#and new job is destroying me. i love it but they decided to put me to help on a project that has some massive problems | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remlionheart · 1 month

Note

Can you do a Chuuya x fem reader where her bra can be shown from her white shirt?

pov: you request a simple spicy lil fic from me, but my manic brain is physically incapable of not giving it an entire backstory and plot and making it at least 4k+ words (thank you so much for this idea tho, it was super fun to write! ღ)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ My first attempt at Chuuya smut (and goddamn, do I love that angry lil man ★~(◡‿◡✿). New to the city, you're coerced into working for the PM after a drunken night out. Scared and now in the heart of one of Japan's most notorious criminal organization's headquarters, you decide to reclaim some of your power by ~*teasing the absolute fuck out of Chuuya Nakahara~*. 4.8k words. Porn with a plot. I can't even lie, this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet while writing, lemme know whatcha think. luv u ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you'd first moved to Yokohama 2 months ago, you had promised your parents that you'd be safe. That you'd find yourself a decent office job to afford you a lofty apartment and that you'd be settled in relatively quickly. You'd pictured yourself walking amongst tall buildings on your days off. Exploring the city with your coworkers on the weekends. Living instead of just existing in your small hometown.

You thought you had your future all mapped out and maybe you did, but those dreams of normalcy were all but destroyed the night you crossed paths with Koyo Ozaki.

She had noticed you from across the bar, quietly observing the way you'd been drinking by yourself all night. It was odd to see a girl with your beauty and lack of abilities so confidently roaming downtown alone. She wasn't sure if you were brave or naive, but the moment you took a seat next to her to thank her for the whiskey and coke she had ordered you, she realized you were the perfect blend of both.

She'd spent the next hour chatting you up, effortlessly coaxing information out of you without you realizing it. She'd offered you an administrative assistant role for the group she worked for, describing it as a "lucrative" and "underground" organization. You were in no position to say no, especially after spending the last month relentlessly applying to jobs with little to no luck.

You woke up the next day musing about silly things like fate and serendipity as you raided your closet for the perfect first day outfit. You felt like this was your big break. The first stop on the roadmap of adulthood that you'd created for yourself. You ironed a pair all black slacks, pairing it with a white-button up quarter-sleeve shirt, and your favorite suede Mary-Janes. Optimism swirled through your head as you eyed yourself in your bedroom mirror that night. You were determined to be so good at this job.

You showed up freshly showered and prepared when you arrived at the sleek, high-rise building. Ozaki waited for you out front with a rather intimidating dark-haired man who introduced himself as Mori, head of the fucking Port Mafia.

Your anxiety rose with each step you took behind them, quickly realizing that this was not the run-of-the-mill clerical job you had envisioned while hazily chatting with Ozaki over whiskey-neats. This was an underground criminal organization full of some of the strongest ability users in the world. You had absolutely no idea why you were here. Why you'd been selected, let alone trusted, to work alongside these people.

You were given your own small office, equipped with a bare desk and landline phone. Mori told you to stay put, explaining that you were to stay out of sight until further notice. You were essentially there as a cover-up.

Apparently, they'd been scouting for girls like you. New to town and completely clueless. They wanted to bring in a handful of these 'administrative assistants' to help keep up the illusion that this was just another ordinary building in the business district of Yokohama and nothing more.

Mori left you with a curt warning about the temperament of the other Mafia members and a haunting, "Welcome to the team." as he closed the door to your office and disappeared down the long corridor. Your heart was slamming into your chest, your anxiety growing the longer you sat. You were angry. Disappointed in yourself for being such an easy target.

You sat for at least an hour staring at the wall in existential dread, wondering what you'd done to end up here. Wondering what you were going to have to do to get out now that you were here. Even if it wasn't necessarily a "job", it still didn't seem like something you could just casually walk away from.

You were in the middle of the Port Mafia's headquarters and you were rightfully, terrified.

The sound of two muffled voices pulled you away from your thoughts while you froze in your chair, realizing that they were right outside your door.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

"No, that's really where they're keeping her. She's going to be a fulltime member."

"A member?" it was the first man again, his voice full of shameless snark and volume as he laughed at the idea. "A Mafia member with no ability? C'mon, Akutagawa. Even Mori isn't that stupid."

"There's going to be more, she's just the first to show up."

Tension crept along your spine when both voices came to a curious stop, one quietly scolding the other before the heavy wooden door began to creak open.

A pair of azure eyes stared back at you, disheveled shoulder-length red hair draping off of one shoulder as he mumbled, "Holy shit."

The taller of the two, draped in a long black coat, tried to pry him away, but he shrugged him off with an irritated. "Chill out, I just wanna introduce myself to her."

The dark-haired man scoffed and continued down the hallway while his ginger companion closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of you looking back at each other skeptically.

Despite his height, he had a powerful demeanor. A blend of apathy and cockiness that exuded off of him as he carefully made his way towards you. "So, you're the new girl, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked back at him, your words suddenly stuck in your throat as his foot made contact with your desk.

You managed a nod, remembering the way Mori had advised you not to engage with the other Mafia members, but what were you supposed to do when you were suddenly locked in a room with one?

"God, we really can't just have one normal day around here, can we?" He sighed, almost seeming embarrassed as his shoulders dropped and he leaned against your desk in the spot next to you. "Stealin' girls out of bars? Tch, the hell are they thinkin'?"

His opposition to his boss' plan made you relax a bit. It was the first time all day that you thought you might make it out of here okay.

He picked up on your apprehension rather quickly, taking his hat off and setting it down before extending a gloved hand out to you. "Chuuya." He said simply.

You stared at him for another moment or two before introducing yourself, trying but failing to mimic his nonchalant tone.

"Hey," He said, lightly nudging your foot with his, "You're gonna be alright. I'm sure this gig will only last for a couple of weeks until they move on to their next big, idiotic idea."

"You think so?" It was the first time all day that you felt like you could breathe.

"Trust me, Mori's plans are always changing. He'll probably cut you a fat check for hush money and then send you on your way sooner than later. Just lay low in the meantime, yeah?"

Your eyes were still locked as you nodded at him again, giving him a feeble, "Okay... Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." He smirked, pulling himself away from your desk.

You watched him pause just before exiting the room. He turned around to face you again, his gaze landing a bit lower than your eyes this time.

"And maybe uh -" If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that you saw a flash of red flare across his cheeks. "Maybe don't wear that bra with a white shirt next time."

Out of all of the anxiety and fear that you'd been drowning in over the last few hours, your choice of outfit had been the very last thing you'd considered worrying about until just now.

You looked down, noticing what he meant as you saw the dark, lacy fabric of your Victoria's not-so-secret peeking through the white of your blouse. Your tits were pushed perfectly together, nearly on full display through the sheerness of your shirt.

He flashed you another faint smirk before clicking the door shut, once again leaving you to your own crippling thoughts as your head dropped into your hands.

What an absolutely mortifying first day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few shifts were a blur.

You'd clock in. Sit for what felt like an eternity in your bleak little office. Leave mid-day to grab lunch at a cafe across the street. And then head home 9 hours later despite the fact that you’d hardly done anything.

You'd learned to bring in books and cross-stich patterns to keep yourself busy throughout the day instead of rotting away at your desk. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if Chuuya was right and there really was a big check waiting for you around the corner, you'd decided that it was worth it to see this through. Because no matter how nervous you got each morning, the painful truth was that you couldn’t afford to turn down easy money.

By the end of the week, you found yourself doing more than just sneaking in romance mangas to make the job more bearable though. You were doing everything you could to gain back even a semblance of power.

If you had to be here, you had decided that you were going to make it everyone's problem.

With the ginger's words still fresh in your mind, you made it a point to wear darker bras. Tighter blouses. Shorter skirts that barely covered your ass. It had almost become an inside joke with yourself at what a distraction you'd become to the Port Mafia. Maybe couldn’t make these men fear you, but you could certainly make them trip all over themselves any time you entered the building.

You'd hardly been able to keep a straight face yesterday afternoon when Akutagawa's coffee fell from his hands and cascaded around him after he saw you walking down the hall in black knee-high stockings. You'd finally managed to make everyone here as uncomfortable as they'd made you and it felt good.

You were half-way through the iced matcha you'd picked up on lunch, sitting with your feet propped up on your desk as you continued to embroider the word "fuck" in pretty, cursive letters next to a pink and yellow flower when a knock arrived at your door.

You quickly stashed the circular cross-stitch pad in one of the desk drawers and straightened your back as Tachihara poked his head into your office. "Yo, new girl. Nakahara wants to see you."

Your brows knitted together as you looked back at him in quiet confusion.

No one had ever requested to see you in the time that you'd been here. Even in your attempts to disrupt their daily tasks, they'd still not bothered to learn your name. But now... you were expected to go see Chuuya... in his office?

"Why?" It was the only question you could think to ask.

"Dunno," Tachihara shrugged. "but I wouldn't keep him waiting. He's kind of an asshole." And with that, you were once again left alone and anxious.

You took a breath, standing up to smooth down the fabric of your skirt before venturing down the hallway.

You did your best to push Tachihara's warning out of your head, reminding yourself of the kindness Chuuya had shown you on your first day while your heels clicked across the marbled floor.

Maybe he wanted to tell you that he'd talked to Mori and that your time with Port Mafia was finally up. Maybe he wanted to hand deliver the check you'd so desperately been waiting for. Maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing. Whatever it was, you were holding onto hope that there wouldn't be any more bad news.

You let out a sharp exhale as you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of his office. You gave the door a light tap, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve when he finally appeared.

His eyes traced over you slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he counted not one, not two, but three undone buttons along your blouse that revealed the deep-purple push-up bra decorating your chest.

"Get in here."

His tone was clipped, dripping with what felt like vexation as he closed the door behind you.

His office was much bigger than yours, adorned with high-rise windows that overlooked the city and pristine black marble flooring that matched his leather furniture. The room was dark, just barely lit by a lamp on his desk. You wondered how it was possible for him to get any paperwork done in here but then promptly realized that with his ranking, paperwork was probably far beneath his paygrade.

Still not entirely sure how to approach the situation, you hesitantly took a seat on the over-sized armchair across from his desk.

"Quick question," he said, standing in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, his voice still riddled with irritation. "What does the phrase 'lay low' mean to you? Because I can tell you right now, this ain't fuckin' it."

Your pupils widened, his words hanging heavily in the space between you.

Your mouth opened and then closed again, too focused on the way he was staring at you to form a proper response.

"Is it -" you wavered, mustering up all the courage you had to try and play this off as innocent confusion rather than what it actually was: sarcasm. "Is it my outfit?"

If looks could kill, you would've been 6 feet under.

Chuuya's eyes darkened, a flustered hand rubbing feverishly over his face as he struggled to keep his composure. He wasn't sure if you were trying to piss him off or if you were just genuinely the dumbest girl he'd ever come in contact with.

"Yes," He said with all the restraint he could possibly manage, his teeth nearly grinding together with each syllable. “The outfits are getting out of hand. You've gotta stop."

You were playing a dangerous game, but you were slowly starting to realize that you were... winning.

"What's wrong with them?" you asked, pretending to cover your chest in embarrassment.

You wanted to hear him explain it. Hear him tell you in his own words that you couldn't wear short skirts anymore because it was causing too many unexpected erections around headquarters.

"I -" The poor redhead looked as though he was going to have an aneurysm if you kept this up much longer.

He snapped his eyes shut and let out a frustrated exhale, his hand now bawled into a fist at his side. "Listen, a lot of the guys around here have... noticed you, okay? And I can't take one more day of hearin' those fuckin' assholes talk about how they caught a glimpse of your ass in the break room. Got it? I'll buy you some new clothes if I have to. Just please, no more shirts like this, alright?"

He was actually bargaining with you. Entering the third stage of grief as he tried so hard to keep his cool. To keep his eyes locked with yours and nowhere else. To explain all of this in the nicest way he could.

It was in that moment that you realized where the real source of his trepidation was coming from.

Hearing his coworkers ogle over you was probably annoying for sure, but the more damning, infuriating fact of the matter was that he was ogling over you too. And he was fucking tired of not being able to get any work done when he knew that you were right down the hall. He was pissed that he had to come into his office every morning and lock the door just so he could jerk himself off to the idea of you.

He was in so many words begging you to stop because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take seeing so much of your body without being able bend you over his desk like he did in his mid-morning daydreams.

He was losing - both his resolve and this game at an alarming rate.

"Hmm," you hummed, toying with a pen you'd found wedged between the cushion of his chair. "Well, I'm sorry. I just like feeling pretty before I come in. I didn't know it was creating such a problem for everyone."

The wheels in Chuuya's head were spinning.

Emotions weren't his strong suit and doing these mental gymnastics with you was making him need a cigarette.

"It's -" he sighed, groaning as he forced himself to backpedal. "It's not your fault. I mean, you do look pretty, y'know. It's just... distracting, is all."

It was hard to hide your smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he was a bit distracting himself, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, well," you conceded as you began to stand up. "I’ll wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow then.” You shot him a small smile as you got to your feet, "Promise."

He looked marginally relieved by your understanding. "Sounds good." He huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck while following behind you as you made your way out of his office.

But just before you reached the door, you accidentally dropped the pen you'd been fidgeting with. Bending over without warning so that your ass was right in front of him, peaking out of your skirt as he walked straight into you, his hips suddenly meeting yours.

You thought he might actually kill you this time with the guttural noise of frustration that escaped him.

He grabbed you by your shoulders the second you were upright again, spinning you around so that you were forced to face him.

“Okay, seriously." He said between gritted teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the unfettered anger flicker through his blue eyes.

It was a stupid move, you knew that before you did it, but you didn't expect it to draw this much of reaction out of him. His restraint was lost. Composure long gone while he waited for you to say something with his face mere inches away from yours.

"Sorry," You lied, "It slipped out of my hand so I -"

"Bullshit." He snarled. "Enough with this innocent act. What do you want out of this, huh? For every guy in Port Mafia to want to fuck you? Is that what you're gettin' at here?"

"No." Your head shook before you even had time to think about what you were about to say. "Not everyone..." Your eyes were still glued to his. "Just you."

You didn't know what you were doing anymore or where all of this recent shamelessness had come from, but there was something about being here that made you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. You weren't sure if it was the power or the crime or the ungodly amount of money that Port Mafia was raking in, but the collective feeling of chaos that these walls housed was finally latching onto you too.

You didn't even flinch when you said it, instead continued to stare at him unapologetically, noting the way his grip had tightened around your shoulder the longer he looked back at you.

"What?"

If the wheels in his head had been spinning before, they were now fully off the ground, exploding into the air as his gaze drifted along your face. Searching intently to make sure you were actually being serious this time before he went any further.

"You really want me to fuck you that bad?" he asked, the warmth of his mouth now ghosting yours.

The question went straight to your center, wetness seeping between your legs as you nodded back at him.

Truth be told, your midmorning fantasies while cross-stitching the last few days hadn't been much different than his.

The gravity manipulator's fingers were suddenly tangled into your hair, his body forcing your back against the door while his lips collided with yours.

"Y'know you could've just asked instead of doin' all this bratty shit, right?"

His mouth was warm, his movements somehow urgent and careful at the same time as his hands wandered along your curves.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a breathy, "I'm sorry." as his palm began to graze the inside of your thigh.

"No, you're not." He smirked, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth before biting down with just the right amount of pressure. "But you will be."

You let out a small whimper as he placed his free hand under your chin, moving your head to the side so that he could continue his descendent down your neck.

His leg wedged itself between yours, brushing against your clit while his mouth worked along your collarbone.

You were too lost in the feeling of it all to realize that he'd been leaving a trail of meticulously placed bites down the nape of your neck. Bruises in the shape of his mouth that he knew everyone would see.

"Chuuya -" you tried to protest, but it was more of a moan than an objection. "You - fuck, you can't -" You grinded helplessly against the firmness of his leg. Hips rocking back and forth, desperately trying to gain friction while he kept on nipping away at you.

"What's wrong, babe?" he purred against your sensitive skin. "You're wearin' a turtleneck tomorrow anyway, remember?" his breath fanned across your chest as he ripped the remaining buttons off of your shirt. A gloved hand palming at your chest, sliding your bra down so that your tits were fully exposed for him before you felt his tongue glide across your nipple.

Tachihara was right, he was kind of an asshole. But for some terrible reason, you were living for it. Almost embarrassed by how bad you wanted him. Wriggling against him and riding his leg. Whining while you let him leave visible marks on you and destroy the only clothing you had.

"C'mere." He pulled his head away from your chest, swiftly grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to his desk. He picked you up with ease, shoving a binder aside to sit you down in front of him.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice was heady, eyes glossed over with lust as you complied with his demands.

He held his hand up to his mouth, removing his black glove with his teeth before pushing your skirt up and sliding your underwear to the side. He bent over slightly, running two rough fingers along your clit as he watched your nails dig into the edge of his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you. He'd barely done anything and you were already soaked, your pussy practically throbbing for him. “You really do want me that bad, huh?"

“T - told you.” You whimpered, your head tilting back as he drew slow, blissful circles around you.

He kept up the same pace, basking in the way you were so easily falling apart for him.

“Chuuya, please.”

A smirk tugged viciously at the corner of his mouth, slipping a finger into you this time as your walls swallowed him. "Please what, baby?"

You may have had him in the first half, but you were now on the losing end of this game. Forgetting how to speak altogether as you watched him part your legs even further, bending all the way down to rest his head between your thighs.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue pressing against you. The heavenly lines he was drawing uppp and downnn your center with his middle finger still sliding in and out of you. He was generous in the way he handled you, making sure he didn't miss a single spot. Lapping and slurping up every bit of cum he could as he added in another finger. Groaning against you the louder you got for him.

The only word you seemed to be able to remember was his name, repeating it over and over while your nails lodged deeper into his mahogany desk and your body shamelessly grinded against the warmth of his mouth.

You were in a delirious daze, losing yourself completely to the way he was devouring you.

He could feel you getting close too, noting the frantic rhythm of your hips. The gorgeous, fucked-out noises you were making for him. The death grip your walls suddenly had on him. He knew you were right there, right where he wanted you.

"Chuuya, 'm - I -"

Your legs were locking around his head, shaking uncontrollably as your hand ran through his hair.

He'd never admit it, but he almost could've came at the sounds you were making alone. The pouty way that you called out his name each time his fingers plunged into you was almost enough to drive him over the edge. You were so pathetic and adorable and he was determined to make everyone in Port Mafia hear just how needy you were for him.

As much as he wanted to edge you for what you'd done to him, as much as he wanted to make you beg and plead for him to let you cum, he couldn't fucking pull himself away from you. He was just as lost as you were, drowning in your cunt and not at all wanting to be saved.

His tongue didn’t leave you until he was absolutely sure that you'd ridden out every last wave of your orgasm, still pumping his digits in and out of you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He came up for air with an exhausted smile, wordlessly coaxing your lips apart with his thumb before bringing the two fingers he had fucked you with into your mouth. Letting you clean off the blend of slick and salvia the two of you had created together.

"See how fucking good you taste?" he panted. "I think this is gonna be a real problem for both of us."

An enamored shade of pink brushed across your cheeks as he dropped down onto the chair across from you, running a tired hand through his hair.

"At least I won't be here much longer, right?" You said, playfully kicking his leg with your foot.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "That actually reminds me..." Your eyes widened as he shifted around to dig an envelope out of his pocket. "Mori wanted me to give this to you."

Your hands trembled, opening it as delicately as you could to make sure you didn't rip anything when a check for 1,490,200 yen fell into your lap.

"Think that'll be enough to buy yourself a shirt that fits?"

Your eyes snapped towards him in disbelief, your pulse ringing through your ears as you tried to process that you'd somehow made this amount of money in a little over a week.

"Is this -" You stammered, thinking back to what he had told you when you first met. "Is this like a severance check then? ...Hush money or whatever?"

"Tragically, no. Mori wants you to stay."

Your hand instinctively flew up to your neck, covering the love-bites that the redhead had left you with, horrified at the realization that everyone was going to see them. Even more horrified at the fact that they had probably heard how you’d gotten them.

"What?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about you how you've been 'boosting the morale' around here."

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You had not only been marked by Chuuya Nakahara, but you were now being asked to stay in Port Mafia.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

"So... that means..."

"Yep. We'll be seein' a lot more of each other." He confirmed while checking his watch. "But hey, you better get outta here, Rando and I have a meeting in 10 minutes."

You looked down at your lack of clothing, the spit and cum that was still stuck to your skirt, the obscenely noticeable bruises that he'd so proudly gifted you with.

"Give me your shirt." you demanded.

"Nah."

The grin he shot you was so cocky, so vile, so... hot.

"Chuuya." You whisper-shouted, biting back your own stupid smile. "Be so fucking for real right now, I can’t go out there like this.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you put on that skimpy-ass outfit I guess.” He shrugged.

You hopped off his desk, straddling him in his chair as you forcefully began to undo the buttons along his collar.

The room filled with suppressed laughter, neither one of you able to contain it anymore as he finally conceded, wrestling you off of him. "Alright, alright, chill. I have extras in here, hang on."

You both stood up, your eyes locked on him while he walked over to an expensive looking armoire in the corner of the room.

He pulled a white shirt that resembled the one you were wearing earlier off of a hanger and brought it over to you, guiding your arms up so that he could put it on.

His movements were calculated, almost thoughtful as he dressed you, adjusting it so that it covered up most of the damage he'd done.

"There." He said, double-checking his work. "Now get out of here before I decide to rip that one off of you too.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Part 2! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #bsd smut #soukoku #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #remwrites #skk #someone please take my laptop away #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara bsd #nakahara chuuya #bsd x female reader

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solarissun · 18 days

Text

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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#smut #mike schmidt #jhutch #fanfic #enemies to lovers #clapton davis #clapton x reader #clapton smut #mike schimdt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #clapton davis smut #light angst

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meangirls-imagines · 2 months

Text

WIPS

This list will be updated regularly!

LAST UPDATED: 3/16/24

Regina George x chubby!reader: Reader is on the cheer team and looks REALLY hot in her uniform. Regina is not God's strongest soldier.

Regina George x masc!reader: Regina and Reader are the power couple of North Shore. Regina has Reader wrapped around her finger in public, but behind closed doors, it's a different story.

Regina George x reader: Regina is the black cat gf and Reader is the golden retriever gf but not every top is what they seem (spoiler: Reader tops Regina)

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Gretchen finally gets someone to like her for who she is and not who she hangs out with. Regina looks to destroy that to have Reader to herself. Love prevails.

Regina George x reader: Reader is the new girl at school and disregards the warnings about Regina George. Regina likes the new girls confidence.

Karen Shetty x reader: Karen gets jealous. That's the plot.

Regina George x autistic!reader: The George's go on a camping retreat for Regina's dad's job. Regina takes reader along and crosses something off her bucket list.

Karen Shetty x reader: Karen might be used to Regina being a bitch to her, but her girlfriend won't allow it.

Regina George x reader: Reader comes from a family who isn't as rich as her girlfriend's. Regina says some stuff during a fight leading to a break. Reader and Regina make up at the annual Halloween party.

Janis Imi'Ike x plastic!reader: Janis is dating Gretchen Wieners sister. Chaos ensues.

Cady Heron x reader: Reader becomes friends with the new girl and her friend group sees how smitten she is with her. Regina devises a plan to get them together.

Regina George x reader: Regina George isn't gay. Well, at least that's what she thinks. Her and reader share a steamy makeout session at a party. Regina George might be gay.

Regina George x reader: Regina doesn't like how all the girls in North Shore throw themselves at her girlfriend. Reader shows Regina she only has eyes for her. (Might be a G!P reader. IDK yet. Let me know what you think.)

Reneè Rapp x reader: Reneè has a huge crush on Reader. Reader feels the same. Reneè is the last person to figure it out. Her gaydar is out of order apparently.

Regina George x femme!reader: Regina loves to remind everyone how much of a bottom her girl is.

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Gretchen crosses paths with the school's resident burnout. She doesn't really care for her until she sees her at Spring Fling in the sexiest dress Gretchen has ever seen.

Regina George x reader: Regina George is the apex predator, right? Then why was she currently writhing in pleasure underneath Reader?

Janis Imi'ike x plastic!reader: Damian has had enough of his best friend being a useless gay. He recruits the rest of the plastics to help get Janis with her girl.

Gretchen Wieners x reader: Reader walks in on Regina screaming at her girlfriend. She stands up for her girl, causing Regina to shut up and Gretchen's panties to drop.

Leighton Murray x Tatum x Reader: Reader has POTS and her girlfriends take care of her after an episode.

Janis Imi'ike x reader: Janis has a huge crush on reader and practically embarrasses herself after a gay panic.

Regina George x reader: Reader moves to North Shore for the last two years of her high school life. Regina notices her immediately and Karen and Gretchen decide to meddle.

Janis Imi'ike x reader: Reader replaces Cady in the story.

Janis Imi'ike x plastics!reader: Janis, Damian and Cady also try to take down Regina's sister but fail after every attempt. Janis falls in love with Reader along the way.

Leighton Murray x reader: Reader is Nico's best friend and Leighton is crushing hard on her. The only thing stopping the blonde from getting her, was in fact, Nico.

Janis imi'ike x short!reader: Janis and Y/N go to a concert. Fluff all around!

Works will be put out sporadically. If you've requested something and don't see it on the list, please let me know so I can add it!

#mean girls imagines #regina george x reader #karen shetty x reader #cady heron x reader #gretchen wieners x reader #janis imi'ike x reader

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notroosterbradshaw · 4 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - seven

word count: 6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: no man's land. I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate your effort to show your support and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

You’d be lying to say you hadn’t been distracted all morning… not in the best frame of mind, half heartedly urging young teens, “Just another 50m, you got this”, because God knew, you certainly did not have this.

But you were just so tired. You hadn’t been sleeping well, you were just eating enough to say you were eating. You just felt average and it made you so angry how much you’d tangled yourself with Bradley. Self-care had taken a backseat to bury yourself in the pool’s redevelopment, you weren’t bothering with your morning ocean swim - and of course, it had nothing to do with bumping into Bradley on his morning run.

Nothing at all.

Annie was on your case to pull yourself from your funk where you continually reminded her you were not in. You were in fact quite productive. Between the work, pool and constantly moving things around the apartment (you wished you'd never started to be honest because you just couldn’t make things work as well as they did before you nearly moved), your days were pretty full and you went to bed exhausted.

You’d just finished the early session when the first text came in. Shivering at your desk and wrapped in a sopping towel, just wanting to release the wet, tangled bun on top of your head and a hot shower to dechlorinate your irritated skin after teaching all morning, you knew protecting your peace was going to be difficult today.

Today, Bradley was to be arraigned.

It had been a beast of a process for him. The last year his life had been so tumultuous - from deciding to move back to California, the highs of falling in love with each other, deciding to take that ridiculously quick step of moving in together. He gets the keys to his parents' villa and renovates it to build a life and a family. Everything he’d wanted for so long, to Maverick’s return. The only family he had that had destroyed all his hopes and dreams, was the Dagger mission… and subsequent crashes. His injuries, forced leave, and his mental health shattered to you leaving a man who didn’t know how to cope and not giving him the benefit of the doubt to try and help more. Your guilt crushed you in ways you’d never imagined you could ever put on another person.

You bent in every direction for him, and it still wasn’t enough.

But the hidden truths. Your trust in him was shattered, and protecting yourself, something you were always taught, what we’re all taught but sometimes unable to walk away from someone who can’t change… but Bradley needed more help than you. And when he was put on forced leave, that was the final straw because…

Because he almost died and when you found out through all the mistruths, he broke you. Maybe he didn’t mean to, maybe he wanted to protect you, protect what you had, but the world was bigger than what is redacted at the end of the day.

But without honesty, what the fuck did you have together? Very little, it turned out. Sex wasn’t going to save you, nor the way your heart found a new rhythm when Bradley was with you. Or how safe you felt in his arms, the way his big hands snuck under your shirt and wrapped around your soft tummy to pull you closer to his strong chest -

Natasha Trace: He has been found not guilty. Don’t ask me what miracle or deity is on his shoulder, but to be released on Article 92 is wild!

And you were so relieved and not just because you couldn’t compartmentalise didn’t mean those who were overseeing his case couldn’t. That was their job. Their job wasn’t to love Bradley unconditionally and feel the hurt you did for him… with him. Alone.

It must have felt revolutionary. Your fingers found the characters to reply somehow. You were shaking, your phone trembled in your hand. Where were your glasses?!

You: How is he? Is he okay?

Natasha Trace: Disbelief. Absolute disbelief. Relief. He’s okay.

You: Thank God, thank you for letting me know, Nat.

Natasha Trace: Of course. We’re going for a celebratory drink. Do you wanna join us, or is that still the stupidest question in the world?

You: The dumbest.

You: But thank you.

Natasha Trace: Can I tell him I told you?

You: I don’t think he will care, but ok. Tell him I’m happy for him and hope he’s excited to get in the air again.

Natasha Trace: I think he will get orders pretty quickly…

It sure seemed like a hint. Talk to him now before you lose him for months on end again.

You: I’m sure he’s very excited about that. MEDHOLD?

Natasha Trace: Awaiting TBI and psych assessment but he thinks he’s pretty close.

You: Don’t tell him I’m crossing my fingers for him.

Natasha Trace: …no, never 😉

After showering and dressing with a little more pep in your step thanks to Bradley’s good news, your brain got the best of you and you thought maybe it’d be nice to send him a small, “I’m really happy for you. I hope you enjoy getting back up in the skies” message.

Retrieving his number that was no longer your ICE, no longer the top of your Favourites, and unblocking it made your body quake, and like it was a warning, the barrage of texts you’d not received overwhelmed you.

One by one, begging, pleading for your notice, the raw, the anger, the language.

He had given you a few days of quiet before the texts started.

Bradley 🐓: Love, are you sure this is what you need? I can give you anything, let’s just please try and make this work. I’ll give you some time, whatever you want x

Bradley 🐓: I got a Not Delivered back. You’ve blocked me?

Bradley 🐓: You’ve blocked me. Shit.

Bradley 🐓: Okay, I get it, you want space, I’ll give it to you.

Bradley 🐓: Hey you… checking if I’m still blocked.

Bradley 🐓: YEP.

Bradley 🐓: Gotta say, I didn’t think you’d ever block me.

The thing is, you never thought you’d ever have to block Bradley and as you eased back in your chair, your inherent need to nip something irritating to him made your fingers itch.

Bradley 🐓: Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll leave it to you to come back to me.

Bradley 🐓: I’m so fucking sorry about tonight. I hope the door didn’t hurt you too badly.

Bradley 🐓: Still fucking blocked. Ok. I won’t bother again. You've made your point. On me for stupidly not believing we are at this place.

You had to wonder if it was even worth sending one of your own. You couldn’t match his tone, his anger and disappointment. The congratulations text just didn’t seem to cut it but before you knew it, the “Natasha told me you’ve been acquitted. I am happy for you, Rooster. Enjoy getting back to work, I know you’ve missed it” text had written itself but it didn’t mean it was as easy to hit the send button.

And it felt colder than it sounded. You hoped he was sitting on his phone and ready to respond but when you were still waiting the next day, you had to admit you weren’t very surprised. Like he cared that you were happy for him, he deserved to move on and not deal with you and your bullshit in his life anymore.

You desperately wanted to block him just like before, heart not prepared to see his name in your notifications again.

You hit send before you could think anymore and hoped maybe you were blocked on his end too.

“Knock, knock. Favourite granddaughter is here,” you announced, the tiresomeness in your voice evident after the barrage of Bradley’s texts weighed heavily on you as you walked into your grandparents' home for a cheeky late lunch later that day. Washed and primped (washed and in your activewear, naturally. You were a swimming teacher, not a goddamn office drone), you wandered past the photo wall to find Grandpa and… Maverick in the kitchen. Well, fuck. Your luck was the worst.

There wasn’t a midlife crisis motorbike parked out the front… this would teach you to turn up unannounced.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Grandpa smiled, raising his arm for you to fall under with a hug in greeting. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I, uh…” you tried not to stammer. “Lunch. Thought I’d come over and say hi.”

“Do you wanna sandwich or something?” Viper said, jumping into gear. “Can make a tuna melt - ”

“That’s okay, I’ll go,” you started making excuses. You didn’t want to be around Mav and your brain didn’t have the tolerance to try and fight anymore today. “I didn’t realise you had company…”

Viper caught the gist and nodded slowly. “You gotta eat.”

“I have food at home,” you told him but kind of waited for Maverick to take the goddamn hint to get the fuck out. This was your safe place; you didn’t need it tainted by Pete Mitchell.

“I should probably make a move anyway,” Maverick said, knowing fully well that the discomfort in the kitchen was all because of him. How self-aware, you thought glumly.

“No, you stay,” you tried so hard to be polite, but the tension that bubbled in your bloodstream sort of made you kind of want to curse the day the Navy dragged him yours and Bradley’s way again.

“No, it’s ok – ”

“Don’t Mav. I’ll leave. You stay,” you tried to bite back your exasperation but it certainly didn’t appear that way.

“Hey,” Viper warned you. He wouldn’t expect you to talk to anyone like that.

“Look. I’m real sorry, kid,” Maverick tried, and gee, age had worn him.

You tried to remain passive, but the frown seemed to speak volumes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why were you so angry at him? Did Mav even know the impact he’d had on your relationship? How Breadley would come home like a bear with a headache, angry, snide. And for that, you just couldn’t seem to disconnect your past from the present and it only made you seethe further.

“I know I should have done this before because I know I'm the catalyst of a lot of Bradley’s problems. And in part, that burden fell on you.”

You wanted to tell him you didn’t know what he was talking about, to forget it, but as every emotion you had bubbled under the surface, you hissed back, “Well, it’s all very convenient now, I suppose. You get your kid back; you both get back up in the air and live happily ever after.”

“That’s fair,” Maverick just seemed to take the lash of your tongue in his stride. How pathetic.

“Hey,” Viper said again, a little more warning in his voice.

“Grandpa, Mav almost got Bradley killed,” you said finally.

Viper’s gaze drifted to Mav. “I know the whole story, sweetheart.”

Taken aback, you look at your grandpa. “What?”

“Bradley came and told me the whole thing.”

You were slow to respond, probably because your brain was overprocessing Grandpa’s reply and the sting it caused. Because Bradley came here when he couldn’t come to you? Because even though he loved you, he felt he couldn’t share this, so he came to Grandpa.

And he couldn’t come to you?!

“Jesus, what did you do so right to get some honesty out of him?” you retorted.

“He was scared, kid. Bradley has already lost everything. He’d lost you. He thought his career was gone too. He needed someone to talk to.”

“I was right there, taking care of him when no one else was able to,” you could feel the rage build within you. “I was right there and he didn’t tell me until he was told - ”

“Because you were the hardest to tell, sweetheart,” Viper told you, the evenness in his voice riling you more. Why wasn’t your blood as furious as you were?! “The person who means the most in the world, who may or may not already have a vendetta against the Navy. How was he going to tell you?”

“How was he going to keep it a secret? When he wakes up screaming with nightmares every night?” you demanded, and Viper nodded slowly because he knew – you remembered vividly the nights you heard Grandpa wake screaming and Nana begged him to calm for your sake. “He’s had PTSD from the Navy since he was four and he still thinks it’s the only place he belongs.”

He belongs with me, you wanted to scream but thankfully managed to bite back.

“He will always have something to prove. With you, without you,” Maverick said your name evenly. “Regardless of anything that ever happened. He barely knew his old man and for a while, he got away with no one knowing Goose Bradshaw was his old man - ”

“So, what… now he’s got more to fight against?” you muttered.

“In a way, yes.”

Oh, you could fucking punch him and resisting it was becoming futile. You turned to him. “Please don’t say another word,” and there was so much threat in your cautioning. You felt feral, every emotion you’d been pushing down since everything exploded was waiting precariously on your tongue and in range was the one who it all centred around.

Maverick nodded and for a minute, you thought he’d respect your decision… but nope. “I know him so well. It’s what he hates most about me. I knew his father better than he ever did and Rooster is just like Goose. Always bred for more. Always striving for that next part.”

“If you never came back, he’d still be with me, and we’d be happy. Since you walked back into his life, you unapologetically ruined him again after he fought for everything he has now. And I was there. Trying to fix him when he didn’t know how to fix it himself. But it fell on deaf ears because he didn’t trust me enough to tell me - ”

“He trusts you, kid,” Maverick told you evenly. “You are the only one he trusts and that is what makes it worse for him.”

It was like a car accident. Bradley’s hand was so close to knocking on the weatherboard of the Metcalfe residence and hearing you, the absolute venom in your tone as you lashed Maverick inside. Bradley had never heard you like this, even when you fought with him, your voice was never as cool and callous.

“I loved him. I wanted my future with him, and it was taken from us.”

“There’s still time - ” Mav tried and for a moment, Bradley stopped breathing because if what came next from your lips gave him the slightest piece of hope, he was going to walk inside and take you in his arms, right where you belonged and make you see reason if it was the last thing he ever did.

“There isn’t - he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. He’s got plenty of other options out there, Mav,” you hissed. “You think I’m stupid enough to think he hasn’t moved on? When I saw him at the bar a few weeks ago, he looked right through me. Then his date - whatever she was - followed him out. Trust me, I’m aware Bradley has moved on.”

The men remained quiet, because they knew Bradley hadn’t moved on. Bradley was not thinking about moving on. Bradley was only thinking about you.

“You didn’t get to Viper’s and invite him for a drink?” Maverick asked a while later, cold beer in hand and sliding another across the bar to Bradley, free Bradley, Bradley who was ready to get up in the air again and get his life back on track after one of the worst periods of his life.

And shit, he’d had a lot of them in his short time on the planet to compare.

He gave Mav a wary side-eye. “No, by the time I got back from the gym, I thought it was rude to pop over around dinner time,” Bradley lied spectacularly, and he knew Mav could see right through him. He'd watched his godson from the moment he walked in, rigid, terse and for a guy who had the world at his feet again, Mav knew something was still troubling him.

“Talk to me, Bradley.”

“Mav, I heard her.”

“Heard who?” Mav was clueless to Bradley’s less-than-subtle hints. Who else was she?

Bradley sighed, easing against the sticky bar as Javy came past, shaking his shoulders happily. “Congrats, brother. So fuckin' happy for you!” he exclaimed as Bradley gave a sheepish grin in reply and Javy said he’d be back with drinks shortly.

“Bradley,” Mav got his attention again.

He sighed, sipping his beer to wet his throat. “I heard her yell at you, at Viper and I almost didn’t recognise her voice because of the anger laced in it. And it was because of me she was that heated.”

Of course. Bradley had come to invite Viper for a drink and caught your vitriol instead. Mav sighed, contemplating his next words. Because even though he’d just got him back in his life, he knew his fractured relationship with Bradley was going to take time to heal fully. Knowing what he knew about Bradley, if he pushed too hard, he would resist. He was so headstrong, and at times, unable to see the forest for the trees, but Mav persisted carefully anyway. “Something tells me, like you, Bradley… she’s had this vendetta lined up for a while. Viper, her old man, now you, and probably me because of my involvement in the last few months... years, I suppose.”

“Doesn’t give her the right to take it out on anyone,” Bradley reminded him.

“She probably never has, and that’s why this smarts so much. You’re more alike than you think. Allathis,” Mav motioned around them at the Naval paraphernalia hanging around the bar. “It’s all you both know. She hasn’t felt the joy from it you do. She lost her faith a long time ago. And for now, you are collateral damage from years of turmoil.

When did this motherfucker get so smart? It left a bitter taste in Bradley's mouth he could be receiving such frank advise from MAv after everything they'd been through.

"But if it told me anything, son, it's that woman loves you and that’s what is making everything so much harder for her.”

Staring hard at the older man, Bradley guzzled the cool beer down his throat and for once, didn’t know what to say, so Maverick continued, “If anything, have faith that she is still crazy about you. And it’s not over, but it will take time. And it’ll need to be the right time.”

“When’d you start dishing out all this maturity?” it was all Bradley could find himself saying as Mav broke into a smirk that was almost permanent on his face as a younger, much more careless man. The years had matured him. Gone was the flashy, wide unbeatable grin that was constantly in competition with Ice for the biggest ego and accolades, replaced with a softer version, one that had listened and learned from the auxiliary noise around him.

One of Mav’s biggest regrets was never settling down and having a family. When it didn’t work with Charlie all those years ago, and it took so long for him and Penny to see eye to eye on where they wanted to be in life, he knew he had to step back and re-evaluate how to get where he needed to. And that didn’t always mean fighting for it, it sometimes meant to take that step back and let fate take its course.

When Goose died, Mav tried to step in to be the father that Bradley had lost, and for a long time, Bradley let him try and fill that void of a father figure. But it only took one betrayal on Mav’s behalf to become Bradley’s enemy and the resentment that Bradley had for him shook Mav to his core. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take again. He knew better and would do what was needed to support his family the way they needed it. This time, he was going to be everything Bradley needed even if it was to his detriment.

It was only a few days later after your showdown with Mav that you’d gotten word Bradley had flown out, and you were free as a bird to leave the house and see what the outside world had turned into while you’d turned your back on it. Why, you wondered at this time, you’d bothered, was another thing.

“So, if you don’t have a boyfriend, why can’t I buy you a drink?” the young officer asked as you chewed your tongue and could swear, you tasted blood. What was it with these Navy fuckboys who thought anyone was fair game after a few drinks? Not all that much had changed, not even the quiet seething Bob displayed a few seats up, prepping himself to step in.

What was wrong with you to think coming here was a good idea… at any time… anymore?

“Because I have a drink,” you explained quietly again, showing he couldn't take no for an answer, your glass. “I don’t need another. I appreciate the gesture, but no.”

“Come on, just one.”

“Holy shit – ” you finally snapped but you felt his body heat behind you before you could get the words out. You’d know it anywhere. When did he walk in? …how much had he seen? He wasn't supposed to be here!

You stiffened and maybe more agitated than you were before.

“Lieutenant,” the young pilot straightened, and it all but confirmed you knew Bradley Bradshaw, who was supposed to be on a boat somewhere in the middle of the big blue was behind you. You were going to kill Hangman. Kill him.

“Nice to see you, Rhodes. Heard you got blown out of the sky today…” Bradley said, the amusement in his voice paramount but you didn’t once let your guard down. You didn’t need him to fight your battles for you.

“Uh, yeah…” the meekness in the young officer’s voice was obvious. You didn’t always realise the command Bradley had over others. Of course, you knew how people were drawn to him, but seeing him with a subordinate was infatuating, to say the least. You didn’t often see him in a position of real power, and it would be shameful to admit, it was sexy.

“And by Hangman no less,” Bradley laughed quietly, that amused chuckle that you knew had a whole other hidden meaning. “Would probably be a good idea to stop drowning your sorrows and prepare for tomorrow, huh?”

“Guess so…”

“And apologise.”

“Look, I didn’t think you guys were dating anymore – ” Rhodes tried but didn’t offer an apology.

“What difference does that make?” you snapped, confidence growing in Bradley’s presence. You felt him stand a little closer, his heat prickling your back, behind you you wondered if he noticed it too.

“If you think that is what this is about, your ego is more outta check than you’re letting on."

You heard Rhodes mutter, “I’m sorry,” while he skulked away, and you finally breathed as Bradley stayed quiet behind you. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” you heard him mutter as he joined his other friends.

“You okay?” Bradley asked gently.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, the slight snipe still in your voice. But you didn’t dare turn to face him, because if you looked up at him, that would make this whole thing real - that he was right there with you. You weren’t surprised when your stool was slowly spun towards him and his friendly, impish smile graced his handsome face… his beard was well grown in and manicured to the navy’s specification, his sun-kissed curls a lot longer than you’d ever seen on him and you swear, he’d never looked more handsome. “Hi.” you managed and God, he looked desperate to be kissed. You missed those plump, beautiful lips.

“Hello,” he replied, holding your gaze. Not hard, just… tender.

“Thanks. You didn’t need to… do that.”

“I know I didn’t. And I know you’re perfectly capable of standing up for yourself. I just wanted to make sure that little pissant knew what he was getting himself into if he went ten rounds with you.”

And you couldn’t help it as you bit back a giggle, hiding your burgeoning laughter behind your hand. Because if he knew one thing about you… it was that you were the dirtiest fucking fighter around and that poor kid would have been laid out with your lash of the tongue alone. “Well, you’d know…” you admitted as he licked back a smirk of his own and hummed. “Can I buy you a drink to say thanks?” you offered softly, and you weren’t sure he’d even heard you in the commotion of a Friday night. You barely heard the sound of your voice from the raging heartbeat in your ears.

He scratched the back of his neck, looking back at the fellas… all of whom were keenly watching on. Unabashed and gawking. Fuck those guys, he rolled his eyes and came back to you. “I shouldn’t…”

“Get her a drink, you goddamn pussy!” Hangman mouthed viciously and Bradley pretended he couldn’t read his wingman’s lips. He wished he couldn't.

“Yeah, okay. The least you can do is buy me a beer.”

“Hangman has a tab,” you informed him, that devious glint in your eyes shining.

“Top-shelf whiskey,” Bradley replied confidently.

You gave the order and times it by two, Bradley raising an interested eyebrow. You stayed together in a strange silence for a while, both waiting for your drinks to whet your palette and bring up the courage to say something that was simply… kind… to the other. God knows your last conversation was anything but.

Taking your first thankful sips, you both laughed as the exact same line came out to the other, “How have you been?” you both dropped your eyes bashfully, uncomfortably and you tried asking him again.

“Not too bad,” he admitted.

“I was told you had shipped out.” You would still kill Hangman.

“Checking up on me?” his upper lip twitched as you ducked your head. “Phoenix?”

“Hangman,” you corrected him as he chuckled quietly.

“Dick,” he muttered shortly. “They extended my medical leave just another few days. Paperwork.”

You looked at him, he looked right as rain.

“And you were right about the shitty shrink stuff,” he pointed to his head while he read yours. “PTSD.”

Well, yeah, you wanted to say it was the least shocking thing he could tell you. “Oh. Oh, Bradley,” you said delicately.

He nodded and shrugged. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve seen that whole look my whole fuckin’ life, I just can’t stand you looking at me like that too. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid from the get-go.”

“Then you’re gonna really hate me after this,” you gently touched his ribs, knowing their previous injury and left your hands to skim his cotton tee before wrapping him in your grasp, the muscles tense under your touch. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you murmured into his chest, and he sighed, his breath against you shuddered. Your shampoo invaded his nostrils, and goddamn, if he didn’t miss that fuckin’ perfect scent and how it lingered.

He couldn’t fight it if he tried and he wrapped his arms around you, trying to desperately not lose it and do all he really wanted to do – cry. Cry for him, cry for you, cry for how badly you’d both fucked up. And he’d be lying to say that being in your arms felt so good. He missed the warmth of your curves, maybe a little less than he remembered, and he breathed you in, his love. And the hardest thing he ever had to get over.

Because, unlike his other losses, who left his life, wholly? You were there every day while he tried to make it without you. That sting of trying to get over you in every facet of his life and he just couldn’t move on from you. And that made it worse.

“It’s not all bad,” he said, lips so close to your ear. “A long story short, I did get clearance and I’m out in 48 hours. Just for the record. The counselling has to continue weekly.”

“Just like me,” you said, a little sing-song.

Bradley scoffed, humoured. “Yeah… just like you. A pair a’ damaged goods.”

“Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed, breaking the revelry as Bradley’s arms were covered in cool liquid and he figured, so was your back.

“What the fuck?” he pulled back, alarmed as he looked at some of the younger officers getting into each other’s faces, glasses hitting the floor, drinks flying. It was broken up as quickly as it escalated, Bradley pushing you gently behind him to avoid getting caught in the fracas. “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder as you were reaching for the napkins on the bar just out of your reach. He moved before you and retrieved them, helping you dab away whatever had - yep, drenched you, the back of your hair dripping and the back of your dress sopping.

“Yeah, just a drink or something,” you sighed.

“Lemme help,” he said, carefully turning you around and tenderly mopping up the bare skin on your back. And he’d be lying to say that if he just reached a little lower, he’d be able to kiss that freckle behind your ear, but blinking that image away, he knew this was not the time to be fantasising about the woman whom he fantasised about every night.

He sighed and removed his shirt, white V-neck underneath. “Take this,” he said your name a few times over the commotion in the bar after the almost fight.

Raising your hands, you told him not to worry. You’d just take off and get a shower. “It was a bad idea coming out tonight. You know when you feel it’s not the time?”

“Well, you did think I had already flown out, so you probably should have trusted your intuition.”

And you stared up at him, watching him biting back a grin and as he wrapped his shirt over your shoulders, watching you slip your arms into the sleeves, all he wanted to do was pull you in tight again, kiss your hair and tell you how he was still so in love with you that it was keeping him awake at night, that it was you that he still jerked off and willingly spilling into his hand and all over his stomach to. He imagined you riding him, giving him the messiest head like only you knew how, kissing him while he made love to you, and he held your arms trapped above your head as you trembled beneath him, as you came around him.

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked, chewing his lip, and fixing the collar on the shirt. But you were so swept up in his smell that lingered, and as you tightened it around yourself, your eyes changed just for that flash that told Bradley that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just him who was feeling the way he was. “Can I drive you home?”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I know you have things to do tomorrow - ”

“Come on,” he offered gently, nudging his head towards the door and as he collected your bag and urged you to wander out before him, you knew it was going to take all your strength to just allow this to happen. “Lemme get you outta here.”

And who were you to argue? Because honestly. You’d follow him anywhere. The man you loved, the man you’d hurt so badly. Nodding gently and seeing that sweet gentleness in his honey-coloured eyes, you let him usher you ahead, his strong hand easy on your lower back, just like it was any other night, the way he’d guide you through the masses, softly, securely, protectively.

You wriggled as the cool alcohol pressed into your back, and Bradley flinched, thinking you wanted his hands off you – when it couldn’t be any further from the truth. He took his palm away and opened the door as you exited. “You really don’t have to drop me home,” you told him. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“It’s fine, really. I had, like, two drinks. Probably best I call it a night and make sure I’m organised anyway,” he replied, leading you to the Bronco. He unlocked your side and naturally opened the door, offering his hand to help you step in.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, taking his offered warm palm and he helped hoist you in with the slightest of assistance. Buckling up, your eyes followed him to the driver’s side, and he just looked so handsome. You were surrounded by him with his shirt and cologne filling your senses. It all felt too familiar and that scared you terribly. He was fiddling with the keys before popping in and hopping into the seat. He gave you a small smile as he buckled up and gunned the engine, unsurprisingly Al Green low through the stereo.

It was a quiet trip towards your apartment, keeping your eyes on the passing coastline, scared if you looked at him, you’d do something stupid and just revelling in being the closest you’d been to him in months.

“You see they demolished that old villa near Penny’s place?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, how ridiculous,” you said to him. “It was such a gorgeous home. I think they’re dozing it for apartments or something,” you continued the small talk as you passed his villa. You noticed the ladder out front and scaffolding around the roof. “How’s it all going here?”

“Ahh, okay,” he shrugged, trying to focus on the road. “You know, a lot to be done still.”

“I can imagine,” you agreed, studying his face. His profile was completely different with his neat beard, but the rest of him was bigger and stronger. He’d laid countless hours into the gym while on leave and you could see the proof. Your eyes travelled over his tanned biceps and the way the white tee sleeve strained over them, following the vein to his inner elbow and wrist, hand clutching the gear shirt, long fingers wrapped around it. “Thanks for the lift home.”

“Anytime,” he replied, peeking a look back at you and a small smile crept to his handsome features, knowing he was sprung. But alas, so were you. “What?”

You shook your head gently, mortified inside that he caught you checking him out. But what were you to do? He was always so incredibly handsome, and you just missed being near him, being around his warmth, even if it wasn’t something you could bathe in like you used to.

As much as he made you nervous to be in this proximity again… you felt incredibly content just being with him. His quiet calm always had a way of reassuring you, even before you started dating.

A few more moments in relative silence aside from the stereo, Bradley pulled into the apartment carpark and put the car in park.

Ask him in, your brain screamed.

Kiss him, it added.

Fix this, your brain had officially melted down.

And when all you muttered was a “thanks” for driving you home, for giving up his shirt, for being the bigger person to be able to do both… you sunk into a funk that you just weren’t expecting tonight. Because even though the night was a happy accident, there was so much unsaid.

“No problem,” he said, hands gripping the steering wheel like if you tried to kiss him, he would let you, like if you asked him in, he’d willingly follow. He was anticipating your next move but you didn’t know what it was.

“Bye,” you unbuckled and opened the door, scooting out before you made more of a mess of everything than you had to now.

“Night,” he said, sadly lips pursed together as you gently closed the door over and refused to look back as you went to the stairs and forced one foot then the next to continue climbing the flights until you were safely at your door.

With one last glance back, you weren’t surprised to still see Bradley’s Bronco parked and you waved timidly, not willing to see if he returned the gesture before finding solace in your apartment.

You tossed your bag on the bench and made a beeline for your bedroom, spent. Mentally, your brain was fried. Physically, all you could think about was Bradley and how he could amp you up with very little attempt on his behalf. You wrapped his shirt tightly around you, taking in the Acqua di Gio that lingered.

You missed the way the scent drifted around the apartment and how much it truly reminded you of him. You carefully slipped it off and folded it just like he would have if it were him removing it before unzipping your damp dress, the alcohol stinging gently against your skin and discarded the dress in a pile at your feet.

Needing a hot shower, you rinsed yourself of the mess of the evening but as you hung your towel up after your evening skincare, Bradley’s cologne wasn’t lost on you in the small room. His smell overwhelmed you and as you moved towards the shirt again, bringing the collar to your nose, you knew the time had come to fix this.

To fix you.

To fix him.

And to fix you back together.

masterlist.

Big thanks as always to @sometimesanalice for helping me get this fic over this line when this chapter really needed it! x

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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fanaura · 1 year

Text

eye-opening part 3 ≋ ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫▫·(nsfw)

part 1

part 2

neteyam x omaticayan!reader - in neteyam's POV

synopsis: neteyam and y/n's tension finally come to a head

content warnings: explicit sexual content, loving neteyam putting her pleasure over himself, characters are aged up ofc, roughly 1.2k words

The kiss roused something in me. My mind rushed and my stomach was bouncing around inside me, making me feel sick with excitement The feeling of her bottom teeth slightly grazing my lip. It was desperate, yearning. Slow. So painfully slow and so electrifyingly good. It was waves crashing down in a storm, a blazing fire burning through my viens, warming my body and gnawing at my conciousness. I was more awake than I had ever been.

Her fingers were in my hair, her lips on mine. My tongue pressed at her sealed lips, asking for permission like someone knocking on a door, asking to be let in. The moan she let out when she opened for me made my arms around her waist tighten in response. I groaned. I was afraid to let go. Afraid that if I let up even marginally, she would slip away in an instant, leaving my soul empty like a home destroyed.

We ended up kneeling on the soft ground, both of us trembling in restraint. We were chained by ourselves, by each other, not wanting to rush it. I put both my hands on the hollow of her neck and pulled back. Her eyes were glazed with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I gulped, mouth so dry, wanting her lips back on mine.

“Are you… sure?” I asked, chest heaving. My arms and shoulders were tense, trying to distract myself from the hardness that was forming below. I wanted to - no, had to - know she wanted it as much I did. And god- I wanted it so bad it hurt. She gave me a soft smile that I was everything I needed to know, confirming it with a breathless “yes. I’m sure.” I dipped my head, placing tentative kisses along her neck and collarbone, not really knowing what I was doing, but from the purrs and hums coming from y/n’s beautiful mouth, I guessed I wasn’t doing too bad a job.

With my hand on the small of her back, I guided her down so she was lying on the ground, making sure she was comfortable as I planted my arms on either side of her, trailing kisses down her body. I rose up a little bit, slowly untying the cloth covering her breasts, chucking it away lightly. She slightly arched her back off the ground, she was so breathtaking I was dizzy. I kissed her again, this time leaving kisses all the way down her body until I reached her loincloth. I looked up at her from my position, a silent question in my eyes. She nodded, and the small piece of fabric was gone in a second.

I needed to take a second. Just to look at her. I couldn’t believe she was real. I am convinced Eywa has sculpted every aspect about her to be perfect. Not just to me, but to anyone and everyone that is blessed to be near her. Her slender naked body shone in the vibrant light of the flora and fauna, and I couldn’t help but feel like she was letting me in on a secret, a piece of information she kept that only I was now allowed to know. It is new to both of us, this moment we share, the things we feel. It feels right. It feels like… home.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All week, you were all that filled my mind,” I said, my mouth to her dripping pussy. My first instinct is to lick all of her juices up, to lick her clean. It seems right, so I do exactly that.

“Is this okay?” I asked, continuing my work while grabbing her thighs and putting them over my shoulders, settling down into a comfortable position.

“ohmy- Neteyam,” she moans, her hands diving into my hair and gripping the braids.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then” I chuckled, continuing to work my tongue on the outer of her sex, dragging long swipes down her centre, then smaller ones.

I experiment. I decide that the way my girl jerks and trembles when I play with the small bud at the apex of her thighs is a good thing, so I continue to work with that, sucking it into my mouth and swirling circles around it, watching for her reaction. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she cried out. I smirked in growing confidence.

Her moans are like music to my ears, I can’t get enough. I palm one of her breasts in my right hand, her nipple peaked and hard against it. I move the same hand to where my tongue is, except I use my index finger to enter the wet hole at my face. Her gasp is loud, and becomes a moan directly after. Good, I was worried I was I was hurting her. Her hips undulate, rocking back and forth as I move my fingers inside of her and used my tongue on her clit, begging - demanding - more.

I speed up. More and more by the second, causing my girl to yelp and bite her own hand, to which I grab and pull away. “Don’t hold back, let me hear it,” her face was knotted together pleasure taking over her features as I kept going. She bit her bottom lip, hard, before crying out her satisfaction, choking and gasping on her own gratification.

“That’s it, you’re so wet. Only for me.”

“Shut up,” she huffed in gasping breaths, her whole body tense, grip locked in my hair. The small hurt sent pleasure to the already rock hard bulge under my loincloth, throbbing. The muscles in her neck strained as she scratched her nails down my back.

“F-faster,” she stuttered, her stomach convulsing. I went as fast as I could, pumping in and out of her with my fingers, tongue working in tandem.

“Neteyam!!” she yelped, shaking as she reached the pinnacle of pleasure, reaching her high. I slowed down, lapping up every bit of liquid she gave me, desperate for her, for anything she was willing to give me.

She lay there, panting, and I forced myself to move away from her swollen pussy, coming up so I was eye-level with her face. I kissed her, long and deep, while she still shivered underneath me. She watched me, her eyes still hazy with lingering desire.

“Neteyam. I want you,” She whispered in my ear, kissing my jaw, the crook of my neck, my damp chest.

I grinned, “slow down, my girl. I am yours and you are mine. We have all the time in the world,” I lightly brushed my lips against hers, feeling her cool breath, her face glowing like our moons in eclipse.

“I see you,” she said quiety. My heart ached with all the love in her voice, at how much she cared.

“I see you,” I replied. I was a full troph of water, overflowing with the affection I had felt for so long, that was always there, in the background, persisting around me and my soul like a promise.

We were made for each other. My home, my solace, my release in amongst the madness. Nothing and no one could get in between us. Not now, not ever.

taglist: @fluloa @slxttedjakesullyenthusiast @s1enn409

#avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #neteyam x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam #sully family #avatar fanfiction #fanfiction

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percervall · 4 months

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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt6}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: girly pop having a realisation or two, mentions of a previous (toxic) relationship Word count: 1.9k Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stufff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora

Part 6 of the Mamma Mia series

Early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, waking you from a dreamless sleep. Sighing, you snuggle back into the pillows, not quite wanting to get up yet. Yesterday had been emotional for sure, but it felt good to have it all in the open. Somehow you felt lighter, knowing that Mark could see where you were coming from and at the same time helping you understand why he had felt the need to make those choices. You find yourself surprised at the excitement of what kind of date Kevin might plan for you next. There’s also a part of you that’s hesitant; last night’s conversation about the end of your relationship with Mark and the ramifications of that has made you realise a couple of things about the way you approached your relationship with Kevin. As you get out of bed and turn on the shower, you think back to that night in Spa. Kevin had grown tired of you keeping him at an arm’s length, of your hesitancy to commit. You knew he was right, but him seeing right through you, questioning whether you loved your job more than him, rattled you more than it probably should. Now looking back, you can see it so clearly - the way you had dealt –or more accurately, hadn’t dealt with that break up years prior affected how you approached new relationships. You hate that you had allowed that experience to taint everything else, but more than anything, you hate that, in doing so, you hurt Kevin.

You sigh, closing your eyes as you let the water run over your face. Despite the fact that the two of you decided to call it quits, you still have love for him. Kevin is the complete opposite of Mark: he treated you with such care, giving you an autonomy you had not previously experienced in a relationship. There was a warmth to Kevin that was unfamiliar in the best way, and had never seen reflected in your parents’ marriage. It was Sunday mornings spent over cups of coffees and pastries from a bakery down the road from Kevin’s house in Denmark, going for long walks in the biting cold; he’d always want you to do things together. In the beginning you enjoyed it, but it soon came to feel stifling in a way. You can feel yourself frowning as you think back to those early days. Why did it feel that way? Kevin wasn’t a clingy person at all –if anything he had been so understanding every time you said you needed some time alone until your relationship had been stripped down to nothing more than text messages and hook ups in hotel rooms. At the time you figured it was just down to the both of you living in different countries, but maybe your fear of letting a man become all consuming made you put up a wall so high, nothing could touch you. You single handedly destroyed that relationship.

That truth sits uncomfortably in the hollow of your chest as you turn off the shower and reach for a towel. A part of you misses those Sunday mornings, misses being made to slow down. If you close your eyes you can still smell the scent of cinnamon mixed with something more earthy, the taste of Danish coffee on your tongue whenever Kevin kisses you. The memory makes you smile, even though the nostalgia tugs on your heart.

Do I even have a Danish bakery near me? you ask yourself as you get dressed, the memories making you crave the cinnamon buns Kevin would get. When you sit down at your desk with a mug of tea, you remember that Kevin used to live in the UK, back when he drove for McLaren.

“Worth a shot,” you mumble as you pick up your phone to message him.

Your teeth drag over your bottom lip while you consider his invitation. It would be nice to get out of the city for a few days and relax before the hectic schedule of a race week takes up all of your time. A quick look online tells you that there’s still a ticket available for tomorrow morning for a flight from Birmingham to Copenhagen. Without giving it a second thought you book the flight and send Kevin a message agreeing to his plan.

As promised, Kevin is waiting for you at arrivals.

“Hey,” he says quietly as he hugs you. You relax into his arms, sighing deeply. He lets go of you and takes your suitcase in one hand while the other is stretched out for you to take. You give his hand a squeeze and allow him to navigate the two of you to his car.

“How was the flight?” Kevin asks as he puts your bags in the boot.

“It was good, managed to finish the last bits for work so I won’t have to open my laptop until Monday.” You keep your eyes on Kevin as he closes the boot and notice the grateful smile he gives you.

“Do you want to drop your things off first? I don’t know if you booked a hotel or not, but if you feel comfortable, I have the spareroom set up,” he says as he climbs behind the wheel of the SUV.

“I did, but I’ll gladly take you up on your offer. And if it’s not too much trouble, I would feel better knowing my laptop is safe. I know it sounds silly, but with the amount of data and information on it, I can’t risk getting it stolen.” Kevin nods and while you cancel your hotel room, he drives to his house so you can put your bags inside.

The drive to the harbour doesn’t take long at all after that. There’s a box from a local bakery on the backseat and the thermos flask you gifted him for Christmas last year is peeking out from the side of his backpack. It does something funny to your heart, seeing him use something you had picked out for him, even after everything that had happened this summer.

“It’s gonna be chilly out on the water so I brought an extra jumper. You used to steal it all the time, so I figured it’d be a safe bet,” Kevin says, looking at you with half mirth and half tenderness.

“Thanks,” you murmur, that funny feeling only intensifying at him remembering how much you loved to wear that olive green, quarter zip jumper whenever the two of you did any outdoor activities during this time of year. Kevin parks the car and you help him carry the bags into the cabin on his boat. It’s not long before muscle memory kicks in and you’re helping him with checking the lines. The two of you easily fall into the rhythm of checking everything is in order, moving in synchronicity, and before you know it, you’re leaving the harbour behind you. Sitting cross legged on the deck, you tilt your face up to the sun, letting the wind play with your hair. You’ve always found peace out on the water, and this time was no different. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself relax, your running to-do list finally being pushed to the backburner –at least for the time being. You feel the boat beginning to slow down as Kevin adjusts the sails and kills the engine. Looking over your shoulder, you can just make out the Danish coast line. This is how the two of you would spend most of his summer break: just floating around in the Øresund with a picnic basket filled with pastries and sandwiches.

“Here,” Kevin says, holding out two mugs of coffee, motioning with his head to take one. You gratefully accept it, taking a careful sip. Kevin sits down next to you, leaning his body against the railing and sets down the box of baked goods as well. You lift the lid up and pick one of the cinnamon buns. They’re still a little bit warm and the scent makes your mouth water. You can feel Kevin’s eyes on you as you take a bite, letting the taste of cinnamon, cardamom and sugar transport you back to simpler times.

“Oh, how I’ve missed these,” you mumble around a mouthful before swallowing. Kevin smiles at that, but there’s a wistfulness to his expression. You can tell that there’s an ache in him, and you’re responsible for that.

“I’ve missed this, missed us,” Kevin says quietly. His admission sits heavy in the hollow of your chest. Placing the cinnamon bun on your knee, you turn to look at him.

“I know,” you reply quietly, “and I realised that I have been unfair to you –that I hurt you for no other reason than that I was scared.” Kevin remains quiet, giving you the opportunity to say what you should have told him months if not years ago.

“You know how Mark and I ended, and I thought I had gotten over him but the reality is that it made me terrified to let someone get so close to me ever again, to let a person take over my life like that. And so I kept you at an arm’s length. Shut you out. I’ve begun to realise that I need to work on that; I want to work on that. Because I know what a healthy relationship can look like –you’ve shown me that Kev, and instead of appreciating you for it, I hurt you. I hurt you by not talking honestly about my fears, by falling pregnant with a 66,66% chance that you’re not the father and I don’t know if I can watch you get your heart broken by me again,” you say, tears now rolling down your cheeks, “How you still want me is beyond me,” you add quietly, looking down at your mug of coffee. You feel Kevin’s hand on your knee, making you look up at him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “this is the openness I need in a relationship. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you about what made you pull away, that I questioned your loyalties. I know how much you love your job and I shouldn’t have made you choose between your Mercedes family and me. I should’ve come up with a compromise so we can still hang out even if work keeps you busy. Because truth be told, I just want to spend time with you, doing whatever, as long as we can be in the same room. And I know there’s a good chance I am not the baby’s father, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be the baby’s dad. A family isn’t determined by biology, a family is made. And when I picture my future family, I picture us –whatever that us might look like, but us. So I will keep holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you until you tell me otherwise; I will keep loving you, and maybe that makes me an idiot, but I don’t care because I’d rather get my heart broken a thousand times over by you than not have you at all.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, not knowing how else to respond to him. Part of you feels overwhelmed by just how willing all three of them are to simply love you, without any hesitation and a part of you desperately wants to allow yourself to love them in return. But how can you in good conscience do so if that means hurting two of them in the process?

Oh Kev, this poor, poor cinnamon roll of a man 🥺 girly pop has a choice to make, but who will she choose? (Who would you choose? 👀)

Massive thanks to @curiousthyme for being the best beta reader I could ask for

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes truly mean the world to me and, combined with the engagement on the polls, makes me want to keep writing this fic so thank you 💜

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevin magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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stuffeddeer · 5 months

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hello deery, back like i promised lmao

as much as i love silly goofy buddy dazai, deluded possessive and lowkey scary dazai is my fav 🙏 he's such a silly guy with reader, then turns right around and destroys their entire life. then hes like :O omg thats so horrible, so what im hearing is you have more time to spend with me? seeing as all your friends left for reasons unknown, your family wont even look at you. but dw, i'll never leave :)

BWHAHA im not good at this stuff, but your characterization of dazai is my fav in general, such versatility, we love to see it

have a great day :D

-🩵 anon

HES MY least FAVE TOO ugh 🩵anon you get me

“I’m sorry, lovely. That’s so horrible…” Dazai’s knuckles softly rub against your jaw, his skin soothing you as you try to halt your tears.

“It just— ” you hiccup, “ —just feels like everyone’s leaving me!”

The brunet pulls you closer, practically sitting in his lap as his hands move around your torso. “Shh, shh…” He gently wipes away your remaining tears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle before nodding. “You’re the only one. Not even my boss wanted me around, I can tell. It’s like she was waiting for me to mess up so she could fire me.”

“That’s not true…”

“How would you know?” The words were genuine, like you were looking for him to explain that it was the work of fate or your shitty coworker you always complained about.

Well, it's because Dazai was the one to get you fired. Your boss was too fond of you, something he simply couldn't have. Plus, work hours always took up your time, time that should be spent with him. Honestly, you didn't need a job, anyway: Dazai would be happy to provide for you and make you dependent on him.

Instead of explaining any of this, he pressed another kiss to your head before pulling you in for a tight hug. “You’re a hard worker. And you’re a wonderful person. If none of your friends want to be in your life, well, I do. So I guess you’ll just have to spend time with me.”

It’s his attempt at lightening the mood, you’re sure of it. A chuckle passes your lips before you can stop it, shifting in his hold so you can hug him back just as tightly. “You’re all I have, so now you’re stuck with me.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

oh he’s the worst i need him

he’ll cradle you so sweetly, telling you alllll the good things about yourself!!!

n when you get all confident and hey! maybe you are good enough, maybe you should look into making new friends! ones that won’t leave you so easily 🙄

well,

he’s there to remind you just how heartbroken your last ones left you. your very own flesh and blood cut you out so easily! maybe dazai is the only one who can truly love you for who you are.

he’s not saying it to be mean! he just wants you to know what you’re getting yourself into. he’s always been so smart, too…. well, you guess he’s right.

if you’re a bit more stubborn or masochistic, maybe you don’t gaf!!! put you back in the ring you wanna try again!!!!!

ugh. okay. i mean, dazai did so much for you... y’know, when you lost your job and he insisted let you move in with him, dazai was trying to be a good friend, but... whatever, if you don’t need him anymore than you can just get your own place. oh, you still haven’t found a job? well, since you’re so sure of yourself, you can just get a new one. you can be out by tomorrow, right? you know dazai would’ve liked to go out and make friends during the time he’s been working to keep a roof above the both of your heads and keeping you company after everyone left you. maybe he’s starting to see why they did, since you’re so selfish—

...

you decided not to go out!

that’s probably when he realizes he should begin moving your relationship along a bit quicker. he’ll flirt with you in the exact way he knows you respond to best (whether that's words of affirmation, teasing, physical touch, etc); he'll bring you back pastries and cute trinkets he saw on his way home from work… his courting is a little eerie, bc he also acts like you two are already dating???? "you're staying in my home, of course i assumed we'd be having dinner tonight. i even learned to cook your favorite— " like he 100% just assumes shit but it always works out bc . well, what else were you doing?

this includes sharing a bed btw. he probably started w having you take his and he takes the couch (a true gentleman) and then maybe he gets another bed and makes a guest room for you... but, well, since you both are so close and it's so cold in his apartment, maybe you can just spend one night with him? It Was Not One Night

if you catch on and reciprocate, oh he's over the moon!!!! his love giving him affection? oughhh.. you're staying in his room in his arms and he's just breathing you in, reminding himself you're still there... it'd be actually kinda sweet if he didn't orchestrate this whole thing

if you catch on (or don't lmao) and deny him? .............

desperate times desperate measures or whatever they say

he locks you in his room for mandatory cuddles, will not give you food if you stick to one side of the room and refuse to let him hold you, he starts pulling away and spewing words he knows will hurt you so you feel so alone and unloved only to turn around and love bomb you.... it's horrific tbh

i'm so sorry . just... go along w it for now pls ❤️

also i mentioned that he'd bring up how you don't have a job and he's the one working hard to pay for your expenses but he's just being a brat. he caught you looking at help wanted ads one time and pretty much cried in your lap about how upset he is that you don't feel his care is adequate enough and only stopped when you promised not to get another job

he's gross :( get out of there

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cereusblue · 3 months

Text

https://gofund.me/96bce824

Hi, all. So, I've had a day from hell and I'm too exhausted to re-explain on another platform. But here, I'll copy paste the story here. TLDR at the bottom. If you can't help, pass it on. Literally everything helps. Love you all.

Good day all, thank you for stopping your busy day to check my page.

Let me lay out the situation as best I can.

First off, some background for myself and my family. My fiancee and I only have(had) one functioning car between us when we took in a family member of his in an emergency CPS case. We are trying our hardest to take care of her and teach her how to be a person, but our schedules and only having one vehicle has made that a struggle. She has gotten a job just last week and is working hard to get on her feet. It's great and we are very proud of her! It's part time for the time being while she learns how to manage finances and how the world works.

However, since October things have started taking a turn for the worse. Between my fiancee and I, we both worked minimum wage and in October I bent over to put on a shoe and my back made a horrible crack noise. I went to the ER in immense pain and despite having insurance, I still got dumped with a hefty bill that to this day I am still trying to pay off. I have gone through physical therapy as requested by my doctor, since he didn't want to operate on someone of my age. However, it did nothing but agitate the problem. While I can now move around again, bending over and lifting anything past 15 pounds is strenuous. I'm in pain every single day and even sitting up is difficult most days. I can't stand up for long anymore before it becomes too much on my back. But things continue to happen, as they do. I was set to come back to see my surgeon this year but on Dec 29th in the last hour of the day, my job decided that an AI system could completely take over my job and laid me off. Getting unemployment as well as answers back from my previous work has been very difficult. My benefits were cut off with no chance to refill medications or see my surgeon. So, now my continued treatment to fix my back on top of my other health issues have all been put on pause. I've been working for almost two years now to get treatment and figure out what's wrong with my health, but I am now on a desperate search for a new job.

Which leads us to today. We are already strapped for money, and on a trip to an interview and my fiancee going to work, we got taken down a gravel road that looked deceptively fine. Driving across, the ice was far deeper than it appeared and it destroyed the grill, bumper, and wheel well (I believe that's what it's called) aka part of the frame that covers the front wheels broke and are hanging. That's not where it ends. So, I took the car to get it temporarily fixed so we could hopefully figure something out to get repairs done. The car got a temporary fix, and then I proceeded to take the car to pick up my fiancee from work. He and I began our drive back home, and as we were passing train tracks a doe jumped out into the road way too close to us. She only came into view as she appeared in the lights of the car, immediately getting bodied by the car. As you can see from the image, she destroyed the hood of the car and much more. I feel horrible for the poor thing and I hope she went quickly, noticing the fur and blood on the front bumper. We managed to get the car home, but the check engine light came on. This car is a Toyota prius. Anyone who knows anything about a prius knows they are basically tin cans. So, the worry is that the cooling system is busted now too. This will exponentially increase the amount we need to pay to repair the vehicle.

The worst part is, is that this is the only car we have to go to work and for me to go to interviews. I do have a car, but it's not in running condition right now. The poor thing is a 1999 and needs some parts replaced that we have not had the funds or availability to get a list of parts and have them replaced. The car also can't move anyway right now and would need towed. The prius is our only vehicle we have, and I don't have the funds to drop on fixing it. Insurance won't pay for it as far as we have been made aware by the body shop because of the type of insurance we have.

So, this is the current estimate we have to work with in regards to repairs. The entire front, hood, coolant system, and I know a few more pieces need replaced. The prius can run and be moved to a body shop at least, but paying for it will be a nightmare. If he can't get to work, we are in major trouble. My fiancee, his little sister, and I all rely on this car for work. While I'm still looking for work, I'm very limited because of my current physical state. We've spent a lot of money on my Healthcare already and every day are worried I'm going to reach for something and have my back crack again. While we are working on Medicaid, these things are proving a slow process. They also don't cover previous medical bills when I did have insurance. So, our only choice is to live off his income currently while I'm on a search for a new job every day. Our lives depend on this one car. Especially since we live out in the woods and work is 40 minutes away.

If you've read this far, I appreciate every single second of your time. Every single hand this gofundme goes through will be a huge help. If you can't help, that's okay, please don't stress your own financials if youre in a tough spot. If you can pass this along to anyone you can, that would be more than enough. Thank you again, and I wish you all better fortune this 2024.

For those who can't read the whole thing;

TLDR; Me and my family are already going through a lot of financial troubles with my health and being laid off, our only mode of transportation is severely damaged from an unmaintained roads massive pothole and hitting a deer in the same day. Three people rely on this one vehicle for all our jobs and interviews that are far from home. Donate if you can, if not, please share and thank you so very much.

Also including another picture here for you all to see. Thank you all again, I wish you better fortune this year.

#gofundme #emergency #fundraiser #pls help #idk what else to tag rn im so exhausted

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ocean-blue-orchids · 11 months

Text

“It would be nice if magic didn’t exist so we could avoid all this fuss. Don’t you agree…?”

Characters: Rollo, Yuu

Summary: What if Yuu and Rollo had continued their conversation for longer during Topsy-Turvey day? What if Yuu liked magic, or hated magic…or even knew some magic of their own?

Type: Bullet points, with a drabble at the end for the pathetic Rollo simps (me)

Warnings: None that I can think of but I’m new to this so if I missed something let me know!

A/N at the bottom!

A Yuu who is fascinated by magic:

-“I think you’re a bit confused, buddy. Getting to see real magic every day has probably been one of the only good parts of getting warped here!”

-Rollo just. Looks at you.

-He genuinely has to hold in so many emotions in his face; confusion, disgust, a bit of fear(?)

-Eventually he settles on a slight frown and decides to not think about this critically, because god forbid something shatter his worldview when he’s this close to enacting his plan.

-“Ah, you poor thing. You don't understand. If only you could see that your non magic world is much more ideal…”

-“Haha yeah I guess I do miss it! When I find a way back you can visit :D”

-Rollo.exe is crashing

-He decides that clearly this prefect is tainted by the evil surrounding them every day and it’s a Stockholm syndrome type thing.

-When the flowers start to spread and he reveals his true intent, he may even offer for you to join his side, now that he’s “purging the evil”

-“Human of a magicless world…together, we can fix this flawed world and rid it of magic-“ “ROLLO YOU ARE SO UNINVITED TO MY HOME WORLD” “Ok, trapdoor it is.”

-Even after everything, he wonders how you can love magic and a world that was likely responsible for you being torn from your home. It haunts him.

A Yuu who is a bit afraid of magic:

-You stay completely silent.

-Looking at Rollo feels like staring into an awful funhouse mirror. I mean, you find magic a bit scary, but trying to outright destroy it? Especially knowing that it also functions as a source of life!?

-Rollo has seen you flinch at the fireworks, frown at the mention of past magical incidents at NRC, and he miiiight have lowkey stalked you a bit to see that you only showed interest in non magical items. And when he sees you hesitating after he does his little evil monologue?

-Well he just assumes you’re stunned by how right he is.

-Later, after his reappearance during the flowers spreading for the first time, he takes a special interest in your reaction.

-And he’s very, very confused.

-Why are you afraid? Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t you agree with him?

-He puts you on the spot by telling the others how they’ve “made the prefect so stressed and fearful by using their magic! Don’t you agree, prefect? We talked about this before…”

-You shake your head, under so much pressure that you almost want the flowers to take you down.

-“I see. You’ve been corrupted by them. Don’t worry, prefect. I’ll allow you to apologize after I finish my job here. For now…you must forgive me for this.” Aaand the floor underneath you disappears.

-After the events of the night, he tries one more time to appeal to you. If you tell him that “magic may be scary, but your hatred is far, far worse…” he will be absolutely EFFED up man. Effed. Up.

A Yuu who has learnt magic:

-“Uh…Rollo, I don’t think you’ve got the full picture, buddy.”

-First he’s confused. And then you show him a basic flame you conjure in your hands. (It’s a little trick Tsunotaro taught you.)

-He is revolted.

-How? How could someone like you, someone who was untouched and pure, fall to this disgusting power?

-He hides this, however, and invites you to his office to “see a surprise I have for all of our visitors. I think you may be able to help me.”

-You give Trein a heads up and head out, where Rollo shows you a very stunning, crimson flower…

“This flower is beautiful, Rollo! Is it a souvenir?”

Rollo gives you the same calm smile he’s given you all day, and holds it out to you.

“…in a way, yes. Pick it. It won’t work unless you do.”

Assuming this was another fun item rigged with magic, you pull it from the glass pot Rollo is holding. Sure enough, the pollen scatters like sparks, and the flower is warm in your hand.

“Rollo, this is amazing! I’m sure the others will love it! They-uh-they…”

Your train of thought is interrupted by the feeling of the flower’s root around your finger. Even more unsettling is the fact that the root’s end is now stuck to your body. The warmth spreads from your hands to your upper arm, and it starts to feel numb.

And then you feel your feet go numb as well. You look down to see flowers rapidly growing at your feet.

“Rollo…”

“I’m sure the others will love my gift, Angel.”

The mage has backed away from you now, moving to his desk and staring at you coldly. You try to yell at him, to call for help…but nothing comes out of your mouth and you suddenly find yourself on the floor. You think you probably fell, judging by how close you were to the ground. As you close your eyes, you heard Rollo speak one last time.

“Perhaps I will keep you here. Fix you, and make you pure again. There is still hope.”

————

The next thing you remember is waking up and feeling so intensely groggy. It was as if you had taken a nap right after school, and now you were waking up feeling strangely warm and stiff.

Well, you definitely felt strangely warm and stiff. As you tried to stretch, you heard the sounds of vines shifting. Slowly sitting up and opening your eyes lead to you seeing where you were.

Rollo’s office had turned into a flower garden. And you were the main piece.

One by one, you plucked the flowers off of you. They were attached to your skin, yes, but they peeled off easily with a tug. You still felt half asleep, but memories were coming back to you.

Rollo.

His “special gift”.

“I’m sure the others will love…”

The others.

You noticed the open door. The flowers were spreading.

The others.

You stood up, leaning against a wall as your head pounded and your legs shook. As soon as you could walk, you did.

The others needed you.

You followed the path to the main hall, realizing the flowers had spread more than you could possibly have imagined.

…how long had you slept? Hours? Days?

Your fears were lessened as you entered the main hall, and saw that Rollo looked exactly the same as he had a few hours ago, the sunset outside now replaced with moonlight.

But the sight you were greeted with in the main hall was nothing short of disturbing.

Flowers everywhere you looked. Screaming, shouting, and…Rollo.

He was saying…something. You couldn’t hear well over the chaos and your head ringing, and frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say.

He was hurting everyone. You had to stop him.

So you did.

You used all your strength to tackle him with your whole body.

Unfortunately, your weakened status meant it wasn't enough to knock him down. He pressed himself against the banister with one hand, pulling you forward with the other. You were able to try and turn around to face him, but he grabbed one of your arms and used his free hand to push you against the banister.

There’s a chance that someone screamed your name, but it was hard to make out.

Rollo frowned at you.

“I suppose the flowers couldn’t fully handle someone who wasn’t born with magic. In a way, it’s a blessing.”

He pressed himself closer, moving his hand from your arm up to your own hand. He pressed his thumb where you had summoned fire for him before, as if he were trying to extinguish the flame.

“Darling angel…come with me. You’re already almost completely cleansed of your magic…together, we can make you, and this world…perfect.”

You raised a shaky hand to cup Rollo’s face, and although he seemed shocked at first, he slowly smiled into your hold.

“Very good, my obedient Angel, I knew you’d-“

You pulled his stupid hat over his hair. He screamed in a way you had never heard before, and pushed you.

If it was an accident, it certainly didn’t feel like it as you fell through the air.

Well.

Hopefully someone will catch your fall.

Either way…that was worth it.

A/N: Oh boy! Hi…it’s been a while whoops. I made this blog before my Senior show tech week, and life just has not slowed down till now. But I finally posted something!! Yay! Requests are open, and it would make my day to get one! Ok that's all have a nice day :>

#frog dni #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #rollo flamm #rollo x reader #rollo flamm x reader #this ones for all the priest kissers out there #i support you #drabbles #malleus mentioned #lowkey kinda malleus x reader implied but not gonna tag it for that #also i dont have a header for rollo......sigh

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ninjigma · 2 years

Text

Cody's Little Sister

“It’s really quiet huh?”

Cody may have been tempted to keep his eyes closed longer, but he could already hear Rex begging Cody to answer his honorary little sister with something comforting. Anything really.

“Probably more the lack of people being shot than actual quiet.”

Well. Maybe anything but that.

But Ahsoka offered up a morbid laugh anyhow. And Cody decided she had been fighting too long.

Currently, the two were a bit… lost. Though not of their own accord. The planet was mostly marsh, temperate and soggy, and though they had come prepared for that there was no preparing for a section of a natural water dam to be destroyed and flood their forward route. Thankfully Cody was pretty sure most everyone was out of the direct path of the flood, but oh so lucky for Ahsoka, she had been in the middle of the river crossing. Cody, a few feet behind her, cursed Jedi and their non-armor-wearing ways as he leaped forward. The wave hit him hard enough that truthfully he only remembered dark and choking until he was coughing up slime on their island. Everything to communicate had been damaged by the sediment, and Ahsoka was currently tinkering at Cody’s helmet to give them a chance.

“How far do you think we went?”

Cody took another careful breath, chest aching horribly. But a bit more determined this time to be encouraging he started mapping the stars that had come out. “Based on where the sun is setting and what I remember of the briefing, we probably made it a few clicks down The Serpent's Back. Surprised we didn’t drown truthfully.”

He really is trying. Seriously, Rex, it’s hard when everything is always getting worse by the minute.

“Thanks for the credit,” Ahsoka sniffed. “That armor doesn’t make you any lighter you know.”

Ok, now Cody’s eyes were open. “You pulled me out with you?”

Ahsoka glared at him a bit, as if what he said was absurd. “Of course. I wasn’t going to let you drown.” Then in the fading light, Cody caught something much sadder in her eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you protecting me from the water and trees in the first place. It isn’t at all your job to protect me, but you did it anyway.”

Cody swallowed. He may be out of his depth but even he could very much tell that ‘your life is more important than mine because I’m replaceable property’ was not the right follow-up here. So he went with something more honest, the white and blue of her montrals making it a bit easier. “Any time Commander.”

Ahsoka chuckled a bit again. “And same for you, Commander.”

The silence that fell now didn’t feel nearly as awkward as Cody had expected. He was propped against a low tree comfortably enough. The moss made it just about as lovely as those new pods the Kaminoans were putting cadets in. Ashoka didn’t seem to mind either, sitting a few feet away to try and get the last rays of light to work by.

It was when they were finally without almost any light source that Cody became overly paranoid again. Any small noise and he was tending for some separatist gang or some Togruta-eating beast to come barreling down on them. It also didn’t help that his chest twinged every time he shifted, and Ahsoka was better at reading people than he thought.

“Here,” she whispered as the nightlife began making odd noises. The familiar noise of a lightsaber soon drowned them out and their little island was lit in its eerie green glow.

Cody was about to thank her when the light flashed across something moving through the water behind Ahsoka. It moved slowly but purposefully, turning as if it could see-

“Turn it off!” Cody hissed as loud as he dared.

The lightsaber winked out and Cody had no time to even ponder whether the creature could hunt some other way before Ahsoka's trembling voice cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I-I thought it would help you relax.”

Cody couldn’t help in the slightest. “No, I’m sorry to snap that way Commander. I just think, as nice as the light is, it makes us a rather large target.”

Ahsoka nodded, giving one last look at the fading helmet and then curling in on herself. Again they fell to silence, the sound of water moving now making Cody even jumpier. The fog and pain in his head weren’t helping either. He had to focus on something else.

“Do you… mind me talking with you?” Cody asked in a slight whisper. “Would help me keep my head clear.”

He managed to make out Ahsoka turning to look at him (really, was this planet one big fresher bowl because of its weak ass moon?), though he wasn’t quite expecting the surprise. “Are you asking for… permission to talk to me? In order to help you?”

“Sorry Commander,” he answered in reflex. “I won’t-“

“Stop, Cody,” Ahsoka now sounded even more upset and Cody was sure Rex was somehow glaring at him. “You don’t have to ask. I know we aren’t alone like this, ever, but nobody needs permission to talk to me. Especially not you, or Rex, or any of you. Unless you’d like me to ask permission to speak?”

“No,” Cody answered immediately, though his mind was still processing her words. “No, never.”

Ahsoka has a small smile, even though she figured Cody couldn’t see it. “Then I suppose we don’t have much else to do until master Obi-Wan finds us.”

Cody took another pained breath. “Shouldn’t be long. I imagine General Skywalker is having a fit about him losing you.”

Finally, Ahsoka gave him a quiet laugh. Small victories. “They both worry too much. You had everything under control.”

“Yeah well, someone should remind them of that next time they decide to test how flightless humans are.”

That laugh felt more genuine, and Cody relaxed just a tad more. “I’ll try to remember, but I can’t promise I won’t be doing it too.”

“Oh, you will be,” Cody grunted. “Rex too, the di’kut.”

“What’s that mean anyway?”

Cody hadn’t even realized he had his eyes closed. Blinking he shifted slowly against the tree to wake himself a bit more. “Someone who forgets to put their pants on.”

Ahsoka’s quiet laughter did a better job than the moving. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound but Cody felt his spirits lift regardless. “You two sound much closer than Captain and Commander,” she said, though with a hint of something that made Cody suspect she knew the answer.

Yet, Cody oddly enough found himself smiling as he answered. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve known Rex since he was a little shit. And now he’s a big shit, but he’s still my little brother.”

Ahsoka laid her head on her arms, crossed on her pulled-up knees. “You sound just like Master Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe that’s why our battalions work so well.”

“Because the general and I are both calling your battalion idiots?”

“I’d think I could earn a little more faith,” Ahsoka smiled. “But no. I think it’s more because you both say it out of love for your little brothers. You understand something more about each other, just like Anakin and Rex can.”

Cody knew it had been a while since he last laughed, and even though it was quiet, he found it quite nice. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am, but no one listens to me either. Especially Skyguy when he’s flying.”

They were now both laughing, the soft noises blending into the living environment around them. For how much pain he was in, and the fact it was becoming quite cold, Cody found this was a vacation compared to his normal life. “You’re just like them.”

“Who?”

Cody hadn’t realized he said it out loud, but he wasn’t feeling as reserved as usual. “Rex. And General Skywalker. You’re probably all feeding off each other’s crazy. Whoever partnered you all up must have been just as nuts.”

Ashoka snickered again. “Well I think it was Obi-Wan, so don’t think you're oh-so-good Mr. 212th.”

The sentence was suddenly so informal Cody had to cough another laugh. “If anything that just proves I’m the only one with sense!”

“Didn’t you break a foot once kicking a droid?”

“Details.”

Ashoka was now burying her face to try and be quiet. “No, you’re one of us. Disaster lineage is what Master Windu says.“

“Pft,” Cody started to shake his head before it spun and he stopped. “Rex and my batch mates would probably agree, even though they’re just as bad.”

“Batch mates?”

“Like, well, brothers,” Cody chewed his lip. “Closer than the overall vod though. More like a nat-born sibling. Decanted together and then trained from day one together.”

“Oh! I think I know what you mean,” Ahsoka said. “Some of us Padawan are much closer than others. I guess we aren’t that different, brought to the temple really young and then growing up together.”

“Heh, yeah, and look at us now,” Cody chuffed. “Practically twins.”

Ahsoka's laugh was softer this time, and Cody could just make her out as she began to shiver badly. Kriff, he had his armor and thermals, and even soaking wet he hadn’t realized he was probably much better off than Ahsoka with the chill. She looked like a shiny, trying to hold everything together. Cody then found himself leaning forward despite the pain, undoing the clasps on his armor.

“What are you doing?” Ahsoka was now all concerned. “Is something wrong? Is your chest getting worse? Are you-“

“I’m fine Commander,” Cody halted her panic. “You made sure of that. Just thought it’d be warmer without some of the armor.” Finally, he had managed to undo the breastplate and plied it and the plackart to the side. He then tapped the mossy ground and raised his arm, careful to hide as much pain as possible. “You’re not going to survive all of this only to die of a cold on my watch.”

Ahsoka barely even hesitated, which surprised Cody some. But as she curled carefully into his side he figured Rex called her little sister for a reason. And soon enough the shivering stopped and Cody found the contact quite comforting, as much as he thought it was gonna be awkward.

“He told me I could go to you.”

Kriff, he had to stop closing his eyes. “Huh?” Yeah, he must be concussed.

“Rex,” Ahsoka spoke a bit clearer. “He found me once crying in a supply closet. I didn’t want any of the men to see. I’m supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to be able to lead them. But when Rex found me I couldn’t even try to fake it.”

Cody found himself thrown suddenly back into his memories, the moment he found Rex, hiding and crying. It was like some odd twist of fate, to be hearing this. And it only stung him more as Ahsoka continued.

“He helped me. Told me if no one else he’d be there when I needed him. And then he promised me that if he couldn’t be there,” her breath caught a bit, the unsaid being heard clearly. “Then you’d be there. If I couldn’t find anyone else, I should find you. And I guess I just accepted it was the same as with any of you. But Anakin once said something similar about Obi-Wan, and you never even hesitated to protect me today. So now I get it,” Cody didn’t even feel any pain as her montrals pressed against his side. “You’re my big brother too.”

Cody wasn’t lucky. No, luck wasn’t on the side of any clone. There was only training and fighting and suffering tooth and nail for one more day of miserable existence. And yet, here he was, thinking fond memories of a small blond mischief maker and how a family really was made, not born. After everything that had happened to them all, he was here now, doing what he actually did best: being a big brother.

And when the entire sky suddenly lit up in dancing green and blue lights, he figured he should rethink the miserable existence part of his thoughts.

“What is that?” Ahsoka gasped, mesmerized as the lights started changing colors, purples and reds shooting through like tendrils. Everything around them was bathed in it, and Cody couldn’t help a breath of relief as it revealed familiar white and gold armor and a very scared-looking master Jedi a few dozen yards down the river.

“I’d say hope,” he answered. “but I’m not quite that concussed.”

Ahsoka's laughter rang a bit different now, and her smile was definitely brighter as she too caught sight of Obi-Wan and started waving. Rex was right. Cody would be there whenever she needed him, they both would.

That’s what big brothers are for.

#found family #is best family #this has been in my drafts for over a month #I have been enabled #ahsoka tano #clone commander cody #star wars #clone wars #fanart #my art #my writing #I just wanted to write it damn it

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temptingfatetakingnames · 5 months

Text

The weeks passed slowly for Eddie, and he was starting to lose it. He felt antsy, his natural chaotic energy having to be contained as much as possible so he didn’t tear out his stitches… Again. So, it was with great relief that the powers that be finally decided he was well enough to finish recovering at home. Or at least to whatever trailer the government had seen fit to replace his actual home with. Wayne said it was great, new and updated and bigger than the one Vecna had destroyed. He wouldn’t have most of his shit, but Wayne and the kids had done a good job of replacing a lot of what he had lost. He had a second-hand cassette player and a bunch of tapes, a thrifted copy of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, and clothes that Robin had snagged from the school. The most important thing – his sweetheart – had been salvaged. He couldn’t wait to start playing again. He had written some pretty sick lyrics that he was excited to put music to.

Wayne finishing packing his bag just as a nurse came in with a wheelchair. He settled himself in and she pushed him out into the hall, Wayne trailing behind. He had her stop as they passed Max’s room. Steve was visiting. Steve was always visiting, never leaving either of them alone for too long. He noticed they were holding hands, which was weird because usually Max freaked out if anyone tried to touch her. Eddie was still constantly surprised by how good Steve was with the kids. How different he was with each of them based off their personalities and needs. Playful with Dustin, sincere with El, firm with Mike, soft with Max, heartfelt with Will, mentoring to Lucas. He understood people, saw them and what they needed. Eddie could never have imagined how much Steve gave of himself to the people he loved. Eddie wondered what Steve would give him, if he ever reached the level of friendship Steve had with the kids. And the thought sent a wave of longing so intense through Eddie that he was glad he was sitting down because his legs went weak with it.

“Heading out, Munson?” Steve asked, getting up and walking over to them.

“Yup! This place has had enough of my charms and they’re kicking me out.” Eddie shrugged and tried to steady his racing heart.

“You were a terrible patient, I don’t blame them at all!”

“I was a model patient, Harrington! I thought we were friends, how dare you take their side?” Eddie asked with feigned disgruntlement.

“How many times did you pull out your stitches, Munson?” Steve asked and folded his arms across his chest.

Steve had him there. He had pulled his stitches a few times trying to do things he shouldn’t, like play his guitar or - heaven forbid - go to the bathroom by himself!

“I can’t believe you’re going to leave me all alone here,” Max said from the bed. They had hung out a lot over the last few weeks, bonding over terrible wounds and angry music.

“Don’t worry Red, I’ll be back to visit. I would never leave you to the not-so-gentle mercies of the sadistic needle wielding nurses of Hawkins Memorial.”

Max smiled a little at the description. Eddie was ecstatic he could elicit even a small bit of happiness out of her.

“Onward, mighty stead!” Eddie pointed down the hall as the nurse sighed behind him. The staff were truly over his shit.

“Before you go, I wanted to give you this,” Steve said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He handed it to Eddie. It had his number written on it.

“Call if you need anything, any time. I mean it.”

“Oh, you’re making a huge mistake giving me this Big Boy, prepare yourself for a lot of prank calls.” Eddie grinned up at him.

Steve went to grab the paper out his hands, but Eddie shoved it in his mouth to keep it away from him and mumbled, “kidding, kidding!”

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“Get outta here, Munson!”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ficlet #steddie fic

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writingawaymylife · 9 days

Text

A/N: so I read @icyblogs fic about Ghoul!Simon and I was so inspired, and suddenly, this idea had me in a chokhold. I was so tired last night I couldn't write it, but literally, the moment I got up, I was writing this out on my phone. I did a quick read through and tried to find any mistakes, so I hope it's smooth, but I did write this in a hour, lol

Synopsis: Simon has spent two years trying to survive after a rude awakening to the new world. Losing everyone close to you is an experience he never wanted to suffer through again. Navigating the world alongside that grief doesn't make it any easier. It seems, however, that the world has finally decided to give him some mercy.

Word count: 1,800+

Warnings: swears, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of a severed hand and violence, please tell me if I missed anything

Simon had been stuck in some facility when the bombs fell. Some test. It's not like he wanted to stay in there, but they were testing out something related to the effects of cryogenic stasis on the human body (especially those who had peak body performance), and the week long study "just happened" to take place a few days before the bombs dropped. He had been told that if he took part in this, that him and his partner would be safe in a vault, but now he's waking up, and it's been over 200 years and everything is destroyed. He is mourning everything. The loss of his friends, his life, and you. Sweet you.

Waking up to this world bring so much grief that he nearly loses him mind, but he pushes through. Everyone that he ever loved and who ever loved him would want that. You would never forgive him for giving up. So, he eventually just falls into a life of survival. Odd jobs here and there, traveling. He often thinks back to who he used to be and his life, but he forces himself to focus on what is in front of him. Keeping himself afloat through the continuation of everything he'd known from before the Great War.

He's at a small town in the middle of nowhere yet again. Nursing a few shit wounds and an ever shittier whiskey as he tries to shake off some of the stress of the day. Raiders had taken up in an abandoned factory near the town, and he'd been hired to clear it out. Simple job for him really, yet even being out in the wasteland for a while now, he still finds himself missing his team. The companionship and the way they all worked together like awell-oiled machine. He tries not to think about how lonely it makes him, but some things just aren't so easily forgotten.

The bar is pretty full, much to his surprise, and the knowledge that he has found himself in yet another town where half the population begins getting drunk by 5 pm is putting him on edge to a certain extent. He's seen how easily people begin to pull out their weapons at the slightest provocation. So he keeps himself in the corner of the bar with his back to the wall, his rifle leaning against the table at an immediate grabbing distance as his eyes do idle surveys of the room It's unlikely that anything will turn sour, he knows that, but the past two years out here have only further emphasized all those years in the military; and he isn't keen to just let it all go for moment of lazy relaxation.

Then he hears something. It's drowned out by the other conversations filling up the space, but it rings something in his head, a small little echo of what once was. Leaning into that feeling shouldn't be so easily humored, he knows this, but beyond the veil of gravel and radio static there's something so familiar. A melody he hasn't heard in so long, one he can't help but soak in and embrace. His eyes are trying to find the source, weaving through the crowds, before they land on the weathered, spike shouldered, leather jacket of a Ghoul. He can't see their face, but something about the curves of their body looks so intimately familiar that he finds his hand shaking as it grips the glass. Inklings of recognition fire through his synapses, forcing him to stay on their back. They're talking to a man beside them, nodding along and shrugging before they're speaking again, and Simon feels like he's going fucking insane. The knowledge of that voice, that same intonation, forcefully summoned to the forefront of his mind.

Then the ghoul turns their face.

Everything comes to such an aggressive halt he nearly wheezes. His eyes never leaving their face, scarred and worn and-

You.

You're sitting there two hundred years after the end of the world in some leather jacket and vest, a rifle strapped to your back and two pistols in your waist holster. There's a severed hand on the table between you and the person, marred and glinting with a few rings, and the man you're talking to nods approvingly at it. Giving you a swift pat on the arm before handing over a rather comfortable looking pouch of caps. Then the man says something, and you're laughing, and yes, it's different and rough and age worn, but he would know it bloody deaf.

Simon can't move. He's thinking about all the years you've been out here. The pain, suffering, the ghoulification process that he has heard stories of, the things you must have done to keep yourself from going insane. His eyes are honed in on the pouch of caps, and he knows that you've had to become strong in a way that he wasn't there to help you through. While you fought through two centuries of destroyed civilization and were shown the worst of humanity, he had been safe and tucked away in a vault. It wasn't his fault. Not entirely. That doesn't stop the mind-numbing guilt that has come back and multiplied twofold. Nor the anger he's feeling that is mixing with that nauseated realization that everything he did, all he had sacrificed, had been for nothing. He had left you for months on end while the world was falling apart, and you didn't even get the one reason behind all of that.

Every reeling thought has that flight response he hadn't had in so long flaring, but he can't move, can't look away. He keeps looking at you and the way you talk and hold yourself, the similarities shifted through years of experiences. You still gesticulate but it's more toned down, arms staying relaxed where they rest on your thigh and the bar as your fingers dance in the air with whatever you're saying. That little smile you still do is on your face, but he can see how the light in your eyes has changed. Not gone, but as if it has taken on a different filter, colours being more highlighted than the ones that once were.

There's a slightest twitch where your brows once were before your looking around the bar, and he doesn't have time to look away, to hide his face and the shame he believes it will bring before you're looking at him. Eyes snapping to his and your body freezing in place. The man beside you is continuing on, but you aren't paying attention anymore. Your head is tilting. A furrow on your lips as you scan his face while he is unable to leave your eyes. He can see the slow build of shock and pain as recognition kicks in full force. Leather and spike clad shoulders almost shaking as you grip at the room temperature beer you were drinking. He expects horror next. Hatred. You had begged him to stay with you before, your pleas ignored from his desperation to keep you safe. The man stops talking, following your gaze and landing on Simon, but whatever he says next is ignored.

You're almost stumbling out of your chair as you land your feet on the worn bar floorboards, boots planting themselves firmly for a moment like you're hesitating. Eyes scanning and rescanning his face like you don't really believe what's in front of you. Then something clicks in your eyes and you're fucking barreling towards him. For a moment he expects you to try and kill him, and he wouldnt have even tried to stop you. He would have let you press the barrel of your gun into his forehead and paint the wall and tables with his blood and brain matter. But there isn't an ounce of aggression in your eyes as you roughly push past a couple of customers in the way, only such bone deep desperation and begging, suffering hope. Other customers are looking at you with shock at the suddenness of your actons. like you've suddenly gone feral as all conversation comes to a jagged stop. But no one moves, too interested to see what they probably hope to be an entertaining fight after a rather quiet evening.

When you get to him, you are stopping so quickly you collapse to your knees in front of him. Sucking in air like you didn't run twenty feet but miles, eyes pleading and shining with tears as one of your hands rests on the rough wooden floor like it's an anchor. The few nails you have are digging into the rotting spots, most definitely shoving splinters into the thick skin of your fingertips. The other hovers in the space between you two, fingers twitching as you seem to struggle between keeping them open, or pressing them against your fist to avoid giving into the desire physical contact he can see so plainly in your features. It falls back down to your lap for a moment. Neither of you are saying a thing in the dead silent bar as you give him such a begging look, his eyes start to burn.

Such heartbreak and fear and grief should never grace your face. It shatters him, dismantling him to his base atoms and burning away at his skin and organs. You're almost struggling to breath while Simon can't even remember how to when something finally breaks down within you. Your quivering hand reaches up again, cautiously, fearfully almost, to cup his jaw as you look at him like he's some mirage of shade and water after years in the desert.

Your voice croaks, the gravel in it emphasized by your scarred and aged vocal cords as you say his name likes he's your god. Bowed before an alter and finally being graced with the presence of a deity you've spent your life worshipping. "Simon?"

It's like he's been splashed with cold water, jolting him from where he sits as he leans forwards and practically scoops you up onto his lap. The other people are ignored, their stares insignificant as he wraps his arm around your waist and dig that hand into the soft leather there, his other hand coming up to the back of your head. He's pressing your forehead into his as you settle on his lap. Its like he can finally breath, that bone crushing weight leaving his chest as he sink into so many different emotions they become static, unimportant now that he has you in his arms and can feel your body and weight. Ragged breaths match your own as your arms tangled around the other, and he can feel the solid muscle and sinew under your thinning skin as you hold him so tightly. Like you're trying to fold him into you, make him a permanent part of your worn and weary body so he never leaves.

He vows than that he'll never leave you. Never go without that touch that hasn't changed despite the stark difference in your hands. Whatever happens now doesn't matter as long as he's with you, and he'll spend the rest of his days making you know that.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fallout #modern warfare #this was fun but i really should get back to me other fics now lmfao

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filthforfriends · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2: Sentient

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction, hospital)

Word count: 4.7k

Damiano David x Y/n

“Dami, don’t panic. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, I promise. I’m here. Y/n is here and you’re okay.” He startles violently and his eyes fly open, containing an unquellable panic. Dr. Williams uses a flashlight to test the responsiveness of Damiano’s pupils. That temporarily blinds him and makes the situation worse.

“Mr. David, you are in the hospital. You overdosed last night.” He speaks slowly and loudly while leaning over. You decide to sit down on the edge of the cot. Very slightly, you tilt his face towards you while leaning in close, less than a foot away.

“You recognize me?” His brow furrows and he squeezes your hand tightly. Yes, I fucking recognize you. “Just making sure.” Your thumb brushes the tape which holds the mouthpiece in place. He starts fighting the ventilator, making horrendous coughing and gagging songs that turn his face red.

“I’d really rather not sedate him,” says Dr. Williams to another physician.

“Dami, stop fighting it.” He then jolts, trying to get away from the intubation. “Just try to breathe, baby.” At the risk of being reprimanded, you scoot in as close as possible, your hip snug against Damiano’s side. The familiarity gives him pause.

“You O.D.-ed at the club. The drugs were laced with fentanyl. You are in a hospital. You overdosed so you’re in the hospital, but you’re alive.” When you set Dami’s hand in your lap, it slides to hold your flank. The physicality was as if no time had passed. Both hands free, you cup his face and stoop so there's less than six inches between separating you. His left hand is exploring dangerously close to the tubing, which he will undoubtedly yank.

“Prepare restraints,” Dr. Williams murmurs.

“No it's okay, I’ve got him.” You grasp Damiano’s left hand by the wrist and place it on your cheek. “I’m real. You’re really here. You’re okay. They had to put you on life support, baby.” The terror is back, but you get a hand under his hospital gown and rub Damia’s chest. “Try to breathe with it, for now. They’re getting someone to remove it. You’re okay. Shh…you’re okay, my love.” That last bit slipped out and to make matters worse, Damiano starts crying and shaking his head. Interpreting that as “no,” you begin pulling back, only for Dam to do everything in his power to bring you close again.

Just barely, you rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes because the alternative is too much. He watches you, however, the only thing that could soothe his mind after free falling into the abyss. Weakly, his left hand tucks the hair away from your face, the right rubbing your lower back. It was bliss. It was hell. It was the most grounded you’d felt in three months. It rubbed salt into every healing wound and tore open a couple new ones.

“Okay, that's good. Keep him calm.” How ironic that Damiano was the one keeping you calm, despite having a hard plastic tube down his throat. He’d always been so damn steadying. Conversely, it was your job to keep Dami tethered to reality as he became an international rockstar and sex symbol. Coming home from tour also meant coming home to himself, the person that didn’t exist for the entertainment of others and you pulled that out from under him when he needed it most. As a direct result, Dami had almost killed himself. You open your eyes and find five years of memories staring back at you. He wasn’t just conscious, he was intact.

“I swear to god, if you did one iota of damage to that beautiful brain of yours…” You run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. “Do you realize that by destroying yourself, you’re destroying a piece of art? That you’re ripping something beautiful and rare into a bunch of pieces and spitting on it?” You look into his teary eyes and wonder what he’d say if he could speak. After nearly dying had his answer changed? I don’t fucking live for other people! It's actually worse if they love me, do you understand that? Fame made love into a bad thing, an evil thing. Because they invent an idea of me in their head and all I can fucking do is betray that!

Someone in scrubs peaks their head through the doorway and addresses Dr. Williams in a whisper-yell.

“Just so you’re aware Paul, we do have a very worried mother on hold who’d like to speak to you when you’re done here.”

“Tell her y/n is here and that he’s awake,” you call, momentarily looking towards the flushed nurse's assistant. Dami’s mother had far from cut off contact and not so secretly hoped that you’d patch things up after taking a bit of time. It’d make her feel better that her son wasn’t alone. She must have woken up for a run, checked her messages, and realized that Damiano was in a coma. Now, every phone call from Maneskin’s team was going to give her anxiety.

“I, um…” Dr. Williams gives a single nod of permission. “I’ll do that right away.”

“Mr. David, are you close with your family?” You sit up out of the way, lacing your fingers through Dami’s right hand so he can’t use it to wreak havoc. As soon as you leave his line of sight, he gets frantic.

“She’s right here, Mr. David. She is sitting right beside you. I just need to ask you some questions, see when we can get you off the ventilator. Okay?” He is still straining and squeezing your hand, afraid of losing the only bit of familiarity.

“Baby, I’m right here. See? You can hold onto me.” His hand does exactly that, clutching the outside of your thigh. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“Why don’t you put your hand on his face again, carefully.”

“Tox screens,” Maria announces in a murmur, turning a computer towards Dr. Williams. He looks at it briefly and hums in acknowledgement. You take his casualness as a good sign.

“Mr. David, I’m gonna have you squeeze once for yes, twice for no.” It's actually a kind of ingenious thing to do, because it forces Damiano to keep his focus on you. He gives a single firm squeeze with both hands.

“Yes.”

“Alright, do you know where you are?” His pointer finger draws a line along your flank, then three smaller lines perpendicular to it. With the stress and sleep deprivation, it takes you a moment to realize he’s spelling something.

“E…R. Yes, exactly!” you exclaim, way too excited.

“Excellent. Do you know why you’re here?”

“O D um…question mark.” Already the nausea returns.

“That’s correct. You overdosed on fentanyl about almost 7 hours ago. Do you know what day it is?” After a moment, Dami squeezes twice.

“No.”

“Alright. It is April 24th, 2023. I’m sure you’re feeling some disorientation. Do you know who I have seated beside me right now?” Hard squeeze.

“Yes.” His pointer finger slowly traces something. “He just spelled the first letter of my name.” You’re giddy despite yourself. “When will we know if he has brain damage?”

“All I can tell you is that everything looks normal so far. Mr. David, I’m gonna list off the substances found in your blood and urine, so you tell me if you ingested them intentionally.” Even in his single squeeze you can feel the apprehension.

“Dami, do you need me to leave for a sec? Because you have to be honest right now.” There's a tense moment and he squeezes twice. “Okay, I know you don’t want me to leave, but you have to tell them the truth. You almost died today.” He holds on to you instead of answering. “Promise?” Squeeze. “Okay.” Dr. Williams’ eyes flit back and forth instead of posing a question.

“Okay…alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Cannabis.”

“Yes.”

“Cocaine.”

“Yes.”

“Fentynal.”

“No.” You let out a sigh, but Dr. Williams clears his throat nervously. He refolds his hands.

“We also found trace amounts of heroin.” Dami squeezes once and you wait for the second squeeze, but it never comes. Heroin.

“Y/n?” Again, a single squeeze.

“Yes.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears on your cheeks running down to your chin. Each face in the room pities you. A loud ringing drowns out every beep, every hushed whisper, every calmly phrased question. Heroine. When? Why? Damiano used to rant about rock stars wasting their talent, the love of their families, their futures on hard core drugs. People with addictive personalities shouldn’t experiment with addictive substances, it was so simple to him. When had that man died and what was this monster that had replaced him?

“Heroin!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” Dami is guilt stricken and really being absolutely miserable was the least he could do given the situation. “All that stuff about stupid, selfish rock stars blowing up the lives of everyone they loved, was it all fake?” Two squeezes. “Were you trying to trick me?” Two squeezes. “Were you using our whole relationship?” Two squeezes. “But did you ever do heroin while we were dating?” One squeeze. Speechless, you try to recoil but he holds on tight.

Had he shown signs? You don’t even know what the signs of heroin use are. It had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Like a stupid little girl, you’d been worried about alcoholism. There’d never been any needle marks, but maybe you missed it. Maybe he’d made love to you, a cry for help punctured into his skin, and you’d been blind.

“Should I have caught it?” No. “Were you miserable?” No. “Do you shoot up?” No. “Did you ever do it in our apartment?” No. “Did we ever have sex while you were high?” He hesitates at that one and you realize why. “I don’t mean when we would split a pot brownie. I mean did we have sex while you were high or heroine?” No.

God, that was fun, getting buzzed on an edible and spending the whole day naked and laughing in bed. You still had that white fitted sheet with a mango sorbet stain. Damiano was the best person to be high with. He never got sick or messy, but would happily take care of you if the reverse happened. Now you could never look at it the same. Of course he could handle weed if he was doing heroin.

“Did you wish you were high on heroin when we were having sex?” No! He uses his whole hand to pat your leg twice, very decisively.

“Perhaps –”

“Did you do coke when we were together?” No. “How many times did you do heroin?” Dami holds up two fingers. “Twice?” Yes.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but –”

“Of course. Sorry, continue.” Dr. Williams is merciful enough to switch the mode of communication to blinking. As soon as you were taken out of the middle, Damiano began strangling your hand, so you couldn’t leave. He had no fucking right to keep you here. Your fingers ached, all clasped together.

“You’re hurting me.” He freezes, grip loosening slightly. Yes, you could rip your hand away, self-righteous. However, Damiano was terrified and suffering enough without you exacting your ounce of revenge. He’d finally been honest and you couldn’t punish that, regardless of the betrayal.

“Y/n, did you hear that? We have to make sure Damiano can breathe on his own before taking him off the ventilator.”

“Um…okay.”

“The respiratory therapist will be the one to make that call, Dr. Costa. She should be here shortly.” Everyone but Maria files out of the room. Leaving you with Damiano feels like being hired for a position you are far from qualified for, but at least they allow Ethan to come inside.

“What's going on?” He’s breathless and disheveled in a way that is very un-Ethan.

“He’s awake. Come talk to him.” Damiano’s eyes don’t move from your face so you search for the right thing to say that's also genuine.

“I’m really glad you’re alive. Also you are cutting off blood flow to my hand.” He releases his grip to clasp Ethan’s hand instead. “One for yes, two for no.” Now that someone else is keeping him distracted, you stand up to retrieve your purse. As soon as his hand falls from your lap, Dami is reaching for you, frantically opening and closing his fist. You climb back onto the cot, foreheads pressed together again.

“I am getting my purse to call your mom. Okay? I am not leaving. Ethan, lean over into his line of sight.” You take a deep breath after standing upright. The urge to run returns, but you ignore it, applying chapstick to keep yourself distracted. Upon returning to the bed, you put his mom on speakerphone and place it next to Dami’s ear. She answers after less than one ring.

“He’s awake?”

“Mhm, and he can hear you.” The phone call is teary. She thanks you profusely for being there to the point that you have to change the subject to stop yourself from choking up.

“I was here when he woke up. It happened just after a blood draw.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” There's a heavy pause. “You said he was awake, but is he…”

“Sentient? Yes, no signs of brain damage so far. He even rolled his eyes when they asked if he knew who the prime minister was.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sobs and Damiano winces.

“He even looks guilty right now.”

“As he should. Do you know anything else?” For a moment, you and Dami hold poignant eye contact.

“No, sorry. We’ve all been focused on Dam.” There was no point in telling his mother about the heroin, at least not now. It’d do nothing constructive. Damiano could break the news himself once extubated and discussing the next rehab program. After a copious amount of goodbyes, the end of the phone call brought a wave of exhaustion that damn near made you keel over.

“I’m gonna take a nap until the respiratory therapist gets here.” Dami pats the space beside him. “No chance, I need more than seven inches of hospital bed. There's a cot over there. I’ll still be in the room.” This time Dami points to the edge of his bed. “You really want me to drag that thing all the way over here?”

“I'll do it,” Ethan offers. Scarcely interacting with the band since the breakup had been strange. Maneskin were a constant fixture in your life for five years and then they weren’t.

“Thank you, Edgar.” With Damiano’s bed lowered all the way down, and you laying on your side, his hand could just barely touch the top of your head. Ethan turned off the lights and it occurred to you that this very much wasn’t broken up behavior. Did it really matter while he was on a ventilator? Did anything? The memories of these moments of intimacy would no doubt haunt you, from a day when context transcended relationship status.

Ethan was the one to rouse you, helping you sit upright while only half conscious. The offensive LED lights were back on and the room was full of people. Instantly, you’re self conscious and aware that time has passed.

“What’s going on?” you croak.

“They’re going to extubate Damiano. They can’t do the procedure with visitors in the room,” he explains gently. You stand upright, wobble, then focus your gaze on who must be Dr. Costa.

“He’s okay?”

“Mr. David passed an SBT with flying colors. We are very confident that it is safe to extubate him.”

“Right, okay.” It feels as if your brain is going slower than everyone else’s. “Can I…I just say something to him, real quick?”

“Sure,” agrees Dr. Costa with a professional, but impatient smile. You place one knee on the hospital bed and lean over. Damiano is so anxious, face even more gray than when you arrived, and he’s sweating.

“I am not leaving. You will see me in a few minutes when they’re done de-tubing you.”

“Extubating,” someone corrects.

“I will be here when they are done extubating you.” You kiss his gross forehead and stand up.

“I would recommend going down to the cafeteria,” says Dr. Costa. It seems like a genial suggestion until you end up with your hands clamped over your ears outside the hospital room. Turns out that removing a plastic tube shoved all the way down someone’s esophagus is an unpleasant ordeal. Instead of letting you back in, Maria peeks her head out and announces they’re also removing the catheter. That sounds only marginally less excruciating than the extubation.

When you re-enter, after another 20 minutes, Damiano is sitting upright, sipping a cup of water. He looks like shit. You search for signs of jaundice.

“Is his liver okay? His kidneys?”

“We’ll keep him for observation another day or two.”

“Right.” Thank god Ethan was in the room with you, because now you really wanted to grab your shit and bolt. “Did everything go okay? That sounded…brutal.”

“Unfortunately, extubation is normally an uncomfortable procedure.”

“How has his breathing been since?”

“About what we expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Y/n, talk to me for god’s sake.”

“His vocal chords –”

“Y/n!”

“Agitation is a normal reaction,” Maria murmurs, making herself busy by organizing the bundle of chords monitoring Damiano.

“Just look at me.” He’d shaved all his beautiful hair right after the breakup, but even that can’t draw your attention away from his pallor. He’s more than ready for a mugshot.

“I’d like to know what you’re doing next. I won’t plan or enforce anything, that’s not my place anymore. I want to know for my own peace of mind.”

“We’re doing this press tour, so lots of superficial interviews and a few small scale performances.” He stares at you like this agenda should be obvious, and it is. The Maneskin itinerary isn’t what you’re talking about.

“You think you can make it through the end of this before rehab? It’s been less than two days and you almost killed yourself.” Maria slips out of the room.

“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll test my drugs.” You’re momentarily baffled.

“‘You’ll test your drugs!?’”

“Yes.” He takes another sip of water while still holding eye contact, patronizing and hellbent on appearing in control. Except he wasn’t in control.

“You almost died, Damiano.” Ethan awkwardly takes a seat in the corner of the room

“A fact which has been made abundantly clear to me. I’m sure SME will have me back on the road again in no time.” His pessimism drips in syrupy sweet, faux positivity. It's alarming. Dami leans back, casual in a way that makes you furious. Now that he doesn’t need you, that glimmer of sincerity is gone.

“No.”

“No,’ what?”

“No, you don’t get to go from having a panic attack every moment we weren’t physically touching to being callous and distant.” This was the temperament that you broke up with and you weren’t gonna waste anymore time and heartache. The overnight bag never got unpacked, so all you had to locate was your purse and phone. Then you could leave.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? Stop, stop. Okay. Stop!”

“Why?” you snap, snatching your phone off of the bedside table.

“Thank you.” He picks up your free hand and kisses every knuckle.

“You won’t need to test your drugs because you’re gonna get clean. No alcohol, either.” Damiano sighs heavily. Explaining something so obvious is apparently burdensome.

“Do you know why frontmen do blow? It’s because there's no other way to do all the shit that our label demands. This is the equivalent of taking steroids as a professional athlete.”

“Steroids disqualify players.”

“Didn’t always. That’s why no one can beat the records set in the 80s.” You scoff and step back.

“You’re actually justifying this. Fucking incredible.”

“I’m not justifying, I’m providing logic. That's different.”

“Really, how?”

“Even facts involve logic.”

“So it's a fact that you need coke to be a frontman? Is it a fact that cocaine use is normal?”

“In certain circumstances, yes.” After five years, you were immune to his charisma. However, Dami spoke with such confidence and certainty that it no doubt swayed others.

“I’ve seen you with food poisoning, you can’t hypnotize me, dumbass.” For a moment, he’s humbled. “Also let's talk about the heroin. How are you going to explain that away?”

“Heroin!?” Ethan exclaims, horrified.

“You’re just mad that I did it while we were together.” he sneers.

“I am not just mad because of that. I actually have an whole fucking list of reasons that you doing heroin pisses me off, starting with: its fucking heroin.”

“I was experimenting. Obviously, I’m not addicted to it, otherwise there’d be more than traces in my bloodstream.”

“I’m sorry, your excuse for doing heroin is that you don’t do it very often?” Ethan exclaims, more visibly angry than you’d ever seen him. “Damiano, no!”

“I can stop whenever I want, I’m not addicted.”

“Then stop!!” Ethan yells.

“Fine,” he throws his hands up. “But it's not a big deal like you're making it.” He turns to you for understanding.

“Damiano, experimenting with heroin is like seeing how fast you need to drive a car for it to flip. You’re in the car!”

“Hypocrite,” he spits.

“What!? How am I –”

“You used to be all about experimenting.” It's such a stretch, that you initially don’t get it. Is he referring to taking edibles together? No, he’s throwing your entire relationship under the bus to justify using hard drugs.

“Woah! Having safe, conscientious, and consensual sex with other appropriately aged adults is not the same as heroin.” In that moment, the how falls into place. “Ethan, can you give me a minute?” Your eyes never break contact with Dami’s.

“Sure…” As soon as the door closes you hold back a scream.

“Are we still being honest?” Damiano gestures for you to go ahead. “Did you ever cheat on me? To be clear, cheating would be having sexual contact with another partner without –”

“I know the parameters of our relationship, y/n.”

“Fine. Did you ever violate them?”

“No!”

“Then who was it!? Who got you hooked on heroin?” For a moment he’s reeling, trying to cover up after being exposed.

“I’m not hooked!

“There is no way to take heroin recreationally, Damiano. You didn’t have opportunities to just stumble upon this, so who introduced you?”

“I, I’m not – that’s not…it doesn’t matter.”

“Don't tell me it doesn’t –” You stop yourself from screaming, take a deep breath, and adopt a dangerously calm tone. “You know what? I’m gonna find the answer to this. So why don’t you tell me yourself?”

“So then what, fuck privacy?”

“I’m asking what kinks they – no.” At first, you’d get in these giant convoluted fights where he’d bait you and it’d work every time. After 20 minutes of screaming you’d forget what the argument was even about and all that emotional intensity would become epic make-up sex. Now you had to anticipate his words having no integrity.

“You know what, I bet…” You scroll down on the notes app until you see the name Odette in a title. “I still have one of my lists.” You kept a shortlist of everyone you were actively involved with, in case herpes or chlamydia became an issue. “I have some of these women’s numbers. Caterina and I actually got brunch a couple weeks ago. Should I call her first?” He looks trapped and it's so vindicating. “Their NDAs should cover drug use, right?”

“Don’t.”

“Or I could start with your friends. We were together for five years, Damiano. I have everyone’s number. You were a real sloppy drunk towards the end.”

“Y/n, don’t tell my friends about this,” he begs.

“Why, I thought heroin was a non-issue?”

“I met them through a previous partner,” he admits. “We had sex once and it was bad, but they introduced me to their roommate. I was already really drunk when I tried it the first time. I wanted to know what it’d feel like sober so I did it again.”

“And since?” He sighs and looks at his hands.

“I’ve done it a few times.”

“Give me a number.”

“No.” You shove your phone in your purse and grasp the handle of your bag. “Fine, four! I only do it when I’m already high and way too amped up. It's just to negate the coke.”

“What the fuck are you doing mixing heroin with other substances? Do you have a death wish!? Is that it, are you suicidal?”

“No! I don’t know,” he groans. Your chest tightens painfully. Damiano had spent two and a half years of your relationship in therapy. His intrusive thoughts started getting really dark as Maneskin gained popularity.

“You should have stayed in therapy. This all could have been avoided.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever, you’re entering inpatient treatment. This hospital had a great psychiatric and behavioral care unit, but if you’d prefer a smaller facility –” “I’m not going into a psych ward, y/n.”

“Fine, rehab facility of your choice.”

“I’m not going back to rehab, either. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You have to go to rehab!” you shout, desperately. “Because you will not die on me! If you ever, ever loved me, you would not destroy my entire life that way!” Damiano is taken aback at your outburst and the room is silent for several seconds. “Promise you’ll never do heroin again.”

“I promise.”

“Mean it!!”

“I do!”

“Go to rehab,” you deadpan.

“Stop trying to control my life, y/n!”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t,” he pleads. Dami swings both legs over the side of the bed, as if to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice breaks as the tears spill over. “I would have helped you. I was trying to help you.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Why didn’t I tell the girl researching holistic ways to treat alcoholism that I was doing fucking heroin? Really?” You nod and pull a paper towel out to wipe your face. “Because I couldn’t bear you knowing that I was a piece of shit.”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You developed a chronic illness due to a severely stressful lifestyle, risk factors outside of your control, and probably a genetic predisposition. You are not a piece of shit, you have a disease.”

“What, SUDs?”

“Yes. How would you feel if I never got treatment for my chronic illness? If I just lay in bed, suffering, refusing to take my meds?” The suggestion makes him grimace.

“That’d be unbearable to watch,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“Exactly. This,” you gesture around the hospital room, “is fucking unbearable to watch. Get treatment if you want to be in my life.” His expression goes from sickened to aggravated.

“Fuck you and your ultimatums,” he bites.

“Fine.” You throw away the tissue, grab your shit, and shut the door behind you. For a couple minutes, Ethan hugs you as you sob, swaying back and forth.

“Damiano has to navigate this journey by himself, because his ego won’t allow him to receive guidance. He’s too distrustful to believe anyone’s perception but his own, as flawed as it may be.”

“God damn, I forgot how wise you are, Edgar.”

“The powers of self reflection.”

“Fucking hell,” you croak, pulling away and wiping away the tears on your sleeve. A nurse from earlier picks a box of tissues off of the counter and hands it to you.

“People are often agitated when they wake from a coma. He might be more willing to listen tomorrow.”

“Tell that to his mom.” You take a heaving breath and blow your nose. “I’m going home, this isn’t my battle anymore. We broke up three months ago.” You hand the tissue box back to the nurse and she purses her lips, obviously straining to find the right platitude.

“My sister loved an addict. There are support groups for you, too.” She pats you on the shoulder and moves on.

“I’m gonna call a cab.”

“No, let me call our car service. The vultures were beginning to circle at the front of the hospital when I arrived.” Vultures was a fitting nickname for the paparazzi.

“At a hospital of all places. Hope they get run over by an ambulance.”

“Me too.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I'll be posting two chapters a week for the foreseeable future on Tuesday and Friday or Saturday (depending on how burnt out I am from the week previous). Enjoy? I guess?

-XOXO Eden

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mymelodymia · 7 months

Note

Tony basically scaring his kid during the whole Iron Man 2 movie because of his self destroying tendencies (becoming Iron Man, blood toxicity, leaving his job at S.I, the race car incident, his crazy birthday party…). Obviously the kid is scared! So his daughter stays at Pepper’s maybe for the meantime he is trying to heal and create that new element, but he eventually ends up going to her to apologize and take her back home because he can’t live without his baby girl with him

Cant live without you

Summary: tony becomes reckless, but apologies

Warnings: tony being reckless, crying, y/n being afraid she is not loved,

A/N: sorry it took me so long to get to this reqs. It was amazing 👏 I don't think I did justice to it.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You loved your father, yes. But it became hard as he began to be very reckless. It had been weeks since he had even spoken to you.

He was your best friend. And he suddenly stopped speaking and spending time with you. You were beyond confused, especially since you were only 8 at the time.

You had a terrible day at school. And you would have gone to tony about it, but you didn't think he would even listen. So you went to happy, who was the one who picked you up because your dad was "too buzy".

"Happy?" You said, getting his attention.

"Yeah kid" he said looking away from the road to glance at you, then ultimately back to the road.

"I had a bad day, can i talk about it?" You asked sadly.

"Of course, go ahead" then you began to ramble on and on about your terrible day. Happy, unlike tony, listened to every word that came out of your mouth.

When you arrived at the Malibu house, you headed straight to your room. Not expecting anyone to be there, but when you walked in you were greeted by pepper, sitting on your bed casually.

"Hey pep" you said walking into the large bedroom. She noticed how your eyes were drooped, and you were frowning. You were clearly upset.

"Y/n? Whats wrong sweetheart" she asked with kind eyes.

"Daddys been not spending time with me, i cant even remember last time he talked to me. And i had a bad day today, just sad..." you said, holding back tears.

Pepper noticed this and immediately took you into her arms. You began to cry into her shoulder. Small sobs coming from you. Wrapping your arms tightly around her neck.

"And hes been really dangerous and.....can i stay with you for now?" You asked, pulling away from her, and she immediately answered

"Of course sweetie" she said as you began sobbing once again. A few moments later she helped you pack a bag.

+•°+*°•+

tony was in the workshop when he suddenly remembered it was recently his birthday week, you always got him one handmade present per day on the week of his birthday. But he hadn't seen you In a while.

He went up to your bedroom, but you weren't there. He checked the whole house in fact, he was about to call the police when Jarvis spoke up.

"Sir, ms stark is at ms potts house."

"What, why?" He decided not to come retrieve you right now. Given that he could put you in more danger then you already are in. But after 3 days, this took a pretty hard hit on little 8 year old you.

You thought he wasn't coming because he didn't care, did he even love you anymore? You would ask yourself that all the time. You even ditched one of your soccer games. (Or whatever sport you participate in)

Pepper and happy were your entire support system. You didn't think that anyone cared about you anymore, except happy and pepper.

One day, (just after he created the new element and destroyed his garage) there was a knock at the front door, pepper opened it and upon seeing tony standing there, she tried to shut it in his face. But he stopped it with his hand. You were peeking around a corner, and accidentally made eye contact with tony. Immediately stepping back so he couldn't see you.

"Y/n/n? Baby?" You slowly walked out from your hiding place. And saw that he was wearing his matching black sabbath shirt. And had something behind his back.

Slowly, you walked up to him, he knelt down to be on eye level with you. And spoke up.

"Y/n, i am so, so sorry baby. I shouldn't have done the things I did. Im sorry. And if you dont wanna forgive me, i get it-" He said choking back tears, being interrupted by you throwing your arms around his neck.

"Its okay daddy" you mumbled into his shoulder. That's when he broke. Sobbing into you, he held you tight. He didn't deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, but you always believed in second chances.

Pulling away from this hug, he held the back of your neck, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek, he closed his eyes for a small moment before saying something

"And plus you forgot philip" he said holding up a teddy bear. You gasped and snatched the stuffed animal.

He took you back home, you sat in the passenger seat, holding onto his arm the whole way home.

When you arrived at the house, you walked in holding tonys hand and saw the whole place practically destroyed. The entire living room covered in black as if something had exploded, and a hole in the floor.

You stopped walking immediately, tony being jerked back since you were holding him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" you screamed out. He chuckled, and lead you upstairs to his bedroom and picked you up. He lied down on the king sized bed, holding you to his chest. You fell asleep against him.

After you fell asleep tony made way down to the garage once again after tucking you in.

+•°+*°•+

You were now at the expo, when Justin hammer started to present the hammer drones your jaw dropped in awe, you glanced at pepper who did not seen impressed. You turned back making the same face as her.

When your father randomly showed up, you probably cheered the loudest.

When pepper and Natasha went behind stage, you followed. When nat pinned hammer down, you clapped a few silent claps, bouncing slightly. And stook your tongue out at him.

When pepper walked out of the building you followed her once again.

After a few minutes a destroyed hammer drone started beeping, pepper took you into her arms, lifting you off of the concrete ground. You looked around uneasily that's when you spotted your father.

You barely had time to process this before he swooped down, grabbed the two of you and took off.

When you landed on the roof, you slid down peppers side as they started arguing.

"Oh my god, i cant take this anymore!" Pepper said as she covered her eyes "you cant? Look at me"

"My body literally cannot handle the stress, i never know if your gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company"

"I think i did okay!" Tony yelled out "i quit, im resigning...thats it"

even you did not expect her to say that "what'd you just say, your done? Thats surprising. No its not surprising, i get it. You dont have to make any excuses"

"Im not making any excuses" they started to speak over each other, and you just sat there. "You deserve better." tony said taking her hand. "You've taken such good care of me"

"Im in a tough spot, but you got me through it, so...right..yeah lets talk clean up" then they began to say a bunch of words you didn't yet understand.

"Well for you its like dog years, its like the presidenc-" being cut of by tony pulling her in and kissing her.

You whipped around covering your eyes and muttered a small "blah!" When you turned around you saw Rhody sitting in tonys suit. He put his finger up to his mouth and mouthed "shhhhh"

"Weird....run that by me again" he said pulling her close once more

"I think it was weird.." Rhody spoke up. You standing next to him.

'You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape"

"You should get lost" tony said pointing a finger at him. "I was here first, get a roof" you chuckled at this clever remark.

"Listen, my car got taken out by the explosions, so...im gonna need to hang on to your suit for a minute okay"

"Not okay with that"

"Wasn't a question" Rhody said standing up, you immediately took a few steps back and he took of.

"How are you gonna resign, if i dont except" you giggled and brought them into a group hug. Kneeling down so they could get to you.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+