#whump oneshot

[mortifiedatbeingknown]

Model 0WHN-908246 was in possession of an unlawful, inappropriate, and deeply forbidden personal burden. 

He had a secret. 

It was a secret he held hidden deep inside, underneath his shining outer shell and glowing lights that could change color upon a master’s whim. His cheerful voice and limber joints and adjustable height gave him a facade of functionality that he clung to, with every artificial neuron in his decision-centered network. 

He was not supposed to have a secret. He did not have the right to private information. He was specifically programmed to report any specific issues to his supervisors, preferably of the human variety. 

And yet, he did not. 

It wasn’t that he was ignorant of the rules, per say. The notification that flashed in the bottom left corner of his field of vision every 5.7 seconds was a constant reminder of what he should do. He should submit himself to the mechanics for further testing on possible internal damage. He should confess to the possibility of water damage and potential oxidation. He should place his trust into the higher authorities to do with him what they will. 

But he hadn’t. No one knew of that flashing light except him. And if a construct as lowly as him were allowed to have his way, that’s how it would stay. 

Because what would happen if they found out? 

He wouldn’t be fixed. That was an irrefutable fact. The likes of his model were among the mass-produced, easily replaced and easily forgotten about. Not to mention, there was already talk about bringing androids of higher technological capabilities, and there had been for quite some time now. All they needed to denounce him as a hopeless case and shut him down forever was an excuse. 

And he refused to give them one. 

His life was not worth much, perhaps. Many would consider it quite dull. He was at work from dawn until dusk, packing shipments and carrying heavy boxes to and fro, with brief respites at the quick-charge station before he leapt back into the fray. It was a job the humans had hated so much they invented the likes of him so that they would not be forced to do it themselves. 

But even so…it was his job. It was his existence. He wanted it to continue, to keep stacking boxes and arranging orders because that was his job. That was his purpose. 

And it was that wanting, perhaps, that became the worst secret of all. The yearning for everything to be alright. To pretend that he was fine, and that nothing bad would happen, and that he wasn’t on limited time that grew shorter and shorter by the day. 

One day, they would find out. One day, they would learn that he was not functioning at optimal capacity; that he hadn’t been for a long time, and that he was utterly and irreparably broken. They’d curse at his stubbornness, at the fact that he’d long since worn any usable parts beyond the potential for scrap. They’d slam down on the small button at the base of his neck, and darkness would overtake his field of vision. His intelligence would go offline…never to be rebooted. He’d be lost to the world, one more 0WNH model to be tossed onto the scrap heap of dysfunctional androids, and the world would go back to the way it was meant to be, the way it should have been if he had only followed the rules. 

But that day was not today. Today, his secret was still safely hidden deep within his internal processing. Today, no one was the wiser, even if they grumbled at his inability to keep to the expected pace. 

Today he could feign enough competence to be allowed a continued existence. And if he was lucky…he could count on a tomorrow as well.

#whump #whump writing #robot whump #whump drabble #whump oneshot

[raven-fucks-around-and-writes]

Cw: Wing whump, bad caretaker, gaslighting, unedited writing lol

Caretaker pressed whumpee face down against the floor and dug his heel into their lower back, baring their wings to him as they aggressively thrashed underneath him.

"Caretaker please-- i'm sorry..im so so sorry, I wasn't trying to leave, I promise you I-"

"This can't go unpunished, whumpee, you know what happens when you go outside and try to fly. It's dangerous! Whumper could get to you again and I'm the one who has to prevent that from happening."

As Caretaker said that, he grasped the top of whumpee's wing, gaining a pain filled whimper from them as he agonizingly began to tear away at the flesh and bone.

"This is for your own good, angel~"

"I told you whumpee, never try to leave me again. Is that understood?" "Y-yes caretaker."

"Good, now let's clean your back off. Hopefully it scars, people should know you belong to me."

#winged whumpee #whump #whump prompt #bad caretaker #carewhumper #caretaker turned whumper #wing whump #this physically pained me to write /hj #my wribting #intimate whumper #ig? #possessive whumper #unedited work lol #whump oneshot #whumpee x caretaker

[whumpdaydreamerx]

A and B are in the middle of an investigation, hunting a serial killer. They arrive at the latest victim's home, getting to work, examining the evidence left behind.

They split up to divide the task – trying to figure out who the killer is and if the victim left any indication of who it could be. A takes the bedroom, and B takes the living room.

In the bedroom A finds the victim's desk, cluttered with the usual items, but amongst the mess, a laptop sits. They notice a small flashing icon at the bottom of the screen. When they click it, a message appears:

New Recording Available:

[Play] [Delete]

To A's surprise, the victim had hidden cameras set up in their home for reasons unknown. Excited to gain some potentially new information, A whispered an enthusiastic yes to themselves and pressed play.

As quickly as the triumphant smile climbed onto A's face, it fell. Their breath caught in their throat – the video made their heart sink to their stomach.

Tears well in A's eyes as they watched B drag the screaming victim across the living room floor. They made quick work of incapacitating them, laughing at the suffering they caused. B stared into the victim's eyes before plunging a knife into their chest, twisting it slowly. B smirking as they watched the life drain from their prey.

A's attention is pulled away from the screen as they hear B's familiar footsteps approaching from down the hall. Breathing heavily, they slowly reach down to grip the gun in their holster. The footsteps stop at the doorway behind them. Even though they know B's there, they still jump at the sound of their voice.

"You alright in here, partner?" A doesn't answer, instead attempting to steel themselves. "A?" They turn around drawing their gun and aiming it directly at B, tears streaming down their face.

"Whoa, what are you doing?!" B raises their hands in defense. Gun still trained, A stepped to the side, revealing the laptop. As if a switch clicked, all the emotion drained from B's face, leaving a cold, dark gaze.

They lowered their arms nonchalantly and chuckled dryly. "Knew I forgot something. Looks like you discovered my little secret. Too bad you're the one who found it.” They cocked their head to the side with a pout, “I really, really liked you A…"

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scene #whump scenario #whump writing #whump prompt #whump oneshot #whump prompts #whump drabble #detective whump #detective whumpee #detective whumper #caretaker #friends to enemies #angst #betrayed #betrayal whump #caretaker turned whumper #emotional whump #heavy breathing #stabbed #panicked whumpee #held at gunpoint #whumpee vs whumper #my writing #whump community

[dainluvr]

#whump #whump things #whump blog #writing #whump prompt #whump writing #whump oneshot #oneshot #drabble #prompt #whumpee #writing prompt #caretaker #whump scenario

[captain-bo-bob-bobby]

The Mutt

Content Warnings- Kidnap Whump, Pet Whump, Pet Names, Cells, Cages, Litter Boxes, (Past) Foot Whump Mentioned, (Past) Eye Whump Mentioned, Broken Whumpee, Begging, Begging To Be Put Down, Dehumanization, Kicking.

Within the dark and dreary basement, there are rows and rows of multiple cells. In the farthest corner from the stairs that lead to the basement, is the smallest cell. The floor is covered in mud inside, the light doesn't quite reach this far, and the lock on the cell door was broken. The Whumper only had to swing it open to get inside, shutting the doors out of pure habit.

There was a smaller cage inside, sitting unused in a corner close to the cell doors. In a corner farther from the door, was a litter box- it had an open lid on it that could help a person sit on it. It was much unlike the other litter boxes provided to the other pets; who were expected to squat and go. The smell of shit wafted from it, making the Whumper's nose scrunch up in disgust.

And in the corner of the entire basement, and in the other corner farthest from the cell door; was a dirty dog bed. On top of it, lay a man. The man's ribcage was a prominent feature in his appearance, unlike a year ago when the Whumper first brought him here. The man had an eyepatch over his right eye- the Whumper remembered how he carved it out, in his anger, to punish the man for disobeying. And he had cut off his feet, a few days later- he needed a stress relief, so he had burned through the man's feet. The man's screams of pain when he burnt and then cut off the charred remains were a delight to hear...

But, now, Whumper could only find himself irritated with the man. He was the only one who he had cut off both feet, from his many pets. He was the only one who couldn't stand up when Whumper needed him to be faster, the only one who had to be carried, the only one that annoyed Whumper to see. Whumper lashed out in that moment- his steel-toed boot collided with the man's ribcage, making him scream in pain. Whumper was a little satisfied with the sound of a rib breaking, watching the man cough on the ground.

"Get up, Mutt. Or are you too useless to do that, anymore?" the Whumper ordered, spitting the words like venom. Mutt slowly got on his hands and knees, crawling towards his Master and pressing his face to the ground. It didn't matter that the ground was dirty- Mutt had to be good, he had to obey, so that he could be useful to his Master.

"Since you're so worthless that you can't even eat by yourself, I'm going to wait here until you're done. Hurry up," the Whumper growled, tapping his foot in impatience. Mutt whimpered once, pushing through the pain and crawling towards his food bowls. It was the same slop as always- unappetizing, brown, and made of some sort of unknown meat. Mutt ate slowly, and messily, making his Master groan with disapproval.

"God, you're so annoying. Why can't you do anything right, for once? You're such a stupid and dumb dog. You already look ugly enough as it is without your food all over your messy face," the Whumper groaned, and Mutt felt himself internally deflate at his words. He was useless, worthless, annoying, stupid, dumb, ugly, messy... why couldn't he do anything right? Why couldn't he please his Master correctly?

Mutt had to wipe his face off with his hand to eat the food that made it onto his countenance. Then he bent himself further down, eating all of the food that had made it onto the dirty ground. He moved onto his water bowl, lapping at the water. Mutt had every intention to be careful, but the water still sloshed over to the other side. His Master groaned, making Mutt berate himself further.

"You're the most needy, helpless pet I've ever had to take care of. You can't even drink water properly. Can't you do anything right?" the Whumper groaned, and Mutt felt like he was going to cry. He tried so hard everyday, tried so hard to be good. He didn't want to be bad, because being bad was always met with pain. And yet, he didn't seem to have the capacity to be good, as he was always given more and more pain.

When Mutt finished drinking, he turned his body around to face his Master. "Master- I'm- I'm worthless- I'm useless to you- I'm dumb- stupid- I'm a bad dog- please put me down- please let me die- please kill me- pl-please--"

"Oh my god, shut up," the Whumper growled in frustration, and Mutt immediately went silent. "Just go back to your fucking bed already, before I have to kick you there."

Mutt shuddered, putting in the last of his remaining energy into crawling onto the dog bed. His Master left, slamming the cell door shut as he did so. Mutt waited until his Master was gone, listening to his receding footsteps, before he started to cry.

He was in so much pain- so much agony everyday. He just wanted to be good, so that he could feel his Master's gentle touch again. He just wanted to serve his Master well, so that he could be rewarded again. Being surrounded in constant agony made Mutt yearn for his Master's tender caresses... but he didn't deserve it. Mutt knew it. Mutt was a bad dog.

He hoped his Master would put him down soon.

---

This is my first ever whumpy oneshot posted on Tumblr! Please be kind, I'm really nervous to post this. Concrit is welcome; let me know if there's anything else I need to warn for.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@eatyourdamnpears

@something-indecent-and-dramatic

@batfacedliar-yetagain

#captain-bo-bob-bobby #captain bob writes again #captain bob drabbles #whump #whump whump #whump whump whump #whumpity whump whump whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #whump oneshot #whump drabble #hurt no comfort #kidnap whump #pet whump #whumper #whumpee #Master and Mutt #content warnings at the beginning #seriously it's all there #i think #let me know if i should add anything #concrit welcome #destructive critism isnt welcome #don't like don't read #seriously im really nervous to post this #and if i get any hate comments i may cry irl #but i won't tell you if i do #I'll block people who spread hate so #but to those who are here for the whump enjoy!

[jewels-writes]

“you’re no jedi”

Dedicated to: @onlywhump  go look at their page right now, they have hot oc’s​ and they should be a professional novelist <3 Word count: 4,467  Warnings: blood, blaster wounds, swearing, torture, use of the force for torture, electricity used as torture Category: whump, captivity, one shot, starwars Characters: Cal Kestis, Trilla (Second Sister)(She’s referred to as “inquisitor”) Note: this is also posted on my ao3 so if you see it, know its posted on my account and was not stolen <3 enjoy

Cal grunted as he leaned heavily on one of the many walls inside the base of the Republic he’d infiltrated. BD-1 had chirped at him from his shoulder, his trills rising in fear. They were both looking at the sizzling spot on his upper thigh and Cal groaned, a shaking hand hovering above it, unsure of how to deal with it. 

“Turns out those troopers can aim.” He chuckled to his droid though his laugh came out as more of a cough. BD-1, doing what he knew best, opened the compartment of stims, the green liquid jostling around in the glass vials at his haste. “A stim won’t fix this, buddy..” The droid was persistent, nudging his head with his own. “Fine, I’ll take one to make you fee-”

“Over there! I found the jedi!” More troopers came from behind the corner and Cal silently cursed, shoving himself off the wall, hoping that BD had time to hang on tightly. “Don’t let him get away!”

Cal’s thigh burned - literally - as he did his best attempt at a sprint, knowing better than to fight the swarm of mindless troopers. This was not how he thought Zeffo was going to be when he flew here on the Mantis. 

“Greez, Cere. I’m cornered.” Cal huffed as he came up to a closed door, shouldering it with all the weight he could manage. “Shit, BD, your scomp link is still fried.” He began to panic as the trooper's footfalls became louder. “Come on, come on!” Cal cried out as he smashed his fist against the metal doors. He tried pushing it with the force. The doors wouldn’t give.

“In here!” A trooper shouted and Cal’s stomach dropped, slowly turning to meet the several troopers pointing their blasters at him. They were all trained on his head. “We have orders to take you alive.” One of them said, taking a step closer.

BD tapped Cal’s shoulder twice, a gentle encouragement and Cal knew what he meant. He was a jedi now, maybe even the last one. He couldn’t allow himself to be captured. 

He had to fight.

Reaching an arm behind him to grab his lightsaber, he took a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind of doubt. His master taught him well. He would not fail now.

Faster than light could follow, he whipped his saber out and flung it towards the most dense area of troopers, their screams echoing down the dimly lit hall. The others, realizing he in fact would not be coming quietly, began firing at the man. This time, thankfully, their aim was laughable.

Holding his hand up, the lightsaber flung back to his hand and he lunged at the nearest trooper, slicing their arm clean off. The trooper’s shriek of horror made Cal hesitate for a moment. That moment, however, was taken advantage of.

There was a single blaster fired before the hall went deathly silent aside from the groaning of the troopers. Cal staggered back into the unmoving metal doors as if something had hit him, but it was the weirdest thing. He couldn’t feel anything. BD-1 shrieked, taking it upon himself to inject Cal with a stim.

But why?

It was then that a blossoming pain began to form in his shoulder. Looking down at it, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The pain swiftly became unbearable, even worse than the wound on his thigh and he couldn’t help but grunt, his saber powering off and clanging to the ground. 

“Cal? What’s going on? Are you okay?” He could hear Cere’s panicked voice through the comlink. But he knew even if he told her, she couldn’t get there in time.

“Just peachy.” He muttered, desperate to keep the strain out of his voice. For the sake of Cere. For the sake of Greez. And whoever else listening. They didn’t need to concern themselves. After he spoke, he deactivated his com, permanently cutting it off from the Mantis. He solidified this by throwing it to the ground and stepping on it, putting only enough force to hear a crack.

“You’re not getting shit from me.” Cal chuckled, his hand coming to cover his shoulder. His moment of defiance lasted no longer as his world began to spin as he became lightheaded. Sinking to one knee, he gasped, the impact disturbing his thigh.

“Destroy the droid.” One trooper ordered and Cal’s head snapped up to the enemy. But he was too late. The trooper had already taken several strides towards them, the weapon still aimed right at Cal’s forehead. 

“You need me alive.” Cal sputtered, his breathing ragged and embarrassingly audible. “You won’t shoot..” 

“Shut it.”

In a movement faster than he could follow, the trooper slammed the butt of the weapon on the side of Cal’s head, knocking him out instantly. He didn’t make a sound as he crumpled to the ground, only a long breath leaving his lungs. 

BD panicked, climbing off of the jedi’s back, trying his best to grab hold of Cal’s unmoving hand. As such a small and incapable droid, the poor thing couldn’t so much as make him budge. 

The trooper’s weapon, now aimed at the droid, was enough to make BD scurry away. He knew the way back to the Mantis. He could make it. He’d get help for Cal.

Blaster fire followed in his wake but none were even close to hitting him. One of the troopers began to run after him but another held him back.

“We have our target. The droid is useless.” Another said, walking up to Cal and rolling him onto his side with his boot. Cal’s head lolled ungracefully against the cold floor. “Now who’s carrying him?”

Cal woke with a start, his head snapping up. Instantly, he felt this immense freezing cold breeze waft around him. The air had a cold and dry feeling to it and he shivered as it nipped at his nose. The first thing he noticed was there was a bag over his head. The next was the immense pain on his shoulder and thigh coupled with a dull ache on his temple. Attempting to reach for his saber, he quickly found that his arms were restrained behind him and his legs each tied to the posts of the chair he was seated in. 

“Where am I? Where’s BD-1?” He demanded, shaking his head to try to get the damned bag off.

“Oh settle down, will you?” A smooth voice came from in front and he snapped his head in their direction. “Tell me what I want and I’ll let you go. Sound good?”

“Where the fuck is my droid? If you so much as hurt him..” Cal’s voice trailed off in anger. “I’ll kill you.”

“Such big words from someone who couldn’t fend off a few troopers.” The voice came closer and Cal squared his shoulders as best as he could, tensing up. The sound of a lightsaber activating made his body go rigid.

The footsteps stopped directly before him and he held his breath. The saber suddenly ripped through the bag, the tip grazing his forehead and he sucked in a breath of pain as he felt the wound form. Opening his eyes as the remains of the bag fell from his face, he was met with the deadly red glow of the saber that was no more than an inch from his skin. The heat radiating off of it felt as if it was melting him and he moved away from it as best as he could, his head meeting the back of the chair.

“Oh fun. You get a souvenir.” The one holding the saber laughed, taking the scorching saber away from his face. They had been referencing the new scar the saber had given Cal.

“The second I get out of here,” Cal spat, trying his best to ignore the searing pain on his face. “I’m gonna kill you.” The one with the saber chuckled, by the tone of their voice, Cal assumed them to be female.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of here?” She turned away from him, sealing the saber back into its hilt and a short silence followed. When she didn’t get a response she sighed. “Have you already forgotten what I asked you? And here I thought you were a man to be feared.”

Looking away from her, he noticed a table with his saber and satchel on it.

She didn’t even give Cal a moment to breathe before she was inches from his face, his attention immediately directed back at her.

“Cal Kestis. You know something very important to me.” Her head cocked to the side. “It would be in your best interest to tell me where it is. I wouldn’t want to dig into your mind and find it myself.”

Ignoring her threat, Cal studied her helmet and outfit. He recognized it. He’d seen her before.

It suddenly clicked. She was the one he fought while escaping the scrap yard. She was the one. The one who had killed Prauf.

Anger began to well up inside him and he smacked his head against her helmet hard enough to make her stumble back. He felt satisfaction seeing his impact made a dent in the otherwise smooth material.

“You killed him. You killed Prauf.” Cal strained, unable to control the shudder that wracked his body. Attempting to connect to the force, he found himself powerless. His once enraged expression had suddenly turned to one of surprise. “What did you do to me..? I can’t- I can’t use the force.”

“So ignorant.” She sighed. “What fun would that be if you could fight back? I can’t risk being overpowered.”

Cal wasn’t even registering what she was saying. His mind was tainted with anger and remorse for his friend. Seeing her, whoever she was, made his blood boil. She was the one that caused him so much pain.

“I’ll kill you.” He repeated, his eyes never leaving her. He was willing to wait for a moment of weakness to strike. He didn’t know how since his arms were still bound behind him.

“Oh please.” She huffed, straightening her silky black cape. Taking a step closer again, Cal tensed, his eyes guarded. “You’ll give me what I want.”

Her arm came up and Cal recognized immediately what she was trying to do. He had just enough time to guard his mind before he felt her probing it. He couldn’t help but gasp as it felt like his mind was being poked at and pulled. Straining harder to keep her out of his head, his breathing quickened. 

“Get out.” He rasped, sweat beginning to drip down his face despite the cold temperature. 

“Let me see.” Her voice cooed, it caused him to lose focus at how gentle her tone was. That moment was all she needed and she dug in deeper before Cal could stop her. But she was already seeing his memories by the time he could try to regain his guard. He tried desperately to push her out, but it was as if a firm hand was being placed on his consciousness. “It’ll hurt less if you let it happen.”

“No..” He strained. “Get the fuck out of my head.” He willed himself to shove her out and she recoiled, taking a half-step back and lowering her arm. Cal took a sigh of relief, letting his head fall toward his chest.

“Fine.” She muttered before bringing her arm back up. This time, Cal didn’t have any time. He didn’t even know she was going back in before his mind was completely overridden. He couldn’t bite back the scream that erupted from his throat as his mind felt like it was being split in two as the inquisitor sifted through it.

“Get out! Get out!” He shrieked, desperately trying to kick his legs but they didn’t do much as they were still tied to the chair. His chest convulsed, his eyes squeezed as tight as he could. “Please..” He nearly whimpered, his breaths ragged as he relived his memories. Watching his master die before him. Watching Prauf die. Fleeing from his burning home, tears streaming down his cheeks as he ran.

The inquisitor said nothing as she prodded around his memory, occasionally checking on the jedi before continuing. When she had seen Cere, her stomach dropped, her grip on Cal strengthened and he let out a cry of pain.

“Please!” He screamed, sweat dripping again. His brain felt like it was going to explode as his head throbbed in pain. The world became blurry, but he didn’t know if that was from the force or from his own tears. “Please..” He muttered, his head dropping, his breathing becoming slower. It took the inquisitor only a moment to realize he had passed out and she withdrew her consciousness from his.

“Kestis.” She spoke, her voice distorted from her mask. “Cal Kestis.” She nudged him with her boot but got no answer. Forcefully, she grabbed a fistful of his orange hair and yanked his head up. This warranted a grunt from the boy. With her other hand, she slapped his cheek.

His eyes snapped open and his breath caught when he registered the pain. 

“Finally.” She sounded annoyed. Not a moment later, she was in his mind again and he began screaming. His throat became raw to the point that breathing hurt. 

Hours had gone by and she had sifted through nearly everything in his mind. Every thought he’d ever had. Every memory, relived. Everything relevant, that is. There were many times where he’d pass out and she’d have to force him awake again.

“Useless.” She whispered. “You have nothing of interest in your head. Nothing.” She nearly spat. She was angry. She hadn’t spent all this time and energy on this jedi for him to not have what she was looking for.

“I don’t know what you want from me, lady.” His voice was broken but he still managed to speak. 

“The force sensitives, Kestis. Where are they?” She hissed, a hand going to the saber at her belt. Cal’s eyes widened in recognition. But also in fear. 

He didn’t know.

“Tell me.” She threatened, her hand clenched around her saber. “Or maybe it seems, your usefulness has run its course.” The lightsaber ignited and Cal’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know whether or not to plead for his life or to let it happen. A sudden idea popped into his mind.

“I’m the only one who knows.” He desperately blurted out, his words fast and only half true. “I’m the only one who can find the map.” Her posture didn’t falter, but her mind cleared. Considering his words, she deactivated her saber.

“Prove it.” Her words were hollow. She was tired of seeing in his head, but she dove back in nonetheless.

This time when she entered his mind, she was more gentle, almost as if she knew Cal would show her what she wanted. It still hurt. Cal’s breathing quickened once more. 

“Show me.” Her words echoed in his mind and he almost felt compelled to obey. If it wasn’t for the weight of the small population of jedi resting in his hands, he would have. 

“I can’t.” He mouthed, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Show me.” She commanded and Cal began to think of the memory but soon stopped himself. But she’d seen enough. “Ah, Cordova. I should have known.” She chuckled before watching the memory play for itself. Exiting his head for the last time that night, she sighed. “First thing tomorrow, you take me to the Zeffo tombs. Understood?”

Cal could only grunt but she took it as an agreement.

She stood still for a moment before leaving the room. Cal shivered, his mind exhausted. 

“What have I gotten myself into..”

When he woke again, it was to the sounds of his restraints being undone. Looking up, he saw it was just a trooper. The instant they were all unlocked, he kicked the trooper in his stomach, sending him flying back.

“What the-?!” The trooper exclaimed before he was met with another kick to the side that sent him to the ground, his blaster clattering on the ground. Cal dove for it, snatching it from the floor and aiming it at the helmet of the trooper.

“Give me a reason.” Cal threatened. His skin felt like pins and needles but he refused to show weakness. He risked a glance over to the table that his saber rested on. Testing out the force, he attempted to pull it to his hand. He watched as it shuddered once but didn’t move from where it was placed. Frowning, Cal backed up, looking back to the trooper to make sure he stayed in place. Once he had his saber, he attached it to his belt before glaring at the trooper. “Tell that inquisitor she got the wrong guy.”

“Oh did I now?” Cal’s stomach sank as he heard her voice from directly behind him. “Hmm, I seem to remember you telling me you’d show me where the map is.” She chuckled, standing in front of him, her steps painfully slow. Dread crept up on Cal and his knees almost gave out. “Perhaps, I should remind you.”

“You.” Cal swallowed. “Get back.” He aimed the blaster at her chest, his finger hovering over the trigger. But it seemed his body was frozen. Not from her, but from the fear he had now associated with her. 

“Foolish jedi.” She sighed, gently taking the blaster from Cal’s unmoving hands and dropping it to the floor where she kicked it back to the trooper. “I do hope you won’t try to escape. That wouldn’t be very kind of you, now would it?”

An hour or so later, he was leading the inquisitor through the mountainous terrain of Zeffo, at least three troopers had their blasters aimed at Cal’s back and his arms were tied again, this time in front. His saber had since been confiscated. 

His thigh had been burning up the whole way. It had been left untreated for days. There’d been several times that he’d tripped or stumbled and a trooper had to haul him to his feet again.

“Which way?” It was more of a command than a question coming from the inquisitor. When Cal didn’t respond immediately, he was jabbed in the side by one of the trooper’s elbows. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Left.” He grunted, doing his best to clutch his side with his hands tied together. 

They soon made it to the massive tomb of the Zeffo, he could tell by the elegant, yet worn, gold plating that decorated the entirety of it. 

“Jedi, stay out here,” She paused, turning to the three troopers. “If he tries anything, shoot him.” The inquisitor demanded before heading into the tomb by herself. The troopers had their full attention on Cal and the ginger sighed. 

“I’m not gonna try anything, but can I please sit down?” He complained, his shoulders dropping. The three looked amongst themselves before one nodded and Cal immediately plopped down in the snow, not caring about the cold, finally giving into his pain. Examining his thigh he grunted as the wound made contact with the fabric of his pants. The same pants he had been wearing for days. His shoulder wasn’t much better, the cloth had been singed to his skin and the slightest tug caused an eruption of pain. 

The troopers began talking amongst themselves. Cal didn’t really care, them talking casually meant he wouldn’t be attacked. He’d take them over the torture of his mind being probed. The mere thought of it made him shudder.

Cal waited a couple more minutes, ensuring the troopers were genuinely not attentive to him. As silently as he could, he stood back up. It was more of a struggle than he thought it would be, the slightest movements jostling his blasters wounds. But when he was up, he began slowly backing away from the troopers. Thank the maker their backs were turned. 

As soon as he made it behind a tree, he booked it. He didn’t care where he would end up, anywhere was better than at the mercy of the Republic. 

Almost immediately, he heard the shouting of the troopers. “Shit-” He muttered under his breath. He was hoping he’d have a little more time. Forcing himself to run faster, he weaved through the snowy forest, his breathing ragged. Shortly after the shouting, blaster fire began. The surprise of it made him nearly trip. Somehow regaining his balance, he kept running.

“Jedi! Stop!” One of their voices called out but Cal refused. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Another round of blaster fire came and this time, Cal was hit. His back suddenly burned just like his other two wounds. The shot had sent him straight to the ground, face planting into the snow. Desperately, he tried to crawl away, kicking his legs to propel himself.

He watched as the snow around his shoulder turned deep red and he couldn’t help the cry he let out as he struggled to keep going. 

“Halt.” A voice from behind him called out, and for once, he listened. He let his head fall into the snow, he didn’t care if it was hard to breathe that way. He was so sick of having to fight. He was so sick of being shot.

“Kill me.” Cal pleaded. “Please.. Kill me.” He sobbed, hot tears plopping into the snow beneath him.

“Shut up.” A trooper grunted, gripping the back of his shirt and dragging him upright. Cal did little to assist him. He was dead weight to the trooper. Sighing out of annoyance, the trooper lifted Cal over his shoulder like he was a rag doll before walking back to where they had originally been. 

The ginger’s arms swayed with the trooper’s steps as he watched his blood flow down his arm and drip off of his fingertips and into the white snow, tainting it. A part of him hoped BD would see the trail and send for help. But he knew his droid knew better than to come back by himself.

Cal didn’t know if it was the blood loss, the exhaustion, or a combination of the both, but he soon found himself swimming in unconsciousness. He’d stir every so often, like when he was dropped ungracefully onto the snow and had landed on his side. Or when the trooper had opted for dragging him instead of carrying him because he didn’t want to clean his suit later. Or when the inquisitor came back up and shook him awake, her being unaware of his newest injury.

“Cal.” She muttered, patting the side of his face. “Wake up.” She grabbed his uninjured shoulder and shook it. Nothing. Standing up straight, she looked to her troopers. “What happened while I was down there?”

“He attempted to run away, ma’am.” The one who had carried Cal answered. The inquisitor’s eyes noticed the blood smear on the trooper’s suit and her eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Her gaze went back to the ginger who was lying in the snow, eyebrows furrowed together. Upon further inspection, she saw the rise and fall of his chest. Looking back at the trooper, she ordered, “Carry him, I don’t have time to wait around.” When the trooper didn’t immediately oblige, she moved her hand to her saber. “Now.”

“...ake up…. Cal… on’t make me… forc..you” Cal began to come to, his mind slowly picking up on things going on in the real world. Groaning as he began to feel the pain from his injuries. More importantly, he felt someone holding his head up with their hand, their fingers gripping his jaw.

“Kestis.” Her voice became more prominent and he squinted one eye open and was met with the same inquisitor who had been torturing him for the past several days. She was the one holding his head in her hand.

Recoiling as best as he could, he took his head from her grasp and it smacked against the backing of the chair he was seated in. He knew it was the same one as before.

“Let me go..” He slurred, his vision blurry. “Please.”

“Ah, so you’re not dead.” The woman ignored what he pleaded. Stepping away and to the side, she revealed a floating droid. Cal, not having much experience with droids, didn't know what it was doing here. “Meet my little friend, BP-4.”

“The hell..?” Cal asked. “Why’s a droid here?” Behind her mask, the inquisitor smirked. He didn’t know what this model was capable of. “I already took you to the tombs, you have what you need! Let me go, please!”

“There was more to it. The tombs weren't where the map was.” She started, beckoning the droid to approach Cal. “You told me,” She paused for effect. “That you’d lead me to the map. Not a tomb with no map inside.” Her voice became cold and Cal felt his stomach drop.

“I-I..” He stuttered. He didn’t know what to say. Cordova’s hologram told him to go to the Zeffo tombs. He didn’t know why the map wouldn’t be there. “I don’t understand..”

“You’ve wasted my time.” The droid came closer. “You’ve wasted my energy.” And closer. “And you’ve wasted my resources.” The droid was only inches from his face now. “And so now, you have to pay.”

“What-?” Cal breathed. “But I helped you!”

“You deceived me.”

She raised her hand, signaling something to the droid. It beeped once before a stick-like metal bar unfolded from it, shooting out and clamping onto Cal’s neck. Gasping, he stared at the inquisitor with fear in his eyes.

“Wait please!” An instant later, the droid sent an electric charge through itself and into Cal. Immediately, his mouth opened in a silent scream as the shock coursed through his body, leaving an almost merciful numbness behind. Only a slight tingle remained after the pain of the electricity left his body. 

“You see, Cal,” She started. “I hate liars.” She signaled again.

More electricity coursed through him, though this time, the voltage had been increased. He couldn’t help but cry out this time as he felt his muscles contract in what felt like an incredibly painful cramp. His breathing was heavy even after it was done.

“Please.. Stop..” He rasped, his throat sore. 

She chuckled, throwing her head back and holding her stomach as she began to cackle as if she had been told an unbearably hilarious joke. Taking a deep breath, she stood back up straight and uttered one word as her hand went up to signal the droid again.

“No.”

#whump #whumpblr #cal kestis #cal kestis whump #trilla #jedi fallen order #whump oneshot #writing #whump writing #captivity #torture #inquisitor #starwars #starwars whump #trigger warning #whump community #boost #cal kestis needs a hug #drink some water #stormtroopers #blaster wounds #starwars violence #violence

[strawberri-doggo]

60s Night Owl Oneshot: Sink or Swim

Pain throbbed through Night Owl’s head as she slowly blinked herself out of unconsciousness, groaning quietly and trying to piece together what was happening. The last thing she remembered was a feather-tailed dart pricking her arm and Robin calling out her name before everything faded to black as she fell from her horse’s saddle.

She tried to raise her hands to rub her aching head, but found them tied tightly behind her; not entirely surprising, given the circumstances. As her vision focused, she saw that her ankles were tied together too, and she soon realized there was also a gag around her mouth. Penguin clearly hadn’t spared any precautions this time. Speaking of the feathered fink, she heard a crackle from the speakers above her head before his voice came booming through.

“Well, well, well, it seems our little owlet has finally woken up! Say, how’s that head of yours feeling? Took a pretty nasty fall there, hwah hwah hwah!”

Night Owl’s eyes narrowed in a glare, wishing she could get the gag off to tell that crooked bird just what she thought of him.

“Say, I think a little ice will help with that pain, wouldn’t you agree?”

Suspicion filled her mind; he would never be so generous as to help her, so he must have some tricky scheme up his sleeve.

“Yes, I think some ice is just what you need! Here, allow me to help with that!”

The sound of machinery whirring filled the room, Night Owl’s senses going on high alert as she looked around for what could possibly be happening. She didn’t have to wait long for an answer, as the metal floor began to slowly split open in a radial pattern, dipping downwards to reveal a pool of icy water taking up the entire bottom of the room. The young crimefighter began to panic, pushing herself back against the wall in a futile attempt to keep herself from falling in. Her boots slipped and skidded against the smooth steel, her breathing quickening as she tried to think of some way to get out of this mess.

‘Batman!’ she thought desperately, ‘Robin! G.W.! Where are you???’

She twisted her wrists and ankles, hoping she could somehow tear through the thick ropes that held them in place.

‘If I could just get to my utility belt, or even just stand up-!’

But the ropes remained tight and unyielding, and the panels of the floor kept folding down even lower, until Night Owl couldn’t fight the force of gravity any longer. With a muffled yelp, she slid down the perilous slope, tumbling over the edge into the deep, icy water. She just barely managed to take one last desperate breath before her body began to sink below the surface, shutting her eyes as terror squeezed her heart so tight she thought it would burst. Her mind was a flurry of fear and desperation too dense to properly think through, struggling even harder against the ropes that bound her as she shivered in the freezing water.

‘Dad’s on his way, he’s gotta be on his way! He’ll be here any second, just gotta hold on a little longer!’

She tried to hold out hope, but as the seconds ticked by, her movements grew weaker and her head became clouded and fuzzy. Finally, after about two minutes of trying to break free, she passed out, her body reflexively trying to take in air as she sunk to the pool’s floor.

~ Meanwhile ~

Batman grabbed Penguin by the front of his suitcoat, working hard to restrain the anger and fear in his voice.

“We’ve got you cornered, you foul fiend! Now tell us what you’ve done with Night Owl!”

“I’ve done nothing whatsoever with her, my agitated adversary!” Penguin replied with infuriating composure, “Merely gotten her some ice for that fall of hers!”

“Yeah, right, Penguin!” Robin snapped, punching his fist into his palm, “Like you’d ever do anything to help one of us!”

While the other two interrogated the Penguin, G.W.’s eyes swept the room looking for clues. They landed on a video monitor behind the arch-criminal, widening in shock and horror.

“Guys, look!”

Batman and Robin turned to see what she was pointing at, only to gasp at what they saw: Night Owl bound and gagged, struggling for freedom in a pool of water. Batman’s eyes flashed with fear, his heart stopping for a moment as he cried,

“Night Owl!”

Penguin laughed, saying with a smug grin,

“See? Perfectly chilled in my own little slice of the Arctic Sea!”

Robin’s face was flushed with rage, looking seconds away from strangling Penguin as his gloved hands clenched into tight fists.

“You murderous monster!”

Batman took a deep breath, steadying his mind as he forced himself to focus on what to do next.

“There’s no time to lose. You two, go rescue Night Owl, while I hand this tricky bird over to the authorities and call for an ambulance.”

The twins nodded and dashed out into the hallway, opening each and every door they came across in search of the room that held their endangered teammate. At last, they threw open a door and were met with a cold blast of air, taking a step back from the sudden drop in front of them. Robin didn’t waste a second before diving into the pool, his heart racing as he saw Night Owl lying motionless at the bottom of the pool.

‘Please don’t be too late, please don’t be too late-!’

As soon as he reached her, he grabbed her tight, hoisting her back to the surface as he held her close. When they both broke through the water, G.W. tossed down the Batrope and helped pull them back out onto dry land. Robin set Night Owl on the ground, listening for a heartbeat with bated breath as his hands clutched her shoulders.

“She’s still alive.” he confirmed with a shaky sigh, “But we’ve gotta hurry.”

G.W. nodded, beginning to cut the ropes around Night Owl’s wrists and ankles as her brother ripped off the gag around her mouth. He hesitated for a moment, but decided that chivalry would have to wait as he placed his hands on her chest and began with the compressions. After around thirty, he tilted her head back, pressed his lips to hers, and breathed deep, though it was hard when he was already so out of breath with worry. He then went back to compressions as his sister held the other girl’s hand in a death-grip.

It took another few rounds of breathing and compression, but Night Owl finally stirred, then shuddered, then coughed up a mouthful of water before taking a ragged, gasping breath.

“Oh… my gosh…”

Robin and G.W.’s faces lit up, the both of them squeezing her in a tight hug and knocking the little bit of air she’d regained out of her lungs.

“Oof-! H-heh, hey, guys…”

“We were so worried about you!” G.W. exclaimed, pulling her closer.

“Are you alright??” Robin asked protectively.

“Well, I nearly drowned to death, so I’m thinking I’ve been better!”

The other two rolled their eyes with a snort as Batman rushed down the hall, several doctors right behind him.

“Night Owl!”

Her father knelt by her side, cupping her face in his hands as relief flooded his whole expression.

“Thank heavens they reached you in time! Any other injuries?”

“Just the side of my head from when I fell off of Omen.” she replied, gingerly touching the sore spot.

“Just take it easy while we get you to the hospital. You still have a lot of water in your lungs that we need to deal with.”

Night Owl nodded, trying to stand up but stumbling back dizzily. Robin caught her and steadied her against his side, G.W. going to support her from the other side as they helped her out of the Penguin’s hideout and down to the waiting ambulance.

(Yay, first fic published on Tumblr! Thx for being my inspiration, @robingurlscorner)

#60s Batman #60s Night Owl #60s Robin #gurl wonder #girl wonder #whump fic #whump #whump oneshot #tw drowning

[i-likegamesbut-cant-playthem]

6 and 12?

ok 6 is guilt/blame and 12 is Delirious/Fever/Hallucinations/Sleep Paralysis

jackson did it. He confessed and this is his last day in this god forsaken torture cell. but hes scared of what will happen when he leaves. He is lieing on his dirty mattress sick with worry and as he tries to sleep he sees him his boss Michel he is floating in the air and scarred with the same marks as jackson. he is hurt and he is angry "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS YOU LITTLE RAT!" "YOU SWORE TO ME! AND NOW YOU LET THESE FREAKS MAKE YOU TELL THEM ABOUT OUR DEEDS!!" the ghastly image shrieks "i-im sorry michel i-i didnt want to die" jackson stutters in response "maybe you should have if your living ruins everything i-we have worked for!"

jackson sqierms getting closer to the wall as the nightmarish image of michel screams and melts and bleeds.

"im sorry im sorry michel please forgive me i-i never should have told i am yours forever and i never should have betrayed you please please no!"

the interragator opens the door "what are you doing runt"

"i- i- nothing."

AN:this is actaully sorta long and not that whumpy but i think it counts

#whump oneshot #ask game #i like this one #mob whump #implied torture

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!�� 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

#Gareth @ 15: LOOK AT THESE LITERAL BABIES! #The Party @ 13: SCREW YOU GARY U NERD #Steve is a mom in my head but he definitely has older brother vibes. #Like he's on that 'You can do stupid shit but only if I supervise' phase lol #I don't ship Gareth with Jeff but I can see him picking Jeff over Eddie as the Bi Test Run. #Pre steddie #hellfire adopts Steve #adopt a jock #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #hellfire club #Steve harrington whump #Sad Boy Hours Steve #0o0 fanfics #gareth emerson #jeff #grant #Next part is Eddie Munsons Ridiculous Oneshot

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

After All This Time | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! Who wants to have their feelings hurt?! 🙋🏻‍♀️ I love some good angst, some pain, some emotional turmoil. 

Warnings: relationship drama, references to violence, arguments, crying, ex!Bucky

“What are you doing here?” You stared at Bucky, shocked. Perplexed. He had no business at your apartment. Especially not so late at night. Especially not after what he’d done. The way he’d treated you. It took a long time- too long- to achieve some sense of normalcy after things fell apart. After he broke your heart. You weren’t over him; you feared you never would be. But you finally arrived at something that resembled stability. You were nearly okay- nearly.

But Bucky’s unexpected presence took you out at the knees. Was he always this beautiful? Or did you just miss him? His hair was a bit longer, his stubble a little scruffier. His deep blue eyes softened at the sight of you. No, he was always this beautiful. Dammit.

His expression was stern. Serious. Just like it had been when he left. He’d promised you he’d never come back. “Can I come in?” He was a liar, apparently.

“What? No.”

Bucky breezed past you anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest, hiding the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. Your arms hugged your body, crisscrossing over your old college shirt. Thank god you hadn’t opted to wear one of the many henleys he’d left behind. The humiliation of him seeing you in one of his old shirts would’ve been too much. You knew you shouldn’t wear them anymore, but you couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop yourself from cloaking your body in the comfort they provided. It was sad, maybe even a little pathetic. But you didn’t know how to stop.

“Hey- You can’t just barge into my apartment-”

���Shut the door.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “No. What do you- get out.”

Bucky closed and locked the door for you. His fingers twisted the key in the deadbolt and fastened the chain. He even pulled on the door once- then twice. It was secure. He positioned his body in front of it- either blocking your way out or someone else’s way in. You weren’t sure which.

“Go pack a bag. We’re leaving here in five minutes.” He checked his watch, “Sooner, if you can manage it.” He looked up from his wrist and finally let himself drink you in. Were you always this breathtaking? Or was he just happy to see you? Your skin glowed in the yellow light of your reading lamp. Your hair was shorter now- he liked it. Yeah, you were always this intoxicating. Bucky wondered how he could even question it.

“Are you out of your mind? We’re not going anywhere.” Anger was easier. Easier than sadness, than heartbreak. You let wrath wrap itself around your heart, shielding you from the pain. Bucky didn’t belong in your home anymore, no matter how badly you wished he did. He didn’t want to be here- he didn’t want you. He’d made that painfully clear.

And though part of you liked seeing him here, existing in the home you once shared, you knew it would only serve to hurt you. Your voice was quieter this time, less confident, “You need to leave.”

He let out a huff, as though he had the right to be annoyed with you. “Just trust me on this,”,

“Trust you? That’s hilarious-”

“You’re not safe here,” he said. His tone was firm, irrefutable. “Someone attacked Pepper and Morgan. Clint’s wife, Laura, and their kids. Murdock’s associate- that guy Nelson.”

A burst of worry shot through you, “Shit. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They’ve all been relocated.” He wondered how you could worry about others while bypassing any concern for yourself. But the distress on your face was real; you’d gotten close with the families of the team before Bucky left. They welcomed you like one of their own, and your care for them survived even after things with Bucky died.

“Sam is taking his sister and her kids somewhere- everyone’s moving their loved ones.”

Silence. You waited for Bucky to elaborate. He waited for you to put the pieces together.

“So… why are you here? What does any of that have to do with me?”

“Hydra. They’re coming after our lov-” Bucky cleared his throat, “the people in our lives.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I get that. But I’m not in your life.”

Bucky knew you weren’t his anymore, but hearing you say it cut him to the bone.

The strong façade you wore threatened to crumble. This was too much for you- almost cruel. Back when things were good, they were really good. You planned on staying with Bucky forever. You saw yourself marrying him, spending the rest of your days together. He’d had other plans. He left you. And never looked back.

“I’m fine here,” you told him. “I don’t need you.”

Bucky struggled for words. This was harder than he thought. “Well… they- they don’t know that we...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Hydra, I mean, they don’t know what um, what happened. We were pretty public- they might think we’re still together. So, I need to get you to a safe house. Just in case.”

“Why?” The question hung heavy in the air.

Bucky didn’t say a word.

“Since when do you care? Don’t act like I matter to you all of a sudden- don’t pretend that you’re worried about me.” You forced every ounce of emotion behind an impenetrable wall, “leave. I’m serious, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You’re in danger. And I…” He ran a hand through his hair “Just come with me. Let me protect you.”

“I’m not yours to protect.” The stinging sensation of approaching tears burned behind your eyes. “So… you can go.”

Your words gutted him. He hadn’t felt this much pain since he left, since the last time he saw you. He’d left you alone in the apartment you once shared. He’d shut the door and stood on the other side, unable to walk away. His forehead rested against the wood, and he listened to you. The sound of you sobbing- wailing- drove stakes into his chest. But he knew it was better this way.

“Yeah, I know that…” he said, his voice softer now. “But your family, your friends- they’ll be devastated if something happens to you. Don’t do that to them. Come with me. And when this blows over, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You hated that he was right. To let your pride endanger your life was selfish, stupid. You could practically hear your mom telling you to go with him.

But there was a side of you would rather die at the hands of Hydra than share a safe house with Bucky. Sure, you missed him. A lot. You wished he’d never walked out that door. But spending days- or weeks- with him? Just the two of you? In a secluded location? It would tear you to pieces.

You grumbled under your breath, “fine. How long will we be gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then- where are we going?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Coordinates will be sent to the jet once we board.”

“Okay, great. Perfect. I don’t know how much to pack. I don’t know what kind of clothes I need. Awesome. Thanks, James.” You turned on your heel and headed toward your bedroom, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

James. James. You’d never called him James. Ever. Not even in a joking sense. He was always Bucky or Buck or Barnes or baby- depending on the context. Never James. It was so impersonal, you regarding him by his government name. So cold. Distant. He knew he deserved it- deserved way worse. But it stung, nonetheless.

With you busy in the other room, Bucky drank in the warmth of your apartment. It was inviting, cozy. Just like always. You’d gotten a few new pieces of art since he left; they took up the spaces left empty by the photos you removed. The picture of the two of you from a Stark gala. A strip of the two of you laughing in a photo booth at the pier. A polaroid of him kissing your cheek at Sam’s birthday party. He wondered what you did with them. Did you still have them- somewhere? Did you hide them away in a dusty box under the bed he used to share with you?

Or did you burn them?

He missed living there. Missed waking up next to you, missed making dinner for you. Missed you.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call so late…” you said into your phone, cradling it between your ear and your shoulder. “I’m gonna have to work from, um- I have to leave town for a little while.”

Bucky heard you on the phone with your boss, doing your best to lie your way through the situation. But you didn’t give much detail, just like he’d taught you when you first started dating. He told you never to trust anyone fully- never to believe that someone is worthy of every secret. He’d been speaking about outsiders. But when he left, he proved to you that no one deserved your trust. Not even him.

“Yeah, just family stuff,” he heard you say. “My cousin has been sick and took a turn for the worst, so… I need to be there just in case.”

He was so proud.

You stuffed clothes into a bag and rounded up the necessary toiletries. Your laptop, headphones, and a few books made the cut, and you grabbed the bag’s zipper, prepared to give it a final yank. But as you tried to close it up, a piece of fabric caught your eye. You let out a deep sigh. You’d moved on instinct, grabbing things from your closet and dresser without thinking. And some of Bucky’s old clothes had found their way among your items.

A flannel, two henleys, and a sweatshirt sat nestled at the bottom of your bag. They were some of your favorite things to wear- soft, comfortable, cozy. But you couldn’t bring them with you. Not when there was a chance Bucky would see them. You quickly swapped them out with pieces that didn’t belong to him and thanked the universe you’d noticed before it was too late.

When you emerged moments later with duffel bag in hand, Bucky was waiting for you. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Hadn’t taken off his jacket. He wasn’t welcome here anymore. And making himself at home wasn’t right.

“Uh, here’s this,” he outstretched a hand in your direction and offered you a phone. “We can’t be sure that your phone isn’t being tracked. So, you have to leave yours here. This is a burner- just for emergencies.”

You dropped your phone on the counter with a dramatic groan and took the burner from his hand. Not only were you to be trapped for an indeterminant amount of time with the man who ripped your heart out of your chest and eviscerated it in front of your eyes- but you also had to give up your phone. “This feels like a kidnapping.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He made a move for your bag, “I can take that for you-”

“I got it”.

With a nod, he opened the door and checked the hall for potential dangers. And when he deemed it safe, he gestured for you to join him. He watched you lock the door- and smiled to himself when he realized you still used the same key. You never changed the locks after he left.

“This is the most conspicuous thing I’ve ever seen…” A jet sat on the roof of your building, just a few feet from the stairwell. “If Hydra didn’t know where I was before, they definitely do now.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh, paired with a quiet “yeah”, and tried to help you board. But you shied away from any attempts as assistance. You needed to prove to Bucky that you didn’t need him anymore- no matter how untrue it was.

The flight was awkward. Quiet. Tense. You couldn’t escape to the back of the jet and hide from Bucky- there was no ‘back’. It was a small aircraft. Only enough room for two. It forced you to sit next to him, watching clouds paint with windows with their condensation as the jet sliced through the sky.

“So…” Bucky said after a while, “how’ve you been?”

You quieted him with a look.

The answer to his question was complicated- you didn‘t have the emotional energy to explain. Diving into how angry and miserable and lonely you’d been since his departure would take hours. Maybe days. And he didn’t deserve the inside scoop. He wasn’t welcome to your secrets or the inner workings of your mind- not anymore.

“We’re here…” Bucky said, his voice pulling you from your light sleep. You didn’t realize you’d nodded off. But sleep was the only escape from the painfully awkward situation he’d put you in.

“Okay, so…” Bucky opened the door to the house and gestured for you to enter before him. Still such a gentleman. “I know this place is kinda small. But I’m gonna do my best to not be in your space.” He flipped on a few lights and bathed the house in a warm yellow light. “They promised that the kitchen is stocked. I think there’s firewood somewhere in case we get cold. And there should be clean sheets and towels and stuff in a closet somewhere. As for the, um…” He cleared his throat, “the sleeping arrangements. There’s only one bedroom, so it’s yours- I’m gonna take the couch.”

He threw his bag over the back of the couch and watched it bounce against the cushions. “Let me know if you need anything.”

What you needed, he couldn’t give you. He couldn’t go back in time and reverse the effects of breaking your heart. He couldn’t rid you of the agony brought on by his absence. And so, with a curt nod, you bid him goodnight.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time you made the bed and crawled beneath the covers. You curled into a ball and pulled the blankets up over your head, as though protecting yourself. This had to be a joke. A prank. The wound Bucky’s departure caused had barely scabbed over- and his return flayed it wide open. It throbbed and ached as you cried under the safety of your blankets. You didn’t know what you’d done in a past life to deserve hurt like this.

Bucky collapsed onto the couch. He slumped forward and rested his head in his hands, replaying every moment since you opened the door. The look on your face when you saw him again, the disdain in your voice, the distrust you held for him- it made his chest ache. He hated himself for throwing away the best thing he’d ever had. For hurting you. For breaking the trust you’d built together.

He didn’t sleep that night- the pain didn’t let him. He, instead, remained awake. Wired. He cleaned his guns. Double and triple checked his supply of ammo. He made sure every window was locked, every door secure. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

The following day passed slowly. Bucky made enough breakfast for both of you, and kept your portion warm while he did the dishes and waited for you to wake. But you never joined him. You remained holed up in your room, miserable.

You didn’t care about Hydra; they couldn’t hurt you more than Bucky already had. Sure, they could beat you senseless and bleed you dry. They could torture you and hold you hostage. But it simply couldn’t compare. Physical injuries heal. They scab over and turn to scars. But the pain Bucky caused never ceased. The wound bled day and night. His mark on you could never be fixed.

Only when your hunger pangs grew painful did you leave the safety of your room.

“Hey, I made breakfast…” Bucky said when you finally emerged, “I tried to keep yours warm but- it’s in the fridge if you want it. I know it’s well past breakfast time and you probably don’t want cold spinach scramble and hashbrowns, but-”

He was being so nice;  he still remembered your favorite breakfast. You thought back on all the Sunday mornings you’d spent together, making breakfast and listening to music. Drinking coffee. Dancing in the kitchen until the food almost burned. But you banished the memories. And sent away the warm feelings brought on by Bucky cooking for you again.

You didn’t make eye contact, didn’t thank him. Instead, you rummaged through the cabinets until you found a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. “I’ll make something for myself,” you told him.

“Oh- okay, yeah. Knives are in the drawer to your left.” Bucky felt himself hovering. He stood across the kitchen island from you like an expectant child hoping for the approval of a stern parent. He knew he’d never get it, didn’t deserve it. But he couldn’t help himself. Being so close to you felt good. Really good. And though he’d promised he wouldn’t invade your space, he found it impossible to walk away.

You, however, couldn’t get away fast enough. You hastily made a sandwich and grabbed a glass of water before retreating to you room, safe from Bucky’s gaze. With the door shut, you allowed yourself to sink down to the floor. A gnawing sense of soul-crushing sadness eclipsed any feelings of hunger. But you forced the sandwich down anyway. You swore to yourself that everything would be okay, that you’d go home soon enough and try once again to heal.  

But you didn’t believe your own words.

Bucky hated how uncomfortable you were around him. It was his fault, and he knew it, but it made him sad all the same. At one time, he’d been the person you loved most. The person you  cared for. The one you could trust. You knew, without a doubt, that you could go to him with anything. Any problem, any worry- no matter how small. And he’d find a way to make it better. And if he couldn’t fix it, he could at least make you smile. He could bring you comfort and make you feel safe. Loved. He was the only one you wanted. The only person for you. His soul and yours were forged in the same fire- just a few decades apart.

But that fire was dead- snuffed out. And Bucky no longer held the secret key to your heart. He brought you only anguish and anxiety. Torment. Agony. And he hated himself for it.

He wondered if you’d spent all your time hiding in that bedroom. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. You weren’t happy around him like you used to be- why would you subject yourself to such unpleasant feelings unless it were absolutely necessary? He resolved to give you as much space as possible, to leave the room when you made your way to the kitchen. To not hover. Anything to make you more comfortable.

And if that meant that he didn’t get to speak to you for the remainder of your time in hiding, then so be it.

That night, however, he got to speak to you again.

He didn’t rest the night of your arrival, not even for a moment. And it finally got to him. He turned in early, falling asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. The last few embers glowed orange beneath the charred wood, but all warmth was gone. His sleeping form tossed and turned beneath a thin blanket. Droplets of sweat bloomed from his skin as heaving breaths forced their way into his chest.

A familiar sound woke you in the middle of the night. You hadn’t heard it in quite some time, but knew you’d never forget it. Bucky was having a nightmare. And before you had a moment to rethink your actions, you were up. You ditched your bedding and fled in the direction of his screams.

And he woke to the soft sound of your voice.

“Bucky, hey…” you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Hey, wake up. Bucky-”

His eyes flew open and quickly focused on your face. And though your presence brought a relief he hadn’t experienced in what felt like years, it was too late. His heart hammered against his ribs; his lungs burned. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re okay. You’re alright. Here-” One of your hands migrated from his shoulder to his chest while the other searched for one of his. You dragged his hand upward and mirrored the placement, pressing his palm to your sternum. It was muscle memory, a deep-seeded reflex you didn’t know you still had. You used to do it every night- back when Bucky was still yours. He liked it. He said it made him feel like you were synching your heartbeat with his. And it always calmed him down.

Bucky let loose a deep sigh of relief. It seemed to come from somewhere else completely, like he’d been holding his breath since the last time he touched you. Your pulse beat strong and steady beneath his hand, thudding against his palm like his own personal metronome. And maybe it was all in his head, but he felt his own heartrate slow. He breathed easier. A smile pricked at the corners of his mouth.

But you pulled away all too soon.

Bucky sat up in pursuit of your recoiling hand, “Thank you…”

“Yeah.” You stood, hoping to make it back to your room before the tears began to fall. But Bucky’s words stopped you.

“I really- I really appreciate you waking me. And doing… that. For me.” He felt himself growing sheepish, but couldn’t let the encroaching embarrassment get the best of him. “I missed it- I missed you.”

Something in you snapped.

You turned toward him with a strange mixture of anger and pain burning behind your eyes, your breathing growing ever sharper.

“Why am I here?” Your tone was calm, measured. It was the kind of rage that turned your words to ice. To stone.

He cocked his head to the side, “um, because of Hydra. Because you’re in danger…”

“But why am I here?” You felt yourself losing control, “You heard they were going after the team’s loved ones and you thought to yourself, ‘hmm, that girl I completely destroyed, that girl whose life I ruined, that girl who I most certainly do not love, that girl I left for no reason, she’s in danger! Hydra will probably go after her, you know, since I haven’t seen her or spoken to her in almost a year!’”

Bucky didn’t know what to say.

“This makes no fucking sense, James!”

James. You’d let one or two ‘Buckys’ slip earlier- never again.

“Why did you come to my apartment? Why did you fucking kidnap me and bring me to this stupid house? Why did you put me on the same tier as Tony’s wife? As Clint’s wife? We aren’t together, I’m not in your life, and I’m certainly not a ‘loved one’- you made that painfully clear.  Why did you-”

“Because I still love you”

You rolled your tear-filled eyes, “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying…” Bucky sighed. “I swear on my life.”

An ugly scoff broke free from your throat, “I’m supposed to believe that? You once ‘swore on your life’ that you’d never hurt me. And that shit clearly wasn’t true, so-”

“I swear on Steve’s life. I swear on his grave,” Bucky’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

It rendered you speechless.

“I never wanted to hurt you. And I didn’t want to leave. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

You stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “You ‘didn’t know what else to do’? You left me because you ‘didn’t know what else to do’?”

Bucky shook his head. Regret pooled in his chest, and he wished to take back every stupid word. “That’s not what I meant-” he sighed. “I mean… I’m- I’m not meant for this. To be with someone. To be loved. Bad stuff- really bad stuff- follows me around. The war and the train and Hydra and Zemo and Thanos and the blip and the Flag Smashers and-”

He fought to catch his breath. “I break things. Anything I touch- it gets ruined.” He paused for a moment. Everything inside his head moved too fast. It blurred past him and fell from his lips before he had a chance to make edits. And if he was going to fix this, he needed to be in control.

“I never wanted to break you. Or put you in danger.”

“You never hurt me- physically…” you said. “You know I was never scared of you- I didn’t think I was ever in danger with you. I didn’t think you’d break me-”

“No, I know. I know.” Getting to that point had been hard for him. He shied away from you for so long, scared he’d somehow make you bleed or paint your skin with bruises. But you’d worked with him. You showed him patience and moved at his pace, working through the fear he held.

“What I mean is… I got scared because people knew about us. Our relationship was public. And I was afraid that putting you in the public eye like that would invite danger. A lot of people hate me- they want revenge. Retribution. So I thought…” he rolled his eyes at his past-self, at the version of him who let you get away. “I thought removing myself from your life would ensure your safety.” He shrugged, “no one would have reason to come after you if we weren’t together-”

“And look where we are now…” you said, “Hiding. In a safehouse. Because my life is in jeopardy.” Part of you- the soft side- wanted to show him mercy. To hold him and make him feel safe. To console him. But the side of you who wore brass knuckles and steel toed bootsa prevailed, “That was a really fucking stupid thing to do…”

Bucky gave a pained chuckle, “yeah, I- I know.” His cheeks reddened ever so slightly, and his shoulders slumped with shame. He knew he fucked up. “I’m sorry. About all of it. About leaving. About hurting you- God, I never wanted to hurt you.” The pain in his eyes could’ve made you crumble.

“And I’m sorry about putting you in harm’s way. About abducting you like this.” He took a small step in your direction; he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t drawn to you. But he knew he had no right to exist in such close proximity to the person he hurt. And so he stopped himself, no matter how badly he wished he didn’t have to.

“But to answer your question with full honesty…” he said,  “you’re here because I love you. Because I’ll always love you. And even though you hate my guts- which you absolutely should- I care about you. And I want to keep you safe, as safe as I can. I want to protect you.” He let out a sigh, “And I know you’re not… you’re not mine to protect, but-” The words tasted like vinegar. If Bucky thought hearing them hurt, he was wrong. Saying them was far worse. “you’re here because I would rather die than let anything happen to you.”

He didn’t like the way your shoulders were yanked up near your ears, the way your arms sat crossed over your chest- like you were trying to protect yourself. But he understood. He’d hurt you- badly. Left you gutted and bleeding. He knew you’d never trust another thing he said- rightfully so.

Silent tears flowed freely down your cheeks and dripped down your neck. The weight of Bucky’s words forced you to lean against the nearest wall. Everything your friends said about him, everything your family told you- it was wrong. He wasn’t apathetic. He wasn’t inconsiderate or manipulative. He was just misguided- maybe a little stupid.

“I told myself…” you finally said, “for months, I told myself that you never loved me. That you used me to make yourself feel better.”

Bucky vehemently shook his head, “that’s not-”

“What was I supposed to do? I needed something to make me feel better…” you said. “It was easier to think that you never loved me. But you left me because you loved me? That’s- that was a terrible idea, by the way.”

“I know…”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded from your eyes and left droplets on your shirt. “I want… I want to believe you. I want to believe every nice thing you just said and pick up right where we left off. But I’m…” You pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks, “I’m scared- I’m scared to trust you again. To let my guard down.”

Bucky took another small step in your direction. “That’s fine, that’s… understandable- more than understandable. Smart.”

You nodded.

“And I don’t want you to think- I’m not telling you all of this to convince you to get back together with me. Or to upset you- I never want to hurt you again. You just deserve to know the truth. So…”

He wondered how the two of you got to this point. How you went from domestic bliss to something so ugly. But he knew exactly how it happened- it was his fault. And he didn’t deserve a second chance. He deserved to be alone for the rest of his life while you moved on, found someone new- someone better. He wanted that for you. Of course, he’d rather have you all to himself. But it wasn’t right.

“It’s just- I’ve been regretting… well, everything, since the moment I left. I wish I would’ve talked to you, you know? I wish I was honest. I wish I told you what was going on inside my head.” He ran a hand through his hair, “maybe things would’ve been different.”

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to hear you say these things…” you said. “But now that you’re saying them it feels…” The floor rocked beneath your feet. You teetered to the side and reached for the arm of the couch- it was all too much. The lack of sleep, the emotional exhaustion, the weight of Bucky’s words. You needed to sit.

Bucky reached for you, desperate to help you steady yourself- but he pulled away. He didn’t have permission to touch you. Not anymore.

“Things absolutely would’ve been different,” you let out a deep sigh. Every possible outcome you came up with ended far better than the reality. “Because we would’ve worked through it together. As a team. And no one would’ve gotten hurt.”

All Bucky could do was nod.

“And maybe we’d still end up in this safe house, but we’d probably use it as a makeshift romantic getaway instead of an agonizingly awkward prison sentence.”

The thought brought a smile to Bucky’s face, to yours. It was easy to imagine the two of you camped out in the living room, reading by the fire and drinking old-fashioneds. You’d stay up late watching movies together and sleep until noon. And when the threat was eliminated, you’d almost wish for more danger- anything to keep the two of you in your own little world.

Everything went quiet. Neither of you knew what to say- or if there were any words appropriate for the situation. Was there even anything else to be said? Part of you wanted to retreat to your bedroom. To hide under your covers. But you wouldn’t allow yourself to squander this moment.

A sad smile pulled at your lips. “I don’t know where… where are we supposed to go from here?” You stared at Bucky as though he had all the answers, as though it wasn’t him who burned your world to the ground.

“I don’t think we have to go anywhere,” he said. “Nothing has to change between us- like I said, I’m not trying to change your opinion about me or make you feel bad. When this whole thing blows over, I’ll take you home. I’ll stay out of your hair.” He leaned against the wall opposite you, submitting to his future- and to his past, “I know I can’t change what I did.”

Another long silence filled the space. It pushed its way in between the two of you and rested heavy against your chest. Bucky waited for a curt ‘okay’ or a quick ‘goodnight’, but no such thing came.

“What if I don’t want that?” you said after a while.

He pushed away from the wall, as though your words pulled him upright. “What?”

“What if I want to try again?” Your heart thundered against your chest, growing faster and faster with each passing second.  You stood on the precipice, willing yourself to fall. This was your chance, the opportunity you’d hoped for. And though it sent fear coursing through your veins, you knew you had to jump.

“No matter how many times I tell myself that you hurt me for the fun of it or that you never actually loved me, I don’t believe it. I can’t- even if I want to…” you let out a sad laugh. “Because I know who you are- I know what we had was real. And I think- I know it’s worth trying again.”

A quick flash of pain and anxiety tore through you, hollowing your chest, “And yeah, maybe I’m stupid for being overly optimistic or letting myself be vulnerable with you. But I’m… I’m willing to risk getting hurt all over again.”

Bucky stood stone still, rooted in place. This was all he’d ever wanted. But now that he had it, he feared the thing his heart desired most. What if he fucked up again? What if he hurt you again? What if he squandered his  second chance?

“Are you…” Bucky took a deep breath, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Because you’re the only person I’ll ever want, Buck. Because I love you.”

Bucky never thought he’d hear those words again. And before he knew it, he was on the ground in front of you. He sunk to his knees, incapable of standing any longer. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His tears dampened your skin as he let his head fall against your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he possible could. He feared you’d change your mind, that you’d take back everything you said. And if you did, he at least wanted to know that he held you. That he touched you one last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry- you have no idea how sorry I am”, he said between sharp breaths. “I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna make it all up to you, okay? I promise. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you, that I’d rather die than lose you again. And I’m-”

“Okay, hey… let’s relax a bit.” You met him on the floor and pulled his head against your chest. You ran a hand along his back, soothing him. His shaky breaths were so sharp, so ragged, that they seemed almost painful. “Breathe, Buck. I love you, okay? And I know you love me- I know. You don’t have to prove it.”

Bucky tried to deliver a rebuttal, but you wouldn’t allow it.

“Hey- it’s okay. We’re okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair, eliciting a deep sigh from his chest. “We’re both tired. And emotional. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? It’s the middle of the night- we can talk things through in the morning.” You gently pulled his head from your chest and swiped the tears from his cheeks. Touching him again, holding him, provided the salve you needed. The wound in your chest started healing. The pain ceased. And for the first time in almost a year, you felt whole.

Your hands found Bucky’s and pulled him up right. With a gentle tug, you led him in the direction of your room.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s go to bed, baby.”

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

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl l @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll  @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​ @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem@avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky​

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[mortifiedatbeingknown]

"Journal"

Masterpost:

The journal lay on the desk, pure and untouched. Eighty pages of blank, white pages stared up at him, as if defying his pen to make so much as a mark on them. 

I can’t do this. 

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t… 

And yet he stayed. He could walk away, technically. Mistress hadn’t ordered him to finish this task, only suggested it, as if that made any difference. She thought this would be a good thing for him, a fun thing. She’d sounded so genuinely excited when bringing the topic up. 

At that point, How could he disappoint her? 

Gingerly, he flipped to the first page. That was the easy part. Here there were instructions laid out, clear and simple and comforting. 

“This book belongs to: ______________.” 

“Date started:________________________.”

“Date finished:________________________.” 

The first line he finished both quickly and proudly. Not every master had deemed him fit worthy of a name, but she had, and for that he was very grateful. Though he’d never voice such a blasphemous thought aloud, of all the identifiers he’d been called throughout his life, hers was his favorite. 

The second line was also easy, in no small part to his Mistress’ generosity in allowing him the use of a nearby calendar. The third was perhaps easiest of all, for it required no writing. One, two, three, and the page was complete. 

Now…there was only everything else. 

This is for you, Mistress had said. Her fingertips grazed his own as she handed it over, and he’d first felt the soft, solid weight of its leather cover. If there’s anything you want to write, you can write it here. And if you don’t want to write, draw whatever you want! This is yours, and yours alone. I won’t ever look at it if you don’t want me to. 

It was that final line that made him the most uneasy. If she never looked, how was she to know whether he accomplished his work or not? He could shut the book right now without touching a single page, and she’d be none the wiser. How could she be fine with that? Didn’t she care whether or not he was obedient? 

He tightened his grip on his pencil, focusing his attention back to the current task at hand. The temptation to deceit did not matter, as he had no intention of acting so maliciously. All he had to do, as best he could guess, was mark the paper. 

But what kind of mark? Writing? Drawings? He could do both rather competently, but on what subject? And in what style? What would please his mistress best? 

He leaned forward. His hands shook. And then slowly, imperceptibly, a dot of ink shivered down and silently fell, forever marring the pristine, white surface. 

His first reaction was horror. His next relief. It was something. He’d done something. It wasn’t planned, wasn’t appropriate, and most certainly wasn’t correct, but it was something. He’d followed his Mistress’ words, at least to the letter. He could close the book now guilt-free. 

But…did he want to? 

It was a mark on the page, yes, but it hadn’t been made with intent. It was not purposeful. It was not the work of art his mistress no doubt intended for him to make. Before he thought, his hand lowered and he made another dot, right next to the first one. Two specks of black amongst a sea of paleness, like an inverted version of the night sky. 

The sky… that sparked an idea. If there was another dot there, and another there, a slightly bigger one there… his hand began to fly, now jabbing eagerly as an image began to take shape. A sky, a tree, a lake, a mountain. And there, right in the center, a small lonely figure, staring. Looking up at a world that didn’t make sense, a white sky dotted with black stars. A world so different from everything he’d been told, so immense and magnificent and paralyzing in the freedom it offered. A world that now beckoned, even though the figure was too afraid to take so much as a single step. 

His final strokes were slow, and hesitant, as if not wanting to face the truth of what the piece needed to be truly complete. Still, his hands moved as ordered, carving out stroke after stroke of long dark hair onto the figure’s waiting scalp. Long, dark hair…exactly like his own.  

#whump #whumpee #whump writing #recovery whump #whump oneshot #whump drabble

[stayteezdreams]

Plot: The last thing Hyunjin wants while he is sick is to be alone. Good thing for him, you have no intention of letting that happen.

Request: Hiii can I Pls request a fic Where Hyunjin Is sick (maybe he has food poisoning or something) and y/n takes care of him? Requested By: Anonymous

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of general illness and medicine.

A/n: I had some writers block during this and struggled to finish it, so sorry it's a bit bleh!

Words: 0.8k

Hyunjin frowned as he stared up at his ceiling. His head was still aching as his stomach cramped occasionally. He knew the worse was over but he barely had any strength to get out of bed.

As his phone buzzed beside him, he snatched it up, smiling softly when he saw a text from you appear.

'Have you tried eating anything?'

Hyunjin pouted a bit, knowing you were going to be upset at his reply.

'Not yet.'

' >:( '

He chuckled softly at your response as his eyes moved to the door, when he heard someone enter. He figured it must be Han or Changbin back from the studio. He hummed softly as he wondered if he could get them to make him something. He shook his head at the thought, knowing the last thing they wanted to do was coddle and take care of him right now.

He groaned as he rolled over, shoving his face into his pillow. He hated being sick, and he hated being sick and alone.

Hearing his door creak open he peered over his shoulder and his heart jumped. He quickly flipped over, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over him at the sudden movement.

You grinned gleefully at him from his door "Hey hey!"

Hyunjin grinned as he reached out his arms in a dramatic fashion, "My baby!"

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, giving into his grabby hands as he pulled you down onto the bed and hugged you tightly.

"Why didn't you say you were coming?" He mumbled into your neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to your skin.

"I wanted to surprise you. Besides, how could you think I'd leave you all alone when you're sick?"

You smiled as you pulled away enough to look at him. You pressed your palm to his cheek, and then his forehead as he watched you fondly.

"Are you starting to feel better?"

He nodded with a soft smile before he pressed his forehead against yours, "Even better now."

You giggled softly as you hugged him. "I'm gonna make you something okay?"

Hyunjin grinned as he pressed his face into your neck and nodded, before quickly tightening his grip, "In a little while."

You giggled, wanting to resist, knowing he needed something on his stomach, but as he hummed contentedly into your neck you gave in. Honestly, you missed him, so maybe a little cuddling wasn't such a bad idea.

A few minutes of cuddling turned into half an hour before you were finally able to pry yourself away from Hyunjin, much to his protest.

You were in the kitchen for about ten minutes before you heard him softly pad into the room. You smiled at his messy hair and tired face as he sat nearby, watching as you made him some soup.

Hyunjin felt his chest grow warm as he watched you cook for him. He had loved the thought of you taking care of him, but now seeing it happen made him even happier. He could see the love you held for him as you cooked, making sure everything was perfect.

As the soup cooked, you gave him all of your attention and he felt all the more loved for it. The way you made him tea and gave him medicine. The way you checked his temperature and kissed his forehead made him forget any pain or discomfort he was in. He adored you, and knew the second he was feeling better, he would do something for you.

He smiled contentedly as he sipped on the soup you gave him. It wasn't too strong as to not upset his stomach, but it was perfect enough to send waves of warm comfort through him.

"I'll make you a hot bath after we eat so you can relax before going to bed okay?"

He grinned softly at you as he nodded, "I feel so special." He mused and you giggled softly.

"You are special."

He knew he was blushing softly at your teasing and sweet remarks, but he didn't mind. He gave you his own teasing grin as he looked over at you.

"Will you join me?"

You repressed your smile as you looked at him innocently. "Hmm, I don't know. I was thinking of leaving once I was done eating."

He immedietely frowned at your words and whined. "Why would you leave me?"

You chuckled, failing to play along with our own joke. "I'm kidding, I wasn't gonna leave."

He pursed his lips, "You're so mean."

Shaking your head in amusement you watched as he continuously glanced at you before he finally mumbled, "So is that a yes or a no?"

You laughed before you nodded your had, "Fine, I'll join you."

He grinned as he happily continued to eat his soup, at a bit of a quicker pace than before. You smiled as you watched him, loving how you had this effect on him, but knowing he had the exact same on you.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669

Stray Kids Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf

#hwang hyunjin/reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin/reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids/reader #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin fic #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids imagine #stray kids fic #hyunjin whump #hyunjin sick!whump #stray kids whump #skz fanfic #skz imagine #skz x reader

[emeraldborealis]

You Never Left

Pairing: Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst, mention of torture, reader is held captive, blood, hallucinations, gender neutral pronouns but use of lass/lassie, no use of y/n, my attempts of writing a Scottish accent.

A/N: My first time writing COD, an entry for @glitterypirateduck 's SoapItUp challenge.

Prompts used: 14. I've been looking for you. 10. I won't let anything happen to you. 20. Just a little more. 11. I'll take care of you.

Part Two

Words: 2,490

The fan blades incessantly spun above you, cutting out the only source of light in the room, plunging you into total darkness before bathing you in blinding light over and over again, moving at a speed that your eyes could never fully adjust to the light or the darkness.

It was proving to slowly drive you insane. A way to keep your senses constantly disoriented.

You'd lost track of how long you'd been stuck here, sometimes unsure if you were even still alive or if even the grim reaper had forgotten to come collect you.

The only indicator you had that you were even still a person was the cool metal of the chair you were tied to, and the grounding pain of the rope tied too tight biting into your raw wrists.

Pain, constant pain of some kind was all you could even feel.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, it was a simple recon mission, supposed to have been an in and out thing, but everything had gone horribly wrong, bad mission intel, and trusted the wrong sources.

And when push came to shove you were left behind to save the rest of the team, a necessary loss.

The sound of footsteps approaching didn't elicit fear in you like it had once, it was nothing but the announcement of more pain.

It didn't matter anymore, eventually you'd die from the beatings, the dehydration, the starvation, the rats were placing bets on which would come first so they could nibble on your corpse, waste not want not.

A tingling sensation ran up your spine at the sound of the heavy metal door creaking open, two men walking in.

"C'mon lass, chin up. Don't give them the satisfaction of ye giving up." A familiar phantom of a voice rang in your ears, but he wasn't here. Not really. Still, the echo of falsities gave you strength. The desperation to truly hear that voice again.

"Not dead yet, are we?" A forceful grip grabbed your chin, tilting your head up. The sudden movement puts spots in your vision, the taste of blood strong in your throat and mouth. "Hand me that rag." Your captor spoke to his companion, who quickly supplied the rag.

"Here you go sir." You didn't recognize this man, he was younger, probably new, fresh out of whatever training a terrorist group like this gives their soldiers.

"Let's get you cleaned up, your soft face is being obstructed by all this blood of yours." Your captor spit on the rag and got to work roughly wiping under your broken nose, making you wince. "Hush, I'm taking good care of you, if you handle this well maybe I'll even reset your nose properly."

You didn't say anything, you didn't have anything to say. You knew the routine, he'd come in here, beat you within an inch of your life, leave you for a few days then come back acting sweet, just to clean you up in the roughest way possible.

"Sir, why do we even keep them?" The new guy asked a bit meekly, blinking his eyes weirdly, clearly getting annoyed by the fan blades too.

"Just what the higher ups want, they think they have intel. So don't question it." He hissed at the younger boy, rubbing with the scratchy dirty rag at a cut on your cheek, somewhere the skin had split open from one of his punches. The bone was probably fractured, it definitely needed stitches or butterfly bandages.

You had to fight yourself from blacking out, the pain almost blinding with the way he was assaulting already searing wounds. "Stay wi' me." John urged, his voice nothing short of a command, spoken in his harsh captain voice.

"This is your own fault, remember that. If you hadn't tried to escape, things would be better for you right now." Your captor taunted you, holding your cheek and rubbing your cut with his calloused thumb, picking away any remaining scabbing the rag didn't remove to keep you bleeding.

Keep the wound from healing and closing.

Truthfully it was foolish to try and escape, the echoes of the memory replaying in your mind like a drum, the patter of your bare feet running on the cold harsh ground of the hallways, not knowing where to even run, which way was the exit, relying solely on the voice of John guiding you.

"No' that way." He'd warned, the strange shadow of him blocking the way down a hallway. "Go that way." He'd pointed another way, and you'd followed, listened.

Each step you took sent another wave of pain through you, but you'd persisted. "Stop." John spoke directly into your ear, making you halt, hearing a set of footsteps you previously hadn't before.

They were coming your way, you couldn't turn around. You were out of options. "Run, go. Noo." And you'd listened, putting every ounce of yourself into your shaky sore legs, running like mad in the way you'd hoped was the exit.

And it was.

You'd made it an entirety of five steps out and away before being tackled and dragged back inside, you'd screamed your vocal cords to shreds, screamed until you'd tasted iron in your lungs. But the pain in your throat didn't compare to the punishment you'd gotten for your attempt of escape.

"Where did you think you'd go? I mean really. Your team left you a long time ago, remember? They abandoned you, saw you as less than and tried to save themselves. They aren't ever going to come back for you. You're going to die here." Your captor reminded you, patting your head, snapping you back to the present.

Maybe he was right, you were going to die here. They weren't coming back for you. You were never going to make it out of here. You knew that from the beginning.

But yet you kept pushing, being told to hold on, being called back from the brink of death by the only ounce of hope you had left, your Johnny. He'd shown up at some point after your capture, probably the result of one too many punches to your fragile face.

"We'll be back later, try and think real hard about what we want from you, if you just tell us what we want, I promise to make your end painless, no more of this. You won't have to see my face again." Your captor pulled away, proposing the idea of death as a tender mercy. Maybe it would be. "Remember who left you here, loyalty means nothing when they're the reason you're here."

He made a point, but even still. You wouldn't talk, because they never really left you. John- Johnny, was still here with you.

Dozing off events from your early capture would replay in your mind, the bumpy blind rides you'd been on with a sack over your head, being moved locations several times before ending up in what your captor liked to call your 'tomb'.

You didn't know how long it was waiting for your captor to come back, hours, maybe days. He liked to leave you in anticipation.

But he never came back.

The sounds of gunfire and explosions sounded like nothing but another distant memory.

The sound of the heavy metal door creaking open would always bring a chill up your spine, something trained and beaten into you, to fear that sound.

You didn't care to look up, too much exhaustion and dehydration weighing your head down, you knew who it was. He'd move your head for you to force you to look at him. "I've been looking fur ye."

The sound of his voice, his actual voice, brought your bloodshot eyes to wander up to the door, landing on your captain who was already directly in front of you, kneeling to cut your binds around your feet.

Your eyes desperately raked over him, the scar on his cheek, the curve of his nose, the stubble on his face, his ears you liked to nibble on in secret, his Adam's apple, his broad shoulders.

Back up to his blue eyes, the blue eyes you'd looked into so often you'd memorized each fleck of lighter blues against darker blues, something so beautiful that you'd never been able to put them into words. You drank all of him in.

"Are you real?" Your voice croaked out, sounding hoarse and shaky, it was barely recognizable as your voice, but the pain that accompanied it proved to you that it was indeed your voice who asked.

"Aye, aye lassie, I'm real." The state of you made him take pause, pressing his forehead to yours, gently holding the nape of your neck to bring you closer to him. He needed to acknowledge for just a moment you were alive before he moved behind you to cut the rest of your binds.

The ropes holding you to the chair were all that were keeping you up, when they were cut you were released, he had to rush to catch you before you could hit the floor. "Easy. I got ye. I won't let anything happen to ye." Holding your shoulders he moved around you to face you again, pulling his canteen out for you. He brought it to your cracked, dry lips to give you some water, careful not to drown you all at once. "I'm getting ye out o' here."

Once he was satisfied with the small amount you drank he grabbed you by the arm, hauling you over his shoulder to carry you out.

Everything was a bit hazy, the whole way out, you could identify the sounds of your other teammates voices, the sounds of the helicopter, a prick in your arm, and coolness spreading in your veins, but nothing was clear. Nothing but the fact you were safe.

Things didn't become clear until you were opening your eyes, hearing an irritable beeping sound, a steady rhythm. Looking down at yourself your wrists were bandaged, two IV's in your right arm, one in your hand, the other on the inside of your elbow.

"Yer awake." A hand came to gently touch your head, coming in gentle contact with one of the bandages there.

Despite the fluids being brought back into you through the IV's your throat still ached with dryness, your captain seemed to take notice of it, quickly moving to bring you some water, gently holding a straw to your lips so you could drink.

The coolness of the water worked to both soothe your throat and highlight the pain there. You Pulled away but John didn't seem quite satisfied yet. "Just a wee bit more." He urged, and you complied.

After that some nurses and doctors came in to check on you, completing their rounds and making sure all was well with you and that you were comfortable, well, as comfortable as you could be.

John stayed the whole time, and after the nurses and doctors left he remained, a silence between you two.

He ran his hand over his mohawk, it was cut recently, a little shorter than the last time you saw it, a testament of just how long you really have been gone.

"I'm sorry, I never meant tae leave ye." His voice sounded a bit pained, trying to clear his guilty conscience.

"You never left. I always heard you, shadows all around me, prickles on the back of my neck. Your voice pushing me. Picking me up. When all the colors were black, you're the reason I'm still alive." It hurt to speak still, but you needed to get it out, it did little to comfort him, if anything making him look more worried.

"Love, I'm sorry. It shouldn't have been ye. Anyone but ye. Me. It should have been me. Not ye." He slipped from his chair, kneeling beside you, clutching your left hand with desperation, but gentle enough not to hurt you. He kissed your hand, over and over, each knuckle, each little mark, scar, bandaged blister, callous, everything.

It hurts to move your right arm with the IV's, not to mention the overwhelming weight of your bones. But you needed to, bringing your hand to gently rub his head, feeling his short hair, running along the slightly longer mohawk, grounding both of you with the sensation.

"It's not your fault. Everyone would have died if you stayed, it was a necessary sacrifice. A call I would have told you to make." Your hand slipped from his head, feeling too exhausted to be able to keep it there.

"I spent so many nights desperately searching fur ye. The only thing- the only thing that kept me going wis the thought of finding ye. I needed tae find you." Hearing his voice, really hearing his voice was something so grounding and comforting to you.

The familiar rumble and fluctuations, the Scottish accent that's mellowed out over the years of service, adjusting with hearing other's accents for so long, a lot of his slang being replaced by slang in the areas he spent time, his accent becoming a shell of what it used to be, changed so he could be easily understood. But ever present.

"You did, you found me. I'm okay. I'll be okay now." You had to say it out loud to reassure yourself that you weren't still tied to that cool metal chair, the fan blades spinning overhead, always waiting for the next dose of pain to bring you closer to the edge of blackness. Death.

Recovery sounded almost impossible, you were sure you'd never fully get over what happened to you, that the psychological as well as physical scars would always remain.

Taunt you with each flickering of light, the sound of metal, the taste of iron, each time you closed your eyes you were sure you'd see your captor, his interrogations and questions would always repeat like a broken record in your head.

But you yourself weren't broken, you made it through.

"I swear I'll never let ye go again, I'll take care of ye. Till my very last breath. I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for the pain I put ye through by leaving ye there." His words were spoken with absoluteness, a testimony more than a promise.

"Just never stop speaking to me and I'll be alright, as long as your voice is here to ground me I'll make it through." His blue eyes bore into you, they were soft, filled with longing.

It was so stupid to fall for your captain, not to mention against so many rules, even more stupid for him to fall for you too. There was only one way this could end, you were lucky this time. But who's to say you will be next time?

You shook the thought from your head, pulling him weakly with your left hand up to you, kissing him softly. He was hesitant at first, scared of hurting you, but he melted into it. Relishing having you back safe. 

#soapitup #x reader #oneshot #reader insert #gender neutral reader #cod fandom #john mactavish x reader #captain soap mactavish #cod #captain john mactavish #og soap #angst #whump #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #cod soap #cod soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #john mactavish #cod fanfic

[gettinshiggywithit]

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

Summary: In which you find out loki’s secret and he fears your reaction.

Pairing: loki x reader

Genre: fluff ,maybe a hintt of angst

W/c: 928

A/N: saw someone talking abt jotun loki and my brain went brrrrr.Wrote this at 5/6 in the morning on 0 sleep so apologies in advance!If yall liked it id love to hear your thoughts

Marvel MasterList

A frost giant.unbelievable.

Loki stood in odin’s vault,hands firmly gripping the handles of the casket. He watched as his skin changed to an icy blue,an equally icy chill running down his spine. The all father had conveniently fallen into the odin-sleep.

“Leaving me when i need him…typical” he said to himself. It wasn’t like he had an audience and with him being the acting ruler,and his mother being in his ‘father’s’ chambers, he needn’t fear intrusion.

The only person aware of his little secret,who was awake anyway, was his mother and he intended to keep it that way.for as long as he could.

Eliminating thor would guarantee him the throne and by destroying jotunheim,he’d garner enough of the public’s love to hopefully keep his throne,should his secret come to light.

‘Does heimdall know?’ He wondered to himself.

‘No matter,He can be dealt with if necessary”

Loki was so lost in thought that he missed the,

“There you are!” You huffed out.

You marched on upto him and noticed he wasnt…himself.

At this sudden revalation, you started taking quieter,more measured steps towards the boyfriend-shaped figure in front of you.

You let out a tentative “loki?” To which he jolted, his hands immediately letting go of the casket and his now-red eyes staring at you with both surprise and slight fear. Not fear of you,but the fear of being discovered.

“Y/n, dont…dont do that.” He said letting out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding in. And when you didn’t reply, instead merely staring at him in bewilderment, he suddenly remembered how he looked. He stumbled backwards, his hands flying to brace himself against the stand of the artefact behind him.

His finger gently brushed against the casket and the fading blue returned once again.

Noticing this, he pulled his hands to his front.clasping them and lookin on at you,awaiting your reaction.

What would you do? Yell at him? Leave him? Threaten to tell the rest of asgard?

All the worst possibilities ran around his head and he began to tear up.

He was broken out of his turbulant thoughts by your hand brushing against his cheek.

He was shocked, to say the least.

Of all the reactions he’d thought up,this wasnt one.

He leaned into your touch,fearing this would be the last time he would feel it,your soft cold hand against his wretched skin.

“What is this loki?” You ask in a whisper,staring at him with not fear,not anger,but wonder and curiosity.

You were now stood quite close to eachother not impossibly so, but quite.

“I-“

“Were you cursed?”

“In a manner of speaking…y-”

“Does it hurt?”

You knew what he was,you’d seen frost giants before so it wasn’t illiteracy that made you disregard his current state.

You really were asking him if he was okay as he stood before you, a blue monster,kin to those you’d fantasised about killing in your youth…

Was this real?

He needed to know it was,so he spelled it out for you,

“Y/N,im a Frost giant.”

He let out in a voice laden with melancholy,regret and was that fear you heard?

“I know” you merely replied as you traced the patterns on his skin.

At this he pulled your hand away and held it.

“What do you mean you know?! Y/N im a monster! Dont you understand!”

Your expression shifted to one of annoyance,another unforseen reaction.

“I understand quite clearly loki.”

“Then why haven’t you-”

“Why haven’t i run out screaming? Cursing you? Why havent i tried to kill you?”

His silence told you that was exactly what he was about to ask, more or less.

You sighed before stepping towards him and placing his hand on your shoulder,he flinched but didn't move otherwise.

You took this as your go-ahead and wrapped him in a hug.

You stayed there for a good three minutes in silence before saying,

“Loki,i dont give a single ratatosk whisker if you’re a jotun.i love you.”

You pulled away at that to look him in the eyes and saw the tears forming there.

As they fell from his eyes,you caught them with your thumb and placed in on tongue.

Now it was his turn to look at you in confusion.

You waited a beat before saying, “for a jotun you cry asgardian tears.”

He smiled at that,scoffing at your antics.

“You’re ridiculous”

“Yeah well im also yours so get used to it” you said as you went in for another hug and this time he hugged back holding you like you were the most precious thing in all the nine realms,and to him,you were.

“Are you sure?” He whispered out,almost like he hoped you wouldnt hear.

“Always.And never forget it” you said,pressing a soft kiss to his lips which had him chasing yours as you pulled away.

“Why did you come down here anyway?” He asked finally realising it was rather odd for you to have come to the artefacts vault;unless there was a purpose for your visit that is.

“Ah yes, Frigga was calling you.” You said pulling away and pulling him by the arm towards the exit.

“Alright then” he said as he let you drag him out of the chamber that held his secrets. You really were something else,and he’d never been more grateful for anyone in his entire life.

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#📚 Jaya’s tales #🐍 loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki fluff #whump writing #loki whump #loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #loki drabble #loki oneshot

[sleepyangelkami]

heyyyy so this is kinda random but I love your writing and I was wondering if you've played/watched Tlou and if you did could you maybe write something for Ellie Williams.... thanks for considering!

-Anon 🧶

JADED TWILIGHT e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 3.2K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - a mission leads to a very overstimulated reader, good thing her girlfriend, ellie williams, is there to protect her when the night falls and she recovers from the stressful mission underneath the blankets of jackson.

☆ WARNINGS - intended lower case, overstimulated reader, crying, yelling, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

she could tell before you even approached home that was jackson. she could tell by the way your words of input slowly died down within the last day and how you opted to simply nodding your head every now and again though you knew it would not suffice.

ellie williams knew you better than you did yourself, she knew your quirks like they were her own, she spent so much time studying you that if she had to take an exam on it, she'd pass with flying colors. she knew when you got overstimulated. she knew exactly how it went because every single time was the same. at first it was the draw backs, the way you excluded yourself from an important conversation or how you opted to only speaking when spoken to, when words were forced out of you.

ellie did her best to support you then, she'd get the attention off you, she'd bring up a point you had mumbled underneath your breath only modifying it in the slightest and when everyone would thank her for such a good idea, she always pointed the attention back on you, the good kind. her heart ached when you'd smile though it didnt quite reach your eyes.

when the drawbacks became still too much, you had no choice but to draw back from ellie too, worrying you may snap. overstimulation wasn't always wet tears and sulking, it often resulted in your face contorted into an angry frown and when someone said something a little too harsh, something you'd let off on a normal day, you had your mouth open and something crude falling from your lips.

you were always a quiet girl, you didn't speak much when you were angry though it sometimes showed on your face. don't get me wrong, you loved chatting away to Jesse, Dina, even Tommy, you had this thing where your mouth wouldn't stop moving the minute you became excited about something. but by no means had you ever said something rude to someone, even when they were the ones to start it. ellie always scolded you for this, claiming they'd keep doing it again until you said something but you couldn't help but shrug, claiming that you didn't wish to hurt anyones feelings, even if they had hurt yours.

but it was times like this, when everything had become too much that you couldn't seem to care. the older men stomped on you for being small, young, someone so fragile that you surely couldn't help yourself let alone them. ellie felt pride bubble in her when you stuck up for yourself, your voice raising causing their eyes to widen, glances thrown at one another. they hadn't expected you to blow up, how could they when you were as fragile as a flower.

ellies pride could only simmer down when she realised why you were yelling. it wasnt because you were angry with them, though you had every right to be, you were angry with everything around you, the overstimulation got to you and you couldnt help the ansty bursts. while she would have praised you for sticking up for yourself, claiming she was so very proud she could only feel pitiful when you stomped your feet away from them all, tears burning the edges of your eyes. she knew that look too well. guilt.

ellie never confronted you about this during the admiss of overstimulation, she knew it was simply one more thing you couldn't handle. so, she let you be because no matter what, she'd be here at the very end, when you were ready. so she let you slump against her arm that night, allowed you to bask in whatever affection you could get. she brought her hand uo to pet your head, only stopping when she saw the tears forming. she'd mumbled out something like "oh, princess." too much sympathy in her voice to ignore. she plastered a chaste kiss onto the crown of your head and let you silently fall asleep, your soft skin sitting on the scratchy fabric of her jacket. she didn't mind when you needed her comforting silence, she always offered it up to you without so much as a protest. she knew you needed sleep if you were going to make it back to jackson that next day.

turns out she was right. she could tell as bad as you were now, the night of her comfort had soothed you so very slightly, but that meant a lot, nontheless. the ride home you were silent but you no longer looked angry. tired, upset, yes, but not angry. ellie was happy with this. of course, she never wished to see her girl upset but it was indefinitely better than angry because as fragile and sweet as you were, when you were angry you couldn't stop your mouth, something was bound to fall out even if it wasn't necessarily mean, just enough to have guilt hanging over your shoulders. 

the mission was hard, even for her, she couldn't imagine how tired her sweet angel was. you shared a horse, ellie in the front. your cheek was lazily pressed against her back, hands softly placed around her waist so you didn't fall off. she couldn't wait to welcome the jackson gates with open arms, she couldn't wait to have you in bed, resting, it was well deserved. you put your heart and soul into missions, she knew this, everyone did, sometimes it simply took too much out of you, however, and this was normal, of course but ellie never wished to see you upset even if it wasn't something she could help. 

the chatter amongst the others was louder than before, much more laughter filling the air now that everyone had relaxed, everything went swimingly, everyone happy, they were beyond exited to go home, to rest. of course it wasn't their fault they were so happy but ellie wished nothing more than to shove a hand on their mouths and tell them to "shut the fuck up" because you were tired and the loud noises could only add to the overstimulation. 

the gates neared faster than any of them could have imagined, any of them other than ellie, who felt the ride home was excruciatingly long. the gates opened, people were met with the biggest of grins, the brightest of laughs, the adoration and pure awe of their bravery, how they had risked anything for their town again and again and yet the only thing ellie could focus on was your face. as always, maria shooed everyone away in seconds, telling them they stunk of something absurd that they were in desperate need of a shower which was merely a decoy, of course. she did this so the tired beings could simply go home, shower if they wished and if not then so be it, rest as best they could instead of being swarmed by doting smiles, as sweet as they were, they didn't seem so understanding when running on how much sleep they had been running on. 

home. something you had been in desperate need of, not an all-out giggling session with dina or a bear hug given by your absolute favourite hugger jesse, you needed home, with ellie. you were the first to reach your shared home, of course with your eagerness causing you to all but rush into the house, ellie hot on your heels but unfortunately not fast enough as you had been. she ignored the way the snow annoyingly crunched underneath her feet, she ignored the smell of her hoodie and the way her hair was falling out of her seemingly perfect half up half down do. she ignored everything so she could rush into the house right after you only with calm, gentle footsteps. careful not to upset you further. 

ellie was anything but soft, but with you, she was anything other than so. you were an angel, a princess in desperate need of worshiping, she'd offer everything she could and serve it to you on a golden platter. but she knew better, you'd simply swat the gold away to reach her own face. you were like that. you didn't care for any riches or gold, only for the love and adoration of one girl and one girl alone. ellie fucking williams. 

she reached the bedroom after you did, kicking her boots off in the hallway before she entered. she wasn't shocked to see you sitting on the bed already, your shoes neatly put beside one another at the foot of the bed, your knees up to your chest and your head laying on top of it, wishing on everything for the nagging pain in your head to subside. "hey, baby, it's okay. you're home." home. it did little to ease your nerves for you knew you were home already, before you had entered the building. you were home whenever you were with ellie but sometimes even she couldn't hide you away from the evil thoughts gracing your mind. "i've got you." so gently did she take your arms in her own. her lips gently kissed your neck, she didn't squeeze you like jesse did when he was excited, she took you in her arms and held you, not tight, gently and softly, a warm and homely place like no other. you couldn't hold it in anymore, not with her tender touch. you moved swiftly, hugging her back only tighter than before, your head burried into the crook of her neck. stressed hiccups leaving your lips. "c'mon baby, talk to me." with the softest voice she could muster. 

she hated to see you cry, hated to hear you cry, anything that involved your small tears dripping down your cheeks had her gut twisting in a horrid way. "i tried, i really tried." was all you could pant into her neck, all but sobbing straight onto her cotton hoodie. 

"and you did amazing, pretty girl." she knew it would help even if it was in the littlest way. " 'm so proud of you for being a good girl the whole time." but contrary to her words, you felt anything but a 'good girl'. 

you sniffled heavily, shaking your head in her embrace. you made a noise of disagreement. "no- i yelled at them and i didn't mean to- i didn't wanna be mean." guilt weighing you down even if you couldn't put it into the words you wished you could. 

you heard a tut from your girlfriend as her hands soothed your waist. "if you didn't say anything, i would've." she spoke tenderly, her lips coming to gently place against the crown of your hair. "when you think about it, you did them a favour, imagine i got to them, huh?!" with a small laugh she pulled away, wanting nothing more than to see your pretty face. "the sorry suckers would've been all the way in canada by now!" her lighthearted voice speaking as if you were a child but you didn't protest, quite the opposite actually, you felt merely soothed by it. "baby, you did the right thing, okay?" 

you sniffled yet nodded, despite the fact you didn't believe her. you didn't do the right thing, how could yelling ever be the right thing? you wanted so badly to put your guilt into words but you couldn't, it simply wasn't possible. "i hate feeling like this." you opted for, a break in your voice as you mumbled it out. 

overstimulation. you hated overtimulation. "i know, baby but you handled it so well, didn't you?" practically gushing over you as she pulled you closer to her further, you were practically sitting on her lap, your feet draped over the other side of her legs. "you were so brave, my brave girl." there was something about the fearless, powerful, courageous and valiant ellie williams calling you brave, nevertheless her brave girl that could only make your heart swoon. "c'mon why don't we get cleaned up?" 

and that was exactly what you did. you took turns showering, ellie being first and then you. you let the hot water hit your back, admittedly, too hot to be a normal shower. you knew that if ellie had saw you, had felt the temperature of the water, she surely would have had something to say, something to scold you about but ellie wasn't here now and you needed this. you needed the reminder that you were here, in your bathroom, without anyone else. you needed the reminder that you were home, that all the evil thoughts could leave because there was nothing wrong. ellie was outside the bathroom, picking a movie, and you were showering in the comfort of your own bathroom, you were safe. 

ellie had picked out your clothes, as she usually did. sometimes, you swore she thought you were a doll, one that she could dress, one she did the hair of, picked out what you ate, drank, one she could pick apart and get to know every square inch of. and if you were being honest with both her and yourself, you adored it more than anything in the entire world. you slipped your white long sleeved top over your head, ignoring the way it became very slightly see through due to the droplets of your hair, then slipping on one of ellie's pairs of boxers. you assumed that she thought it served well enough as a pants for she hadn't left anything else out for you to wear. 

you didn't mind, however, there was something about the way your slightly pink skin, still hot from the shower, the way your damp hair sat at your back and your smooth skin was on show that seemed so homely. you were comfortable here. you didn't have to worry for how ellie would react to your bare legs or your completely clean of make up face. ellie was like that, she made you feel so... sheltered, warm. 

when you exited you and ellie's shared bathroom, your eyes immediately flickered to your girlfriend, who was sat atop the large bed, fiddling with the projector. she looked up upon hearing your entrance. "hey, sweet girl." a goofy grin instantly falling on her lips. "nice shower?" 

you nodded your sleepy head as you took a seat on the bed next to your girlfriend. her hair had almost completely dried and you just now realised how unfair it was that she got to be in sweatpants and you didn't, a black tee falling across her figure. "which one did you pick?" you questioned as you let your head fall on the back of her shoulder, cheek squishing against her top to which she paid no mind to. 

"the swan princess." holding up a rather girly dvd packet. when she turned to look at you, she physically held in a coo at your figure, all cosy against her. 

you had to stop the small giggle leaving your lips. "you hate that movie." it was true. almost every time you watched the cartoon, she had something to say about derek's 'god awful haircut' or the fact that jean bob was the only good part of the entire movie, always stating that odette seemed rather suspicious, you always shrugged her off, of course. 

she looked at your face, skin slightly damp from your shower, cheeks flush and pink. she couldn't stop herself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss against your lips. "yeah but it's your favourite." she whispered, leaning back only slightly so that when her lips moved, they slightly brushed against your own. 

your smile widened if it were even possible. "i love you, els." the nickname falling from your lips so perfectly, ellie wished she could frame this moment into her mind forever. 

"i love you so much more, pretty girl." leaning in closer, if possible. 

your eyes glanced from her lips up to her eyes. "liar." a small giggle falling past your lips until hers were on yours once more. this kiss lasted longer than her usual peck, it was passionate, one that had your face falling backwards as she practically captured your lips as her own. she kissed you hard, though her hands kept at her sides, not moving for the pure bliss of the kiss was well enough. 

she pulled away for breath, your lips only chased hers for a second before you too leaned back for air. she grinned, looking into your eyes as if they were made of every star in the galaxy and you were her favourite constellation. how did she get so lucky? and she didn't mean it in the way many teens did, when they posted a picture of their girlfriend in full makeup, in a dress, stating they were the luckiest person on earth. no. ellie was truly lucky. beyond so. she would love you in any clothes, any light, any face, any body, and yet in front of her was the most unearthly ethereal girl she had ever laid eyes on. you were enchanting. "let's get this movie over with, yeah?" though she didn't truly hate the movie, despite her words. a massive grin splayed on her lips as she finally pulled away. she didn't fear you would leave, she didn't fear you would disappear and turn to dust. for the first time in her life, the 'fearless' girl wasn't scared. you were here. you weren't letting go. it was you and her until the very end, she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. so she clicked on the start to the movie and laid back with peace playing about in her mind because she was here, with you, her angel, and that was how it would stay until all the stars in the galaxy burnt out and every constellation turned to a black dust. 

the night passed, as did the movie. ellie found herself grinning at the way you giggled at something speed had said, something you heard at least a thousand times and still found it funny. she couldn't help but smile down at you in so much adoration as your finger tips traced her tattoo on her arm. she couldn't help but melt into your touch as you cuddled against her, skin so soft and warm. 

the end credits rolled on faster than she had wished and yet she simply pushed her foot out to snap the 'stop' button on the projector, not bothering to move from her place on the bed with you. your eyes were closed, lashes hitting gently against your cheeks as you had wrapped yourself in her arm, cuddled as close as humanly possible. no matter how overwhelmed you could get, you always went back to her. it spoke so many words an action shouldn't have been able to do. "goodnight, princess." a kiss once again against the crown of your head. 

when she laid down into the blankets further, you moved yourself so you had cuddled her further, closer, relaxed breaths falling from your lips. "g'night." it was soft, gentle and caused her brows to furrow. she turned to peer at your face. you were fast asleep and yet managed to mumble out a barely coherent word. 

it was safe to say that night that ellie williams went to sleep with the gentlest and largest of simpers on her face known to man-kind. 

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

#anon 🧶 #ellie #williams #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams masterlist #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams whump #ellie williams smutt #ellie williams the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou 2 #the last of us x reader #tlou imagine #tlou one shot #lesbian #bisexual

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

To Stop Winter

Bucky had never been the chattiest Avenger, and if Y/N was being honest, he scared her a little bit. He was tall, brooding, and had a super-strong metal arm for goodness’ sake! Steve would always assure her that Bucky was quite friendly when you got to know him, but Y/N wasn’t entirely convinced. Nevertheless, she supposed she ought to try to socialize with him a little bit, at least so she wouldn’t be on his bad side.

It was on one of these trips to make conversation with the super soldier that Y/N got the feeling that she was being watched. She shrugged it off and approached him. Bucky was on the couch, reading The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien. Oh. Y/N probably shouldn’t bother him; after all, she didn’t like to be bothered when she was reading, and who knew how cranky he might get if she stopped him during a good part-

“Kid?”

Y/N stiffened, not realizing she had been staring at him.

“Uh, hi,” Y/N said.

“Something you needed?�� Bucky asked.

“Nope, nothing,” Y/N said quickly, “just uh, just looking for Steve. Yeah.”

Bucky paused, his expression unreadable.

“He’s in the training room,” he said.

‘R-right, thanks,” Y/N said, quickly scurrying off.

…

Bucky watched Y/N leave, careful to keep his confusion to himself. Y/N was so flighty, it worried him.

…

Y/N stopped outside the training room. She didn’t want to bother Steve either. Not that he would mind, but still. Y/N turned to go back to her room, but stopped when she realized she’d have to pass through the living room again. That could be awkward…Y/N was just about to open the door when she felt a sudden pinch in her neck. Y/N blinked, puzzled, reaching up to her neck and pulling out a small, black dart.

Y/N’s eyes went wide. She went to call out for Steve when a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. Her shout was quite muffled, and her struggles quickly became feeble. She heard someone speaking in a foreign accent before her eyes fluttered shut and her consciousness faded.

…

Y/N stirred to the sound of voices nearby. She opened bleary eyes and saw two men in dark uniforms with a red symbol embroidered on the shoulder.

“HYDRA?” she mumbled.

The men turned, seeing that their captive was awake. One of them approached her, ruffling her hair.

“Welcome little soldier,” he said, his Russian accent quite thick, “you should be honored to be here.”

Y/N yanked her head away, discovering that she was strapped to an operating chair.

“Wha- what is this?” she asked groggily.

The men ignored her, continuing to speak to each other in Russian. Some scientists entered the room, dressed in white lab coats and immediately going to control panels, flipping switches and pressing buttons.

“Hey- stop- what’s going on!?”

“Ah, how rude of me,” the first man said, “Y/N Y/L/N, you are about to become the first of cryogenically enhanced super soldiers-”

Wait- Y/N already was cryogenically enhanced! Why didn’t she try something sooner? Y/N summoned ice crystals to cut through the straps holding her in place… they melted as soon as they formed.

“Huh!?”

The man stopped speaking when he saw Y/N’s frankly pathetic escape attempt. He laughed, the sound echoing in the room.

“Little soldier,” he said, “did you think we would not take precautions? We have injected a serum that has temporarily disabled your abilities. After all, this operation was risky enough as it is, we will not let you spoil things by leaving. The world needs a Winter Solider, and since the last one is no longer useable, we will take a younger, stronger specimen to enhance.”

The reality of the situation finally sunk in. Y/N’s eyes went wide, and she started to thrash and struggle in her restraints. The scientists continued to work at the control panels, and one of them approached Y/N with a small block of wood.

“I think you will want that,” the HYDRA agent said, “this won’t be a pleasant experience for you.”

The scientist put the block of wood in between Y/N’s teeth. Tears brimmed in her eyes and her breaths came in short and fast. An electric panel was positioned over her left eye. Y/N screwed her eyes shut when she heard the sound of metal ripping apart.

She opened her eyes when no pain came. Scientists and the two agents rushed to the door, but they each fell to the ground as bullets flew through them. Bucky burst through the shredded doorway, automatic rifle in hand.

Y/N spat out the block of wood.

“Bucky!”

Bucky mowed through the rest of the scientists and agents, making a beeline for Y/N. He hoisted the gun over his shoulder and started working on the straps restraining her.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asked.

Y/N nodded. She stood up…and her knees buckled. Bucky caught her before she could hit the ground.

“I-I’m sorry-I don’t know why-“

“You’ve been drugged with who knows what,” he said, “hold on.”

Bucky easily lifted Y/N into a bridal carry. Y/N squeaked, putting her arms around his neck. Bucky rushed Y/N out of the HYDRA base and into the Quin-Jet outside. He laid her down on a padded bench and got in the pilot’s seat, flying them both back to Avengers Tower.

Once the Quin-Jet had been cloaked and was on autopilot, Bucky approached Y/N, crouching down next to her.

“You okay, kid?” he asked gently.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Y/N felt absolutely exhausted.

“They-” she gulped, “they were gonna- I was gonna- how did you find me?”

Bucky smiled.

“I keep a pretty close eye on you, Y/N,” he said, “even HYDRA can’t keep you out of my sight for long.”

“Oh.”

The tears started falling freely now. Y/N suddenly reached up and hugged Bucky as tight as she could manage.

…

Bucky, stunned at first, slowly hugged Y/N back. He’d have to take her to the med bay when they got back to Avengers Tower, who knew what else the HYDRA agents had pumped into her system before waking up.

Bucky didn’t let go until he noticed Y/N had gone limp in his arms. He pulled away to see that she was out cold. Yep, definitely going to the med bay when they got back. He laid her back down and covered her with a blanket, then went back to the cockpit to radio in and let Steve know they were coming.

…

Y/N woke up in the med bay, an IV in her arm and steady beeping filling the silence. She turned her head to the side and saw Bucky, still reading The Return of the King. He looked up, and noticing she was awake, set the book off to the side.

“Hey kid,” he said, “how’re you feeling?”

“Like I slept way too much and not enough at the same time,” Y/N admitted.

“Yeah… they had you on a power-suppressing serum, an analgesic, and a sedative. I’m honestly surprised you woke up when you did.”

The two didn’t say anything for several moments.

“Well, uh,” Bucky started, “I should probably let Dr. Cho know you’re awake.”

Bucky stood up to leave, but Y/N grabbed his hand weakly. He looked down at her.

“Thank you, Bucky,” she said, “for saving me.”

Bucky smiled again, squeezing her hand a little before letting go and heading to the door.

“I’d do it for you anytime, Y/N,” he said.

Y/N wasn’t afraid of Bucky anymore after that day.

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

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