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#she hits hard and has a character voice that leaves me scratchy the next day
rofax · 2 years
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Also did a portrait of my D&D character, who is a goblin fighter.
Her name is Spit. :)
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Pinky Promises
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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO HAJIME ISAYAMA
WARNINGS: Angst (this is sad ngl but neither you nor Levi dies), light cursing
It was like the world was falling apart. The feeling in your heart was comparable to the fabrics of the universe being ripped away from each other - all the careful stitching being torn with just a single action. All around you was a green blur, which you could barely see due to the speed your horse was currently galloping at. This was supposed to be a simple mission - capture, or most likely kill, the female abnormal titan that had been now considered a minor plague to the Survey Corps. The squad you were a part of was one of the best of the best, and was even captained by “humanity’s strongest soldier”, Levi Ackerman. You remember the day you had been one of the lucky ones picked to be on his squad - your dreams of really making a difference becoming a reality. But right now? Right now, your feeling of wonder that you first had when you joined the regiment had been shattered. Absolutely obliterated, because all around you were your friends’ bodies strewn across the forest floor. 
------------------------------------- Flashback ----------------------------------------
“Oh gosh, Y/N, I really hope we get assigned to Captain Levi’s squad! He’s the best there is!” A sweet cheer erupted from your lifelong friend, Petra. You laugh at her and lean back on your bed. At the moment, only you two were in the female barracks, so you could be as loud as you wanted.
“That would be amazing,” you sighed, letting your head hit your pillow rather ungracefully. “Getting to kill titans with him would just be so cool.” You close your eyes but hear your friend giggle. “Whaatt?” You groan.
“Just ‘cool’? You totally have the hots for him.” You sit up quickly, forgetting that you were on a top bunk, and end up knocking your head on the wooden ceiling, causing Petra’s giggles to turn into a snicker.
“Yeah, well, whatever!” Your face was now flushing, pink dancing across your cheeks. “You don’t hear me teasing you about your feelings for Oluo, now do you Petty?” You say, throwing your pillow towards the girl.
“H-hey! Not so loud! And besides, haven’t I told you not to call me that? It makes me sound annoying and rude,” your friend protests, sticking her tongue out at you.
“No can do, that was what I came up with when we were seven, and it’s sticking.” You state firmly, a grin falling onto your face. Petra simply rolls her eyes and throws your pillow back to you.
“I’m serious though, Y/N/N. Big things could happen for us if he picks us.” Petra says, a more mature lilt gracing her voice. You pull a scratchy blanket over your body and curl into it.
“I know. We’ve trained so hard and every time we’ve gone out, we always do pretty well.” You say. A beat of silence passes through the two of you.
“Let's make a promise to each other.” Your friend suggests, standing up from her bottom bunk to stand in front of you. You turn your head to face her and quirk an eyebrow.
“Petra, the amount of promises we’ve made are uncountable. They’ve literally ranged from always sharing chocolate if we’re able to get our hands on it to saying that if only one of us gets onto Levi’s squad then we won’t do it.”
“This one’s different.” She says, sticking her pinky finger out. You roll your eyes, but stick out your pinky finger to link with hers. “If something happens to one of us-”
“Woah woah woah, Petra, slow down.” You say with a frantic tone in your voice.
“If something happens to one of us,” she repeats, “then the other can’t bail. They have to stay in the Survey Corps and do the best they possibly can, okay?” Petra’s eyes were sincere but there was no smile on her face.
“Yeah okay.” You mumble. Petra nods and walks back to her bed. 
---------------------------------- End of Flashback ------------------------------------
You usher yourself to go faster as you swing through the forest with your now dwindling group. You all had abandoned your horses earlier - they wouldn’t be able to keep you alive. The female titan was hot on your trails, running at a remarkable speed. A shout from up in the treetops made you turn your head. Eld swung down near the female titan, trying to get close to her nape. One second was all it took for the titan to open her mouth and crush him.
“ELD!” A strangled cry from Petra made you look back to her, your eyes wide. You feel a tear roll down your cheek - you and Eld were always friendly. He’s a nice… was a nice guy. You lock eyes with your friend to see that she was holding up her pinky. You nod and do the same. You try to gather your surroundings once again. Eren, who was now one of the Scout Regiment’s biggest assets, was above you. Petra was to your right. Oluo was behind you.
“She can see again?! That’s impossible!” Your friend cries, her eyes now wild with fear. “It hasn’t even been thirty seconds!” You rack your brain with possible answers but none come up. This entire situation was unprecedented and dangerous - nothing made sense to you anymore. You spare a glance at the female titan to get a look, and it seemed that Petra did the same because her observation matched yours. “Only one eye?! She channeled her energy into one eye to grow it back quicker?! How could she do that?!” Her shout was strangled, like it was getting even harder for her to breath. 
“Petra! Pull yourself together!” A shout laced with concern from behind you that belonged to Oluo rang out. The female titan was now basically next to Petra. This was bad. This was so, so bad.
“PETRA!!!” You shriek. Your lifelong friend’s screams seemed to echo through the forest. And then, as quickly as it took to take a breath, her body was crushed into a tree. Where her’s were cut off, they were replaced with yours. Agony racked your body as you screamed and cried out, tears flowing through your eyes as you had to leave her body to try and escape with your own life. If something happens to one of us, then the other can’t bail. They have to stay in the Survey Corps and do the best they possibly can, okay? Petra’s voice seemed to reverberate through your mind as you kept swinging. You take in your surroundings once more. Eren was above you and Oluo, the last member of your squad, sans Captain Levi, was behind you. That’s when you hear the sound of ODM gear grappling to the titan behind you. You beg and pray to anybody who could listen to let this be it. Let him take down the monster that had taken so many of your friends’ lives. But of course, the world was a cruel, cruel place.
“Now, DIE!” Oluo shouts, his voice almost turning into a snarl. He tried to slice her nape, but the titan hardened her skin, breaking his blades in half. You swore you could hear him mutter something, but you would never know. He was immediately crushed to death by a forceful kick from the titan.
“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” You hear Eren’s strangled cries from above you and a flash of light takes his place, turning him into a titan. The two titans run off in a different direction, allowing you to double back. You swing through the trees, eyes scanning the forest floor until you find her. You drop down onto the ground and run towards her with all the strength you could find in your body and collapse next to her. Her eyes were open but her spirit had long since left them. Her whole body had paled and blood stained her hair. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Forgoing your once stoic expression, you sobbed. Your hands clutched her body, trying to find any warmth that once belonged to her. Your favorite partner in crime. Your deepest confidant. Your friend.
------------------------------------- Flashback ----------------------------------------
“So guess what.” You say, setting your tray down across from your friend. Petra looked up at you with a curious look in her eyes.
“I don’t know, what?” You roll your eyes and bite into your apple.
“It’s no fun when you do that Petty. You have to guess.”
“Well judging by those sparkles in your eyes, I’m guessing it has something to do with Cap-tain Le-vi” She says, using a singsong voice for the last two words. Your cheeks flush as you swallow your bite.
“He put me second in charge for this little mission thing we’re doing. He even complimented me.” You gush, taking another bite. Petra looked at you, a wide grin settling onto her face.
“Go Y/N!” she cheered.
“Why are we cheering on Y/N?” A deeper voice asked. Oluo settled down next to Petra, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Yeah, did she finally get some with Cap?” Eld teased, nudging you. Your face boasts the hue of the fruit you were eating as you slap him on the shoulder.
“Eld, what the hell? Don’t say that so loudly!” You whisper-yell, a hard look on your face.
“You’re not denying it.” He says, spooning some broth into his mouth.
“No, I didn’t ‘get some’ with Captain Levi. There’s me denying it.” That earns a laugh from all of your friends. You all settle down to eat the rest of your dinner and get prepped for the mission tomorrow.
“Hey I heard a bunch of new recruits are coming next week.” Oluo says, double checking to make sure his gas canisters are properly filled. You hum in response as you clean the metal of your blades.
“What are we up to now, 102nd? 103rd?” Eld wonders.
“104th,” Petra corrects. 
“That’ll be messy,” you mumble, earning a ‘duh’ from Eld.
“New recruits are always messy. We just gotta make sure we don’t die from one of their mistakes.”
---------------------------------- End of Flashback ------------------------------------
The sound of ODM gear whizzed by your ear, but you didn’t look up. You didn’t care right now. You felt two feet land behind yourself and make their way over to you. You knew it wouldn’t be Eren, and using the transitive property, it wouldn’t be Mikasa either. That left just one person. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. But, when he placed a hand on your shoulder, you had to turn around to face him. Levi’s face was cool, indifferent. But his eyes… there was something in his eyes that you had never seen in them before. They looked sad, but with a twinge of hope, like he might’ve thought that at least one more person survived. You had to be the one to tell him.
“They’re all gone.” You manage to croak out. “I-it happened so fast. First it was Eld, and then P-Petra, and Oluo followed her of course.” You say, chuckling at the last part. Levi quirked an eyebrow.
“Your wording is curious. Why of course?” He asked with a monotone voice. Fresh tears fall onto your cheeks.
“They were engaged. She just sent a letter to her dad,” You give Levi a wobbly smile. “I really wanted to be there. She said that I would be her maid of honor. She wanted you there too, so did Oluo.” Levi closes his eyes for a moment. You knew every passing moment was one more moment closer to you having to say goodbye to Petra. You glance at the wings patch on her jacket and then back up to Levi. “Can I borrow your pocket knife? You said you always have one on you.” He nods and fishes the small object out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. You notice his hands shake a bit, so without thinking, you clasp your two open ones around his. He looks up to you and you see the beginnings of his apathetic appearance crumble. He pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around your body. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and you do the same.
“You’re still here.” He says, tightening his hold on you. You nod and feel your tears dampen his cloak.
“I’m still here.”  
 The months following your friends’ deaths were hard, but you found a new confidant in Levi. While you had always admired him, never had you talked to him about anything so casual like your social lives. Now, it was much different. Your whole dynamic with him had been flipped on its head. No longer were you the wide-eyed and bushy-tailed girl, pining after her captain. While the deaths of your friends certainly damaged you, they also helped you emerge from your chrysalis and become a butterfly. A mature, strong, and independent butterfly… who might be currently involved in a romance of her own. It took a little bit to get there. The many nights of seeking each other for comfort and to ward away your nightmares blossomed into just seeking each other out for no reason at all other than to just see each other’s faces. The once quick glances between the two of you now lasted longer, and during mealtimes, he would hold your hand underneath the table. Levi wasn’t a Romeo and Juliet type of lover and he never would be - you knew that. However, you also knew that he loved you, even though he might not say it that much. His gestures spoke for him. And when he kissed you in the privacy of his quarters, you felt like the world was perfect for just a few seconds. You forgot about how all around you your friends were dying and that there were giant monsters trying to kill you. It was like there was this invisible string that connected the two of you, tying your fates together. The last standing members of Squad Levi, part of the last group of Scouts to survive the Beast Titan’s ferocious attacks. If Levi was there, you were too, fighting your way through to try and find an ending in which you win, maybe you could even settle down with him. But for now, you just had to fuel yourself with these stolen moments with him - when he would give you sweet kisses that contradicted the uninterested tone that he used with everyone, including you, when he would read to you whenever you couldn’t fall asleep, and when he would give in and promise you with your pinkies linked that he would always be there for you. And in your experience, pinky promises always held up.
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clintbartonswife · 4 years
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i’d trade my life for yours
Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: Jaskier will be loyal to Geralt until his last breath, this he swears. Notes: im sorry. descriptions of torture. mentions rape (not graphic in the slightest, more like an allusion, but tagged it just to be safe), major character death. This is the bad ending, for a nicer ending read the series below :) masterlist  || nicer ending (p2)
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Jaskier had always felt too much, falling a little bit in love with almost everyone he meets. The seamstress from Beauclair with the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the knight from Kerack who had muscles the size of Jaskier’s head, the innkeeper and his wife from Rinde who had the warmest smiles he had ever seen.
All loves that he treasured, yet let go after a night or two, the heartache keeping him company until he found another gorgeous person to fall for.
When he finds Geralt at the ripe age of 18 it’s different, for once the bard doesn’t want to leave, a nagging feeling pulling him along the path by the Witcher’s side.
His love grows easily, from that of shallow appreciation of his honey golden eyes to a fierce want to protect his love from those that scorn him in every village they visit, a need to nurture the fragile relationship they were building.
It’s only Jaskier’s luck that the only person to ever intrigue him enough to stay seems to want him to leave, impenetrable walls built around his heart.
So, Jaskier writes songs of their travels, being respectful of Geralt’s boundaries whilst still trying to provide as much tender love and care as he could without scaring the Witcher, all the while falling deeper and deeper in love.
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Everything starts to go wrong after the djiin.
He watches through the window as his heart breaks with every thrust of Geralt’s hips, the Witchers disinterest (which he had assumed was general Witchery distance) suddenly making more sense - he just didn’t like Jaskier.
Still the bard stayed, sewing his heart back together with every step he took beside the Witcher. His affectionate touches didn’t falter, not allowing his own personal hurt to affect his Geralt negatively. He still deserved as much softness as he could bring himself to provide - Melitele knows Yennefer wasn’t providing that.
Jaskier funnelled all of his creative energy in to his songs, more and more of them staying in his private notebook, too personal to be sung in front of Geralt, let alone the general public.
After each time they met with Yennefer, Jaskier was there to pick up the broken pieces the Witch left behind, baring the brunt of Geralt’s bad mood for a week after she had gone, heart chipping a little more each time as his hatred for the woman grows.
The last straw was the dragon hunt. The whistling winds whipping Jaskier’s hair in his eyes as Geralt’s words lashed out at him, vicious and hateful.
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In the following two weeks, Jaskier drank to forget, falling back into old habits and into strangers beds with a new desperation.
The young farmer with hazel eyes - not as beautiful as Geralt’s. The miller’s daughter with blonde hair - not light enough.
The people begin to blend together, yet it doesn’t work. The heartbreak still radiates through his body, numbing him from any other emotion.
He’s too drunk to register that Cintra has fallen.
Too drunk to hear the rumours of the bounty on his head.
Too drunk to notice the Nilfgaardian soldiers entering the tavern.
Too drunk to defend himself against their arms that steal him away that night.
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When he awakens the next morning, head throbbing with the familiar pain of a hangover, Jaskier is hit with a wave of nausea.
Turning his head to the side, he reaches for the bed-side table, blanching when he finds his arms restrained. It takes a few seconds to register that he’s in unfamiliar surroundings: the distinctly tavern smell (of weak ale and piss) gone, the slightly scratchy linens of the bed replaced with a hard wood surface.
Unrestrained panic swelled up in the bard’s chest, his instincts kicking in as he tried to mimic sleep.
‘Just breathe slowly, keep your eyes closed and stay calm’ repeated through his brain, sounding suspiciously like Geralt’s voice.
“-the bastard up yet?”
“He wasn’t the last time I checked, no sir”
“And no sign from the Witcher?”
“None sir”
Jaskier heard a scoff as the door opened, two sets of feet stopping at the side of the chair. Unnerving silence fell for a few seconds, before a heavy kick was given to his ribs, punching the air from his lungs in a loud exhale.
“Now listen here, bard” the bigger of the two men all-but-growled, looming over Jaskier as the singer blinked heavily to clear the daze that had settled over him, “We’re going to make this real simple. You tell us what we need to know, and maybe we wont kill you”
Scrunching his nose in disgust, Jaskier considered his options, “What is it that you want to know?”
Another scoff.
“Maybe he’s not so useless after all” the tall man sneered, exchanging an amused glance with the man stood in the corner, “Tell us where the Butcher of Blaviken is”
Self preservation was forgotten as the nickname stirred up anger deep inside Jaskier, the unfairness choking him, “I’m afraid I don’t know any butchers, not the biggest fan of hanging around long enough in towns long enough to befriend anyone in that profession I’m afraid”
That earnt him a sharp slap, the sting helping to ground him.
“Don’t try to be smart. Where is the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia?”
“Oh, I do know him” Jaskier answered, tone kept light and conversational, “Of course I haven’t seen him in months so I’m afraid I’m really of no use to you gentlemen”
Another slap.
“Now that must be a lie. Why would the Witcher leave his little whore behind?”
Now that one stung, the frown forming on Jaskier’s face before he could stop it.
“Aw, struck a chord with that, did I? He found someone else I assume - though Melitele knows how anyone can lay with a monster like -”
Rage finally overflowing, Jaskier spat in the man’s face, “How dare you call him a monster. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be”
A bitter chuckle, followed by a punch that left the bard tasting copper.
“I think you might actually be in love with that thing” he said, amused, “That just makes this all the more fun”
Jaskier held eye contact with the man, glowering as he slowly spat out the pooled blood onto the floor.
“Tell me where he is”
“No”
Two punches to his stomach, and a hard kick to his shin.
“My sister hurt me worse than that for stealing her brush when we were seven” Jaskier sneered.
“Where is he”
A backhand across the face, followed by three hard kicks to his ribs.
“Toss a coin to your-”
Another heavy kick to his stomach, winding him slightly as he keeled forward, a burning pain spreading over his chest.
“Oh valley of plenty” he wheezed, forcing his head back up to stare at his captor’s face.
The day carried on very much the same, Jaskier working through his repertoire of songs as he was beaten black and blue, the lyrics keeping him focused and alert.
The man in the corner just stood and watched, his silent presence looming over the beating.
“I must say” Jaskier eventually huffed, directing his words at the man in the corner, “Your indifference to this situation is highly annoying. Are you not enjoying the performance?”
His question was met with another heavy hit to his stomach, the skin there surely covered in a patchwork quilt of forming bruises.
“You bore me”
The voice was cold, cutting through the pain like a knife and replacing all feeling in his body with the need to flee, an innate wrongness surrounding the man.
He stepped forward into the light, pink eyes flashing at him, “I think it’s high time we shut you up”
The taller man grinned, a shark-like expression that just added to the bard’s discomfort, moving behind him to grab him by the sides of the head, tilting him so that his neck was bared to the room.
They’re going to slit my throat, Jaskier thought absently, half delirious with pain, this is it.
The slimy tendrils of magic prodding at his mind made Jaskier’s eyes widen in panic, struggling against the bonds in a fruitless effort to get away from the unsettling sensation.
No. No this was so much worse.
He could handle pain. He could handle taunting words and harsh treatment. The one thing Jaskier couldn’t handle was fucking mages.
“No - “ he gasped, voice distorted by the angle of his head, “please-”
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Yellow eyes. Lips curled in to a snarl.
The mountain.
“Damn it, Jaskier!”
No. No no no no no no no. Not this. Anything but this.
“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, its you, shoveling it?”
White hair. Curled fists.
“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands”
Wet eyes. Shattered heart. A wasted life.
“Damn it, Jaskier!”
And it looped. Again, and again, and again,
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“Ready to talk, bard?”
His eyes fluttered open, eyelids heavy, fighting to remain closed.
“Fuck. You” he hissed, words mangled through gritted teeth.
The mage smirked, fingers reaching for his temple again, “Very well. It seems like one hour wasn’t enough”
The last thought Jaskier had before being pulled back to the mountain was one of horror, that one hour had felt like an entire day.
When he came to once more, Geralt’s voice still ringing in his ears, Jaskier realised there was a new man in the otherwise empty room.
“Going to talk yet little birdy?” the man asked, voice far too light for the circumstances, his posture reminiscent of those that approached him in taverns with hopes of charming him into bed that night.
The realisation occurred to him as he noticed his hands were free, a rusty cot added to the corner of the room.
“No” he whispered, the horror palpable in his tone.
“Well that’s too bad” the man sneered, his too-rough hands dragging him out of the chair and towards the cot.
The irony was that in that moment Jaskier would’ve given anything to have been back on that mountain, Geralt blaming him for everything, rather than be faced with his current reality.
Of course, the mage wasn’t kind enough for that.
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Jaskier wasn’t sure how many days had passed since his capture.
What he did know was this: his throat was too sore to speak, ruined from both abuse and lack of water; his body was so mottled that it looked like he had begun rotting, greenish-yellow marks covering almost every inch of his skin; his back shredded by the impromptu whipping session earlier that morning; and he wasn’t sure he could muster a smile, even if informed of the untimely and gruesome death of Valdo Marx.
But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.
He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.
He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.
They wouldn’t take away his love.
So he breathed steadily as he looked as his hands, tied down firmly to the arms of the chair, taking in every detail of the calloused fingers that made him the famous bard that he was today.
“Last chance. Where is the Witcher”
Jaskier just grinned, the smile bloody and insincere.
“Fucking your mother I would imagine” he croaked, withholding the wince of pain from the strain on his throat, instead widening his grin at the look of anger on the man’s face.
With a growl, the man brought the hammer down heavily on Jaskier’s left ring finger, smiling sickeningly at the bard’s agonised scream.
“Where is he?”
Head fuzzy with pain, Jaskier scowled and spat his blood in the man’s eyes.
The sickening crunch of bone echoed around the small room, Jaskier’s scream ringing out as another two fingers were smashed.
The line of questioning continued until all of his fingers were unrecognisable, the bard humming ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ through tears as he tried to regain control of his breathing.
“What a shame” the captor said, fake sympathy swimming in his cold eyes, “Looks like you’re worth even less than you were when we found you. What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?”
The man pretended to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Of course! A brothel worker!” He paused, tutting again and shaking his head, “No you cant even be that, we’ve made you far too ugly”
Jaskier tried to ignore his words, focusing on his rattling lungs instead, forcing them to inhale and exhale.
Unconsciousness crept forward, the pain finally overwhelming him, Jaskier falling into it’s open arms gladly.
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“-cher isn’t coming for him. We’ve had the word out for two weeks and got nothing”
The words drifted in to Jaskier’s cell, the conversation prying him from sleep.
“So what do we do? The bard’s not talking”
“We were meant to give a destination by yesterday”
“So we make one up, blame the bard when it comes back empty”
“… That could work”
“Then I’m guessing we kill him afterwards?”
“Theres no reason to keep him”
“Well-”
“You’re not using army funds to feed just so he can be your personal whore, Cahir would skin you alive if he found out”
Jaskier huffed a laugh at that - the realisation that his worth had finally been reduced to what his father had called him all those decades ago, ‘a worthless whore’, ‘useless to polite society’.
The conversation carried on, though Jaskier’s mind drifted, thoughts racing yet head surprisingly clear. He shifted in his seat, only slightly to the left, wincing as the healing whip wounds on his back pulled open again, the stinging pain keeping him tethered to consciousness.
Not for the first time, he wondered where Geralt was. Safe, that he was sure of, hidden from the greedy eyes of the Nilfgaardian army if their unhappiness was anything to go off of.
Had he found Cirilla yet?
Was Roach okay?
Was he taking proper care of himself?
And - in even his lowest moments - he found himself wondering how Yennefer was.
If she was handling the break-up better than he did.
If she was safe, happy, looked after.
Or maybe, perhaps even back with Geralt. The three of them playing happy families while Jaskier rotted in a cell and waited for a hapless death.
Being on your deathbed gave you a lot of perspective, Jaskier had realised, and he found it hard to even hate Valdo on occasion (until he regained some energy from a piece of stale bread thrown at him and immediately felt disgusted that the thought had even crossed his mind).
As the fog in his brain seemed to seep into his dimming vision, his thoughts returned to Geralt’s eyes.
“Goodnight my love”
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The news reached Geralt as they were passing a backwater town. 
“The bard Jaskier - I swear it was! They dragged him out t’wards the Nilfgaard base”
“Tom stop jabbering, they would’a been shouting that from the rooftops if they got ‘im”
Coldness seeped into the Witcher’s bones as the words registered in his brain, his eyes flying to Yennefer. The sorceress was looking at him with pity in her eyes.
“I can try scrying-”
“Please”
Ciri watched in awe as Yennefer set up her equipment that night in their camp, bouncing with barely restrained curiosity at all the new instruments that the mage seemed to summon from nowhere.
The young princess’ enthusiasm calmed Geralt slightly, focusing on her youthful movements instead of the dread that settled over him at the thought of Jaskier’s current situation, guilt hitting him every few minutes as he replayed their last conversation.
‘If life could give me one blessing-’
“He’s in Neunreuth” Yennefer said, looking up with a solemn expression, “in a Nilfgaardian fortress”
“They were right” the Witcher breathed, utterly defeated.
“So we’re going to get him right?” Ciri asked, enthusiasm now dampened by the morose mood emanating from the two adults.
“Of course” 
Yennefer quirked her eyebrow at his firm reply, before nodding in agreement, “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow”
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Geralt knew the second he stepped out of the portal that something was wrong.
“He cant be here” he thought aloud, “It’s been abandoned”
Yennefer frowned, her expression telling him everything she refused to say out loud, “He’s here”
“No”
Striding forwards, the Witcher advanced on the old manor house, nose picking up on the scent of Jaskier’s blood the second he reached the front door.
“No!”
Strides turned in to a sprint as he chased the scent, denial still swirling through his brain as he got closer and closer to the muted wildflower scent. 
“Jaskier”
The name fell from his lips as his knees gave out from under him, the sight of his bard’s limp body hanging from the chair punching all the breath from him. The smell of rusted blood was overwhelming, a pool in the corner dating back months.
Geralt sat there, disgusted by himself as he imagined how long Jaskier had waited for him to come and rescue him, how long he had stayed faithful to a monster.
He wasn't worth Jaskier’s life.
He wasn't aware he was crying until Yennefer laid a hand on his shoulder, “Geralt-”
“No” he hissed, struggling to his feet and moving over to the bard, “he cant be dead - he -”
Eyes wild, he turned around to face the sorceress, rising to his full height, “Fix him. I know you can - you did it last time”
“Geralt-”
Anger overtaking him, he pulled Jaskier’s limp body into his arms, unaware of how much his own hands were shaking.
“FIX HIM. YOU NEED TO FIX HIM NOW”
“Geralt stop”
“YOU NEED TO FIX HIM” he shouted, falling to his knees again, cradling the cold body in his arms as he sobbed, “Please fix him, Yen I need - I need you to fix him please”
The woman sighed, brushing a hand over Jaskier’s temple, looking for any sign of life.
“He’s gone"
Geralt’s cries could be heard in the next village over, lasting well into the night.
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Not long after, tales of the White Wolf, Princess of Cintra and the Raven Sorceress were spread far and wide, the image of Cahir’s head on a stick engraved in the public’s minds.
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holylulusworld · 4 years
Text
Consolation Bride
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Request: Would you please write for Bucky & reader, wherein he’s in love with Natasha but is forced to marry reader, he’s never home ignores her even when she tries hard. She even has to work as a waitress for money, one-night Brock tries to rape her, Steve arrives just in time and saves her. They become good friends. It’s on you if you want her to stay with Bucky or get married to Steve. It could be an au where they are not Avengers.
Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader, Mobster!Steve x Reader (platonic), Mobster!Bucky x Natasha (implied), Brock Rumlow, Sam Wilson, Pietro Maximoff
Warnings: angsts unrequited love, attempted rape, blood, scared reader, violence, characters death, cheating, Bucky being a douche, sad reader, comforting
The day your father agreed to the bond between his gang and Bucky’s you knew you have to marry the leader of the Barnes gang, but you didn’t mind. You always liked Bucky.
He is funny, strong and had the most beautiful blue eyes you ever saw. You didn’t mind marrying the man you secretly always had a thing for. 
During the ceremony, you smiled. Your heart was beating faster as he kissed you after he put the ring on your finger. It was all you wished for. A dream coming true.
Now four months later you know better. Bucky ignored you from day one. He gave you the smallest and shadiest room in the large Mansion he owns and the worst - he’s with someone else almost every night.
Natasha…his one and true love. You can’t compare with someone like her. She’s smart, sexy and deadly. All you are not. 
Your eyes stride toward the wardrobe. All you own is in there. Bucky refuses to buy you new clothes or even food. He eats the most delicious things and you, well you must work to feed your hunger.
Months ago you tried to talk to your father, to tell him about the way James is treating you but your father shook his head, ignoring your pleading to let you come back home.
You take a deep breath before you walk out of the room in your scratchy waitress uniform. The only job you were able to get was a job in a diner. At least the owner is nice and you get good tips. 
Most of the time Bruce hands you leftovers. He knows about your situation and tries to help you out in any way. 
Walking down the street you glance at your watch. You need to catch the bus to drive into town. Bucky insisted on getting rid of your car but now you must walk and take the bus anytime you have to go somewhere.
“Y/N!” Steve calls for you as you walk toward the bus station.” Hi, Steve. He’s not here.” You whisper walking past Bucky’s best friend.
“Uh—why are you wearing a waitress uniform? It’s June.” Steve jokes. “A bit too early for Halloween costumes.” Your eyes meet his ocean blue ones and you shrug. “I have to wear this for work, Steve. If you excuse me, I have to catch the bus to get to work.”
Steve grabs your upper arm, searching your face. “Wait, you are not joking? Do you have to work as a waitress? Is Bucky into trouble?” Steve gasps as you look away shaking your head.
“Girl gotta eat. I have to work for my food. Bucky doesn’t provide anything. I need new clothes and stuff so I have to earn money.” Your voice cracks as Steve’s eyes round and he looks at you with pity. “He never wanted me, Steve. Bucky wants Natasha. Please let me go now. I can’t lose my job.”
Shocked Steve let go of your arm, watching running toward the bus to drive to work. He can’t fight the knot forming into his stomach. How can Bucky treat you like this? Did his friend change that much?
—-
Days later you cooked dinner. Another try to make Bucky see you want to be his wife but he scoffed, telling you he won’t eat cheap food. He even tossed the plate against the wall.
Disappointed and hurt you cleaned the dining room before running toward your room. Maybe you can spare enough money to rent an apartment soon.
You barely buy anything only to spare money, so you already got 500 bucks hidden underneath your cheap mattress.
 —-
Another morning comes and you get ready for work as Steve walks into your room. Glancing at the cheap furniture and the small room you are living in, he shakes his head and the pit grows.
“Hey, Y/N.” Steve chirps but you only nod. Too tired you grab your purse and jacket, ready to go to work.
“He’s in his office with her. I got to go. Have a great day, Steve.” You mumble turning to leave the room, but Steve won’t budge. “Let me drive you, Y/N. It’s raining…”
“That’s kind of you but not needed. I can walk and take the bus. He wouldn’t like it. Last time Sam drove me home as he ate at the diner I’m working at Bucky yelled at him.” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory.
“Y/N, he can’t treat you like this…” Steve whispers as you look away, sniffling.
“I’m worthless to him, not even above a rat stealing his food…”
“Y/N…” Steve gasps. “Don’t tell me he told you so…”
“Not Bucky but Natasha…I’ll try to get out of here soon. I’m sparing money to find a payable apartment. He will get rid of me soon either way. I know Bucky hates me…” Your eyes sad, heartbroken you duck down Steve’s arm to walk toward the front door.
“Wait. I’ll drive you no matter what he says. I’m a gentleman and won’t let you walk in the middle of a thunderstorm.” Steve insists as you look at your shoes. “Steve…”
“No talking back. Come with me…” Steve mutters taking your hand in his to lead you out of the house. You give him a shy smile. It’s the first time you smile since you married Bucky.
Following Steve out of the Mansion, you can’t see Bucky standing on the top of the stairs clenching his jaw. You are his and Steve can’t have you…
—-
“We are closing.” You say looking at your last costumer. Bruce and Sharon had to leave earlier so you are alone.
The man smirks, licking his lips.
“What if I’m still hungry?” He almost growls as fear is spreading through your body. Taking a step back you glance at your phone, trying to grab it you get stopped by two strong hands pressing you against the wall.
“Let go of me!” You gasp as he moves one hand to your uniform, ripping it open. “Please…”
“You know, Barnes is an idiot, not tasting this ripe fruit. His loss, my win, doll. You will enjoy the ride for sure or not. I will send my old friend a message using his nice wife. She will be happy…” Brock grunts before he presses his lips to yours.
Disgusted you push against his chest, trying to break free. Slapping your face Brock glares at you before his hands move to your breasts. You start crying, knowing you can’t fight his strength but then he gets dragged off your body and hits the ground. 
The next moment you see Steve beating the man into a bloody pulp. Grabbing the gun out of his waistband he shoots the man’s chest, cursing.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Steve asks rushing to your side. He can see the fear all over your face as you try to cover your modesty. “Wait…” Steve strips his jacket off, covering you with it. “Sit over there, Sweetheart. I’ll call someone to clean this mess up.”
“No…please don’t go away…” You sniffle, grabbing his hand. “Shh…I’ll take care of you. I’ll go over there and lock the door and call the gang. Don’t worry. He’s dead…”
—-
Twenty minutes later Bucky, Sam, and five other men enter the diner. Steve explains the situation and Sam gulps hard, seeing your shaking form. Blood is seeping out of your lip as you tighten the grip at Steve’s jacket.
“Tell me what he said!” Bucky barks and you flinch, sobbing.
“Buck, give her a minute. Damn, she almost got raped but this disgusting bastard. Good thing I’m a gentleman and wanted to make sure she comes home safe.” Steve grunts.
“That’s my job!” Bucky talks back as more tears roll down your cheeks.
“Since when? For months she has to work in this diner. Lives in a shitty room and you let her drive home with the bus. Brock only had to wait for a chance to get hold of her or was this your plan – huh?” Steve spats and Bucky glares at his friend.
“I need to know what he said, Y/N.” Bucky insists.
You don’t meet his eyes, glancing at your shaking hands you try to find your voice. It takes minutes until you are finally able to bring some words out.
“He said you are an idiot, not tasting the ripe fruit. That I will enjoy the ride for sure or not.” Choking on your words you wipe away a few tears. “The man said he wants to send his old friend a message by using me.”
“That’s all?” Steve asks sitting next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.
“He said that she will be happy but he didn’t mention a name. That’s all I think.” You whisper leaning into Steve’s touch.
“Satisfied? Now let me bring her home…” Steve snarls narrowing his eyes as he helps you stand on wobbling legs.
Bucky can see the fear and tension in your body so he pushes his friend aside to grab your hand, leading you outside. “Did he tell you a name?” He asks as you wrap your arms around your trembling body.
“No.” You don’t say more, only staring into the darkness you decide to leave tonight. After what happened tonight you can’t stay close to Bucky.
“You sure?” Bucky asks once again and you look at him, shaking your head. “I don��t know. I was busy trying to not getting raped by this guy. If you want to know more ask someone else or have a look at the footage.” You yell and Bucky flinches hearing the pain in your voice. “Don’t act as you would care. This is all about this guy in there, not about me. You would’ve been happy to get rid of me, just like your affair. Don’t worry, the rat stealing your food will leave tonight.” 
“Rat?” Bucky asks but you walk away as Steve offers you his hand. “That’s what I am to you and your whore. Leave me alone, Barnes. I’m done pretending you will at least treat me like a human being. I’m just done…” You sniffle following Steve toward his car.
—-
“You sure I can leave? I can help you with…uh…anything.” Steve stammers. 
“Steve, your wife wouldn’t like you spending more time with me. I don’t want you to get into trouble.” You sniffle placing a suitcase onto your bed. “I will call Wanda. She will pick me up and I can sleep on her couch for a while.”
“Call me anytime, Y/N. I’m your friend.”
“I know Steve. You saved me tonight, thank you. Even if Bucky won’t be happy about it…”
Bucky stands in front of your room as Steve turns to leave giving his friend a warning glare. Your ‘husband’ walks toward your room, standing in the doorframe as he watches you packing your few belongings.
“You can’t just leave.” Bucky rumbles striding toward your bed to sit down. “Damn, that’s one hard mattress.” He curses realizing he gave you no comfort at all. “We need to find this woman.”
“Think hard Bucky and you'll know the answer. If you do not cheat on me with someone else only one woman is wanting to get rid of me. She made it, no need to hurt me. I will leave and beg my father I can get an annulment.” Your suggestion hits Bucky’s pride and he clenches his jaw.
“Annulment?” He gasps. “You are my wife…”
“I’m only a rat stealing your food. Not that you would’ve given me any food. I had to work or take the leftovers of the diner to feed my hunger. I didn’t get anything from you. No food, respect or love…nothing. I’ll set you free.” Your fingers are trembling when he gets up to grab your wrists pressing you to his chest.
“You believe it was Natasha?” Bucky asks as you struggle against his strength. “You’re my wife, she has to respect you.” 
“Like you did? I’m living in a storage room. I have to work as a waitress and instead of making sure I’m alright after this man tried to…” Now the dam breaks and you start crying. 
“Shhh, …he will never touch you again. No one will touch you…” Bucky mutters moving his arms around you. 
“Only as Steve saved me.” You sniffle adding another crack to Bucky’s pride. “He’s a good man, a gentleman. I wish I would’ve had the opportunity to marry someone like him. A husband loving me, respecting me and even more important - protecting me. I don’t have any of this and I’ll never have it.”
“I will talk to Natasha. Sam and Pietro are on their way to pick her up. If she’s behind this I’ll…” Bucky exhales tightening the grip on you. You refuse to lean into his touch, refuse to hide your face into his chest as you did with Steve.
“You will do nothing. She’s the one you want. Just let me go. I can sleep at a friend’s place for a while and ask dad for an annulment. You can be free. I’ll tell him I wasn’t good enough for you…” Your voice cracks at the words leaving your lips.
His lips press a soft kiss to your forehead as his hand combs through your hair. The tension in his body won’t fade as he feels your smaller frame starts shaking once again.
“I’ll kill her if she’s behind this, Y/N. Respect is the most important thing in our kind of business. I told her a marriage with her is out of the question. You are my wife…” Bucky mutters against your skin.
“Respect…huh…It would have been nice to have the respect of my husband. How pathetic you want someone else to respect me if you are not able to do so.” 
—-
Forced to sit on the couch while Bucky is circling Natasha, his lover, the woman he cheated on you with, you look away.
“I’ll ask you this once, Nat. Brock Rumlow tried to attack my wife tonight. Is it true this was your idea?” Bucky asks hoping you are wrong.
Natasha scoffs, smirking in your direction. “Thought she needs a good fuck. I know you never touched this little rat. I wanted to do her a favor.” Natasha chuckles and nausea wells up your stomach as Bucky’s fist collides with her face.
“I hate hurting women, but you will pay for disrespecting my wife and me. Even more important you betrayed me by working with Rumlow. Pietro get her out and take care of her. I want everyone to know the Romanoff’s are personas non grada from now on.” Bucky orders as you look out of the window.
“Boss. The final solution?” Pietro asks glancing at your swollen face. “Or a ban?”
James’ eyes drift toward your broken form. Tears slip down your cheeks as you hold a cool pack to your bruised face.
“Final solution.” Bucky chokes out. “Sweetheart, I want you to come with me.” You don’t recognize James meant you so you keep on staring out of the window. Watching a few leaves twirl in the wind. “Y/N, come with me.”
His hand takes your tiny one to lead you toward a room you never entered before. The room is huge. A new bed is standing in the middle. 
“I want you to have a relaxing bath and then we are going to have dinner. We need to talk about the future.” Bucky orders as you want to leave the room to walk back toward your room. “Where are you going, Y/N?”
Turning around you shrug. “My room, Bucky. You want me to take a bath, or rather a shower.” His eyes water as he watches you rushing out of the room.
“Wait, I meant you shall have a bath here…” Bucky runs after you, leading you back into the room. “Take a bath and I’ll bring your things here. You will sleep with me in this room from now on. You are my wife…”
“Why? As Natasha betrayed you?” Scoffing you want to walk out of the room once again but James is faster, pressing you into the wall. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m trying…okay. We can at least try to act like decent human beings from now on. I know I treated you badly. I had to watch you getting all cozy with Steve to realize I want you.” Bucky growls burying his face into your neck. “I hate seeing you with him.”
“Steve and I are friends. He’s married to a wonderful woman and he loves her.” You sniffle. “Not that someone like Steve or you would ever want me…”
“I want you. I can’t forget the moment Steve called me and told me about Brock’s attack. He wanted to touch you. No one can touch you but me.” Bucky’s lips nip at your neck as you push against his chest. “I’ll be patient. Please believe me I’m going to make it up to you. No other women…I swear.”
His eyes search your face as your lips start quivering. Bucky is unsure what to do so he does the only thing coming to his mind. He presses his plump lips to yours, taking your breath away.
“Steve can’t have what’s mine. I’ll treat you like a princess from no one. My princess.” Bucky whispers against your lips. “Don’t leave me.”
“He kissed me…” You choke out. “Touched my breasts. I didn’t want him to…”
“Shhh…Brock can’t hurt you ever again. From now on you won’t leave the house without someone protecting you. I’ll be a good husband. Now let’s get your cleaned and have dinner.”
—-
That night Bucky holds you tight while you cry into his chest. For the first time since he had to marry you, he feels his heart open up for you.
Warmth is creeping into his cheeks as you move closer to paw at his shirt. Your scent is intoxicating and the way you press your body against his, desperate, shaking brings out the protective man he always wanted to be.
“I’ll protect you from now on. Sleep now.” Bucky whispers as you hide your face into his chest.
His mind wanders to Steve who got divorced months ago. He can't let his best friend get too close to you. Bucky must make sure you will stay with him.
Marvel Tags
@stuckys-whore​, @notyourtypicalrose​, @voltage-my2dlove​, @thedoctorscamanion , @officialmarvelwhore​, @randomgirlkensy​, @juniorhuntersam​, @lumar014​, @doctorswife221b​, @badboysdoitbetter2​​, @sister-winchesters99​
All works Tags
@yolobloggers​, @meganywinchester​​, @shikshinkwon​​, @miraclesoflove​ ​, @mogaruke​, @shatteredabby​
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agustdef · 4 years
Text
Missing You
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Pairing: Jin x Black!Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 2.1k
Warning: Soft. 
Rating: PG
Y/N woke up for the fifth time that night covered in sweat and breathing heavily. A stupid nightmare wouldn’t leave her alone and every time she’d managed to get herself to sleep it would merely pick up where she’d left it. Something she could never do with the awesome dreams she wanted to finish, but of course being chased through the forest was something her mind wanted to relive over and over again.
When her eyes glanced towards the clock, she noticed it was five in the morning, which meant the sun would start rising before she could even try to sleep again. She cursed herself for not buying black out curtains when she saw them a few days before. They would’ve come in handy, but she shrugged it off because she’d never needed them to help sleep before.
If only she’d foreseen several sleepless nights then.
Accepting her fate, Y/N carefully sat up and got out of the bed. She felt disgusting and before she could do anything else a shower was in order.
Once inside the bathroom she slipped off her clothes and swapped her silk Sailor Moon bonnet for a shower cap. It made her miss her braids, which she didn’t care about getting wet, but she’d gone in for a haircut a few days before. Haircuts for her meant her curls were straightened and she would be damned if she didn’t get full use of allowing heat near her hair.
The shower was brief and she was quick to get dry, then slather her body with lotion. She’d been feeling extra dry for a few weeks and there was this weird trail of lighter brown spots against her dark brown skin that the dermatologist said would clear up with extra moisture. Y/N didn’t fully believe that, but she’d try the method just so she could say she did when things didn’t clear up.
As she entered the bedroom again Y/N realized how odd her morning was going. Aside from the nightmare and lack of sleep, things felt slower and she was hyper aware of everything. Every action came with in depth thought about what she was doing.
She really hoped things righted themselves as she went about her day.
After slipping on undergarments she made a beeline for Jin’s side of the dresser and snagged one of his softer sweaters. It made her feel warm and comforted, which was something she craved after that nightmare. It wasn’t one that scared her too much and she’d been able to shake the imagery rather easily, but it still had her feeling off. Maybe it got her adrenaline pumping a little.
Either way she hated it and needed to feel less alone. Needed to combat the longing for Jin to be home already. Sometimes she wished she’d taken the job as a photographer at Big Hit instead of her dream magazine. It would’ve meant that she’d gone on tour with the boys and wouldn’t be so limited to phone communication and the one time she flew out for one of the stops.
But she’d made the choice and was fine with that. It taught her that she doesn’t like the job she worked that much at least. Not that she planned to quit it any time soon.
Comfortable and ignoring the way her mind lingered on missing Jin she padded out to the kitchen. Food would help her. Well, food and some tea.
“Alexa, play Morning Rise playlist,” she shouted.
“Playing Morning Rise playlist,” Alexa parroted back at her.
The music started off with a soft song by Tori Kelly and as it changed songs the energy exuded from them would build. It was curated to carefully wake her and not just throw her into the deep end.
Humming along she went for the simple breakfast of eggs, sausage, and rice. Making a helping slightly larger than she usually would to deal with her new appetite. She didn’t want to be back in the kitchen making food an hour after she’d finished eating.
Once her food was done and her tea was brewed Y/N made her way towards the living room with all of it. Usually, she ate at the island in the kitchen or the dining room table but she wanted to watch TV comfortably. On the floor in front of the coffee table was an ideal spot.
“Alexa, stop,” she called as she left the kitchen.
While she ate Strong Woman Do Bong Soon played on the screen. It was the millionth time she’d watched the drama, but that didn’t matter to her. Every time brought her the same amount of joy and she planned to watch it a million more times.
Where she’d started was where the two leads were first fully giving into their feelings and though it was beyond cute it sent a pang into her heart. Turning her head, she stared at the picture of her and Jin on the wall. She’d hated it and didn’t want it displayed anywhere, but Jin begged until she gave in.
Now she hated it because it served as a reminder of the man she was missing. Tour was basically over, but there were other things the boys had to do and she’d been told he’d not be back for at least two more weeks.
Y/N wanted him back right that second. So much so that she almost went to get her phone to call and tell him that, but it was late where they were and she didn’t want to wake him up.
“And that would just be unfair,” she mumbled.
Sighing, she collected her empty dishes and took them back to the kitchen. After throwing them in the dishwasher with some other dishes she hadn’t cleaned the night before she poured another cup of tea and grabbed a back of cookies that she liked to have with it. She didn’t care that it was barely six, she’d eat them any time.
With her snacks in hand she returned to the living room but took a seat on the lounger part of the couch. Setting her things on the end table next to her she grabbed the fluffy blanket and wrapped herself in it.
Settled into her seat she gave her full attention back to the TV. Occasionally, she’d yell something out at the screen as if the characters could hear her or their stupid mistakes would change in her current watch. And of course, they didn’t stop being stupid, much to her chagrin.
It reached a point that she was so engrossed that the sound of the door opening, bags dropping, and footsteps didn’t catch her attention. It wasn’t until Jin was leaning over her that she noticed him.
“Jin!” she squealed.
Y/N practically jumped off the couch to get her arms around him, but he stopped her and carefully lifted her into his arms.
“I missed you too,” he said, his voice low and scratchy.
After a few moments they pulled away and she stared at his face, hands moving to cup his cheeks. A pout formed on her lips and her eyes narrowed.
“You told me two…”
“Two weeks, I know. It was that long, but it changed and I was given the choice to stay there or come home early,” he said.
Though the response was valid, Y/N maintained her expression. Jin rolled his eyes at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Of course, she melted into him. His lips were always so soft and she enjoyed kissing them any chance she got.
When he pulled away, she groaned in protest, to which he just laughed.
Moving past her, he took her seat and used her hand to pull her down with him, though he was careful on how she fell. Once she was on her side and curled into him both his arms wrapped around her waist.
His gaze went to the TV immediately, but she simply stared at him. After several seconds he stared back at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“I really missed you, Jinnie,” she said.
He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back the smile was still there, but she could see how tired he was.
“God, I missed you too. The last few weeks have been hell,” he said.
At that Y/N merely cuddled closer, even throwing a leg over his torso. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder.
For the first time in a while she felt so comfortable and at peace. Like she’d finally found the missing piece that she’d needed. And though she hated feeling like she was becoming clingy she didn’t hate the joy that coursed through her that came with having him back. The feeling of truly being at home.
Who knows how much time passed as they laid there snuggled together and watched the drama together. Y/N sure as hell didn’t care, she was too comfortable to even think of doing anything else.
“Why were you up, baby?” Jin asked softly.
Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, only to be met with a frown. It was his turn to be displeased with his significant other.
“Sleep has been weird for a few days. Nightmares wake me up multiple times a night and after the fifth time I kind of just gave up,” she said.
That only made Jin frown more, one of his hands gently squeezing her hip.
“The forest one?”
She nodded.
For a moment his brows furrowed and then Y/N was being attacked. Jin pinned her and placed kisses all over her face, repeating the process multiple times. She laughed and begged for him to stop, but he refused to let up. He didn’t stop until she’d laughed so hard and for so long that her breathing was a little heavy. Then he pulled away and smiled at her, laughing obnoxiously when she slapped his arm.
Leaning down he pressed several kisses to her lips and then down to her neck. She thought he’d stop there, but he just kept going. Lifting his sweater from her body to kiss the bare skin on her chest and then still going farther. He stopped just above her stomach, glancing up at her for a few seconds before kissing it multiple times.
“Don’t think I forgot about you, little one. Daddy missed you too,” he said to her protruding stomach.
The bump was prominent, but not that much. She was only about four and a half months pregnant, so there was still some growing to be done on her and the baby’s part.
For several minutes he just talked to her stomach. He told the baby about the tour and how much he’d missed them and their mama. It was beyond cute and oddly relaxing for Y/N. It also filled her heart to the brink and she was seconds away from cooing at him, which she knew that he’d hate.
Suddenly he stopped talking and looked up at her.
“Quit your job and come with us for the second half of the tour,” he blurted out.
The suddenness of it shocked her. Y/N’s eyes went wide and her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a response.
Jin crawled back up the couch so they were eye level. His expression appeared conflicted for a moment, but then he brushed her purple hair out of his eyes and stared at her intensely.
“I know it’s the job you really wanted, but you do not like it there. It’s fine, I know, but you come home annoyed more often than not. You could leave there and take the job as one of our tour photographers. It would be intense, but not enough that you or the baby would be too stressed. And it would be a great time with you there. We’d not have to be apart so much. Plus, it ends right as you reach your last month and then my schedule is almost completely clear, with no out of country travel,” he said.
Y/N closed her mouth for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she mulled it over. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much time at all.
“I really don’t like that job,” she said.
That’s all it took for Jin to scream and pull her tight against him. Once more he was pressing kisses all over her face and thanking her. There were also a few mentions of telling Big Hit soon and making her promise to put in her notice too.
It took a bit to get him to pull back, but when he did, she just smiled at him. “Okay, okay. But can we do that in a few hours? I just really want to stay like this with you for a while longer.”
“Anything for you, my love.”
And with that they spent several hours cuddled on the couch and rewatched all their favorite things. It only ended because Namjoon called and basically screamed at Jin, asking if he’d asked Y/N already or not.
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ardentprose · 4 years
Text
Cold Brew - Prologue
This is my attempt at the old coffee shop cliche. I’m warning you now, my writer’s block is strong. But I will tell you this story to the best of my abilities. 
*I don’t own the gifs.
*Dialogue: English will be in standard font while Korean will be italicized.
Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Slow-Burnish, Romance
Warnings: Language (if more are found, please message me)
Summary: Going to an American college for music was an opportunity Min Yoongi could not pass up. Despite the comments about his eyes and accent, he’s determined to make it through the semester and prove himself to his parents back home. After an awkward but fateful conversation, Yoongi finds himself crushing hard for a girl he only has so many weeks to confess to. If he will at all.
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November
He sits at a table shoved against a wall, his mind concentrated on chasing down the train of thoughts bustling through his mind before it escapes him. His hand scurries across the page, the inevitable pain slowly rising in his wrist as the pen audibly scratches through the journal. Now and then, his left hand brushes the pale hair settling on his eyelashes. The brim of round wire glasses faithfully slides down the smooth bridge of his nose and so his fingers are kept busy with this task as well.
In the past hour, the bell has jingled a hundred times, the voices of patrons intermingling with the whistling espresso machines and clank of the register drawer. It’s background noise easily tuned out, and yet with an uncanny sense, when the bell chimes again announcing a new arrival, Yoongi slams his journal closed, slipping it into the safe cavern of his backpack.
He pulls out his English Composition 101 textbook and the accompanying black spiral notebook to set on the table.
She slides into the chair across from him, her sweet perfume cutting through the ever present aroma of coffee. The soft thud of her messenger bag accompanies her warm tone.
“Yoongi.” His eyes train on his notebook, watching the veins in his hand flicker as he opens the massive textbook to the current chapter. Only after finding the correct page does he looks up at her and her awaiting smile. That brief moment of delay does nothing to prepare his heart as it skips twice, taking in her shining eyes, rosy cheeks, and chapped lips parted for him.
“Hey.” He swallows the strain in his vocal chords, hoping to disguise their fragility with a long sip of his cold brew.
“How are you? Did you get any sleep last night?” She asks as she leans forward and slips out her winter coat. She drapes it over the back of her chair, left in a hoodie dyed the navy blue of the university.
“The same.” He mumbles, licking the aftertaste from his lips and anticipating the crinkle in her brow.
“Yoongi, you have to learn to go to bed! It’s not healthy to skip sleep. One of these days you’re going to collapse from exhaustion.”
“I have...too much work.” He reasons, watching the lavender scarf she claims to have knit herself unravel around her neck. She leans over to stuff it into her bag and then gives him a glare.
“We all have too much work to do, Yoongi. You need to sleep.”
Why does she keep saying my name? He muses, intrigued and yet horrified at the electricity that shoots through him every time he hears her say the familiar syllables.
“And you?” He chides, watching her momentarily cover a cough and then sniff. “You gonna catch a cold.”
“No, I’m not. I was just outside.” She shakes her head, tugging out her own textbook and note-taking utensils.
"Your voice is scratchy. That wouldn’t happen if you drank the warm honey water like I told you to.” Yoongi says.
“Yeah, well...” She sighs, and her eyes flicker to his along with a guilty smile. Despite her age, youth couldn’t prevent the exhausted wrinkles creasing under her eyes.
“Let’s both agree to take better care of ourselves. You go ahead and start, I’m going to order some tea.”
“I got it.” Yoongi says, allowing her to remain in her seat, albeit with a confused expression. He waves his hand above her head, catching the eye of the barista, who nods and disappears behind the kitchen. He returns promptly with a porcelain tea cup on a saucer, setting it down in front of her wide eyes.
“Thank you!” She glances from the barista to Yoongi, blinking several times at the steaming cup of tea.
“Let’s get started.” Yoongi clears his throat, taking another sip, and flipping open his notebook to the next blank page.
She hums, taking a careful sip of the spiced chai she so dearly craves. Soon, they slip into routine silence and time passes as it always does. She explains the English language in a patient voice, sometimes reaching over with her pen to point out a particular word or phrase. He writes it down, taking note of her correction and the way his knuckles burn when she grazes them in proximity. The atmosphere is calm and productive, and Yoongi can’t help but notice the contrast between the silent companionship in the café to the initial meeting they had only a mere three months ago.
September
He had just arrived in America, via a Student Visa and Study Abroad program. Though he had only spent three weeks at most on campus, he quickly realized the color of his skin and the accent of his words was evidence enough to attach numerous stereotypes to his character, most of which he had never heard of before in his life. The American students would clap him on the shoulder in class, asking if he could check their math homework. The teachers would speak to him in a patronizingly slow English, as if he had a mental issue, not a language barrier. A fair share of giggling girls with pretty Asian men tucked into phone cases would ask for his number, but struggle pronouncing his name. The worst of it came from the frat boys who, though having never seen his crotch, assumed it was lacking in comparison to their superior American-made crotches. It was by that time, Yoongi decided that save for the incredible opportunity it was to study music in America, the rest of it could burn in hell.
The only one stopping him from taking the next ticket back to South Korea was his roommate Hoseok, who came over on a dance scholarship the year before. Having acclimated for one year to American college life, Hoseok tried to convince Yoongi on a daily basis that not all Americans were as ignorant as they let on. However, it still took Hoseok disconnecting Yoongi’s laptop from the school Wi-Fi on a particularly climatic night in order to convince him to stay in America - at least until the end of the semester.
That being said, Yoongi had, fair or not, formed a prejudice against American students and avoided them at all costs. Ironically, it was this mindset that caused him to open his mouth, one picnic table away, and comment on some American’s awful pronunciation of his native tongue.
The soon to be victim was sitting at the picnic table next to his sitting with a presumably Korean girl.
“I haven’t gotten it down perfectly, but I definitely know how to have a basic conversation.”
“Really? Show me, show me!” Her loud volume caught Yoongi’s attention, which up until now had been focused on the next four measures under his pencil.
Having forgotten his earbuds in his dorm, he was left with no other choice but to eavesdrop.
“How are you?" The friend immediately asked and Yoongi could hear her smile in the eager question.
“I’m great! How are you?” The American responded.
A frown wrinkles Yoongi’s brow. He understood her words, but the pronunciation was slightly jarring, as if she was talking with rocks in her mouth.
“Very good!” The native encouraged and asked her what her career is, a basic introduction that any stranger would ask.
“College study gift. I’m study music and singer.“ Stumbling and humming her way through the sentence, Yoongi can’t help but snicker, holding his knuckles to his grin.
“Yes!” Expecting a correction, Yoongi scoffs as she ignores the obviously incorrect sentence and encourages her on. 
“Are you kidding me? She sounds like a damn Google translation.” He laughed, resuming his writing with a shake of his head.
“Hey! Who the fuck asked you?!”
Yoongi’s heart jumped into his throat. One moment he was scribbling notes on a composition sheet, chuckling to himself. The next, a furious Korean female was in his face, cursing him out. 
He blinked up at the sudden fire and brimstone before him. Before he fired back a few choice words of his own, he pieced together that his comment had been overheard. 
He glanced at the woman currently sitting at the other table, her tears brimming and her lips tucked in shame. She may not have understood his comment, but clearly, by the tone of his words and the righteous anger of her friend, he had insulted her. She cautiously lifted her eyes to him and Yoongi felt the boulder of remorse hit his stomach.
“Fuck.”
Leave it to him to insult the one American woman who, at the very least, was doing her best to understand his culture, and at the very most, was the prettiest woman he had ever seen.
Without a moment’s hesitation he met the eyes of the furious friend, choosing to deal with her first. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you could hear me.”
“That doesn’t mean you can insult her! She was trying her best. We weren’t even talking to you.”
“I’m an asshole, okay? I didn’t mean to take it out on her. Can I at least apologize?” Choosing to agree in order to calm her down, Yoongi maintained his calm exterior despite the guilt twisting his stomach into knots.
The friend huffed, tossing her raven hair over her shoulder as she stepped back slightly. Yoongi cleared his throat, ignoring the tremble in his fingertips and shuffled over to the picnic table, sitting down on the opposite bench.
“Hey, I’m...” Doing his best to clearly pronounce his English was just another lash of shame against his burning cheeks.
“I’m very sorry for...my words. I was...idiot. Very big idiot. I...You speak...good Korean. More good than...I speak English...” Stuttering and flitting his eyes around her face, the table, and his shaking hands, Yoongi stumbled through an apology, his voice gruff but his expression sincere.
“It’s alright.” She sighed, swiping under her eyes with the back of her fingers. “I get it. I probably do sound really dumb. But thank you.” 
Her instant compassion tore at Yoongi all the more and he wondered at which point he turned into the monsters that terrorized him all day long.
“I...I help you, if you help me.” He was speaking the words before he could register them. Once they do, a cold terror drained his expression at the same time a large smile warmed her face.
“Really? You’d do that?”
“Hey, what about me?” The two glanced at the Korean friend who sensed the sudden shift in the conversation.
“I need all the help I can find, Eun. You know we hardly have time to meet up as it is. This is the first since two weeks ago I’ve been able to practice with you."
Eun rolls her eyes. “He just insulted you. Don’t trust him so easily.”
Yoongi blinks, lacking the words to defend himself and still processing why he offered his help to a stranger when he hadn’t given the time of day to anyone other than Hoseok - who wore a watch.
Her gaze fell on him now, taking in his features for the first time. Her eyebrows wrinkled. 
“Haven’t I seen you in a class before?”
“I...uh...I take music.”
“Oh, I am too! Music Production with Mrs. Harris, right? You’re the one who plays the piano all the time. I never see anyone with you. Have you made friends here?” Before he has time to think of an answer, she cuts him off. 
“Oh my word - ignore that! That was so rude to ask! I’m so sorry.” 
Again, how could he have insulted the kindest person on campus?
Yoongi licked his lips, shrugging. There weren’t enough English words in his vocabulary to explain the prejudice-driven harassment and bitterness he had experienced since moving here. He never noticed someone so genuine and sweet in that classroom of entitled pricks, himself included as one of them.
“Never mind. All the more reason. It’s a deal, then.” She held out her hand, brimming with a newfound excitement that hadn’t caught onto him yet.
“You’ll fix my pronunciation. I’ll help you pass ESL 101.” She promised as Yoongi slid his palm over hers. The fact she knew he was taking the English as a Second Language course wasn’t a surprise. All exchange students were required to take it and this incident more than warranted her assumption of his class register.
Swallowing thickly he nodded, now finding himself the one put out. Eun rolled her eyes but sat down beside her friend again.
“At least tell each other your names if this is gonna happen.” She exhaled.
Yoongi’s new tutor laughed, and it’s so contagious, he cracked a smile.
“We’re off to a great start, aren’t we?” She giggled, giving him a look that could rival the stars.
Chapter One
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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years
Text
you wingless thing
C H A P T E R   F I V E
tags: rape/non-con, dead dove: do not eat, geralt / jaskier, original female character, original male character, angst with a happy ending, angst, angst and feels, rape, past rape/non-con, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, psychological abuse, emotional abuse, emotionally repressed, fae jaskier, fae magic, hurt jaskier, torture, revenge, past torture, hurt/comfort, past abuse, jaskier whump, feral jaskier, creature jaskier, inhuman jaskier, eventual happy ending, love confessions, idiots in love, wing kink, homoerotic wing grooming
author’s note: scheduled mondays, wednesdays, and fridays
main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>
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Geralt wakes up on something soft, with golden light shining in his eyes as he slowly opens them. He’s met with a four-poster bed, covered in lavish blankets and furs, and the rest of the room is the same way. It’s all very luxurious and smells almost sickeningly like flowers - Geralt wonders why the nobility like their floral perfumes so much, because he doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger, but rather like he’s being pampered. Normally, that thought would make him even warier than before, but he’s at the mercy of a manipulative sorceress and he won’t waste energy on worrying unless it becomes something he needs to worry about.
He slides out of the bed, and it’s then that he notices Jaskier isn’t here - which, fuck his plan about not worrying, that makes his heart rate speed up and adrenaline and fear course through his body at an almost dizzying rate. His eyes dart around as he takes true stock of his surroundings - he can’t see his swords, there’s two side doorways that he assumes leads to a closet and a bath, as well as a front door to the room that’s simple oak wood. The posts of the bed he supposes can be easily broken off and used as an impromptu weapon, though the vase sitting on the table in the corner is much more reliable than depending on whether he can break off the bedpost with sheer strength.
Geralt scans the room and finds nothing else, but his frantic energy doesn’t subside and he searches the room. The front door is locked, the closet is empty save for a few clothes that look like they were picked for him, and the bath is, for some reason, decked out with an array of expensive soaps and fragrant oils. Geralt searches the drawers and tables and finds absolutely nothing - the contents of this room are an outrageous amount of furs and blankets, an equally absurd amount of soaps and oils, a few clothes, a vase, a lamp, and nothing more. Geralt ends up standing in the middle of the room after his search, frustrated and worried and more than slightly panicking as he wonders where Nyla took Jaskier.
It’s not that he’ll be able to do anything against Nyla in his current unarmed state, but he’d at least like to know where the fae is. He wants to know whether Nyla is hurting him, and if she is, just how much pain he is going to have to inflict on her once they’re out of this contract. No one hurts Jaskier and gets away with it as long as Geralt’s concerned, not even a sorceress who’s under the guise of helping them.
The lock clicks and Geralt’s eyes snap to the door, hyper-focusing as his senses go on high alert trying to sense who’s coming. Part of him wants to tense up, and the other wants to stay relaxed in case it’s Jaskier on the other side of that door.
There’s a flash of gold, white feathers, and pale skin, and Geralt finds himself rushing forward faster than he wanted, stepping close to Jaskier as he enters and shuts the door behind him. Geralt is too focused on Jaskier to protest as the lock clicks closed and they’re trapped together in the room.
“Fuck,” Jaskier says eloquently, leaning back against the wall. He’s dressed in a sheer gold dress with slits in the back for his wings - it’s the first time he’s worn an outfit other than his sapphire doublet and trousers and occasionally one of Geralt’s shirts because they’re loose enough to go over his wings without hurting them. Jaskier’s arms and wings both wrap around himself, and Geralt prevents himself from touching, letting Jaskier have his space despite how much he wants to hold him tight and close. He stands awkwardly in front of him, concerned but having no idea what to do as Jaskier shivers and meets Geralt’s eyes.
“What did she do?” Geralt asks, as restrained as he can manage.
Jaskier glances down and shakes his head, brow furrowing. “Nothing. She… she didn’t do anything. She made me have dinner with her and then just, let me go.” He swallows and takes a breath. “I wandered around for a few hours, but they wouldn’t let me go near your room until just now when they practically forced me into it. Not that I’m complaining, by the way,” he adds hurriedly at the way Geralt deflates just slightly.
Geralt frowns. “You think she won’t hurt us at all?”
Jaskier pushes off the wall and walks past Geralt, who turns to watch him make his own search of the room as he talks.
“No, she is definitely planning on hurting us,” he says. “Well, me actually. She didn’t seem interested in you at all.”
Geralt hums. That is not ideal - he’d rather Nyla hurt him than Jaskier, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? If she hurts Jaskier, she hurts Geralt and she doesn’t even need to figure out how to get past a Witcher’s physical pain tolerance enough for true torture. Emotional and mental pain is just as damaging as physical, but Geralt has nowhere near the tolerance for those. It scares him how easily he can be hurt just by imagining Jaskier being hurt, but he doesn’t regret it at all. He would not trade this pain for not loving Jaskier in any lifetime.
And - that’s what it is, Geralt knows. Love. He may be emotionally repressed, but it doesn’t mean he can’t identify his feelings before he represses them, and love is not one that he can shove down, especially for someone who shines as bright and beautiful as Jaskier. Which, is both a blessing and a curse, because it makes his entire life brighter when Jaskier is around, but he knows the fae doesn’t love him back and he will have to deal with heartbreak when Jaskier eventually leaves.
Well, Geralt thinks, he can’t say he doesn’t understand Jaskier’s songs about love and heartbreak anymore.
Jaskier opens the closet and frowns, pulling out one of the black shirts meant for Geralt. “Did she only give clothes for you? Really? I’m expected to wear this dress - which, is quite beautiful but given that a manipulative sorceress has given it to me, I don’t much like it - to bed?” He looks down at the offending outfit, pulling on his sleeve as he talks. “Because first off, the material is scratchy, honestly, who makes a dress with such awful material? And second off, I’m practically naked - this is so sheer and loose that it’ll ride up on me at night.”
Geralt walks over and takes the shirt from him, a smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing,” he says, putting the shirt back on its hanger and hooking it in the closet.
Jaskier’s mouth drops open and his eyes track Geralt as the Witcher walks over to the far side of the bed and pulls off his shirt. “Geralt,” he breathes, mock-scandalized, “are you insinuating you’d rather me sleep next to you with no clothes?”
Geralt shrugs nonchalantly. “Unless you’d rather sleep ‘practically naked’ on the floor.” He lays on the bed and pulls the covers over him, smirking at Jaskier’s shocked face.
Jaskier composes himself, mouth closing suddenly, and now he’s the one smirking, which makes Geralt quickly regret his actions as Jaskier strips off the dress and lays next to him in nothing but his smallclothes.
Fuck.
They’d never slept together with anything less than a shirt and trousers on, and Geralt has to hide his body’s natural reaction to the fae’s long, lithe body pressed against him - now so much closer and intimate than usual. It’s everything he’s wished for, both a blessing and a curse because Jaskier knows exactly what he’s doing to him, but he also doesn’t know the stab of pain he gives Geralt at the thought of this starting his last month of having Jaskier with him.
Jaskier smirks up at Geralt. “You asked for this, remember that.”
Geralt mentally curses himself again, and doesn’t get to sleep that night.
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The dreams start three days after.
Geralt wakes to Jaskier twitching next to him the first time, his usually peaceful face contorted in confusion and fear rolling off of him in waves, the acrid scent stronger than Geralt has ever smelled it from Jaskier.
“Jaskier?” he asks softly, but still firm. He gets no response other than a soft whimper, and he leans up on his elbow, watching as Jaskier starts twisting and turning wildly, repeating a string of no and don’t and something Geralt can’t make out. He frowns, unsure what to do, but seeing Jaskier’s distress has his whole body tensing and adrenaline starting to run through it as Geralt slightly panics, wanting to help Jaskier but having no idea how to do it. He had helped Lambert with his nightmares at Kaer Morhen during the trials when he was young, helped by Eskel, but that was so long ago that Geralt doesn’t remember how he did it, and Jaskier isn’t quite the same as Lambert.
Geralt watches Jaskier’s hand hit hard on the headboard and winces. He decides to help by moving forward, avoiding getting hit by the fae’s flailing wings and other limbs as he pins Jaskier down, not wanting him to hurt himself, and tries to shake him awake while keeping him mostly still. Jaskier only struggles, twisting and crying out beneath Geralt. His voice is full of so much pain and fear that Geralt lets him go, pushing himself back so fast that he almost falls off the bed, eyes wide. He never wants to hear Jaskier sound like that because of him - and he knows it wasn’t really him, but it was close enough that the fear still paralyzes Geralt as he watches the fae writhe in the sheets.
“Geralt,” he says, voice rough and harsh and panicked, and Geralt inhales sharply. Jaskier’s breathing starts to increase, fast enough that Geralt knows it’s unhealthy, and he surges forward, half-pinning and half-shaking Jaskier hard enough to make his eyes snap open and his breathing stutter, coming too fast and too sharp for several tense moments until it slowly evens out. Jaskier breathes slowly in and out, and the frantic, rabbit-fast thudding of his heart echoes in Geralt’s ears.
“Jaskier,” Geralt says roughly, half relief and half question. The fae’s blue eyes flick to him briefly before focusing on the sheets. Geralt waits, hands holding Jaskier’s arms as he sits up, until he seems calm enough that Geralt releases his arms, sitting back on his heels and using his unerring focus to track every small movement Jaskier makes.
“I’m fine,” he says dismissively, despite the way his heartbeat is not quite slowed completely down and fear still lightly stings Geralt’s senses. “Just… just a nightmare.”
Geralt frowns. “You haven’t had those since I rescued you.”
There was more than one time that Geralt woke to Jaskier’s screams and pleads of no and stop and don’t, and he couldn’t do anything because Jaskier was dreaming of a man’s hands on him, and he would only make it worse. Erynd did things to Jaskier that Geralt still wanted to kill him for - kill him slowly, and painfully, over the course of several days. Geralt had to sit by during these nightmares, listening to Jaskier’s rabbit-fast heartbeat thud in his ears and the acrid scent of fear flooding the air, and committing both the sound and smell to memory as something in his own nightmares.
Jaskier gives a dry, bitter laugh. “Guess noble mansions don’t have good memories tied to them.”
Geralt hums and glances down, pausing for a moment, before he speaks quietly. “Are you okay?”
Jaskier closes his eyes, breathing evenly, heart rate brought back down to normal, but his scent is still tinged with fear and Geralt wonders what the nightmare was about that made him so scared. Not even the nightmares he had about Erynd were this bad, and he wants to be able to comfort Jaskier through it, but he doesn’t know how. This is different than the ones about Erynd, and he doesn’t know what’s expected of him here. Geralt supposes he has to settle for letting Jaskier work through it himself, though it hurts him to do so.
Jaskier nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m-“ he laughs bitterly, “I’m as good as I can be.”
Geralt lays down on his back, golden eyes tracking Jaskier, senses attuned to every small signal he gives off whether in scent, body language, or his own magic, which drifts around them, still trapped and dormant. Jaskier looks back at Geralt, pausing before laying down next to him and-
Geralt freezes as Jaskier lays his head on his chest, warm breath fanning lightly over his skin. They’ve never slept this close even when they were camping on cold nights, and Geralt is afraid that he’ll somehow break this fragile trust Jaskier has put in him. He feels the fae relax, long fingers tracing small circles on his chest in repetitive, soothing motions, and Geralt finds himself relaxing in response to the pattern, reflexively focusing on it. He brings his arm around to wrap around Jaskier’s back, starting his own pattern with his thumb, rubbing the spot between Jaskier’s wings.
Jaskier shivers slightly and lets out a soft sigh of contentment, sagging further into him. Geralt waits, not falling asleep quite yet, the images of Jaskier writhing on the bed and the echo of his name being said so brokenly by the fae playing in his mind. Eventually, though, he feels the exact moment several minutes later when Jaskier slips into sleep, breathing evening out and body falling soft against Geralt’s chest.
Despite himself, Geralt falls asleep soon after, and neither of them dream for the rest of the night.
next chapter >>
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ill-skillsgard · 5 years
Text
Sweet Peach - Henry Deaver x Mistress
Guys...
So many great ideas and asks about this little strange universe we’ve created that I can’t possibly fit them all into the timeline. But here’s just a little something to hold you over until we get into some more heavy shit. Because you know that’s how I do. Thanks for reading!
Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/cheating/coarse language/  *this part contains ass-worship. Please read at your own discretion.
Read more Henry x Mistress here >   Masterpost
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You weren't you anymore. Not while he was in the same room. Voices of reason still existed, but you found them flippantly easy to quell. Especially when he clung to your body like that; so helpless and desperate. This man wanted you terribly, and it hurt in so many ways you couldn't hope to fixate on just one pang of guilt.
It shook you. The adrenaline in your body that had burst in your chest when Henry's wife came in had now gone stale, and you were slowly dropping like a half-dead fly. Of course, you didn't want to call a cab and wait in the lobby where it was cold while he blew up your phone, begging you to come back upstairs. Or worse, he could have tried following you out and it would surely cause a scene.
No, you had already had your heart set on staying and getting a good night's sleep in his wondrously soft bed.
But you were still pissed off. Pissed off at him, yes, but also with yourself. Surely, you had been taught better. A strong woman would look at Henry, appalled by his pitiful protests and whimpers for you to stay. Perhaps you weren't feeling particularly strong. Although there was a certain tilt when he begged you not to go. He was wholly yours and the morbid realization posed more than a passing thought. If you would do this, it would be the way you wanted it.
You could have the conversation another day; the inevitable ultimatum. But he had squabbled about expensive lawyers and how fast a bad divorce could drain your bank account and leave you financially debilitated. You believed him because Henry knew about money, the law and a lot of things you had little grasp of. Yet, he still submitted himself to you and that was when you had to stray away from the moral high ground. You were as much a player in the game as he was.
"Baby, please say you'll stay." Henry pulled on your work shirt.
You couldn't help but draw away from him, but he followed and tugged at the first button of your shirt until it popped out of the eyelet. He came up close again, and you had less room to move. The wall was a foot away, and he had both of his fingers working to undo the rest of the buttons of your shirt. Swallowing back all arguments of right and wrong, you pushed Henry's hands away and closed the gap between you by grabbing his belt buckle and tugging him in.
"Will I be expecting any more interruptions?" You asked calmly.
"No. The door's locked."
"Spare key?"
Henry leaned down to kiss you but you clutched his scratchy chin and kept him away. He sighed, deflating slightly. "Had them changed last week. And there's security."
"Good. Get naked and get on the bed."
"Really? You're going to stay?"
"Not if you don't start listening to me right now," you warned.
Henry's eyes widened and he began to strip off all his clothing until he reached his underwear. Looking up at you, he couldn't decide whether to proceed right there or wait until he was closer to the bed to rid himself of his last garments.
"I said get naked," one of your eyebrows popped up expectantly.
He shoved his boxers down and kicked them off before realizing his socks were still on. Hooking them off as well, he stood before you and waited with a clenched breath in his chest.
"Bed!"
"W-why. What's happening?"
You stifled the urge to shake your head and pointed a finger past him instead. "You're being taught a lesson and so far, you're failing."
"Okay, okay, I'll get on the bed!"
While his back was turned, you allowed yourself one fraction of a satisfied smirk. He climbed onto the bed and sat in the middle with his long legs crossed like a child sitting in a circle in kindergarten. You closed your eyes, bit your bottom lip, suffocated the giggles that longed to come up and then released a breath through your nose.
"Lay on your stomach," you commanded.
"Babe..."
"That's not my name."
"Come on-"
"You'll address me as Mistress tonight. Yes, mistress. No, mistress. I want to be a good boy for you, mistress. Understand?"
Henry was on his stomach by the time you explained to him the parameters of the evening but he still wasn't understanding the setting. You approached the bed, waited for him to be unaware and clapped your hand down on his ass.
"Ow! What the hell? What are you doing?" He cried out
"You've been bad," you explain plainly. "Bad boys get spankings."
"Oh..." Henry tried not to chuckle. "Okay."
You hit his ass harder this time and he tried not to flinch.
"Yes, mistress," you corrected him.
Henry twisted his upper body to the side so he could continue searching your face for signs of playfulness and when he saw none, he licked his lips and sighed.
"Yes, mistress," he relented.
"Good. Now turn around."
"Okay— yes, ma'am. Mistress," he turned away with reluctance slowing his movement.
When Henry was finally face down, you took a moment to analyze the curvature of his back. Pale skin stretched over so many supple inches, bowing down into a delicate valley before rising again. Hairless and smooth, you ran your buzzing palm down the gentle dip of his back, coasted over the left cleave and continued down until the hairs of his leg ran with the motion.
"Wow," you sighed. "Such a great body. What a gorgeous ass."
Henry wanted to make a doubtful comment but he held his tongue and let you stroke him from shoulder to ankle down his left side. You paused to pinch his ass along the way, and he wiggled from the toothless bite.
Climbing up on the bed, Henry looked at you again, but you raked your fingers up the back of his neck and shoved his face back into the pillow. He mumbled something that you chose not to listen to and straddled his thighs.
"Don't you have such a nice ass?" You asked.
Henry said nothing and that earned him another hard spank.
"Ow! Oh my god," he yelled into the pillow.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes? Yes, mistress!"
"Who has the nicest, pinkest ass?" You leaned over the great length of his body, hands pressing down below his shoulder blades so you could whisper in his ear.
"I do, mistress," Henry choked out.
"Yes. Yes, you do. So soft and juicy... Like a sweet little peach."
You watched his eye wander as his teeth cut into his bottom lip. He let out a strangled moan when you placed all ten of your fingernails on his shoulders and pulled down, leaving faint white marks that quickly turned rosy as you went. You didn't stop at his ass or even at his thighs where you were perched. You brought your fingertips back up and watched the goosebumps rise all over him.
"Who has nice, sweet bum?"
"I do."
"Yes. Who needs to be spanked because he was bad?"
Henry rolled his response on his tongue and relinquished when you squeezed him hard. "Me. I need to be spanked, mistress."
He acted shocked when you swatted his rear again yet couldn't hold a sour expression for too long after receiving a couple more good whacks. You started to giggle, and he went red in the face.
"Mistress, I'm sorry for being bad."
"Oh, I'd really love to believe you, sweet boy but... You're just not all that convincing."
"I promise," he said.
"You're just saying that because you don't want any more spanks."
"No, I don't want anymore spanks."
You cooed as you climbed off of his legs and rested a hand on the ditch of his left knee. "But I'm not finished with your ass."
"Please, mistress. I don't want anymore."
"Very well... No more spanks. But that still doesn't mean I'm finished with you."
He tried to roll over but you stayed him with a tough glare and a squeeze of his thigh. You thought it was sweet that he assumed he could turn over and that would be the end of it. A flutter of a laugh escaped you and he watched fearfully as you continued stroking your hand up and down his body.
"Get up on all fours," you told him.
Henry blatantly refused to do so at first. The look on his face was one of embarrassment that filled up your satisfaction meter to nearly bursting. He scrabbled for a response that didn't break character but didn't explicitly comply with your demand.
"Why... I thought... You said no more," he reasoned.
"Yes. No more spanks and I meant that. Mistress does what she says and says what she means."
He shifted back onto his knees, brought his arms up and lifted off the bed. You got a look at the muscles shifting under his skin and felt the back of your tongue moisten. He looked every bit as delectable as he had the first time he had strolled into the cafe. Only now he was without a stitch and waiting for your next move, ready to flinch at any sudden movement you made. The power tasted delicious.
But your attention couldn't be taken from his backside and you made it a strong point to remind him the topic at hand. You grabbed, squeezed, pinched and purred against his hip as he withdrew but kept up on his knees.
"Nice bum," you whispered.
"Mistress," Henry whined.
"God, if I had a cock... I'd fuck that beautiful ass."
"No," he murmured.
"Yes," you corrected him. "It's just so perfect. And you have no idea how much I think about it. When you come into my work dressed in your nicely tailored outfits and you have no clue how sexy you really look."
He scoffed and let his head dangle between his arms. The way his spine arched gave way to his mounting frustrations. Every time you touched him, he pulled back an inch out of fear of what might become of his exposed skin. You slid over, rose to your knees, framed his cheeks in your hands and pressed a kiss to each dimple flanking the base of his spine.
"Oh, no, no, no," Henry recoiled. "No."
"I hate it when you tell me no," you said with a smile.
Before you could venture further, Henry turned over; evidence of a leaking hard-on glaringly obvious contrasted with the worry on his face.
"P-please don't. Not yet. I'm... I don't think I'm ready for this."
"What? You don't wanna have that ass eaten?"
Henry's cheeks aglow, he sighed and looked around like somebody was watching. "I, um... It's been a long day and I don't know if I'm prepared to... I haven't ever... You know. I—"
You quieted him with a gesture of your hand. "Don't worry, sweet boy. Mistress can take no for an answer."
"Thanks. Thank you," he croaked.
His entire body relaxed now that his ass wasn't in the open air where your predatory hands could explore with too much enthusiasm.
"But you're still in trouble and you're still a bad boy."
"I know," he admitted.
"And even though I want to fuck that ass... We can wait."
"Why can't you just fuck my cock instead? That feels good."
You grimaced. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Selfish boy. Only ever thinking about his own pleasure and no one else's."
"That's not true," he defended weakly.
And it wasn't. Henry was wonderfully in tune with your body and capable of eliciting orgasms from you that temporarily shattered your sense of being. But tonight, you could only see him for what he was; a beautiful, lying son of a bitch.
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darkwritingsnshit · 5 years
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Living the Dream
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Chapter 5
Warnings: This is a dark fic, please don’t read if you’re under 18, or uncomfortable with noncon, kidnapping or dark characters
This is the last chapter I have written as of Sep. 20th, I want to keep going but I also wanted to update my tumblr, so it may take a few days for an update
There was no way to count the hours. Eventually you must have fallen asleep because you woke restrained only by a single arm, with a note under the water.
“I hope you’ve had some time to rest and reflect. Drink some water, take some breaths and you’ll feel better. I’ll come to check on you, but if you’re hysterical I’m going to leave again. I hate to leave you like this, but trust me when I say it’s for your own good.
Love always
Steve”
Love always? The fuck? You tore the paper in half, crumped it up and threw it against the wall before thirst overcame you and you cracked open the water bottle, draining it and setting it back down.
More time. You weren’t sure how long, probably a few hours before you heard the click, the scrape of the door. You were numb by now, you had cried all your tears, screamed all your screams. If talking was what would get you out, then you would talk.
           Steve set down a plate with eggs and toast on your bedside table, so you figured it had to be morning. Breakfast food.
           “Hi doll.” His voice was cautious as he sat on the foot of the bed. He didn’t say anything else, he was waiting on you.
           “What do you want from me?” You asked him.
           “I want you to be happy.” He replied, as if it were obvious.
           “If you want me to be happy, let me go home.” Your voice was still scratchy, you were exhausted from nerves and lack of sleep. Steve chuckled.
           “I guess I should rephrase. I want you to be happy, here, with me.” Steve inched closer.
           “I can’t be happy like this Steve, you need to let me go.” Surprisingly, Steve reached over and unlocked your final restraint from the anchor on the wall, you clutched your wrist to your chest, staring at him with big, confused eyes.
           “There you go, any better?” You shook your head at his question. Steve sighed, ran his hands through his hair.
           “Our relationship is going to be a give and take, baby. I just gave you the freedom you asked for, now say thank you.” Steve looked unhappy, but you didn’t care, and shook your head.
           “It’s not what I asked for, you’re insane!” You shrunk back against the wall as much as you could. Steve reached forward and drug you across the bed by your arm, leaving fresh bruises against your skin. He pulled you up to sitting in front of him and grabbed your chin.
           “Say thank you.” His eyes looked dangerous.
           “No.” You weren’t going to give him what he wanted. The slap to your face shocked you, your head snapped to the side and tears welled in your eyes with the sting on your cheek.
           “Say thank you.” He repeated, your chin again in his hand. You shook your head. He hit you on the other side, the back of his hand was sure to leave more than a red mark.
           “Say thank you.” Steve repeated for the third time, looking directly into your eyes.
           “Thank you.” You choked out, hard to speak as he has gripping your face tightly.
           “See? Easy. I don’t want to hurt you sweetheart, but I told you, you’ve got to learn to behave.” Steve had let go of your face but was still looking at you much too intensely for your comfort. “If you want more freedom, you’re going to have to earn it. That means no screaming, no fits, no hysterics, and doing what you’re told. I really want to let you out, let you see our new home, but that all depends on you. Remember, your time down here is your choice, I’m ready for you whenever you decide to behave like a good girl.”
           “This is my choice?” You asked, your voice sounded hollow.
           “Exactly.” Steve replied, smiling a little. “You’re smart, you understand what’s happening. You have to know how much I care about you, how I love you, and that his is all for your benefit.” He was looking at you as he calmly explained, the way someone would explain something to an unruly toddler. “Now, I know you’re hungry, so let’s have some breakfast, okay?” He reached out towards the plate, but you had jumped back into the corner the minute he gave you a millimeter of space.
           “I don’t like this,” He told you, “you’re not listening.” You didn’t reply, the tears had spilled over your eyes and you tried to hide them in your knees. “Fine.” Steve snapped, standing back up. “If you won’t eat, you don’t get breakfast. I told you, decisions have consequences.” Before leaving with your food, Steve easily clipped your left arm restraint back into the wall anchor, and slammed the door to leave you in silence.
  He knew it would take you some time to adjust, but Steve really didn’t think you would be this upset. He liked your sarcastic jokes and strong attitude but you were just being a brat now. That’s fine, he thought, she can’t be stubborn forever, not when food was on the line. If your attitude didn’t improve today, it would tomorrow or the next day. Lack of food breaks anyone, as does isolation. If she kept this up, he would just leave her down there chained to he wall for a few weeks, by then she’d be begging for his company. Steve smiled at the thought. He wanted you to want him, he knew you would eventually, you would eventually beg to be held in his arms and lie in bed with him. He had enough time to wait.
You were hungry, hungry and thirsty. You hadn’t slept more than a few hours broken up, and at this point you were too hungry to sleep. You heard the door click and scrape, but pretended to be asleep. Steve set something down on the table and left again. He made no attempts at conversation this time. Drinking the water helped with the chalky taste in your mouth, but did nothing for your rumbling stomach.
It had to have been days at this point. Steve kept you supplied with water, but still no food. You figured he must have put something in the water, because you were now sleeping soundly enough not to notice when the door opened. You would wake up either unchained from the wall so you could use the bathroom, or rechained to the wall where you would have to stay for the rest of the day. You had tried to use the shower but no water came out of either the sink or the faucet on the wall. You were almost sure that you were going to die of hunger. Steve was going to starve you to death. This was it. After what you had approximated to be four or five days, you broke down and did what you had tried to avoid. You turned and looked at the closest camera.
“Steve, I know you can hear me. I’m really hungry, can I please have something to eat?” You hoped he could hear your quiet voice, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak any louder. It didn’t take long before you heard the click and scrape of the heavy door. You had never been so happy to see Steve, although with your excitement for food came a sick feeling that turned your stomach.
“Have you decided to stop acting out?” Steve greeted you with crossed arms and a scowl. You nodded your head yes, but that didn’t seem to be enough. “I can’t hear you.” His voice was flat.
“Yes.” You croaked out, still not moving from the corner of your bed. Steve turned to the door, and pulled a metal chair and a grocery bag into the room. The chair he sat in at the head of your bed, the bag he set on the metal table, and you eyes it curiously.
“Not yet, doll. You’ve had a nasty attitude lately, and I’m not going to reward you for that. First you need to apologize to me.” Steve looked at you expectantly, while you looked at him like he had two heads.
“I’m sorry?” You whispered in his direction.
“Sorry for what?” It sounded like he was taunting you, the look on his face didn’t help.
“For… for not being nice?” You guessed. You just wanted food, you’d apologize for anything at this point.
“Nice try, I’m glad you realized your attitude needs an adjustment. But what you did was break the rules. There are rules here, just like anywhere else. I’ve already told you this, you need to remember them. If you break the rules, there will be consequences, like everything else in life this is a choice. Okay?” You could only nod at him, unsure of what exactly he was talking about.
“Before you get to eat, I’ll tell you the rules, and you can repeat them back to me, that way I know that you understand them. Then you can apologize correctly, ask nicely for some food, and maybe then you’ll get what you want.” It was like he was playing a game, but you weren’t an opponent, you were a piece on the board. “No screaming, and no throwing tantrums. That one’s pretty much a given, even though you’ve been breaking it right and left the entire time you’ve been here. Other than that, you just need to do as you’re told. Simple enough, right? If  you can follow the rules babydoll, I’ll let you upstairs, and you won’t need to stay down here anymore. Does that make sense to you?” Again, you nodded, what else could you do? “Good. Why don’t you repeat them back to me, just so I know you understand?”
You would rather have eaten sand than repeat the poisonous and damning rules that Steve had laid out, but you knew that staying silent, or pitching a fit would get you nowhere, he had made that perfectly clear.
“No screaming and no tantrums.” Your voice was hoarse but Steve nodded with a smile and you continued, “and… I need to do what you say.” As you choked out the last part, it felt like you were swallowing lead. Steve was smiling as the words left your lips.
“Good, see, that was simple. Why don’t you try your apology again, hmm?” He was taunting you at this point, you knew it, you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.
“I’m sorry for breaking your rules Steve.” You whispered without making eye contact. You heard him hum in approval before he brought his fingers under your chin to make you look at him.
“They’re not my rules, they’re your rules princess. Don’t forget that, okay?” He released your chin and opened the grocery bag. “Do you want something to eat?” He glanced in your direction,  more preoccupied with pulling the contents of the bag out.
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Witness : 25
Seeing Red
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new moodboard created by @jessicagoddamnjones  Thanks to them and to anyone who wants to create one of their own or some art, I would be eternally grateful. You all are so amazing!
Character(s): dark!Bucky, dark!Steve, too
Masterlist
Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.
In this chapter, no major warning. 
Summary: The Reader lashed out.
Notes: So a bit late in posting today. It was a rough night for me. I spent half of it sleepless due to a severe anxiety attack. I was not doing well at all my dude. Now I'm feeling a bit more stable, thank god I have a day off finally. The good news it I did finish a fic for tomorrow before I went to bed and sunk into existential dread so yay for that. Also Happy Together will have another chapter on Friday. Let's move past me, I love you all. Thanks for following. I'm still pepping myself up to write the last one or two chapters to this series overall but we're on a good track here. This would be nothing without you guys. For real. You've made this series so special to me and I can't thank you enough. <3 
Please, reblog and or reply with your thoughts!! I’ll see you in the next one. :)
When you woke, your throat was scratchy and your head felt as if it was being crushed. You could hear voices and they slowly drew you back to the surface, your eyes fluttering open as your head lolled towards the sound. You were strewn across the bed as two figures stood a few feet away; arguing.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Bucky growled, “You could’ve fucking killed her!”
“I know what I’m doing. She’s fine,” Steve returned sharply. “Besides, what do you care? I mean, it’s not like there aren’t other woman out there you could train just as easily.”
“And start over?” Bucky scoffed, “You ever think I get tired of cleaning up your messes. I shouldn’t have ever told you about her. I should’ve kept her to myself.”
“Ha, I would’ve had her on her knees eventually and you know it,” Steve mocked, “I always do.”
“She’s not another one of your toys, Steve,” Bucky was royally pissed. You actually hadn’t heard him in such a state. Sure he was direct but he was never so venomous. “She’s mine and I plan on keeping her for more than a couple months.”
“Oh, yeah? You think this one will last a whole year?” Steve turned and neared the bed, looking over you. “She’s awake.” He made to get back on the bed but Bucky caught his shoulder.
“No, you’re done,” He pulled him back, inserting himself between Steve and the bed frame. “She’s done for the night.”
“Oh, come on,” Steve sneered, “I didn’t even get to finish.”
“Do it yourself,” Bucky crossed his arms, “Not my fault you can’t fucking control yourself. Now get dressed and go.”
A heavy sigh sounded followed by a grunt of frustration. A momentary stand off permeated with tense silence before Steve finally backed off. He dressed wordlessly, only pausing at the door to look at you prone across the bed. He winked as you lifted your head to watch him and left with an air of triumph. You dropped your head back to mattress and moaned, touching your neck daintily.
“Fuck,” Bucky settled beside you on the bed, carefully moving your hand to examine your neck. “You’ll have to cover those up.”
You coughed as you tried to speak, brushing his hand away from you and rolling over so your back was to him. His words echoed in your head;‘You could’ve killed her’. He had almost sat there and watched you die. Well, what did you expect? Upon your first meeting he had promised your demise if you did not go along with his perversion. Shit, you were in some demented sex bunker, only a moment ago letting yourself be used like a sex doll. That’s all you were, really.
“Let me take you home,” His hand was on your shoulder. It wasn’t the cold vibranium you were used to. “Y/N,” He wasn’t calling you a good girl or bad girl, he was actually speaking to you as if you were a person. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and get you out of here.”
You didn’t say anything but sat up, slipping away from his reach as you hid the tears at the corner of your eyes. Even if you thought you’d been able to summon your voice, you didn’t know what you could say. Anything that did come to mind would earn you a punishment and you had little faith that this moment of empathy would last if you provoked him. You just wanted to go home. You wanted to be away from him.
When you were dressed minus your ruined panties, Bucky opened the door and led you up into the evening chill. You shivered as you sat in his car, his eyes lingering on you as you tried to ignore him. He started the car, driving in silence as you stewed in anger and humiliation.   “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his eyes glued to the road. You just stared out the window, no response. “Now, Y/N, what did I say about answering me when I speak?” It was a weak warning but you didn’t want to test it.
“What do you care?” A painful hiss shredded your battered throat. “If I don't answer, what then? You going to make me suck your dick again? I'd rather get out and walk.”
“I understand you're upset so I'll let that slide,” His tone was surprisingly placating, “I didn't mean for that to happen. Really. Steve is just--”
“My car is still at the office,” You interrupted, “You can just drop me off there.”
“No, I'll drive you in the morning,” He insisted, “Are you hungry?”
You eyed him darkly. You shook your head looked back to the window. “After that?”
“I guess not…” He said awkwardly, a new silence rose between you.
The rest of the ride was thick with anger and unsaid words. Bucky followed you into your building but you didn't acknowledge his presence, hoping he would just go away. You wondered why he was even sticking around. Perhaps he still had some torture planned. You slammed your purse on the counter and leaned against it. You touched your throat as you listened to his footsteps move around your apartment. The muffled grind of the faucet sounded and water splashed against porcelain.
“I ran a bath for you,” Bucky came up and sat on the stool beside you, “I can make you some tea.”
You looked at him like he was growing grass on his head. This was weird. He was being weird. You blinked at him dumbly and shook your head. “No...thank you.” You backed away from him, irritated by his uncharacteristic demeanour. To act so kind after he had watched another fuck you like some lifeless doll. “You don't have to do all this. You can just go. I'd prefer it if you did.”
He exhaled deeply and stood. “Alright,” He sounded almost submissive. He passed you on his way to the door, turning back as he twisted the handle. His mouth opened as of he wanted to say something but he quickly thought better of it and snapped his lips shut. You watched the door close behind him, a scowl creasing your features as you locked it behind him.
You went to turn off the tap before the tub overflowed. You grabbed your phone from your bag before undressing, just then realizing how sore your entire body was. Your thighs ached, not to mention your ass, and your neck was starting to seize up. The muscles of your back were racked for the strained bend Steve had put in it during his excess. You dialed your mother's number as you lowered yourself into the steaming water, the ringtone droning endlessly until the voicemail answered.
“Hey, mom,” You croaked. You wished you had never moved away from her. All this would never have happened. “I just wanted to say that...I miss you.” You stared at the tiles and sniffed, “I love you.”
You hit end and set aside your phone, sinking into the water, languishing there until you were pruny and cold. You wrapped yourself in a towel, your reflection stopping you before you could leave the washroom. Your neck was dappled with bruises in the shape of Steve's thick fingers and there was a burst blood vessel in your cheek. You backed away from the mirror and scurried to your room, falling onto the bed as you tried to smother the rising tears. It would never end.
You figured that Bucky would approve of the turtleneck you wore the next morning to hide the bruises. A little concealer over the burst blood vessel and you looked like a real human being. When you grabbed your keys you recalled that you were missing the part which would make them useful. Your phone vibrated and a private number blipped up with a text attached. ‘Downstairs’.
You made no haste in meeting Bucky, shuffling carelessly to his car and dropping into the seat like a sack of bricks. He glanced over at you, his hand gripping the wheel. He nodded in approval of the snug collar poking out from beneath your jacket. You kept your eyes ahead and waited for him to put his foot on the pedal.
“I'm leaving today. Me and Steve have a mission,” He stated flatly, “We're gone at noon.”
“Okay,” You answered quietly, unsure of how else to respond.
“It'll give you time to recover,” He said plainly, “I know last night was difficult. Not just for you, you know?”
“Yeah, I'm sure it was very hard for you,” You huffed, doing nothing to hide your irritation.
“I'm going to talk to Steve. It won't happen again,” He explained, “And if he doesn't want to play along he's not gonna play at all.”
“Oh wow, thanks,” You said with as much salt as you could muster. “You're fucked, dude. Really. At this point you may as well just kill me. I mean this whole thing started because I was afraid but you know what, it can't be worse than this.”
Bucky's nostrils flared but he said nothing. He pulled up to the tower and into the parking garage. You got out of the car and made for the stairs only to find Bucky's metal arm blocking your path. “This is your pass. Watch the way you speak to me.”
“Fuck your pass,” You made to shove past him but he caught you around the waist and pressed you to the car. His chest rose and fell, his blue eyes alight.
“I'm sorry,” He gritted out, “Okay?”  He released you roughly as your head spun at his words. He raised his hands and backed away.
He apologized to you? You drew your brows together, looking away from him as you spoke quietly. “If you were sorry, you would've stopped by now.” You turned and this time he didn’t stop you, your heels echoing up the steps.
tags: @they-call-me-le @holylulusworld  @petit-funsize @alexakeyloveloki @ladyofmyst @kellyn1604 @thelostallycat @grayxswan @collette04 @butteryoptimisticpeanut @buckycaptspideypool @blackpantherimagines @lilithhellfire @captainfreecandyvan @spaghettyrogers @phoenix21love @sathlens @iheartsebastianstan
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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 043 [Karma’s A Bitch]
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📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward
Word Count: 2,939
⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰
〈“Expired chances, but we gotta make it through again. ‘Cause there’s nowhere else to run. There’s still so much here, a life worth living.” AmaLee, “Again (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood Cover)”〉
⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰
The door creaked out and both Kurogiri and Tomura stepped inside. I glared at them, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. Since the day I had arrived at this hideout, I had only seen Tomura once and that was when I landed in front of the fucker. So why is he here now? This ain’t gonna end well, is it.
“Release her,” Tomura’s scratchy voice rung out. Wait, what? His red eyes narrowed between the fingers of the hand covering his face. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Winchester. You remember what my quirk is and what it can do, don’t you?” He held his right hand up, flexing his fingers.
Images of Aizawa’s skin decaying and cracking flashed through my mind. I remember the excruciating pain I felt when my own skin was decayed. I remember seeing the muscle, my heart skipping as panic flooded my senses. My lips pursed as Kurogiri unlocked the chains, letting them fall to the ground with a loud thump, kicking up dust into the air. I stood up on shaking legs – it feels like millions of tiny needles piercing my skin. I stomped my foot, making Tomura’s head tilt.
“Are you throwing a tantrum?”
“No, you fuck. I’m trying to wake up my legs.” I scowled. “You try sitting for a fucking week with your legs chained to a damn chair. Shit ain’t pleasant!”
He humphed, fingers curling around my wrist, his thumb held out and away from my skin. “We’re taking a trip. Be on your best behavior, Winchester, or else.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whateva.”
A warp gate appeared in the doorway and he started toward it, tugging me sharply forward. Kurogiri came up behind me, his arm wrapped around my right. The warp opened up to a water tower on top of a roof, the sky shining a rich, neon red as the sun sunk across the horizon. A man was sitting on the edge of the roof with his back to us.
“Huh, Hosu city looks nicer than I expected,” Tomura commented. “So, what are you gonna do?”
Wait, this is Hosu? My brow furrowed. Why the fuck did he bring me here? I know this is where Iida is interning… could I get his attention and get help from the hero he’s interning with? That could get messy and there’s no way for me to find them. One thing’s for sure though, Tomura just gave me a huge chance to escape by bringing me here.
“I will reform it,” the man answered in a deep voice. “In order to do so, blood must be spilled.”
“You have a clear goal,” Kurogiri commented. “Your dedication is admirable.”
“Ah, finally someone who understands.” The man stood up, his back slightly hunched over.
Tomura raised his free hand to rest over his right shoulder. “I get the feeling you enjoy picking on me.”
I noticed bandages peeking out from the sleeve of his sweater. Is that leftover from the USJ? “What’s wrong, Handiboi? Did the big bad villain hurt your feelings~?” I mocked, making his hand tighten around my wrist, angry eyes boring into my own. That’s gonna leave a bruise.
The man turned his head, red eyes settling on me. “Who is she?”
I scoffed. “You’re supposed to introduce yourself before asking who someone else is you Voldemort’s reject cousin lookin’ ass.” Not to mention he looks like he drowned his sorrows in a Ninja Turtles marathon. And why the fuck is his tongue hanging out his mouth like that? Bitch, are you a dog?
“Winchester,” Kurogiri scolded, his grip on my arm increasing.
“What? It’s the fucking truth.”
“I am Stain.”
My body tensed. Stain… this bitch is Stain? The mother fucking hero killer?? I swallowed hard, glancing at Tomura. They’re trying to recruit him? Wait, does that mean that neither of these dipshits knows that Stain killed my mom? I’ve personally never been in love with anyone that ain’t an anime character, but I’m pretty goddamn sure if the person I loved was killed by someone, my ass wouldn’t turn around and try to fucking recruit that someone. They must not know… should I say something?
Stain smirked, holding his arms out to the side. “Hero is a title for those that have accomplished great deeds. This city is full of false champions. All they care about is money and fame! Until this world realizes its mistakes,” he reached around, his fingers curling around the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. “I will continue my work!” And then he jumped from the roof.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “He almost makes Handiboi look sane.”
“I can hear you,” Tomura scoffed, his fingers squeezing my skin. “He talks all high and mighty and stuff, but he’s wasting his time focusing on a small stage. He’s so noble, I could cry.” He dropped my wrist to scratch at his neck.
“You shouldn’t spurn his methods,” Kurogiri scolded. “The reality is – in all the cities where Stain has appeared, crime rates have fallen. Perhaps because heroes are more conscientious or perhaps out of fear. Regardless, he does bring change.”
Tomura started to monologue about Stain’s actions, stepping away from me. Kurogiri still has his arm around mine, but his grip is looser than it was a few minutes ago. This might be my only chance.
“Kurogiri, bring out the Nomus.”
My eyes widened. ‘Nomus’? As in, plural?? It took everything Toshi had in him to beat that bird brain fuck, now there’s more of them? Fuck.
Several warp gates opened up on the roof below us, three different Nomus stepping through them. One hovered above the ground with discolored bat-like wings. One was huge like the Nomu from the USJ. One was thin and spindly.
Fuck, this is really bad, bro. They’re not attacking heroes in training, they’re attacking fucking civilians! Some of which may not even have a damn quirk. Fuck fuck fuck, what do I do? I have to do something. I took a deep breath, my body shaking as my blood started to boil within me.
Limit release!!
My school shirt shattered as power shot through my body. Before Kurogiri could react, I ripped my arm from him and rushed at Tomura, cocking a flaming fist backward but before I could make contact, I saw a stream of black from the corner of my eye. Something large slammed into my body, throwing me across the alley and to the next roof, my feet sliding across the ground to stop my momentum.
“Don’t kill her!” Tomura snapped. “Kurogiri, why did you bring her here?!”
“I didn’t. She must have come with one of the other Nomus.”
This Nomu is different. My eyes narrowed as it landed on the roof across from me, feet cracking the rooftop. While it had the same black, muscled body as the Nomu from the USJ, it was a bit smaller and its face was covered by what appears to be a paper bag with holes for its eyes. Brown hair fell to its shoulders from behind the mask.
“I order you to return,” Tomura growled angrily, but the Nomu just smirked, teleporting in front of me. I couldn’t react fast enough, its large fist connecting with my cheek and sending me flying back off the roof. It teleported behind me, its knee slamming into my back as it laughed. I cried out in pain, snapping my eyes to the ground below me. I teleported, but it was unstable, my body stumbling as I tried to catch my breath.
The Nomu landed in front of me, the force cracking the cement beneath its feet. “What’s wrong, Tegu? Where is that fire of yours?!”
My eyes narrowed. “How do you know that name?” As far as I can remember, I only used that name once when I first got here, and that was with Gran and Toshi. Had I told someone else?
It smirked. “You don’t remember me? How hurtful!” The Nomu reached up, untying the mask from its face. It slid down, fluttering on the breeze.
My eyes widened and it felt like my heart stopped. “S-Skye? How…” What the fuck is happening right now? Am I dreaming? Is this some sick joke?
She licked her cracked lips, running a hand over the scarred flesh of her face. “I was in the hospital for months because of what you did. When I finally recovered and returned to school, my friends abandoned me. They said my face was too gruesome to look at! Said it made them sick to their stomach! Even Heather betrayed me, fucking my boyfriend!”
I stood up straight, flames engulfing my hands. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to feel sorry for your ass? Don’t fucking count on it, bitch. Everything that fucking happened to you was good ol’ Karma. You got what you deserved.”
She tilted her head and giggled like a maniac. “Karma, you say? Yes, yes, it was karma that stabbed Heather and my ex-boyfriend. They betrayed me and Karma got them~”
“You fucking stabbed them for cheating? What, are you fucking Jane the Ripper?”
“Weren’t you fucking listening?!” She snapped angrily. “It was karma.”
“I always knew you were a fucking psychopath but damn…”
Her anger dropped and she giggled again. “When that shadow man walked in on me while karma was at work, I tried to stab him, but he’s immune to that. He offered me power, offered to make me stronger. How could I possibly deny such a wonderful offer? He brought me to this world, to this man that gave me power. Now, I’m unstoppable!”
My brow furrowed. Gave her power? As in, a quirk? I thought only One for All could be passed down like that. I guess… if there’s one that can do it, there’s gotta be another.
“You look confused, Tegu~ You never were very smart, were you? I’ll just have to show you instead!”
Within the blink of an eye, she appeared behind me, both of her fists coming down hard onto my shoulders. I bit back a yelp of pain as my body hit the concrete, my left shoulder going numb. She’s always been ridiculously strong, but this is just fucking ridiculous.
“Don’t tell me you’re done yet!” She brought her foot down and I rolled out of the way, jumping to my feet.
She’s super fast and strong, plus she can teleport. What is her quirk? I need to keep my distance, I can’t win in a hand-to-hand battle with her.
A scream ripped through the air behind me and I turned my head to see the large Nomu chasing after a woman – and she was carrying a small boy in her arms. I narrowed my eyes, focusing as I teleported between them, holding up my arms as the Nomu slammed into my body. I was able to slow it down, but it didn’t stop, my boots digging into the ground as it pushed me backward.
The woman had stopped in surprise and I groaned. “What are you fucking doing?! Run!”
She snapped out of her shock and began to run again, but Skye appeared in front of her with a maniacal grin. “Look at you, Tegu! Trying to act like a hero, huh? How disgusting.” She held out her hand, lightning crackling across her palm. “Too bad it’s in vain!”
My eyes widened as the lightning shot toward the woman. Damn it! I propelled myself forward with flames under my boots, my shoulder slamming into the woman’s back and shoving her to the side. The lightning hit me square in the chest and a scream ripped from my throat, my heart beating so quick I wondered if it would burst within my breast. My hair stood on end, goosebumps covering my skin. The lightning faded and I fell to the ground, my body screaming at me, begging me to stop fighting back.
I lifted my head, my fingers digging into the concrete. I coughed a few times before managing to bring myself to my knees, glancing at the side. There was a small opening between the two buildings, just barely big enough for a person to slip through. The woman and the child were gone. Good.
There’s a Nomu behind me and I don’t know what its quirks are. Skye is in front of me – super strength and speed, teleportation, and lightning. I can’t beat them, but… if they focus their attention on me, they won’t attack civilians.
“Are you really in any position to be smiling, Tegu?” Skye growled before rushing forward.
“How can I not smile when I’m looking at that gruesome face?!” Fire shot out from my body, wrapping around my torso and jerking my body upward as the flames took on the shape of a phoenix. It dropped me onto the roof before circling above me.
The building shook as Skye landed in front of me. “You won’t escape me, I’m going to rip your body apart and feast on your heart!!” She threw her head back, voice taking on a more demonic tone as she laughed.
Sweat rolled down my cheek as I stood up on shaky legs, forcing a grin. “I don’t think your boss will be happy if you kill me.”
“My boss?” She responded incredulously with a bark of laughter. “That’s hilarious, Tegu! That hand fool thinks he can control me? With these powers? Not a chance!” She lifted her hand and the ground started to shake violently, pieces of concrete broke apart and lifted up into the air, shooting toward me. I swept my arm in front of me, raising a wall of fire to destroy the debris before they could hit me.
How many fucking quirks does this bitch have??
“Skye Atol, calm yourself.” Kurogiri’s deep voice reached my ears and I could see the pulsing purple on the other side of the fire. “We need her alive. By using more than three of your quirks, you risk -”
“Shut up!!” She screamed, the rooftop lighting up as she used her lightning attack. A huge gust of wind put out my flames, pushing me backward. My heels hit the small lip surrounding the roof and I fell backward, my body falling through the air toward the earth below.
What am I supposed to do here? I’m not strong enough to beat her, but if I run away, she’ll attack other people instead! I tilted my head to look at the sidewalk at the end of the alley, focusing on that spot. I teleported, falling to my knees and breathing heavily as a sharp pain shot through my head. Shit, I’m at my limit for porting.
“Winchester?”
My fingers dug into the cement beneath me and I forced my head up. Endeavor? What the fuck is he doin’ in Hosu – A sharp pain rang through my body as something slammed into me from behind, sending me flying across the road. I shielded my face as my body slammed through the glass of the building across the street.
“Winchester!”
I coughed, rolling over onto my side. My stomach throbbed painfully and I glanced down, seeing a piece of glass lodged into my right side, blood dripping down the glass. I groaned. This is so not how I wanted to spend my fucking week.
The crackling of flames made me glance over my shoulder, remembering Endeavor. I clutched the piece of glass, the sharp edges cutting into my palm as I tugged it from the wound with a grunt. Blood splattered to the ground and I placed my hand over the wound. Fuck, this is gonna hurt so bad…
I closed my eyes, focusing my power into my hand as it started to heat up. I pinched the skin together, my teeth burrowing in my bottom lip at the searing pain that shot through my body. It hurts so goddamn bad, but it’s better than bleeding out. Breathing heavily, I forced myself to my feet, limping toward the broken window.
Endeavor is going toe-to-toe with Skye and he seems to be holding up a shit-ton better than I was. As I watched her, my brow furrowed. Her muscles are starting to rip apart, cuts appearing across her body. Is that part of a quirk? She’s not talking, either, instead just making deep, guttural noises like… the bird brain Nomu…
Skye roared loudly, her muscles twitching as they expanded. Sweat rolled down my cheek as I held the building for support. Her power shot through the roof, her aura fluctuating like crazy. Oh, shit sticks.
“Get away from her, Endeavor!!”
His narrowed turquoise eyes glanced over at me and he huffed, holding his ground. Goddamn prideful ass fuckers.
Skye’s muscles continued to expand, her voice deepening as she roared, the sound shaking the world around us. There was a good half a second of dead silence before her body exploded from the inside out with a huge gust of wind, knocking me back against the brick wall of the building. I yeeted myself through the broken window just as a chunk of metal hit the wall where I had been standing.
I waited a few seconds until the howling wind died down before peaking around the broken window. Endeavor had blood sliding down his face from Skye’s exploded form, his eye twitching in anger. I still hate the flame fuck honestly, but at this moment, I couldn’t be fucking happier to see him.
“I told you to get away from her, flame fuck.” I released a shaky breath, sinking to my knees.
⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰
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Dr. Elder (plague doctor variety 1) x Beatrix Galen (first person) Platonic
This is strictly friendly fluff and supernatural exposition(that could lead to romance in the future if i revisit these characters). Based on what was supposed to be a drabble for @fuckyouamanda turned into me being sleep deprived and getting a bit carried away with lore.
`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We’d been driving for miles, trying to find this little cottage I was supposed to be staying at, a detour for raspberry tarts had gotten us lost. As the sun began to sink further into the night, the needle on our fuel gauge sank into the red. My driver for the trip, Damen, found a small station and hopped out to raise some help. I remember waving to Damen as he turned and mouthed that someone was coming to the door. I got out of the car and start walking off to the side of the station, to make a call and make sure my reservation hadn’t been forfeited. I couldn’t get signal and I moved further away, waving my phone around like a mad woman. Then I heard Damen yell and I turned to see his face was full of horror, his arms were waving. Everything got very slow as I felt the air leave my body. I didn’t feel the pain until I hit the ground, I heard a crack, and everything went dark.
 My eyes hurt when I try to open them, maybe I don’t want to open them, really. I’m so…tired. So, I drift back off and I dream, of a - person, no - are they even human? The figure is tall and slender with broad shoulders and flowing robes, they look like some illustrations that I saw in a museum in…I can’t remember where. But I remember this shape, the beaked mask with glass eyes. Am I dying? Is my brain throwing images at me of what I’ve seen? No, I only see them, the figure and their assistant.  
These odd visions persist, these waking dreams. Sometimes all I see is a ceiling covered in lovely swirling designs, but there is a voice. This voice has a deepness that is comforting but it lilts and flows as it reads me prose. I know this must be a dream as everything I hear is something I remember. There is Shakespeare, Austen, and even some excerpts from stand-up routines I love. Hearing “There’s a horse loose in the hospital” in the confused tones of the voice in my head makes it, oddly, more hilarious. It was also comforting. To think that I am fighting, on whatever subconscious level, is reassuring. If I ever properly wake up, I hope I remember this.
 ~~~~~~~
 When I wake again I am sore, but my eyes are more cooperative. The room is dim, but I am thankful for that. All around me, the walls are a mild mint green, as if they’ve faded from years of wear, the curtains are drawn, patterned in vines and sprigs of leaves. I feel as if I lay on a cloud, and as much as I want to know where I am, I feel no need to leave this place. I finally become aware of the I.V. hooked up on my left, at least they picked the easy arm.  Well, I assume they picked the easy arm, its hard to tell if they had any false starts as my arms are fairly covered in bruises. The bag is covered by a casing, so I can’t see if they have me on saline or something else. My arms are swollen so saline is a good bet, but that could be the bruising too. I try to wiggle my finger and find something in my left hand. A small red button on a corded white toggle. I don’t try to see where the cord leads because craning my neck is still too laborious. I use every bit of strength to push the button and I hear a delicate bell chime coming from the other side of the door.
 I don’t really know where I am but I’m more concerned about how I am. I’ve never been in a car crash before, but I feel like I’ve been dehydrated, crushed up, and reconstituted.  A nurse knocks and enters my room and she looks like some colorized version of those portraits my gran used to show me. All but her cap, as it bears a small black bird.
 “Ah finally awake, I see”
 I try to speak, I want to but my throat feels dry and scratchy, and so I cough and stutter. The nurse comes over and offers me some ice chips and I nod, feebly.
 “The doc will be in momentarily. He’ll explain everything.”
 As the door opens once more and the nurse exits, the figure takes her place. The mask is closer to a dark brown than the black in my visions. But it could be lighting. Damn these drugs must be phenomenal.
 “Ms. Galen, pleasure to see you properly awake. I’m Dr. Elder and I’m sure you have a lot of questions about-“
 I smiled, I smiled like a damn goof. It was the voice, the one that was so baffled as to the meaning of a teenage boy yelling scatter and smashing a “forty, what is a blasted forty?” on the ground.
 “You were reading to me, weren’t you? How did you know what I liked? How did you get into my dream?”
 I know I must sound delirious, but the doctor doesn’t seem to notice as they shuffle their feet a bit and sit down in the chair by my bed. I feel a hand on my wrist, checking my pulse. There is a faint light behind the eyes of the mask, like a dying glowstick in the dawn of the day after a rave. Blue, lovely blue. Like the old icebox Gran had when I was little, before she was sent away. She made this pie that tasted like blue skies and honeysuckle. I miss Gran.
 “Ms. Galen? Can you hear me?”
 I realize I’ve been drifting in and out, too many memories to ignore all of them, so I let a few nice ones sneak through.
 “Yes, loud and clear, sorry, Doc. My ears still work, at least. What happened to me?”
 The nose of the mask bobs down then back up, the glass portholes seeming to stare into me. I don’t really mind them.
 “Well, Ms. Galen-“
 “Oh please call me Bea, or Beatrix.”
 The nose bobbed again, the mask nodding.
 “Ms. Beatrix, you were in a rather nasty accident involving some improperly parked farm equipment, I’m afraid that you- you-”
 I peer at the mask, questioning.
 “I what, Doc? Is it my legs my spine, my arms?”
 In an odd sort of calculated panic, I start to wiggle everything, and though it is all sore, everything all seems to work. I reach for the cup of ice chips next to me and the doctor seems shocked. Obviously, there are no eyebrows to clue me in, but the shoulders, broad a they are, rise ever higher. The beak bobs side to side, ever so slightly, as if shaking in disbelief.
 “Listen, Doc, let me level with you, I feel sore but otherwise functional. I’d really like the rundown on what I’m in for- Oh, and Damen, is he ok? Is he here too?”
 “No, Ms. Gal- Beatrix. He was well away from the car when the accident occurred, he was unharmed. Your recovery will be extended, however you should regain most of the function in your extremities, your right leg was not broken but it hasn’t responded to stimuli as actively as your left. I’m afraid, it isn’t possible to transfer you to another facility as there was a terrible storm not long after you were brought in, and we aren’t currently able to reach anyone.”
 I nod as I take it in, he’s ignored my dream-based inquiries, so I guess I really did dream them. I must have heard his voice while I was out, and my brain did the rest. It was a bit scary, not having a way to let anyone know. But I realized, only my school would really need to know.
 “What kind of facility is this? And what exactly am I on for pain?”
 The mask bobs again, my imagination is much more vivid than I ever realized. The doctor rises to his full height.
 “This is a small clinic. Our purpose is to help our patients get to a place where they can move on. We typically only house about three to five patients at a time and usually we only deal with minor maladies. Currently we just have you with us.” He paused for a breath and poured me a glass of cold water to go beside my ice chips.
 “As for the pain, if you are having any just ring Lottie again and she will help you.” The good doc picks up my chart and hums.  “We have you on dilaudid, but your last dose should’ve worn off by now. If that is all, Beatrix, I’ll be getting on to some of my other duties that need tending. I will be back to see you though, I promise, you are our priority.”
 I nod, numbly, feeling there is something I’m missing. As the door swings shut I realize that I can, in fact, feel an excruciating pain in my right shoulder and hip, and I just know a headache is coming on. I ring for Lottie and ask for an icepack and something to eat, as I feel starved.
 There are worse places to recover, I suppose, than a comfortable room with a lovely view of- were those gardens? I wonder to myself, if the food is good. Back home when I was hospitalized the cafeteria had the best roast beef. Gran loved it, she joked that she visited me just to sneak food off my plate.
 But this was a clinic, I didn’t expect a large cafeteria or anything like what I’d known. As if by some universal alignment, a heaping plate of roast beef with gravy, mash, and veg, arrived for supper. I dig in and it tastes like back home. I use a cloth napkin, embroidered with another black bird, to dab at my mouth. That is when I realize it, and my fork clatters onto the plate.
 The mask is real. The glowing eyes. Real.
 Somehow this doesn’t faze me as much as I think it should, but I’ve seen stranger things. I dig back into my roast beef and wonder what tomorrow will bring.
 ~~~~~~~
The next couple of days blended into this calming routine. It turns out that I did, in fact, need a wheelchair for a bit, as my good leg got tired after short bursts of activity. But the physio seemed to help, even as old fashioned as the physical therapist was. A slim man with a handlebar mustache, that served in the army at one point; he went by Butch and always seemed to be smiling.
 I got to know Lottie too, and found there were even more of these clinics, dotted about the whole of Europe. No one ever explained why Dr.Elder wore the mask but I never asked either.
 True to his word, I did see the good doctor again. Quite frequently. It started with morning check in, then there were impromptu visits, a few walks/ rolls, around the grounds, when it wasn’t pouring. As there were no other patients, and communications were still down from the storm, I found Elder to be great company. I hadn’t mentioned the dreams again, but volumes of my favorite stories appeared on my night table, and some nights when I was too tired to read, but too sore to sleep, Elder read to me. He admitted to reading to me, before I’d woken up, saying it seemed to soothe patients. We would talk about which stories we liked best, what we had grown up with. He had an upbringing rife with old classics, but once brought in a book of poetry. The verses were completely new to me, and I loved them. Lottie later told me they were his, he’d written them about patients over the years, the good and the bad. Being a doctor takes a toll on your soul and he relieved his burden through his writing.  
 I began spending the bulk of my time with him and we fell into a comfortable sort of friendship, something I had failed at achieving with even my closest classmates in nursing school. I felt better, every day and I wondered if my accident had really been as bad as all that.
 The storm that had knocked out the phone lines was still coming in waves, and the fourth day of dreary weather in a row, I decided it was time to offer up some alternate entertainment. I went looking through my effects and found my laptop and my external hard drive full of movies and music. I switched it on and wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me to do this earlier. When Elder came up for a check in, I was watching John Mulaney, as I couldn’t stop thinking about the excerpts from my dreams. He sat down with me, and before we knew it we had blown through a good chuck of my stand-up.
 He tried to laugh along in the right places, even though a lot of it seemed to go over his head, but at the end he did seem to be thoroughly happy. We were just about to start on some animated movies when Lottie started banging down my door calling for us “chortling heathens” to come take supper in the dining room.
 I also got along with Lottie and Butch through all of this, but they seemed more focused on each other and that was just fine with me. I liked my time with the Doc, and he seemed to like it too. Even spending as much time as we did together, I avoided mentioning his interesting choice of mask. I mocked up a few jokes about taking safety a bit too seriously but decided against them.
 The longer I spent at the clinic the more I came to realize that there was most certainly something distinctly “other” about it, but there was something in me that didn’t need that to be acknowledged. I was still on vacation time and I was sending my brain on vacation too.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 After a time I was able to leave the wheelchair in my room and graduate to a cane, it was a cause for celebration. I was warned that I may need to use one intermittently in the long term, to help the healing along, and because I was showing signs of post traumatic arthritis in my right hip. I decided that once I was able, I would cover my cane with tacky stickers and sparkly duct tape. There are many canes like it but this one is mine, god-dammit.
 Elder complimented my cane when we went on my first stroll in the gardens. He said I seemed to be glowing. As we walked parts of the grounds that I didn’t dare roll through, Elder told me that the clinic and its grounds had been a dairy farm long ago. its small size suited their purposes just fine. They had planted all a manner of flowers and fruit trees to yield beauty and fresh produce in the right seasons. We came across a raspberry bush and I remembered my tarts.
 “Are the phones working, yet, could I make a call?”
 “I can check, but they are supposed to be up and running today, these ancient lines go down so frequently.”
I stopped and picked a few raspberries, just ripe, so perfect I could do without the pastry. I offered some to Elder, and he declined. It was time.
 “Doc, why do you wear it?”
 Elders shoulders hunched, and I could feel something change. A mild tension that had permeated the air between us, dissipated.
 “Well I never saw the sense in it, but now it seems I can never take it off.”
 I let go of a breath, relieved I weren’t hallucinating, but now very aware that something was most assuredly different about this place, and my new-found friend.
 “Have you tried, do you need help?”
 Elder shook his head and took my hand. He led me to bench along the path and we took a rest.
 “I can’t remember when I last tried, or when someone else last remarked on it. To our regular patients I look however they need me to. Whatever face will put them at ease. I’ve worn so many, I can’t remember my own.”
I patted his back with my left hand, minding the catheter still in my arm. I’d been on I.V just before our walk, a small transfusion of fluids was ordered, as I had been feeling very dehydrated and a bit dizzy.
 “Lottie does her best, as well. You surprised her a bit, as young as you are. The memories help her a lot, so she’s grateful you seemed to have some pleasant ones to draw on. This isn’t a clinic for normal patients, I take it you’ve realized that by now.”
 He sat silent for a moment and I motioned to speak.
 “My Gran was a nurse long before I was born. Helping people was her calling and she worked from the day she got a job at the hospital to the day I was born. She would have worked until they stopped her, but she had earned her pension, so she retired to enjoy her family. When I happened, my father was pushing forty, and she was almost sixty. I was the apple of her eye when he adopted me.” I started to cry but I didn’t waver for more than a second.
I told Elder about dad dying when I was ten, a fluke heart attack. Gran being sent away when I was eleven, my aunt taking over. Gran dying, within a year, alone, in some home, from some treatable illness. Running away and getting caught, being put into a group home when they saw what my aunt had considered a suitable accommodation for a twelve year old. But I muddled through, and I graduated. I went to nursing school, for Gran. I had finished my first semester and entered a stupid raffle at the summer fair. I won, courtesy of our local travel agency, an all-expenses paid trip to *drumroll* England. I was studying in Ireland at the time, so really it was just a hop skip and a jump away, but I took it. And now here I was.
 When I finished, he nodded and helped me stand.
 “Beatrix, I wanted to tell you the truth about this place. Our patients are, not quite here nor there. Some of them are with us for only a night but some have stayed for the equivalent of years. When they are ready to move on they do, whether that means going back to their house… or going ‘home’. Every once in while someone with a physical form finds their way here and we care for them as we would anyone else. But only once in a blue moon can someone see the mask. That is how Lottie came to be here, Butch has his own story. But that’s why these little clinics began popping up all over. More and more of us came to be, and we wanted to help as best we could. There are more and more people not ready to leave this world, so we help encourage them along.’
 It all made an odd kind of sense, and it is vastly more comforting to think that one has stumbled onto something benevolent, and otherworldly. You know, as opposed to being trapped by a strange sadist wearing a bird mask.
 “So this means, I’m dead.”
 “Not quite. You aren’t…yet. You were supposed to proceed along as usual but you were so-“
 “If you say full of life I’m liable to punch you in the arm.”
 He flinched away with a laugh and held up his hands in defense.
 “Well you are, for lack of a better word. Your body wasn’t supposed to last much longer, it has been put through so much. But you just aren’t ready to be parted from it. Or this world. So we kept you alive, the only way we could and we planned to tell you when the time was right. I could tell you saw the mask the moment you saw me enter your room. I just wanted to give you some time before you had to decide”
 “How are you keeping me alive? Do I have to decide to die or-”
 A small chuckle, not sinister, just a bit of an “oh boy, you wouldn’t believe” sort of noise.
 “There is an energy that we use to stay here in between planes, it was given to me when I was dying to prolong my usefulness during a time of great need. But I never wanted to stop helping, and I adapted. It is ambient within this world and easy to find if you know where to look. It comes from love, from happiness, from the basic components of life itself.  That is what has been in your I.V, what causes my subdued glow, and your budding glow as well.”
 “So my decision, as it stands, is between allowing myself to die and possibly pass on, or staying here, helping other souls cross over, like glow worm Charon in scrubs?”
 I thought for a bit, as we continued to walk. But I stopped Elder when we reached the tree bearing his name.
 “So if I stay, Does this mean I have to wear the bird mask?’
 This time it was a full blown laugh, I’d even go so far as to say, a chortle.
 “Not unless you want to. When I passed into this state, this is how people who were purported to be healers often dressed. So I chose it, thinking anyone who saw this form would feel comforted by it. Times have changed of course, and I can make others see whatever they like, but I’ve gone so long without really changing that I don’t know what may lay beneath, if anything does. For all intents and purposes, this is my face now. Elder was not my name in life, I didn’t remember who I was. But I knew I wanted to help. You would look however you liked, most likely how you look right now, but maybe with less bruising. And you don’t have to wear scrubs or dresses or anything-‘
 He stuttered and corrected himself.
 “Well, I mean, you can wear anything you like. You don’t even have to help, I’d just… I’d like it if you stayed” The eyes went down, and the beak was perpendicular to he ground.
 ‘Lottie is lovely and kind and she has been here for decades now, and we get along just fine. But I can’t read Shakespeare with her, and she isn’t much for comedy. Though I don’t always understand yours, I like it, and I’d like it if you’d teach me more about it, and even about the world. Lottie can blend in with the crowd, but I never venture out if I don’t have to, I feel awkward and out of time.
 “Butch is a sweet man but he keeps to himself, goes to the cinema with Lottie, he likes going through the motions of being an out and about human. That’s fine and dandy for him, and I hope he enjoys every moment of it”
He took both my hands in his and we looked into each other’s eyes as best we could. In that moment I swore I could see proper blue eyes peeking back at me.
 “But you, Beatrix, you make me feel like I’m not alone. You are the first proper friend I’ve had since I still had my own face. I don’t want to force you to stay, I know you have others to see in whatever comes next, but I don’t want to lose my friend. That’s why I wanted to prolong your stay here. I feel guilty for not having told you sooner but-“
 I put two fingers, close as I could get, to where Elders mouth would have been.
 “Oh hush, you old crow. Of course, I’m staying. Gran would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t do what she raised me to. And even without Grans watchful eyes over my shoulder… I would never leave a friend behind.”
 I was promptly lifted and hugged so impossibly tight, and yet, as I hugged him back I didn’t feel a single twinge of pain. When he reluctantly set me down the bruises were gone. His glow was a bit brighter, and I felt brand new.
 “Well, now I suppose we must tell Lottie”
 A loud happy chortle floated down from the clinics back door.
 “I already know, you two lollygaggers. Now, come on. Doc, nurse trainee, we have two new patients who need processing, and someone has to help me.”
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pseudonymfox · 5 years
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Abort Mission (1)
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You and your boyfriend have powers, now he is dead and you are expecting. Hydra is interested in the Baby so they send the Winter soldier. What happens if Bucky unexpectely falls for you....
Warnings: ANGST, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of character death, mentions of blood and probably language, the winter soldier (I think that’s a warning)
A/N: I am trying so hard not to make an series out ouf that but it doesn’t fit everything in one or two parts UGHHH so you better appreciate the hell out of that :D
FINALLY ITS POSTED. I AM EXCITED SKSKDKSJDDK
(Y/N) (Y/L/N), (Y/A) = Your name, your last name, your age. Also I got the name Luke zamaro from a generatore site so I hope it wasn’t used before lmao
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Longing.
Rusted.
Furnance
Daybreak
Seventeen
Benign
Nine
Homecoming.
One
Freight Car
Ready to comply.
Mission is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), age 28. Born with the ability to manipulate water. Recently deceased boyfriend Luke Zamaro, age 31 with the ability to manipulate emotions and telekinesis. She is expecting his child, probably around three to four months pregnant. Child is new potential for Hydra’s new experiment “Winter’s children“.
The Winter Soldier didn’t care for his new target, that was his mission and nothing else mattered, he couldn’t back to the chair if he failed even when is mind is trying to tell him something else.
It was a beautiful morning, the sun just began to shine brightly as you walked out of the grocery store, sadly the first raindrops started to fall seconds after even with almost no dark cloud but your apartment wasn’t far away so you walked the rest. It probably wasn’t a good idea to lift two heavy bags by yourself while being pregnant but you didn’t thought much longer about it.
As you got home the rain started to fall stronger but luckily you managed to let the raindrops barely hit you. Luke always told you not to use your powers outside where someone could notice. It was just to dangerous and otherwise you would get sick and your groceries wouldn’t make it much longer in the paper bags.
You took the stairs up since the elevator is broken for as long as you remember you live in this crappy looking building. It was just enough space for you. It has to be since your boyfriend and father of the child died you were on the run but finally you found a place where they didn’t found you for once. You’ll never forget the night when these guys attacked you.
-Flashback about two months ago-
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Luke and you just had to leave the restaurant because you felt really nauseous the whole time and tired. It was a bummer, he planned this for weeks because normally normally you always stayed in and watched a movie. The last few days you felt a little weird but you didn’t wanted to ruin or change his plans last minute which you sadly did anyways.
“I am so sorry babe. I don’t know what came over me” you said to him while you walked home together. It was late already and the streets you were walking through didn’t seem to be the safest with no lights and almost no people beside a few drunk idiots on the sidewalk.
“Don’t worry (Y/N). We’ll just go home, cuddle under a blanket and watch a movie. We have enough time to do it another time” he said kissing your temple and hanging his jacket around your shoulders, smiling down to you with his big green eyes. Even after these almost five years he managed to let you feel butterflies and a certain warmness in your chest.
“Still are you sure you’re okay? It’s been like this for the past week..Maybe it’s something else” he asked you curious and somehow worried. Both of you stopped walking in the ally that is supposed to be a faster way to your apartment.
“What do you mean?”you asked back and held his hand.
“Well it could be-”
“Would you look at that. If that isn’t our old friend Luke and who are you sweetheart?”
A deep scratchy voice behind you cut him off a and Luke immediately stood in front of you. You knew that Luke had something to do with Hydra, not exactly what but after he told he also promised you that it’s over and they had nothing to do with him anymore. You trust him.
“Not your sweetheart you asshole” you snapped back to him. The tall men chuckled and whistled loudly. Two other men appeared at his side and you noticed two other ones were behind you as they loaded their guns and held them up to you heads.
“What do you want?” Luke asked through gritted teeth. He was really tensed,  something you didn’t see often on him which worried you even more. You met him as a really caring person with a warm smile and you instantly fell for.
“How about you come with us and we talk about it somewhere else.” he said but it wasn’t meant as a question.
“Luke..?” you asked and looked at him, not knowing what is even going on. He seemed to think about something.
“I’ll go when you don’t hurt her” Luke said sighing and took a few steps further to the men. You tried to hold him back but the clicking of the guns let you flinch up.
“How sweet of you..” the guy said and made a hand motion to the boys behind him.
They stepped towards Luke and snatched his arms behind his back. You quickly searched for help. You couldn’t fight them hand to hand and your powers are barely strong enough. You saw a dripping pipe on one of the buildings and without thinking twice you made a few hand motions to turn the water into a ball above you and into ice spikes. You looked behind you and let them fall just above the two men, killing them instantly. Luke noticed it faster and let his head snap back into the face who held him, breaking his nose and while you fought the second guy you saw Luke laying on the ground while getting beaten up from the guy. You used all you strength to let one of pipes explode knocking the last one out. Exhausted you fell to the ground, drenched in water not having anything from the energy left. That was a burden you had from using them.
You tried to stand up again as you saw the men above luke, who seemed to be unconscious on the ground snapping a knife out of his belt.
“Try your little mind tricks but they don’t work for me anymore” he said to Luke and spit out blood right in his face. Luke tried to hold the knife back and fight back.
You looked all over the place, searching for a gun from one of the guys as you found one you quickly aimed at him and shot but missed the first one. His head snapped back and you saw him smirking at you before turning back and ramming the knife into Luke’s chest while twisting it and pulling it out again. Luke let out a loud scream and grunts deeply.
Your eyes widened in shock, your blood turning ice cold. You aimed again and shot twice before you finally hit him right into the back of his head, He fell over to the side and you let the gun fall to the ground as you ran to Luke’s side with shaking legs.
You held him tightly in your arms and saw the blood drenching the shirt and coloring the wet ground were he was laying on red. You cried and didn’t wanted to let his already cold body go.
“(Y/N)..” you heard him breathing out.
“It’s my fault...I am sorry” you sobbed and felt your whole body shaking.
“It’s not, they were here for me..I -I love you” he said and you felt his hand letting go from yours.
“No don’t you dare...NO!” you screamed at him and cried shaking his body slightly to see if he would move or react in anyway.
You couldn’t go home and all you wanted was him back. You knew it was your fault. You wanted to leave the restaurant earlier. You held his lifeless body tighter against yours and sobbed into his shoulder.
“What do I do. What do I do??“ you repeated again and again not knowing what you are supposed to do now or what is happening, how are you supposed to live now. You are completly alone now. It was always just Luke and you, now he is gone too.
You sat there at least another half hour before you heard the sirens coming closer. Knowing that you had to leave before you would end up in the cell or on the police station for most of the days.
You took one last look at his face, running you fingers through his damp hair and across his cold skin before laying him gently on the floor and ran home were you sat onto the couch and just felt numb. You couldn’t move and neither cry. Everything hurt and you still were drenched in water and blood not even knowing if some is from you. You still had his jacket on, the one he loved so much. It was a old jeans jacket which was way to big for you but still it always made you feel safe and sound.
The next morning you finally stood up and just were about to take a shower as you wanted to slip out of the jacket a little velvet box fell to the ground. Curious you picked it up and opened it. Inside was a beautiful classic diamond ring. Now knowing the reason he planned for weeks and was always so mysterious about it. Why he suddenly wanted to go out with you in this fancy resteraunt and why he worked longer and saved more and more money.
The guilt and grief you felt grew even stronger.
-End of Flashback-
You moved away the week after you found your apartment being broken into and your furniture and all belongings on the ground or just destroyed. All you took was your necessary stuff and a few pictures from Luke. Moving from city to city when you felt uncomfortable, being watched or followed, you just could barely defend yourself when they got too close.
After two more weeks you found out that you’re pregnant. The shock and angst you felt was intense but there was also a small spark of happiness. It took you about two months to find a apartment in Washington where they didn’t find you or you just felt somehow safe again, something you could call home again.
New home. New place. New everything.
Just as you rounded the corner towards your apartment door you felt this paranoid feeling bubbling up again. Quickly you unlocked and opened the door getting inside and looking through the peephole of the door if there was anything or anyone. You could hear the footsteps quietly coming closer with one maybe stupid decision you opened the door and saw a man with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, sharp features and dripping from the rain while looking at you shocked or more likely surprised.
“Who are you? What do you want?“ you asked with you hand behind your back where you had a knife tucked in your belt and one on your stomach like a reflex.
“I just moved in here and wanted to introduce myself“ the man said and took a few steps towards you while you took steps backwards to your door, not sure to believe him or anyone at all.
“..I am James“ he said nicely and held his right hand to you but you didn’t took the risk.
“(Y/N)“ you said coldly and slammed the door shut in front of you. It wasn’t just that you didn’t trust him but you also didn’t wanted to make friends or get anyone else in danger.
Well that wasn’t planned James just thougt...
Next Part>>
Feedback appreciated!
xoxo Sophie
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Slightly gone
“Hey goodnight I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jensen called out as you started to head to your trailer and you waved. You have been on spn for a while now and your character is supposedly on a solo hunt that will last the episode but will let you have some days off in your real life.
You waved back and went to the assigned trailer. Quickly showering off the fake blood and sweat from the day you gather clean clothes and head out to your SUV. Your bodyguard Stephen sat passenger, mainly because you always insisted on driving.
As you get out onto the freeway about 45 minutes away from your apartment a car comes up on your ass. Not slowing down and slightly drifting from side to side in the lane. You sped up hoping to ditch the guy but he kept pace. Soon enough he moved over to the left and started to pass you. It happened all so quick. His rear end hit your front end and the car spun out of control. Stephen has his arm across your chest and you had your back pressed to the back of the seat. Nothing could have stopped the car from rolling and other cars tried to swerve out of the way. You car came to a rest upside down when another car tried to avoid the jam and hit your side of the car head on. The suv went skidding across the freeway and you blacked out.
—————————————
“Wait what do you mean accidents.”
“It was a pile up. After the first car hit us the rest tried to avoid our car and one hit her side of the SUV.” Stephen was speaking to your coworkers. Who just so happened to be finished with work for the day. When they found out what happend they left and came to see if you were ok. You weren’t though all you saw was black but could hear everything. People talking, beeping and the rush of footsteps. You couldn’t feel anything. Probably a good thing at that. Soon enough though not just doctors entered your room it was your family. Not your mom and dad they were still in the states and most likely don’t know what happened yet. But your other family. The one you had been with since you were 10 years old. You had been living with your aunt but now had your own apartment. Jensen, Jared , cliff, Stephen and misha were there. The doctors apparently had made an exception for them to come in and visit you.
“Hey Y/N.” It was Jared’s voice but distant.
“We miss you.” Cliff gruffes put this time even more far off. Then you started to feel warm... and light. The beeping started to fade from your ears and the voices went with it. Then you heard this...this crying. Like a baby. The light got brighter and the crying did too. The mumbling of doctors and nurses became present. Then the weirdest thing.
“Is she okay?” A voice echoed through the room.
“She has ten fingers and ten toes. Health is looking ok.” You throat was scratchy and you were cold.
You weren’t in heaven or hell but a new life all together.
————————
Time skip 15 years
*you have no memory of being born again or of your past life*
“THEN JUST KILL YOURSELF.”
Your cracked out mom screamed. She was screaming at you. She was foaming at the mouth and had her hand in her hair. She hasn’t been herself lately but this, this was new. You ran down the hall and put a bag together just throwing in clothes. You jumped out your window and ran down the street. Your feet hit the pavement at an alarming rate and you didn't stop. You ran past the run down movie theaters and the family owned diners. You kept running. You ran until your lungs burned and until there were no more street lights to guide your way. Just the lonely sound of crickets and the occasional owl. 
By this point in the night it had to have been close to 40 degrees and only a couple cars have passed, the damp air was hard to breathe through and the wet pavement was starting to make your feet ache. The low rumble down the road was barely audible, yet you could see the faint glow of headlights. You readied yourself. you stopped and held out your thumb. You walked into the empty lane and prepared. The car started to slow down and stopped a few yards away from you. you walked up to the driver window and you met eyes with a women. She would have had to be mid 30s if not almost 40. Her dark hair was cut into a pixie cut and her eyes looked concerned. 
“Are you okay?” You meant to lie but instead the truth came out. 
“No.” Tears welled in your eyes as a shiver went down your spine. 
“Get in honey.” you walked to the other side of the car and hoped in. 
“I’m Jody Mills. What’s your name?”
“Y/N.” She nodded. Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”
“I can’t go home.” Seeing your mistake you tried to make it sound less like you were an easy target. Jody must have seen the look on your face. 
“Hey it’ s ok I’m a sheriff. You aren't in danger.” she opened the center console and pulled out a badge. “Why are you hitch hiking?”
“My mom told me to kill myself so I ran. Don’t take me back there i’ll just run again.” She nodded. Obviously seeing your fear.
“Okay but I got two of my own girls at home and I wouldn’t want them to be roaming waiting to get abducted so you are coming home with me. You can sleep in the guest room. If you steal anything though I will arrest you. Got it?” You nodded.
“It’s about 15 minutes away from here. When we get home i’ll get you some clean pajamas and if you want you can take a shower. How long have you been out here anyways?”
“I think I left around ten.” 
“Geez kid it’s two in the morning.” 
“Oh.. I walked awhile then.” 
“Yeah you did.”
The car slowly goes forward and you buckle in. The radio was on and Jody was tapping the steeling wheel. Sleep was heavy in your eyes and body but you just couldn’t let go. As you pull into the driveway there was a truck with big letters saying sheriff on it and another car. A bit older but still drivable.
“Comm on.” You slid out of the car every movement wanting to just lay down and sleep. Jody unlocks the door and lets you in first.
In the couch was a girl with blonde hair watching a movie.
“Who are you?”
“Claire. This is Y/N. She is staying with us tonight.” She just nods excepting the fact there is a random person in her living room.
“I’ll get you some clothes the bathroom is down the hall you will see it.” You head down to the bathroom and stare in the mirror. Your eyes are red and puffy, your hair stringy and greasy. You were damp from mist and sweat. Jody knocks on the door and hands you a stack of clothes.
“I have some dinner on the table for you shower and come on out to the kitchen.”
“Hey uh thanks. For uh not kidnapping me.”
“Well your welcome but if I ever see you doing that again I’ll take myself out of the equation and get the cops involved.” She said it with a smile and shut the door.
While in the shower the warm water washed away the sweat and chill from your skin and got the dirt from hair. The raw memory was fresh. Not easing from your mind, not going anywhere. It was haunting you and there was nothing you could do.
“Hey Y/N. You ok?” When Jody knocked it snapped you out of your trance.
“Yeah be out in a minute.” You turned the water off and scrambled to get the pajamas on. As you walk to the kitchen Claire is no longer on the couch and the tv is off. Jody sits alone at the table and was eating. She to was in pajamas. You sat down next to her and started eating. The more you ate the warmer you felt. Not physically but like you were safe. Not happy but content.
“So I will wash your clothes tonight and you can sleep in the guest room but what is the plan for tomorrow?”
“The plan?”
“Yes the plan. Are you going to run again or are you going to stay. Those girls, I adopted so I wouldn’t mind you stayin too but you got to let me know.”
“I mean..”
“Are you still in high school?” You nodded.
“Okay well how bought you stay here until you graduate and go to college?” Before any words could leave your mouth. She nodded like she made her mind up.
“Okay. So it’s settled.” Jody picked up your plate and put it in the sink.
“Go on get to bed. I’m the morning we will go and sign you up for school.” You rose from your chair not really knowing what just happened.
The room was plain and had not much in it. A dresser a closet and a bed. It was good enough for you. You laid on the plush bed and fell into a coma like sleep immediately.
HEYY OKAY SO THIS IS PART ONE!
might make it into a short series...
TAGS
@unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt
If you want tagged in this series or any future series/stories then let me know via ask box
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Febuwhump day 24 “Blood Lust”
Title: Erratic Actions
Author: whump-my-dear-watson
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Reid, JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Alvez, Lewis, Rossi, Simmons
Episode setting: Sometime in Season 13 or 14 Warnings: captured, blood, torture, stabbed, restrained, so much blood, shot, character death,
Word Count: 4,600
A/N: This is basically if I had a chance to write an episode, this would be it. Literally. Also, this is me just making up for lack of overall MGG this season. If you can’t do gore, please don’t read! This gets pretty dark pretty fast. There are a lot of jumps in perspective in this one, I am not really good with that, so this is pretty choppy. 
“This Unsub is erratic. No method to his madness,” said Rossi directing his words to the group of police officers in front of them.
“This is what we call a spree killer, but a deviation.” entered Luke.
“Most spree killers kill hard and fast, with a gun or a bomb, but this killer takes his time, slowly bleeding his victims out.” JJ said, giving it off to Reid.
“Victimology of this unsub is random, leading us to believe that he just takes victims of opportunity. That means anyone could be a target.”
Tara took over, “We suggest that you inform schools and colleges to always walk with another person, and we urge families to have the whereabouts of their children at all time.”
“Children have not been targeted just yet, but that doesn't mean that they won’t be.” Emily wrapped up.
Emily turned to the team. “Rossi, you and Luke go and interview the first victims family, Tara, Matt, check out the latest crime scene,  Reid you interview the second victims family, JJ and I will handle the press and set up here at the station.” The team nodded their agreement and headed in their separate ways.
Reid hardly ever drove, typically he was always with someone who would drive, but today he was on his own. He contemplated driving himself, he definitely could, but he chose against it. He could use the fresh air, and the second's victims house was only 2.3 miles away from the station. Spencer tightened his strap on his satchel and pushed his way through the doors. His long strides brought him closer to his destination in no time, the repetitive motion of walking calmed him down, always had. He took in his surroundings and for a moment just closed his eyes, he forgot about the mystery, forgot about his pain, the unsub, it was just him and nature. The sun resting on his shoulders reflecting off his wavy hair. Reid’s gaze fell upon a white aging house in the distance, a quarter mile away he calculated.
Before his mind could make any other statistics he felt a flat pain on the side of his head, as his body crumpled to the floor his eyelids fluttered open and shut, just before becoming fully enveloped in the growing darkness he saw a hooded figure standing over his defenseless body.
Reid was awoken by the sound of a saw being sharpened, the course metal rubbing against each other sent a pain into his head.
Reid released a breath that he wasn’t aware that he was even holding, he groggily attempted to move his hands, only to be greeted with a tug on his wrists, looking down he observed his bindings, they were rope. Obviously, this Unsub is no master killer, but a killer none the less. Furrowing his brow he looked up trying to take in his surroundings, he was in some kind of barn, it looked unused. He lay horizontal on a wooden table, it’s coarseness already making him feel uncomfortable. The bulb hanging above his head lit up the room but brought back many unwarranted memories of his capture by Tobias all those years ago. Reid blinked his eyes shut and pushed away the memory, being stuck in his past would not help his now.
Reid kept his eyes closed for a moment if he focused on what he heard he might get a better idea on where he was. How long he was out he didn’t know, but he guessed that he couldn’t be too far away from where he was taken. His thoughts were hijacked by an unsavory voice, it was deep and scratchy, no doubt had been upon this world for many years.
“You’re up,” the figure stepped into Reid’s view, “Good.”
Reid gulped at the man came closer, his sweat now soaking through his collar. “Why, why am I here?” he said, his voice soft and timid. The Unsub sauntered closer to Reid, a grin plastered on his sleep-deprived face.
“You’re here because you’re going to help me.”
“Help you with what?”
“With my hobby. I just took it up recently, I can’t believe what I have been missing out on. You’re my next project.” The words the Unsub spoke sent shivers down Reid’s spine, as optimistic as he tried to be he could not stop the ever growing speed of his racing heart. Reid relaxed his neck onto the wooden table, it would make no sense to wear himself out by trying to keep himself upright. His head still throbbed from the hit earlier, and he didn’t know what he could do. His gun was gone, he was literally tied down, and he could feel another wave of unconsciousness coming upon him. He was in trouble.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * *
“Hey, Emily, did Spence get anywhere with the second victims family?” asked JJ approaching her friend.
Prentiss’ face contorted into confusion as she processed what JJ had just asked her. “I thought he had called you. I haven’t heard from him since this morning. Do you think he’s okay?”
JJ nodded hesitantly, “I’m sure he’s fine. Just forgot to check in. I’ll give him a quick call,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, speed-dialing Spence, after she reached voicemail she turned to Prentiss, a worried look in her eyes. “He’s not answering.”
Emily jumped into action “JJ, call Garcia, see if she can track Reid’s phone, I’ll contact the rest of the team, maybe one of them as heard from him.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * *
A cold splash of water brought Reid out of unconsciousness, his heart racing twice the speed it should he took a big breath, his body assumed he was drowning, but his mind was all too aware that this was just his wake up call, things were going to get much worse off for him.
Sputtering and shaking his head to get some of the drips of water off of him he looked up, his field of vision was restrained to what he could see above him, and if he strained his neck, a few feet lower on either side. Because of this hindering fact, he wasn’t aware of the knife until it penetrated his skin. The sharp pain of the blade shot through his body enforcing a loud gasp to cross his lips. Reid could feel his own hot blood ooze out of the gaping hole in his leg, the pain was immense and unrelenting, it would not let him think of anything else. Just pain. The Unsub came into Reid’s view, holding the knife that still dripped with his blood.
“Please, you don’t have to do this. I’ve done nothing wrong to you,” Reid pleaded.
The Unsub took a moment to reply.
        “I know nothing about you. And I want it to stay that way. You’re not here for me to get to know, you’re here to fill my need.” Reid’s whole body shook as the Unsub placed the knife down and picked up a saw from a nearby shelf, the battered condition of the rigid edges led Reid to believe that the saw had been used many a time before.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * *
“Okay, thanks Garcia,” JJ hung up the phone and looked Prentiss in the eyes. “Garcia pinged his phone, it has his location about a quarter mile from the 2nd victims family’s house. Apparently, he never arrived.” Prentiss nodded solemnly and checked her phone, the exact location was sent to her from Garcia.
“Tell the others to meet us there.” Upon arriving at the scene the team saw Reid’s phone and satchel lying abandoned on the sidewalk.
“Kid,” Rossi said, shaking his head in despair.
“Do you think it was the same Unsub? It’s his MO, taking someone random in the neighborhood and leaving their phones and bags,” said Tara.
Luke shook his head yes, “We have to assume that. And if this is the same Unsub, does he know Reid is an Agent? And if he doesn’t, what would he do if he found out?”
  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * ** * * * * *
Reid inched himself away from the unsub as best he could in his binds, but the man just approached him calm as ever. He set his saw on top of Reid’s arm and it just rested there for a moment, unmoving. The Unsub seemed to relish in the fear that lay in his victim's eyes.
“Please, you can let me go. I’m sorry about all the things that happened to you.” Reid said, barely in focus, trying not only to talk himself out of this situation but also distract himself from the continuous pain that pulsed from his bleeding leg.
At his words, the Unsub shifted his weight. “How do you know that something happened to me?” Reid steadied his breathing as he considered his answer.
“I am a Doctor. I study human behavior. I know that someone that does... does the things that you do, they do it because they’re hurting. And I’m sorry. I know hurt too,”
At this, the Unsub’s demeanor completely changed. “You know nothing of my pain!” He shouted above Reid’s scream as he dug his saw into his arm drawing a rough red line of blood through his shirt sleeve.
Reid closed his eyes biting down on his lip to stifle the scream that the next swipe up the saw brought up, tears stained his face as he refused to voice his pain. It was the only thing that he had left. The Unsub wanted him to scream, so that was exactly what he wasn’t going to give him. The Unsub was hastily hacking away at Reid’s arm, not enough to sever it, but enough for him to wish that it was gone. Reid took in a big breath and let another one out. If he couldn’t put any pressure on the wound then the least that he could do was control his breathing. Reid suppressed a sob as the Unsub uttered the words he dreaded.
“Now we shouldn’t let your arm have all the fun,” In a swift movement the Unsub slashed at Reid’s chest, tearing through his cardigan and a layer of skin. Logically, Reid knew that by the speed of the Unsub’s movement and the level pain that he inflicted the wounds were only about an inch thick, but he felt as if his body were being torn in half.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * *
“If this is really the same Unsub than we have to assume that he’ll stick to his own time table. So far he has kept his victims for 24 hours, bleeding them out through a series of cuts,” Rossi froze for a moment, unable to stop thinking about his friend in that position.
“It’s already been at least 8 hours. We need to find the Unsub before...” JJ couldn’t finish her sentence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * *
The Unsub set the saw down next to Reid on the table if he wasn’t so tired he might have thought to try to use it to break his binds, but his body was worn. And his mind was soon to follow. The Unsub picked up a machete looking tool that hung menacingly on the wall and brought it over to Reid’s face. His smile made Reid sick, but maybe that was also lack of blood that had him nauseous.
The Unsub took the blade and traced it along Reid’s face, outlining his jawline and temple, barely breaking the skin, just leaving a faint hardly noticeably line behind it. Reid recognized this as psychological torture, and he wouldn’t give the Unsub the satisfaction of a reaction. He just closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore.
The Unsub trailed the machete down to Reid’s abdomen and pointed the tip of the blade just right to not hit any necessary organs, not just yet. The Unsub raised his weapon and with a swift downwards motions he embedded the machete into Reid’s side. Reid couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp, another set of tears ran down his face, his breathing rate became more unstable and unsteady, a soft almost suppressed yelp escaped his lips, and the Unsub seemed to like his reaction, because he left the machete in him, which kept most of the blood inside his body.
How much time had passed since the initial abduction Reid could only guess, and he knew he only had twenty-four hours. His vision would come and go, enveloped in black as he passed out from pain, and unable to look away from the loose light bulb that hung directly above him was turning his vision spotty.
Brought back to attention to the unsub by the movement of the blade inside him he could barely get out a weak, “Please,” before the unsub ruthlessly yanked his weapon from Reid’s body, releasing another wave of blood and pain.
“Please,”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * *
“Okay. Let’s talk about what we do know. We know that the Unsub hardly takes anyone outside the neighborhood, that means he probably lives in the area, right?” offered Luke.
“And the fact that he is slowly killing his victims, and keeping them awake for the torture, confirms two things, that he’s a sadist and that he is somewhere where surrounding people couldn’t hear any screams,” said Tara as she handed out coffee to her team.
“Hey, Garcia, is there any home owned land with at least 25 acres  in this 10-mile radius?” Emily said on speaker. 
“Yes, there are 3 that I can see here, one owned by a farm, which is active, might not have luck there, another one was just inherited to a young family, and the last one is owned by a Jacob Hall, looks like he’s a single male, white, 40s to 50s...”
“Just like our profile! Garcia can you-” started Matt.
“Address already in your phones.”
“Thanks, Garcia,” said Prentiss as the team rushed through the door of the station.
“Emily? Bring him back home.” Prentiss could hear Garcia’s voice breaking over the phone, which almost brought out the sob stuck in her own voice, but there was no time for that.
“We will,”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dying didn’t seem a bad option now. If he was dead the pain would go away. And Mauve, he could be with Mauve again. As the delirium from the pain took over his rational mind he gave in to his innermost thoughts. Why should he hold on? Hold onto this world that only seemed to bring him pain? He had died before. For a moment. Revived by CPR by a man that died soon after. He was young then. Full of hope of rescue.
But you can only survive so long on pain and sadness. You can only see so many friends die in front of you, leave you behind. There is only so much one can take before they break. Why did he refuse to break? Why did he stay in the field, after everything he had gone through? Why not just leave now. No pain. No hurt. No pressure. The relief seemed so close, he could almost taste it. Reid closed his eyes and smiled at the thought of reuniting with Mauve. But there were voices telling him to hold on, it wasn’t Mauve's voice, it was a voice he had grown accustomed too, a voice that he had known for over a decade, his best friend Jennifer, and Penelope, Emily was there too, and Rossi. Then he heard it, a voice that he hadn’t heard in a while. “Hang in there kid. I’m here.” Derek Morgan’s calming voice faded from Reid’s delirious mind as he was brought back to his painful reality with a jolt from a slap. That mark was sure to leave his face red, Reid thought to himself, but then again he was probably all covered in red already.
“Hey. Stay awake. I want you to see this next part.” the Unsub now was holding a smaller knife standing over Reid’s bindings.
Reid could only shake his head, he was so worn he could no longer even tremble with terror. All Reid wanted to do was go to sleep. And maybe take a cold bath. His forehead dripped with sweat and blood and his wounds seemed to radiate heat.
The Unsub took Reid’s wrist into his own meaty hands and delicately started making a small slit, getting more aggressive and rougher with each stroke. Reid turned his head away from the Unsub, digging his face into the table, if he wasn’t looking, it wasn’t happening. That mentality didn’t last long as the pain made him only able to think about one thing.
Oh, how Reid wished that he wasn’t tied up. Then at least he would be able to wipe the blood that was dripping agonizingly slow down his face. His time was almost up. Reid could feel it. This was the end. He held on, for his team, but as he lay bleeding out on the table in a barn in the middle of no-where Wisconsin he realized that he was completely and utterly alone.
No one but his above average IQ to consider, no one but the murderer in front of him to see him take his last breath. The unsub took out his knife that he used first, and stood gleefully in front of Reid, his last stroke would be with the same weapon as his first stroke. Reid wondered for a bit if this was intentional, why he was thinking of such minuscule matters was only to distract him from his impending doom. Reid shut his eyes for what he assumed to be the last time. How he longed to see his team and his mother for the last time. He had faith in them, he had faith in the system, but after a lifetime of mystery and hurt, he had learned to never expect relief.
“Thanks for playing, boy,” The Unsub rose his weapon high above his head.
“FBI! Drop your weapon!” Prentiss shouted as the team burst through the old barn doors.
Reid looked up at his friends, and a smile of relief washed over him. They were here. Even if he died now, at least it would be with his family. The Unsub regarded the hoard of Agents that surrounded him, guns pointed. He glanced down at Reid, still bound by ropes on the wooden table, holes seeping blood from everywhere it seemed. All he wanted to do was see them bleed. See them all bleed. In a split second the unsub made his decision, with a wicked smirk he tilted the blade towards Reid’s heart and started to plunge.
In a moment the team rushed towards the Unsub and Reid, careful to not hit their friend they let loose on the Unsub, filling him with bullets. His downward aim already in motion he fell forward with the knife still on route to Reid’s heart. Reid gathered the information and processed, if he rotated to the right he would have more of a chance of making it out of here alive.
The knife again pierced his skin and the Unsub’s body lay atop Reid and it. JJ and Rossi rushed to him, ripping the Unsub away. JJ untied Reid and Rossi immediately put pressure on the deepest open wounds that he could find.
“Spence,” JJ’s eyes filled with tears as she saw her friend lay so weak and drained. Reid could barely look them in the eyes he was so tired, the latest stab wound taking the last bit he had left in him.
As his mind drifted off he mumbled a small, “Mauve,”
JJ’s brow furrowed as she held on tightly to Reid’s hand, for support but also to help his bleeding wrist.
“Spencer, you have to stay with us, okay? I’m sorry you can’t go with Mauve. Please, Spence, don’t leave me.” JJ was unable to stop the wave of tears that streamed down her face. “Don’t leave us. Think about your godchildren, Henry, Spence you promised him you would make it to his birthday next week. You can’t go.”
Wiping her face she rested her other hand on his heaving shoulder.
“You can’t go,”
“Don’t take the knife out!” Tara called out as she approached the wounded man. “That’s the only thing keeping him alive right now, it’s blocking the majority of the blood from coming out.” The others nodded in understanding as they all stood around Reid.
“Medics are on their way, is he conscious?” Emily inquired.
“I don’t-I don’t think so,” JJ said with uncertainty in her voice that made everyone feel unsettled.
“We can’t move him until they arrive,” said Luke.
“Is there anything we can do?” asked Matt.
“Try to stop some of the bleeding, and pray to God that they arrive in time,” said Rossi.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * ** * * * * * * * * * *
The sound of sirens blaring in his ears awoke Reid with a start, his vision was blurry and he could only see out of one eye, the other wrapped in a bandage. After blinking profusely to try to clear his head he looked around him. He was strapped to a stretcher in an ambulance, JJ was still holding his hand as an EMT applied more bandages to his body, a paramedic just inserted an IV into him, and whatever was in it wasn’t quite taking the edge off.
“Spence, you’re awake!” JJ cried with joy. He gave her a weak smile that morphed into a grimace as another wave of pain hit him.
“Sir we need to give you a transfusion as soon as possible, you lost a lot of blood. Do you know what blood type you are?” Reid nodded shakily, but his voice didn’t seem to work. JJ saw him struggling and gave the Paramedic the knowledge that she needed. Reid’s pulse was thready, breathing erratic, and concentration at none, but he couldn’t help but feel at ease knowing that his best friend was right beside him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * *
The next time Reid awoke he was surrounded by his team, some of them sleeping on the couch, some on the chairs, some slumped against the wall. The dim light of his hospital room led him to believe it had to be late night or early morning.
Sleeping upright in a chair inches from his hospital bed rested a head-to-toe in color, Garcia. She jolted awake from some six sense, sensing that he was up.
“Garcia? What are you doing here? Are we still in-”
“Wisconsin? Yes. They couldn’t transfer you in the,” she gestured at his patched-up body, “state that you were in. I flew down. I couldn’t let my boy genius be in a hospital without a proper gift-bag!” she grabbed a bright pink bag at her feet and shook it with excitement.
“But that can be for later, now, you just need to tell me how you are.”
Reid shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been better. What happened, exactly?”
“After the medics came they, uh,  pumped you full of blood, then you had to get emergency surgery for the...multiple stab wounds you acquired.” she shook her head at tears were starting to form in her eyes. “I just, can’t believe we almost lost you. Again. You have been in a coma for 2 days after the surgery, and honestly, the doctors didn’t know if you’d make it.”
Reid took in the information as he stared out at the rest of his slumbering team. “You mean they all stayed here, for me?”
“Spencer, none of us are going to let you out of our site again!” she said with a laugh, that must have been more than a whisper because JJ was soon awake and at his side, in no time the whole team was, showering him with love that was so absent from the barn he came from.
As hurt and pain-ridden he was, Reid couldn’t help but feel like the most blessed person in the entire world.
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sugar-petals · 6 years
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Omg I love your writing style so much ❤️ It always hits in the right places 😏 As I see you have requests open may I ask for historical AU with Taehyung being a nobleman son and his and reader's wedding night when they never (or barely) saw each other before a wedding? You know they don't know each other but they have to do it 😩 If you don't feel like writing this anything else with Tae will be fine with me 😉
My Word To Treat You Well [M]
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length | 3.5kgenre | angst, soft smut, enemies to lovers, fluffy endnote | The other members are side & main characters!warnings | bullying, homophobia, child abuse, evil kings… doing evil things 
Appalling. Twenty or more people would offer you a hundred bucks to know whether Prince Taehyung was good in bed or not. 
Probably to sell the juicy secret to The Daegu Herald or Gyeongsang Sentinel for twice the money. You’d get extra pay for revealing what he was into. Meanwhile, you yourself wondered about that. The cash went past your gloved hands under mid-July’s oppressive evening heat, waiting for the crowds to disperse with your relatives departing, too. The tedious diplomatic talks, over-the-top banquets, shrill music, and painful dances were over. Familiar stars shed soft lights on the rattling carriages that headed north from the Kim Palace. That was the only thing good about this day. It was hard knowing Ilsan was so far away. You mother, widowed Queen Choi, had left you with a plea to all the strength you possibly have. And she must know how it is. 
You were looking forward to throwing your heeled shoes into the palace pond, not fucking the Crown Prince. He had been acting arrogant with his friends all day, tripping waiters. In fact, you thought he was Daegu’s number one blockhead. Next to his unruly partner in crime: Yoongi from the local Min family. He loved to harass and mock the elderly guests while Taehyung laughed along. The Min clan wears their blue emblem with such a toxic haughtiness, even Prince “Phony” Jimin of Busan wouldn’t compare. Thankfully, the latter had remained absent today and didn’t make things worse. Because that Min guy was already prickly, a textbook bad influence to Taehyung. The kiss in front of the altar had been enjoyable, that was true. He didn’t smell, he didn’t use tongue or teeth, he kept it short and smiled courteously. The Prince was attractive and well-dressed, sure. That was good enough down the aisle. He wouldn’t start too many dances either. But Kim had soaked up the aristocratic mannerism so much, at the ball it felt like he wanted to own this place. Which he didn’t. Namjoon was still the one in charge in both this province and the palace. It seemed like the Kim patriarch’s iron rule had raised a glaring thorn in his crown. And you had to deal with him now: In bed. It’s a cruel world.
Prince Taehyung comes waddling along the marble corridor with relative unease. He seems aimless, maybe drunk. Prince Prick is not with him. They had been glued together the entire day, more than you were supposed to spend time with Taehyung instead. On the one hand, protocol breach would cause atrocious chatter. On the other hand, having Taehyung off the hem of your hanbok frankly was congenial. Maybe Yoongi was quite a convenient figure on this chess board. You’d keep that in mind. Waiting for Taehyung to arrive was awkward enough. But as he just stood there blank-faced like a statue for a solid minute, you took the liberty to just drag him to your chamber by the lapel. What a huge moron. He lands on the canopy bed quite frightened, but it leaves you cold. “Let’s just get it over with,” you tower at the lower end of the bed, “you whip your cock out, shove it in three times, dump your jizz so Daegu gets an heir, and we’ll go to bed. Me, I’ll just pretend I’m dead.” 
Taehyung looks even more flabbergasted. You don’t know if it was the language or the directness. Probably both. You let yourself fall right next to him, kicking off the nasty restrictive shoes. The chambermaids had at least managed to remove your bride headpiece and the ridiculous, scratchy ceremonial wig. It was one of the major reasons why you hated marrying in summer. They also fidgeted at your head to wipe off the goo that was supposed to be face paint before you snapped and sent them away. They should enjoy the evening and not bother with your oh-so costly attire that was only designed to trouble you anyways. It didn’t even look as beautiful and regal as what Taehyung had worn. He was all the rage while people slandered you the second you were out of sight as your mother had remarked. It was just important that he was married. It preserved the patrilineage and elevated his status, not you as the wife and new member of the family. The future Queen of Daegu, in fact. But they didn’t seem to respect that.
That way, they had “decorated” you. Criticizing all sorts of things about your appearance. Nobody in Ilsan had bothered, thought something was not right or good-looking. Nor did you. Queen Choi had insisted beauty was not a female ruler’s most important asset. It was power, plain and simple. That is what rulership is about. She warned you that the house of Kim had more double standards. You yourself didn’t think making a Princess less confident and secure in herself was particularly benevolent. Nose too long, hands too broad, voice too loud, height too tall, hair too coarse, eyes to narrow, skin too tan, hips not wide enough for having kids? All they wanted was a weak, pregnant fairy glued to Taehyung’s side by day. And a mute fuckdoll to keep his dick wet by night. You weren’t wrong saying you would play dead. That is how passive they wanted you to be here. And as anxious and self-conscious as possible, that no deeper thought about this rotten palace would ever cross your mind. “My ears are too ugly for me to have authority!” thought no king ever. 
You undress ripping away the satin, pearls, embroidered sticks, emeralds, ribbons. All the layers of hanbok have to go. They land on the floor while Taehyung remains dumbfounded. Once the work is done, you’re in the underwear that’s been itching and sweaty all day. You lift the blanket, then roll your eyes at the Prince. “I’m kidding. Move, I want to sleep. Everything hurts.” You’re about to blow out the candle on your nightstand that Taehyung finds his words. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I had hoped you had fun with us today.” He looks depressed now. “It’s arranged, this is not cloud nine,” you reply, “Good night, I don’t need your fake concerns.” Taehyung jumps up from the bed. “At least put on something comfortable, Princess,” he points to the showy wardrobe left to the entrance. “You just wanna see me naked to jack off while I sleep,” you growl, pulling the blanket tight over your chest. Taehyung rummages in the wardrobe, then tosses over a plain, long nightshirt. “I’ll go to the other chamber until you open.”
And indeed, he slips into the adjacent dressing room and closes the door shut. He turns the key, flicks it into your boudoir underneath the door. You quickly change into the green gown in a dark corner. It’s light and cooling. You tiptoe across the room and yank open the door after you unlocked, suspecting to catch Taehyung while he eavesdrops or looks through the keyhole. But no, he’s sitting at the window in a chair watching the night sky, startled at the vehement entrance. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he whines, pale and daunted in the moonlight. “Nothing,” you snarl and return to bed. He just follows reluctantly. Where did insolent Prince Taehyung go? It has to be another joke or farce. He had entertained everyone with offensive shenanigans all day. 
You curl yourself together at the farthest possible point from him as he comes to lay down. Soon, some of his warmth sneaks across underneath the blanket. Disgusting. The topmost dipshit of Daegu is in the same bed as you. That alone makes you want to puke. On Namjoon’s throne, at best. He raised the scum. For a while, everything remains silent. But the heat, moonlight, and his breath won’t let you sleep, let alone his mere presence. Who knows what he does to you when you don’t pay attention any longer. You would be glad to pass the night without getting groped at least once. After what felt like hours, you just wind back and forth. At some point, you accidentally ram him hard in the flank with your elbow. The following whimper sounds so horrifying that you jolt up in a cold sweat. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” he trembles, holding his ribs in pain. Serves him right. “I didn’t want this either. He beats me already. Please don’t hurt me, please!” He’s almost bawling. You’re quite impressed by these acting skills. “Calm it Kim, I was just trying to turn around. Can’t sleep, thank you very much.” - “Me either… I’m very sorry!” Now you bellow at him. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry all the time. Are you no longer mean or what?” Taehyung looks like he might as well wet himself any second. The guards might have heard, but you’d be happy to get thrown into a cold jail cell. “Y/N, if I’m not acting like that I’ll get hit,” he answers, pulling down the impossibly high neckline of his gown. 
Oh.
Fuck. 
Green and blue marks — everywhere. One above the solar plexus looks new. Taehyung notices you staring at it. “He did it so I would promise to be tough with you tonight,” he says, covering his chest once the shame becomes too unbearable. “It’s really all an act?” - “It’s how everyone here does it, it’s normal. But we shouldn’t speak about it…” - “And Yoongi? Jimin?” - “They’re not like that when we’re alone,” he affirms, “it’s all to play along. Jimin got shoved down the stairs by his dad last week. He broke his leg just because he refused to marry an unknown woman. Yoongi’s dad threatened to do the same. All three of us have to marry this year, it’s protocol. Jimin got denied medical attention by King Park. That’s why he’s not here.” 
Now you get why Taehyung showed up dizzy and shut down after you grabbed at his suit. The dressing room reaction was similar. He’s not drunk, or anything like that. The King just gave him a heavy disciplining minutes before he appeared in the corridor. And Jimin — there’s no way the life of the party would stay at home without something this severe going on. It’s Prince Taehyung’s wedding, after all, the event of the year. They really pushed him down the stairs. You can’t believe it. He could be dead by now. The southern royals are as fucked up as you suspected, just in a way that’s… ten times worse than you’ve seen at the ball. 
There’s a legitimate reason as to why you thought they were all completely unlike themselves. It really is a tragedy behind the scenes. You enclose Taehyung in a caring hug while he’s crying his eyes out, your nightgown soaking it all up. “I have to apologize, too,” you soothe while he hangs feebly in your embrace. The tears slowly disappear after you’re petting his hair, mumbling excuses. His body feels slack and empty. You suggest going outside to visit the small palace garden. Walking through the solemn corridors barefoot, hands intertwined, it feels much closer to how you wished your day should have been like. The guards at the main gate appear quite surprised to see you walk around at such a late time. But both stand tall with a nod and the obligatory congratulations as you state the destination. Taehyung hides his swollen eyes behind his bangs as you inform them. They let you pass without resistance. 
You seat your husband on the edge of the central fountain. The surrounding roses, hydrangea, and dahlia flower beds emit a tranquilizing haze, along with the bubbling water and warm summer breeze. Your throbbing headache says goodbye. Walking on the tingly grass is a welcome relief, too. There are no clouds above you, the sky is lucid. The Prince looks up sighing deeply. “Taehyung, you like the stars, too?” He nods. You point out your favorite constellations to each other. Boötes, Virgo, Scorpius. Cassiopeia, too, she’s among the easiest to spot. Taeyhung looks handsome and frail in the tender moonshine. He’s really a beautiful man, rivaling the stars. Or complementing them. You pluck a cream white rose for him to hold, and he is careful with the thorns. “That’s for scaring you.” You pick another, coral red. “For the elbow accident.” A third one is bright orange and yellow. “To heal your chest.” You lean close to his face for the fourth flower – your mouth brushing over the bridge of his nose, then uniting your lips. “And this, Prince Kim, is my word to treat you well.”
Back in bed, you’ve cast away the heavy blanket and gowns. The clear moonlight has come to serve as an advantage now. Taehyung’s head is buried between your legs, tongue curling up and down gently. His large hands cup at your hips with fondness. You’re mindful not to put pressure on his upper body while you’re above him, facing his feet. His chest looks times worse than what you’ve seen when he first showed it. There are thin scars on his legs, too. You hope that every kiss mends them just a little bit, even if it’s just inside his heart. Taehyung tastes balmy and mellow when you circle your tongue around his length. It’s fun to plant your lips on his tip to sink down swaying right and left with your head, feeling his serpentine veins brush past the corners of your mouth. That’s a dick you’ll keep wet three times a day when the mood is right. He’s magnificent, better than all the savory cakes from the buffet. You regret having rejected a bath in your imperious fury earlier, now feeling ready to earn the title: Most obnoxious and smelling Crown Princess that the kingdom has ever seen. But Taehyung doesn’t care one bit, indulging you with graceful little flicks and dips at your clit. It’s so amazing. Maybe you’re not as malodorous and unbearable as you think. Because you’re comparing yourself to the sky-high golden standards of Taehyung. Which is probably what Namjoon’s mind control aims for. Then you will indeed think you’re just a meaningless fairy puppet by sheer comparison. That, you realize, is something to cast away. Taehyung is Taehyung, a wonderful delicate person and spouse. You are you. Queen Choi’s most unyielding daughter, to-be sovereign among her ranks of power, and impending defender of the Prince to install justice. Namjoon will pay for every mark he left. 
After sunrise, you already have to confront a perverse mob of “two hundred bucks? three hundred bucks?” fanatics led by chief servant Hoseok. You command them to rather spend the money on sending Prince Park a proper doctor. They swallow the bait, pester for details. You know better not to get hanged for treason on your first day as Princess of Daegu. Instead, you send them off with a trusted contact’s name at Park Palace, knowing they will not stop until they discover the truth. If they can expose the secret on their own, they’ll think they’ve invented it. And then comes the craving for big money, and more investigation. Especially the Daegu Herald is predictable in that regard. You hope the story blows up. Someone has to take care of Jimin. Maybe you should send a letter.
The throne room is the next obstacle. You’re glad there was no breakfast yet so you are maximum ill-tempered. A heavily bearded King thrones golden at the very end, and almost loses his crown when you enter without bowing, still in your plain dress. But he catches himself – back to the fake smile, fake words, fake posture. “Ah, this is what I call a regal sense of duty. A good early morning!” he says jovially. His own father must have slapped him into this demeanor. They’re all despicable. This is the generation where it ends. “The whole palace talks about your tryst. Everyone is impressed by the Rose Prince! Truly a man. Making such romantic gestures.” You’re angry that someone watched and couldn’t keep it to themselves. But then again, the palace harbored many guests tonight that had been equally restless and curious. The garden is public anyways, and visible through many windows. But it seems like everybody had twisted the story around and pretends you’re not even part of it. “I’m not here to talk about that. I have a request, actually.” - “Oh sure Princess, go ahead?” Namjoon falls somber now. “I’m not happy with this situation,” you furrow your brow. “Just like I expected it to be,” he huffs into his beard, “Well, we can always nullify the marriage after a certain time. But that needs a special legal procedure and at least two produced infant heirs. I advise you to wait anyways. Taehyung will become a good man for you even if you don’t like him now.” This place is truly hell. Produce an infant heir. King Namjoon has lost his mind. You fortify your stance before the throne. “I wouldn’t divorce because of Taehyung. I would divorce because of you. I’ll take him back with me to Ilsan.”
“Because of me? You wouldn’t dare. I have organized the best wedding of the last fifty years. Kim Seokjin is not ready to become the Crown Prince yet! Taehyung is the heir. You have to be his Princess. The alliance with house Choi is important for trade, too.” - “All the reasons to leave. Without heirs. Just with Taehyung. From your words, I can tell he’s not as important to you as the lineage and your reputation. Nor am I.” The King looks like he is about to combust. He can’t hurt you. Taehyung needs kids and Daegu resources. “Choi, what do you want?” he bursts out, hammering his staff on the ground. “Stop beating Taehyung. And don’t treat me as secondary. That’s all I ask for.” - “But this is protocol!” - “Then why do you keep it hidden when it’s all fine and necessary?” There it is. The King is gritting his teeth hard. Who would have known the doll bride would have this much leverage. “I’ve sent a giant horde to Park Palace. If you don’t put King Park and King Min in their place and abolish the protocol, they will. If my mother comes to know about it, Ilsan and the Northern Kingdom ban trading gold, silver, spice, and silk. Say goodbye to your dynasty and alliances.” - “You’re lying…” - “Then wait and see. It’s the truth. The crowd just left. Jung Hoseok called in sick today, didn’t he? Guess why.” - “Stop, stop the crowd! We’ll revise the protocol all you want, just stop the crowd!” 
For five hundred bucks, Hoseok gets an in-depth story about the ‘Rose Princess’ garden tryst. With a lot of embellishments and inexplicable plot holes, but still immensely detailed. Two days after, even the notoriously stuck-up Gyeongsang Sentinel readers send you presents after Hoseok sold them the story for a fortune. The five hundred bucks you spend for the messenger on horseback who had raced to the neighbor province, calling back the wild mob headed to Busan. Instead of you having to write a letter, Crown Prince Jimin sends you one instead. His leg has received treatment by the kingdom’s most expensive doctor. His father begrudgingly appointed him. Jimin is delighted to marry his lover in October – the beloved childhood friend and son of Busan’s Grand Duchess, Jungkook. An adoption is already on its way. The public is nowhere near as enraged as Jimin’s father had dreaded. Jungkook is very popular for good looks and charm and already well-known as Jimin’s second half. Queen Park appears to be very excited, too, especially since lifting the protocol has impacted her beneficially. 
You’ll have to live with the fact that King Namjoon cares about grandchildren more than Taehyung’s less “tough” side or, well, you. That you hope will change with time. But he busies himself with Seokjin instead of you where his prospects fall on fertile ground, and Queen Kim keeps an eye on it. At least he is happy that Jimin’s marriage does take place and has decided for the family to travel to Busan in late September. Taehyung has developed a habit of walking in the park with you often in the meantime. Also, you meet with the citizens on the farmer’s market by horse. Huge masses of people gather to see and talk to you. Namjoon had security concerns and sent fifteen high-strung guards along. But Taehyung allowed them to stroll on the market (you called it “patrol”, tongue in cheek), keeping only the four that seemed not exhausted from being constantly yelled at by the King. It was about time anybody left the dusty walls of the palace. Many had only seen you in the drawings of herald papers and heard mostly peculiar stories save the garden one. After a pleasant afternoon you buy Taehyung fresh apples and tangerines, pick up the guards and ride towards the forest. There, you spend time with Yoongi who has earned your nickname of “Prince Perfect” after some initial misunderstandings. Together you practice arching or swim in the river, and discuss wedding presents that Jimin might like. You’re very happy with Taehyung who’s always watching you with a beaming smile, and glad that he’s able to wear normal necklines again. 
My, this was a great prompt as usual. Thank you historical Tae anon (I’ll just call you this way) for the request. Asks: Always welcome my sweet cubs 🐯 I love you. - Caro
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