#he just trying to cope however he can and IT HURTS ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader

sequel to 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your... relationship with joel, if you can call it that, has become all you know. you might be his only indulgence, but what happens to you when he needs to leave the boston qz?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | just under 6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | no episode 2 spoilers/no relationship to the show's plot, extremely dubious consent SMUT (18+ only as always; unprotected sex, non-graphic somnophilia, free use, cnc), angst, graphic depictions of addiction, drug use, and withdrawals, daddy kink, breeding kink, implied but unspecified age gap, degradation and praise, mean!joel but with some hints of soft!joel in there

The lights are on, but you’re not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is all it takes…

There were words in your mind, a faint melody echoing, but you couldn’t tell where any of it came from. You didn’t think you dreamt it, but you weren’t even sure if you’d been asleep this morning. Time didn’t seem to move the same way when he was gone.

You were tangled in Joel’s sheets, but suddenly it was too warm for them and so you kicked them off, letting the still air of the room sink onto your bare skin. Your eyes were open sometimes, shut other times… but because the view never changed— the window, the table and chair, the radio— you never knew how much time had passed.

It had to be afternoon when you heard the door open and shut; normally, if he came back during the day, it was the afternoon. You imagined getting up and greeting him, but you knew you couldn’t— too tired, exhausted to the bone, still recovering from what happened before he left this morning. In fact, you were already damn near asleep again by the time he had stepped inside.

He approached the bed, tilting his head slightly as he watched you lay still on your back. He said nothing, just started to open his belt.

“I can’t,” you pouted, but he just grinned at you.

“Can’t say no to me, baby,” he reminded you softly.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, as he climbed on top of you with a groan, “no— m’still sore…”

“Shh,” was his only reply, his hand reaching into his jeans so he could guide his cock to your opening. He wasn’t even fully hard yet— but he was hard enough, and he forced his head into you with a grunt.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly to cope with the pain; he stretched you open and reawakened the pain from before when he’d fucked you for hours, spitting on your pussy to keep it wet when your body had given all it could.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing in deep, whispering a few things you were too caught up in your discomfort to really make out. “Just need you right now,” that was one you remembered— “need you, baby…”

This was pretty typical. Well, it didn’t always hurt this much, but waiting for him all day just so he could come back and use you however he wanted, that was normal. So normal that you’d basically forgotten what life was like before this— before him, before the pills… it was like a memory of a dream, fading faster than you could try to remember it each morning.

He kept you high pretty much constantly, though not nearly enough for your tastes. It was a delicate balance: not enough pills, and you might say ‘fuck this’ and leave him, if you even knew how; too many, and you’d be too fucked up to do what he said— or worse, you might OD. His regiment for you was strict, and designed to keep you addicted enough that you needed him but without getting your tolerance too high.

It was only a few months after this little arrangement started that you moved in. He wanted access to you all the time, and frankly, you only agreed to it because you thought you could find out where he kept the motherlode and steal a lifetime supply of pills before disappearing into the night. Of course, even if you had found the stash, he would’ve found you not too much later— because it’s Joel, and that’s what he does. But it didn’t matter now, because you never found anything more than what he was already going to give you, and that was… you didn’t even know how long ago that was. Everything was sort of a blur now.

He pulled out, but he wasn’t done; he was only stopping to roll you onto your stomach, running his rough hand down your bare back with a soft hum. You hissed as he slid inside you again, but if you knew how to do anything by now, it was how to lay down and take it. Joel admired this talent of yours; “Jus’ take it, baby, mm,” he cooed encouragingly, his thrusts deeper yet slower as he got back to it. “Good girl.”

Even though you were so weak you could hardly grab the thin pillow under your head, you still moaned and arched your back at that. You tried not to think too much about why you craved his approval so much, mostly because deep down, you already knew: he gave you purpose, the one thing drugs couldn’t give you. The pills kept you happy, numb, satisfied; he made you feel like you actually might have some shred of value, even if he was the one who robbed you of your dignity, freedom, your independence of both body and mind.

It was worth it, though. A fair trade, you thought.

“Joel,” you whimpered when his fingers dug into your arm, holding you tight while he laid on top of you; his lips and teeth trailed along your neck and shoulder, his hips grinded against your ass as he fucked you as deep as he could. By now, it didn’t hurt when he went that deep— you’d basically built up an immunity, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still be sore when he fucked you before he left only to do it all again as soon as he came home. His stamina was impressive at best, dangerous at worst… you might not have agreed to move in here if you knew how often he would want to get his dick wet.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “s’me, baby, m’right here…”

You wondered if he really thought you weren’t sure— you weren’t that high, but it wasn’t the most outlandish idea. Sometimes you woke up to him already inside you, sometimes you drifted in and out of consciousness while he was using you and he didn't even slow down— sometimes he'd give your face little slaps to try to keep you awake, mumbling 'look at me, baby, look up at me with those pretty eyes'...

Maybe you dreamed those, you couldn't even be sure. "So good," he grunted as his pace increased and he fucked you faster. "Perfect little pussy, nice and tight for me."

You buried your face deeper in the pillow to muffle your whines, but he yanked your head back by your hair. “Fuck!” you yelped as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“Wanna hear you,” he explained in a grunt that made shivers jump up and down your spine like lightning. “Lemme hear how much my little whore likes it— let ‘em all hear.”

“Fuck,” you said again, closer to a sob now, “Joel, daddy, please— please, fuck, m’gonna—”

“Gonna cream for me?” he finished for you, and you shut your eyes tight as you nodded. His free hand was kneading your ass, still decorated with a few old bruises from the last time he gave you some nice hard spanks. “Gonna soak my dick?”

“Yeah,” you panted, “yeah— you’re gonna make me come…”

He let go of your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your neck— he didn’t use it to choke you this time, just to keep you close as he pressed himself to you. He usually stayed fully dressed, and didn’t give you anything to cover yourself; you would steal a shirt of his from time to time, only for him to take it back to put on before he left— as if he didn’t have anything else he could wear, you knew he had more than one fucking shirt.

Maybe he just wanted to make you stay naked. Maybe he just wanted to take the scent of you with him when he left. Who’s to say?

“So good, so fuckin’ good,” he praised, groaning loudly as he sped up even more. “Tell me what you want.”

That was code for tell me what I want to hear. “Want you to come inside, daddy,” you sighed, “wan’ it all inside me, please, want you to— to fill my pussy—”

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice deeper than ever, and a shudder tensed up your insides around him. “Yeah— fuck, keep going.”

“Please, please,” you rambled, your own pleasure ready to burst even though there was still that edge of pain to it all, “wanna be full of your come— wanna… want you to… knock me up…”

He laughed, but then he growled a second later and fucked you more brutally than ever until you bit back a scream. “Yeah? Fuck, you’re such a needy slut,” he spat. “Need my come that bad? ‘Cause you wanna be pregnant?”

You swallowed, nodding as you pretended that wasn’t one of your biggest fears. “Yes, daddy, please— need you, need you, fuck, I need you—”

“Come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now, come for me—”

He kept talking, but you stopped listening; when it hit you, it was like your muscles were too weak to do what your orgasm dictated they should— because normally, everything in you would tighten and your toes would curl and your head would fall back and it would be obvious that you were coming for him. Instead, all you could do was lay there and let it wash over you, pangs of pleasure and pain alternating while he groaned and came with you. He coated your walls with every pump, thrusts faltering until his forehead rested on your shoulder with a long sigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered, only indulging in a moment of rest and stillness before he pulled out and got up. It was amazing to you how he could just shove his dick back in his jeans and zip up and it was like nothing happened— amazing, and sad. Meanwhile, you couldn’t even get up off the bed, couldn’t even walk if you tried. He had such an effect on you, and you were just an instinct for him— just a fill to a need, like food is to hunger or water is to thirst. Maybe you sort of liked to be needed, but it wasn’t easy.

“Is it time yet?” you asked.

“No,” he answered quickly, firmly, and you rolled your eyes. He never told you what time you were allowed to get your fix, usually he just told you that it wasn’t time yet. It felt like it was never fucking time. What was even the point of all this if he made you wait? You never made him wait— you tried, but he made it clear your body was his and your job was just to spread your legs when he was ready.

You like to think that you’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah

Closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough

You know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to love

You were lucid enough now to actually question how and why those words were in your head; your eyes were heavy, but you kept them open to look at the radio. “A song…” you realized aloud.

He looked over at you again. “Huh?”

You summoned your little strength to lift yourself up— just enough to turn onto your side and slip under the sheet again. You were cold again, even though the temperature in the room hadn’t changed. “The radio… there was a song,” you mumbled.

He stepped up to you again. “What song?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t know it,” you said. Because of course you didn’t, you barely knew anything, you were too young to remember before. You barely even remembered last month— the pills will do that to you.

“Well, how did it go?” he asked.

Looking away, you tried to conjure it in your mind, but it was so distant. Did he want you to hum it for him, sing or something? Your throat was tired from screaming all that bullshit about getting pregnant— it was gonna be a pretty rough go, if you tried that. “I… I dunno,” you mumbled. “My brain’s all… it’s fuzzy. I need the pills.”

He tightened his jaw. “Are you trying to negotiate with me?” he asked, the tone of his voice making it obvious that the correct answer was no.

“I— no, I,” you stalled, “I really can’t remember, I just… maybe if you give me some—”

“God damn it,” he rolled his eyes as he started to reach into his coat pocket. “One. Y’hear me? One.”

Suddenly you were full of energy, sitting up on the bed and reaching for him eagerly. “Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, nodding fervently. “Thanks, s’gonna help, Joel, really.”

You tried to grab the pill as soon as you saw it, but he jerked it away. “Jesus,” he grumbled, “give me a second.”

He set it on the bedside table, taking out a gun from his belt next and using the butt to crush the pill. You watched, enraptured, practically drooling, as he ground the pill into powder and prepared a line for you.

“Do you need—?” he began to ask as he backed away, likely about to offer a rolled up paper or something to make it easier, but you were already face-first in it, holding one nostril shut and running the other across the surface of the table.

One wasn’t much, but neither is a sip of water when you’re stranded in the desert— but it’s still incredible. You hummed a little as you sat back on the bed, tilting your head back. It was already hitting, and you were already feeling better than you had all day.

A one track mind, you can’t be saved

Oblivion is all you crave

If there’s some left for you, you don’t mind if you do

“You remember it now?” he asked impatiently.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Yeah, uh—” you cleared your throat and did your best to sing the hook, the part that repeated a thousand times— “might as well face it, you’re addicted to love.”

You opened your eyes again for his reaction, maybe hoping he might say something nice about your singing voice or thank you for remembering. That wasn’t quite how it went. “Shit,” Joel hissed, then again, louder: “Shit!”

“What?” you wondered, your voice sleepy and slurred as you sunk back into the bed, ready to go back to sleep— real sleep, the kind you can only get from a hit. It wouldn’t last long, but it would still be better than anything else.

“We’ve gotta go.”

“What?!” you said again, though this time you had a lot more energy, because you heard what he said. He was already shoving things into a bag. “Joel, we— what? Go where?”

“Long story, I’ll explain on the way,” he promised. “Just… start getting your things together.”

What things? “Seriously, we can’t— I can’t—”

“Do what I fucking say,” he said sharply, stopping what he was doing to look at you intensely. “Don’t make me tell you again: Get dressed. Get your shit. We’re going.”

The first day was torture. You thought maybe he was getting sick of you, too— you weren’t very… useful. You couldn’t even keep up with him, couldn’t follow as quickly or navigate the rocky, uneven terrain outside the QZ like he could. You held out hope that you were going to get your daily dose soon— he only gave you that one before, never your full allowance— but as it grew darker, you realized he was going to have you skip the day since you wouldn’t be in any condition to hike once you got your fix. He promised, though, that you could have a double dose tomorrow if you were patient. It was still nearly impossible to wait for it, but it was a nice motivator to keep moving.

He never explained where you were going exactly, or why— just that the song you heard on the radio was code for something that he needed to handle. In a weird way, you were flattered that he was bringing you with him, even though all you could think about was going back home and curling up in his bed.

What you expected to be the worst part of this, though, turned out to be one of the only good things about this situation: sleeping. He brought something to roll out on the ground, and it helped, but you’d been dreading sleeping on the ground from the moment you stepped outside of Joel’s apartment. The thing about sleeping out here, though, was that— unlike at home— he held you at night. Sure, it wasn’t the first time you’d cuddled with Joel, but it was the first time you really noticed it— normally, he would hold you while you slept but he’d be gone before you woke up, so you’d really only be aware if you happened to wake up while he was still asleep. Instead, now, it started from the beginning: he motioned for you to lay down with him, opening up his arm for you and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He held you close, promising it wouldn’t get too cold, even breathing in deeply against the top of your head.

It took you longer to fall asleep than him, and not just because you were craving your fix; you couldn’t really wrap your brain around all of it, and every time you looked up at his sleeping face, you realized how rare it was to see him this vulnerable.

In the middle of the night, awakened by the pain of craving those pills you were waiting for you traced his features— the lines on his forehead, the slope of his nose, the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw.

Having a mischievous thought, your eyes glanced at the jacket rolled up under his head; the right side pocket, he’d pulled out the pill from you from there. Is that where he’s keeping the rest of them? You examined it, wondering if you could somehow reach into it without unrolling it or waking him up.

It definitely wouldn’t have worked, but you didn’t even get a chance to try— when your fingers brushed over the jacket, the sound of your fingers on the fabric just beside his ear woke him up. He just stirred at first, but then he blinked his eyes open and hummed as he held you tighter.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered, and even though you didn’t think that was good news, he smiled at you and turned on his side— pulling you into him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he mumbled just beside your ear.

I need the fucking pills, Joel. “I need you,” you whispered instead.

He rolled you onto your back, kissing up and down the height of your throat, humming soft praises to you. It was so easy to give into him, like second nature: you spread your legs and let his body slot between them, hooking your ankles together behind his back and holding on with trembling hands to his broad shoulders. “Gonna give you what you need,” he promised, and you sighed in satisfaction— you were still imagining tomorrow, when he’d give you what you really needed, but a little dopamine in the meantime would stave off the shakes at least.

He pushed up the borrowed shirt you were wearing, and pulled your panties halfway down your thighs. A second later, his pants were shoved down and he was inside you— and yes, it stung at first, but it was also shockingly comfortable. Not just the penetration itself, but the slow movements of his hips, the kisses on your jaw and collarbone, the way he held you…

“So good, my good girl,” he whispered to you, making you moan shamelessly. “Shh, not so loud— need to be quiet, okay? Not too loud…”

Nodding and biting your lip, you tried your best, but every time he filled you made waves of relief flood your body; it was hard to keep from just saying his name, over and over, like a mantra as he took you to enlightenment.

It was mostly wordless after that, spare a few times you hissed out a yes or he mumbled a fuck, but much more was said in the silence. The way his hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the softness of your skin, said don’t leave, don’t even move, you’re right where I want you. The way his teeth nipped at your neck said I’m holding myself back, but I can only control myself so much. The way you hid your face in his chest said I know if you look at me now, you’ll see everything.

He must’ve heard that, then, because his free hand brushed your hair back and guided your head to lay down on the jacket-pillow again— he stared down at you, and bent down to kiss away the tear on your temple. Maybe a more gentlemanly sort of guy would actually stop and ask why you were crying, but you knew he already knew that this wasn’t a cry of pain or anguish, he knew that if he stopped you’d just whine and beg him to keep going.

So he didn’t stop, not until he’d made you fall apart to the pleasure and your walls were coated with him once again. Even as weak as your body had become, you still found the energy to give him one more squeeze when he grunted at the end, the rough sound of his pleasure which you took a little too much pride in being responsible for.

Only then did you finally fall asleep, with him still inside you and surrounding you, your whole body going a little numb— yet you were warm, ecstasy running through your veins, thick and sweet like syrup.

Some things didn’t change at all: he wasn’t laying with you when you woke up, already re-packing the bag and checking his map one more time. At least he wasn’t totally gone, like most mornings, but of course he’d never leave you out here on your own.

Another thing that didn’t change was your favorite question. You’d probably asked almost ten times already: “Is it time yet?”

It never was— you tried to keep walking, keep following, but each step was worse than the last and your body felt completely drained. Joel apparently didn’t understand this, but the pills didn’t really get you high anymore, not in the way they had when he was just your dealer once a week. You needed them just to feel normal; it wasn’t for fun, you weren’t partying or anything, you just wanted the pain to stop… you just wanted to sleep.

At least you got a few hours last night, but your body could only take so much, and your brain could only survive on so little.

“Is it—” you began as you trailed behind him.

“Don’t ask again,” he ordered, still marching ahead determinedly. “You’ll know when it’s time.”

“How will I know?” you asked, but he didn’t answer, he didn’t even look back at you over his shoulder. He just readjusted the pack on his back and kept moving forward.

The sun was so low you couldn’t even see it past the buildings on the horizon, a tangerine haze settling over the ruins of wherever-the-fuck-you-were, and he was guiding you up a long cement spiral— a parking garage, if you were thinking clearly enough to consider what this used to be.

You were thinking clearly enough to know this wasn’t a necessary path through; this was a detour, and presumably it was where you’d settle for the night considering it had all the necessary attributes of a temporary shelter. You liked this better than the last place— you could probably get inside one of the cars left behind, clean it out a bit, and have an especially secure (and padded) sleeping spot— but there was still one glaring flaw with this plan: it was nearly time to stop for the night and you still didn’t get your goddamn fix.

You’d been saving your complaints in case he went back on the offer to double you up for today, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your hands were shaking— almost made you paranoid that you got infected somehow, even though you had managed to avoid any runners the past two days.

“Please, Joel, m’goin’ crazy over here,” you whimpered, clutching your arm. “I need—”

“I don’t have any!” he finally snapped at you. “I was out when we left.”

“No,” you denied instantly, “no— you’re lying, you had one— you gave me one.”

He sighed, his expression and tone losing their frustration and shifting instead to a sort of solemnity as his shoulders slumped. “It was the last one.

It was like instinct: you ran at him like you really thought you could take him down. Of course, as soon as you reached him, he held you back without even putting much effort into it while you clawed and screeched and and said every horrible thing you could think of. “Fuck, Joel! Fucking fuck you! I hate you!” you screamed.

“You wouldn’t have come with me if I told you,” he offered, as if that were a defense.

“No fucking shit!” you yelped, trying to writhe your way out of his grip on your wrists, but it was useless. So you tried to kick him— and then he went from mildly irritated to properly done with your shit. Shoving you back, he pushed you away and you tripped on a broken chunk of cement; the pain of hitting the ground was nothing— nothing compared to the aching need that crawled under your skin, nothing compared to the twist in your heart that made your eyes and nose burn. Sniffling, you hid your face with your arm so he wouldn’t see you cry.

He knelt down in front of you, sighing like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

“I need them, Joel, I need them,” you kept repeating weakly. “I’m so— fuck, I can’t even think without them…”

“You can’t think with them, either,” he replied. “They were messing with your head, kid.”

No, you were messing with my head. You made me your slave and now I’m stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere about to go into withdrawals.

His hand came to rest on your knee, and you were too exhausted to even pull away. “You needed to get clean— now’s as good a time as any.”

You pulled your arm down so you could glare at him. “Now, Joel? Cold turkey, hours from the nearest QZ, no doctors or nurses or fucking anything around— now’s as good a time as any?”

He frowned and looked away.

“You know how much you had me on, you know I can’t just stop.”

“You’re gonna have to,” he shrugged. “Unless you have a better plan.”

“We’ll go back—”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“We— there’s gotta be something on the way, somewhere we can go to get more—”

“There’s not,” he promised. “You’re just gonna have to ride it out. But it’s gonna be so much better when you get to the other side— it won’t control you anymore—”

“Will you?”

He stopped. For a second, he actually looked sad— heartbroken, if you didn’t know any better. After a long silence, his face straightened out again and he looked at you, just as cold and stern as usual. “You know you can’t leave,” he said. “Not because I’m making you stay— because you’ll die if you go alone.”

“I know,” you admitted, only able to whisper because speaking any louder would make your voice break with a sob. “I know, Joel, I know— m’fuckin’ useless, I know—”

“Shh, hey,” he reached forward, hesitantly stroking your arm through the material of his own shirt that you were wearing. “That’s not what I mean. I just can’t let that happen to you— you have to stay here. Just for the night.”

As if tomorrow you’d be free— but tomorrow would be the same, tomorrow might be even worse depending on how bad the withdrawals got. Tomorrow wouldn’t give you some magical way to get home, or to get your fix, or to trust him again after that monumental lie.

Still, you both knew that you had no choice tonight: you were here now and he was all you had.

You didn’t even sleep for a second. The two of you hunkered down in a rotted Land Rover just because, well, it felt like the fanciest option and the seats were in better condition than most; he held you all night, rubbing your back and trying his best to soothe you as the pain grew and grew. You cried into his chest— you wanted to hate him, but the way he held you was the only thing that didn’t feel like pure agony right now. You wanted to blame him, but you subconsciously associated him with the cure; some part of you was convinced he was the cure.

“Hurts,” you choked out, as if this was some new information for either of you; it was like everything inside you was sharp, your toes were curling inside your boots and your brain felt like it was swelling up and pressing against the inside of your skull. “Hurts, Joel…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, letting you grip as tight as you could onto his arm. “It gets better— it’s gonna stop hurting soon.”

"I think I'm dying," you announced, "am I dying?"

"No, baby," he sighed, "you're not. You'll be fine."

“I think I’m gonna die,” you sobbed anyways. “I can’t— I can’t do this… I just want it to stop…”

“I know,” he said again. That was the meat of it, really: you kept telling him how bad it hurt and he kept telling you he knew. But you couldn’t imagine how he could understand pain like this.

It was quiet for a long time, probably hours. You’d stopped crying— you felt empty of all tears, of all words or thoughts— and just tried to breathe as slowly as you could. Your heart wanted to race even as you sat perfectly still, curled up in his lap, and it scared the shit out of you; so you were doing everything you could to try to get your heart rate down, taking long breaths and saying nothing and keeping your eyes shut as you rested your tear-stained face on his shirt.

His own breathing was the only other sound in the car— you could hear his heartbeat, too, with your ear on his chest, and you tried to get your own to match it. It was steady and strong, not weak and unpredictable like yours; it was fitting, really.

It almost startled you when he spoke; it made your heart pick up again, slightly, but you didn’t react otherwise. “I couldn’t give you anymore, sweetheart,” he whispered, petting your head softly. “I know you fucking hate me, I know what I did to you for this long… you know it’s almost been a year? Since you first ran out of rations and offered yourself instead, can you believe that?”

You were too weak to answer— he probably thought you were asleep, he only got to talking this much when at least one of you was asleep.

“I never felt good about it,” he admitted, “but I was able to let it go for a while. Having you was worth it. I felt like fuckin’ shit keeping you hooked on that crap but I couldn’t lose you— I knew if I stopped, you’d leave. What I didn’t realize was I was gonna lose you to the drugs if I didn’t get you clean. You were too fucked up, baby, you were barely there… this was the only way, m’so sorry, but this was the only way— couldn’t lose you, darlin’, I couldn’t lose you…”

He was holding your limp body so tight, so close, burying his face in your neck; you’d never really seen him like this, he had his moments but he was generally pretty aloof. You wished you had the strength to tell him: I was never gonna leave you, Joel. I was never strong enough for that.

You watched the sunrise, through the filthy back window of the car and between the cement levels of the dilapidated garage. Then you watched Joel sleep, and felt a different pain than the shudders of withdrawals that you’d almost gotten used to by now: the pain of loving someone, and having no fucking idea how to survive it. You were still angry with him for what he’d done, and why he did it, but you knew you were going to tolerate it all— and not just because you had to. You needed him now, for much more than just survival.

The shakes hit again, and though you held your fist tight to fight it, the movement still woke him. He opened just one eye first, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the expression on his face.

“Drink some more water,” he encouraged you— and you were perfectly capable of handling that task yourself, but he still unscrewed the canteen he’d brought and held it to your lips, tilting it forward slightly for you. With his guidance, you drank a bit more than you usually would have, which was probably a good thing. “How are you feeling?” he asked when he let you stop.

“Better,” you admitted. “I didn’t think it would ever get better but… yeah, better.”

“It might come and go for a while,” he warned you, “but we won’t start moving again until you’re ready.”

You nodded, rubbing your own arm as you noticed a slight chill inside the car. Your legs were still draped over his lap, and he wrapped an arm around them. “M’ready,” you decided. “Just… might need a break—”

“Yeah, of course,” he offered; you’d never seen him so effusive, if that was the right word. He could certainly be gentle, it wasn’t the first time you’d seen that side, but that was usually little physical things like petting your head or cleaning you off with a rag or something. Not words: not promising, in a not-so-obvious way, that he would do anything to take care of you now. That he cared more about keeping you safe than getting to where he needed to go.

Still, you didn’t want to abuse his mercy. It didn’t take you too long to get everything together and head out, setting down a new path that he’d actually explained to you somewhat in advance: past that big tree there, between the two grey buildings, and East for a while…

For most of the morning you were silent— he led, you followed, walking along the uneven ground and avoiding anything that looked like it might be connected to the larger network of infection.

It must’ve been about an hour before you finally found the courage to say something. “I don’t hate you,” you blurted out.

He looked over your shoulder at you, an unreadable expression on his weathered face.

“Just wanted you to know that,” you explained.

He nodded, turning back forward, and you kept moving.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller dark fic

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Last Twilight Episode 12

A month ago, I never could have predicted that I’d be sitting here trying to assemble some thoughts to explain how on earth this show went so badly off the rails. I am truly taken aback by where this story landed, and I advise anyone who wants to think of it fondly to just pretend it ended at episode 9, and even skip the finale if you haven’t watched yet. Before I get into it, let me just start with a word of praise for the cast, who did a great job with their performances and kept this show afloat when the writing fell apart. And boy, did it fall apart.

In my view, this narrative had three main threads it was addressing: 1) Day’s journey to accepting his disability; 2) unresolved family trauma; and 3) Mhok and Day’s romance. And in the end, it failed on all three of them. I am going to dig into this and I am not feeling particularly nice, so if this is going to hurt your feelings I suggest you stop reading now.

Day’s Journey

Just…wow. We have been afraid of this turn the entire time and trying to hold out hope that the show would not go there, but here we are. I started laughing out loud when we got to the end of part 3 and Mhon’s phone went off with an alert for a new eye donor, and then just stared incredulously at my screen as we time skipped AGAIN to a Day whose vision had been restored for years (last week I joked to @bengiyo and @waitmyturtles that once a drama starts using time skips it becomes addictive and they never stop, and—welp!). What was this entire show for? Why did we spend twelve episodes with Day grieving his vision loss, learning how to cope, and finally accepting his blindness only to completely undercut it at the end? The first part of the finale was so much about how he was thriving—finding a new career for himself and becoming self-sufficient and growing so much on his own—only to give us an ending that implied he could not actually have his happily ever after without his vision restored.

And this is in fact the message they sent by coupling the return of his vision with the return of he and Mhok’s relationship, and giving us a happy ending rooted in his contentment at having his sight back. They even went back to the Last Twilight mountain to completely tarnish the thematic resonance of the original scene. Calling back to the beautiful memory of Day “seeing” the sunset and experiencing “a moment so good that you feel like you can live there forever” as he accepted his disability with this scene of him seeing the real sunset with his restored vision was so hurtful to me that I actually got angry. Day didn’t need his vision back to get a happy ending, and I absolutely hate what this communicates about disabled people’s capacity to live happy and fulfilling lives. This show has created many writing sins but this is the most unforgivable to me.

Family Trauma

The show began dropping the ball on this one a few weeks ago, but this finale put the nail in the coffin. We spent most of this episode at Porjai and Night’s wedding, an event that might have felt meaningful if the show had let us see any of their romance. I’m grateful to Mark Pakin and Namtan Tipnaree for their beauty and charisma because it’s the only thing that made me care about those scenes at all. Rather than actually being about them, however, this wedding was used primarily as a clunky vehicle to deliver heavy-handed messages about “second chances” to encourage Day to get back together with Mhok (more on that in the next section).

I did enjoy the brief nods in this episode to the brothers continuing to have newfound harmony in their relationship, but where the show really lost me was in their attempt to bring Night and Day’s dad back into the mix and imply some sort of resolution between him and Mhon. Mhon, a woman whose perspective on their split we never actually saw, whose motivation for her choices and behavior toward her sons were completely elided by the narrative, who was forgiven and made peace with offscreen during a time skip. I was never given the chance to understand her or what this relationship meant to her in the first place, so why would I care about these scenes with her making her peace with this man? I continue to be so confused about where this show chose to spend its time, and why someone with Aof’s track record on developing strong and narratively important familial relationships dropped the ball so much with her.

The Romance

Okay, let’s get into it, and remember what I said about not reading if this is going to hurt your feelings! My criteria for considering a romance successful is I have to believe the relationship is mutual, beneficial to both of the pair, and that the couple is prepared to weather future challenges. Last Twilight’s romance fails on all three fronts, and it all comes down to the total imbalance in the relationship that persisted right through the final scenes.

This entire narrative has been Mhok bending to Day’s will, giving Day what he needs, forgiving him for everything, and letting him make all the decisions about the relationship, and the finale was regrettably more of the same. In episode 11, Mhok made a mistake when he lied to Day about turning down the job in Hawaii. But he made that mistake out of grief and fear, and Day didn’t care—he unfeelingly rejected him and his pain and ended their relationship without a second thought. That was potentially forgivable as a momentary lapse borne out of instinctual hurt, and could have been repairable had Day reconsidered soon after and extended Mhok some grace. But in this episode, we find out Day blocked Mhok and refused to communicate with him again after that night, and has left Mhok completely in the cold for three years after he failed to be perfect one (1) time.

And this episode? Was on Day’s side in this conflict. Mhok is the one to return and start pursuing Day again. Mhok is the one to broach the topic of their breakup. Mhok is the one to thank Day for breaking his heart and tell him he did nothing wrong (y’all, I almost threw something at the screen). Mhok’s grief and trauma go completely unaddressed in this finale until they try to play the Rung card for one last moment of sentiment. Day cries to his mother about how he just doesn’t know if he can forgive Mhok. And in the end, Mhok makes the grand gesture, missing his flight to go to Day and stay in Thailand with him despite the successful life he has built in Hawaii.

The cognitive dissonance I felt watching this play out was extreme. I rarely see a writer misunderstand their own characters and relationship conflict so thoroughly. In order to believe in this romance we needed to see Day finally show some empathy for Mhok, take responsibility for his own mistakes, and be the one to make an effort this time. We needed to believe that Day has the capacity to be a supportive partner to Mhok even when he’s struggling. But Day didn’t demonstrate any of that, and so I simply don’t believe in this relationship. I don’t believe Mhok can trust Day not to abandon him again when some other major life event intervenes and Mhok is less than perfect. And that’s a shame, because the show really almost had something here with these two.

And that’s all I got. What a disappointment this show turned out to be. If you need me, I will just be over here in my little corner imagining the Night and Porjai romcom that we never got and pretending the rest of this show ended several weeks ago.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months

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Family, not by blood but by choice instead | awfc x teen!reader

I previously posted on another account, however, I didn't realise a second blog wouldn't allow me to follow people, so I am reposting again on my new one.

Let me know what you all think!

You should have known, there was tell-tail signs all throughout the last several years and yet you were so blind about it all.

Your mother was a narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighted you your whole life, you were always made out to the bad guy and she was the victim.

It was clear as day to anyone on the outside, but your nieve self just chose to always believe different about things.

Looking back on the several years of your childhood, you had always thought you upbringing wasn't completely terrible. It was just the 2 of you, only your mum and you ever since you could remember. Your parents ended up splitting up when you were really little but ever since that day, you had always been made out to be the reason for their seperation.

You had always wonderd how it could be your fault. You was only 3 when he walked out, so how could it really be like that?

"You were always too much to handle. He couldn't cope," Your mum would say, all of them long nights when you would wrap your tiny arms around her and sob your little heart out to her.

"I'm here, you've got me. You've only ever got me," Her words were embedded in your head from the day that you'd decided to try and have an open conversation about the possibility of finding your dad. "Why go and find him? Haven't I been good enough. I'm the one that's looked after you all of these years and this is the thanks that I get in return?" It was always something that like, always a guiltrip and it was something that she knew would work well.

The harsh statement of the most recent conversation with the older woman left a bitter taste in your mouth and make you question every single thing in life.

"Aren't you happy for me? I made it, mum!" You exclaimed, you were happy enough to want to share the news with your mum but you found so dumbfound by her response which left you feeling shame and judgement for even wanting to tell her.

"Yes you have made it Y/N but you know, you only have me to thank for that now, don't you?" Your mum once again found a way to make it about herself, regardless of the situation; It was always and only ever about her. "I'm sure that you can find some way to thank me though. All of those years and the amount I have spent on football boots for you. You'd be nowhere if it wasn't for me and I think you owe me now, don't you?" she told you.

You remember feeling stunned by her words, there was a lot of emotions that you had felt building up inside as you were ultimately confused how she'd somehow managed to twist this to make it all about herself but of course she was quick enough to make an excuse to end the call when she grew bored of talking to you.

You should have knew better, every phone call always ended up being the same way and it always left you with a feeling of guilt for making a life for yourself and that phone call that night wasn't any different. You had just been so excited to spill the news, however that excitment soon faded and was replaced by confused feelings of upset and anger once you'd told her, you fought to hold in your tears during the initial phone call but you were on the verge of breaking by the time she had hung up.

That phone call was the one you told her about making it into the national team, you had only been a part of Arsenal womens' first team for under a year and it felt like a massive achievement to be selected to represent your country and immediately you couldn't wait to share the news with your mum - You thought that she'd be pleased for you but you couldn't be further away from the truth.

Ever since that phone call, you had tried your hardest to distance yourself from your mum but it hurt to do that. The women was the only blood related family member that you had, it had only ever been the 2 of you, together through thick and thin.

Flash forward to now, the current time where you are sitting on the sofa, you had returned home after a long training session and you couldn't help but think about it that conversation on a constant loop in your head.

"You were quiet tonight kidda," Leah perched on the arm of sofa as looked at you in concern. "I'm about to start cookin' tea. How's chicken dippers and smiley faces sound, eh?" she suggested.

"Mhm. Sure that sounds good to me," You mumbled as you kept your eyes focused on nothing but the telly.

The truth was that the conversation was constantly replaying in your head; The conversation, the bitterness and manipulation, every time you thought about it it then made you think of every other time that something like this happened.

Maybe your childhood wasn't as great as you really thought?

"Okay then... Is there anything that you want to talk about?" The blonde questioned, hoping for a bit more of an insight on your mood; Returning from her own rehab session, the entire car ride had been quiet compared to normal and the older woman couldn't help but feel something wasn't right.

"Nope," You stood firm in your reply, shaking your head as you kept your eyes glued on the TV screen; You couldn't really say that you payed much attention to whatever it was, the noise was pretty much a blur that was playing in the background.

"Are you sure?" Leah questioned, frowning worriedly as she took note of the tears welling up in your eyes. "Kidda, what's the matter? You look like you're gonna cry." she stated.

"I... I'm fine," You mumbled, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay until you could escape to your bedroom and allow yourself to be vulnerable and alone. You'd always felt complete shame to show any sort of vunterability in front of anyone, let alone the blonde footballer who'd virtually taken you under her wing ever since you joined during the transfer break of 2022.

You'd always been told that crying showed weakness and you refused to be seen as weak.

"Okay," Leah was quick to drop the subject when she realised you weren't going to open and talk about things. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it but just remember that I'm always here to listen. Anytime that you want too, alright?" she told you.

Unfortunately you were stubborn to not give in and blurt everything out in the open. You were just trying to wrap your head around the idea of things and see things for how they really were.

"Uh huh," You mumbled a response as you got up from the sofa and trudged in the direction of your bedroom.

Leah exhaled a sigh as she shook her head, herself heading into the kitchen to make a start on dinner. The woman knew better than to try and get you to talk if you didn't want too.

She'd always been around to witness the moments like this and the backlash of it. Of course the blonde knew this was all stemmed down to one person causing you to be like this and she hated that you were left upset every single time.

Every single time you and your mum fought, you'd always ended up quiet and in a bad mood, often resulting in lashing out at people around you as a coping mechanism.

None of the girls ever took it to heart, they were old enough to realise that none of your anger was directly aimed at them and there was bigger issues to be dealt with.

The Arsenal women all had their own opinions on the teens' mother but they would never voice them out loud to you. It wouldn't be fair on the youngest in the squad even after the countless times they had seen the girl upset by her own mums actions.

Ever since the teen had moved in, there had been several nights where Leah would be the one to comfort the girl and pick up the peices, waking up in the middle of the night to hear the teen's heartbroken sobs and feeling her own heart shatter every single time, wanting nothing more than take away any sort of pain the girl was experiencing.

It was heartbreaking for all of the team to witness and always sought out to comfort the teen no matter the situation. They knew that no matter they say, they couldn't stop her contacting her and she would be able to make her own decision soon enough when she turned 18 and until then they'd be the ones' to pick up the broken pieces when the mum let her daughter down.

They were your family, not by blood but by choice. You'd probably be lost without them sometimes.

"I... I should have realised sooner," You thought to yourself as you lay crumpled up on your bed that following night, it was almost near 4 in the morning and you were still wide awake with things racing through your head.

You couldn't help but think about things, how you should have noticed the tell-tail signs of her gaslighting you were old enough to properly realise, that was your first mistake.

Your second being that you believed her manipulation, she would always twist things to make her seem like the victim in all different situations - back when you were a child and even now as an adult.

How long it had taken you finally realise it after all of these years. Why hadn't you realised it sooner?

Without realising, you were sobbing aloud as you clutched on to your pillow tightly - the pent up anger was replaced by complete sadness and loss. You only ever wanted the approval of your mum about things and you fought so hard for it.

The phone call, the hopeful seal of approval... Every time it always seemed to be the same type of emotions when you spoke to your mum - It was a vicious cycle of emotional abuse, or so you'd been told from other people and you never wanted to believe it.

Only problem was that you'd not been able to see it yourself, even if it was clear as day. Even if regardless of a psychological therapist telling you this, you refused to believe them words. Nor your team mates, who had realised it the first time they had the chance to meet her and even then you wouldn't listen or hear them out.

It was your mum, your flesh and blood so how could she be like that? You had never been able to wrap your head around it.

The sound of sobs were what woke Leah up, she was quick to pad out of her bedroom and down the hall to where your bedroom was. "Kidda?" The women pushed the door open and her heart cracked to see you looking so distraught and vulnerable.

The blonde was quick to move to be right beside you, she was always the one to comfort you and she wouldn't ever stop doing that as long as you needed her.

"Hey, kidda. Come here," The blonde scooped you up in her arms and rocked you all while she ran her slender fingers through your messy bedhead. "You're okay. I'm here," she reassured you.

Leah was always patient enough to wait for you to calm down before she gave you the chance to speak, she wouldn't ever push you to talk if you didn't want too.

"L... Le," You cried aloud as you clutched onto her. You breath became shaky as sobs wracked your body.

"I'm here, it's okay," Leah spoke calmly, continuing to try and comfort you the best way she knew but she already knew it was going to be a long night ahead of them - An emotional night that would leave you drained tomorrow.

A vicious cycle of on a loop.

"Ready to tell me what's going on inside that head of yours, huh?" The blonde tried to carefully ask.

There was another brief pause of silence, nothing but the quiet sobs coming from you as the blonde continued to comfort you and reassure you that she was here and not leaving you.

To Leah's surprise, you did open up this time around, even if you didn't mean too.

"I should have realised. I should have... I should have realised," You made the mistake to speak aloud rather than think it like you thought you had.

"You should have realised what, kidda?" Leah questioned, confused about what you meant.

You snap your head in the blondes' direction as you bit your bottom lip, debating whether to be open with your thoughts that you tried so hard to keep buried inside.

"About my mum... I should have realised," You repeated your words as you fought the tears from spilling. "She's so... She's so-- Why does everything I tell her, why does it always get turned back around so it's about her?" That was it. You blurted out your own feelings - There was no hiding how you felt anymore.

Leah smiled sympathetically and moved onto the sofa to sit closer to you, wrapping her free arm around your shoulder to comfort you, "I... I don't know kidda," she spoke honestly.

"So many people, so many people have told me-- They've warned me about her but I have... I never wanted to listen," You confessed, the tears openly rolled down your cheeks and you probably looked a right blubbering mess but you couldn't stop your emotions pouring out. "And now... Now I finally realise how it's always been. Why is she like that, Le?" You asked.

"I can't say I know the answer to that one kidda, I wish I knew," Leah replied, exhaling a sigh as she couldn't fathem herself how a mother could be like that with her own child, she felt so much for the girl and always wished she could make the situation better for her. "Listen, I know it's hard but you've got us. All of us girls here at Arsenal and you're so loved by all of us." she told you.

"I... I just want her to love me, and she just... she doesn't even care about my feelings!" You stated, roughly wiping at your tear stained cheeks angrily to the point that you made them red. "Why does she always throw everything back in my face? Everything that I have ever done, she's always made it about her... Always!" you cried.

"I know, I know it hurts... I know it does," You kept your head buried in the blondes' chest as you hiccuped from the sudden breakdown in the middle of the night. "And I am sorry that you have to go through this. It's not fair on you kidda." Leah added, biting her bottom lip.

All of emotion had led you feeling exhausted in the end, you fought it hard to keep your eyes open as you lay slumped against the blonde woman.

"Come on let's get you back into bed, yeah? I mean you're almost falling asleep on me here, kidda," Leah joked with you, hoping for you to even crack a small smile as she gently moved you back to your bed and tucked you in under the duvet. "I'm so sorry you have had to deal with the kidda but you know you have a family here with us. We may not be blood but we really love you kidda." You heard the faint words spoken to you as you felt your eye lids close, completely warn out.

Sure, the Arsenal women weren't family by blood but instead they were family by choice and that was more important. They were there for you whenever you needed them and you knew you felt safe with them around. You truly felt happy with your chosen family.

#arsenal x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #awfc x reader #light angst

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bigfan-fanfic · 1 year

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Cracked but Unbroken (Capitol!Reader x Finnick Odair)

does it count as a request if I'm begging for more Finnick and capital reader?

Finnick finds it hard to cope with the fact that almost legally, you own him, but he loves you.

You've sacrificed a lot to protect him, and Finnick can't shake the idea that at some point, you'll want to collect on that debt.

It's the moment that you provide him with a room in your place. A room with a door that can be locked from the inside.

Finnick tests it, and something just rocks him to the core.

You've given him the opportunity to keep you out. To protect himself.

And even if it's largely symbolic, the gesture is not lost on him.

You've had food delivered to your penthouse, and Finnick emerges to join you.

It hurts too much to thank you for thinking of him, for seeing him not as a Victor but as a fragile person without a scrap of comfort and giving him something of his own, so instead he just gathers up several dishes and invites you into his space, locking the door behind you.

You follow him, and he wordlessly pulls you close, and you eat with your hands, sitting on the floor, blankets around you.

Finnick laughs at your obvious lack of experience eating like this and feeds you instead.

Not in a sexy way, he's not even thinking of that- he's literally just helping you so you stop dropping food back on your plate and pouting adorably.

Finnick talks softly to you, not about anything in particular, but you love his voice and how he sounds when he's not worrying.

The conversation lulls when you finish eating. Finnick is just holding you in his lap, your back against his chest.

The trust you've shown him. The care you've given. Finnick is unsure of whether he wants to protect you or accept you as his protector.

For now, it's both. He holds you tight when you try to move.

"Don't go."

You hold his arms. "I won't."

He pulls you onto the bed, and just holds you.

You've slept in the same bed together before, but never so intimately.

He doesn't seem to know what to do besides hold you, so his lips find their way to your neck.

"Finnick... you don't have to-"

"I want to." He interrupts, softly biting your neck. "Now hush. Let me... let me kiss you."

"Anything you want," you breathe.

He holds you tight, his arms pinning yours - protection? restraint? lust? And resumes kissing your neck.

"I want you," he growls. "But... not like I've had it. I want... I don't want. I..."

"Go ahead." you soothe. "Whatever you'd like. However you like."

There's no more words that night, but you two become closer than you've ever been...

#male reader #finnick odair x male reader #finnick odair x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games headcanons #headcanons

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harleehazbinfics · 25 days

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Chapter 1: Dear Baby, here we started a new life.

Dear baby, m.list | Author Profile

A/n: HI WELCOME TO DEAR BABY, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. The title will change once in a while cuz I'm not quite satisfied with the titles yet so bear with me 🙏 Word Count: 878

What do you do when you're turning your back on a world you once knew?

��Train for the Pride Ring, now boarding.”

How do you cope when your dreams crumble before you even you get a chance to have a foot at the door?

You sigh as take your suitcase and sat at the train gazing at the window, staring at the endless red sky searching for an answer.

And what do you do—

“Who's there?” A man's voice calls from the balcony.

—when you're faced with the unexpected?

Your eyes lock together, you sit in his garden. Clothes soaked and soiled from the grime and rain. You clutched your stomach as you looked at him lost and pitiful.

Before you could scurry away, he jumps from the ledge and spreads his wings as he dives forward at you grabbing your arm before you could run.

“Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!” You pitifully cried, tears pouring from your eyes pulling away from his grip.

“Hey! Hey, hey. It's ok! I'm not gonna hurt you!” He says as he tries to calm you down switching his grip from your arm to your shoulders and pressing your cold body against his.

You face the burning furnace covered in a blanket and a hot chocolate in your hands. Your blank stare morphs into one of panic, how did you end up here. Everything went in a blur, weren’t you just on a train to the Pride Ring to start a new life? And why…

“Hey, I’m back. I found some old clothes my wife left I think they’ll fit you well,” this person smiles cheerfully trying to ease the tension.

Why did I have to land on his garden of all places! You cried in your head imaginarily bashing your head against the wall from your luck.

“Oh no, I-I couldn’t…”

“Please, I insist. Plus, she doesn’t even visit here anymore,” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Thank you,” you reply accepting the pile of clothes, from him and nervously avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”

“Well, it’s not every day you find a little lady in your garden,” he chuckles only for you to wince. He notices this and asks a question, “So, I don’t mean to pry, but how did you end up here?”

“I guess I do owe you an explanation,” you sigh caressing your belly underneath the blanket, “Truth be told, I’m from the Ars Goetia clan.”

“Wait, Ars Goetia? Don’t the Ars Goetia clan live rings down from here?” he asks abruptly.

“Yes. I was taken from my family as one of many of the king’s… bedroom partners,” you cringe recollecting your life at the castle, “When the King threw me out for his new partners to take place, I escaped here. Hoping we could start a new life where they wouldn’t reach me.”

His eyes shake at the realization of what I said and says, “So, you’re… pregnant? And I’m guessing you’re taking on a human form to blend in.”

You nodded shamefully waiting to be berated, however, I was only met with a warm hand on my shoulder. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here for as long as you need,” he comforted with a gentle voice.

You vehemently shook your head, refusing to accept his help, “Please, you don’t have to! You’ve already helped me so much!”

“And where will you go?” he asks seriously making you whiplash from the change in his tone.

“I-I can look so a place here, find a way to survive,” you stammered anything that came to your head just to convince him.

“Look,” he pauses realizing he forgot to ask your name and looks at you for an answer.

“(Y/n) …”

“(Y/n), I don’t mind if you stay here for a while. Take this chance to properly prepare yourself for your new life. You won’t be living just for yourself now,” he explains holding your digits while you grew teary at the notion.

He was right. It wasn’t just you anymore, walking around here in the ring where many disasters fall each minute from all the plundering, killing, and stealing. It’d be a miracle if you’d survive until the next month.

You pathetically nodded your head at his words, tears falling from your eyes. Only for him to give a breathy chuckle and wipe your tears away and say, “You cry so easily.”

“I’m sorry,” you drawl sniffling wiping your face with the hem of the blanket.

“You don’t need to apologize. I get it,” he assures then looks at the clock mounted on the wall, “Well, you better get some sleep. It can’t be healthy for you to stay up this late, no?”

Taking my hand, he leads me to a spare bedroom. Of course, this bedroom was not shy from all the rest of the rest of the castle. It was decorated elegantly with gold, lace, and many symbolisms of his highness.

“Well then. Good night, (y/n),” he bids before walking and disappearing from the hallway.

You slowly close the door and sit at the edge of the bed, recounting all the events today.

“What the fuck.”

🔗Dear Baby, Taglist:

@wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @luc1fersducky @condy-wants-a-cookie @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @beansluvsmilo @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @hahalame @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline

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ruified · 4 months

Note

I realyyyy love angst :D

There's a oneshot or a scenario that i've been thinking about that's been rotting all over my head where what if reader / s/o is in their deathbed and about to die soon to a uncurable illness and (character) (i guess chuuya or sigma? idm) who thinks of reader as someone special to them is watching over them until their very last breath

WHAT WILL THWY DO AND HOW WILL THEY REACT BEFORE AND AFTER DEATH!?!?

Haha my silly little idea is getting the best of me i just wanted to share this idea because i want my feelings to get hurt

❝ until your last 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ˎˊ˗

warnings: death . characters: dazai osamu, atsushi nakajima, sigma, fyodor dostoevsky, chuuya nakahara . synopsis: their s/o is on their deathbed, they all have their own ways of coping with it . a/n: sorry this took me so long to get to, i was thinking very hard! i hope this is to your liking and you don’t mind little ideas like this instead of a scenario ^^;

DAZAI —

— Dazai doesn’t know what to exactly make of the whole situation, you are so incredibly important to him and now he’s going to lose you? It’s sending him into a downward spiral.

— He refuses to touch you anymore, he just can’t do it

— He wants to make the most out of what little time you have left together but he also has an urge to cut ties with you and make it easier on both of you

— He eventually decides that he can hold your hand at least while you lay in that hospital bed

— After you pass, he tries his best to take care of himself because he knows that’s what you’d want, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard

— He visits your grave frequently at first, then it dies down to your birthday, anniversaries, and holidays

ATSUSHI —

— He has been keeping a close eye on you since he first noticed you were sick, and he’s been taking great care of you ever since! However, that doesn��t stop the inevitable

— When he heard the news, tears welled in his eyes and he had to excuse himself, he didn’t want to cry in front of you

— He kept you company as much as he could

— On days where he had a lot of work, he’d ask someone else like Kyouka to go check on you

— He would prepare little lunch boxes for you every day and bring them to you

— He brings a lunch box to your grave for you

SIGMA —

— He paced around a lot in the hospital room, especially after he heard the news

— He tried so hard to think of a solution but nothing realistic came to mind

— He had you come stay in a room at the casino so he could at least still be close to you even when he had work

— Your room was kept away from any other visitors and was close to his office, making it easy for him to check on you

— He asked his staff members to change your glass of water frequently and give you a new warm blanket when you needed it

— He kept himself busy with work to try and keep away the dread of your passing

FYODOR —

— After hearing the news, he decided it would be best to care for you at home instead of being kept in such a dreary hospital

— He would read books to you to keep you entertained

— He’d bring his laptop into your room sometimes so that he could at least keep you company even while he worked

— He’d cook soup for you frequently, sometimes even feeding it to you

— He asks you if you have any wishes before you go, he doesn’t want you leaving with any regrets, and he does whatever he can to make it all come true

— He attends to any possible unfinished business you may have before your passing so that you can go without worry

CHUUYA —

— He really doesn’t believe it at first

— He contacts Mori and asks him to look over the medical records and tell him the truth; Mori tells him that it is in fact all real

— He’ll often sit next to you and squeeze your hand, refusing to let go

— He’ll fall asleep with you in your hospital room, draped over you in your bed

— He sits next to you and cuts your apple slices into bunnies, or sometimes other, more intricate shapes

— He asks you often if there’s anything you need him to do for you, also wanting to fulfill any last wishes you may have

— He makes sure you have a proper funeral, he’s tired of those he cares about not getting one.

#ෆ┊¡ penned by val #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara

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earl-grey-teacake · 1 month

Note

The Jenson ask is hilarious! Now all I can imagine is Sky Sports telling Jenson to kidnap Logan again to get George and Alex on again. Meanwhile, Jenson, who has already kidnapped Logan again, rolls up like this is my new copresenter we don't need Danica Patrick anymore Logan has better thoughts on the race. Williams is on red alert trying to find their missing baby because James doesn't check his texts during races!

Oscar now attempts to escape McLaren every time he sees Logan on the Big Face Time (TV) because one miracle escape does not mean Logan will always be safe!

Oh I can totally see it!

Please enjoy this little thing I wrote. I am coping with Australia by writing and being in denial.❤️

Jenson is tired of Danica and decides if Sky Sports won’t give him a replacement, he’ll find one for himself. Logan is old enough to toddle around so he gets his own little space that he can play in when Jenson comes along and coaxes him outside.

Has Logan been given the whole “strange danger, don’t go off alone” talk by his parents? Yes, yes he has.

But Jenson isn’t a stranger so it’s okay and Jenson easily walks out with Logan in tow. After all, it’s not like he kidnapped him. Logan went off his own free will and with the promise of chocolate.

Jenson also shoots off a text to James saying:

Heads up!

Taking Logan for a bit. If you want him back, have Alex and George come to us. 1 interview.

You know where we're at.

James of course does not read it because he's busy being a team principal. In fact, the Williams staff are secretly running around trying to find Logan thinking he’s wandered off looking for his dads because “he knows better to wander off with strangers.” It isn’t until 15 minutes after that James is notified after Logan is confirmed to not be in the garage or hospitality. By then, Jenson has returned to where the rest of the Sky Sports team is with Logan in tow.

“Uhh, Jenson? “ One of the staff members spoke up, “We’re about to be on air soon.”

“I know! This is Logan. He’s my co-presenter for today.” Logan waved at the crew, who smiled and waved back.

"Did you ask to take him?" Nico smiled and waved back. "The last time you did this, Williams thought you kidnapped him."

"Logan wanted to follow me on his own." Jenson scoffed. "Isn't that right?"

Logan, for his part, just cheered and offered up a piece of chocolate to Natalie, who happily took it.

"On his own, huh?"

"It'll be fine."

"Isn't Danica supposed to be-" Natalie said.

"Nope, Logan's is already here. Besides, this is preparing him for the future.

"You don't even know if he wants to be a driver?"

Jenson gasped at Nico's comment. "How could you say that?"

"Don't listen to him, Logan. You can become a Williams driver. I believe in you."

"That's not-"

"And we're live!"

********

Oscar's eyes widened at the sight of the TV. "Lo!"

Lando looked up, having finished interviews early and returning to his driver's room. "Oh, yeah that's Logan. Looks like he's with Jenson."

Oscar watched in horror as Lando returned back to looking at the data. "No! Lo! Lo!"

Lando looked up at his son's insistent eyes. "Hey, it's okay. We're meeting them for dinner soon."

Oscar, however, did not agree with this and instead started to stumble towards the door and pull on the handle. Lando, being taller and faster, immediately jumped up and put his hand on it.

Oscar proceeds to yank at the door handle and cry. Going as far as to try and shove Lando away. "Lo!"

*******

Alex and George were walking to find Sky Sports, especially Jenson, after receiving a screenshot of his message? Threat?

"I swear when I find him" George muttered. "How dare he kidnap my child? Logan knows better than to wander off with strangers."

"Jenson's not a stranger." Alex unhelpfully replied. "I'm sure he's fine. It's good for Logan to be around new people."

"What if he's hurt? Uncomfortable?"

"He's with Jenson. He wasn't kidnapped."

"That message read like a ransom note."

Logan was actually quite happy about participating in the interviews. He stayed silent when others were speaking and at the end, they would turn to him and ask if he had any questions to ask, to which he replied in mangled words and sounds. It didn't matter since everyone treated it as serious and the drivers even provided full answers.

"Yes, I agree with you Logan. Our strategy was obviously not the best. We will come back stronger next time."- Charles

"I agree, Logan. Hamilton definitely brake checked me. Thank you for seeing it my way. You would do great at Aston Martin." - Fernando

"Did Fernando say that? If the stewards haven't said anything, I wouldn't put too much weight on it, Logan"- Hamilton

"Oh, he's a natural." Jenson cooed as Logan received another cookie from Nico.

"Dada!" Logan cheerfully yelled out, his mouth covered with crumbs.

Alex looked almost amused at the scene but George seemed to be on the warpath. Careful not to let his collateral go, Jenson adjusted his hold on Logan. "Hey, George, Alex. Nice of you to stop by."

"Hello," Alex greeted. "And hello to you Logan. You seem to be having fun."

"Oh he is," Jenson cheerfully ignored George's stare. "He's such a good interviewer."

"Well thank you so much for joining us today, gentlemen."

"It's not like we had a choice," George muttered

For the entire five minutes, Logan watched as his dads were being interviewed on their performance on the track. Alex went along with the whole thing quite well. George, on the other hand, kept a neutral face but his eyes were firmly locked on Logan.

"Lo! Lo!" Oscar yelled out.

Logan looked up and smiled. "Osca! Osca!"

"How wonderful of you to join us Lando" Natalie greeted. "It's a reunion of the 2019 rookies."

Lando laughed. "It wasn't my intention. Oscar saw Logan on TV and begged to go."

The walk back was fairly quiet with Logan knocked out from the amount of sugar and Oscar exhausted from the tantrum he threw earlier.

"I wonder if Jenson would babysit for us." Alex joked,

"Absolutely not," George said. "Logan is going to start associating Jenson with candy and cookies. Jenson will also take it as an open invitation to just kidnap him again."

"He had a lot of fun. I'm glad." Alex said, practically ignoring George.

"I'm glad he had fun. Oscar kicked me in the shin." Lando muttered, a bit peeved at how peacefully asleep Oscar was.

******

This has been sitting in my drafts for a long time. Sorry it took so long to get out. The Australian GP gave me the push i needed to complete this.

Thank you for sending me this ask! I loved answering it! 🥰

#f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #logan sargeant #galex #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #f1 #oscar piastri #baby!loscar au #baby!logan #baby!oscar #I am coping #I don't know if I am coping well but I am coping

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adventuringblind · 2 months

Text

Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

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buckybabesonly · 1 year

Text

Mockingbird

Summary: Bucky tells you he doesn’t need you, except he can’t live without you.

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst

Warnings: I’m not a medical expert, mentions of character injury, Bucky self-wallowing

Word count: 2.8k

Knowing that Bucky was constantly amid danger was the bane of your existence. You could plead him to be careful, always remind him to take care of himself, but you knew your words could do little to protect him from harm.

He was a soldier first and would always do the right thing on the field, no matter how dangerous. He would attack those against him and protect those beside him, even if it meant that his safety was on the line.

It was one of the sources of your arguments, and you hated it.

In the beginning, you thought you would be able to take it. After all, he had been doing this long before he met you. When you first got together, he had made sure you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Your love for Bucky had been stronger than anything, and you knew you had to at least try, no matter how unconventional the relationship.

So, over a year later, even though you couldn’t have frequent dates like a ‘normal’ couple, and sometimes Bucky crawled into your bed looking bruised and battered, and you had found yourself in the crosshairs of Bucky’s enemies one too many times, you thought you had finally found happiness.

Bucky worried about you too. Being his girlfriend meant that he had a weakness to be exploited, and the fear grew over time after the first attack on your life just four months into your relationship. It had been a close call, but after that incident you moved into the Tower which had much safer security measures than your downtown apartment. It was probably more convenient to live literally where you worked, anyway.

The unexpected turning point, however, was seeing Bucky being wheeled into the medical wing on a gurney, unconscious with blood painting every exposed inch of his face. You were paralysed with fear, unable to even speak as you were ushered out of the room, dressed in your scrubs but far too incapable of being the one to tend to him.

He had made a full recovery, but this did little to ease your anxiety. A week after he’d been discharged, your fights began again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said tersely, doing little to hide his frustration as you paced your room.

“And we’re having it again,” you said through gritted teeth. “Bucky, do you know how scared I was when I saw you? I literally couldn’t move – Steve had to basically carry me out of there. That’s never happened to me before. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think – I froze.”

Bucky’s face softened, knowing how terrified you were.

“That can’t happen again,” you continued, anger bubbling in your voice.

“What do you mean?” He dragged a hand across his face, looking exhausted.

“You almost died, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “They’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Stop it!” You exclaimed loudly, turning on him, livid. “I know you always joke about things like that, but it’s not funny.”

“What do you want me to do?” It was a genuine question, and you were hyperaware of how tired Bucky looked in this moment. You felt guilty for adding to his existing stress, but you weren’t sure how you were going to cope anymore.

“Can you just – I don’t know, take a break?” You knew the words coming out of your mouth were silly, but you just wanted Bucky to stop. Stop getting hurt, stop getting injured, stop risking his life and risk taking himself away from you permanently.

“This is all I know,” Bucky said firmly. “You know that this is what I have to do.”

“Do you? Do you have to do it?” You challenged. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you knew you were being unfair but your stubbornness meant you had to stick to your guns.

“What do you expect? You want me to take a part-time job in a grocery store, instead?”

You didn’t take kindly to his snarky tone, bristling.

“I’m expecting you to take this relationship seriously.”

“What part of me doing my job means I don’t take this relationship seriously?” He shot back, looking irate.

“You’re supposed to take my needs into consideration, too. Nowadays, every time you leave, I think it might be the last time I see you.” Your voice cracked on the final word, and Bucky could see you crumbling as your eyes stung.

He quickly approached you, pulling you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest. He was the only person you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, and he had seen you cry more often than he’d like to.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips into your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, knowing he didn’t quite understand the extent of your fear, try as he may.

The argument ended with kisses melting into your skin and reassuring words in your ear, and you allowed him to comfort you, though you knew it was only temporary.

Anger was blinding Bucky’s better judgement.

It was Sam’s turn to be wheeled into the medical wing, but this time, it didn’t look like he would be as lucky. He was still human, after all, and it looked like HYDRA had managed to do a number on the Falcon.

Sam had to undergo emergency surgery as Bucky stalked up and down the waiting room. He was muttering under his breath, Sam’s blood still slick on his hands.

You rushed to the medical wing as soon as you heard, knowing that Sam was in the safe hands of your colleagues and that your boyfriend needed you. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you burst through the doors, panic written on your face.

Bucky was torturing himself mentally. Replaying the events a couple of hours ago over and over in his head, watching as Sam crashed onto the concrete ground, wings smashed into smithereens and his body unresponsive, as the assailants got away. They hadn’t been outnumbered, but were taken by surprise at HYDRA’s unusually advanced tech. They had equipment that Bucky and Sam had not been prepared for and, unfortunately, struggled to combat.

Bucky had managed to get out unscathed bar a few scratches and bruises, but Sam was in much worse shape. Perhaps the worst Bucky had ever seen him.

He hated himself.

They were partners, and he had failed him.

“Bucky, are you alright?” You had been repeating that same question over and over again, but Bucky barely seemed to hear you. “I’ve looked at the team’s initial assessment - Sam should be okay.”

Okay? How could anything be fucking okay when HYDRA was still a threat to Bucky, to you, to everyone that he cared about? He was seething with anger, feeling hopelessness and rage consume him.

“I need to get out of here,” he grunted finally, shrugging you off and walking towards the doors. You recognised this response - he was shutting down, shutting you out, wanting to internalise his rage.

You gaped at him, pulling on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Can you please talk to me?” You knew what had happened had shaken him up, and you were determined not to let him wallow by himself.

“I know where their nest is,” Bucky spat, speaking to himself more than to you. “I can get them.”

You stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you serious? You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“Sam got hurt because we were too fucking scared to go straight for the target,” Bucky practically snarled. “We thought we could play a strategy, work bottom up. But fuck that, they almost killed us out there, and I’m fucking done.”

“You’re being ridiculous,�� you said harshly, knowing that Bucky wasn’t thinking straight. “You’re going to go in there, guns blazing and get outnumbered and beat? Again?”

“I can get the backup,” Bucky grunted.

“You’re putting yourself and everyone else’s lives in danger,” you said sternly. “Stop it and use your brain for one second, James.” You were secretly terrified, knowing that nothing could stop Bucky once he had his mind set on something. What would you do if he went in there alone and unprepared? What would you do if he got injured like Sam?

Bucky glared at you, and you almost recoiled at the sight, but stood your ground. “You know I’m right. You are being stupid and reckless.” You kept your voice steady, staring him down.

He marched up to you, pointing to the room where Sam was currently being operated in. You flinched at how furiously his boots pounded against the ground.

“Sam could die because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, exasperated. “You need a plan of attack. I know you’re angry right now, but you need to be calm.”

You watched as he turned away from you and suddenly lashed out, punching a sizeable dent in the wall, making you jump.

“You don’t know shit.”

You grimaced, hating the way he was speaking to you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, a small scowl on your lips. “I’m scared, Bucky. I won’t have you going out there, especially not in this state of mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing knowing full well where they are,” Bucky said, jaw clenching. He was feeling so frustrated and didn’t know why you couldn’t seem to understand.

“I know you’re angry,” you repeated, making Bucky’s jaw tick, “but you’re thinking blindly, and you need me to make you see sense.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” he said sharply.

His back was still turned to you, but you could see how his shoulders immediately sagged out of their defensive position once the words left his mouth. You audibly gasped, taking a step back and swallowing hard. Your lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

The constricting in your heart was awfully painful as you absorbed his words, ringing loud and clear.

I don’t need you.

His words made one of your biggest insecurities become something fully tangible. The deep-rooted belief that, at the end of the day, Bucky didn't really have any use for someone like you.

Cursing, he turned back round to look at you properly, his face full of guilt at your crestfallen expression.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything at first, inhaling shakily. Trying to catch your breath.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, unable to hide the tears in your eyes. He took a step forward but you walked backwards again, rapidly until your back thudded against the doors.

"I shouldn't have said that -" he began, hating the way he could see the way your nails were digging hard into your fleshy palms, the way you did whenever you felt upset. Your mouth was trembling and he knew you were trying so hard not to cry

“I’m going to go,” you said quietly, turning to make your hasty exit and ignoring his pleas for you to stay.

You said quietly in your room, mulling to yourself carefully about what had happened. You had locked yourself away as soon as you had assurance from your fellow doctors that Sam’s surgery had been a success.

Bucky’s words swam in your mind. You knew they were borne from anger, but they had to have some truth in it.

He didn’t need you, not really. What could you give him that someone else couldn’t? What’s more, you were just an ordinary human. Weak, expendable.

You felt a cold chill creep through your chest as you continued to let the thoughts swirl.

You didn’t want to make the mistake of believing that you were more important to him than you actually were.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sat on the ground at the foot of your bed. You hugged them tight as if they could provide you some comfort, letting your tears soak into the fabric of your jeans.

Bucky never had a bad word to say against you. He was always the first person to battle away your self-doubts, your self-loathing, your insecurities. You wondered if he had always secretly believed that he didn't truly need you.

It was insane how much words could hurt.

A gentle tapping at your door made you jump, and you knew instantly it was him. His voice followed shortly after, a gentle plead.

“Can you open the door?”

His voice was apologetic, and it just made you want to cry harder. You heard him sigh when you didn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean it. I was just being a jerk.”

You forced yourself to stand up and padded over to the door, knowing that he could hear your movements. You took a deep breath and opened it, met by the sight of his handsome, guilt-ridden face.

“It’s okay,” you said curtly, shrugging. “You said what you said. And I think, to some extent, you meant it.”

He scanned your tear streaked face, knowing how hard you were trying to keep your expression cool and face emotionless.

Bucky’s face became anguished, frowning and shaking his head vehemently. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his, though yours remained limp in his large palms.

“I didn’t,” he said firmly. “Of course I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t just take his words back and pretend they never happened, and he despised that he had hurt you.

His emotions were complex, his anger raw and all-consuming. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lashed out at your mere suggestion of reigning them in. He didn’t need to be placated – or so he thought – he just wanted to ride out that anger and hurt those people who posed a threat to everyone he cared about.

How could he make you think that he didn’t need you? Of course he needed you – you were his motivation for everything in life. You were his reason that he wanted to be better.

He should have listened to you when you tried to reason with him. He lost control of his feelings, and he was ashamed.

Bucky hugged you suddenly, circling his arms around you. He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes as you stood with your arms by your sides, unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed again, his words like silk in your ear. “Today has been kind of a shitty day. With HYDRA showing their faces again, and Sam getting hurt, and knowing that you could be in danger…it made me feel like I had to get out there and shut down any possibility of something happening to you. And I felt that I needed to do that alone, to be the one to eliminate the threat.”

You bit down on your lower lip, tears welling in your eyes again. You could feel the love radiating from Bucky as he held you, and it helped soothe the ache in your heart.

“When you tried to calm me down, I know you meant well, doll, I’m so sorry. But there was a voice in my head telling me that I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and when you told me not to do anything, I snapped.” His confession was wrought with honesty, and you softened your stance, raising your arms up to wrap around him, too.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed now.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him. “I know you just want to protect me.”

“Believe me,” he said sternly, eyes locked with yours, “that I need you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “I may be a fucking super soldier with a dumb metal arm and fight off bad guys, but I need you to remind me that I’m much more than just that.” He studied your face long and hard, making sure that you really understood him. Finally, he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Forgive me?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, unable to concentrate now as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer against his body, his solid chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. I might need a little more convincing,” you muttered, pulling him into your room and closing the door behind him.

The door stayed shut for the rest of the evening.

#bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfics #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky oneshot #bucky x female reader

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 8 months

Text

Two Hearts, One Home (3)

part two

series masterlist

main masterlist

summary: ben copes with the thought of losing you and just wants to hear your heartbeat

pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader

rating: R for language, mature themes (?)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: pregnancy, labor, language, vought torturing supe’s | mentions of/alludes to - sex, birth control, infertility issues, miscarriage, loss of a child, and trouble breastfeeding.

timeline: set about twenty minutes after part two

author’s note: part three! this is the happy ever after version, so this will be the final part. however i may be writing a prequel series. <3 (definitely titled sweet creature keeping with the title theme)

gif source

“Sir, I need you to get out of the room!” A nurse yelled, trying to push Ben out of the Supe-ER.

“B-Ben don’t leave me here!” you exclaimed between pained gasps.

“I can’t fucking leave her!” Ben shouted.

“Hey, hey, hey, just let the doctors do their job,” Butcher pulled Ben back and out of the room. “Just breathe, she’s tough as nails, she’s gonna be okay.”

“I- I can’t lose her, Butcher.” Ben shook his head. He ran a hand down his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I can’t…fuck!”

In his fit of rage he punched the wall next to him, his fist going straight through it and peeking out into the other room. Suddenly everyone in the waiting room and the front office were staring at him.

“Weak wall,” Butcher muttered to a nurse who was now examining the hole.

“We get Supe’s in here all the time, that’s the fifth hole this week,” she laughed a little. “Just calm him down before he punches a person.”

“Will do.” Butcher smirked before turning back to Ben. “Let’s take a seat, yeah?”

“No, i-if I stand here I can still h-hear her h-heartbeat,” Ben said, tears streaming down his face. Butcher nodded a little.

“I’ll bring a chair over here for ya then.”

It was Ben’s turn to nod. “Thank you,” he said.

Butcher, true to his word, brought a couple chairs over to where Ben was standing so they could sit down but Ben could still listen to your heart. Ben put his face in his hands and his elbows on his spread knees. Butcher didn’t really know what to do, he’d never seen Ben this upset. Scared, even.

“About two years ago,” Butcher started, “Y/n and I were chasing this asshole who just stole this little girl’s backpack right in front of us. He jumped into his car and started driving off. But Y/n, being an absolute badass, flung herself onto the car, then managed to get in front of it. She stopped it with her bare hands, Ben. Lifted it off the fuckin’ ground. Or how about that time she saved half a dozen construction workers when that scaffolding started to give out so she held the damn thing together so they could all get out? She is the strongest woman on the fucking planet, you know she is.”

“But if that baby is stronger,” Ben said quietly, lifting his head to look at Butcher, “it might just tear her apart. I mean, this is my baby and her baby; it’s gonna be stronger than both of us. It might just kill her, Butcher.”

“What’s the worst thing Vought put her through?” Butcher asked. “I mean, what was something they did that almost killed her?”

“Nothing almost killed her. They stitched a bomb into her chest and it blew to bits inside her. Hurt like hell, but it didn’t come close to killing her.”

“This baby ain’t gonna kill her, Ben. She’s been through way worse than this and she’s still alive and well.”

Ben took a deep, long breath, trying to calm himself down. “Thank you, Butcher,” he mumbled.

“Of course, mate.”

“Mr. Barnes?” The nurse who had pushed Ben out of the room was now standing a few feet from where he sat. “Y/n’s okay, you can see her now.”

“Oh thank fucking god,” Ben exclaimed before hurrying to you. “You’re okay! You’re really- fuck!” He smiled when he saw you.

“Come meet your son,” you said, smiling.

“I was so worried about you,” Ben whispered before kissing you. “I- I thought I lost you!” He kissed you a couple more times, putting his hands on your face, before pulling away to look at the baby in your arms.

“He’s so little!” Ben gasped as you handed him the baby. “Look at you! So, so tiny! And you’ve got Y/n’s eyes!”

“Any thoughts on the name?”

“William?” Ben asked you.

“Really?” You smiled even wider, Ben nodded. “William it is!”

“Hello, William Barnes,” he said, once again looking at baby Will. He then looked back at you; your eyes heavy with sleep and a smile still on your lips. “How’re you feeling? Are you…okay?”

“I am now,” you replied, reaching out to take his hand.

“Everyone meet William Barnes,” you told the group (Butcher, Hughie, Annie, Frenchie, and Kimiko) when they walked in.

“William?” Butcher smiled widely. A real, genuine smile, which was rare for him.

“Yep, named him after William Shatner! We love Star Trek,” Ben replied. You slapped his arm.

“He’s kidding,” you laughed. “We named him after the man who saved Ben in Russia, then freed me from a Vought lab a couple days later.”

“Sounds like a stand up guy.” Butcher was still smiling.

“Wanna hold the baby?” Ben asked.

“Oh hell yeah!” he exclaimed.

“Now’s the hard part, right?” you said to Ben when the three of you entered the apartment; Ben holding a sleeping Will in his arms. “Now we’ve got this tiny little human to take care of.”

“Now’s the fun part, though, too.” Ben shrugged a little. “Now we get to watch the little guy grow up. We watch him start to crawl, take his first steps, hear his first words, hear his laugh when we make silly faces, all the joys of being parents!”

“And we get to watch him drink formula because I’m toxic and could kill him,” you scoffed a little, Ben’s smile slowly fading. “Sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m just tired. Could you watch Will so I can sleep?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he said, smiling softly again. “C’mere.” He pulled you into a tight, one armed hug and you wrapped your arms around him. “I love you so much, honey. You go sleep for as long as you want, I’ll take care of Will.”

“I love you, Ben,” you whispered as you pulled away. “So much!” you added, yawning widely as you walked into the bedroom.

You slept for almost fourteen hours before you stirred awake. You still didn’t feel fully rested, which was strange, but you chalked it up to the fact you’d stayed up for over 36 hours before you crashed.

You heard Ben singing very quietly to Will in the living room as an attempt to get him to stop crying.

As you listened closely you noticed he wasn’t singing a classic nursery rhyme. You quietly went to the bedroom door so you could hear better.

“Hush little baby don’t you cry,” he sang very, very quietly. “Everything’s gonna be alright. Stiffen that upper lip up, little baby, I told ya, Daddy’s here to hold ya through the night.”

“Are you singing Eminem to our newborn baby?” you asked, walking into the living room.

“Uh huh,” he mumbled. “Why? Should I not be singing Eminem?”

“Does it work?”

“Oh yeah, he’s out like a light!” Ben smirked. “Why aren’t you sleeping? You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been asleep since we got home yesterday morning,” you laughed a little.

“Are you still tired?”

“Weirdly yeah, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shook your head a little. “Mind if I go back to sleep? Or do you want a turn?”

“Go ahead, I’ve got this,” he said. You turned to walk back but he stopped you. “Wait,” he mumbled before you turned back. He bent down and kissed you, wrapping a now free arm around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled back.

“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed loudly, throwing the breast pump across the room. Ben hurried over from the kitchen, a worried expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“The stupid pump isn’t fucking working! Or I dunno, maybe my boobs are fucking broken!”

“Hey, hey of course your boobs aren’t broken!” he replied as he took a seat next to you, not really knowing what to say. “I’m sure it’s just the pump, can I help you figure out how to work it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffled. “It’s all getting dumped down the drain anyway. What kind of fucking mother am I!?”

“Just because you have V in your system doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother?”

“Ben, how are you not more scared about all this?” You looked at him with tears in your eyes. “We’ve got a living, breathing, baby Supe in that room and you’re acting like this isn’t a horrifying situation! One wrong move and we’ll have the next Homelander! How are you so fucking calm!?”

“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. “Every time you leave the room I let myself kinda go into panic mode because I don’t want to show you how scared I really am.” He took in a shaky, shallow breath.

“Ben!” you mumbled and took his hand in yours.

“I mean, you’re right! If we fuck this up, that kid could bring the whole world crumbling down!” He laughed humorously, putting his free hand on his face to hide the tears as he began sobbing a little. “I’m so scared I’ll be just like my dad, Y/n. I know I have it in me to be exactly like him. I drink more than he did, I’ve killed a countless number of people, I’m a fucking monster! When it comes down to it I am not someone who should be raising a fucking human being!”

“Ben, please don’t call yourself that,” you replied, a sob escaping your lips as well. “You’re nothing like your dad, you aren’t- you definitely are not a monster! You are a good person now! And now is what matters.”

“I don’t know, she just went to sleep last night and I couldn’t wake her up.” Ben’s deep voice slowly woke you up.

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” the stranger sitting next to you asked. You nodded. “That’s great, do you know where you are?”

“B-Ben?” you mumbled, knowing he’d hear you from the other side of the bedroom where he was talking to the other paramedic.

“Yeah, I’m here sweetheart,” he replied and hurried to you.

“Ben what happened?” you asked. “Who are these people? Wh-Why are they in our home?”

“Y/n, you weren’t responding when I tried to wake you and I got scared so I called Butcher. Hughie sent someone over to check on you,” Ben explained.

“Is the baby okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, Butcher’s got him in the kitchen right now. How’re you feeling?”

“I feel fine?” You shrugged. “A little confused about the random men in our bedroom but other than that I feel okay.”

“I think we better go,” the paramedic next to you said and stood up. “We’ll get her blood sample back to the lab - all kept confidential - and let you know if we can find out what happened.”

“Thanks,” Ben told him as the men left the room.

“Ben seriously, what the hell?” you asked, laughing a little. “I sleep in a little and you call Butcher? You get a doctor to take a blood sample?”

“Sweetheart, it’s nearly four in the afternoon. I first tried to wake you up at noon and you wouldn’t budge.” He looked terrified and your gaze softened.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whispered.

“I’m just glad you’re awake now. You are not falling back asleep any time soon!” he exclaimed.

“So… Butcher’s alone with the baby?”

“Yeah, I better go check on them.” Ben kissed you. “Get outta bed so you don’t fall back asleep, okay?”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“So the blood tests came back…” Hughie told you and Ben through the phone. “Y/n, there’s no Compound V in your system. There’s no trace the blood ever had Compound V.”

“Wait, what?” You furrowed your brows. “I don’t understand, the blood was switched out? Where’s my blood then?”

“No, it’s yours—it’s just no longer Supe blood,” Hughie replied.

“Holy fucking shit,” Ben mumbled.

“Yeah… as far as anyone can tell, Y/n is the first reverse-Supe ever. With your permission they want to use it to make a sort of Anti-V.”

“Wait so I’m cured?” you asked, shaking your head a little. “No offense Hughie but I don’t believe you. Like, at all. Not for a second.” There was an awkward pause. “Sorry, that came off really rude. Thank you for everything but there has to be some mistake. Do whatever the fuck you want with the blood, but I gotta say there’s no way it’s mine.”

“I will get back to you guys after I have more information, okay?” Hughie said before you all said goodbye and hung up.

** twelve years later **

“C’mon kid I said get mad!” Ben exclaimed. He was teaching Will to throw a good punch but the kid wasn’t taking it very seriously.

“Mom said we should always try our best not to let anger fuel us,” he replied.

“And usually she’s right, but in this case you’re hitting a punching bag so it’s okay.”

“Alright, but if mom gets upset it’s your fault!” Will laughed. He threw a nearly perfect punch to the center of the hanging equipment.

“Wow! Good job, kiddo!”

“Is it true you used to be able to break these with one punch?” he asked.

“Who told you that?” Ben furrowed his brows.

“These kids at school said that Soldier Boy used to be super strong but then he got old and sick. You said you used to be Soldier Boy, right?”

“I- I was Soldier Boy, yes. But I didn’t get sick, Will, I- I gave up the super strength so I could have a family with you and your mom.”

“You gave up super powers!? Look, dad, I love you but that was really dumb!” Will laughed.

“Mom gave up her super powers too! You don’t call her dumb!” Ben scoffed.

“Mom had super powers too!?”

“Shit- Uh shoot, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that yet. Mom and I were gonna tell you on your birthday tomorrow, we had a big thing planned and everything!”

“If I don’t tell mom I know and I act all surprised when she tells me, can I get that Lego set I asked for but you said was too expensive?”

“Uh… yes,” Ben said, knowing the Lego set was already wrapped and hidden in the closet ready for Will to open tomorrow morning. “Don’t tell your mom you know, and tomorrow you’ll get the Lego set.”

“What’d you do?” you asked Ben that night, after tucking your son in for bed. “Will just said, and I quote, ‘mom I think it’s really cool you don’t have superpowers’.”

“I… may have accidentally let it slip.” He clenched his teeth apologetically, you scoffed, disappointed. “I’m sorry! He was asking me about Soldier Boy and it just kinda came out!”

“How much did you tell him?”

“Just that you used to have powers, that’s it!”

“So, the plan still stands then? We… tell him everything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, he’s old enough to know the truth, I think. If he hates us for how we handled it then that’s just gonna be worse if we wait to tell him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, still disappointed Ben spilled the beans.

“I’m sorry!” Ben pouted a little.

“No, don’t do the face!”

“What face?”

“That face you do that makes me agree with whatever you say!”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Thank you,” he replied, smiling and holding out his hand for you to take. He pulled you into him and kissed you, smiling against your mouth when you kissed him back. “I love you.”

“I love you, Ben,” you mumbled against his mouth, going in for another kiss.

“I know I say this every time Will has a birthday, but thank you, Y/n. Thank you for giving me all this.”

“Thank you, too.”

You were all sitting at the dinner table, it was the afternoon and Will had already opened all of his presents. (Including the Lego set he thought he was bribed with.)

“Alright, Will, your mom and I have something pretty big we want to tell you. Now, it might change how you see us as parents, so um, if you don’t want us to tell you, that’s okay,” Ben said.

“Oh do tell!” He faked an interested look.

You smiled, laughing a little when he put his cheek in his hand to listen.

“Kid, she knows I slipped up yesterday, it’s alright,” Ben said, Will letting out a breath of relief.

“Oh thank god, I have so many questions!” he squealed with joy, calming your nerves a little.

“Go ahead, ask away,” you said.

“One, what were your powers? Two, how did you get your powers? Three, does this mean I have powers too? And four, who was stronger, you or dad?”

“I had super strength, and I could kinda-sorta fly. It was just really big jumps technically, but in a big city it looked like flying,” you told him.

“Wow, that's awesome!” Will mumbled, smiling widely.

“We both got our powers from a super serum that was given to us. Your mom when she was a baby, and me when I was in my twenties,” Ben said.

“And I was definitely stronger than your dad,” you added. “I kicked his ass a couple times.”

“She definitely did,” Ben sighed, smiling.

There was a bit of a pause.

“So… do I have powers too?” Will asked.

“You used to,” Ben told him.

“Will, when I was pregnant with you I somehow lost my powers. Some scientists used my blood to make what they called the ‘Anti-V’ which was a cure for the people who were injected with the serum. You see, a lot of these people, including myself, didn’t choose to take the serum, our parents chose for us. They gave it to us as babies and it ruined a lot of lives.”

“I don’t understand, why don’t I have powers?” Will asked.

“We gave you the Anti-V when you were two-years-old,” you told him. His shoulders fell in disappointment.

“Why? I would’ve loved to be a superhero!” he scoffed.

“It was a tough choice, Will, but it was the right one,” Ben assured him. “Vought, the company that made the serum, they would’ve hurt us, hurt you. But, when you’re older, you can take the serum if you want to.”

“But,” you started, “we want you to really think about it because being a Superhero is nothing like the movies, Will. It’s nothing like Captain America or Spider-Man or Batman. There are so many sides to it, and there are enough bad sides to it that nearly eighty percent of the people who were given the serum ended up taking the Anti-V.”

“And that’s not counting all the kids like you who were given it because of their parents,” Ben added.

“Actually, Batman doesn’t have powers,” Will muttered, beginning to smile a little. “But Captain America is definitely similar to Dad.” He giggled, causing you and Ben to smile.

“So… you’re okay?” Ben asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not like, mad if that’s what you’re asking.”

You and Ben let out breaths of relief, smiling wider.

“Will, we love you so much.” You reached across the table to take one hand and Ben took his other. “So, so much. When you turn eighteen, you can have a chance to take the serum and get your powers back if you want, but not a day sooner. Okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you for telling me all this. Can I tell you something now?” You and Ben both nodded. “I don’t think I want to watch Marvel movies anymore. Feels kinda weird now.”

** another six years later **

“Y/n!” Ben shouted from downstairs, effectively waking you up. He ran up and into the bedroom. “He’s gone.”

You sat up, “What?”

“Will! He’s gone! He must’ve gone to get the serum!”

“No! Oh, god no!” you exclaimed, hurrying out of bed and putting on your clothes from the night before. “Ben! This is really bad!”

“I know!” he exclaimed back. “He must’ve left the second he turned eighteen! Fuck!”

“Alright, let’s just breathe,” you pulled his hands away from his face, “he wouldn’t take it without telling us. He’s been very open about his feelings toward Vought and Compound-V the last few months and he would not just run off and take the serum.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, “but if he has, you remember what that means for us, right?”

“We’ll have to take the serum too.” You smiled sadly.

“Exactly, we can’t let him go through it alone! He’ll need other Supe’s that love and care about him.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso and he wrapped his around your shoulders.

“We can do this, Ben. We’ve been good parents for eighteen fuckin’ years and we’ve raised an incredible young man. He will make the right decision, I know it.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Ben nodded. “He’s not taking Compound-V.”

“Mom, Dad, I got the Compound-V!” Will called out, walking into the house.

“Uh, oh,” Ben mumbled, looking up at you from where he sat at the table.

“We’re in the kitchen, hun!” you called back.

He walked into the kitchen, carrying a small black container.

“I went to the bank today,” Will said, putting the black box on the table.

“Uh huh?” You furrowed your brows, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder. He reached and held your hand, filled with worry.

“I took the serum,” Will said.

“No,” you whispered, eyes widening.

“Fuck,” Ben mumbled, bringing his hands to his face. “Will, why?”

“Will, we- we love you and we’ll support you in this decision, just-” you took in a shaky breath, trying to stay calm, “did you get your powers yet?’

“What? Oh! No, I didn’t take take the serum,” Will said. “I meant that I took it from the safety deposit box. It’s right here.” He opened the container on the table to reveal the three syringes of Compound-V.

Ben visibly tensed, so you put both hands on his shoulders.

“So… have you, um, have you decided what you wanna do with it?” you asked, mentally praying to anyone who’d listen he wouldn’t take the serum.

“I wanna throw it away. I don’t wanna be a Supe,” Will told you.

“Really?” Ben asked, Will nodded with a slight smile.

“I mean,” Will shrugged, “being a Superhero would be awesome hypothetically. But there’s no such thing. I’d be super, sure, but I’d never be a hero, that part’s always fake. Also, after everything Vought’s done, especially to you guys, I don’t want their serum coursing through my veins. So, I am dumping these vials down the drain…” He took the three vials and held out two of them. “Wanna help?”

Ben let out a relieved laugh as he stood up. He wrapped Will up in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed before pulling away and placing a kiss on Will’s forehead. He took one of the vials before they both looked at you.

“Mom?” Will asked, noticing the tears in your eyes.

“I’m so proud of you!” you choked out. You hurried over to hug him as well as take one of the vials. “I love you so much, Will, thank you so much for not taking the serum.” Ben put his arms around the two of you, resting his head on yours.

After a few blissful moments wrapped up in the group hug the three of you pulled away.

“We should probably dump these into the dirt, right?” Ben asked.

You shrugged, “Once it hits the air it’s useless. So, drain or dirt, I don’t think it matters.”

“Ooh, how about down the toilet?” Will suggested. “More poetic that way!”

“I like how you think, kiddo,” Ben said.

The three of you went to the bathroom and held the syringes over the toilet, needle side down.

“Three,” you all said together, “two,” you all put your thumbs on the ends, ready to push the Compound-V out of the vials and out of your lives forever. “One.”

As the blue liquid hit the toilet water, you smiled. It was over, you and your family were really free.

“Shall I do the honors?” Will asked, his hand hovering over the flush lever.

“Go ahead,” Ben said, putting his left hand on your hip, his right holding a now empty syringe. Will flushed the toilet and you all watched as the poison disappeared and was replaced with clean toilet water.

“The empty syringes have been properly disposed of,” Ben told you before plopping down on the couch beside you.

“I’m so glad he didn’t take the serum,” you breathed. “We were this close to losing everything-”

“Thank you,” Ben cut you off, you furrowed your brows a little. “It’s Will’s birthday, it’s the day that I always remember to thank you for giving me all this.” You smiled. “So, thank you, Y/n.”

“You’re more than welcome, Ben,” you replied before he kissed you. “And thank you, too.”

#mind empty’s two hearts one home #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #the boys fluff #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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damianbugs · 5 months

Text

i spoke about this briefly before, and i think i have my thoughts more collected now to develop on it; i feel like comics which show bruce comforting his child self in flashbacks of the wayne murder in crime alley understand the purpose of batman a lot more than the ones that have him talking to his parents.

if you've been keeping up with recent batman comics, then you'll notice a theme of bruce getting the chance to talk to his younger self. the important part though, is that it is not because of time travel or some detached third party force — it's the young bruce in batman's head.

it's the him hidden behind the black door in his mind when he's fighting his nightmares —

Batman Knight Terrors #2, 2023. written by Joshua Williamson.

— and it's the him tucked away in corner of his mind after being drugged and tortured with his greatest fears.

Detective Comics #1075, 2023. written by Ram V.

after experiencing something traumatic, the one bruce sees suffering from it isn't himself, but the young bruce wayne in the alley. because at the end of the day, every hurt circles back to that night, to that boy, that he can't save no matter how hard he tries — because that boy never left the pool of blood he was sitting in.

i think people often attribute the existence of batman as something created for his parents. to avenge them, or to be the symbol that could have saved their life had he existed before, to stop anyone else from being killed in the same way. there's some truth to that, however, to me, the answer is a little more selfish.

i think it has always been for himself, but not the him now, but the him that is still stuck in that alleyway, waiting over his parents dead bodies. batman is a symbol of hope and reformation and justice, but at its core, batman is what saved bruce wayne.

as a result, the panels above have a very different feel to say, this moment when bruce sees an illusion of his parents in Superman/Batman #56, 2009. written by Michael Green and Mike Johnson.

it's an emotional moment for sure, but it didn't quite speak to me the same way this absolutely phenomenal moment did in Batman: Blind Justice, 1989. written by Sam Hamm.

of course this moment is a lot more cynical in how bruce uses batman to cope with his guilt, while the other moments focus on batman providing young bruce with the hope to continue that he isn't alone — the sentiment of batman being the one to pick him up from the floor and lead him away from the scene in a shared motif.

it reminds me of that one discussion that batman is a victims power fantasy. his own fantasy! because bruce has — in order to have a semblance of control over himself — separated himself from this event that it is a completely different child at the scene of the crime. it's this fact that let's him reach down, hold the boy's hand and tell him everything will be okay.

this bruce wayne is a child, his child, gotham's child, thomas and martha wayne's child, an orphan to protect.

batman was made for children like bruce wayne, to stop them from becoming like him and for them to hold onto when it does — because batman is still trying to fix a problem that has an endless hole. he can never reconcile this trauma and let the boy in the alley leave, because that's not what batman was made for.

batman was made to protect the little boy, and in order to do that, he must remain in that alley.

there's still a bruce wayne who had to grow up, who learned to fight and love and lose again and again, a bruce wayne who becomes batman. a batman who then, tries effortlessly to fix problems and save people, who goes out everynight because if he doesn't, then that boy in the alley is left there for nothing.

then there comes a moment where he falls through the cracks and he's face to face with the child who can't leave and can't grow up and knows nothing but loneliness and grief — and batman gets to tell this child that life becomes more than just this alley.

the child is happy, if even for a moment, that batman is there. that's what batman is for.

#okay this got away from me at some point #i just. i care about this ridiculous character a lot #i hope this makes sense. i might have lied when i said i had my thoughts in order #please give the comics mentioned a read!#bruce wayne #dc meta #saki comic talks

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cafedanslanuit · 1 year

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i think i got an ex but i forgot him + isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, sae, rin, reo & nagi

♡ — tags/warnings: gn reader + no pronouns, a bit of drama because the topic is exes after all but it's not angst, pettiness, jealousy, slightly unhealthy coping mechanisms but nothing too tw

♡ — a/n: aaaaa this is my first blue lock hcs, i think! i was going to post another one first but this came to me suddenly so here you go <3 hope u enjoy it!

♡ — masterlist

ISAGI ― i... im sorry but he’s the type to ask you to reconsider the break up, whether it ended badly or not, no matter who was in the wrong. you see, he has a plan on how you can really make it work this time around! it only works if you carefully follow these steps and new guidelines, of course. worse part is it actually makes sense, and you could foresee a better relationship you got along with his plan. he's pretty convincing so you might take him up on that idea. however, if you don’t, he will accept it and try his best to move on, which is focusing intensely on his training to try to keep his mind away from you.

BACHIRA ― tries to be friends. just because the relationship didn't work out, it doesn't mean you can't still spend time together as friends, right? friends go on dates sometimes, all friendly, of course! nothing wrong with a couple of friends staying in for a movie night, cuddling, or sharing dessert in a nice little cafe. if he takes your hand, it’s only out of security, so please don’t think he has any ulterior motives! …anyway, it takes him some time to adjust to the new reality of your relationship but still, he will try his best to support you as much as he did when he was your boyfriend. if it ended badly, he'll still try to be as friendly as possible, but a couple of snarky remarks may fall from his lips without him being able to do anything about it.

KUNIGAMI ― he’s very respectful about the whole ordeal. after everything is said and done, he texts you a couple of times days later, genuinely asking how you're doing and it’s very clear he cares about your answer. if you need anything from him, he will offer his help, no questions asked and no retribution needed. after all, he still cares about you, even if it didn’t work out between you too. if the relationship ended badly, he will still be very respectful towards you but try his best to avoid you. a nod and a greeting is all you will get because, soon enough, he will pretend someone is calling him and he’ll go his own way.

CHIGIRI ― for a good couple of months, he’s going to be very uncomfortable around you. what haunts him the most is how difficult it is to get used to the change of dynamics between the two of you; now he’s not sure on how to act or what he’s allowed or not allowed to say anymore. if it ended badly, it's very likely you'll be on the receiving end of some ill quips and snarky comments about you, hitting you just where it hurts. he'll deliver them with the most unamused face, his eyebrow slightly raising as he waits-- no, as he almost invites you to take him on the fight. and if you do, be ready to lose.

SAE ― the moment you decide to call it quits, he completely walks out of your life. from that moment on, you won't hear from him ever again. doesn't matter how fast you check your phone after you've said your goodbyes, you're blocked on all social media platforms, both public and private. to make things worse, your shared google photos album is gone and you're even banned on the official *team* account. hell, he’ll even report the photos of the two of you together so they’re taken down from your account too. doesn't matter if it ended on good and bad terms, only time you'll ever see him again is on a promotional ad for his soccer team on the street or something alike. if he’s asked about you on interviews, he’ll only say it’s not “relevant” and ask for the next question.

RIN ― like his brother, he doesn't take it well either. he's the type to go through your social media at least once a day to see if you posted anything new, and if there's any nrw information he can get from it. so far, he's learnt you've been going out clubbing more often and that you've had a pizza date with one of your friends. he recognized them because on the photo, he could see they were wearing a ring, same ring that shows up on a photo of you too circa 2015. if you have an anonymous questions social media, he miiiight ask you on anon why did you break up with him. only for fun, it's not like he truly cares about your life, evidently. all of this happens while he ignores your greetings in person, feigning he doesn't hear you. you'd never catch him yearning to have you back, and he's gonna make sure of that.

REO ― new year, new model, baby. the best way to get over someone is to get someone else-- at least for him. he might’ve begged you for another chance at first, but once you make him understand you’re truly done, he lets his petty side come out. a couple of days after your final talk, you will have a front-row seat to mysterious instagram stories featuring two drinks, another one with two movie tickets and, of course, a photo taken from the passenger seat of himself driving one of his fancier cars. the way his forearms flex underneath his expensive shirt really gives the photo the edge it needed. but, is he truly dating someone else? probably not. but he’s going to spend every resource he had to make you think he’s replaced you. even if this may all seem unnecesarily mean, he's also the quickest to agree if you ever want to try again. whisper sweet words close to his ear and he's back to his righteous place by your side in no time.

NAGI ― it’s heartbreaking how he acts like he couldn’t care less about your breakup. it seems like the heart-to-heart conversation that ended in you sobbing against his chest while he stroke your back in silence never happened, because when you see him a couple of days later, he raises a hand and greets you, just like he would any other day. to nagi, he’s taken the best decision and is acting the best in an already shitty situation, whether the breakup was amicable or not. he really doesn't want to waste his time in pettiness and resentment, especially after getting to love you for as long as he did. however, his actions may unadventerly hurt you and give you a false image on what’s going on in his heart.

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scribblesofagooner · 4 months

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Family, not by blood but by choice instead | awfc x reader

I messed up on this blog so I made a new one which is @scribblesofagoonerr so I’m gonna be posting over on there instead now.

You should have known, there was tell-tail signs all throughout the last several years and yet you were so blind about it all.

Your mother was a narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighted you your whole life, you were always made out to the bad guy and she was the victim.

It was clear as day to anyone on the outside, but your niave self just chose to always believe different about things.