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frostfireft · 3 years

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Can we have more Bickslow headcannons? And maybe Evergreen, Freed, and Lexus too?

Fuck yeah you can! I’m gonna start with a lot of angst and then move into their dynamics as a team. (this got REALLY long but I’m not sorry)

-I gave you all my HC for Freed’s backstory in my last post and mentioned that Freed is the reason that Bickslow and Evergreen joined the guild, so have both their backstories too!

-Bickslow grew up in a travelling circus with several other child performers. It wasn’t exactly a nice environment. There were lots of issues and safety hazards and abuse going on behind the scenes, but they were forced to keep smiling and performing through it all.

-Bickslow was especially targeted by the ringmaster because of his magic allowing him to look into people’s souls. The ringmaster is the one who forced him to wear a helmet when he wasn’t using his ability on the crowd for money.

-Because of that, he only had five friends back then, all children younger than he was, who looked up to him both for his tricks and the fact that no matter how upset he was, he had a smile for them.

-one day the tent caught fire during a practice. Bickslow was the only one to make it out alive.

-but considering all the traumatic events they went through, most of the children kept there weren’t able to move on, and their spirits lingered in the area... Except for the five kids who were most fond of Bickslow. They stayed near him and talked to him all the time, especially once they realized he could see them. You still have a soul as a spirit after all.

-the town he was in began to think he was crazy because he was “talking to the air” all the time, and they would continuously call child services to try and take him to an orphanage. The five spirits however, would warn him before they could, and Bickslow used his years of acrobatics skills to stay away from anyone who tried to move him away from where the circus burned down. It may have been a place of trauma, but there were good memories too, and it’s all he had.

-So the town tried one last gamble. Who better to adopt a child with mysterious magic that Fairy Tail?

-And Makarov, in an attempt to get Laxus to be more social, decided to send him and Freed.

-It went about as well as you’d expect. Laxus tried to fight him while Freed did research on the area and what happened to him.

-Laxus didn’t have as much control over his magic as he thought he did at that age, and Bickslow was kicking his ass before Freed showed up and trapped him so they could talk.

-Freed shared his story with him and offered the same thing Laxus once offered him: a home.

-Bickslow cracked soon after that, and told them everything after Freed started asking questions about the town thinking he’s crazy while they were on the train back to magnolia.

-While many members of Fairy Tail were unnerved by him, those around their age did their best to make him feel at home. Natsu listened to all his stories about the circus and about the five ghosts who followed him, and Bickslow listened to his stories about the dragons.

-Freed used this time to research Seith magic extensively, and he eventually came across the idea of putting the souls into objects. He and Bickslow worked for weeks to figure out how to do it, and the five spirits became his five main “dolls.”

-He of course, asked them if they were okay with being alongside him before putting them inside the tiki dolls, and if he cried when they said there was nowhere else they’d rather be? Well Freed and Laxus weren’t going to tell anyone about it.

-Evergreen was both harder and easier to get back to Fairy Tail.

-Like Freed, She was once a part of the noble class, but under a name she never wants to use again.

-When she gained her eye magic, she accidentally turned her mother to stone, and it was all downhill from there. Her father tried to keep her locked in a room, and it worked for a long time.

-Eventually though, she had decided she’d had enough, and snuck out and ran as far away as she could. She kept a ribbon tied around her eyes any time she had to go into town, and learned how to walk while completely blind. This did some damage to her eyesight after several years of doing it.

-it felt like it was too good to be true. She was free and she did odd little jobs in a town far from her original home to earn money for food. it was all she needed..... Until a child tore the ribbon from her face.

-the second she made eye contact, the little boy turned to stone. There was nothing she could do about it except cover her face up again and run.

-her father, however, had notified several guilds about her disappearance and claimed she was dangerous if left alone, so when stories spread about a homeless child turning a boy to stone, it became their first lead in months.

-there was a lull in fighting missions at the time, and something about her magic intrigued Freed. It was an eye magic like his and Bickslow’s first magics, and they aren’t exactly common. Freed, Laxus, and Bickslow took it upon themselves to take the mission to bring her home.

-She very quickly figured out how to hide herself in the woods and away from people. Freed had to trap the entire area and make it so that eye magics don’t work within his barriers before they could even get close to her. It took almost a month.

-And much to their surprise, she was nothing like what they were expecting. After all, they were supposed to be hunting down a nobleman’s son, not a daughter.

-Bickslow almost immediately asks her about why she ran away, and Ever looks up at him- then panics as she slams her eyes shut- but he doesn’t turn to stone because of Freed’s runes, and he explains as such.

-They have a long conversation about why she ran away, and she tells them everything her father did to her, from being locked in her room to being terrified to tell him she’s his daughter and not his son because of his anger issues.

-They realize then and there they can’t give her back to him, and Freed comes up with the plan to tell him that they didn’t find his son, but rather a random girl with a similar magic, and she can join Fairy Tail instead of staying on the run.

-The only reason she doesn’t agree immediatly is because of her eye magic. She couldn’t control it, and the idea of turning someone to stone again scared her.

-Freed sent Laxus to buy a pair of glasses without a prescription and a nice dress for her to wear, and he etches runes into the glasses to block her eye magic when they’re on.

-She’s sold from that moment on, and the raijinshuu’s friendship is sealed with that secret.

-Laxus helps her chose her name before they get onto the train, and they solidify the story before then too

-Makarov Accepts the story without question, even though they have a sneaking suspicion he knows.

-They become a tight knit group in no time.

-Then they learn about Ivan and all he did to Laxus, and they start to jokingly refer to themselves as the Laxus protection squad. It’s a lot less of a joke when Ivan’s actually around though, and the guild definitely notices. Makarov even starts to officially call them that in some reports.

-No one remembers who suggested the name “raijinshuu,” but they all privately agree it’s dumb. Especially since it insinuates that Laxus is the team leader. Freed’s the captain of their team for a reason.

-Dispite the fact that Bickslow is the tallest of them, both Laxus and Freed are both physically stronger than him. That’s not to say he isn’t strong, but Laxus can carry freakish amounts of weight due to his slayer biology, and Freed does the same due to his demon biology.

-Freed can carry all of them at once. No one knows how.

-Freed puts new runes on Ever’s glasses every time she gets new frames or a new prescription. He knows she doesn’t need it anymore, but she’s always grateful for the option.

-if they share a bed, Freed and Ever cannot sleep next to each other. Their hair tangles together and they’ve only had to make that mistake once.

-Ever and Bickslow are not under any circumstances allowed to cook, Freed can make fancy meals, and Laxus makes homemade stuff that would make your mouth water. He also stress bakes in secret at four am.

-That’s how they always know he’s stressed when he doesn’t tell them. It’s kind of hard to miss 6 batches of cookies that spontaneously appeared overnight

-Freed has an unsharpened rapier that feels like getting hit with a slap bracelet at full speed. Naturally, this is the sword he chases Bickslow with when he pisses him off.

-Laxus likes to pretend he’s one of the smartest members of the guild, but the raijinshuu knows he’s actually kind of a himbo.

-Bickslow is really close friends with Loke, and when he noticed the man was dying slowly, the others comforted him despite not knowing what was going on.

-Bickslow often helps ghosts pass on from the mortal plane.

-Evergreen keeps up with all the latest fashion, but she still considers Freed to be more fashionable. Because of this she always double checks her outfits with him.

-Evergreen’s always the first to sass someone when they’re being rude to her team. It’s earned her her reputation as a “bitch” but she’s far too proud of it to be offended.

-One Laxus was open about his dragon slayer magic, they pushed him to talk to the other slayers to learn about himself and his magic. Freed and Bickslow pushed the hardest though, since they’re friends with Natsu and knew that he would be all too willing to drag Laxus into his little family of dragon slayers.

-Laxus was much happier oncce he accepted that he was more dragon that human anyways, and the more he learned, the happier he was.

-In case it wasn’t clear: mtf Trans!Ever (she/her exclusively), he/they Freed, and wtf is gender, is it a food?” Laxus and Bickslow (any pronouns).

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #bickslow #evergreen fairy tail #Laxus Dreyar #freed justine #the raijinshuu #trans evergreen #enby Freed #Gender ? Laxus #Gender ? Bickslow #it's kinda angsty #but there's som esoft headcanons at the bottom!#I'll do more soft headcanons if anyone wants them #<3 #frost speaks

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harryspet · 4 years

Text

rogue angel [2] bucky barnes

[Warnings] darky bucky barnes x reader, noncon forced aged regression, daddy bucky, dd lg dynamic, ab dl dynamic, very light bondage, drugging, angst

A/N: I got a wayyy better response on the first chapter than I expected! Thank you all so much for reading! I guess I would call this chapter more of a filler with the reader just adjusting to her new life.

In which someone actually starts to care for you.

series masterlist

word count: 2.9k

You were strapped to a table, serums of their making pumping into your body, a contraption attached to your head designed to send electric waves through your skin. You screamed for hours. Why didn’t you stop screaming? It never helped. It never made them stop the pain. Perhaps it was because your mind was so empty.

You sat up straight, startled, at the memory. That’s when you realized Bucky’s hands were undoing the gag around your mouth, “I’ve got ya, angel,” You heard him say, finally able to close your lips together. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried you upstairs and ran a bath for you until you were actually sitting in the tub.

It wasn’t the being naked that frightened you, it was the soothing hand on your back and fingers rubbing soap into your skin. The traumatizing memory had taken you away for a moment but now you were back in reality, where something even worse was happening.

You had wet yourself in front of him and, like you were a child, he had cleaned you up. You couldn’t remember what it was like to be a child, you only knew what they had taught you about youth. In your opinion, the milestones seemed a bit boring, something you didn’t mind skipping. What use would pink overalls and bubble baths be to Hydra?

It wasn’t like you had much choice when Bucky brought the washcloth between your legs, you had much control over them as a baby doe.

“Is your arm waterproof?” You asked, your curiosity striking you.

Bucky chuckled, “For the most part, yes, but I try not to shower with it.” You nodded and had a feeling that Bucky was just happy that you were interacting with him in any capacity.

“What … what are you going to do to me here?” There had to be other reasons why he was keeping you in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

That wouldn’t be your name. No matter how much he said it, it would never belong to you.

“But you want to turn me against them? Like Steve Rogers did to you?” Bucky pressed the cloth against your shoulder, swiping down your arm. The soap smelled like warm vanilla and, you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it.

“Steve and I already had an emotional connection, we were friends. That’s what helped me realize their lies. You don’t have any ties so I thought I could help build you one, with me.”

With him. As your Daddy.

Maybe you could pretend, you thought. As soon as his guard was down, you could make a move, “I’ve never needed anyone.”

“It’s not a bad thing to need someone,” Bucky spoke earnestly but you only rolled your eyes.

You didn’t protest when he lifted you from the tub or when he held your body as he dried every inch of your skin. Your teeth were gritted the entire time but your current plan was to comply and cause him to let his guard down. Even Bucky seemed surprised that you weren’t fighting him.

He carried you from the bathroom into your “new room” which you didn’t get a chance to fully take in before. The walls and the furniture were both white but everything else seemed to be full of pastels. There was a bed fit with light pink sheets, mint green pillows, and lots of stuffed animals. A toy chest sat beneath the window and a giant, oversized rabbit sat right next to it.

It was eerily calm in the room and you could see the last shreds of sunlight coming in through the white curtains on the windows. He set you gently on the twin bed and you watched as he crossed the plush white carpet towards a large white armoire. Your eyes widened as it opened, revealing a rainbow assortment of clothes.

You took a wild guess and assumed they were all in your size. How long had he been planning this?

“What’s your favorite color, angel?” You met his blue eyes and found a soft expression on his face. You thought for a moment before shrugging. You hadn’t thought about it nor did you think it really mattered. He continued, “Hmmm, unicorns or spaceships?”

He held out the options for you to see and you winced, “Why can’t I wear normal clothes?”

“You’re too small for big girl clothes,” He spoke, making the decision for you. Spaceships it was.

“I am a-” You stopped yourself. You could do it, you told yourself.

You let him slip the onesie over your head which was white and had little planets and spaceships printed on it. He urged you to lay down flat and that was when he reached into a drawer beneath a bed. As soon as you saw it, your plan went out the window, “No, no, I’m not wearing that!” You stared at the pink pull-up he’d grabbed, “I’m not a baby, you fu-”

He pinned your hands down above your head and you desperately tried to move your legs, “What if you have another accident?” He continued, slipping one of your feet into one of the holes.

“Please,” Bucky paused, and even you hadn’t expected the word to leave your mouth, “I won’t have another one.”

“Say ‘Please, Daddy’” You scowled at him, “It’s hard for me to listen when you don’t address me properly, angel.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before swallowing the small shred of pride you had left, “P-Please … D-Daddy,” You stuttered out.

Bucky smiled, the hand that wasn’t pinning your arm was rubbing your legs soothingly, “Good girl, angel, now ask Daddy for what you want. Use your big girl words.”

“Can I … Can I please wear regular-”

“Big girl panties,” He interjected, correcting you.

You gritted your teeth, “Can I please wear big girl panties ... “ He waited patiently, knowing the word was on the tip of your tongue, “Daddy?”

Bucky smirked, loving the name on your lips, “How about this, angel?” You struggled as he continued to slide it on you, “If you eat all of your dinner and you keep this dry all night, I’ll let you wear big girl panties. I’ll even let you pick the pair.”

Clearly, he hadn’t completely gotten rid of his sadistic side when he left Hydra. You felt that as soon as he buttoned the onesie closed.

You hated him but you had to admit he was smart. You couldn’t refuse to eat or you’d risk further embarrassment tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was starting to sink in that you’d be here for a while.

After he’d put the clothes on you, he’d brushed out your hair, tying it back for you. His movements were a little clumsy but you could feel his happiness as he accomplished each task. It seemed like he had been practicing.

He was even more excited to present you with a small, bear plushie that he thought would bring you comfort.

He brought you down to the living room, setting you on the plush couch before ordering you to sit still while he went to retrieve something. Something he wanted to show you. As he walked out of the room, you looked around, noting the coziness of the room but also the locks on every window.

You were mapping it out when suddenly heard the subtle sound of nails scratching against the floor. A dog ran into the room, jumping onto the couch and attacking you with a lick to the face, “Y/N, meet Archer,” You were unsure of how to interact with the creature for a moment until you decided to brush behind his ears. The husky dog seemed to like it, nuzzling further into you.

You couldn’t remember ever petting a dog before and you had no idea they could be so … friendly. Archer seemed to already love you as he continuously lapped at your face.

Bucky could see you letting your wall down and, deciding not to interrupt that, he left to start on dinner. He figured Archer would keep you busy and also let him know if you tried to escape.

When dinner was almost read, Bucky walked back into the living room to find you sitting on the living room carpet, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal. Archer easily ripped off the bear’s head and you giggled … Bucky actually heard you giggle.

“Bad dog, Archie,” He scolded the dog as Archer dropped the bear’s head into Bucky’s hand obediently, “We don’t chew on Y/N’s toys.”

“No, look, he likes it!” You protested, insisting that Archer get to destroy the rest of the toy, handing archer the rest of the bear. You clapped your hands as Archer ran around the living room, shaking it in his mouth.

Bucky sighed, figuring he could try to tame an assassin but he couldn’t stop her from liking to watch things be dismembered.

“Alright, dinner time,” Bucky lifted you from the carpet, carrying you into the kitchen, Archer in tow. He helped you wash your hands before sitting you down in your seat at the dining table. You were like a little doll, helpless but it didn’t seem like Bucky mined doing every little thing for you.

You and Bucky were eating the same meal but his plate looked vastly different than yours. Your plate was flower printed and was separated into sections. Your steak was cut up into already tiny pieces and your fork was barely sharp enough to pick up your food. And then there was the dreaded sippy cup that he expected you to drink from.

You held your fork, staring at the plate as Bucky started to cut his own steak, “Big girl panties,” Bucky winked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth, “Remember? You have to eat all of it. I know you’re starving.”

Whatever leverage Bucky he could get, he used. He had to get her used to eating regularly and not using it as a way to protest.

You poked at your broccoli before bringing a piece to your mouth, “Good job, angel,” He praised you as you continued to eat. You were starving and this is exactly what your body was craving. You finished your plate faster than either of you expected and Bucky asked, “Do you want more?”

You immediately shook your head even though it was far from the truth.

Bucky could tell you were lying and you flashed him a look of surprise as he slid the rest of his food onto your plate, cutting up the steak into small pieces for you, “Eat some more,” He told you and you lifted your fork again.

It confused you, why he even cared about you. No matter how sinister his intentions might be, you found it was strange that he showed you even a little bit of compassion.

Bucky watched you as you finished the rest of the food and he was satisfied when you cleaned your plate again. Thinking about the condition he found you in, he figured that you hadn’t been eating much since you were forced to abandon Hydra.

He understood the mental battle you were going through right now and he was expecting it would be a while before you slipped into little space but he’d be patient.

Bucky watched from the doorway as you played with Archie on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to already have him better trained than Bucky ever did. Bucky noticed the less he interfered, the more you seemed to slip into things. He even noticed you sipping at your sippy cup and, as your actions grew lazier, he knew the sedative was kicking in.

He had to get you a sleeping schedule as well. You’d fall into things better with patterns. Consistency was another thing that made humans feel safe.

Your eyes felt heavy as you laid down on the carpet. Everything in this house was so … soft. Archie pranced over to you, licking at your chin and you pushed him away, a lazy grin on your face.

You felt Bucky’s arms around you before you even noticed he had approached you, “I think it’s bedtime, princess,” Princess, that was a new one.

“I’m not tired,” You moaned, sleepily, as he scooped you into his arm, “Archie save me … I’m being taken.”

Bucky chuckled, setting you down into the bed, and pulling a blanket over you, “It’s Archie’s bedtime too,” Bucky spoke softly, “Why don’t you say goodnight?”

You watched as she raised her hand to wave at the dog sitting idly by, “N-Night Archie,” Bucky’s heart warmed at the sight, noting how cute you were when you were tired. Bucky whistled and the dog pranced out of the room, his tail wagging.

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bucky assured you, sitting down at the edge of the bed. His hands touched your hair, soothing brushing it back with his fingers. Your eyes were already closed, a stuffed giraffe tucked into you.

“What … about … you?”

“I’ll be here too, angel,” With that, she seemed to drift off into sleep.

You awoke to sunlight on your face and the sound of birds chirping. For a moment, you looked around and felt safe … until the panic settled in. You started to move your legs, realizing you could finally move them a bit but, as you pulled the blanket off, you saw a cuff wrapped around your right leg.

You investigated, finding it attached to a chain that seemed to be connected to the bed itself. You pulled at it with all the strength you could muster and nothing. It was a powerful magnet just like that gag he had put on you.

You had fallen asleep? You couldn’t think about it that long as Bucky appeared, opening the door slowly. Maybe there was some type of camera in here that was tracking your movements for him. You didn’t put it past him.

“Good morning, princess,” He greeted you and you noted his dark t-shirt and basketball shorts. You didn’t think he’d look normal in clothes typical for relaxing. He walked over, reaching down to undo the restraint but he paused, “Don’t you have something to say to Daddy?”

Great, you thought, sighing, “Good morning, Daddy,” Bucky imagined a point in the future where you spoke words like that enthusiastically. With that small sign of submission, Bucky undid the restraint and you noted he didn’t even use a special key. Maybe it had something to do with his arm?

“Sleep well?” You nodded though you knew that was probably due to whatever he had put in your drink, “It’s nice out so I was thinking we’d go out after breakfast, what do you think?”

“Go where?” You raised an eyebrow. He only narrowed his eyes at you, expecting you to add a formality, “Go where Daddy?” You corrected yourself, a fake smile on your face.

“Down by the lake, for a picnic,” How romantic, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes, “What would you like to wear, angel?”

“Something normal preferably,” You were long overdue for a spanking, Bucky thought. He had to remind himself that it was only your first day here and there’d probably be lots of punishments in your future.

“I thought you wanted those big girl panties... maybe you’ve gotten used to you little girl ones?” You paused, unwilling to admit that you had forgotten about them.

A staring contest ensued as he waited for you to back down and, as he expected, you did, “I like the color red … Daddy.”

Bucky was satisfied and you were glad you were getting a little bit of your womanhood back. You hadn’t even noticed how subtle he was with his system of rewards and punishments. With every good thing you did, he praised you and when you made snarky comments he threatened to put the pampers back on you.

He brought you to the bathroom to relieve yourself, very awkwardly, and to brush your teeth. After, he picked out a red gingham dress whose skirt barely covered your bottom and allowed your bubblegum pink underwear to peak out beneath it. He matched it with a pair of black mary jane shoes and, as a cherry on top, he tied a red bow into your hair.

You sat on the bathroom counter, watching him as he did his work. Looking at his face, you could tell he liked dressing you up, and, although you didn’t hate the dress, you didn’t like the unfamiliarity of it. You’d never dressed like this before and it made you feel a little insecure which made you even more frustrated.

You looked back into the mirror and your eyes widened. You had never looked so … feminine. Your face had even gained some color and you had to poke your face to make sure it was real, “You look beautiful, angel,” Bucky’s words took you back. You’d never heard that from someone other than the old men you were forced to flirt with on missions.

You shook your head, embarrassed, but Bucky continued, “You do.”

You looked at him, trying to read his blue eyes, and you froze as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Never had someone done that either, “You’re heaven-sent, I’m sure of it. You’ve just been lost for a little while, that’s all.”

You felt something foreign, like that thing inside your chest was finally beating.

Send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! If there’s something you want to see in this series, I’m open to ideas, just send me an ask! Hope you enjoyed!

#dark fic #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fluff #dark bucky x reader #winter soldier #marvel #marvel smut #dark marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu smut #avengers x y/n #florence pugh

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

Note

Hi again! Sorry for not using ask box at first, I'm on mobile lol. Anyways I was hoping you can do the compainions with a male reader who has PTSD and fluff happens? Its no biggue if you can't! Thanks!

Cait:

(I strongly headcanon she has ptsd as well)

“Hey, ya aren’t looking too good......oh shite.”

All because the house you were searching scrap for had a particularly familiar blue crib within it. She knew from the second your eyes went hazy that something was gravely wrong. However it was when you approached the crib and you became numb to her touches and words she was queued to take action.

With a light sigh she finally forced your unseeing gaze away from the crib, dismayed at the far off look your eyes held.

“Sole, look at me, you’re stronger than this.” She whispered in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Come on, let’s just get out of here and go get a pint. Sound good?”

Curie:

“Shh, everything is alright mon amour.”

To say she was confused at first would be a vast understatement. It was for once a normal day, no scavenging, no violence, not even a disenchanted settler going off. Everything was calm and yet you could do nothing to stop the horror of a long gone scene rearing its ugly face, sending terror coursing through your veins. To add to your dismay, you couldn’t stop yourself from striking the petite scientist when she got too close. The illusion was abruptly torn away to reveal her bloody nose and hurt look in her eyes.

After this you tried your best to try to explain yourself through feverish tears, only to be stopped by her with her understanding gaze as she gently sat you down and made haste to administer a mild tranquilizer to ease your troubled mind.

Danse: (he canonically has ptsd)

“Soldier? Sole look at me, I know what you’re going through. I’ve got you.”

Danse definitely isn’t the best at emotional thing, let alone comforting someone. However when he was laying beside your trembling form in your shared bed he knew he had to do something. He took it upon himself to roll you to face him, sighing as you adverted your red tearful eyes from meeting his gaze.

“I-..Danse, it was like I was there all over again.” You sniffled, gasping as he hummed whilst bringing you close into his chest.

“Y-you’re not anymore, no..you’re safe now. I..I wouldn’t let you be in that situation ever again.”

Although he knew well that words would never stop the traumatic nightmares much less absolve either of you from the burden, at least it calmed you.

Deacon:

“Woah, sole it’s just me!”

Naturally Deacon reverted using humor when he saw the first signs of your distress. He was quick to realize the severity of the situation whenever you whipped your head back to look at him with terrified eyes and your hand quickly reaching for your gun.

Luckily you were able to snap yourself out of it before anything terrible became of the situation, but from there on Deacon knew to avoid certain places and worked especially hard on spending a few off days with you to give the rest your mind desperately needed.

Gage:

“God damnit sole, get your head back about ya.”

He’d beat himself to hell and back over it once he realized what was really going on. But..when sole first displayed symptoms of an episode he teased them about it at first, the playfulness fading into annoyance when they refused to leave their home and get their “overboss duties” taken care of for the day.

It was when sole got angry enough to buck up to the raider that he understood exactly what was going on. Well, it was more or less the trembling and tense jaw that gave it away.

“I...I’m sorry.”

Hancock:

“Don’t fret, I’ve gotcha sunshine.”

To be perfectly honest Hancock has seen all kinds of shit being mayor of Goodneighbor so seeing sole absolutely lose their shit at the sound of glass shattering wasn’t a particularly strange ordeal. He didn’t even think to directly link it to an underlying mental illness, no, that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind at the time. The first thing he did was tend to the symptoms of the blatant panic attack, popping a fresh inhaler of jet into his sunshine‘s mouth to calm them down.

Of course after they were calmed he gingerly approached the subject and once they revealed what caused the abrupt panic he gave a solemn smile and nodded in acknowledgement, pulling you into his arms for a loving hug.

Macready:

“Take as much time as you need boss, the caps will still be out there for our taking later.”

He was pretty accustomed to people with ptsd, but seeing his dearest inflicted with him made his heart pang. Either way he understood that even if it wasn’t a flashback or something big, your sudden lack of motivation was also because of the illness. So despite his nature he just laid in bed beside you, occasionally getting up to get food and so, trying to take your mind off of whatever was preoccupying it.

Maxson:

(Totally has ptsd as well)

“It doesn’t make it any better, I know, but I’m here for you.”

He’s grown to suspect every soldier in the brotherhood would eventually develop some form of a stress disorder but that still didn’t prepare him to see his precious sentinel in such disarray and fearful when he approached them overlooking the railing of the airship.

“Sole...” he started with a sigh, his fingers nervously twitching when you didn’t acknowledge his words. “Let’s go back inside.” Was all he could say, eventually just resorting to wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to captain Cade’s office. That night he did his level best to provide you as much comfort as possible, fixing you both a glass of whiskey and snuggling into your side.

Nick Valentine:

“Doll, if this is too close to home it’s alright.”

He should’ve known better than to bring you along a case, a case where a parent was trying to find their missing child. He just knew it wouldn’t be okay. His suspicions were confirmed as you started to feel in horror walking down a familiar path, unwanted thoughts progressively turning into complete flashbacks as Boston’s chilly air seemed to overtake you. Reminding you all over again of the cold tomb you awoke out of. Before you knew what was happening you were sitting on the cold cement curb of some ruined highway with nick close beside you, sharing a cigarette while gazing at the sky. That was the first and only case nick didn’t get to resolve with you since your partnership.

Old Longfellow:

“Alright cap’n, calm down.”

He would of course been around long enough to see a whole rainbow of ptsd related symptoms. Seeing sole’s widened eyes and quickened breath at a seemingly harmless remark of a harbor person, he knew what was up. That being said he isn’t exactly a “let’s hug it out” kind of person so he instead settled for bringing his lover back to their cabin and pouring some drinks. He wouldn’t dare ask what caused that reaction but if sole was apt to speak he’d be happy to listen.

Piper:

“Um blue..you know I don’t expect you to do all of this, right?”

It was quite the unusual symptom of ptsd but no matter what, even if you were sick you just couldn’t stop yourself from going the extra mile in absolutely everything you do for piper. That wasn’t a bad thing per se but..whenever you began to not even sleep more than four hours before waking and wanting go hound for more stories she knew something was terribly wrong.

It took a while to drag it out of you but once she took time to sit and you let the cat out of the bag she was horrified at first but slowly began to understand. So to attempt to remedy your illness she takes special care to remind you that it isn’t necessary to always be doing something for everyone. Self care is key.

Preston:

“General, for once..the settlements can wait.”

He was well aware of your illness the very first time you displayed even a minor trait. So once the nightmares shook you into a hallucinating awareness he embraced you through your vicious yells and even your pained sobs. The next morning when you tried to pretend nothing happened he hugged you once more, taking your gun from your hands before shaking his head.

“Let’s take today off..”

X6-88:

“Sole just breathe.”

Calm and collected was his m.o., no matter what. Be it his programming or just his core personality. That being said he truly did feel concern whenever he saw his normally equally calm love spiral down into a feverish frenzy of anger and confusion. However instead of wasting time he simply teleported back to the institute with you in (embarrassingly enough) literally in his arms, marched up to the doctor and demanded immediate assessment and treatment. Ranks be damned.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #hancock #curie #fallout 4 #macready #paladin danse #tw ptsd #sorry if there are any errors i wrote this in a hurry

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bohemian-rhapsody-slash · 4 years

Text

Thank you so much for writing and sharing this, friend! I love it and I’m so glad you like the concept 😊 your English is perfect too!

WARNING: dark dark verse, brief mentions of forced/abusive relationship

*****

Hi darling! So I'm a person who can't understand how Tumblr works so I tried to send you a small fic inspired by your posts via asks but it's really hard so I had to download the app and sign up and so on. I hope you would like this. I've never written a fictional text in English before.

Ps. I'm the "dash" anon and Russian dolls anon and many asks anon😆😆

***

DDV Second generation

When this student entered the room alongside others, David felt as if he had already seen him somewhere before. He examined the list of the class and his heart missed a beat. "May, Josh Harold", it said. David remembered his visit to Brian and Roger's house and the conversation which still caused him pain. He also remembered a boy who he met there - with a mop of brown curls and big baby blue eyes

During the class he observed the younger man - he must be about 20 or 21 now... and pretty damn smart to get the scolarship - David remembered this old crappy house of May family. It was unlikely that they could afford paying for their son's education.

Memories of what he'd heard in that house, of the photos he'd seen there, reminded him that he is an adult now. And he can try to help his mother. If he knew more about his earlier life, about his career in Queen, about his claim to Freddie that his father proclaimed "fake" and ruined forever... maybe David could find a loophole in law or something. This thought was terrifying because it was definitely gonna be difficult to destroy his parental family. But he would be happy to see his mother free of his rapist.

But David couldn't do any of this without Mays' help. So after the class he asked Josh to delay.

"Mr.Foster

"Don't you remember me, Josh?"

"Sorry... no"

"I visited your parents once. I'm... er... John Deacon's son".

For the first time in his life he referred to himself in such way. He thought that mentioning his father's name would alienate Josh. After all, it was his father who destroyed Brian and Roger's life and eventually their kids' life, too. They would live more wealthy and comfortable life if not for him.

Josh squinted and looked at him.

"I remember your visit, but unfortunately didn't recognize you face. My vision is rather poor, like my mother's, and I didn't have my glasses on. Sorry, Mr..."

"Please call me David" he interrupted. "I need to speak to you. If you have any spare time now, I would like to buy you a lunch and talk to you"

Josh seemed confused but agreed to his offer.

***

Several months later.

David and Josh were sitting next to each other on an old sofa in David's living room. They were looking at old Queen photos. Recently Brian had found an black and white film somewhere in their attic. Josh had two copies of each photo printed - one for his family and one for David.

Surprisingly, the May family had accepted his request and had given him copies of old photos, music records and documents. Some of them were from Freddie's heritage that he left to Brian and Roger in his will. But they thought that, as John's son, David had a right to look at all this.

Unfortunately, David still hadn't found any ways to rescue his mum from his miserable marriage to his father. But he still had hope.

Meanwhile, he just studied the brief history of a band called Queen and enjoyed spending time with Josh. The young man was kind, caring and accepting. David had never met such a non-typical Dom before. Listening to him and watching his attitude to other people, David has understood two things. First, that Josh is everything David's father wanted him NOT to be. He always used to say that such Doms are weak and pathetic, they can't fight to reach their success and they couldn't be loved by anyone. Josh told him that this is how his parents raised him. Gradually, David started to realise that he was wrong. The life of May family wasn't unhappy because of their poverty. Unability to buy luxurious things or to travel abroad didn't make them less kind to each other or love each other less. In fact, they had a lot of things that David and his brothers, born with a silver spoon in their mouths, lacked: like the attention of their father who never threatened to disown them, or family meals with table talks and jokes, or an example of happy marriage of their parents.

And what was the second thing David had realised?

He had realised that his father was wrong (again). Josh was lovable. And he knew it very well, because David was the person who fell in love with Josh.

"You know what my dad said to me yesterday?" whispered Josh. His curls almost touched David's face.

David looked at him inquiringly.

"He said that physically you are Ray Foster's son but, like, in your heart you are Freddie's son" answered Josh. He looked a bit confused and quickly added "I know that it may not sound as a compliment for you. But from my dad it's a real compliment..."

"It is", managed to whisper David. He felt tears in his eyes. He was happy and ashamed at the same time. He was ashamed for being his father's son and also for feeling this. He felt like he betrayed both his mother and father.

"Why are you crying?" he heard. "If I somehow..."

David shook his head. "I-I just hate it" he muttered. "This world. This life. Everything should be different. Good people shouldn't suffer like they do now. And people like me... just shouldn't be born"

He felt Josh hugging him.

"Yes, the world is cruel" softly said Josh. "It's ugly and injust. But we're born to bring some justice into it. I believe in it"

"But how?" asked David trying to stop crying.

"By loving other people. And fighting for what we love".

"Did your parents succeed in their fighting?" bitterly asked David and immediately thought that he might offend Josh by saying so. But he felt that Josh was smiling.

"A bit", he answered.

"Well, my mother lost his battle".

"Not completely", argued Josh. "He has you. A child who is able to ask questions. Who doesn't take this world for granted. Who is willing to change things. Who is capable of love"

David felt tears flowing down his cheeks. He hugged Josh and then kissed him without thinking. He immediately realized what he has done.

"Sorry sorry... I-I'm so sorry Josh... I shouldnt've... Sorry if I offended you"

"You can't offend me with this" said Josh "It's okay. Subs can kiss other subs, so why Doms are forbidden to kiss other Doms? It doesn't mean anything..." he paused and looked into David's eyes. "Unless you want it to mean something".

David didn't know what to say so he just kissed him again very shyly. Josh answered him and the kiss became more passionate.

They kissed for a while, their hands caressed each other's hair and backs but when David dared to slide his hand into Josh's pants, the younger man freezed for a second and whispered

"I think you should know... I've never had sex with another Dom... have you?"

David nodded. He felt sad again. "I-I had... lots of times. When I was at uni". He hid his face on Josh's shoulder. "I think I was kinda... traumatized by my mum's story and felt kinda... guilty or something. Wanted to feel what a sub feels. So I dated Doms and asked them to punish me... to hurt me... humiliate me. Because I always felt it's not enough for me".

Josh kissed his temple. "But it's not what a sub should feel, dear. A sub should feel loved. He should feel care and tenderness. He should feel safe. That's what I learned from my parents".

"I-I know" answered David. "It's just... I'm just broken. I repell you now, don't I? I'm a sick pervert".

He was sure Josh will stand up and leave him and never come back. But Josh kept hugging him.

"You're not sick or broken. You're just lost and misguided. I can be your guide".

#ibtyf!ddv #submission

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years

Text

Over

Summary: Mike finally makes it all go away

WC: 1.1k

Warnings: gun violence, murder, suicide

All Mike wants to do is scream out the window on the second floor. Scream and scream, demanding passersby answer him on whether or not he’s good enough now. Man enough now. It was never enough, never ever enough, and his chest still burns thinking about it despite finally having made the voice shut up once and for all. The house is quiet now. Silent, save for Mike’s heavy breathing as he tries to figure out what to do next. He’s a cop’s son, after all. Or at least was. And he should know how to handle this without being caught except for the fact that he is the only logical suspect. He can’t think. Fuck, he can’t think, he can’t think, he can’t think.

His gun is heavy in his hand. It was loud, the gunshot, and soon police will arrive. Probably someone Mike knows, because everyone knows him, knows the Chief’s perfect son who was never enough. He needs to do something. Blood stains the floor and Mike’s clothes and the perfectly pressed button down that used to be a symbol of power and unachievable standards. He points his gun at the body and shoots it again just to watch another bloom of bright red.

When that’s done, his eyes land on the house phone and before he can think further, he’s picking it up to dial a familiar number. His fingers remember it even though his brain can’t at the moment. Three rings, the usual, before a comforting voice picks up on the other end, reciting out, “Carisi,” because it’s second nature for the detective after so many years on the job.

“Sonny?” Mike asks. His voice is smaller than he expects it to be. Fragile.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, is everything okay?”

Mike stares at his gun. At his father. “No. I- can you come to my dad’s? I really need you right now. Please.”

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Hurry.”

Through the crack in the curtains, Mike can see the beginnings of flashing red and blue lights. He’s running out of time. Everything feels like it’s happening too slowly. Wading through syrup to try and figure out what to do until Sonny gets here. It’s selfish, but he needs to see those beautiful blue eyes at least one more time because he’s already decided he won’t be walking out of this house. He thought he would die here so many times, and now, it will be his last sight burned into his eyelids like a photograph he can never escape.

A harsh knock on the heavy front door startles him enough to make his finger twitch on the trigger. “NYPD, open up.”

“I- I have a gun,” Mike calls through the door. “Go away!”

“We can’t do that, sir. Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

He looks down at his father. “Yes. Now leave me alone, or- or I’ll shoot.”

“We don’t have to do that, sir. We can talk this out. What’s your name?”

Of course Mike knows it’s a tactic. They’re trying to talk him down, likely calling for backup. Make the perp feel comfortable so he starts letting down his guard. But he doesn’t want that at all. He just wants Sonny.

“I want Sonny. Please.”

“Who’s Sonny?”

Mike doesn’t answer. Sonny said he was on his way. How far is he? How long before he shows up and realizes what his boyfriend has done? He can taste his heartbeat in the back of his throat in bitter company to the vomit he didn’t bother to wash down the sink because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. He can’t do anything but wait for Sonny.

In a couple minutes, he hears another knock at the door. Before he can tell them again to leave him alone, he hears the one thing he needs more than anything in the world right now. An angel’s chorus cutting through all the noise, all the chaos, all the turmoil, and throwing him a life jacket.

“Mikey? It’s me, it’s Sonny. Can you let me in?”

Slowly, Mike approaches the door and looks through the peephole to make sure it’s just Sonny and not a trap. He undoes the latch with all the care of a surgeon standing over an open chest cavity, staring down at a beating heart. The knob turns with the same creak it always has, and Mike uses the door as a shield from whoever else might be outside as he opens it a crack to let Sonny in. His gun feels heavier, aimed squarely between Sonny’s eyes. Those eyes that are usually so full of love, but this time have gone calculating and stiff the way they do in situations like these. Hostage situations. Fuck, Mike almost wants to laugh. There aren’t any hostages, because his father is finally gone.

“What happened here, doll?”

He swallows hard and turns his eyes back to his father’s body for a split second. Long enough to nearly shoot it again, before realizing that it’ll just send the people outside racing in to kill him. Mike doesn’t plan on surviving, but he’d rather go out on his own terms. His last sight Sonny, his own hands pulling the trigger of the police issue pistol. The NYPD brought him into this world. It does not get to take him out of it too.

“I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Sonny’s face softens, but once again, it’s not the look he gives Mike when they’re alone together. It’s his victim look. For when he needs to coax a fragile child or a traumatized woman into telling him what was done to them. “Did he hurt you again? Because if he did, I can help you. If you shot him in self-defense-”

“I didn’t.”

“Mike-”

“No. No, I shot him because I wanted him dead. He deserved it. This is a confession, in my right mind. Record it if you want. I came here, waited for him to come home, and then I shot him in cold blood. It’s that simple.”

Part of Mike urges him to shoot Sonny before he turns the gun on himself- spare him the pain of going through the funeral, of realizing what a fuck up he fell in love with, of scrubbing Mike’s blood from his face until the skin is raw. He doesn’t deserve that. But Mike also knows that there are so many things for him to live for, and that it isn’t right to take that away from him as a matter of his own selfishness.

So he just turns the gun back to himself, and before Sonny can do anything about it, pulls the trigger.

#mine #fic #dorisi #mike dodds #sonny carisi #william dodds #suicide tw #death tw

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golden-redhead · 5 years

Text

Aftermath

Oumota, Hogwarts AU

Read on AO3.

After the battle of Hogwarts is over he finds Momota in the Astronomy Tower.

He doesn’t comment on how predictable it is to see him there, even if the words are right there, curling at the very tip of his tongue. He slips into the tower quietly, noting how many steps of the steep spiral staircase that leads to the top are missing with a grim sense of detachment.

The stars twinkling high above look the same as ever, unaware of the tragedy that took place below, the meadows of Hogwarts still scattered with bodies. For a long moment, Momota doesn’t acknowledge his presence, doesn’t even twitch, his eyes fixed on the stars spread on the dark sky above them and blind to anything else. Briefly, Ouma wonders if he even sees anything. Maybe he’s just staring at nothing, trying to reach some memories that he has no access to.

If he closes his eyes for a second too long he can still hear the echo of screams and cries, curses flying left and right and hitting blindly, not caring whether it’s a human or House-elf, centaur or poltergeist. He can hear Bellatrix’s roar of laughter and the bolt of piercing green spell as the Killing Curse misses him just barely, almost brushing against his shoulder, only to hit its target. He turns back just in time to watch as a small Hufflepuff girl lets out her final gasp, life leaving her body like in slow motion, a black and white checkered scarf slipping down her neck and onto the slick-with-blood floor. He remembers the feeling of blood draining from his face and the clutches of fear holding his heart as he wants to catch her as she falls, wants to scream until his throat feels sore. He does none of these things, frozen in place for the longest while. What happens next is a blur, a cascade of more screams and someone’s warm and sticky from blood hand wrapping around his arm and pulling him out of the danger’s way just as a burst of fire - where is it coming from? - fills out the room and consumes the body in flames. He knows that he did his fair share of screaming and begging and crying but he barely remembers a thing. He knows, however, that it was Momota’s arms that wrapped around him and held him tightly, the quiet rustle of his voice strangely comforting while his whole world was falling apart.

“Have you seen Maki and Shuichi?” Momota asks tiredly and Ouma swears that he’s never heard him sound so beaten, so detached and tired and vulnerable.

With all his heroic masks gone he sounds just like a lost kid, disoriented and helpless. It’s hard to believe that he was the Chosen One, the same person who just defeated the greatest threat the wizarding world has ever faced.

“Nope~! They’re not my sidekicks to look after, that’s more of Momota-chan’s shtick,” he says, forcing a cheerful note into his voice even as Momota is seemingly too tired to send him as much as a disapproving glare. He simply scoffs and looks away, back to his own thoughts.

It’s almost surreal, him being so quiet.

Ouma’s lips curl in a grimace, the scene still burning in his memory. It feels like it happened so long ago, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.

He told him the truth shortly before the battle started, tears and snot rolling down his face as he finally broke down and confessed, words slipping out of his mouth at an overwhelming speed, as if afraid that he’ll never get another chance to say them.

Back then he thought that he would be dead by now, one of many casualties of the inevitable battle. Otherwise he never would have let himself fall so low, least of all in Momota’s presence. But apparently fate had different plans.

And Momota - being the fool that he is - forgave him without a second thought, spilling out some nonsense about always believing in him, his face bright and the hard way he pat Ouma on the back almost knocking the breath out of the smaller boy made it obvious. The sentiment made Ouma snort in grim amusement despite his miserable state. He knows a liar when he sees one.

It doesn’t erase the years of antagonism between them, even if a good portion of it were just harmless pranks and petty House rivalry.

When did it all go so wrong, thinks Ouma bitterly. All he did was try to protect DICE, the little group of misfits just like him, Muggle-born children abandoned and left to fend for themselves or die trying.

It’s quiet up here, the world below them solemn and grieving. If he looks down and squints his eyes he can see the faint light of the wands as wizards look for what’s left of those who were brave enough to defend Hogwarts with their own lives. Some part of him wants to be cynical about it, brush it off as the price they had to pay for being reckless. But those were real people, many of whom he has seen everyday in his classes, students and teachers alike, now cold and lifeless and lying in the grass like forgotten dolls.

Maybe he’s an even bigger fool than Momota could ever dream of being. After all, Momota succeeded where Ouma failed. He’s been trying to defeat the enemy on his own but now he realizes that it was foolish of him. He joined Voldemort’s side hoping to learn more, tossing aside his own morality in hopes of getting close enough to be able to deal the final blow. In reality, all he did was make things worse.

The tattoo on his arm burns and so do his eyes, angry tears gathering in the corners as he looks to the side to no longer stare at the bodies scattered at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. From up here he can’t tell which belong to the Death Eaters. He supposes that it doesn’t matter.

He can feel Momota’s curious eyes burning into his skin.

“It… It’s gonna be okay,” murmurs Momota and then quickly averts his gaze when Ouma’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously.

Ouma laughs, a single bark that sounds too loud in the quiet of the slowly fading night.

“Whatever you say, Momota-chan,” he comments, amused.

He wonders which one of them Momota is trying to reassure more.

Momota glances at him, mauvish-colored eyes bloodshot and brimming with worry. He looks like he wants to say something but his teeth dig into his lips, keeping his mouth shut. It’s almost amusing, Ouma doesn’t think that he’s ever had a chance to see Momota actively trying to keep quiet.

Momota’s concern is a weird mix of infuriating and comforting, even if it’s the kind of comfort that he doesn’t deserve. Ouma will be lucky if the only punishment he will have to face is rotting in one of the freezing cold cells of Azkaban. The brand adorning his left forearm is a pretty damning evidence and the only one the wizarding world will ever care about.

He wonders if Momota is aware of any of that or if his usual naive positivity made him blind to the reality of Ouma’s situation.

Ouma wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like this new Momota, so quiet and reserved, still like a statue as he stares at the stars spread over the sky with unseeing eyes. He’s used to reading him with ease but he can’t figure him out in this weird new state and it sends a spark of irritation through his veins.

It’s not that he’s worried about Momota, he decides. Of course he’s not. Okay, so maybe the fact that he’s here, with Ouma and at the top of the Astronomy Tower, rather than with his loyal sidekicks and seeking comfort in their presence after such a traumatic event is a little bit worrying but Ouma’s willing to cut him some slack. Momota’s always been a pathetic masochist. This whole Chosen One business is the best proof of that.

“Momota-chan better not do anything stupid,” drawls Ouma. He lifts his arms to fold his hands behind his neck.

To his surprise Momota lets out a quiet chuckle and scratches the back of his head, the look on his face almost sheepish.

“No worries,” he says, “I’ve done more than my fair share of stupid today.”

Ouma tilts his head to the side, keeping his expression neutral.

“How so?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” asks Momota dejectedly, a bitter note seeping into his voice. He gestures vaguely in the direction of the ground below.

Ouma’s brows furrow in a frown. Momota-chan isn’t blaming himself for what happened… is he?

Then again, this is exactly the kind of stupidity he grew to expect from Momota throughout the years. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Momota-chan is so dumb,” he announces with a firm nod, as if he has just realized that and knows for a fact that it’s true.

“W-what?!” sputters Momota. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Ouma snorts. “Being dumb is your state of being, my beloved Momota-chan. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. You’re a natural!”

A grimace crosses Momota’s face but, surprisingly, he doesn’t rise to the bait. Ouma clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“If Momota thinks that the battle was his fault then he’s even dumber than usual,” he informs him. He doesn’t even look in Momota’s direction, inspecting his nails instead. He doesn’t have to look to know what kind of face Momota is making. He spent years practicing the skill of provoking Momota and he knew that the Gryffindor would never fail to deliver when it came to offended expressions. He liked to think that he was an expert.

“I’m not dumb,” grumbles Momota and Ouma’s lips twitch slightly in a faint smile. Ah, that sounds more like the Momota he knows.

“It’s just… If it wasn’t for me… They would still be alive… Gonta and Angie… And Shuichi’s uncle and y-your friends, too. DICE, right?”

Ouma can feel his heart sink. Leave it to Momota to bring up the one thing he couldn’t bear to think about right now. He can feel the anxiety attack creeping up his throat, the suffocating feeling spreading over his body and the stinging prickle of tears. He blinks furiously to chase them away.

Not here. Not with Momota.

He’s cried around him enough for one day.

It takes him a moment to respond. For the longest moment he simply doesn’t trust his voice not to break.

“Momota-chan, they knew what they’re doing. They knew the consequences.”

Momota’s hands curl into fists.

“No. No, they didn’t,” he protests fervently, his voice reaching hysterical tones. Ouma almost flinches away at how desperately it sounds. “They believed that I would save them, that I would defeat Voldemort and I… I...”

“And you did,” interrupts him Ouma.

Momota doesn’t look convinced, the look on his face pained. Ouma almost feels bad for him.

“Listen, Momota-chan. You defeated the guy who terrorized the entire wizarding world for decades. Twice!” Ouma reached out his hand to flick the Chosen One on the forehead where the lightning bolt-shaped scar rested. “No one came even close to doing what you did in over thirty years.”

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“Nope! You didn’t,” agrees Ouma. “And you shouldn’t have done that at all. It shouldn’t have been your responsibility.”

“But-”

“Momota-chaaaan,” whines Ouma, exasperated, “no buuuuts. You are a kid. And you were a baby, slightly more dumb than you are now, when you defeated him for the first time. You did more than the Ministry of Magic or any adult did in years.”

Momota doesn’t say anything and Ouma decides to take it as a success.

“You saved more lives than you think.”

His voice leaves no room for further discussion.

Silence spreads between them after that. It’s not a heavy with tension one, however, like the ones they used to share so often. It’s quiet and calm in a way that none of the previous ones ever was. Ouma would say that it feels almost comforting if he didn’t know better.

Apparently near death experiences really bring people closer. Who knew!

It’s Momota who breaks the silence just as the sun starts to paint the sky with the rosy shades of the dawn, spilling warmth all over the horizon.

“Y’know,” starts Momota, sending him an uncertain glance and swallowing hard before continuing. “If you… if you want to disappear I could… um, I mean… I could pretend that I didn’t see anything.”

Ouma’s lips stretch in a wide grin. “Aww, Momota-chan. You do care!”

Momota huffs irritatedly.

“Of course I care,” he says grumpily and Ouma almost giggles at how offended he sounds. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” well, this is an understatement, thinks Ouma, but he doesn’t interrupt Momota’s heartfelt confession, “but I don’t want you to end up in Azkaban. You don’t deserve it.”

Ouma opens his mouth to cut in with some ridiculous remark but Momota is faster, as if sensing that he’s not about to take it seriously.

“Ouma.”

The Slytherin closes his mouth and stares, his face carefully blank.

“I mean it,” Momota says with emphasis, his gaze serious and firm as he searches the smaller boy’s eyes. Ouma has no doubt that he’s telling the truth.

Ouma takes a deep breath and throws his hands into the pockets of his robes, his fingers clasping tightly around his wand, and shakes his head decidedly, long strands of plum hair bouncing with the movement.

“No,” he says, but his voice comes out all weak and choked up.

He clears his throat, swallowing the sob building up inside and threatening to escape. He tries again.

“No.” He repeats and this time it sounds stronger. More sure.

Momota’s surprised stare weighs on his shoulders. He can’t blame him for that.

When Ouma speaks again he stares straight into Momota’s eyes and forces any traces of insincerity and childishness out of his voice. “I’m not going to run, Momota-chan.”

It sounds like a promise. (He doesn’t mention that he has nowhere to run anyway.)

Momota lets out a shaky laugh and if Ouma tries hard enough he can almost pretend that he sounds relieved.

“Okay,” breathes out Momota. “Okay.”

Ouma almost jumps when he feels the calloused fingers brushing against his. His first instinct is to swat Momota’s hand away but he changes his mind when he catches a glimpse of his face.

Reluctantly, he decides to allow it, at least for now. Saihara and Harukawa better get there soon, though. Ouma hardly qualifies as a recommended source of comfort. Besides, hasn’t he done enough today? He’ll have to start to charge them for an hour.

When the first rays of sunshine peek over the horizon and the warm shades of gold and red frame Momota’s face like a halo, Ouma thinks that maybe there are heroes in this story after all.

Momota’s hand feels warm in his.

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waywardnerd67 · 6 years

Text

Through the Storm

Summary: (Y/N) and Dean Winchester put a spirit to rest in an abandoned house in Oklahoma when a sudden thunder storm comes swinging in. The wicked storm brings up a traumatic incident from her childhood. Dean tries to keep her calm and help her through the panic spreading throughout her body. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Weather Related Panic/Comforting Dean Word Count: 1386 Marvel Quote: P1. “What’s the matter, scared of a little lightning?” P2. “I’m not overly fond of what follows…” A/N: This is for @waywardrose13 1K Challenge. I can never pass up a writing challenge especially one with Marvel quotes. My quote is listed above and will be BOLD in the story. This story is based off a real life experience I had when I was five years old and to this day I’m still terrified of storms. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Standing over the flames rising from the open grave below as I watched the flames dancing. I looked up seeing my boyfriend, Dean Winchester, holding his hands out over the blistering heat. We had gotten word about a spirit hurting teenagers who broke into an abandoned house in Beaver, Oklahoma. Dean drove us in his ’67 Chevy Impala to the address his brother Sam had texted him and easily put the spirit to rest. As we stood there enjoying the peaceful moment, I looked up seeing dark gray clouds rolling in changing the bright blue sky to bright green. I knew what that meant and being in the middle of Tornado Alley I felt the panic spreading through my chest. “Dean, I think we should probably go.” I said pointing up to the impending doom ahead of us. He looked up shrugging, “Doesn’t look all that bad. It will be fine.” His nonchalant tone irritated me and I started walking towards the car when lightning struck a few miles away from them.

“What’s the matter, scared of a little lightning?” Dean asked as I jumped and let out a small scream. Breathing heavily while holding my chest I glared at him, “I’m not overly fond of what follows…” He looked up to the sky seeing the clouds and sky turning dark as if it was nighttime. “Well sweetheart, you may be right about this one. Come on, let’s go down into the basement of the house until this storm passes.” Dean put one of his arms around my shoulders leading me back into the house. It started to rain as soon as we walked downstairs to the basement. I sat down on the stairs as Dean turned on the one light that was down there. I brought my knees up as close to my chest wrapping my arms around them. The wind was picking up and it sounded like it was now hailing. “Son of a bitch! My Baby is going to be all dinged up.” Dean said listening to the pings of hail hitting the house. “(Y/N), why are you so afraid of storms?” I looked up into his olive eyes filled with curiosity. My mind filled with memories from when I was five years old and began to tell Dean what had happened.

I ran around my grandparents’ backyard with their two dogs. “(Y/N) come inside please!” My grandma called out as we came running back into the house. “Why do I have to come inside?” I asked her as I followed her into the living room. “It’s going to storm and I am going to be leaving for a little while. (Y/N/N), please stay inside the house until I come back.” I nodded getting my dolls out to play with as she walked out the front door. She had left the TV on for me and after watching a show on Nickelodeon the TV shut off. I looked around seeing all the lights were off as well. I heard a door close outside and I went out the front door to see if it was my grandma. When I realized she was not outside, I tried to go back inside but the door was locked. The wind was starting to pick up and the sky was getting darker. I walked out to the gravel road looking up at the sky and the clouds were circling above my head. It suddenly started to rain and I knew I needed to get inside. I started running up a driveway of the people next door and banged on their door. The wind was blowing trees all over the place and the rain was hurting my skin. I began to cry thinking the wind could pick me up and take me away. Finally, the door opened and the nice couple invited me inside to calm me down until my grandma came back home.

“Since then I have been terrified of storms. Seeing the clouds rotate above my head and the power of the winds that day scarred me.” I explained as Dean sat next to me on the stairs. “I never knew that about you. I promise, (Y/N) I will not let anything happen to you.” Just as he finished saying that the electric went out and my hands began to shake. Dean got up looking out the small window at the base of the house. I listened as the wind howled and the siding on the house was beginning to rattle. “(Y/N), come with me.” Dean held out his hand for me and led me to a spot under the stairs. He sat down and pulled me down onto his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around my body. I could feel the ground and house shaking sending my body into a panicked state. Dean pulled me as close as he could to him and I could hear him humming a song. I focused on the low humming trying to figure out what song he was humming. I leaned in closer to hear him better and recognized the Captain America theme. The wind was wailing loudly to the point I could no longer hear Dean’s voice.

My body was shaking and Dean moved his hands to either side of my face. “(Y/N) look at me.” He said as I looked up into his eyes. He leaned his forehead against mine keeping eye contact with me. Dean began to sing his favorite song, “Ramble on and now's the time, the time is now. To sing my song I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl. On my way I've been this way ten years to the day. Ramble on gotta find the queen of all my dreams.” I instantly started to calm down hearing his raspy voice sing. Dean’s did not have the best singing voice but to me it was the only voice that mattered in my life. I pressed my lips against his soft full lips. I felt his hands drift down my back to my hips and lifted me so I could straddle his lap. I pulled his bottom lip in between my teeth gently as I felt a groan rumble up through his chest.

Dean pulled away for a moment and everything was silent except for our breathing. “I think the storm past.” I whispered as he smirked, “Good because I would really like to find a motel and I have my way with you for the rest of the night.” I giggled as I got up and helped him up as well. As we walked through the house we saw all the windows blown out and then we saw the destruction outside the house. Nearby house were leveled and cars were flipped upside down. I looked over to Baby who was still parked with only a few dings on her hood. I looked as Dean ran over to one of the houses to see if anyone was inside. He helped a man get his wife and kids out of their basement safely and then came back over to me. “They said their family is the only one here. All the other houses were empty.” I nodded as the realization of a tornado came through hit me hard. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” He asked and tears began running down my cheek.

Dean pulled me into his arms and rested his head on top of mine as I cried into his chest. “(Y/N/N), it’s okay. We made it through it.” I nodded looking up at him, “I know. Just the thought of possibly being taking up in a tornado is overwhelming. I’m sorry, I know this sounds ridiculous since I hunt monsters.” Dean started to rub my shoulders and lift one hand to wipe away my tears. “You never have to be sorry for being afraid of anything especially to me. It’s okay to be afraid, I know I am a lot of times. I will always be here for you to help you through anything you need me too. Okay?” I pushed up quickly kissing his lips as he began walking us backwards towards Baby. “Hmm, that reminds me that I need to get us to a motel…” I laughed as we got into Baby and drove down the road.

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dwgrl1903 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @weirdoblogger69

#Rose1KChallenge #waywardnerd67 #one shot #through the storm #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean x reader #dean fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural #fluff

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buckymcbuttfacebarnes · 6 years

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The Elevator (Part 1/2)

Part 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1565

Summary: The reader finds herself trapped in an elevator with an unhelpful, condescending asshole: Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Just some good ol’ angst, some swearing and sexual tension!

Author’s Note: hi y’all this is my first attempt at writing any sort of fic, so i hope y’all enjoy!!! im still trying to figure out if i wanna write more parts or just leave it at this! thank u @sarrahthesmartiee for being a queen and helping me edit this <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

With a weary sigh, Y/N pressed the up button of the elevator. It had been a long day. It was nearly ten thirty in the evening on a Tuesday and she was just getting home from work. Her feet hurt (the heels she was wearing pinched like hell), she had spilled coffee on her whitest blouse during a meeting, and to top it all off her favorite Chinese place was closed for the night. She couldn’t even enjoy her favorite stir-fried noodles after a grueling day.

She stepped inside, sending a small, polite smile to the man that stood beside her before she pushed the button for her floor. Unconsciously, she tapped her foot as the elevator began its slow ascent to the sixth floor. Staring up at the numbers just above the closed doors, Y/N watched as each number lit up, glowing white for a brief few moments as they passed each floor. The slow elevator ride consisted of a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft tune of the elevator music.

“You aren’t even going to greet me?” came a gravelly voice from behind.

Y/N’s head turned to the source of the question, an expression of near disgust coming across her features before she turned back around. “Hello, Bucky,” she greeted, clearly half-heartedly. She hadn’t even realized that it was him, which must have been a testament to how tired she was. How could someone miss someone like Bucky? He was tall, at least 6 foot, and incredibly handsome. Tonight, especially so. That long hair of his had been pulled back into a bun, allowing the world a good look at his chiseled face.

“For someone so pretty, it’s such a shame that you’re so mean. I think you’d have more friends if you’d just smile more, doll,” Bucky chuckled.

“Can we not? I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight,” Y/N sighed, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. Her head tilted slightly upward as she watched the numbers continued to light. 1…2…3…4…

The elevator came to an alarmingly abrupt halt at the fifth floor. Y/N’s breath audibly hitched in her throat and her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t panic. She waited, looking around the elevator as if it might magically continue its journey upwards if she didn’t disturb the silence. The air grew still and it remained that way for at least ten seconds before the man behind her spoke up.

“I guess you’re gonna be getting a lot more of my shit. I think we’re stuck,” he said. The amusement apparent in his velvety voice.

“Me too,” was Y/N’s quiet reply. It was as if she had suddenly lost her edge. When on the verge of panic, she grew surprisingly calm. She turned to look at the man who stood to her left. He looked back at her with steel blue eyes, his lips pursed slightly, his jaw set. “Sometimes holding the open or close buttons will get it to go,” she explained, turning away to press and hold the button to open the elevator doors. “The doors get jammed and just don’t properly open.” Nothing happened. The doors didn’t budge and she could feel the panic begin to rise in her throat.

She then decided to try to emergency call button. Gingerly, as if she were afraid she may break the button, Y/N gave the button a push.

“It should just connect us to elevator maintenance or security or something,” she murmured as the phone rang. It rang and rang, the harsh sound cutting through the still air. They got no answer. To this Y/N muttered an annoyed, “What the fuck?” Now what?

Too enraptured with the prospect of receiving an answer, Y/N hadn’t noticed her elevator companion trying to pry open the doors with his bare hands.

“STOP!” she nearly shrieked, looking at him as if he’d just kicked a puppy.

“What?” Bucky asked, his head turning slowly to look at her, an expression of pure annoyance on his face.

“Do you know how dangerous that is? This is dangerous shit! You could hurt yourself! You could wind up getting cut in half. What if you open the doors and we’re in between floors? Then what are you gonna do?”

“You’re worried about me, huh? Real sweet and all, but I think I’ll be just fine. If I’m not, I’m sure it won’t be anything a kiss can’t fix,” he winked at her, but she didn’t seem affected.

“ And what about me? What if you get hurt and I end up traumatized?”

“Traumatized,” Bucky scoffed under his breath. “You got a better idea, sugar?” he sighed, giving a roll of his eyes.

To that, Y/N nodded. “We keep trying this stupid call button until someone answers the damn phone!” She sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s best not to panic. Someone will figure out we’re here. We’ve just got to keep trying, we’ll reach someone. Maybe it’s just the stupid door malfunctioning. If that’s the case then it’s a quick fix. Elevator phones are usually set up to connect us to dispatch center or-”

“There’s a stain on your blouse.”

Y/N glanced down to her top, a grimace forming on her face as she was reminded of the embarrassing event that had occurred only hours before. She decided against a snarky response, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being an annoying asshole. “You got a cell phone? Call 911,” she said to him. Unfortunately, her own phone had died earlier that evening.

“No service,” he answered, holding his phone up in one hand. He leaned his back against the elevator wall opposite of Y/N. He was doing everything he could to remain calm cool and collected.

“Shit.” Y/N kicked off her pinchy heels, eyes wandering the elevator walls as if they might give her the answer to getting out.

“You should calm down, doll. Stop getting so antsy.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down like you aren’t fucking nervous too.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking him up and down before meeting his eyes again. “You were pacing, like, two seconds ago. You’re tapping your foot, you keep popping your knuckles,” Y/N responded, leaning back against the wall too, mimicking his current position. “That’s nervous behavior.”

Something flickered within the man’s eyes and he looked away from her briefly in what appeared to be embarrassment. To this, Y/N could not help but smirk in amusement. Bucky always managed to push her buttons so easily, it was always a victory when she was able to get him a little flustered. The amused look was quickly wiped off her face and replaced with confusion as the man suddenly pushed himself off the wall, taking two short strides towards her. He leant forward, his arm extended with his hand placed beside her head, resting against the elevator wall. Her eyes flickered from his and instead up to the metal hand placed just beside her head. Though the smell of his cologne was heavily intoxicating, Y/N tried to remain indifferent. She felt her body tense beneath his. She looked up at him with her eyes narrowed, daring him to make a move so she would have an excuse to punch him square in his handsome face.

“Relax, doll. I’m just pressing the call button,” he explained innocently, his eyes flickering once from her eyes and to her lips before he shrugged. “I could do more, though. If that’s what you want.”

“How many times have you imagined me underneath you like this?” Y/N murmured, lifting an eyebrow, brushing a dark lock of hair from his face. The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself, but they came out smooth and cool—just like Bucky would have done. The ringing of the elevator phone had become background noise as she found herself trapped between the wall and Bucky’s body. The smell of his cologne was muddling her brain. She couldn’t tell if she herself was messing with him or if her words had been filled with some intention that she couldn’t even admit to herself. Y/N could feel his cool breath against her skin, leaving that hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She placed a hand on the back of his neck, urging him closer to her.

Bucky swallowed hard, tilting his head to the side. He masked his obvious surprise to her provocative question with a wolfish smile, he looked to her hungrily. “Well, I actually tend to imagine you on top.” He leaned down, his lips coming dangerously close to hers. “I think about you a lot, you kn-”

He was abruptly cut off when Y/N shoved him away from her with so much force that he stumbled backwards. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she looked to him with one of the brightest smiles he had ever seen. A look of recognition crossed his features just as the elevator doors opened up with a ding! In the midst of his advances, the elevator had proceeded to move and suddenly they were on the sixth floor.

“See ya later, Bucky,” Y/N murmured with a knowing grin on her face, stepping into her heels. She winked at him as she left the elevator, a noticeable swing in her hips.

“Shit.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you

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usnewsaggregator-blog · 6 years

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9 Things Not To Say To Someone With A Mental Illness During The Holidays

New Post has been published on https://usnewsaggregator.com/food-health/9-things-not-to-say-to-someone-with-a-mental-illness-during-the-holidays/

9 Things Not To Say To Someone With A Mental Illness During The Holidays

“9 Things Not to Say to Someone With a Mental Illness During the Holidays” was published on The Mighty by Sarah Schuster.

During the hustle and bustle of the holidays, you sometimes end up around family and friends you don’t typically see over the course of the year. And unfortunately, people you don’t see often (intentionally or not), might not know how to talk to you about living with a mental illness. This can be especially hard if you’re struggling with your mental health during the holidays, or if you’re not around your usual support system.

Most (but, surely, not all) people who say unhelpful or misguided statements about mental health probably don’t know better. To help educate friends and family about why their comments are so unhelpful, we asked The Mighty mental health community what they wished people would stop saying to them during the holidays. We also asked what they wish people would say — and their answers shine some light on what someone struggling with a mental illness might need.

1. “How can you be sad around the holidays?”

“Because I have depression, this time of year reminds me that I can’t tap into certain emotions like others can. The whole ‘warmth, joy and cheer’ thing sounds like something other people must feel, but not me because I still live in the same gray, dull existence. Sometimes, it’s as if holiday decorations are mocking me, making me hyperaware that I am missing something everyone has.” — Kendra A.

“I want to be happy like everyone else is, but I can’t just turn my brain off.” — Miranda M.

“Depression is real and so is seasonal depression. My heart hurts all the time, but during the holidays it’s even worse.” — Emily H.

What you could say instead: “It must be really difficult and lonely to feel so sad and isolated during the holidays. I’m here for you.” — submitted by Jenna H.

2. “Stop being so antisocial.”

“There is nothing wrong with needing a few minutes of alone time.” — Amanda K.

“They just don’t understand the extent of what my mind goes through when in a group of people or when leaving my comfort area. Especially during the holidays. Being that it’s the holidays, I feel forced to partake in the festivities while I feel like I’m dying inside and can’t tell anyone because I’m frequently judged.” — Glendaliz G.

What you could say instead: “You’re welcome to join us but if you don’t feel up to it, I’ll check up on you in a bit.” — submitted by Christina P.

3. “Life is too short to be sad.”

“That goes for any time of the year. It’s not about being sad. It’s about having no control of how your brain functions. It’s living in constant torment.” — Tanya C.

What you could say instead: “I’m always here for you.” — submitted by Amy W.

4. “Come on, you can have one drink.”

“Maybe I can’t drink due to my meds or my mental health issues? Just ask me what I’d like instead.” — Jenny B.

What you could say instead: “I understand this is a hard time for you. If you’re not up to this that’s OK.” — submitted by Emilie M.

5. “But it’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

“Most people that know me know my mother died two days before Halloween and my dad 10 days before Christmas two years apart. I lost both of them by the time I was 20… but you don’t get why the holidays always are when my most severe depression can hit?” — Missy L.

“My depression takes no breaks. Please don’t act like I can just push it away for a day or two so you can be happy.” — Alysha P.

“Like yeah, I’m aware, but it’s not a cure for my mental health disorder.” — Amy W.

What you could say instead: “’You are so worth every second, and you’re the greatest gift that was given to me.’ Sometimes I just feel so useless and unwanted, all I want to know is I am wanted.” — submitted by Janell R.

6. “You’re not going to see your family? But family is everything.”

“Not all families create a sense of happiness or safety. For some people being in contact with their family is the worst thing for them. People need to understand and respect that.” — Kacey K.

What you could say instead: “I don’t understand what you are going through, but if you talk to me about, I might be able to learn something from this so I can understand what you’re struggling with.” — submitted by Sugar L.

7. “You’re such a Grinch.”

“It is very destructive to call people ‘negative,’ and name calling is a horrible way to treat people, such as calling people a ‘Grinch’ or a ‘Scrooge.’ — Kirrie S.

“The holidays have never been my favorite time of the year, but after the traumatic passing of my father last year the whole season has left me feeling like I want to scream. While a lot of people don’t get it, I am lucky enough to know a few that do.” — Emilie M.

What you could say instead: “I’m here for you. Tell me how I can help.” — submitted by Christopher C.

8. “Are you going to eat all of that?” (Or any other comment about food).

“Holidays are really hard as a recovering anorexic. I am trying to convince myself to let myself enjoy all of the holiday food and the social aspect of eating together, and having anyone point out the amount of food on my plate sends me into a silent panic.” — Marie A.

“Lots of people shame themselves about how much/what they eat during the holidays and the subsequent diets they will go on afterward, which can be triggering being in recovery from an eating disorder.” — Sam A.

What you could say instead: “We love you for who you are.” — submitted by Theodore B.

9. “You have nothing to be so sad about.”

“I know that. That’s why guilt has such a huge place in my depression. I just wished they said nothing about it and acted like I’m fine for once, not like I’m a porcelain doll about to break.” — Viviane A.

“I’m well aware I have things to be thankful for, that also makes me feel worse because I then feel guilty for feeling like I do. Yeah, most aren’t a major fan of the holidays, but when you see other people with their families and you would give anything to have just one family holiday of your own again, it tends to sting even more.” — Liz K.

What you could say instead: “I’m sorry you’re having a difficult time right now. If company would help, we can plan something together that won’t be stressful for you.” — submitted by Lisa M.