and you run down a number of corridors until you hide into an empty container. Your breathing is short and shallow and your head spins. Bucky holds your face in his hands and you see his mouth move, but you can’t hear anything he’s saying to you.

You pull your body away from his and stumble to the back of the shipping container. You keel over and everything you’ve eaten and drank over the last day and a half leaves your system. Your body burns with pain and you drag yourself back towards Sam and Bucky.

You stumble into Sam’s chest and he holds you up by the waist. He helps you out of the container as Zemo approaches in a sleek convertible. You blink rapidly to focus your gaze and weakly attempt to step away from the car and out of Sam’s hold.

“No. I’m not spending another second with Zemo,” you said.

“We need him,” Bucky attempted to reason with you.

You glare at him and Sam wordlessly climbs into the back with you beside him. You’re silent the whole way to the plane as you try and gain your bearings again. You know without looking that the stitches in your shoulder were torn open due to the explosion. You feel the blood soak through your shirt as the pain slowly increases.

Sam helps you up the steps to the plane and guides you to the back of the aircraft. You sit down and Bucky hurries over to your side with a first aid kit in his hands. You huff childishly and attempt to push him away.

“I’m pissed at you,” you stated matter of factly under your breath. You look out the window to keep from looking at him.

“I know,” Bucky replied, gently tearing your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your bra as he moves to inspect your wound.

Sam hands you a bottle of water and you drink it slowly. “I’m pissed at you, too.”

Sam laughs, nodding at you. “I know.”

“I should be relaxing in the mountains of Montana, but noooo, you insisted that you needed my help. Here I am with a bullet wound because you assholes can’t do anything without me. I expect full compensation when this shit is over.”

Bucky and Sam both laugh quietly at you. Bucky’s fingers are soft and nimble as he cleans the area around your wound. Sam leaves the two of you alone and sits at the front of the plane to keep an eye on Zemo.

You wince as the needle pierces your skin. Bucky apologizes under his breath as he stitches your wound closed again. You watch him carefully as he fixes you up. His eyes are razor focused and his brows are pinched together as he takes care of you.

“We really need to stop ending up like this,” you hummed teasingly at him. “You’ve seen me in just a bra far too much in the last couple of days and I haven’t even seen you without a shirt.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Maybe if you stopped hurting yourself, I wouldn’t have to see you without a shirt on,” he said. “Someone has to look after you and take care of you. You and I both know you much rather it be me instead of Bird Brain.”

You laugh softly and grin at him. “Hmm…. maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am, honey.”

You shove him gently and the smile he gives you makes your heart stop. You shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans back on his thighs and reaches for your abandoned duffle bag and carefully zips it open. He grabs a clean shirt from your bag and helps you into it.

You thank him quietly and he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You lean into his touch and he takes the seat beside you.

You fall asleep to the feeling of Bucky’s hand in yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your palm.

#tumblr PLEASE put this in the tags.... pls pls pls #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry XXII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, blood, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader’s past and present come to a head.

Note: I want to thank everyone for making this fic so special. Honestly, my intent was 4 chapters with just Bucky and Steve. It stretched on into... this and I had so much fun reading everyone’s reactions and thinking of what to do next and just hitting ‘post’ has been so much fun!

You guys really are special. You’ve not only taken this story this far but you’ve done so much more for a blog I started when my old fandom left me a little disillusioned and uninspired.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Your existence stretched on from one torturous day to the next. The nights were hardest. Even as you cursed the mornings for rising. You counted them like the lashes across your flesh, like the violations of your body, like the aches that inhibited your body. You counted, you waited. You didn’t know when it would come but there had to be a chance. A single chance for it all to be over, one way or the other.

You woke after the first fortnight to the noise of shouting. Two weeks to see you once more bound to the prison of his body and mind. Two weeks to drag you back down to the pathetic maid without a hope.

The guards inside the walls clamoured in the courtyard and those at the gate secured it as voices argued in bellowed shouts. You couldn’t make out what was going on beyond even as you crept over to the window and peered down at the flurry.

You saw only shadows beyond the wall but hadn’t the strength to think it was anyone who could save you. You heard Barnes sit up with a groan and looked back at him, shying away from the window as you balanced yourself against the wall.

“What is happening?” He stood and swept his long tangled hair away from his face. He drew back the curtains and looked down. He frowned and squinted. “Who is fool enough to stop at my gate?”

He brushed past you and checked his reflection in the glass hung against the wall.

“Fetch me a tunic and some breeches,” he demanded as he combed his locks and tidied his beard.

Your gaze lingered on him in the mirror; the lines around his eyes were deeper and the silver in his hair foretold of his most recent isolation. Two years had only caused his bitterness to boil over. He looked like a maddened woodsman, not some elegant duke.

He turned as you didn’t move. “Well, you only ever wanted to be my maid, eh?”

You limped over to the wardrobe and retrieved several pieces. You helped him dress and you tried not to think of years before when you’d done the same.

Those last weeks you’d spent in the prison of this chamber, he hadn’t bothered to dress often and he had stripped you of all your layers that first day. He kept you bare and prone, your scars displayed to him as his eyes hung on the stretch marks at your thigh and stomach.

“I will send them away,” he assured, “these lords, they think hospice is offered at any keep.”

He left you and you sat on the bed for a moment as you stared at the door. You were sore all over, numb as you wondered if you were truly still alive. It all felt like a blur, like it could have been the afterlife, an endless purgatory.

You went to the window as you heard him below and the air stilled. You leaned on the stone sill and listened. Lord Barnes’ voice cut through the tension.

“...Parker, you’ve returned… what… else….” his words floated up disjointed as you strained to hear him clearly. His laughter reached you and sent a shiver down your spine. Then it died and the silence returned.

Then you heard another. You recognized Peter’s tones as he spoke sternly. You heard the anger even if you could not decipher his exact words. You watched as Barnes went to the gate and reached through them. He snatched the parchment and dropped it to the dirt. He spat on it and stomped it into the ground.

He waved away the lord outside his gate and spun as he barked orders to his men. You were confused by the unusual scene, more so as you saw the party of men who accompanied Peter retreat from the wall and sink into the cover of the tree line. They carried banners like an official party and kept formation until they were out of sight.

You slipped away from the window and to the bed. Barnes entered as you sat silently. He kicked a stool over and growled. “Wine,” he snarled, “now.”

He sat heavily and his feet splayed out before him as he sighed. You got up and went to the cabinet and uncorked a bottle. You filled a goblet and he took it from you just as roughly as he had the piece of parchment from the men at his gates.

“The boy has returned on some fool’s errand,” Barnes gulped loudly, “you fuck him to?”

You didn’t say anything as he drained the last of the wine and thrust the cup out again. You poured him more and he sniffed it and curled his lip.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve always been mine,” he drank again, “you remember that, don’t you? The way you’ve taken to your former place so easily. You really thought you could escape me?”

“No, my lord,” you said plainly, “I knew I could not. It iss why I threw myself before your horse.”

He stopped his sloppy sipping and whipped the cup across the room so that the wine splashed around you. He stood and neared you, bearing down on you like a wolf. You faced him unflinchingly and waited for him to strike you. He didn’t.

“You’re fortunate I even have the stomach to touch you still. Look at you, scarred and crippled. Used.” He said darkly.

You watched him evenly as he reached to your throat. He squeezed until your breath stopped and his blue eyes focused on his fingers. You did not resist as your head began to pulse. He let you go suddenly and shoved you back towards the bed.

“Well, didn’t damage anything of value, did you?” he sneered, “not those parts of you I require.”

You caught yourself on the bedpost and stared at the mattress. He approached you and you felt his warmth against your back, smelled the alcohol on him.

“That boy will get bored soon enough,” he smacked your ass, “and my sister will not let that warrant stand long enough to be enforced.”

🏰

Everyday Barnes rose and left you to parlay with the men outside his gates. Their interactions were nothing more than mocking laughter and venomous words on his part. But the men outside did not leave. At night, you saw their fires burning beyond the trees and sometimes even heard there voices from the distance.

That day, you watched through the window as Barnes went to the gate. You listened again, the voices quieter than usual and before he stepped back from the bars, he shook them violently. His heel dug into the dirt as he spun around and your heart raced as you watched him march across the cold ground.

You heard him even before he reached the chamber and he flew in a rage. The door hit the wall as he held your cane in his hand and thrust it before you. Naked, stunned, and confused, you blinked at him dumbly. He jabbed you with the silver head bluntly as he bared his teeth.

“Take it. Come with me,” he demanded.

“My l--”

“As you are. I don’t mind taking you to them naked or bloodied, so let us go,” he hissed.

You took the cane from him and leaned on it as he waited for you to precede him through the door. He followed and nudged you along to the winding stairway. You descended slowly as his impatient huffs clouded behind you. When you got to the bottom, he seized your elbow and dragged you across the front hall.

You shivered as you came out into the late autumn morning. Your shame was stifled only by the rising fear in your gut. The guards watched you brazenly as you were forced across the yard and as you neared the gate, you gasped.

Peter stood on the other side with several other men. Among them, you recognized a head of dark hair and they all grew silent as they sensed your movement. Zemo turned and his features hardened as he saw you beside the duke.

“You came all the way here for this wench?” Barnes taunted, “well, that does speak so much. Eh, I think, perhaps, to lose her would be akin to say, well, perhaps losing an arm.”

You stiffened and gripped your cane as you watched Zemo come to the gate. He tore his eyes from you and glared at Barnes.

“You won’t do that. You would have done it long ago if you had the nerve,” he said, “your own king has signed to have you seized. Would you add further dishonour to your name, sir?”

“Dishonour? I have none. I served my kingdom. I do not play at war over the cunt of a maid,” he spat, “I’d sooner have her dead as I thought her all those years.”

“There is no war,” Zemo replied tersely, “you killed a nobleman of your own land. We are not invaders,” he looked at the other men, “you are a traitor.”

“Oh, if you want me, you will have to fight for it,” Barnes scoffed as he pulled you close, “and you might get me in the end, but you won’t get her. I won’t let--”

You swung your cane up and hit Barnes in the ribs. He rasped and his hand fell from your arm. You stepped away from him and went to strike him again but he batted away the stick as he coughed. He ducked under another strike and tripped you with his foot so that you landed on your back.

As he came to stand over you, you flipped up the end of your can and hit him between his legs. He croaked and grasped his crotch as he stumbled back. You grunted and pushed yourself back up to your feet with your cane. You struck him again across the shoulder but he surprised you by latching onto the end of the stick and thrusting you off-kilter.

You heard a clatter at the gates and voices shouting. You were too enthralled with your fight for your life to look over and see why the guards were yelling and running all around. You only expected to be accosted by one of Barnes’ men before you could gain your foothold.

You struggled with him and clung to the silver head of the cane. He pulled you closer and closer as you tried to turn it and you felt the subtle shift. He stumbled back as the bottom came loose and he hit the dirt. He landed with a thump and a rattled breath as the air was knocked from him.

You didn’t think, only moved as you lunged onto him and brought down the pointed steel. The long blade sank into his right shoulder and he screamed in agony. You watched the pain contort his face and you twisted the dagger. His voice grew louder but he could not move his arm to get you off of him.

You pulled the dagger from his flesh but before you could bring it down again, he lifted his pelvis and forced you off of him. He rolled away from you as he groaned and grunted and you got to your knees as you gripped the knife tighter and prepared for your second attack.

You were shocked as Barnes was kicked onto his back once more and a foot planted itself in the middle of his chest. His tunic was stained with blood as he gritted his teeth and writhed and moaned. He did not resist as he was held down by Peter’s boot and a sword was pointed at his throat.

“We promised the king we’d bring you in alive,” Peter declared, “you’ve fared well enough without one arm. What’s another?”

You winced as a hand closed around yours and kept you from striking out at your accoster. You looked over as Zemo knelt beside you and wiggled the knife free. He handed it off to one of his men but never glanced away from you. He nodded and as he untied his cloak and draped it over your shoulders.

“Elina?” you whispered.

“Safe,” he assured as he covered you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “I never did have the chance to introduce you to my mother.”

“What--How--” you peered around as the armored guards handed over their weapons to the lords in their colours.

“Your countrymen do not take well to their nobles murdering each other so carelessly. The king could not but listen or risk a rebellion,” he explained as he sat back and drew you into his lap, “We bring your king his prisoner and he forgives our diplomatic oversight and our kingdoms will sign the long-awaited accord.”

“It can’t-- I--”

“Lord Rogers was also listed on the warrant,” he cradled your face, “but he was never one to face consequences. We have Astrens but its duke has conveniently made himself sparse.” He swallowed as his thumb caressed your cheek, “Nevertheless, we needn’t worry about him…” he pulled you closer to him and his breath skimmed along your lips, “You really are bold, you know? You kiss a man and just walk out on him.”

You closed your eyes as tears pricked along your lashes. You let yourself smile as you opened them again and you let him close the space between your lips. You kissed him down in the cold dirt, with blood on your hands, naked and bruised. You kissed him and forgot it all. You kissed him and thought of the future as your past laid sobbing in the mud.

🏰 🏰 🏰

So we leave reader to live her life with her daughter. To ride off into the proverbial sunlight but an end is never really an end, as even those characters who exist only in our minds, live on there. I hope that every now and then, you will revisit this MC, Barnes, Zemo, Peter, Sam, Rebecca, and yes, even Rogers.

🏰 🏰 🏰

End Note: I have not yet decided if I will add an epilogue to this series but for now, I am content. Thank you again. Be safe and take care of yourselves.

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

The Weeping.

Prompt no. 4 from @wkemeup 's 9k challenge! - Character A is being held hostage. Character B offers to trade themselves in A's place.

master list || tag list

Summary || After you're taken from a mission, Bucky offers himself in order to insure your safety.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count || 1,660

Warnings || abduction (kidnapping??), violence, gun-fire, mentions dead bodies and blood, angst.

Side note || clear eyes is Bucky and yours way of saying everything is okay and this is shorter then I intended it to be, I didn't have a lot of time to write it, so if it seems rushed, I'm sorry.

The mission was supposed to be simple - a quick in and out, retrieve the information and burn that place to the ground but even that seemed unattainable at the moment.

Bullets whiz through the air, penetrating the barrier of sound that make Bucky's ears ring. To anyone else it is frightening, usually follows screams of terror but it's something he lives for, the only familiar sound to stay with him constantly through the years. Adrenaline makes his body visibly tremble, chest conforming to laboring breath in order to stay quiet. Those crystal blue orbs narrowing, fine wrinkles bunch on the skin of his forehead as he nods towards you, on the opposite side of the room but still in his peripheral vision.

He nods once more - just to ensure that the hallway is clear. His heart is thumping against his chest right along with your own, fingers clenched the butt of your to bring it closer to your chest, raising it as Bucky moves in front of you with his own. The walls are splattered with red, fresh blood as you maneuver through the corpses' that lifelessly scatter the floors and the dark hallway seems almost endless, except the flickering light at the end of it. With every muffled gunshot it turns into darkness only to be unexpectedly brought to life again. "Stay low.." Bucky whispers as he follows your stance - back against the wall and a free hand reaching for the spare knife hidden in both of your boots but not before he extends his arm and fingers grasp the buckle across your chest with a gentle but meaningful pull, "Clear eyes?" "Clear eyes." Bucky nods softly as the cool vibranium finger sculpts the structure of your jaw with twinkling eyes. "Be careful in there, okay? You need anything --." He taps the shell of his ear with two fingers, and you nod in understanding. With one last glance Bucky turns towards the double doors, a hand pressing against the handle as he uses his body weight to push it open with ease and the moment he does more gunfire echoes the walls of the room. A sudden blur of motion catches his attention as his breath hitches as his arms wrap around you as bullets whiz through the air, only inches away from piercing your skin. Bucky uses the other door as cover as metal bullets ricochet. Smaller fingers clench into his flesh arm, forming indentations of small crescent moons as a means to seek cover. Bucky's arms wrap around you pulling you into his chest to shield you from any stray bullets but the heavy door behind his back is a strong enough metal to take the blunt force of the bullets without breaking through. His soothing hands find your hair, breathing heavily as he angles your face to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?" Your throat tightens at his worried expression but nods to confirm you were not hit. Bucky nods back, eyes setting in a hard line as he keeps you between his legs but peers over the threshold of the floor but a warning short from around the corner bounces off the walls. "Fuck." Bucky whispers as he reaches into the pocket of his tactical pants, but you don't need to look to see what he's got. "I'll go up the stairs, you go to the right." He pulls the pin out, rolling it into the room and waits until a thick, white cloud of smoke fills the hall, with one last nod he pulls his glasses down, fingers tapping the side as they click to life. You follow behind, gun raised in the air as you follow through sweeping the rather large room. The smoke is thick - suffocating, throat closing due to the inadequate amounts of oxygen, but you swallow the ball in the back of your throat while trying to maneuver through it, the glasses didn't help much. Footsteps cause you to jump, turning in every direction but the cloud is too thick and they near closer following along with your frantic motions to protect yourself with a mixture of anxiety and fear coarse through your veins. Something is mumbled to your right but it's too late, two rather large hands roughly grab at your hair, pulling it into a tight fist as another set of hands catch your leg - pulling into your fall onto the ground, hitting your head hard enough that dark, round dots cloud your vision. Before you could even manage to move - the cool surface of a blade touches your neck and your raise your hands in surrender as the weight of the man moves to crush your chest, face still veiled behind the white smoke. Without a word he turns you around, pressing your cheek against the floor with a rough hand as he pats down your suit, pulling the knives out with a snarl as his friend picks up your gun. 'Sweetheart, where are you?' Bucky's voice is muffled from the fact that the man's hand presses against it, but it vibrates his skin and it's yanked from your ear and crushed between two fingers. When the smoke dissipates the man brings you

to your knees, hands wrapped around your wrists with an unforgiving knee digging into your spine. "If you want her alive, come out now." A thick, foreign accent bounces off the walls of the room as the hand tightens, the other goon on your right holds your gun up as a blur moves in the corner of your eyes. Bucky's eyes meet yours in a panic as he rounds the corner, raising his gun to the man that holds your hair which only causes him to say something in a foreign language, digging the knife into your throat until it stings with pain. Every ragged breath the sharpened blade nicks the thickest column of your neck. "Let her go." Bucky hisses through clenched teeth, jaw clenching as seafoam eyes darken like the night sky. The man smiles evilly, a sick grin that reaches his eyes, makes Bucky's stomach drop inside his stomach as he twirls the knife around a dirty, unmanicured finger. "Didn't think we'd recognize you with that haircut, Soldat?" The skin of your neck burns as a yelp of pain fills the room, blood smears his fingers and invades your senses and the words make Bucky's eyes narrow, squeezing them shut at the words. The smell of smoke, gunfire and metallic make your head spin as Bucky lowers the gun to the ground, hands raised in the air. "Take me, let her go." "What use do we have for you now, Soldat? You are no longer our winter soldier; they have rid you of that." The man's sick chuckle causes him to shake his head, eyes wild with paralyzing fear. "That's not true - I feel him, he's still in here." He pauses, guilty eyes flicker to your own and back up the to man's, "Just let her go, don't hurt her." "No, no." You manage to mumble, tears stinging the waterline of your eyes as you grit your teeth in pain, he never lets the pressure of the knife go as you try to suppress a shiver. Bucky lowers his head with shame, in complete defeat as he lowers to his knees and moves the gun further away. "He's still in here. You can get him out. Take me instead of her, please." "Stop, no!" Eyes of guilt refuse to meet your own, the secret you have known all along and Bucky's urge to smother the winter solider completely blinded him from the fact that this could happen someday. It's been years since he's been so called 'freed' but some roots are so deep they can't be removed, the inside of his brain still tainted with the dark soldier who refuses to stop haunting him after all this time. "Bucky don't you fucking do it!" Bucky ignores the calls, squeezing his eyes shut with emotion. It's not fair, all those years spent brainwashed, tucked away inside his own brain just to end up there again. He barely survived the trauma then but now - he would never be able to, not without Steve, without the Wakandian's again. "Walk towards me, slowly." The other man commands as Bucky nods an understanding to stand on his feet but pauses as the knife presses into your skin more, "Let her go first." The instant the knife is gone is relief, hand reaching up to rub the burning skin and smear blood against your gloved hand and along your neck. Roughly the knee against your back pushes you from the position of on your knees to leaning against the man for support as his arm crosses against your chest, hand crushing the windpipe of your neck. "I will count to three and you both will walk, you towards me, her out the door. Got it?" With every number your heart pounds inside your chest, face turning red due to the harsh grasp at the surface of jaw as a cough follows suit, chest greedy for oxygen as he releases. Bucky takes the first step forward, edging you closer with his eyes that leave little room for argument. Close, slow steps until both yours and his arm brush against each other The fat of your bottom lip quivers as he leans forwards, hands still raise obediently in the air to press his forehead against your own. "Buck -." "Promise me, you won't come look for me." It is rushed as the men in front of him yell but inaudible as you shake your head as tears push past eyelashes. "I mean it, forget about me, they'll never stop. Okay? No

matter how much I try, they will never leave me alone." "How could you say -." There's a rough tug on his hand, pushing him forward but he uses the last second, he can spare to press one more heartbreaking kiss against your lips and before you could comprehend what coming next - a burning, red-hot pain radiates at the base of your skull and numbing darkness consumes you.

tags: @sugarpunch-princess, @old-enough-to-know-better73, @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals, @Fajitasandfics, @devilswaldorf, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @grubler, @SodDy030, @agent-catfish-kenobi,@scarletglowss, @abitchforbarnes, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @jewishdelis, @klorpski, @kaitieskidmore1, @peterpstuff, @akaaaaashiiii, @angelsandsorcery, @moony-is-bae, @yliumy, @watermelonsponge, @stolenxkissess, @peakascum, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @crvecem, @likealadygodiva, @harrysthiccthighss, @burnerbitchh, @sergeantjamesbbarnes, @amelia-song-pond

#kas9kwc #wkmeup #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #tfaws #sebastian stan characters

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samplingmoonsters · 3 years

Note

What if Techno is like a walking heater cause he's from the Nether and Dream who's naturally cold??

Snow crunches under their feet, warm clouds of fog escaping frozen lips, evaporating quickly in the icy air like ghosts. Endless whiteness surrounds the pair, an empty canvas yearning for a splash of color. But there are no colors for miles, nothing but an abyss of white, except for the red cloak fluttering in the wind like the wings of a newborn bird. Not for the first time, olive green eyes find themself staring at the only interesting color since they started their never-ending journey through the north.

He stares at the broad back of the warrior, well aware of the muscles hidden behind the thick fabric. A hog-like snort escapes his companion as the tall warrior lets out a hot gust of wind. Dream’s tired, freezing body jerks at the loud noise. They haven’t spoken to each other for hours, only Dream’s exhausted breath and the snow crunching under their feet filling the silence around them.

Olive-green eyes widen and he stumbles back, almost falling into the snow, as Techno rams the end of his ax into the snow next to him. They stop in their tracks, finally giving the ex-prisoner’s body a precious second to rest after hours and hours of non-stop walking. Dream’s chest rises and falls in a mix of exhaustion and fear as he stares at Techno’s back. Even after spending weeks in a tiny cell together, building a relationship that doesn’t fit into any category but runs far deeper than simple friendship, Dream’s still gets nervous when he’s confronted with the view of a sharp object. A spike of anxiety settles into his chest, his fear rising the longer he has to look at the damn netherite ax sticking out of the snow.

He trusts Techno more than anyone else on the SMP but it is still hard to let go of old fears even after months of recovering in the Piglin's small cottage. Swallowing, Dream forces his body to relax and instead moves his eyes towards Techno’s face. Anything to distract himself from the weapon still glinting in the corner of his vision like a poisonous snake ready to strike.

At one point, Technoblade has turned towards him, ember eyes staring at the lanky blond, “We should search for a place to rest for tonight.” Techno murmurs before picking his ax back up, swinging it over his shoulder before walking straight towards the line of woods surrounding the snow-covered trail.

“Ah- wait for me!” Dream calls after the other man, small feet stamping through the snow like a newborn fawn who is just learning how to walk from their mother.

Away from the trail, the snow is even higher, reaching Dream’s knees and causing the blond to get stuck on multiple occasions. He has a hard time keeping up with the pink-haired man who doesn’t seem to have any problems navigating through the snowy landscape, his thick leather boots keeping him from sinking into the snow unlike Dream’s pathetic excuse of footwear which can’t even keep his feet decently warm. He can already feel his toes starting to freeze off. If this goes on he won’t have any feet to complain about coming tomorrow morning.

If it weren't for Techno's strong hands pulling him out every now and then Dream would be forever stuck in the middle of the woods.

"Be careful where you are stepping." Techno grunts after pulling Dream out of the snow for what must be the tenth time.

Dream grumbles a curse under his breath, patting the snow from the pants before throwing a dark glare at his companion, "I do! It's not my fault the snow is, like-- ten feet high!" He stomps his feet into the snow, his childish tantrum only resulting in him soaking his pants even more.

Dream could practically hear the other roll his eyes, "Don't be dramatic...it's not that deep." As if to prove his point Techno stomps one foot into the snow. The appendage barely sinks into the snow. But all too soon Techno’s attention is stolen away once more by the distant howls of wolves. The warrior grips his ax tightly, red eyes jumping around the trees, searching for any potential danger while he waits for Dream to stop sulking around so they could start moving forward again.

Dream lets out a huff, seemingly indifferent about the continuing howls. He knows that Techno will keep him safe, so he doesn’t even bother taking out the dagger hidden inside his dark-green coat. It’s not like he would be any good in a fight. Ever since they escaped the prison, Dream quickly realized that his hands would never be able to truly hold weapons of any kind anymore, not with how much they trembled and shook. He’s happy that he could hold a cup of tea without spilling hot liquid everywhere, and hey, he can even hold a spoon without too much of a hitch.

Small progress as Techno would say.

And maybe, with a lot of training and patience, he would even be able to hold an ax again one day.

Though, that dream is rather blurry for now. Let’s rather focus on re-learning how to use a knife and fork for the moment....or Techno would have to help him cut his steak forever and that’s just fucking embarrassing. He already feels like a helpless child 75% of the time when it comes to holding anything.

Which also includes not being able to walk on snow like his companion.

Fucking piglin hybrids and their natural ability to walk over loose ground.

"...that doesn't prove anything. You-you're used to walking through snow." Crossing his arms, Dream glares at a random patch of snow near Techno's left foot. Now that they have stopped moving, Dream can feel the unbearable coldness sinking into his already half-frozen skin. Dream hates to admit it, but he does have a low tolerance when it comes to low temperatures. All his life, he has lived in hotter regions, places where the sun never stops shining all year round, and where hurricanes and heavy storms are a monthly concurrence. But now, he's forced to live in a snowy biome, far away from the sun, where it never stops snowing and the nights are long.

Dream couldn't remember when he last felt truly warm. Even in the safety of Techno's beloved cottage, there's still something cold lingering in his chest, freezing his body from the inside...

Maybe that's just his trauma showing his ugly head... Nevertheless, Dream really missed lying among the flowers, grass tickling his cheeks while he let the sun heat up his body.

And while the prison had been warm, unbearable so, the warmth wasn't the same as the feeling of sun rays on his freckled skin.

Ender, when was the last time he had worn a crop top? Felt like a billion years ago. He couldn't even wear cute outfits in this shitty weather. Fucking Antarctica...

Yearning for an outlet for his building frustration, Dream angrily kicks a small pile of snow, accidentally spraying Techno's face with the powdery substance.

For a second the woods go deathly silent as if the trees themselves could feel the tension rising between the rivals. The two men stare at each other, a silent battle taking place. Techno's narrowed red eyes promise unbearable pain, causing Dream to fidget nervously.

If there is one thing Dream hates more than raw potatoes it's complete silence. He remembers a time when silence didn't bother him. A time when he could linger in his base far underground unbothered by the pure quietness surrounding him, even enjoying it. He was used to being alone, doing his own thing, a lone wolf some would call him, but after the whole prison thing...Dream began to hate the sound of his own voice, the silence that would linger after he screamed his lungs out either from hours of torture or talking nonstop to his own reflection in the lava.

Yeah, he would much rather listen to Techno's monotone voice for hours, all day long, if it means he wouldn't have to listen to his own scrambled thoughts.

"Uh...Tech--"

Before Dream could finish his sentence his feet suddenly left the ground as his tall, lanky body was raised from the snow. The blond squeezed his eyes tightly, expecting to be body slammed into the cold abyss for revenge but instead, he felt a pleasant warmth surrounding him from all sides.

Fluttering his eyes open he's met with the sight of Techno's broad chest. Jerking his head up he stares at the piglin but the other is ignoring him, red eyes stubbornly looking forward as they continue their way through the foggy woods. Green eyes focus on the warm puffs of air escaping Techno's pink lips, the way his sharp tusks glint in the faint light like hidden daggers, and how his red eyes seem to sparkle brighter than the ice crystals littering the ground. This close, Techno's beauty is almost otherworldly.

Truly the God of Bones and Blood.

And now the God is carrying him. Carrying him bridal style while curling his precious red cape around them both.

Dream's cheeks quickly catch on fire at the unexpected turn of events.

Forcing himself to relax, he leans his cheek against Techno's armored chest, almost jerking back in surprise at how warm the other feel even through the thick layer of metal.

Oh Gods, Techno is burning, a steady warmth spilling from him in waves like a dying star. With the cape curled around them, keeping the cold air away and trapping Techno's body heat, Dream feels like he's sitting in a furnace.

A very soft, grumpy furnace.

He almost forgot how warm Techno is. When they were still in prison Dream didn’t really notice Techno’s abnormal body heat. Back then everything, the air, the water, the obsidian blocks, was hot to the touch. Soon Techno’s body heat just turned into another source of heat in the already stuffy cell.

Now, Dream welcomed the warmth.

For what feels like the first time in months, Dream feels the coldness leaves his body.

Letting out a sound that comes close to a purr, Dream leans back against Techno's chest. With his cheek pressed against the other’s armored chest, he can clearly hear Techno's strong heartbeat. The steady sound pulls him into a placid state where each one of his problems and haunting memories leaves his mind for a little while until all he can feel is the vibration of Techno's heart and the strong hands holding him up.

Protecting him.

"Just so you know, if the wolves decide to attack us, I'm throwing you into the snow." Technoblade's monotone voice drifts through the blurry edges of his mind, almost throwing him out of his serene bubble.

Not wanting to leave the peaceful corner of his mind just yet, Dream cuddles deeper into Techno's chest, successfully ignoring the Piglin's warning.

Above him Techno let out a long, tired sigh, yet, the hands around his waist are pressing him closer, a silent promise to shield him from any upcoming danger.

With a small smile on his lips, Dream lets himself sink into the peaceful abyss, the sound of Techno's heartbeat guiding him. He falls asleep to the familiar lullaby of Techno’s heartbeat.

And so, far up in the north where the sun rarely shines and the snow never stops falling, the blond warrior found his own sun to warm up his broken soul.

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

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for weeks! Sorry that it took me so long, dear anon! I hope you like it!

#dreamnoblade #technodream #anon ask #sammy's book club #1900 words #fanfic

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

A Favor

Feeling very Hotch and Hank these days (feel free to send me asks about them because I fucking love them and I will write more about them if given the chance)

No warnings

No Pairings

It begins about mid-April in the height of the whole “April showers bring May flowers” thing. Hotch is sitting on the porch when Derek pulls into his driveway. The day is chilly, the perfect sort where the weather never gets the chance to get humid because the rain doesn’t stop falling and the sun stays tucked behind thick, billowing clouds. Windshield wipers darting quickly, never fast enough to fight the rapid downpour. Sitting out in a rocking chair, sweater pulled over his white-shirt to fight the chill, Hotch cocks his head to the side as Derek throws his door open, jogging - head down- to the porch. The car is still on.

“I need a favor,” he shouts as he nears the porch. He runs on up, ignoring Hotch’s raised eyebrow of confusion. Derek follows his eyes to the car and lets out a breathless sigh. “Listen, man, Hank’s got the croup or something. The nursery won’t take him when he’s got a fever and the plumbing just blew sky high at that house I’m renovating on Sixth Street. Savannah -”

Hotch stands, all Derek needed to say was that he needed Hotch to watch Hank for a little bit. The rest is rather unnecessary. How many times did Derek spend an hour or the day watching Jack so Hotch could do his job? Hanging around a park or the office instead of out doing what he wanted. Even if he hadn’t watched Jack, Hotch loves Hank. He cares about Derek and he also likes Savannah. Besides, his day isn’t exactly looking too busy at the moment. “He’s in the car?” Hotch asks, reaching down and grabs the raincoat he’d laid over the chair beside him.

Derek nods. He winces, “he’s moody but I think he’s excited to see you.”

Hotch hums. As they near the car, Hotch’s jacket is thrown over his arm as he walks into the rain, he smirks as they get closer and Hank’s crying gets louder. He looks at Derek, a twinkle in his eye, and betrays his amusement. Hank doesn’t exactly sound excited to be here.

Derek opens the door, immediately placing a hand on Hank’s heaving chest, shushing him gently. “Hank,” he calls, rubbing Hank’s chest with his thumb. “Baby look who it is.” Hank whines, kicking out and still making softer crying sounds as he rubs his eyes and finds Hotch. “See?” Derek offers, stepping to the side to let Hotch step closer. “I promised I’d take you to see Hops.” Hank still cries, softer now but big pitiful tears that make both men’s heartache. It makes Derek feel awful that he has to leave him.

Derek steps back, sighing as he moves to the other side of the car for the diaper bag. “Everything should be in here,” Derek shouts, as he leans around and drags the heavy bag out. He hadn’t looked in it, he realizes, before leaving but he’s certain diapers are good but he’s not so sure about a spare change of clothes. If it’s that big of a deal, Hotch will just drive him to Derek’s. Besides, Savannah should be off by five and Derek should be done by lunchtime. They’ll be fine. Hotch has done the baby thing before.

Hotch unbuckles the straps holding Hank in, frowning when Hank immediately starts fighting to get the rest of the way out. His fingers have lost the dexterity he had in his youth - too many years of abusing them for all they were worth in fights, countless hours of paperwork, and... Foyet. Wiggling baby and tiny little mechanics do not help. He’s managing slowly when Derek comes back around, his grey t-shirt now soaked, and he steps back to let Derek in.

“Alright, alright -” Derek gets him out in a second. Working through the straps and buttons with no issue. “Look,” Derek turns and gives Hank to Hotch. Smiling when Hotch wraps his raincoat around the baby, rocking his body to try and soothe Hank back down. The baby takes to Hotch, wrapping his arms around his neck, and presses his wet face into Hotch’s shirt. Derek can faintly hear him hiccuping, still crying but softer now. Whining more than sobbing.

At that moment, Derek has no idea the impact of the domino that he has knocked over.

When Hank was born, before Hank was born, Reid went through this phase of reading every parenting book he perceived worth it. If they were really good, if Reid found them intellectually stimulating and correct statistically, he’d turn them over to Morgan. Annotated. They would be covered in sticky notes, full of notes and commentary. Lots of directions about orders to read the books in and how to skip around so ensure he got the best read according to Reid.

Having nothing to do with what Reid thought was best or even important, Derek found himself reading through the guides about grandparents. About the ways that people change. Adapting to being a parent and then how parents handle being grandparents.

His father would never meet Hank.

Chicago is so far away. Fran is here when she can be, she’s a fantastic grandmother. He’s called her for everything under the sun and even though Hank has had a thousand colds and upper-respiratory infections come and go, he still calls her for every single one. Just to make sure. Just for someone to tell him he’s doing all this right.

Savannah hasn’t talked to her parents in years. Things are too complicated.

Hank will have a grandmother. One.

It’s so unfair.

It eats Derek up. Grandparents had been so important to him as a child. His grandmother was one of the only people he felt safe with, always. She was just calm in the storm of pain in his life. Who could be that person for Hank? He never wants Hank to need someone but it’s better to have a net to fall on, something to brace against when the floor gives way than to come crashing through the floor. To be met with concrete where it doesn’t have to be.

Then Derek goes and spills all those dominos.

The first time that it happens he’s a mess. He dropped Hank off at daycare at seven, like he does every morning. So, reasonably, that’s where Hank should be at two when Derek goes to pick him up.

An hour later, shaking and on the verge of tears, Derek finds him in Hotch’s backyard. The two calmly swaying in the hammock, Hank drowsily listening to Hotch read “The Lorax”. Even intently listening, head tilted up so he can see Hotch, to the older man’s boring, if not entirely too complicated, commentary about capitalism and Karl Marx. The alienation of labor and lack of class consciousness, it’s no wonder the kid is falling asleep.

Putting Hotch on the emergency list had been more of a precaution for the possibility that Morgan is on a job and Savannah has work. He hadn’t really considered Hotch would need to go get Hank. Morgan hadn’t even wanted to list him, didn’t want to bother him like that.

By about the hundredth time, it’s no longer jarring to walk into the daycare and find his son is already gone. Even the workers know to warn him now.

Derek has a key to Hotch’s, he’s more than earned that right but especially these days. He lets himself into the front door and through the house, knows exactly where to find his son. The kid spends more days out of daycare than he spends in it.

“What are you two going to do when he goes to Kindergarten next year?”

They’re in the backyard, as they typically are. As annoying as he finds paying for a program that Hank doesn’t honestly attend most days, he can’t complain that much. Hank is reading exceptionally well, having two adults’ undivided attention for long periods of time helps. There are side effects. He can read books on his own but he does occasionally do old people things.

Like grunt when he sits down.

And asks to drink everything out of a mug.

Derek can see the face Emily makes, knows how this conversation goes by default of how it’s gone a hundred times before. “No,” Derek says, flatly. “You can not pull him out of Kindergarten.”

Hotch looks down at Hank, the toddler curled up into his side with a picture book. “He doesn’t have to go to Kindergarten.”

Derek had made himself sick thinking about Hank’s perceived lack of support. He hadn’t anticipated this. The giant hammock Hotch put up in his backyard. Met for fall days just like this, large enough for Emily and Hotch lay on two separate ends. Hank in the middle of them, feet kicked up on Emily’s thighs like a little king. The bookshelf in Hotch’s old office lowest shelf full of children’s books. The car seat in his old pick-up truck. The go-gurts, applesauce squeeze drinks, and gummies in his kitchen cabinets.

“There are proven benefits to homeschooling,” Emily offers, eyes peeking up above her own book.

Morgan rolls his eyes, “and there are too Kindergarten as well.”

Hotch says nothing but the blank look, the slight glare, speaks for itself.

“I don’t want my four-year-old to act like an old person,” Morgan defends. Is it not bad enough he grunts when he bends down to get things? That he’s told Savannah his back hurts and he needs a heating pad? He’s four. He doesn’t need any of those things. “No offense,” he adds, very delayed. The worst part is that he was going to have to bring Hank here this afternoon anyways. He’s expecting a new roofer at his property on the other side of town and Hank gets too antsy to watch. Besides, Hank would much rather be here.

“Look!” Hank sits up, twisting and turning around so that he can show Hotch his book. Derek moves forward, about to fuss and warn him to gentle but Hank knows what to do. He spends every day with two old people, neither as limber as they once were. Covered in scars and trauma that have stolen mobility. He knows how to be excited and bouncy with them. So he’s careful even as he looks like a monkey climbing up the side of Hotch’s legs and hip to half sit on his stomach and turn his book around. “See?”

Hotch nods, smiling encouragingly. Hank’s new thing is spiders. Bugs are very age-appropriate but Emily and Hotch struggle to maintain a blind amount of interest. Especially when Hank brings them bugs, he’s so excited too. It’s adorable but Hotch is going to lose his mind if he has to let Hank crawl into his lap with one more spider.

“I’ll be back by six,” Morgan says. He kisses the top of Hank’s head, nodding his head when Hank shows him the enlarged picture of the spider in his book. “If not--”

“He’s fine here, no reason to rush around.”

Morgan nods, "love you, buddy."

Hank ignores him, just falls over onto his side. Squirming around until he's tucked against Hotch's side, smirking up at his father.

"Behave."

But the truth is, Hank always acts on his best behavior for Hotch.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #hank morgan

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part I

Word Count: 1,314 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. As always, if I forgot anything, please message me and I will amend this warning ASAP. Note: In my head canon, Frankie has a daughter, I write a bit about this. I understand talking about babies can be triggering or people just don't like kids but it feels weird to say, "Warning: Baby." Feels a bit ominous. Like, it's not a vampire but just... ya know... be warned. Updated Author's Note (5.7.21): This is not a reader insert. At the time of writing this, I wasn't comfortable writing in the second person nor did I feel as though it was appropriate for what I wanted to explore in this series. This series is my absolute baby and it means so much to me. Thank you for reading.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

It comes like lightning in the night, cracking through the tree of his spine heavy with years of hurt.

The first time he was tear gassed in the chambers at boot camp.

That time he crashed the chopper, losing twenty-something men all twenty-something years old. Men… they weren’t men. They were babies, he was a baby.

He remembers the time he had a panic attack in the jungle, squeezing involuntarily on… a kid, not the target.

He remembers the woman’s wail, “¡Mi hijo! ¡Mi bebé!”

My son! My baby!

He killed her baby.

“I killed the baby!” He’s up but his heart’s somewhere else, outside his body. It’s beating so fast he can’t even feel it anymore, not sure if he feels anything anymore and then—

Cool hands on his feverish back, he’s so hot she feels like ice and he sighs contentedly. Marrying the coldest girl in all of Texas had its perks. Her fingers wind into his too long curls at the base of his neck, her lips on his shoulder as she shushes him with a kiss.

“Come back to me, Francisco, you’re safe.”

“But I—“ he’s stuttering. Fuck.

“It wasn’t your fault,” her arms curl around his chest and she’s scooting closer to him now, pulling him into her as hard as she can, “None of it was your fault, it’s okay.”

“How can you say that?” The tears come like wildfire as he chokes out, “How can you hold me like this? Like I’m not a monster?”

Her arms pull tighter against his torso, he didn’t know that was possible. He doesn’t know how this is possible, how he deserved this. This woman, this love, this family she had made for him.

“Baby, listen to me,” her voice is hard and warm, honeyed whiskey to his aching ears. Splintered mind. Broken body.

He nods his head in the dark, whispering a soft, “Yes,” around a lump like coal burning through his neck.

“You are not a monster. The things you did, the things you saw, the horror that was inflicted upon you was not your choice. When you put the flag on your shoulder, Francisco Morales, you gave up autonomy in your decisions. You represented men who played chess with your life and you made it out. You made it out and they threw you away when you needed them the most but I’m not going to. Our daughter is not going to. You are not a monster, baby, and we will get through this together.”

“Luna,” he breathes. His girl, his perfect little girl, “Where is she? Is she okay?” He’s still panicked.

“She's in her crib, baby,” her lips press softly to his shoulder again, “Do you want to go see her? Wanna go make sure she’s okay with me?”

He’s nodding again, untangling fingers from hers to swipe at his cheeks quickly. Afraid, every day, that this tear or that will be the one that changes her mind, changes her heart.

She lifts herself, holding steady to his shaking body the whole time. As if he’s the rock that the storm of her life batters against and not the other way around. Her hands find his and she’s lifting him too. His balance is unreliable, he never lets her go, trailing along the hallway to the baby’s room.

It’s quiet, peaceful. His happiest place, painted like a sunrise. He wanted it that way, clouds around her cradle, his baby growing up in the heavens. He remembers the first time he ever went up there, like it was the first breath he ever took. All rising pinks and melting blues.

He wanted her to feel that freedom from the very beginning. —————

He was so fucking scared when she came into this world.

He was afraid of marring her innocence with his past. He didn’t want his traumas to manifest upon her upbringing, the way his father’s had his.

That first cry shattered his heart but when she wrapped her tiny hand around his finger, he was whole again.

They named her Luna, because he could always find the moon above the clouds. Could always find his way home.

That’s when he started using again. His fear of fatherhood choke holding him, undoing all his hard work. His therapy, his group therapy, his NarcAnon. He promised himself it would just be once.

Just to get through the day, Frankie.

And it turned into…

The week.

The month.

Six.

Next thing he knew, he was flying high and fucking up. Nose bleeds and slurred words, too fast movements and too fast reactions. He was randomly selected for a drug test.

His license was suspended. He was grounded, under review pending cleanliness of a piss test.

That’s when Leah snapped. His patient, strong wife. She’d said things here and there about his use. Argued about money, “Where's it going, Francisco?” The name she uses when she’s calling him back to her, pulling him into her or, like now, close to killing him. Eyes wide with anger and fear at watching her family fall apart because of the actions of one man.

“I'm not going to beg you to get clean. I am telling you,” the tears streaking down her face, voice raw with contained rage bubbling to the surface, “You were able to do it by yourself once, so get your shit together. Or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will walk out that door.”

His eyes haven’t left hers the whole time and he knows she’s serious. She promised she wouldn’t leave a man actively working against his ghosts, she’s soothed more sleepless nights than anybody should’ve, but she never promised to stay through active drug addiction. Could not. Would not bring her daughter up in a home dusted in white powder.

He nods, “okay,” lifting his hat from his head and he is pouring buckets. He’s coming down from earlier but he knows he’s gonna need more soon. And another after that. So on and so on until—

He sees the door slamming on an empty home, shocked still with the future his actions will lead him to.

“I’ll find a meeting tomorrow.”

Her glare bores deep, “you’ll find a meeting today, Frankie.”

He bites his lip, not daring ask for another hit to get through til then.

“Francisco!”

The world comes back into focus. How long had he been staring at everything and nothing? His eyes find hers again and his voice is weak as he says, “My stash is in the box with my dog tags and medals, my first pilot’s license.”

“I know.”

He’s nodding again, of course she does.

“The withdrawals are going to start soon, how should we handle this?”

She crosses her arms, pain stitched through every feature of her face, “I think you should stay with Benny and Will for a while. Until you’re clean.”

So he did.

One week goes by and he sweats with a restlessness he’s sure will bust the very seams of his being.

Two weeks and all he wants is sleep, even with the nightmares.

Three weeks and, Jesus fuck, he’s hungry.

Four weeks and the depression sets in, deeper than he’s experienced since he first started getting help back in civilian life.

Five weeks and he’s… not cold anymore. He doesn’t sweat. He doesn’t feel anything, he can’t concentrate on anything.

Can’t focus on Benny’s shitty fight lessons. Doesn’t even listen when Will practices that fucking speech like he hasn’t given it a million times already; to cadets, to soldiers, to the mirror. The only things he can think about, the only things he cares about, are still too far away.

Leah, Luna, the sky.

He needs all three to be whole.

To be Frankie.

A desperate man aching to be complete and to provide again.

That’s how Santiago Garcia found him.

TAG LIST: @greeneyedblondie44 @justanotherblonde23

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #okay but frankie was actually baby #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #catfish #fanfic #fanfiction #OFC #OC #original female character #original character #god i'm really posting another fanfic before bed and dipping i love y'all #god that's my soft baby #pedro pascal #i wrote this in three hours pls be kind

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samstrugglingwithlife · 3 years

Text

S/O Flinching And Raising Their Arms In Self Defence Due To Past Trauma

Genre: Angst with a good ending, hurt & comfort

Warning: Trauma, anxiety and fear. Heavy topic. Freaking Long ass.

Character(s): Tsukishima, Kuroo, Oikawa

A/N: I should’ve written this one sooner but my own circumstances got to me. I hope this gives you some form of relief and anyone who has these traumas or fears, it is best to seek help either professionally or from someone you trust the most. I am here and my inbox and private messages are always open if anyone ever needs to talk.

TSUKISHIMA

I feel like being as observant as he is, Tsukishima will notice how you react to your parents the few times he has been over to your house. He'd see how you flinch, yelp when they raise their voices, he even noticed your arms twitching as if they are ready to come up and hide your face. He saw everything but never said anything.

Sometimes he'd forget that things are rough at home because whenever you are with your boyfriend, you're always happy and cheerful; You forget all the things bothering you, even when he doesn't exactly put any effort, he just stays next to you.

It was a date like any other date, the two of you were hanging out at a nearby bakery after school, sharing a dessert and drinking your tea and milkshakes. You kept looking at your phone and fidgeting, your leg shaking impatiently; you weren't really paying attention to anything Tsukki was saying, lost in your own troubling thoughts.

Midway through his conversation, he noticed that you weren't paying attention and were lost in your own thoughts with a troubling expression on your face.

Tsukishima frowned as he noticed you fidgeting, "Y/n?" he called out your name. When you didn't respond, he called your name again. You didn't respond even when he called out your name several times.

He raised his arm and brought it close to your face and snapped his fingers. You flinched and yelped, suddenly bringing your arms up to cover your face. You were quivering in fear. As soon as he saw panic in your eyes, Tsukishima reels back his arm and instantly appears by your side. "Y/n?" He asks as gently as he could, trying his best to hide the shaking of his own voice.

Luckily, there were only a few patrons other than you two in the bakery, so there wasn't a lot of eyes on you guys.

Listen, Tsukki is also a teen, he wouldn't know how to handle the situation, but I'll be damned if he doesn't try to help you out to the best of his abilities.

He read somewhere that to help someone with anxiety attacks, its best to remain as calm as possible; he had never felt more grateful to a small fact he had read so fleetingly.

Tsukki rubs your back soothingly; "Hey, you know I won't hurt you, right?" he tries to keep his voice as gentle possible, making sure that you don't hear the slight panic in his voice.

He sticks by you until you calm down, he makes you sip your drink, and when you finally settle down, he sits back on his spot, making sure to keep his hands out of view.

"I'm sorry..." you apologise, not looking him in the eye. Tsukishima sighs, "It's okay Y/n. This isn't your fault, but you need to tell me what happened," he asks you.

Reluctantly, you tell him how your parents use violence as a form of discipline and punishment; you explain to him that they do not listen to you at all and say a lot of harsh words without a second thought.

To say he was mad was an understatement, Tsukishima was seething, but for your sake, he suppressed the anger from showing on his face. He listened and listened, and with each terrible thing you told him, his heart grew heavier.

When you had nothing more to say, as gently as he could, without a word, he reaches out and holds your hand across the table, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

"Honestly," he begins. "I don't know what to say... What's supposed to be an appropriate reaction to all of this".

"I'm angry, I am furious, I hate what I'm feeling..." he tells you. "Are you angry at me?" you ask. He looks at you as if you've offended him, "No, I'm not mad at you at all. None of this is your fault. I'm mad at your family. I hate them".

Tsukishima squeezes your hand affectionately and with sympathy as you blink away your tears. "What's been bothering your today?" he asks gently, nodding towards your phone. "My mom's mad at me for some reason..." you tell him.

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?" he asks, you shake your head, "My mom will lose it and she's already super mad right now". Tsukishima thinks for a bit before saying, "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

He sees you perk up and smiles, "I'll stay at your place tonight, cool?" you nod excitedly, "Thank you!"

He orders you another dessert before walking home with you.

KUROO

Kuroo had no idea of the past you tried to forget and hide from everyone. The two of you met as interns at the same workplace, and because you guys clicked with each other so well, it wasn't long until you two became lovers.

If young Kuroo was super intuitive and observant, then imagine how perceptive he would be when he's all grown up and experienced.

You've never told him about your abusive parents, but he had some idea that there were some traumas in your past that you were unwilling to discuss. He figured that you hated being yelled at and didn't deal well with intimidating people. He's seen you with superiors, you get nervous and antsy when you're doing a task because you're scared to make a mistake, you also stumble over your words in front of the boss, and sometimes just avoid overall confrontation.

He's never said anything. He figured that if you're not willing to share this with him, then you must have a reason. He does, however, always speaks to you in a gentle tone, he never loses his patience with you and tries to never show you the angry side of him, if it isn't directed at you.

But he only human, after all, and sometimes somethings can get the best of anyone. One of the employees, who worked as your's and his junior, had made a major mistake in a very important document; the deadline was right around the corner, and there was very little time to fix the problem.

It was Friday evening, and you two had just arrived home after work when Kuroo received the e-mail from the said employee. As he read the mail over and over, his temper began to rise.

"Babe, are you okay?" you ask and place your hand on his back, soothingly, as he rakes his hand through his hair. "Fucking HELL!" he suddenly yelled and threw his phone on the couch. With a scared scream, you reeled back and raised your arms to cover your ears with your hands.

He snaps out of his anger as soon as he sees your reaction; within seconds, he is by your side. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you're chanting with your eyes screwed shut, ears covered and body hunched over.

Kuroo wraps his arms around you and brings your face against his chest, "Baby, I am sorry! I shouldn't have raised my voice," he says. You tremble in his hold, crying silently, "I'm sorry!"

Kuroo's heart wrenches in his chest, "Why are you apologising? I should be the one! I am so sorry Y/n, I shouldn't have yelled like that," he apologises. "Even though I knew you don't like loud sounds, I still-" he sighs, frustrated with himself, "I'm sorry..."

You pull away from his chest and look up at him, your eyes still wet and fresh tears threatening to spill, "I-I know you didn't yell at me. I shouldn't have reacted like that..." you say with a shaky voice. "I know you would never hurt me, I'm sorry".

That night, the two of you laid in bed and talked about everything and nothing at all. When you tried to tell him of the past, he stopped you, "Maybe next time..." he said. "I don't want you to revisit those memories right now".

As the two of you snuggle with each other, and you slowly drift off to sleep you can bearly hear the words that Kuroo says to you, "I'll always keep you safe, Y/n. I promise".

You slept without nightmares that night.

Also, extra, but the employee that messed up got an earful in the men's room on Monday, one place where Kuroo knew you wouldn't hear him lose his cool. Angry Kuroo may be hot to the general population (at least, those who found him attractive anyway) but ask that rookie, he had never wanted to die more than in that moment he was getting an earful.

OIKAWA

You had been dating Oikawa since you guys were young, since highschool. He had helped you get through all the tough times and knew what you feared and your trauma.

He had always been careful not to raise his voice or speak with malice in front of you; he even made sure that Iwaizumi didn't resort to violence in front of you, and that Kyoutani stayed far far far away from you.

Surprisingly, there was no incident or episode outside of your home; but that also meant that he had never seen the extent your trauma and how it affects you.

When you guys were teens, he made you a promise that he will take you away from your toxic home and give you a life without worry and fear. He had kept his vow, and as soon as you two graduated, he helped you get admission in a university in Argentina, and you two moved out of Japan, never to look back on your terrible home and family.

Sometimes, when a long time passes, people tend to forget the promises of the past; the same had happened with Oikawa. Obviously, this didn't mean that he loved you any less, it was just that somehow as life went on that old promise from his young days buried itself in the back of his mind.

Oikawa was getting ready to leave for practice; you were following him around, reminding him of some things he needed to bring on his way home.

"Tooru, we're out of milk". Oikawa smiles, "Okay, babe, got it". "We don't have butter- you dropped your sock- and grapes". Oikawa sighed, slightly irritated, "Okay, Y/n," he mumbled. "Tooru, you're forgetting your sunscreen," "Yep, Thanks". "Put the dirty clothes in the laundry," "Done". "The neighbours wanted to have dinner, I'm gonna tell them we're going, okay?" "Cool, cool".

"You got some mail from the bank, you have to check it". "Will do it when I come back". "Also-" Oikawa growled, "Also what?!" he said annoyed. He didn't notice you flinch, "You've been nagging me about dumb shit all morning!" He turns his glare towards you, "I Just need ONE FUCKING MORNING TO MYSLEF!" as soon as he raises his voice, you stumble backwards and cover your face with your arms.

The moment he sees you recoil, he is reminded of the promise he made way back. Oikawa is filled with guilt and instantly reaches for you, he feels so much pain when you flinch and move away as he tries to touch you.

Very slowly, he reaches for you again, placing his hand on your arm covering your face. He sighs in relief when you allow him to lower your arm, but he is soon feeling even more guilty when he sees hot tears streaming down your eyes."Y/n, baby I am so sorry," he almost whispers, afraid that you'll reel back if he dares make a sound any louder than a whisper.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I-I am so so so sorry Y/n, baby," he apologises and pulls you into a hug and allows you to cry into his chest.

He doesn't care if your tears are soaking through his jersey or he is getting deadly late for practice; his first priority is you. "I'm sorry!" you sob, old habit resurfacing after so long.

Oikawa gently moves you back and softly cups you cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, "Baby, please don't say sorry. I should be sorry! You were only doing your job".

You nod, wiping your tears and gently pushing his chest, "You're getting late," you tell him, your voice sounding wet, a sob threatening to break out at any moment. Oikawa pulls you back into the hug, "Screw that for now," he kisses the top of your head, "I can't leave you like this".

It doesn't take you long to calm down (Oikawa tried to make you laugh, "Y/n-chan! Punch me! You can kick the living shit outta me, I won't say anything, I promise! I deserve it anyway!"). Oikawa holds you close, rubbing your arms with his hands, "And?" he asks. "And?" you raise your brow, "What do you mean 'and'?"

Oikawa smiles awkwardly, guiltily, "You were going to say something before I decided to act like a dickhead". "Oh that!" "Yeah," he confirms.

"I was going to say, 'and I love you, take care'". Oikawa's face contorts with pain, guilt filling through his veins, he pulls you into a tight hug, "I love you too... Y/n- shit! I am so sorry!" You smile into the hug, "I forgive you".

"Fuck practice! let's do it!" "Get out". "Y/n-chan so mean!"

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #Tsukishima #Tsukishima Kei #Tsukishima imagines #Tsukishima x reader #Kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #Kuroo imagines #Kuroo x reader #Oikawa #Oikawa Tooru #Oikawa imagines #Oikawa x reader

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