#anyway was gonna scrap this but I figure I just need to stop caring about whether the moral of the story is comprehensible or not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaywaslost · 7 months

Text

Did it matter?

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This is a birthday gift for a dear friend of mine, the one and only @asukamood

I didn't expect to be posting it anywhere but after some convincing, here we are! While I do doubt this is gonna show up on anybody's feed or be read by many, I hope it's worth the time of whoever does. If there are any errors do forgive me please I haven't read this twice as I can't stand to view my own writing—

I've stalled long enough, enjoy!~

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Sypnosis:

It was over now, he didn't need to think of anything that happened in the past. Things have always been this way, Hacker would even say he hated and still hates the man with his entire soul!

The images infront of him only fueled that, but why did it hurt so badly?

Why did he still care?

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Hacker was losing his patience.

He’d been flipping through the channels on T.V for the last 2 hours, unable to find something interesting enough to settle on. His phone was dead and the charger nowhere to be found, but his laptop wasn’t much of an option either considering the fact Randy decided to “revoke his computer privileges” because his sleeping hours became even more oddly timed than before.

Why does it matter, anyway? He still got the recommended 8 hours, sometimes even more!

He scoffed remembering that conversation, but it was too late to really change anything. Could he steal it back? Probably, Randy never quite bothered to hide things from him or Bobby unless they could actually hurt them.

He kept losing his cigarette packs recently, which was quite odd considering he shouldn’t even know about them..

It’s fine, he was probably thinking too deeply into it.

The laptop was most likely just..out there in the open.

It would be so easy to grab.

..then again, h̶i̶s̶ d̶a̶d̶ Randy placed enough trust in him to leave it that way while he was out of the house. Hacker didn't want to lose that trust or even worse, disappoint the man.

He could make-do with the TV for now, that is if it stopped showing the most boring content ever.

Really, what was so interesting about a recent robbery and why was everyone talking about it?!

A robbery isn’t something new or even rare, quite the opposite. It didn’t make sense, if it was Nightmare’s doing the news would’ve already spread even faster than this so that idea was scrapped quickly.

Couldn’t be either of his “emotional support idiots” as he called them either, the outcome would’ve been similar if so.

Hacker buried his face in the cushions, considering going back to sleep at this point.

Bobby woke him up a few hours prior (he should’ve already been awake by then, as it was 3 in the afternoon but really, who would pass up a chance to sleep in? His boss did say he had the day off due to complications anyway so who cared, really.) telling him he and Randy were leaving, saying the older one asked if he wanted to come along or stay. He opted for the latter, too out of it to guarantee not embarrassing himself in front of h̶i̶s̶ b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ Bobby and giving him valid blackmail. The little gremlin would absolutely love that and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of it, really.

They planned to get groceries and maybe pass by a few other places, he made sure to remind them to buy him a charger replacement. It was stupid, neither of them had an iphone so he was left with no choice but to let it be which was irritating. How was he supposed to entertain himself properly? It was so boring alone, he couldn’t even talk to Blue to pass the time. Hacker was sure he figured it out by now but didn’t drop by as to not give away their location.

Time was passing by so slowly, Hacker felt like he spent days on the couch waiting. He almost regretted not going along with the other two, maybe he would’ve gotten a kick out of that and not gotten so bored. Knowing them, Bobby was probably rambling on and on about a new piece of minecraft merch he wanted and Randy, being himself, was unable to say no when he asked to buy it.

Seriously, did that kid not know how to calm down? He was gonna be the reason they ended up broke soon if it went on that way.

I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶..n̶i̶c̶e̶. T̶h̶e̶y̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ h̶a̶p̶p̶y̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ w̶a̶y̶. I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ c̶o̶m̶f̶o̶r̶t̶a̶b̶l̶e̶, t̶h̶e̶ m̶o̶s̶t̶ w̶e̶l̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ f̶e̶l̶t̶.

After nearly falling back asleep, Hacker finally mustered up the energy to stand up and move a little. Maybe that would make it a little less boring than just sitting there.

He didn’t have breakfast yet, so he headed to the kitchen. It was emptier by this time of the week after they got through everything, but at least there was still the ends of a bread loaf and some waffles in the freezer.

It took some time to decide but Hacker ended up just making a regular sandwich. Best not to end up throwing the bread out, not after their hard earned money was spent on it and it was perfectly fine anyway.

His focus was no longer on what was going on on the television, instead busy deciding if he wanted to go back to sleep after this until the other two returned or not.

Too busy thinking about what he was going to distract himself with, Hacker didn’t realize the knife in his hands ended up cutting his finger a little bit.

“Not again, I don’t even know if we have band aids this time..” he muttered, seeming more annoyed than anything. The cutting board had some of the blood on it now, he’s definitely getting questioned about that later on.

How much more entertaining could this day get?

Leaving his now abandoned breakfast on the counter he left to search for the box that should just about contain all of those.

They weren’t in the cabinets, nor were they in the bathroom or closet next to it.

There was a box in Bobby’s room but that was a last resort, he’ll get the silent treatment for a few days for using those over a small cut like this one but letting it be like this wasn’t much better.

It didn’t take much longer for Hacker to remember Randy kept some in a box under the TV.

All the way back in the living room.

And he went around the entire house for absolutely no reason.

None at all.

For a man who wanted to live so desperately he was starting to think death didn’t really sound all that bad.

With a sigh, he made his way back to check if there were any.

Sure enough, they were there.

A full box.

‘At least that wasn’t for nothing?’ he thought while opening it, finally covering the cut. Hacker knew he should’ve been more careful ,but the reminder was annoying regardless.

Whatever channel was on was still talking about the same topic, the words blurred together as he didn't care enough to focus on them.

That was until a certain name came up.

Hacker’s eyes snapped up to look at the screen as a cold sense of dread crept upon him.

There he was.

The same man he referred to as his ex constantly.

There was never an issue speaking about him vaguely, but for some reason seeing him after so long didn’t have the same effect.

A long time passed since they parted ways, Hacker would’ve forgotten the details if not for how they met in the first place.

It wasn’t…normal in any way but it could’ve been worse, a lot worse really.

He remembers looking around the room he woke up in, trying to figure out where he could be or see if there was anyone he knew.

Anyone who could help him figure out what happened, really. All he knew was that it was not where he remembered being a few moments prior.

After a comically long explanation, his eyes finally landed on someone who looked around the same age.

The man standing over him called the other, through the whispers of other people in that same room Hacker was able to figure out he was his son and that this man was the boss.

Apparently, his name was Colton.

Eyes still glued to what he was watching, Hacker listened attentively this time to what was being said.

Colton was handcuffed, saying some things he couldn’t decipher over the sound of the justice reigns employee speaking about the entire situation.

His eyes kept darting back to the blond instead of focusing on the words like he wanted to, but he caught enough to understand the gist of the situation.

After he returned back to his normal life, many questions about what happened came up. He was declared dead after a nasty crash, so how was he here and if it was faked then who would do that and why?

Hacker didn’t have the guts to answer at the time, he wasn’t sure he’d go into detail if asked now, either.

Apparently, one of Colton’s ‘minions’ was meant to go into a store and get something from the cashier, but they were seen and authorities were called after the citizen noticed how much more afraid she got as the conversation between them went on longer.

After the arrest, they couldn’t stay silent for long.

Everything about the gang finally came out, which led to the current situation at hand.

Hacker wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was good, finally there was no need to think about the possibility of whatever website he was looking at being related to them, or being targeted as a possible threat and potentially even killed.

Part of him wasn’t so sure about that feeling, though. There was a slight panic at the back of his head, that same part of him didn’t want to see it happen.

He knew it would come so why did it feel strange?

Why did he feel like he..regret something?

There was nothing to regret in the first place.

W̶h̶y̶ w̶a̶s̶ h̶e̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ a̶t̶t̶a̶c̶h̶e̶d̶.

Feeling around for the remote to turn it off, he still couldn’t pull his eyes away from the screen.

From his face.

Hacker never saw him looking like this. Helpless, in a way.

Why did that make his heart hurt? There’s no reason for it.

It wasn’t like their time together was that good anyway, he knows it. Both of them knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was addicting. The thrill of something new and unexpected, the possibilities that came along with it and little feeling of control it gave.

T̶h̶e̶ a̶t̶t̶e̶n̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ h̶e̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ g̶o̶t̶ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶.

I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ a̶d̶d̶i̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶.

Whatever, what they could have been is in the past by now. He moved on and improved himself and his relationships.

..right?

He’d like to think so at least.

Whoever was speaking seemed to finish, as the camera focused on the cuffed man held in place by none other than Finch.

Hacker didn’t have any difficulty recognizing him really- Serious as ever, doing his job as usual without any unnecessary speech or pointless banter as he ordered around some others.

The man’s demeanor caught his attention very quickly but that was besides the current point.

Colton seemed to be thinking of something, and if Hacker knew anything about him is that whatever came out of his mouth next would either cause someone a crisis or get him into more trouble with the law.

He wasn’t stupid enough to go with the second guess, he knew better than that.

Somehow it was a mix of both, surprising and not at the same time.

Suddenly, he could no longer breathe.

Not a single sound came from him, he didn’t move a single inch.

Not even when the report ended, he and every other gang member was officially in custody of the police.

Why does he care?

..well, ‘care’ is a little much.

Hacker didn't know how he felt, if he had to be completely honest.

Despite being mostly happy about it at first he couldn’t help but consider how things would’ve been if that went differently.

If the past itself went differently.

From the moment he heard the name get mentioned, Hacker knew his fate was sealed.

Colton was to be executed for all the crimes he committed, nothing could get him out of the grave he dug for himself.

Not now.

It didn’t matter, that was fine.

Hacker wouldn’t be affected by it, if anything that’ll only further prove the fact he never actually killed anybody (what was the need to frame him, seriously wasn’t being ‘dead’ enough??).

He felt weird.

Whatever, it won’t last.

He’ll forget soon, he always does.

..The silence was getting irritating, but he didn’t really have any desire to move and put something else on, it would probably be something else that’s boring just like before either way so there wouldn’t be a point.

The food left on the counter now long forgotten, Hacker found himself thinking about some things. Past events that could have gone differently, how things would have gone.

What if he never got through the database that one day? What if he listened to the warnings and didn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong?

He probably wouldn’t be in this situation now or before, they’d have had no interest in him.

Why was it so conflicting? It didn’t make sense anymore.

Not like it ever did, but this was new.

It didn’t take long for him to lose track of time, too engaged with considering the possibilities and chances that were missed.

Could there have been a time they were truly happy?

Why did Colton take interest in him? It’s not like he was boring or unattractive, quite the opposite really. But, with the way that man saw people it probably wasn’t very relevant compared to something else he saw. The question still remained as to what it was.

It wasn’t like he could get answers for that question, not now.

No use dwelling on it.

It had been a long time since that anyway.

Since the day they met, the fire had died by now.

He had no reason to crave it. The silence was messing with his head.

..He missed the late night conversations, the absurd topics that sometimes came up out of the blue. They were rarely ever peaceful or calm, but they were entertaining. A nice change. Colton was always the type not to waste time, discarding whatever seemed useless or bothered him even slightly the moment it did so, yet he kept Hacker around instead of ignoring him.

He didn’t need to, but he did.

T̶h̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ o̶f̶ h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ b̶a̶c̶k̶ w̶a̶s̶..p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶a̶n̶t̶ i̶n̶ a̶ w̶a̶y̶.

S̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ k̶e̶p̶t̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶. S̶u̶r̶e̶, i̶n̶s̶u̶l̶t̶s̶ a̶n̶d̶ a̶r̶g̶u̶m̶e̶n̶t̶s̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶r̶o̶w̶n̶ a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶-̶ q̶u̶i̶t̶e̶ f̶r̶e̶q̶u̶e̶n̶t̶l̶y̶ a̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶, b̶u̶t̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ i̶g̶n̶o̶r̶e̶d̶. A̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ n̶o̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶o̶o̶ l̶o̶n̶g̶.I̶t̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ b̶e̶ a̶ h̶u̶g̶e̶ l̶i̶e̶ t̶o̶ s̶a̶y̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ e̶n̶j̶o̶y̶ g̶e̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ "s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶a̶l̶ t̶r̶e̶a̶t̶m̶e̶n̶t̶" a̶t̶ t̶h̶e̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶, n̶o̶t̶ g̶e̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶a̶m̶e̶ a̶s̶ a̶n̶y̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ m̶e̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ i̶n̶ t̶h̶e̶ g̶a̶n̶g̶. S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶e̶l̶l̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ g̶i̶v̶e̶n̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ o̶f̶ e̶n̶v̶y̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶s̶ p̶o̶s̶i̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ , b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶ l̶e̶a̶d̶e̶r̶'s̶ s̶o̶n̶ s̶o̶ i̶n̶t̶i̶m̶a̶t̶e̶l̶y̶ c̶a̶m̶e̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ i̶t̶s̶ b̶e̶n̶e̶f̶i̶t̶s̶ o̶f̶ c̶o̶u̶r̶s̶e̶, o̶r̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ p̶i̶t̶y̶....

While they were never official per say, they acted the part frequently enough for Hacker to consider it that way. He found it funny how at the time it seemed to be the other’s first go at something like that, it was no wonder he couldn’t know how to act properly to make Hacker know his place and yet keep whatever they had going on alive.

He thought it would be safe to assume most of his..negative? Traits were due to the influence of his father. The man was truly one of the worst he ever had the misfortune of coming across.

The idea of being stared down at by that man, tied down in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere made his skin crawl.

..Did he ever know about them?

He knows he never said anything, it was unlikely Colton did either but he couldn’t help wondering if that was possible.

He was just a mere tool anyway, all of them knew that.

The reason he was kept living was the fact he was useful at the time, that was it.

It was good enough for him.

The realization of that stung at first but he came to terms with it eventually.

At the time it wasn’t expected to come up in conversation, but it did regardless and undeniably made him question some things.

It was during the end of his first month there. Hacker was still getting used to the new routine, which was quite boring but he couldn’t do anything about it even if he tried to (it wasn’t like he wanted to piss someone off, he was even more of a twig back then than he is now so there was no chance it would’ve ended well, thinking about it.). Wake up, take a shower and get your breakfast avoiding as many people as you could to not aggravate anybody then go see what Colton was up to and potentially even get a task assigned to him. Those “tasks” weren’t any easy feat by any means, although it was all digital Hacker wouldn’t be allowed to get up and do anything unless absolutely necessary before he was done. He was always watched to make sure nothing was leaked either, it was quite uncomfortable for a while. Energy draining, to say the least. (He wasn’t even allowed to sleep in after as compensation. Just how unfair was that?!)

That day though, instead of being busy with something as he usually would be whether it was ordering (or moreso berating) someone around or actually doing some things himself, Colton was just..spinning around on a chair seemingly bored with not much to do. When the door creaked open his gaze immediately landed on Hacker’s curious face.

“Your hair looks absolutely terrible, did you even look at a mirror before coming here?” he scoffed, sitting up properly instead of whatever deranged position he was in just moments prior. (How did his back not snap actually he never thought about that..)

“You flatter me so early in the morning” Hacker rolled his eyes, a normal greeting in their words consisted of that and occasionally some other pointless remarks so it was a good sign.

“Why did you come here to bother me already”

“Can’t I just see my favourite person in this entire place?”

“Cut the bull, what do you want”

“You <3”

“Maybe I should get rid of you by now-”

“No-”

“-it’s not really like anyone would care, no one is looking for you or into your supposed death anyway”

Hacker wanted to respond, but he couldn’t.

A good sign, he said. Clearly.

“Oh?” The previously bored man now seemed interested, his expression perked up when he realized the other didn’t respond but actually only looked towards the ground instead.

“Did I hit a nerve there?” Despite the question usually being used in a joking matter when mentioned in a conversation with any normal people or friends, Hacker could clearly tell he was being mocked.

It wasn’t the first time someone said he wasn’t cared for.

Why does it matter now.

Why did he freeze.

Colton got up and walked towards him before grabbing his hand and stroking it gently. He never did that without reason.

“Poor little Theodore, I heard there wasn’t even a proper funeral held for you”

“..”

“I doubt many, if anyone, would have attended though so it doesn’t matter that much, don’t you agree?”

Nothing.

“To most you were probably just that annoying person they wanted to get off their backs huh? I bet some were even happy with the news.”

How long did he plan to continue?.

“Annoying, in their way. Did you ever have many friends, actually? I don’t see a reason for that to be the case but I can’t help the curiosity”

“Stop it.”

“When were you the one in the position to demand things of me?”

Right. He wasn’t.

“I understand them, really. The reason I’ve kept you around is because you’ve been useful, I have no reason to hide that. I'm sure you already knew, though?”

He hoped it was just some sort of insecurity acting up.

Apparently it wasn’t.

He leaned closer, now speaking right into his ear.

Hacker would have usually liked the sensation, he wasn’t one to complain about a man he found so pretty willingly being so close to him (quite the opposite unsurprisingly) but this time it was chilling.

“If only you kept yourself in your own business, then this wouldn’t even have come up at all. I’d not need to put up with you still, you wouldn’t need to be told all of this. Maybe you’d have come to the realization yourself after some time hm? The reason few were there before you were “dead”, how no one is looking for you right now despite some details about the death not adding up. Honestly I’m not sure how they even made the mistakes that they did but it doesn’t matter, I digress. Won’t you humor me with a response?” He continued, Hacker could practically feel his smile growing wider.

Of course he’d want to hear that.

“..I think I’ll be leaving”

“What a shame, so fast today”

Colton moved away slightly, but grabbed the other’s chin to bring him closer for a few moments before letting him go.

While Hacker would usually find that nice, he didn’t feel the same about it this time. He wanted to just go.

“You can leave, but don’t forget to come back in a few hours. You’d get lonely so I doubt it’ll happen, but a reminder doesn’t hurt”

“Right..”

It didn’t need to be said, Hacker’s mood was ruined after that. He left quieter than usual after that, clearly not happy about what just happened. N̶o̶t̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ g̶u̶t̶s̶ t̶o̶ s̶a̶y̶ a̶n̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶.

It wasn’t like he didn’t already know but that didn’t make it better, the others in highschool made sure to remind him plenty. He heard it so much before and never cared, what was different this time?

He ended up back in his own room if it can really be called that considering how it felt more like a cell of sorts than anything (did these people not know what paint was?? Grey isn't the only colour for walls, seriously it was BEYOND boring! It was even chipped, come on!), still without an answer.

Why was Colton so amused seeing him react that way? It couldn’t be that entertaining, it sucked to be told that kind of thing.

Saying anything back may have ended with him dead, so he just..didn’t respond at all. It fueled the other even more to continue which was the opposite of what he was hoping for. Though again, it wasn’t all that surprising seeing what he is, why did he expect anything else? That was stupid.

Though, people are different anyway. Maybe he was having a bad day, so he couldn’t help but take it out on somebody right? It made sense, Colton was never the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. He trusted Hacker enough to show him that, if anything, the man should be proud, really. S̶t̶o̶p̶ m̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ u̶p̶ e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶s̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶m̶.

He was unharmed anyway, it was fine. Knowing the other, Hacker doubted anybody else would have managed to end the conversation there. But, he did. He was allowed to leave without too much trouble. He wasn’t hurt, Colton didn’t lay a harmful hand on him at any point despite some occasional threats of it. His….humor? was unique to say the least, finding what would usually be disturbing to be amusing instead. Though, it wasn’t his place to comment too much about that.

Some insults here and there are normal especially for a gang setting so he didn’t pay much mind to those, if anything a lack would be strange.

Nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t help feeling hurt.

It was so annoying.

It was all fine.

..How quickly was his supposed death handled?

Did his parents even know? Did they ask? Miss him? Search for him in hopes it was all fake?

If they did, would they have known?

Was there a possibility they cared enough to try s̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ looking for him in this situation he found himself in?

He wanted to humor that thought for a little longer, the thought he mattered to them enough for that.

I̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶ t̶o̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ h̶a̶p̶p̶e̶n̶, b̶u̶t̶ i̶t̶ h̶u̶r̶t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ w̶o̶r̶s̶e̶ t̶o̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ w̶a̶s̶ i̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶m̶. K̶n̶o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ b̶a̶t̶ a̶n̶ e̶y̶e̶. I̶t̶ h̶a̶s̶ a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ b̶e̶e̶n̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶a̶y̶. A̶s̶ c̶h̶i̶l̶d̶r̶e̶n̶ o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ p̶e̶o̶p̶l̶e̶ g̶o̶t̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ t̶r̶o̶u̶b̶l̶e̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ p̶a̶r̶e̶n̶t̶s̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ a̶c̶t̶e̶d̶ o̶u̶t̶ a̶t̶ h̶o̶m̶e̶ o̶r̶ s̶c̶h̶o̶o̶l̶, H̶a̶c̶k̶e̶r̶ W̶I̶S̶H̶E̶D̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ c̶a̶r̶e̶d̶ e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ t̶o̶ s̶c̶o̶l̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶. M̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶e̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ d̶a̶m̶a̶g̶e̶d̶.

"F̶r̶e̶e̶d̶o̶m̶" w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ a̶s̶ n̶i̶c̶e̶ a̶s̶ p̶e̶o̶p̶l̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ "l̶u̶c̶k̶y̶" t̶o̶ b̶e̶ a̶l̶l̶o̶w̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶ a̶t̶ a̶n̶y̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶n̶'t̶ a̶l̶l̶o̶w̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶, i̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ j̶u̶s̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ n̶o̶b̶o̶d̶y̶ n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶.

S̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶, i̶t̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶e̶d̶ l̶i̶k̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶y̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ p̶r̶e̶f̶e̶r̶r̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶.

H̶i̶m̶ d̶i̶s̶a̶p̶p̶e̶a̶r̶i̶n̶g̶.

He left years ago, why is he thinking about this at all?

He didn’t like it.

W̶h̶a̶t̶ d̶i̶d̶ h̶e̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶ d̶o̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ t̶o̶ n̶o̶t̶ s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ h̶i̶m̶ a̶t̶ a̶l̶l̶ w̶h̶a̶t̶ d̶i̶d̶ h̶e̶ d̶o̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ t̶o̶ n̶o̶t̶ c̶a̶r̶e̶ n̶o̶t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ o̶n̶e̶ b̶i̶t̶ w̶h̶y̶ d̶i̶d̶ e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ e̶l̶s̶e̶ g̶e̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶ h̶e̶ g̶o̶ w̶r̶o̶n̶g̶ w̶h̶y̶w̶a̶s̶i̶t̶h̶i̶m̶w̶h̶y̶d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶t̶h̶e̶y̶c̶A̶R̶E̶-̶

His head hurt.

A nap wouldn’t hurt would it?

If he was needed, he’d be woken up.

A few words wouldn’t hurt after, he probably didn’t rest well enough that night.

Yea, that's why he was unsettled.

T̶h̶e̶ r̶e̶a̶s̶o̶n̶ h̶e̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ C̶o̶l̶t̶o̶n̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶v̶e̶ a̶ s̶e̶c̶o̶n̶d̶ t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ w̶h̶e̶n̶ i̶t̶ c̶a̶m̶e̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶s̶ f̶e̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶s̶.

It wasn’t like he’d be hurt over it anyway, T̶h̶e̶y̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ b̶e̶ b̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶d̶, h̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ e̶a̶s̶y̶ e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ t̶o̶ s̶c̶a̶r̶e̶. Colton wouldn’t let it happen. ...h̶e̶ w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶. R̶i̶g̶h̶t̶?̶.

Definitely, he had no doubt.

It’ll be okay once he wakes up, forgetting this even happened.

Who knows, maybe he could even get an apology!~

Or that was just wishful thinking, either way it was fine. I̶t̶ w̶a̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ o̶n̶l̶y̶ t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ h̶i̶m̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ a̶l̶l̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ h̶a̶p̶p̶e̶n̶, h̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ g̶u̶a̶r̶a̶n̶t̶e̶e̶ s̶t̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ s̶a̶n̶e̶ i̶f̶ h̶e̶ s̶a̶t̶ d̶o̶w̶n̶ a̶n̶d̶ t̶r̶u̶l̶y̶ a̶c̶k̶n̶o̶w̶l̶e̶d̶g̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶i̶s̶ s̶i̶t̶u̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶. D̶i̶s̶a̶s̶s̶o̶c̶i̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ i̶t̶ e̶n̶t̶i̶r̶e̶l̶y̶ w̶a̶s̶ b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ f̶o̶r̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ a̶l̶l̶.

I̶f̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶e̶d̶ h̶e̶r̶e̶, t̶h̶e̶n̶ s̶o̶ b̶e̶ i̶t̶. A̶t̶ l̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ h̶e̶ d̶i̶d̶n̶'t̶ d̶o̶ s̶o̶ a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶, s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ w̶a̶s̶ b̶y̶ h̶i̶s̶ s̶i̶d̶e̶.

..D̶o̶e̶s̶ i̶t̶ t̶r̶u̶l̶y̶ e̶v��e̶n̶ c̶o̶u̶n̶t̶?̶

..Hacker was starting to consider requesting some sleeping pills, his mind was running wild again.

It was annoying and pointless.

It’ll be fine when he’s awake, everything will be normal again.

This won’t matter, it’ll never come up again.

---

Word count: 4.4k

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my-gf-is-kazuichi-soda · 18 days

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My headcanons about/my version of Kaito (trigger warnings: life threatening illness, mention of coughing up blood):

-he's always been sick, they've known since he was a kid, and the doctors said he might not live long enough to fulfill his dream of going to space

-this is why he cheated to get to the space program early, so he could get there asap. He didnt want to wait and do it the "right" way

-my version of him is an adult in my dr v3 fanfic, I forget how old but I made him like 5 years older than Kaz and I dont know how to change this bc it affects their dynamic but they both go to Hope's Peak here? So basically he got caught as a cheater by his astronaut buddies and they told him he has to be a part of this Ultimate tutoring program at Hope's Peak for a year (Ultimates tutoring Ultimates)(a way to get Ultimate Adults into Hope's Peak) to prove he really is an ultimate, and therefore worthy of being an astronaut. He didnt have much of a choice but to go along to get his dreams to come true.

-not sure who else I would make a tutor or I might scrap the idea later but it wouldnt just be Kaito older than everyone else, idk I'm figuring it out

-anyway Kaito is Kazuichi's older cousin who took care of her a lot when they were kids (imo Kaito gives vibes of a parentified kid) but they lost touch around the time Kaz entered middle school as Kaito was in high school and too busy to visit

-he was the one to get Kazuichi interested in making a rocket. He realized Kaz was being taken advantage of by her dad (Kaito's uncle) and he knew Kaz wouldnt let herself dream big at the time, so when Kaito saw how much she loved rockets he was like "Hey! I bet you could build one!" and hyped her up. He told her (half-joke?) to build him a rocket one day so he/both of them? could go into space, but he wasnt going to expect Kazuichi to really do that for him. He just wanted Kaz to have life goals that got her out of the bike shop (and lowkey away from her shitty dad)

-one of Kaz's punkass friends called her "gay" for her dream about flying in a rocket with her cousin, which is why she changed this explanation ever since to "riding in a rocket with a girl"

-Kaito has an unhealthy attitude about his illness. A lot of internalized ableism. He saw too much "disability inspiration porn" so he tries to be that guy that "overcame his illness" to be the "Luminary of the Stars." Someone needs to tell Kaito to stop and slow down aggghhhh

-He is the master of avoiding his own problems by helping others with theirs'. Oh who cares if he's coughing up blood now?; Shuichi is having self doubt issues and Maki was alienated from the group, he's gonna help them instead (those were important too, but you get what Im saying?)

-the gambling scene is metaphorical for how he keeps taking big risks hoping for big rewards

-he is bi and ace

#kaito momota #dr v3 #dr v3 spoilers #sorry kaito i projected some of my issues whee🙃#the parentified stuff and some internalized ableism #it's like. i respect other people for needing rest and to slow down but Im different (no Im not oops)

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papergardener · 2 years

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(This is a short Lucretia & Taako scene from an upcoming TAZ fic, Chickadee, that I’m scrapping in favor of something less depressing, so figured why not share it here.)~~~

“Hey chickadee,” Taako says, slumping against the doorway with a lopsided grin. Took him long enough but he found her, not in her room or the lab or the helm, but hunkered down out back by the greenhouse, just barely out of the drizzling rain. Hiding, it seems.

“Not now, Taako,” Lucretia mutters, not looking up from where she’s scratching away into a journal. It’s dark out, the red-robed shape of her illuminated only by a cantrip, a little Light spell on a copper coin.

“You missed dinner,” Taako says. “And lunch. Pretty sure you barely touched breakfast.”

She winces, and really she should know by now that he’d notice. Then her face goes steely again. “Cycle’s almost over anyway, doesn’t matter.”

That’s the crux of it. Cycle’s over and they didn’t find the Light, so this world is lost.

“Still gotta take care of yourself, even if you are getting a refresh in a couple days.” Could be any day now, really. Merle is taking his turn as lookout in the helm, watching the barometer for sudden pressure changes—Davenport suspects it might be an early indicator—but they’re still grounded. In the morning they’ll take off, the remaining time spent up in the air. “Come on, you can take a little break. The world’s not gonna break because you stop writing for a few minutes.”

“No,” she mutters darkly. “But it’ll break because of us all the same.”

“All right, enough of that.” Taako takes the journal and pen from her hands and tucks them under his arm before holding out a hand to pull her up. “Can’t carry the world, we’ve been over this. Food time, let’s go.”

Bed time might be more accurate. It’s nearly midnight. The others should be all sleeping by now. He should be too, except he had a feeling Lucretia was pushing herself too hard again. She’s better than when they first started this mission but they all sometimes fall back into old habits. After this much time, he’s also gotten better about catching them.

They head to the kitchen and he sets her down at the table. It’s quiet at this time of night, which is good for her. In the overhead light, he thinks how bad she looks. Tired and overworn, shoulders bowed under a self-imposed weight, as if anything they do can save this world.

When he sets down the bowl of soup, she already looks nauseous.

“Just a little,” Taako says softly as he sits across the table. “You’ll feel better after a few bites.”

She sips down a spoonful and seems to take time absorbing that, swallowing and then sniffing.

“It’s really good,” she whispers. The effect is quick. Already she looks a bit better, less wound tight from the cold. “Thanks. I didn’t mean for... I just got distracted.”

“Yeah, I know,” Taako replies, his gaze trailing beyond as he sits with her, head resting over his crossed arms.

It’s hard for her, seeing the worlds destroyed. Or harder, perhaps. Taako can compartmentalize it, rationalize it because they never signed up to be saviors of the universe, they didn’t bring the Hunger to this plane—arguably, anyway, it’s a bit up for debate—and fretting about this world’s destruction isn’t going to do anything except make him feel like shit. So he doesn’t. He focuses on his family because that’s all he can do.

“Feeling better?” he asks, after letting his eyes droop closed for a minute or so.

“Yeah, thanks. I needed that.”

“On the bright side, we’ll get Mags back in a few days.” That gets a little smile out of her, bittersweet.

“Yeah, you’re right. Still, this world was pretty nice. Won’t you miss it? Even a little?”

Taako hums, rocking his chin on the back of his hand. “Nah. Not really. I could if I wanted to, but I don’t. Want to, I mean. There’s no point.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lucretia says, almost in awe, but not quite.

“It’s how I survive. You could do a little with that, too.”

It’s quiet again, the clock ticking slowly.

“What do you say to some Taako time?” he asks, smiling lazily at her. “You look like you could use it.”

“You don’t have to,” she mutters, and yeah, she’s more timid than usual, withdrawing into herself. “I can just go to bed.”

“Boring as fuck. And are you really going to turn down spending time with this hot stuff?” he says with a grand, flippant twist of his wrist. That gets a small smile, a spark of the old her.

“What? Worried about me?” she says, propping her head on her cheeks.

“Course not.” He matches her pose, leaning over the table. “Not my fault you’re terrible at taking care of yourself. You’re apparently determined to make my job harder.”

“My goal in life.” Then she looks away, humming before sinking into her shoulders. “But yeah. All right. I’d like that.”

He flops down onto the couch, kicking his shoes off before settling against the backrest and shoving a pillow under his head. Lucretia pulls a blanket from nearby, a patterned red flannel, and shakes it out before laying down beside him, her back against her chest. She spreads the blanket over both and wiggles closer as Taako loops his arms around her, lightly holding her so she theoretically won’t roll off the couch in the middle of the night.

Sometimes they need this. It’s something just for the two of them, a bond not unlike that of his own sister, but different. Whatever he has with Lucretia, with any of them, really, is hard to define, but it’s family.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah.” She burrows her head against the pillow and lets out a long breath. “Yeah. This is good. Thanks, Taako.”

“Hm. Night, Luce,” he murmurs, his own eyes drifting closed as he sinks into the warm comfort, her heart beating steady, the easy rise and fall of her breathing.

They’ve got each other. Through whatever hell-scape they find themselves in, it’s a comfort. He just has to focus on his family, and they’ll get through it. He’d like to offer some shred of hope, some little idea that next time things will be better. But it’s hard when they know it’s not true. They survive. That’s all they can do.

#TAZ #TAZ Balance #Lucretia #Taako #Lucretia and Taako bonding #Stolen Century #I love these two #I love them as ridiculous friends who deeply love each other #Seven Nights #cause this assumes that as backstory #it's a shame because this is like the only scene where they get another Taako time #but the new scene is so much better for me #and I let Lucretia be happy for once #Chickadee

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nameification · 1 year

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🌈💞💌 for the fic writer asks?

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

this one applies to both polaroids and the taken fic but like. for the taken one specifically I am so disappointed bc. I only did the chapter for ren and I really wanted to add the grian chapter but I just couldn't bring myself to do it and there's an entire scene where I use my knowledge abt 19th century clockworks and also what I've been told abt menory illnesses and just 19th century knowledge but I cannot bring myself to work on it no matter what. I also remember planning the etho chapter because I had Ideas for that. for polaroids I had like. a sort of corkboard in my mind abt just what to do and I wanna rewrite it and then ALSO This Place Is Not A Place Of Honor and I have like. one chapter written and a few illustrations already when I just. gave up

💞what's the most important part of the story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammer etc), the figurative language

OKAY SO when reading, it is always to me character and/or grammar. I've clicked off so many fics i thought would be interesting bc the characters were just Wrong. I can excuse grammar sometimes and if I can tell a fic will just have shit grammar I might click on it out of morbid curiosity (ahem that one time I liveblogged a fic in class) but I've built up enough resilience against subpar grammar to be. fine with it as a reader

as a writer, what I said above but also the figurative language because there's something about using a metaphor that hits just right for that specific character in that specific moment that feels so satisfying. when writing characters you don't want them to feel Off in a way that would make a reader unsatisfied and its okay to have a few grammar errors in fic (especially common ones, fic is free and beta readers are hard to come by) but just. be careful

💌share something about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited

OKAY so I actually have plans for some star rail fics but they're not fully realized yet and they're going to be infinitely more planned than what I have planned as fics for poor alhaitham but for now I wanna do clara & svarog fics where its just slice of life (and then a fic of when clara is grown up bc I write angst for a reason. robodad and his human child give me so much joy I love them So Much), a luocha and welt fic, a welt and void archives fic (copius amounts of Gay. old men yaoi. I have to finish apho 2 before this one because I still haven't done that) and also a fic with kafka (and maybe elio) in it (the heavens knows I'll be able to finish... one of those. maybe two)

anyways here's some snippets from wips wherein I hurt alhaitham the one on the left like. half-scrapped but only half-scrapped cause I still wanna work on it. it'll just take A While to do so

(I actually really like the writing style I chose for the one on the left cause its like. dottore's thought process and inner mind and. actually I want to show more I love how I wrote the first part so much and technically I can call it done but it would be injustice to the hurt part of hurt/comfort if I just stopped there)

I need to write in this style mor. it works best when the character is acting-to the beat of my vocabulary-Out There and Wild but a "softer" scene has been laid out by past me and I think I can utilize the way I write him to turn him into a threat even if 3rd person limited only limits us to outsider reactions of his character

actually just. about this fic in general is that I plan for it to have 3 really long chapters with the third being the longest (because thats where all the comfort will take place) and the first two are gonna be strictly in third person limited while the third one will also probs be 3pl except I change which character that perspective belongs to but I'm gonna try to limit myself to as few pov shifts as possible

oh god its 130am here. I like to ramble don't I. If I feel it I might ramble in the morning

#viv.txt #the mailbox #ask game #WHERE DID MY TAGS GO ????#anyways I was rambling abt the fic and rmabled abt how its low on my priority list #because the two other fics I am currently working on either just need one more chapter #or they're oneshots of a larger series #seriously where did my tags go

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sunflowersandscreams · 2 years

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i hope ur doing ok

Written for @solangeloweek Day 3: WIP dump

this is a deleted scene from my christmas fic! this is only a short scene i wrote before i had to scrap the little plotline due to lack of space. I regret not developing Nico’s and (especially) Will’s relationships with their families more, and barely mentioning will’s life at all lmao. this is mostly unedited and not super developed so enjoy this little wip :) I won’t be continuing or adding onto this obv bc it's a deleted scene.

read on ao3

context and the actual fic are under the cut:

title from a text my friend sent me while i was having a breakdown everyone say thank u lori’s friend

supposed to take place end of chapter 6/start of chapter 7

CONTEXT: Kayla, Austin, Solía (my OC haha), and Gracie are his half-siblings by Apollo. Michael and Lee were Will’s older brothers that were killed in an accident (I never figured out how, just some sort of violent incident). in the fic Will was super run down and exhausted and he and Nico were gonna go on a whole shopping trip for his siblings’ christmas presents. at the end he collapses and breaks down and he and nico connect about their dead siblings. anyway it never got included but it was a cool plotline that i kinda wish i'd kept. but writing is an eternal process and i am constantly improving so! things to think about for my next multichap :))

The day was mostly warm so far. Nico liked it; sure, he tended to dress in tight, black clothes all the time, but a little bit of sun could do him some good. Sometimes winter just got too cold for him, so Nico relished the moments of warmth when he could.

Someone knocked on the door. By the specific force, speed, and rhythm of the knocking, Nico could figure out who it was and that he should be quick. He scurried to the door and unlocked it, finding Will hovering on the doorstep panicking.

“Nico!” Will cried, hands shaking just slightly. “Are you free right now?”

“For the next few hours, yeah,” Nico replied, frowning. “Is everything…?”

“Are you good at buying Christmas gifts for people?”

“Am I what?” Nico was thrown for a loop. He hadn’t expected Will to ask this.

“Christmas is in, like, a week, and I haven’t gotten anything for my siblings, and I need to ship the gifts because they live elsewhere, and I’m panicking, so… what do I do?” Will looked to be in despair. “Please, you’re my last hope.”

“I… okay,” Nico said, already pulling Will inside. “First, a plan.”

Nico made Will sit down at his kitchen table and write a list of his siblings’ interests, possible gifts for them, and where they could go together to buy something. By the time Nico was ready to leave, Will had completed a list.

Nico ran his finger down the page, counting the number of people. “Kayla… Austin… Gracie… Solía… Lee and Michael?” Nico stopped, coming to a couple of names that haven’t come up in conversation between him and Will before. There was only one bullet point under each of their names; Michael’s said a replacement figurine and Lee’s said leather bracelet.

“Oh,” Will stopped. “I… I didn’t- I didn’t need to put them on there, I’ve already got their gifts.”

Nico tilted his head at Will, who still wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “…Okay. Well, we can focus on the other four. It looks like we could get this all at the local shopping center, so should we head there?”

“That sounds good.” Will swallowed, looking like he was biting his tongue. He released some tension, and his posture melted back into something more relaxed. “Yeah. I, um, just realized I have something else I need to do today. Can we go tomorrow?”

Will looked uncertain of himself, which… it wasn’t unusual for when Nico had first met him, but Will’s confidence had seemed to be growing. Nico just hoped he was okay. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Will smiled brightly, running a hand through his hair. “Totally. Just tired. I should go take care of the something else, so, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nico responded automatically, still puzzled by Will’s slightly volatile behaviour. He didn’t know what Will was upset by, but he knew Will would come to him when (if) he was ready.

Will got up, almost tripping over his own feet. Nico left the house keys and wallet he’d collected in preparation for their outing on the table, letting Will out the door.

Before he left, Nico caught Will’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug. “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I hope you’re okay. Or that you’re going to be.” Nico released Will with one final squeeze.

Somehow, Will looked more shaken than before. “Uh. Thanks. Th-thank you.”

Nico watched with a crease in his forehead as Will stumbled back to his own house. Something was obviously troubling Will, but he didn’t know what, and it worried him.

#lori writes #solangelo week #solangelo week 2022 #solangeloweek2022

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aspenmissing · 10 months

Text

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Sam is back inside the Impala.

"I don't understand, Guys, we burned that damn thing"

"Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious. All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?" Dean asks.

"Okay, all right. Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em"

"Yeah. So, we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?" Theo asks.

The three are at a second-hand book shop.

"You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?"

"Yeah, that's right" Dean approaches, smiling and flicking an old book with pictures of guns.

"You're still a child" Theo mutters.

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you three crim buffs?" The man asks, laying a huge book of newspaper clippings on the table.

"Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?" Theo asks.

"Well..." He holds up a newspaper article. The lead story on the front page is "New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go to Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides with Iceberg. Disaster Proves to Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World" He points at a side article. It reads 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself'.

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right"

"The whole family was killed?"

"It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now he was a barbed by trade. Used a straight razor"

"Why'd he, do it?" Sam asks.

"Let's look. Ahh..." The man starts to read "People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter..." He skims on " Yeah, yeah, yeah...There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave." Which of course you know in that day and age, um ...so instead, old man Isaiah...well he gave them all a shave. He draws his hand across his throat with appropriate noises, laughing. Dean joins in but stops when Sam gives him a bitchface, not noticing Theo smirking.

"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Theo asks.

"Just that they were all cremated"

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here...somewhere. Right-here it is" He hands Sam the book with the picture.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this please?" He asks.

"Sure

*Time Skip*

Sam, Dean and Theo sit at the table in their motel room.

"I'm telling you guys, I'm sure of it. The painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dad's lookin out. The painting has changed, Guys"

"All right, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the paining and is handing out Columbia neckties like he did with his family?"

"Well yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted then how are we gonna stop him?"

"All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed then maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. You know it could give us some clues" Theo says.

"What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?"

"I don't.... know. uhh...I'm still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting" She replies, giving Sam a totally blank look. Dean rises and moves across to the bed, throwing himself onto his back and crossing his arms.

"Which is a good thing cause you can get some time to crush on your girlfriend"

"Dude. Enough already" Theo snickers.

"What?" Dean asks.

"What? Ever since we got here, you two have been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?"

"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean says. Sam raises his arms and eye to the ceiling "All right, you like her, she likes you, you're both consenting adults..." Sam gets frustrated and his voice rises.

"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We already leave"

"Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam" Sam gets agitated.

"You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?"

Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time" Dean says, calmly. Sam stares at him, then huffs out a breath and looks away. Dean sits up from the bed"

"You know, seriously Sam, this isn't about just hooking up, okay? I mean, I, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you" Sam sighs and scratches his head and Theo watches closely.

"And... I don't mean any disrespect but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that...but...I would think that she would want you to be happy" she says, placing her hand on top of Sam's. Sam is quite and listening now, tears in his eyes. She moves her hands to his face and wipes his tears. He leans into her touch "God forbit have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, I know she would" Sam says softly. He gives a half smile, then sighs heavily, pulling Theo’s hand of his cheek then holding it in his hand "Yeah you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part"

"What's it about?" Dean asks. Sam refuses to answer "Yeah alright" He lied back again and crosses his arms "Well we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so..." Sam lets go of Theo hand and picks up the phone, clearing his throat. Dean shakes his head and closes his eyes, setting in.

"Sarah, hey, it's Sam" He pauses "Hey, hi" He pauses again "Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?" Dean opens one eye slightly, watching his brother. Theo turns to look away, supressing her laughter.

"Yeah good, good, really good" Sam repeats himself.

"Smooth..." Theo whispers, Dean chuckles.

"So, ah, so listen. Me, my brother and my sister, were...uh...thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting. I..." Dean once more shakes his head and closes his eyes "I think maybe we are interested in buying it" He pauses "What?" At Sam's tone Dean and Theo snaps to attention. Sam stands up "Who'd you sell it to?" Dean rises up, listen closely and Theo leans closer "Sarah I need an address right now"

The Impala roars up and the three jump out. Sarah appears from the car waiting in the driveway.

"Sam what's happening" Sam runs past her.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come" Dean and Theo joins Sam and they run up the stairs to the front porch. Dean starts banging on the door.

"Hello, anyone home?"

"You said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?"

"I can't knock this sucker down. You gotta pick it" Dean says, looking at Theo. She starts to pick the lock as Sam bangs on the window, which is covered with metal security bars.

"What are you guys, burglars?"

"I wish it was that simple. Look you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good" Theo gets the door open and Sam and Dean quickly follows her inside.

"The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend" Sarah runs in after them "Evelyn?"

"Evelyn" Dean says. They enter the lounge; Evelyn sits half turned away from them.

"Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake...Are you all, right?" Sarah asks. She reaches to touch Evelyn's shoulder.

"Sarah don't. Sarah!" Sam says urgently. Evelyn's head tips back, exposing that her slashed throat. Sarah screams.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!!" Sam puts his arm around her and shepherd her out of the room.

Back in their motel room, Dean sits at the bar with the laptop, Theo beside him and Sam paces. There is a knock on the door. Sam opens it and Sarah storms past him.

"Hey. You all, right?" Sam asks.

"No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's, alone, and found her like that" Dean smirks while Sam and Theo looks relieved.

"Thank you"

"Don't thank me, I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?" Sarah asks. Sam looks at Dean and Theo, who raises their eyebrows.

"What"

"What?" Sarah asks.

"It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people" Sarah looks at Sam like he's insane. He sighs "Sarah, you saw that painting move" Sarah gets agitated.

"No...no I was...I was seeing things. It's impossible"

"Yeah well, welcome to our world" Dean says.

"Sarah, I know this sounds crazy...but we think that the painting is haunted"

"You're joking" Sarah says, sniggering but with tears in her eyes. She looks from one to the other and to the other of them. The three just stare at her "You're not joking. God, the guys I got out with"

"Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telesca's , they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth" Sarah takes a deep breath.

"Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you"

"What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and...and I don't want you to get hurt"

"Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my dad sold that painting that might have got these people killed. Look I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am scared as hell but...I'm not going to run and hide either" Sarah strides to the door. She turns back "So are we going or what?" She walks out.

"Sam?" Dean says, Sam looks across to where Dean and Theo are sitting. Dean points out the door after Sarah "Marry that girl"

The four head back to Evelyn's house. Sam is picking the lock.

"Ahhh...isn't this a crime scene?"

"You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?" Theo asks. Once inside Sam lifts the painting down from the wall and they examine it.

"Aren't you worried that it's...gonna kill us?"

"Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're all right in the daylight" Dean compares the picture in the book with the painting.

"Sam, Theo, check it out. The razor, it's closed in this one but it's open in that one"

"What are you guys looking for?"

"Well If the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason"

"Hey, hey look at this. The painting in the painting"

"Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something" Theo looks around, grabs a thick glass ashtray and uses it as a magnifying glass "Merchant" Theo reads the name on the Mausoleum.

Sam, Theo, Dean and Sarah walk through the graves.

"This is the third boneyard we're checked. I think this ghost is jerking us around"

"So, this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asks.

"Not exactly. We don't get paid"

"Well, Mazel tov"

"Over there" Dean says, spying the mausoleum. Dean breaks the lock and they enter, pushing aside the cobwebs. There is a number of name plates as well as four urns in front of little glass fronted boxes. Sarah looks into one of the cases at a doll.

"Okay, that right there-is the creepiest thing I've ever seen"

"It was a... sort of tradition at the time. Whenever a child died sometimes, they'd preserve the kid's favourite toy in a glass case, put it next to the headstone or crypt" Sam says.

"Notice anything strange here?" Dean asks.

"Ah...where do I start?" Sam sniggers, looking at her.

"No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns"

"Yeah. There are only four"

"Yeah, Mom and the three kids. Daddy dearest isn't here"

"So where is he?" Theo asks.

Sam and Sarah sit on a small wall outside an office building, waiting.

"So, what exactly is your brother and sister doing in there?" Sarah asks.

"Searching county death certificates trying to find out what happened to Isaiah's body"

"How'd they even get in the door?"

"Lying and subterfuge mostly"

"You have a...uh...you have an eyelash on your right...no...uh...you know wha-t" Sarah reaches, but has no idea where it is. Sam laughs.

"Do you mind if I-get it?"

"No" Sam reaches for it and holds it on his finger.

"Okay, I got it. Make a wish" Laughing, Sarah does so, and blow it away.

"Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure"

"I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever. Is there something, here, between us? Or am I delusional?"

"You're not delusional"

"But there's a but coming"

"But...I don't think this would be a good idea"

"Can I ask why?" Sarah asks.

"'Cause I like you"

"Wait. You lost me"

"Wait. You lost me" They both laugh.

"Look, it's hard to explain. Ah-It's just when people are around me-I don't know, they get hurt"

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"I mean like physically hurt. With what me and my brother do, it's....” Sam breaths out before looking Sarah in the eyes. “Sarah, I had a girlfriend. And she died. And my mom died too. I don't know, it's like, it's like I'm cursed or something. Like death just follows me around. Look, I'm not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody..."

"You're scared they'd get hurt too" Sam looks down "That's very sweet. And very archaic" Sam looks back up.

"Sorry?"

"Look I'm a big girl Sam, it's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt"

"I'm not talking about a broken heart and a tub of Haagen Dazs. I'm talking about life and death"

"And tomorrow I could get hit by a bus. That's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love-it's terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too"

"Sarah, you don't understand. The pain that I went through...I can't go through it again. I can't" Theo and Dean suddenly appears.

"Are we interrupting something?" He asks.

"No"

"Not at all" Theo looks between them.

"Huh. Apparently"

"So, what'd you two get"

"Paydirt. Apparently, the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they handed him over to the county, the county gave him a pauper's funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated; he was buried in a pine box"

"So, there are bones to burn"

"There are bones to burn" Dean says.

"Tell me you know where" Dean and Theo look at each other, nodding.

#Supernatural #older sister winchester #oc insert #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom

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suicidal-lucid-nightmare · 2 years

Text

Okay, so. I don't have a therapist, but writing helps me a lot. So I figured maybe I could use writing as a therapy, and anyone who wants to talk shit can talk shit.

So here's a trauma dump.

My mother wanted a boy so very badly. She and my father fought my grandfather tooth and nail thinking I was going to come out with a penis. When they found out that I infact did not have a penis, they didn't say shit about it as if they'd lost an argument thinking that penguins were fish instead of birds. This does come into play.

So my mother, we'll call her "Karen", definitely a narcissistic, mentally ill BITCH. Street Angel:House Devil. Will look you in the eye and smile out in the open, but the moment you get her behind closed doors, the gaslighting starts. She would often lock herself in the bathroom threatening to kill herself when she didn't get what she wanted or she was at fault for something, anything, she did the slightest thing wrong.

Anyways, when I was born, my nana(step-grandmother), we'll name her "Brenda", was the one who pretty much took care of me. Most of the good memories I have from that far back included me and her doing something. Having tea parties, dressing up as a rockstar, coloring, the works.

After my brother, we'll say "Aaron" was born, Karen forgot about me altogether. She had finally gotten the boy she wanted.

Shortly thereafter, she dipped. Just up and left. For the next two years, my brother and I only got to see her maybe once a month. Only at my father's place, she usually wouldn't want to take us anywhere. Until she told my father, who we're gonna call "Jack", that she had set up a dentist appointment for us. There was no appointment, and we had been kidnapped.

Jack fought tooth and nail to get us back. He had Karen by the balls. Would have won if someone hadn't snitched him out about smoking weed. He spiraled into a pit after losing us. Ended up on some pretty hard drugs, couldn't keep a job, warrants for child support, typical severe depression hole.

Karen started keeping me and Aaron from our grandparents, the ones who helped Jack raise us while she was in Bumfuk Egypt. We got put in front of a TV while she did what she felt like doing. What's the harm? We were occupied.

I don't remember a whole lot from before I was 12. Just bits and pieces, but there's a decent pile of scraps to pick from.

Jack had put bruises on my back with a belt because his dumbass wasn't paying attention and missed my butt. I had taken my chair back from my brother while he was sitting in it, 5 years old. My kindergarten teacher did not like that. I was promptly marched to the principal's office and told to raise my shirt so they could see my back. They then proceeded to inspect every inch of my back, her and the teacher both, while mumbling somethings that probably started my self consciousness issues.

My best friend in first grade I ended up crushing hard on. Stories recently surfacing say that my first grade teacher told her that she didn't need to be friends with someone like me. I was constantly bullied in school, I would often come home with things like mayonnaise or pen ink smeared into my clothes. Not once was I ever questioned at home about it.

Karen dragged me and Aaron to a completely different state so she could whore around with some guy she just met. Ended up almost stranded because of it.

My mother's favorite thing to say to me growing up when I made her mad was, "I'm gonna knock your teeth down your throat if you . . ." She stopped when I challenged her.

Do it.

I ended up terrified of her when I did something that may have been wrong or something that I thought may have been wrong. She tried to hand me a piece of a cookie while I was washing dishes, and I flinched hard as if I thought she was about to stab me with a knife. I only saw her out of my peripheral vision, but it made my heart studder.

A child shouldn't have to feel that way about their parent, especially a mother. So I didn't tell her when I was sexually assaulted in middle school, or again when I was in high school. Not right away in high school anyways. A few months down the road I told her, and she reacted exactly how I expected. "It's your fault this happened" and "why wouldn't you stop him" and "you're fucking disgusting". It was exactly that reaction that made me hide the fact that I was pregnant for four and a half months.

I had my first job working at a truckstop McDonald's less than a week after my 16th birthday. My very first day, meeting and greeting my new coworkers, the maintenance man had already set a target. This man was definitely older than 20. Young and naive me liked the attention because I never got anything from anyone. I never got to be selfish. So when a grownup started telling me I was sweet and beautiful, etc. giving me all this attention that I'd never had before, I immediately latched on to the source. In just a few short months, he had me sneaking around, stealing drugs, doing an illegal, AND convincingly lying to police. Another few months down the road, and he's got me knocked up. Now I'm 17 and pregnant and don't know what to do. I'm sure me and that fetus(now my beautiful toddler) were both thinking the same thing: "oh shit, my mom's gonna kill me."

And she did. She broke me.

I was immediately stripped of any device that had access to internet and such, I wasn't allowed to leave without someone with me, the police got involved but nothing was ever filed, I was constantly being called names like slut, bitch, and whore by my mother and her husband, who we'll title "Chad". I tried to take Chad's blood pressure medication to force a miscarriage and maybe more. I wasn't allowed to see the baby's sperm donor for just about the rest of my pregnancy, I was ready to give up. I wanted to so desperately.

Karen eventually played nicey-nice and took me to talk to the baby's sperm donor, who had a way to contact me throughout the entirety of my prison sentence but purposefully did not do so.

She kicked me out two months after I had the baby, so I moved in with my baby's sperm donor. Everything was great, I thought, for the first few days, but I was kicked out not even a week later with nothing but the clothes on my back, I had to force my stuff back to me and not all of it made it. My child was taken from me and I was basically told that I was nothing more than an incubator because he wanted to be a dad.

My grandfather came and got me that day because I had made it very clear that I wasn't moving back with Karen, who was there and helped the baby's sperm donor get rid of me.

What's worse is my grandfather asked me to start having sex with him that night.

So I ended up three hours away from my baby. I didn't get to see that sweet 2 month old face for three weeks after, so I lawyered up. He was a shitty lawyer and I lost the case because I was only 18. The baby's sperm donor made me out to be mentally insane, and the attorney ad litem was 100% biased from the start. The entire case was draining, and on top of that, my grandfather was not only raping me but manipulating and controlling every aspect of my life while bitching about my mother being manipulative and controlling. By the end of the case, I had spiraled back down I to a very deep, dark pit that seemed so familiar.

I ended up reconnecting with one of my high school friends and she told me about an app used to meet people, it advertised making friends but I was looking to sell some nudes.

Ended up meeting this guy from the south. I though he was talking to me because he wanted my pictures, but I found it kind of odd that he was asking questions like "What's your favorite anime" or " what's your favorite book/song/early 2000's show" and it was getting annoying. So I started talking to him to see what his deal was, and ended up liking him.

He's the one who drove 8½ hours out of state to come "kidnap" me from the situation I was in.

I had lost my baby, I was constantly under someone, and every time I looked in the mirror, my reflex was to cry. It was a situation I had to get out of. So we made a plan.

I spent 3 months in his home town, and it was the best 3 months of my life - apart from almost getting stabbed by a meth head.

When I did come back, I tried telling Jack what was happening behind his back and why I left, but he accused me of lying about what his dad was doing and about topics not even related to the current situation, such as "You also lied about being molested in school" etc. I've decided to go no-contact with everyone in my family except for my grandmother. She is the only one of my blood who has my back.

So now I smoke weed for depression, anxiety, ADHD, PTSD, insomnia, and my joint aches and pains. At this point in time, it's the only thing keeping my head together. I feel bad that my husband has to deal with me when I don't have my medication.

Well, now most of my life, or what I remember at least, is now out on the internet where everyone can see it. It's 5a, I better get some sleep before I have to go into work at noon.

#trauma #trauma dump #therapy session #therapy #i don't understand #i don't know what i'm doing #i wasnt supposed to live this long #trigger warning #fml #emotional damage #i need help #i need to go to bed

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

Note

can you pleasee do pt 2 to draco fucking his arranged marriage wife of the next day the reader being needy saying that she can’t get enough of him while he’s working in his office and he’s like “babe im busy😑” but then rails tf outta her right there😀 with like praise and daddy kink😩😩😩

read part 1 here

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 3.0k

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles, daddy kink, praise, slight degradation/humiliation, mentions of arranged marriage

a/n: i have been so excited to write a part two to this imagine the second i got the request. there will also be a part three coming soon so if you like these stay tuned! these have to be my favorite ones i've ever written.

It was the day after your marriage truly started. Although you and your husband, Draco Malfoy, had been married for weeks, the marriage truly began yesterday.

It had been a whirlwind.

It all began with you fucking your ex boyfriend, something you did in a desperate attempt to receive physical contact and get out of the house you had thought to be a prison.

When your husband came home, you decided it would be a brilliant idea to tell him. It was an arranged marriage, one that he did not seem enthusiastic to be a part of, so you figured there would be no hard feelings.

You were incredibly, incredibly wrong.

He had a lot of feelings about your adultery, but not only was there the anger and jealousy you were expecting, there was sadness. That had taken you by surprise, and only after poking the dragon, you finally consummated your marriage with your husband. Right there on the couch of the entrance hall.

After he had fucked you silly, you both reached the agreement that you would actually try to work as a real marriage. You had both made mistakes, and you were both ready and excited to move past those and really try to build a relationship out of what you had both thought was doomed from the start.

Which was why you were in front of his study, a hand raised and ready to knock, the following evening. He had been in there most of the day, working on a project for what you had learned to be connected to the Malfoy’s family business, but you were ready to put an end to his work day in the best way you knew how.

Your hand had barely connected with the wood when you heard a curt “Come in,” from the other side of the door.

You opened the door slowly and walked in, taking in the sight before you. There were papers scattered all over the desk, inkwells and quills mixed into the mess. Either you caught him at a bad time, or he wasn’t as tidy as you had assumed.

But it wasn’t the desk that caught your eye. It was him.

His button down shirt was rolled up the elbows at the cuffs. His hands, already littered with rings, were smudged with ink and deftly writing something down on a piece of parchment. There wasn’t a single hair out of place on his head, but what struck you were his glasses. You didn’t even know he wore glasses. But he looked damn good in them, because of course he fucking did.

“Yes?” He asked, a smug smile on his face as he watched you openly check him out. You hadn’t even realized he had looked up from the parchment he had been writing on.

“Just figured you could use a break, dinner’s ready,” you explained, quickly catching yourself.

“I’ll be out in a bit. I just need to finish this bit up,” he replied, an obvious dismissal but you had had enough of that over the past two weeks to last a lifetime.

“Draco, you’ve obviously been at this for a while. Just come take a break,” you argued defiantly, happy with the knowledge you finally felt comfortable enough to do so.

“Y/N, I’m busy,” he said gently, clearly not wanting to break the carefully made balance you had just created with a silly argument, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You admitted it to yourself when you walked in the room. You didn’t really want him to take a break just to have dinner with you. No. You wanted him to take a break so he would fuck you right over his desk.

“You can finish it later,” you continued, your arms crossed over your chest as you waited for his eventual push back.

But his argument never came.

Slowly, painfully slow, he began to stack up his papers in neat piles to put them away. Next were the inkwells being covered and finally the quills being put away. All without a word between you both.

When his desk was cleared, he finally turned his attention back to you.

“You come into my study and argue with me over taking a break just to go eat dinner. You haven’t bothered to ask me to dinner once over the past few weeks. So is it really dinner that’s got you so riled up, or is it something else?” He asked straight faced, but the twinkle in his eye led you to believe he knew exactly why you were arguing.

“Can’t a wife just want to spend time with her husband?” You argued, but it didn’t hold the impact you wanted the words to have.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, pushing his chair back just slightly. “Come here,” he commanded, crooking his fingers in your direction.

With just two silly little words your skin was flushed and your nerves were on fire. You weren’t sure what type of hold this man had over you, but it ran deep for only having just fucked him the day before for the first time.

You followed his command without a second thought, and it led you to standing right between his spread legs with your back pressed up against his now pristine desk.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think my wife just wants to get fucked. Am I correct?” He asked, raking his eyes over your body greedily, taking in every inch of you. You were just lucky you dressed to impress tonight in a perfect, form-fitting black cocktail dress. It didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Yes,” you answered easily, completely giving up the fight now that you could see the hunger that you felt reflected in his eyes.

He gave you a slow smile before dragging you down to straddle his lap, perfectly placing you so you could feel his growing erection against your core as he kissed you roughly. It was perfect after a day of craving him so fiercely, and you knew this was only the appetizer.

His hands possessively roamed your body as he continued to dominate your kiss, finally landing on your ass to pull you closer against him. Your hands made quick work of taking his glasses off and gently placing them on the desk somewhere behind you before trailing through his hair, messing up his perfectly placed platinum locks.

You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down on him, moans spilling from both of your lips at the friction. He let you do as you please for a few minutes, just enjoying kissing you and having you in his lap, but once your hands went to undo the buttons on his shirt, he gripped your hips roughly and pushed you back.

“Let’s get one thing straight, pretty girl. I’m in charge, and you’ll be a good girl and do as I say, won’t you?” He asked, running a thumb along your lower lip as he spoke.

You bit his finger gently before answering, and your answer only riled him up more than the bite did.

“Yes, Daddy.”

And just like that he unleashed himself on you, much like he had done the day before.

He had you on your feet and spun around faster than you could even blink. Within the next breath, your dress was being stripped off of your body and thrown across the room, your breasts exposed. When he had you bent over the desk with just a thong on, he finally opened his mouth again.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for Daddy, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He asked, dragging his hands up the back of your thighs until he was grabbing your ass again.

“Yes,” you gasped out, knowing you were already drenched from his words and touch alone.

When you felt his palm connect with your raised ass, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that fell from your lips.

“Yes, what?” He asked, rubbing his hands in circles to soothe the ache, but the contrast of his warm skin and cold rings only left you shaking.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered, saying the words again.

They were meant to be a joke at first. Just another jest to rile him up and poke at him. But now, after having called him Daddy twice, it was starting to feel right. Like this was exactly the dynamic you were meant to be in with him.

“So much better. Look at you, already dripping down your thighs,” he mused, his finger trailing up your thigh in what you could only assume was a patch of wetness, a blush falling over your face at the thought.

He dragged your thong down your legs and slowly freed your feet before tossing the scrap of fabric across the room as well, leaving you totally exposed.

“Is this what you wanted? To be bent over Daddy’s desk just begging to be fucked?” He asked, his weight pinning you down as he bent over, slowly dragging his lips up the side of your neck as he spoke. You could feel how hard he was against your ass and you fought now to roll your hips into him, but you knew he would put an end to it anyway.

“Please fuck me,” you begged quietly, your words no more than a whisper as you played right into the fantasy he was spinning for the both of you.

“Patience, darling,” he said accompanied by a dark chuckle, but he didn’t leave you wanting.

He kept his weight on you, his lips leaving open mouth kisses on your neck that were sure to leave bruises for the coming days, but he dragged a finger up your slit and plunged inside of you.

You were so on edge that the one finger almost made you cum right then, but of course he was careful to make sure that didn’t happen. He teased you along until one finger turned into two, and by then you were a writhing mess on his desk.

“Daddy, please. I’m ready. Just fuck me,” you begged impatiently, all of your focus on him and his miraculous fingers.

Silently, he pulled back to stand up fully behind you. For a moment, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted, but you should have known it was too good to be true. You weren’t getting fucked until he thought you were ready.

You felt his thumbs pull your lips apart, and you knew all of his focus was right on you, right on where you were a dripping mess for him and that had you fighting not to squirm under his gaze.

“I told you to be patient, pretty girl. Or are you just that desperate to cum you couldn’t help yourself? Because this pretty little hole isn’t ready for me yet,” he mused, and his words forced an unexpected moan out of you.

You were exposed and aching, a true flushed mess in front of him, while he was a master of poise and control, still fully clothed behind you. Something about the situation made your head spin and your knees weak, and you knew you were in for a wild ride with this man. But you were willing to take anything and everything he threw your way because there was no denying you were enjoying every second of this. Not when he was holding you open obscenely and could see the evidence for himself.

“I want to cum,” you answered honestly, your breasts grinding on the desk and you arched your back, further exposing yourself in the hopes that he would fulfill your wishes.

While still holding you open, he used one gentle finger to stroke over your clit and it was just enough pressure to cause a shiver to run down your spine. If he kept it up, you knew you’d cum in seconds. “Go ahead, cum for me. Let me watch you make a mess of yourself,” he commanded, keeping the gentle pressure on your clit.

You came with a scream, your legs shaking beneath you. The desk was the only reason you stayed up, otherwise you would have collapsed from the force of your orgasm right there. It felt like one of the most intense orgasms of your life, all just from a little flick of his finger.

As you came down, you were gasping for air, just as desperate for your next breath as you were for Draco’s cock. No matter how mind shattering your orgasm had been, you were still craving more. You’d always crave more from him.

“That was beautiful, darling - watching you clench around nothing as you screamed for me. I think you’re ready for my cock now,” he mused, slowly stroking his hands up and down your back in an effort to calm your body, but every nerve was on fire from his touch.

“Please, please, fuck me Draco. I need you,” you were begging shamelessly now, not even worried about making a fool of yourself in this new marriage. You were both too invested in this moment to care, both of you just knew you needed each other.

“Shh, you have me, pretty girl. I’m right here,” he soothed, placing gentle kisses on your shoulders as he worked to free his cock behind you. “Stay just like that.”

You didn’t even know he had succeeded in taking his cock out until you felt his tip against your entrance, and he didn’t wait a second longer. He plunged into you like he was just as desperate as you were, which by the way he was fucking you in brutal strokes, you could tell he was.

Your hands clutched the edge of the desk for dear life, your knuckles a bright white against the dark oak wood. With every thrust, your hips collided with the sharp edge, sure to leave some marks for you to admire the next day.

You could feel the power behind each deep, hard stroke and you knew he was giving you his all. The previous night had been kind and sweet compared to the brutal fucking he was giving you now. You felt fucked within an inch of your life and he had barely even started.

“Fuck, Y/N. You take me so fucking well. So perfect,” he praised, not even sounding out of breath. Meanwhile, you couldn’t even control the noises that were coming from your mouth.

You climbed up the peak steadily, but even in your cock drunk daze you knew this orgasm would wipe you out. Once you were about to reach the edge, he pulled out.

“No, please, fuck. I was so close,” you whined, but a startled gasp came out of your mouth next when he lifted you up and spun you around, your back crashing back down on the desk with a gentle thud.

You finally got the chance to look at him, then. His cock was hard and aching, on the verge of falling over the edge himself. His hair was disheveled and he had that glow that only sex could bring coming from his perfect skin, but when you locked eyes you couldn’t look away. His silver eyes were clouded with lust and possession, a man closing in for the kill on his prey. It was terrifying and arousing all at once, but you were sure your own eyes reflected something similar.

Draco wasted no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders and coming down to take your lips in a brutal kiss just before fucking back into you, his pace the same as it had been in the previous position. He swallowed your moans greedily, but finally pulled back to just concentrate on your face.

“I needed to look at you when you came on my cock. Show me how pretty you look when you fall apart for me,” he ordered, but his voice was gentle and there was a smile fighting to tug on his face. It didn’t hold the same dominance his previous commands did, but you followed it all the same.

One, two, three thrusts later you came with his name on your lips as he fucked you through it. It was like your whole world blacked out and only the two of you existed, suspended in this moment as he stared down at your blissed out face. He followed you shortly, and the feel of him emptying himself inside of you accompanied by the litany of choked out praises he was giving you was almost enough to push you into a third orgasm.

You both stayed like that as the minutes passed, chest to chest and near face to face as you caught your breath. It was no easy feat after an orgasm like that, but finally he was wrapping you in his arms and balancing you in his lap as he got comfortable in his desk chair once again.

“Was that too much?” He asked, the concern dripping from his voice as he tenderly brushed your hair from your face.

You could have laughed at his concern. That was the best sex you had ever had in your life, and he was asking if it was too much. But you didn’t want to worry him.

“Draco, that was perfect. I loved every second of it,” you told him honestly, tilting your head up so you could look him in the eye so he would have no room for doubt.

It was him who laughed then, in sheer disbelief of the woman curled up in his lap. “I got too lucky with you. You’re perfect,” he said with a smile, a small kiss to your forehead following his words.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you insisted, curling further into his chest as the events of the evening finally wore on your body. It was comfortably silent for a few minutes as he held you, until you remembered why you had truly come into his study in the first place. “But I was serious when I came in. Dinner’s ready,” you reminded him with a slight giggle.

“How about I get you up to bed and we eat dinner in bed, hm?” He asked, already lifting you up and carrying you towards the door.

“Sounds perfect,” you said, relaxing against his strong chest as he continued to prove just how lucky you were to end up in this arranged marriage.

#harry potter #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy drabble #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco one shot

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Text

Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

#tw:noncon #tw:misogyny #tw: bullying #Dabi smut #mha dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere Dabi #Dabi mha #dabi oneshot #dabi imagine #bnha dabi #bnha yandere #bnha smut

577 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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clusterbuck · 3 years

Note

hii from the prompt list the 13 becouse i like drama

listen, i see you talking about drama, but due to supply chain issues it is currently a one-way street to fluff city in my brain, now with some thirst on the side

"how could you do this to me?" buck groans, straddling the chair beside chimney and dropping his forehead to the backrest with a resounding thunk. "i thought we were friends, man."

it's a scorching california summer day. the metal of the chair is so hot against his forehead he's almost worried about accidentally branding himself, and the bare skin of his back feels like it might be able to fry an egg by now.

"i know, i know," chimney says. "the objectification of men still contributes to a culture where—"

"what?" buck interrupts, lifting his head to squint at chimney. "no, i don't care about that part, it's for charity, it's whatever."

"then what did i do to you?" chimney asks.

"that," buck mutters, and gestures to the other side of the firehouse parking lot, where a shirtless eddie is bending over to dunk his sponge in a bucket of soapy water. buck makes a strangled noise and returns his head to the backrest of the chair, where his field of vision is safe.

"eddie?" chimney asks, the picture of innocence. "what about him?"

"you know exactly what about him," buck grumbles. "i know you heard me talking to maddie the other day."

well, talking is a word for it. other fitting words might be whining, drunkenly complaining, or maddie's favourite, pining.

"i heard you talking to maddie about a lot of things," chimney says, and even with his face glued to the chair buck can imagine the exact shit-eating grin on his face.

"chimney, i swear to god."

"wait, so you think hen and i put together this entire car wash—this car wash for charity—because we thought it would be funny to watch you fall all over yourself in front of a shirtless eddie?"

"well, i've met you," buck says, "so yeah, that's exactly what i think."

"no comment," chimney says. "it's already funny, though." and maybe the barely contained glee in his voice should have warned buck, but—

"what's already funny?" a familiar voice asks, and buck jerks upright so quickly the entire chair almost falls over.

eddie was already a lot to take in from across the parking lot, and now he's standing barely two feet away. he's wearing turnout pants and suspenders and nothing else, and his skin glistens in the sunlight, some combination of sweat and the water he'd been using to wash the cars.

buck swallows, in a way that is definitely more audible than originally intended.

"uh—" buck starts, and then stops, because he isn't entirely sure he is currently capable of forming words that aren't directly related to the several parts of eddie's body that are just close enough for him to touch.

like the drop of sweat that's tracing a slow, meandering path down the column of eddie's throat. buck wants to lick it away, and then keep licking until he reaches eddie's collarbone, his chest—

"how predictable people are," chimney supplies, and buck drags his attention away from eddie's throat. he holds his breath, terrified that chimney is about to throw him under the bus, but chimney just gestures at the crowds gathered around certain firefighters. then he smirks at eddie. "you had quite the audience for a while there, eddie."

"i was just washing the cars." eddie looks down and scratches at the back of his head, the way he does when he's embarrassed, and buck tries not to stare at the way his bicep flexes.

"i bet some of them would watch you read the phone book," chimney says, and buck does not miss the extremely unsubtle look chimney shoots at him. he just hopes eddie was still looking down.

"who has phone books anymore?" eddie asks.

and buck... is thinking about eddie reading a phone book. damn it, chimney.

it's just—eddie has really good hands. buck has spent a significant amount of time staring at eddie's hands. and thinking about them. and, on a couple of memorable occasions, dreaming about them.

there are few things in life buck wants more than he wants to get eddie's hands on him.

so the thought of eddie's hands wrapped around a phone book, one hand spanning the spine as he carefully turns the pages... it's not not doing it for him.

"buck," eddie says, and from his tone buck figures it probably isn't the first time eddie's tried to get his attention. he shakes his head, trying to banish the image of eddie's hands.

"what's up?" he asks, trying to sound cool and casual and like he didn't just zone out thinking about his best friend's hands.

"i was just gonna ask if you could help me out," eddie says, holding up a bottle of sunscreen. "i can't reach my back. i can do you after, if you want."

buck doesn't splutter, but it's a very close thing.

"uh—" he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. "yeah, okay." there. that was—mostly normal, probably.

"i'm gonna, uh, go be somewhere else," chimney says somewhere behind him, and buck fights the urge to turn and glare. instead, he puts his middle finger up behind his back and hopes chimney gets the message.

buck stands up, and eddie hands him the sunscreen and turns his back. his suspenders are still up, and buck swallows as he slips his fingers under them. "i'm just gonna—" he says, just above a whisper, and waits for eddie's murmured yeah before he slowly drags them over eddie's shoulders and lets them drop.

the skin of eddie's back is warm under his hands, and his muscles ripple as buck works the sunscreen in. part of buck wants to draw it out for as long as possible, but he knows that the longer he spends on this, the more likely it is that his hands start wandering without any real input from his brain. and he doesn't really know how he'd explain that one away.

"all set," he says as soon as he's done, forcing himself to withdraw his hands from eddie's admittedly glorious shoulders. he hands the bottle back, and eddie gestures for him to turn around.

"your turn," he says, and then raises an eyebrow when buck doesn't move. "come on, buck, uv rays are no joke."

buck turns around.

eddie sets his hands on buck's shoulders, and buck jumps.

"you okay?" eddie asks.

"yeah, just—surprised," buck manages to say. "i'm good."

good is a relative term. he's fine, in the sense that eddie is asking about. but he also feels like he's about to combust, as eddie's hands—those hands he has spent so long dreaming about—rub slow circles into his shoulders, and start working their way down his back.

buck pours all of his focus into standing still. into not arching into eddie's touch, no matter how much his every nerve ending is begging for it. eddie's hands are steady and strong on his back, and he's standing close enough that buck can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it's—a lot.

then eddie moves his hands to buck's waist, rubbing the sunscreen into his sides and along his hips, and his breath catches. eddie's hands inch lower, and every part of buck's anatomy is acutely aware of exactly where they will end up if they keep moving.

eddie leans closer, hot breath fanning across the back of buck's neck and leaving goosebumps in its wake. "you okay?" he asks again, barely a whisper this time.

buck swallows around the dryness in his mouth and manages a shaky nod. he's just about to try to gather the words to ask what exactly eddie thinks he's doing when someone shouts eddie's name from across the parking lot, and the moment is shattered.

"i guess that's my break over," eddie says, and takes a step backwards. buck whirls around just as eddie says "too bad." just in time to see eddie smirk.

smirk.

that's approximately when buck decides that he must have woken up in an alternate dimension somehow, because since when does eddie smirk at him? since when does eddie put his hands all over him like that?

whatever alternate universe this is, it's seriously messing with his self-control. it's probably a good thing chimney has them scheduled at different washing stations, because buck really doesn't think he'd be getting a lot done if he was standing in close proximity to eddie with a bucket of soapy water.

not that he's getting much done anyway. chimney has him on the hose, washing the soap off once others are done, and more than once buck's attention wanders to the memory of eddie's hands on him or to the sight of eddie across the parking lot in his goddamned suspenders. he's mostly brought back to reality by chimney yelling because he's accidentally let the hose drift far enough to soak him.

serves him right, anyway. this is all his fault.

there's an hour left of the car wash when buck steps away to take his last break, and turns around to find eddie right next to him. because of course he is.

it's been hours, and buck still hasn't been able to figure out what eddie was trying to do with the sunscreen. all he knows is he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it, and that every time he's looked over at eddie, eddie's been looking right back at him. it's solidified into an awareness humming under his skin, one he's pretty sure is going to spark and catch fire the moment eddie so much as touches him again.

"hey," eddie says and looks buck up and down, his gaze so heavy buck can feel it like a physical weight.

"hey," buck says, and finds he doesn't know what to do next. he wants—needs, desperately—to know what eddie's been doing all day, but he can't think of a way to bring it up that isn't going to backfire in a big way if it turns out that somehow this has all been unintentional.

and then the meagre scraps of restraint he's managed to scrape together go up in smoke, because eddie grabs a water bottle and pours the contents over his head.

buck isn't sure if time slows down or maybe gravity eases up for a moment, but it feels like he's watching the water cascade over eddie's head and shoulders in slow motion, like in a high school football movie.

rivulets of it chase paths down eddie's temples and along his cheekbones, and water pools in the hollows above his collarbones before spilling over to race down the hard planes of his chest.

"jesus christ," buck mutters. "are you kidding me right now?"

"what?" eddie asks, and it's only because buck knows him so well that he realises eddie is trying not to grin. "what's your problem?"

"you know exactly what my problem is," buck says, and grabs eddie's wrist so he can yank him around the nearest corner. "you did all of it on purpose, didn't you?"

eddie lets his grin spill out, but buck only sees it for a second before he's grabbing at eddie's suspenders and using them to pull eddie close enough to kiss.

it's frenetic and messy and a little rushed, an outpouring of all the tension that's built up over the hours (weeks, months, years) they've been dancing around each other. buck can't decide whether to keep holding on to eddie's suspenders or to put his hands on eddie—somewhere, anywhere—and ends up with one hand clutching a suspender and the other fisted in eddie's hair. his chest is flush against eddie's and they're both soaked, slick with sweat and the water eddie had poured over himself.

it's the best kiss buck's ever had.

he starts reaching for eddie's fly almost on instinct, not thinking about anything except how he wants to get closer, wants to touch more. eddie stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist, but when he pulls back his breathing is heavy and his pupils are blown wide. "we're still in public," he murmurs. "but christopher is at abuela's tonight, so if you come home with me you might get lucky."

eddie bites his swollen bottom lip, and buck nods frantically and replaces eddie's teeth with his own. he's just about to lose himself in eddie when he hears chimney's self-satisfied voice somewhere in the distance, calling out "you're welcome!"

buck doesn't detach himself from eddie, just sticks up a middle finger and hopes for the best. judging by chimney's laughter, he thinks he probably got the message.

send me a fic starter prompt from this list!

#911fic #buddie #ask emma #emma writes #it's like parent trapping except it's thirst trapping #wait that's already a thing #idk man #thirst! at the car wash #this was absolutely not worth staying up until 5am for but once again i have sunk cost fallacied myself into sleep deprivation

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #smut #my fic #fanfic #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #lingerie #subspace #subdrop

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft (p.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts...)

Warnings: Abuse, mentions of drinking, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

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When your car finally pulled up the old dirt driveway to your family's farm house, the sun was already setting, casting an orange hue over the acres of land that your father had inherited from his father. It was beautiful, really. The sun was behind your old two story home made of wood planks that were covered in chipping white paint. The door’s paint was also chipping, only this time it was old navy blue paint - at least that’s the color it was supposed to be when it was painted who knows how many decades ago - that peeled back to reveal the wood beneath.

Your father’s truck wasn’t in the driveway yet when you pulled up and you sighed in relief because it gave you the opportunity to get dinner started before he got home. You headed straight for the kitchen. The only moment taken for yourself was the moment of silence when you leaned against the counter top and stretched out your back from the long day's work at the diner. The refrigerator was mostly empty and you made a mental note to run to the store after work tomorrow before your father could notice the lack of food. Thankfully, there was still enough scraps to piece something together for tonight between the fridge and the cupboards.

The house was swimming with the delicious scent of herbs, onions, potatoes, and stock as you boiled a stew on the stove when you heard the front door open. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?” You asked over your shoulder before you even heard his steps enter the kitchen, not actually caring but knowing he’d be upset if you didn’t ask.

He came around the corner but you could hear from the moment the door opened that there were the footsteps of more than one person entering your home. With a frown, you turned from the stove and took a few steps so you could see around the wall that blocked your view of the front door but your father and new mystery person stepped around that corner and into the kitchen before you could get that far. You stopped in your tracks, startled by their sudden appearance, and your hand flew to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry!” You chuckled awkwardly, apologizing for your jumpiness, “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ in here.”

It was a man about your age that stood just behind your father, a navy baseball cap twisted in his hands and his footsteps light so as to not knock dirt off onto the floor from his work boots, both welcomed displays of manners that you appreciated, unlike your father who left a trail of chunks of dried mud and grease everywhere he walked. This new boy, though, he was cute. Short curly hair that was messy, either from work or wearing the hat, big expressive brown eyes that reminded you of a puppy in the best possible way, a tight lipped expression that showed he was a little nervous and uncomfortable to be here, they were all a welcome, albeit unexpected, surprise.

"Work was good. This here is Arvin Russel. He'll be staying with us, at least for the night." Your eyes flicked back to the boy you now knew as Arvin when your dad introduced him and your heart skipped a beat at the eye contact.

He nodded his head slightly, a small cordial smile flashing on his face for just a moment, "Pleasure to meet you,..."

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you as well. If you're staying the night, let me add some water to the soup and then I'll go make up the spare bed." You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the pot of stew that was nearly done.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you."

Before you could notice him moving, your dad was already beside the fridge and you reached out to try to stop him before he could open it. "Let me get you something! What about you, Arvin? You want a beer or some water?" You scurried to try and beat your dad to the fridge that you knew would earn you a reprimanding that you didn’t deserve.

You were too late though and your dad already swung the door open wide. You stepped back nervously, rubbing the sharp edge of your nails against your thumb. "It's damn near empty." He noted, voice stiff and dissatisfied. He stood, managing to produce the last two beers from the refrigerator before slamming it shut.

You flinched at the loud sound, hearing the few glass jars of preserves and jams clanging against each other inside from the force. Your eyes rolled beneath closed lids at his overdramatic reaction, even though it was one you expected. "I'm gonna hit the market after work tomorrow but I checked that we have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow." Your voice was sweet and placating, careful to respond in a way that would keep his temper in check.

"It's that damn job of yours. I told you women shouldn't be working. They belong in the house where you should be. Now look. You went and let the kitchen run out." He passed Arvin a beer, which he reluctantly accepted, watching the way your father pointed his finger at you accusingly. “Ain’t no man gonna want a wife who can’t even keep the kitchen stocked up.”

Your tongue was raw inside from biting down on it so hard in order to keep yourself in line, as he called it. You didn't need a blow out tonight, not with Arvin here. "I manage to work and keep up with the house just fine, Daddy. We just got a little low on groceries but I'll be heading to the market tomorrow to fix it. Don’t you worry." Even you were surprised with how even and sweet your voice came out, that ever present fire of anger towards your father having been fanned into a decent blaze.

He popped the tab on his beer and sighed, dropping the topic for the time being, "Fine. But make sure to pick up some fixin's for that chicken roast you make. Patty is lookin' nice and fat in the coop so why don't you cook her up tomorrow."

You grimaced at the thought. Patty was one of the chickens in your coop out back that had been pretty slow when it came to laying eggs but you’d grown attached to her nonetheless. Ever since you were a young girl, your daddy warned you not to become attached to the animals out back but you never listened. Back then, you’d had your mother to step in and convince him not to kill the animals for whatever reason she could come with and opt for buying meat from the market instead. You hadn’t been able to convince him like that since she’d passed. Everything had been different since she passed.

“I don’t know, Daddy. Patty’s been layin’ a lot of eggs lately and we’ve been gettin’ extra money from sellin’ all those eggs. Why don’t I just pick up a chicken in town tomorrow at the store.” You insisted, walking back over to the stove to stir the stew.

“Don’t go wastin’ money on things we already got! We got some chickens out back. Just cook one of ‘em up tomorrow!” Your father’s voice was hard and stern now, enough to fill the air with tension in Arvin’s presence. You turned slowly, making eye contact with Arvin briefly before quickly avoiding it. You didn’t like the way he stood awkwardly, silently watching the interaction he clearly didn’t think highly of. Your father was already getting worked up and it would only get worse the longer the night went on.

Biting your cheek, you nodded, “Yes, sir. Now why don’t you boys go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in just a minute.”

Dinner went relatively well, despite your father’s occasional grumblings about there not being any beer. Once you finished, you stood up and picked up yours and your father’s bowls before noticing Arvin’s was empty as well. “Did you want some more? There’s just enough for one more if you’d like it.” You offered Arvin that last bit of stew but he just shook his head and stood up.

“Oh, no thank you miss. Dinner was delicious though. Let me help with that.” He grabbed his own bowl before your hand could reach it and then took the bowls from your hands as well before setting them down at the sink.

You chased after him, “Thank you but you don’t have to do that! Please, sit. I’ll make your bed up when I’m finished cleaning up dinner.”

“She’s right, son. Kitchen ain’t no place for a man. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you the room you’ll be stayin’ in.” You father’s chair screeched against the beat up wooden floor as he stood, beckoning Arvin to him.

Arvin was standing right beside you, his arm only a few inches from yours as he lowered the stack of bowls into the sink. He looked over at you with deep soulful eyes that seemed to look right through your calm facade in a way that made you feel seen like never before. It was highly uncomfortable, almost violating after all these years of hiding away what you felt for the sake of keeping the peace, and you forced a smile, “Please, you’re our guest. It wouldn’t be right to make you do the dishes. You go with him.”

He gave you a drawn out hesitant look but turned away nonetheless and walked towards your dad. “Thank you again for letting me stay here till I get things figured out. It’s mighty kind of you.” Arvin thanked you and your father for your hospitality, shooting you one last glance over his shoulder before following your father down up the stairs towards the spare room.

You made quick work of the dishes, having cleaned most of them as you were cooking earlier anyways and scurried to the closet that held your extra sheets. As you passed the bathroom, you heard the shower running and knew it was your father bathing after his long day of work, like he always did right after dinner. The man was a creature of habit.

With your arms full of neatly folded faded steel blue linens and the thicker burnt sienna colored wool blanket, you made your way towards the guest room Arvin was staying in to find the door wide open and the man looking through his bag that was set on the bed. “Knock knock,” you announced your presence, waiting at the entryway for Arvin to notice you before entering.

He spun around, dropping something that you didn’t see quickly into his bag and pressing it down while flashing you a small polite smile, “Hello, ma’am.”

You walked into the room, raising the linens in your hands, “I brought some sheets so I could make up your bed.” You walked over to the wooden chair and set the top sheet down before making your way back over to the bed, unfolding the bottom sheet as you did, waving it up and down in the air to straighten it out before laying it flat on the bed.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, miss,” He moved his bag to the ground and jumped to lift the corner of the mattress and tuck the sheet beneath it.

You blushed at his kindness, not used to such help from your father, but shook your head, tucking the sheet beneath the mattress on the opposite side of the bed “If my daddy came in and saw you fixin’ the bed yourself, he’d kill me,” you chuckled to make it sound like a joke but you knew better than that. He wouldn’t actually kill you but you would certainly get some less than kind words thrown your way, maybe even a few beer cans thrown your way depending on how drunk he was.

Arvin shook his head, his hands falling on his hips, “Looks like you do most the housework ‘round here.” What he was insinuating was clear even though his tone didn’t change but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t need to concern himself with the difficulties between you and your father.

“So how’d you and my dad meet?” You changed the topic, going to grab the top sheet and unfolding it. You laid it over the bed and tucked your side in, Arvin reaching down to tuck his side in as well in a silent act of defiance against your insistence that he didn’t need to help. It occurred to you suddenly after the question left your lips that you didn’t actually know anything about this boy but, for some reason, you still didn’t feel uneasy around him.

Arvin pulled the top corner of the sheet up to the head of the bed as he answered, “I just started workin’ at the garage with ‘im.”

“You like cars?” You questioned, spreading out the final layer on the bed, the wool blanket.

Arvin shrugged, “Never been really into ‘em but I can fix ‘em alright enough. Just needed the work and happened to see the wanted sign when I was passin’ through town.”

Your brow raised in curiosity, “You were just passin’ through and stopped in this old town cause of a help wanted sign?” The little town you lived in wasn’t terrible but it was far from a destination that people really moved to for work unless you a doctor desperate for a place to practice or something like that. “You must really be desperate,” you joked but immediately felt a slight pang of regret when a shred of truth could be seen in his eyes.

“Just tryna figure out where I’m goin’ ‘n what I wanna do. Figure I’ll find somewhere I like eventually.” Arvin picked up his bag and set it off to the side where it was a little more out of the way.

You stared at the man standing before you, taking every bit of him from the grease stains on his white t-shirt to his scuffed up brown work boots to his messy hair, dirty from dried sweat. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you realized that you’d been staring in a settled yet weirdly comfortable silence. You stood up straight and smiled to diffuse the awkwardness you’d unintentionally fostered, “You’re more than welcome to take a shower. My daddy should be finished any second. I’ll set some extra towels in there for you.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation but offered no further conversation. You could tell from the moment of silence that it was time for you to make your exit.

“Well, uh, I better head to bed. You need anything before I go?” You asked, backing towards the door and swinging slightly with it once your hand hit the old bronze knob.

Arvin shook his head, “No, thank you. ‘M all set.”

“Alrighty, then. You have a good night.” You chewed your lip as you opened the door to make your exit.

“G’night, miss Y/N.”

Butterflies flew wildly in your belly as you walked to your bedroom. It had been a long while since you’d seen somebody worth looking twice at in this old town but now a mysterious handsome man rolls into town and stays with you. In your house. It probably wasn’t the safest of situations but Arvin genuinely looked like a nice man. From your very brief interactions with him, you couldn’t really imagine him trying to hurt you or your father for no reason. Even if he did, you knew where your daddy kept his shotgun and you had no problem defending yourself. But like I said, you had an unearned sense of peace with Arvin that you hoped wasn’t a misjudgement.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” Your father’s gruff but thankfully not entirely drunk voice made you stop in your tracks and turn towards his room with a suppressed groan. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but an undershirt and long johns with his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides.

You shook the smile off your face. “Just thought of somethin’ funny that happened at work,'' you lied. “You need somethin’?”

“I watched you come out o’ that boy’s room with a big ol’ grin on your face. Better not let me catch you ‘n him. Ain’t no daughter o’ mine gonna be whorin’ around with some boy blowin’ through town, y’hear?” He threatened, his hands reaching down to pull up his worn out long johns.

Your blood boiled at the accusation and despite your best efforts to keep peace while Arvin was here, you spat words with venom, “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Arvin. God forbid I have a damn smile on my face.” Your voice was low enough so that you hoped your guest hadn’t heard your outburst but when your father’s face darkened and he began taking slow, heavy steps towards you, you weren’t sure if your charade of normalcy would last much longer.

Your father hovered over you, exaggerating the size difference between the two of you, “I put a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You play make believe with that little diner job but I'm the head of this house. I'm your father. You watch that fuckin’ tone with me girl."

Your jaw was clenched tightly, matching your fists, as you glared up at him with indignantly furious eyes. Father your ass. He once had been your father, an imperfect but loving man who used to try. Now he was merely a selfish broken sperm donor. He inherited this house from his father, didn’t pay a darn cent, and you couldn't remember the last time he pitched in a dime for anything but alcohol and the occasional dinner he made when he was in a good mood. He did do that- have these strange out of character nights where he pretended to be kind and loving. They were far and few between though and, while you enjoyed the change of pace, it felt like walking on eggshells in some fantasy world.

A heavy silence settled between the two of you that crackled with a tension that could snap at any moment and turn into a full blown fight. Your eyes were narrowed on his as you refused to let him think he intimidated you anymore. Nevertheless, you turned on your heel, nails digging into your palm, and walked down the hall towards your room, leaving him alone.

“He wouldn’t want you anyways, fuckin’ attitude like that.” Your father grumbled to your back, hoping for one last reaction out of you that you refused to give.

It took all the control in the world to not slam the door in his face but you knew there was no way it would escape Arvin’s attention. You’d have to resort to the therapy of muffling your furious tear-soaked screams into your pillow until you finally fell asleep, like you did many nights.

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x reader #Arvin Russell #arvin x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics

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citrinesparkles · 3 years

Text

doctor todd.

jason todd x gender neutral vigilante!reader. 1,875 words. notes: requested by @jason-redhood as part of my hundred followers celebration! this got a lot longer than i intended, oopsies. thanks for requesting- hope you enjoy! warnings: tending wounds, mentions of food.

"y'know, lurking outside somebody's window is a good way to get yourself shot," jason called over his shoulder.

"i'll keep that in mind," you said, voice strained enough to shoot dread into his veins and draw his attention completely away from his work.

he set the gun he had been cleaning on the table and twisted around to find you gingerly sliding through the open window.

"hey," you mumbled, giving him a weak wave after your boots hit the floor. "sorry for not calling, i just..."

you were backlit, the glow of the city making it impossible to see your features from the dining area- but your posture alone was enough to have him shoving his chair back and crossing his apartment.

"how bad?" he asked, stopping a few steps back, now able to make out the tears in your suit and the bruises around your mask.

"pretty sure i sprained my wrist, and there's a poorly-bandaged gash on my leg, but otherwise i'm peachy."

"how bad's the leg?"

"i'm... not sure. bad enough that i think i need your help." you patted the windowsill with a gloved hand. "obviously."

he nodded and slid to your good side, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "okay. c'mon, my stuff's in the bathroom."

"here." he handed you a pair of shorts and a large tank top. "change into this so i can get to the wounds, okay? i'll be right out here if you need anything."

"you're good!" you called.

he nudged the bathroom door back open and scooped your uniform up from the floor, carefully putting it in a canvas bag and tying the handles together before setting it in the tub to deal with later. "alright," he sighed, turning back to face you.

his clothes looked way too right on you, he realized, a wave of emotion he would vehemently deny surging through his chest and pushing heat to his neck and cheeks.

"alright?"

"okay. alright. uh-" he jerked a thumb at the counter- "up here, i guess, so i can see your leg."

you propped one foot on the toilet lid and braced your good hand against his shoulder, his hands instinctively coming up to hover around your waist as you pushed yourself up and settled next to the sink.

the grateful smile you gave him was enough to tug his lips into a smile of his own.

"you're up, doctor todd," you teased.

he stepped forward with a halfhearted eyeroll, fingers brushing the cloth tied hastily around your leg. "can i take this off?"

"go ahead."

he tugged gently at the knot, wincing when you inhaled sharply. "sorry."

the scrap fell away, revealing dried blood and an open wound on the outside of your thigh.

"yeesh, that is nasty," he said.

you scoffed lightly. "gee, thanks."

"hey, if you wanted a nice doctor, you probably should have gone somewhere else." he shifted to the side, grabbing a clean cloth and bottle of alcohol. "fair warning, you're really not gonna like me here in a minute."

your quick "i seriously doubt that." was greeted with a grin that felt a little too fond for his liking.

he told himself it was for your benefit.

...yeah, that sounded good.

he could live with that.

he made quick work of cleaning the gash, doing his best to distract you by making stupid small talk about the horrible movie he'd sat through that morning because the tv remote had been out of reach and the mediocre new coffee shop with dry blueberry muffins.

"was the coffee okay, at least?"

"okay, yeah, but not 'five-dollars-fifty' okay. if i hadn't been falling asleep in line i probably would have left when i saw the price."

"there's a nice one up by my place, they make the best blueberry muffins ever."

he hummed. "i'll keep that in mind, next time i'm over that way." he leaned back, studying your cut. "i think stitches would probably be smart."

you groaned. "of course they would."

"i'm okay to do them- i do them on myself- but if you want i can give you a lift to a hospital or something."

"no. if you can, i want you to do them. i trust you."

he sat with that for a minute, searching your face for any hesitation. when he found none, he nodded. "okay."

as you both expected, it sucked.

to make things worse, he was rapidly running out of mindless things to talk about.

how many times could two people really argue about pizza toppings before it got old?

"alright, done."

"holy shit, finally." you slumped back, leaning on your good hand for a moment before your head snapped back up. "no, not like- i meant thank you, you did great, i'm not being an ingrate-"

"i know, relax." he nudged your knee with a goofy smile. "here, gimme your wrist."

you pouted (which, yes, that was also adorable, much to his dismay), carefully stretching your bad arm out.

he took your hand gently, scooping it up in one of his and bracing your forearm up with his other. "it's actually not too bad, considering you hit hard enough to tear your glove. i'm gonna clean the scrapes here up, though, okay?"

"do i really get a choice?"

"it's your body, so, yeah."

you sighed dramatically. "fine, if you insist. go ahead, clean my wounds for me."

he was quiet this time, focusing intently on removing bits of dirt and stuff from your raw palm with a set of tweezers.

trying to ignore the way your eyes seemed to linger on him now that he was looking down.

he set the tweezers aside, glancing up at you to find you smiling at him thoughtfully, and dropped his gaze just as quickly as he had lifted it. "what, you enjoying making me do all the work?"

"you could say that, yeah."

he scoffed. "well, you're going to enjoy it a lot less in a second. time for the alcohol again."

"ugh."

he managed to dig up an old wrist brace in the back of his sock drawer. a little big for you, but it would work for now, he figured.

"may i?"

you nodded and held your arm back out for him to loop the brace over your thumb and tuck the velcro strap under and around, pulling it snug against your skin before sticking it to itself.

"last one, tough stuff." he pointed at your cheek, where a small patch of dried blood stained your skin. "ready?'

you nodded tiredly. "let's just get this over with. this counter isn't as comfortable as it looks."

he chuckled, dampening the softest cloth he had and wringing it out. "sorry, i didn't think i needed to get an apartment with counter cushions." he raised his left hand up, hovering an inch or so below your chin. "uh, can i..?"

your eyes widened, glancing at his hand. "oh, uh, sure. yeah."

he moved slowly, raising it to cup your chin softly with his middle and forefinger on one side and thumb on the other. "this okay?"

"mhm." your eyes slid shut and he could almost believe that you sank into his touch.

if it wasn't absolutely insane, anyway. his touch wasn't exactly the kind people sank into- much less people like you. people that good, that caring, that stunning? yeah, no.

he tilted your head to the side slightly, rubbing gentle circles across your cheekbone with the cloth and watching as the blood faded.

"so, who did this?" he asked softly, casually.

apparently not casually enough, though, because you snorted at him. "why, you think you need to go avenge me? defend my honor or something?"

"no! i'm just curious. just... making conversation."

your eyes opened, amusement dancing in them and threatening to hypnotize him. "good. i shouldn't have to tell you who won that fight, jay."

"well, i mean, you are missing a chunk of your thigh."

"aw, is the big bad vigilante worried about lil old me?"

he squeezed your face gently, pushing your cheeks up and forward into a goofy fish face. "it's rude to tease the guy tending to your wounds, babe."

he definitely didn't imagine your breath hitching. "babe, huh?" you asked playfully.

"shut up," he grumbled. "don't make me regret helping."

"alright, looks like that's the last scrape. you're all cleaned up."

"thanks, jason." you smiled up at him, soft and warm and genuine. "i really appreciate this."

"yeah, yeah." he squeezed your jaw again. "try not to make it a habit."

"mhm." a moment passed quietly before you spoke quietly. "so, you gonna do something here, or can i have my face back?"

he froze.

your mouth- which he was really trying not to look at- shifted into a confident smirk, a challenge written clearly in the angle of your lips.

your eyes, bright under the harsh lighting, told a different story. one of vulnerability, and want, and something close to fear.

"do you want me to?" his voice was hoarser than he'd intended, and he swore you could hear his heartbeat echoing in it.

your gaze dipped to his lips. "would it make everything super weird?"

"you just came crawling through my window in the middle of the night in a mask and kevlar. i think things are already weird."

he felt your hum under his fingers. "then why not?"

"do you really want me to answer that?"

"jason, will you please just kiss me already?"

"well, you did say please." he leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to slip away or yell 'sike!'

all you did was bring your good hand up to his collar and pull him towards you.

your lips were soft and gentle, and the way they pulled upwards slightly when his hand slid from your jaw to cup your cheek was something he'd be thinking about for weeks.

when he eventually pulled back, it took him a moment to open his eyes. he was half convinced that if he did, it would be to his bedroom ceiling, the past half an hour all a dream.

instead, he found your fond gaze.

"finally."

he let out a huff of laughter, thumb running over your cheek. "you should stay here tonight."

"w-"

"not like that," he clarified quickly. "you have stitches, you shouldn't go leaping across rooftops tonight. i can take the couch."

"hm." you smoothed out his shirt collar, the barely-there brush of your fingers against his shoulder almost tugging a whine out of him. "or i can take the couch, and then you can take me home in the morning and let me treat you to an actual blueberry muffin."

"are you asking me out?" it was a teasing comment, paired with a tiny smirk meant to fluster you.

but it was also a reality check.

you seemed to catch the second meaning. "yeah, i am. would you, please, let me take you out on a date?"

"i'll have to check my calenda-"

"you're so full of it."

"yeah, probably."

"is that a yes?"

he laughed, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your knee. "yeah, i can let you take me on a date. i could use a good muffin."

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cronchevans · 3 years

Note

Sweet daddy Curtis, having a shit life in the tail end, either he takes you from the front somehow, maybe during the revolt, or maybe during a failed revolt, but he gets you to himself. No one in the front gave two shits about you, but he does, you never fear him, he's always insane sweet and soft to you, gives you attention like no one ever has, he's soft with you and only you, is insane protective of you and will kill for you if need be. You're his soft baby and he loves you more then anything

i’m trying to get back into writing, so @autumnrose40 was kind enough to give me a starter prompt. i’ll make another post elaborating on what i wanna write and y’all can feel free to send prompts or asks based on that! anyway, here’s a snowpiercer au because we felt like curtis would be such a soft daddy after everything he’s been through. sorry if there’s mistakes.

when you heard the rumble coming from the back of the train, you knew the revolt was upon you. everyone else seemed blissfully unaware as they drank and indulged, but you could feel the vibrations, hear the gunshots. you couldn’t understand why they wanted to get to the front so badly, it’s not like life was perfect here. you’d been taken as a pet, kept chained and silenced for the amusement of the front passengers. you were fed scraps in a bowl and infantilized, wearing nothing more than a skimpy piece of silk and a diaper, for when you inevitably couldn’t hold it anymore. the people in the front spoke down to you, mocking and sneering, as they pulled your hair and called you a baby when you cried. you couldn’t even speak in full sentences anymore and no one cared. you weren’t there to talk, you were there for pleasure and to look pretty.

as the rumbling came closer, the others did start to take notice then. all around you people were fleeing to the next car, hoping the onslaught would stop here. you lowered your head and cowered against the wall, whimpering and tugging on your chain lightly, hoping someone would take pity on you. but no one did. you were a decoration, not a living, breathing thing. you curled in further on yourself and hoped it would be over soon, hoped that the people from the back would show you a merciful end to this tiresome life.

the door burst open and you yelped with fear. at first, all you could see was smoke and silhouettes. then, out of the chaos emerged a tall, dark figure, blood spattered and wearing a terrifying grimace. you watched with interest first as he scanned the room, his presence filling the space. you blinked at him wit wide eyed curiosity until his steel blue eyes met yours from across the room, and suddenly you were scared all over again. with another small whimper, you curled into the fetal position on the cold metal floor and shut your eyes tightly. you could hear his boots stomp heavily towards you, feel the vibrations running up your spine. silently, you prayed over and over for a painless release from this suffering. you were so frantic that you hardly heard the words spoken above you.

“hey, little one,” a deep voice rumbled. you didn’t dare look. “it’s alright now, we’re not gonna hurt you…”

a hand reached out, gently brushing against your bare skin, and you cried out as if you’d been burned. quickly, the hand recoiled and you dared to open your eyes to find the same pair of piercing blue eyes looking down at you, not steeled like they were before, but soft and kind.

“it’s okay,” the man repeated again, holding out his hands in a placating gesture, as though trying to calm a spooked animal. you shook your head, eyes wide with fear as you tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. you were trapped between the traitorss from the back and the unforgiving wall behind.

you opened your mouth, to say what exactly, you were unsure, but words had been taken from you a long time ago. instead you fussed and whimpered, balling your hands up in little fists and waving them anxiously in front of you, not to defend yourself, but in a desperate attempt to communicate. the man’s eyes softened further and he cooed lowly at you.

“they just left you here, all alone little one?” he asked and he sounded so sad as he looked up towards his other companions. you weren’t used to being spoken to directly, but knew damn well the consequences if you didn’t answer. frightfully, you nodded and made a small affirming sound. the man sighed, sounding angry this time, which made you cry out and curl into yourself tighter. immediately, his expression softened as he hushed you gently, saying, “no, no honey, don’t be afraid. i’m not mad at you. i’m mad at the people who left you like this, you poor little thing. you can’t even take care of yourself, can you?”

you made another small, sad noise and blinked away your tears rapidly; they didn’t like it when you cried. the man huffed and stood up fully and you though to yourself, this is it, this is how it ends. you shut your eyes for the inevitable blow, perhaps the one that would knock you out for good. you tried not to be afraid in your last moments, but you’d spent so much time scared and alone, you didn’t know how to be anything else anymore. you waited and waited, but still nothing happened. until suddenly, you felt a sharp tug and heard a loud clang. the chain keeping you attached to the wall loosened and clattered to the floor, freeing you for the first time in years. your eyes shot open and you blinked up at the man in confusion. he knelt back down to be closer to eye level with you as he spoke in low, gentle tones.

“i’m curtis,” he said, gesturing to himself. you peeked up at him and a pang in your heart made you wish you remembered your own name. he smiled just barely, so you mirrored his gesture. this only made the smile grow wider, more fond. “can i touch you, little one?”

that was an odd question, you can’t recall the last time someone had asked to touch you, never mind looked at you with such tenderness. you wanted to cling to him, to make him smile more, to make him happy. shyly, you nodded, and the man - curtis - wrapped a large hand around your little waist and pulled you in against his warm, solid chest.

“there you are, honey,” he cooed as he stroked your back and nuzzled your hair. “daddy’s got you.” you all but melted into his embrace, making happy baby noises and gripping his blood stained jacket tighter.

curtis shifted you in his arms, and for a fear filled moment, you were afraid he was going to toss you away because you’d done the wrong thing. but instead, he picked you up and held you tightly to his chest, your legs nearly atrophied from being unable to stand on your own free will. he looked down at you and his eyes were so soft, your breathing hitched and you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your face. you hiccuped and sobbed your way through it, curtis holding you and whispering reassurances.

“don’t cry, little one, please don’t cry. daddy’s here.”

you cried for what seemed like hours until you slowly calmed down and what were heaving sobs turned into little breaths and whimpers. curtis rocked you through it, humming lightly under his breath. you whined to get his attention, knocking your little fists into his chest. he smiled down at you warmly as he said, “all better now, little one?” shyly, you nodded yes, before hiding your face in his shirt. you liked the way it felt when he breathed, his solid chest a comfort beneath you. “you’re gonna come with us now, okay?” your eyes flashed up in fear, but curtis hushed you gently, cupping your little face with his big hand. “don’t fuss, baby. daddy will always take care of you and keep you safe, i promise.”

still gripped with fear, but for the first time in ages, words tumbled past your lips, barely even a whisper. “y-you…you is my dada now…?” you blinked up at him and waited with bated breath. “keep safies?”

curtis beamed, and you thought that a smile like that could light up even the darkest corners of this cold, decrepit earth. “yes, baby,” he said before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’m your daddy now.”

#snowpiercer au #reader insert #curtis everett x reader #daddy!curtis x little!reader #daddy!curtis #little!reader #daddy x little #curtis x reader #reader insert fic

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