#i just had a major crunch with a different fic

[flownwrong]

and you shall receive (due south fic)

Fraser/Kowalski, rated E; tags: established relationship, panties; 1.7K words

Summary: He wants to ask, what's that about, what were you thinking about, is this a woman thing, is this a gay thing, is this a Ray thing, what, what?—but it feels weird when he's already doing this.

A/N: @nigeltde-fic mentioned Ray and panties in one sentence. I said, I wanna write that. I wrote that. In under two hours. Thanks, Nige!

read on ao3

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," he hears Fraser say. "You can reach detective Kowalski at this number. Please don't hesitate to call if you remember any details."

Ray's at the back, running his fingers over the lavender silk of a camisole. Stella used to have one like this, way back, and it was thin and skin-warm under his fingers when he'd put his arm over her as she read in bed, and he was beat from the long day, squeezing his eyes against the glare of the bedside lamp until he'd pass out, and somehow that was what got him going later, when they had the time and the mood was right, seeing that loose, familiar thing on her when they'd brush their teeth side by side, golden light filtering through the frosted bathroom window, making the silk shimmer—oh yeah, that was the ticket.

Fraser puts a hand on his shoulder, and Ray turns to look, and he has this—expression, staring just above Ray's shoulder. Not deer in the headlights, more like a flashbulb over his head. He licks his lips and looks back to Ray, eyebrows raised.

"Gimme a second," Ray says, and Fraser nods, looks at Ray's hands still on the camisole, nods again and leaves. Ray waits until the wind chimes ding to see what the hell got Fraser's flashbulb on.

It's a rack. With panties. Not the hot pink scratchy monstrosities, but more subdued, all delicate patterns and price tags that bite. Ray takes a deep breath. Okay. Okay. So Fraser has—a thing, which thing? He'd read the files, knows damn well Fraser doesn't mind the implication—and hey, he should ask about that some time. But this is new, and that anybody could look at him and—

"Need a hand, love?"

The lady—the owner, their witness—barely reaches his shoulder and reminds him more of a librarian than a lingerie connoisseur. He sees, actually sees himself nod, like he's staring at the back of his own head. His hands are clammy and—yep, shaking.

"Um," he says, and she puts a hand on his arm, pushes him gently until his nose is practically touching the damn things.

"Let's see about the size." She eyes the rack critically, gives him a once over for good measure.

"Uh," he adds, ever helpful.

She reaches up with this hook-on-a-stick thing, pulls down a pair of navy blue panties from somewhere above their heads and holds them up, as in near his face, for some reason.

"Blue is your color," she says, with the finality of a judge, and pushes the things into his hands. They're soft, satiny, no bells and whistles, just fine dark fabric, except for the little mesh piece in the middle that would be an invitation on a girl, a road to the prize, but on him—probably go right over his dick and—do what? He has no idea.

And then he's somehow out the door, and god, he's really doing this, he is.

He drives Fraser to the consulate in a fog, squeezes his knee weakly and lets him go. Opens his jacket and sticks the little bag into the glove compartment, can't go into the station like this.

He's home before Fraser—thank fuck. 

He stares at the razor, puts it down, feeling a little sick. What if he read this wrong, what if he's—what if he chickens out and misses out on some new and unfamiliar Fraser? Perish the thought.

He showers, feels weird about rubbing down with his old towel, well overdue for laundry. Pads around to the cabinet, dripping on the floor, and grabs the one Fraser bought him because—hell knows why, but it's red and soft and big enough to wrap himself in and he instantly feels better.

The panties aren't exactly uncomfortable, but all he can see in the mirror is his skinny ass and his soft dick and his weird rib cage and—yep, no, they're not doing anything for him. But it's not what this is about, right? So he pulls the sweats over them and leaves the bedroom while he still can.

By the time Fraser's key turns in the lock, he's mostly breathing fine, and the dishes are all done—a necessary evil, something to do to keep himself from going batshit.

Fraser's managed to change and is walking towards him before he can talk himself out of it. Ray meets him in the middle, presses a hesitant kiss to his cheek. Has to hide his face in Fraser's neck then and hold onto his waist, and Fraser's hands come up to hold his shoulders, which, shit, he's got the shakes again, so much for the dishes.

Fraser puts a gentle hand on his face, tilts it up, eyes wide and disbelieving. Fuck knows what his own look like. He wants to ask, what's that about, what were you thinking about, is this a woman thing, is this a gay thing, is this a Ray thing, what, what?—but it feels weird when he's already doing this.

"Hey," he says and manages a smile. Fraser's warm and sure and safe and he feels the chills grow dull, let him go.

"Ray," Fraser says, a question, not a greeting. "You shaved."

He only shaves in the mornings, unless they have some fancypants place to be, which is not often, and even then Fraser has to give him a look, the times he pretends to forget.

"Uh, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck. "You hungry?"

Say no, say no, he begs silently; he's hungry, but his stomach is in knots and he's half-hard from the adrenaline alone—and yep, the mesh is stretching over him, not unpleasant, hugging his balls, too—and he doesn't think he could live through dinner.

"No," Fraser says, and it's a lie, he can see, but he thanks the patron saint of sexual experimentation anyway.

He doesn't know the next step, so he presses tighter against Fraser, with his rolled-up henley sleeves and his wondering eyes and his fingers spanning Ray's cheekbone, nestling themselves behind Ray's ear.

Fraser gives him this nod, this 'wow, really?' nod he gave Ray the first time Ray put his hand in Fraser's and meant it. Grabs his wrists, leads him down to the bedroom, gentles him down like he's spun glass, fuck, and closes the door—against what?

Fraser's hand spreads possessive over his ribs, and then he's down on the bed and Fraser's nestled between his legs and the sweats are off and he whimpers at the relief of it, at being spared the words and the wait.

Fraser doesn't even look at the panties—which, what? He takes Ray's hand, kisses his knuckles, frowns a little at Ray, and he closes his eyes, tries his best not to burrow into the pillow, whispers, "This what you meant?" and Fraser puts his head gently just above his knee and whispers back, "God, Ray, how did I—," and Ray says, "What, what?", and looks down at Fraser shaking his head, wearing this helpless, almost pleading look, and then he's kissing his way up and into the crook of Ray's thigh, and Ray shivers and draws his leg up and back and over Fraser's shoulder, and oh yeah, now it's the eyes-on-the-prize, all-in Fraser, nosing under the edge of the fabric, cupping him whole with one big hand, pressing down—and then he licks between his own fingers, keeps it up until Ray's leg jerks, almost kicking him in the ribs, and he keens and reaches for Fraser's shoulder and the back of his neck, thrusting up and up and up, his dick wet and full and almost hurting, and he could cry from the way Fraser's moving his whole body under Ray's hands, like he can't stay still, needs to put his fucking back into loving Ray, and his next breath catches on a sob, and Fraser's saying, "Thank you, Ray, fuck," and Ray can see the frantic movement of his hand where he's holding himself up on his knees, feels when he groans into Ray's belly and drops down and gets himself off against Ray's fucking calf, and Ray's gone, has to close his eyes and take deep breaths for a minute so his heart doesn't explode and take them both with it.

He zones back in as Fraser's sliding the panties down his legs gently, holding up one foot, then the other, so nothing catches on anything.

He waits until Fraser settles down, faces him on his side like a mirror image, pinkies touching on the pillow between them. 

"So," Ray says. He's not keyed up any more than usual, thank you kindly, and that just means the curiosity is back full force.

"Yes?" Fraser says, looking at Ray like he wants to pet his head or something. Ray shrugs and puts Fraser's hand in his hair, butts it gently until Fraser giggles and gets the message.

"So, you liked that."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're not gonna ask stupid questions, like how, or why, or am I okay, right?"

"Uh-uh."

Great. He broke the Fraser. Fucking underwear.

Ray has to squint to hold back a laugh. "But I get to ask?"

"And you shall receive."

"Freak," Ray says, presses a kiss to the inside of Fraser's wrist. "So, what's that about?"

"You," Fraser says, the kind of deadpan Ray can tell means serious.

"Me, what, me?" Ray waves a hand vaguely at the foot of the bed, where the panties must be still, he's not looking. "They'd look hotter on you. Uh, hypothetically." Not at this juncture.

"It's not about looks, Ray, and I disagree." Fraser leans over to kiss his shoulder.

"No? So you don't want me in, like, a getup or anything?"

"No," Fraser says, simply, "unless you'd like to," and smiles like a dope.

Ray sighs and goes to take care of the cleanup. Puts yesterday's excuse for risotto on the stove while he's up. Remembers Stella's lavender silk, and how Fraser held him before he even saw anything, gentle, gentle.

"So, you knew I'd do it if you looked at me right, and it's not a woman thing," he says, walking to the bedroom, and then he gets it, and stops in the doorway. "Shit, Frase. It's a trust thing?"

He waits a bit, lets him think—but when he looks, Fraser's asleep, his open hand waiting.

#my writing #how and why did i even manage to write this right now #like—i couldn't write all year #i just had a major crunch with a different fic #and i have another deadline staring me in the face #i think for the first time in my life i get what inspiration is supposed to mean #you know what #in spirit of christmas and such—i'm gonna say i think I'm getting better at this writing thing #due south #due south fic #f/k #fraser/rayk #fraser/kowalski

[wineauntie]

FIVE MINUTES — Luke Hughes x Hischier!reader

summary: in which you and Luke are under a serious time crunch.

note: this was just purely fun to write. This wasn't going to be a Hischier!sister fic but I couldn’t resist!

warnings: make out session, use of y/n and the nickname ‘baby’, fem!reader, reader is Nico’s sister, swearing, forbidden relationship (kind of), reader is a photography and journalism major (do i know how the American collegiate system works? No! But go with it, it’s fineeee)

word count: 1.5k

You gasped as your back slammed against the door behind you, your heart racing as the blood pumped through your body. You felt feverish as if each of your veins had been ignited with a pure, searing fire. Your back pressed against the wood, the frame of the door digging into your spine. Adrenaline fuelled your brain as you lunged forward again, your hands reached out to grasp and clutch whatever you could to draw closer.

"God, we’ve got to stop this or I won't be able to control myself."

Luke's deep groan against your lips caused you to slightly withdraw from the kiss. Your lips curled in amusement as your hands threaded through his hair.

"Then start listing presidents or something," you grinned, crashing your lips to his once more. The grasp he had on your waist tightened even further, his hands spanning against the skin where your top had ridden up. "We only have five minutes…maybe less at this rate."

"You are trouble," he moaned in defeat, pressing you further against the wall as his warm hands gripped you as if in fear you may be taken from him.

Let's get one thing straight, you and Luke were complicated. He liked you, you liked him but if your brother ever caught wind of that? Oh, there would be hell to pay.

Nico Hischier had a stick up his ass— at least you thought so. He had warned you countlessly throughout your childhood that you were to stay away from his hockey friends and that they had received the warning to stay away from you. He said they were "never going to treat you like you deserve to be treated", you agreed, of course.

Hockey men were the semblance of all evil, they only cared about three things; hockey, their roster and blonde hair (you never understood their obsession with that one honestly?). You convinced yourself that they were the evil that walked the Earth, the only exception being your immediate family members.

...that is until you met Luke Hughes.

You'd moved to New Jersey over the course of lockdown and moved in with your brother. You wanted a change of pace from life back home, and you'd enrolled in various colleges in New York for photography and journalism.

When life had returned to normality, you’d been recruited to work as a social media girl on a part time basis for the Devils. It was a good gig, not too demanding but they paid you well enough. You attended away games and did little fun interviews for TikTok and their Instagram.

You'd met Luke in early 2023, briefly interviewing him with stupid questions like "if you got swept up in a tornado, what wouldn’t want to hit you as you spin?" or "if you could only skate on one leg, which leg would you choose?". You were aware of how cheesy and awful the questions were but the Devil's TikTok loved it– they devoured content like such.

It was only after a winning home game did you truly get to know Luke Hughes.

The two of you had sat next to each other in the bar the majority of the team had chosen to celebrate at. You remembered your brother sitting with Jack at the other table, celebrating their victory, your eyes warily glancing to Nico every few minutes.

You and Luke had talked awkwardly at first until the awkwardness was swept away and the storm of laughter and easy chatter arrived. You'd known from that moment on, that Luke Hughes was different. He wasn't like anyone else you'd ever met. He'd caused your stomach to flip and your gaze to soften.

You'd ended that night with Nico offering Luke and Jack to stay over at your shared apartment.

Nico and Jack had walked ahead to try catch a taxi, both, paying no attention to you and Luke who were completely and utterly enraptured by each other.

And the rest was history.

Luke's body pressed against yours as his hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb smoothing over the skin there. There was no other feeling quite like this one, he figured. You desperately reaching up to hold him as he devoured you like a man starved. It was the little moments like these where the two of you broke away from reality and allowed yourselves to indulge in the greatness of this feeling.

Luke had known he liked you from the very moment he spotted you laughing with the other photographers on his very first day with the Devils. He saw the way you tipped your head and scrunched your nose as you let out a melodic sound, so sweet he wanted to pocket it and take it wherever he went. He wasn't even sure you'd seen him that day, but he'd seen you and it was hard to ever forget it.

The night at the bar was the moment that he knew he was a goner. He'd seen the lingering stares from men and women alike in the bar the moment you had walked in. He'd seen the way you parted the crowd like an angel in the darkness, eyes only set on him, your slight and shy smile suddenly overshadowing the night's victory. And you'd chosen to sit beside him...HIM!

Over the weeks following that night the two of you had texted back and forth, hanging out whenever you can and when you'd kissed him in the rain after an unofficial, but kind of official, date, he knew you felt the same way about him.

That had officially been the beginning your sneaking around. The two of you hid in the shadows of bars, clubs and each other's apartments when your respective brothers weren't around.

Which is what led you to this very moment. Nico had invited Jack and Luke over to watch a match of some kind. He hadn't even told you until the two brothers had knocked on your apartment door just after lunch. You'd had to hide your wide smile at the sight of the tall, bashful boy who stood scratching his head behind Jack.

They'd both been here since then, with you and Luke exchanging secret glances every few minutes. It was later in the evening when Nico had suggested that the four of you order dinner in and when Jack had offered to accompany him downstairs to the lobby to help collect it, it guaranteed you and Luke approximately five minutes of just you and him.

You head found itself flush against the wood of your bedroom door, just down the hall from the living room, as Luke pressed desperate kisses down your neck, his hand still cradling your cheek, moving your head to give him more access to the supple, exposed skin. Your breath caught in your throat as he gently sucked the flesh over your pulse point, your hands playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Luke," you whimpered whilst he softly bit over the spot and ran his tongue over the bruising skin.

"I know, baby," he murmured, his breath fanning across your skin as he moved back up to look you face to face. Your blown pupils met his, the heat in your cheeks spreading around your body like wildfire. "Been missing you."

Your nose brushed against his with a whine. You hadn't seen each other in almost a week and a half, between your exams and Luke's games, you two just hadn't been able to find the time. You craved his touch, his comfort and his warmth.

"Been missing you too, Lu," you muttered, pulling him in for another kiss. Your neck craning as he enveloped you in a tight grip once more, his lips meeting yours frantically.

The two of you were so wrapped up in yourself that you hadn't heard the front door opening. You'd only heard one box of food hit the floor causing you and Luke to jump apart and snap your heads towards the noise.

Nico stood with a dropped jaw in front of Jack who smirked knowingly. Your wide eyes looked between Luke and Nico, your mouth agape in horror. Luke's hand was still around your waist as your brain ran in circles trying to decipher where to begin.

"What the fuck!” Nico eventually groaned breaking the silence.

"It's not what it looks like!" You rushed out, not making any attempt to move away from Luke.

You watched nervously as Nico furiously dug around his pocket until he yanked out twenty dollars and shoved it into Jack's awaiting open hand.

"Thank you," Jack grinned, winking at the two of you as he pocketed the money. You and Luke scrunched your eyebrows and shared a look of pure confusion.

"You couldn't wait until next month, no?" Nico huffed, picking up the fallen box of food before moving towards the kitchen with Jack, leaving both you and Luke standing in your stupor, before Luke let out a small laugh, burying his head in your neck as you stifled a groan.

"What the...YOU GUYS BET ON US?!"

#wineauntie #hughes brothers x reader #luke hughes x reader #nhl x reader #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #nico hischier #Nico hischier sister

[radioisntdead]

Ok. So…you can’t just put potential Rosie HeadCanons in my face like that and NOT expect me to start gushing girl.

Rosie with a reader who has a powerful instant regeneration ability. Just imaging they chop off a limb or some fingers and offer them up to Rosie like - “Flame grilled or Sushi?”

Being cute while she’s devouring their pinkie finger while having tea, and reader is SO nonchalant about it.

Good evening my dear! Rosie is just munchin' on the reader like a snack.

Warnings!!

Cannibalism [Fun fact, this is one of the main warnings in the fics I write, out of context this is concerning, EVEN WITH CONTEXT ITS KINDA CONCERNING??] mild gore for obvious reasons, temporary self mutilation??? The seasoning of limbs I don't know but this gets weird, as per usual this more then likely isn't proofread, I wrote headcanons and a drabble but this is somewhat short my apologies!

You and Rosie's relationship is odd to say the least, I mean y'all are in hell but still, but it's healthier then the majority of relationships down there,

I imagine you just carry around like a butcher knife so whenever Rosie is hungry you just go CHOP and hand her your hand or something,

Also if you carry around a bag I imagine you put some seasonings and sauces in for her to choose as well, because unseasoned meat is gross.

Rosie seems like the type to season her food.

The first time you popped off a limb you did with without warning and almost scared Rosie half to double death!

Give the gal a warning and tell her that you can regenerate limbs! She did enjoy munching on it afterwards though!

If you're an overlord you supply her with snacks at meetings,

She just whispers to you that she's hungry and that after the meeting you should get a meal,

And then you with zero discretion chop off a finger and offer it to her,

Carmilla Carmine wasn't pleased, neither were the other overlords [excluding Alastor, he finds it entertaining] and that's saying something since they've more then likely done horrendous things to get to their overlord status.

Rosie however is pleased with the snack, she would prefer if you didn't get blood on the table though,

Maybe in advance you go chop chop and put fingers in a Ziploc bag and hand it to her like it's baby carrots.

Less mess that way,

During tea time I imagine you do prep work in advance so you have an assortment of your fingers in different flavors, so your hand is mess free to be able to hold Rosie's hand while sipping tea,

Or maybe having a picnic, you just pop off an arm and thinly slice it and put it in a little sandwich, maybe some type of dessert? I don't know

Similar to the Alastor biting headcanons I did, Rosie bites you,

But unlike Alastor she doesn't just break skin, she takes CHUNKS OUT, I image you either have a really REALLY REALLY high pain tolerance or you can't feel pain because this has to be painful.

Also you probably need to have towels nearby because this gets messy, like it looks like a murder scene, but without the murder.

You are a snack, literally, a walking talking snack that Rosie adores with all her cannibalistic heart.

....................

You hummed as Rosie sat nearby sipping tea, it was a decent day in hell, the sky was red, sinners were screaming in the distance, and you were pulling back a meat cleaver to provide more fingers,

"Rosie darling, Should I take out the bone or leave it in this time?"

"Leave it in, it gives the fingers a nice crunch!"

Rosie said looking at you, grinning her sharp teeth shining like a razer sharp knife, eyes like a endless void of pitch black that one could get lost in, you could wander in and never escape.

You were completely and utterly in love with her,

Giving a lovely smile back you nodded before ramming down the cleaver, spattering blood across the counter, you pulled your now fingerless hand back, giving it a slight shake before a swirl of black smoke covered it and within seconds you had fingers again, you pull back the cleaver to repeat the process, after all your beloved Rosie was hungry and five fingers wasn't much!

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in!

I never thought I would be writing cannibal x readers but here we are, anyways I'm still working through requests! I got a Found family Rosie, an parental Alastor, an angsty Velvette and another one that I can't remember but It's in the drafts! Also Alrighty tune in time!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin rosie #hazbin rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin hotel rosie #rosie x reader #rosie x you

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

hiii i just wanted to say i really like how each of the protags in your fics have different personalities!!! adds a lot of flavour and depth i think to how hiccup interacts with each version of reader in different contexts :)

 The Jealous One pt 6

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,964

You’re caught off guard in the woods. Hiccup might have a thing for rejection… Or you. He’s really not sure. 

Tags: fem!reader, silly, ambiguous timeline, Snotlout Jorgenson, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, Jealous!Hiccup, Post RoB/DoB, Pre-RTTE

<Previous - Next>

You wanted to kick as you braced your foot against a rock, pulling your cup up to your face again, shoulders pressing painfully into the bark of a tree, curved so that the center of your shoulder blades felt as if they were being dug into by two very thick thumbs.

You wanted to say that you were getting good at keeping it all stuffed inside -your emotions, as it were, not necessarily your lunch- but if you’d been good at that, you wouldn’t be here dealing with this with a large, leaking barrel of stolen mead. Day drinking.

Though you hadn’t participated, soon after you’d left your table, a fight in the hall had broken out and taken a lot out of you, having devolved into a full-on brawl that the majority of the Riders hadn’t been too pressed to join in on.

By the end, you were sure most of the busy folk, the ones who hadn’t been knocked out, had left, most of the Riders had either fallen asleep or had drunken themselves into a stupor and the more studious ones, being Astrid and Fishlegs, had already long made of in the night either to chase off another poor Viking with a sharpened axe and clenched muscles or to hide and cower until the night had been done.

For you, the distraction had made it much easier to make off with a barrel of mead, and you’d dragged it, half bent over, into the woods, arms straining at the heavy weight.

And just in time, too. It was usually after the first fight that the mead-ladies and cup-bearers always began to charge coin for each pint.

Your arms were so sore. But it was worth it.

You weren’t too far off from the bridge separating you from Berks main village, you and your tapped barrel hiding somewhere off in the trees just after the foliage began to grow thicker, so even now, from a distance, you could hear the stormy rocking of the ocean against Berk’s sturdy shores.

You shook off a light buzz as the sound of crunching leaves grew louder, louder than what was appropriate between the mingling of tiny forest creatures, in which case you meant the Terrors scrabbling through the trees as there weren’t so many woodland creatures close to Berk’s main village.

You rested the bottom of your mug on one of your knees, your legs spread apart so that you could lean forwards whenever you wanted to fill your jug, thinking slowly and taking the time to try and listen harder.

You wanted to groan, then. Many different vikings on Berk with prosthetics, peg legs and the like but what you’d figured for sure was an approach came packaged with the slight spring of metal against metal, which you knew could only belong to one Viking.

You debated trying to hide the evidence of your night spent out alone in the cold dangers of the woods but decided against it, instead pushing yourself up, palms against cold bark, the divets between strips pressing imprints into your palm.

You didn’t give yourself much time to loiters, legs placed slightly farther apart than what was comfortable as you stumbled, dropping your mug against wood roots and grass and upturned dirt with a clatter just as a familiar face made its way past the treeline.

You resisted the urge to grumble, nearly stumbling over a shallow tree root as you brushed past him, your shoulder checking his in your distraction.

“Where…” Hiccup asked, stopping slowly behind you, now shivering himself, the head of his hair wild and on end, “Where are you going?”

You were slightly drowsy, the hands on your arms working overtime in an effort to scrub away the cold. The wind did a great deal to help, brushing through your skirts as you made your way down towards flat ground.

“...To bed,” You mumbled, eyes nearly closed, buzzing with your sudden need to sleep and the weightful urge to drop, all the muscles in your lid looser than they’d be if you had any control over your own body.

You blinked sourly into the canopy of pine above you, the light glaring brightly through the spindly leaves against trees.

You didn’t keep time, not particularly concerned as early early morning turned to brighter still early morning. 

You sighed, more a breath than a chirr, blinking groggily, turning in half as Hiccup moved to catch up with you, at a steady pace yet not fast enough to be called anything but a strong walk.

You stood on a small, flat rock, poking out of the ground like a tiny boat in the middle of a storming, wide ocean of grass, trees and shrubs, mimicking still, titanic waves all around you.

A Terror called out in the distance and a wind rushed past, nearly causing you to slip.

“Wait-”

You jerked as you felt the feel of hands grabbing onto either side of your upper arms, craning your neck awkwardly to face the one who held you aloft as your tilt neared the diagonal.

You grunted lightly, shaking him off with slow movement, burdened by many things and turned to face him.

The way he stood was easy, compared to you who was subtly off kilter, swaying with the breezes.

“I… I was a poor sport,” Hiccup said finally, voice thick with tension, reaching out for you in tone and hand; you felt a gentle tug on your tunic sleeve, the brush of a callous against the soft skin on the inside of your wrist.

He didn’t need to explain any more.

He was eager to apologize.

“Right,” You said, as your stomach dropped again, the beginnings of guilt prickling its way up the lining of your stomach like the sharp sprout of a plant bursting through thin soil.

He seemed much more awake than you, but the faded bags under his eyes implied he might not have slept as much as he’d… Liked to have implied, most likely.

A while ago, you would have forgiven him instantaneously. Now, you realized you didn’t feel that pull, the need to wait and languish. You still stewed, but it wasn’t with that simmering loneliness fueled desperation lying underneath a wave of discomfort.

It was a bit of a relief.

“I shouldn’t have...”

That wasn’t. It was awful.

You wondered how many times you could reject him before it became unreasonable.

You didn’t know what you wanted to say, but you knew he got it all wrong. You hoped he felt regret, though.

“You said things just fine,” You grumbled, shaking him off and letting your arms loosen, “I don’t care.”

He hadn’t been so insecure about his cousin since you were younger teens. You didn’t like him enough at the moment to try and find out why.

“And I’ve been thinking-” Hiccup continued anyways, grumbling slightly, “and I really- maybe I deserve it.”

“Right,” You said shortly, though not short enough to really imply that you’d been holding a grudge, still intent on leaving, feet shifting. The two of you were on the same step, practically standing toe-to-toe. 

Of course you still held a grudge. Or, maybe grudge wasn’t the right word. Grudges were for things that were old, that had been long since made up for and pushed under the rug, then brought out and dusted off and looked over at night when secrets were best kept.

You’d had half a mind to let it pass. Not because you wanted to be the better person- no, because ‘letting it go’ didn’t always mean being the better person, not when you were still so upset, anger lying like a poised snake in your stomach, but because you wanted him to squirm.

To think about it just as much as you’d had to.

In this instance, however, you didn’t particularly think that holding to your anguish made you a worse person. It made you a wronged person, for sure.

You remembered how you woke up early to see him, to be the one to say ‘hi’ first. How he’d greet you, then how he wasn’t there. And again and again and again you checked, your heart soaring each time, only to be left sorely disappointed.

 It was silly. And selfish. And something only someone a few years younger could do- keep their hopes up so innocently high and without any real expectation only to be disappointed each and every time by a result that through pattern they must have known to be sure. 

You grumbled, shaking him off and turning to leave anyway. “Fine. Save your apologies.”

“-No, you’re right.” Hiccup folded quickly, “I-What?”

Of course, it would be just like him not to see your worth. 

“...You haven’t paid this much attention to me since we were kids.” Seriously, why? You said sternly, pushing past the slogging fog clouding your mind.

“What?” Hiccup paused.

“Of course,” You scoffed, stepping your way off the rock and kicking your way past a large pile of leaves.

As you stalked- or, stumbled, more like- out the treeline and up to the wooden planking lining the wide floor of the huge bridge leading back to Berk, dark boots dirty and scuffling loudly against the wood, Hiccup watched you.

Hiccup watched you and he paused with mounting horror as his eyes followed you, whose long gray skirt was falling down to your ankles.

At this point, you’d refused two of his apologies, both times with a gloomy, stormy expression on your face, shoulders hunched and miserable.

You had asked him why.

And, well, there was a reason why. 

He was a bad friend.

Deep envy, spiked as thorns in chest twisted as a friend of his became the friend of another, attention that had been allotted for him lost like spare coin. As what he knew to be a feeling or certainty became pangs of hurt when you became someone he couldn’t any longer recognize, fast speech becoming a slow, morbid, familiar prose becoming, dare he say it, ribbing.

Even now, he wanted to keep it up leave still, to escape off into the sky with the other riders in an effort to keep running away in part from a feeling he couldn’t name, a thing that grew and writhed as he realized that he’d mistaken the value of one friend for a group of a few others when he really should have made an effort to have kept all of his sheep in line.

It was a feeling that was familiar but that he hadn’t paid much mind to, even as he’d grown more distant from you, even as his eyes began to linger and as his heart pounded and eyes widened. 

It had become unavoidable now, especially after you’d fallen over him, looking wonderful and fine and shining with the sun pressing into your back and glinting around your head like a crown made for you by the very Gods.

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since… He was a teen, when he had been very much into... -But, it was slightly different; a little bit of want-to-see mixed with a heaping pile of desire-to-impress mixed with something a little bit more like ‘I-know-you,’ which, in hindsight, had always been there, at least for a while though it was a slight weaker now and had not always paired so brightly with the previous two.

And all of it was twinged by something else, wrapped up in a twisting, bitter, covetous cage, locked and keyed by a budding, intense resentment for his cousin.

Even in your drunken state you were so, so pretty. And now you were mad at him. 

He had to wonder how he always got himself into these situations.

#Another ask i wanted to leave a part for #thank you #fav #wasn't sure anyone noticed #it was exciting #how to train your dragon #httyd #fanfiction #x reader #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader

[danielfuckingricciardo]

23 + Fernando Alonso (can't wait to see what you come up with!)

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request ♥︎

Sorry this is a little late, but better late than never, right?

When I saw the song I instantly knew what I wanted to do for this one, it practically wrote itself and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too!

+ Much like the Esteban fic, this is my first Fernando fic which is super fun! I really want to write more Fernando so if anyone has any more inspiration or any ideas do drop into my ask box and say hi!

Song 23 - These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ // Nancy Sinatra

Pairing - Fernando Alonso x Reader 

Word Count - 1.2k

Content Warnings - Swearing, sex references

These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

To you, rich men were boring. Each and every man who would aim to win your affections was just a carbon copy of the next, from the immaculately coiffured hair, to the gaudy watch they would flash to prove they were moneyed, and to the Maserati they had stashed away in their garage hoping it would make up for their tiny cock.  

The vast majority cared about little but themselves. Their egos sat atop mountains of cryptocurrency and NFTs. Mountains that were just as fragile as the identities they held up. A slight gust of wind could send them toppling to the ground, their masculinity destroyed and their wealth worthless. 

You were a hurricane, a destroyer of men. You knew exactly how to do it, and would leave a trail of destruction and male tears wherever you went. In the past, you had enjoyed watching as they fell from their pedestals, the silver spoon they were born with falling from their mouths with a clatter. But now, it was simply boring. You had lived out the same story over and over again, and you wanted something new, something exciting and different. 

And you had found that something new on the day that Fernando Alonso had approached you in a bar in Monaco. 

———

“If you’re looking for a sugar baby, you should know I make six figures a day, so you’d better be offering me seven. Then I might consider it.” You say, not lifting your eyes from your half-empty espresso martini on the bar. 

“I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you don’t need me to pay for you.” He says, and you finally look up from the counter and raise your eyebrow. 

“Hm. How about you buy the first drink, and if you can prove to me that you’re worth my time, I’ll buy you one in return?” You say, and he offers you a sly smirk. 

“Deal.” He says, and he flags down the bartender who immediately makes his way over to the two of you. 

“I’ll have a martini. Dirty.” You say, and the bartender nods.

“Make that two.” Fernando says, and you smile to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Are you always this easily influenced by the women you meet in bars?” You ask, and he smiles. 

“Only when they have good taste.” He replies. 

“Correct answer.” You say, before finishing the remains of your espresso martini, setting the glass down before you. 

You fish out the remaining candied coffee bean from the bottom of the glass and pop it on your tongue, before biting down with a satisfying crunch. Fernando’s eyes watch you intently as you do so, gazing at your lips with a look filled with hunger. 

The bartender returns with your drinks and you give the man a small smile as Fernando taps his bank card. You notice the familiar logo of a private bank reserved only for the most affluent of society emblazoned on the top of his card and smile to yourself. 

“I must say you’ve lasted longer than most men who agree to play my little game. I usually end up getting stuck with the bill when Daddy’s credit card declines.” You say, and Fernando smiles at you, raising his glass. 

“I have never played a game I cannot win.” Fernando says, and you raise your glass to his, gazing into his dark brown eyes as you clink them together. 

“Well I’ll drink to that.” You say, before taking a sip of your martini. 

“Are there any rules to this game I should know?” Fernando asks, and you press your index finger to your lips in thought. 

“There are no rules. I find life to be more fun without regulation and restriction.” You say, and Fernando nods. 

“Then I can ask your name, yes?” Fernando says, and you nod. 

“It’s (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n), feel free to google me when you next go to relieve yourself. You’ll find a nice little article from Forbes designating me the seventeenth most successful businesswoman in the world.” You say, and Fernando tuts. 

“I don’t care about that.” He says. 

“Correct answer once again. Now, may I ask your name?” You say, and Fernando smiles. 

“Fernando Alonso.” 

“Wow, you’re three for three so far, and I think you’re the first man to do so in my extensive experience of being approached in bars.” 

“What would be the wrong answer?” He asks, and you chuckle slightly. 

“The most common one is, ‘don’t you know who I am?’ Had you said that, I would have pretended I had no clue who you were and walked away.” You say, and Fernando laughs. 

“So you do know who I am?” He says, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know of you, but I don’t know you. Yet.” 

“You would like to know me?” 

“You intrigue me, I’ll admit. You quite clearly have a strong ego, but you aren’t intimidated by me and my equally large ego in the slightest. So you’re as secure in your identity and your sense of self as I am, and I find that to be incredibly attractive.” You say, and Fernando nods, clearly impressed by your honest assessment of him. 

“Your honesty is welcome. I like it.” Fernando says, taking a final sip of his drink and placing the empty glass on the counter. 

You give him a small smile and empty your glass, placing it beside his before standing from your bar stool. 

“So, will you be buying me a drink now?” Fernando asks, and you chuckle at him as you store your phone away in your handbag and tuck the handle into the crook of your arm. 

“I already have. There’s a bottle of champagne on ice in my hotel room. Let’s go.” You say, and Fernando smiles, clearly holding back a laugh. 

“How are you so sure I would come back with you?” 

“You approached me in a bar, signalling that aesthetically, at least, you were interested in me. You then proceeded to stay while I nursed my martini, made some rather cutting remarks, and played the part of the aloof millionaire. If you weren’t still interested in sleeping with me, you would have excused yourself by now, presumably under the guise of catching up with the man in the booth over there who I believe to be Nico Rosberg, and promptly made a swift exit.” You say, and Fernando laughs in disbelief. 

“You are very good at this game. I think you win.” He says, and it’s your turn to chuckle.

“Oh, love, I invented this game, I always win.” You say as Fernando opens the door to the bar and allows you to step out first into the night before following you onto the street. 

#fernando alonso x reader #Fernando Alonso x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[starrydixon]

Winter Serenity

Era: Pre-Prison Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 2k Warnings: grief, description of losing a loved one, mild angst, but mostly comfort-fluff!

Summary: After the farm fell and you had lost your sibling during the fallout, Daryl helps you through your grief one winter morning by a creek in the woods. 

A/N: Hello! So, if you feel like you are seeing this fic again, you are not crazy! I had previously posted this fic on my old blog, but want to move it here on my new one so all my works are in one place! Plus, I love this one a lot and just want an excuse to bring it back. Please enjoy!! (ps- I found this gif on Pinterest, so it’s NOT mine! Credit goes to owner!!)

The morning sun rays shone down through the barren tree branches, causing the three day old snow fall that covered the forest floor to glisten, almost as if someone had dumped buckets of glitter onto the ice. The snow crunched under your snow boots that seemed one-size too small while puffs of air fanned out in front of your face with each breath you took. You had found yourself needing some space away from your group, as the stress of living on the road and the endless thoughts that raced through your head was becoming too overwhelming. You hoped that an early morning walk in the woods would help clear your head.

Ever since the farm fell three months ago, living on the road hadn’t been the easiest, especially now that winter had arrived. Before the first snowfall, Rick had warned everyone that he presumed it wouldn’t be an easy winter this season, and he wasn’t wrong. One week later, a snow storm that spanned over two days delivered almost 10 inches of snow. This caused your group to have to take shelter in a nearby barn that, by some miracle, wasn’t infested with walkers.

If having to deal with the winter snow and relearning how to live on the road without the security of food, water, or protection wasn’t enough, you were also dealing with the loss of your sibling. The fall of the barn was chaotic and fast as the herd of walkers broke past the fence and swept through the Greene’s family land, taking over and claiming the space as theirs. You had spent the majority of the time stuck with Rick and Carl, since you caught the young boy trying to sneak out of the farm house to find his father and refused to let him go out in the dark alone.

You had found yourself searching for your sibling's face as everyone began to regroup at the highway. As the Greene family and the Grimes’ reunited, and Daryl and Carol got off of the motorcycle together, your heart sank when your sibling was nowhere to be seen. In a panic, you asked the group if anyone had seen your sibling during the fallout, either escaping in a different direction or being taken by walkers. You hated to even think of the fact that your sibling could have been torn to bits by the mindless, flesh-eating corpses, but you preferred to want to know and have closure than be left wondering if your sibling was still out there somewhere, either alive or turned as a walker.

Unfortunately, it turned out it was the latter, as no one had spotted your sibling during the fall. Against your better judgment, you were adamant on going back to the Greene’s farm and searching for your sibling; Daryl had even offered to take you there on his bike. Rick and the others deemed it a bad idea, as the farm was still dangerously overrun with walkers and they were running low on fuel. After much argument, a compromise was made and the group agreed to stay on the highway for another thirty minutes so you could wait to see if your sibling showed up. This time also allowed the group to strategize on what to do next. To no avail, you tearfully left a note and a map for your sibling to follow if they did end up showing up on the highway before reluctantly leaving the site with the group.

Sighing, you stopped walking through the barren woods and lifted your chin up to the sky. Letting your eyes flutter shut, the warm sun rays hit your cold face, warming up the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. The only sounds that filled the woods were the chirping of birds and the trickling of water that cascaded down a nearby creek (that surprisingly hadn’t frozen over yet). Opening your eyes and blinking away the brightness, you found yourself gravitating towards the creek in curiosity.

A gentle stream of water flowed over small rocks and sticks that sat in the shallow creek. Spotting a large oak tree that was barren of leaves on its branches resigning beside the creek, you sat down on the snow covered ground and leaned your back against the sturdy trunk. Bringing your jean-clad legs up to your chest, you placed your arms on your knees and watched the water current flow down the creek.

Despite all of the bad that infected the world you were currently living in, this small space in the woods was nothing but peaceful. For a quick moment, you had forgotten that the woods you were currently sitting in had walkers roaming in it, or that the weight of sorrow that sat heavily on your chest was due to the disappearance of your sibling.

That moment of peace was short-lived due to the sudden sound of a twig snapping in half coming from somewhere behind you.

Quickly pulling out the hunting knife from the sheath you kept on your hip, you twisted your body around and was ready to jump to your feet to face the possible threat, but stopped when you noticed Daryl Dixon standing a few feet away from you with his trusted crossbow thrown over one of his shoulders and his red poncho protecting him from the cold winter air.

“Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?” You asked the archer before slumping back against the tree trunk, letting out a puff of air you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Just makin’ sure your instincts are still sharp.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely before carefully approaching you, unsure if you wanted his presence or not. When you didn’t give any indication that you found his company unwanted, Daryl took his crossbow off his shoulder and set it down against the tree before sitting beside you.

“Why are you really here?” You inquired while turning your head to face Daryl, who had one leg pulled up to his chest while his elbow rested on his knee. In response, Daryl just shrugged his shoulders. Rolling your eyes, you nudged his arm with your elbow, silently urging him to answer.

“Just wanted to make sure you're alright.” Daryl mumbled reluctantly while ducking his head, avoiding your kind eyes.

Nodding your head in acknowledgement, you didn’t extend the conversation further, not wanting to make Daryl even more uncomfortable then he already was. Besides, you didn’t really need any other explanation; you knew that he and the others in the group were worried about how you were handling your grief.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, looking out and appreciating the winter landscape that was laid out in front of you. The scenery looked picturesque, almost as if it was a still for a painting. It had everything needed for a perfect picture: an abundance of barren trees whose branches had a light layer of snow coating over the wood, a creek that streamed directly down the middle of the forest, and the glow of the morning sun that illuminated off of the snow covered ground.

Being in the woods during winter made you think of all the winter days you’d spend with your sibling, running through the woods in your backyard and throwing snowballs at each other, or chasing each other with icicles you had snapped off of the porch railings. This memory caused that wave of grief to come crashing over you again, drowning you in an abundance of sadness, denial, anger, and guilt.

“You think they’re out there somewhere? Still alive?” You whispered into the still air before nervously chewing on your lower lip. Daryl stayed silent for a few moments as he pondered over his thoughts.

“M’not sure…don’t know if being out here in this weather alone gives ‘em much of a chance, but they could be.” Daryl replied honestly, not wanting to sugar-coat his opinion like the others in the group have been doing.

Nodding your head, you processed Daryl’s response. You hated the reality of his words, but you couldn’t help but appreciate his truthfulness. After a few more moments of silence fell between the two of you, you turned your head to look at Daryl once again. “Do you think about your brother being out here in this winter, presumably alone with a stump of an arm that probably hasn't healed properly?” You asked cautiously, attentive to Daryl’s sensitivity about the subject of his brother Merle.

“I try not to…but he's one tough sumbitch. Growin’ up we had to survive tons of winters like these.” Daryl admitted before casting you an almost shy look, not used to being so open to someone before. “They both are…tough sumbitches.” Daryl quickly added before ducking his head and gaze away from you.

“Yeah…you’re not wrong.” You felt the corner of your mouth quirk upwards momentarily as Daryl and you fell in a comfortable silence again.

Instinctually, you found yourself leaning your head against Daryl’s shoulder as the sounds of the creek’s running water was the only sound that filled the silence. For a few moments, Daryl’s body had gone rigged due to the feeling of your head resting against his shoulder. You were worried you had crossed a line, and that the closed-off archer would push you away, but you were relieved when you felt Daryl's body slowly relax against your touch.

Oblivious to you, as your attention was primarily focused on the serenity of the woods, a deer and its fawn had silently emerged from the treeline on the other side of the forest, intent on drinking some of the crisp water that flowed down the creek. Noticing that you hadn’t yet seen the deers, Daryl gently shook the shoulder that you were currently resting your head on to get your attention. Fearing that the archer had changed his mind about having you leaning on him, you began to remove your head away from him, but stopped when Daryl pointed his finger towards the deer.

Pausing to take in the sight of the wildlife, a ghost of a smile began to form on your lips as the deer and it’s fawn drank from the creek; their long necks craned downwards while their small white tails fluttered from side to side, indicating that they felt non-threatened by the human presence that sat on the opposite side of the creek. Relaxing back against Daryl’s shoulder, the two of you observed the deer from afar.

“I’m surprised you haven’t grabbed your bow and taken a shot yet.” You whispered towards Daryl while shooting him a playful smirk. Rolling his eyes, Daryl shook his head and readjusted his back against the tree trunk.

“Ain’t a monster, Y/N. Not gonna make that little one a bambi.” Daryl defended himself as he watched the fawn duck under its mother’s belly, seeking warmth and protection from the cold air.

“Aww, Daryl Dixon does have a heart after all.” You teased in a hushed tone, fearful that if you spoke any louder, you’d scare off the wildlife. Scoffing, Daryl lightly shoved you with his shoulder.

“Stop.” Daryl grumbled to you just as the deer and the fawn began to retreat back into the treeline as they had their fill of hydration.

Before completely disappearing from view, the mother deer looked back and stared directly at you and Daryl, one of its ears twitching backwards. You liked to think the deer was thanking you (more directly Daryl) for not harming her or her fawn and letting them roam the forest in peace.

“We should head back and warm up by the fire at camp…it's gettin’ cold.” Daryl advised once the deer had disappeared from behind the treeline.

“Just five more minutes?” You asked while staring up at the archer with gentle eyes. Glancing down at you, Daryl couldn’t find it in him to say no.

“Fine…five minutes.” Daryl agreed as he relaxed against the tree trunk once again. Grinning, you readjusted your head on Daryl’s shoulder until you got comfortable.

With Daryl by your side in the small section of the woods, where no walkers threatened your survival, at the spot under the oak tree where there was water cascading down a creek, it was easy to momentarily forget about the crushing weight of grief that you carried with you and get lost in the winter serenity.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 9

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

Pacing is a bit off for reason's I'll explain at the end so uh have mercy. I shifted thing a bit but I think it'll make the last chapter better.

*********************

If we had a daughter I'd watch and could not save her The emotional torture From the head of your high table She'd do what you taught her She'd meet the same cruel fate So now I've gotta run So I can undo this mistake At least I've gotta try... -Labour, Paris Paloma

It was cool out, and the fall leaves crunched under Joel heavy footsteps, shuttering and flittering as he pulls you across the lawn, screaming his brother's name in vain, horse shouts. 

You were supposed to rake tomorrow. 

“TOMMY! TOMMY! TOMMY!” was all you could say, all sense having left you as soon as you were thrown around in the kitchen. It was another slap that brought you back to reality, opening your eyes to come face to face with the man who had beaten and loved you in such harsh contrast this last year, pulling you both to stand on top of a chair. Your shirt felt wet from how much you cried and were still sobbing, but you have enough thought, just barely, to stop screaming for Tommy… he let go, and you wanted to run, wanted to protect your baby… but you’d get nowhere. You look down at the crowd that gathered, all men you recognized, some you liked, some you knew were just waiting for Joel to relinquish you to them… and Lorenzo, his normally droopy bedroom eyes opened wide with fear.

This is how you’d die, isn’t it?

Joel yanked your face back to him. “They ain’t gonna save yuh, little one. Not even Tommy would save you, you know that, right, for all you cry for him, he still chose me over you. He chose Maria over you, because you are NOTHING! You were nothing but a pastime to him but me?” A rush of calm as he held your chin tightly, nails digging into the skin and clawing your face open. “I love you, princess, and all you do is hurt me.” His voice was soft, small, and for a foolish moment you think maybe he already peaked in his rage… until a strong, painful punch in your sternum knocked all breath out of you... and again. and again.

You hear Lorenzo call out your name, and through your sore throat and abused body, you manage to get out and small ‘don’t’. You hope Renzo knows that’s meant for him. Don’t do it. Don’t risk your life for me, I’m not worth it.

Joel throws the rope over the tree branch, and as you look at your surroundings, you are struck with horror at the realization that this is the tree in which Nick’s skeleton lay at the foot; an area you always intentionally avoided since Joel brought you out here so, so long ago. The rope that his hands hung from as Joel skinned him alive was across from you… was that your intended fate? Would he really do that to you, 8 months pregnant? Or would he kill you and preform some sick, botched c-section?

He fashioned a noose around your neck.

“Joel, Joel please, I’m sorry”

“I don’t fucking care!”

“THE BABY, JOEL!” You sob, pleading for your child's life. “Please, please just wait until I give birth, then you can do whatever you want but they shouldn’t be punished because of me!”

“You’re right, she shouldn’t” Joel always referred to the baby as ‘she’, despite no evidence. He pulled the rope tight, causing you to choke and stand on your toes to keep breathing. “This is your fault.” He slapped you, making your head swing wildly to the right. “It’s your fault I’m hurting you.” He slapped you again, and you felt blood leave your mouth. “You hurt me!” He screamed, and another slap. The ringing in your ear doesn’t prevent you from hearing him as he tells you that you are hurting the baby yourself before delivering his final blow. You can’t focus your eyes at all… but you can hear him, although you wish you couldn’t. From the loud voice and the feel of his breath, he’s right in front of you. “I should tie us both up, little one, and kick this chair out from under us, end it all, is that what you want?”

No, absolutely not. Even after everything, you didn’t want Joel dead, and it hurt you to hear the pain in his voice, just as it hurt to see the betrayal in his eyes as he learned of Tommy… You loved him, you loved him, you loved…

“N-o!” you choke out, the harsh rope burning on your throat.

“As much as I know you want me to,” Despite the fact you said no, he was so convinced you hated him. “You don’t get to win, cheating bitch.”

He hops down, rope in hand, tying it to the bar of the chair and leaving you gagging and rasping on your tippy toes for air on the chair. He mutters his usual threats to the men, that anyone who helps you or touches you is dead, and you watch him walk away towards the house. 

So you stand there for what feels like forever, attempting to pull the noose off but you can barely breath, can barely see, can barely hear… you can, however, feel your precious baby kicking.

One by one, the men get bored and wander off inside, until two bodies are left.

You register Lorenzo’s smell, alcohol and those strange gross cigarettes he smokes, hoping up on the chair and quickly taking you down. You can’t stand, and Lorenzo barely stops you from completely collapsing on the ground. He yells at Jack to help him carry you inside, but Jack hesitates, no doubt not wanting to die… but after back and forth, another arm is lifting you up, and your heavily pregnant form is stumbling back to your home.

“Hey, stay with me sweetheart, we’re gonna get you back, okay? But I need you to stay awake, I think you’re concussed”

You don’t answer; you can’t answer, really… even as you slowly start to gain a little focus. Lorenzo is talking you through it. ‘Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot.’ Although you’re certain Lorenzo could carry you on a normal day, 8 months pregnant was another story.

You weren’t sure what his plan was, but it didn't really matter as Joel was waiting inside for you.

“Jack, take the girl.”

Lorenzo spoke up. “Joel, calm down, I know damn well you didn’t want her dead-”

“Jack, take the girl, and cover her eyes.”

You try to say no, to tell Joel to stop, but words don’t form like they should… Joel wouldn’t listen anyway.

So, there you are, stuck in Jack’s arms which were oddly tight, protective and comforting as Lorenzo’s blood splattered on you both, Joel pistol whipping him hard before shooting.

Lorenzo’s body falls to the floor as a clump of deadweight, and as Joel grabs you, dragging you into the room, all you can glimpse is Jack frantically trying to stop Lorenzo’s bleeding as your only friend screamed in pain on the floor.

When the door closes, Joel is a new person, pulling you to him and onto the bed. He was sat up against the wall, holding your back to his chest as your body wracked in sobs. Lorenzo was dead, you were in pain, and you were so, so scared for your baby. Could they survive what Joel had just done to you? You were certain it was over for now, Joel was back to his lovey, post-violence state had already set in… but what about next time? Joel had been safe for months… months where you didn’t run, you cooked and cleaned and serviced him and fucking hell, you fell in love! You loved him! You were the best possible wife you could’ve been, all while carrying his child, and even the mere suggestion of waiting on having another instead of pumping them out like he wanted, and he nearly killed you.

Was he trying to kill you?

Lorenzo said he wasn’t.

But you weren’t sure…

Lorenzo…

Despite the protruding stomach, he began to massage your core, and you were too violently ill and dizzied to protest. You’d be too scared to even try, anyway. You weren’t sure how long he tried until he gave up, but it felt like forever, minute after minute of your shaking, aching body crying in his arms as he tried to bring you to orgasm with his hands before realizing you weren’t the slightest bit wet. Your body didn’t even have it in you to attempt to betray you this time.

So Joel just held you, and held you tight, so tight you couldn’t hardly breathe again and you had no choice but to try and relax yourself until the sobs bubbled down to gentle hiccups and a steady stream of tears.

“Why do you make me do this to you?” Joel spoke, his voice croaking and you suddenly notice tears on your neck. “Why do you make me hurt you?”

“I d- I don’t know.” You gasped and tried to answer through the shaking tears.

“I don’t want to do this, you know that right?”

“Uh-uh”

“You make me act like this. I’ve been good to you, haven't I?”

“Y-y-yeah-ah.”

You almost killed me and our baby.

“I feed you, I care for you.”

“Y-yeah”

Tommy fed me. I cook for you.

“I make love to you, I make you come, don’t I?”

“Yeah.”

You rape me.

“You’re my wife”

You kidnapped me.

“I gave you a child.”

You forced this on me.

“I gave you a life here, free from your father.”

You ripped me away from Zach and June, you sent Tommy away, you killed Lorenzo.

“But still, you treat me like dirt.”

I cared for you. I’ve been a nurse, a servant, a cook, a whore

“You cheated on me with my own brother”

I was terrified of losing my virginity, and Tommy was safer than you.

“You disrespect me”

I asked a question.

“You know why I do this, right? It’s for your own good. Our baby needs a good mother, she needs a mother who will love her unconditionally, who will always be there for her, to be a good example. I can’t have you running around making her feel unwanted, can I?”

“No.”

Joel buried his wet, crying face in your hair. “So it’s not really my fault, is it?” It was like he was begging for forgiveness, for absolution, justifying it to you, to himself, maybe even to Sarah…

You answer him, sleepy, head throbbing and you feel like you could throw up. “No, it’s my fault.” and it was. It was your fault for not leaving with Zach, for not taking him up on countless offers he made in letters Lorenzo passed between you, offering to run away with you and June and Lorenzo… even continuing to beg into the pregnancy, but you ignored him, causing many fights between you and Lorenzo. It was your fault, and now Lorenzo was dead or dying and you were trapped with no way to contact Zach, no way to get to him…

He caresses your head and body. “Yeah, it’s yours, but it’s okay, I forgive you. You’ll do better, I just know it.” Joel sounded like he was about to fall asleep too. “You’ll be good for her. You’ll be a good mom for Sarah.”

If you weren’t so fucking tired, the revelatin of the extent of Joel’s dellousions would be shocking to you, but you couldn’t find anything shocking anymore.

“I spoke to Tommy the other day.” He sat up, laying you down into bed and tucking you in. “He’s doing good.” A kiss on the cheek and he continued his talking. “I was think’n, maybe after she’s born, we could see Tommy a little bit? Not much” Joel was quick to warn. “Maybe just… once every month or two… so Dolly can know her uncle?” He was back to using Dolly… “Would you like that? See’n him a little bit here and there?” He was offering you an olive branch.

“Y-yes, I’d like that.” Tommy… seeing Tommy again… You wanted him so badly, you missed him so much it hurt… Lorenzo was a blessing, he was like a brother, but Tommy was someone special. A kind, soft heart in a world of monsters…

“Go to sleep, little one. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

You thought you shouldn’t sleep, given that you were clearly concussed, but Joel was so warm beside you, big and broad and protectively wrapping his arms around you… You allow yourself to drift off; there was no use fighting it anymore.

But tomorrow wouldn’t be a new day. Tomorrow would be the same thing. Cooking, cleaning, baby, sex… every day for the rest of your fucking life.

The next morning Joel brought you eggs and toast... Breakfast in bed like a good husband… You waited until it was safe to ask about Lorenzo.

Hesitantly, Joel let you go see him… he was alive, but barely. The gunshot went straight through, thank god, but the wound on his torso was already looking infected, and his face was deeply swollen and bruised; Jack was no nurse. 

But Lorenzo was still Lorenzo. “Hey sweetheart, you look like shit” 

You smile at him. “Yeah, you’re not exactly Han Solo yourself.”

“Now, how come you know who Han Solo is but you don’t know Fleetwood Mac?”

You go on to explain the comics and Joel telling you all about it while you care for his wounds, making little jabs at each other until you are done, and he grabs your hand; sincerity in his voice.

“What happened? After he shot me… what happened?” 

Lip quivering, you answer. “Nothing, really. He took me into our room and he-he held me and cried-”

He furrowed his brow at that. “He cried or you cried?”

“B-Both” You whimpered.

“Jesus”

“And he-he-he he told me I made him do it, that it’s my fault and I was a bad mom-”

Lorenzo groaned, and went to scrub his face, but yelped and winced in pain from his pistol whip. “Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me. I know I call you stupid and dumb and… I don’t understand why you stay, I really don’t… but…” He reached out and took your hand. “But this is not your fault. Even when you stay, even when you make him mad, it’s not your fault, and you are not a bad mom.”

You allow yourself to cry as he tells you, being perhaps the first person to say…

This isn’t your fault.

Two days later was when Joel left you next. You had sworn up and down you would forgive him so long as he got Lorenzo the medicine he needed, and tried your best to give him the best makeup ‘I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Joel, I’ll do better next time, please don’t kill me’ sex you could give to smooth it all over.

The closet was locked; he kept your shoes in there, as he did any warm coats or gloves or anything that made aid in running away, but you didn’t care. You were going to the barn, you were taking a horse, and you were getting far, far away from here. You had a tinge of remorse for leaving Lorenzo; Joel will surely take it out on him, but you had gotten him his medicine and with it, a fighting chance. 

Right now, you have to run. Nothing mattered more than your baby’s life.

It was cold, crisp, but not unbearable in your sweats, socks, shirt and jacket. You had to find your way to your family farm, find Zach and go. Joel didn’t know June existed, so she was safe from his rampage… if you were lucky, your dad might be who Joel takes it out on. Joel had told you if you tried to run, Zach was the first person he’d go to… but you wondered if now that Tommy was gone, Joel might go to wherever the hell Tommy was first.

You loved Tommy, there were few people who you loved like Tommy… but you loved your child more, and you prayed that Joel would go to Tommy first, buying you and Zach some time.

As you ran through the woods, your thoughts were scurried, desperately trying to find the barn in the darkness; there were few stars and no moon, and you had never been taught a sense of direction… You weren’t sure how to get to your family farm, but Christ, you were running for your life right now. 

SMACK! You ran into a tree, no doubt adding to the horrific bruises on your face as is, but that's nothing compared to the horror of Nick’s skeleton under your body. You barely manage to cover your mouth from the scream as you fall backwards and scramble, trying desperately to get away.

As you run into a pair of legs, a hand covers your mouth this time and you scream, loud.

You are turned around and are suddenly face to face with Jack.

“Jesus fucking christ!” He whisper-shouts. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You immediately begin begging. “Please! Please don’t tell Joel, I’ll go back! Please Jack he’ll fucking kill me, he’ll kill my baby please don’t tell-”

“Shut up!” He hisses, standing up from his crouched position to run his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK!” Jack begins pacing, considering his course of action. “We’re going back to the house.”

You nod obediently.  You could figure out how to escape later, right now you needed Jack to keep a secret. You’d do whatever you needed to.

“Please don’t tell him, please” You sit up on your knees, wobbling with the belly but giving your best attempt to look pretty. “I’ll do whatever you want.” You’d suck him off, he could fuck your ass

“Jesus Christ, he’s got you fucked up.” Jack turns out, groaning, before helping you stand. “Get up, we gotta talk to Lorenzo, he’ll… fuck he’ll figure something out.”

Jack started walking, and you hesitated… you aren’t sure of you can trust him… but damn if you don’t have any other options. You look back and into the woods, debating your choices.. When you see a glint of silver in the grass near the skeleton.

A jackknife, the one Joel used to skin and castrate nick. You had no weapons… so you took it. It had a smooth wood handle with an ivory inlay, with a blunted out edge… the button struck a little as you practiced switching it in and out.

Not hearing your footsteps on the leaves, Jack turns around and urges you on.

He instructed you to stay put on the side of the house. He said Joel isn’t due back for a few hours, but just in case. Not long after, a stumbling and swearing Lorenzo is walking outside under Jack’s support.

“Of all the fucking times you wanna leave, you had to chose when I’m barely alive, huh?”

“I’m so-”

He holds up a hand. “Stahp.” His boston accent was thick with irritation and pain. “I’m just fucking with yuh, kid. Let’s get you to Tommy.” He began to walk, with Jack’s help, to the barn. 

“But Zach-”

“Tommy is closer. I know where Zach was gonna take you, I’ll give Tommy the instructions.” He turned to Jack. “You need to go. Joel is gonna kill you if she and I left on your patrol.”

Jack shakes his head. “No, I don’t think he’d”

You spoke up. “He would. He told me he… he knows you and Tommy still talk. He doesn’ trust you.”

Jack groans again, rubbing his face.

Lorenzo continues. “Swing by and get Maura, anyone in proximity to this is in danger.”

“Fine, fine. Meeting in Boston?”

“Rapid City, we’re not there in 4 days, keep going. You know the plan once you get to Boston.”

You turned to Lorenzo. “Zach, Joel said-”

“Relax, sweetheart. Jack and I’ve had an escape plan ready to go just in case, and that involves your brother.”

The plan was for Jack to go to the farm and get Zach… if all went well, you’d meet up in Boston. There they’d find a friend of one of Lorenzo’s sisters, Tess, and she’d help you… You weren’t entirely sure about all of this, but Renzo would bring you to Tommy… Tommy would keep you safe.

Lorenzo wasted no time. He saddled up quickly and he and Jack helped you on the horse. You thanked Jack as he and Lorenzo hugged goodbye, and Lorenzo took off galloping for as long as his wounded body could take. He slowed down after half an hour, his weakening body slumping up against yours, telling you how to get to Jackson and what to tell Tommy should he fall over… If Lorenzo passed out and off the horse, there was no way to get him up in your condition… 

Somewhere along the lines, you  found yourself apologizing, apologizing for causing so much trouble, uprooting his life, uprooting all their lives, Tommy’s happy life in Jackson…

“Sweetheart, knock it off, I mean it.” He said in that harsh but loving tone. “Joel… he said you were nothing, that you were nothing to Tommy but that’s not true. I love you, Zach loves you, and Tommy absolutely loves you. We are doing this to give you and that baby a chance at survival.”

You continued into the night, until a group of men on horses approached with dogs.

“Lorenzo Alverano!” He shouted, and the men looked at each other. Quickly, you and Lorenzo were sniffed out for infection and hurried off into the city limits and brought to where you sound found out was Maria and Tommy’s home, the men banging on the doors.

It was Tommy who answered. 

You didn’t look like yourself at all.

Even under the dim porchlight, Tommy could see the expanse of bruises and scratches on your face, your black eye, the hanging and strangulation marks and rope burn, the busted lip, the considerable amount of fat you’d lost… and of course, your 8 month round belly.

“Oh honey…” Tommy murmured before rushing to take you in his arms. “What did he do to you?”

You cried heavily in his arms as he guided you inside where another woman watched, questioning Lorenzo on the situation at hand. You were introduced to her, Maria, and although she was straight to business, you didn’t feel unwelcomed. Tommy would care for your emotional needs, Maria was planning your escape.

It was decided when she spoke. “Lorenzo, you’ll never make it to Casper the way you are, you’re staying here.” She turns to Tommy. “Take one of the travel bags and go.”

“Maria. ” You didn’t know if he was going to protest or what, but Maria stopped him short.

“Go. She needs you.” She looked… Sad, almost, as she turned to the men. “Get Lorenzo to a safehouse with a medic.” Back to Tommy. “You, get the horse and the bag and go. There isn't much time, Joel is gonna come barreling and we need to prove you’re gone.” 

Back and forth, Tommy looked at you, then Maria, then you, then Maria… before standing up. “Okay.” and he headed out the door in a hurry.

Maria looked at you sympathetically. “Do you remember me?”

You tried to think… she looked familiar but- oh. “The first day.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Joel… I wanted to stop him, but I was trying to broker a deal to keep Jackson out of his grasp and…” Maria shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m honestly amazed you lived, knowing Joel.”

“Yeah.” You huff out. “Me too.”

“Tommy’ll get you to Boston, get you safe, take care of you…” She looked sadder, the more she talked…

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t help but over apologize, it was ingrained in you now. “But once my babies safe, I’ll leave you and Tommy alone. He’ll be back and you’ll never hear from me again.”

She didn’t look like she believed you. “Sure. He’ll be back…” did she believe herself?

Despite Maria and Tommy’s insistence to hurry, they took their time saying goodbye, Maria grasping tightly to his body.

“I’ll be back, Maria. I swear. Get through the winter and I’ll be back first thaw, okay?”

Maria didn’t sound like she believed Tommy either.

One hand was around you, holding you tightly to him while the other guided the horse, urging it on to run as much as it could… you needed distance, as Joel likely already returned to the house and discovered you were missing by now.

It was a long while before he spoke.

“What did he do to you, honey?” It was that soft, low, ever-calming tone he used on you that never failed to make you felt into him… “How did this happen…”

You couldn’t help but tell him the story of the last 8 months since he’s been gone. The pregnancy, Lorenzo, the freedom, and exhausting housekeeping with a giant belly… How Joel began to see you as his wife, his maid, a person to make babies and clean the house… not as a person like you had thought.

Finally, you told him how Joel beat the ever-living fuck out of you, how he hung you from the tree and left you for dead… and how you called for him in your hysteria. 

Tommy rested his head on yours, taking in the smell of your hair as he apologized for not being there for you.

When it was clear you weren’t getting much further, Tommy guided the horse to an old abandoned house he knew off in the woods. Tommy knew this area well, having made this trip many times throughout the years. The sleeping bag you were sent off with was intended to be shared between two people for body heat, but not necessarily a heavily pregnant person… the fit was tight, but nonetheless 

you were comfortable in his arms. You were always comfortable in his arms.

“I’m glad you’re here, Tommy.” You spoke softly, drifting off to sleep.

“I am too, honey.” Tommy kissed the side of your face, and as the tiniest peak of light shown through the horizon, Tommy and you drifted off to the small amount of sleep you could before continuing on your journey to Boston, to start a new life.

*************

CW For a bomb threat on kids between the *******'s

*********************I work at a day care, it's week 2, and between waking up from nap and snack time we received a bomb threat. Our building evacuated around 100 kids to a nearby church. People where there to set up a anniversary party and were incredibly kind. They set up a tv for the kids to watch a movie, brought out water and crackers for our poor kids who didn't get their snack, and tissues for the teachers who were crying. its me i was teachers. I did great getting the kids to safety butt as soon as the action ended i was a mess. not long after a bunch of people arrived. My day care does child care for workers at the nearby hospital we are a part of so pretty soon lots of people where there including the hospital president, HR, and on sight counseling which I took part in. Turns out it was a middle school pulling a "prank". Law enforcement said they have never seen a building full of children evacuated that quickly and safely. Several of us are new. **************

this being said... I am exhausted. I cried a lot and my anxiety drained me... but I wrote this chapter bc writing helps me cope. So.... it's not my best writing but that's okay.

chapter 10 will probably take a while to see, because I need it to be perfect, absolutely perfect for you guys because you all deserve it. You maaaaaayyy just a small drabble bc there was a scene i wanted to include but it just didn't fit!

I go on a trip next week where I'll finally get to see Matchbx 20 who ive had tickets for since 2020 but covid ruined it lol...

I'm also working on a joel one shot for ya'll

anyway thak you all so so so much for your continued support!!!!! I love you all very very much

Reblogs are the best way to spread and support, but comments mean the world. I know not everyone likes to share dark content on their blog, but even a kind anon is such support!

Anyone got any guesses for the grand finale? I would looooove to hear some theories!!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

#dark!joel #the wrong way series #the last of us hbo #dark joel miller #joel miller #joel miller smut #non con #dub con #the wrong way fic #joel miller fic #Tommy miller #dddne #joel miller reader #joel miller fem reader #fem reader #fem!reader #tommy miller reader #tommy miller fem!reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #Spotify

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

To Make a Heaven of Hell (1/?)

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Virgil knew he was dead, somehow.

And somehow death was loud and bright and overwhelming, the people within it were beautiful and diverse and strange and the places big and magical and wonderous.

But it was hard to accept that you are good, after a short life of being told that you are bad.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little help, some hot demons and a whole universe full of new friends and family to get you to accept your paradise.

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| Ao3 | Next Chapter -> |

Fic Warnings: Implied/referenced character death, trauma, homophobia/transphobia mentions, abuse mentions, other canon-typical (to Hell's Belles) heavy topics, canon-typical (to Hell's Belles) violence.

Pairings: Prinxiety, Intrulogical, all canon Hell's Belles relationships.

Notes: Why hello there, I see you've clicked on my silly little crossover hm? I do hope you enjoy!

To any SaSI readers who have no clue what Hell's Belles is, you're welcome to read, I've tried to provide enough exposition that this can be read without prior knowledge but also not too much that the people who DO know the series get frustrated, haha.

Also yeah I know this wasn't what won the polls, but it's my poll I can do whatever I want shush.

This fic may go into heavy topics typical to Hell's Belles, which is the main reason for all the tags, but it shouldn't go too dark for the vast majority of the fic!

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Chapter 1 : What Comes After

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Everything was black, for a long while. Too long, in his opinion. And… empty.

They remembered everything, the pain, the hurt, the struggling and the heartache that had come with their… too-short, lifetime. He remembered the yelling - they had been arguing about something that felt meaningless now - he remembered the screeching of brakes, the smell of burning rubber on the tarmac, the crunching of metal as their car had crashed into another. Oh, he hoped whoever had been in the other car was okay.

And he was… dead. Somehow, in Virgil’s mind, he knew that he was dead,. Even as he hung in this dark void of nothingness, everything and nothing at once, where his feelings felt like they were locked behind a wall of glass, he knew. Eventually - after floating for a time that felt far too long and far too short at the same time - he noticed a door in the dark void. After a moment’s hesitation, they opened it and stepped through.

The sudden presence of bright lights and loud sounds and a massive open space filled with people and… different people was immediately overwhelming. Virgil whirled around and there was no door behind him, nothing showing that he’d come from… somewhere else… at all. The cathedral-like space - though nothing like any cathedral he had ever seen - was amazingly huge, bigger than any building he’d ever been in by far. There were people everywhere, appearing out of nowhere just like they did, sitting, standing, talking with other people and walking around. 

“Hey, sweetie, you new?” Someone asked, Virgil turned to see a taller woman whose features they definitely weren’t going to remember, he gestured to himself and she nodded, confirming that she was talking to him.

“Oh, um, yeah? I… think so?” Virgil said after too long of trying to force the words up through his throat, luckily she seemed to be patient enough.

“I can tell, the first time can be really overwhelming,” She said, nodding along, “Whenever you’re ready you can head to that desk over there - they’ll tell you where you need to go.”

“Right,” Virgil nodded, “Um, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid,” She smiled, waving as she walked off in the opposite direction, towards a strange-looking hallway. 

Looking back around, Virgil faced the desk she had pointed to and found he could see a whole range of people sitting behind it - age, ethnicity, time period, even people who he wasn’t sure were even human. Most of the desks had lines of people waiting and others seemed quieter. He began to walk over before pausing and looking back. They’d just… died. Because their boyfriend had crashed his car. Virgil wondered if he would be following.

When no one they recognised appeared out of thin air after what felt like a few minutes, Virgil let himself breathe a sigh of… what might be relief. He wasn’t here, and that quick realisation… really took a weight off of Virgil’s shoulders. 

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Virgil walked over to the desk, trying to seem as confident as he possibly could as he approached one of the desks without a line. Granted, he was still completely terrified, but maybe if he pretended to be confident, he would feel it eventually.

A file appeared on the person’s desk as he gestured for Virgil to take a seat in the comfortable chair that stood before the desk. They did so as the other silently flicked through the file with a blank expression on his face, dark green eyes behind thick glasses barely telling a single emotion. His hair was pulled back into a neat bun - though the textured hair seemed to be trying quite hard to escape its confinement. Virgil started to feel a little awkward as he hummed, placing down the file again and looking back up at him. He could see his name glittering on the front page. 

“Hello,” He said, “I’m Logan, you’re Virgil Byrne, correct?”

“I- yeah- wait-” Virgil said, raising a hand, out of everything that was happening, there was one thing that really stuck out to him, “That - That file is about me, right?”

“Indeed,” Logan nodded.

“It… it shows my chosen name?”

“The files show the name connected to your soul,” Logan explained, “For most people, that is the name they are given at birth - and usually this remains consistent through lifetimes - however, sometimes souls are placed in the wrong bodies, and therefore end up with the wrong names - along with other things. Virgil is the name your soul identifies with, therefore, that is the name on your file. You should also - as a soul - have a body that more accurately aligns with your gender identity.”

“That’s - wow,” Virgil mumbled, looking down at his hands, he immediately filed that information away to have a crisis about later, “That’s-”

“Overwhelming? It can be,” Logan nodded, “You will have time to process everything later. Are you aware of how you died?”

“I- yeah, yes,” Virgil nodded, “Is this… the afterlife?”

“Part of it, yes, this is the Front Death-k,” Logan grimaced as he spoke the pun and Virgil couldn’t help but smile, “Where new souls come to find out where they are supposed to go next, now, did you follow a religion in life that you were prefer to be judged by?”

“Can’t you see that in the file?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can, but I prefer to hear the answers from the soul directly,” Logan explained, “Sometimes the religion a person followed in life isn’t the one they want to be judged by.”

“Right, I uh- my family were catholic,” Virgil started, taking a deep breath, “But um, I never really… clicked with it, and I never got the chance to learn enough about other religions to… know.”

“That’s alright,” Logan nodded, “With that, your options would either be to be judged by the Christian belief system, since it’s the one you’re most familiar with, or you can go through universal judgement, or I suppose you could also take a lottery-style pick of any belief system, but the vast majority would rather not.”

“What’s uh- what was the second one?” Virgil tilted their head.

“Universal Judgement: the process most people not connected to a religion go with,” Logan said, “By which you will be judged by the universe itself, hence the name, after which you will either be allocated a paradise or you will have to choose a punishment realm, depending on the outcome.”

“Well that’s not terrifying at all,” Virgil said, trying to offer a joke to hide the fact that the ideas of such a harsh judgement set his hands shaking and his teeth on edge. Well, at least he knew he hadn’t lost his terrible anxiety, even in death. 

“No, it’s not,” Logan said, seemingly taking his sarcasm entirely seriously, “The universe is very fair in its judgement and takes many things into account, you do not need to worry, if you choose to take that option, that is.”

“...Okay,” Virgil nodded, “I um- I think I’d rather do that than the Christian judgement system…”

“Wonderful,” Logan nodded, “I’ll walk you to the universal judgement gate when you’re ready, meanwhile, do you have any more questions you’d like to ask?”

“You mentioned… punishment realms?” Virgil said tentatively, “If I end up there…?”

“If you were to come out of the bad side of Universal Judgement, you will be offered a choice of punishment realm for you to spend your sentence. Some people stay forever, others are able to reincarnate after a time. But remember that the punishment realms are more a system of justice, but unlike the mortal justice system you’re used to, it's not obscenely biased and cannot be incorrect.”

“...right,” Virgil nodded slowly, “And the paradise?”

“If you achieve it, your own space that fits your soul’s true desires, usually a house or community that represents your perfect ‘heaven’ of a sort. Of course, different belief systems will have different versions of this - for example, the Norse may have paradises in Valhalla, while Christians may have theirs in Heaven, though people not attached to religion will still get a paradise in a more general ‘paradise’ realm.”

“Right, that’s…” Virgil took another deep breath. The idea of paradise sounded… nice, but… well he didn’t know if he’d even get there, of course, a large part of him doubted it - after all, no one in his life had had faith in him, his parents so convinced he’d go to hell that they kicked him out of their house, but… if he did achieve it… how would that feel?

“I’ll give you a moment to think,” Logan told him, “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“Won’t I hold up the line?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Logan shook his head, “Most people gravitate to some of the other workers here.”

“...Okay.”

—-

Virgil wasn’t sure how much time passed - their concept of time had been screwed over when they were alive, and there didn’t seem to be any kind of clock or other time-telling devices around this space, but he thought maybe it had been about five minutes before he finally told Logan that he was ready and let him lead them off to that same hallway the woman had gone down before. 

Eventually - after some time Virgil spent trying to block all of the confusing sensory input from all around him, trying not to spiral into a panic as they approached what could only be the universal judgement gateway, a stone archway that seemed to glitter with a strange rainbow iridescence. 

“You step in there,” Logan informed, “And the universe will take you where you need to go, good luck, I’m sure you’ll end up exactly where you need to be.”

“Thank you, um, for your help,” Virgil said, trying to offer Logan a smile through his bubbling panic. 

“I’m simply doing my job,” Logan nodded, “But you are welcome.”

Virgil nodded, before turning to look into the grey mist that formed the inside of the archway, taking a deep breath, and with a final glance back at Logan who offered an encouraging nod, he stepped through the archway.

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General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer

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| Next Chapter -> |

#sanders sides #hells belles #hells belles au #virgil sanders #prinxiety #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #rowans writings

[jasonsknight3]

I thought I would just put part one and two together. If you already read part one you can scroll down to part to. I have it labeled just for you guys. I also tried a little somethign different this time. I’m a little nervous about it but we’ll see how it goes. Last thing, the art at the end I do not plan on finishing because e it’s just not going well. 😭 so you get to see part of it. Happy reading.

Zombie Jason fic

Part one

Over a year, it’s been over a year since it began. It took about 24 hours of screaming, panic, choking, and pain for it to spread like wildfire, it took a couple days for the screams to turn into quiet gurgling sounds. All it took was one week for the majority of humanity to turn. Not sure how it started, but this wasn’t like the movies. Not in the slightest. These “zombies” weren’t rotting, they weren’t falling apart, they weren’t slow, they didn’t eat flesh, some only bite for the purpose of spreading the disease. Some give the kiss of death erasing what humanity you had. The mindless creatures were pale green with irritated red under their eyes, some had thick vines creeping painfully out of the mouth, nose, eyes, or all three. A truly horrific sight.

“Unsure meetings”

Running through the trashed streets of Gotham you panic. Your warm breath being seen in the winter gray air. Hoots and hollers getting closer behind you. Your legs feel number and number by the minute. How long have you been running? How far could the adrenaline take you? You felt yourself slowing down. Up ahead were boxes, barrels, and stakes made of different materials. A normal thing to see in the streets these days. However, usually these places were abandoned. You wished you could get rid of these guys on the stakes but they were human. Somewhat smarter than the mindless creatures. “Come on pretty lady! We just wanna talk!” One of them cooed loudly while others laughed and encouraged. Zipping between barrels and other things you make your way. A scream cut through the air making you look back. You see one of the guys bleeding, nails embedded in his face and whole left side. It was a sucking sight, torn flesh, the nails contorting his face. The other men were trying to console him, stupidly pulling the nails out of his face. Looking back was your worst possible mistake. Your ankle caught some thick rope making you fall. It was so quick the sound of crunching didn’t even seem real. Your eyes watered, heart pounding, your arm felt…numb. Swallowing the fear you turn your head to a horrific sight that makes you shriek in horror. The pain was extreme as it all suddenly came rushing to you. Bloods leaked from your bear trapped arm. Unfortunately the group of men hadn’t forgotten about you. They all started approaching.

In a hurry you tried prying off the bear trap to no avail. After all, bear traps required two hands instead of one. “Well well well, looks like our little lady got stuck.” One of them taunted. “Well, looks like we don’t have to catch er’ now.” Another said laughing. Quickly you pulled out your knife pointing it at them. You hated that you shook. They could see the fear. “Oh sweetie. No need for that, let just say we’re a couple of guys that need a- a little affection.” In response you cursed at them. “Back off!” You yelled. “No need for that little lady.” One of them kicks the bear trap causing you to drop the knife and shriek in pain. In a single moment they had you pinned to the ground, your face on the cold dirty asphalt. You scream at them, and cry desperately for help. The men talked among themselves. “It’s not like she needs both. We could just cut it off.” Another interjected “we could just take off the bear trap dummy.” Another one huffed “but if we cut her hand off she’ll be less of a fighter.” They all agreed your eyes watered as you pleaded. “Pl-please don’t!” They only laughed. The one on top of you pulled out a knife. “This might hurt little lady.” You squeeze your eyes shut, the blade touches your skin but nothing more. A weird silence followed. Something warm dripped on your face. Opening your eyes you see the man above you. Red leaking from his throat. A blade covered in blood stabbed through his jugular. The man gurgled but was quickly thrown to the side taking the wait off of you. “Walter!” One of the men screamed. “You gonna pay for that!” Trying to get away from the commotion you crawl away as far as you could and sit up. Just before you was a bloody scene. A larger man was in a bloody battle with these guys. Blood was everywhere. Using skill and accuracy he sliced and stabbed to kill. They got a few hits on him but it did little to nothing. Within a few moments of agonized screams the winter air fell quiet. Zombies you could handle, this- this was true horror. Living in Gotham before all this was pretty dangerous but this was one of the most violent things you had seen personally.

You attention strayed away from the dead bodies to the approaching figure. “No- please! Don’t hurt me! I- I’ll leave! I swear!” You plead. The man crouched down. “Stop.” He demanded abruptly. Being quiet you take note of a few things. This huge man was wearing plated armor that had some sort of red symbol on the Breast plates, wearing a brown leather jacket over it, he had some waist holsters obviously for guns and a knife sheath. Leaning down you could see he wore a red handkerchief over the bottom of his face. his eyes. One green the other blue Strangely soft and a scar between his thick eyebrows. He took a hold of the bear trap. “Hold your breath.” He ordered and you comply. The sound of straining metal claws was a relief and painful. The exhale was sharp and the inhale quick. The man put a hand over you mouth muffling the screams of agony. The trap clamping on hurt just as much as coming off. Tears streamed down wetting you flushed cheeks. “You’re alright. You’ll be fine. Come on.” Taking a hold of your upper back the stranger lifted you up and started taking you to a building. He looked around, aware of the sound of the infected getting worked up. “Need to get off the street.” He said aloud more to himself than you. “I’ll take care of you.” He assured you.

Part two starts here

The building he took you inside was cold, quiet, and for obvious reasons empty. Looking around it looked like a business building, a front desk, spinning chairs, and pictures with golden colored trim. “Take a seat.” He demanded pointing to a dust covered chair. The pain was…awful. You still hiss and whimper when trying to get comfortable. Looking down at it almost made you want to throw up. Holes in the flesh bleeding, bruised, swollen. How much blood did you lose? As if on cue you start feeling dizzy. “Uh- s-sir, i…think I’m gonna… pass out.” Your hearing felt like it started cutting out, you felt so sweaty and hot, the world began to spin in circles as you felt your head get heavy bobbing side to side. “Oh you are not.” A muffled voice responded. You felt a pair of hands taking me somewhere. The sensation of a flat surface pressing on your back could be felt. Your legs felt like they were resting higher than then the rest of your body. A dull pain radiates from your arm as you feel a hand lift it up. Oddly enough it was all so funny.

Jason’s POV

The woman in the floor started laughing. “That’s not good.” I say to myself. Good thing I’m trained for this kind of thing. I take her hand holding it straight up keeping it above her heart. One thing I’ve been grateful for is how well Batman taught me to prepare and then some. Opening the med-kit scanning the items I find some cloth and hold it tight to her arm. Two places were injured and I could hold both. Lightly tapping the woman’s face I get her attention. “Hey, hey. Can you hear me?” She laughed a smile. “Yea I can hear you.” At least she’s still conscious. “I need you to do me a favor if you can. Can you lift up your other arm?” She looks over at her arm, lifting the shaking hand in front of her face. “Y-yea.” She said look at her hand with a lopsided grin. “I need you to hold something for me. Think you can do that?” She nods her head. Guiding her hand I have her hold another cloth to the other puncture wound. She couldn’t hold it too tight but it would at least give me something time.

While she held the wound nibbling about something I took the small tablet from the med-kit to x-ray the damage. Solar powered recharged every other day. I thought about it. Probably need to give her something to drink if I can, and keep her talking and away. “So, what’s your name?” I ask her. She looks at me with a funny face. “You want to know my name?” She slurred out. “Yea, I’d love to know your name. Do you have one?” Of course she had one I knew but I was trying to keep things light as I scanned the wound. “Of course I have a silly. Everyone does. It’s (y/n). What about you?” She asked. “I’m Jason.” The scan completed. Luckily she only had some blood loss and treatable muscle damage. No major arteries hit. She had no idea how lucky she was. “Jason…I like it. It’s very cute.” That fought me off guard for a moment. “Uh, thanks.” I start getting to work on the first part of her arm. I’ve patched myself up numerous times that this was easy.

As soon as I finished that one I gently moved her hand. “So, what drinks do you like? Have a favorite?” I asked to keep her talking. She seems to be slowly coming down from the dizziness. “I like soda.” She said her eyes were watering. Stealing a glance I see it. “Are you starting to hurt?” She nods with a sob. “Okay, that’s a good sign.” I mumbled to myself. Looking back in the med-kit I grabbed a small juice box. “Here, drink this you’ll start to feel better. Take it slow.” She did just that, siping through the straw. Finishing up the other abrasion on her arm I wrap it up to finish. She needs to keep it over her heart for now stills just like a broken bone. Putting it in a sling I gently lifted her head wrapping the sling strap around her neck. Even though I was as gentle as possible she still whined in pain as I shifted her arm into the sleeve. “I know it hurts. It’s alright. Let’s get you some medicine. Let try and sit up.” I help her sit up. She sits there for a moment as I keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t just go back down. When I was sure she was fine I took some ibuprofen and gave it to her. “Here.” She opened her mouth and I popped it in. You’re alright. You’ll start feeling a little better. Hopefully soon.”

Your POV

Yes. The pain was intense but your hearing was back, the world felt like it wasn’t spinning anymore, and you were taken care of. You look at Jason whose gaze was still on you. “Thank you.” He nodded. “You’re welcome. So, how long were you running from those filthy hellions?” She thinks for a moment. “I don’t really know but it was a long time.” He then pulled down the red bandana that covered his face. He has a strong jawline, a scar from his chin passed his lip up to his cheek, and the other smaller one on his cheek. He had a beard that was decently grown. For two years it wasn’t long so he must shave sometimes. He smirked. “You good?” You look away a little embarrassed. “Sorry.” He laughed a little. “It’s fine. How are you feeling now?” Sighing you answer “better than it did a minute ago.” I said with a smile.

He nodded. “Listen, I want you to stay so I can take care of you but, I have something I have to do, I know you won’t like it but I promise I won’t hurt you.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What is it.” Talking a breath he answers seriously. “I’ll need to check you for bites. I’m going to have to see under the clothes.” You feel your heart jump in your chest. “A-after what I just went through? After what those men intended to use me for?!” Feeling a since of panic and anger. He shakes his head. “Listen, I get it. I know I’m sorry, but I have people I have to take care of. A friend and his little girl. I can’t lose them. If something happed to them I’d never forgive myself.” He seems genuine. He seem like he really is telling you the truth. “I won’t have to touch you and no, I can’t just trust your word. Been lied to too much. Can’t take the risk.I just need to take a good look for bites. I promise no touching required.” Taking everything into consideration you agreed. He did help you and he is just looking out for his group. “Okay, what do you need to see?” You inquire. “I already saw one arm, I need to see the other, your torso and legs including feet.” With a sigh you get up with a bit of the grunt while he stayed on the ground. “I can’t lift my other sleeve.” You say realizing yo I can’t actually use your other hand. “Are you asking for help?” You nod. He lifts your sleeve and examined your arm all round lifting it and taking a good look. “I need to see your shoulder. May I have a look?” He asked. You nodded again. He moved the collar of your shirt a little and inspected your shoulder and neck. “Okay, that’s all good.” He backed away. Lifting your shirt you showed the skin underneath. It felt embarrassing but he didn’t look at you in a lot way or make you feel uncomfortable. “Slowly spin.” Doing what he asked you do a 360. “Okay that’s good.” You lean down and take off your shoes and socks showing him your feet. He nodded letting you know you were good. Pulling your sweats up to you knees he takes a good look. “Okay.” Wriggling your sweats down to show your thighs and hips he nods. “Okay, I’ll take you upstairs and well have dinner with the rest of the crew. You successfully put your socks on but started to struggle tying shoe. “Can I have os help?” He leans down and helps put your shoes on and tie them while you sad up looking at him. You realized he had a white streak in his black curly hair that was half up. “How’d that happen?” You asked. “Mm, long story.” Standing up he took your good hand and pulled you up. “Let’s go.”

Going up the stairs he kept close by as if to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt or fall. The walk was long, especially after all the excitement you lived through. On the fifth floor is where we exited the stairwell. The whole floor was covered in a bunch of offices. “This way.” His voice was quiet. Finally you both made it to a large office room. “Jason!” A small light voice called in excitement. A little girl suddenly jumped into Jason’s arms. He pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, sunshine.” He said tenderly with a smile. The little girl looked at you. She had black hair, beautiful green eyes, a paler tone. “Who’s that?” She asked. “This is our new friend. She was hurt really badly. Someone has to take care of her. How about you show he to the food.” She nods. “Where’s your dad?” He asked her. “He’s talking to Dick on the radio.” Jason hummed then whispered something in her ear. With that she giggled and took your hand. “Come on!” Leading you to the corner of the room there was a small contained fire with a pot of stew. She made a bowl and gave it to you. “Here.” With a smile you take it. “So, what’s your name?” You ask taking a bite of the warm stew. “I’m Lian. Harper!” She stuck her hand out to greet. Putting the spoon down you shake hers. “I’m (y/n).” You and the Lian kept each other good company. Jason must have gone and talked to this Roy guy. You were grateful that Jason saved you. You were glad he was there and that he was willing to give you a safe space to be.

#arkham knight x reader #batfam #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood #redhood #tim drake #dc x y/n #dc x you #redhood dc #dc joker #dc robin #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #ak redhood #arkham knight #arkhamverse #ak jason #roy harper #harley quinn

[artsbyryn]

+.[FANDOM]— demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba.

+.[SYNOPSIS]— For every universe, there is an alternate where things are the same... But different. In this world, Kamado Nezuko and Tanjirou are twins who share the Hanafuda earrings. When Tanjirou injures his leg one day, Nezuko takes the charcoal down the mountain in his stead. She returns to her family massacred, and her twin brother turned into a demon. Together, Nezuko and Tanjirou must slay all evil demons in order to find a cure for Tanjirou's condition. Along the way, they'll meet unexpected friends and overcome the darkness. Periodically updated, author is a senior in college. All art is by the author, artsbyryn.

+.[TAGS]— Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Kamado Nezuko & Kamado Tanjirou, Kamado Nezuko/Tsuyuri Kanao, Kamado Tanjirou/Kanzaki Aoi, Kamado Tanjirou & Tsuyuri Kanao, Kamado Nezuko, Kamado Tanjirou, Demon Slayer Corps Hashira | Pillars, Tomioka Giyuu, Sabito (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Makomo (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Tsuyuri Kanao, Kanzaki Aoi (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Rengoku Kyoujurou, Rengoku Senjurou, Rengoku Family (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Kanroji Mitsuri, Kochou Shinobu, Shinazugawa Genya, Tokitou Muichirou, Uzui Tengen, Akaza | Hakuji (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Kibutsuji Muzan, Kamado Family (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Agatsuma Zenitsu, Hashibira Inosuke, Demon Slayer Kamado Nezuko, Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Anime Spoilers, Demon Slayer: Kitmetsu no Yaiba Manga References, Demon Kamado Tanjirou, Roleswap, Protective Kamado Tanjirou, BAMF Kamado Nezuko, BAMF Kamado Tanjirou, Demon Slayer Kanzaki Aoi (Kimetsu no Yaiba), Tsuyuri Kanao is Bad at Feelings, Kamado Tanjirou is a Ray of Sunshine, Kamado Sibling Role Reversal | Demon Slayer Kamado Nezuko and Demon Kamado Tanjirou, Tanjirou and Nezuko are Twins, Tanjirou and Nezuko Share the Hanafuda Earrings, Kamaboko Squad but Make it Girls, No meta we die like the Kamado family, Short Hair Nezuko )

+.[AUTHOR'S NOTE]— this is the first multi-chapter fic I have written in almost 10 years. I wanted to write an accompaniment to my roleswap AU edit drawings and explain how I think the story would go.

+. [ EXCERPT ] — from chapter 2.

Tanjirou had always had an impressive sense of smell. He could use it to help people in town, identifying broken pots as being knocked over by a cat rather than a customer in the shop. He could track the scents of animals when they needed to find sources of food, identify what plants were safe to eat.

             Nezuko never had a sense of smell that strong. Her power was in sight, able to tell the emotions of her loved ones and act upon it. She always wanted to have a sense of smell as strong as her brother’s, because after all, twins were supposed to share. They were two halves of the same coin. Everything would be okay as long as they were together.

             The snow crunched underfoot. It acted as the only sound Nezuko could hear coming home from old man Saburo’s house in the village. He had insisted she stay the night, to be protected from demons who roamed the night. Hopefully her family wouldn’t be too worried that she hadn’t come home for dinner…

             There was no other sound beyond her footsteps and her own breath, mist forming bursts of steam from her parted lips. Something was wrong. Normally the birds would be singing at this time of day. Nezuko felt a pit form in her stomach, sitting heavy and cold there. She assured herself everything would be fine, she was just anxious over being gone from home for so long. Her gifts and earnings from the day’s sales would surely make up for her absence, and the coming New Year’s would be perfect.

             Coming up to the edge of their property Nezuko took a deep breath, ready to shout that she was home. She could imagine the eager cries of her siblings, their little running footsteps towards her. She could picture Tanjirou’s warm smile, and their mother’s relieved face. Tanjirou’s leg would be healed by now, surely, and they could prepare for the coming holiday tradition together…

             Her boots came to a sudden halt on the snow. Her nose was overwhelmed by the stench of copper, of decay. Nezuko’s breath quickened, eyes widening. In front of her house, sprawled out in a heap on the snowy ground… Was Tanjirou and Rokuta.

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

read more here.

#kny #kny au #kny roleswap au #kny fanfic #kny fic #roleswap au #nezuko kamado #tanjirou kamado #artsbyryn #ryn's fics

[wise-tortoise]

A gift for my dear friend @willtheartist who asked me for a Wei Wuxian-centric fic several weeks ago but I was able to write it only just now. Sorry for the long wait!

Warnings for Major Character Death, gore. Dead dove: do not eat! 

The crunching noise of bones under his boots; the crows circling above, waiting for his flesh to finally rot; the voices whispering, yelling in his head, in his veins, in his throat. These were his companions as he learned to command resentment, as he first ordered it to stitch his skin and fix his broken bones, as his blood fed the wretched earth under his feet.

Even when he left the Burial Mounds, he was never alone, for his companions were always with him, just behind him, under his skin, inside the empty space of his ribcage. 

Did he even have organs anymore, or had he fed all of them to this power?

His white hand caressed the paper-thin skin of a childish skull, the creature happily eating someone’s liver. It could have been his own, for all he knew. 

There were few things that the dead wanted: revenge, energy, rest. How was he different from them, then? 

The corpse smiled at him and he smiled back, blood on his own teeth. 

What was human, and what was monster? What was right and what was wrong? 

Righteous cultivators shouted at him, for justice, they said, but was it justice if he was just supposed to stand there and take their hatred without defending himself? 

Nothing he could do, nothing he could say would ever change his position in their eyes. 

Would anyone mourn him, anyone at all? Now that shijie was dead - dead dead dead she was dead - would there be anyone to burn paper money for him? 

Jiang Cheng was at the lead, thunderous in his rage, strike after strike bringing down every corpse; and yet more still arose, following the eerie sound of the dizi, comrades and friends turned enemies. Brothers turned killers of each other. 

Wei Wuxian, the righteous cultivators screamed, your life ends today. 

He felt a smile forming on his numb lips, though his music never faltered. 

He could feel the control slip, the first corpses tentatively getting closer to him as his broken fingers finally began to give up. The pain of the first tear was unbearable; he barely felt the sting of the second as blood blinded his vision and filled up the holes of his dizi. 

Fine, he thought, take my life as you will. But I will bring you with me. 

#wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #dead dove: do not eat #my fic #dd:dne #gore cw #cannibalism ig

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Crawl To You

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: The true test of a lover is if they can maintain their loyalty in the face of opposition. Even during the moment that Din had always feared would become his reality, he refuses to let you get caught in the crossfire.

Warnings: Literally Episode 5 of tbobf, so major spoilers for that if you have not seen it. Hopefully I got the plot right. Death and blood. Mentions of sex and established relationship. Swearing. Paz is annoying. Din is very depressed and very injured, but very protective. Kind of a happy ending.

A/N: Hello!! I have missed writing a lot, but the past couple of weeks have been nuts. I’m really sorry for the lack of fics, but hopefully this one makes up for it :)

Thank you all so much for the recent love on Embarrassed, Right There, and especially Beautiful. It truly means the world.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated

Din/Javi Masterlist

In all the different ways you had seen Din Djarin—spanning from the most intimate and vulnerable he had ever been, to the most mundane and everyday conversations—you had never seen him fall to his knees.

And you never wanted to again.

Your stomach dropped the moment he left you to retrieve the bounty, insisting that you would be safer outside. He had kept you even closer to him ever since Grogu left, and even before that, he never doubted your abilities to stand with him.

Not behind him, with him.

He had even admitted to you before how just the feeling of you next to him kept his anxious brain, constantly worried about credits and jobs and parts and food, tied to his feet. To the present moment.

It made your eyes mist with tears, and he proceeded to prove to you just how grateful he was for you for the rest of that night.

So when his shiny visor met your eyes, and he practically begged you to stay out of this one, there was no other option than to comply.

You stood outside of that rank butchery, listening to the knives being sharpened, spying for any threats, and shaking with fear.

Din wasn’t the only one who grew more attached to your relationship after he let the kid go, and if Din left you too…

You didn’t even want to go there.

You waited, and waited, and waited. You welcomed the sounds of yells and grunts once they finally echoed through the building, because you knew they weren’t his.

You didn’t care how fucked up it sounded. You’d rather every single man in that room perish than have Din get a single scratch.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your anger, and let your head rest against the metal wall you were leaning on.

Almost, you thought to yourself as the building suddenly went silent.

Almost.

His heavy footsteps crunched against the disgusting floor, and you turned your body towards the doorway to smirk at his victory.

What you saw instead, however, melted any sense of triumph you had.

Din was limping, badly. He had the darksaber—yes, the darksaber— deactivated in his right hand, and he had the head of the man he was sent to kill in the other.

None of it mattered, none of it. Not when you could see the pained breaths he took under all that armor. Even the way he was standing gave away just how much pain he was in.

It wouldn’t have mattered if the Emperor himself stood between you and your Mandalorian. There was no stopping you as you took off against the pavement, and wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, trying your best to keep him stable.

“What the hell happened?” you asked him, feeling the cool, familiar embrace of his beskar against your body. He practically sagged into you, using your body weight to keep himself upright. His frame still towered over you, and you were forced to look up at the side of his helmet.

“I—I got the bounty. We can find them,” he coughed out, gripping his palm on the ball of your shoulder so hard the leather squeaked. Your adrenaline was pumping through your body so fiercely you couldn’t even feel the squeeze.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Your leg is steaming—”

“Please cyare,” he mumbled, making you halt. “Help me get there. Help me get to them.”

You met his eyes under the dark shadow of his visor, something you had always been able to do since the day you met him, and you flattened your palm against his chest.

He wanted his people. His traditions. The two of you had been working to the bone to get him there.

You were so close. So close.

“Will they heal you?” you asked, keeping the tense eye contact.

“Y/N—“

“Answer me Din.”

He kept his stance, and brushed his knuckles against the shoulder he still had gripped.

“Yes.”

You let a smile break through, and kept your arms wrapped tightly around his wheezing waist.

The light in your eyes could have melted him on the spot.

“Then let’s go.”

~~*~~

The walk to the make-shift covert was…a shit show.

If you could even call it a walk.

You kept Din upright as best as you could on the way to the location, panting and sweating as you moved your aching legs. He tried to help, using his good leg, but it was practically no use.

The relief that you felt when you made it to the hidden entrance doors was audible.

The worst part, however, was yet to come.

Getting down the ladder.

You went down first, gripping the metal tightly. Your feet landed and the shoes you were wearing caused a light echo.

“I’m good,” you said, and Din nodded from above you.

Your heart cracked into more pieces at his grunts and groans as he was getting situated on the ladder, and your heart pounded harder than it should have been. You held your arms out in front of you as a precaution, as if you could catch him if he fell.

It made you feel better anyways.

He started his descent, and his metallic armor clanged against the bars as he went. He started off strong, moving faster than you expected, and your heart rose in your throat. A small smile came to your face.

But then he slipped, falling down two or three of the bars, and your heart went right back out your ass.

You stepped closer to the ladder and gasped, but he caught himself.

“I’m ok,” he groaned. “I’m ok.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and he continued his way down. Your own panicked breaths were the only thing you could hear.

His feet hit the floor, and you exhaled loudly, wrapping him around you once again.

“Almost there Din. Almost there.”

“I know cyare,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

~~*~~

The final steps towards the Armorer were hell.

Hell.

Of course she had a staircase down to where she sat. Of course.

She had to have heard the two of you come in. With your pants and Din’s grunts of pain, there was no way she didn’t hear you.

You started to make your way down the stairs, using the last ounces of strength you had left. You kept one foot in front of Din’s, making sure you were always one step ahead, and you tried your best to guide him.

Both of you were losing your strength, you could feel it in every step you took. Your arms were quivering and sweat dripped down your brow.

One tiny slip from Din, and you both went down.

Hard.

Your shoulders and ribs bounced off the smooth stairs, having absolutely no traction to keep you from sliding all the way down. Din managed to curve his body away from your own so he didn’t fall right on top of you, but he still landed on his injured arm.

Once your finally reached the bottom, you managed to suck in a breath. You were laid on your stomach, and you held your head up with your bruised elbows.

“Mando?” you coughed, scrambling to get up to help him.

You didn’t want the Armorer to know you knew his actual name. That could be grounds for exile.

“Help him,” the Armorer’s voice boomed.

You didn’t know if she was talking to you, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one.

You struggled to your feet, panting in harsh breaths, and spotted another Mandalorian coming around the corner with a medpac in his hands.

You would normally be intimidated by anyone of this man’s size, especially a Mandalorian, but your fear for Din overshadowed any sense of fear for yourself. You could still hear him wheezing on the floor.

The look you gave the man with the medpac stopped him dead, and you sprinted over to where he was standing.

“Give it to me,” you said, breathing through your nose. You looked him in the eyes through his own visor.

He took a moment to size you up, and you did the same to him. There was no prayer you could beat him in any sort of confrontation, but your feet stayed planted where they were.

You felt his gaze creep down your chin to your neck, and you realized what caused him to stand so still.

Din’s mythosaur necklace, dangling outside of your sweat-soaked shirt.

He knew you knew Din.

And he knew that Din was yours.

Your insides froze, but you stood your ground. Refusing to show him any kind of weakness. You continued to stare, heart pounding under your chest. A dribble of snot ran out of your nose, and you licked it away.

“Y/N,” you heard from behind you, deep, quiet, and familiar.

You spun on your heel, and two tears managed to finally escape from your eyes.

Not only was Din still flat on his stomach on the repulsive ground, but he was now pulling himself towards you only by his arms. He could barely get himself to move, but he was trying so hard to get to you that his entire torso was shaking with effort.

Din—your protector, lover, and best friend— was crawling to you.

That was the image that broke the dam inside of you, and your body was rattled with sobs. You didn’t even hesitate to rip the medpac out of the Mandalorian’s hands, and your feet pounded the floor as you raced back to Din.

You fell down next to him, getting to his level, and gently moved him onto his back. You ripped open the medpac, but Din continued to reach his arm out to you.

“Y/N—“

“Shhh,” you said, placing your arm on his shoulder.

“He didn’t—I didn’t want him to—to hurt you,” he panted, and you swallowed.

“I know Din. He didn’t. Everything is fine,” you said to him, and he nodded his head in reply.

His chest rose and fell as you treated his wound, and he squeezed your thigh when the bacta spray was finally finished sealing it up. Your hands shook during the entire process, and tears continued to seep from your eyes.

Once Din’s leg was finally sealed and he had some pain killers flowing through him, he made sure to wipe every single one away.

~~*~~

“It is done,” the Armorer stated. Her voice ringing in your ears.

Din had Paz, the Mandalorian whose name you had learned only minutes ago, pressed against him with his knife to his throat.

Din had won.

Oxygen could finally return to you.

You watched him from the platform above, and your confidence in his skills never wavered. Even when the fight wasn’t in his favor, you knew he would pull through.

He always did.

Plus, it felt good to watch Paz get some punches to the face.

“Paz Vizsla, have you ever removed your helmet?” the Armorer asked.

Your breath caught. Once again, any feeling of victory was pulled out from under your feet.

“No,” he responded.

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

“This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

The Armorer’s gaze fell to Din, and you knew what was about to happen.

“Din Djarin,” she began, “have you ever removed your helmet?”

You desperately wanted to just shut your eyes. You wanted to escape this moment, and never be forced to see Din face the truth head on. The tension in the room was breaking you down, and you wanted out.

But you didn’t quit. You wouldn’t leave him to face it alone. Not now, not ever.

You kept your eyes on him.

“Have you ever removed your helmet?” she asked again.

You could feel the panic rising from Din, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“By Creed, you must vow.”

You wanted him to lie. You wanted him to say that he had never removed it. If you could erase the memory of his curly brown hair and his strong, scruffy jaw, you would. You would erase it all, even the feeling of his skin on yours. It would hurt to deny the night that he revealed himself to you, and you knew it would hurt even worse to hear him deny it, but you would do it.

However, you knew Din, and you knew he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t lie.

He dropped Paz from his hold, and stood as broadly as he could.

“I have,” he said.

He turned his head to you, but didn’t let himself look at you too long. The Armorer was a smart woman, and if he gave away too many signs, she could very quickly figure out what he had done.

You hated that you thought it, and you hated that you felt it, but a sense of pride swelled deep within you.

You were happy he didn’t deny it, because that meant that all his words about giving up his Creed, his life, his home at any risk of your safety, weren’t just empty promises.

He had meant every word.

You had to be the worst person in the galaxy.

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

She had finally sunk the knife into his chest, and your heart ached for him.

“I beg you for your forgiveness,” he said, desperation and terror present in his tone.

“How can I atone?”

“Leave, apostate,” Paz mumbled from his spot on the floor.

Anger began to rise from your core.

Din was more of a Mandalorian than Paz could ever be. He was lucky you weren’t on the same level he was.

“According to Creed,” the Armorer replied, “one may only be redeemed in the living waters beneath the mines of Mandalore.”

“But the mines have all been destroyed,” Din said. He still stood his ground, but his strength was beginning to waver.

You wished you could have given all of your own to him.

“This is the way,” the Armorer said.

And that was it.

It was done.

Din began to pant louder, and you took a step toward him on the platform. The Armorer’s gaze met your own, and you let your own fear of her show through, freezing your muscles completely.

“How dare you walk with him,” she spat at you. “How dare you give him the temptation to break his Creed. You do not deserve to be in the presence of our kind.”

You looked down to your feet, and took a deep breath, absorbing her words.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you caused this.

“No.”

Your heart quickened, and Din’s tone rang in your ears.

He did not look sad or defeated any longer as he grabbed his saber off the ground, and he climbed the stairs up to you. He lightly brushed your shoulder with his palm, and your widened eyes could only watch him.

It was as if a switch had been flipped.

His head turned towards the Armorer, and he slowly made his way to her. He ignited the saber in his hand, and he held it dangerously close to her chest.

“You can harass me, you can belittle me, you can exile me,” he said, darker than you had ever heard from him. Shivers tingled up your spine.

“But leave. Her. Out of it.”

The two armored warriors didn’t move a muscle, and the Armorer was the first one to speak.

“Is that a threat, Din Djarin?” she spoke.

“No,” he said, and deactivated the weapon.

“It’s a warning.”

He turned back to look at you, and you took it as a sign to walk to where he was. He led you out of the covert, slowly and deliberately, never removing his hand from your lower back. His body towered over yours once again, sending a shadow over your entire frame.

He wanted them to see him with you. He wanted them to see him touching you, claiming you. He wasn’t afraid of them.

That sense of pride inflated in your chest once again, and the mythosaur necklace twinkled in the harsh lighting.

With Din’s leathered hand still on your spine, the both of you marched out of that covert, never once looking back.

Tag list: (I apologize if I missed you or your tag isn’t working. Please feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@leahkenobi @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblin @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon

#din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #book of boba fett #star wars fanfiction #star wars #thelastofus #javier peña smut #javier peña #ezra prospect #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

[darkestcorners]

the friendly ghost | yandere!jungkook au

THIRD INSTALLMENT | HALLOWEEN YANDERE SERIES

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)

genre: yandere, slight horror

warnings: mature themes, obsessive & unhealthy behavior, manipulation, paranormal themes, violent themes, major character death. ( TW: mentions of suicide)

word count: 11.8k

Based on the Halloween Classic; Casper

Synopsis: When you’re forced to move back in with your father after failing to find a stable job , you’re more than unsettled with the foreign and creepy place he has bought. Your anxiety only seems to worsen when you start to suspect the old house is haunted. But when your suspicions are confirmed , it seems like the spirit that inhabits your home isn’t terrifying at all. In fact, he’s rather friendly. A bit too friendly

AN; hey guys so we are going to pretend i posted this on halloween for the sake of my mental health🤠 on a serious note though , i had a family emergncy & a pretty shitty halloween so that was why my last two halloween fics were so delayed. im really sorry! but i hope everyone had a happy halloween ! hope you enjoy regardless! :)🎃🎃

“Dad you could of bothered to at least hide the key somewhere I could find it.” You grumbled into the phone as you took a look at the poorly painted teal color door. The ‘Welcome’ sign that hung from it was anything but inviting.

Your father had done a decent job at carving a large pumpkin that stood right at the doorstep of the home but it looked rather sad. You supposed the bad shape of the house added to the appeal of the current Halloween season but it would soon wear off . Your shoes crunched against the dried up leaves that covered the floor of the porch .

“I told you it’s there, I put it under the welcome carpet!” You rolled your eyes as you stared at the dirty thing, there was certainly no key under there. You had checked a good three times already and practically torn apart a gardening pot he had on the side too in search for it.

“Well looks you have early-onset Alzheimer’s because there’s nothing here.”

You hear him let out a sigh.

“Just wait there, I’ll be home in about 10 minutes.”

The line went dead and you stood there waiting for your father’s car to pull up in the driveway.

You were in a sour mood to say the least, you had just graduated college with a degree in communications and while you would admit it wasn’t the most impressive major , it had been for you. You were finally relieved to have finished school, only for you to fail to find a decent job. You had been applying to loads of different marketing jobs, even social media manager applications and nothing.

These were quite simple jobs, right? Even more so with a literal degree but somewhere nobody seemed to be interested in hiring you. You blamed it on the fact that you didn’t have much experience since you had just graduated a few months ago but it was just what you talked yourself into to make yourself feel better and not like a complete failure.

Your dad’s way of comforting you had been to convince you to move back in with him while you got yourself back on your own two feet. You hated it.

You were supposed to be the successful independent woman you imagined yourself to be at the age of 24 but now you had come scurrying back home to live with your dad like some teenager again.

It was illogical, you knew that. Things like this happened all the time, times were rough and living spaces were expensive, not to mention the lovely college debt you still had to still pay off.

It was the smart move, you had to admit that. Saving as much money as you could right now was the only way and you couldn’t afford the rent in the expensive area of the city anymore.

It was temporary. Just temporary.

You sighed as you placed your phone back inside your coat and took another look at the old house. As to why your father had decided to buy this poor excuse of a house? You had no idea, you didn’t want to be harsh but it wasn’t exactly the most modern home. But your father had always had a thing for the antique.

The overgrown grass surrounded the front yard, and the paint on the wooden fence was chipping off. You’re father had told you it had a garden in the back but by the looks of it, you couldn’t imagine it looking very pleasant.

Your eyes trailed over the second floor windows, squinting when you saw something move.

Was that the curtain?

The sound of an engine roaring broke your attention and you saw your father’s car making its way up the narrow street .

You waved at him, tugging your suitcases up further up steps and waiting for him to guide you into your new home for the next couple of months.

—-

Unpacking was a bitch, you believed anyone would agree with that statement.

You had avoided it for the past two days but it was time to finally settle into the room your father had given you the privilege of staying in. It was cozy, it’s not like you needed much room but you had to admit it was still a lot more spacious than your entire apartment had been back in the city. At least that was an advantage.

Your father had left for work early the morning and you had spent most of your day just lounging around, filling out as many applications as you possibly could online. You had tried to tidy up the place a bit too, urging your dad to consider adding some more decorations that didn’t already belong to the previous owners of this house.

Everything seemed rather old, well obviously, but it also seemed like it had not been touched in decades.

Your father mentioned that nobody had lived in this house since the original owners back in the 70’s which explained a lot, the designs of the house were definitely outdated but you supposed that added a bit of character to it.

You had your suitcase laying on the bed and you began unfolding your clothes. Your father had placed photograph of your mother on your nightstand you, probably hoping you wouldn’t mind but you did. You had taken the frame and it flipped face down.

You never liked keeping your mother’s photographs around the house ever since she had passed. You didn’t see the point in constantly being reminded of someone who was no longer part of this world. It just seemed like a way to constantly torture yourself.

Your father was the complete opposite. For a therapist, he didn’t seem to have the healthiest way of dealing with grief but you figured giving advice to strangers was a lot different than applying that same advice to your own personal life. He constantly liked being reminded of her, having her picture around and even some of her belongings. He had told you that it was in fact healthy to accept the loss of someone while still be unable to let them completely go.

You had your doubts about that conclusion.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like talking about her, although you were a bit avoidant regarding the topic but you supposed that was normal. But you were especially sensitive with photographs, couldn’t stare too much at them without breaking down. Remembering the dead never brought you the comfort that it brought your father apparently.

The sound of something hitting the ground was heard throughout the room and you looked over your shoulder, noticing the notebook you had taken out one of the boxes earlier was on the ground.

You frowned, walking over to pick it up and place it back on the dresser.

Turning back around, you made your way back to the pile of clothes that awaited you.

Clank.

You paused, your hands gripping the material of one of your old shirts.

The notebook was back on the ground and you knitted your eyebrows.

Were you starting to lose your mind? Sure, the stress you were under was more than you could handle but last time you checked, you were not diagnosed with any alarming psychological issues.

Yet.

Other than your father claiming you were a bit of a narcissist and needed to work on your pessimistic attitude but he was a therapist, they always found something wrong with you. So naturally, you took his words lightly and paid them no mind.

You took a breath and shook your head, deciding to ignore the damn notebook for now. You turned back around and continued to unpack your suitcase,

Your thoughts wandered off again, as much as you were grateful to have such an attentive father kind enough to let you move back in with him cost free it was still such a sad scene in your head.

Of course you were bound to be stuck back in a town so small you were sure it wasn’t even on a map instead of the bustling city you had planned and dreamed of living in since you were a little kid.

Clank.

An involuntary shiver ran down your spine.

You took a cautious look behind you, the notebook was still on the ground but there was another item that joined it, the lamp that you had placed on the nightstand now had been knocked completely on the floor.

Not only that but the notebook was open now, flipped to a seemingly random page but your eyes caught sight of the messy writing on it. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You stared at the sentence. Had you wrote that? Unlikely considering it didn’t resemble your handwriting at all. You wondered if it could’ve been one of your friends from back home or a roomate. 

You picked up the notebook, slamming it shut and stared around the empty room.

“Dad?” You called out starting to think he had come back home early and playing around with you. You knew he was the type to indulge in childish games even at his grown age but you also knew you had not heard the front door open once this entire time.

Silence.

Weird.

—-

Your eyelids were giving out on you, unable to escape the tiredness anymore you decided to shut your laptop and take off your glasses. You had sent a final application to a position you had been eyeing for weeks now, it was your dream job but you had little faith in actually getting it with how unlucky you had been recently with other applications.

Deciding to dwell on this tomorrow morning instead, you reached over and turned off your lamp. You positioned yourself against the covers and stared up at the ceiling.

Your breathing slowed and you shut your eyes. The silence of this place wasn’t something you were used to, you had been surrounded by the obnoxious sounds of the city life for so long that you had forgotten what it was like to go to bed in such tranquility. No sounds of traffic or ambulances going off every other minute, no people yelling or making a fuss upstairs.

Just the sound of the rustling October wind outside.

That was until you heard the sound of someone shuffling outside your bedroom door.

You kept your eyes shut, wondering if you were just hearing things in the middle of you falling into your slumber . You waited and the sound didn’t continue so you brushed it off and relaxed.

But then, you heard your bedroom door creak open.

Your eyelids fluttered open, squinting through the darkness. Your door was partially opened now and you knew you had shut it. It had been shut just moment ago.

Was your dad awake?

You sat up, throwing your covers off and sliding off the bed. You dragged your body out the door and walked downstairs, the old wooden steps creaking with every step.

You stood in the middle of the narrow hallway and looked to both sides. No sign of your father and you expected that much, he was not the type to wake up during the night. The man was an alarmingly heavy sleeper.

You yawned as you made your way towards the kitchen, you craved nothing more than a glass of water right now. Your tired state was surely making you become hypersensitive to any noise. It was an old house, you knew it was nothing out of the ordinary for everything to make a noise.

The glass filled halfway and you turned off the faucet, bringing the cup to your lips.

You gulped down the cold liquid but your eyes widened when you saw something run past you from your peripheral vision.

Nearly choking on the water, you brought your glass down and wiped your mouth. What was that?

It had been a silhouette, or at least that’s all you had seen. It had passed you far too quickly to even fully register.

You stare at the empty kitchen, the hallway in front of you was didn’t have a light so it always remained dark and it unsettled you a bit but you weren’t about to admit that to your dad. You were a grown woman, being afraid of a dark hallway was beyond childish.

Yet you hesitated to step forward.

You reluctantly walked down it , making your way back to the staircase but your steps slowed a bit when you felt something behind you.

It was something you couldn’t explain, you had never felt anything like it before. The air felt heavy almost, like someone was right on your steps behind you. Your skin crawled the more you stood there, only feeling it get worse and more prominent.

You let out a shaky breath as you glanced back. There was nothing.

You figured as much.

But it was cold. So cold.

Had it been this cold the entire time?

You weren’t sure but you decided you needed to just get to bed and sleep off this strange feeling in your stomach. Everything was starting to psych you out and you didn’t know why. You weren’t the type to believe in the paranormal, much less fear it. You had always said that if there was anything to fear in life, it was those who were still living , not those who had already passed and possessed no real power to bring you any harm.

As you climbed back up the stairs, you heard it.

The sound of the TV playing in the living room.

It sounded distant at first, like the volume was incredibly too low that you could only hear static and low voices murmuring. 

But it progressively got louder and louder, until the sound became unable to ignore. There was not a single doubt that the TV was playing now. You turned, glancing down the hallway and seeing the flashing lights of the screen display itself on the dark wall.

Your skin crawled again.

What really got you was when you heard it suddenly shut off, the lights disappearing and the eerie silence greeting you again.

You let out a shaky breath and sprinted back upstairs.

——

You watched as your father placed the hot pancakes on your plate and you reached over for the maple syrup, he was humming along to some song you couldn’t recognize. Your eyes trailed over the stove, watching as he continued to flip pour the batter on the sizzling pan.

“So, I applied to that ‘dream’ job I’ve been wanting.” You began, taking a bite out of your breakfast. “ Waiting for them to reject me so you can finally provide me free therapy sessions.”

Your dad chuckled at your comment and shook his head.

“No handouts, “ He joked as he took a seat next to you with his own plate of pancakes. He popped open the strawberry jam and covered them in the sweetness.

“Y/n, you have to be more confident in yourself. I’m sure you will get the job, you’re great.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

Your dad said that but you wondered if that was just the therapist in him, always needing to provide you with the appropriate support and positivity. You often questioned where you had gotten your personality from because it definitely didn’t resemble his.

“Whatever,” You muttered, if you were that great they would have already hired you months ago.

“By the way,” You say, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought over how to phrase your next words.

“Is the TV broken?” You wonder and watch your dad frown in between bites.

“No, not that I’m aware of. Why?” He replies curiously and you shrug.

“Thought I heard it playing last night.”

Your dad swallows his food and furrowed his eyebrows, confusion all over his wrinkled features.

“You heard the TV on?”

You nodded.

“That’s weird,” He makes a face before he lets out a chuckle. “Maybe the house is haunted , it is pretty old.”

You snort and shake your head.

“Why is that your first conclusion?” You roll your eyes at him. Your father was also the type to be incredibly superstitious and it was good to know it had not worn off all these years you had spent away from him at college.

“Isn’t the most obvious conclusion?” He questioned.

“No, the most obvious conclusion would be you’re in need of a new TV or maybe better outlets.” You reasoned even though a part of you was bluffing. His thoughts were the exact thing you had been thinking last night and even that day you had been unpacking but you would never admit that to him. Your ego was too big.

“Well, I’ve never heard it playing by itself before.”

You didn’t know what to reply to that but then you remembered his sleeping habits and opened your mouth to protest but he beat you to it.

“Maybe the ghost has a crush on you and keeps trying to get your attention.” He added, giving you a playful grin as a he took a sip of his orange juice and you gave him a glare.

“You’re so funny.” You say dryly before you let a small smile break out at his joke.

Maybe you did miss living with him again.

—-

You were hearing it again.

The sound of shuffling, it was coming from your room. You were starting to seriously consider that your dad just had a stray cat living inside of his walls because what else could it possibly be? It had been consistent for days now and yet you couldn’t find the source of it.

You had heard of old houses like this having cases of people living inside walls but you didn’t let yourself ponder over that possibility too much because that was far more terrifying than any spirit scenario.

You tip toed down the hallway, coming to stand in front of your door. You had been washing the dishes when you had heard something stomping up here. Well, maybe not stomping but you did hear clear footsteps pacing around.

At this point, you were getting fed up more than anything. Whatever was going on was making you start to question your sanity because no matter how much you mentioned the strange instances to your father, he always claimed he hadn’t heard any of it in all his time living here. Which had only been a year but you supposed that was enough time to conclude whether or not a house was in fact haunted. What kind of ghost would hide for a year and randomly start showcasing its presence up until only now?

And more importantly, why were you the only one that had these encounters.

Either whatever was in this house was preying on you specifically or your father was far more oblivious than you had previously thought.

Your fingers gripped the doorknob, slowly turning it and opening your bedroom door.

The noise immediately stopped but you weren’t stupid. You knew you had heard it coming from here.

Your eyes fell on the closet, staring directly at it and just waiting.

Nothing.

You didn’t know why but you felt compelled to search that area of the room first. You moved forwards, stepping right in front of the closet door and taking a deep breath .

Were you expecting something to actually be inside of it? Realistically, no. Considering you hadn’t actually seen anything this whole time.

Still, you could feel a ball of nerves in your stomach.

Fuck it.

You swung the door open and what your eyes landed on had you immediately flying backwards.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, stumbling back so fast that your body instantly hit the ground, your hands catching your fall behind you as they slammed roughly against the carpet floor.

You stared wide eyed at the guy inside of your closet.

There was a guy in your closet.

“Y-You can see me?” He exclaimed looking as—if not even more frightened by your presence.

“How did you get in here!?” You shout, eyes now frantically searching for your phone. “ I’m calling the police!”

You had no idea how this guy broke into your house or how long he had been in here, did your father casually have people hiding in the closets of this house? Impossible considering you opened this closet every single day. This person had to have just broken in. But when? You hadn’t left the house once since you got here , they couldn’t have possibly broke in without you noticing. Suddenly what you had been reading about people living inside walls didn’t seem so far fetched now.

You watched as the guy took a cautious step forward and you immediately scooted away, your body going into fight or flight mode.

“Stay back!” You warned as if anything about you was the slightest bit threatening, you didn’t even have a phone in your hand to call the authorities. But as you inspected the guy in front of you more, you noticed he also didn’t look that intimidating.

His round eyes looked too big on his face, his extremely pale face. They blinked rapidly at you, seeming almost afraid of your next move. His dark hair was slightly overgrown, the messy curls covering the front of his face and he wore a dark brown checkered sweatshirt.

He looked vulnerable one in this situation if anything, biting his lip nervously.

“Trust me, you don’t want to call the police.” He blurts out, eyes frantic.

You gave him a confused look.

“And why is that?”

“Because they will think you’re crazy.” He replied simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Was he alright in the head?

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who broke into my house!” You screech out, completely astonished.

“This is my house.” He stated frowning but it looked more like a pout on his pink lips.

He was for sure confused. Or insane. Probably both.

“Excuse me?” You demand.

He sighs as lifts his hands out, motioning for you to calm down.

“I’m sorry, I-I mean this used to be my house.” He clarifies.

Used to be?

You shake your head.

“No, that’s impossible. My dad said the last people to reside here was back in the 70s….” You trail off and watch him stare intently at you, a nervous look coating his dark eyes .

Was he implying?…

“I know,” He confirms.

“I’m dead.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, waiting for him to crack a grin and start laughing but his mouth remains in a straight line. Continuing to study you cautiously.

You don’t remember much of what happens next , just that you felt your head flop to side and your vision go completely black.

——

“Y/n!”

You gasp, feeling a very cold sensation cover your face and your body springs up. You cough, squinting your eyes shut as you feel around the wet substance over your face.

What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that but you wouldn’t wake up.” You hear a voice say beside you and when you open your eyes, your met with those familiar doe eyes staring back at you.

Your eyes trailed down to the empty glass he’s holding in his hands. He threw water on you?

“I have to be dreaming right now..” You conclude, thinking about asking him to pour another glass of water on you so you could fully wake up.

He smiled as he stared curiously at you.

“I can’t believe you can see me…” He whispered in complete amazement, his eyes twinkling with a childish gleam and you are still left terribly confused.

This guy was apparently dead.

“Your dad can’t see me, I’ve tried to make him see me. I really have but it’s no use.” He mumbles to himself , knitting his eyebrows at his own words and looks back up at you with a nervous grin.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way.” He tells you, offering his hand and you eye it suspiciously.

He bites his lower lip anxiously, patiently waiting for you to shake it.

Was he serious?

“Oh! I wonder if I can actually touch you.” He says excitingly.

You hesitantly reach out your hand, coming to place it into his larger one.

He was freezing.

Your eyes widened and so did his, both of you stared down at your interlocked fingers in complete awe.

How was this even possible?

“Oh my god…” You mutter.

Jungkook breaks out into a full grin, displaying his perfect smile.

“I’ve forgotten how it’s like to feel another person.” He says, eyes boring into your own as he grips your hand gently. “ You feel so warm.”

Everything about this should have had you freaking out, completely losing your mind or just about doing anything other than this . Any other rational person would of run out of here screaming, probably even considering calling some paranormal investigators or a priest.

You should have been calling your father, telling him what you had just seen and were continuing to see.

A literal ghost sat in front of you.

But the more curious and realistic part of you was conflicted. Would your father ever believe this? You knew you said he was a believer of all things spiritual and paranormal but this was too insane even for him. I mean, he was a therapist after all. Wouldn’t it be more likely that he send you straight to a psych ward instead?

Perhaps that’s actually where you needed to go.

“Why can I see you?” You force yourself to question.

Jungkook looks up from examining your hand and fingers, he seemed rather too immersed in the fact that he could actually touch and feel you.

“I’m not sure ,” He tells you, cocking his head to the side. “ It may have something to do with your skepticism.”

Your face twists in confusion.

“Wouldn’t it be the opposite? Why would the person who doesn’t believe in spirits be able to see you rather than one that does?”

It didn’t make much sense in your mind. Especially because from what you have read most of your life, the people who had happen to come across paranormal entities were most likely to be spiritual and have a certain connection with the other side.

You didn’t have any of that. In fact, you had been a big critic of it entire your life.

“Sometimes spirits feed off of your skepticism because they want to prove you wrong,” Jungkook explains, eyes scanning over your face as his lips tilt slightly.

“ That’s how I felt when you first came here, I could feel your energy before you even stepped foot inside.”

You were taken back by his words, a shiver running down your spine when you realized all those strange instances of things moving, the TV playing and the footsteps.

Even what you had thought you had seen in the window when you first arrived.

 It had all been him.

“I could tell that you didn’t want to believe in what you saw, that first day when I knocked over your notebook. You convinced yourself it was all just in your head, didn’t you?” Jungkook asks, a playful look taking over his boyish face and you could only blink at him in complete shock.

“And when I played the TV? You saw me, but only for a second. It was much easier during that time, the veil is always thinner at night.” 

“It annoyed me a little, I wanted you to know I was real. That’s why I kept trying to make my presence known,” He stated but then he broke his gaze and hung his head down. “ But I didn’t mean to scare you , I-I tried not to. I just wanted you to notice me.”

Well, he had definitely scared you.

You didn’t even know what to say, the entire thing was incredibly unreal. How was it possible you were talking to an actual ghost?

And the most insane thing about it was you weren’t even afraid. The spirit in front of you was by no means terrifying, if anything he was the opposite. He had looked so unsure of himself and lost inside that closet. It made you all more curious.

You jolted as you heard the front door shut downstairs.

“It’s your father,” Jungkook tells you, pulling away from you.

You hear his footsteps start climbing up the stairs and you just about pass out again when you see Jungkook vanish in front of your very own eyes.

“Y/n?” You hear your father call out as he knocks on your door. “ I’m home, I brought back some takeout for dinner.”

You scramble to lift yourself off the floor, your eyes scanning your entire room for Jungkook but he had in fact completely disappeared. Not a trace of him anywhere.

Had you imagined it all?

If so, you were in fact in need of your father’s therapy assistance.

——

You chewed the rice silently as your dad poured himself more of the chicken stir fry out of the styrofoam containers. You sat stiffly at the kitchen table, your mind was unable to focus on anything else but the encounter you had in your room.

“So, how was your day?” Your father asked, seemingly noticing your off demeanor.

Just found out this house is either severely haunted or I’m schizophrenic, you thought.

“Fine,” You reply instead. “You?”

“Just the usual, I had a couple come in and they were discussing their issues with anger management and how it impacts their relationship but I think their main issue was lack of communication which is the common in young couples….”

In the midst of your dad’s rundown at work, you notice something or someone standing directly behind him. Just hovering over him in the middle of your discussion with a attentive look on their face.

Jungkook.

You nearly choke on your food, violently coughing up the rice in your mouth.

“Are you okay?” Your father asks, handing you over a glass of water and you nod through your watery eyes, hastily drinking down the liquid.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says with a sheepish smile, looking regretful for scaring the ever living shit out of you.

You eye your father, looking to see if he heard the guy behind him but he seemed to preoccupied in making sure you were still not choking to death.

Your father notices your distracted gaze behind him and he glances back.

“What are you looking at?” He asks as he stared behind him and your eyes widened as he seems to be staring directly at Jungkook.

How could he not see him?

“I’m telling you he can’t see me, you’re going to freak him out.” Jungkook tells you worriedly, and as if to prove his point further he comes and stand directly in front of your father, staring him dead in the face.

You were sure you’re face was doing a poor job at maintaining to hide your true emotions because your father was starting to look concerned.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay?”

You swallow, trying your best to collect yourself and not look like you were on the edge of completely losing it.

“Yeah, I just feel kinda sick.” You say shakily, setting down your chopsticks and lifting yourself from your seat, you watch Jungkook eye your every move.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed, alright?”

Your father didn’t seem to look completely convinced by your excuse but he nodded.

“Okay, tell me if you need anything.”

You nodded and headed directly towards the staircase, not wasting any time in climbing up the steps. You nearly tumbled back down them when you saw a familiar figure greet you at the top of them.

“Holy fuck!” You whispered in a hiss, coming to clutch your chest as Jungkook’s sudden appearance.

“Can you not do that? I already feel like I’m going insane.” You snapped at him and he looked startled for a second.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to you being able to see me.”

You let out a breath, your heartbeat slowing down .

“I’m not used to seeing you either.” You exclaim and walk past him to go inside your room.

You didn’t know how to deal with any of this, you had so many questions. The first one being , why on earth you could communicate with a ghost so clearly? It was as if you were talking to an actual breathing living person. You didn’t know that was possible, at most you had heard about people being able to communicate through spirits in other ways. Usually involving them having some sort of psychic abilities or being spiritually gifted. Maybe even through a ouija board.

But not like this.

“I dont get it, how is this even possible?” You ask as you see him emerge further into your room, trailing closely behind you with a thoughtful expression on his face.

You didn’t know how to feel about the way he always seemed to look at you. It was as if he was savoring every second of you, as if you would slip away at any given moment and he greedily needed to memorize every aspect of you.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “ But it is, I can finally feel the touch of someone, talk to someone.”

He looked relieved , so happy and giddy. It was almost cute.

“This used to be my room, you know?” He tells you, lips twitching slightly as he takes a look around the large space.

“I was upset when I heard your father tell you this was going to be your room over the phone, I never liked sharing.” Jungkook mused as his eyes settled back on your face.

“But when I saw you here, it all changed. “ You were surprised to see what looked like a blush form on his pale cheeks. “ You were so pretty.”

Your mouth fell open slightly at his confession.

“Do you like it?” He asks suddenly with wide eyes.

“Uh, y-yeah? I mean it’s a nice room.” You reply unsurely, you didn’t know why you felt nervous all of a sudden talking to him.

He smiles at that, coming to stand closer to you.

“I’m glad to hear that, “ He takes your hands into his again without hesitation, rubbing his thumbs over them in an almost comforting manner.

“I can’t believe I’m finally not alone anymore.” He whispered, staring down at your hands, a sad look taking over his features and you didn’t know why the image made your heart sink.

Had he really been alone all these years?

“ Y-You don’t know what’s it’s like to be stuck here with nobody.” His lips quiver , heavy emotion taking over his tone. He looked as vulnerable as he did when you had opened that closet door, resembling that lost boy again.

“I hated it.” He emphasized. Bitterness clear in his words. “ I hated it so much.”

You don’t know what comes over you but seeing his distressed state makes you feel something. Maybe you were indeed more empathetic than you had thought because you really couldn’t stand how upset the young man in front of you was.

You squeezed his hands back.

“It’s okay,” You tell him reassuringly . “ You’re not alone anymore.”

He looks up at you, surprise washing over his face. His teary gaze locks with yours as a small smile forms on his lips at your words.

—-

Weeks pass and Jungkook’s presence becomes all too familiar to you. Everyday turns into a routine, you wake up and spend your entire day with him. He follows you around the house like a lost puppy so it had been hard to ignore him really, not that you wanted to. Suprisngly he was rather comforting to be around. Sometimes he respected your space, deciding to simply linger behind you as you typed away on your laptop or finished some chores around the house. But most of the time, he was rather persistent in talking to you. Asking you all types of questions, where you had moved here from, how college was like and even the more shallow and simple things like your favorite foods and hobbies. 

I mean, it made sense considering he had told you he had been alone all this years up until your father bought this property. But even with your father here, it didn’t really matter considering he wasn’t able to see Jungkook. 

It was beyond strange, you never thought you would be the type to believe in these things yet here you were, greeted with a paranormal being everyday. Sometimes you really started to consider if you had completely lost it and Jungkook was simply a figment of your imagination, hallucination of some sort that your brain had created in order to cope with something. 

But he wasn’t, he was far too real. He had his own thoughts, his own personality, his own feelings. 

“How exactly does that thing work?” Jungkook’s asks you raising a single eyebrow, eyeing the phone in your hands as you sat on your bed. He was leaning over, not bothering to hide the fact that he was being all types of invasive. 

“A cellphone?” You ask with a scoff but then dumbly realize what your father had told you regarding this house. “Right, you’re from the 70′s..” 

The only types of phones he had ever used were most likely rotrary ones. Which oddly enough your father had decided to keep the one that was attached to the kitchen wall when he had moved in. 

“Yes,” Jungkook replied with closed lipped smile. “They used to be much cooler back then.”

You rolled your eyes, handing him over your phone and he knits his eyebrows as he inspects it, long fingers tapping against the screen. You watch as his messy locks of hair fall over his forehead, you couldn’t help but think he looked pretty funny trying to figure out how to work the foreign device in his hands. His lips were puckered up in a slight pout.

A sudden thought you had been avoiding pops up into your head.

“Jungkook,” You say slowly and watch him look up, brown eyes intently waiting for your next words.

“How exactly did you die?”

You watch his face fall instantly, eyes dropping down to your phone that was still in his hands and he let it down beside you. He was quiet for a couple of seconds, not lifting his gaze up and you started to wonder if you were being too intrusive.

“I don’t know,” He said finally, eyes looking glossy. He was playing with his fingers in a nervous manner and that’s when you noticed they were trembling. 

“What do you mean?”

“I-I mean, I remember my life beforehand but I don’t exactly kow why or how I ....died.” He explained looking back up at you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to remember something in that moment.

“I just remember waking up and my family not being here anymore. I couldn’t leave the house. Everytime I tried I could only get so far and when I saw people outside, they couldn’t see me.”

You couldn’t believe it, was it even possible? I mean, you were for sure no expert on the afterlife or what came with it but you couldn’t wrap your head around someone not remembering the cause of their own death. Was there a reason for that? It just didn’t make any sense.

“That must be horrible...” You stated quietly, not even for a second wanting to imagine what it would be like to be stuck in a place with nobody around you. Was it like that for everyone? Was the reason Jungkook was still stuck in the mortal world and in this house due to him not being able to remember his own death? It was clear his spirit had not passed on. If he was truly at peace then there would no reason for him to still be tied to this home.

Or did he simply want to be here?

“Does that mean your parents passed away too?” You ask, trying to make sense of it. If Jungkook mentioned he could no longer see his family after he had died, did that mean they were also dead? If so, then why were they the only ones that passed on? Why had had he been the only one stuck inside the house? He looked pretty yong, even a bit younger than you and it made you it all more devistating. His life had been ripped away from him too soon.

You watch him take in your words, he looked conflicted by them and you figured that meant he had also been asking himself that question. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook..” You lift your hand up to his cheek, gently caressing it. He looks a little shocked by your action but it quickly wears off and he rests his own hand on top of yours, welcoming the intimate touch. 

“It’s not all bad,” Jungkook assures you, breaking you out of your deep pondering. He no longer looked somber as a smile spread his lips. 

“I have you now.”

---

You grab your coat off the hanger as you slip passed the living room, wrapping your bag against your shoulder. Your father had called you to ask if you could stop by the supermarket to pick up some last minute treats to give out tonight. You had agreed that you would be spending Halloween together watching your favorite scary movies but you had also realized you basically had no popcorn or candy in the kitchen and you wondered why your father had not prepared anything. He was always the type to go all out for these types of things so it didn’t suprise you to receive his frantic call about being a horrible citizen and fellow neighbor of this town for almost being the only one not giving out candy. You had mentioned that this house wasn’t exactly the most inviting and you doubted kids would be looking forward to coming trick-or-treating here but he insisted that the entire point of Halloween was for the houses to look frightening and uninviting. 

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Where are you going?” You turn to face the familiar voice that had stopped you in your tracks.

You were suprised Jungkook had to even ask, you figured he had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation consdering he rarely left your side but oddly enough this was the first time you had seen him this entire morning and you wondered where he had been. 

“To the store to pick up a few things for tonight.” You tell him in a casual tone and you’re confused to find him look so startled and unsettled by your statement.

He began to shake his head.

“Can’t your father go?” He asks with a hopeful expression on his face.

“He’s at work,” You sigh and when you turn to leave, you nearly collide with his chest. 

You stumble back in shock.

“Jungkook, I told you I hate when you do that.” You snap nearly having a whiplash as you look up at him. The fact that he could appear anywhere at any time just freaked you out. It was one of the things you couldn’t get used to.

“You can’t leave.” He ignores you as he blocks the door.

“’I’m just going to the grocery store real quick, I’ll be right back.” You explain with a chuckle at his overdramatic reaction.

Jungkook doesn’t look the least bit amused or convinced by your words.

“But what if you don’t come back?” He asks as complete dread fills his eyes. The look he was giving you reminded you of a young child, his fingers coming to grasp the front of your coat tightly.

Did he actually think you would just leave like this? Without saying goodbye?

“P-Please tell me you will come back.” He begged and your eyes widened when you realized he was clearly holding back tears, his watery gaze fixated on you. He swallowed the lump in his throat, hands moving to grab your wrists now and tugging you forward towards him more.

“Don’t leave me, I’ll do anything I-I-” You didn’t know what to do to calm his disheartened please. You were never good at comforting people but you figured it was a good time to start because you absoluately hated the way Jungook’s anguish was making you feel right now.

“Jungkook, I’m not leaving. I’ll be back in like 20 minutes, I promise.” You cut him off, hoping your words sounded as genuine and sincere as you wanted them to. 

His eyes scanned over you, as if looking for any traces of a lie. When he didn’t find any, he finally nodded but didn’t let go of your hands, instead he brought them to his chest.

“Really? You promise?” He asks you in a low whisper, his tone was still shaky and breathless.

“Yes I-”

“Do you promise you will never leave me?” He interrupts, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t caught off guard by his sudden question. His stare was unmoving, the intensity of it was all consuming and you found it hard to look away. 

His grip on your wrists tightened as silence fell over both of you.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty, did you do something to make him believe you would suddenly get up and leave without a second thought? Not that you could think of. The issue seemed to stem from him just being terrified of being alone again, being abondoned. It was obvious he had formed an attachment already, after all you were the only person he had been able to communicate since he had died. All Jungkook seemed to crave and want was a friend, somebody to talk to and it pained you to think that would have to come to an end someday. A part of you wondered if he would be able to ever pass on to the other side, if his spirit would be able to free itself from this house or if he would be stuck inside these walls forever. 

You licked your lips nervously, keeping your steady gaze on his.

“I promise.” You finally say.

At the sound of your words,  his tight grip instantly relaxed, his demeanor no longer stiff and tense. Relief washed over those boyish features you have come to adore so much, his round eyes blinking away the tears that had previously pooled over them.

--

You could still hear the laughter of the children from outside , the sound of their footsteps running across the sidewalk below and stomping through the crunchy autumn leaves. Their pumpkin buckets glowed against the darkness, each of them varying in color,  from the classic orange to the most neon green you had ever seen. You sat against the window, resting your forehead against the glass as you took in the night sky. The memories of your childhood came flooding, the image of you walking down similiar streets in your witch costume with a hat far too big for your head was still fresh in your mind. You supposed that’s what you enjoyed most about the holiday, reminiscing on the old memories because frankly it had become boring after you had turned into an adult.

The feeling of Jungkook’s presence emerging had become so predictable to you now, the room tempature change was always drastic and had you shivering in seconds. 

“Do you remember going trick or treating?” You ask as you feel his fingers run over your hair, caressing it. 

He had become far more touchy ever since that night you had comforted him about the mystery of his death and loss of his parents. He seemed desperate for any display of intimacy.

“Yes,” He replied in a deep whisper, and you could tell he was grinning from ear to ear. “It was my favorite time of year as a kid, I loved getting scared.” 

Ironically, he was the very thing all children feared on this night.

You tried to imagine his younger self skipping down the streets in whatever ridiculous costume he had chosen for himself. He seemed like the mischieveous type so you could only imagine what type of trouble he would’ve gotten himself in.

“How about you?” He asked, breaking you out of your daydream.” I can’t imagine you being much of fan of Halloween.”

You didn’t know itf he meant that in an insulting way.

“What do you mean by that?” You turned to face him, his mouth was inches away from you and he grinned down at your offended expression.

“I don’t know you seem far too...” He paused, seemingly trying to think of the correct word as he brought his finger under your chin, taking a better look at you. “gloomy.”

You slapped his hand away, scoffing at his poor attempt to describe you. 

Although he wasn’t wrong, you had always been quite a moody and sulking type, even as a child. 

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” He lets out a laugh as he playfully tugs you away from the window, circling his arms around your waist.

The actions causes your heart to skip a beat, your hands landing on his shoulders hesitantly. He doesn’t seem to notice your taken aback reaction or he simply ignores it. 

“I know everyhting about you now.” Jungkook stated, coming to pull a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You didn’t like the way he was making you feel and you certainly didn’t like the way your body was reacting to the touch of this dead boy. It was insanity, why was he making you feel like this? How was it possible for a touch so cold as his to feel so warm to you? So comforting and familiar. 

You blinked and in a second he was gone.

The gush of air hit your face and you held in a gasp at the empty space in front of you. 

You turned, attempting to find his figure in the darkness but you didn’t see a thing. He was nowhere to be found.

“Boo.” 

You jumped at the icy sensation in your ear, his soft voice making the hair rise on your neck. His arms gripped your waist again as he laughed against you and practically tackled you onto the bed. You couldn’t help but break a smile as he came to grip your wrists over your head, his body was hovering over you. The sight of it was amusing almost, his long limbs just floating on top of you. You saw how his strands of hair fell fowards, his face looking even more youthful from this angle.

You let out a groan as he let himself fall on top of you. 

“Jungkook!” You laughed as his weight engulfed you completely, his eyes twinkled at the sound of your giggles.

Adoration filled those round doe eyes, they slowly moved down your face, mesmirizing each one of your features. As if he was studying you each one of your expressions, wanting to capture the moment entirely. 

“I love your laugh.” His gaze landed directly on your lips and your stomach dipped at his words. You stared wide eyed at him, you were completely speechless.

He inched towards you, lips gently pecking yours, as if testing to see your reaction to him. When you didn’t reject or pull away from him, the kiss only deepend. The sensation of his mouth on yours sent tremors through you, evoking a feeling you couldn’t quite explain. To be frank, you never put much thought into what kissing a ghost would feel like but you for sure your mind wouldn’t have ever imagined it would feel like this. 

It was different, nothing about him was warm or feverish, on the contrary his entire being was chilling. 

Despite that you could still feel the intense emotion behind it, the longing in it. 

When he pulled away, you could only wish he would repeat the action again. Over and over.

He breathed heavily, his lips still lingering too closely to yours. 

“Can I keep you?”

It seemed like such an innocent request, a childish one even but the way he had said it was the complete opposite. His words were fileld with fondness, admiration even. 

You could only smile in return, brushing your thumb against his swollen lips as your fingers curled behind his neck, connecting your mouth with his again.

---

Your eyes stared at your laptop screen, not believing what you were seeing. The email was clear, there was no mistaking it. It was hard for you to process it, to believe it. The interview had not gone that well in your eyes, you had been jittery and nervous the moment you had turned on the webcam. You were positive you wouldn’t have gotten the job, that they wouldn’t have even considered your rookie attempt at an application. Your resume wasn’t at all impressive either and it didn’t display that many skills but you were fairly determined. They must’ve seen some type of potential in you or maybe it was as simple as them just needing someone to hire and you had fit the needed criteria , regardless of experience. 

Either way you were ecstatic. 

The angency was located back in the city you had been forced to move out of just weeks ago. The same city you never intended to leave. The place you wanted to make a home was waiting for you again. This job would guarantee you a place to stay, a stable income and everything you needed to get back on your feet. It was everything you had ever wanted, wasn’t it? This is why you had slaved away at college all these years. It felt you like you were finally being compenstated for your efforts.

For once, you didn’t feel so negative about your future. You could finally start to see something in it.

Not wasting any time, you ran down the hallway leading to the staricase. Your legs bolted down the old wooden steps as you made your way over to the kitchen.

“Dad!” You saw him sat at the table with some type of paperwork in his hands as he read something on his cellphone.

He looked up the moment he saw you rushing in.

“I got the job!” You beamed, not being able to hide your overwhelming state of happiness. “They just emailed me from the agency, I start in two weeks.”

Your father’s face lit up at your words, a knowing smirk forming on his lips as he got up from his seat and engulfed you in a tight hug. You tensed up for a moment, not used to the sudden display of affection. It had been so long you two had actually hugged, you weren’t exactly most a affectionate type and you often did shy away from his fatherly tendencies to comfrot you but this time you welcomed it. You wrapped your arms around him, unable to hide your smile.

“I knew you would,” He said with a hearty chuckle, his glasses almost stumbling off his face when he pulled away from the hug. “ I told you that you don’t give yourself enough credit for your efforts.”

You almost rolled your eyes at his usual therapist fueled comment but you had to admit he was right this time. Maybe you really had not given yourself enough praise for what you had accomplished or allowed yourself to feel proud.

You hadn’t noticed Jungkooks  figure hovering you, you were far too wrapped up in your own excitment to have noticed the drop in tempature that indicated his arrivals. His eyes were studying your every move as he watched the tender scene unwrap in front of him

But it wasn’t tender at all for him.

He felt his entire self break in that moment. How a dead soul could manage to feel so much pain? He didn’t know but it served as another cruel reminder that death could not grant him any sort of relief from the inevitable hearbreak in this moment.

His eyes watered, angry tears forming. 

Were you that glad to leave him?

His heart ached at your delighted state, you were full on grinning. The type of smile that made one’s cheeks hurt. Had you ever smiled like that with him? He wasn’t sure, all he could feel when he saw you now was betrayal. 

You had promised you wouldn’t ever leave.

 Why had it been so easy for you to break your word? 

Could you not see the way he felt for you? His entire soul belonged to you, you were the only good thing left for him. You had been his escape, the only person who could see him , talk to him, and love him. 

 He would never find someone like you again, he didn’t want to. He only wanted you.

No, he thought angrily.

You didn’t get to leave him behind.

---

You couldn’t sleep. The intrusive thoughts had filled your mind, you were unable to think about anything else besdies him. 

Jungkook refused to make himself known the entire day. You knew that could only mean one thing. You had upset him. It had not been your intention to, you thought about ways on how to break the news to him in a rational manner. You knew his avoidence had to do with your new job acceptance and what that would mean for both of you.

A part of you thought it was silly, were you really worrying this much over a ghost? If your father ever realized why you were in such a conflicted state right now, there was no doubt you would have been wheeled into the nearest mental hospital. It was ludicrious, you were feeling horrible for having to leave Jungkook behind but why? It wasn’t as if you could live with your father forever and be tied to this house.

Besides, your father had always been the type to move around a lot and you knew it was only a matter of time before he left this house behind. He never stayed in one spot for too long. It had been one of your biggest pet peeves growing up, and you couldn’t lie and say you still didn’t resent him a bit for it. After all, it had been the reason you had struggled to maintain friends or gain much social skills.

You knew you had no future here and much less with a ghost. Jungkook was dead. There was no changing that no matter how much your heart ached everytime you reminded yourself about the reality of it. You knew you shouldn’t have ever allowed yourself to develop feelings for someone, something that would never be part of the living world again. 

Yet why did it still hurt so much?

A sigh left your lips as you adjusted yourself again against the covers, twisting your body to the side and forcing your eyes to shut. 

The cold sensation hit your body instantly, crawling its way to the back of your neck. 

You shivered at the freezing air, tugging the covers around you tighter and your eyes glanced towards your window.

It was closed.

Which could only mean one other thing.

“Jungkook,” You whispered gently.

He was here, you could feel him. You felt the mattress drip beside you, signaling his arrival. 

His fingers trailed over your exposed arms in circular motions. His touch was gentle, like it always had been. 

“I’m sorry,” You turn to him , coming to sit up against the headboard. “Jungkook, listen. I don’t want to do this, you know I don’t.”

He watches you, you could make out most of his features in the darkness thanks to the little light that peaked in through your bathroom door in the corner. His eyes didn’t leave yours for once, listening intently to your words as his fingers continued to caress your skin.

“But I have to, this is my job. I’ve been dreaming about getting this for so long and I can’t give that up.” You explain, trying your best to soothe the bluntness of your words, knowing there was really no kind way to put this.It was evident you were choosing yourself and what benefited you the most.

“Maybe in another life, we could of been together,” You whisper to him, his nose was almost touching yours. The close proximity you were in only made your heart beat quicker.

You watch his head tilt at your words.

“You’re right,” He replied, his voice deeper than you had ever heard it before. “We could be together in another life.”

You swallowed, noticing the way his gaze had darkened. You thought you recognized his behavior fairly well now but you were positive he had never looked at you this way. Jungkook was always playful, childish and even pitiful at times. 

But he was none of those things right now.

“I wish there was a way you could escape this house,” You told him. “ A way for your soul to finally be at peace.”

He smiled at that but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Why did you lie to me?”

You heart sunk at his words, his tone remained the same, a neutrality you weren’t familiar with when it came from him.

You instantly knew what he was reffering to. The words you had told him that day.

“I-I didn’t, I mean I didn’t mean to but you have to understand.” You stumbled over your words, sounding more defensive than you intended to. 

Jungkook in fact didn’t understand. You knew he didn’t by the way his eyes had narrowed at your excuse, his whole demeanor shifting. 

“You promised me you would never leave me.” 

There it was, that uncontrollable anger surfacing. What he had tried keeping at bay was unraveling itself and you could tell his emotions didn’t end in only rage but hurt.

He sounded so pained and all you could feel was shame.

You pulled away from him, trying your best to figure out how to calm him down. It seemed like Jungkook was no stranger to tantrums and overreactions, you had seen it that day he thought you were leaving him. But instead of despair, this time it something much more violent. 

“You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone again, why did you lie to me!” You flinched at his sudden raise in volume, your eyes bulging out as you took a look around you. Your father surely had to have heard that? You backed away and nearly fell off the bed as you made your way over to the door.

You grasped the door knob but when you tried to pull open the door, it wouldn’t budge. You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, tugging it harder. The door wasn’t locked by any means but something seemed to be forcing it shut. Something incredibly strong.

“Jungkook, why can’t I open the door?” You clenched your teeth as you tried to put your entire stength into pulling it open.

“What makes you think you can leave me here alone!” Jungkook’s voice boomed so loudly throughout the room that you swore it shook the walls. You looke behind you, he was still standing by the bed, angry tears falling down his cheeks as he glared at you. 

“P-Please, calm down. Let me out, Jungkook!” You pleaded, growing frustrated with your lack of progress with opening the door that instead you started banging against it with your fists.

You yelped as you heard the sound of glass shattering near you, turning you noticed it the light that had been coming from the bathroom was gone and another scream left your lips when a lamp was thrown harshly towards the wall right next to you.

“Jungkook! Calm down!” You shut your eyes, the room was freezing now, you felt your entire body ache at the extremely low tempature. 

“You can’t leave me! I won’t let you!” He cried behind you, you didn’t even want to turn around to look at him again. You knew he was completely losing it, his voice sounded strained, filled with nothing but distress and fury. 

You continued to hear more stuff breaking behind you, when you turned around your stomach dropped at the sight of various items flying in mid air. The image was straight out of a horror film, Jungkook stood in one place as you saw the your laptop slam straight into the wall in front of you. The dresser shook relentlestly , the drawers shutting and opening uncontrollably.

Your body slid down against the door, you shook your head, covering your ears at the sound of the complete chaos mixed in with Jungkook’s disturbed yelling.

“Y/n!” You heard your father’s voice from the other side of the door, he was knocking frantically on it.

“Dad! Help me!” You scream out, coming to slam your fists against the wooden material again. “P-Please do something!”

“Tell him to leave!” Jungkook hissed and he was suddenly right in front of you. You jumped back in horror, trying your best to crawl away from him but it was useless. Anywhere you tried to run and hide, he appeared right in front of you.

“Tell him to leave or else!” He warned you, the threat was clear in his words as he came to grasp your ankle, dragging you back towards him as your back slid across the carpet.  

Would he hurt your father?

Could he?

Everything you had deemed impossible about the spirit realm was clearly proving you wrong right now.

“D-Dad,” You called out again as Jungkook’s jaw clenched, he was fully holding you down now, his entire weight was suffocating you. “Go away! I’m fine.”

Your dad’s persistant knocking came to a halt. 

“Y/n? What’s going on!” 

He didn’t believe you, concern was clear in his voice but you needed to get him away from the door.

“I’m fine!I-I just had a nightmare, please leave me alone.” You tried again, forcing yourself to get rid of the shake in your tone as you calmed your unsteady breathing.

It was quiet for a few seconds before you heard your father’s footsteps make their away across the hallway, away from your room. But if you knew anything about your father, you knew he was most likely on his way to dial the police. 

“Shh shh,” Jungkook’s finger came to press against your lips when he had noticed you had started to sob, your frantic eyes met his again and you didn’t recognize who was  in front of you anymore. A completely crazed look had taken over him.

“L-Let me go, you have to let me go.” You mumbled against his finger but he shook his head stubbornly at you, anger washing over his features again.

“You won’t leave me,” He stated lowly, the tears continued to roll down his pale cheeks and he licked his upper lip, the tiniest bit of a smile forming on them. “We will be together, I promise.”

Your blood ran cold at his implication.

You suddenly felt a tightness around your neck, it felt like a pair of hands was choking you. Your eyes trailed down but you realize there was nothing wrapped around your neck.

Yet you couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll make it quick, Y/n.” Jungkook reassured you as he carressed your cheek. 

Your mouth fell open, trying to breath in the air that was being ripped away from your body. The tightness only got worse and your arms reach out to push him off you, desperatly throwing punches at him but it was as if you had not even touched him. His body remaining unaffected above you.

“J-Jun-” You tried to speak through your choked breaths but you couldn’t anymore, the oxeygyn was rapidly being caught off, you couldn’t catch a single breath to relieve the pain in your lungs. 

Your eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but him. You couldn’t stand to look at his eyes anymore, instead your gaze briedfly landed on the clock that hung on the side your wall.

12:06 a.m

The veil is always thinner at night.

Everything around you became blurry, you saw black dots everywhere as his thumb continued to run down your cheek.

“We will be happy after this.” You heard him say in your last moments of life, you felt like you were floating now too. His words sounding too muffled in your pained state. 

“You will be mine forever.”

An abyss of darkness is what greeted you next, your body fully giving out and  stilling completely.

---

The yellow caution tape surrounded the house, the bold black lettering that read ‘ crime scene ahead’ wrapped the old wooden fence. Countless of police cars were flooding the scene, accompanied by a few ambulances as well. Neighbors gathered around the house, in their robes and night attire and they invasively tried to figure out what was happening. Officers held out their hands, limiting their acess and preventing them from stepping too close. The entire block seemed to be present, their nosey selves unable to pass up the opportunity to catch the latest gossip and tragic news on the once too quiet and boring neighborhood. 

“No traces?” Dective Kim questioned his partner as he set another identifaction marker on the carpet floor where they had found the young woman’s body. His gloved hands angling the yellow stand in the desired position. 

“Not one,” Confirmed his partner with a shake of his head. “The father is the main suspect naturally but.....there’s nothing really.”

Detective Kim stared down at the area of the floor that had been marked, tilting his head as he took a look around the cold room. It was chilly outside but nothing compared to the low tempatures presented in this room. 

“Misery seems to follow this house.” He commented as he further inspected the the dresser that was out of a place, a few dawers completely opened with clothes gathering around the floor. A smashed laptop that had broken into pieces followed closely next to it.

His partner turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Detective Kim sighed. “ A ninteen-year old boy died in this same room years ago, back in the 70′s. My grandpa used to know him.”

His partner looked mildly suprised by the statement, eyes darting back towards the floor.

“How’d he die?”

“Suicide. He killed himself after suffucating both his parents to death in their sleep.”

---

#jungkook au #jungkook yandere #yandere!jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook halloween #jungkook horror #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #bts yandere #yandere!bts #bts halloween au #jungkook halloween au #bts horror #BTS au #bts fanfic #bts angst

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Come Back Home (Bucky x reader)

Come back home

Bucky x reader

Word count: 3,061

Summary: You were getting worse and were afraid to hurt Bucky, but unable to hide it. Instead of talking it out, you ran away. Embarrassed and afraid, you avoid the calls and voicemails from the man you left. But one night, you can’t help but listen to them, and you need to hear his voice.

Warnings: depression, reader blames herself, Bucky blames himself, anxiety attack, lots of tears, lots of fluff and comfort

I actually got this idea from @thelifeof.jana on TikTok, she posts different scenarios with comfort characters and I wanted to make it into a fic. 

Tags: @buckfics @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @stucky-on-spiderman @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes   

A/N: It’s nearly finals week and it is CRUNCH TIME so I’ve been writing when I can, I apologize for the sporadic-ness of it. Thanks for sticking with me! 

A/N 2: I left a few things to interpretation, such as a nightmare. Insert what you want, I know everyone has different experiences and I wanted this to be as relatable to as many people as I could. I also left out when y/n gives an address because 1) I don’t know New York and 2) It’s likely somebody’s address in real life so...interpretation. 

-----------

Your phone began ringing, piercing the otherwise silent house and startling you

Answer it.

You stared at the phone, taking a deep breath.

Ring 

You picked it up and turned it over, closing your eyes and letting a breath out.

Don’t answer it.

You looked at the screen again, seeing the name of your favorite person.

Bucky…

Ring 

Answer it

No. 

Please, I wanna hear his voice.

I can’t

Ring

Letting a breath out, you put the phone down and sat on the floor next to your bed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Then you were left in the silence once again.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, waiting a few more seconds for the next noise. Sure enough, your phone made a sound, notifying you of yet another voicemail.

Another addition to your library of ignored messages.

You picked up your phone, clicking to see the messages you never listened to.

25 unheard messages. All of them from Bucky. 

Your finger hovered over them for a moment, allowing yourself to ponder listening to them. But you sighed, closing your phone and placing it back on the nightstand. You couldn’t listen to them. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to resist calling him back. And you couldn’t take that risk. 

You’d spent this much time without him. Once you heard his voice you’d be spilling everything to him. Just like you used to. Which is why you left in the first place. 

Bucky was special to you. He always had been. Despite all the trauma he’d gone through, he was still kind and gentle. He had been the one to pull you out of the dark place you were in at the time. He was always there to talk to you, listen to you, or help you take care of yourself when you just couldn’t anymore. He’d sat through many of your panic attacks and calm you down if you had a nightmare, just as you would for him. He would drop anything for you, you always came first.

And that was the problem.

He did too much for you, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. This man had already gone through so much pain and suffering and was finally getting better. He was going out more and the nightmares happened much less often. You were grateful for the love he gave you, and you loved him more than anything.

Which is why you couldn’t bring him down anymore. So, one day when he was out on a mission, you had packed up your few positions and left him a note.

Bucky,

I just wanted you to know that I love you so much, but I have to go now. I’m sorry. 

-Y/n

You had to keep it brief. If you said anything more you knew you’d say too much, and it would only make leaving harder. And if he knew you were leaving because you were hurting too much, he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

Not that he wasn’t looking for you know.

You had rented out a room in the cheapest hotel your could find in somewhere-New-York-City. It was small, it wasn’t the cleanest, but it was fine. You didn’t care, it was functional. Within hours of leaving, your phone started ringing. Not that you answered. You couldn’t, not when you would start crying once you heard his voice.

You got many texts and calls that night. 

What happened?

Where are you? Y/n are you okay??

Tell me where you are, we can talk this out, please.

You couldn’t bring yourself to read more than that. You silenced his messages and let the calls go to voicemail, never able to bring yourself to reject a call, instead letting it ring all the way until he got the same voicemail message every time.

Hi, it’s y/n. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, have a nice day!

The same fake cheery message every time, giving an empty promise.

What you didn’t know was that on the other end of the line, Bucky was shattering a bit more with each voicemail he left. 

Bucky’s POV:

He couldn’t understand what could have happened. Why you had left all of a sudden. He knew you had some bad days, and the first time he had read it he was terrified that you had done something. He usually was able to see when things were getting bad again but he couldn’t think of what he could have missed. When he saw that you had read his texts that night, seeing the word read appear after a few of them, he told himself that you were okay. 

Because he didn’t know what he was going to do if you weren’t.

What you didn’t know was that you had helped Bucky just as much if not more so than he had helped you. His nightmares happened less often because you were there with him every night. He was more outgoing because you had dragged him out to those first few bars and parties. He felt happier because he was helping you, and you made him feel safe and wanted.

And then you left.

He couldn’t sleep most nights, worried about you. Most of the nights he did sleep, he dreamt about you and everything that could have happened. He called you every day, multiple times, needing desperately to hear your voice. He withdrew again, only going on one mission when the team absolutely needed him. It was his only sense of purpose anymore, but it meant nothing compared to what you had meant to him

But you didn’t know that. Because you hadn’t opened any of his messages yet. 

It was late now, and Bucky was discouraged. It had been over a week since you had left, and his texts had gone unread ever since a the first night you left. It wasn’t a long time. But it was still too long. He decided to try your phone once more. 

Ring 

Ring 

Ring 

Ring 

Bucky closed his eyes, begging you would pick up, silently knowing you wouldn’t.

Ring 

Ring 

“Hi, it’s y/n. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, have a nice day!”

Sighing, he got ready to leave a voicemail. After the beep he said, broken.

“Please y/n. Come back home.”

Your POV:

You sighed as yet another round of rings echoed through your apartment, hearing the notification soon after, notifying you of yet another new voicemail. 

You looked at the time. 11:03 P.M.

You sighed, knowing you should get some sleep. But no matter how tired you were, you knew that once you closed your eyes, you would have nightmares again. And no one would be here this time. 

You couldn’t deny it, you weren’t doing well. Your appetite had diminished and you relied heavily on caffeine to supplement the sleep you refused to get. Not that it helped your appetite in any way.

You would go through the motions, make it to work (most days) and get through the day just to...get through the day. You weren’t living really. Just surviving. You knew it was getting bad again, some nights so dark you weren’t sure if you would see the light the next day. Yet you couldn’t let yourself call him. You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you didn’t know that you had already hurt him more by leaving than you ever could’ve by staying.

You sighed, knowing that eventually, you were going to need to sleep. Might as well try to. You didn’t know if for sure you would have a nightmare, so may as well try?

That turned out to be wishful thinking.

Major wishful thinking. 

You woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and looking around the room frantically. When you realized it was just a dream, you put your face in your hands and felt tears immediately prick your eyes.

When was this going to stop?

You felt your chest contract as you realized the truth. It wasn’t. Not like this at least.

Just over a week and you were already at your breaking point.

Call him

You looked at the time. 2:47 AM.

You couldn’t call him now.

Call him.

You opened your phone and found Bucky’s contact, finger hovering over the name once again. At the last second, you clicked your voicemail inbox instead, scrolling back down to the first one on the night you left.

“Y/n?”

Your breath hitched as you heard his voice, fresh tears pricking your eyes. Not just from his voice and how much you had missed it, but also the absolute panic in his voice.

“Where are you? Are you okay? Why- why did you leave? Please, answer the phone, I need to know you’re okay.”

You clicked on another one from a few hours later.

“Y/n, please, I saw you read the first few texts I sent. Please answer the phone. We can talk this out, whatever it is just - please call me.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, and you didn’t have it in your power or even the desire to stop them. You flicked to another one that was sent a few days later, this one was longer. 

“Please y/n,” it started, his voice soft and cracking with emotion. “Where are you? Just - just tell me where you are, please. I need you. These past few days it’s like I hear your voice and then there’s nothing. I miss you so much. I’m nothing without you please....please just come back home. I don’t care what you did or think you did or why you left. I love you. And I could never stop loving you. I can come get you, we can talk this out. Please. I can’t do this without you. I - I’m falling apart.”

You were now sobbing as you flicked over to your text messages and clicked on Bucky’s name, seeing texts upon texts from him.

One of the more recent one’s caught your attention.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

Never, never in your heart did you ever think Bucky would think that he had done something to drive you away. Your heart broke, realizing he could be blaming himself for your leaving. It was never his fault. It could never be his fault.

With shaking hands, you pressed the phone icon below his name, bringing the phone to your ear as you listened to it ring.

You tried to control your breathing through the tears, falling apart after a few seconds of thinking you had it together.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Please pick up, I need to hear your voice.

Ring 

I’m sorry this is all my fault.

Ring 

Please, I -

“Hello?”

Your breath hitched and your eyes flew open. Your words got caught in your mouth, having no idea what to say. Bucky, on the other side of the line, hadn’t even looked at the caller ID. He hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet, but the tiredness was evidence in his voice.

“Hello?” he said again

“I’m sorry,” you choked out.

Bucky’s eyes flew open and he pulled away his phone, seeing your name across the screen. All exhaustion was gone from his body, and he heard you trying to control your breathing on the other side of the line.

“Y/n?”

“I’m so sorry…” you said again, breaking out into sobs.

“Y/n, can you tell me what’s wrong? Where are you?” he said, panicked and getting out of bed, pulling on a shirt and shoes.

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m so sorry,” you said again, not being able to say much else. 

“Y/n, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay. But I need you to tell me where you are, can you do that for me?”

He waited for a moment while you tried to pull yourself together enough to repeat the address of the hotel.

As you did, Bucky was already out the door and in the car, starting it and putting you on speaker, driving as fast as he could to the hotel and ignoring all traffic signals. It was the middle of the night, and you were not okay.

“I’ll be there soon, angel, can you keep talking to me?

“I’m sorry Bucky…”

“It’s okay y/n. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

His words didn’t reach your ears, your breathing getting harder to control and your tears fell faster. You had fucked up, this was your fault. Why did you call him, now he knows where you are and you were going to burden him with all your shit again. 

He could hear your breathing become labored as he sped further towards your location. He tried talking to you more but he soon realized that he wouldn’t be of much use until he was in front of you. His heart was breaking and he was hoping nothing was seriously wrong. 

But you wouldn’t have called him like this if nothing was wrong.

Clenching his jaw, he scanned the street signs for yours, knowing the city well enough to know he was close. 

When he pulled up to the street, he couldn’t help but wince at how dingy this place was. It was run down and the smell was putrid. He was so sad that this was where you had run off to. He took his phone, saying how he was here but it fell upon deaf ears. You weren’t calm enough to hear his voice from the phone you had dropped when you had moved to cover your face instead.

Bucky took the stairs 3 at a time, getting to your room in record time. He pounded on the door, trying the knob even though he knew it would be locked. Calling out your name and getting no response, he decided to break the door in. It was barely hanging on its hinges anyway.

“Y/n? Y/n where are you?” he called out, met only with the sounds of your labored breathing. He followed it to your room, where you had curled yourself into a ball against the headboard, hands covering your face as you struggled to breathe. 

He walked over to your side, reaching out his hand but thinking better at the last moment. He needed to make sure you knew that he was there, he didn’t want to scare you.

“Y/n?” he starts softly. 

You lifted your head and looked around yourself wildly, startled when you saw the figure of a man standing in front of you, trying to push him away. He grabbed your arms and you tried to break free

How did he get in here? 

What does he want with me? 

Why- 

Your eyes settle on his. Light blue eyes, staring right back into yours. You knew them, you were safe with them. Your own eyes, red  and blotchy flash with realization and you let out a sob. 

“Bucky…”

He took you into his arms as sobs wracked your body, rubbing an arm up and down your back in efforts to calm your shaking form. He was repeating comforting words over and over again. You clung to his shirt as you kept apologizing over and over again, not knowing what else to say - or even how to say it. 

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, y/n, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m here. I got you.”

You tried to focus on his heartbeat, steady and strong, as you tried to take deep breaths. Eventually your tears slowed down as you still clung to him, tears drying on your face as you were able to deepen your breathing to match his. His hand still rubbed up and down your back as the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.

You took a shaky breath. “I - I’m so sorry Bucky.”

Bucky took a deep breath and held her a little more tightly. He could still feel her heart racing. What could she possibly have to be sorry for?

“What happened y/n?”

You felt tears prick your eyes again. Sadness, shame, embarrassment and made you feel sick to your stomach. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before you were able to speak. 

“I - I don’t know.”

“Please y/n. Tell me why you left.”

“I just… I was… “ you swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “It was getting bad again,” you said, voice barely audible. 

Bucky clenched his jaw, angry at himself that he didn’t see it. “Why didn’t you tell me? I told you you could talk to me about anything.”

You screwed your eyes shut. “That was the problem…”

Bucky pulled you back to look at you. “What?”

Your eyes darted everywhere but Bucky’s face. You didn’t want to see the pained expression you knew he’d have right now. You took a deep breath. 

“I just… you were doing so well. And I - I just felt so bad for bringing you down all the time. You would drop anything for me, and you were always there and you were always perfect but I wasn’t.” you finally looked at him. “And I left because I realized I was never going to be.” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t want to put you through that when you were doing so well.”

You looked away, unable to look at Bucky’s sad eyes any longer. Bucky broke the silence after a few moments. “You were the only reason I was better.”

 Now it was your turn to look at him confused. “What?”

“You brought me out to places when all I wanted was to hide. The nightmares stopped because you were there to make me feel safe. Every time I helped you, I was helping me too,” he said, voice cracking. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You weren’t too much for me, you never could be.” 

When you still looked unsure, he moved his hand to cup your cheek. “It’s okay to let people help you, y/n.”

Tears pooled in your eyes once again. That had been what you had said to him when he began closing himself off, be it an intense nightmare or being triggered. Back when things were bad. Like they were for you now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay.” he whispered, hugging you again. “Let’s go home.”

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #buckybarnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #buck #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky barns x y/n #MCU #mcu imagine #MCU fanfiction #mcu fic #depression #feeling like a burden #sorry for being depressing #im sorry #i needed this #marvel fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #i’m sad #sad boi hours #im stressed #i hate studying #so im writing this instead #bucky barnes comfort

[fruitcoops]

Ooo would you be into writing some Stella and Reg bonding time? Only if you'd like though :)

Yeah, for sure! They would get along terribly well, wouldn't they? This is also today's Fic O'Ween prompt and I hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is my OC <3

Day 8: Halloween sent me to the ER (I promise it's fluffy!)

TW for emergency room and injury (broken bone, not major), kid feeling guilty

Machines beeped all around them, along with a dozen different voices speaking over each other and several children crying; Regulus ignored the pain radiating up from his foot to gently lay his hand on Stella’s bouncing knee. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said tearfully for the millionth time in two hours. Her lower lip trembled and she swiped under her eye, smudging her eyeliner. “I—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Regulus assured her with a smile. Was his foot still throbbing from the tracks of her skate wheels? Without a doubt. Was he going to show any of that pain in front of his niece? Fuck no. “Stella, it was an accident.”

She sniffled, her dark eyes huge with misery. “I shoulda been looking where I was going.”

“Probably. But what happened, happened. I need you to take some deep breaths, ouais?”

Stella took a shaky inhale, then wrapped her arms around his upper body and curled up tight into his side until her face was completely hidden in the folds of his Squirtle onesie. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she murmured a moment later, still squeezing tight.

Regulus wrapped his arms around to rub her back and kissed the top of her head. “I promise, ma princesse. What’s Halloween without a little adventure, eh?”

Sirius came around the corner of the registration room a moment later—his face softened when he saw them and Regulus offered a reassuring glance as Stella clutched the fuzzy shell of his costume. Her skates had been abandoned for regular sneakers after the incident, yet she somehow made it work.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” Sirius asked quietly, crouching down to her level. Stella hiccupped twice before Regulus felt her nod. “C’mere.”

She peeled away from Regulus to practically fall into Sirius’ arms, shaking in every limb. “I really didn’t mean to,” she sobbed as he brushed her hair off her forehead. Regulus’ heart hurt even more than his possibly-probably-almost-definitely-broken foot. “And—and now Halloween is ruined and we’re in the emergency room and I broke him.”

“Stella, it’s going to be just fine,” Sirius soothed. “Accidents happen. He’s not broken, Halloween isn’t ruined, and we’ll be out of here before you know it. Nobody is angry with you.”

I always knew you’d be a good dad, Regulus thought with no small amount of pride as her sniffling subsided and Sirius helped dry her tears. Ever since we were kids. Look at you now, doing what nobody did for you and absolutely killing it.

“Regulus Black?” a woman in duck-patterned scrubs called down the hall. “The x-ray room is ready for you.”

A slender hand slipped into his own as he stood and used the armrest for a little extra support; pain flared up in the ball of his foot, but Sirius wrapped a steady arm around his back and took most of his weight as they hobbled down the corridor in a strange four-legged race. “Nice and slow,” Sirius said, helping him over a cord. Stella’s grip didn’t falter for a second. “Easy does it, Reg.”

“You sound more and more like your husband every day,” Regulus said with a wry grin. “Should I be worried about a little Halloween possession?”

“Oh, please no,” Stella groaned at his side with the closest thing to a smile he had seen in more than an hour.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her. “If you give me all your Reese’s, I won’t tell him you said that.”

“A quarter,” she answered, narrowing her eyes.

“Half.”

Silence fell. Regulus looked between them, then caught Stella’s eye and shrugged. She sighed heavily and moved a stray chair aside. “Fine, half. But you’re not getting any Crunch bars.”

Sirius met his gaze with suppressed laughter written all over his face. “You’ve been teaching my daughter to bargain?”

“Someone has to,” Regulus snorted. “Reese’s are high-value, high-demand, delicious balls of goodness and—”

“No more sleepovers,” Sirius interrupted with a shake of his head. “None. No more. Uncle privileges have officially been revoked.”

Regulus looked down at Stella and they both burst out laughing. “As if!” she cackled, looping her arm around his waist despite the fact that his weight was already off that foot.

“Yeah, Sirius,” he scoffed. “As if.”

“Both of you are terrible.”

#regulus black #stella #sirius black #coops #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ficoween #emergency room #hospital #broken bone #hurt/ comfort #fluff #halloween

[peachdoesfics]

This was requested by @moongoddessmox, I just accidently deleted the ask whilst trying to format it. Thank you for such an amazing idea!

Not Bean running with an idea and creating a whole ass fic! I'm in a silly goofy mood 🥴

Take Me To Church {BikerAU! Bucky Barnes x Reader}

❗CW❗This fic contains graphic violence, strong language, descriptions of sexual intercourse, and most of all, Domestic Abuse. Do not read this if it offends you, or will trigger you.

Do not replicate, or repost my fics. The only site this fic will be in is Tumblr. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen.

You are free to reblog!

All mistakes are my own.

Translations are at the bottom of the post.

The title was obviously inspired partly by this song, but also MC culture. I've posted it here just incase you want to listen to it as you read.

Genesis

The desolate bar stood squat and thick, brazen against the thick overgrowth of the unkempt weeds and crawlers that nudged their way sporadically out of the concrete. It was more long than it was tall; the roof barely reaching the top of the telephone poles that towered over the place. The walls were crafted with brick, though over time it had begun to look as if it was pieced together by a toddler. The amount of bricks missing, broken or out of place gave the joint a misshapen look, matching the surrounding area- which was rough.

Large metal bins, overflowing with trash, lay beaten and tossed along the concrete in arbitrary patterns. Splatters of graffiti littered any wall that wasn't already covered, the empty spray cans just being tossed or crushed and left to lay. Flickering streetlights buzzed and hummed over the heads of the street's residents, though only the ones that worked. Most had had their bulbs shattered, the reminants crunching under your feet as you perused your way down the sidewalk, and the smell of stale piss and vomit hung around in the air.

The streetlights were practically drowned out by the sheer amount of neon lights that glowed from the namesign, rendering them useless. The namesake sign, in particular, bathed the cracked pavement below in a deep, dusty carmine red. 'The Old Dog', they called it, yet the sign of course read something different, rather being 'The Hare and The Hound'- but no one ever called it that. Not anymore.

It used to be a respected place, somewhere one would go on a Saturday night, to play pool, watch the football or just for a good drink, a place with never much trouble. That was until the old owner mysteriously disappeared. Some say that he was offered a tidy sum for the place, somewhere in the region of around $300,000, and had gone to live in another state. Others whispered that he was murdered, and the bar was taken up by the killers themselves, the killers in question being none other than 'The Serpent's Redeemers.'

You didn't know much about them. They would never be seen around your area, only if you were incredibly unlucky, or it was in the dead of night, especially as you'd spent the majority of your life living in the sweet, idyllic little centre of town. People like them wouldn't be seen dead there.

You'd grew up being surrounded by the stories of old. Some, you knew to be true, like the tales of the war that your grandfather would recount back to you every single time you visited, or the ones you'd read in the history books, yet there were some that were standing just on the borders between real and downright myth. Those were the ones that were passed around in crowded school playgrounds like trading cards, or whispered by the middle aged mothers whilst they were dressed in their best fineries at church. They were not to be discussed at the dinner table, lest you fell victim to a vicious scolding or the threat of no dessert.

Those were the stories of the outskirters.

You were never allowed down that way, something that had carried on well into your adulthood, yet here you were, hurriedly making your way down the dirty pavements without a single idea of where you were going in the first place. You knew you just had to get away. And fast.

Growing up in a town as small as yours came with its challenges. Despite the tight knit community, the home-grown food that you knew to be organic every single time, and the beautiful rural scenery, there was always something lacking- that being people. There was never much choice, as spending an unhealthy amount of time with every child that you grew up alongside ruined any chance for future relationships. You knew everything about them, and they knew every detail about you, so when a handsome stranger came walking into town from the big city, all eyes were on him.

Yet his eyes were on you.

Of course he didn't hesitate in sweeping you up. Before you knew it you'd moved in together, in a quaint little townhouse that he'd acquired from his seemingly bountiful wealth, and everything ran as smooth as butter. He'd come home from work, and you'd be greeted with wonderful gifts, ranging from ornate, hand made jewellery, to stunningly beautiful silk dresses. There was nothing else to say besides the fact that you were living the dream, and everyone knew about it.

It took about a year for you to begin thinking about engagement. Just having the idea cross your mind was more than enough to cause butterflies to blossom within your stomach. In fact, it wasn't long before you'd let your imagination run wild, and you'd spend your now lonely nights daydreaming about the heaven-like ceremony you'd both share.

You'd thought about asking him yourself after a while, but you were seeing less of him seemingly every week. "Work had become demanding" he'd say as he showed up at the house after two straight days of abandonment. Then, almost as quick as he'd arrived, he'd leave without a trace. The cycle would rinse and repeat itself, each excuse becoming more and more convoluted. "I had to stay in for a meeting, a big business deal might be on the horizon." Your partner would spout next, not forgetting to bring a gift to shower you with as he lovingly reminded you of all you'd been given.

The gifts ended up in a pile. You had no use in opening them if they were going to make you think about him.

One day, however, you'd arrived home from your shopping trip just in time to see the other's car pull around the corner and into the driveway. This was nothing new, he'd probably be using his car for extra packing space for his next trip out to God knows where, so you'd just dawdled down the road like you normally would have, taking in the all too familiar sights before you'd eventually just coop yourself back up inside. When you'd turned the corner not even 10 minutes later, it was safe to say that you were beyond shocked to see that his car was still parked up, relatively untouched.

"Odd." you remembered thinking as, with dull excitement, you'd nudged open the door with your ass (hands being preoccupied), and, as if in a balancing act, wobbled your way over to the kitchen counter, where you'd placed down the bags with a heavy, and relieved sigh. Normally, you would have packed the shopping away, done a little bit of cleaning, and then sat down to relax, but not today. Instead, you'd kicked your shoes off, slipped off your heavy coat, and wandered inquisitively into the lounge.

Only to be greeted to your partner, on the sofa, two glasses of wine in hand.

The newly installed dimmer lights had been set to a soft, sultry low, and the fireplace crackled and spat from it's brick cage. Pleasantly surprised, (albeit slightly peeved that you hadn't made any effort to doll yourself up for an occasion you knew nothing about), you'd cocked your head to the side, crossing your arms.

"What's all this about?" You'd questioned with an actual sense of care, the other patting the seat next to him with his free hand, after having passing over your glass of wine, of course. "In all honesty, Helmut, I'm surprised you even decided to show your face around here."

Zemo hadn't responded negatively, or with anything at all for that matter, rather having opted to spend a few minutes swirling his wine around his polished glass, in which he had then decided to take a long, pursed-lipped sip. You know. Incase he had wanted to drag it out any longer.

In all the time he'd spent faffing about like a prick, you'd drank half of your glass, got up to put the shopping away, stoked the fire and then sat back down. It wasn't until you'd returned, as if you having left the room had hindered his probably magnificent speech, that he'd actually begun to speak.

"Y/N, ангел, I know I've been out a lot over these past few months, for work,"  he couldn't help but emphasise, having caused you to down the rest of your glass, "..but I've realised.."

"Finally.." you'd thought.

"..that what I've done, though for the best of the company, was wrong. And I am willing to make it all up to you."

"It's been months, Helmut. I haven't seen you for months."

"I know, my liebe..-"

"We're supposed to be dating." you'd put your glass down, just in time for the other to grab onto your hand, holding it in his, which he caressed ever so gently. You'd remembered wanting to pull away, though whether it be to show some form of defiance, or just because you hadn't wanted him touching you, you weren't all that sure. Yet you didn't, and the other just kept running his hand over yours like a super villain would do with his cat.

"I've come back, listen-" you'd taken to staring at the stupidly avant-garde, yet amazingly intricate pattern of the carpet in the time that he'd been talking. With a soft hum, not yet an apology, you'd tore yourself away from the walked on work of art and attempted to pay at least some attention to your lover. "I've come back," Helmut continued, this time evidently firmer, ".. Because I want to show you how sorry I am. In fact, sweetheart, I've set up a little surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"I knew that would get your attention, yes, a surprise. Now it's going to have to be next week-"

You'd audibly groaned. "Next week? So you mean to tell me you'll be out again?"

"Unfortunately so, дорогая."But please, give me time to finish everything up and then, I promise, you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

After all that, you'd reluctantly agreed, though it wasn't as if you really had a choice. In some ways, you did, but if you even dared to show any sense of resistance to the idea, Zemo would immediately resort to some grand 'song and dance' about how much he'd changed, and how much he'd sacrificed for you..

The venue he'd booked was beautiful. It was small, discreet but incredibly gorgeous. You'd traveled by private car, something Helmut had set up for you himself, and even had you personally chauffeured directly into the venue, no walking needed.

Yet, after all this, you still didn't know what the surprise was.

It was relatively early by the time you'd arrived, evident as the sun was beating over the morning dew drops that nestled on the garden's millions of flower petals, and the beams of light that shone through the bay windows, casting an almost heavenly glow onto the ornate tiled floors, yet you were all alone in the towering architecture. He hadn't shown up, at least not yet. But since your arrival, it had been over an hour. At first you'd thought that he had been caught up in work, yet again, something he was always quick to use as an excuse, or maybe he had been sorting out the last few details of this little surprise.

You weren't sure, but another half hour of exploration wouldn't hurt.

So, without further ado, you'd resumed your currently awe-filled trek through the relatively small hall. Despite the fact that it was quite, well, small, it was far from cramped. Most of the space was actually taken up by a collection of back rooms, most of them locked, or barred from entry. You figured they were most likely for staff, or, if applicable, a kitchen.

Eventually, all you had left to explore was one turn of a winding hallway. With a quick check of your phone, seeing that yet another hour had passed (time flies when you're having fun), you'd let out a sharp breath through your teeth, and ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it off of your forehead. One more hallway and then you'll probably end up going home.

Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, you'd heard a low, animalistic grunting sound. It was crisp, yet muffled, and sounded as if it was coming from down the hall.

"Hello?" You'd called out at first, craning your neck to further try to make out just what the hell was going on. At the far end of the corridor a door stood, ever so slightly cracked open, and within, a set of shadows jerked and shook, amalgamated within each other like a sick experiment. You'd received nothing in response, the grunting only getting louder as you crept down the hall, now intertwined with the sound of a woman's voice that croaked and moaned.

"Ew, come on guys, you know you can't do that. I'm pretty sure this place is rented out." You'd called out, resting your hand on the door. The other hand had slipped your phone out of your pocket, ready to call emergency services if necessary. After all, what was going on in there didn't sound like what you thought it did at first. Now it sounded like someone was mid fit. Upon hearing no response, and your curiosity getting the better of you, you swallowed your pride and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

As expected, it was just two weirdos having sex. You'd covered your eyes with a groan, but the image had already been burned into your brain. One, presumably a woman judging by her long, messy hair was sitting atop a mahogany, probably antique desk, her legs hooked around the other's waist, her underwear down at her ankles. The aforementioned other person, a man, sporting a rounded face, dark, short hair, and a weirdly familiar five o'clock shadow had a tight hold of her, and judging by his very suggestive moments, had entered her. The rest, well.. the sound was enough for you to realise what was going on.

"..Fuck, ah-" You'd heard the male hiss, followed by the sound of rustling, and hurried bumps and bangs. Your brows furrowed from behind your hands, and your breath had hitched in your throat as you removed your hand from your eyes slowly.

It couldn't be.

"..Helmut..?"

Zemo had practically jolted out of his skin, something the normally calm and collected male would never be seen doing. He'd pulled away from the other woman, almost pushing her away, and as he'd hurriedly zipped up his trousers to greet you, all you could do was turn your head away with a gentle cry. The woman had sat there, dumbfounded, and, as if you'd care about the way she looked, she'd attempted to fix her hair with her hands, and wiped away the lipstick that had been smeared across her face. You'd peered at her as she fixed herself up, and had let out a pained whine.

Sat, on the woman's finger, was a ring. The box laid on the floor at your feet.

You'd spent all of three minutes trying to convince yourself that what you were seeing wasn't real, and that in some odd, completely idiotic way, everything you saw was just an amalgamation of tiredness, a lack of a double take, and the fact that maybe you were the one looking for a problem. But now, you knew all you could do was run.

Spinning, and with sheer ferociousness, flinging open the door, you'd set off in a run down the hallway, the sounds of two sets of footsteps echoing in the, now that you thought back to it, excellent acoustics of the hall. You wondered why you couldn't hear them fucking louder.

"Wait, Y/N-"

"Leave me alone, I don't want to talk to you!"

"Baby, please-" Zemo had returned quietly, as if he were trying to keep it under wraps, and grabbed onto your wrist. You'd spun on your heel, eyes blazing.

"No. Don't you 'Baby' me." You'd spat. "I'm pretty sure you still have somewhere to be, no? Last time I checked, you'd barely reached a fucking orgasm."

"It isn't what it looks like. I was tempted, I don't know her. The whole time, all I could think about was you, Y/N, please-"

"You're a fucking liar. Is this what you've been doing this whole time?" You'd cried. "Getting your fucking dick wet whilst I've been at home, worried about your stupid ass?"

"I told you.." He'd hushed you with a calming hand, yet you'd yanked yourself away, seething. You could barely hold in your tears, muscles tensed and jaw clenched. ".. It's not what it looks like. That girl, she means nothing to me, nothing..-"

"She was wearing your fucking ring!" You spluttered, cheeks blaring red. Not explicitly wanting to say that the huge, rock filled ring was going to be for you, as it felt wrong even just letting the words sit on your tongue, you shook your head like a dog would shake off it's fur, trying to get the thoughts out of your head. Seeing him, your partner, fucking another woman.. No. This was a nightmare. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Please, stop shouting. Let me explain-"

You wouldn't let him finish. Zemo swallowed back an irritated groan, but couldn't help but look away with a sigh.

"Let you explain what, Helmut? The fact that you're going around fucking who you want to?" Yelling in the others face caused the other to narrow his eyes and hurriedly pull you into a corner. His eyes darted around as if he were paranoid, as if a reporter were about to jump though the window and journal the whole thing. "You have nothing to explain. You're a fucking prick."

You'd stumbled forward as he'd pulled you into a corner, pulling a face, and almost slapped his hand away as he'd attempted to quieten you down. Zemo let out a long breath through his nose, and combed a hand through his matted hair. You'd clenched your jaw.

He stank.

"I know what I did was wrong, I realise that now, but if we talk it needs to be at home."

Your disgusted expression had turned into one of upmost bitterness as your upper lip had lifted into a snarl. "I see how it is." You'd muttered, tapping your foot. You felt as if you just hit a goldmine. "You don't want your infidelity to get out, is that right, baby?"

Squinting at you suspiciously, Zemo's arms crossed over themselves. "You could say that. I want my.." Haltering hesitatingly, it was obvious to anyone that he didn't want to seem to own up to his own mistakes, the word "infidelity" catching in his throat. "...My mistake to be kept between us."

"Us? You mean You and I and that slut in the back room?"

"She's not a..- just between us."

Your lips had pulled into a thin line as your eyes darkened, and you'd popped your lips together arhythmically. Taking the only few steps between the both of you, having been so close that you had felt the other's warm breath on your face, you'd shook your head with a voiceless, breathy chuckle. "No. I think that everyone would love to know just how much of a fucking pig you are." And with a single movement, you flicked your phone between your fingers, raising it up to his eye level. "Our little conversation has been recording this whole time. I have all the evidence I need."

Zemo's eyes had clouded. One thing you knew about the other from experience that he was never one to air dirty laundry. He had always been a quiet man, sometimes far too quiet for his own good. That time, he had been too calm, too.. unbothered. You couldn't help but shudder.

"I suggest you give that to me, Liebling." Zemo's voice had drawled, something you recalled sounding deathly dangerous, and he'd held out a simple, empty hand. "Now."

You'd laughed, yet the carefree grip you had on your phone had tightened tenfold, and you'd shook your head again, this time incredulously. "You really think you're some big shot, don't you? No, Helmut. I'm not giving you the phone."

"Hm." was all he had responded. You'd swallowed thickly as you'd watched Zemo nod thinly. "If that's what you want."

Smack.

You'd stumbled back as Zemo had shook his hand off, blinking away the pained tears that had begun to form again. You had been too dazed to respond to the other, who, as quick as he had attacked, had wrestled the phone out of your hands and threw it to the floor. Then, without a seconds hesitation, had grabbed a hold of your arm and had begun to drag you down the hall.

"Wait- what the fuck-" You'd stammered, resisting the best you could as Zemo wrestled you down the hall. For someone with such an outwardly gentle demeanour, he sure had a heavy hand, the print that now blossomed on your face the colour of cherryade.

"You should not have defied me, Y/N." He'd hushed, voice laced with cyanide. You could smell it on his breath. The grip on your arm tightened as you had attempted to claw and scratch, but to no avail. What was once a perk, not having to walk far into the venue, now became a curse, as it wasn't long before you'd both reached the still parked car, and without any effort, Zemo had shoved you aggressively into the car, to which he had slammed the door behind you. You'd turned to protest, but he'd already strode back into the building- and you didn't see him for another ten minutes or so; by then you had grown tired. Pulling on the door handles and kicking at the windows had tuckered you out.

When he returned, he had collected all of his belongings. The ring had been taken from the woman, and Zemo, after storming back in, had thrown a wad of cash to her before grabbing his things and leaving. Sliding into the car, the now stone faced male did not meet your eye. He had instead reached into his pocket, and with no words, dropped the shattered remains of your phone into your lap.

"You will learn to listen to me. All in good time."

Since that very moment, your life had become hell. The house, once a Palace, had contorted itself into an inescapable tower, your only escape being the few hours that Helmut would not be home. When he did eventually return, you'd listen out for his footsteps with fear, tuning into it like a wartime radio. Each footstep would be heavily analyzed, the result predicting his current mood.

A bad mood was a death sentence.

Having originally started out with nothing but name calling, you were only minorly affected. Most things he said would fly in one ear and out the next, but it only took a few weeks for him to resort to... harsher methods. You'd noticed the change after he'd come into the house smelling of sex and booze, the scent sticking to his pale, sweaty skin. You'd taste it on his lips as he'd greet you with harsh, unwanted kisses, and it would latch onto the hair that he'd pull and the face that he'd slap. He'd whisper sweet nothings into one ear, whilst in the other he'd croon out threats.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you."

You'd forgotten just how large his hands were until he'd beat you with them.

Yet, like salt in the wound, only you knew just how much of a rotten pig he was. You'd see him on the television from time to time, looking positively angelic as he chatted nonchalantly to a newswoman, or as his photos would show up in the magazines with his new arm candy.

No one cared about you.

He was a success in the streets, a marvel, a saving grace to hospital patients and sick children, an angel. But at home, he was a sick, twisted sociopath.

In his home, he was God.

Now, it all lead back to this. You'd grown sick and tired of his games, his mind control. So, in the dead of night, in the harsh winter, you'd slipped out of bed as quietly as a mouse and, unable to pack due to just how quiet you had to be, you took the money you'd been saving up and left. No note, no nothing. The only thing he was left with in the end was an empty bed.

You walked down the cold street, shivering as you wrapped your arms around your shuddering body. Barely having time to grab a coat, you'd instead opted for a hoodie, which you since regretted. It did nothing to keep out the harsh cold, the wind blowing right through you, and chilling you to the core. Leaves swirled and smacked against your shoes, the mid winter chill casting a thin layer of frost against every surface, some of the leaves stuck to the floor as if with glue. They still crunched and cracked under your heavy, hurried steps. You knew you had to keep your wits about you here.

Suddenly, something glimmered in front of you, the reflection bouncing off of the nearest street lamp. Thinking it was just a reflection of the pulsing neon lights that eminated from the bar (despite it now being behind you), you thought nothing of it, and continued walking. Then, the sound paper rustling, the clattering of a spray can, the familiar noise of the shaker still jolting you a little bit. Still, there was nothing to afraid of, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn't stop the collection of ghostly voices from echoing inside your head.

'People that have gone down to the outskirts have never returned.. either that, or they show up inside a body bag.'

"No, No." You muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. "Nothing is going to happen. It's just a street, you idiot. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You.. Uh.. Miss!" A voice croaked, the corresponding figure huched over on the side of the road. A trail of spit dribbled out from between his chapped lips, landing in a tiny puddle on the floor. This didn't seem like any old drunkard. From closer inspection, though at at least an arms length, you peered over at the man. "Hey, Hey.. I'm here. Are you alright? Can you tell me what happened?"

He lifted his head. You let out a short, horrified gasp upon the pained realisation that he was just a boy, only somewhere between seventeen to eighteen years old. Reaching your arm out, you rested your fingers on the young man's shoulder. "What are you doing out here all alone? You have somewhere to go?"

His chocolatety, hazelnut mop of hair lifted, revealing the young man's face, which was stained with tears. His eyes were irritated and red, one of them sporting a particularly garish bruise, a deep purple in colour. Crouching down in a bid to look less intimidating (as if you looked intimating in the first place), your eyes softened as his irises met yours. "You can trust me." You coaxed. "Now, what's your name-"

All of a sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your chest.

"Ah- what-" You yelled out, tumbling to the floor, and landing right on your knees with a distressed cry. The young man, once weak looking and unimposing, practically harmless, now stood over you. His foot lifted, landing with a harsh kick to your back, pushing you over. "I.. ah- p-please.." you yelped.

"S-Shut up!" He cried, the knife glinting under a flickering street lamp. It sat, tightly gripped within his curled fingers, set on a quivering hand. Yet, his tightly knitted brows painted a whole different picture. They gave him a much older demeanour, one of danger, and fear. You recoiled as the knife's glare glinted across your face. "Give me everything you've got." He ordered, though it didn't sound as assertive as you expected.

"Please, I don't have much..-"

"That's not my problem, bit-" He swallowed back his harsh words, almost as if they made him sick to his stomach. "..Bitch!"

"It's all I've got. I can't.." Your hands slipped into your pocket, clasping tightly around the purse like a vice. "Please. I.. I can give you anything else, I can.. I.."

You didn't have anything else. Your pleads were useless to the male, who, after a while, grew tired of your whines. With bared teeth, he shoved the knife towards you and, with one heavy foot pressing down on your chest, leant forward and took a hold of your hoodie.

"No.. No-!" You screamed in sheer desperation as, with the knife held barely a few inches from your face, he rooted inside your pocket and grabbed the thick set, leather purse. You watched him as his eyes flicked over the purse, irises set with a strange look. Was that.. Relief?

"Anything else?" Jerking the blade, he did not lift his foot, yet his other hand stashed the purse away into his kutte pocket. His eyes widened in desperation, pupils dilated. "C-Come on!" He stammered, voice breaking as he struggled to watch you wheeze and writhe underneath him. "I don't have all night!"

"Hey, you." A voice called out as the door swung open with a hefty creak, and the sound of footsteps hammering against the floor. You raised your head from the rugged concrete, vision blurring and mixing within eachother, and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear it up. Instinctively, however, you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to protect yourself even further, though it wasn't as if it would do anything.

"Hey!" The unknown man barked this time as his booted feet came to a sudden stop, and, to your surprise, he yanked the younger, skinnier man away by his jacket collar, who stumbled back, and irritated yet terrified look littering his face.

"O-Oh, Barnes, Sir, I didn't-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Parker?" Barnes questioned gruffly. From where you were, you couldn't see exactly what he looked like, but could make out his large stature, and his fingerless, gloved, clenched fists, one of which was shoved into his pocket, the other wrapped around the collar of Parker's Jacket.

"I, I was following orders, Sir. I made a mistake, costing the club money. Rogers told me I should-"

"Fuckin' Rogers.." Barnes muttered, sucking his tooth. He let go of the visibly younger male, who straightened himself out almost immediately. Just from context clues, you'd already figured out that this Barnes guy was also a member of the Redeemers-if not a member of a higher rank, judging by the way the boy known as simply 'Parker' had addressed him.

'Now I'm in for it.' you thought to yourself, watching as the semi-faceless Barnes turned to Parker with a steely eyed glare.

"Either way, you know we don't do that 'round here." He scolded with a tongue of fire, the tone of his voice meaning a lot more than his words. "Now scram, Peter. I'll deal with you later."

"Yes, sir." Peter stammered, and, as quick as a flash, had began to run back into the building. Barnes didn't watch him, but just from the sound of his echoing footsteps and the door emitting it's trademark squeak, he knew that the other had left. Sticking his hands in his pocket, Barnes peered down at you with dark, overshadowed eyes. You saw his tongue flick between his teeth, and he tapped the toe of his boot on the concrete.

"You can get up now, y'know."

Now that he was speaking directly to you, your eyes flicked up to meet his, to which the other looked away with a grunt. You didn't get up, wincing as your knees stung. It wasn't anything too bad; you'd been dealt with worse at Helmut's hand. In comparison, this was nothing. Nevertheless, and dejectly, the towering shadow man held out a rough hand. "I said, you can get up n-"

"I heard what you said- I, uh.. thank you." Stammering out the words upon realising you'd just interrupted him, your hand raised to hold onto the others, his cold, calloused fingertips grating against yours. With minimal effort, Barnes pulled you onto your feet, then stepped back as you dusted yourself off, wobbling like a new-born deer. "Thank you, um.. Barnes, is it?"

With their hands back into their pockets, Barnes' head bobbed, but it was so still that you had to concentrate in order to detect any movement. "Hm. It was nothin'. Think nothin' of it." He spoke dismissively, then, to your unsurprise, spat out a glob of phlegm at his feet. You wrinkled your nose, to which Barnes just huffed out a rush of air, sort of like a laugh.

"He take anything?" Barnes muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked you up and down, an air of suppressed worry in his eyes, which didn't leave as the other stopped, fished in his pockets for a packet of cigarettes, and slipped a singular one between his teeth. It took a while for the other to light it, the cheap, transparent Zippo lighter barely sparking as he attempted to get it to catch. Though, after a few smacks of the lighter to the heel of his palm, a shake, and a round of "Come ons.." and the odd "Fuck you, you stupid plastic piece of shit!", Barnes had successfully bullied the lighter into working, and as it cast its flame onto the carciogenic, it lit up a little more of his features. You could now see the colour of his eyes, which were a dark hazel, hidden under his heavy brow.

You tapped the foot of your shoe at the ground, unable to look at him for more than a few seconds at a time, just incase he caught your gaze again. "A purse..- uh, my purse, specifically."

"Right." The subdued, crackling noise disrupted his speech as he took a lengthened drag on his cigarette, shoving the lighter back into his kutte pocket. "I'll get that back for you. Give me a minute." A ghostly trail of exhaled smoke floated out from behind him as he left, which ended at the bar doors. In the time that Barnes spent inside, you'd taken to attempting to pick the various stones and pieces of concrete out of your knees. A painful ordeal.

The familiar crackling noise signified Barnes' return not a moment later, as he had stated, and he returned to you, wallet in hand. "Sorry about Parker." He muttered. It looked as if apologising was a novel concept to him, as it seemed restrained and almost embarrassing to say. You, of course, shook your head, taking your purse out of his large hand. It's weight hadn't changed as you'd expected it to. Barnes must have gotten every last note back.

"It's alright." You fiddled with the latch on the leather purse for a few moments before slipping it into your hoodie pocket, though with a tight grip on it this time. "Peter seems like a good kid."

"Hm." was all the other responded yet again, something you had picked up on. It seemed as if he was a man of few words, his body language doing a lot of the speaking for him, though he didn't seem shy. Barnes took a long, around five second intake of smoke, before dropping the cigarette at his feet, grinding it into the concrete with the toe of his boot. You noted that as he lifted his foot, the cigarette had practically disintegrated. He seemed to be a lot more comfortable after his return, the dull street lamp casting a gentle glow over his face as he stepped closer. It was rugged, which wasn't a surprise, his chiseled jawline resembling one of a hand-carved statues, which paired well with his irregular stubble. It looked as if he hadn't shaved for the last three or so weeks. His hazel irises looked you up and down, and his jaw seemed to clench. "Did he hit you?" He asked, his other facial features not showing any other emotion, but his voice seemed to cloud itself in a hint of annoyance.

"...H-Hm?" You jolted, a pit falling in your stomach. It was obvious, judging by the marks littering your face and body that you'd been roughed around, but whether he meant by Peter or your partner you weren't sure, yet you hoped he wasn't asking about Zemo. At second thought, you wondered how he would even know about your partner. Maybe you were just being paranoid. "I.. um..-"

Barnes furrowed his brows, the various wounds on your face, both old and new, making a lot more sense. "...Im asking about Peter. Did Peter hit you?"

You found yourself in a catch twenty-two. By telling the truth, would Peter be punished for roughing you up during the mugging? Your bruises may be severe, but the ones you received in the mugging were nothing compared to what you'd been subjected to with Zemo. On the other hand, you couldn't just admit to the fact that you were running away from an abusive relationship with such a well known man. Sure, maybe Barnes wouldn't give a shit, he was probably only asking on the basis of a member of his own gang, but you couldn't risk it.

Zemo's threats echoed inside your head.

'I'll kill you if you tell anyone.'

You were afraid he'd send you back home.

"..He pushed me over." You lied, eyes flicking down to your feet in a fit of habit. The other squinted at you, resting his hands in his back pockets. You held your breath, sweat prickling on the back of your neck. You felt as if you were stuck under a floodlight. All eyes were on you, and yet it felt like hours before Barnes finally spoke again.

"...Well. That's all I wanted to know." He shrugged, though didn't take his eyes off of you. His scrutinising gaze bore holes into you, like burning hot lasers, and eventually, it became too much to deal with, so you turned your face away, shielding yourself from the light. Barnes sucked on his tooth again, peering over his shoulder at the bar. "Well, I guess I should get going. You leaving the city?"

"..I'm going to visit a friend out of town. This place isn't that familiar to me."

Barnes cocked a brow, glancing up at the stars that littered the pitch black sky. 'This late?' He thought, and although he didn't say anything, he still cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. You attempted to suppress your shivers, still staring at the floor. "Well, you should hop along quick." He began, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Someone like you should be careful. I'm sure you've been told all the stories about us scary criminals."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure I have, but from up close you're nothing more than a man."

Barnes poked the tip of his tongue out between his almost perfect teeth, and shifted his weight onto one foot. "Fiesty one, ain'tcha'?"

"You could say that."

"Well, that's my cue." Barnes suddenly muttered, the sounds of a bar fight breaking out echoing behind him, though he didn't seem all that bothered, until he heard a cacophony of glasses shattering and the sound of yells. Probably figuring it was yet another Prospect receiving another beating, or this time Peter, receiving his punishment from an angry Rogers, Barnes turned, tutting, and stepped onto the sidewalk with a roll of his eyes. "I'll be seein' ya'." He spoke, lazily raising a hand behind him.

You nodded, which he didn't see, and turned to face the long, tree lined road. As you stared down, you could see that as far as the road went, it got darker and darker. You couldn't see the end. 'I suppose I better get going.' You internally monologued, and, wrapping your arms around yourself, you started your slow decent into the murky, black night.

Barnes, enveloped by the pulsing neon lights, turned to look at you as his hand rested on the door. His irises trailed your path for a few moments, the deafeningly loud music causing him to wince a bit. He couldn't think, but he knew he had to do something. Places like this were not somewhere to be taken lightly. Someone like you, someone of your state.. They'd be eaten up in minutes.

Rather begrudgingly, Barnes stepped out off of the sidewalk with a long, tired sigh. "Hey! " He called out, hands curled around his mouth in an effort to amplify the sound; you turned, Barnes' now indecipherable figure beckoning you over with a single hand. "You can bunk here for a night or two. Get yourself warm, you'll freeze to death out there!"

"..Are you sure?" You questioned, shocked that the other would suggest such a thing. It seemed to be something that was so out of character for him, as he'd spent all this time seeming unbothered. Yet, you were grateful.

"If I didn't want you to bunk, I wouldn't ask you." Barnes responded gruffly. Waiting for you to walk back over, which you did rather hastily, he made his way into the raised sidewalk and once again rested his hand on the door. The yelling that once blared out from inside the bar was now nothing more than a gaggle of laughter and jeers, something Barnes had become pretty accustomed to. He just hoped that Peter hadn't gotten too fucked up.

"Now. When we go in, I want you to stay close. Don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone. Most of all," He ordered, making sure you were listening. "Do not listen to what anyone is saying. Ready?"

Arms wrapping around yourself, you nodded silently.

"Ready."

Translations:

ангел: Angel

дорогая: Sweetheart

Liebe: Love

Liebling: Sweetheart

Kutte: A Biker's leather jacket. Also more commonly known as a 'Cut-off'.

#dark!bucky barnes #biker!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #helmut zemo #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fic #Peter parker #mcu au #Megalovania was playing in my headphones when I was writing the Peter encounter #All I could think of was sans #Help #Request #fic request #bucky au #Winter soldier #Spotify #dark!bucky x reader