#the desperation to stay in the game No Matter What and all the back-stabbing and underhanded strategizing that entails

[uniformbravo]

blue lock is so funny. what if soccer was fucked up and Mean

[dontexpectmuch]

i’m feening for some hurt/comfort so perhaps let’s start off with some, comforting flo after that devastating lost to atalanta :( & thus ending their unbeaten streak

love that ur doing this by the way, & will def be showing my gratitude through reblogs, comments, likes bc ik how hard writers work<3

“so ‘nh scheiß, ey.” florian walks inside the living room, throwing his bag against the couch as his frustration grew by the minute.

you quietly follow him inside, gently closing the door behind you as you take off your shoes.

the air around you feels heavy, each step as if your legs would break off if you don’t sit down somewhere, even though you were not the one running around a football field for almost two hours.

your heart beats fast against your chest, so loud that you can feel it in your ears. having to witness all of this so closely just does something to you. it tests you in a way that you have never seen before.

your concerns are interrupted by your boyfriends loud groan echoing from the bathroom. without thinking too much, your legs already move towards him, his pain stabbing your heart. it didn’t matter what you would say to him, deep down he would still blame himself and his performance today, even though he gave it his all.

your eyes meet through the bathroom mirror, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, even if he is desperately trying to hold back his angry tears. his gaze moves towards his hands that he placed on the edge of the sink, his veins prominent than ever as the ruh of all the emotions have yet to fade away.

the thickness of the situation stays put, and you feel helpless as you do not know how to approach all of this. it is as if this season made you forget about all those days where you spent hours to comfort him from all the loses from last season, all your tricks that you had to make the man of your life smile again.

“schatz…” your voice is soft as you approach him, eyes now focused on the back if his head, moving down his long neck to his broad shoulders and back. your hands gently touch his waist, rubbing it before circling his torso with your arms. your cheek is pressed against his muscular back and you sigh as you feel him exhale deeply.

“it was so unnecessary, like, i know that we could’ve done better than that..” he speaks up for the first time in a while, his voice raspy and rather shaky.

you feel his warm hand resting against your that is on his stomach, his grip on it firm. you press a small kiss against his shoulder blade, lifting one hand to massage the hair from behind.

“that’s what comes with the game, schatz. you knew it would happen.”

“but not during the final, fuck.” he shakes his head in disbelief, scoffing as he replays all the wrongs he did during the game.

your heart breaks a little more as you watch him blame himself for the loss, the feeling of helplessness taking place inside.

“you have one trophy left, though, no?” you try to remind him, watching him carefully as he turns around to face you.

florian leans against the bathroom counter, jaw clenched as his eyes stay focused on your hands holding his. he nods, a new kind of determination burning through his veins.

“yeah, we’ll show them that this won’t set us back.”

you feel him squeeze your hands two times, ‘thank you’ in your guys’ own way.

you warmly smile up at him, relieved that he somehow managed to deal with the loss in a mature and healthy way.

“you know, it’s okay to cry, yeah?” you remind him, chuckling as you see him roll his eyes.

“ja ja, i’ll cry if i need to and i’ll come to you if i ever need a hug.” he smiles back, thankful for your presence during this moment.

and florian knew that he met a one of a kind person with you, someone to lift his spirits and remind him if his hard work whenever he doubts himself.

you, his safe haven, his home and just his forever person.

————————————————————

i need sleep.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which alcohol plus k-drama is equals to your and jungkook’s tears.

> fluff / wc: 4k

> warnings: oc’s first attempt at becoming a pro bartender lmao they both drink alcohol!!, alchemy of souls spoilers!! (they watch the ending of part 2), mention of a stab and blood, they cry over character deaths together >:( (sike?) maybeee a little surprise bc jk is so in love y’all idk what else to say </3 💍

note: welcome to the result of my jungkook + aos brainrot. you can read more of inwhich!jk in glasses in this drabble. :D thank you anonie who sent this ask! + as always i’d appreciate it a lot if you lmk if you enjoyed mwamwa <3

—

“i miss my boyfriend.” you sigh dramatically as you slump over the dining table, popping a vodka-soaked cherry in your mouth.

despite being hopelessly in love, you and jungkook don’t necessarily feel obliged to spend every second of every day with each other. of course, it was different at the early stages of your relationship, when you had to cross oceans and move mountains to spend time together, even if it meant hugging for only ten minutes and parting ways again.

however, things changed when you started living under one roof. the burning passion of your love isn’t dying down, no. in fact, you would go as far as saying that it is growing more gracefully ardent. after all, there is no greater peace than knowing that at the end of the day, wherever the street signs and the unmarked paths may lead you to, you and jungkook choose to come home to each other’s arms. is this not the real honeymoon phase, as they like to call it?

he left early this sunday morning to attend a small reunion with his childhood friends in busan, while you spent the day reading a book and painting the numbers one to ten of the little paint by numbers kit you stumbled upon at the book store last week.

it’s a sunny day on an abundant island, with a lighthouse standing close to the edge. and maybe, just maybe, you regret ignoring the simple flower bouquet beside it because the details drawn on this canvas are the literal definition of tiny. you ended up feeling dizzy by afternoon because of the strain it caused to your fucked up vision.

to make matters worse, the doorbell rung at around 5pm, and a minute later you were already unboxing the basics cocktail set you ordered two days ago. it includes a 18- and 28-ounce shaker set, jigger that has a dual-side (ounce and two-ounce) pourers, strainer, muddler, and bar spoon.

to summarize what you’ve been doing with your life lately: you’re trying to explore the random things you’ve always been curious about, in hopes that they’ll help you find new hobbies and interests.

you thought about baking, but jungkook already does that, and quite frankly, you’re not at a place in your life where you have a high capacity for the patience it requires. mixing drinks, on the other hand, takes a relatively shorter time to do. and what makes it even more enticing is that you can take a shot whenever you mess up, as if you’re playing a drinking game.

there’s no better way to spend your sunday evening, right?

“baby, why the hell are all the alcohol outside of the cabinets?”

right… except you’re already intoxicated… and the world is spinning. you’re desperately yearning to hug jungkook, so he can make it stop, but you’re not even sure if he’s coming home or he’s staying over at his parent’s house for the night.

you react belatedly to the confused voice, lifting your head to squint at the man who grabbed a bottle of white wine from the cluttered countertop.

“hey, who are you? the bar is closed. put that down.”

he laughs lightheartedly when he realizes how drunk you’ve gotten. as he places it back down, the bottle clinks against the cold white stone. your heavy head collapses on top of your outstretched arm as he walks towards the opposite side of the dining table.

you open your eyes, one before the other, when you feel a presence hogging your space. a sheepish smile curves your lips as the beautiful face of your dear beloved greets you.

jungkook’s prescription glasses moves with his scrunched up nose as he grins at you playfully. “it’s the boyfriend you said you were missing.”

you reach out for him as soon as he finishes saying the sentence, silently asking to be embraced. slaves to your touch — his hands, which are resting on the sharp edge of the table and the top rail of your chair, eagerly slip down to encircle your waist.

you lazily lean your cheek on his shoulder, revelling in his welcoming body warmth. “why are you back early? aren’t you tired? you should’ve just rested at your house.”

“mhmm, i had to.” he hums, deep and raspy voice making his chest vibrate against yours. “we talked about marriage and all that jazz. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

with an airy huff, you pull away to glare up at him childishly. “i sure hope you’re not thinking about anybody else.”

he runs his tongue across his lips, unconsciously tugging at the silver lip ring with his teeth, but his loving smile stays. “you know that you’re the only one for me.”

“still! i like to hear it from you sometimes.” you giggle before taking a sip from a cold glass of cherry limeade, a refreshing treat you’ve been enjoying since before he arrived.

“vodka?”

“vodka.”

you swallow once more before handing him the glass, swaying your feet under the table as the delicious mixture of sweet and tart permeates your tongue.

“mhmm, wow!” he exclaims after taking a sip, tilting the glass a little bit to the side to look at the light red beverage with knitted eyebrows. “wait a minute- why is this so good?!”

you excitedly tug at the hem of his sweatshirt, begging for more pats on the head. “i had a lot of fun using the shaker.”

he lightly kicks out the chair to your right so he can take a seat, shrugging off the backpack full of clean clothes you packed for him last night incase he wanted to stay longer in busan.

“i did well with this one, right?”

he enthusiastically nods in response as he takes another gulp, chewing on the block of ice that also managed to slip inside his mouth. you melt into his affectionate touch when he cups your cheek with his delicate palm.

“maybe making drinks has been your specialty all along.”

you frown in disagreement. “i’m not sure. i made bloody mary before that one and i don’t know if i did something horribly wrong or it’s just supposed to taste that disgusting.”

amused laughter racks his body as he takes in the endearing sight of your genuinely downcast expression. you jut out your bottom lip in annoyance.

“it really tasted like poison! i got goosebumps!”

“shit, now i’m scared of you actually getting alcohol poisoning.” the back of your hand is rewarded with a sweet kiss by jungkook’s vodka-stained lips. the wide doe eyes behind his glasses meet yours curiously. “your hand smells like coffee.”

“oh- oh! the dalgona martini!” you rip your hand away from his to point at the martini glass standing at the very center of the dining table. “i just finished that. it should still be cold.”

he carefully slides the glass towards him to avoid spillage, fascinated lips forming a pout as he observes the thick portion of dalgona sitting on top of the mixed baileys and vodka. he didn’t even notice it at all because it’s almost the same color as the wood. has his vision gotten that bad?

“this looks yummy. you haven’t tried it yet?”

you shake your head, which you instantly regret because your vision blacks out momentarily. you swallow thickly as you attempt to blink away the shiny, swirly shapes dancing infront of your eyes.

“fuck, no. i already had classic martini, and mule. i’ll throw up.”

“jesus christ, baby. how many drinks did you try making?” jungkook finds himself so worried that he harshly takes off his glasses without reason, putting it aside on the table.

you giggle loudly at his reaction, using your folded arms as a pillow. “that’s all! i promise! besides, didn’t you drink with your friends, too?”

his face glows with uncontainable fondness at the mention of his friends.

“i was talking and laughing the whole time that i didn’t even finish half of my beer.”

your hazy eyes study his jovial and carefree features, and just like magic, they make your heart feel lighter inside your chest. heavens know that you wish for nothing more in the world than to see him this happy everyday.

“i’m so glad you had a great time, my love.”

“me too. i’ll tell you all about it when you’re sober and capable of memory retention.” he pokes fun at your drunken state as he picks up the glass of dalgona martini.

you roll your eyes before impatiently guiding the drink to his mouth. “just drink it already.”

“oing?” he blinks in disbelief, sipping on the glass again as if his tongue could’ve possibly fooled him the first time. ”i actually like this one more. i didn’t expect that.”

you abruptly perk up in your seat upon witnessing his candid review. “what? you’re joking!”

of course… you’re cursed. it had to be the one you hated making the most.

truth be told, you impulsively made the dalgona martini simply because it’s the only drink in the last online blog you found that you had the complete ingredients for.

you were obviously not prepared enough for this activity. but baileys, vodka, sugar, coffee, and water? yeah, any house would definitely have those.

then came your ridiculous dilemma: despite being intoxicated, you’re still terrified of using the electric whisker. and so, you had to do the whisking the hard way. to put it lightly, it was absolute hell. your arms and wrists are sore after shaking and whisking vigorously for the past three hours.

“it’s exactly what i needed after a long trip.” he moans. his shoulders spring up in delight as he licks off the foam around his lips, and you use your thumb to brush it away from the spots he missed.

jungkook grabs your hand before you could pull away, making you audibly gasp when he sucks at your thumb in his cold mouth. his insatiable tongue pokes the inside of his cheek after.

“uh- i think i tasted a hint of soap.”

“‘course you did. i just washed the dishes, you dummy.”

his pink lips part open as he processes your words, but he quickly brushes it off with a shrug. he noisily takes another sip from the glass.

“i can just clean it off my tongue with more martini.” he argues with a dimpled grin.

he grants you with a quick kiss, smudging the foam on his lips and transferring some of it to yours.

“ugh, you’re so sloppy!”

his laughter echoes in your home as he walks away. “i’m taking this with me to the bathtub!”

“don’t take an hour in there again.” you grumble out a complaint. “we need to watch alchemy of souls!”

—

“even if you decide to seal that door, i know how heartbreaking it will be for you, so it does not upset me so much.”

the flashback from four episodes ago confirms that it was foreshadowing this moment — park jin had sealed the door of jinyowon, a deep cave where relics are protected so they won’t unleash life-threatening dangers upon the world outside. lady jin and maidservant kim are stuck inside the collapsing sanctuary, holding back said relics from escaping… and the latter is none other than his wife-to-be.

jungkook anxiously bites the nails of his thumb and pinky finger, switching back and forth. the television screen reflects on the lens of his glasses as his eyes become shiny with tears.

“is this really the final episode? there’s no season three?”

“no, it ends tonight.” you reply in between embarrassing loud sobs, attention trained to the man mournfully calling out his lover’s name over and over again as he clutches her engagement ring to his chest.

the hot tears you fail to catch stream down to your temples, and then your boyfriend’s naked stomach. you’ve comfortably settled on the bed after finishing your nightly routines. your head is lying by the bottom of his ribcage, and that’s where the other edge of the cozy blanket enveloping the two of you rests. you grabbed a small portion of the cotton in a loose fist, and you’ve been keeping it close to wipe your tears with.

“oh my god, i can’t fucking do this. my head is being split open.”

you toss aside the remote control after pausing the episode, crawling to the nightstand to pop the painkiller in your mouth, which you prepared to be supposedly taken tomorrow morning. maybe you’ve sobered up a little, but the combination of the alcohol and the woeful crying have resulted to an agonizing migraine.

with his long and slender fingers, your boyfriend removes the hair that stuck to your tear-stained face before tenderly wiping your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“making my baby fucking cry, too. i need that son of a bitch jin mu to burn in hell.” he curses to release his pent-up anger from the past 29 episodes, referring to the main antagonist of the series. the harshness of his tone contrasts the gentle kiss that lingers at the corner of your lips.

after drinking water, you wipe away jungkook’s tears with tissue paper, gingerly dabbing at the sides of his nose as well. he has a very sensitive skin, and because tears do contain salt, they can cause slight irritation and stinging when he cries. it’s something he once quietly complained about in passing, but somehow, it stuck with you throughout the years.

“does it hurt a lot?” he worriedly caresses the back of your head.

you meekly nod in response.

“should we just watch the rest of it tomorrow then?”

“noooo.” you drag out the word, shifting on the bed to return to your previous position. “my pain is nothing to compared park jin’s pain. i must persevere.”

and just like that, your tired eyes begin to water again. jungkook chuckles, affectionately holding your face in his hands. he isn’t surprised to find your skin to be warmer than normal.

“aigoo, your eyes are so red. at least put your glasses back on.”

“fine.” you mumble in defeat as you pat around the mattress, looking for the glasses you haphazardly threw aside when your intense emotions started to take control over you.

his rosy cheeks rise like buns in an oven as he smiles. “i love it when we match.”

—

park jin stands before the greedy individuals who conspired to steal the foundation of jinyowon, the fire bird, which dries up the world when it is awakened. it will be used in a rain ritual to create another ice stone, a ball of energy similar to that of the sun or a star. and to point out the obvious, having it in your possession would mean becoming the most powerful being there is.

“evil always does what it wants without ever stopping. but why is it that virtue always needs to prove itself over and over again?”

“…yes. i do wish to save her. i would do anything to save her, even if it meant i would lose my sanity. but even so, i will stop you from getting what you want. not a single one of you has the right to laugh at me… and call me… a hypocrite.”

you feel jungkook shiver below you. he is immensely engrossed with the actor’s phenomenal performance, flawlessly depicting what ‘seething’ anger means. he puts his tattooed arm underneath his head to get a closer view of the subtitles. these have to be some of the best written lines he’s heard from this show so far, and he hopes to remember them by heart.

the two of you watched with bated breath when he starts fighting against several warriors, and then it happens… jin mu removes the barrier of the fire bird as a threat.

“oh, fuck you!” you kick your feet in annoyance.

park jin is forced to focus his energy on re-sealing the fire bird, leaving him vulnerable to the attacks of his merciless opponents.

“no, no, no.” jungkook chants under his breath, heart thundering with fear. “this can’t be happening.”

you know what is bound to happen. they did show three coffins at the end of episode nine. but denial denial denial is a stage of grief after all, and so, with a broken sob, you squeeze your eyes shut.

when your eyelids flutter open, a sword has already been driven through the center of his chest, and dark red blood uncontrollably spills from his mouth. jin mu spitefully pulls it out from behind before he weakly falls on the ground. jungkook stays quiet, it happens so fast but he feels suspended in time, while your horrified crying carries on.

you unwillingly remove your head from his chest before you can cry a river over his shirtless torso, opting to sit up beside him.

“bunch of cowards.” he couldn’t resist mocking as the group scrambles to leave the place before it completely burns down, jin mu taking re-sealed fire bird along with them.

park jin jolts awakes coughing up blood. he painfully forces himself to lie on his back, and the camera reveals that he’s been holding maidservant kim’s ring all along. with trembling hands, he puts the ring on himself. you cover your own mouth as you listen to his worn out sobs.

a look of love and admiration shines on his dull eyes, and you swear that he smiles softly, before his arms fall limp on the dusty ground.

is the moon watching? and the stars? have they ever witnessed something so gutwrenchingly tragic?

“he wore the ring on his pinky! and it didn’t even fit halfway!” your glasses is left abandoned beside you again as you finally allow yourself to weep freely.

seeing that you clearly need a break after that heartbreaking scene, jungkook pauses the episode.

“that’s so cute, but-” you hiccup. “this is so unfair. they were supposed to get married and have babies!”

“oh, baby. i know.” he coos softly, hugging your side and peppering your cheek with kisses. his own tears drip from his chin and he brushes them away with the back of his hand. “their souls will be together in after life though, don’t you think?”

you gradually grow quiet and calm at the thought he proposed, but- “i don’t think they can make babies there.”

“shit.” he chuckles as his forehead lands over your shoulder, glasses slightly sliding down his nosebridge. “you’re right.”

“this is too much. i can’t-” you blow your nose in sheets of tissue paper before throwing them in the bin you dragged next to the bed earlier. “it hurts so much. they just wanted a peaceful life together.”

the two of you grieve for the what if’s and what could’ve been’s. he can’t possibly think of anything more tragic than being forced in a position to choose between the love of your life and the humanity; only to end up perishing at the hands of the evil who made you do it.

and what did he have left? a lifetime’s worth of love to take with him to the grave, and whatever’s left of his pride and dignity? jungkook wouldn’t want any of those. he only wants you.

he lifts up his head, a small smile playing on his lips, swollen and cherry-colored from the nervous nibbles of his bunny teeth. “we’re crying like this and they’re not even the main characters.”

“need to sue the writers for emotional damages.” you groan, tense muscles slowly relaxing in your boyfriend’s embrace. “how many minutes left?”

“40 minutes.”

“i can’t even open my eyes anymore. sorry, babe. my head-”

it’s almost as if it’s been dunked underwater. the throbbing pain spreads numbing pressure from your temples to the back of your head.

“i told you we can finish it tomorrow. it’s fine.”

jungkook briefly leaves your side. the television screen turns black after he pulls out the plug. he throws away the crumpled tissue papers, and then he places your glasses on the safety of the nightstand.

“how cute… don’t fall asleep on me yet.” he fondly coos at your half-asleep figure. “you’re dehydrated. drink some water first.”

a straw pokes your lips. with your eyes shut closed, you hold onto his wrist to steady the tumbler as you take a long sip. by the time you let go, the water has reached the line indicating that there’s only three quarters of it left.

you softly fall back on your pillow with a ‘thump’, turning your back on him to face his empty side of the bed. he also drinks his share of the water before filling in the blank beside you.

he hums in acknowledgement when you pull at his arm to make it your personal pillow, leaving his own glasses on the nightstand as well before facing you.

you give him a small hazy smile, threading your fingers through his soft and luscious hair. “love your pretty and healthy hair.”

“i love you.” he whispers like a confession as he strokes the back of your head. “close your eyes now.”

“i love you, too.” with a peaceful sigh, you nuzzle your face against his chest. “jungkook?”

“hmmm?”

“were you happy today?”

a lump grows in his throat, bigger than the one he felt when he was browsing through engagement rings online. emerald cut, cushion cut, round cut. sapphire, ruby, diamond. size 4, 4.5, 5, 5.5, 6, 6.5… he was hanging on the thin line that separated excitement and anxiety. the two-hour train ride passed by like a radio song he didn’t pay attention to. but you don’t need to know about that. not right now.

he swallows it down, embracing you tighter. “i still am… happy. if i delete those scenes from my memory.”

“me too.” you mumble before succumbing to the void of darkness beneath your heavy eyelids.

—

between the alcohol and the coffee that he simultaneously drank, it looks like the latter won the upper hand. more than twenty minutes later, jungkook is still wide awake, overcome by his clamorous thoughts. the conversations he had with his friends echo in his mind, and he paces back and forth between your shared past and future. the future… there is no future if there is no you.

he closes his eyes, instructing himself to focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest instead of the things he cannot control.

he kisses the top of your head. “i love you so much.”

however, he won’t be able to sleep peacefully until he learns what happens next. he needs the closure because he would truly despise having a bad dream about them. after all, they didn’t show maidservant kim dying. there is a glowing firefly of hope he’s been enchanted to follow into the abyss of the night.

with careful movements, he wears his glasses and his wireless earbuds. he holds his phone using the arm you’re lying on, while his hand under the blanket absentmindedly rubs your back, palm smoothly running up and down the expanse of your skin.

his jaw slacks open only three minutes after he picked up where you left off. jang uk, the male lead of the show, reveals to those grieving infront of the three empty coffins that their loved ones did not pass away.

the following scene unveils park jin, alive yet unconscious on a bed, and maidservant kim who is holding his ring-clad hand, weeping for the traumatic night the two of them suffered.

jungkook chuckles in great relief, blinking away the tears from his glassy eyes.

“fuck, they’re alive.”

—

“fuck, they’re alive!” you almost choke on the haejangguk, a hangover soup, that you started to heartily eat not even two minutes ago. “i almost died crying last night and it turns out that they lied to me?!”

jungkook chooses to feign ignorance. he innocently watches the screen with his wide doe eyes, bunny teeth biting at the rim of his glass of white milk.

“wow, i’m speechless.“ he squeaks out. “how did they even get rescued?”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @jeonqkooks-main @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @taexidriver @luaspersona @yn-lifeu @loveejkk @bloopkook @babyboo22 + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment X

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 3.1K

Part IX | Masterlist | Part XI

A/N: Sharing this because I think it’s kind of cute. Since the movies don’t dive into Annie super deeply I based her character off one of my friends because she’s literally the sweetest person in the world

“It’s a clock, with a new threat every hour, and every threat is confined to its wedge,” Katniss explained, leading the group to the cornucopia. “Where that big tree is, that’s 12, which strikes every night at midnight. Next is the blood rain, next to that is the toxic fog, and then monkeys. And then at 10, that big waves comes from over there.”

“Okay, so we just stay out of whatever section is active, should be easy enough,” you put together, resting against the cornucopia. You were all then interrupted by a gasp. Turning your gaze you saw Gloss pull a blade from Wiress’ neck and heard the canon go off. Katniss didn’t waste a second before launching an arrow into his chest, another canon.

The other careers appeared as members of your group began fighting them off. Cashmere ran towards Katniss, causing Johanna to move her out of the way before launching an axe into Cashmere’s chest, another canon.

You looked over, finding Haymitch in a sword vs spear fight with one of the women from two. “Duck!” you yelled, pulling out a knife. Just as the woman was about to stab her spear at him again, he ducked, rolling to the side, allowing you to put a knife in her chest. It wasn’t enough to put her down at the moment though, as she merely pulled it out, attempting to throw her spear at you now. But before she could release it Haymitch put the blade through her stomach, stopping her short. Another canon.

And another canon as the body of the other female from 1 fell into the water. District 1 was officially out of the games now. Katniss went to chase a fleeing Brutus and Enobaria but Haymitch stopped her, telling her to let them go.

We couldn’t even stop to catch our breaths as the island started spinning. You were pretty sure you screamed “What the hell?” as you fell, grabbing onto the rocks desperately.

Weapons were flying out of the cornucopia and all you could do was pray nothing would hit you. You could feel your hands slipping as you continued to be whipped around. Fortunately the spinning slowed just as you couldn’t take it anymore. Once it stopped you stood up, immediately becoming dizzy but you didn’t care, too worried about your husband. You spotted him, throwing up next to the water. Not far away you could see some of the others helping Katniss out of the water. You reached Haymitch, patting his back as he finished emptying his guts.

“Are you okay?” he asked, placing an inconspicuous hand on your waist.

“Yeah,” you agreed, knowing what his hand placement meant. “Everything feels fine.”

“Y/N! Haymitch!” Finnick called, “we have to go.” You helped Haymitch up, grabbing a spare sword for him as the two of you followed the others off the island.

You, Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Beetee, Annie, and Finnick all settled in the tree line, Beetee informing you that he had a plan. But before he could explain it you heard a scream from the jungle. “Katniss!”

She stiffens. “Prim?” she yells, running off in the jungle.

“I’ll get her, stay here,” you tell the others, “no sense in splitting up the group more.” You run after Katniss, jumping over hazards on the ground. Eventually you find her, “Hey, what’s-”

You’re cut off by a deep scream. Haymitch’s voice was screaming your name? As you tan towards the sound you wondered if he had followed you and run into a tribute on his way to find you. You didn’t really care as you continued into the jungle.

“Y/N It’s not him!” Katniss called after you. “It’s a jabberjay.”

“Jabberjay’s copy,” you insisted, Haymitch and Prim’s screams getting louder. Another voice you recognized as Gale’s started screaming too.

“Get to the beach,” Katniss called as the mutts started swooping down. They were screaming in your ear, beaks pecking at your skin as you ran. Eventually you spotted the others, your mind not connecting why it looked like they were banging on glass. Once you hit the forcefield you understood. Haymitch was looking at you, yelling something but you couldn’t hear him. All you could hear were tortured screams. You crouched down low, Katniss doing the same, trying to cover your ears and protect your head from the screaming, pecking birds. You felt tears flowing down your face as they continued, Haymitch desperately trying to keep your attention from the other side of the forcefield. You knew he was okay, he was right in front of you, but his screaming and yelling were still torture.

~

From the other side of the forcefield Haymitch was banging on it desperately. When he heard you shout for him he thought you may have run into another tribute. When he hit the forcefield and couldn’t get to you, that was the scariest moment of his life. Not when he was reaped, stood in the arena the first time, or even when he received an almost fatal wound in his first arena. Not when you got into fights your first games, not when you were taken from him the first time, and not even when the Quarter Quell was announced. It was torture to hear his wife scream but not be able to reach you. And when you came into view and reached the forcefield, screaming and crying, that was the most pain he felt. He was desperately trying to keep your focus on him but you were crouched in a fetal position, trying to protect yourself from the jabberjays. Unable to do anything, both he and Peeta sat down, trying to comfort each of you.

Haymitch wondered to himself whether or not the Capitol suspected or knew of your relationship yet. He wondered what the commentators had said when you reunited. It didn’t matter whether Snow was angry you both may have revealed the secret, Snow was trying to kill everyone from 12 anyways. After so many years of torture he wanted to send a “fuck you” to the Capitol, showing them that they didn’t own his wife.

~

You had no clue how long it was until the jabberjays flew away but it was very suddenly silent and Haymitch collapsed next to you, having been leaning up against the forcefield. “Y/N!” he immediately cried, pulling you towards him. “What happened?”

“I heard you screaming,” you sobbed. “I reached Katniss when I heard you yell. I thought you ran into another tribute but it was just the jabberjays. They sounded like you, they were screaming for me to help you.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “I’m okay,” he stroked your hair. “And so are you. C’mon let’s go to the beach with the others. The water may calm you down.” You nodded, standing up on shaky legs as he led you to the ocean.

You settled down on the sand next to Katniss and Johanna as Haymitch went to find Peeta who was getting water.

“You know Peeta was right,” Johanna told Katniss. “The Capitol won’t touch your sister. If they tortured her or did anything to her, forget the districts there’s be riots on the fucking Capitol.” She turned her attention up to the sky. “Hey how does that sound Snow? What if we set your backyard on fire?” Katniss looked appalled at Johanna’s dare to outwardly defy Snow. “What? There’s no one left I love. He can’t hurt me,” she informed cavalierly.

Finnick and the others approached along with Haymitch and Peeta each cupping leaves of water. “I have a plan,” Beetee informs. “Where do the careers feel safest? In the jungle?”

“Jungle’s a nightmare,” Johanna countered.

“Probably here on the beach,” Peeta guessed.

“And why aren’t they here?” Beetee asked. You felt like you were in school again.

“Because we claimed it, it’s ours,” Johanna stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And if we left they would come?”

“Or stay hidden in the tree line,” Finnick suggested.

“Which in just under four hours will be soaked from the 10 o’ clock wave,” Beetee remarked smugly. “And what happens at midnight?”

“Lightning strikes that tree,” you returned.

“Here’s what I propose. We leave at dusk, we head to the lightning tree, that should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight we then run this wire from the tree to the water. Anyone on the water or on the damp sand will be electrocuted.”

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Haymitch asked.

“Because I invented it. I assure you it won’t burn up.”

We all exchanged looks, everyone in the know about this plan except Katniss, Peeta, and probably Annie. “Well it’s better than hunting them down,” Johanna said, perfect in her begrudging attitude. “What do we do?”

“Keep me alive until midnight,” was all Beetee said.

~

Seeing as you all had a little while until you could set Beetee’s plan in motion you and Haymitch found a spot on the sand with Finnick, Annie, and Johanna. “Ugh everyone and their partners,” Johanna remarked in disgust. “Even District 1. Cashmere and Gloss were too close to just be sibling.”

Everyone laughed. “You could always date Beetee,” you joked, looking over at the man still fiddling with the wire.

She scoffed, “Not in a million years. Besides,” her tone became serious again, “I’m not gonna give the Capitol anymore ammo.”

“Fair,” you replied. “They didn’t have the chance to take anything from me.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asked curiously from Finnick’s arms.

“My mom died having me. It’s common in 12, there aren’t any real doctors. We have healers like Katniss’ mom but if you need surgery or something… you’re out of luck. And then my dad died when I was 12 in a mining accident. Also pretty common unfortunately,” you explained.

“You didn’t have any friends?” Annie asked, genuine concern painted on her face.

“No, not really. After my dad died I had to go to school and appealed to work in the mines. In 12 you’re supposed to wait until you’re 18 but because I had no way to get any money, I was allowed to work.”

“That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What about you Finnick? What’s your tragic backstory?”

He chuckled, thinking for a second. “Umm well, my parents had me, they’re both still alive. I had a lot of friends in school,” he shot a smug smile at you to which you rolled your eyes, “and then I was reaped at 14 and you all know the rest.”

“Better to be unremarkable than-” Johanna began.

“Excuse me? Unremarkable? I’m the youngest ever victor,” Finnick cut in with feigned offense.

“With a mommy and daddy who loved each other and plenty of food on the table,” Haymitch mocked.

“Okay Haymitch, what’s your story?” Finnick countered.

“I also grew up poor and then I was reaped for the deadliest Hunger Games. After, everyone I loved was dead so yeah,” Haymitch countered. It was all such sad, tragic information but the way each of you delivered it and framed it, it became a game to see who had suffered the most and each of you wanted to be the winner.

“Johanna?” you asked.

“Pretty much the same as Haymitch,” was all she said.

“Annie?”

She shrugged. “I was raised like Finnick,” she answered shyly.

“So I win,” Haymitch concluded proudly.

“I had the same fate as you,” Johanna scoffed.

“Yeah but my games had 48 tributes,” he countered.

“No I said backstory,” you interrupted, “which I win unless anyone else can beat orphan with no friends pre-their games. No one?”

“Okay fine,” Finnick conceded. “But if we’re talking post-games? I win.” You gave him a look. “Fine we both win.”

“Everyone I cared about was murdered,” Haymitch insisted.

“Yeah!” Johanna agreed. As they began to bicker you wondered if the Capitol was broadcasting this conversation. You doubt they’d allow the country to hear how they killed victors’ families and sold them into prostitution.

Finally Beetee interrupted the argument. “It’s time.”

~

You had helped Beetee wrap the wire around the tree and now it was time for you, Katniss, and Johanna to take it to the beach. “Make sure it doesn’t break, we need the connection,” Beetee stressed for the fifth time.

“Yes, Beetee, I know how electricity conducts,” you gave a sarcastic smile.

“Maybe I should go with them… as a guard,” Peeta interrupted.

You glanced at Johanna. Shit, you needed Katniss alone long enough to make the game makers think she’s dead. Fortunately Beetee stepped in. “No, I need you here to protect me. There are four tributes left, two of which are careers.”

“Why can’t Johanna stay?” Katniss asked.

“Look, it’s his plan,” Johanna interrupted. “Just do what he says.”

“Thank you,” Beetee said, turning back to the tree.

Katniss conceded, picking up the roll of wire. “Wait,” Haymitch said, stepping towards you. He then did the last thing that you expected. He placed a hand on our waist, the other on your jaw before pressing a kiss to your lips. You were surprised but returned the kiss nonetheless. when you finally pulled away Haymitch said, “Come back to me, okay?”

“Of course,” you agreed with a smile that he returned.

“Can we go?” Johanna called. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near the tree or the beach when the lightning hits.” So you complied, following the two girls.

You weren’t walking for very long when Katniss stopped. She tugged on the wire when it suddenly snapped. “Get down,” Johanna whispered, essentially tackling Katniss onto the ground. As she began cutting out Katniss’ tracker you spotted Brutus and Enobaria.

“I’ll lead them away,” you whispered. You threw a knife, barely scraping Brutus’ shoulder. He spotted you as you climbed out of the little valley you were in. Once you reached the top you ran off into the jungle, hoping to lead the careers away. Brutus and Enobaria were chasing after you as you ran around the jungle, gradually leading them towards the beach, away from Beetee and the others.

You were getting tired and you knew you couldn’t keep this up. Enobaria had become distracted by some other tribute but Brutus was still hot on your tail. As you reached the beach you found it extremely difficult to run in the sand given your legs that felt like lead. Brutus had the opportunity and he took it, tackling you to the ground. Hard. You didn’t notice anything at first, just trying to grab one of your knives as quickly as possible. Brutus had dropped his sword as he had tackled you, leaving him to try to get the knife from you. Fortunately you were quicker as you shoved the knife up into his throat, blood spilling all over you.

As you pushed his body off you heard a canon go off. And then you felt it. Intense cramping in your stomach like none you had ever felt. Tears began to slip down your face as you realized what was happening. You could faintly feel blood pooling in your pants as you rolled over, curling into a fetal position.

You felt sobs wrack your body as you realized you were having a miscarriage. You had made it through the games, you were almost to the end but it happened now? Why couldn’t Brutus have just not tackled you? How were you going to tell Haymitch? He so rarely let himself get excited over things but he was excited to start new and have a family.

Just then the entire arena went dark. Not even a minute later there was a hovercraft over you, the death claw scooping you from the sand. Had they accidentally grabbed you instead of Brutus? But before your questions could be answered you blacked out from blood loss.

~

“Katniss!” Finnick yelled just as she released the arrow into the forcefield. Haymitch and he had been running towards her but were blown back as lightning hit the tree, causing the explosion. Fortunately for him and Finnick they were far enough away that they didn’t get hurt too badly but Katniss was still half conscious as a hovercraft appeared, lifting her out of the arena like on of the deceased. “Go!” Finnick told Haymitch as a ladder dropped. “I’ll get Beetee.”

“What about Y/N and Annie?” Haymitch asked.

“Annie is near the other pickup site, Johanna should’ve brough Y/N there too. We gotta go before the Capitol gets here!” So Haymitch reluctantly went up the ladder, following up after Katniss. He looked down briefly, finding Finnick climbing the ladder with Beetee wrapped around his shoulders like a sack of flour.

Once Finnick was a couple feet off the ground the ladder started to be pulled up automatically. As soon as Haymitch got inside, he turned to help Finnick with Beetee.

Once everyone was safely inside the hovercraft, Plutarch made his presence known. Finnick was the first to speak. “You got Annie and Y/N?” All Plutarch did was purse his lips and look down. Haymitch felt dread fill him. “What?” Finnick demanded sharply. “You got them out right?”

“There was an issue. The Capitol found out sooner than we anticipated and were were only able to secure this hovercraft and because you were all close to Katniss. The people on this ship are the only ones we were able to rescue.”

Both Finnick and Haymitch were angry and terrified. “You left them in there?!” Haymitch yelled. “Why didn’t-”

“You both knew the risks!” Plutarch interrupted. “You both knew not everyone was coming out of that arena and that Katniss was the target. I’m sorry but there’s nothing that we can do. We can’t get back into Capitol airspace and the arena is swarmed with Peacekeepers now.”

Haymitch was furious. More so than when he was reaped, his family was killed, or all those times when you were taken from him. If he and you couldn’t get out together, at least you should’ve gotten out. You and his child that you were carrying.

Part IX | Masterlist | Part XI

[iys-cloud]

hello to everyone in the void that is Tumblr, a single conversation with @arrowheadedbitch made me create a whole ass Mbav x Pjo Au and now it's everyone's problem

SO the Au starts with Ethan, Benny, Sarah, Erica and Rory going to new york for vacations and they tun into nico, leo, percy and will (nico is there bc will forced him to come along lol) in like, a remote part of a park or smt. and nico, being the son of hades and all low-key just... Senses smts wrong with the vampire trio And tells the others, leo, being as subtle as a bull with bells, points at them and says something along the lines of

"them? They're the 'dead feeling' guys??"

fast forward a lot of discussion and accusing later they're all fighting, Leo managed to stab Erica and, used to the monsters dissolving into gold powder, turns around. Erica being the petty bitch she is BITES him because that's SUCH a great idea cue everyone panicking bc at the moment the gang™ had been trying to be subtle about what they are (not that they accomplished it) and the demigods had only pulled a normal sized dagger that looked well, normal.

Rory, seeing the mess, fucking flies away, leaving the chb kids dumbfounded, sarah grabs erica and drags her away from leo, benny BOOKS IT and Ethan's on the floor wondering why can't anything go Right for them, the chb peps are wondering what new pantheon they just stumbled across and procced to get incredibly concerned because LEO IS QUITE LITERALLY DYING ON THE FLOOR.

Ethan seems to process the fact and panics but oh would you look at that, there's a bigger problem, Nico's there and since the mf can sense death he panics even harder because Leo is DYING and starts questioning them on "what the fuck is happening to him!?" And everything is kicked right back into a frenzy

Anyway long story short, the gang (minus rory and benny) ends up locked up in camp Half-blood for ✨ questioning ✨ and stay in a locked up room in the main house till Percy comes to drag Ethan and Erica out because Leo just woke up and apparently he's attacking people and making a mess out of everything???

Ethan SOMEHOW managed to convince Percy to take Sara with him instead ( "if you take Erica it'll just get worse, believe me" )

And oh boy the infermary looks like a war zone, Also are Leo's eyes glowing yellow??

He barely notices their entrance seeing as hes too busy trying to rip anyone who even comes clos eto shreds.The piper, who has been debriefed in the matter,nico, and will have sort of restrained him (pushed him into a corner with weapons).

And that sounds great and all but the thing is, Sara doesn't have the fake blood she usually drinks bc it's in her purse which the chb peps confiscated, so now they have no way to deal with the starving agitated fledgling

"well fuck" is the only thing she can think to say as she gets ready for a lot of struggling

They ( Sarah and Ethan) try to get the demigods to get Sarah's purse but they won't listen.

after a lot, and I mean A LOT of fighting, some (a hella lot of) begging from Ethans part and a little wake up call that ' hey somethings wrong!!!' (Leo throws Percy motherfucking Jackson into a wall with so much force it KNOCKS THE AIR OUT OF HIM) they do listen to them and from there it's a game of ' let's feed the starving fledgling without the other weird people finding just what we're giving him'

It somehow works because Sarah opens the container and Leo's head SNAPS towards the thing, they manage to get him into a 'safe' position while he rips into the (weirdly red) liquid with the desperation of a starving man.

everyone is trying to get air back into their lungs after the heart attack and proceed to glare daggers at Sara and Ethan

"okay what the actual fuck is happening!?!?"

[justiceforfoxface]

I Should’ve Drowned: Finnick Odair x Gender-Neutral Reader

*so: this is very canon-divergent, reader is gender-neutral and mentions having a district partner who I also tried to keep gender-neutral*

possible tw for drowning, if you didn’t read the title

925 words

I know I have no chance in the Quarter Quell. I won my Games purely by chance, by being quiet and hiding until the last cannon went off. In the Quell, I’ve resigned myself to death, especially seeing as I lacked several basic life skills. It takes me several minutes to tie a simple knot, and I can’t even swim.

But my name was pulled from District Nine’s (very small) pool of tributes, and I was taken back to the Capitol.

Now, I’m standing here, as the clock ticks down to zero, surrounded by tributes much stronger and faster and taller than me. I must look like a stick figure to them.

Then, the clock starts, and the Games begin.

My first instinct is to run, because that’s how I survived last time. So I turn and sprint away from the madness at the cornucopia. Everything is water, I notice as I run. One wrong move and I trip, fall, and most likely die. 

Lucky me.

I hear screams, bloodthirsty screams and screams of pain, and then I hear cannons. Two already. Three. Four.

How are these victors dying so fast?

A spark of guilt emerges in me when I remember my district partner, Arley. I just ditched them for my own survival. But while they’re not very fast, they’re pretty big, and strong. They’ll make it at least through the night, and then I’ll try and find them in the morning.

Then, a huge weight comes crashing down on me, and I fall to the ground, face-first. There’s another tribute on top of me, holding a bloodied knife, ready to split my skull in half. I try to wiggle out from under them, but if they caught up to me, they must be pretty fast. No matter what I do, I’m going to be dead in minutes. Might as well take my attacker with me.

So I push myself sideways, and roll into the water, my attacker losing their grip on me and falling in as well. In a matter of seconds, their head rises above the water and they climb out easily.

That was a stupid idea.

I try to stay afloat, but all I’m doing is flapping my arms desperately, and if I were to make it out of the water, I’d just get stabbed. So I stop trying. 

The cold water fills my lungs almost instantly, weighing me down and pulling me further and further into it. I suddenly feel bad for anyone who’s ever drowned, or come close to it, because this is terrifying. 

I have to remind myself that this is what I want. I want to die, and I want to drown. So I close my eyes, and try to slow my breathing, and let the water take me.

…….

Everything’s blurry when I sit up, and the sky is dark and cloudy. It’s nighttime. I should probably go find someplace to hide-

How did I survive?

I drowned. I made sure of that. And here I am, my clothes damp and sticky against my skin, my hair matted to the sides of my face and almost covering my eyes. I sit up, and pain prickles against my back. I was leaning against a tree.

I try to open my mouth, but all that comes out is a coughing fit and some water. I look around, and then I see it. The flickering of a fire coming from not too far away. And not a big fire. More like a fire you’d cook food over. 

I stand up slowly, my legs and arms shaking. On my way over to the fire, I lean against whichever tree is nearest, shifting most of my weight to the side I’m using to lean.

In just under a minute, I reach the fire. 

No one’s there.

The trees rustle, and a young man with tan skin, blonde hair, and emerald-green eyes comes out from between them, holding a dead rat I assume he means to cook.

“You’re awake,” he simply says, and then sits down by the fire and places the rat over it. 

I know who this is. Finnick Odair. Won his Games at fourteen. Did he save me? 

“I should’ve drowned,” I manage to say, still leaning against a tree. 

“Well, you didn’t,” he says, flashing a quick smile at me. “You’re welcome.”

“Why did you save me?” I ask, sinking down to the ground and crossing my legs to sit by the fire. I figure he’s not going to kill me if he saved me from drowning, or, not yet anyways.

“You’ve won the Games,” Finnick says.

“Everyone here has,” I say, still confused. “I’m not any different.”

“You won your Games by being quiet,” he clarifies. “By hiding. And I figure that would make you a useful ally.”

I stare at him. “You want…me…as an ally?”

Finnick Odair, the Finnick Odair, wants me as an ally. The person who got a three at the training center, the person who can’t swim and won their Games by luck, is supposed to be a good ally.

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to understand. “Also, I just saved your life, so I think you owe me at least a partnership.”

“Okay,” I say. I’m not going to argue. If I’m allied with Finnick Odair, my chances of survival will shoot up.

He extends his hand. “Partners?”

My hand’s still slightly sticky from almost drowning, but I reach out and shake his hand anyways. “Partners.”

[akunya]

"sour mood."

pairings: floyd leech x m!reader

summary: you should know better by now - avoiding floyd always ends in punishment!

tw: CHOKING, asphyxiation, breathplay, exhibitionism. noncon/dubcon (not sure tbh), slight nsfw, groping. degradation, humiliation, etc. yandere!floyd?

notes: i wanted to write for twst for a long time, so here we are! of course i will still be writing for njsj and other things. please be kind. your hands feebly tried to grab at floyds wrists, choking as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. the rough bark of the tree felt as if it was stabbing your back, adding onto the discomfort of the mans hands wrapped around your neck like a collar. his knee forcefully spread your legs open.

when floyd had threatened to squeeze you, this was not what you expected.

“floyd, please, let go!” your voice wavered, panic settling when he would press a bit harder. it was all a game to him, the sadistic smile on his face reminding you just how different you two really were. he didn’t seem to care that you were struggling to breathe, giggling as he made a routine of squeezing tightly and letting you catch your breath.

“eh, but why, shrimpy? this is fun!” his laugh sent shivers down your spine. while jade had longer nails than floyd, the blunt ends of his fingertips digging into your throat hurt even more. he choked you out again, watching as you sniffled on the ground, having no choice. he seemed to stop just as you were about to become unconscious, your body becoming limp from the abuse and lack of oxygen. “look, now shrimpy’s neck is turning purple!” the eel seemed to find joy in your panic, your own hands grazing on your abused neck when he let go. you were terrified to look into a mirror later.

“i like playing with you, shrimpy. so why did you avoid me? it made me reaaaally sad, yknow!” he huffed, body towering over yours as he leaned in to speak. you took the chance to calm yourself down a bit, as much as you could anyways, sniffling. it didn’t matter if he kept his voice down or not. if a student even dared to look in your direction right now, you weren’t certain they’d make it out alive. you gulped, stuttering as floyd stared into your eyes for some sort of answer. voice dropping low, his pupils fixated on your own, glaring as he warned you. his hands hovered near your throat again.“tell meeee, before i make you hurt again.”

you weren’t stupid. you valued your life, so you quickly tried to stutter out a reply. that was, until floyds knee had dug into your crotch, cutting off your explanation into a pitiful whine.

the eels body shook with laughter, still towering over you as you covered your mouth. his knee didn’t move either, rubbing painfully against your cock as you tried to squirm away. if you weren't feeling shameful before, you were definitely feeling it now, wishing that you could become invisible. it was too embarrassing. “y/n, did you seriously get hard from me squeezing you? didn’t you want me to stop? shrimpy is a liar!” you shook your head, trying to deny his allegations as he pushed his knee further, groaning again from the feeling.

your head was dizzy enough from floyds punishment squeeze — his teasing aimed at your crotch only made your head spin even more. you weren't getting off to this.. right? maybe floyd is just messing with your head. your voice meekly protested, making him grin widely. "floyd, cut it out.." your voice was rough. “stop? i can’t stop now, shrimpy! what if i let you leave? then everyone will see how hard you are and laugh at you!” he was, in a twisted sense, sort of correct. whether you stayed or not, leaving would result in desperately failing at trying to hide the tent in your pants. if you stayed, however..

“shrimpy hasn’t been coming to see me lately, i should just leave you like this. it makes me really mad when i can’t bully you, yknow.” the mans voice dipped lowly, his smile dropping as he stared into your eyes. his gaze was intense. he didn’t have to explain further, you were reminded that he was upset and you wouldn’t make the same mistake of avoiding him again. the unspoken promise of your punishment being worse if you tried to think about leaving him was in the air, zipping your mouth shut. floyd had a habit of not being able to show his emotions properly, except for when he was angry. if his mood was sour, the entire campus knew.

and right now, his mood was definitely sour, no matter how much he would laugh and smile at your misery.

the only choice you had at this point was to give in. your throat felt dry, silent for a moment before finally speaking up. "im sorry, floyd. its my fault. i wont do it again, okay? please, let's at least go back to your room?" you tried to sound as gentle and calm as you could, masking your annoyance with the eel as he stared into your eyes. the bright gold in his pupils was unsettling to the say the least, however, you couldn't tear your gaze away from them. his face was neutral for a minute or two before he smiled again, his sharp teeth peeking out.

"no." floyd's hands went back to squeezing your throat. panic seeped into your bones, making your stomach drop. you coughed, voice struggling to come out as he laughed at you. "i don't believe you're sorry, shrimpy! you cant just ignore me for this long and pretend you feel bad when i caught you. im not dumb." his blunt nails dug into your precious skin, leaving crescent marks on top of the bruises starting to form. he had loosened his grip to let you breathe, heaving and gasping for air.

"besides, i don't think you want me to stop, y/n. you're really hard over this! haha, it's so gross!" the eel didn't bother to keep his voice down, laughing as you tried to close your legs to no avail. floyd was naturally bigger and stronger than you. avoiding him so much lately made you forget how easily he overpowered you in nearly every way, making you tremble in fear. unexpectedly, the man coo'ed at you, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look up towards him.

"dont worry shrimpy! it wont hurt too much, okay? just stay still and take it aaaaall in."

[mysteroads]

Excerpt from All Fun and Games

“Don't stay up late!” Shouta warned loudly. “It's a school night.”

The League paused at the stairs and turned, all of them with expressions innocent as angels and honest as politicians. 

“Yes Eraserdaddy!” the whole group chorused— with the exception of the three kids, Kurogiri, and Shigaraki. Even Midoriya was in on it, obviously torn between hilarity and terror as he stuttered on the last two syllables.

Shouta flushed as the whole room erupted into giggles and whispered versions of: "I can't believe they did it!", turning to find half the class was filming. Apparently, he was the victim of a conspiracy. He eyed them balefully, thinking dark thoughts about pop quizzes and revenge.

Meanwhile, Toga threw her arms around Kurogiri, assuring him loudly that he was still the League's “shadow dad” and not to be jealous. The ghostly man sighed, patting her on the head, but didn’t look displeased. 

Spinner socked Shigaraki in the arm that wasn't holding Kana. “You were supposed to say it too!” he scolded. “You chicken!”

Shigaraki stepped out of range with a sneer. “I don’t need or want another father figure, thanks, and I'm not about to call Aizawa daddy in public.” He paused, then hummed thoughtfully. “Could be negotiated for in private, though.”

Dead silence.

In that silence, Shigaraki took Aisho's hand again and led her to the stairs. “Now then, since I missed this afternoon's debriefing, why don't you tell me what Kurogiri taught you in preschool today?”

Aisho bounced onto her toes with excitement, holding tight to his hand as they maneuvered up the steps. “Oh! Today, Eri and Hōō started learning how to sound out big words! And Kana and I learned more about shapes!”

“Shapes, huh? What's your favorite? I've always liked triangles best. Sharp angles. Good for stabbing.”

Their voices faded, leaving the common area to its awkward silence. Silence broken by a high pitched, wheezing squeak, like a dying balloon about to give up the ghost. All eyes turned to Dabi, who was bent over, hands braced on his knees, the undamaged part of his face bright red as he fought for air. Magne thumped him between the shoulder blades, which was enough to let him suck in a desperate breath and start cackling.

That set off the rest of the League, except for Kurogiri, who looked instead like he was going through all five stages of grief at once. 

Hōō, secure in Hawk's arms, looked around and, with the unerring ability of a child to ask the questions adults dread most, asked, “Does Mr. Shiggy want to call Mr. Zawa daddy? ‘Cause Mr. Zawa is Aisha and Kana’s daddy, not Mr. Shiggy’s.”

The League howled.

Dabi went straight to the floor, followed by Spinner. Toga was practically dancing as she squealed, “Oh my gosh! I’ve never ever ever heard Tomu-chan flirt before! He goes right for the kill!”

This time the students couldn't keep quiet. 

Within seconds, the entire Bakusquad was curled in various positions on and off the furniture, clutching their middles, tears streaming down their faces as they laughed and laughed. Bakugo had turned his back, but Shouta could see his face reflected in a window: his eyes and cheeks were bulging in an effort not to laugh. Uraraka had choked on her own spit and was torn between coughing and laughing; Momo’s blush had spread down her neck like a sunburn; and Asui had covered her face, shoulders shaking. Todoroki seemed completely lost. Ida, scandalized, was waving his arm at everyone, trying to get them to “Settle down, now! This is obviously an adult matter! It’s almost curfew! We should all go to bed!”

Shouta’s attention, however, was on Shinso. His son was laser-focused on his phone, Eri peering intently over his shoulder. 

“Shinso,” he growled.

Hitoshi looked up, lazy purple eyes wide in an attempt at innocence. “Yeah, Dad?”

“You had better not be sending that video to Hizashi or Nem, or I swear, I’ll hang you upside down from a tree for the rest of the night.”

“I’m definitely not doing that,” Hitoshi promised.

Eri frowned. “But… you’re on the family chat,” she protested.

Hitoshi cleared his throat. “What I meant was: I may have already done that.”

Right on cue, Shouta’s phone began to buzz with incoming messages. He’d give it fifteen minutes before the entire UA staff saw the video in all its horror.

Face burning, he unwound his capture scarf and activated his quirk. He would not suffer alone. 

The students and former villains who could still move scattered, heartlessly abandoning their incapacitated comrades to face the wrath of an embarrassed Eraserhead.

[supermarvelgirl15]

The Reason I Hold On

Summary: “Not really sure how to feel about it, Somethin’ in the way you move Makes me feel like I can't live without you. It takes me all the way, I want you to stay.” You and Joel both struggle with what you're feeling. You just want him to stay, but he doesn't want to lose you.

Pairing: Joel Miller × f!reader

Word Count: 4,820

Warnings: Gun tw, blood tw, alcohol tw, angst, violence, kidnapping, intimate thoughts and actions

A/N: This was inspired by the scene with Tess and Noah Thompson's cover of Stay. I dove a bit deeper with my characterization of Joel, but I don't really like it jskskakak. It's sort of a mixture of his personality from the show and the game. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Protective Joel my beloved 🫶🏼

Main Masterlist

××××××

It was just a simple dropoff. Nothing too complicated, or dangerous for that matter. All you had to do was place the pills in the spot, pick up the ration cards that were already there, and go home. Easy.

Joel didn't see it that way though.

“I told you to wait on me.” Joel's grip on the back of the chair threatened to break the old wood in pieces as he stared at you. His gaze was enough to make anybody squirm uncomfortably, but it didn't affect you whatsoever.

You seat yourself on top of his kitchen counter, reaching for his golden whiskey. “You were passed out. It needed to happen before nightfall, so I did it. No harm, no foul,” you shrugged, pouring the drink into a glass.

Joel released the chair and crossed the room, taking the glass out of your hand right before you could take a sip. “Hey!”

“This isn't yours,” Joel stated, setting it on the counter. You tried to protest again, but he stopped you. “And this isn't a game. You pull that shit again and you're out.” His gaze never once left you, as if he was challenging you to argue.

Your eyes hardened as you pushed yourself off the counter, getting as close to him as possible. “You couldn't make it a day in this business without me, cowboy. So don't make threats you don't intend to keep,” you roughly poked your finger into his chest.

Placing both hands on either side of you on the counter, Joel caged you in as his breathing picked up. You watched as he fought himself on the inside, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. It was then that you realized what this was all about.

You lowered your voice as you spoke next. “If this is about the other night...”

Joel immediately backed up, placing his hands on his hips as he turned away from you. He shook his head as a ragged breath wracked his body.

The glass of whiskey was needed even more as you grabbed it once again, this time taking a generous sip out of it. Your nose turned up as the liquid burned your throat. You looked back to Joel to see him pacing.

“I don't know what you want me to do, Joel. It was the heat of the moment, and I may or may not have read it wrong, but we can't keep doing,” you paused to gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is.”

Joel's eyes met yours again, but you couldn't tell what he was holding in them. Eyes were windows into the soul, someone once told you, but you don't think either you or Joel had a soul left to even see a glimpse. There were times where you could read him like a book, and there were times where he was a brick wall, this being one of them. You hated it. It just reminded you that you don't know him like you think you do, even though you desperately wanted to.

“It was nothin’,” Joel finally spoke and you couldn't help the stab of pain that you felt in your heart.

Oh, it was so much more than nothing.

Joel had just come home from another day of working FEDRA jobs to find you sitting in a chair by the window, lost in your own world. You had your own place with Tess, but he found you most often in here than he ever did there.

Once he shut the door closed behind him, you immediately straightened up, wiping under your eyes. Joel felt a pang of concern course through him, his legs moving him closer to you before his mind even had a say so.

He groaned quietly as he squatted down in front of you, a hand on your knee to keep him balanced–not an excuse he made up in his mind so he could feel your warmth under his palm. “You okay?” He grunted out, taking in the tear stains that you tried to rub away.

It took a few seconds, but you finally met his eyes with a tired smile. “Yeah. Just got stuck up here for a bit,” you replied as you tapped your temple. You placed your hand over his, squeezing it before standing up. “You get enough ration cards today?”

Joel nodded as he stood up as well, his knees screaming at him to stop. “Got what we need for the pick up.” Another groan left his lips when he stretched his arm out, your eyebrow raised in question as you looked at him. “Pulled somethin’.” He told you, sitting down in one of the chairs in the kitchen.

You handed Joel an already poured glass of his whiskey as you came up behind him. He had taken a sip out of it before he tensed up completely as your thumb dug into his shoulder, going around in circles. “Relax,” you whispered in his ear, massaging his aching shoulder.

His eyes closed tightly as you worked his shoulder, your fingers like magic against his muscles. There was just something about the way you touched him, something that made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

He knew he couldn't do anything about it, for both of your sakes. Joel had come to terms with it a long time ago. It was safer to keep you and everyone else at an arm's length. If he acted out what he felt deep, deep down, he knew that it would be more than just fulfilling a need. He wanted you.

God, he wanted you. He wanted your skin pressed against his, to see the way you looked beneath him, to memorize every inch of your body. It felt like he had a fever. There was nothing wrong with commiting these lustful acts, he's done so in the past, but he couldn't allow himself to have the pleasure of you. If Joel had just a taste of you, it would be all he craved. So, lingering touches and intimate thoughts would have to do.

You wanted more from him, Joel knew that as well. He could see it in your eyes and feel it in your touch. But he'd rather have you as far away as possible than risk you becoming a part of his curse.

“I can do the pick up in the morning. You could really use the rest.” Your voice brought Joel out of his head, away from the thoughts of you and him.

“No. I'm not sure ’bout this new guy,” Joel said with a shake of his head. He wasn't going to send you to someone that had a strong possibility of literally stabbing you in the back. He'd never put you in harm's way.

Your work on his shoulder paused as you moved around to face him, crossing your arms. “What does that have to do with me?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Joel just looked away from you, not sure how to answer. You knew why, however. You just wanted to hear him say it, but you were more likely to go on a date with a Clicker than hear him admit it. You were starting to get tired of it.

You threw your hands up in the air, a sigh falling past your lips. “I wish you would show me something for once,” you admitted. You wanted to stop running in circles, you needed to know.

Joel's eyes met yours then, his jaw clenching as they drifted down to your lips. When his eyes came back up to yours, that's when you saw it.

If you dared, come a little bit closer.

Before Joel could fully register what was happening, your lips crashed onto his and that was all it took for his barricade to break. He pulled you with him as he stood up to fully meet you, your fingers getting caught in his unruly hair.

His hands made their way to your hips, pulling you firmly against him. You tasted even better than he could have ever imagined and he couldn't get enough of it. Joel only pulled away for a second to give you both a chance to breathe before his lips found the sweet spot on your neck, your gasp like music to his ears.

The two of you moved as if you had rehearsed, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together for the first time. Neither one of you dared to leave the other's embrace even as Joel slowly guided you to his bed, your hands moving quickly to unbutton his shirt.

The sight of you beneath him affected Joel just as he thought it would, making him quicken his actions. You moved so beautifully with him. There was just something about it that made him feel something that he hadn't felt in decades. You reignited a flame that he thought was extinguished forever. Oh, how could he live without you?

He can't live without you.

Without a warning, Joel ripped himself away from you, stumbling backwards. You sat up immediately, concern written all over your features. Joel's eyes danced all around the room, not daring even a glance at you.

He swallowed thickly before speaking. “I... I need to wash up.” With that he retreated to his bathroom, not sparing you another look. You continued to sit there, your mind working a mile a minute trying to figure out what you did wrong.

Joel still found it hard to look at you now, the memory of you so, so close to him easing its way out from where he tried to repress it in his mind. He made a mistake, one that he wasn't going to make again.

You, on the other hand, were through with pretending like it never happened. “This isn't much of a life you're living. You have to make up your mind on what you want, Joel,” you told him, your voice as even as you could manage. ”You can't ignore me one day and then go on about protecting me the next. You have to decide.” You were both adults, it was time to start acting like it.

Silence surrounded the both of you as you waited for Joel to say anything. You felt like the air was choking you, the anticipation slowly killing you. Joel opened his mouth and you prepared to hear what you were dreading to, but he was stopped by Tess opening the door.

“Apparently the Fireflies bombed another...” Tess started but trailed off once she saw the both of you. Even she could feel the tense atmosphere that filled the entire apartment. “Am I interrupting something?” She questioned, looking between you and Joel.

You looked over at Joel, trying to meet his eye, but he just wouldn't have it. Your hands clenched at your sides as you took a deep breath. “I was just leaving,” was all you said before you pushed yourself by Tess and out the door.

As you leaned against the wall outside the door, you could hear Tess say, “what the hell did you do now?” A shaky breath passed your lips as you ran a hand over your face. You couldn't hear what Joel had to say, not anymore. You desperately needed to escape, so instead of heading to your own apartment, you just made your way outside.

The moment you took a couple steps outside, however, you were grabbed from behind, a hand covering your mouth. You didn't even have a chance to fully react before something was slammed against your temple and the world faded to black.

✻ ✻ ✻

Water being thrown on your face woke you up with a gasp. You could feel blood drip into your eye mixed with the water, but when you tried to reach for it, you realized your hands were tied behind your back. You did your best to push yourself up on your knees with a groan, taking in your surroundings.

The only source of light came from the early morning sun through a window in the small room. You didn't recognize the man that threw the bucket of water on you, or the one that stood in the corner with a gun. What did they want with you?

“Are you just gonna stand there with a stick up your asses or are you going to enlighten me on why the hell I'm here?” You spoke up, looking between the men. Neither of them looked like they were running whatever this was, so you could use that to your advantage.

The one that had the bucket dropped it, squatting down to roughly grab your face with his hand. “You're gonna have to lose that smartass mouth, sweetheart,” he warned you, squeezing your face tightly. You spat on him, making him recoil immediately. Anger filled his eyes as he wiped his face.

“You bitch!” He shouted at you before punching your face. You grunted as you fell backwards against the concrete. A laugh bubbled out of your mouth, despite the pain your jaw was currently going through. The man didn't like that obviously, and he yanked you back up. “What the hell are you laughing at?!”

You spat some blood out your mouth before turning to face him with a bloody smile. “My great-grandmother hits harder than you,” you answered him with a smirk.

That earned you another punch to your face, not helping your forming headache. A knife was placed against your neck, the man's teeth bared in your face. “Say another word, you little whore.” His threat didn't deter you as you continued to smile at him. He wouldn't do it.

“Knock it off, Rodriguez. Hank's gonna kill your ass if you kill her now,” the man with the gun finally came forward, shoving the knife away from your throat. Rodriguez gave you another death glare before he backed off fully, putting his knife away.

The mention of Hank finally dawned in your mind, your predicament making more sense. “So that's what all this is about? You can tell Hank that I did my part on our deal,” you said, sitting up straighter. “I left the pills right where we agreed on.” There wasn't any reason for this to be happening.

The man with the gun kneeled in front of you then. “There was only one bag. The deal was for two,” he reminded you. He tipped your chin up with the barrel of his gun, making you grit your teeth together. “Just give us the second bag and we'll send you on your way.” He made it sound all so simple, but you knew better.

You yanked your head away from him, leaning back to where your hands could reach your boot. “I know the deal was for two. However, only half of the agreed upon amount of ration cards were there. You pay for half, you get half. That's how business works, ‘sweetheart,’” you informed him, spitting more blood out your mouth. The man glared at you, standing back up, heading back to his designated corner. Your eyebrows furrowed together in question, but your internal inquiry was answered by the sound of movement outside.

The door opened, revealing Hank himself. “Well, I for one, know how this business works,” he spoke to you, your eyes watching his hand that laid on top of his holster. “So, this is how this is going to play out,” he began to pace in front of you, “you're going to go get the second bag I was promised. Then, once it's in my possession, we'll pretend this whole ordeal never happened, and I'll let you go. Or–”

“Or,” you cut in, ”you give me the other half of the cards that you owe, and we can just go on our merrily way.” Your fingers finally grabbed the hilt of your knife, and slowly pulled it out, keeping your eyes on him.

Hank laughed, the sound agonizing to your headache. “You think you can just–”

He cut himself off as he suddenly stopped in front of you. Hank slowly crept towards you, as if he was approaching a wild dog. You grunted as he grabbed your face, angling it so it was more in the light that poured in from the window. His eyes widened then, dropping your face as if you had just burned him.

“Shit. Shit!” Hank yelled out, kicking the bucket across the room as his hands worried through his hair. “We're dead. We're ’effin dead!”

Rodriguez and the other man exchanged a worried look. “What are you talking about?” Rodriguez questioned, stepping closer to Hank. You took this moment to start cutting the rope that held your wrists together, watching them closely.

Hank looked at his men with a look mixed with anger and horror, gesturing to you. “That's Miller's girl, you bastards! The moment he sees her, we're dead. You idiots!” He continued cursing to himself, his pacing picking up.

Since when were you known as “Miller's girl?”

The news seemed to throw the other men into a frenzy, an argument breaking out amongst them. “How were we supposed to know that was his bitch? You told us it was just a mule!” The gun man shouted at Hank, pointing his finger at him.

“It was supposed to be!” Hank yelled back, throwing his hands up. The ropes fell from your wrists, but you stayed still. You needed a plan. One where you didn't end up dead.

“We can't send her back. He'll come straight for us.” Hank started thinking aloud, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can't keep her. He finds her with us, we're better off dead.”

You never realized how scared people were of Joel. Yes, you knew he was a dangerous man, everyone reached that point in their lifetime, especially in this reality. But they talked as if he was the devil's executioner. Maybe he was.

Rodriguez nods, pulling his knife back out. “So we kill her,” he speaks up, causing a look of horror to flash across Hank's face. “Then we dump her body outside the QZ. He doesn't have reason to believe we have anything to do with her little disappearing act. We're in the clear.” Rodriguez wore a smug look, like he just solved the cure for mankind. With the way the other two looked at him, it was just as good.

You yourself had to admit it was somewhat a decent plan. They, however, didn't know yours.

“There's just one problem with that,” you said, quickly earning their attention. You motioned with your head for Hank to come closer. He shares a look with his men before stepping towards you. You dropped your head, watching as Hank's hand fell from his holster. “Miller's not the one you should be concerned about.”

Hank squatted down, leaning in closely. “Who?” He asked urgently. You couldn't help the smirk that fell across your lips at the tremble in his voice.

“Me.”

In a swift movement, you banged your head against his face, using his pain as a distraction to pull his gun out of his holster. You stood up, taking Hank with you as a shield, the gun pointed at his head.

The gun man held his own up at you, Rodriguez gripping his knife tightly in his fist. Hank continued to yell in pain, crying about his broken nose.

“What now?” The gun man questioned. “You shoot him, I shoot you. You don't have a way out of this,” he told you, his finger flexing over the trigger.

Luck seemed to be on your side for the moment as you saw a FEDRA truck come into view just outside the window. You didn't hesitate, firing shots outside the window, immediately alerting the soldiers. You threw Hank towards gun man and darted for the door, reaching it as soon as the soldiers busted in through the window.

You ran as fast as you could, away from your captives, away from FEDRA. The sound of soldiers barking orders started to fade when you made it out the back, the fresh air a delight to your lungs.

Your legs never stopped carrying you as you weaved your way through the town, ignoring the strange looks from the people around you. After all this time, you would think they'd get used to seeing someone bloody and bruised by now.

Once you stepped inside your apartment building, you slid down to the floor with your back against the wall, catching your breath. Everything was hurting. Your face, your head, even your damn legs were starting to ache. You just had to make it to your room. You'd be safe there. Safer than out here at least.

After a few moments, you slowly pushed yourself up and started up the stairs. You had never been so happy to be home, a sigh of relief leaving you as you pushed the door open. Tess wasn't home, and honestly you were glad. You made your way to the bathroom, checking yourself over in the dirty mirror. You had a bruised eye and jaw, but the bruise and deep cut on your temple concerned you the most. If you didn't clean it, there was a chance of infection, and you didn't have time for that.

You went back out to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for alcohol or any sort of first aid. A curse left your lips when you came up empty on both. Of course the one time you really needed it, there was none to be had. At least here. There was a strong chance he wasn't home, and that was a chance you were going to have to make.

His door was locked, so that was a good sign. You clumsily unlocked it, your fingers trembling as the adrenaline started to wear off. Your face was screaming out in pain, begging for something to soothe it.

The bottle was left exactly where it had been last night on the counter, however it was holding a lot less. It'd be enough to clean your wounds, but your mental pains would have to wait.

You were searching his cabinets for anything else when you heard the door open. The sounds of his boots came to a halt just outside the kitchen. You couldn't do this, not now.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel questioned as you kept your back to him. You shut your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. Oh, you should've just waited for Tess.

“I've been busy,” you answered quietly, clutching the edge of the counter. Joel scoffed, throwing whatever was in his hands on the table, the sound startling you.

Joel noticed it immediately, his retort dying on his tongue. He slowly came up behind you, grabbing your shoulder gently to turn you towards him. His eyes widened as they took in your face, his hands cupping your face so he could check you over. Anger started bubbling inside him, threatening to spill over when you winced when his thumb ran under your blackened eye.

You grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from your face. “I'm okay. I just got jumped by a couple guys, and I handled it,” you tried to explain, but you could tell he wasn't fully hearing you. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“‘Not a big deal?’” Joel shook his head, reaching behind you for a rag in the sink. He poured his alcohol on it and grabbed your face again, lightly dabbing at your cut. “You've got to be shittin’ me,” he grumbled mostly to himself. How could you say that?

Neither of you said anything else as Joel cleaned you up, his hands continuing to be delicate as if you were made out of porcelain. It was moments like this that made it hard to believe that these same hands had taken others’ lives. He was always gentle with you, but you couldn't understand why.

You wanted him. You thought he wanted you, but you didn't know now. Not after the other night. You weren't sure how you should feel anymore. You'd had enough of the back and forth, but a part of you would do anything just to be close to him.

Joel placed a couple butterfly stitches that he found in an old first aid kit over your cut, his hands lingering for a moment as he looked you over again. He was going to tear whoever did this to you apart.

“Who did this to you?” He asked softly, his fist clenching beside him. Joel knew that you knew who it was. There was a reason you didn't say who before.

You sighed, preparing yourself. “Hank's men.” A flash of rage ran across Joel's face, his shoulders rolling back before made his way to his stash under the floorboard. You followed after him, pleading with him to quit. “Joel, stop. FEDRA probably has them by now anyways, don't get involved,” you tried, but he was just a brick wall again.

“I told you to let me handle the damn dropoff.” Joel wasn't listening to you. He pulled out his revolver, checking the ammunition, and then set it down. He didn't care if FEDRA had them or not, Joel was going to kill them.

“Why do you even care?”

Your words stopped Joel's movements, causing him to finally look up at you. You ran your hands over your damaged face, another shaky sigh leaving your lips. “Why are you doing this, Joel?” The question sounded more like a plea, like you were begging him to tell you the truth. Going around and around wasn't going to be enough for you anymore. You needed him to tell you now.

When he refused to answer, you threw your hands up. “I don't know what you want from me, but I can't do it anymore. I tried, God knows I tried to give you what you wanted. You clearly don't want this, so why are you holding on?” You didn't even bother waiting on an answer this time, heading towards the door as tears stung your eyes. He was supposed to be the broken one, but right now you felt like the one that needed saving.

Joel's eyes landed on his watch, the feeling from the other night returning to his stomach. He couldn't lose you too, but he needed this hole gone.

“The reason I hold on,” Joel finally spoke up, stopping you as your hand grabbed onto the handle. You turned back towards him, your heart hammering against your chest. “Is because I do care, more than I should. I just don't... I can't risk draggin’ you down with me.” He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. It felt foreign to ever say anything like that out loud, let alone to you. You took him all the way. What you were able to do to him scared him. But maybe it was a good thing.

You stood back in front of him now, offering your hand to him. Joel looked up at you, his mind telling him this would end badly, but he would ignore it for now. He grabbed your hand tightly as you helped him up, not letting go even as you continued to look at one another. It was hard to know which one of you were really caving, especially when neither of you could see the light.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, your thumb rubbing circles on his wrist. “What do you want me to do?” Joel asked you, his mind going back to the revolver that sat discarded on the floor beside him.

You gave him a tired smile. “Stay.”

Joel looked at the stitches that decorated your temple, wanting so badly for the one's that dared to do that to you to feel his wrath, but for now, he'd do whatever you wanted. He nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

You lifted his hand up, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before guiding him to his bed. Joel followed closely, climbing in after you, and wrapped his arm around your stomach. He breathed you in as he held you closely, your scent calming him. You still held on to his hand, his warmth lulling you into a sleep that you so desperately needed.

Joel stayed with you until he knew you were sound asleep. He slowly slipped out of the bed after kissing the top of your head and grabbed his revolver off the floor. The sight of you in his bed almost changed his mind, but the bruises that littered your face was enough to push him out the door.

If you saw his bloody knuckles when he came home to you afterwards, you didn't say a word.

××××××

[danganronpa-21]

Just Leave A Comment Fest July 2023 Results

Alas, such a beautiful comment fest has come to an end once more! My total this time was 22. It’s a little less than last time and I was hoping to shoot for 30, but at the risk of sounding like I’m going against the “no excuses just results” motto… between a job working with kids and a case of aggressive sniffles, I’m still pretty pleased with what I managed to do. I’ll just try and keep up the momentum for afterwards!

So, without further ado, here’s my Danganronpa results for Just Leave A Comment Fest! If you want the Fire Emblem ones, you can find them over here!

“A Misplaced Blame” by shinobutogaminumber1fan: This one is a one-shot centred around Byakuya and his sister, Shinobu. While their relationship is almost strictly professional to most, with Shinobu practically worshipping the ground her brother walks on, this fic shows a more human side to things. Byakuya is strict with her, but shows that he really does care, and I think that it’s a very well put together assessment of his character. His attempts to reconcile with Shinobu after mistreating her are awkward but earnest, and read very well because of that. I think anyone looking for a warmer characterization of Byakuya should definitely pick this one up, because it nails it.

“Boredom, Blood, and Belief” by Hipster71elmWeebTrash: A one-shot about Hajime and Izuru, confronting Izuru’s struggle to be comfortable with himself. He will never be able to live in boredom, too unsatisfied, but when he discovers the records left behind by Hajime Hinata… he cannot understand why it feels so… different, either. I’ve never been as big on Izuru as I have other characters, but I really liked this exploration. Getting to hear Hajime’s sincere thoughts towards what he’s trying to be, and in comparison, Izuru’s reflections on whether this choice was the right one… it’s all deeply thought provoking.

“Kyoko’s Choice” by May0Cat: Set in DR3 as Kyoko is making her choice to come back, this one has an afterlife approach of Sakura offering Kyoko a chance to go back, or to stay with her dead friends and family. Choosing Sakura to be Kyoko’s guide I feel was such a great idea, because the aura of calm she gives off truly makes it feel like she doesn’t mind no matter what Kyoko does. And of course, for Kyoko herself, you find that you really feel the warmth of her love here. She’s not necessarily any more expressive, but her words and her choices are what make it so easy to feel it. You know that though she loves both, she’s making a choice that will satisfy them all. The whole one-shot was incredibly well thought out, and quite enjoyable!

“Game Over” by snomberry: What would’ve happened if Chiaki had been apart of the Student Council Killing Game in DR3? The answer is, a very sad and messed up turn of events! However, if that’s your jam, then this story does it perfectly. Chiaki’s desperation to stop the fighting, even at the risk of being taken out herself, makes the story quite disturbing. It doesn’t go too heavy on the gore, but when it gets there, it isn’t shy either. It is every bit as painful as the original episode itself, with the added stab of Chiaki being lost there.

“Rushed Vessel” by Princess_Piggles: Have you ever wanted a Sondam one-shot where Gundham is trans and comes out to Sonia in the most Gundham-way possible? Well, this offer delivered on this! It’s a short and sweet story, complete with crisp characterization and very respectful portrayals of being trans masculine. I loved getting to see how Gundham brought up his identity, and how Sonia reacted so cheerfully and happily — to the point of being ready to help! This one is just chicken soup for the soul, and I am delightfully taking in spoonfuls.

“Kazukibou: For My Daughter, a Citrus Tachibana” by @capnii: A fankid long fic about Mei Asahina, once Mei Tachibana. The adoptive daughter of Aoi Asahina, Mei has had lots of time to come to terms with her father’s death. However, there are many facets to Mei’s history of adoption and loss, and she will come to find that not all of them are as straightforward as they might seem at a glance. I have the benefit of being a friend of the author, and I can tell you right now, this one is going to be good. Capnii is an expert at writing good high school stories with that classic DR flair, and from what we’ve discussed, this one is going to be a reflective and thoughtful story on Mei’s experience that I think will stand out to a lot of people.

“The Meaning of Love” by plutodeservesbetter: Chiaki/Mikan is one of those pairings that I think is just sugary sweet, and this fic confronts many of the things I love about it. Chiaki is so gentle with Mikan, and Mikan so determined to make Chiaki happy, and you can tell that each of them are giving all of their hearts to the relationship. You can so obviously see how much they care each other, and understand why they make such a lovely couple. It’s a very warm piece of fiction, and definitely something I would recommend to a Nanamiki fan!

“You’re so gorgeous (it actually hurts)” by daughter_of_aphrodite: For all of my Naegiri fans, boy, have I got a one-shot for you. This one features Kyoko taking care of a drunk Makoto, where he is able to share some of his feelings with her more openly. This one has characterizations that are quite genuine, with the affection between the couple (both sober and drunk) seeming so natural that you can’t help but be drawn into it. I love how the author didn’t shy away from Kyoko’s bluntness, but also endeavoured to make drunk Makoto the perfect blend of sweet but clever. They’re a new-to-Danganronpa author, so I would definitely recommend sending some love their way if you choose to read this one. The response they gave me made my heart so happy.

“Boredom.” by kinjo-drabbles (tsurugikinjo): A drabble, yet another centred around Izuru! This one is mostly about his relationship to his boredom and to Junko. Like any good drabble, each sentence is well chosen, and there are a good handful of them make an impact on the reader. My personal favourite was “he doesn’t understand how someone could willingly choose this”, because god, it hits you right where it hurts. It is just so poignant and plays all the right notes to get you feeling what the author wants you to feel.

“Tomorrow, We Have a Chance to Bloom” by KibaSniper: A post-DR3 UDG one-shot, this one has to be one of my favourite Danganronpa stories I’ve read, ever. After Monaca’s departure, her craft crashes in the forest and she is reunited with Komaru, still bored of hope and despair. Trying to escort her back to Future Foundation, Komaru tries to show her that the only reason she ever became anything bad was because she wasn’t loved as she deserved to be. The discussion of this, coupled with the messages about how grey forgiveness is in this circumstance, make this story impeccable. The note it leaves on is hopeful, and it really makes you care about the change that Monaca might be making. Even if she was awful to many, she too was just a little girl who wanted to be loved. Whether or not she deserves a second chance doesn’t matter, this story acknowledges that she will be getting one anyway — so what does she want to do with it?

[sepublic]

           What fucking breaks me is the dawning realization on Marcy’s face when she’s stabbed… The growing horror, that she’s going to die. That she’s dead. That her life is over, in the literal sense- She DIED. She was murdered, and it’s all gone and finished. She’s finished…

           …This is a hopeless CHILD realizing, without a doubt or any take-backs or what-ifs, that she’s dead and all she can do is sob and apologize in despair, realizing it was all for naught, that everything she did to survive in this world, to survive in her life, was for nothing- That she’s DEAD now. This is no longer a fantasy, this is no longer a game, this is REAL LIFE with stakes and perils and consequences, where people actually get hurt… And she was one of them.

           No more games. No more fun. No more friends, or getting to feel the thrill of a new hyperfixation or game, no more exploration or new things. No sun on her face as she chills besides her best friends who made life worthwhile. All the big and small things, all of them, no more of it. So much left to do, and she never got a chance... So much unfinished or never even started to begin with, it’s regret at what could and should have been, mourning that.

           Marcy died, and she died thinking she brought this on herself. That all she did was make her friends hate her even more, that all of her efforts just worsened it all, and she should’ve just shut and accepted the cold hard reality. How nihilistic, cold, fatalistic, and outright cruel is that, this type of realization, for a kid to realize, and for that to be the ONLY thing she’s thinking of as she lets the pain flow through her and just… Gives up.

           Because she lost it all. The only two things keeping her alive, her only two friends… Gone; She worked so hard to not be alone, yet here she is. If all that effort can’t change reality, then… Why keep on going at that point? Marcy’s sorry, she really is… But what more point is there to living, now? Why try to keep living against his clearly mortal wound- The last time she struggled against the cold reality of things, it led to all this. So for once… Marcy is going to do the ‘right’ thing, and just give up, resign herself into despair, and let it take over… Just passively be swallowed into the cold, black void, because she doesn’t matter, never did, and never will. It was all a lie and a delusion and she was just another… Stupid… child.

           Marcy was too far in her delusions and need for a fantasy as her only way to cope… And now she’s gone too far to the other end, and lost any and all hope entirely, her dreams are shattered. Any belief in agency, in initiative, in things changing for the better. Because why believe when you can’t even think… Because who can hope when they’re nothing but dead? She died apologizing for who she is, for her life, for her existence, because she really was meaningless and stupid and unloved in the end, unimportant and disposable, and now she gets to see how expandable she is through her own death.

           Marcy has to go through the unimaginably traumatic and cruel experience of not just dying, but realizing it. Feeling it. Processing it and realizing exactly what it means and all of the dread and despair that comes with that. The shock could’ve worn off and forced Marcy to feel the literal agony of a burning sword through her body- It hurts so much and that’s another reason why she gives up, not just the physical but emotional pain, because at least when she’s dead it’s over. This wasn’t a quick and instant death, this was slow and painful for her; It was not enough to die, she was made to relish in the experience of death.

           …She’s so scared. Marcy desperately wants to call out, to cry out, for someone to help- But she thinks that’s impossible and that they never would reply. No coping mechanism will work this time; This is real life, and now, death. She just wanted it to last longer and it was all so short and unfair and taken from her... She thought she had a whole future ahead of her, she WANTED and was owed it! This is a kid and they’re terrified because they’re dead and they don’t know what to do, and the worst part is that asking for help wouldn’t make a difference; Because NOBODY knows what to do in that situation. She’s still alone, and will be forever.

           ...But at least it’s over. It may ALL be over, the fun, but at least Marcy ensured that the pain was over, too. If she was still alive, that wouldn’t be the case. The end of things was what Marcy dreaded, but it seems it was the end that gave her final solace- She never considered how Death would at least end her pain, unlike staying with her parents, who would end only her happiness at that.

           Because why be happy if it’s all ruined in the end anyway? Why be happy, why start or continue, if it’ll end? Why not just... end? End it all and get it over with, don’t get hurt if you never began to begin with. Good god what pushed a CHILD to this mindset?! What we’ve seen already explains a lot, but the possibility that there was even more... To see a kid break like that, the entire process of her heart tearing apart, having to turn to Death, the only thing she can count on at the end, as it’s always been. You can see the exact moment on her face when the illusion of it all just being a game is permanently shattered, what last vestiges of hope are torn away.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Fixation

Chapter 15: Breaking Point

Mentions of: Mental Breakdown, Harassment, Blackmail, Exhaustion, Insomnia, Sleep Deprivation, Knives, Stabbing, Wounds, etc.

Tags: @froegis @xlug713 @darthwhorecrux @gloomyladyy

EPILEPSY WARNING/FLASH WARNING

Days passed by, and nothing got any better. Those days drew into weeks until it felt like everything was just getting worse. Everything was crashing down on you, your workload, your friends, your coworkers, everything, no thanks to Ghostface.

It was horrible. He wouldn’t leave you be for one god damn day. That’s all you wanted. Just a day of peace. But no. He had to constantly taunt you, had to constantly scare you, had to constantly torture you, to the point you could barely take anymore.

You felt like a rag doll, being thrown and torn apart by some fucked up five-year-old. And that’s all you were to him. A toy. A plaything all for his entertainment. And you hated it.

All you wanted was to be left alone. At this point, you had grown desperate, even willing to go to Officer Jackson. Even if he didn’t believe you, you could stay with him, and have him “protect” you. It It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you could keep Ghostface away, and that’s all you wanted.

This particular evening, you were just finishing up some extra notes, resting on your couch, when he came in from behind you, grabbing your shoulders and making you jump. He always loved sneaking up on you and scaring you, even in the smallest ways. It was so annoying.

“What do you want from me now?” You asked with a groan. It was the middle of the night and you were exhausted.

You haven't been able to sleep for a while now, not just because of Ghostface, but because of the news your mom told you. He was back. Out of jail. It won't be long before he finds you. Before he tries to take you again. And you were terrified.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. Where’s the feistiness? Where’s the fight? Did the kitty lose its claws?” He teased.

No, I’m just exhausted and don’t want to put up with your sadistic bullshit game. You thought to yourself, but knew better to not say it aloud.

“What happens when I stop fighting? Are you going to finally give it over with and kill me?” You questioned.

Ghostface tapped the knife against his mask, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm, Nah. I prefer keeping it a surprise. Let me show you what happens when you give in.”

Suddenly, he grabbed you, picking you up and carrying you over to the counter. You didn’t expect him to be this strong, but moving bodies around constantly was probably quite the workout. You struggled under his grip, squirming a bit, but it was too strong to break.

He put you down on the counter, keeping one hand on your hip, making sure you wouldn’t move. In his other hand, he held his knife, twirling it around a bit, before lowering it over your skin. Ghostface traced the blade over your legs and thighs, and you barely even felt the touch of the knife.

Not until he pushed down, at least. It felt like a small pinch at first, but then he pushed down even harder, making you cry out slightly. Then he moved the knife across your thigh, creating a small slit on your leg.

Blood began to slip through your new wound, the burning sensation of the knife cutting your body still resonating within you. You watched in horror, not even sure what to say next.

“That’s what happens when you don’t fight back. And when I get bored.” He pulled the knife away, turning on his heel. “Might want to clean that new gift I got you, Dollface. It’ll get infected.”

That’s what he thought it was? A gift? He was sick. Your eyes didn’t leave him, not until his form was gone, disappearing off into the dark night.

After cleaning the gash on your leg and bandaging it up, you went to call Jackson. This was it. You couldn’t take it anymore. No more games. You were going to be free.

“Hello?” His voice sounded hazy and thick with sleep.

“Oh hey, Jackson. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll call at another time if-”

“No, no, it’s fine. Is something wrong?” You couldn’t stand the newfound excitement in his tone. You couldn’t stand yourself for calling him over to “come keep you safe.” Still, you needed some sort of form of safety, and you supposed this could work.

You took a shaky breath, preparing to speak and get it out. “I just woke up and I found this gash on my leg. I think- I think I was attacked.”

“I’ll be over right away. Maybe I can spend the night to keep you safe.” He offered, and you could already hear the smile in his voice, the sound of some clothes shuffling in the background.

It was almost as if he had this planned out. Okay, that’s it. You couldn’t do this. You rather get stabbed, tortured, even have a slow painful death, than do anything like this. You were stupid to think you could go through with it.

“No. You know what? Nevermind. I wanted protection, but if you’re going to try and use this as an excuse to get into my pants, then just, nevermind.” You didn’t mean for your words to be so harsh, it just slipped out.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who’s called me. You’re the one always crying to me about being attacked by something that’s probably in my head. You’re crazy!” He shot back, and that was enough to make you snap.

“Well, it seems like I’m sane enough to stay away from you. And you know what? Fuck, you, you dirty, filthy pig. I’m not some deranged whore you can use as a sex toy, so why don’t you go find someone else to try and slide your dick into?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, you crazy bitch. If you ever call, if I ever see you again, I’ll put your ass behind bars.” He seethed, ending the phone call.

Hearing the dial tone, you lost it, slamming your phone back onto the hook, beating it into the wall brutally as you cursed him out, as you cursed yourself out, as you cursed out the world. You were angry, you were losing it. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t take anything anymore.

You sat down, hugging your knees to your face. And you let it all out. You cried. You cried and cried, after holding it in for so long. It all came out.

After what felt like a solid twenty minutes of crying, there was a knock at the door. You already knew who it was. “Here to brag? I get it, you win. You were right. Go away.”

“(Y/n)? It’s Jed.” Jed? What was he doing here? You couldn’t let him see you like this. You were a complete mess.

“Oh, sorry.” You murmured, still going to answer the door anyway, despite your appearance.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked between sniffles.

“I couldn’t sleep, and I noticed you’ve been having a hard time lately, so I wanted to come check on you. Have you been crying? Are you alright?” He questioned, noticed your tear-stricken face

You just shook your head, letting him in. Letting him wrap his arms around you, letting him hold you close, and letting yourself feel safe, even if it was for just a moment.

“I can’t stay here anymore, Jed. I have to go. I want to move.” You mumbled, your voice muffled from his shirt.

“What? Why? What happened? Was it Ghostface again?” His hold around you grew slightly tighter before he let you go.

“It’s everything. I just can’t do it. I’ve been trying for so long, and I can’t take it anymore.” You answered, keeping your eyes glued to the floor.

“You can’t quit now! You’ve gone so far.” His eyes trailed down to your leg, seeing the bandages covering it, the slight blood seeping through. Danny tried to hide his excitement from the sight. “(Y/n), your leg! That’s it, we have to go to the police.”

“No!” You stopped him, grabbing his arm.

Jed’s eyebrows furrowed, the expression on his face contorting to one of frustration and concern. “The last officer I just spoke to threatened to put me in jail if I ever saw him again. We can’t.”

“That’s so fucked. We’ll fight this, I promise. Just you and me, okay? I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He put his hands on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

You smiled back. “Okay. And Jed? Could you stay the night? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Sure.” Eventually, you fell asleep on the couch, nestled in Jed’s arms, finally getting a good night’s sleep.

[milliedazzledust]

I'll Come Back for You (Bucky Barnes imagine)

REQUEST: ANON - something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission

ANON - winter soldier!bucky being protective over his scientist who’s forced to be take care of his health and she’s being kept there against his will too

ANON - Bucky Barnes request about how both reader and Bucky are each other support systems? It could be like a headcanon, how would the reader comfort him while how he comforts her so forth and so on

WORDS: 3506

A/N: So I don't know if I was inspired or if I just wrote too much, but I'm not sure this story's good. Anyway, feedback is really appreciated and I hope you'll like it :) (also don't forget to tell me if you want to be on my taglist ^^)

“What happened this time ?”

Her voice was only a whisper in the quiet room. The broken man silently sat on the examination table while she stuck a needle in his functioning arm. He didn’t speak, didn’t even flinch. This masquerade had started the moment she had set foot inside Hydra secret base. They had brought her against her will to take care of their most valuable soldier. It was always the same dance, rehearsed a million times since she had met him. After each mission, each murder, he’d come to her. She’d fix his physical wounds, take care of his arm and let him go.

More than often, she found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew what Hydra was doing to him, she’d heard the screams echoing in the distance. It would keep ringing in her ears for hours. Sometimes, the simple thought of picturing what he was going through was enough to bring her to tears. No one deserved to suffer this way.

The Winter Soldier was a cruel man, an assassin. She had seen him in action, had even been attacked the first time they were introduced. But despite being the necessary tool to take care of their valuable killer, she liked him. This wasn’t a place anyone could handle, not even him. And while she was aware of the danger Hydra represented, he was a different story. The man he once was had been trapped in a small corner of his mind, disconnected. His hands were his own, but his actions were dictated by an army that had invaded his head long ago. He was a machine turned on and off at will by the power of ten simple words.

“I was stabbed” Was his only answer. He didn’t give any detail, simply raised his shirt so she could inspect the injury.

“Do you feel any pain ?”

He blankly stared at an invisible point on the wall, avoiding looking at her. He was aware anyone could be listening.

“Soldier ?” She called him, stopping her movement and waiting for his response.

“I don’t feel anything” His voice was emotionless and a chill ran down her spine when he spoke. He was detached, impassive, a statue unaware he was capable of sentiment.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on her task. She cleaned the wound, took his vitals, wrote down the conclusion of her examination and prepared what she needed to sew him up.

When she was about to administer the anesthetic, he suddenly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath, frightened, but made no movement. For the first time that day, he turned his head to look at her. Whatever she saw in his eyes was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders and she relaxed.

“It’s okay” She whispered, a kind smile on her face. “This is propofol”

She knew he would recognize the name. She had spent countless hours explaining everything she was doing to him in detail so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable or scared. He was a super soldier that required extreme measures of treatment.

“No drugs,” He told her.

“You might regret that decision once I start to put the stitches in”

“I need to stay conscious,” He explicated, almost begging her. “Please”

She didn’t argue, only glanced at a camera behind her recording their interaction.

“Alright” She conceded. “I’ll switch to saline”

He nodded, grateful she wasn’t pushing. She turned her back carefully so her table was no longer in the camera’s field of view and he watched her emptying the needle and filling it with a harmless mixture of water and sodium chloride. Nothing that would put him to sleep.

“Have you ever been to Greece ?” She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her curiously. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting. It has the longest coastline in Europe, with so many islands between the blue Aegean Sea to the east, the Mediterranean Sea to the south, and the Ionian Sea to the west. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be ?”

She kept talking for a while about the country, the books she had read and the films she had seen about it. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, his head tilted to the side, wondering why she was telling him all this. Not that he minded, he loved listening to her. She had the power to calm him down. He was constantly on high alert, ready to fight whomever he was told to kill, prepared to endure whatever torture they had prepared, but this room and the woman inside were his only small moments of peace. Her voice was the music he desperately needed to sooth his soul.

“Why are you telling me this ?” He wondered out loud.

She smirked. “To take your mind somewhere else than here. Seems like it worked”

He glanced at his stomach and realized the stitches were already there. Too engrossed in her story, he hadn’t noticed or felt anything.

“How…”

“Funny how magical words can turn out to be, isn’t it ?”

She could swear she saw the flicker of an emotion on his face looking back between his wound and the woman, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Thank you, doc”

She hesitated a moment before gently taking his hand on her own.

“Be careful” She muttered. “There’s only so much I can fix”

“I will” He promised. “Are they … are they treating you right ?”

She shrugged. “If threatening to kill me is what you consider right, then I guess I’m a real princess in a castle”

He ran a jerky hand through his hair and seemed to be looking for the right words to say but never spoke.

“Can I ask …” She began, curiosity getting the best out of her. “What is your real name ?”

When his gaze fell on her, all she saw was pure panic. Her question, as simple as it may have been, had surprised him. He didn’t remember, didn’t even question anyone, because it hadn’t mattered. He didn’t need to be more than a ghost to be able to kill.

“I’m sorry” She apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t know” He admitted.

She gulped and looked away. His eyes held too much confusion and despair. Coming face to face with the enormity that was this man’s fate was sometimes undeniably heartbreaking.

“Can I call you Winter, then ?” She suggested.

He seemed to ponder for a while before offering her a small smile. “Yes, yes I’d like that”

It hurt to see a glimpse of happiness on his face for something as simple as a name and the woman didn’t realize that what she had just given him was the shred of an identity. A tiny piece he would hold onto. He was living inside a nightmare he had no idea he was trapped into, and if she dared to help, she would pay it with her life. So all she had the power to do was give him a name. Make him feel alive again.

The next time she saw him was only a couple of days after, carried by two agents, head hanging low and barely conscious. His clothes were stained in blood and his metal arm seemed dislocated.

“Patch him up” One of the men coldly ordered. They dropped the injured soldier on the ground like he was nothing more than an object, not even human.

She rushed to his side, checking his pupils first with a flashlight to rule out any intracranial damage to his brain. She did the same on his chest with a stethoscope, searching for any potential life threatening injury. When she moved to his shoulder to inspect the metal bones, he regained consciousness. Maybe it was the sight of yet another scientist above him or the touch of her fingers on his skin, but the man was quick to react and got on his feet in no time. His human hand wrapped around her neck tightly and he pushed her body with force against a wall, choking her. She tried to speak, but the action had been so sudden and violent that she was unable to move a muscle. He was in a trance, eyes filled with hatred that she knew was not directed toward her. Whatever he was picturing in his mind had awakened the assassin. She was the threat and he was in a game of survival.

She whispered his name several times but it was only after a minute, when she was on the verge of passing out, that he seemed to realize what he was doing. He stared at her with wide open eyes and released her from his grip. Her body fell on the floor before she started coughing, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m…” He tried to speak, looking down at his hands in horror.

“Water” She managed to whisper.

He brought the woman a bottle and tried to help her on her feet. When he reached for her, she involuntarily flinched. A pure reflex. She didn’t miss the sadness on his face as he recoiled from her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s alright”

“I could’ve killed you” He said it more to himself than to her.

“But you didn’t” She laid a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart rate. “What happened ?”

“You touched me,” He explained.

“I touch you all the time” When he smirked, she realized the double meaning behind what she had just said. “Hm … why would it be any different today ?” She immediately changed the subject.

“Usually, when I’m unconscious I can … sense them around me. Working on me. And I can’t move but I still feel the pain”

Once again she was at a loss of words against the heaviness that was the burden of his life.

“Are you sure you’re alright ?” He repeated almost in a childish voice.

“I’ll get over it, don’t worry” She tried to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work. He took a temptative step, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. He moved his hand toward her neck, deliberately going as slow as he could. His eyes stayed on hers, watching out for any sign of fear. “What are you doing ?” She said in a breath, a different kind of shiver rolling down her spine.

“I need to make sure I didn’t hurt you” The sincerity and concern she heard in his voice were unsettling. She stared back in disbelief, but didn’t move. This was the closest they had ever been and it almost felt unreal for both of them. Too good to be true, especially in a place of nightmare like this.

He tilted her head to the back, still looking at her, and softly brushed his thumb over her skin. A bruise was already starting to appear. She saw the change in his eyes, the regret and sadness when he lowered his gaze. He kept inspecting her from all angles possible, making her chuckle in the process.

“Are you done, doctor ?” She joked.

He tried not to smile but miserably failed. “Almost. Haven’t found a diagnosis yet”

This time she laughed.

“C’mon, I’m not the real patient here. I need to take a look at you” She glanced at his metal arm, still dislocated. He was avoiding using it and she had noticed.

He sighed but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. Instead, his thumb slowly reached her cheek and he gently stroked her skin.

“I wish I could get you out of here” He whispered. “You don’t deserve any of this”

“Neither do you”

He clenched his jaw and plastered a tight smile, refusing to acknowledge what she had just said. He lowered his arm and sat on the examination table without saying anything.

“I’m gonna … hm … I’m gonna need to cut your shirt open” She gulped, trying to keep her cheeks from getting any warmer.

The man smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors nearby that he handed to her. She took it but didn’t dare to look at him, too uncomfortable by the situation. As she cut his shirt higher and higher, her hands started to shake. He could see her shifting her weight from side to side and desperately avoiding any eye contact. She was embarrassed and he was enjoying every second of it.

When finally she had taken it carefully off his body, she huffed in frustration. There was no denying that he had beyond toned muscle structure, verged into defined and well built curves.

“Is it… is it alright if I touch you ?” She allowed herself to take a glance at him, and rolled her eyes when she saw the smirk on his face.

“More than alright, doc” He teased her.

The moment her hands came in contact with his skin, he involuntarily flexed his muscles. She took a sharp breath, trying not to lose focus when she cleaned his wounds. She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, only to realize he was already staring. What should have been a quick glance turned into something more, a moment that lasted a little too long. When he leaned in toward her, she suddenly seemed to notice the lack of space between them. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Quit flirting, Winter” She reprimanded him with a playful grin.

He laughed. It was the first time she heard that sound and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. He looked so carefree and alive, so human. She was finally meeting the man behind the assassin, and he troubled her even more than the silent killer.

“I kinda like to see you flustered, doc”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her obvious nervousness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

“Sure you don’t” He sniggered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna need to put that shoulder into place”

Instead of talking, he grabbed her hips and considerably shortened the distance she had put between them. Her eyes widened from both the sudden gesture and the feeling of his fingers on her body.

“Go right ahead, doc”

She leaned in toward him to have a better access to the injury, ignoring the unexpected shudder. She was practically over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his broad back. If he felt any pain when she pushed the bones back into place, he didn’t show.

“All good ?” He muttered, heavily breathing. She was about to ask if he was okay but the words stayed stuck when she realized how close their faces were. He wasn’t hurt, no, he was perturbed by her presence. He could smell her perfume and see the hair raising on her neck. Whatever he was feeling, she felt it too.

“Do I make you nervous, soldier ?” She said, a smile building on her full lips.

“You have no idea, doctor”

She turned to face him. They locked eyes and, for a moment, none of them moved. The atmosphere instantly changed when he bit his lips. He bent closer and closer, and this time she didn’t push back. When finally he kissed her, she froze in place. He was about to draw back when she grabbed his neck, deepening the kiss. A sensation she couldn’t comprehend took over her whole body. He didn’t rush, took his sweet time lingering his lips over hers. She could swore her knees would have given out if he wasn’t holding her in place. Her chest was fluttering and she lost all sense of time. He pulled back from the lack of oxygen, but not before caressing her mouth one last time.

“Too much?” He inquired quietly.

She shook her head, laughing. “No. Just enough”

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for a while” He admitted.

“Quite the change of attitude. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead only ten minutes ago” She joked.

He pouted, not particularly happy she was reminding him of his previous outburst.

“You’re all set up, Winter” She announced after one last look over his chest. “No major damage”

“Have you checked my heart ?” He joked with a smirk. “I think it’s beating a little fast”

She coughed to try and hide her laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not fixable” She started to write her report, ignoring his lingering gaze on her. Her brain was still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. “Unless I stay away, which would probably ease your … discomfort”

“Who said anything about discomfort ? That’s a kind of pain I’d rather enjoy”

She raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her own heart palpitated.

“Don’t play with fire, soldier”

He smirked. “Between us, I’m trying to delay the moment I’ll have to go through that door again”

This time she lost all joy and raised her head from what she was writing on her report to look at him.

“You’re strong enough to leave this place, you know”

“Leave where ?” He asked.

“Somewhere you’ll find who you really are”

“Does that somewhere include you ? ‘Cause you should know I won’t go without you”

She walked up to him and took his hands.

“Save yourself while you still can, Winter” She sadly replied.

“What about you ?”

“I’m just … collateral damage” She exhaled.

He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise I’ll come back for you after that last mission”

“I’ll hold you onto that”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips, making her forget once again where they were and what their reality was.

“I’ll take you to Greece” He whispered. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be great ?”

“It’s a date” She grinned, making him laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. We’ll get out of here” He swore. “And I’ll take you dancing under the stars of Mykonos”

He didn’t know then that he would never have the occasion to keep that promise. They would have more moments, stolen from the chaos of this place, but nothing more. Weeks later, he would hear rumors about treason and compromising positions. He would understand too late they meant her. She was his weak point, and the Winter Soldier couldn’t have any weaknesses. She was disposable, he was an assassin with superpowers. All the recordings they had proved he no longer could be operational so long as she was still breathing.

“Buck, you alright ?” A voice suddenly spoke in the agonizing silence.

He turned around to his friend, brushing the tears he didn’t realize had started to fall. Standing in the empty room, he couldn’t move away from the dried patch of blood on the floor.

“Yeah, I just need a minute” He shook his head, trying to make the painful memories disappear.

The man behind him began to inspect the place, searching through scattered papers around a desk.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” He read.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. The simple sound of her name was enough to widen the open wound inside his chest. He sat on the examination table one last time, without her. Forgetting he wasn’t alone, he let himself wander into his most precious memories. He remembered the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her skin. Every detail engraved in his head forever.

“Did you know her ?” The person asked.

“Yeah”

The man stopped what he was doing and observed the former assassin for a solid minute. He looked heartbroken.

“Bad memories ?” He inquired.

“Not in this room” Bucky sadly smiled.

“What happened ?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve”

The Captain hesitated for a moment but didn’t push. He was aware his friend was still healing and whatever the place was, it was part of his pain.

“Is she dead ?” He only questioned.

He gulped and tilted his head backward to keep the tears at bay. “They took her away from me” His voice cracked when he spoke. He was not able to stop the violent sob that escaped his mouth. He wanted to say so much more but the lump in his throat was far too heavy.

“I was too late,” He whispered. “I promised I’d come back for her but I was … too …”

His shoulders started to shake as tears ran down his bloodshot eyes. Steve rapidly closed the distance between them and hugged his friend, letting him express his sadness. They stayed there until he was calm enough to take a deep breath.

“You ready ?” The Captain inquired.

The broken soldier silently nodded.

“Where to now ?” Steve asked him. “You’re free to go anywhere you'd like”

“Greece. I have a date in Greece”

Taglist below the cut

@partypoisonsblog - @tylard-blog1

[slasherholic]

synopsis: you reflect on a few incidents in your relationship with asa that really should have tipped you off as red flags while you wait for him to come back and torture you some more.

contains: gender neutral reader, graphic depictions of violence and torture, psychological torture, death, kidnapping, rib trauma, referenced abuse, current abuse because it’s fucking asa, I’ll throw in manipulation and gaslighting just to be safe.

note: quite a few scenes and tidbits in this were heavily inspired by a chat I had with the brilliant and lovely @sanguine--honey, so thanks again for letting me include those in this fic c:

word count: 4k

(Part One, Part Two)

Asa Emory / The Collector x Reader | Loose Ends | Part Three

When he finally unchained you from the pole he dragged you violently up several flights of steep stairs. His strength seemed tireless no matter how much you struggled.

You were bruised and battered and smearing blood on the floor behind you when he got to where he was taking you. He ignored the desperate way you were still screaming at him and threw you violently in a black trunk in a room with bright white lights and steel lab tables. He had slammed the heavy door shut so hard the force of it knocked a painting off the wall. Many locks turned on the other side. You clutched your stomach with both hands and doubled over and began to dry heave.

You sat crying in the dark. When the tears wouldn’t come out anymore, you looked for a way out. Tried to feel around the edges. Your arms burned terribly and you could smell your own body fluids lingering among the overwhelming smell of disinfectant loitering in the air. Your face ached from where he’d held your mouth to silence you when he plunged the needle in. There was a perfectly round hole in the side of the trunk, the size of your pinky nail, that appeared to have been made with a drill. An airhole. Or a peephole.

But the trunk itself was locked up tight. There was no getting out.

 You studied the room through the peephole. There were four other trunks sitting upright on the floor to the left of you, at least that you could see, lined up one after the next to form a semicircle. Each was a different color—red, blue, green, brown, in that order.

You called out very softly and asked if anyone was there.

Silence.

Sniffling again, you sat with your knees curled tightly into your chest, and allowed your mind to romp.

There had been signs, red flags abound, and you had ignored them, made excuses for him in your head, filed every uncomfortable incident away to be rationalized at a later date. You might not have known until the very end that he was this. But you had known enough. Asa, beneath his carefully manufactured charm and suave, was the coldest man you had ever met.

So you arrived at the crushing conclusion that you had nobody to blame for this but yourself.

There had been one instance, close to the start of your relationship, or whatever it was you had with him, where you found yourself very inebriated in his expensively furnished living room.

Asa had implied over dinner that he would like to go upstairs and have sex after you were finished, and he’d cleared the plates off his dining table nearly twenty minutes ago. You challenged him to arm-wrestle first.

“Please?” You spread your legs out on his blue persian rug, intent on staying awhile. 

Asa sat across the room from you in the cushioned chair closest to the hall, his hands folded in his lap. The look on his face was growing rather unamused.

“I already said no. Can we move along?”

“Come on, have a little fun.”

His expression grew more dour still.

“You’re drunk. Very drunk. I thought I told you to go easy with the drinking.”

“You, Dr. Emory, are being a total stick in the mud.”

You pestered him about it until he humored you.

He took you by the hand and set your arm up on his nice coffee table which he had cleared delicately of a stag beetle specimen in a spotless glass display.

“Count of three.” You slurred, a smile growing in your eyes, one he didn’t care to return.

“One.”

He adjusted his grip dexterously around your fingers. His arm was bigger than yours by far.

“Two.”

The thick tendons in his wrist jumped out. It would be no contest. You wanted to try anyway. You thought it would be fun.

“Three.”

You fought against his hand with everything you had. You laughed. Asa let you struggle against him for a few moments, regarding you with an utter lack of concern on his face. For all your efforts you couldn’t budge his wrist by a centimeter. 

Then he smashed your hand so quick and hard into the coffee table your knuckles throbbed and you yelled.

The laughter fell from your face like a stone. You jerked in his grip. His hold moved down to your wrist where he held you tightly and didn’t let go. Suddenly, you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Asa, leaning forward, spoke to you very slowly, and made you linger on every syllable, as if you were stupid.

“Are you finished? Shall we move on? Or would you like to go again?”

He squeezed your wrist a bit harder. You could feel the pulse in your arm quickening, throbbing in his grip, which was getting tighter every second.

You let him take you upstairs without suggesting any more games.

In the morning, you hardly remembered the sex, but your hand was bruised. Asa didn’t mention anything to you about it as he got ready for work. It was the last time you had ever been drunk around him.

You jolted awake in the trunk. Your arms burned in a way that sent vicious chills through your extremities. There was a wet stain on the wall where you must have fallen asleep at some point. Resting a hand on the trunk, you stared cautiously through the peephole.

Asa wasn’t there. But the painting that had fallen was back in its place on the wall.

Your stomach sank. You thought some more to try and distract yourself from the pain in your arms and your aching body.

There had been that one night in the park. The night you stayed awake many sleepless hours trying and failing not to remember what you witnessed.

The sunset had dissipated and the only light remaining in the park was what filtered down from the black street lamps towering like spires all along the sidewalk. Asa had touched something on the bench he didn’t like, and had gotten up to wash his hands in the nearby bathroom. 

You watched a pair of moths fluttering around each other near the lamp across the path and noticed someone approaching from the corner of your eye. Assuming it was Asa, you turned to ask him what species he figured they were.

It wasn’t Asa. 

The mugger shoved you forcefully off the park bench. You spilled onto the cold sidewalk, knocking your head on the concrete.

“Give me the fucking wallet.”

The man must have thought you were alone. He wore black jeans and a grey t-shirt. He brandished a short switchblade at you which you stared at with wide terrified eyes. You were shocked to silence, frozen in place.

The mugger made a grab for the wallet in your shaking hands.

And Asa had tackled him from behind with such force that both men went spilling into the grass on the opposite side of the path.

He was back on his feet by the time the mugger was still clambering to his mud-stained knees. You watched Asa’s hand go somewhere beneath his olive jacket as he pulled out a knife you hadn’t known he carried. He flipped it in his grip and held it with the blade angled down toward the grass. His face had become profoundly unreadable. 

His movements dripped with practice and polish as he sized your mugger up. The muscles in his legs were spring-loaded as he stalked back and forth along the grass. Every step had a purpose.

He dove in for a slash across the man’s stomach. You saw blood spray in a wide arc and heard the man make a painful strangled sound. Asa ducked beneath a clumsy swipe for his face, stepping away again. He passed his knife from one hand to the other; now, he was circling the man. Not adjusting his stance. Circling him.

The man lunged at him with a grunt. The switchblade raced for his chest. Asa caught his wrist and slashed him deep across the thigh.

You’d always known his reflexes were astonishingly quick. Once, you dropped your expensive camera while photographing the exhibits at the museum, and he had grabbed it before it hit the ground, lecturing you in a more-or-less jesting manner about getting a lanyard for it as he stood to hand it back to you, an incident which at the time had made your cheeks warm.

Asa planted his shoe squarely in the man’s abdomen and kicked him away hard. The man made a guttural sound as he tumbled back on the grass, gasping for air, and Asa let him clamber to his feet again, still circling. The look on his face was no longer indifference. It was something far more intense.

The man turned, staggering, and tried to run.

Asa was faster. He tackled him again, wrestled him brutally to the sidewalk. The man swung blindly, got lucky in his desperation—and clipped him across the shoulder.

Asa snarled. Not a grunt, it had been a snarl, low and throaty, like an animal.

He slashed violently at the man and his knife flashed sharply in the lamp light. Blood erupted from the cut in a heavy mist. The man fell back on the ground, dropping his own blade, clutching his throat. Asa straddled him on his knees, and grabbed him by the face, wrenching his head up. You heard the crack of the man’s skull meeting the concrete from where you sat.

The man started shouting desperately for help.

You watched Asa raise his knife. His arms and shoulders flexed and strained the sleeves of his jacket. You knew by the look on his face alone that you were about to witness a murder. Before you knew what you were doing, you were yelling at him to stop.

Asa didn’t hear. Or he ignored you.

He drove the knife hard into the man’s stomach.

The man made a wet strangled sound, bringing up his arm to try and block the onslaught, because Asa was already raising his arm again.

He stabbed the same spot. Every stab that followed was faster. The man’s yelling became screaming and you saw Asa’s hand shift to cover his mouth. The man’s muffled screams fell to thin whining. Then ragged wheezing. Then, stopped. 

A cricket chirped beyond the reach of the street lamps. The moths fluttered near the bulb across the path.

Asa straightened up his posture. His nostrils flared heavily with breath. He seemed to take in the gored body on the concrete beneath him, which had gone motionless.

Five seconds hardly passed before he stood, slowly, rising to his full height, carefully side-stepping the body. The man’s blood trickled off the tip of his wet knife and dripped on the concrete next to his black dress shoes. His jacket sleeves and the sides of his charcoal pants across his thighs were stained with long dark swaths. He rolled his shoulders. The breeze tousled his disordered hair.

There had been a few moments you could recall when it really occurred to you how big Asa was.

He wore flattering clothes often, and your eyes were sometimes tempted towards the wide muscles in his chest, but the way he talked to you was very ensnaring, as he always seemed to have something interesting or intelligent or just plain sarcastic in a dry but not-to-be-taken-seriously way to say; so when he spoke, you found it difficult to look anywhere but at his handsome face. You only really witnessed the scope of his strength when you slept with him. The ways he was able to handle you when he wanted made you feel, at times, incredibly vulnerable around him.

Asa had turned his whole body toward you when he considered you where you sat huddled on the sidewalk, reigning in the hot breaths which broadened his chest and spiraled into the chilly night. The man’s blood had gotten on his cheek. You started to shiver. He regarded you with a look that read staggering disapproval, as though this, and what would inevitably follow, was not worth his time, as though it might as well have been your fault, as though he was currently considering very strongly doing something about it later in private.

“You should call the police.”

Before you knew what you were doing or why you were really doing it you scrambled for your phone in your pocket and tapped on the screen with very shaky fingers, “9-1-1.”

The ambulances pulled up to the street corner first followed shortly by two squad cars. Asa stood up slowly from the green park bench to meet them, and you stayed kneeling on the cold sidewalk.

He introduced himself to the officers as Dr. Asa Emory and dealt with their questions very professionally. At one point, he had pulled a neatly folded paper out of his wallet, which the questioning officer took, shined her flashlight at, and returned to him, nodding her head. The story was very apparent: a couple walking in the park had been assaulted at knife-point, and a registered concealed-carry weapon had been used to dispatch the aggressor.

The officers came over to question you. Asa, standing off to the side, removed his bloodied jacket, which he hung neatly over the park bench. He watched you closely. The look on his face was like the prick of a thorn.

You diverted your gaze away from him and nodded at the officer’s questions dumbly, staring at the medical workers as they bagged up the body on the sidewalk. An EMT was called over, who concluded that you were in moderate shock, and that you should go to the hospital.

“I won’t be riding along with you.” Asa was down to his tan sweater, rubbing his newly cleaned fingers together at his side, which he had been given bottles of water to wash off at his request. The indifference on his face didn’t lift as they strapped you down to the gurney.

“The officers have a few more questions, so I’ve agreed to go with them down to the station.”

His words were factual and rhetorical, as if your input on the matter wasn’t at all needed, so you didn’t say anything back to him.

It was the last you heard from him until he showed up in your hospital room several hours later. Your stomach lept a little when the door opened and he came in.

He was wearing a change of clothes, his hair groomed back into place, looking very much the part of respectable Dr. Emory again. He had brought you dinner from the lobby downstairs. 

He sat in the only chair in the room as you picked at the warm mashed potatoes in the black tray, and made conversation about how you were handling things, and if there was anything he could get you, and though it all felt very shallow and obligatory you found yourself playing along as best you could, because sitting in the room alone with him was giving you very obvious goosebumps.

Asa drove you home later that night. You got out of his car without a word, went to your door, and quickly did the lock behind you.

After falling into bed, you were afraid of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it then; you tried to cling tightly to the parts of him you still thought you loved. But from then on, you were, genuinely, afraid of him.

What made it worse, you suspected he saw it, too.

His holds on your wrist when you turned away from him before he had quite finished lecturing you about something very irresponsible or just plain ignorant you had done were firmer. There was the way he moved his jacket occasionally when he shifted his posture, and you caught a glimpse of his holstered knife for a moment too long. And how, when he asked you a question—one to which you didn’t immediately have an answer—he turned all his attention on you, and began to approach you, boxing you in, cutting off your escape, slowly repeating the question. 

He’d known. Without a doubt, he had known.

Sobbing started in the trunk next to you and it jolted you harshly out of your thoughts.

It sounded like a man. A younger man. You tried to talk to him.

“Hello?”

Sudden silence fell. You repeated yourself.

“Is someone there?”

“-Yes.”

The voice came out very quietly. For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what there was to say.

“What’s your name?”

Silence for another moment.

“It’s Noah.”

There was rattling as Noah shifted in his trunk.

Noah told you he’d been taken on a Tuesday. A horrendous sinking feeling settled in your stomach at that.

Tuesday was six days ago. Asa had come back very late that night smelling strongly of disinfectant and nitrile, as he did sometimes. You figured he'd stayed past closing hours at work for something important but asked him about it anyway, in the name of making casual conversation, an occurrence which had been growing steadily more reclusive between the two of you. His response had been clipped and curt. You didn’t ask him any more about it.

Noah seemed to hear Asa coming down the hall before you did.

“Stop. Stop talking.” His voice was suddenly desperate, laced with terror. “He’s coming back. He’s coming back. Please don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”

But that wasn’t part of the plan.

The locks clicked open on the other side of the black door.

You started pleading at him with your raw hoarse voice the second he stepped into the room.

“Asa, please! You know I didn’t tell anyone! I’ll do anything you want, you know I will! Asa, please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. Please let me out. Please clean my arms before they get infected. Please don’t hurt me anymore.

He shoved your trunk so violently as he walked past that your head knocked against the wood and everything went dizzy for a moment.

Through the airhole, through your fresh, blurry tears, you watched him squat down, and unlock the brown trunk next to yours, the one the young man was in.

Noah couldn’t have been older than his early twenties but his face was exhausted and gaunt. His shirt was gone and his red sweatpants were soaked through with sweat or something else. The shackles around his wrists and ankles rattled as Asa’s arm darted into the trunk.

He wrenched the young man out by his tangled brown hair. Noah made an anguished sound, but didn’t struggle much as Asa hauled him swiftly towards the operating table. 

It occurred to you then what Asa had drilled the peephole in your trunk for. 

The young man begged desperate things while Asa locked his shackled wrists and ankles down to the fixtures on the table. No. Not again. Stop. Please don’t do it again. You looked closer, noticing the long row of stitches running down his side, the skin around them still red and puffy, and thought you might be sick.

Asa grabbed him roughly by the face, and leaned in very close, settling his hand on his bare abdomen. He said something next to Noah’s head too quiet for you to overhear. Noah’s chest heaved rapidly. Asa stood again, and gave the side of his ribs a light stroke before he walked away.

The young man on the table had paled fast. He lay staring at the ceiling with huge unblinking eyes, trembling, looking very much in shock at what he had just heard.

Asa took his time choosing the surgical tools from his cabinets. You watched him prepare the room, too afraid to look away. Maybe it was all a bluff. Please god let it be a bluff. He laid out two separate trays on the stainless-steel countertops, putting his tools in one, and set an extra out near the sink.

It wasn’t a bluff.

Noah was very awake when Asa began to cut his chest open. 

His body obscured your view of the table but you knew the exact moment the scalpel sank in because the young man made a horrible screeching noise and began thrashing violently in his chains in a huge clamor. His body seized and his eyes rolled back in his head. He seemed to try to vomit; nothing came out. 

Asa did not carry out his work hastily. Finished with the bloodied scalpel, he set it in the tray adjacent to his clean tools. When he turned away from the counter, you glimpsed his face.

The look of steady concentration he wore was no different from the times he’d let you watch him process an important specimen or sketch or paint. He clamped Noah’s skin back with pairs of forceps, and peeled off his wet black gloves, beneath which he was already wearing a fresh pair.

You took in the sight on the table while Asa went to the corner of the room to discard the gloves. Noah’s wet red ribs glistened beneath the long hanging lights and you could smell the slippery viscera from where you sat. You watched them expand as his lungs inflated with tortured breath, which was no longer anything but a bloody gurgling deep in his throat.

Asa came back, going next for the surgical pliers, ghosting his hand along his options until he seemed to settle on the proper one. When he looked up, pliers in hand, he was deliberately, unmistakably, casting his gaze across the room at your trunk. As if to make sure you were still watching.

Your heart nearly stopped. Air wouldn’t come in.

Then he returned to his work and started clipping Noah’s ribs off.

You could hear the bone snapping every time. The young man passed out more than twice on the table and that was the only time there was silence in the room.

Asa deposited the rib clippings in a third tray, and went to wash them free of blood and tissue in the steel sink while the near-corpse on the table made awful rattling noises, struggling to breathe; Noah seemed to be watching Asa, too, trying at least, but the immensity of his struggle had burst capillaries in his eyes.

Asa laid the ribs out on a pristine white cloth, organizing them from shortest to longest, toweling them individually off, and went about measuring them lengthwise with a yellow tape, then again around their circumference. He placed them gently in a bin, sealed the lid tight, went for a pen, and wrote something in his neat handwriting on the label.

You watched him take a curved needle and load it carefully with fine black suturing thread pinched delicately between his finger and thumb. Noah screamed and squirmed weakly with all he had left as it went in, which wasn’t much at all. Asa pulled the needle in and out, bringing his skin back together until his gaping chest was shut again.

The young man was still alive when Asa hauled him back into the trunk, a fresh row of black knots holding his ruined flesh closed.

Or at least he was still twitching, blinking, drawing shuddering agonized breaths through his wide-open mouth from which there ran an endless trickle of saliva and blood. The bottom of his stitched-shut chest was concave where his lower ribs used to be. He didn’t look like he’d live another hour. You hoped he wouldn’t.

Asa shut the lid and did the latches.

He went back to the counter for the ribs, taking an indirect path around the table, which carried him right towards you. You scrambled back from him as fast you could. The trunk didn’t let you get very far. You felt his fingers rap along the lid from one side to the other and couldn’t choke back your broken sound.

He left through the heavy door, doing up all the locks, and this time, you heeded Noah’s advice. Your mouth stayed utterly, obediently, shut.

After a few minutes of hopeless wheezing, Noah fell silent in the brown trunk, and never made another sound after that.

[naranciasimp]

hey! could i request a prosciutto x female reader scenario where she comes back from a mission clearly hurt and panicked, and is afraid that her crush, prosciutto, is going to scold her so she tries to hide it and fake being well (while not being very good at it)

lots of fluff in the end pros takes care of her.. feel freed to add some things if you want to

I Could Never Be Mad At You

AN: This is probably the longest fanfic I have ever written. This ended up being more of a La Squadra x Reader than just Prosciutto but I hope you like it! Under the cut for length. 

You opened the door to La Squadra’s hidden base as quietly as you could. You poked your head around the door to make sure no one was there. Luckily it seemed as though everyone was doing their own thing.

You stumbled through the door while holding your side. You do not know how this happened. You were always so good on missions. You took down enemies left and right. Even Risotto was impressed by your skill.

Sadly, today was the day your winning streak came to an end. You didn’t kill your target, he got away. You felt guilty and nervous. This was going to set the whole team back a pay check, Risotto would have to go out of his way to clean up the mess you made and the other members would probably hate you for at least a month. The one thing you were most scared about was Prosciutto scolding you. You had a feeling he was going to extremely be disappointed and that was the last thing you wanted.

The pain you felt was insane. Everything hurt and you felt like you were on the verge of passing out. You just needed to make it to your room. You kept a secret med kit in there for situations like this.

After stumbling around you finally made it to the door of your room. You reached out to open it when someone appeared behind you. It was Pesci.

“Oh Y/N! You’re back. I didn’t even hear you come in,” he said in a happy tone. From where he was standing he couldn’t see the wounds on your body.

You hummed in response hoping that would be enough for him to leave you alone. You always talked to Pesci. Out of all of La Squadra you were by far the nicest to the boy.

Pesci could tell something was wrong when you didn’t face him with a bright smile like you normally do. “Y/N? Are you ok?”

The room began to go black. You could feel yourself losing consciousness. Before you could respond you felt your head fall back with the rest of your body.

Pesci quickly caught you before you hit the ground. He immediately saw the huge amount of blood covering your stomach. Your arms and legs were covered in gashes. Your head was bleeding and you had a black eye.

Pesci screamed at the sight of your unconscious, bloody, body in his hands. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound.

“Don’t…. tell….. Prosci-” Those were your last words before you passed out again. Of course that didn’t matter now. Pesci screamed and when something happened to him Prosciutto was always the first to show up.

Prosciutto ran to you both. “What happened,” he yelled. He saw Pesci holding what looked to be a girls body.

Pesci face was pale and it looked the most frightened Prosciutto had seen. “Fratello! Help!” Pesci moved so his brother could see what happened.

Prosciutto felt his heart stop. He was a man who stayed calm under pressure, the man who always had a plan, one of the best gang members Passione had ever seen. In this type of situation he would just yell at whoever got hurt to step up their game, patch up their wounds and hand them over to Melone so he could handle the rest. He would later come in to apologize for yelling, tell them he was proud of them and all of that other good stuff.

Now was different. Now it was you. His one weakness. The woman who he would do anything for. The one person he cared about the most.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Pesci stay with her!” Prosciutto ran off to grab one of the medical kits.

“It’s gonna be okay Y/N just stay with us,” Pesci said. He was trying to be brave but the worry in his voice was clear. Prosciutto showed up again. He opened the door to your room and threw the med kit inside.

“Come on Pesci grab her feet, we’re going to put her on her bed.” The two boys easily carried you into your room and gently placed you down.

Prosciutto opened the medical kit and ordered Pesci to go tell Melone what happened. Once the younger boy left Prosciutto began to take off your clothes. He hoped one day he would see you undressed but he did not want it to be like this. Your unconscious body still laid on the bed now in just a bra and underwear.

Now that you were undressed Prosciutto could see all of the wounds you received. The most concerning one was on your stomach. You had been stabbed by something and by the looks of it you opened the wound more by moving.

Prosciutto was not the healer of the team by any means. He knew how to fix simple wounds and he was better at it then others but he didn’t even know where to begin with your wound.

Thankfully Melone was here at base today. He ran to the room with more medical supplies. “Move out of the way,” Melone ordered. Prosciutto did what he asked.

He began to get to work on your wound. Your injury brought a lot more attention to yourself then you would’ve liked. Soon enough the whole entire team was inside the room. There was lots of What happened? Is she ok? And many swear words beginning used.

“Everyone shut up! Risotto and Prosciutto stay here, the rest of you get out now,” Melone shouted. He was never one to lose his temper, that was Ghiaccio’s job. The more La Squadra yelled the more nervous Melone got, he did not want shaky hands while trying to keep you alive.

The whole room went silent and Melone continued his work. Everyone he ordered to leave left. They all sat outside your door waiting until they could come back in. Their “whispering” was incredibly loud but they were really trying their best to behave well.

Melone called Risotto over. “Try to see if you can stop all the iron from leaving her body.” The leader did as he was asked and activated his Stand. Prosciutto stood in the corner of the room waiting for commands from Melone, Risotto used his stand until the purple haired man was finally able to sew up the wound. 

After many hours the job was finally completed. Your body was cleaned of dried blood and all the cuts were bandaged up. Risotto slipped off his coat and very gently moved you into it. He had a feeling you would be upset if you woke up and were indecent. Melone cleaned up the room and put away the remaining medical supplies.

Risotto, Melone and Prosciutto left the room. They walked into the hallway and saw all the other men at their feet. They all stood up and faced Melone.

“Y/N is still unconscious. She was badly injured on her mission but we do not know how. Once she wakes we will figure out what happened. For now she just needs to rest. I fixed her up better than any doctor could, I promise you all she’ll be fine.”

The men all let out a sigh in relief. “Can we go see her,” Formaggio asked.

Melone shrugged. “I need to watch over her for the night to make sure nothing bad happens. If you wanted to I suppose you could stay in the room too. But you must be quiet.”

“I’ll spend the night with her too,” Prosciutto said. There was no way he was going to leave you alone in your current state.

“Ok! Does anyone else want to stay with us,” Melone asked.

“I do,” the whole group said in unison. They might be a group of deadly assassins but there was no denying how much they loved and cared for their teammates.

Melone let out a small laugh. “I’m afraid the room is too small for that.” Seems like Melone forget his friends are stubborn as all hell and don’t take no for an answer.

So everyone stuffed themselves into the room. Most of them laid on the floor. Only ones in chairs were Melone, Prosciutto and Risotto. Everyone tried their best to stay awake but it was so late at night and the stress had token a lot out of them. Even the three boys in chairs were beginning to get sleepy. Eventually everyone fell asleep except for Prosciutto. One of the most lovable qualities about Prosciutto is his will power. For a split second he heard a whine that sounded like yours. His eyes snapped open and he jumped out of his chair. He ran to your bedside.

“Y/N? Y/N are you awake,” Prosciutto asked desperately. There was no response. He felt tears prick his eyes. Was he really so in love with you that now he’s hearing your voice in his head?

“Where….. where am I,” you asked in a weak voice. The biggest smile appeared on Prosciutto face. You were alive, you were ok. “Your awake….” he cried loudly.

At the sound of the sudden commotion the whole team woke up. Illuso turned on the lamp next to him. “What the hell is going on?”

“Di Molto she’s ok,” Melone exclaimed. He ran up next to you. The rest of the team sprung up along with him to come see you.

“Don’t scare us like that,” Ghiaccio said. The whole team was very happy to see you awake. They began asking you questions left and right and trying to talk to you.

Prosciutto noticed how confused you looked. “Everyone get out. Y/N needs some time to collect her bearings.”

The whole team grumbled but did as they were told. “Feel better Y/N,” you heard Formaggio yell before he got the door slammed on him.

You tried to sit up but Prosciutto quickly stopped you. “Don’t do that, you could hurt yourself more.”

You hummed and refused to look him in the eyes. This was so embarrassing. You got so hurt you passed out and caused all of your friends to worry about you.

“Y/N, what happened on the mission,” Prosciutto finally asked.

“There was a Stand User and a group of men with him. His Stand nullified all Stand attacks. I just had to fight with my fists. They all had knives...”

Prosciutto sighed. It was no secret that you were the weakest of the group physically. You could handle one person of your size but nothing else. He should’ve been the one to go on that mission. Prosciutto was fairly strong and had perfect aim with his gun, if he was on the mission it would’ve been finished in no time.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know you tried your best. From now on we’ll always send you out with a partner. You can be with me and Pesci, no one will hurt you then. At least those fucking bastards are killed now.”

You gulped. “A-about that….” You felt tears forming in your eyes. “I failed the mission, I couldn’t kill the target.”

Prosciutto eyes went wide. What? How did you fail a mission? That’s never happened and he was sure it never would. “Are you saying that those men who hurt you are still out there alive?”

You sadly nodded. “Prosciutto please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to the team and you.”

He patted your head. “Dolcezza, I’m not mad at you.” He gave you a loving smile and kissed your cheek. “I’ll be right back, stay here.”

The nickname and the kiss left you too flustered to do anything. Your crush just kissed you and acted like it was nothing!

While you flipped out over the kiss Prosciutto was angrily stomping to the main room. He slammed open the door. The boys looked to him and asked what happened.

“Their still alive. Y/N couldn’t finish the mission. The sick assholes who hurt my girl are still out there. Get them.”

The team usually takes their orders from Risotto. Prosciutto has never sent anyone on a mission. Right now though things were different.

Risotto stood up. “I’ll go.” Ghiaccio stood up too. “I’m coming with you. I don’t want any of those mother fuckers to be alive by the end of the night.”

Prosciutto was very happy that those two men were going. He knew they would give the target what they deserved. The blond headed back to your room and the other members waited for their turn to see you.

He saw you crying. “No no, don’t cry Bella. I promise you no one is upset with you.”

You choked on your sobs. “But I heard yelling and doors slamming.”

He grabbed your hand and gently rubbed it. “They were just excited to get their revenge on the people who hurt you, that’s all.”

Prosciutto had never been this gentle with anyone ever. He was treating you like a glass that could be broken at any minute.

You couldn’t fight the blush that was creeping onto your face. Prosciutto noticed it and gave you another kiss. “I’m very proud of you Y/N, as a teammate and as your lover.” For the rest of the night Prosciutto never once left your side. He was going to be there for you no matter what.

[a-glimpse-of-fantasy]

Moments

This is a work done together with @03patrickstar ^^

⚠️ This story takes after the final episode of Duskwood. So if you haven't finished the game first, this story contains heavy spoilers.

Summary: It has been almost three years since Jake disappeared without a trace. Everyone went back to their normal lives, and so did Faye. She did her best to forget about him, forget her love for him. But it all changes when Jake comes back. How was he suddenly able to come back to her? What secrets was he keeping from her?

⚠️Warnings: Violence, Child abuse.

Previous chapter

***

Chapter 5 - The Deceiver and The Deceived

“It will be alright! Just stay still!”

“M-mom?” The little boy trembled under the devil’s grasp. His tiny hands were handcuffed. His wrists burned, full of bruises. Fresh blood dried over dried, darkened stains. They did not appear akin to an ordinary five-year-old child’s hands. 

Clapping the calloused, tiny hands together, he begged. “Mom pl-please! I was wrong! I-I’m so-”

“SHUT UP!” a slender-looking hand flumped across the boy’s swollen cheeks. The nearly closed crack on chapped lips tore apart yet again. The boy cried in pain, though muffled his tiny mouth with desperate hands, belatedly. 

It was too late.

Another slap caused his ears to ring. Thrown over the floor, the ruffled black hair grazed on the cold ground before his head. 

“SHUT UP! I SAID SHUT UP!” The woman grabbed the boy by the back of his head, grabbing him closer. “You monster!” She uttered, in a daze. Was she even talking to him? “You are the problem! You MONSTER! YOU CURSED MONSTER!” she yelled, roughly throwing him on the floor once again.

The little boy hit his head on the wall. Why didn’t he die? Maybe he had to suffer even more.

A blurry image of his furious mother was engraved inside his heart that day. She was wearing thick make-up. Black stains of eyeliner under her bloodshot eyes, droplets of blood over the bright red lipstick, and the sunken cheeks did not scare him anymore.

Ha…how he wished to get out of that hell.

That his mother would look at him with loving eyes and call his name affectionately.

The woman suddenly smiled at him. Honestly, the little boy’s heart thumped with hope. The long fingernails grazed over the cornflower-coloured eyes as the woman gently wiped the tears away. 

“My child. I always knew you were innocent.” She bent over and kissed his forehead. The boy’s heart lightened. The heavily bruised tiny lips curved up. 

Oh. Finally. Mother loves me, finally.

A warm tear flowed through the cornflower blue eye, stinging the skin beneath.

The woman deepened her smile, “However,” clenching the tiny chin in her wicked hand. Nails dug into the pale skin, drawing out droplets of blood.  

The little boy clenched his petite jaw, not letting a moan flow out. “These eyes! These eyes are the problem!” 

Her thumb stabbed the left eye. If he hadn’t closed his eyes at the moment…

“OPEN YOUR EYES! YOU DEVIL! I HAVE TO DIG OUT THOSE EYES!” Continuously slapping his cheeks, the woman screamed. “GIVE MY SON BACK! GIVE MY HUSBAND BACK! YOU DEVIL!”

Fighting hard to keep his eyes closed, the little boy scratched the woman’s slender arms unconsciously. Feel of a sharp pain, caused the woman to push him hard. The petite body of the boy fell hard on the cold floor, his bones crushed painfully.

Yet again, the boy survived.

He definitely owned more sufferings.

He couldn’t die yet.

Not yet.

…

An unfamiliar ceiling welcomed him as he opened his eyes. His eyes stung, burning hot as he rubbed a hand over them roughly. Warm tear drops were wiped away, staining the cold hand. 

Right. I moved places.

The man exhaled loudly.

3.12 am

Noticing a text, he unlocked the phone.

-How did things go? Did the target take the bait?

Target. Bait. 

The man scoffed. To be honest, he was tired. Too tired to even lift a finger. Yet he had no choice but to do this. A job is a job after all.

-Call me as soon as you can. Doesn’t matter what time.

Licking his dry lips, the man placed the phone on his ear. Still lying on the bed, he listened to the ringing sounds in a daze.

[...]

“She wants to cut ties.”

[That’s not possible. Do whatever you need to.]

“...”

[This is our only chance. Do you know that three foreign countries are in search of him as well? We can’t let him off the hook this time. Use the girl to lure him out.]

“Why does it have to be me? I’m not an undercover agent, Maddie.” He asked, resentment mixed in the cold voice.

[Why are you mentioning this again? I thought we were done on this topic.]

Clenching his jaw, the man uttered no word. The woman sighed loudly, audible through the call.

[Choosing the wrong side. That was your mistake. Anyway, do whatever. We only care for the end result. We can’t make another mistake.]

“That’s why you should’ve used a pro.” the man hissed.

[You were his beloved friend. You know him better than anyone. Not to mention your looks. Even your aura. You’re the best person for this job.]

He scoffed, bewildered at her brazenness.

[Did she get fooled?]

“...think so.”

[Then that’s better. Just stay near her at all times. Wag your tail or something, if she has a soft spot for him, she’d definitely open up.]

He tossed the phone away without another word.

“By the way, your eyes are beautiful. Really.” 

His frozen heart thumped. The eyes that received so much hatred, she called them beautiful. 

She must have a weird taste.

Kyle scoffed.

He was supposed to use this woman to capture that guy. A government wanted hacker, who had been a headache to them for such a long time.

Jake.

-To be Continued.

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