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byunpum · 4 months

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Mama's Boy | Part 5

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: cozy moments, conflict, family problems

Note: I hope you like this part, the next one is gonna be the final part...Thank you sooo much!! btw I recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

The previous day's argument was very intense. Leaving the family in a very delicate state. Even you decided to sleep alone in a kind of bed you made. You were so upset with jake, you couldn't understand why he was like that with lo'ak. Sometimes you thought Jake was ashamed of lo'ak…ashamed that you were his mother. You had been sitting quietly in the marui all day, still feeling a little bad. You were taking care of tuk, the girl was by your side. Making a necklace for you, while she was telling you everything she did in the morning. "Love be careful…you can hurt yourself" you help tuk with the needle she was using. At that, you can see how jake enters the marui, he had a basket full of fish. Looking quickly at you, walking towards where he used to leave the food that had to be prepared. You decide to ignore him, and be playful with tuk.

"baby…can we talk?" asks jake, the man had approached you, sitting down next to you. You on the other hand were acting like he wasn't there. You look up, and sigh loudly. "Tuk honey, why don't you let mommy and daddy talk alone" you help the girl pick up her materials, and wait for her to come out of the marui doing some jumping jacks. You smile a little to see how happy tuk was, oblivious to what was going on. "Tell me?" you speak, looking at jake waiting for him to start talking. "Is it true that you are thinking of leaving? "jake looks at you, you could tell he was worried. It was too dangerous for you to go back to the jungle. The RDA was looking for Jake, and when Jake's name was on the line his whole family was involved. The months you had to be alone, you never left the lab.

"I see neytiri told you everything" you say, trying not to make eye contact with him. "Love…we can fix this" Jake touches your hand, but you push him away. "Jake it's not with me that you have to fix things, it's with your son. Your behavior towards him…it's terrible." You speak, trying to hold back your tears. "Y/n you're misunderstanding things I" jake speaks, but is interrupted when you turn around and are now looking directly at him. "Jake… I have a question for you, what does neteyam like the most?" you ask. "A-ahh he likes hunting, he likes to ride his ikran. He's also a great talker," says jake.

"Okay, now tell me what lo'ak likes?" you speak up, knowing jake wouldn't answer quickly like the other question. Jake gets nervous, looking around for a moment. "He likes…he likes being with his brother. " jake speaks timidly, watching as your eyebrows draw together in anger. "Lo'ak likes to ride around and investigate things. He loves to practice with his bow, he likes to spend time with his sister kiri and all he looks forward to is his father telling him he did a great job" you were already very annoyed.

"I know…" jake speaks softly. Shaking his head, look embarrassed. "Jake your sons are not soldiers…they are children. Children who need love and attention from their father. Neteyam is not the only one here who needs to be trained. Lo'ak too, he needs you to treat him with respect and love. What does it cost you to do that?" you speak, watching as jake pulled his knees up to his chest. Becoming more like a little ball. "I just…want them to be strong and …. I'm afraid they'll be weak and won't be able to survive this chaos we live in" jake tries to explain. And yes, he was a little bit right. But that didn't justify the preference he had over neteyam. "Jake, I know all that" you wave your hands all around you. "This is all chaos, I know this isn't our home. I know what we're going through, but what does lo'ak have to do with it? Why can't you treat him like you treat kiri or neteyam or tuk? What did he do to you?" you speak, getting up from the floor. You had to walk, because the rage was consuming you. You hated it when jake tried to avoid trouble. Telling you smith answers to distract you. "He didn't do anything" jake follows you with his eyes.

"I feel like sometimes you just treat him like that, because he came from me. Because he's not completely na'vi." You had tears in your eyes, you didn't know why you were so sentimental. Even though this situation always broke your heart, you wanted lo'ak to feel loved. "Y/n never say that… this has nothing to do with you being his mother" jake in one swift movement. He takes your arm, to pull you closer to him. "I wouldn't ask for another mother for my son, you are an excellent mother" jake lets his head lay on your chest. He is silent for a moment, you didn't want to keep arguing with him. You loved your family, you loved jake, you hated being upset with him. "Lo'ak is how I was…he is so much like the stupid jake who betrayed and endangered people he cared about. That stupid jake got innocent people killed" jake speaks, you knew he was talking about grace. She had been so important to you.

You take jake's face in your hands, pulling his face up so he could look you in the eye. "But that stupid jake was the one who saved a whole clan, that stupid jake is strong and brave. That stupid jake was the one I fell in love with" you speak softly. Tears streamed down Jake's cheeks. "I want you to be the person that stupid Jake needed, for lo'ak. He needs you…" you speak, feeling jake hug you. You both stand there for a moment. "I don't want him to make mistakes that he'll regret later," jake says. "He'll get in trouble if you don't help…try to be a better parent to him. That's all I ask of you" you start walking away from jake. Picking up some things tuk had left on the ground, you go to look for the girl.

"Do you think you would have been happy if instead of me, tom was the one in this body?" jake asks you. You knew this was tormenting Jake. You had been tom's girlfriend just before he went to earth. And there he was murdered. When jake came to the RDA and took tom's place. For you it was a big shock, Jake was just like your ex-boyfriend, but so different at the same time. You had to admit that Jake was the only thing that kept you sane those months. Not to mention the relationship that formed between the two of you. Jake allowed you to see neytiri again and get closer to the clan. Jake could be a fool, but the fool you liked the most. The rest is history.

You turn around before leaving the marui, tears in your eyes. "Believe it or not, I am very happy…but I wish your insecurities didn't affect this family" you speak, walking out of the marui leaving jake alone with his thoughts. You liked that Jake opened up to you, but you would like to see him try to improve his relationship with his children. Because it wasn't just lo'ak, neteyam was also affected by jake's treatment. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath and wiping away your tears. You calm down a bit, and start looking for tuk. Luckily for you, the girl wasn't far away. She was sitting with neteyam playing.

You approach the children, see how they look at you and their eyes light up. "Hello" you greet them, sitting down next to tuk. "Look my love, you forgot these things" you hand the things to tuk. The little girl thanks you, she didn't dare to come back for them. "Thank you mommy" tuk says, now sitting on your lap. You can feel neteyam's eyes glued to you, he knew things were not good between his parents. The news that you were likely to leave had destroyed him. Neteyam could be strong, and always be by Jake and Neytiri's side. But you were his refuge, where he could go and be a child again. If he was to be judged for a second. "Mom?" neteyam speaks to you, you look at him quickly. "Mmm?" you are helping tuk, when you feel neteyam sit down next to you. "Is it true that you are going to go and leave us?" neteyam speaks waiting for you to answer. "Mom? You are going to leave us?" yells tuk. You sigh, you had gone through a pretty strong disappointment a few minutes ago and you wanted to control yourself.

"Where did you hear that neteyam?" you look at the boy, you thought you had argued in private, but you guess your screams were too loud. "We heard it by accident, I promise" neteyam gets nervous, but you hold his hand to calm him down. "mom if you go…can I come with you?" neteyam was getting sentimental, you caress his face a little. Laughing a little and tapping your arms to give him support. "I'm not going anywhere…but if I did. Of course you can go with me." You speak, watching as neteyam pouts. You joke a little, in order to change the topic. You didn't like them getting involved in adult issues, you knew they had been through a lot. At such a young age.

It wasn't long before you started to feel a little dizzy. You tried to hold your child tighter in your lap, but you felt like you were about to throw up. Never having felt like this before. You push tuk a little so that the girl slips out of your lap, placing your hands on your stomach, you were in a lot of pain. Neteyam noticed this, and quickly began to help you. "What's wrong mom?" neteyam holds your shoulders. The vomiting was something you couldn't help, and you swore you were emptying yourself alive. neteyam held you so you wouldn't mess yourself up. "Mom!" the boy whines, he has never seen you like this before. It was so strong that as soon as you recover, your sight goes blank.

You start to get up, you could hear some voices around you. You didn't open your eyes yet, but you could distinguish them. One was from neytiri, and the other was from ronal. You could feel some warm things on your body, and some parts were wet. You start to become conscious, opening your eyes a little at a time. "Ma Y/n!!!" neytiri sounded so happy, she had a nice smile on her face. On the other hand, ronal was moving away from your body. You could tell she looked exhausted. "What happened?" you try to get up, but you barely had any strength. "You fainted again and neteyam warned us" neytiri explains, stroking your hair. Something seemed curious about neytiri, she was supposed to be worried and she looked so happy. "You are sick…you need to rest and take medicine" said Ronal, the woman was already looking in some containers for the herbs to prepare the medicine you had to take. The more you woke up you realized that you were in the marui that Ronal used to take care of the sick na'vi. "And the children?" you look weakly at neytiri. "They are with Jake, don't worry," Neytiri speaks, settling in closer to your side.

You rest a little, but you feel how Ronal starts to remove the towels that were warm before. Drying your exposed skin a bit. He had been using compresses and hot towels to try to get you up. "The medicine is a little strong, but it won't hurt the baby," says Ronal, holding out a jar of carracol. Your eyes widen in surprise, what the hell was this woman talking about, pregnant? This woman is crazy. "Baby? No, I'm not pregnant" you speak, now you had recovered all your strength. You were surprised. You look at neytiri, but she had a look that was worrying you. "ney" you push her a little, you needed her to speak. "Y/N I thought you are…since the symptoms" neytiri can't contain her joy. "Plus we did an abdominal test and we could feel something" ronal looks at you, handing you the drink. You are confused, and now you were about to vomit at the news. How could that be possible, you were sure you weren't pregnant.

Hey, you and Jake had been together. Well…ever since you had joined the clan. You two hadn't kept your hands off each other. Well… the three of you. You were sure neytiri knew you weren't pregnant. The idea of having a baby doesn't enter your head, not now that the atmosphere is so tense. You take the drink, you notice how Ronal is watching you. Making sure you take all the medicine. "Ahh it's disgusting" you complain. Listening to neytiri laugh, you liked seeing her like that. It's been a long time since you've seen her this happy, it was genuine happiness. "Well…I'll let you rest here. I'll come by later and check on you" ronal gets up from the floor, and walks out of the marui. Leaving you and neytiri alone. You were exhausted, but you can feel neytiri touch your stomach. Causing you to look at her with surprise. "We will have another baby ma y/n" neytiri smiles. "But when?" you had many questions, when you found out you were pregnant with lo'ak it was because norm did a test on you. But now it had been a natural test that na'vi women did to find out if they were pregnant. "I think it was the day at the beach" neytir laughs a little, blushing. You start to remember and you want to curl into a ball. You were scared, really scared.

"Hey, don't be scared. I'll be right here with you. And we've been looking for this for so many years," says Neytiri. And she was right, it got to the stage where the pregnancies were more about the two of you. They were very intimate between you and Neytiri. You wanted to be in on the whole process, including the excitement of being pregnant. It would build on the bonds that would be formed with the children. "I know…but this news is very unexpected…and even more so now that I want to kill Jake," you say. ""You haven't talked?"" asks neytiri, she wanted this to be resolved. "Ney…I need him to be a better father to lo'ak and you know I'm right" you speak. Neytiri is thoughtful for a moment, she knew you were right, and she would support you in whatever decision you make. And even more so at this moment. "Well, I'm going to let you rest. Ronal said he would come later. I'll come later." neytiri wanted to break the news to everyone in the family. A baby was big news for her, and she knew everyone would be happy. Giving you a soft kiss, and another on the palms of her hands. You swear you saw Neytiri jump a little in happiness, her tail wagging from side to side and the smile on her face was beautiful. You lay back on the comfortable bed and closed your eyes. You had to rest, otherwise you were going to die of madness.

"Ok, but you have to cut it like this" jake was with lo'ak. The man had decided to go looking for his son after the argument he had with you. Inviting him to go fishing, obviously this was a strange thing for lo'ak to do. But spending the afternoon with his father was making him very happy. Lo'ak was cleaning the fish as jake told him to, looking carefully at the instructions. "And what do I do with this?" lo'ak points with disgust, at the fish's stomach. "Remove it…that's disgusting" jake mimics lo'ak's wince as they both laughed. It was a very nice moment for both of them, jake had to admit that he had missed a lot of moments with lo'ak. While lo'ak and jake were busy, kiri, neteyam and tuk were sitting somewhere in the corner of the marui talking and playing with each other. When they noticed how their mother came in with a happiness. "I have good news," said neytiri.

"How is mom!!!" lo'ak gets up quickly, running to neytiri. "she's fine…but" neytiri pauses, walking over to jake to sit next to him. "What's wrong, she's supposed to just be sick at her stomach" jake says. The last he heard from you, neteyam had taken you to see ronal. And that you had a lot of stomach pain. "It's not a bad thing…come here everybody, come on!" neytiri makes the signal for everyone in the family to come over. Everyone sits around, neytiri looked so excited. "This is so big for this family… Y/N is expecting a baby" neytiri sounds the news, jake gets so excited he hugs neytiri right away. "No way!!!" shouts kiri hugging tuk and the little girl was already very excited. "Another sully to the family" says neteyam, excited. But apparently the news had not gone down well with everyone, "WHAT?" Lo'ak literally screams, capturing her parents' attention. "Lo'ak what's wrong?" neytiri is now confused, this is supposed to be a big surprise.

"Why is mom going to have a baby? She can't have one!!!" Lo'ak was getting a little upset. This was a jealous reaction, and neytiri and jake could tell. "hey lo'ak I need you to calm down" jake tries to calm him down. But the boy stands up in annoyance, getting out of the marui. "Lo'ak needs to stop having tantrums, he's too old to be having these dramas" kiri says. Neytiri taps her knee, kiri complains. Everyone in the family knows how lo'ak was with you, everything that had to do with you affected lo'ak twice as much. Jake was about to get up and go talk to the boy. But he feels neteyam's hand stop him. "Dad…I'll talk to him" says neteyam. Jake looks quickly at neytiri, who signals him to let his brother go get him. Neteyam gets up from the ground and leaves the marui to look for his brother. It doesn't take him long to find him, he was relatively close. Lo'ak was sitting in the sand, he could tell he was crying.

"Little brother…you're jealous" says neteyam. Listening as lo'ak whined. "What do you want you idiot!!!" lo'ak grudgingly replies to neteyam. But neteyam ignores him, laughing and sitting down next to him. "I know you must be feeling jealous," says neteyam. Lo'ak rolls his eyes in white. He didn't want to be messing around with neteyam, sometimes he could be very annoying. "You know…when you were born I felt a little jealous, but when tuk was born I must admit I couldn't help but feel very jealous. Our moms were with her all the time and didn't pay attention to us. " said neteyam. "Yes, but my mom has always paid attention to me" lo'ak says sounding a bit smug. Neteyam laughs, he had to admit that his little brother looked adorable. "And she's always going to love you, I'm the big brother. And having to share everything…but the love mama has for you is special and no one will ever change it," Neteyam speaks. Lo'ak is silent, neteyam stands up and taps his brother on the shoulder. Stepping away to let him think for a moment.

That same afternoon…

You were already up, and it was getting dark. You had to admit that you were pretty bored. Ronal was taking longer than usual. You wanted to be home, you felt a little better. And now that you knew you were sick and the pregnancy symptoms were making it worse, you felt somewhat reassured. Although the news of your pregnancy was not something you were very happy about. Sure, you were happy to have a baby. You had waited for this opportunity for so long, but it had to happen right now. Just now when the situation with lo'ak was very active.

You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts, that you didn't notice when Ronal entered the marui. The woman can see that you were a bit lost. "The news of the baby surprises you, doesn't it? Because it does to me," says Ronal, putting some things she brought to refill. You look at her a little startled, and became a little alert at the tone of Ronal's voice. You weren't friends, and ronal tolerated you and treated you well because tonowari told her to. "Yes…it's a surprise," you say. Trying not to sound awkward. "It seems kind of unreal to me…that one" Ronal scans you up and down. "Human is pregnant, I have doubts even with your supposed child" ronal speaks, she could be quite direct. She didn't mind hurting other people's feelings. "Excuse me?" you get more comfortable in your bed. "Don't take this the wrong way…but it's weird" ronal chuckles a little. You decide to ignore her, you didn't want to argue because you still felt a little bad.

Ronal prepared more medicine for you to take in the next few days. Supposedly some food had made you sick. After several days you are supposed to be left with only the symptoms of pregnancy. She might be a little mean, but she wouldn't hurt you. You get up carefully, leaving Marui. Ronal all this time had been making uncalled for comments about you and your child. But at no time did you want to answer him, you didn't want to cause trouble. "Hey by the way" Ronal starts talking. You stop, and look back.

"I heard you wanted to go back to the jungle…and you know what" Ronal laughs again to herself. You didn't understand what you had done to this woman, but she seemed to hate you. "I think it would be best for your family. Even for that child…lo'ak. When you weren't here, we barely heard the sully. And as far as I can see all you've done is mess everything up around here," Ronal says, turning to continue working. You sigh, you weren't going to give her the pleasure of her seeing you cry, getting out of that marui as fast as you could. Back to the familiar marui, you couldn't help but get Ronal's words out of your head, maybe she was right. Maybe they were better off without you. And now you had one more problem.

P.s The reason I wrote that the reader was pregnant is that the original request asked for two children. Lo'ak and the baby on the way. Second, the reader is still upset with jake, but I wanted to fix things up a bit. Because I want it to focus more on the relationship between lo'ak and his mom.

Tag: @baybaybear1@hoodiepandaninja16@teyyyteyyy@anika-rose-walker@victoria2054@raviolisblog@jessi-dan@neteyams-wh0re@jimfiqs@bitchykittenconnoisseur@chershire23@holynightnacho@danilezilla@thepotatoislost @esposadomd @ratchetprime211 @juneonhoth

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

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Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after.

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here?

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy.

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena.

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.”

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep.

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open.

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead.

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so.

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you. He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot.

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft.

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out.

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you.

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him.

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it.

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark.

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless.

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face.

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?”

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't.

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

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Northern Attitude

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a/n guilty... guilty... guilty... I caved in. I own up to my weaknesses. Promised myself to never write for this man and here I am now. This is my first time so be gentle. 🗡️🫧

summery: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: injuries, blood, bleeding out, alcohol, needles, death, trauma fun stuff.

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You two hated each other. That was a fact, and there was no way around it. It was scowling glares, sharp jabs during training if you two were paired together, and bitter remarks thrown here and there. And the joy of it all was that Price had granted you a shared room on the base. First, the excuse was that there was simply not enough room; the team had grown. Then he said he wasn't having a team that was up on biting each other's necks out. So in conclusion, he had set it up on purpose.

Did it help? No. It was a disaster. The man was insufferable. And, in all honesty, you had no idea what you had done. You had thrown a sexist card at him multiple times because you simply couldn't find another reason for his unmeasured dissatisfaction as to why you shouldn't be here. Never had he said anything nice your way. You got it; the guy was secretive. You didn't need to look far. The fact that he never took his mask off was proof enough. But to be so against someone you didn't even spend time with?

"Clean your mess", Ghost huffed, dropping his wet towel on the bed. You lifted your head away from your book. At least you two had separate beds on the opposite sides of the room. "It's on my side", you said, pointing to the white line that Ghost had drawn on the floor like a kid the first night you dragged your stuff here. The rule was simple: you stayed on your side, he on his. The bathroom was the only exception. "Yeah, I have to look at it, don't I", he grumbled, tossing the towel into the laundry basket. You paid him no mind, your eyes turning back to the pages. "Poor you, does it mess with your posh tea time?", you chuckled under your breath, earning a growl from the other side of the room.

And that's how it went. More than not, you considered any word coming out of Ghost's mouth a win. Because a new tactic the asshole had adopted was pretending that you weren't even a thing. You were an actual ghost, and Simon didn't believe in the paranormal clearly. You fastened your vest, double-checking that your on-hand weapons were right where you wanted them. "Do you need me to do a touch-down for you?", your head darted up, only to be met with a smug-looking scot. Soap. You couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle. "Do you think that if you keep asking, the answer will eventually change?", you snickered back, shaking your head. Soap shrugged. "You tell me, bonnie?", the man teased back. Leave it to Johnny to joke around right before a mission. You hummed, "Maybe I'm more into you undoing it", Gaz snickered somewhere in the back. Soap's smirk grew even bigger. You knew that it was all good fun. Neither of them would make a move. They respected you. To most, you were like a sister. They had become your family. One you never had. Before Soap could say anything in return, the back door swung open, and in strolled Ghost. God, he looked good. Six feet of pure muscle. And when this man was in his full gear... You allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the way he looked before dropping your gaze. Suddenly, you were way more interested in the guns on the table than anything else.

Johnny came to stand next to you as the team gathered around the table. Price loved to gather everyone around before it all went off. John was like a father to most. You were no exception. You liked to tease the boys that you were his number one. His girl. And well, by law, you were. Considering that he pulled you out of the foster home, you owned this man a lot, even if he said that it was all in the past.

"You know the drill; go in, grab what you need, and get out. Try to keep it clean", Price said, pulling three sheets of paper and scattering them around on the table. "Soap and Ghost, you're together. I'll go with Gaz. Sugar, you're alone on this; we will clean the path for you, though". It was supposed to be a joke that name. You wanted something cool. Something as cool as Ghost, but Johnny was quick to remind you that his nickname was soap "And sugar", He had said, "That's quite literally white death". So it stuck.

You nodded your head, only to find Ghost shaking his. "Got something against it, LT?", you snarled. His eyes met yours over the table. With the war paint, his eyes were even more radiant. "She can't go alone. She doesn't know how to hold herself back and will do something stupid", now it was your turn to growl. Scratch the fact that you found this man attractive. You will suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep when you return to base. "Want to go with her, Ghost?", Price said calmly, knowing full well the answer would be a hard no. "We meet in the safe house afterward", Price continued without acknowledging the death glare Ghost was wearing, "Come back in one piece, you bunch". Everyone nodded quietly, reaching for the masks, double-checking the cartridges and radios. You were all climbing into the motorcar when Soap nudged your shoulder. "I'll hold you to the undressing part", he winked, hurrying to sit down. Your anger simmered down as you flipped him off in return, his laughter booming. It was Ghost, whose unimpressed eyes followed you two, gripping the gun in his hands tightly as he chose to stare ahead.

It was nothing—the mission. The base that needed to be checked out was pretty much abandoned. A couple of kills. A smoke bomb here and there. It was easy. Simple. They laid a clear path for you to do your thing. Your small frame was what they needed here. Air vents weren't the best of friends with hulky soldiers. "Do your worst, Sugar", Price had muttered into the radio some time ago. Your response was a cold, "Copy". The four of them were left to watch over the main entry points. Yet sending you into the belly of the beast felt wrong. At this point, Simon had lost count of the number of times he had reached for his radio, ready to call out to you. But he talked himself out every time.

"Got it", your voice pierced the silence. Ghost's shoulders drooped. "Good girl, bring it home", Price called back. Soap looked out of the window, "We should go meet them at the-", but his voice was cut by the cracking that came from the radio. Then it all died down. Silence. Soap locked eyes with Ghost. "Price, you copy?", Soap called out. Silence struck again. "All good here, you copy?", the captain called out. "Positive", Ghost muttered into the radio. Gunshots echoed deep within the base. It was you. The noise had to come from you. Ghost felt his heartbeat picking up. He had to find a way to get to you. To cover you. Yet the rational side of his brain screamed at him, saying that there was no way for him to do so.

The crackling filled the air around him once more as they rushed toward the spot where the team had agreed to meet. "Abort", your breathless voice came through the radio. "Get your asses out", you were panting. Ghost could hear you reloading your gun. "Sugar, what's the situation?", even Price's voice sounded more panicked. And the old man kept his cool. They all did. This whole shit could have been a setup for all they knew. Even outside, the sound of bullets pierced the silence didn't ease. Simon wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but your labored voice still twisted at his heart, "Get. Out."

The safe house had never felt so quiet. Usually, at least Soap was a never-ending chatterbox. Now the male stood in front of the window. Not moving. His eyes were glued to the forest in front of him. Price was half a bottle down on the bourbon. Gaz's leg hadn't stopped bouncing. They all had minor bruises, but that was expected.

"We need to go back", Soap said, rubbing his palms together. "You know that we can't, Johnny", Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. He was no doubt thinking of ways he was going to break the news to his wife. "She wouldn't fucking leave us", Soap snarled back. You would expect a handful of army men to be able to hold their composure in situations like this, but... You had dragged them all out of a dark pit. You were undoubtedly good at what you did, yes. But you offered much more. The safety blanket. A proper homemade meal when there was time, and that was a lot for a man who had been stuck in the base for months, missing home. There had been so much more laughter and smiles since you joined the force. As if you had breathed back humanity and a sense of life into their ice-cold bones. And now they all had to go back to...

The handle of the back door creaked. All four of them reached for their guns in unison. But no one besides them was supposed to know where the keys had been stashed. A lucky coincidence? The odds were too slim. But the door jerked open, and they all lost the breath they were holding.

"What a fucking greeting", you muttered, dropping your helmet to the side. Soap moved toward you first. Simon would have loved to beat him to it, but he found himself sitting back down, his legs suddenly feeling wobbly. "Here", you yanked the chip from your vest, pushing it into Soap's hand. "Mission complete, captain", you eyed Price. Before moving to undo your gear. "How many?", John asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. The blood on your forehead was crusted. But the sound of drops hitting the wooden floor was constant. "Six", you breathed, moving to undo your vest, and that's when the first growl left your lips.

"You're bleeding", Johnny breathed, reaching for your shoulder, but you pulled away. "I'll lick my own wounds", your tone was cold. It was colder than it usually was. Ghost watched you slowly walk towards the stairs, but not before you had reached for the Bourbon. "I'll come to stitch you,", Price had called out, only to be harshly cut off with a harsh, "No".

You locked the doors behind yourself. Your vision was going hazy. You had managed to get away. You had no idea how because there had been a moment when you were sure that death was standing right behind your back, breathing at your neck. You had killed before, had blood sprayed all over you. Yet something about this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that there was a moment where you weren't the one in control. When they had managed to yank you across the floor by your ankle. You shivered at the image of a knife being jabbed on either side of you as you dodged blow after blow.

Your hands gripped the sink. You will do this. You will patch yourself up. Swallow a couple of pills and go to sleep. You knew there was no way you were getting your shirt off, so you wasted no time as you sliced the fabric with your pocket knife, wincing. Slowly peeling the damp material from your shoulder. Would this be easier if someone else did it for you? Yes. But you didn't want anyone's hands on you. Not now. Not when your brain was still fuzzy. The trickle of blood ran down your chest and through the sports bra you had on. You knew what followed next. You've done it multiple times. Drink bourbon. Splash some on the wound. Dig the fingers in to fish for the bullet. More bourbon. Stitch it up. You ran yourself through the steps one more time. One more look in the mirror before you force yourself to do just that.

Simon's hands were gripping the chair he was sitting on. Every little whimper from upstairs ripped at his composure. Stubborn girl, never knowing how to accept help. And a whimper, a whimper he could handle, but when a loud cry filled the quiet space, Simon was up and going. Every other step was skipped, and he was right in front of the second-floor bathroom. Hand on the handle as his shoulder hit the locked door. "Open up", Ghost banged his fist into the surface. "Go away", your voice was barely audible. Too long. He had sat downstairs for too long. He should have come barging in the moment you tried to play a big girl. Should have carried you back downstairs. "Don't make it bloody difficult", Simon's voice was husky. His own body ached, but he wasn't about to sit back and watch you bleed out.

You didn't answer him. "Sugar", he called out, "Open the fucking door, or I will break it", he wasn't even sure why he was bargaining with you now. But he respected your privacy. He always did. Even in the room you shared. His face was always facing the wall when he knew you were taking a shower. Just in case you had forgotten your clothes and would need to quickly get to your side of the room, this was different; his stalling could cost you your life. So he doesn't say anything else. Backing a couple of steps back, Simon braced himself for the impact. The hinges were old, so one shove from him was enough to break them; the rest he could handle with his two hands.

Ghost's breath hitched once more. "Stubborn, bloody woman", he hissed. The floor was covered in your blood; there was not a single clean towel. Your figure was slumped by the bath. "Price", his voice was more of a roar that made even you jerk your head up. "Get out", you breathed, trying to put distance between you two. "Like fuck, I will", Simon grunted, reaching towards you, his palm pressing into your shoulder. You cried out, your nails digging into his wrists, but the pressure didn't ease. "Fucking hell", the captain called from behind, "Get her downstairs".

"No", you hissed as Ghost lifted you, "Get away". But you knew that it was over now that they'd seen you. Simon tried to lower you down, but you whizzed in pain. "From the back", you say through gritted teeth. "What?", His eyes searched yours; you knew he was struggling to understand you. "The bullet", your breath, "from the back". Simon's eyes darted up to John, who slowly nodded his head, "Keep her up, then", and you could feel him pulling the rest of your shirt off.

"Liquid courage", a bottle was dangled right in front of you, and you could just about make out Soap's shaky hands. "I don't need it", you muttered, feeling the way Simon's chest rumbled with a disapproving growl. "Don't fight it, kid", Price called out from behind you, "You know how it's done". He was looking through the medical bag, no doubt making sure that he had everything he needed on hand. You open your mouth, and Soap quickly takes the hint, tilting the bottle upwards.

"Bite this and hold onto Simon's shoulders for me", the captain delivered his words like an order, but you still shook your head. "Jesus women, do you have a death wish or something?", Ghost muttered, hands moving from your legs that were still wrapped around his torso to your hands, pulling one of them over his shoulder and the other, the injured one, across his torso, so Price could work on it easier. But your palms stay pushed away from his skin. So does your chest. He was too close. You couldn't. Simon doesn't like his personal space being occupied by anyone.

"Deep breath for me", was the only last warning John gives you before you feel a pain like no other ripping through your back. And that was all it took. All it too, for your hands to clamp around Simon. Nails were in his skin as you yelled out, trying to pull away from whatever Price was doing. Simon's big palm cupped the back of your head, guiding you down onto his shoulder. "You got this, love", he muttered against your ear. The grip he had on you did not falter, not even for a second. "Almost there, Sug, just a bit more", Price said through gritted teeth. You could feel him digging through your back. The burning icy cold now.

Your body was working on its own accord. Hand reaching for the side of Ghost's face as another wave of pain ripped through you, making you holler out. Simon didn't pull away. And maybe you were high on pain, but you could swear you felt his lips against your palm. Kissing your skin through the material of his mask. Your breathing got shallow. You wanted to pull back to look up at him. Into his eyes. At least one more time. But your body felt heavy. Your fingers gently caressed the side of his face. The smell of him calmed you. You pressed a weak kiss against his neck, feeling a shiver running down his back.

"Keep her talking, Simon,", Price grumbled in frustration. Something probably wasn't going how it was supposed to. But it was okay. You had made your peace with it. "Come on, look at me", Simon pulled your limp head away from his shoulder, tapping your cheek a couple of times. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Or I'll leave my wet towels all over our room for the rest of the month", there was a tinge of something new in his voice. Some kind of light worry. Frustration. You blinked a couple of times, the corners of your lips turning upwards. "You wouldn't dare", you rasped out, your mouth feeling way too dry all of a sudden. "Why is that?", Simon asked straight away, his eyes not leaving yours. You let yourself breathe for a bit; you didn't have enough strength to answer right away. "I'll get you pink sheets and...", a cough made your body seize, and Ghost's grip on you tightened instantly. And there. There it was. A flash of worry caught his eye. "A fuzzy rug", you finished finally. Simon's palm ran over your sweaty forehead. "I'd like to see you try, darling", he breathed out, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"She's too fucking pale, Price", you heard Soap's voice from the side, or at least it sounded like it. "Shut up, Johnny,", the captain grumbled. "Don't close your eyes, Sugar", you felt another nudge from Ghost, making you blink up at him once more. "It's cold", you muttered, feeling your hand slip down his torso, falling limp by your leg. "John", Ghost said in a warning tone. He was trying to make you hold back on him, but your hand slipped away every time.

It was the way your hand limped against Simon's face that sent the last wave of panic through him. Your clammy skin pressed against him. And he was back there, back in the house where his family was killed. No, he couldn't lose you. Not now that he had found you. Not without you knowing that he also cared, just like everyone else. "Y/N", he called out softly. He had never called you by your real name. Never had a chance to see if your eyes would shimmer when he did. "Don't do this", he breathed again your not injured shoulder, "Don't you dare fucking die on me". But he was met with nothing. Only then did he realize that he would have to live with nothing but regret and your blood on his hands. All because he couldn't find a way to let your light shine through his cold demeanor. All because he was afraid of the fact that he had found himself caring again.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost cod image #ghost cod x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader #simon riley x reader

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ajaxless · 28 days

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Doctor Harper being like...The "grown up" version of Kylar. Got sent to the psych ward for being a little too silly (went yandere) and hypnotized everyone into letting him out. Could you fucking imagine how scary that would be to be his (former?) Darling?

Harper as your dweeb classmate. Always has his nose tucked in a book, usually shows up to school with bruises, you can't tell if it's from his home life or from the bullies. You end up taking pity on the poor guy and get into the habit of taking him to the nurse at school to get him ice packs and bandaids. Over time Harper comes out of that quiet and polite facade and brags to anyone that will listen that the two of you are lovers. Except, no, you're not, you never would have agreed to such a thing. Sure, it's sweet that he walks you to each and every class you have and insists on carrying your books, but you never saw him in that light. You were just being kind! He got the wrong idea.

So, when Harper makes you lunch after you forgot yours at home, you don't think twice about it, typical Harper! Harper babbles on about how he's been studying how to become a doctor. That way, you two won't have to rely on the nurse. Maybe you could be his nurse? You could stay by his side all day while he works and dote on him as his lovely assistant!

Unfortunately for you, you don't get to correct him because the drugs he slipped in knocked you out before he could finish. Harper mumbles something about skipping the chapter on sedatives in his textbook and drags you home. Nobody thinks twice to stop him, most people don't even notice him.

Cue basement scene similar to Kylar's, except Harper is less paranoid and panicked. I think he'd just be delusional and convinced that the two of you are together. Defiant! Darling could resist him and snap him out of the delusional state, only to send him into a fit of anger. Submissive / compliant! Darling goes along with it out of pity / fear.

Here are some things I imagine when being abducted by Harper

He never yells and constantly refers to you by a pet name and never your actual name.

When you deny him, he probably just ignores it or smiles at you while pretending you said something else. Creepy bastard will respond out loud to an imaginary conversation he had with you. Example: Harper tries to feed you, and you spit food in his face, only for him to grin and say that he thinks the food tastes good too, then thanks you for sharing. Says things like "I love you too" even when you didn't actually say anything. If you point out that you didn't say anything, he just gives you a funny look like you're the crazy one here.

Harper doesn't think other people are going to hurt you / take you away and he doesn't want to keep you safe. I think he'd hurt you on purpose just so he can take care of you like you used to at school. That and out of revenge for being rejected. He doesn't feel threatened by other people because he's delusional and convinced it wouldn't be possible for you to like anyone else

Harper absolutely tries gaslighting you so he can be the "sane" boyfriend that takes care of you. You're just crazy, ahaha, your memory is soooo terrible. Thats not how it happened. Harper never said that. Have you been taking your medicine?

That Kylar event where they pull a knife to your throat, but this time it's just Harper showing off a new needle that may or may not contain an aphrodisiac. He might just have to "test" to see what's in the syringe. I mean, unless you can convince him not to inject you by having sex with him. Either way, You're going to get fucked. With or without the aphrodisiac is up to you.

Harper's cooking is actually good. Made specifically to be healthy and have all the vitamins and nutrients you need. Only downside is he sometimes spits in the food :( might even do it right in front of you and then laughs it off. Says it's like indirectly kissing you and it's no big deal, he always does this and has been since you let him make you lunches at school. Hearing this is ++stress

Harper doesn't write you songs, instead he makes poetry. You can't read the poems, his handwriting is terrible. (Haha, get it? Cus he's a doctor?)

Forced cuddle sessions, I can feel it. Also a messy kisser. Drools everywhere and giggles the entire time. I think Harper is a humper, cums in his pants all the time

There are two ways to escape:

Resist Harper enough until he gets frustrated and tries to get manipulate you into behaving by guilt tripping you. Harper injures himself in a minor way and insists you take care of him like you used to at school, telling you to go upstairs and get ice from his freezer...Only for you to bolt out the front door instead

Or by screaming until the neighbors hear and the cops come to investigate. Screaming only works at night, and you have to do it five times in a row when given the ability to do it. This sucks because it makes you lose a turn, and you can't resist Harper whichs lead to being noncon encounter

Either way, by the end of it Harper gets arrested. He abducted you and had a lab that made stimulants / pepper spray / sedatives and kept stealing ingredients from the pharmacy downtown. Either they determine he's insane or he goes to court and pleads not guilty by insanity.

You go a few years without seeing or hearing from him, believing he'll rot in jail forever and move on with your life. Then you find out your doctor retired and have to head to the hospital to fill out paperwork to change who your primary doctor should be, and wouldn't you know it? Harper's name is one of the options. Obviously, you don't want him to be your new doctor, but either way, he just forges the paperwork and makes you his patient.

You get called in for an appointment per usual, expecting a new doctor and Harper walks in with that stupid smile while clutching a clipboard with your medical history on it. You try to resist, but a bunch of nurses come in and restrain you and tie you to the table with leather straps that were hidden under the mattress. The entire time Harper just watches with a smile.

I think Harper would immediately confess that he's not a real doctor. He never went to school or graduated. He would've, but you got him arrested. He starts bragging about how he hypnotized your old doctor and took his place to escape, then realized he had a lot of authority and began doing whatever he wanted. Shortly after, he discovered that you still lived in town and jumped on the opportunity to get you back.

There's no harm in telling you this. Because who would believe you? You're crazy.

"Scream as much as you like, my love. The neighbors won't hear you this time."

#degrees of lewdity #harper dol #harper the doctor #degrees of lewdity harper

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itsmebytch001 · 9 months

Text

Dad! Aaron Davis X Daughter! Reader.

(Headconnons)

Is super chill about most things, including you smoking weed, under the conditions of it only ever being in the house, never more than twice a week and always from his guy, so he knew it was clean.

Would even support you dropping school for your creative indevours, as long as you had a plan that is, he would even help you with building your portfolio, taking you to secretive spots of the underground where he knew there where blank walls.

The only thing he's not chill about boys, Can't have then over, Can't be dating round, can't go on dates, and if your gay, he would be so supportive, not only beascuse he's a decent person, but beacuse he dosen't have to worry about men anymore, infact he would brag about it to Jeff as a 'I don't have to worry about teen pregnancy, or dating bad men beacuse my daughters gay and your son inst HAHA'

Jeff: "And You're letting her drop out of colluge!?"

Aaron: "Listen man, school was never her thing and she's got real potentail in fashion...I think I don't know know shit about clothes"

Jeff: "Your her father, not her friend and your treating her like a friend! She need's someone to hold her down in education"

Aaron: "It Isn't working for her!"

Jeff: "You aren't pushing her enough!"

Aaron: "Listen Jeff, I'm going to support her fashion, and art or whatever she wants. baecuse she's a good kid, and she's good at what she dose, and besides she's pulling her weight, She's got a job"

Jeff: "...Listen I'm just worried she's gonna fuck it up"

Aaron: "So am I, but I think she could do great if I let her"

3. Pulls you out of burnout before it becomes all consuming. He comes home to find you embryoidng something at 1am, on your 6th coffee of the night, shaking a bit due to the energy, sourounded by the fabric and sparkles.

Aaron: "Ay, you okay?"

Y/n: "Yeah Yeah, I'm fine"

He looks round your room, consumed in mess and materials. He places a hand on your shoulder pulling you back a bit.

Aaron: "Okay, I think It's time you took a break yeah?"

Y/n: "No, I really need to finish this, if I don't now I never will"

Aaron: "How many coffee's have you had?"

Y/n: "I don't know, like 4 or 5"

He looked around and saw some cans aswell.

Aaron: "You have some energy drinks too?"

Y/n: "Maybe"

Aaron:"M'kay" He said as he removed your needle from your hand, pulling you up from your shoulder.

Aaron: "Lets get some food, yeah?"

Y/n: "...yeah"

4. Whenever Jeff and Aaron where having problems, you and Miles became the line of communication between the two sides of the family, and though you really didn't like it, becasue Jeff and Aaron were two grown men you would tolerate it, for your Dad, And for Miles who also agreed this whole thing was Mad, who grown men so petty they communicated through their children.

Now of course you two never liked this, and tried to express this to your Dad's, they never understood how straining it was for you and Miles to be messenger pigeons.

But Aaron loved you, and though he found it strange to express that to you verbally, he did, but he mainly showed you through buying you stuff, sometimes when he was gone for days at a time, he would just buy you loads of stuff, or taking you on shopping sprees in order to make it up to you, buying you makeup, clothing, fabric or art supplies, and though you liked the stuff, you needed a Father, and eventually he got the idea that him being present was more important the just lots of stuff.

And honestly, you were the only reason he left the Prolwer life behind, he was terrified if someone found out who he was, they would then come after you, so he abanonded the life, and actually stared a enginnering career, and it also only beacuse of you that Jeff and Aaron mildy reconnected, When Jeff found out your Mom was pregnant, only a few months behind Rio, he thought it would be good for the family to come back together for you two, thought that never really happened, it certianley helped, Jeff and Aaron would occesianlly chat, use thier children as messganger birds to insult each other, and would buy each other insulting gifts on christmas, for exsample last year, your Dad brought your Uncle Jeff a scale.

You and Miles where always close though, you were kinda like estranged siblings, and even when your Dad's where agruing, you wto would still text, call sometimes to give small upates on life, and would occesiannly see each other when ever Miles came round the house, were you'd find him just casullay sitting in your room waiting for you.

Actually, you and Miles didn't meet until you were 6, Rio had enough on waiting for Aaron to reach out, so one day she just turnded up at his door with Miles, she was furious he wasn't teaching you Spanish and you didn't even know who they were, you refused to let Miles play with your dolls beacuse he was a stranger, who was this kid? Just coming in your house, touching your stuff?

It took awhile for you to accept and understand the idea of cousin and Auntie, you thought she was just your Dad's friend with her son, but eventually when you stared going to Middle school together, you two actaully bonded.

And though you and Rio were close, you and Jeff never really clikced though you got on, You didn't like being in thier house, you flet like a ghost, and Uncle Jeff was always pestering you about school, and how you were doing even though he knew you had left to persue other things, he was trying to scare you back in, and you knew it was for good reason, he was worried you end up like Aaron, pre you and mess up your life, but you two were so distant, it felt like an intrusion.

Pt 2?

#yandere spiderverse #platonic yandere #miles morales x reader #dad aaron davis #aaron davis x reader #uncle aaron #rio morales x reader #jefferson morales #yandere morales family #morales family #jeff morales #yandere jeff morales

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mactavishwritings · 1 year

Text

Fresh Ink part two

Ghost x Tattoo Artist!Reader

No matter what happens to him, he always comes home

tw: tattoo needles and slight arguing

this one will primarily be from ghost's pov. will switch to reader's pov occassionally. this one is also slightly longer!

part one | part two |part three | part four

The days leading up to the 29th dragged on and on. Ghost couldn't wait to get back into your little shop. Price made fun of him slightly, "I told you that it would become an addiction soon."

The day before the team was suppose to be sent home and Ghost could get his next piece was the final piece of the mission they were on. It should've been so simple, but fucking Graves had to go and throw everything away.

Ghost pictured you sitting in your little chair, waiting for him. He wanted to call or something, but he couldn't. He was stuck in the middle of Mexico, directing Soap to a church. He knew you understood because for active duty soldiers, you did not have a cancelation policy. He always thought it was so sweet that you would do that.

Sitting around a table with the rest of the ghost team, they plotted their next mission. "After this, we should commemorate this shit. We should get little tattoos or somethin'." Soap joked and the team laughed. "We could go to Ghost's girl. She does a fantastic job on him." Price sent a wink Ghost's way and he felt himself tense. The thought of sharing you with the rest of the team made him feel jealous.

He didn't want to share your softness. He didn't want to share your kindness or your artistry. He refuse to allow the others to be tattooed by you, but it was your job; your livelihood. How dare he take that from you.

Ghost nodded. "Considering I was suppose to see her a month ago for my next piece, maybe she can fit all of us in."

You were laying in your bed when your phone started ringing. You were up late like usual, drawing the next day's appointments. You picked up your phone and noticed it was a number you didn't have saved. You usually allowed your clients to give your number out to their friends so it may have been the case.

"Hey this is (Y/N). If this is regarding a tattoo, can you please call again at a better time. It is 2am." You said into your phone, trying to be as polite as you could muster at this hour.

"Why are you up then? Shouldn't you be asleep?" You heard a familiar British voice ask in response and you smiled.

"I was starting to think I offended you or maybe you died. What's up, Simon?" You asked, putting your tablet down. You could hear other voices in the background. You guessed that he was still on the mission that caused him to miss the last appointment he had with you.

"I'm sorry for missing that appointment. Do you think you could possibly tattoo me and my buddies? We wanna get dumb matching tattoos?" While on the surface, it sounded like he hated the idea, but you could tell that he secretly really loved it. He had told you previously about how some of his tattoos were dedicated towards old team members of his who had passed.

"Sounds good to me. You and I can work out a day to continue your sleeve. For this group piece, wanna do like four weeks out? I don't have the book with me. I do know I should be free 'bout a month out." You slightly rambled.

Ghost smiled, nodding along to your words. "Yeah sounds good to me. I can just text you when we get back?" Ghost picked at his thumb again, feeling nervous that you would tell him to keep your relationship more on the business side. "Yeah of course. Now I have your number so I can text you shit about your tattoos." He could tell that you were beaming. He felt his shoulders relax at the thought.

Soap elbowed Ghost and started snickering. "Ghost is in looooove." Ghost quickly thanked you and you two said your goodbyes before Ghost turned to Soap. "I have never seen you so flustered, L.T." Soap leaned forward on his elbows, sighing dreamily. "Shut it."

A few weeks had gone by and Ghost opened the door for your shop. The rest of the team followed him inside, all looking around curiously. Ghost nodded at your receptionist. "(Y/N) in? I actually have an appointment for once." Emma smiled at the group. "Course. Let me grab her. Any of you boys need anything? Water, snacks?"

Soon Emma brought you out as well as some snacks and water. You smiled brightly at Ghost and threw your arms around him. "I'm glad you made it back safely. I worked hard on your half-sleeve!" You laughed.

"Price! How's it been? Lemme see the tat. I wanna see how it healed." You moved on to greet Price and Ghost stepped back, allowing you to greet the team. Soon you led the group back to your room.

Since he had been there last, Ghost noticed that you added a few more couches and just general sitting place. He took the one closest to your usual chair, Soap sitting next to him on the coach, Gaz sitting on the tattooing chair, and Price sat on a bench next to the tattooing chair. "Right boys. Let me know what you guys think. I've been doodling." You smiled and flipped your tablet around to show your designs.

Immediately, Ghost smiled. Most of the designs were serious; Skulls similar to his mask, actual grave markers with dog tags, guns shooting out a ghost. Then there were non serious ones; a cartoon ghost, a small group of ghosts who were holding baseball bats. The guys looked over the designs, all smiling and laughing.

"This is some good shit." Soap looked up at you as you were prepping your work station. "Thank you. I work hard for my favorite client." You nodded your head towards Ghost. Thank god he had his mask on because Ghost felt his face heat up. Soap reached over and nudged Ghost.

Price rolled his eyes and grabbed the tablet from Gaz. "I think we all like the design with the gun shooting out the ghost. I do want you to explain the baseball bats." Price looked in your direction. "Ghost team. Baseball team. Therefore, Ghost sports team. Duh. Alright who's first!" You responded, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

You printed out all the stencils and got them all placed on the boys. Price decided to go first and you got his tattoo done quick. It was a relatively simple design so it wasn't had to get done. Ghost was never able to watch you tattoo from this side before. He was always the one being tattoo, not the watcher. Your arms flexed with each line you created. Your eyes squinted when you concentrated. He felt himself relax in your presence like he did every time he heard the hum of your machine.

Gaz was next. He was the only one in the group who did not have a tattoo. "Is it gonna hurt?" He looked at you with big eyes and the rest of the group rolled their eyes. "Dude, you've been shot before. Grow up." Soap groaned. You laughed and started on Gaz's tattoo. Ghost felt himself tense as Gaz tried to get you to comfort him. It was clear the young man was flirting with you.

After you finished Gaz, Soap plopped down and looked at you. "How many do you have? Tattoos I mean." Ghost was thrown off. He had never thought to ask you. He was sure you had tons that had many deep meanings. "Well, I have two full sleeves. I also have a sternum, a few on my rips, I got two matching pieces on both thighs, and some on my back." You recounted. Ghost had seen most of the ones on your arms. When he first came to you, it helped make him feel at home to see that you were somewhat tatted.

Finally, it was Ghost's turn. He decided to put his piece behind his ear, close to his hairline. Each of the boys had picked different spots and this was an intimate spot for him. You adjusted the tattoo chair and patted it. "Alright, your turn." Ghost lied on his back and turned his head. He lifted his mask up enough so you could tattoo the spot, but didn't reveal his face. You placed a hand on his head softly, running a thumb over his forehead. You started on the tattoo and while the hum of the machine was loud, he could still hear Gaz flirting with you.

Ghost clenched his jaw and slightly adjusted his position, not wanting to mess you up. You suddenly also moved to block his view of the team and your hand rest on his jaw. Once you started tattooing again, he heard you whisper something. "Relax, Simon. He's just messing."

The way you tattooed the rest of the team compared to him was completely different. You were gentle with him. You held him softly in a way that no one had before. He had never felt such softness before and he wanted to keep you to himself. He could feel himself falling.

He could feel himself falling in love with you. Hard.

Ghost's appointment to continue his sleeve came and he actually was able to make it to this one. He had stopped at the local coffee shop before his appointment to grab your favorite coffee. After the team tattoo, the two of you started talking more. First, it was to plan out his sleeves, but now the lines between professional business had blurred.

Emma smiled when he arrived. "Coffee? Someone's really trying to impress her." She sent the man a wink before nodding back to your room. "She's already back there. Go ahead, Ghost." He nodded at her before heading back to your room. You had just put up curtains, after asking for his advice. He was glad you did, made the room a little more private.

He stepped into the room and smiled. You had a stick of incense burning, leaving a warm feeling in Ghost's stomach. You weren't facing him, in your own world. You had music softly playing and were nodding along to it. You were wearing a pair of black jeans that you had cuffed, a black short sleeve shirt that showed off your tattoos, and a pair of black shoes. You soon turned and noticed Ghost standing at the door.

"Si! Is that coffee?" Your eyes soften as you accepted the cup from him. "You're a life saver. I'll have this after so I'm not shakin' with the machine." You put the cup off to the side and gave Simon a hug. He wrapped his arms around you and all the tension melted away. You tended to have that affect on him.

"Ready to get started?" You adjusted the tattoo chair for him as he sat down. He pulled his sleeve up so you'd have full access. He nodded, looking over at your station. You had the stencil already printed out, ready to be fitted. You lifted it up and started fitting the stencil, cutting small dents into curves to fit his biceps.

"Feeling better?" You asked casually, causing him to look at you confused. "Last time you were in, looked like you were gonna rip the little one's head off."

"Oh..Gaz. I don't know what you mean." Ghost immediately got defensive. You looked at him with an unconvinced glare. "Simon. I'm gonna let this stencil dry and you are gonna sit here and tell me why you almost killed your teammate for flirting with me."

You sat back in your chair and prepped the ink. He looked at you, terrified that he was going to have to admit his feelings. He didn't want the one constant kindness to be ripped from him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want him to make you uncomfortable." He said flatly. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. "Sure. Cause I was the uncomfortable one."

A silence fell over the room as the stencil finished drying. Ghost watched your movements carefully. He could tell you had a lot on your mind, a lot you wanted to say. As you sat back down and grabbed your gun, he sighed and turned his head away from you. "I'm sorry. I didn't like him flirting with you."

He saw you nod to yourself out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you. Why didn't you like that?" You asked as you leaned closer to him, starting to tattoo him. "Who are you? My therapist?" You smiled again and looked at him. "In a way. You're always relaxed with me. Expect for that day. I wanna know why. If it's what I think it is, then okay."

"What do you think it is then, little miss therapist?" Ghost turned his head towards you. He knew that you could break him down with a single glance and no one else in the world could do that. He would let you though.

"I think you like me. I think that you don't want to share me, because no one has giving this kindness before so you don't want to share." You said it so casually as if it was your coffee order. "Am I right?"

Ghost remained silent, not wanting to confirm for you out loud that you were correct. "It's okay Simon. I don't let all my client have my personal number to text whenever they want. I really like you too, so it's fine that you don't want Gaz to flirt with what's already yours." Your focus then went back to the tattoo.

Ghost was taken aback. He had always been so afraid to be so vulnerable, but around you, it came so naturally. He wanted to show you every side of him. He reached up and slowly pealed the mask off his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

#simon riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #simone riley fluff

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 10 months

Text

Don't Really Know A Lot About Love

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: reader is kidnapped because yeah, cannon level violence, oral (f receiving), slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, praise kink Matty, unprotected sex (wrap them joysticks okay), creampie, implied cockwarming I think

Genre: angst, smut, & fluff

Summary: Life after Daredevil was supposed to be simple. Apparently, there's no such thing as 'after' him, at least not for you. “I don't really know a lot about love // But you're in my head, you're in my blood // And it feels so good, it hurts so much” - About Love by MARINA

A/N: People wanted a part 2 for Lies: Don't Wanna Know for some reason???? Either way, I wrote one.

Part 1

***

The first few weeks after you stopped seeing Daredevil, Matthew, were... hard. Harder than you expected. You'd become so accustomed to seeing him, even if your time consisted of sneaking in through open windows at the witching hour to share kisses nobody can know about. You miss him more than you wanted to admit, more than you wanted to miss him. You're surprised how much it sucks knowing he won't come back, but you go to work, you go out with your friends, you even let them set you up on dates, because it's not like you can tell them you're mourning the end of your barely a situationship with a local vigilante. You do your best to reestablish normal, the normal you had before he snuck in to hide in your apartment that first night you met.

Tonight, you don't have plans with your friends so, as you walk into your apartment after work you're very ready to take it easy and relax alone. You don't even manage to get your shoes off before something is pulled tightly over your head and you're thrown over a shoulder with your arms held tight against you. You flail your legs fruitlessly hoping to injure your kidnapper as you're carried presumably out of your apartment building, an assumption confirmed when you're eventually tossed into a car but before you can jump up to put up some sort a fight a needle is jammed into your neck and you hiss momentarily before losing consciousness.

When you come to some time later you immediately rub your eyes to adjust to the lighting. A quick look around and the first thing you notice is the three gun wielding strangers around you. One on each side and one behind you.

"You'll have to excuse them. I didn't want to tie you down like an animal but, of course as a result precautions must be taken." Your head snaps to the source of the voice and down the stairs comes Wilson Fisk.

"And you think you needed 3 guns on me to keep me in line?"

"Better safe than sorry."

"Sure."

"Apologies, my name is-"

"Wilson Fisk. I know who you are." You say cutting him off with your arms crossed.

"My reputation proceeds me as always."

"Of course it does, you tried to singlehandedly ruin hell's kitchen."

"You're misinformed dear, I've only tried to save it. Make it better than it was."

"By forcing minorities out of their communities? You'll have to excuse me if the employment of white supremacist ideology doesn't get me jumping for joy."

"White supremacist ideology? That's what you think of me?"

"That's what I think of anyone who forces people out of their homes by buying out the property and making it too expensive for the people to stay there, in their community and brands it as making said community better." You roll your eyes.

"Hm." Fisk nods contemplatively.

"What am I doing here? I can't imagine you kidnapped me because I disagree with your pompous arrogant savior complex."

"Did you know a certain red suited pain in my ass, follows you? Regularly. He watches, lurking just out of sight. Like he's guarding you."

"You kidnapped me because you think daredevil is my stalker?"

"He once tried to get at the woman I love he tried to take her from me."

"Wow you're like a cartoon. You kidnapped me because Daredevil tried to steal your girlfriend?"

"My wife!" He snaps.

"Semantics." You shrug. "I'm not Daredevil's girlfriend, I'm not 'the woman he loves' so whatever your beef is with him, trying to use me to lure your archnemesis here like this is some sort of bad action flick let me be clear, it doesn't matter who you have sitting in this chair, you could have anyone from Hell's Kitchen, maybe even anyone from New York sitting here and Daredevil will show up not because of your victim but because you are Wilson Fisk and he is Daredevil, and he stops guys like you. That's what he does, Fisk." You say. You're annoyed, being caught in the middle of drama that has nothing to do with you because of a man you haven't seen in weeks. All you wanted to do tonight was shower and watch a movie.

"It seems you don't know the hold you have on him." Fisk smirks.

"Gimme a break." You scoff. Fisk looks at you as if he's about to say something in rebuttal, but before he can say whatever he's planning to, there's a beam of red knocking out one of the armed men surrounding you. The other two turn sharply to find the source of the- apparently baton, that flew towards them which now sits on the floor. You watch as Daredevil rolls towards you to grab the baton.

"Hey." He says standing up.

"Hey." You nod. Daredevil pulls you out of the chair and behind him as he takes on the two goons left standing.

"I told you to shout. You didn't shout." He huffs over his shoulder as he fights.

"And yet you came anyway."

"Of course I did." He scoffs knocking out both of the remaining gun toters. You're not paying enough attention, forgetting the guys by your chair aren't the only enemies in the room and you shout when Fisk grabs your arm from behind you.

"Y/n!" Daredevil shouts turning to you.

"Nice of you to join us, Devil of Hell's Kitchen, although you did interrupt a conversation and that's quite rude." Fisk says.

"Fisk thinks you're stalking me because you're in love with me." You tell Daredevil.

"We can test my theory, now that you're here." Fisk says, his grip on you tightening.

"Hey watch it!" You hiss at him.

"Leave her alone Fisk! Your problems are with me. She's got nothing to do with this."

"Yeah, I told him that already, he doesn't care." You scoff. Fisk hauls you over to the balcony of his penthouse, swinging the doors open.

"Let's see what he does about this one hm?" Fisk smiles at you before pulling you over the railing. He's holding your shirt tightly, dangling you off the balcony on the top floor of this building and the longer this nightmare goes on the less you want to believe any of this is happening. YOU ARE DANGLING OVER THE EDGE OF A FUCKING BALCONY. "Daredevil! Our friend here is in quite the pickle it seems. You can't save her, and fight them, but they'll never let you get to me. What oh what are you going to do about this?" Fisk jerks you around for emphasis. Daredevil is still for entirely too long in your opinion, you don't know what he's contemplating but the lack of solid ground beneath your feet has you less than patient.

"Daredevil do something!" You shout.

"This is stupid Fisk. You know she's got nothing to do with this." Daredevil tries to reason with him. Reason with the man holding you over the edge of a 20-story building like a rug he's about to dust off.

"Oh my God! He does not care Matthew! STOP TALKING AND DO SOMETHING OR I SWEAR YOU WILL HOPE HE KILLS ME!"

"I like this one. She's spirited." Fisk says with deranged excitement in his eyes.

"Look I'm not going to let you get hurt okay?" Daredevil tells you.

"Be careful making promises like that." Fisk says, losing his grip on you momentarily, just long enough to make you scream and grab his arm. You cannot think of a shittier way to die than being splattered on the streets of New York because one of Daredevil's enemies thinks you're more important to him than you are. From this height, by the time they scrape you off the pavement your family will have no choice but to cremate you or something. A casket would be pretty useless for an inkblot of a person. You close your eyes and think of anything but the fact that your life hangs in the hands of a flighty part time vigilante and his ability to stop a psychotic rich man. You keep them closed even as you hear grunting and punches landing because if Daredevil is losing against Wilson's goons you literally cannot deal with watching it happen. For a moment it all stops, the sounds of fighting settle and you think for sure these are your final moments, even more so when suddenly Fisk's grip on your clothes loosens entirely and you're falling. You don't realize it at first, it's a rush of air around you, and at 20-plus stories up the wind has been beating your face since you got dragged out to the balcony. You don't realize it at first, but then you're screaming and flailing as the sky gets further away. In the next moment, Daredevil shoots off the balcony towards you. He can't fly can he?! What does he think he's going to do in this situation? Holy shit you're going to die. You close your eyes and brace for impact but Daredevil catches up to you surprisingly fast and his arm wraps around you tightly. Your eyes open again when you feel something solid beneath your feet. Daredevil is lowering you onto a balcony. How did- you look around for a moment. Same building, several stories below Fisk's penthouse. Daredevil grabs your shoulders and your eyes snap to his face- well, helmet.

"Are you alright?! You aren't hurt, are you? Did I-" He trails off taking a nervous breath.

"I'm fine. Shaken up but not hurt, how did you do that? We should've hit the ground."

"My batons have grappling hooks I just used one. I told you I wasn't going to let you get hurt." He says. "We should get you home."

"I'll- call a cab." You say.

"No. No way. I'm not- I will take you home myself. I won't risk anything else happening to you tonight." He says. As much as you want to argue with him, you have no desire to get into any more nonsense tonight.

"Okay." You say. Matt scoops you into his arms and grabs his baton, shooting the grappling hook towards the neighboring roof. You're surprised he can carry you so easily as he hops from building to building with very little sign of exertion. It's not long before you're back in your apartment.

"I'm- I am so sorry you got dragged into all of this y/n."

"You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault Wilson Fisk is a delusional psychopath."

"Psychopath I can probably give you but delusional I'm not sure I can agree with." He huffs out a chuckle.

"Come again?! You're not sure you can agree with delusional?! He kidnapped me because he thinks you're in love with me. We fucked for a few months and then we stopped talking to each other, now I dunno about you but that situation didn't seem like love to me at all."

"Yeah- yeah I know that because of the circumstances we may not have had love between us but he was not so far off in his conclusion. I do care about you way more than necessary for our... arrangement."

"Huh." You mutter.

"That's all you have to say? 'Huh'?"

"I'm not sure what kind of response you're expecting from me Matthew."

"You can start by telling me what's on your mind right now."

"You're very good at faking indifference. If you care for me oh so much I don't understand what happened that night. You left."

"You told me to."

"I told you I wanted more than you were offering to give but if you cared for me as much as you claim to now why wouldn't you say something? What's the point of caring if you plan to do it in secret?"

"My life is messy and complicated. I wanted to protect you from it. I thought- it would be safer the less you were involved but I couldn't- I couldn't stay away when you asked me to."

"Well, clearly that was not a correct assumption."

"If I had known that I would've-" He trails off.

"Would've what? Clearly pretending not to care didn't work. You can't protect me with this one foot in one foot out thing you've got going on so if that's still all you're willing to offer you have to leave." You say. Matthew sighs and you watch his jaw muscles move as, you assume, he contemplates his response. As the moment of silence drags on you're sure he's going to bid you goodnight and climb out the window just like he did the first time you kicked him out but, to your surprise, his hands slowly rise to the top of his pointed helmet and, with notable hesitation, he tugs off the identity obscuring armor on his head. He clears his throat once he's removed it.

"My name is Matthew Murdock, by day I'm a defense attorney at a firm, called Nelson, Murdock, and Page. It's run by myself and my best friend from college and a woman insane enough to stick with us after she saw firsthand that our initial attempt at our own firm kind of went to shit."

"Matthew Murdock."

"Yes. I was born and raised here in Hell's Kitchen oh and I've been blind since I was nine."

"You're blind?"

"Hard to believe I know but it's true. I can't see in the traditional sense, the world looks as if it's on fire, just blobs of reds and oranges really but I have other ways of- perceiving the world. My other senses are extremely helpful."

"So what happens now?"

"What?"

"I mean- thank you for sharing Matt but like- what happens between us now?"

"You- you wanted more from me, more than late night meetings with an anonymous vigilante, right?"

"Correct."

"Do you- would you still like that?"

"Would you like that?"

"I have always- y/n, it is not even a question of if I want it. I've always wanted more but it's something I never allowed myself to hope for."

"And now you will?"

"If you'll still have me." Matt has the sense to look at the ground nervously as he mutters the words. You almost want to chuckle, as if a blind man can truly find the floor more interesting than the conversation you're having. You take the few steps necessary to cross the short distance between you two and latch your hand onto the collar of his suit, pulling him towards you in a searing kiss that catches him off guard but he's quick to reciprocate. His hands settle on your waist and like second nature, yours wrap around his neck. Even after weeks apart there is no strangeness, no feeling of unfamiliarity as Matthew's hands roam your body. They pull you closer to him, trail across your back, under your shirt, as if he's trying to feel all of you at once. You walk Matt backwards towards your couch but before you can push him down onto it he turns the pair of you, guiding you to sit instead. He drops to his knees and pulls your pants and underwear off in one go.

"God I've missed you." Matt mutters between your legs before burying his face in the apex of your thighs. Your fingers shoot down into his hair as he laps at your center.

"Holy fuck." You sigh, your back arching at the feeling of his tongue. He lets out a grunt when you tug at his brown locks in response to a particularly sharp lick. One of his hands comes up to your thigh, holding you open for him, while his other hand joins his mouth between your legs. When two fingers slide into you and curl just right you realize Matt still seems to know exactly how to toy with your body. He focuses his lips around your clit while his fingers toy with the area inside you that has you whimpering and squirming against him. "M-Matt. Fuck!"

"Come on baby, come for me." He mutters into your clit and between his unrelenting digits thrusting into you and his lips sucking at your clit his request is easily met as your body tenses up and your release washes over you with a drawn out moan. "That's it." Matt muses, working you through the orgasm with his fingers. "You always get so tight after you cum." He groans still pumping his fingers into you while you draw shuddering breaths in an attempt to recover.

"Matthew-" You whimper pulling him up to kiss you. His fingers continue stroking your inner walls, slower now, working you open gently.

"You have no idea how badly I've wished to hold you again since you sent me away." Matt breathes against your lips as he works off the bits of his Daredevil suit.

"I'm sure I have an idea." You mutter back running your fingers against exposed skin once his suit hits the floor. Matt adjusts you on the couch, pulling you towards the edge and standing to line himself up with your entrance.

"Oh you think so?" He clips.

"What? Did you think it was easy for me to send you away like that?" You ask.

"You made it look pretty easy." Matt chooses that moment to finally sink into your heat with a strangled groan. Whatever retort you had in mind dies before you can say it as Matt settles into a rhythm between your legs. His thrusts are sharp and quick, your back arching towards him, chasing the pleasure he's so easily bringing you.

"Oh God Matt!" You groan. Your nails drag down his back and the hiss he lets out tempts you to do it again as he pumps into you steadily. Matt's fingers dip between your bodies and find your clit with ease. He rubs precise circles against the bundle of nerves reducing you to whimpers as the knot in your belly begins to tighten.

"Wanna feel you cum for me sweetness." Matt grunts and with a few more thrusts plus his fingers on your clit you're whining his name as release hits you hard. "That's it." He hums with a satisfied grin before tightening his grip on your hips. His hands tightening against you lets you know he's not far behind and his thrusts grow sloppy as he chases his end.

"Let go Matty. Wanna feel you fill me." You breathe out and the words seem to be the final push he needs, his hips stilling and that familiar warmth spreads through you. You both lay there for a while, the only sound your slowing breaths as you simply enjoy each other's presence.

"So many times I wanted to see you, but I thought you would be angry if I showed my face again." Matt eventually murmurs against your neck where his head is still buried.

"I probably would have. Unless you were going to do what I asked."

"Well if I'd known Fisk was gonna kidnap you even without me in your life I just might have."

"That's what you get for stalking me I guess."

"I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing. It was Fisk who kidnapped me. Plus you got to rescue me like the hero in a fairytale. All's well."

"Thank heavens for that." He mutters wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. You can't say you expected to find Daredevil back in your life when you first sent him packing, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't thrilled to have him back. On much better terms this time.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil fluff #daredevil angst #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil smut

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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So I’ve been in love with your sheriff reader but what if another sheriff came to town and saw how everyone loves reader and wanted that for themselves like they don’t really care about anything or the bandits they just want everyone to love them an not reader so they try an take over an og sheriff reader sees this as in a relaxing opportunity (sorry if it’s long)

Tw: reference violence, bullying

Cracked ice settles at the bottom of a glass as dark liquid fills it to brim. The sheriff's weighted head pivots to an upright angle as the drink is brought to lips posed in a crude smile; a blemish compared to the cloyingly sweet expression they wore days prior. They can barely process their surroundings; blurry shapes crowded around them and suffocating them more than the tight robes that binding them to their seat. A sharp jab from behind brings them to attention; the shrill laughter that follows corrected by a whistle.

"Now, folks. I know we agreed to a collaboration, but don't think that means you have the right to rough up our friend here more than needed."

Dryness coats the temporary sheriff's throat as they croak. "M...mayor?"

"Guilty as charged." The mayor bends to their level. They take one long sip from the glass in hand before shaking it in their direction. "Thirsty?"

The sheriff becomes painfully aware of their dehydration as the condensation from the glass wets their cracked lips. How long had they been out? Pushing the question to the back of their mind, they part their lips and allow the cool liquid to hit their tongue. It burns as swashes against their spilt cheek, but they gup it down with no other option. Their head returns to its orginal option as the mayor retracts their hand; hat dipping down their face. The mayor's calm expression wilts into annoyance.

"Ugh.. Take that shit off them already. Don't know why you haven't by now. Need to get it cleaned before Y/n gets back."

Hands grip their battered form; tearing the sheriff's hat from head and badge from coat. Still dressed otherwise- they've never felt more exposed.

"I don't understand. What's.. what's going on?"

"What's going on indeed.." The mayor stands up; a hand tangled in their hair keeping the sheriff's eye on them as they return to their desk. "From how I see it, some big city hot shot though they could weasel their way into our town and replace the one thing that keeps this place running. Our sheriff."

The sheriff swallows the blood clinging to the sides their mouth; a delicacy compared to the bitter truth that follows. Back home, they had it good, but it wasn't perfect. High paying gig, the love and respect of their community, but they still yearned for more. They longed for the homemade pies and the comforting familiarity of everyone worshiping them, while still valuing the face behind the mask. The unwavering trust. All tokens of which you had.

It was easy to get you to agree. Chased after by those you were meant to pursue; longed for unknowing by the person who wrote your checks. All they had to do was slip a few highlights of the city into your brain, and you were packed and ready to go. The mayor orginally protested your departure, but couldn't say no to their dear sheriff. You did deserved a little break after all you've been though - long as you had a few uninvited visitors making sure you were safe.

The temporary sheriff had it good for the first week. The finest room in the local motel. A different meat brought to them every other day. Someone must've been sewing near the pot during the making of one meal, but fortunately they spotted the needle before wolfing down the entire stew. Their dream life came crumbling down the day they decided to put in a payment for a recently vacated home, and everyone caught onto their plans before they'd even reached mid stage.

"I'm.... sorry."

"Sorry-" The mayor's eyes roll so far they appeared as if they'd pop right out of their skull. They lurch forward, sinking their digits into the delicate flesh of the sheriff's jaw; teeth clenched as all kindness is forgotten. "Don't you fucking lie to me, you hear? I know, you know, they know you aren't sorry. The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught."

The sheriff whimpers as they're let go; nail markers and shame branding their skin. An arm props up on their shoulder, elbow dug right into the center of the torn muscle. The bandit leader flicks their ear as they tip your hat on their head; proudly dawning your badge without a lick of guilt.

"Eazy now. You call us the bad guys yet you're the one being mean. Here, lemme give them something to wear better than the sheriff's stuff real quick."

A round of cheers and soft snickering rings throughout the small room as a wad of spit connects with the sheriff's cheek. The bandit wipes their mouth with their sleeve

"Thought you were slick, huh?" Sack of shit like you, comparing yourself to a prize like our sheriff. You should be thanking the corrupt bastard in front of you. If they hadn't called us in, we would've strung you up by your ankles and dragged you through the streets like the filth you are. Speaking of which, what are we gonna do with this thing, boss."

The mayor ignores their mockery to allow a soft smile to form over their lips. "We have about half a week before our loved one returns so only time will tell, friends. Only time will tell."

#They get v mean here #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere blurb #Yandere bandit #Yandere mayor #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #Yandere bandits

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atom-writings · 4 months

Text

hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

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pollyna · 7 months

Text

Tom is fifty-one when he enters a tattoo parlour for the first time. He says "Hello, I'm here to fix an appointment for a tattoo", showing the girl behind the desk two pictures of a robot. He walks out, ten minutes later, with $100 of deposit left behind and an appointment for two weeks from that moment.

(To be there at that time, he has to reschedule half of the meetings and the hirings that day so that his secretary looks at him like he lost his mind for the rest of the day.)

(At the tattoo patrol, Mindy signs the appointment as "Tom the hot dilf", Caleb laughs, "So you want this one?" and Mindy answers, "If you don't let me tattoo him, I'm going to make sure you're not available that day." All smiles and sunshine

(Mindy can be scary when she wants.)

It's Wednesday, and Tom is early, but what's new about that? Mindy is already waiting for him, a cup of coffee between her hands while she explains her ideas for the tattoos he showed her.

"What's the story behind this?" she asks, while she starts tracing the lines on Tom's body.

"I'm-" Tom starts before stopping once and then a second time.

"Sorry, I'm noisy. Don't feel like you have to share." She smiles, biting the inside of her cheek, trying not to blush too much.

"No, it's not a problem. I'm not very used to talking about this stuff with strangers," he answers a couple of seconds later, making a strange expression when the needles trace over a particularly sensitive area on his skin. "I'm in the Navy, and I'm gay. I thought that the Navy would have been my whole life, with nothing behind it, and if something was not surely the family I wanted, then something happened, and I got the whole package: a husband and baby. We were watching the iron giant when he presented me with the papers to legally become his dad. A little after that, he walked out our door, and I hadn't seen him for ten years. And now I'm in a position comfortable enough to get a tattoo because the only person who's going to ask me to strip when I'm at work is my doctor, and I know him for long enough; he won't rattle me out," he finishes, laughing softly. "I hope—I know getting inked won't solve the situation, but I hope my boy will like it whenever he sees it."

Mindy has to stop working to pick up a couple of tissues for Tom and herself.

"I'm sure he is going to love it."

"I really hope so; I really do."

(Mindy gives a brownie to Tom with all the instructions on how to take care of the tattoo, and she gets to give him a hug too, just before he walks out of the shop. When Tom hugs her back, she thinks the guy, whoever he is, must have been the luckiest son of a bitch because her dad never gave him such a food hug.

Three years later, a tall, curly guy walks in, followed by a man she is sure she has already seen somewhere.

"Tom!" She smiles. "It's unfair how you got even hotter since the last time I saw you," she says, all cheeky and smiley.

A man behind Tom, whom she hadn't noticed before, laughs. "Yeah, Tom, you get unfairly hot for sure," he says, looking at the man, batting his long eyelashes, and smiling all sweetly at him.

"Please, dads, not here too," the taller guy says, a hand already covering his face. "Can you guys stop flirting for two seconds? Please?"

"To be fair, I would flirt with him too, and even more openly, if he were my husband," Mindy answers. "So you're the kid?"

"Yeah," he says, a hand flying to his pocket. "I would like to take an appointment to have this tattooed."

He says this, showing her a drawing of a bolt.

"I have a spot now, if you want. One client cancelled their appointment yesterday."

The guy smiles at her before turning to the two men. "You don't have to stick around; I can take a cab home after."

"Nah, baby goose, we will get cosy on the couch and wait for you," the short man answers before taking Tom's hand in his and turning towards the couch.

"See you later, baby goose," Tom adds, a hand on his cheek. "We're going where you left us."

The guy smiles softly, almost a little lost. "I see you later than, papa."

The last thing Mindy sees before closing the door behind them is Tom kissing the other man's forehead while his hands rest over the place Mindy tattooed Tom years ago.

#it's not specified but the robot in question is the iron giant #because that movie always make me cry a lot and this morning i discovred vin disel was its voice!#if the timeline is linear bradley was 17 when the move got realised so yeah he could have given the papers to ice #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #bradley rooster bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky is dad shaped #tattoos #found family #a lil disfunctional and still trying to get back on their feet #mav flirts with ice in everyway he can

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verosvault · 2 months

Text

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 7🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 7 "Stress Tested"

Timestamp: 00:58:33

Video Length: 3min. & 24sec.

Fig thinks about becoming a Paladin for Cassandra!

Fig: "Riz?"

Riz: "Yeah?"

Fig: "Do you think that I should offer myself to be a Paladin of Cassandra?"

Riz: "A Paladin? Not a Warlock?"

Fig: "Because I'm an archdevil of rebellion and you need doubt to imagine. You need to basically fling yourself into the unknown. That's what rebellion is."

Riz: "Okay. Yeah, that sounds- I mean, that sounds sick."

Fig: "Because maybe that would help bring Cassandra back. If Cassandra had another believer."

Riz: "You could definitely do that. You could also do Warlock with that too, right?"

Fig: "Yeah."

Riz: "Do you prefer Paladin?"

Fig: "I..."

Riz: "Do you have an interest in those classes? 'Cause it's just-"

Ally: "Paladin teacher?"

Siobhan: "How hot is the Paladin teacher?"

Fig: "Stop making me make decisions."

Riz: "No, no, no, it's not about... Look, I think we're just gonna have to put in paperwork and stuff then, though, just to make it official."

Fig: "Can I bring it up with Kristen? Kristen, do you think it would help bring Cassandra back if she had, like, a champion?"

Kristen: "Sure. Yeah."

Fig: "Okay, this feels too rash."

Kristen: "No, no."

Fig: "It's coming to me in this moment and it feels-"

Kristen: "Wait, no. I think you have so much to offer. I mean, look, I love Craig and he smells so good all of a sudden."

Fig: "He smells amazing."

Kristen: "It's like animal piss, but in a good way."

Fig: "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Like fermented animal piss."

Brennan: "Over in the corner, you see Craig's just sort of talking to Gorgug and says,"

Craig: "I've never seen a spell."

Gorgug: "Never ever?"

The awesome caption team: (Emily laughing)

Gorgug: "At all?"

Craig: "No, just hasn't come up."

Zac: "I kinda position myself over here to do a study over here."

BRENNAN'S LAUGHING!!! 😭😭✋✋💀💀

Gorgug: "I kinda can't help you I don't think."

Craig: "Oh, okay."

Adaine: "Kristen, your adult man is being weird."

Fig: "I'm feeling like doubt in the unknown and rebellion, it's like, rebellion is only strengthened by having no fear and doubt."

Kristen: "Well rebellion is the vehicle to get to doubt from certainty."

Fig: "Yeah."

Kristen: "Which is really claustrophobic. Yeah, I think you're totally right."

Fig: "It feels kinda rash though 'cause I literally just thought of this."

Kristen: "I think we should run with it full speed."

Fig: "What?"

Kristen: "I think you should." *puts hand out*

Ally: "I spit in my hand and put pine needles in it."

Fig: "Wait, ****. I had a whole other plan. I had a whole other plan and this just occurred to me."

Kristen: "Wait, but what classes have you been liking?"

Fig: "So I really like Warlock, I do wanna continue. And then I was gonna go to my Bard teacher and try and get them to let me do an independent study."

Kristen: "For Paladin?"

Fig: "No. No, this Paladin plan just came to me. That's why it's coming up so roughshod."

Kristen: "No, like Helio and all that 💩. Paladin feels very squeaky clean. You know what I mean? I think Cassandra would want a Warlock."

Fig: "Not the way I would do it."

(BRENNAN'S BURST OF LAUGHTER HERE! 💀✋)

Ally: "You'd be a nasty *** Paladin? Dirty Paladin."

Emily: "Dirty Paladin."

Kristen: "I think Warlock could work-"

Emily: "I'd be a Paladin you can't take home."

Kristen: "-...if you wanted to still do that."

Ally: "The Paladin you don't take home to mom."

Fig: "Okay. Okay. I'm just gonna, like, put that on ice."

Kristen: "Okay."

Fig: "This feels really rash."

Riz: "I mean, thinking about it, all this stuff with devils and doing deals and everything, it's not too-"

Fig: "I mean, it's another relationship thing, which is my- pledging myself to people is pretty much all I do."

Riz: "Maybe you were meant to be a champion."

Fig: "It's just too big of a decision to make right now. I don't wanna make any decisions."

Kristen: "Don't run away! Hey, stop!"

Fig skateboards away! 😭✋

Brennan: "Fig, you skateboard away."

39 notes · View notes

fandom-chic · 7 months

Text

Please Please Please: Chapter 11

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy know there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Life has been kicking me in the ass. Please enjoy this chapter :)

Previous chapter

The door slammed shut behind her, shaking the house with a force she didn’t know she had in her. Her body collapsed against the wooden door as she sank to the floor. Her chest heaved up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn't believe that she had just run home to escape Tommy. How old was she, twelve?

Still, she couldn't get his face out of her mind, or the way he gazed at the barmaid. Then there was the manner in which his eyes left the songbird and moved to her and lingered. She knew there were words in that look that she didn't want to comprehend. She didn't know if she could do that without screaming. She knew these thoughts should be gone, that he should be wiped from her mind. He left her on that dock all alone that day. But something deep inside her also knew that was not possible. He was hers, and she was his. She could run as far as she wanted to, but he was there in the tiniest crook of her heart. It was his to claim, and claim it he did.

Y/N had finally reached the floor, her legs fanned out in front of her. Her ears were ringing, uncertain of how her heart could be so foolish. She had a wonderful husband who loved her with all his might. But here he was, Tommy, ripe for the picking, and she had to take a bite.

The ringing began to subside and turned into another sound, one she was well acquainted with. The wails of Jane filled up Y/N's home, seeming to penetrate every crevice. Although Y/N wanted to spend the next five years sitting in shock, she knew her baby needed her.

So, she pulled herself up, wiped invisible specks of dust off her skirt, and made her way upstairs. She followed the familiar cries until she saw Jane, clenching the bars of her crib and wailing.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," Y/N soothed, gliding into the nursery. She scooped Jane into her arms, holding her close.

"Mama," Jane moaned into her shoulder as wet tears coated Y/N's dress. Y/N bounced her child, trying to calm the wails.

"I'm here, don't worry," she whispered to Jane. And she was. She was here for this beautiful girl. This girl who would always need her. This girl who would always come before any man, even her husband and especially...

A strong pair of arms wrapped around Y/N's waist, pulling her in. She couldn't help but lean her head back and sigh. And for a moment, as she closed her eyes, she felt Tommy's arms, but she knew better.

"Is everything okay? I was in the office, and there seemed to be a bunch of noise," William asked, his words waking her up from her trance.

"I'm fine, we're just having a tough day." Y/N didn't elaborate on who was having that tough night. William sighed. He knew everything about his wife, especially when she was keeping something from him.

"What happened?" He questioned. Y/N knew what he was asking about but hoped he might have meant something else.

"Oh, there was a bang that must've-"

"Not Jane, you," His words weren't malicious, just stern. Y/N pulled out of her husband's embrace and turned to face him.

"Nothing happened."

"Y/N, please." His words stung. They pierced her heart like a needle.

She took a minute to string her words together before she answered, "I saw him."

"Who?" But William already knew.

"Tommy." The word came out as a whisper. She knew once she spoke it into the room, it was real. A long exhale left William's nose as a hand went through his hair.

"And where did you see..." William didn't want to say his name too many times, worried he might summon him. The baby seemed to finally be starting to calm down as the cries turned into little hiccups. Y/N walked to the crib, putting her daughter down to rest. She gave her one final look before venturing to her husband.

"The Garrison. I wanted to grab a drink and," Y/N motioned toward what seemed to be a ghost, "there he was." She let her eyes wander into the dim light of Jane's room, imagining the look on Tommy's face from tonight. Y/N took a deep breath before taking a seat in the rocking chair. William didn't move toward his wife. He stayed where he was, hand in his hair.

"And," Y/N could sense the gears in his mind working as he tried to put his words together, "how do you feel?" Y/N didn't want to answer this. She knew whatever she said wouldn't be enough. If she said there was nothing there, she knew William would deny it. She knew that if she claimed it was like no time had passed for her and Tommy, she could lose the life she had built for herself.

Instead of attacking the question, she stared at the wall and muttered, "I feel like I could use a strong drink." Even in this mayhem and uncertainty, she heard a snicker come out of her husband's lips. He was a good man. A kind one. An understanding one. She felt his presence finally move, and he was behind her, his hands resting on the back of the rocking chair. He smelled like home.

"We are out of anything good right now, but Finnegan's is fully stocked. I'll watch Jane, you grab a good glass of wine." Y/N looked back at William, expecting to see a touch of annoyance behind his kind exterior, but the only look there was love. Y/N's hand reached up and gave her husband's a light squeeze.

"I won't be late." He pulled their hands up to his lips, giving her knuckles a kiss.

"I know." And she set off. Time must have passed quickly because the sun already seemed to be setting. Although she knew fall in Small Heath meant shorter days and longer nights, she didn't know it constituted an almost non-existent amount of sunlight. When she reached Finnegan's, she let herself in. She knew to expect a good number of patrons since it was almost dinner time, but the place was empty.

She took a sigh before moving into the back office, placing her jacket on her husband's desk chair. The lack of business was a trend that had begun once the soldiers came back. Y/N truly expected it to cause a boom and for some more money to finally come in, but it seemed that people were tightening their belts and using their remaining cash on gin and wine. She smoothed her skirt, trying to avert her gaze from the bills littering William's desk. It wasn't her business.

She stepped out of the office and walked up to the bar. She knew the bartender, not intimately, but well enough that he slid a glass of chardonnay right in front of her before she had fully settled into her stool. Y/N gave him a smile and a nod before he wandered off, going to the back to clean glasses. And there she was, alone. Alone with her thoughts and allowed to mull them over.

Almost on cue, as she was about to finally begin to take apart the situation and look at it from different angles, she heard the front door open. She began to call for the bartender to come back and serve the customer who had just walked in, but as she looked back to see the number of patrons, all she saw was one. One man who had yet to leave her mind.

"Y/N." It was his version of a greeting. Words seemed to stick to her throat, not wanting to escape. Tommy took a step toward her, letting the door shut behind him. Her body stayed still, but her mouth began to work.

"What are you doing here?" It was almost a whisper, but she knew he heard. Before he could answer, she cut him short, "You can't be here. This is my husband's business. You have to leave." Her limbs started to loosen as she gained the power to rise from her seat.

"I wanted to-"

“No, please stop.” She rushed into her husband’s office and gathered all her belongings in her arms. Tommy followed her and so did his words. She couldn’t hear them, she knew she couldn’t.

“Tommy stop!” At her exclamation, he silenced. She knew she had to leave this man. He was a snake in the garden and she wanted to pick the apple. But she had to look at him one last time. So she gazed into those blue eyes for one more beat before letting her feet guide her out the door. She didn’t look back as she found herself racing back home for the second time today. He didn’t follow after her.

This time when she arrived home, she didn't slam any doors. She shut the door slowly behind her, turning the knob in a way that it didn't make a sound. Her hand lingered as she considered going back into the night. The darkness called her, but she turned away from it and stepped into the living room of her family's home.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight before her. William was passed out on the couch with little Jane atop his chest. A thumb was in her mouth, and her other hand was in her father's. This was why she didn't venture into the night. This is what her life was: a little girl who needed her and a man who was good to her. She let the warm feeling subside in her stomach as she made her way to the bedroom for a much-needed night of sleep.

Y/N awoke the next morning to a pair of lips being pressed to her forehead. Her eyes opened to see William above her, dressed for the day. She turned to the clock on the wall to see it read 8:00 AM. Jane had to be awake by now. Y/N began to rise before William put a hand on her shoulder.

"I took care of Jane. She's fed and her diaper has been changed. Take your time." This caused Y/N to relax slightly, knowing she didn't have to spring out of bed for her baby. She let her gaze wander to her husband's.

"Thank you," she said, reaching out to brush a hand across his cheek.

"I'll be back late tonight. Don't stay up too late for me." At this, he pulled Y/N into a kiss. His lips lightly pecked hers before he went out the bedroom door. Y/N waited until she heard the door close and lock before she lazily swung her limbs out of bed. She knew Jane could wait for her, but she had to see her daughter. When she walked into the nursery to see her smiling baby, she knew her day would be a bright one.

And that was how that lazy Saturday was. Y/N spent the morning cleaning the house, taking care of the baby, and planning a dinner for her husband. It was the perfect image of domestic bliss. It wasn't until Jane's afternoon nap that it was interrupted.

A knock on the front door echoed throughout her home. Y/N placed down the book she was resting with and went to the door. It had to be William; she wasn't expecting anyone else. Without checking the peephole, Y/N opened the door.

"You said you wouldn't be home until-" She cut herself off when a familiar pair of blue eyes looked back at her.

Next chapter

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131 notes · View notes

penvisions · 3 months

Text

the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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