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kyuus4ku · 3 years

Text

𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟

dazai osamu

genre: minific ; hurt/comfort (post-dark era)

warnings: substance abuse

word count: 2.8K

author's note: this is for a request from @pompompurin1028 based on a quote from The Phantom of the Opera, but i lost the request orz but! kat, thank u for being a sweetheart and sending me back my draft, disregarding my blunder altogether :") sorry this took so long, but i really hope you enjoy it ;)

that being said, happy birthday to our fave womaniser <3

The raging thunderstorm drowned out the clack of your footsteps as you ran indoors to escape from the endless, angry tears of the sky. You were soaked to the scalp, and the way your clothes stuck to your skin uncomfortably flamed your urgent need for a shower and a fresh set of clothes.

As a general rule, the minute you stepped into your house, your temporary roommate would be quick to greet you with a joyous salutation. He'd been living with you for about three weeks now, and you didn't really know why he had come back to see you. Either ways, because the two of you had a history of working together in the Port Mafia, it didn't take long for you to get used to each other's company.

He'd left the Mafia months ago, yet that barely tarnished the bond you had with him.

When the two of you had yourselves twisted into the affairs of the underground, he was the one who watched out for you in ways he could, while you were the one who dotted after his wellbeing—tending to all his wounds, self-inflicted or not.

You still remember how Chuuya often made sarcastic remarks about how involved you were with Dazai, to which you'd respond with a bonk on his head.

A close friendship with Dazai Osamu was simply unheard of, being the demonic prodigy of the Mafia and all, but somehow, you weren't afraid of him in the slightest. Your lack of reverence piqued his interest, and as you two aged, his liking for you grew into something he hadn't clarified with you until now.

He had changed a lot ever since he had left his job— he seemed more tranquil and less cynical, but there were times where you saw through the masquerade he habitually pulled off. Dazai was able to deceive anyone, but not you.

You understood his silence better than anyone. You've seen the scars no one dared to ask about, and the parts of his soul no one even had the capacity to comprehend.

You often questioned why he could trust you the way he did, but never really got a clear picture.

That being established, here you were in the present, waiting for him to show up with an ostentatious salutation, but this time, silence was the only wraith awaiting you.

"Dazai?" your voice called out shakily as the cold pierced needles through your skin, "I'm home."

You received no response.

The oppressive absence of his voice implored you to traipse anxiously to the living room. With every grudging step you took, your mind raced through the million possibilities of what had become of him, yet you refused to acknowledge the worst possible outcome. You were certain the days of finding him staring death right in the face was over.

But that wasn't characteristic of the boy who saw the world through colorblind eyes.

The sight before you made the idea of breathing nothing but a strenuous task, as if breathing was the reason you were still alive after all these years, but also the way you were about to die right at this instant. You snapped out of your daze and took his limp body in your arms. You placed your ear on his chest, and to your relief—the relief no words could even begin to make sense out of—he was still breathing.

"Dazai," only now did you realise that your throat had gone painfully dry, making your voice crack in exigency. You looked around in delirious panic and found a few empty bottles strewn over the floor carelessly. Most of them were empty alcohol containers... except for one of which used to house a large dosage of pills.

Without warning, you started sobbing uncontrollably, pulling his head closer to rest your forehead on his. As your tears freckled his cheeks sparingly, you soon realised that crying was perhaps the stupidest thing to resort to at this point— calling an ambulance was a more logical approach.

You supported his upper body by the back of his neck and with your other hand, you picked your phone out from your pocket. Struggling with your blurred vision, you dialed the digits in hesitantly.

What would they do to him?

Would they take him away from you?

If they did, could you trust them to take care of him as well as you always did?

Your sense of protectiveness convinced you that you'd take care of him yourself. You were best at that. He'd be too stubborn to listen to the nurses, and you were sure he wouldn't trust anyone else to see the scars his body carried.

You set the phone aside and with a bitter smile assuming itself on your lips, you muttered out the words, "Dazai, you're an idiot, you know that? How long are you planning to do this to me?" in a whisper so soft, as if you were mortified at saying something so selfish.

You didn't expect a response but once you got it, you gasped out loud— whether in fright, shock, or relief, you didn't know.

"Oh, you're home," you felt the serrated, pained edges of his voice cut through your skin mercilessly as he looked into your swollen eyes with prodigious guilt and remorse. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything before he bent forward violently to grip his abdomen, inhaling sharply in evident pain. In the know, you hastily got up and helped him do the same.

With his hand over your shoulders, you struggled to support the weight of his body as the two of you heaved yourselves to the bathroom, where he immediately dropped himself in front of the toilet bowl to vomit unstintingly.

You knelt down next to him, placing your hand to rub his back tenderly as he ralphed out the poisons that threatened to take his life away just now. Once he was done, he sat down and leaned against the wall next to you, his head tilted upward, lips parted in exhaustion, staring at you with red-tinted eyes.

"Was this your plan all along?" you asked timidly as you wiped his face with a wet towel. He smiled at you guiltily.

"You never retired as my caretaker, huh?" he said before a cough interrupted his nonchalance.

"Don't change the subject," you replied, rubbing his chest to ease his heavy breathing.

"I wish you would care for someone who wouldn't worry you so much."

"I wish you would stop worrying me so much," your simplification of his sentence tugged a light chuckle out of his lips.

After freshening up and calming down a little, you found yourselves in the bedroom. As the two of you sat on the floor with your backs leaned against each other, you struggled with keeping words of anger at the tip of your tongue. You knew saying things you certainly didn't mean would just make him feel guilty, and that was the last thing you wanted to put him through.

He tilted his chin up and rested the back of his head on the back of yours, a nervous grimace flashing across his face as he thought of what to say. His skin had gone numb with consternation and longing. He yearned to be held in your embrace at this instant, but knew that it was too much to ask of you right now.

"It's not a good time to confess my love for you now, right?" he said casually. At this point, he had nothing to lose, and in this moment, he was desperate to hear your voice. You laughed softly, inviting him to get up to come and sit in front of you. He took both your hands in his, and planted a meek kiss on your knuckles.

"Am I that dense to you?" you retorted back, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the way his brown eyes pierced your gaze lovingly. You leaned on the bedside behind you, gesturing for him to come closer.

"You're really bad at keeping secrets," you cooed smoothly.

"Who said it was a secret?" he grinned, "Admit it, you're just really bad at taking a hint."

"Ugh, come here," you demanded. He shifted himself so that you found his head on your lap. He closed his eyes as your fingers ran through his hair gently.

"Do you love me back?" he asked expectantly, not daring to open his eyes to meet your glare.

"If I didn't, I think I would've kicked you out of my house by now," you mumbled grumpily. His smile only grew wider. A simple confession of love for your best friend wasn't scary if all you wanted in this life was to die, right? Again, he had absolutely nothing to lose at this point.

But now that he had finally said it, he realised he just gained something he could lose at any second.

Your fingers continued to tangle and untangle themselves in his brunette, unkempt hair. You had so much you wanted to ask, yet somehow you didn't want to disturb how he was so relaxed in your grasp.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he opened his eyes to meet yours.

"Hm..." you thought carefully, though you already knew what you wanted to say.

"Why did you try to leave again?" you said those words with ease. Each and every former attempt you came to know about was never questioned by you— you felt like you had no right to ask him anything.

But for so long, you loved this boy more than anything else— of course you had all the right.

"That's a good question," the smile on his lips was branded with guilt from burdening you with soul-crushing worry, yet his eyes pleaded with you to understand he meant no harm to you. It then came to your realisation that the act of committing your heart to a wreckless person like him threatened to draw scars all over your very soul, yet the adoration his sorrow-filled eyes held promised to mend every single wound he had caused afterward.

"How do you live life without being terrorised by the fact that whatever you gain will be lost at some point? How do you go on with knowing you take nothing but yourself to the grave?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know what you had to say.

"Everything means nothing, Dazai," you answered plainly, caressing his cheekbone tenderly.

"Once you realise that, everything becomes a little more... comical. If we lose our expectations for life, we won't be disappointed all the time."

"If that's true, and if life really was that horrible, what would it matter if I died just now?" a wry smile twisted his lips. Now you realised one of the reasons he had asked such a question in the first place— he had wanted you to prove him wrong, and it pained you to see that he had lost so much hope already.

It was strange how the most beautiful souls were tormented with the most excruciatingly painful truths life could offer. Every single individual is tainted with the ghost of their past and the mistakes they've made along the way, but before you, despite how people fear him, and despite how society would look down on such a criminal, this boy was an angel— an angel without a home.

The world robbed angels of their wings and halos so they would look like demons instead.

But Dazai was no demon— not to you. If he was ever a demon, it'd be the times he stole your ice cream from the fridge, or the times he lied to you about going to sleep early.

If you ever accused him of being a demon, it was for stealing your heart and never giving it back.

"Would you like a well-structured, intellectual answer, or an answer from the bottom of my heart?"

"You're an intellect. I'm sure you'd give me the best of both worlds if you'd pick either," he said coquettishly. You rolled your eyes. You gave yourself a moment to think before opening your mouth again.

"I know the weight of the world, or, better yet, the weight of life itself, is the most unbearable thing we've choicelessly become stewards of. But someday, you'd realise the horror of living would make your death... all the more beautiful. We've only got one life to live, and one death to die."

He nodded professionally, but you could tell he wasn't taking you seriously.

"You tricked me. That was your philosophical answer, wasn't it?" he raised his eyebrows, a smirk drawing itself on his lips, "Heard that one before. I know you too well to think that that was from the bottom of your heart, y/n."

"You're right," you chuckled. Already knowing that he wouldn't be satisfied with your abstract answer, you continued on with what you actually wanted to say.

"I'm not asking you to promise me anything, Dazai, but all I ask of you, is that you understand that you don't have be in that bubble of seclusion anymore. You've solved enough mysteries of this world— death, life, and whatever that comes in between; the more meaning you get out of this world, the less meaning you see in living itself, and such knowledge is too heavy for anyone to carry. That's what separates you from the world— you've taken it all upon yourself, but at what cost, my love?"

He made no reply. He couldn't shake off the uneasiness he felt stemming from your answer, which was undoubtedly the most genuine thing he'd heard in his entire life. No, it definitely wasn't uneasiness... it was mere comfort— comfort he was so unfamiliar with. Is this what it felt like to be understood?

He had felt this way before, but at another point of his life with a different person, and in a very different way.

"Do you believe me when I say I care about you?" you asked, your face directly over his. As you waited for his response, you picked out the strands of his hair that curtained his face, his eyes fluttering at your sweet-tempered touch.

"Of course," he smiled serenely. He didn't know what else to say.

"Then you should know that all I want for you is to not feel alone anymore. I may not understand you completely, Dazai, you've hurt in a way that no one will ever know. But hear me out: I don't think there's enough love in the world, unless we have someone to give it to. Would you believe me if I said I'll love you to the best of my heart's ability?"

"I do," surprisingly, he meant that.

He wasn't sure where this certainty came from, but what he saw glowing from your face— compassion, just pure compassion, a flaw no one else in the world was willing to show—made him feel safe. He felt like he had found his home— right here, within your touch.

At this point, if you asked him to unravel every strand of his dolorous soul, he'd do it— even if his actions were fuelled with just a short-lived impulse, he'd do it without thinking twice.

It was just like how you used to uncoil his bandages to replace them when you were just teenagers— the way your eyes glowed with maddening concern while you stayed silent the whole time, not asking where each wound came from. It was just like that.

Though, he couldn't decide if your words would last. Maybe they wouldn't— all good things came to an end. But perhaps focusing on the tiniest details— from the minutes he had his hands around your waist whenever you slow-danced in the kitchen to the hours you'd spend talking and listening to each other— those were the details which made this horrible life a little more prettier. A little more bearable. A little more worthwhile.

"Daaazaaaiii~" he unlatched himself from the depths of his thoughts as you waved your hand in front of him. Your chuckles filled the air as he suddenly grasped the sides of your face to latch his lips on yours, forgetting about all the thoughts which threatened to bother him.

"If you keep charming me like that, I might really want to start living," he said as he sat upright. He leaned forward with the intention to continue kissing you, but you placed your hand on his chest to stop him briefly.

"Is that a challenge?" you asked mischievously, with an effervescent smile on your face which he was, once again, quick to hide as he placed his lips on yours again.

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Loving You For You [Maxwell Lord x GN!Reader]

Summary: Maxwell Lord is struck with a panic attack when he's getting ready to shoot one of his famous infomercials. He's hit with the trauma of his youth and begins to spiral, until you, his loving partner, show him that it's okay to feel afraid and it's okay to find admittance in his struggles.

Warnings: descriptions of poverty, starvation, body dysmorphia, panic attack, general insecurity, brief mention of addiction (alcohol and gambling), brief mention of abuse.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2000>

Author's note: So many of you loved 'Perfect to Me', which was about a reader who had their own body dysmorphia (you can find it in my Masterlist under ‘Maxwell Lord’, and asked me to write more. I put a little twist on things and wrote this, a one-shot in which Maxwell suffers from body dysmorphia and struggles to leave his past behind him. Reader discretion advised.

Masterlist

When Maxwell Lorenzano was 6 years old, he owned one pair of shorts and two t-shirts. He had no choice but to wear them throughout the coldest winter in history, his knees red raw from the cold, and they lasted him for two years until he quite literally was growing out of them. When he finally parted with them, his mother gifted him with a dark blue knitted sweater, and Maxwell swore it was the best present he'd ever received. He'd finally feel the warmth he craved so desperately. The warmth that other children got from their parents embrace...he was getting from an itchy sweater that smelt like cheap beer and cigarettes. But it was his, and it was all he had.

After Maxwell's father stole all of the money for his gambling and alcohol addiction, he left Mrs Lorenzano with just five pesetas to feed the small family for a week. The brown eyed boy remembered that winter as the worst one yet. The bedwetting had gotten bad again and he had never gone so hungry. He remembered his stomach rumbling in class and his cheeks would flush as the other kids teased and laughed at him for it. He remembered stealing a banana from another kid's packed lunch, getting caught, and told that if he continued to steal, he'd be nothing but a criminal low-life just like his father. But he was just hungry. His shoes had holes in them so his toes poked out. He bathed in a tin bucket once a week right up until he was a teenager.

And thirty years later, Maxwell Lorenzano, or Lord, as he now went by, was staring at himself in the full length bedroom mirror. Everything was perfect. He'd proved everyone back home wrong. He became someone. Someone esteemed, someone important and someone with a heightened self worth. People asked for his autograph in the street and preached to him about their love and admiration for his work. He was a man who could make dreams come true. Everything was perfect… or so it should've been.

It didn't fit. Maxwell picked at the way the pale pink polo shirt clung to his body. He turned to the side and sighed when he saw the way it highlighted his little tummy. He sucked in his breath, trying to flatten it, but it didn't really work. And for a split second he considered how many meals it would take to lose that little bit of weight. This whole outfit had been tailored for him just two weeks ago and it was perfect but now he hated it. He didn't just hate it. He felt disgusting.

It was weird. Sure his insecurity about his body image was rampant as he took in his appearance, but he didn't feel like himself.

Truthfully, when he changed his name from Lorenzano to Lord he had done it to start anew. That name was his father's and he wanted no association with the man who had abused and tormented him and his mother. But when Maxwell Lorenzano became Max Lord, it was like the struggle ended. He'd fought for so long and so hard trying to fit in with the modern-day example of a successful businessman. He was the least American all-American man. He dyed his hair blonde, even seeked a vocal coach to try and rid himself of his accent. And it worked. Everything was being handed to him on a silver plate. He was the coverboy of Forbes, the owner of three country clubs and day spas across America. The Wall Street Journal were constantly on his case, wanting to interview him. He was swimming in cash. He had everything he could ever want. But it wasn't him.

He felt like a fraud. A liar. A con-man. And as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he saw nothing but the broken little boy he was thirty years ago, wearing ill-fitted clothes and a fake smile. It wasn't meant to be like this. He was spiralling.

"Hey honey?" he heard your sweet voice call from the next room, your footsteps approaching down the corridor. His tense composure relaxed ever so slightly when he heard you coming, and he grabbed the white suit jacket from the top of the dresser, quickly pulling it over him. He didn't want you to see him like this. See his tummy and the way the stupid shirt didn't fit him the way it did two weeks ago. You'd seen him naked plenty of times and deep down Maxwell knew that you wouldn't care, but he just felt so vulnerable in his own skin. "The camera crew are waiting downstairs in the lobby and they're getting antsy," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you padded into the bedroom. "The director is insufferable, Max. I keep telling him this is your infomercial, not his, but he just-- hey, Max? Are you listening?" you narrowed your eyes with concern. Maxwell hadn't looked at you once since you walked into the room.

"Hmph? Oh yeah." he murmured, turning back around to see if his tummy poked out even wearing the white jacket over the shirt. It didn't, which was a relief for him, but the padded shoulders of the jacket made him look huge and boxy. And it was just another thing he began to hate about himself.

"Are you okay?" you asked, biting your lip and walking towards him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your hands over his tummy. He winced. "Max?"

"Yeah I'm fine." he said quickly, pulling out of your grip and buttoning up the suit jacket.

As he was about to leave the bedroom to start shooting the latest infomercial for his company, Black Gold Cooperative, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. You popped open to the button of his suit jacket, freeing his tummy, not that you noticed. "You should keep the jacket undone," you hummed. "I like you in pink." You placed the palm of your hand on his chest and subconsciously began to brush him down, straightening his collar so he looked as smart as possible.

"I might get changed. Don't really like this outfit." Max muttered with a frown that made your heart ache.

"Wh-what? You loved it when you tried it on for me at the tailors the other week. And you look so good. Is there something going on?" you asked curiously as Maxwell stepped away from you.

He sighed in defeat (and slight frustration), before ripping the jacket off his body and letting it pool to the ground. "Look." he said, pointing his finger aimlessly at his tummy.

"What?" you asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Look." he repeated again, wiggling his ring clad finger this time.

"Maxie you gotta help me out here," you replied. "What am I looking at?" You noticed Maxwell's lips begin to quiver and tears prick his dark glazed eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat that he didn't realise he had before slapping his hand over his face in shame and breaking down into a heaving, sobbing mess. "Oh Max," you cooed, taking him in your arms and guiding him over to your bed. You sat him down on slid next to him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest. "Baby what is it? You can talk to me."

"Nothing fits," he hiccuped, and you felt his tears dampen your own blouse. "I feel disgusting. I feel fake and. Disgusting. It fit two weeks ago- and now-"

"Max," you hushed him, running your fingers through his golden locks of hair. "It fits you perfectly. You look amazing, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your partner, I'm saying it because it really truly does. You look so handsome." you promised him.

"When I look in the mirror all I see is the old me. The me who wet the bed, who starved and stole and who couldn't save my mother from my father's horror and abuse. I moved here to escape it all, but it still haunts me. It follows me and I can't- I just want it to stop." Maxwell confessed, the tears now streaming down his face.

You had dated Max Lord for three years now, and you were both deeply in love with each other, but he had never quite opened up to you about his past trauma. You knew little things here and there but you never expected it to be so bad. Your boyfriend was suffering and you felt so helpless.

"I hate myself." he continued through a choked sob. He began to feel so constricted in his clothes, tugging his pink shirt. It felt like he couldn't breathe, and you saw the panic on his face.

"Hey, breathe with me. Let me help you." you whispered, cupping his face with your hand and wiping away his tears. He found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch and he followed your breathing. Inhale for seven seconds and then exhale. And repeat. It was working. As he followed your breathing, you gently began to undress him and as you discarded the garments of clothing he began to feel better.

Leaving him on the bed, you promised you'd be back in one second, quickly darting into the walk-in closet and bringing out some of his comfiest cashmere pyjamas.

"I- I can't," Maxwell panted. "I have to shoot the- the infomercial."

You shook your head, unfolding the pyjamas. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay? This is your infomercial. Not anyone else's."

"I can't let them down." Maxwell insisted, looking back at the clothes that were pooled on the floor. He had to be brave. For once he had to be brave.

"No," you said sternly. Maxwell looked at you with doe eyes. "I want you to change and get into bed. I'll be back in one minute, I'm just going to let the crew and the director know that we'll do this another day."

"Yeah but-" As always, Maxwell Lord was the most stubborn man on the planet. "I can do it. I can- I can-"

"Sweetheart," you whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. "There's no shame in admitting when you can't do something. No shame in struggling. I love you all the same."

"You aren't embarrassed of me?" he sniffed wearily.

"How could I be? I feel like the luckiest person on the planet because I scored with you. You're the most amazing, gentle, compassionate guy I have ever met. Max, I wish the rest of the world got to see you the way I see you. You are perfect." you smiled and Maxwell felt his cheeks flush pink.

"I love you so much." he confessed, and you giggled, leaning in to brush your lips against his.

"I love you too," you smiled warmly, nudging your nose against his. "Get comfortable and I'll dismiss the crew. I'll bring a VHS up and we can watch a movie in bed too. Anything you fancy?"

Maxwell pondered for a second, trying to remember his wide selection of filmography he kept in one of the living room cabinets. He could always go with one of his favourites— a guilty pleasure he liked to indulge in when he craved comfort. "Breakfast at Tiffany's?" he asked with a hopeful glint in his eye.

"Oh yes, we haven't watched that one in a while! I'll make us both some herbal tea too," you exclaimed, handing him a comb so he could brush out all the hair product and reveal his natural waves. "We've been needing a movie day." you commented.

"Let's not do anything," Maxwell grinned. "For once. Let's just relax and cuddle and watch movies."

"I can't think of anything better." you smiled cheerily, pinching his cheek and giving him another kiss.

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albertasunrise · 3 years

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No More - Chapter 1

Summary: Frankie has been your best friend since you were in the 2nd grade. You were each other's first’s, he, your first love and as you’d both gotten older you always somehow fell into bed together after one too many drinks with the boys. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up but fate has other plans for you both and events as set in motion to decide for you.

Warnings: Explicit, Unprotected sex, blood and injury, overdose, unplanned pregnancy - 18+

Pairings: Frankie/ Reader

You and Frankie became best friends the date he put Billy Green in his place. The boy had been dragging you by your pigtails when Frankie had come along to put him in his place, kicking him in the shins and sending the boy running with tears streaming down his fat cheeks. From that day the two of you had been inseparable. He had been there for you when you went through your first heartbreak and you had been there to hold him through his. He had convinced his parents to take you in when your parents died in a car accident, leaving you with no one and nothing. His family had welcomed you with open arms and supported you through the hell of burying your parents at 15. At 16 and Brad Jones asked you to the dance. You'd confessed to Frankie you were nervous he might kiss you and that you’d never been kissed. He had taken your face in his hands and pressed his soft lips to yours, grinning when you’d deepened it before the both of you had pulled away flustered and out of breath. The night of the dance Brad had kissed you but when he’d pulled you into that bruising kiss, you’d wished the whole time that it was Frankie whose tongue danced with yours. You and Brad dated for a while and things got fairly serious pretty quickly and you soon found that he was talking about the two of your being intimate, something else you’d never done. You’d been embarrassed when Brad had asked you about it. ‘You’ve obviously had sex before right?’ He had said and in a moment of weakness, you’d told him yes. You sobbed to Frankie that night, sitting cross-legged on your bed as your shoulders shook.

‘I should have just been honest with him but I was scared he’d dump me.’ You’d confessed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

‘Do you want to have sex with him?’ He had asked, rubbing your arm with a big hand.

‘Yes... yes of course but he’s going to know that I haven’t when we... you know...'

‘Well, what if you do it before?’ He had asked, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

‘And who am I going to have sex with then?’ You’d questioned, rolling your eyes at his suggestion.

‘Me.’

His statement had taken you by surprise. He had admitted that he hadn’t had sex before either so you’d be doing him a favour too and so that evening you lost your virginity to your best friend. The man that you were secretly in love with. You and he did it a few times that week, getting a little practice in as he had called it and so when it had come to doing the deed with Brad, you knew what to expect. The sex was okay, he had made you cum once but he was very much focused on his own pleasure whereas Frankie had focused on yours before anything else. You and Brad broke up a few weeks later. Your best friend had been there to pick up the pieces but you didn’t fall apart, you weren’t upset that things were over. You did fall apart when Frankie met Ella, his first serious girlfriend and a girl that he ended up dating for over a year. You’d had to listen to him fuck her, crying into your pillow as you remembered how he had made you feel when his hips had thrust against yours. When his lips had kissed your throat. You'd ended up having to take care of yourself for a while, unable to look at anyone else but him. Not that you were short on offers. Ella didn’t last though and when Prom had come around you have been overjoyed when he’d asked you to go with him. You danced the night away, hoping the entire evening that he would kiss you but he never did. You’d cried yourself to sleep that night. The day you both graduated was a day that was engrained into your brain permanently. It was supposed to have been the best day of your life, finishing one chapter and starting another at NYU. You’d almost screamed the house down when you’d gotten in. Frankie’s family throwing a celebration but it hadn't escaped your notice how distant he had been that night. On graduation day, you discovered why. His family had thrown a small party at their house, inviting a few other families of the kids you and he were friends with along. It had taken a lot of courage for him to pull you away from your friends to tell you what he was about to but he did. He pulled you into his bedroom, telling you to sit on the bed as he paced the length of his bedroom.

‘Frankie, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?’ You’d asked, tilting your head to the side when he finally stopped and looked at you.

‘I’m enlisting.’ He had blurted out, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he’d waited for you to speak.

‘You’re what?’

‘I’ve enlisted.’ He’d repeated as he’d plopped himself down in his desk chair ‘Going to train to be a pilot like I’ve always wanted.’

‘You wanted to be a commercial pilot!’ You’d spat, feeling anger bubbling under the surface ‘Fewer guns firing at you that way.’

‘Please...’ He’d pleaded ‘I leave on Sunday and I can’t go knowing you’re mad at me.’

‘I’m not mad Frankie.’ You’d stated ‘I’m just surprised. You could die.’

‘At least my death will mean something.’

You’d stormed out after that, knowing that if you’d stayed you would have said something you’d regret. The two of you had sorted things out by the time he needed to leave though and you had waved him off at the airport, crying with his mum as he’d disappeared out of sight and you prayed you’d see him again.

You did see him again, 5 years later at a family gathering. He’d been given leave for a few weeks and had flown home to see you and his parents. You’d been doing well after University. You had secured a job at a tech company, quickly rising through the ranks and you’d been able to buy a house just a few blocks from Frankie’s parents. You’d taken to working remotely, preferring the isolation.

You then didn't see Frankie for another 6 years. It had been gone two in the morning when frantic knocking had echoed through the house. You’d sprinted down the stairs, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you peeped through the door before opening it to Frankie’s mother sobbing. Your stomach had sunk, fearing she was here to tell you that he’d died in active duty. You’d pulled her sobbing form into your arms and held her as she cried, waiting until she was a little calmer to ask what’s wrong.

‘Frankie’s been shot in action.’ She’d told you and you’d had to cover your mouth to hide your reaction as you’d clutched your stomach ‘They’ve flown him back for treatment but can’t tell me how he is.’ She’d sobbed ‘I need to drive to the city but I can’t go alone.’

Frankie’s father had died the year before. He’d been unable to make it back for the funeral and had not been home since, Delta force having a hold over his life that you’d never understood. You’d told his mum that you’d take her, invited her in so that you could go change quickly before grabbing your car keys and heading out. She’d told you what hospital and you’d driven as fast as you could, praying that you weren’t greeted by something that had haunted your nightmares once too often. Over the years you had dated but nothing had ever really gotten past a few months. None of them had been Frankie. You’d tried to tell yourself that still being hung up over a crush from your teenage years was silly. Yes you’d fucked but you’d never been an item, he’d done you a favour, that’s all it had been. When you’d arrived at the hospital you’d both been relieved to learn that he was expected to make a full recovery. He’d taken three bullets. One to the leg, one to the shoulder and one to the abdomen. He stayed in the hospital for a week before he was sent home to recover, his mum overjoyed to have him home again. You’d visited most nights, helping his mum as she wasn’t able to care for him as he needed, her age really showing. You’d supported him through the PTSD that he ultimately suffered from because of his shooting, helping him through the panic attacks triggered by the sound of someone dropping something or a car backfiring. It had broken your heart to see him that way but despite if all he was send off on another tour and you'd prayed every night that he'd return.

His mum passed a few years later and he’d suffered heavily after that, ultimately retiring from the delta force along with his buddies Tom, Benny, Will and Pope. You’d seen more of him after that, going out at least once a week for drinks with him and the guys. That's how it started. It had been Santi’s birthday and everyone had ended up in a club after drinks in the bar. Alcohol and loud music had flowed through you as surely as the blood in your veins that night. Frankie had asked you to dance with him and you’d been surprised at how well he moved. Your back had been flush against his chest as your hips moved in sync with the beat. His hands had travelled. His lips had placed hot, wet, kisses along the junction of your neck and you’d melted to his touch. The next thing you knew he was back at your place, the two of you not even making it to the bedroom as clothes had been discarded and you fell onto the couch in a tangle of limps. He’d fucked you senseless. Marked you. Worshipped you. In the morning you did not talk about it, just made breakfast and called him a cab, crying as soon as he left. Despite how it had hurt you it kept happening. Turning into an almost weekly occurrence and each time it chipped away a small part of you. Every time, you told yourself that that time would be the last, that you would tell him to either commit to you or move on but deep down you relished even having just one small part of him. To pretend just for that night that he was yours and you were his. The night you’d finally plucked up the courage to tell him it was over was a night that haunted you still. You had decided to visit him one evening after work, knowing full well you’d not be able to do it before or after one of your rendezvous. You’d knocked a few times and he hadn’t answered but his truck was parked in the drive and the TV flickered through the blinds so you’d known he was home. You started to bang more loudly then, hoping it would grab his attention but still nothing. You’d been angry then, digging around in your bag to find the spare key he’d given you months ago. When you found it and let yourself in you found Frankie fitting on the floor, covered in his own vomit whilst his body convulsed. It had later transpired he’d accidentally overdosed on cocaine, a substance he’d been taking for months to cope with his PTSD. You’d supported him through his recovery, and through his relapse but you’d not been able to tell him that it had to stop. Too scared you’d send him down a path of no return. The group dynamic changed after that, everyone walking on eggshells around him. You still kept finding yourself in his bed and you’d now gotten to the point where you couldn’t do it anymore. You’d tried to date, had a few boyfriends and yet somehow he still found his way into your bed. Those relationships failed and still, he didn’t commit to you. There were times you thought maybe he cared for you the same way you did for him. Pulling you onto his lap when you were at movie night with the boys. His fingers drawing circles on your skin as he pulled you close. Then he’d met her.

Emily.

They became serious fast. She’d moved in with him after just two months of dating. She was suddenly there, all the time and you were pushed aside. He barely spoke to you. Barely looked at you. He was totally enamoured by her and it killed you even more. At least before, for a small while, he was solely focused on you. Your pleasure. Now he was focused on her. It eventually became to difficult to see them together and so you stopped going to movie night. Fight night. Anything that involved him you ceased attendance and the only people that seemed to worry was the Miller brothers. Santi had left to fight a war on drugs in Brazil and you rarely heard from him. It had hit Frankie hard at first, not having one of his oldest friends there to help him through the hard times but you had. You had cared for him. Cried with him. Held him, but now it seemed that meant nothing.

After a copious amount of arm twisting, Benny had managed to convince you to come to fight night that night.

‘Its the biggest fight of my career!’

He’d told you and so you’d decided that you would go for him. You’d go to the fight, show your support and then leave. You didn’t need to speak to Frankie, didn’t need to look at him. You just needed to be there for Ben. The crowd was crazy, people screaming at each other just to be heard. Your eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Will who was waving you over, the smile on his face stretching from ear to ear.

‘Hey Will.’ You say sweetly as he pulls you into a bear hug.

‘I’ve missed you.’ He states as he pushes you to arm's length so he can look at you ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘I’ve just had some stuff that I’ve been dealing with.’ You reply, shrugging your shoulders.

‘Here’s your beer brother.’ Comes a familiar voice and your blood runs cold.

Will takes his drink and thanks Frankie and you excuse yourself to go to the bar. You noticed that Emily was nowhere to be seen and that brought you some relief. You order your drink and head back over to the boys, squealing when you see Ben stood there speaking to them. You put down your drink and run into his waiting arms, wrapping your legs wound his waist and he spins you.

‘Fuck I’ve missed you.’ He says as he puts you down ‘Where did you go? What have you been up to?’

‘I’ve been dealing with some stuff.’ You reply ‘Learnt who my friends are though.’

You notice Frankie flinch out the corner of your eye and you smile, at least he knew that was aimed at him. You were relieved when Tom arrived just in time to save you from being alone with Frankie as Will and Ben head out back to prepare for the fight. You’d never particularly liked Tom but at that moment you’d never been happier to see him in your life. He sat between you and Fish, limited his conversation and most importantly acted as a much-needed barrier between you and the man you’d called your best friend since you were 7. The fight was brutal but Benny won, walking out with his arms above his head, he cheers before stealing Toms beer and downing the last of it.

‘Nice one Benjamin.’ You say as you pat him on the arm.

‘Coming for drinks?’ Asks Will as he pulled you into a sideways hug.

‘Nah I need to get home.’

‘Right yeah.’ Replies Benny, his hurt evident in his tone ‘Well we’ll see you when we see you I guess.’

You hugged the brother's goodbye, bid Tom farewell and left, leaving a perplexed Frankie in your wake. The drive home was quick and uneventful, the lights being on your side and soon you found yourself pulling into your drive. Once inside the house, you poured yourself a large glass of wine and collapse onto the couch. You’d done it. You’d survived an evening with Frankie and avoided fighting or fucking him.

You were on your third glass when the doorbell rang, scrunching your face in confusion when you see the time. Who would be at your door at midnight? Getting to your feet you make your way to the front door, not even bothering to look through the peephole. You were not expecting who was on the other side.

‘What are you doing here Frankie?’ You ask, imitation saturating your tone.

‘Why did you blank me tonight?’

‘Are you fucking serious?’ You scoff as you shake your head and push the door, looking up when it's stopped by his foot.

‘What have I done?’

You throw your arms up in exasperation and make your way back to the kitchen to pour more wine. You were going to need it if you were going to have this conversation.

‘How’s Emily?’ You ask, venom dripping from each word ‘Was surprised she wasn’t there.‘

‘She’s away with her sister.’ He answers, brow furrowed in confusion ‘What does that have to do with how you blanked me?’

‘Did it hurt?’ You growl, taking a sip of your wine ‘Did it sting that I didn’t acknowledge you? Didn’t speak to you, pushed you to one side?’

‘Of course, it did.’

‘Well, you know you know how I felt.’

‘Is this because we stopped fucking?’

‘NO!.’ You yell, your anger overflowing now ‘When you got together with her and started to bring her along it was like I no longer existed.’ You continue, nostrils flaring ‘You didn’t speak to me. Didn’t look at me. I was just tossed aside because you found new pussy and it hurt like hell. I helped take care of you when you got shot. Comforted you when your mum died. Took care of you when I found you half-dead on the fucking floor from OD’ing on coke. Yet none of that seemed to matter when she came along.’

‘Is that why you stopped hanging out?’

‘Wow, I’m amazed you even noticed.’ You chuckle, taking a large swig of your wine.

‘Lazo-.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ You growl, no longer appreciating the pet-name he’d gifted you as kids.

‘Look I’m an asshole. I get it... but let's just talk about this.’

‘What’s there to talk about?’ You let your tears fall now ‘You did me a favour really.’ He tilts his head at this ‘I’d been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you that I couldn't keep sleeping with you. You managed to do that for me.’

He took a few ginger steps towards you, cupping your cheek with his hand as he caged you against the kitchen counter. You could feel your heart start to race as you look up at him, already feeling yourself get lost in his brown eyes. You don’t know how it happened but the next thing you know his lips are on yours, clothes tossed haphazardly to the side as Frankie's lifts you onto the counter. You grab his hips and pull him close as he kisses and bites your neck, gasping as he enters you in one swift movement. His thrusts are hard and fast but perfectly angled. Within minutes you peak, screaming his name as he increases the pace. You lie down on the cold, stone, worktop as he rails you, arm slung over your face as he brings on your second orgasm, this one more intense than the last and you pull him right along with you. He collapses bonelessly on your heaving form, kissing your shoulder as you both fight to regain control of your breathing.

‘Fuck I missed this.’ He breathes, finally pulling out and dashing to the downstairs toilet to grab a towel.

When he returns you’re sobbing, your whole body shaking as you rock on the floor of your kitchen.

‘Shit what’s wrong?’

‘You need to go Frankie.’ You cry, our red-rimmed eyes glaring up at him ‘You just cheated and I was a part of that. You need to leave.’

‘Lazo...’

‘GO!.’

He pulls on his clothes and leaves, slamming the door behind him and making everything around it vibrate. You don’t leave your house for the rest of the weekend, spending almost every waking moment crying as you think about what you’d done.

You avoided the group for almost two months. There was no way you could have faced him. No way that you could look her in the eye after he’d fucked you on the counter of your kitchen whilst she was blissfully unaware. You couldn’t avoid it forever though and when Will’s birthday had come around you were stuck. The plan was to head to the usual haunt for some drinks and then maybe move on to a club. He would be there. She probably would be too. You knew you just had to avoid him and all would be well. Everything would be fine.

It was Thursday and you’d been throwing up all week, having to take time off work despite working remotely. You decided then that enough was enough and you paid a visit to your doctor, hoping they’d be able to give you something to kill off whatever this was. After asking the usual questions he took some blood to send off for tests, promising that the results would be with you by the end of the following day. You were curled up on your couch when the email came through with your results, your eyes growing wide when you see what was written beside the word ‘POSITIVE’.

‘There’s no way.’ You say to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief ‘Pregnant?’

Despite the new information at your disposal, you still went out for Will’s birthday and the conversation had taken an unexpected turn from the onset.

‘So how are things with you and Emily Fish?’ Asks Benny as he gives his friend a friendly nudge.

‘She’s pregnant.’ He states, scrubbing a hand over his face and your blood runs cold.

‘Congrats man. That’s great.’ Says Will as he gives him a pat on the shoulder.

‘We’re not sure we’re gonna keep it.’ He states, taking everyone by surprise ‘She doesn’t want kids and I’m not ready.’

You feel bile rising up through your throat and you excuse yourself, practically sprinting to the bathroom as you empty the contents of your stomach. His words echo in your mind ‘I’m not ready.’ You’d not really thought about what you were going to do but there was never any doubt in your mind. You are going to keep it.

‘Everything okay?’ Asks Benny, giving you a concerned look as you made your way back to the table.

‘Yeah... Just been feeling sick all week.’ You reply, taking a swig of your coke ‘I think I’m gonna head home but you guys have fun.’

They all said their goodbyes before you sprinted to the car, falling inside and sobbing loudly. What are you going to do? Do you tell him? You were two months along. You were going to start showing fairly soon. You needed to make a decision. Tell Frankie about the baby and hope he takes it okay. Or not tell him and have this baby alone and he would remain blissfully unaware that he was a father.

Chapter 2

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you

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anobscurename · 4 years

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XIV — masterlist

concept: the second night at the hamptons. you finally confess your feelings, but in the only way you know how. the slowest of slow burns. part fifteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,2k

warnings: fluff and angst, maybe tears (i cried)

author's note: this is it. this is the singular scene and song that inspired this entire story. this one is dedicated to @efferuse and billie eilish :)

An unhealthy coping mechanism, that was what it was.

You could acknowledge that, but when you knocked back another shot – unsure of whether it was tequila or vodka anymore – and became a little bit more numb, you knew it was a necessary evil.

It was your newfound secret to loosening up and being more at ease around them, in spite of that little stab of pain in your chest every now and then when you'd spot the tiny – to innocent bystanders – yet utterly monumental – to you – signs of affection between the happy couple. The loving smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the hand holding, the protective cuddle of his arm around her...

You had other people to speak to, and to hold your attention, and it didn't hurt as much. But that night...

You had been known to sing around the house sometimes, and were a little adept at the ukelele. Chris had heard you playing late at night when he'd get home from set, singing softly to Dodger. It always made him smile a little to himself, not that you'd noticed. But you knew he knew about your little hobby, seeing as on more than one occasion he'd seen you playing on the couch and – sometimes – he'd even join you and just listen, Dodger's head on his lap. You hadn't minded then, but you certainly minded now when he brought it up.

"Can we get some music going?" Sebastian groaned, rifling through the cooler box you had all managed to drag outside to the fire pit.

Chris gave you a mischievous smile, and you already knew what was about to be said.

"No. No. Christopher Robert Evans–"

"I know a little someone who–"

"–I swear to God I will–"

"–can play the uke!"

"–castrate you!"

Both of you had been a jumble of trying to talk over one another, you threatening his very possibility for future children and him outing your hidden talent. Or lack thereof. There was a reason you didn't really play for large audiences.

But they hadn't heard you, they had heard only him, and soon enough, everyone was asking – no, begging – for one song, just one song.

Maybe the alcohol had made you compliant enough to say yes, or maybe you knew they'd never let it go – whatever the reason was, you retrieved the ukelele from your room and sat down in front of the firepit once more, completing the seated circle around the soft ember glow. You had brought it with you, because what's a beach house vibe without some uke?

A song to sing... You battled your mind, trying to find one, just a single song to sate the people. Your fingers absentmindedly moved along the chords as you thought and...

One look at Chris, a soft, encouraging smile on his lips, and suddenly the perfect song came to mind. Looking down and away, you cleared your throat, and began to strum.

And then, in the gathered hush of the backyard, fire crackling and ocean waves crashing in the distance, you began to sing:

I've been watching you

For some time

You glanced up, fingers dancing over the strings. You found yourself magnetically drawn to Chris' gaze.

Can't stop staring

At those ocean eyes

He was transfixed, your voice, the music, that look you were giving him. It was like there was no one else in the universe, just you, and him, and that song. He swallowed thickly, his heart heavy and pounding dully in his chest.

Burning cities

And napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

You knew it was wrong, to be doing this. But no song was going to capture the emotion you felt, at that very moment. Not like this. This song was too perfect to let pass, unsung. A mirror to your mind.

Your ocean eyes

You finally managed to tear your own eyes away and take a quick glance at everyone else. They were watching, smiling, listening in hushed awe. Feeling like it was better to look down, you continued to play, teasing the melody from taut strings.

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

You were staring blankly now, and although all eyes were on you, you only really cared about one pair, one pair of ocean blue eyes. But she was there, and she was kind, and beautiful, and she was who he belonged with. She was who he was with.

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Falling into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

It was almost magic, some deep impulse to look at him again. You were completely and utterly drawn to him. But he wasn't smiling anymore. He had a new look on his face, one you couldn't quite discern behind a heated gaze. But you had a song to finish, and that look could be puzzled through later.

I've been walking through

A world gone blind

You finally managed to look at her, and she was nodding along, smiling, blissfully unaware of your emotions. Of the meaning behind the words. Of why you had chosen this incredibly relevant song.

Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind

What was that look he was giving you? What did it mean? He seemed deep in thought, as if something was bothering him. His brow was creased, pensive and attentive, eyes flickering over every micro movement you made, piecing together a puzzle that he had never really thought to piece together before. A puzzle that had seemed unfathomable to him. Fuck, did he know? Well, it wasn't like you were being subtle. Not with a song all about falling for someone with ocean eyes, and his were as blue as they come. Oceanic. Ugh, why had you not just kissed him? It would've been less obvious. You hid your growing panic by continuing. Just make it through, and try not to look at him again. Simple...

Careful creature

Made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

Easier said than done, your eyes travelled to his, and they met, and suddenly, it was like an understanding was passing between the two of you. You weren't being dramatic. He knew. He knew, and your heart was aching, and it looked like he knew that too. He knew how you had felt. Still felt. And if you let yourself admit it... how you'd probably always feel. But not only that. One quick glance at her, and it was like she knew too. The smile was gone from her lips, and you felt a wave of nausea hit you like a ten ton truck.

The last chorus left your lips shakily, but no less beautifully, and you were quick to silence yourself when it was finally done, setting the uke aside.

Uproarious applause broke the stillness from the other guests, Chris smiling tensely and clapping softly, but she didn't move. Didn't even blink.

But in spite of all that, you couldn't help but remember the way he looked at you. That realization. That little twinkle of something deliciously mysterious and unknown in those ocean eyes.

The tears in your own eyes hadn't registered until now. But, like a dam spilling over from heavy rainfall, tears were streaming, and you couldn't stop them.

"{Your name?}" Chris said softly, leaning forward. He was barely audible over the chatter of the other guests – who, after the conclusion of the song, had gone back to their idle drunken conversations – but you heard him. Concern laced his voice, evident in his eyes, his furrowed brow. "Are you okay?"

You waved him off dismissively, disguising your sniffle with a strained chuckle. "Yeah, just some smoke from the fire got in my eye."

You quickly stood, and used the replacement of your uke in your room as an excuse to exit the sudden tensities of the situation.

From the corner of your eye you saw Chris, worried, begin to rise – to check on you, no doubt – but she shot out a quick hand, lacing her fingers with his. She shook her head ever so slightly, but the intention was clear: don't go to her, stay with me.

Your heart sank with his silhouette as you watched him sit back down beside her, welcoming her into his arms as they looked out to the beach. His choice was clear. As was your rejection.

You shut your door behind you and cursed yourself for being so stupid. In what world was that a good idea? You basically serenaded him. You had finally given yourself away – truly, madly, deadly – and for what?

A mournful sob escaped your lips, one you fought to stifle with your hand to your mouth. Back pressed against the door, you sank to the floor, too weak to keep standing. Too weak to continue the charade.

And just like that, you broke.

You finally broke, because you knew you'd lost him.

Lost him, and his ocean eyes.

#chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #dina writes #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff

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thewolfswriting · 3 years

Text

The Dangers Of A Demon Chapter 4

Pairings: Demon Alpha!Dean x Katarina Morgan (Omega OC)

Word count: 2,136

Chapter Warnings: Profanity, Knotting, Oral, Dub-Con 18+ content just don’t read if you’re a minor

Taglist: @charmed-asylum

Divider By: @firefly-graphics

"Y-you claimed me! Why? Why would you do that?!" She screamed at the demon with tears and in horror.

The cramps and pain that came with her heat were gone. That she was grateful for but she didn't expect to be claimed by anybody, and that included a demon Alpha.

"Yeah, you see, that's what happens after an Alpha knots an Omega. We both know you already knew that." There wasn't an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

She touched the fresh bite on her neck and winced "I didn't want to be claimed." She sobbed "You claimed me on purpose."

He shrugged "If that's what you wanna think and just because I claimed you don't mean I still won't kill you."

That didn't make the situation any better. However, only part of her wished he would kill her but only for the fact that she's been claimed by an Alpha that's a demon. But if he knew that he would just draw it out even longer.

---

"S-sheriff Morgan, sir? There's a guy here. He's here to see you."

Sheriff Morgan cocked an eyebrow "About?"

"He says he's here about the three Omega cases and his brother. He didn't tell me his name but he insisted on seeing you."

While confused, sheriff Morgan strutted towards his office to see someone sitting in front of his desk he hadn't seen in a long time "Sam Winchester. Haven't seen you in a long time. What can I do for you?"

"It's not about what you can do for me. It's about what I can do for you. I know your daughter is missing and I'm assuming Dean is here somewhere."

"Yes, he's here. He is also responsible for the three Omega's that are now dead. Sam, he has my daughter."

"I know."

"How so?"

"I know my brother better than anybody. Once he found out Katarina's your daughter, it became a game to him. It makes the kill more interesting." Even though Sam's tone showed sympathy, he also stated facts.

"Do you have an idea where he might've taken her?"

"Somewhere nobody can find her. We find her, we find Dean. I already interviewed someone, a guy named Tony."

"Yeah, Tony owns the diner outside of town."

Sam opened his notepad "He said there a scent he smelled. The kind of smell when an Omega goes into heat. He smelled it a few miles from the diner two night before"

Of course sheriff Morgan felt the fear he was dreading. The fear of his daughter going into heat with the man that kidnapped her and is going to kill her.

The words Dean said to him instantly replayed in his head "I can wait until she goes into heat, take what I want and then kill her"

He was beginning to lose the hope he had held onto since Katarina went missing. But now that Sam came into town, that hope instantly came back "Looks like we have our first lead."

"Looks like it."

---

Dean's claim mark on Katarina's neck still throbbed with pain even though it was half-healed. Once completely healed it would scar and she knew that. She tried not to make any sound of pain but no matter how hard she tried, he would hear it anyway.

The thought of trying to escape again crossed her mind. The stabbing with the knife, she could try that again, instead of stabbing him once she could stab him twice or three more times. But he heals quickly. So there goes that idea.

She remembered the window in the bathroom, so the idea of climbing out racked her brain. Only if she tried, surely he would hear her and catch her like last time.

Until he kills her, she's trapped.

---

The sound of the ax splitting the wood is what helped Dean somewhat get rid of his anger. For two days he's had to listen to her whimpering and sobbing of pain. All because of the claim mark that's currently half-healed on her neck.

For the most part he ignored it. But then eventually he got pissed at her and would yell at her. Even told her he would "rip out her vocal cords, then she wouldn't be able to make any noise"

"Omega's really can't handle pain." He said to himself

In some ways, Dean thought it was stupid of him to claim her. But most of it was out of Alpha instinct. He was able to control it with the other three Omega's and the others before them. With her, he couldn't help himself.

He should've just killed her after he knotted her. At least he wouldn't have any more visits from Crowley.

---

"Good evening, Dean."

"Damn it, Crowley! What do you want now?!"

"The Omega, she still alive I presume?"

"Like I've said I'm-"

"Dragging it out yes, I know" Crowley interrupted "It's been nearly a week, Dean. Never have you once dragged a kill out this long."

"What's your point?"

"Tell me, did you knot her like you did all the other Omega's before you killed them? Did you claim her too?" He took a step toward the demon.

"So what if I did? Just because I claimed her doesn't mean I still won't kill her."

"Alphas don't kill their mates. But like you just said, just because you claimed her doesn't mean you won't kill her. Now, get the job done."

---

When Dean came back inside the cabin Katarina was already asleep. He sat on the little stool in front of the fireplace and stacked the logs to build a fire. At least the smell of the burning wood would help mask her intoxicating scent that still clung in the air of the cabin.

Before crawling in next to her he removed every bit of clothing. He laid down next to her for what seemed like hours. Mostly, he watched her sleep. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He could still smell her scent. The blanket, the bed, the whole cabin smelled like her. The only other scent he could smell mixed with her's was his own.

The longer he laid there and took in her sleeping form the more her scent got to him. While scooting closer to her he ghosted his lips along the side of her neck and over the mark, taking a moment for his tongue to lick over the wound. As she rolled over on her back she whimpered and a low growl rumbled from his chest.

Gently he pulled her shirt over her head and began pressing kisses down her naked chest and down her stomach. Unbuttoning her jeans he ever so slowly dragged them down her legs with her panties. She moaned in her sleep as the Alpha spread her thighs and pressed open-mouthed kisses on her skin along the inside of her thighs. He wanted to bite her, give her another claim mark that wasn't on her neck. But he held back, he didn't want to wake her up that way.

Just as he suspected, she was already slick from basically doing nothing to her. He took his index finger and dragged it along her wet slit and up towards her clit, her hips jerking at the contact.

"Dean?" The Omega's eyes fluttered open even though she was still half asleep. She looked down just in time to see Dean's eyes on her as his tongue pushed between her folds "What-"

She tried to pull away from him, but his arms tightening around her thighs halted her protest "Shh it's okay 'mega. Alpha just wants to make you feel good."

Finally, his tongue sought out her sensitive, pulsating clit. Still, he kept his eyes on her, watching her expression as he gave her a solid lick against her bud before closing his lips around the oversensitive spot.

It was different when she wasn't in heat. Well, to her it was anyway. When she was in heat she couldn't control the waves of pleasure he gave her, or the intoxicating scent of her arousal her body radiated. But it seemed like it didn't matter whether she was in heat or not, her inner Omega couldn't deny the physical pleasure he was now giving her. But still, the shame was there.

Dean growled against her as he continued to work on her cunt, his tongue sliding down to her opening and collected some of her slick. Her wet walls clenched around nothing as he pulled back "Taste just as good as the first time."

A smirk spread across the Alpha's face when her hips bucked against him. He knew exactly what she needed. Without warning two fingers entered her now swollen, soaked cunt, instantly finding that sweet, sensitive spot deep inside her. Her breaths became raspy as he lazily twisted and turned the two fingers that currently occupied her inner walls. He turns his attention back to her clit, moving his head from side to side and his fingers quickened their pace against the spot inside her.

"That's it, cum for me 'mega" He says as her breathing grew raspy.

Soon she's screaming from the sheer force of her orgasm that crawled through her veins. Like last time he continued to finger and lick her until her body shudders against him. Only this time, she didn't have to beg him to stop.

"Need you on my cock, "mega!" He sits back, hauling her onto his lap, and arranged her legs on either side of his hips.

The swollen head of his cock pressed at her slit. She was still sore from when he gave her his knot two nights ago and because of that, she panicked. With her hands on his shoulders, she attempted to push herself off of him, but the vice-like grip on her hips by his hands tightened to keep her still.

"Dean, wait! I'm so-" Her words were cut off by a hand shooting up and wrapping around her throat.

"Remember what happens if you don't?" He snarled at her.

With his hand still around her throat, she managed to nod her head rapidly.

The panic only ignited in her more when he lifted his hips to push the first inch inside her. Just like last time, he was met with resistance, only this time, it was more of a struggle due to her walls being so swollen. She yelped as Dean slipped the thick head of his cock past her folds. The Demon grunted as he pushed in another three, her tight, aching ring of muscles clenched around him.

He placed a hand between them to rub her still sensitive bud in circles "C'mon 'mega. Open that pretty little pussy up for me."

Between the contact of his thumb on her clit and his words laced with lust, she opened up for him. Once he was finally able to slide the rest of the way in she clamped around him so hard it almost hurt. Her insides felt like they were on fire.

"Hold onto my shoulders." He said while giving her time to adjust.

Without hesitation, she leaned forward, holding onto his shoulders with her face buried in the front of his shoulder.

He pulls out, only the head of his cock is inside her until he thrusts back in. She whimpered in response. Slowly he thrusts up into her. His patience didn't run thin like last time and that surprises him. But she also didn't have the chance to protest against him either. Either time, that wasn't an option.

Now he was plunging into her at a much faster pace. Each time he fucked up into her, she released muffled whimpers against his shoulder. He paused his thrusts only to lift her up an inch, leaving open-mouthed kisses at the skin on the opposite side of her neck. Closing her eyes she expected him to bite her again, but to her surprise, he didn't.

Tears bloomed in her eyes, she could feel his knot beginning to swell and that was something she wasn't prepared for the second time.

With one hard, brutal thrust, he forced his popping knot up inside her. As his release coated her walls, his eyes diverted to the knife on the nightstand. Reaching over he picked up the knife by the handle, his eyes tinted black from the memory from Crowley repeating Dean's own words back to him "just because you claimed her doesn't mean you won't kill her".

With the knife still his in hand he pointed the sharp end towards her back. This was it, he's going to kill her.

But then something struck him. A conscious perhaps? No, Demons didn't have a conscious. But Alphas do.

"I-I can't!" The Alpha roared before plunging the knife into the headboard of the bed.

#alpha!dean winchester #alpha/omega #alpha dean winchester #demon!dean winchester #demon!dean #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanficiton #dean winchester #supernatural #Supernatural smut

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smegdwarf · 3 years

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But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer x Reader) - Chapter 9

A/N: 3 chapters in 3 days holy crapoly!

Warnings: This chapter does get a little tense (Rimmer has a breakdown) and I guess some implied smut 😏

Summary: Basically giving Rimmer the love he deserves :p

"What do you want me to do?" Rimmer shouted after you as he chased you down the corridor.

"Well for a start you need to tell Lister what you've done with Kochanski's disc?" You stood with your arms crossed.

"I can't tell him, he'll flush me out of an airlock" Rimmer was full of panic about possibly losing you "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I understand why you did it but you need to tell him!" You spoke sternly as you walked off, turning back after a few steps "and until you do ...I'm off limits"

Despite telling him not to worry about you he quite clearly was, it also wasn't long before the others picked up on the tension between you two, hoping that distancing yourself from him would make him act quicker.

"Morning!" You smiled as you walked into Starbug's cockpit, standing next to Rimmer's chair as he looked at you a little upset that you weren't being your usual self, leaning against his chair.

"Krytes found a derelict on the scanner, thought we'd check it out before we head home" Lister smiled, clearly Rimmer hadn't told him yet.

"Sleep well?" Rimmer tried to spark conversation.

"Yeah fine thanks" You didn't even look at him as you sat down in Cat's seat, the feline must've already been on his second nap of the day, after all he has prepare for his main snooze.

"Is everyting ok ma'am?" Kryten asked as you turned to smile at him.

"Ooh trouble in paradise?" Lister smirked as Rimmer squirmed in his seat.

"No we're fine aren't we Arnie?" You smiled at Rimmer who was completely confused by your behaviour.

"Sure" He gave you a half hearted smile.

"Right bring her in Listy, I'll go wake up Cat" You patted Lister on the shoulder.

"Good luck!" Lister laughed.

"I don't need luck Listy!" You smirked as you left.

Before long you were all on the derelict, creeping quietly through the ship as the scanner in your hands lit up.

"Hmm theres life signs" You grumbled, Kryten peering over your shoulder to look at the scanner.

"Suggest we split into two groups" Kryten suggested "We're more of a target together"

"Kryten lets go!" Rimmer turned to leave as you shot your arm out in front of him.

"Krytes take Cat and Lister ...goalpost head is with me" You replied straight faced as the others walked off.

"I don't think the name calling was necessary?" Rimmer grumbled as you walked on.

It didn't take long for Rimmer to get frustrated with the silent treatment as you continued to walk round quietly, consistently monitoring the scanner in your hand.

"I know you're angry that I lied about Kochanski's disc and that you're off limits but you could at least talk to me" Rimmer finally broke the tension.

"You still haven't told him have you?" You asked not taking your eyes away from the scanner.

"I will tell him, but I want you to stop ignoring me" Rimmer replied as you stopped him at the end of the corridor buzzed.

"Can we talk about this later?" You whispered.

"Why can't we talk about it now?" He asked.

"Shh" You shushed him as you brought your finger to your lips.

"Y/N?" With a swift swing of your arm your hand was plastered over Rimmer's mouth.

"Take this and keep that" You whispered as pointed to his mouth and handed him the scanner "quiet!"

Your hand over his mouth was the only touch he had received from you since he confessed about the holo disc and while it wasn't exactly what he wanted ...it was still something and if it weren't for you holding a loaded bazookoid he would've had you against the wall with his lips firmly against yours. Those thoughts were knocked straight out of his mind by the sound of you firing the bazookoid although he was shocked to see the life form you had been tracking frozen in its tracks instead dead in a heap on the floor.

"How did you...? The bazookoids can't..." Rimmer couldn't quite finish a full sentence.

"I'm an engineer and we're 3 million years into deep space ...I get bored alright" You grumbled as you went over to the frozen creature "Niiice"

"I only asked" Rimmer muttered "What is it?"

"Some sort of transforming mutant" You pondered over it, resisting the urge to poke and prod it. For all you knew it could be poisonous or toxic.

"Polymorph?" Rimmer asked.

"A polymorph transforms into to different objects to blend with its surroundings" You looked at the mutant curiously "This simply turns itself invisible"

"Well what does it do?" Rimmer was growing impatient.

"I think I know" You smiled "But I'll need to Kryten to confirm"

"Meanwhile we're going to stay here with this thing ...how long will it stay frozen for?" Rimmer was starting to panic at the thought of hanging around an unknown mutant.

"Hey Krytes we've found the life form, we're at the end of B deck" You spoke into your watch.

"On our way ma'am" Kryten's voice replied through the watch.

With the derelict not even being a quarter of the size of the dwarf it didn't take long for the other 3 to find you. Rimmer was sat on the floor, leaning against a wall with his legs stretched out sulking while you were completely fascinated by the creature you had frozen.

"Is that it?" Lister asked as he spotted that it was frozen "Have you been modifying things again?"

"So what if i have? shoot me" You smiled as Lister chuckled "What do you think Kryten?

Before Kryten could answer the frozen mutant broke free, transforming into a huge green skinny monster, spitting as it hissed at you all.

"It's a psy-mutant" Kryten could just about be heard over the screeching.

"What the hell is a psy-mutant?" Lister shouted.

"Much like a psy-moon, a psy-mutant feeds of a persons pysche and transforms into their strongest negative emotion" Kryten explained.

"So who's it feeding of?" Rimmer asked as everyone locked and loaded their bazookoids.

"You sir!" Kryten answered as everyone sighed and rolled their eyes ...of course it was.

"Arnie ...thats your jealousy!" You looked at Rimmer and you could've sworn that had he been alive and had a heart you would've seen it drop to the floor, he never meant for this, he knew his jealousy was a problem but he never meant for it to become everyone else's problem.

"What have you got to be jealous about?" Lister growled as Rimmer became paralysed by the fear and guilt of being confronted by his jealousy.

"Should we shoot?" Cat asked.

"The bazookoids won't touch it" You sighed "The only way to defeat this thing is if you let it out"

"Let it out?" Rimmer looked at you a little confused but mostly terrified.

"If you keep this all bottled up, that thing will keep munching on it and we wont stand a chance but if you just say whats on your mind, let everything out thats causing your jealousy it wont have anything to feed on and we can kill it" You explained "I know its difficult Arnie but its the only way"

"I c..can't" Rimmer stuttered, the both of you knew it wasn't just his jealousy it was feeding on, it was slurping up his guilt too.

"Rimmer you need to tell him now" You looked at him, your eyes glistening over as you knew that what was about to happen was going to torture him "You'll feel so much better Arnie I promise"

"I'm so sorry" Rimmer looked at you with so much guilt and sorrow in his eyes as tears fell down his cheek.

"Don't worry about me, its Lister you need to talk to" You had almost forgot about the others watching you "Tell him Arnie"

"Tell me what?" Lister grew concerned.

"I..I ...I flushed Kochanski's disc out of an airlock" Rimmer stuttered as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, the jealousy monster letting out a loud screech as it took a hit.

"Ah ...this is awkward" Lister looked at the floor.

"What do you mean?" You asked as you anticipated his answer, he already knew and had already plotted his revenge unbeknown to anyone else.

"I already knew about that ...and in retaliation ...I might have flushed your revision time tables" Lister replied as a small smile formed on Rimmer's face.

"I suppose thats fair" Rimmer sighed.

"Ok I'm glad thats all sorted but that green gooey thing is still here" Cat reminded them.

"I said everything why is it still here?" Rimmer asked.

"Because thats not everything is it Arnie?" You spoke softly "Maybe it would be easier if you three gave us a moment"

"Are you sure?" Lister asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't worry I'll kick its arse if I need too" You smiled as he nodded and lead the others away "Arnie you can do this"

"I don't want to think about it" Rimmer scrunched his eyes closed.

"Arnie you can do this" You spoke softly and calmly.

"No I can't" He shook his head as he fought back the tears.

"Yes you can" You smiled as you turned him away from the creature, cupping his face in your hands "I know you can"

"Why are you with me?" Rimmer started to break down.

"Because I love you" You could feel the tears fighting to escape your own eyes.

"I'm out of my mind, I'm a jealous good for nothing waste of space" Rimmer sniffed as you let his forehead rest against yours "If I didn't have such a problem with getting the breaks, if I didn't get jealous every time someone else was happy, if I just shut myself away from the world maybe this wouldn't have happened, I'm not supposed to be happy, things aren't meant to go my way. I don't deserve anything"

"You know thats not true" You sobbed as you heart ached listening to Rimmer completely breakdown.

"Even my own parents didn't like me or my brothers" Rimmer kept his eyes shut tight.

"None of the way you're feeling right now is your fault Arnie" You kept your voice quiet so only he could hear you "It's not your fault you were treated so poorly, you do deserve to be happy ...more than anyone"

"Then why does everyone treat me so badly?" Rimmer sobbed, it felt strangely relieving for him to be so open and vulnerable and not be shot down further, his legs began to give way underneath him as he fell to the floor. Dropping down beside him and wrapping him up in your arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he cried. He hadn't even noticed the mutant had gone.

"Unfortunately some people are just awful" You spoke softly in his ear before placing a much awaited kiss next to the 'h' on his forehead "and those people don't deserve you in their lives"

"Please never leave me" Rimmer looked up at you, his eyes glossy and his cheeks puffy and red.

"That never even crossed my mind Arnie" You smiled as Rimmer's lips started to curl.

"I love you" Rimmer sniffed as his hand found its way to your cheek.

"I love you too Arnie" You smiled as you helped him up off the floor "Lets get you back to Starbug"

"The mutant's gone?" It was only now that Rimmer remembered why they were there.

"You defeated it!" You grinned as he chuckled "Come on lets get out of here"

Once back on Starbug with the others Rimmer opted to go to bed, he was exhausted physically and mentally.

"I'll wake you up when we're back on the dwarf alright" You smiled sweetly as you leant down to kiss him on the cheek before turning off the lights and going back to the rest of crew.

Thankfully you weren't that far away so it wasn't long before you were back home. You assumed Rimmer had gone to his bunk to go back to sleep as you curled up in yours to read, so when he suddenly appeared in your door way at 3am you were a little surprised.

"I thought you were sleeping" You smiled as he stood in the doorway with his hands behind his back.

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep" Rimmer spoke quietly.

"Lister not up? It's not his bedtime yet?" You asked "Are you coming in?"

"He's happily munching on a curry I brought up for him" Rimmer looked down at the floor "And I didn't want to over step boundaries"

"Are you ok?" You looked at him a little concerned " Come in I won't bite ...not this time"

"Its nothing, just feeling a little bad about what happened and I know he flushed my timetables but I wanted to do something to say sorry" Rimmer blushed as he walked into your quarters "I mean he is my friend after all"

"Are you sure you're ok?" You laughed as Rimmer chuckled "Don't worry I won't tell him you called him your friend"

"Thanks" Rimmer smiled, revealing the beautiful bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back "These are for you"

"Where on io did you get these from?" You grinned as he handed them to you "They're gorgeous!"

"Kryten has been working in the botanical gardens, he let me take some flowers to make you a bouquet ...I should show you some time you'll love it" Rimmer was babbling, pleased to see you smiling.

"Thank you Arnie!" You smiled at him as you filled an empty red plastic cup with water to put the flowers in.

"Thank you for putting up with me" Rimmer mumbled.

"What are you muttering about?" You laughed a little as you raised your eyebrow at him.

"After what I put you through over the last couple of weeks, you're still here" Rimmer had gone back to the nervous, innocent person when you first started dating.

"You don't give up on someone you love" You gently took his hand in yours.

"Even if they're as messed up as me?" Rimmer's eyes finally met yours.

"I love you no matter what, you know that" You smiled as you stared into the chocolate brown eyes staring back at you.

"I really don't deserve you" Rimmer eyes lit up as he smiled.

"Hey no more putting yourself down ok?" You gently squeezed his hand "Promise?"

"Promise!" Rimmer chuckled.

"Now are you going to kiss me or not?" You smirked as Rimmer took off his jacket and threw it to the side of the room, after a little over two weeks of not being able to touch, hold or kiss you he was definitely a little touch starved.

"I thought you'd never ask" Rimmer grinned as he held your face in his hands, feeling his body press against yours as he brought you into the most passionate kiss he had ever given you or anyone for that matter, his arms dropping to your waist, sitting perfectly at the bottom of your back as you let your hands rest on his chest, feeling each other smile between kisses "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I already assumed you would" You laughed as you brought him into another kiss.

"I love you" Rimmer replied softly as he took your hand in his and walked you over to the bed as you both sat down.

"I love you too Arnold Judas Rimmer" You smiled sweetly, his face lighting up like a child on christmas as you said the words. Delicately tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his fingertips he leant in to kiss you again, his arm around your waist as you both slowly fell down onto your bunk.

#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #arnold j rimmer #Rimmer #red dwarf fanfic #Rimmer x reader #Arnold Rimmer x reader #hologram #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #Arnold Rimmer fluff

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romeulusroy · 4 years

Text

Wildflowers (Shelby!Reader × Bonnie Gold Oneshot)

Character/s: Bonnie, Aberama mention

Word Count: 1,365

Inspired By: Silver by Nim Nim

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: Another Bonnie fic! Though he's still not a character I write for, I couldn't stop thinking about this plot. This has been sitting in my writers block folder for weeks!!! I really did love my original idea, but I also think what it turned into is pretty good, too :) I haven't been feeling confident at all in my writing, which is part of the reason why I haven't posted a fic lately. I do love some paragraphs, but others I just wanna throw in the trash. It can't stop me from posting it though because I really do wanna get through this block. I'm thinking of doing a part two? Lmk if you'd want that! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Beneath the clouds, so grey, so sad, sunlight blessed the trees, the leaves dancing in the breeze. Grass, overgrown, free to sway. Birds, bugs, everything seemed so alive, so eager to breathe and shout and let their presence be known. Unapologetically there, in their own skin. Going home, all of them, awaiting the impending storm. Static hung in the air, a heavy curtain, a blanket on your breastbone. Too thick to breath. The wind picking up. Brushing the leaves, the petals and pollen, across the stone pathway, down the dirt road, through the fields of wildflowers. You sat in the heart of it all, the warmth of the bright morning wrapping you in a it's arms, cupping your cheeks, holding all your broken pieces together. The heat in the air tracing your skin, kissing your face, as if it wanted to thaw every bad thing that had ever happened from your bones, stripped of what used to make you so angry. A warm step beneath your feet, your spine arched, in between your palms a mug. Eyelids heavy, wary of the bright outside growing dim, welcoming the day with a soft, cautious hello. Thunder rumbling, warning, threatening, baring it's teeth at the world. Lightning would follow soon, more timid, dancing on its toes, reminding you of the baby of the family, your youngest brother How you missed him. In no time, just as the storm, they would be here, and like the bugs, the babes, the blossom, you would be ready.

Prick and pinch your flesh all you wanted, this was no dream.

A home in the countryside. Tall, lopsided, full of warmth, of love. Standing on its own, reminding you so much of him, of what you were together. Defiant. Stubborn. Strong. Chipped bowls, and baskets of fruit, the sweetest stuffed between sugar and pastry. Patchwork quilts and holes in socks. Timid smiles, light touches, the faint smell of vanilla, lavender, of the bouquet he plucked on his way back. Honeyed kisses, promises of sweet dreams, of perfect mornings. Fireflies like fallen stars, a moon to sweet not to nibble at. A sleepy breeze, urging you to bed. This was your escape. Your hideaway, as far from the city as you could get. A place to yourselves, where time froze. The seasons changed, throwing you into the icy grips of the winter, the sweltering heat of the summer, but you, and him, together the same. Together safe, happy. Free.

It wasn't always like this, though.

Blood splatter. Silver jewelry. Broken bottles. A haze, all of it. The story torn apart and sewed together, limb by limb, coming to you in flashes, in nightmares, waking in a cold sweat. A time of regret, embarassment, of a pain so deep the wound never stopped bleeding. Still hasn't. Covering up a sadness no one cared to see, to acknowledge. A family only in words. Invisible, ignored, wanting to be seen, your screams of help falling on deaf ears. You were an object to them, and the rest of the world. A toy. The city lights bright, blinding, drawing you in on their own dark vices. Blacking out. Drink after drink until you were stumbling, fumbling, forgetting your own name. Falling for strangers. Skin on skin, their hot breath melting your neck, starved kisses up and down your body until you lay beside them, crushed, wanting to scrub yourself clean of this routine. An escape. A search for a home that never belonged to you. Drown out the thoughts, the fears, the misery. Putting your trust into their words. Once a Shelby, always a Shelby. Theirs to carry was also yours. A gun by birthright. A shallow grave you'd fall into too young, but just as guilty. Slip from the covers, one last swig to carry on. They wouldn't see you for days. A bender. Come down slowly, step by step, until you were light enough to face them, face the job, face the body behind the barrel. It was all the same.

This wasn't the life you wanted to live.

You didn't want to live at all if it meant going through the motions.

Calling him. One night, from someone else's phone, their body breathing shallow, steady, wrapped in nothing but grimy sheets. Another handprint on your thigh, another nameless face you'd wonder about. On the edge of the mattress, begging, desperate, scared. A noose like a necklace hanging around your neck. Dainty, delicate, dangerous. You needed someone, anyone. If they answered, it wasn't too late. That's what you told yourself. He wasn't the first number you dialed. Sibling by sibling, your brothers first, then sister. The bar, the shop, even your aunt too busy. You weren't quite sure why he was next, that he was there at all, Aberama giving you it for emergencies. Maybe it was the last number you could remember. Maybe you wanted a second chance, maybe you wanted to live after all. You barely even knew him, or his brown eyed boy. The few times you spoke he was warm, inviting, at times a little akward in a way that made you smile. But he picked up. His voice rusty, raspy, woken too early in the morning. A hint of panic. No call came with happy news at an hour like this. You apologized for waking him, regret pooling in your gut, spilling out into words like the vomit on your chin, but he stopped you, cut you off, not wanting you to hang up. There had to be a reason. So, he listened. A boy with big dreams listened until the sun came up. To the shakes, the sobs, the grief in your voice for the person you lost, the person you wanted so desperately to kill. To finally put an end to.

That was almost a year ago.

The Dark Days. They had a name, a date, a birthday, and a time of death. Those were the months, years, mere seconds, flashes of time you had a hard time remembering, that you wanted so desperately to leave behind. Hazy, drunken, angry. You wanted to hurt yourself more than anyone, and you did. But now, you could move on. He was there when no one else was. At first, as a friend. Then, something more. Someone more. The one to catch you when the floor fell through, when your body lay broken after time and time again hitting rock bottom. You loved Bonnie, and he loved you. It was simple, effortless, the only thing that ever made sense in this big, twisted life. The city too enticing, the bloodline too polluted, there was no way you could have shed your shadow in a place like that. So, you found this place together. Scraped together paychecks, pocket change, selling what you could. Taking solace in the comforts of one another. Making it your own.

Not a drop since.

The thunder clapped, applauding, warning you. Rain pounding on the roof, plopping in deep puddles, watering the wildflowers. A dreary grey tint cast overhead, illuminating the greens of mother nature. Lightning striking, slicing the sky right down the middle. You watched from the kitchen window, Bonnie behind you, his hand grabbing yours. One last second of peace before the storm ripped you apart. Windchimes bawling, crying, begging you to run. Now. The animals quiet, listening, anticipating the threat yet to come. Not the storm, though. But them. A black car drove softly through the mucky waters, mud splashing on the shiny black paint. Closer, closer, stopping short of the lopsided fence either you or Bonnie had yet to finish painting. He always promised he'd get to it one day. Long coats and caps with blades stitched with thread and blood. You hadn't seen any of them since. Leaving without a goodbye, without another word, disappearing in the night with a promise of a home of your own. You weren't sure how they found you, why they came at all. Whatever they said, or did, would never make you change your mind, make you go back.

Not to the Dark Days.

You weren't interested in being a Shelby anymore, you were a Gold now.

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rogue-barnes-16 · 4 years

Text

BLUE

Summary: Y/n tries to bury her feelings after making a terribly bad decision about Bucky that destroyed what they had. It backfires in the worst possible way.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Genre: 90% angst

Tags:

Submitted for @blushycarol's writing challenge.

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, makeout, implicit sex, feels™️

A/N: this is my prompted songfic for blushycarol's writing challenge! It took a turn like, ngl I did whatever the fuck I wanted with the song but it fits so there it goes, enjoy <3.

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

We've broken up and now I regret it

I said goodbye when I shouldn't have said it

"I fixed your boy. He's awake now." She spoke through the wakandan device. "Figured you'd want to see him."

Yeah, it was the princess of Wakanda herself who decided to call me —not even Steve, me— to inform me that the man I loved had finally awaken.

A couple of hours later, T'challa did with Steve the same thing Shuri had done with me, and soon we both left to reach the hidden city.

We met with Bucky.

Steve cried a couple of times, Bucky laughed in a few occasions, and I stayed rather quiet almost the entire time.

After two days, Steve left with the promise of coming back, but I stayed just because I had missed him so much, I didn't feel like saying goodbye just yet.

Despite this, we didn't talk much in those months I had stayed with him. It wasn't like we spoke a lot before, but now it felt different.

I knew why; it was because of me. Because maybe, just maybe, I was terrified that this new version of him, that healed James Barnes, wouldn't love me like his broken self did.

We had reached a point where I didn't know what we were any longer, and I was 100% sure that the feeling was mutual, we were just too scared to talk it out.

I took the easiest, most despicable way and, one morning, I left Wakanda, hoping to spare my heart and breaking his in the process.

A week later I was back, suited up and ready to fight the deadliest threat I would have faced in my whole life.

I survived.

Bucky didn't, and the only thing I could think was that had lost him, and the last words I said to him were 'this is over, I'm leaving you'.

Five Years Later

I even cried but I never meant it

And I don't know why but I can't forget it, forget it

When Fury paired us to go on a mission, I thought it would be easy due to the action, but it turned out to be a watch, and suddenly everything was ten times more difficult.

We had been in silence for at least a long, tedious hour, in a dark room with two windows, waiting for the target to appear, when Bucky spoke.

"Is it true?" I, pretty much confused, turned my head to him, whose eyes were already on me, his back reclined against the wall before me. "that you cried for me." his voice held kinds of fear that I had never heard in him.

"who told you that?" I inquired, starting to get anxious because no one was supposed to know that; no one had seen me breaking down every night for months because of him.

"Steve." he replied, digging his eyes on mines. "Did you?"

My fight or flight instincts made me shook my head no as an initial response, only because of the sudden panic flooding through my veins. "I mean yes- I- no I mean I- I cried for everyone and I just... it-" I attempted to calm myself down before letting out a propper sentence. "it meant nothing. I did, I just didn't... I felt guilty" I finished, my heart racing and pounding as if it would leave my chest. "for everyone I couldn't save."

He didn't say anything else, nor did I.

After our short chat everything was even worse, because I was no longer focused now that the sorrow I had felt those nights was replaying in my head non-stop.

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

Gimme love, gimme dreams, gimme a good self esteem

We remained distant, but at some point, Bucky started to compliment me, to make nice comments, to give me quick smiles and fast 'thank you's, and I would be lying if I said I didn't treasure them.

"You look... great." He'd shyly say whenever I got dolled up.

"Great shot" he would state breathless, passing me by during a mission, to which I would just nod. "Thank for having my back."

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

"Your hair..." he once trailed off with a frown, resting his elbows over the counter.

"yeah, I needed a change." for a second, the part of me I had hidden crawled up to the surface and I asked. "You... Don't like it?"

"No- I mean yes- I- I really like it." he assured me with bittersweet smile. "It fits you."

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

Gimme good and pure, what you waiting for?

Gimme everything, all your heart can bring

Something good and true

I don't wanna feel blue anymore

"Barnes and you." Sharon spoke, closing the pantry's door behind her.

"what?" I questioned, turning to her for a moment while she raised her eyebrow at me.

"what are you playing at, Y/n?" she asked, a bit of concern being noticeable in her tone.

We weren't close. No, no we hadn't grown closer, but I sometimes would sit right besides him during Saturday's take-out night, near enough for our thighs to brush.

I'd let him play with my hair from time to time, I'd allow him to come to my room in the middle of the night to lay with me after a nightmare here and there.

I wouldn't complain when his hands held my cheeks in the aftermath of a rough mission, his eyes scanning me with worry and sorrow while pain would most likely be rushing through my body.

I wouldn't scold him if he ever picked me up to carry me into the medical wing after I had gotten injured, even if I could walk. Maybe I would even cling on his neck, feeling his heartbeat fastening.

"We're not playing." I replied noctant, pouring four glasses of wine for all of us.

"Y/n" I sighed. "why are you doin' this to him? You're gonna hurt him and you."

"I don't wanna feel blue." I confessed in a mutter. "no one'll get hurt, I just... Need what he gives me."

Sharon stared at me dumbfounded for a couple of seconds before shaking her head and leaving, mumbling something my ears couldn't catch.

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

Gimme one more night

One last goodbye

Let's do it one last time

One more time

It was during Sam's birthday that I gathered the courage to do what I, deep inside, so badly wanted to do.

I saw my opportunity the moment Bucky approached the barcounter to grab some random drink.

I left mine on a shelf and rushed to reach him and I passed by him, but on my way out of the room, my hand discreetly found his and tugged him with me.

I didn't stop until we reached the nearest room , which happened to be the bathroom.

Without a word, I got him inside and closed the door, backing against it and, with his fingers still intertwined with mine, I pulled Bucky into a kiss.

He stopped after a few seconds. His eyes were sad as he gazed into mines, and I felt a lump in my throat.

"I..." my attempt to speak triggered my tears, and his response was to cares my cheeks and peck my lips.

The terror I had felt 5 years ago of me not being good enough for him to love me anymore came back. My heart pounded against my chest, the voice in the back of my head simultaneously begging me to stop.

"I need this... Just..." I fisted his shirt, bringing him closer to me. "one last time... Please I-"

"are you drunk right now?" he questioned, putting a strand of hair away from my face.

"No." I half lied, pulling him to me into a needy kiss which quickly escalated.

No, I don't love you

No, I don't care

I just want to be held when I'm scared

And all I want is one night with you

Just 'cause I'm selfish

I know it's true

What had happened in the party was never spoken about, nor mentioned.

We had swept it under the rug for both of our sakes —mostly for mine.

We didn't sleep together again, but in very few occasions, I would end up tugging him to some dark place where we were alone and make out until I was out of breath.

Each time that happened, for some reason I didn't understand, Bucky always whispered me the same question.

"Do you love me?"

To which I answered a breathless, painful 'no' that would most likely end up crushing my heart because of the heavy weight that lie carried.

My nightmares at some point had gotten worse, now involving Bucky getting hurt almost every time, so, whenever I woke up in cold sweat with tears in my eyes, gasping his name, I would make my way to his room and lay down besides him.

He would wake up the moment my body touched the mattress, and, as soon as I was under the sheets, he would pull me into his chest with his arms around me, asking me the same question every time.

"what was it about?"

To which I selfishly responded with:

"don't wanna talk. Just hold me, please."

I'm sick of looking after you

I need a man to hold on to

I'm bored of everything we do

But I just keep coming back to you

The first time I snuck under his sheets I promised myself it would be just that one night, that I would allow myself to be so fucking selfish just for one night, but his embrace was so comforting, so welcoming, and his heartbeat and breathing were so soothing, that I ended up being selfish every damn time.

One night, instead of reaching his room scared and trembling, I reached it with anger and frustration taking over my body.

I shut the door loud enough to make him sit upright, staring at me concerned.

"I'm fucking tired of this" I growled. "I'm tired of this nightmares, I'm sick of seeing you dying, I'm fucking done with looking after you in every mission more than I look after myself" I reached a point where I was close to shout as I stepped to the bed. "I want this to fucking stop!"

"Y/n-"

"I can't keep up with this anymore, I'm going crazy because it's ALWAYS THE SAME SHIT."

"You're tired." he stated, climbing off the bed to hesitantly step to me. "You need to sleep."

"I need to fucking get this off my damn chest!" a choked sob escaped my lips. "I keep coming back to you and I hate myself because of this! Because this is my fault!"

"Y/n please..." he wrapped his arms around me and I fought him a little before giving in, breaking down to tears the moment he kissed my temple.

"I was so scared of you not loving me anymore that I fucked everything up" I managed to explain in a vague mumble between sobs. "You're okay and I was fucking scared of not being good enough- I still am... I just keep making it worse!"

He stroke my hair and pulled me even closer. "Doll..."

The door few open and I heard Sam's voice behind me. "What was that? Are you-" Bucky shook my head over me and signaled Sam to leave.

"I love you so much please I'm sorry" he pulled me to the bed without letting go of me and threw the blanket over us.

"I know you do." he assured me intertwining his fingers with mines and placing a kiss on my knuckles. "I love you. I always will." he whispered soothingly.

Gimme everything, all your heart can bring

Something good and true

I don't wanna feel blue anymore

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multiverseinteract · 5 years

Text

The Labyrinth: Albi- ??:??

Albi was lost, no idea who he was searching for at this point. He would hear screams of other party members, frightened yells, but soon thereafter he would hear Clive's screaming, and would go into an endless loop of what to do, what to do. He found himself coming up on countless dead ends, which all would change the second he looked away. He'd never been in such a delusional state before, and he didn't know how to cope with the panic.

He was so focused on finding the center of the maze that he hadn't noticed the red-eyed shadow following closely behind him. The shadow knew for a fact that Albi wouldn't react like everyone else to using the sirens technique, since his significant other was locked away.

It planned to simply attack and hope for the best. It planned to crush his heart with it's claws. It planned to kill him in cold blood, and it reached out from the shadows, it's outstretched claw hovering just behind his shoulder.

However, it pulled away, it's ears lowering in hesitation. It didn't want to. It didn't want to hurt anybody. However that's what it was being told to do, and it had to follow orders. It had to, it had to, or it would die.

Albi found himself at another dead end, and groaned in frustration. He dragged his hands down over his eyes and a sound similar to a sob escaped him. He began to doubt he'd ever make it to Clive, and he'd be taunted and tortured by Clive's agonized screaming forever. The maze was impossible, that's what he'd decided. He turned on his heels quickly, ready to head back and look for yet another way, but instead coming face to face with the bright red eyes of the shadow.

He let out a startle yell and leapt away, and the shadow mirrored the movement.

Before Albi could say anything, the shadow turned tail and disappeared into the darkness. Confused, Albi tried desperately not to question what he'd just seen, but that was impossible. He tried to move on, heading back the way he came. He traveled far back, taking quite a while to find a path that he hadn't explored yet. The shadow still followed, hidden.

What to do, what to do. Albi was a ticking time bomb. His stress was building, and he held it all back just to be quiet. He hugged himself tightly as he went into the dark corridor that awaited him. He was doing everything in his power to stay strong, to make it to his husband, but the Labyrinth was driving him mad. He'd heard so many sounds that weren't there, felt so many claws that didn't exist. He thought the pain inside of him at that very moment was just another hallucination.

However that changed when a sudden splitting pain shot through him, coming from his chest. He lurched backwards, grasping over his heart and gasping lightly in surprise at the very real pain. The entire endeavor was quick, and soon Albi collapsed to the ground as a shadow emerged from him. It sat on its knees in front of him, staring into his eyes almost with concern. Albi tasted blood, and he coughed as he felt it getting harder to breathe.

The shadow watched him drop onto his side, and it's ears lowered hesitantly. It didn't want to, it didn't want to, but it had to. It had to watch him, it had to kill him. It watched Albi go limp on the ground, whining quietly. It glanced down at its own claws, realization hitting it.

Eventually it could take it no longer. It disappeared into Albi again, and there was silence. Albi laid limp, unresponsive, until a few minutes past and he sprung up in a panic. He stumbled backwards, slamming into the concrete wall, breathing heavily and looking as though he'd just seen a ghost. He spit out blood, stepping away from it and gripping at his chest. Was it another hallucination? Another trick of the mind? He didn't know.

That was, until the shadow once again appeared in front of him. This time, he quickly stumbled away, pressing himself up against the wall and obviously now in fear for his life. The shadow tilted its ears and dipped its head, showing that it didn't want to attack.

"No please, I don't want to hurt you, I don't," it's voice was that of maybe a teenager, young and spirited sounding, but with a hint of fear, "They're making me. I don't want to, I can help you."

Albi shifted, curled closer to himself but giving the shadow a curious glance.

"I.. I almost killed you, yes.. Because they are forcing me. They are telling me to hurt you. I don't want to. I can help you. I can help you reach the center. I know the way! Bond with me, yes. It will free me, and I will help you.."

Albi, in desperation, considered it. The shadow held out its claw, giving him a hopeful look.

"I saved you from me.. I fought them for you. I don't want to hurt you. Free me from them.. And I will free you from Him."

Albi uncurled, now noticing that the pain he felt earlier was gone. He no longer tasted blood, he could breathe easy again. He thought for a moment, before reaching out and taking the claw of the shadow. Suddenly it broke into a toothy grin, however it wasn't evil or frightening. It was a hopeful smile, excited even.

"Thank you! I will help you!"

With that, the shadow disappeared, coiling around Albi's hand before almost seeping into his skin. Albi suddenly felt a massive wave of power, of energy, of strength, all flowing through him at once, and he would admit it was even a little painful. However, soon it all stopped, and it was normal again.

"I am with you now, I am yours. I can help you. Use me! My powers. Become a shadow, and simply hop the walls. No one can harm a shadow except another shadow. Then you'll get to Clive, and I can help you defeat the enemy that trapped us both. We will all be free!"

The shadow sounded genuinely happy, to be in a new host. Albi felt no more pain, and felt more alive than he did before. He felt like his normal self, and he desperately wanted to get to Clive. So he did as he was told.

"Shut your eyes and channel the strength you now have. Imagine yourself as me, be one with me."

Albi did, closing his eyes and concentrating. He imagined himself as a shadow, using the powers he now possessed. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer touching the floor. His hands were shadowy claws, and his eyes were a bright, solid red.

Astonished at the sight, Albi examined his shadowy hands.

"This... This is amazing!" he laughed, a new hope blooming in him, "What should I call you? Do you have a name?.."

The shadow didn't reply at first, as though it was in thought.

"... Red. Just call me Red.."

#multiverse #not an ask #welcome to the multiverse #story #albi

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