Tumgik
#and many of the things i'm coming up with are filling me with fear
chosoisamalewife · 22 hours
Note
* Sees the angst tag in the masterlist * me: 😈
I request the finest dish of Sukuna and Male reader, with the drink being Angst. Sukuna had kept his Male servant around in the heian era and began to have a soft spot for him. But when he found a servant's dead body, he began to go mad. Now, the rest is up to you.
Sukuna x male!reader
A/N : I am a big angst lover so the moment I saw this request I squealed and instantly started writing
A/N : I gotten inspiration from the last of us opening for the death scene. Also Sukuna and reader had a special thing 😉😉 ALSO SUKUNA IS HEAVILY OOC
Sukuna wasn’t a kind man,well he wasn’t a man to begin with, he was a curse object that hated basically everything. He wasn’t kind at all, he was rough and mean. He was one thing that has zero weakness or so he thought. There was you he never understood why he adored you so much. You were a pesky human to him, a mere servant of his. However he couldn’t help but to be soft and patient with you. He felt pathetic every time he saw you smile, every time he saw your eyes and skin glowing in the sun light. The way you looked at everything with kind eyes, even him, a monstrous being. The way you trace the patterns all over his body, your fingertips grazing his skin gently like he was fragile glass as your soothing voice spoke. Oh your voice was something he could listen to always, it was one of a kind to him. He hated it but oh he couldn’t tell you to stop. You were a weakness to him and he hated, he hated everything about it, yet he couldn’t get rid of you.
He has even tried to, there has been many times he has thought about killing you. He has pictured it many times and many different ways, sometimes they come out of the blue. The other times is when you are sleeping peacefully next to him, his eyes starring at your resting face trailing them down looking at all the marks from him. He couldn’t help but to imagine ripping your heart out right then and there, doing the same thing you have done to him, making you feel the same pain.
You didn’t understand it either why he was so gentle to you. When you first became his servant he treated you like the other. He was cold and ruthless to you, the only person you saw he even remotely nice to was uruame. The first time that you saw something different from was when you bumped into by accident. The force of him basically knocked the breath out of your lungs. You just stared up at him with fear as he just stared down at you. You gotten on your knees "I'm sorry King. I must have been distracted I didn't see you." Your voice shook with fear. He reached one of his hands down offering it to you. You looked at him confused
"Are you gonna take it or what?" He asked without any emotion or tone to his voice. You put your hand in his helping you raise up. From there you saw him slowly began to soften. He knew the track you walked in the castle so he eventually start to intercept that track. He knew you liked to paint so he start to let you go outside to do that with his "supervision" of course. You had a favorite spot too, it was under a tree surrounded by flowers, so he had other servant set up a area for you there. He stood out there with you for the most of it he wanted to make sure you didn't run away. But that was just an excuse. He stood out there because of how peacefully you looked. He liked how you looked when you concentrate, he liked how your strong hands look holding the brush. He also did it to make sure that no one would disturb you.
One thing he hated more than how gentle you were, was the way you looked when you cry. Sukuna wasn’t a patient being which caused a lot of fights between the two of y’all. Sukuna never felt the need to apologize to anyone or anything but with you he just couldn’t help it. He felt the need to apologize especially after a bad one. Such as the recent one, he was sitting on his throne thinking of the way your eyes filled with tear before you stormed off. The way you yelled “If you are so tired of me then kill me! Do it already!”
He decided to ask uraume to make your favorite dishes as a act of him apologizing to you. When he brought the food up to your door. He could hear sniffling. He thought your were still upset so he put the tray on the floor and knocked gently on your door. "Y/N, I know you're probably still upset but here is some food. " That’s when he heard you say his name but it wasn't normal. It was odd like you were hurt. He opened the door to find you bleeding on the floor.
He ran to your body lying on the ground, the was a big gash from your chest to your torso. “Y/N, going to be okay.” He took you in his arms trying to pick you up which caused you to scream in pain. “ I know, I know but you have to let me. I have to get you help.” He tried again, your nails were digging into his skin as you screamed. “I know baby, I know.” Baby was a nickname that he has never used until now, it was always brat. He stood up half way before the grip you had on him let go and everything went silent. Your body fell limp in his arms. “Y/N” He sat down on the ground with your body cradle in his arms. He sat there just staring at the opened window. If he wasn’t late he could’ve caught that person, the thing that killed you. Or he could've killed it before it hurt you. The thing that took you from him. He’s going to hunt them but he doesn’t want to kill them. No, killing them would be to humane. He wants to torture them until their body can’t take it and give up.
He sits there for hours in the the silence of what use to be your lively room. What once was a room filled with laughter, talking, and other noises is now a room with nothing. The sound of the door opening interrupted his thought. He turned his head looking at the intruder, it was another servant. “My kin-“ the servant wasn’t even able to get the full word out before a slash went through his body. Uraume eventually came the fetch the body before leaving sukuna alone again. It began a repeated process of servants intruding to only be killed in a second
This went on for 3 days, your body started to decay but he didn’t move. He stayed there not caring about the decay or the smell. “Sukuna” Uraume opened the door gently. He stared at them with a look in his eyes that they have never seen before. Was it heartbreak, anger, madness that he didn’t want to let out. Simply because he didn’t want to disturb your resting body.
“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He barked at them. They crouch in front of him leaving your body in between them.
“Sukuna, I think we should give him a proper burial. He doesn’t deserve to rot here.” He sat there for a second considering it. "Please" They pleaded with him hoping to get in his mind. He nodded slowly. "Where do you want to bury him"
"I know a place." Sukuna and Uraume put you in beautiful clothing before burying you along with your paint and brushes. Your favorite place became your resting place, under the tree surrounded by flowers.
For hours the quiet castle became home to thunderous yells the sound of things being thrown. No one even dared to ask Sukuna if he was okay, it was clear to what would happen. They would become like those painting of yours that he has ripped up. Those gorgeous painted vases shattered on the floor, he didn't care about the glass stabbing his feet. Everything reminded you of him and he wanted it all gone, it all destroyed and dead just like you. Sukuna's madness went as far as killing every other servant that met you. They knew that you were a weakness to him and he couldn't let them live. He made sure that only him and Uraume remembered you.
Over the course of centuries you began to fade into the back of his mind, a place that he will never tap back into. Those memories no longer had the same effect on him. They didn’t make him soft like they use to. They made him angry, viewing them as a time that he was weak. He even forgot that he was on a hunt looking for the person or curse that killed you. If anything he now wishes it was him that did it. He sees you as having a victory over him simply because he couldn't. You were his biggest regret and now you exist forvever in the back in his mind. You were like a thorn in his foot that he can never get out. No matter how much it annoyed him, it will always be there so he learned to ignore it.
87 notes · View notes
jewelleria · 19 hours
Text
I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again. Here are some of my thoughts.
I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 
But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 
This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 
I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not as close to what’s happening as I am.
How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying I live in Palestine and saying I live in Israel? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 
I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places in America, set up camp in London for a while, and had a brief stint in Helsinki. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 
Tumblr media
If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 
I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 
But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I look at pretty things and take out my phone because I think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life, one filled with sunsets and over sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 
But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 
They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 
These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfiring makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 
Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 
No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.
But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 
I am a Jew. 
Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 
I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 
Tumblr media
Now, let’s go back to when I mentioned the hateful message I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 
Then they sent me this: 
Tumblr media
I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.”
Where they drew these conclusions after reading a (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 
For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 
But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 
I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 
And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel?(Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two terms interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.
But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 
There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and hem and haw about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.
But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 
So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. 
I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 
I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 
I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.
But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 
When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.
My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 
I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. He hasn’t answered since the sun set on the Book of Esther. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 
source reading
The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications
Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn
Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha
I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg
The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes
Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board
There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart
The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit
“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi
When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss
Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller
Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer
What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins
The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore
Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman
The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman
How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner
This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press
Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss
37 notes · View notes
albatris · 2 years
Text
ohhhhh why did it take me so long to piece together "I tend to feel anxious and uncomfortable when I have to introduce friends from two different social contexts of mine and let them mingle" and "hi I'm logan and one of my special talents is vaguely introducing a friend to another friend and then watching them both become way closer more involved friends with each other than they are with me" into the same big ol' puzzle
16 notes · View notes
ktempestbradford · 28 days
Text
I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me
It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:
At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.
On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."
Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:
Tumblr media
But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It gets worse.
"Tempest, how could it possibly--"
source of this video that also includes this charming description:
Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'
There is already a meme.
Tumblr media
Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:
Tumblr media
Who has already done an interview!
As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!
Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.
The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.
Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!
Tumblr media
I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.
Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:
Tumblr media
I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.
Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:
Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.
Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.
Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.
Tumblr media
I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.
This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.
Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:
Tumblr media
With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"
"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:
Tumblr media
There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.
The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.
Even better, this weirdly grainy image?
Tumblr media
From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.
If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.
As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.
And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...
Tumblr media
This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.
Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.
As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...
Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.
Tumblr media
You cannot make this stuff up.
But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.
Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.
Tumblr media
HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.
8K notes · View notes
joonipertree · 7 months
Text
Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.
Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????
But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."
Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.
If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"
You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.
God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.
Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.
IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA
I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.
Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.
If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.
You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.
I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?
If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.
Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."
People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.
Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.
You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'
But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.
You came close and kicked him on the shin.
I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.
The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.
If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.
With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.
The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.
It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.
Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.
Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.
And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.
"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.
"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"
Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."
The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.
"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."
The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.
"Only you can....treat me like that."
Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.
Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.
I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.
4K notes · View notes
Text
Kickstarting the audiobook of The Lost Cause, my novel of environmental hope
Tumblr media
Tonight (October 2), I'm in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.
Tumblr media
The Lost Cause is my next novel. It's about the climate emergency. It's hopeful. Library Journal called it "a message hope in a near-future that looks increasingly bleak." As with every other one of my books Amazon refuses to sell the audiobook, so I made my own, and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope
That's a lot to unpack, I know. So many questions! Including this one: "How is it that I have another book out in 2023?" Because this is my third book this year. Short answer: I write when I'm anxious, so I came out of lockdown with nine books. Nine!
Hope and writing are closely related activities. Hope (the belief that you can make things better) is nothing so cheap and fatalistic as optimism (the belief that things will improve no matter what you do). The Lost Cause is full of people who are full of hope.
Tumblr media
The action begins a full generation after the Hail Mary passage of the Green New Deal, and the people who grew up fighting the climate emergency (rather than sitting hopelessly by while the powers that be insisted that nothing could or should be done) have a name for themselves: they call themselves "the first generation in a century that doesn't fear the future."
I fear the future. Unchecked corporate power has us barreling over a cliff's edge and all the one-percent has to say is, "Well, it's too late to swerve now, what if the bus rolls and someone breaks a leg? Don't worry, we'll just keep speeding up and leap the gorge":
https://locusmag.com/2022/07/cory-doctorow-the-swerve/
That unchecked corporate power has no better avatar than Amazon, one of the tech monopolies that has converted the old, good internet into "five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four":
https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040
Amazon maintains a near-total grip over print and ebooks, but when it comes to audiobooks, that control is total. The company's Audible division has captured more than 90% of the market, and it abuses that dominance to cram Digital Rights Management onto every book it sells, even if the author doesn't want it:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff
I wrote a whole-ass book about this and it came out less than a month ago; it's called The Internet Con and it lays out an audacious plan to halt the internet's enshittification and throw it into reverse:
http://www.seizethemeansofcomputation.org/
The tldr is this: when an audiobook is wrapped in Amazon's DRM, only Amazon can legally remove it. That means that every book I sell you on Audible is a book you have to throw away if you ever break up with Amazon, and Amazon can use the fact that it's hold you hostage to screw me – and every other author – over.
As I said last time this came up:
Fuck that sideways.
With a brick.
Tumblr media
My books are sold without DRM, so you can play them in any app and do anything copyright permits, and that means Amazon won't carry them, and that means my publishers don't want to pay to produce them, and that means I produce them myself, and then I make the (significant) costs back by selling them on Kickstarter.
And you know what? It works. Readers don't want DRM. I mean, duh. No one woke up this morning and said, "Dammit, why won't someone sell me a product that lets me do less with my books?" I sell boatloads" of books through these crowdfunding campaigns. I sold so many copies of my last book, *The Internet Con, that they sold out the initial print run in two weeks (don't worry, they held back stock for my upcoming events).
But beyond that, I think there's another reason my readers keep coming back, even though I wrote a genuinely stupid number of books while working through lockdown anxiety while the wildfires raged and ashes sifted down out of the sky and settled on my laptop as I lay in my backyard hammock, pounding my keyboard.
(I went through two keyboards during lockdown. Thankfully, I bought a user-serviceable laptop from Framework and fixed it myself both times, in a matter of minutes. No, no one pays me to mention this, but hot damn is it cool.)
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/13/graceful-failure/#frame
Tumblr media
The reason readers come back to my books is that they're full of hope. In the same way that writing lets me feel like I'm not a passenger in life, but rather, someone with a say in my destination, the books that I write are full of practical ways and dramatic scenes in which other people seize the means of computation, the reins of power or their own destinies.
The protagonist of The Lost Cause is Brooks Palazzo, a high-school senior in Burbank whose parents were part of the original cohort of volunteers who kicked off the global transformation, and left him an orphan when they succumbed to one of the zoonotic plagues that arise every time another habitat is destroyed.
Brooks grew up knowing what his life would be: the work of repair and care, which millions of young people are doing. Relocating entire cities off endangered coastlines and floodplains, or out of fire-zones. Fighting floods and fires. Caring for tens of millions of refugees for whom the change came too late.
Tumblr media
But with every revolution comes a counter-revolution. The losers of a just war don't dig holes, climb inside and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. Two groups of reactionaries – seagoing anarcho-capitalist billionaire wreckers and seething white nationalist militias – have formed an alliance.
They've already gotten their champion into the White House. Next up: dismantling every cause for hope Brooks and his friends have, and bringing back the fear.
That's the setup for a novel about solidarity, care, library socialism, and snatching victory from defeat's jaws. Writing it help keep me sane during the lockdown, and when it came time to record the audiobook, I spent a lot of time thinking about who could read it. I've had some great narrators: Wil Wheaton, @neil-gaiman, Amber Benson, Bronson Pinchot, and more.
Tumblr media
I record my audiobooks with Skyboat Media, a brilliant studio near my place in LA. Back in August, I spent a week in their recording booth – "The Tardis" – doing something I'd never tried before: I recorded a whole audiobook, with directorial supervision: The Internet Con:
https://transactions.sendowl.com/products/78992826/DEA0CE12/purchase
When it was done, the director – audiobook legend Gabrielle de Cuir – sat me down and said, "Look, I've never said this to an author before, but I think you should read The Lost Cause. I don't direct anyone anymore except for Wil Wheaton and LeVar Burton, but I would direct you on this one."
I was immensely flattered – and very nervous. Reading The Internet Con was one thing – the book is built around the speeches I've been giving for 20 years and I knew I could sell those lines – but The Lost Cause is a novel, with a whole cast of characters. Could I do it?
Reader, I did it. I just listened to the proofs last week and:
It.
Came.
Out.
Great.
Tumblr media
The Lost Cause goes on sale on November 14th, and I'll be selling this audiobook I made everywhere audiobooks are sold – except for the stores that require DRM, nonconsensually shackling readers and writers to their platforms. So you'll be able to get it on Libro.fm, downpour.com, even Google Play – but not Audible, Apple Books, or Audiobooks.com.
But in addition to those worthy retailers, I will be sending out thousands – and thousands! – of audiobook to my Kickstarter backers on the on-sale date, either as a folder of DRM-free MP3s, or as a download code for Libro.fm, to make things easy for people who don't want to have to figure out how to sideload an audiobook into a standalone app.
And, of course, the mobile duopoly have made this kind of sideloading exponentially harder over the past decade, though far be it from me to connect this with their policy of charging 30% commissions on everything sold through an app, a commission they don't receive if you get your files on the web and load 'em yourself:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112
As with my previous Kickstarters, I'm also selling ebooks and hardcovers – signed or unsigned, and this time I've found a great partner to fulfill EU orders from within the EU, so backers won't have to pay VAT and customs charges. The wonderful Otherland – who have hosted me on my last two trips to Berlin – are going to manage that shipping for me:
https://www.otherland-berlin.de/en/home.html
Kim Stanley Robinson read the book and said, "Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this." That's just about the perfect quote, because the book is a ride. It's not just a kumbaya tale of a better world that is possible: it's a post-cyberpunk novel of high-tech guerrilla and meme warfare, climate tech and bad climate tech, wildcat prefab urban infill, and far-right militamen who adapt to a ban on assault-rifles by switching to super-soakers full of hydrochloric acid.
It's a book about struggle, hope in the darkness, and a way through this rotten moment. It's a book that dares to imagine that things might get worse but also better. This is a curious emotional melange, but it's one that I'm increasingly feeling these days.
Like, Amazon, that giant bully, whose blockade on DRM-free audiobooks cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through university (according to my agent)? The incredible Lina Khan brought a long-overdue antitrust case against Amazon while her rockstar DoJ counterpart, Jonathan Kanter, is dragging Google through the courts.
The EU is taking on Apple, and French cops are kicking down Nvidia's doors and grabbing their files, looking to build another antitrust case for monopolizing GPUs. The writers won their strike and Joe Biden walked the picket-line with the UAW, the first president in history to join striking workers:
https://doctorow.medium.com/joe-biden-is-headed-to-a-uaw-picket-line-in-detroit-f80bd0b372ab?sk=f3abdfd3f26d2f615ad9d2f1839bcc07
Tumblr media
Solar is now our cheapest energy source, which is wild, because if we could only capture 0.4% of the solar energy that makes it through the atmosphere, we could give everyone alive the same energy budget as Canadians (who have American lifestyles but higher heating bills). As Deb Chachra writes in her forthcoming How Infrastructure Works (my review pending): we get a fresh supply of energy every time the sun rises and we only get new materials when a comet survives atmospheric entry, but we treat energy as scarce and throw away our materials after a single use:
https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/612711/how-infrastructure-works-by-deb-chachra/
Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. We have shot past many of our planetary boundaries and there are waves of climate crises in our future, but they don't have to be climate disasters. That's up to us – it'll depend on whether we come together to save ourselves and each other, or tear ourselves apart.
The Lost Cause dares to imagine what it might be like if we do the former. We don't live in a post-enshittification world yet, but we could. With these indie audiobooks, I've found a way to treat the terminal enshittification of the Amazon monopoly as damage and route around it. I hope you'll back the Kickstarter, fight enshittification, inject some hope into your reading, and enjoy a kickass adventure novel in the process:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-lost-cause-a-novel-of-climate-and-hope
Tumblr media
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/02/the-lost-cause/#the-first-generation-that-doesnt-fear-the-future
2K notes · View notes
ovaryacted · 6 months
Text
Rookie Mistakes
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: RE2!Leon x Sergeant fem!Reader
Summary: When Leon seems distracted and makes a mistake during a call, you ensure your rookie gets his head together as his sergeant.
Content/Warnings: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn with plot. Dom/sub elements. Femdom/msub. Praise kink. Slight degradation. Needy/subby Leon. Oral sex. Fingering. Handjob. Office Sex. Slight age gap (reader is older at around 25, Leon is 21).
WC: 4.7k
Notes: Finally this is out. I know I know, I'm a liar! But, I had fun with this one, so I hope you like it. Shoutout to the babe @cinnarette for beta reading this and giving me her approval lolz. Anyways, reblogs & comments are always appreciated!
Tumblr media
Leon had always been one to find the good in a shitty situation. Someone with a warm heart that matched the moral compass he developed despite the constant bullshit he experienced daily.
From his hectic childhood to his experiences in the police academy, he had to overcome many trials and tribulations on his own with nobody in his corner. All of those struggles to get the pure sense of relief once he felt his diploma in his hand made all the stress worth it.
When he first arrived at the R.P.D., he didn’t know what to expect. The anxiety of starting fresh in a new city with a new career clouded his mind with a paranoia he seemed to carry in his youth. Walking into the police department he’d call his new home, Leon was fairly surprised to be greeted with a welcome party.
Balloons and confetti filled the common room as he moved around the crowd, bombarded with introductions and greetings as he tried to memorize the names that were thrown his way. Still, the small games and blue cake he indulged in brought a smile to his face, topped off with the polka-dotted party hat he was forced to wear and the words Welcome Leon hung up on the ceiling for him to see.
What Leon didn’t expect was to be assigned to your personal detail the next day. A police sergeant on the force, a bit older, no more than 25 he first assumed, more refined and seasoned with one hell of a glare. First impressions? He was terrified, nervous as hell to fuck anything up seeing how you ran a tight ship, taking your job too seriously for comfort. Of course, you had to. You were working in a male-dominated field, forcing yourself into a mold so you could be taken seriously by those around you.
He took his hand out when being introduced to you, unstable grip and a nervous smile to match as he looked directly into your intimidating gaze. You shook his hand firmly, the strength of your grasp parallel with the small grin you offered him almost made a shiver roll down his spine.
“So you’re the new rookie huh? Well, it’s nice to see a fresh face in here. We have some serious work to do. Let’s get started.”
-
You were particular about how you wanted things done, very precise in your words and your delivery. A harsh leader, one who easily reprimanded the other rookie officers but was particularly picky with Leon. In a way, he started to feel like you were targeting him, pressuring him so he would crack and leave the force. He knew he couldn’t leave, that this was the career path he chose, and he was too anxious to say anything so he’d let it slide.
You didn’t let up on his training either, always making sure your rookie was on top of what was expected of him. The slight fear Leon had when first meeting you quickly turned into admiration. His stress-induced feelings morphed into respect, now wanting to learn everything you had to show him.
That was when it started. Leon now tried any little thing to get in your good graces, to see even the slightest sign of a smile or to hear you laugh. He started coming to work earlier to help with the case filings you had piled on your desk, organizing them the way you taught him whenever you assigned him grunt work. He wanted you to take a breather and start your day with a clear head, maybe even enjoy your coffee for a bit longer.
When you saw how tidy your work environment was, you went up to Leon who you saw was typing away at his desk diligently. His head lifted up to look at you, blue eyes glancing over your face to read your expression.
“Morning. By any chance, did you fix all the files on my desk?”, you asked curiously, making the blonde rub the back of his neck shyly.
“Yeah, I did. Wanted to help you out a bit and give you an early start to the day” he responded, silently hoping you wouldn’t be upset at him for entering your workspace. Instead, he was met with your look of genuine surprise, followed by a twinkle of gratitude.
“Thank you for that, I appreciate it. Keep up the good work Leon”, you praised him, offering a small smile, one that he made sure to burn into his memory.
“Yes ma’am”, his face was practically beaming at your words as he watched you walk back towards your office, trying to hide the sudden warmth flooding his cheeks.
Your words kept repeating in his head nonstop throughout the entire day. Not only did you acknowledge him in a positive light, you also addressed him by name, which was rare. He was more present at work, his posture straighter, and more eager to help. From that point on, he made it his mission to make sure his sergeant was stress-free, doing anything to see you smile at him again.
Working with Leon, you quickly learned that he was perceptive. A smart cookie, and probably the smartest one out of the current bunch of recruits. Despite the tough love you gave him, especially because he was your professional responsibility, he was the only one truly receptive to your teachings. Like a sponge, he took in everything you gave with a certain wonder you hadn’t seen in anyone else. It was cute really, how he was so ambitious and doing his best to get your approval.
What you liked the most about working with Leon was how he addressed you. He took your authority seriously, seeing someone in charge instead of your appearance. He didn’t say your name, not your first or last out of respect, but rather he always addressed you as Ma’am. You never had someone say that to you directly, thinking it makes you sound older than you actually are. But with the way his eyes warmed up when he’d say it with full confidence, you didn’t have it in you to tell him to stop.
-
Over the next few weeks, Leon became part of your daily routine, integral to the start of your day. He’d walk in a few minutes early as expected, with two coffee cups in his hands as he waited for you outside your office. Spotting the top of your head coming from speaking to the chief, you were heading his way. You had the same soft smile reserved just for him, one that he always looked forward to seeing when you worked together.
“Got you your usual”, he offered one of the cups to you, your fingers lightly grazing his when taking the warm concoction into your hand.
“Extra caramel?”
“With oat milk, vanilla and cinnamon. I triple checked”, he said enthusiastically, observing you as you sipped the drink. A soft hum escaped you while you closed your eyes in satisfaction.
“You know how to spoil me”, you gave him a wider smile now, seeing how his cheeks blushed the slightest bit at your expression. His reaction made you chuckle, a sound he’s come to enjoy the more time you two spent together. 
“Now come on, we need to work on this case before we patrol at 12. The chief’s on my ass again so let’s get this over with before lunch yeah?”, and without fail, he’d give you the same ending response every time.
“Yes ma’am”
The more you invested in Leon’s skills, the more you realized small things about him that were fairly telling. You weren’t stupid. Anyone with a brain could see that the respect and admiration he had for you was turning into something else entirely. You could tell with every passing moment you had with him, noticing how the tension between the two of you would get thicker after every interaction. You didn’t comment on it. Instead, you enjoyed toying with him, a part of your ego feeding off on how he’d say yes ma’am in such a way that would make you want to hear it more often.
The faint touches between the two of you got more frequent. Your fingers would brush his during the exchange of files, you saw how he’d always be within a hair’s distance when standing near you. Moments spent training in the shooting range were where the intimacy seemed to skyrocket, putting your hands on Leon’s arms to keep his form up as he shot towards his target.
You didn’t need to do that. Leon was a good shot, accurate too. But you enjoyed the way he released a shaky breath whenever you were close to him or touched him, how the tips of his ears reddened when you praised him for hitting the bullseye.
In one certain instance when the R.P.D. was extra busy, you were being hammered with files and administrative work. The coffee sitting on your desk was no longer doing its job of waking you up, and the constant bombardment of having to organize new information was starting to make your head pulse. You stood up from your seat to give your back a break, bending backward until you felt a satisfying crack in your spine. Hearing a knock at your door that brought your attention, you noticed Leon on the opposite end.
“Hey, my bad if I caught you at a bad time. The investigators wanted to review those files on that drug bust we did yesterday, something about missing information”
“Oh yeah yeah, it’s right behind me. Hell, I don’t even know where I put it”, you turned to face the mess behind you, lamenting at the stack of files you have yet to sort through today.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll look for it. You stay focused on what you’re doing”
Just like that, Leon came over behind you, going through the files while you stayed reading over the papers in your hand. The both of you made quick conversation, commenting on how busy it became. The increase of instances flooding the department only added more to your workload. Leon kept digging through the pile, turning his body to go to the other side of you.
In the process, he put a hand on your hip and muttered an apology, slightly making you jump and walking behind you to go to your left side. You tried to pay no mind to the gentle touch, going back to refocusing on the case at hand. He found the document folders he needed, suddenly too close to your body when the second he turned, you moved backward into him. Leon’s hips pressed against your rear, his hands reaching toward your hips instinctively despite the hitch in his breath at the contact.
“S-shit, I’m sorry…”, he mumbled, cheeks flushed red as he walked out of your office. You didn’t get a word in, but his reaction was enough to tell you about what you already knew.
The ghost of his touch filled your mind for the rest of the day, and it was worse for Leon. He tried so hard not to think about it. Not to fantasize about how your hips would feel bouncing against his with force, what you’d sound like when you’re aroused. It was practically impossible for him. His imagination went haywire the second he got home, jerking himself off to relieve the hard-on he’s been managing since earlier this afternoon.
He couldn’t get the image out of his head. He thought about how you’d praise him, call him a good boy for making you feel good. Deep down, he wondered if you were equally as authoritative in the bedroom as you were outside of it. As he released all over his hands with a whine, he sighed to himself, fully aware that he had reached the point of no return with his own thoughts about you. 
-
It was a Tuesday afternoon when both of you were assigned to handle two suspects committing a robbery. Called to the scene, you trailed them down to a nearby commercial street. They were careless too, throwing their guns halfway into the chase and the items they stole slipping from their grasp onto the concrete floor. Catching them felt easy, handcuffing one to the ground and throwing him to the backseat of your cop car. Leon seemed to be distracted, with what you didn’t know. When the second thief seemed to slip from his grasp and started to make a run for it, you knew he needed to get his act together.
“Get your head out of your ass Kennedy! Before I put my foot up there instead. Now move!”, you ordered him to get back into the patrol car. Turning on the police siren, you drove to track down the next suspect and apprehended them with quickness.
The drive to the station was quiet besides the two handcuffed men grumbling behind you. Leon kept his mouth shut, refusing to look your way, and focused on listening to the chatter on the radio. He knew you were pissed, and he didn’t know what had gotten into him today but he couldn’t focus for the life of him. The nagging voice in the back of his mind was telling him to be prepared for the worst, because he fucked up, and worse yet, he fucked up with you.
After bringing the two robbers down to the precinct, you couldn’t erase the irritation from your face. You couldn’t even look at Leon, upset that someone like him after so much training made such a rookie mistake. You only offered a glare, knowing for a fact you’d have to talk to him later on when your temper wasn’t so flared up. For now, you made Leon sit at his desk to do filing work, deciding not to berate him in front of the other officers and saving him the embarrassment.
Knowing you were giving him the silent treatment, he avoided you for the rest of the day, staying late at the R.P.D. in hopes of being able to talk to you. Leon drummed his fingers on his desk absentmindedly, until you came up behind him and got his attention.
“Kennedy, to my office. Now”, your tone of voice was harsh, making the hairs on Leon’s neck rise as he got up to follow you back to your workspace.
You locked the door once the both of you were inside, leaning back against your desk with your tactical belt off so your hips pressed against the wooden edge. Arms crossed over your chest, your head raised at the cop before you, watching his feet anxiously moving as he looked at the floor with slight shame.
“I want to know what happened out there. You messed up, and that’s not like you. You don’t make rookie mistakes anymore, we’re passed that”, you started to speak. Leon’s gaze was pinned on you, trying to hide his humiliation but it was clear as day.
“I know. I know I fucked up, it was a stupid mistake. I’m sorry”
“Yeah, it was. I didn’t invest all this time in training you personally for you to let things like this slip. You’re better than this, you know that”, your tone changed from irritation to concern, trying to get him to see the bigger picture.
“You’re my responsibility, Leon. I’m this harsh and this strict for a reason, and it’s because I care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t give a shit what happened to you, but I do. This reflects back on me, so just get your head together alright?”, you saw how his brows furrowed a bit in slight confusion at your confession.
You cared about him.
“Yes ma'am. It won’t happen again, I really am sorry”, his hands started to fumble with his tactical belt.
“I know you are, but sorry’s not gonna cut it. I can’t have you distracted like this. Not on my watch”, you said, now walking from the desk until you stood in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle, not knowing what else to do besides stand there.
“If you’re really sorry you’re going to have to prove it. You’re not getting off that easy. You got that rookie?”, your eyes held that intimidating stare that made Leon tense, you could practically hear him gulp. 
“I-I understand ma’am. Whatever it takes I’ll do it.”, he was still oblivious, having no idea what he just got himself into but he wasn’t complaining, not when you were this close to him. Your hand went up towards his belt, a singular finger curving into one of the loops to yank his body forward. Now standing chest to chest he shivered at the close contact, holding his breath and waiting for your next words.
“You’re gonna use your pretty mouth to prove that you won’t mess up like that again. Maybe if you’re good enough, I’ll think about being nice and rewarding you. That okay?”, your words were laced with pure temptation, making Leon nod, too scared to speak up. He didn’t know what to expect, but lord if he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t enjoying it. 
“Use your words baby”
“Yeah, f-fuck it’s okay”, he was shaking in front of you, a blush on his cheeks so intense you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin.
“Can I kiss you?”, you tilted your head up towards him, his warm breath against your lips as the ends of your noses touched.
“Please do…”
You didn’t waste another second, lips colliding against his as Leon finally released the breath he was holding. He let you take control, his mind turning to complete mush at just the feel of your mouth against his. Tongues dancing together, you ran your fingers through his hair, his own hands going to paw at your hips. He released needy faint moans, holding on to you as if you were going to leave him any second now. When you pulled away from him and bit his bottom lip he whimpered, a sound you didn’t expect him to make. You fucking loved it.
You walked backward while he followed you on jittery legs. With your back now pressed against the desk again, Leon’s face dug into your neck, leaving a path of kisses in a way that made you chuckle. His hands were everywhere, overwhelmed with what to do or where to touch. You brought your fingers into his hair again, giving him a soft yank as he groaned out from the action. Pupils already dilated, you eyed him closely, how he seemed so far gone when you haven’t even started.
“You want to be good for me Leon?”, your voice was soft, almost patronizing and it only made Leon’s dick pulse in his pants.
“Yes, I wanna be good for you. Don’t want you mad at me”, Leon pouted, and you fought the urge to kiss him again.
“Then get on your knees and start working on your apology”, you commanded, watching how he bit his lip and nodded.
“Yes ma’am”, he was already shifting down to the ground, diligent fingers on the button of your cargos and undoing them, while you threw your shoes off.
Pulling the zipper down, he started to drag the fabric to your knees until it hit your ankles, pants discarded to the side and leaving you in your panties. Sitting on top of the desk, his eyes looked up at yours, coming face to face with where you wanted him most.
His large hands moved from your shin to your knee, then towards your thigh and hip to hook his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, noting the wet patch that was already staining the cotton material. He dragged them down with ease until they hung at your ankle, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulders to admire all of you with a soft moan.
“Can I taste you? Please?”, he mumbled against your thigh with a soft kiss. He was already playing the part so well, offering him a smirk as you drank in the way he begged you for more. You didn’t even have you train him.
“Yeah baby, you can”
Without hesitation, his mouth made contact with your body, the taste of your wetness filling his tongue and making his chest rumble. It was better than he imagined, moving his tongue up and down against your slit to collect the developing slick. You released a low hum from your lips, already pent up from the stress of your job and your day, now having your favorite rookie tending to you on your orders.
Leon was anything if not keen, tongue lavishing against your throbbing clit and his lips circling around it as he began to suck. You threw your head back at that, hand holding his head in place and hips moving towards him shamelessly. He was grunting under his breath, growing obsessed with the way your body twitched anytime he touched you just right. 
“You’re doing so good Leon, so damn good for me”, you praised him again, feeling the sounds he’d release when you did talk to him. It was debauched, how his senses were filled with just you with no end in sight.
This was how you wanted to see him. On his knees and eager to please.
His attention went back to your opening, feeling it flex around nothing with every flick he gave you. Inserting his tongue into your cunt, your hips arched towards him again, moaning louder than you anticipated.
You were silently thankful your office was a bit farther away from the rest of the department, and being it was later at night, you didn’t have to hide much of anything. You moved Leon’s face closer to your body with a pull of his head, clit pressed against his nose as he sucked at your essence greedily, taking in everything he could get. 
A warmth started to develop in your gut, pleasure like liquid fire making your body twitch. The high you so desperately craved was in near sight, grinding yourself against Leon’s face and using him to get off. He didn’t object, moving his mouth to suck at your clit again, two fingers teasing your entrance before inserting them inside. You cursed under your breath, the dual sensation of Leon’s fingers curling against your g-spot and his consistent sucking brought you closer to your much-needed climax.
“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum”, you could almost taste your release right at the edge of your tongue, could imagine the way it would feel to finally let go.
You looked down to watch Leon at work, how he’d pump his fingers at just the right pace, how his eyes grew hazy with pleasure when they looked up at you.
With one soft nip at your clit your release hit you full force, a small squeal leaving your lips as your gummy walls clenched around his fingers. Your grip on the desk and his hair were both tight, knuckles turned white as stars filled your vision. Leon kept moving his fingers and mouth the whole way through your orgasm, groaning loudly against you and refusing to stop. He couldn’t get enough of you or your taste, forcing you to pull his head away before the overstimulation made it too much to handle.
The both of you were panting, eyes widening when Leon pulled his digits away and inserted them into his mouth to lick off what remained of you. You pulled him up towards his feet, dragging him down to kiss you again and chasing your own taste that flooded his tongue. If you weren’t on a time crunch, you would’ve gladly let him go down on you again.
“Did I do good ma'am? Do you feel good?”, Leon asked, thumbs rubbing your trembling thighs as you came down from your high, flushed face waiting for your approval.
“Yes, you were so fucking good for me. You ate my pussy so well”, your words made him smile then, a dopey lopsided grin that seemed to ease his doubts from earlier.
“I think you deserve a little reward now. You want some help with that pretty boy?”, your eyes gestured to the tent in Leon’s pants, looking up at him from your long lashes.
“God, please touch me”, he begged then, blue eyes engulfed in pure lust.
You didn’t want to tease him any longer, undoing his pants and slipping your hand inside. With a gasp he felt your fingers wrapping around his cock that pulsated with need, knowing it wouldn’t take him long to cum either. He had been on the edge for too long, imagining you like this for what seemed like months. You pumped him, twisting your wrist and pressing your thumb against his slit, feeling the precum that was already making a mess in his briefs. 
“You get hard when you have your superior’s pussy in your face huh? You like being used like that baby?”
“Y-yes, yes I do. God I fucking love it”, he nodded dumbly. “Love the way you taste, the way you feel…”, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, mind so blurred with just you that he was losing track of time and himself.
You smirked, kissing his neck and pressing your lips against the mole on his throat. Leon swallowed, hands pressing into your thighs for stability but he was so close to losing it. He thrusts his hips up into your hand, chasing his own high and you gladly let him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and biting at the lobe. The sounds Leon released were downright pornographic, whines and lewd wet sounds filling your office. 
“S-shit I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Please ma'am, I’m so close”, he begged again, his cock throbbing and hot in your hand as he spoke. He bucked his hips more into your squeezing fingers, your pace picking up as you jerked him off more persistently. He felt like he could barely breathe, the prickly feeling in his lower spine getting more prominent the closer he got to his orgasm.
“Be a good boy and cum for me Leon. I want to see you cum baby”, it was your final order, and those words alone were his undoing.
His body shook above you when he fell over the edge, his lower stomach flexing hard as he came all over your fingers. He cursed and whimpered, an array of thank yous were said against your neck, hands pressed into your thighs hard enough to bruise your skin. His cum dribbled out of him as his body jerked, still pumping him to the point of sensitivity. He clutched your wrist to signal you to stop, half-lidded eyes looking at yours that filled with mischief.
You took your hand off of him and licked the remaining fluids, purring at the taste of him filling your mouth. Leon bit his lip when watching you, already starting to feel his dick twitch again for more.
He leaned down towards you, kissing you hard and chasing his taste, just like how you did with him. The eroticness of it all overwhelmed him, rasping against you as you pulled away. You looked over his face, cheeks flushed pink and lips plump from their usage. You burn that image into your mind, saving it for later when it would be more helpful. 
“No more distractions or mistakes from here on out Leon. You come to me if you need to clear your head. Understood?”, he released a dry chuckle, placing another kiss against your lips, much softer than before. The intimacy made your chest warm, your smile matching his own.
“Yes ma’am”
Tumblr media
©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!
1K notes · View notes
velvetures · 8 months
Text
Doesn't Crease
A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.
You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.
“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.
You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.
“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.
Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.
You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.
“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.
“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.
“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.
Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.
“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.
“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.
Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.
“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.
“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.
“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.
“One and the same.”
Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”
For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.
You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.
The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.
“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.
Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.
“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.
Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.
Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.
-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-
Tumblr media
Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3
1K notes · View notes
oneforthemunny · 26 days
Text
build me up, buttercup |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!nepo baby!reader|
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
prompt: you and eddie are planning a baby shower to welcome in your first baby, persephone. or how the girl's flower themes are born.
a teeny tiny blurb that i'm excited to share. follows the lore than each of the girls have their own flowers, and this is how persephone's came to be <3 hope you enjoy!
contains: pure fluff. honestly just cutesy shit. language. pregnant!reader.
"I just want something bright." You hum, swaying gently to soothe your sore, aching joints. Your ring dazzled in the bright light pouring in from the open windows, smoothing over the swell of your stomach.
"Is there a specific color, Mrs. Munson?" The timid event planner asked, spreading out swatches of bright yellows, powdery blues, pastel pinks. "If we start with a color, maybe that would help narrow down the options?"
"I don't know." You frowned, a swell of frustrated tears bubbling to life in your chest. You didn't know, and you hated that you didn't know. It was your baby shower, you wanted it to be perfect.
Eddie's spine straightened, eyes cutting to you carefully. He sensed the tears, the irritation of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, all threatening to come out the only way they knew how to. He'd been on the receiving end of too many of those fits. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing soft circles over your soft flesh, a desperate attempt to soothe.
"You're wanting flowers, right? That's the main theme." Your assistant, Natasha, a complete saint in disguise. With pregnancy brain and hormones, you were sure you'd never make it without her. "Do you have options for a floral theme?"
"Yes," The planner squeaked, thumbing through her briefcase of photos, swatches, notes.
Eddie felt you tense, your hand rubbing over your stomach in slow circles, huffing in defeat. "Hey, could you give us a second, Nat?" Eddie hummed. "Just give us one sec to look and kinda talk."
"Of course. Let's take a little break. I'll go get some tea." Natasha gave you both a small smile, padding to the kitchen the event planner following closely behind.
Your sigh, heavy and huffy, echoed off the walls. It made Eddie cringe gently, pulling the flower pictures closer to the two of you. "What about this one? Nice and pink for ya." Eddie held the small sample photo up to you, filled with sweet peas and hydrangeas, obnoxiously pink.
"Yeah," You muttered, lips still puffed in a pout. "I don't even know if I want pink anymore."
"Blue?" Eddie grinned lightly. "Trick everyone into thinking it's a boy incase there's a leak." He cringed when your breath hitched, eyes wide in horror.
"I'm kidding, baby." Eddie added quickly. "No one's gonna leak. We're keeping it intimate."
"Yeah, right." You sighed. "My mom and dad will bring all these people I barely even know."
"And I'll tell them to leave." Eddie's chest puffed, spine straightening. "I'm serious. They're not on the list, they can fuck off, alright? Goes for Victor and Tana too. Not gonna let them upset you."
The small smile you gave him felt like a standing ovation, a victorious win after a grueling, hard day. Filled his chest with warmth, hand squeezing yours lightly.
"If there's even a shower to kick them out of." Your smile fell just as quickly as it came, shoulders slumping with them. "Can't even pick a theme."
"We'll get it. C'mon," Eddie's calloused fingertips tickled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."
"I can be like that if I want to." Your voice teetered on the edge of a whine, the hinting of a cry. "I can't even make a decision about a baby shower theme. How am I going to make a decision about a baby?"
"Stop that." Eddie shook his head, voice dropping to a soft coo. "Two totally different things, baby. Not even comparable." It was rational, firm but soothed your bundles of nerves. You both had your own worries, fears about parenthood- fear of the unknown that was creeping closer and closer.
"Here," Eddie stood, chains hanging from his jeans jingling with every heavy step towards the shelves on either side of the television, lined with books.
Eddie's fingers danced over the spines, until he found the book. Still new, no cracks in the spine or bent pages, a gift from Farrah when you told her the baby's name. "I saw it at this bookstore in Amsterdam. I had to get it." She'd squealed, giving you the book with a title that your baby shared- Persephone.
Eddie had been more elated than you, reading it front to back more than once. Reading it to you at night, eyes lighting when he'd read something interesting.
"I think I saw somethin' in here." Eddie sank back down beside you on the couch. "Just an idea."
You curled into him, knees tucked under you, head on the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. His cologne, a faint smoky smell of a cigarette- you could feel your body relaxing, intoxicatingly calm.
Calloused fingertips thumbed through the pages until he found the page he was looking for, lips parting in a soft, triumphant hum. "Look," Eddie tilted the page towards you, fingertip tracing the small etching of a flower. "Says there's some history behind this flower and Persephone."
You titled your head, eyes scanning over the text.
"In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Earth Goddess Gaia produced the yellow petaled Narcissus specifically to enchant Persephone. Now, this early blooming flower is seen as the harbinger of Spring, announcing Persephone's ascent to the surface."
"Interestingly, for all it's association with rebirth and new life with Spring, the bulb is highly toxic?" You frowned, head tilting up towards Eddie.
His lips curled in a wide, excited grin, eyes shining with gleaming pride. "That's fucking cool, isn't it?" Eddie beamed.
Heat blossomed in your chest, dissolving the feeling of frustration and fear, and blooming with something lighter. Soothing and happy, spreading through your chest all the way to your cheeks.
"That is pretty cool." You nodded, scanning the table for a yellow swatch. "We could do like a yellow and white kinda theme, right? That would be neutral in case it did get leaked."
Eddie gave a small eye roll. "It won't get leaked." He muttered, setting the book to the side. "But, yeah, neutral but still bright."
"Make the narcissus the main flower. Maybe add baby's breath and something else..." You muttered, pulling the swatches in front of you. Eddie's chest boasted, watching your small frown on your features, determined instead of frustrated now.
"Do they keep?" You turned to Eddie. "Like, they won't wilt or be gross, right?"
"Buttercups? Nah, they'll keep." Eddie shook his head gently. "Used to pick them for my mom all the time when I was little. She'd keep 'em in a vase and some water, and they'd stay forever."
Your heart swelled, a dull ache behind his words. Even now, married and expecting a baby, Eddie rarely spoke about his mother. Every small detail he'd share, you'd guard protectively in your thoughts, wanting to remember every detail you could.
"Ok," You nodded, a small sigh of relief. "Let's do that then."
You groaned, pushing off the back of the couch, Eddie's hands quickly finding your waist to help you stand. "Will you go get them? I have to pee, and I'll be right back."
Weeks later, Eddie was sure he'd never seen so many shades of yellow- so many flowers in his life. Your family's Malibu home transformed to a bright, floral baby shower of your dreams. Buttercups at every arrangement, starred prominently in bustles of baby's breath and tiny white daisies. All the guests even in various shades of yellow, shining brightly under the California sun.
Eddie managed to sneak a bouquet after the party, when you'd gone to lay down and the staff was cleaning up. He'd handed it to Natasha, sent it with her to get pressed and framed, until it found it's new home in the nursery.
375 notes · View notes
kadwrites · 8 months
Text
a man with a reputation | T.S
Tumblr media
read the next part
or check out the series masterlist
summary ; you cannot talk your way out of this , for the first time in your life, you're given no choice.
warnings ; angst, cursing, mild violence i guess??? , arranged marriage trope.
a/n ; maybe i'll turn this into a series? who knows, let me know what you think <3. also the accent is a mess, but im trying.
_
"no!" your eyes are wide , glassy with anger filled tears "i will not be treated like some piece of land."
"would you listen? your father and i are thinking of your future." you mother is looking at you with a stern face, sitting beside your father as you stand in front of them
"what future do you think i'll 'ave with thomas fucking shelby?" you raise your voice
"do not speak to me like that , i am your mother."
"we're old, i'm sick with god knows how many illnesses." your father speaks, his cane in his hand as he leans against it, still on the sofa
"don't start with that talk" you shake your head with a chuckle, you sniffle and turn your head away
"i don't know if i'll live another day , i am too sick to work, too sick to care for the farm, there is nothing left for me to give you" he speaks slowly with a serious voice, and it makes your heart sink "this isn't a joke or some game, i've survived the war and lived long enough to see all of you grow , but i know that my time is near, i cannot risk dying and leaving you with nothing"
your father never spoke to you like that, he was always jovial , happy.
it seems like it hits you for the first time, how much your parents have aged, how much the illness took from your father, how his sicknesses have changed him.
"celest got to marry who she chose and so did oliver and so did abraham, but i don't get to do that? i dont get to choose my own husband?" your tears start falling, your voice cracks
"i need to know you'll be taken care of , that you'll be in good hands when im dead and gone."
"and you think his hands are the good hands you speak of?" you cant help the humorless smile that graces your face, hot tears stain your cheek "you can't be serious"
"he is the most feared man in birmingham," your mother chimes in
"you are willing to sell your daughter! to some gangster!" you raise your voice again
your mother stands and faces you
"i am not selling you off, i am securing you a future, with a wealthy man, who can give you everything you can possibly want. you'll live like royalty" her words come through gritted teeth "i am not giving you away to some old pig, you're marrying a respectable man, a man with a reputation."
"a reputation? don't you know what 'appened to his first wife ? you are securing me a grave" you come nose to nose with your mother, both of you almost vibrating in anger "you are killing me is what you're doing, you're selling me off to the highest bidder"
the next thing you hear is the sound of your mother's palm against your cheek, the sound of the slap echos throughout the empty house, your head is turned, your cheek stings
your parents never laid a hand on you, even as a rebellious teenager when they caught you sneaking out the window or smoking on the roof.
your head turns slowly, eyes wide as you look at your mother, she looks mortified at her own actions,
you turn and run off and up the stairs to your room, hearing your father yell at your mother for what shes done.
at some point during the night, you had fallen asleep, but not for long. you were awake when the sun rose, your back pressed against your bed frame, looking ahead at the painting on the wall, it was a family portrait, and you were sitting on your father's lap.
you knew your sister was here when you heard the sounds of her five children, running around the house.
she knocks softly but doesn't bother to wait for an answer when she opens the door after a few seconds, she walks slowly, and sees you on the bed.
your eyes stuck on the portrait , your face almost emotionless, your tears have dried and stained your cheeks, she wonders for how long you cried, your back against the wood of the bed frame, no pillow thrown in her direction for waking you up, no annoyed words saying "you couldn't fucking come in the afternoon?" . the curtains are parted, letting the light in, which is very unusual for you.
you hear the bed creek under her weight when she gets on it, laying next to you
"i heard about yesterday" she says softly, her head turned to look at you
you only glance at her , but your head doesn't turn, then you look back at the portrait
"they're doing this for you, they want whats best for you." she's not sure if it is you she's trying to reassure you or herself , this wasn't ever supposed to happen.
her little sister was supposed to marry a man she wanted, a simple man, a man capable of love
you hum, or you make a sound at least , acknowledging her.
"he isn't all that bad, you know."
a weak chuckle escapes you at her words "in what world is thomas shelby not a bad person?" your voice is hoarse , from screaming and crying all night long no doubt.
"he can give you a good life."
"ya 'ave a good life don't you? with the man you chose, the man you love." your gaze doesn't move, still staring at the painting "its not fair, you lot got to be happy, and i don't."
"ya don't know that." her voice is full of sympathy or maybe pity, you didn't want to know.
you finally turn to your sister, "do you honestly think that i can be happy with 'im ?"
your sister hesitates , she licks her lips "he's a powerful man."
you chuckle at that too "that tends to 'appen when you're a gangster."
"i tried with them, i really did." her voice is weak too, it cracks.
your eyes well with tears again, you didn't know you could even cry anymore "i know..." your voice is a whisper
you knew she'd be against it, she wouldn't agree, maybe oliver would tell you to consider it, abraham would too, just to please your father.
but celest wouldn't
"what are ya goin' to do?" she whispers back, her tears start rolling too
"what can i do?" you ask "i dont 'ave any other choice"
she looks at you as if she didn't expect that. you were always stubborn, always talking your way out of anything you didn't want, you always got your way with your parents, thats what she taught you.
but this time, you don't want to fight back.
"you're goin' through with it?"
"i cant live knowing i disobeyed my father's dying wish."
your father was sick, and getting worse everyday. you were a stubborn woman, but the little girl inside of you couldn't bear to disobey her father.
celest wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you to her chest, her hands runs up and down your arm , like she did when abraham would bother you to tears, or when oliver wouldn't let you play with him.
"at least he's easy on the eyes, eh?" she tries desperately to lighten the mood, her lips pressed to your forehead
" hes old." you say with a weak laugh
"hes older, not old." she corrects, with a laugh too.
2K notes · View notes
idanceuntilidie · 4 months
Note
Hii! Can i request yan cheater with male reader? I really like your writing, and I also love you sm! Have a nice day 💗💗💗💗
Thank you so much I'm gonna cry, I love you too!! Sorry if this is wonky, today was a very exhausting day for me mentally. I hope you enjoy anyway <3 come again :D i made the cheater male I hope you don't mind--
Yandere Cheater x M!Reader
Requests are open
TW: yandere behaviours, breaking and enetering, slightly digusting parts including human hair and organs.
Tumblr media
Ciaran was quite special. Very handsome, always surrounded by people. You aren’t sure if being with him was a blessing or a curse.
He swore he was yours only, but you can’t help but feel hurt when he is flirting with someone right in front of you. There are also times where his phone blows with notifications from different people. It hurt, your heart felt like it was shattering just to be put back and destroyed again.
But the last straw was when you got a message from one of his lovers, they got a moment ofweakness, they felt bad and spilled everything out in a long message. The cherry on top were screenshots and photos of them kissing each other.
You were sure this time your heart just ceases to exist. You cried a lot that day, not ready to face Ciaran. You packed his things and left them outside of the door.
Tumblr media
It baffled him how you would leave him just like that, it was just a small misunderstanding. It was, he thinks, just one time thing. You got just oh so boring he couldn’t take it anymore. He still loves you! He really does.
He missed your smile, your smell, how beautiful you looked in the rising sun when you just woke up. His heart squeezes in his chest. Another night spent waiting by your door, you won’t let him in of course, but he just likes to sit there, happily humming when he sees you through your windows. It became a routine, you never called the cops on him, which means you still must like him. Hope burned in his chest, and slowly the obsession for you began.
And he will get his little boyfriend back. You don’t feel safe in your house anymore, Ciarian gave up on sitting outside of your house yes, but now you can’t stop receiving messages and calls from random numbers.
Tumblr media
Sometimes the caller breathes, silently stuttering your name, sometimes even moaning. Calling you his little pretty boy and shit. It made your stomach twist. You called the police many times, but at this point they just don’t believe you because of your lack of evidence. Lazy bastards. You also began receiving gifts, your favorite food, drinks, clothes that fit you perfectly. There was well, one time where your friend was over and one of these gifts appeared, with a card attached to it. A box of chocolates.
You were very tired that day, barely keeping yourself awake, you told your friend to take it. They accepted gladly, and began to eat while you went to the kitchen to make some coffee for you and them, that's when you heard a shriek and gagging sounds. You ran to your friend and saw them pulling hair out of their mouth, there was some skin attached to it. Your friend threw up soon after.
So, after that incident their gifts landed in trash. You feared what you might find out in them next. You don’t feel safe here, but you don’t have enough money to move. So like a rational person, you took another shift. The less you are home the better. It turns out you were wrong.
You came back in the middle of the night, you were practically falling asleep while standing up. You took off your shoes and headed to the kitchen for a sip of water so you can head to bed. When you turned on the light you froze in place. A beautifully wrapped heart shaped box sat on the counter waiting. You swallowed, body moving on your own. The gifts never appeared inside of your house. Hell, they are getting bolder with each gift. As you got closer to the box, a foul smell filled your senses. It was sweet, a little fruity.  Your shaking hands hovered over the opening of the box, carefully lifting up the lid.
Tumblr media
Your scream echoed through the house, as you fell down to the floor. Inside of the box was a human heart, carefully placed and surrounded by your favourite flowers.
You felt a hand on your shoulder, and a warm breath on your cheek.
Ciaran.
Your breath hitched, you didn’t dare to move as his bloody hands wrapped around your shaking form.
“Did you like my gift? Only the best for my boyfriend, do you forgive me now? Look how much I have done for you.” He kissed your cheek.
“I forgive you for kicking me out, I’m a better man after all of this has ended you know? Now we can be together forever.”
1K notes · View notes
bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months
Text
Exile.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n I cried so hard I had to write something so here we are. So,I guess I'm inviting you to come cry with me. 🫧
warning: just sadness
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
The heaviest thing that weighed on Azriel's chest was that he couldn't find a turning point that changed it all. A breaking point that shattered a perfect picture. That started to pull apart the only thing he thought was unbreakable in this world.
You had been his everything ever since Rhys's mother had taken both Azriel and Cassian under her wing. He still remembered you peeking from behind your mother's dress. Big, purple eyes staring at him. As big and as scared as his. As skittish and nervous as him. You two had observed each other for weeks. Running away the moment your eyes met. Where Cassian and Rhys had been loud and obnoxious. You and Azriel had always been quiet and observant.
Then one evening, you showed up at Azriel's favorite corner of the cabin. One that he had claimed as his. Often sitting there all alone in the shadows. Legs up to his chest as he watched everyone else. And no one ever invaded that space. Until that evening, when you had rounded the corner with a bowl of freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk, you splashed some of it as you walked. Your tongue slightly poked out as you concentrated on your task. Then that bowl was on the floor, right in front of Azriel. Your chest heaved as you took short, labored breaths. For a moment, Azriel had been too stunned to even move because no one had ever brought him anything. If people came to him, it was to hurt him, not to be kind.
Like a beaten puppy, he slowly crawled out of the dark corner. His eyes never left you as you two stared each other down. His scared fingers reached for the cookies. The warmth of them settled into his palm. He felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, yet he still extended his left hand to you. Offering you one of the cookies to share. Your shaky finger followed Azriel's movements until you both stood there on the dim back side of the cabin.
Loving you after that came easy. When his mind spiraled, all Azriel needed was to see you. When he felt like he couldn't breathe, all he needed was to look at your purple eyes, which never failed to remind him of the pure irises that bloomed in late spring. He saw you everywhere and in everything. And you were his in so many ways. You had searched and put together every single broken piece of his soul. Rebuilding him into a man with your slow and gentle love.
The night when the carriage with you and your mother was attacked, Azriel thought that he was going to lay down and die alongside you. Rhys didn't ask for Azriel to come. But he didn't have to. The spymaster was driven by the force of need and fear that ran through him like venom. No matter how many interrogations and battles he had been in after that, nothing compared to the vicious slaughter he unleashed that night alongside Rhys and his father. Back then, it had been the first time Azriel had killed. But it didn't weigh on him like he thought it would. All he wanted was to bring them back so he could slaughter them once again.
You. It was you and nothing else for Azriel after that. No more whispers of secrets. No more sneaking around. No more late-night snacks on the rooftop, so no one would hear you. Azriel wanted to love you loudly. To know that there wasn't a part of you that didn't belong to him. That wasn't his. And as he spun you around in your white dress, with irises in your hair, as your laughter echoed and filled his chest, he was sure that he had found his forever.
But now here he was. On the same old balcony. On the longest night of the year, gripping the glass of whiskey in his hand. Watching as Lucien of all people spun you around. Pulling a laugh after a laugh from you. A sound Azriel hasn't heard for months. And that sound had always been his to claim; now all he got were scowls and angry head shakes.
"If looks could kill, brother..." Cassian tried to bump Azriel's shoulder gently, but the spymaster's eyes didn't leave you even for a second. "It's good to see her like that," Cassian sighed, throwing another dagger straight into Azriel's heart because the whole family had been aware that something wasn't right. After almost four hundred years together, you two had come crashing down the rocky shore. "You'll figure it out, Az. Don't beat yourself...", Cassian had started, but Azriel wasn't going to sit here like a fool. So, with a harsh slam of his glass, he pushed past Cassian without a second glance.
You're not my homeland anymore
So what am I defending now?
You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before...
Oh, how easy it had been to love him. To do it all for him. You had built your world around his broken heart. Carefully helping him stand on his shaky feet. It was the hidden parts of Azriel that you loved the most. Azriel, who put notes in the books you were reading, so that at a certain point, with you flipping through it, you would come across a folded piece of paper that read, "Never loved anyone as much as I love you. Your smile alone leaves me defenseless, my little terror."
You had kept them all. You still had them in a wooden box at the bottom of the closet. Every letter that Azriel had even written. Every note. Every dried flower. You bathed in that soft side of him that was only for you. With him rushing home to you so you could eat your dinner together and talk. Talk for hours until a comfortable silence would fall, and you two would find yourself in bed together, cuddling against one another as you read books in silence. Or Azriel read parts of his book to you.
A lifetime with him seemed too short at one point. Until it didn't. You had an inkling that something was changing the moment your brother brought Feyre home. That same night, you had woken up, drenched in sweat. Gasping like a fish frown on shore, with Azriel grasping at your hands. "It's fading," you breathed out, clawing at your chest till you drew blood with your nails. "My love," Azriel breathed, pulling your trembling body closer, "Breath with me." But all you did was shake your head and say, "It's flickering away." You grasped at him for dear life back then. And maybe you should have held on tighter. Maybe you should have sunk your nails into him. But your mother had raised you differently, and you weren't going to settle for scraps.
You'd like to believe that you knew that she was going to take Azriel away before even they did. Because Azriel had always been a savior. A fixer. An answer to the cries of the wrong soul, and oh, did she cry... Helpless little lamb in disguise. So when Azriel started smelling of her, you didn't even hear your heartbreak. You had tried bringing it up. Tried to get him to see, but the prettiest of flowers were often poisonous.
"All I'm asking is for an evening with my mate, with my husband." Your voice bounced off the walls as yet another fight rippled through the house that always felt cold now. "We had dinner last week," Azriel said blandly, buttoning up one of your favorite shirts. "And to think we had date nights every other day," you chuckled bitterly. "We are not kids anymore, Y/N," Azriel bit back, making you glare at him even more. "Oh, so love is now for children. Good to know that you had put an expiration date on this, Azriel", you said, tossing the kitchen towel you were holding to the side, "It would have been nice if you had informed me about it."
"See, this is why I hate being here." His voice roared back, making you take a step back. You fought many times. But you were always the firecracker. The terror. Azriel's composure never let him cross a line. But this. "You and your nagging drilling," he tapped against his temple angrily. "Not everything is about you. For once, give some thought to other people's needs."You had only blinked at him then. Watched him slowly dress up before he walked out of the door with a loud bang.
"A dance?", you blinked, nearly knocking your glass over as you flinched, but the person in front of you was quick to catch the delicate glass. "Apologies; I had no intention to startle you so much; I didn't think you were that deep in your thoughts." A familiar gaze warmed your soul. "Drop the formalities, Lucien," you chuckled softly. "I will if you will come to dance with me; it's a crime to sit through Starfall," Lucien once again extended his hand to you, and with a light shake of your head, you let him pull you up.
The music was rather lively, one you would come across at the city fair during a festival. But Rhys had always liked his tunes wild when he was happy. And your brother was more than happy. "Eris is convinced that I have two left feet," Lucien muttered as his arm wrapped around your waist, "So if this ends in distress, please keep my shame with you." His words made the corners of your lips tug upward as you chuckled lightly. "I would never cause you such disgrace, emissary," Lucien simply smiled at you before twirling you around.
At first, it was a bitter dig to seek out Lucien. A venomous desire to sting Azriel with his poison. You had come back so proud that night, knowing that after a day of horse reading with Lucien, his smell would have been all over you. And it was. And Azriel had stalled the moment he stepped through the door. His eyes grew dark before he angrily undid his cloak, tossing it to the side.
"What was Lucien doing here?", his voice was low and bitter, but all it did was make you smile. "Who said he was here?", you muttered, continuing to flip through your book. You didn't need to see him to know that he was scowling at you. "Why is his scent all over you, Y/N?" You knew now that it was a desperate attempt to grasp the last bits of his love and attention for you and what you were doing was a pathetic desire to catch one more glimpse of his care. "I took your advice. Listened to others' needs", you said with a smirk. Azriel's hands were on you in an instant. Grasping your forearms as he pulled you up, your book clattered to the floor. "What fucking games are you playing?", Azriel said through gritted teeth as you pushed back against his chest, only to make his grip tighter. "You hypocritical bastard. So you can whore yourself out, and I'm just supposed to watch you!" You barked out, the magic you shared with your brother sizzling beneath your skin, roaring to explode around you if needed. "I'm helping her get settled," Azriel growled, letting go of your arms once the darkness around you two grew thicker. "On your dick is where you're settling her," you snarled. You wanted. Waited. For him to deny it. To explode with shouts about your accusations. But he simply shook his head before winnowing away. Oh, how you had ragged that night. Smashing every vase. Every frame that you could reach. Cursing him in all the languages you knew before collapsing to your knees in soul-ranching sobs.
"I've lost you once more," Lucien's soft voice brought you back. You had lost track of the time you two had been swaying. "I'm starting to believe that I'm an awful company," he chuckled under his breath. "No, no, Lucien, you couldn't be further away from that," you reassured him, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder. "Does this have something to do with your husband plotting my death the whole night?", your head instantly turned to Azriel. As if in second nature. You didn't even need to think about it. You always found him in the crowd. And sure enough, his deathly glare was pinned on you two.
It twisted your guts because there had been a time when that look would have sent you to your knees. To know that he was ready to fight for you. Ready to tear down cities. To get his knuckles bloody for you. Now it just left a bitter taste in your mouth. And it felt like a mockery at best. He had lost his claim to you months ago. "I'm sorry," you muttered, ready to apologize on Azriel's behalf, but suddenly your voice died down. Because all of these weeks it had been you, patching up that broken image of you two. Glossing over the flaws so that your family will not see anything. So that no one would need to worry. So that no one would see just how broken you had been.
A loud bang of glass hitting the table was the last straw for you. You flinched as your eyes shut. Angry tears fell on Lucien's deep green tunic. But you refused to let anyone else see you like this. "Y/n," Lucien muttered, "If this is because of my doing," but you quickly shook your head. Pleading eyes looked up at him, and for the first time, the shock on Lucien's face was enough to make a quiet sob escape past your lips. As the mask you had been wearing for weeks finally slipped. "Please," you breathed, "Help me; I can't do this anymore." Lucien's hand quickly cupped the back of your head as he pressed your trembling frame closer to his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly beneath your ear. "I've got you. It'll be okay", he muttered quietly, looking around for anyone who had spotted the scene that had unfolded. "Come on," Lucien muttered after a moment, "Give me your hand."
It was way past the end of Starfall when Azriel walked through the front door. He was exhausted. That type of exhaustioned that seeped into your bones. That made your body ache. That made that permanent feeling of coldness linger deep within. One you couldn't chase away, no matter what. Undoing a couple of the buttons on his black shirt, Azriel stepped deeper into the house. Into a too quiet of a house.
"Y/n," Azriel's voice echoed through the living room. He knew it was way too late to be shouting like that, but this unsettling dread pulled at his chest. "Y/n," he called out once more, hoping to hear you angrily striding to yell back at him, but he heard nothing. Not a single rustle of the sheets. Not the sound of your feet tapping against the wooden floor.
Azriel was about to angrily march up the stairs himself. To beg for you to scream at him if he had to because this silence that he sat in for hours in the house of wind had him running in loopholes that were near to suffering him. But his eyes fell on something glistening on the living room table. The only thing still shining in this dim place. The spymaster took a couple of quick steps toward it. A sick and sour feeling spread through his stomach. Almost sending him backward. There was no way. There absolutely could not be a way. Azriel's hand reached for a light blue diamond ring that had been a part of his heart for so long. But there was no way because you had it on your finger tonight. He had seen it tonight. And if you weren't here, and if the ring was. Azriel swallowed thickly, cold sweat coating his hands and face. You wouldn't have just taken it off here and forgotten it, unless...
I'm not your problem anymore
So who am I offending now?
You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
So I'm leaving out the side door...
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
758 notes · View notes
fusaes · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
— 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ft. nanami kento ♡
SYPNOSIS. ''When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah'' You had one too many shots, with the help of your dear friend, Gojo Satoru. You could thank him, too. He hooked you up with one of his friends, Nanami Kento. His fierce and cold attitude, it only made you shiver with fear, but it posed a challenge. How can you make this hell of a man crack? WORD COUNT. 3.7k words PAIRINGS. Nanami x Fem!Reader WARNINGS. semi public sex (bathroom), public teasing, gojo and reader are sluts, mentions of alcoholic drinks, fubu trope with gojo, spanking + slapping (reader receiving), drunk sex, p in v sex, no condom, pussy eating, lmk if there's more. (you're in for a ride) OTHER NOTES. hello hello, I'm back with our nationwide husband, nanami :) enjoy this one || header art credits: @/oretsuu on X, mdni banner by the lovely benkeibear < 3 !
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
''Are we fucking when we leave the club, or nah?''
You could hear Gojo say from miles away, probably pestering another girl at the bar. You would be lying if you said you weren't looking for some dick, but he's just purely shameless at this point. The girl is sitting on his lap on a barstool, Gojo's tricky hands slipping under her dress. Vile, you thought.
It's not like you haven't experienced these things either, you weren't new to this ''City girl'' lifestyle. Sure, you've fucked around in a few bathrooms and storage rooms, but being out in public is just crazy. ''You have my number,'' the girl said, hopping off his lap. ''Give me a call, yeah?'' She walked away, an empty glass clasped in her hands.
Those cheap fake nails would fall off even before she gets a chance to touch Gojo's cock. You were Gojo's best friend, and vice versa. You let him meet your friends, and he lets you fuck around with his friends, too.
Some may say that it's a ''friends with benefits'' type of friendship, and it's true. You could fall for your best friend easily. But tonight, you're not out to look for true love. This time, you wanna forget.
You wanna forget about your problems, and once you enter the bright and erotic environment with beaming lights, you forget everything you know easily.
You walk up to Gojo, drinking up another shot. '''Toru.'' You say, taking the seat beside him. He drops his glass and removes his tinted shades just to take in your appearance. ''Hey, sugar. What'cha doing here?'' He didn't have to, but he recognized your voice even with his eyes closed.
''Nothing.'' You mutter, and he laughed at you. He didn't know exactly what you were doing here, but he knows you'll only end up doing the same thing over and over again. ''You wanna take home another man who can't last 15 seconds, darling?'' He beckons over the barista, asking to fill his glass.
''I'm right here, doll.'' Satoru teases, his hand landing on your thigh. ''I'm not one of your girls, 'Toru.'' You say, but letting his hand rest on your skin, his rings and bracelets indenting a cold feeling. ''Whatever, your loss.'' He jokes as the barista comes back with his glass filled.
Your hands grab it before he gets the chance to even smell it, and down it immediately. Gojo smiles at you and shoos away the barista. ''Someone's pretty sad tonight.''
He grabs his phone out of his pocket, the brightness of his phone lighting up his ocean eyes. Not gonna lie, if you aren't careful enough, you could actually fall for this man. ''And I know exactly what'll cheer 'ya up,'' Satoru says, his smile growing as a text conversation appears on his phone.
You roll your eyes, not really getting what he meant. But whatever it is, you knew Gojo knew the best for you.
Suddenly, Gojo rose up from his seat and took your hand. ''Alright let's go.'' He said, and you frowned. ''What the hell? I haven't even spent an hour yet!'' You tried fighting his grip on your hand but you couldn't. In the end, you gave up with your heels clacking on the floor
Satoru's eyes scanned the room, looking like he was looking for someone. ''What are you doing?'' You ask, curiously looking for no one in the crowd.
''Has anyone caught your eye?'' Gojo asks, his hands reaching down his pocket to put his black shades back on. Your eyes sweep the floor, looking for a meal tonight. You never find someone interesting just from one look. You didn't believe in love at first sight or cupid, but the lonesome man in the corner on his phone, drinking whisky- there, that's the one you want.
You didn't like boys who were younger than you, from your experience, they all seemed like amateurs. But, when it comes to a man who knew how to work a girl, hits differently. There's just something about this man, something so chilly that made you wanna break it.
''Blondie over there, that's mine.'' You say, smirking at Satoru who looks overjoyed. You were confused, it's as if he was hoping you would choose him, but whatever. Gojo knew your taste, and you were happy.
''Good girl.'' He says suddenly, and he walks over to the solitary man.
After a few minutes of walking through sweaty and smelly bodies in the pit of people on the dance floor, you make it to the 3rd bar of the club, where Mr. Hottie is sitting at.
''Nanamin! You made it.'' You froze. This fucker knew him all along? ''Gojo. What's this 'emergency' you were speaking of? And, it's Nanami.'' Fuck. His voice. You were melting from his chiseled face, big biceps, and the way he dressed, God he had you gobsmacked. You blink and step up to him.
''Y/N, Nice to meet you.'' You smile at him, his eyes trail over to your face, and down to your feet. You were never one to be embarrassed to wear whatever you wanted, but his eyes made you shiver from nervousness immediately. Just my fucking type, you thought.
He offers his hand, decorated with a watch. You accept his hand, feeling his rough skin on yours. You sneakily check his fingers, empty. You celebrated a little in your head and shook his hand, thank God you won't have to deal with another scandal.
''Nanami, you probably heard.'' You giggle a little and Gojo was already sitting on Nanami's left side, as you take the empty seat on his right. You try to stir up a conversation, ''Yeah, what 'emergency' were you on about, 'Toru?'' Nanami's eyebrows curved at the nickname.
''You would've come here nonetheless, Nanamin.'' Gojo joked as he asked the barista for a drink. ''False. I wouldn't have come here if you didn't disturb me from my work,'' Nanami raises two fingers as a signal to the barista for two. ''Oh? What work, Nanami?'' Nanami only stared at you, dissecting everything your body could offer.
You leaned back in your seat, giving him a good view, swinging your leg over the other. ''I'd prefer you call me Kento,'' Gojo smirked, his plan going smoothly but carefully.
It didn't take a while for girls to start crowding around Satoru, girls with their tits almost spilling out their dresses. You scoff, but Nanami paid it no attention. He's used to it, huh? You thought. Maybe you should hang around Gojo more, so you would be more unphased by bullshit.
''I better be going, I'll leave you two.'' The ''heartthrob'' sat up from his seat and entertained the mob of girls. ''Your drink?'' Nanami asks. ''Those are for you two. On me.'' Gojo finally left and you smiled to yourself. ''He won't ever change, huh?'' You pop a joke, taking a sip from your beverage.
''Now that he's gone, I hope he never does. Even though I wouldn't admit it myself.'' Nanami didn't drink whatever Satoru told the barista. Instead, he took the decorative flower from the side of the cup and twirled the stem of it in between his fingers.
''You seem young. What are you doing hanging around a man like him?'' You were flattered, honestly. A lot of people have told you that you looked like you were in your early 20s. In truth, you weren't that far from Gojo's age.
''Why thank you.'' You smile at him, taking another drink. ''Well, be it no surprise, I'm almost the same age as the lunatic over there.'' Your eyes point in Satoru's direction, where a girl is bent over in front of him, while others are feeling him up. You earned a small chuckle from the man in front of you.
All you really wanted was to get fucked dumb by Mr.Hulk over here. But, you knew he wasn't a sex-crazed boy who would fuck any loose hole he could fit his cock in.
''You didn't answer my question, Kento.'' You say, finally setting down your drink to give him your full attention. ''I work at the same place as your best friend does,'' Nanami answered, but you needed details.
You can't just survey a man you just met. 'Where do you live? Do you have a girlfriend? How many exes do you have? Are you a virgin?' No, that's weird.
An idea emerged in your head, a classic. ''Hey, let's play a game.'' His expression didn't change, but his body faced towards you, seeming intrigued. ''Two truths and one lie. You have to take a shot for every guess you get wrong.'' ''Simple enough.'' He added.
''I'll start then.'' You say, taking a shot glass from the stand, filling it up with Bacardi, and passing it to him. ''Alright. I work at a hospital. I hate going out. I enjoy clothes designing.'' You say, staring at his face while trying to figure you out, like a puzzle.
You purposely smiled at him, confusing him further. But, he doesn't budge, he looks like he's got you all figured out. ''Well, the lie was that you hated going out, is that right?'' You put your hands together to clap for him, even though you went easy on him.
''You work at a hospital?'' Nanami asked, seeming genuinely curious, and you understand. Who would've thought a nurse in the day would become a party hopper every night.
''Yeah. Surprisingly enough.'' You took the shot as a penalty for failing to trick him. ''That's amazing.'' You were happy he acknowledged your hard work, but now it's his turn.
You weren't gonna lie, your eyes were turning a little blurry and your head was starting to spin. You put your head in your hands as you await his answer. ''I was once a salaryman. I hate bread. I love mentoring students.'' You were thinking.
Not about his question, of course.
''The lie was that you were once a salaryman?'' You ask, confused. Trying to read his expression, you find nothing. Not a muscle- even an inch moved. ''The lie was that I hated bread.'' He said, skillfully flicking the glass to you with his index finger.
''I was a salaryman, but I changed paths.'' You drank the liquid, quite numb to the burning sensation you would feel in your throat. ''I left my original job to be a salaryman, but came back soon after I-'' ''My turn.'' You interrupt.
This was going too slow, and you were getting bored. You needed him right now, and this kid's game isn't helping you to get used like a toy by him.
You originally had planned to know more about him, but the alcohol is taking over your sentiece and is talking for you. Nanami's mouth curved into a small smile, almost invisible to the naked eye. ''I was fired at my old job, I'm a virgin...
And I want you right now.''
You look at him through your lashes, awaiting his next move. He didn't seem surprised at all, despite the bomb you had just dropped on him right now. The salaryman's smile only grew wider at your divulgence. ''You better be careful,'' Nanami said, pouring more into your glass.
''Don't start something you can't finish.'' He adds.
You grow curious. ''What are you suggesting, sir?'' You play innocent, drawing circles with your wrist with your glass in hand, swirling the alcohol around. Nanami's eyebrows raise, the sudden change of demeanor catching him off guard.
''Curiosity kills the cat.'' You pout at his words. You didn't expect him to be this dead to the world, unless...
He knows your tricks and he's playing with you. Damn. You curse in your head.
You're starting to get tired of this. You were willing to settle for a man who could only last 15 seconds- just to get rid of this stupid feeling. You weren't an animal in heat that just went to clubs and get rammed by random dudes, but this was boring you.
Who were you to blame? You were getting played at your own game. Someone could come over and crown you as ''The sore loser of the night''.
You drank the last stein, and picked up your purse. ''Game's over.'' You set the empty glass on the table and adjusted your skirt down to your mid-thigh, preparing to leave and go fuck around somewhere else.
This is another reason you didn't believe in cupid. Especially when the son of a bitch is Gojo Satoru. You kinda wish you had his bow so you could pierce an arrow through his skull, maybe then would he have good ideas.
You attempt to step away, but got pulled back into your seat. ''I haven't made my guess yet, you princess.''
Did his voice get deeper or are you getting fucked in the head?
Even though you didn't like getting pushed around and doing shit you didn't want to, the way his hand just swallows your wrist and the veins- God the veins.
''Are you listening?'' Nanami gave you a chuckle. Was he making fun of you? ''You're making this too easy for me, sweetheart.'' He says, his hand letting go of your wrist, trailing to the necklace you had wrapped around your neck, and starting playing with the cold metal.
''Easy? How?'' Your eyes narrow, first he was laughing at you, and he's basically saying you gave the answer away.
Well, you did. That was a last-ditch effort to get this man to crack, but it didn't work. So fuck that. ''Your thighs are shaking.'' You didn't even notice his free hand on your tights, caging your thigh in his large hands.
''J-Just get this over with.'' It's the alcohol, you swear. It's not the effect this man had on you. ''The lie was that you're a virgin.'' His other hand let go of your necklace and seized your throat as his now occupied hand took the filled glass.
''Open up, sweetheart.'' His finger pulled your lower lip down, beckoning you to open up your mouth. You oblige, as he poured the liquid into your mouth, the hand on your neck massaging the sides of your throat. ''Good fucking girl.''
You close your eyes, trying to feel if all of this was real. The moment the alcohol stopped dripping into your mouth, you open them, seeing Nanami slightly smirking at your appearance.
Some of it spilled down your chin and onto his hands, but when you tried to wipe it off, he swatted your hand away. ''Lick it off.'' He said, offering his dirty hand to you, facing it towards your needy mouth.
You didn't hesitate, but your hands slowly took his, and licked the excess off of his hands, making sure to clean it up nicely. Nanami let out a low grunt, feeling your hot tongue on the surface of his hand.
''Fuck, let's go.'' Nanami pulled out a few dollars out of his pocket, which looked like a 20 bill. He slid it to the barista and she gave him a quick nod as a sign of thank you. You smirked, the action only adding to your arousal.
Nanami led you to an empty stall in the bathroom, pushing you against the wall of the cubicle, your leg wrapping around his waist. Your hands tangle in his hair at the back of his head, pulling him into you.
You kissed him passionately, as your free hand made work into unbuttoning his dress shirt, feeling his hard abs over the fabric. You could almost moan, and you haven't even touched him fully yet. His tongue was dominating yours, fully tasting everything your mouth had to offer.
His hand trailed to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze and landing a small spank. You squeal into his mouth, while he smiled into your mouth, enjoying your sounds more than he expected. His fingers slip under your skirt, pulling down your tights and feeling your wet heat over the cotton of your panties.
''N-Nanami-'' You fail to speak, his mouth not letting you mutter any other words. His fingers hook under your underwear and move them to the side. His thumb toying with your needy clit.
You moan into his mouth, back arching. Your hand unzips his slacks, not even caring to take off his belt. Your hands find the opening of his boxers, and let his cock spring free.
Nanami let out a grunt, as you started to palm his dick. He finally pulls away from your swollen lips, admiring the work he did. ''Beautiful.'' He said, unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your cleavage. His hand grabbed your tit and let it spill out of your bra and shirt.
You turn your head away from his stare, but his hand quickly grabs your chin and places your head back to its original position.
''Look at me while I make this needy pussy feel good, baby.''
Nanami kneeled in front of you, placing your leg on his shoulder, while the other was still on the floor as his hand hooked around it, keeping you glued into your place.
His free hand pulled your panties down with your tights, fully exposing your wet pussy to him. His mouth almost watered at the sight, and buried his face in between your thighs, lapping up your essence with his tongue. Your hand covers your mouth, a weak attempt to not let any sound escape.
Nanami's mouth was busy, but his other hand wasn't. His hand unlaced his tie with one motion, the sight of his hands making you clench over nothing. You swore you felt him smirk against your pussy. His eyes looked up to you while he offered the tie to you, and you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.
You put the tie in your mouth, while his teeth lightly bit your clit, making you jerk in response. The slight twinge of pain and pleasure drove you fucking crazy.
His fingers entered your cunt, curling into the spot that made you mad. You bit down on the tie, trying to hold in your noise. You grinded into his fingers, needing and begging for more. ''More...'' Even though he probably didn't understand it, the more your moans grew louder, he knew you became more and more desperate.
His cock was leaking precum, already wanting to replace his fingers inside of you. Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt, while his mouth worked magic into sucking your clit in between his teeth.
You were gonna cum, fuck you were gonna cum. ''Gonna- mm- cum 'fo me, princess?'' He asked you, while his mouth was still busy with sucking up all of your juices. You nod for him, your climax edging closer and closer.
''Cum- fuck, cum for me, let me see how pretty you get when I make you feel like you're in the heavens.''
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as his fingers curl one last time, your orgasm hitting you like a bus. Your thighs were already shaking, and you almost collapsed as you released all over Nanami's face.
His eyes didn't leave your face, firmly observing the way your face turns into when you cum. He didn't waste a drop, as his tongue licked all of what you gave him.
He took your trembling thigh off of his shoulder and wrapped both around his waist, pushing you up into the wall. ''Fuck, look at what you do to me.'' His cock was throbbing, rubbing himself in your pooling heat.
''Hurry up...'' Your words came out as a whisper, but he stopped, his dick resting on top of your pussy. ''Don't tell me...'' He took his cock in his hands and aligned it to your entrance, collecting your juices on the tip. ''What...'' He pushes himself in,'' To..'' deeper, ''Do.'' and deeper.
Your moan gets trapped by his tie, while your nails are digging into the muscle on his back. He groans at the crescents growing on his skin, surely going to bleed.
His hips roll like a pornstar, while his hands grope your ass. ''Kento!'' Your words were almost inaudible, as he thrusted faster into you. Your hands took the tie out of your mouth and pulled him into a kiss.
You could taste yourself on his tongue, while he ravaged you completely. Everything was moving so fast. It felt like you were just sitting across the man making you see stars right now. The previous headache you got from the alcohol dissipated immediately.
''C-Cum-'' Was the only thing you could manage to let out, as his tongue entangled with yours. His hands landed another spank on your ass, for sure going to leave a handprint.
Suddenly, Nanami pulls away and stops his hips. You frown at his action.
His hand which was on your ass, moved to your face, landing a slap on your cheek. ''Who's been a good girl?'' Slap. You didn't answer at first, the pain stinging on your cheek.
''Answer.'' Slap. ''Me!'' You answer quickly. Slap. ''Who's the prettiest girl in this building?'' Slap. ''M-Me.'' Your cheek must be red already, the heavy but restrained slaps turning you on but than you expect.
''And who's gonna cum tonight?'' Slap. ''Me...'' You say, as he kissed your red cheek as a reward, and snapped his hips into you, his length reaching deeper in your hot cunny. Your eyes close, feeling your climax inch closer and closer.
Nanami kisses your neck, leaving bites and sucking hickies. ''Fuck, 'M cumming.'' Nanami buries his face into your neck, savoring your scent.
His hips stutter, hesitating whether he is going to release inside of you or pull out, but your legs wrap around his waist, caging him in. Your mind was melting, the lingering smell of his cologne only made you dizzier.
He squeezed your ass, emptying his load inside of your tight cunt, drowning it in white. He raises his head from your neck, eyeing the mess on your face. Smudged mascara, messy lipstick, your hair almost messy- but it looked perfect to him. It was a sight that deserved to be plastered onto his bedroom ceiling.
Your hands run in his scalp, brushing all of the hair stuck on his forehead away. His lips crashed onto yours, but you heard a knock on the stall.
''Ya done? The club's closed, lovebirds.'' Gojo said.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
wowow feels good to b back!!! i love taking on big projects like this so i can get back ti writing. anyways, love you. take care ... ‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy
619 notes · View notes
creedslove · 5 months
Note
Can you imagine seeing Joel being absolute psycho killing machine, because someone captured you and he is like WHERE IS SHE?!
Just to see him immediately soften, when he notices you tied up and hurt and he is just so sweet and caring towards you saying "it's ok baby. I'm here I'm here. I'm gonna fucking kill them all." and gently kissing your forehead, before cutting ripe from your hands and legs. ♥️
Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: bestie, you had no right to mess up with my hormones like that, now you got me whimpering and crying in need and horny for Joel 😭
Tumblr media
• you'd become Joel's girl while you joined him into his journey; he didn't want to let you come along at first, but he had to let you in eventually as you insisted so much
• on one hand, you were just another mouth to feed and another source of worry for him, on the other hand, you were fast and you were able to take down clickers and humans without whining, which was really valuable to him
• and slowly he began warming up to you and you got closer and closer, to that, getting physical was a quick step and the rest was history
• you were his and he was yours; the love and the hunger you felt for each other was huge and intense, and you didn't even know if it was healthy, but you didn't care, there wasn't such a thing as healthy in the world the two of you lived in, but you two were there for each other
• which meant you would kill and destroy anything and anyone in order to keep each other safe
• so when the two of you fell into that ambush, Joel couldn't believe he'd been so naive and stupid, he had done that trick so many times in order to looter but unfortunately it had been a larger group and they ended up knocking him out and taking you
• when he woke up, you were gone and Joel panicked, he knew damn well what a bunch of those animals would want to do with a beautiful girl like you
• so he immediately followed your tracks in order to find you, racing against the clock in order to save you
• and by following your tracks, Joel meant killing anyone he'd seen in sight, anyone he could get information from
• you were tied up, your head was killing you and you could feel your own blood dripping down your forehead, but at least they hadn't done anything worse to you... Yet
• you looked around, so anxious and nervous, your heart filled with fear of not seeing Joel anymore at the same time you were also filled with hope he would show up and rescue you, because he always did
• so the moment you began hearing screaming and gunfire, you felt your Joel was coming to the rescue
• he might not be a prince charming, but he was way better than that, he was your man, and you were his girl and no one could ever get between the two of you
• so it didn't take long for him to barge in, splattered in blood, gun in hands and killing anyone in sight
• he was furious, he was merciless but the moment he spotted you, he went soft
• you looked reasonably alright but he went so soft for you, god it was even dangerous how much he loved it, it drove him mad, he didn't even know he could love someone like he loved you
• when he saw the room was empty, with the exception of the two of you, he took off his jacket, wrapping around your body
"it's okay baby, I'm here. I'm here. I'm gonna kill them all"
• he whispered into your ear, pecking your forehead and cutting the ropes that kept you trapped
• he lifted you up easily and walked out of that place, making sure you were safe and warm into his arms
• he loved you and he would always make sure you were safe because you were his and no one would ever change that
____
Tumblr media
612 notes · View notes
enapoe · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
ᨳ hypocrite
synopsis - y/n's brother is a star soccer player — which is why she refuses to date athletes. (like she dates anyone). But when she's put in charge of the sports section in the school newspaper, she coincidentally makes the star player fall for her.
genre - soccerplayer!hoon × nerdy/writer!reader. FLUFF what is angst? we don't know her. hoon's a rich boy, yn has a famous big bro 🙄 cliché nerd catches athletes eye whatever, whatever
warnings - kiss kiss (duh) lmk if I missed any o(^o^)o
word count - 434
A/N - this story is a lot of my imagination, but after some digging I think @/eeunoia has jungwon fic (Attention Please! Mini series) similar in the sense that both female leads write about the sports team. So before people say I'm not crediting them or stealing their work here I am saying that both our stories have this one thing in common. (Also also, they're a very amazing writer and their stories are adorable and heart fluttering)
PART 2 here !
Tumblr media
The library was your favorite place in the entire city.
Something about the smell of books and coffee that ligures through the book shelves is both comforting and slightly concerning. The library has seen better days but a fair amount of students still come in everyday to study. Sometimes — if you're lucky — people come in for dates, you love people watching, but watching two young people fall in love is S tier. Romance is your favorite genre; books, movies, anything that makes you red in the face and butterflies appear in your stomach.
Even after many failed relationships back in middle school, (don't ask, it was mainly teenage boys filled with uncontrolled hormones) you haven't given dating a second chance. Romance and love was like biting into a creme filled donut—or even better, homemade soup on a cold winter day—it wasn't what your brother said romance is at all.
He's the best brother you could ever ask for, yet his dating life is one of pure nightmares. It seems like everyday Dispatch has a new article about him. He's never brought a girl home, which means he's never been with a girl for longer than one night.
Since his love life consists of picking up a girl and dropping them the next day, you've always told yourself: you will never date an athlete. Yes, in fear they'll use you, but also because you're scared they'd only like you if they find out about your brother.
Whilst in your internal monologue, you didn't notice someone walking up to you.
“Um, excuse me? Do you work here?” you turned and were met with someone's chest. Damn. You looked up and saw the eyes of the one and only star player of the soccer (football) team.
“Oh! Yes, I work here. Can I help you with anything?” Sunghoon found your appearance cute. Not like the ‘I'd date you’ cute but maybe like a newborn puppy type. You wore a baggy beige crew neck and a pair of acid wash jeans, with your hair down and straightened. “I need this book called ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, do you guys have it here?” After a second of silence, you nodded and led him to the mature reading section of the library.
“Thanks for the help…” you think he's asking for your name. “Y/n, Go Y/n” you giggle like a middle schooler and hate youself for it after. “I'll see you around Go Y/n.” He puts the book in his bag and stops before turning back towards you.
“I'm supposed to check this out, aren't I?”
Tumblr media
419 notes · View notes
peachesofteal · 9 months
Note
Hey just wanted to say I love your writing!!! Somehow it fills me with a sense of contentment I haven't experienced before, maybe it's because I see so much of myself in darling from dead disco and I'm loving all the au drabbles too.
Can we please get a glimpse into what happened when darling saw them at the grocery store. Did she bolt the first chance she got? She's probably still heartbroken and emotionally exhausted but does she miss them? How is she managing motherhood by herself? Does she think Soap and Ghost tracked her down? Sorry for asking so many questions my mind is racing 💗
Hi love! Thank you so much for all your support, you're truly too kind. 🩵🩵 I'm so glad you're enjoying all these crazy little stories, it's definitely a treat to dive into.
Warnings-tags: 18+ Mature themes. Takes place after this.
It doesn't happen, quite like you thought it would.
You had expected to feel fear, when you saw them again. Expected to feel the nerves, the anxiety, the twisting in your gut when you finally laid eyes on them. You imagined those feelings would shift into anger, as they always do, the tidal wave of your rage's strength pulling you under, just as it did the night you left, nearly two years ago.
You're surprised when it's none of those things. You're surprised when it's... sadness instead. A profound sense of loss, the swell of it so strong it nearly knocks you off balance, while it brings tears to your eyes.
Your mouth hangs open in shock for what feels like too long, seconds turning into eons while you cradle the baby's head, brain sputtering while you try to process. They've done it. They've found you.
They're going to take her.
Except... they don't look like they're looking for you. They look they're just out, doing their shopping. They look like they're just... having a normal day.
And they look just as shocked to see you as you are to see them.
Bee gurgles in your arms, a happy song, and you bounce her instinctively, while you break your eyes away to look past them, at the other end of the aisle, and the towards the door. You should leave. The thought primes your muscles, preparing you to flee, when Simon's voice rings out over the dim grocery store music.
"Don't run. Please. Please, darling. Don't run." You hesitate, unwilling to leave the grocery cart, unwilling to try to run through the store, and stand frozen, rooted to the linoleum like you've grown there.
It's like Bee can sense the shift in your mood, can smell your distress, because her happy trill stops, and her face scrunches up like she's confused, before she starts to cry.
"Shhh, baby. It's okay." you hum, trying to rub her back to calm her, while your brain trips over itself trying to go a mile a minute. Run. Don't. Be calm. Panic. Scream. Cry. Run into their arms. Don't be crazy. Don't let them take her.
They're stepping closer now, easing up the aisle towards you, and you shake your head at them as a no. No. Don't come any farther. I don't trust you. Johnny tries to wipe his cheek inconspicuously, while Simon's got his hands out like he thinks he's about to catch a wild animal.
Maybe he is.
"Stop." you half yell it, the word bubbling up your throat and out like a barb, and it halts them in their tracks.
"Darling, please." Johnny croaks, his eyes locked on yours.
"Stop!" you say again, and step backwards once. Bee fusses, and Simon watches her. "I won't let you." you hiss, and Johnny's brow furrows in confusion, while Simon regards you slack jawed.
"Let us what?" He asks and you nearly laugh, except in the moment you realize your breathing is more shallow than normal, lungs tight and fighting your brain for air.
"Take her. I wo-won't." Johnny's face shifts into something crestfallen, something broken, and he makes a strangled sound. Like he wants to speak, but can't. It hurts you, wounds something deep, something you've buried, and for a fleeting moment, you want to comfort him. Want to reach out, and touch him. Only just to feel him again. Simon doesn't anything at all, just stares at you in shocked silence, his hands shaking.
"Darling, we would never-" Would never? Would never?! He seems to realize, what he's saying, and stops himself... before taking a deep breath and continuing. "We know you don't trust us. But-"
"No. That's enough." You take another step backwards. He doesn't stop.
"Please, we can at least try to help with-"
"I don't need your help." You spit, and try not to look at your trolley. It's full of Bee's food, puréed, organic foods and brightly colored snack packs, while your own is a smattering collection of bruised produce and discount rack canned goods. "We're fine." you double down, but your voice cracks with the weight of the emotions that you're staving off, and Johnny looks heartbroken. "I'm fine. I'm doing it on my own. I've been doing it, on my own."
"I know." Simon's voice is soft, gentle, the gravel pitch smoothed into something velvety, just for you. It tugs at you, stabs and twists, nips at your heart, while you try to build your defenses to keep it out.
"I don't need either of you. We don't. I'm taking care of her. And she's great, she's perfect." It's not a lie. She is perfect. An angel. Your inquisitive, sweet, beautiful baby. Your little piece of perfection. You do everything for her, sacrifice everything, for her. She's your world, and your her's.
But being someone's world who needs you to survive is hard. It's really, really fucking hard. And doing it on your own is even harder. No one understands, what it's like, and you feel so weak, so stupid, so beat down every day that sometimes, it's too easy to close your eyes in the bathtub. It's too easy, to feel like you did after she was born, alone in your tiny flat, with a screaming newborn, and no one to help you. No one to call. It's too easy to wish for terrible things, especially when you know she would be taken care of. When you know her dads would keep her safe.
"She's beautiful, love." Johnny says, jolting you from your thoughts, and you can't help but nod in agreement.
"You've done so well." Simon murmurs and you slam your eyes shut. Don't. Don't listen to them.
"T-thank you." It comes out as a cry, tears you can't hold off anymore, and they both step closer, close enough that they're maybe two arms lengths away from where you stand. "No!" you croak, and Johnny covers his face with a palm, while Simon's face twists like he's in pain.
Seconds pass, and Bee still fusses in your arms, her body wriggling in your grasp, while Johnny takes long, deep breaths.
"Are you taking care of yourself?" he asks you softly, after he rubs his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Li...like I said. We're fine." You choke it out, and Simon shakes his head. Like he knows. Of course he does. They can see right through you. You have to get out of here. "We should go."
"No, wait." Simon tries to step closer, but Johnny grabs his wrist.
"At least, let us buy your groceries." Johnny tries, but you shake your head.
"No."
"Darling, please. Please." Simon latches onto your trolley, making it immobile in his grip, and you shake your head back and forth.
"She needs to go down for her nap." You grit out. You can feel your own tears on your cheeks, and you try to ignore it, try to ignore everything except for your mission. Escape.
"Can we... get your phone number, at least?" He tries.
"That's not a good idea." I have you blocked on everything so not sure what purpose it would serve, either.
"You still have ours, right? In case you need anything?" Johnny asks gently, and you nod.
"You can call us, any time. Day or night." Simon rushes out, like he's a bit frantic, stumbling over the words. He releases the trolley finally, and you pull it away immediately. "For anything. We'll be there." Bee cries, screams, lungs screeching and you pat her back.
"Okay, thanks." You don't say anything else before you turn, swinging around and beelining for check out, all while trying to remember to breathe and soothe your crying baby.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
767 notes · View notes