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cowboycoups · 4 months

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What a perv.

Pairing: fem!reader x Dino

Wc. 1.5k

Summary: Your clothes begin to go missing and you go to ask Chan about them - Just to find out that he's been stealing them for his own pleasure.

Warnings: smut!, porn no plot, afab reader, pet names, gendered terms, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, teasing, oral, slight fingering, mention of god (“oh my god”)

Author note: Disappeared for a bit but I'm back!! I've had a fat crush on Dino for a while but the subby Chan fic drought is REAL. I literally can't find any fics for him?! Something about Chan being needy and stuff just gets me kjdfkjs so I decided to just write it myself LOLOL

—

You hop out of bed with the plan of heading out for a cup of coffee and hopefully some breakfast and quickly rush to throw your clothes on to leave before breakfast hours are over. Rummaging through your closet, you look for your favorite sweatshirt.

Over the past few days, you’ve noticed that your clothes have slowly gone missing. First, a sock, which was followed by your shirt shortly, then your favorite sweatshirt, and lastly, your panties.

You didn’t pay much mind to the sudden disappearance of your clothing until your favorite sweatshirt went missing but didn’t begin looking for it until now. You found it odd but just assumed that the washing machine fairy stole them or something.

Five minutes pass and your room becomes a colorful mess of clothes that you’ve thrown around in search of your sweatshirt. Now that you were on the hunt for your missing clothing, it was the only goal you were focused on and completely forgot about why you were even looking to wear it.

After going through your entire closet, you decided that maybe you left it outside on the couch or table and scurried out of your room. You quickly run around your house still in search of your sweatshirt before you stop to grab your hair out of frustration. Where’d it go? You remember washing it, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Hey! Channie! Have you seen my sweatshirt?” You shout out as you slowly walk toward Chan’s room. “Ya know, my favorite o-” You stop in your tracks. Your words are cut off out of surprise by the low grunts and soft moans coming out of his room. Steadily, you walk toward his door which was cracked open. “Chan…?”

His moans begin to get louder as you get closer to his room and you peek in. Your eyes widen and your hands are quick to cover your mouth as you look inside to find Chan holding your missing sweatshirt up to his nose in one hand and your panties wrapped around his cock, which he jerked at in his other. “So that's where they went.” you lean in closer to the door.

You watch as he falls back onto his bed while sniffing your clothing and begins to thrust his hips up and into the air lightly while moaning. “Please… Y/N… please-” he breathily begs out with his body still moving. “Oh, god, I’m gonna, oh my god-” his voice spikes up as you watch him begin to shake. His feet run up and down his sheets before laying flat and curling while he continues to jerk himself off.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His body tenses up and he freezes at your words. He springs up and throws his blanket over himself in a failed attempt to hide what he's been doing and you watch as his face immediately becomes flushed with red out of embarrassment.

“Hey- I- I can explain!” He stutters out before worriedly gritting his teeth together. “This- This isn’t what it looks like I swea-”

You rush toward him and grab him by the jaw with one hand, causing him to almost go limp in your grasp. He felt his heart begin to race further as his body was still stuck frozen. He could feel himself getting harder just from you being so close to him. “What do you think you’re doing?” You shove your thumb into his mouth.

“Nnnghhh!" He gagged as you pushed your thumb down his throat. His cock twitched in anticipation, leaking pre-cum onto the floor. He continued to gag as you played with his tongue, moving your thumb around and teasing him mercilessly. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you smirked as he let out small moans.

The sight of Chan looking so desperate in your grasp caused you to feel yourself get wet, his eyes widening as he looked up and into yours. He couldn't believe he got caught, but he couldn't deny the pleasure that he was experiencing. His cock throbbed, begging for release. “How badly do you want me?” you removed your hand and leaned in closer for a kiss.

He gasped as your hand left him, his body craving more of you. As your lips met him in a forceful kiss, he couldn't help but moan into the kiss. “So, so bad. Please- I need you.” he cried out.

“Oh fuck.." He groaned as you got down on the floor and started sucking him off. It felt amazing, better than anything he'd ever experienced. His hands ran through your hair, pulling gently as he lost himself in the sensation.

You take him in deeper, nearing his base. "God, that feels- so-" His voice was ragged as he tried to catch his breath between pants. He couldn't believe how good it felt, how good you felt, and the way you were taking him deeper with each passing moment.

"Oh fuck- you're amazing..." He arched his back, pushing more of his length into your mouth as he lost control entirely. His hips began to thrust slowly, meeting your sucking motions with force.

You lift your head and hear a pop come from you removing the suction of your mouth from his cock. "No... don't stop… please.." He moaned, his voice muffled slightly by the pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets as he tried to steady himself, his cock still throbbing for release.

“Finish yourself.” You stared up at him.

"I... can't.." He gasped, his body tensing up as he felt the rush of his climax approaching. Heat spread throughout his veins, and he couldn't hold back any longer. You watched as his hips began to thrust into the empty air again.

"Fuck..." With a groan, Chan finally let go, his cum shooting onto his blanket. His body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm, leaving him panting and weak-kneed.

“Good boy.” You praised with a light smile at the sight of him.

“Thank you..." He whispered, his voice hoarse from pleasure.

“What about you return the favor? You should put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Please…" he panted out, switching places with you unsteadily, and kneeling between your legs. His hands gently parted your folds, revealing your slick entrance. He looked up at you with eagerness before lowering his head to taste you.

With his tongue, he began to explore your folds, tasting every inch of you. His hands gently massaged your thighs, spreading your legs further apart to grant him better access. “Oh my god, you taste so-” he exclaimed with each hurried breath.

You moaned as he continued, causing him to take it as encouragement and push his tongue deeper inside you, finding your sensitive spot and teasing it relentlessly. His fingers found their way back to your clit, rolling it gently between his thumb and middle finger while he continued.

Hearing your moans grow louder and more intense, he knew he was doing all the right things. His movements became faster and more determined, his fingers working in perfect sync with his tongue. “You- You don’t know how bad I needed you-” He continued as he used his other hand to jerk at himself again.

As you neared your climax, he increased the pressure on your sensitive spots. Determined to make you cum, His tongue flicked against your G-spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

Finally, with a loud moan, you climaxed. Your juices flooded his mouth, and he continued to lap at your entrance, savoring the taste of your cum.

As your orgasm subsided, he pulled back gently and stood up before you grabbed his cock and led him back inside.

Biting his lip, he positioned his cock at your entrance and thrust inside you. The feeling of him filling you up sent shivers down your spine as you were still sensitive. “Keep.. keep going..”

“I’ve been thinking about you all week…" he moaned, complying with your request. His hips moved in perfect rhythm with your demands, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness with each thrust.

His thrusts grew harder and faster, pushing deeper into you each time. His hands found their way onto your hips, holding you tightly to move you onto his cock faster. With a moan, he picked up the pace even more, pushing himself deeper into you, his cock stretching you to your limits.

Sweat beaded on your forehead as he continued to pound into you, his breathing ragged in your ear. You could feel the anticipation building once more in the both of you. “Just like that baby…”

“Oh no- Think I'm gonna-" he moaned out with his jaw still hanging. His hips jerked violently against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his heated cum.

His thrusts grew weak, his orgasm subsiding as he released the last of his cum inside you. He leaned down, kissing you before laying next to you and nuzzling against you gently. “Thank you… so, so much…”

Feeling his cooling cum inside you, you continued to rub yourself with a smirk, the sensation causing you to twitch from the sensitivity as you recovered from the experience. “Whatever pervert.”

#kpop #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen lee chan #seventeen dino #seventeen imagines #sub!leechan #sub!dino #sub!chan #dino x reader #dino smut

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rowretro · 2 months

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𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of pervs, human hearts, violence

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki. The Robot created by Yang Jungwon himself, a robot that is insanely human like, inside and out. No one could tell he was a robot. However, the Robot had possessed demonly powers, from Satan himself. So I guess you could see it's a half robot. Yang y/n, the younger sister of Jungwon finds herself stuck to this robot 24/7 no matter what she tried, he will always be by her because she's his muse, his world, his love, his obsession.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

(PART 1)

No one knew how it happened, or what even happened. Jungwon never even gave this charming robot any ability to feel any sort of feelings a human would feel. Yet this Robot was staring at this beautiful, his memory card now filled with all kinds of videos of her, facts about her, her favourite things, people, crush. He's so obsessed with her. No one knows that though.

Riki watched as y/n dried her hair. "Staring at humans counts as creepy, disrespectful and weird NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply said as Riki didn't bother turning away. There was a heart blooming within his metal insides. Literally. There was a heart. That heart was beating just for her. He watched as Y/n applied some tinted lip gloss over the lip tint she was wearing.

"Beautiful." The male said in Japanese, his voice deep as fuck. Y/n turned around frowning "Your boy toy said something in a foreign language-" Y/n said as Jungwon also frowned. "I had a Japanese scientist help me out on this project, so he also communicates in Japanese... he knows every language in the world though" Jungwon explained proudly as Y/n rolled her eyes. She tried to turn on the hair dryer but it wasn't working "Ugh I have a nerdy brother who loves metal more than girls, and this stupid hairdryer isn't working?!" Y/n complained as Jungwon rolled his eyes.

"NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply called out as he left the room with some files. The robot approached her, the scent of her freshly washed hair hitting the sensors in his nose "Coconut... delicious" he said as he held the hairdryer, the machine suddenly working. Y/n gasped, smiling "Oh my god this is so cool!" She exclaimed as Riki smiled, drying her hair. Y/n was very awestricken by the beauty this robot held, the unreal, human like skin, even his eyes were like those of a human, fuck he can even smile, move, talk, walk and do everything the way a human can.

"You scare me... but at times I wish there was a real man like you... handsome, kind, perfect, caring." Y/n sighed as Riki tilted his head a little "Why's that?" Riki asked as Y/n pouted "Because so many men these days don't respect women... Don't tell won but there's some boys in my class, ugh shameless pervs. It's like... God made sure that every man ever made had to have flaws when it comes to dating." She added with a pout.

Riki listened intently, Registering every little detail. "I'm a good man Yang Y/n you can count on me!" he replied as Y/n blinked in silence, that silence then followed by her sweet laughter as she pat the robot's chest, oh how fast his heart was beating as she suddenly squished his chest a little "Wow you feel like a human too... god you're so cute NI-KI bot... maybe Jungwon's projects aren't so boring afterall" she said with a smile.

"I'm not taking a metal boy toy to prom!!!" Y/n exclaimed as Jungwon rolled his eyes "No one needs to know he's a robot... and I need you to be safe so you will." He warned as y/n sighed. Riki walked out, dressed in a suit looking sharp as ever, his black hair now slightly longer, his skin glowing. There's no way this thing is real. That was until she saw him dance in prom. So full of energy, so perfect, any idol would give up their career seeing how flawlessly he danced.

However, Something Jungwon noticed was that Riki was acting strange. Since when was his robot able to smile? since when was this robot able to drink liquids and eat human foods? and since when did this robot know how to treat women. Specifically Y/n. Oh he noticed those lingering hands, awe stricken eyes. Which is what led to him trying to destroy the robot. "Master won... how could you?... I- I see you as my father!" the robot exclaimed as Jungwon stared in shock.

That's how it all started. With Jungwon giving up, allowing the robot to love his sister, having been given no other choice. Heck when he opened Riki's chest, his own heart almost jumped out through his mouth seeing a real human heart beating withing the metal rib cages. How did this happen? No one knows.

Poor y/n was still clueless of everything. Everyday she walked to school, the amount of boys that studied there were decreasing by the day. She walked in one day only to find the 4 perverted students she always complains about, bloody and stabbed into the wall. So many murder cases were happening around and she was just in an emotional rollercoaster.

"Let it out y/n... it's good for Human's to cry... here Cry in my embrace... I'll protect you sweetheart" The robot offered. She was a little triggered by the nickname, but still accepted the metal man's comfort, his arms so muscular and human like, she couldn't' help but squeeze the biceps and allow herself to shamelessly snuggle into his chest. He felt so... comfortable. The robot inhaled the scent of her hair, smirking down at her.

Y/n gasped, jolting up all of a sudden. "Y-You have a heart beat- that's weird..." Y/n said as Riki shrugged. That very night, y/n was out on a walk. Out of the blue, a male had pushed her to the wall. Of course, one of the friends of those perverted boys. "You... you did something didn't you?! Who the fuck did you hire you little bitch?!!!" he yelled as he yanked her hair, putting a blade to her neck. Wrong move. Very wrong move.

Within seconds, that blade melted in his hand. Beside him, that handsome, creepy Nishimura Riki. "What the fuck?!... who's this- oh... so this must be the whore who killed them huh?" The man said as Y/n frowned. She flinched when he tried to Punch Riki with his bladed knuckles. But nothing happened. his skin still intact, face still the same. "What the fuck...-" the male said to himself as he pulled out a blade and tried to stab Riki, the knife bent in half and snapped.

That second. He knew he fucked up. Riki's fingers wrapped around his neck and dug into his human skin "NI-KI BOT NO NO- THAT'S MURDER- YOU KNOW THIS" Y/n explained as the robot adopted a rather sinister smirk. His grip tightening, fingers now ripping into the man's throat, blood and flesh coating his hand and the floor as he finally let go hearing Y/n's scream.

"Oh no darling... now now, calm down only a little blood... it's only murder if you humans kill a human... I'm no human baby... plus I did this for you... I did all of this for you baby... I told you I'm your man I can trust you, but all these men are trying to hurt you..." Riki said, a small cute pout on his lips as Y/n just fainted, her head hitting his chest. "There there, I've got you princess... Finally have you to myself..." He smiled, patting her cheek as he carried her home. This day, the demon brought hell to y/n...

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wood-white-writer · 5 months

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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [8/...]

— OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"My love is mine, all mine. I love, my, my, mine. Nothing in the world belongs to me but my love,"

— Mitski, "My Love Mine All Mine"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Buggy, desperate for your attention, can't help but think about what led to this situation.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, depiction of blood and wounds, DIY suturing, slight alcoholic indulgence, Buggy realizing he's fucked up big time

Buggy recalls the first time he caught your smile.

It had been several months since the Captain introduced you to the crew. Despite the sorry state you were in at the time of your debut, your eyes were so bright even back then, as though illuminated by something internal.

He’s heard about fish glowing in the dark even when in the deep depths of the ocean, thousands of miles out of the light, and they require nothing but themselves to keep the light on.

He wondered if you’re like that. You didn’t look like a fish, nor did you remind him of any fish people he had encountered; too pretty and earthbound but glowing all the same.

Glowing, but dull. A knife that's not been polished for long, but still being used as intended.

Everything about you, how you walked and moved, all the way down to how you blinked, felt placid and stale from his perspective. He himself was an expressive man, never denying himself the capacity to show how he felt, so to witness it from you felt like a foreign sight.

You didn’t smile, nor show much of anything really. No sadness, anger, or joy. Just a blank canvas without any colors.

He compared you to a doll; a mannequin having come to life from behind a display case, breathing and blinking and moving, yet maintaining its lifeless nature all the same. You were strong, exceedingly so, and you followed orders without question or complaint. Like a machine working on auto.

He wondered whether you had been a slave or some kind of child soldier before Rogers found you. You must have been because no one becomes this … this … cold of their own volition.

He found that your apparent incapacity to live annoyed him, and so he set out to change it. He didn’t know why, but he just had to.

Quite frankly, he didn’t know what he said or did. Maybe he told some silly joke, the kind his crew mates usually smacked him in the back of the head for due to its cheesiness, but you smiled.

The image of that remains stuck in his head like a stain that won’t wash off. He remembers everything about that moment. The way you wore your hair, with a singular braid on the right side of your face. Asymmetrical and messy, yet you made it look just right.

He remembers the way the gray sky parted just in time for a ray of sunlight to shine across the deck, further illuminating your face. It was like the heavens above decided to put a spotlight on you.

He recalls the way your eyes glistened in the sun.

He remembers it all.

Maybe that’s when it first began? This … thing that’s been gnawing at him for so long? This feeling that won’t leave him in peace, even in his sleep. It tugs at his chest, pinches his stomach, itches his skin, and warms his face.

This feeling that’s been clawing at him in the twenty years you were parted.

The source of that feeling that’s currently looking at him from across the room.

His eyes light up like fireworks upon seeing you enter the kitchen area. “Hey! Look who it ...—!" The moment he sees the state you're in, whatever words were about to exit subsequently fall dead on his tongue. "— ... is."

You look like shit, mildly put. He's never seen you look as terrible before save for the time you first joined Rogers’ crew, and it feels like he’s back there again.

Back to sitting on the sidelines as the Captain procured you from under his oversized coat; a kid who looked smaller than she really was, now with a fresh bruise in development across your cheek, sunken eyes, and a pale complexion to your skin that wasn't there before.

You're leaning onto Rubber Boy like he's your only lifeline from falling headfirst into the floor, and upon squinting his eyes, Buggy notices the edge of a bandage peeking out from under your shirt, with a drop of blood staining the material.

In all the time Buggy's known you, he's only seen you bleed maybe once or twice. It was a rare occurrence; no blade could pierce your skin, nor daggers or swords. Your hide was impenetrable, like molten armor in the flesh. Arlong really did a number on you. He couldn't see much during the time he was stuck in that God-awful bag, but by the sounds of it, it was not a fight you were winning. He always held onto the notion that you were unbeatable; unbroken. Nothing could hope to harm you.

However, this diluted image of you he’s presented with confirms the opposite. You’re not invincible. You’re human. Faster, stronger, indefinitely more dangerous than the rest if your track record is anything to go by, but still bitterly human to the core.

When he led Arlong to Baratie, he thought you'd be able to finish the fucker off without a struggle. He'd watch the spectacle from the front rows, popcorn in his metaphorical hands while cheering you on from the sidelines.

Now, seeing you like this, like you've just walked through hell and back, he can't help but acknowledge the fact that he did this to you. He led Arlong to you.

He swallows the lump in his throat and stores the guilt away for another day.

Your eyes finally meet, for the first time since Orange Town, and he can see the confusion in your eyes. The hesitation that gradually morphs into the anger that he's become acquainted with as of late. You promptly yank yourself free from Luffy, stomp over to the table with uneven and unsteady steps that threaten to topple you over, and finally slam both of your hands on each side of Buggy's head.

The table cracks lightly under your grip, sending several splinters flying in every direction. Buggy gulps nervously.

"H-Heya, doll," he tries, but the darkness over your eyes leaves no room for sugarcoated words. They never did.

"Luffy," you say calmly while never taking your eyes away from the clown's, unbridled rage simmering in their depths despite your compromised state. "Why is he here?"

"About that ..." Luffy sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "He's the only one who knows the way to Arlong Park."

"To Arlong P— … " Your nails leave crescent-shaped holes in the soft tablecloth, and you glance at Luffy from over your shoulder, looking far more tired after seeing Buggy for ten seconds than you did beforehand. "And you're sure there'sno other way of getting there?"

"Nope!" Buggy interjects with a prominent pop!, hoping to catch your attention again. "He was real secretive about where his little fish-mancave's located. Lucky for you, I memorized the way back to my body!"

He's disappointed that you won't turn to even acknowledge his contributions to the conversation. You won't look at him again, and he discovers that he can't bear it.

Please look at me!

But you don't.

The silence is suffocating until you push yourself from your table, and he notices the way you cradle the side of your stomach while doing so. A silent hiss leaves your lips that he would've been unable to catch onto had he not been so focused on your reactions.

You look at Luffy, your back turned to Buggy, and limp over to the pathetic captain. Buggy predicts you’re about to shout at him, tell him the stupidity of this decision, and maybe even smack him across the face for emphasis. He hopes you will; the kid needs to have his ass kicked a few times to compensate for the humiliation the clown suffered at his hands.

To his bitter disappointment, you don’t commit yourself to any of the aforementioned. Really, not even a smack? Instead, all you do is heave an exhausted sigh before you prepare to exit the kitchens. "It's your decision," you say, and that's all you say before Buggy has to suffer your absence again.

———

It's the bounty hunter's turn to keep watch over him tonight, and Buggy, for one, would rather prefer to get tossed into the ocean than suffer like this.

He finds that this asshole is the worst one among the bunch to be keeping an eye on him. While the waiter and the long-nosed idiot would rather ignore him and leave him be, Moss-hairs over there seems like he has it out for him the most. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he almost killed him, but hey, all is fair in piracy?

"YAH!" Buggy shrieks when the asshole yanks him by the scruff of his hair with an iron grip, pulling out several blue hair strands while doing so. "CAREFUL WITH THE HAIR, SHITHEAD!"

"Shut up."

He can only hang when Zoro takes him inside to the kitchens, where the pretty-boy with the blonde hair is already cooking something up. Even before they entered the threshold to the kitchen, Buggy could hear your voice. You were talking to the blonde, and judging by the lightness in your tone, you were at ease enough not to be spiteful.

Buggy feels himself become annoyed, and not even the smell of food can tame it regardless of how hungry he is.

"Also, you should stitch up that wound soon," says the blonde, his voice growing more audible the closer they get to the kitchen. "Wouldn't want it to get infected."

"I'll handle it," you say in turn. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to do something like this."

"You know, if you want to, I can lend you my hands. I'm told I have quite dexterous fingers, molded for delicate work."

"I'll pass, thank you."

"As you wish, but my offer is still on the table should you have a change of heart."

Buggy doesn't even know the guy, and he already wants to drown him. Whatever hunger occupied his stomach miles away with the rest of his body gets promptly replaced with something far sharper. Far uglier. It has teeth long enough to bite through flesh, claws that can tear open flesh, and it’s starving.

They finally enter the kitchen area, and whatever conversation previously took place shifts into silence upon their entrance.Buggy grins as he meets your eyes. "What's tonight’s specials?" he asks, hoping you'll actually respond with something this time, regardless of how sardonic it is.

He wouldn’t mind it if it’s something along the lines of “Fuck you” or “Eat shit” or “I hope you die, asshole.” It only has to be something, but it seems that even that is too high of a criterion for you to bother with.

You merely get up to your feet, unsteadiness painting your steps, and try to excuse yourself from the room without as much as a look his way.

For the duration of his uncomfortable stay with these shitty nobodies, Buggy's main priority aside from navigating this useless crew and getting his body back is your attention.

However, whenever someone — whether it be that shitty cook or the bounty hunter or the slingshot — brings him someplace where you coincidentally happen to be, you excuse yourself from their company and go someplace else.

He finds it more torturous than the bounty hunter's hold on him. It's been like this for the past two days. You won’t talk to him, won’t look at him, you won’t even acknowledge him even when he’s being the loudest head in the room.

Sure, he can piss off the rest of the bunch without even trying, but no matter how much he tries to catch your ire, you don’t take the bite.

The string that’s been dangling him above the water is just about ready to snap at this point.

"Hold up," Zoro says and proceeds to hold up Buggy's head for you, ignoring the string of curses that flow from his lips. "I want to eat my dinner in peace, so you take him."

Your face, while blank, cannot disguise the irritation laced in your words. "Give him to Ussop."

"He's on watch duty tonight,"

"Sanji?"

"My fine lady, as much as I'd desire to ease your woes, I'm currently preoccupied with preparing the meals." The blonde raises his pan for emphasis. "I would have lent you my aid, do not doubt that."

You’re not convinced. "… Right." Your eyes finally settle down to Buggy, and with great reluctance on your part, you slowly raise your hands up to take him.

Zoro smirks and deposits the clown into your hands. The absence of pressure at the top of his head is a welcomed reprieve. Your hold — while firmer around his cheeks than he'd prefer — is not uncomfortable per se. At least, not in comparison to your other crew mates.

He considers this a win. It's been far too long since he's been granted your touch, the last time being when you bid him a bitter goodbye back in Orange Town.

"Also," you say to Zoro. "I need a bottle of rum and a rag."

The swordsman tilts his head skeptically to the side. "Haven't you had enough to drink?"

"I need it to sterilize the sewing equipment."

Realization dawns on his face and Zoro relents. He hands you a bottle of rum from the kitchen cabinet, and after thanking him, you make your way to your cabins with the bottle in one hand whereas Buggy rests in the crook of your other elbow.

The walk is excruciatingly quiet, only the sound of your feet making any noise. It's deafening, and he can't stand it. He needs noise, preferably from you, but he doesn’t mind being the instigator.

"... So," he begins. "You know how to stitch yourself?"

You don't answer, and when he peeks up at you, your eyes are solely aimed at the path ahead.

"You gotta have the right technique," he continues, a little more energized. "Or it'll become an ugly scar. I can help you with it, I'm a pretty good seamster if I do say so myself."

Again, you don't dignify him with a response. He bites his cheek. Fuck, this is getting tiresome.

He looks up at you again, and he notices just how different you've become from when you were younger. Your eyes were bright, but your smile was even brighter. You'd happily chat with him for hours and hours on end without ever growing bored of the conversation. You'd joke, you'd playfully hit him (though your definition of 'playful' usually had him stumbling in his steps), and you'd smile.

Now, your eyes are dark, and sunken, and there are several wrinkles in development; not from age alone, but simple exhaustion. The years have truly changed you, and the itch nagging him at the back of his head reminds him that it's partially his fault.

He decides to shut up until you reach your cabin.

Your place, he discovers, is vaguely minimalistic at best. You have the basics: a hammock in the far corner, a chair with a small table next to it, a barrel serving as both a nightstand as well as what he assumes to be a storage space of sorts, and a lantern on the top that's already been lit.

You close the door behind you and head for the table. He expects you to all but pummel him down on it, like your crew mates, maybe even drop him altogether for the heck of it. He braces himself for impact and shuts his eyes when you raise your hands.

To his surprise, you simply put him down on top of it without any unnecessary pressure or force. He feels the wooden surface under his neck without any discomfort, and he can't help but notice that you've deliberately positioned his face towards the window.

He tries to plop around, like a fish out of water, but your hands - a little tighter around him this time - retract his movement. "Hey, what gives?!”

He doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to ask, already knowing that you're probably not going to answer.

To his surprise, you actually do this time.

"Don't look." Despite the sharp enunciation of your voice, the one he's been aching to hear for the past two days, it sounds hushed.

Not wanting to piss you off in case you decide to completely ignore him again, now that he's regained a smidgen of your notice, Buggy complies and elects to stare out of the window in spite of the desperate need to remain focused on you.

However, Buggy's never been one to completely follow the rules, so he decides to bend them. The window provides him a half-measured view of you in its reflection, with the dark waves serving as an addition to your image. A beautiful addition at that.

How sad is it that this is the only way he can look at you now?

He listens and watches as you put the liquor bottle on the table inches away from him, and then you proceed to retrieve a box of something hidden under the wood. It's not until you put it down next to the bottle and open it that he discovers that it's some kind of sewing kit.

You take a small mirror and put it on the edge of the window frame at a very specific angle.

Eyes sharp and focused on the task at hand, you withdraw a needle of adequate size from the box, carefully pull a thread through the pinhole, and douse them both with booze. Shortly after taking a generous gulp of the liquor yourself, you put them both to the side to draw up the side of your shirt.

Buggy pales slightly when he sees the bloodied bandages hidden under the fabric. If the semi-transparent reflection of it is enough to make him nauseous, he can't imagine what the real deal is like.

The three marks that stretch across your ribs look ugly. Scratch that, they look grotesque. Old blood rests dried and cracked along the edges, and the fresh flesh between your severed skin looks even worse. Like an animal maimed you and left you to rot on the ground. He’s seen his fair share of shitty shit in his life as a captain, but this is something he considers almost too much for him. It doesn’t make sense, he’s seen someone amputate on themselves due to a canon blast, but he only considered it a nuisance at best.

Maybe it’s because it’s you this time?

“God,” he whispers more to himself than anyone else. When snap your eyes to him, having heard him speak, he is quick to deflect. “I- Erhm, I never noticed how shitty the weather is tonight.”

He can’t tell if you buy it or not, but if you do, you don’t voice it and continue with your makeshift patchwork. With the rag you procured, you pour some of the alcohol over and press it tightly against your open wound with no delay. Buggy winces at the same time you do. He's had to disinfect wounds similarly before, and it hurts like hell. Fucking hell. He doubts you disagree with the notion.

You grit your teeth tightly, face contorting and your lips wobbling as a quiet "Fuck" leaves you. One second becomes two, two become four, four become eight until finally, you withdraw the now stained rag. He notices your hand shaking, your breath hitching, and the way you're all but forcing yourself to stay calm.

Since when did you limit yourself like this? Deny yourself the capacity to feel? Fucking scream, he wants to yell at you. Feel something. Say something! Show him that you still feel anything. Don't pretend like you don’t.

If that pot ain't calling the kettle black, he doesn’t know what is.

He looks at your reflection, watches as you pick up the needle and inching it towards your severed ski—

“DON’T!”

You abruptly stop and snap your eyes over to him, and he realizes he’s efficiently blown his cover. While still selectively mute, all the anger and irritation you need to convey is done so through your glare alone. Scorching. Sizzling.

He licks his lips. “If you do it like that, it’ll scar real fucking bad and won’t hold the skin together.”

At first, you only stare, and he thinks you’re going to ignore him again. However, like some miracle, you answer. “I know how to patch myself.”

“Sure as shit don’t look like it,” he retorts snidely. “With an angle like that, you’re lucky if—”

“I didn’t ask for your input.”

“Fucking looks like you need it.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

You all but throw the needle into the nearby wall, which just happens to be the same one he‘s positioned next to. The needle lodges itself right into the wood, sticking out with the thread still dangling from the eye.

Buggy stops breathing, and a drop of sweat trickles down his forehead. He expects you to throw the bottle at him next, just for good measure.

But you don’t. You don’t do anything.

He spends a minute deliberating whether it’s appropriate to continue the flow of conversation. “Look,—” He turns his head around to face you directly. “I’ve been around the block; I know what is best suited for your kind of scratch.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Between the two of us, who do you reckon has the most experience with having their asses kicked? The walking-talking tank who can launch people twice her size in the opposite direction, or the clown?”

“Thought you couldn’t be cut.”

“Correction; I can’t be sliced. There’s a difference,”

The look you give him is a culmination of everything ranging from indifference, irritation, boredom, and subtle agreement towards the statement. In lieu of an answer, Buggy prevails, "If you move the needle in a wavelength through the skin, it keeps it together better and is easier to remove. I know your name would make crossed stitches better fitted, but it sucks by comparison. Trust me."

You don't. Buggy knows that already, but if only for a second, your eyes shift to something other than the four aforementioned. Maybe it's contemplation, perhaps a softer edge around your crow's feet, but it's indecipherable from where he's perched. If he got closer, he might have a better chance at figuring it out.

To his surprise, you actually follow his word on it ... after retrieving the needle that's been embedded into the wooden wall with at least two-thirds of its length.

He corrects you here and there, and provides you pointers while weighing his words. He's just now got your attention, he's not about to risk losing it. "- Not too deep, remember? God, what are you trying to do, give yourself another scarring? Keep it tight!"

... Well, he weighed his words, but maaaan, is he bad at measurements.

After a few more glares from your side and some non-verbal threats of bodily harm, you finally manage to stitch the skin together. Your hands, while precise and experienced in the art that is self-suturing, didn't get to do it perfectly. He knows it hurts like a bitch, he winces every time he sees the needle protrude through your flesh, and while you show no facial reaction, he knows it hurts you as well.

If he'd had his own hands at disposal, he would've made it perfect. So perfect that you'd not even have a scar at all. That, and he’d finally be able to touch you.

But this is as appropriate a substitute as anything, and all in all, it's not too bad. It's you, of course, so nothing you do can be too bad. He keeps that thought to himself as he watches you wrap up your midsection and put away the equipment.

"So, how did I do as an instructor? Pretty damn flashy, am I right?" He says with a low chuckle, only for it to disappear once he's discovered that you're not talking or looking at him anymore. "What? Back to the silent treatment?"

Evidently, yes.

He chews on the inside of his cheek and comes up with another approach to get your eyes on him again. It’s a risky one; might get him your attention, or it might land him into the opposite wall, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. "I heard what you said, you know? To Rubber-Boy."

He observes no palpable reaction, so he tries again. "Shanks seriously never told you what happened that day it all went down?"

There it is. The fish on the line. Bull’s eye. He sees you stiffen just slightly, and he gets his wish. A shiver runs down his spine when your eyes fall on him again; he can feel it, even from miles and miles away.

No distance can hope to expel the feelings your gaze bestows him with.

You speak one word. Just one. So low, yet so clear all the same.

"No."

... Buggy the Clown wants to vomit.

He's not sure if his current disproportionated state can manage it, not to mention it's been days since he last had a scrap of food, but it does not ease the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him.

Fuck.

When he first heard you tell Luffy this, he thought you were ... lying, somehow. It was stupid; you're not the kind to lie, always telling things as they are without skipping a beat. But he could not see your face, could not see the face you were making, and so he took it with a grain of salt. Or a bucket-load of it.

There was no way you didn’t know, no way Shanks didn’t tell you… Right? Buggy used to come up with excuses for his own righteousness, telling himself that this thing that happened was never his fault.

Now, he knows for certain. He knows you're telling the truth, he sees it, and he feels a bile rise in his throat.

One conclusion is made in the messy pile that is his brain.

He fucked up.

He fucked up BIG TIME.

It's a fuck-up that'll go down in history as the biggest fucking fuck-up ever to cross the seven seas in all fucking time. He fucked up so bad, in fact, that it cost him more than he'll ever be able to pay for.

The sound his throat makes is pathetic.

"Oh."

BANG!

A good-sized piece of the wooden table snaps under the pressure of your fist and descends to the floor with a plat. Buggy imagines if that was him instead, getting crushed to the floor like a maggot crawling in the dirty as an unsuspecting hiker walks across..

With the shove of your chair, you get to your feet. "I'm getting Zoro."

"NONONONO! WAIT! PLEASE, ANYONE BUT HIM!"

You don't care. You're already halfway across the room when he, in his desperation, shouts two words he's never said before.

"WAIT! I'M SORRY!"

… You stop.

He takes the moment right out of fate's hands.

"I didn't know, alright! I didn't know that you didn't know, and I thought you knew." He hopps his head a little closer to the edge of the table, right where the cracked piece currently on the floor once was. "I thought you knew, and then went with that fucking red-haired asshole! How was I supposed to know that you didn't know?!"

Wrong words. Very wrong words. He finds out soon enough just how wrong they were.

You're inches away before he can even blink, hands clenched on the table counter with one at each side of his head. Your noses almost touching, and he can feel the fire in your throat threaten to scorch him alive like a pig above the pyre.

"You could've asked." You say, softly at first, but bit by bit, your voice opens up to the deep-rooted anger that's laid dormant for years. "You could've asked me."

Craaaaack, and another splinter pops off the table and lands in his hair.

"You could've talked to me."

The entire table shakes now, and Buggy struggles not to slip from it. He thinks you're about to tear the whole damn thing to shreds with the way you're clenched around it. It's on-brand by now for you, comes with the name and everything.

"Cross-Hairs. Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, the Beast of the East, and Breaker of Tables and Faces and Bones and Jaws and Clown Noses."

He expects the additional titles to apply to him any moment now. He'll have to jump around the ship in search of his misplaced jaw next time, and probably the nose too. The crew of nobodies will have something to laugh about in years to come, and he'll never live the shame down.

But like with Orange Town, instead of the hand that will bring about his demise, all he feels is a breeze across his cheek. So light, and so brief, yet there lingers a warmth he wants nothing more than to grasp it. A thirsty man searching for his oasis.

You remove your hands from the table. "I would've traveled across the seas with you if only you'd asked it of me."

... What?

He feels his head freeze for the umpteenth time as your words circle in his head, garnering a storm of long-forgotten memories and feelings and hurt and betrayal.

You would?

You really would?

You would have gone with him all those years ago, if only he'd asked it of you?

He looks at your hands; the cracked knuckles and bruised skin, adjusted fights and blood and the impact of bones. The same ones currently threaten his safety as a dislocated head. He looks right into your eyes despite the risks it warrants.

You refuse to look at him, more now than ever, like there’s a rope wrapped around your neck that’s forcing you to face down. Like you're afraid that he might see something you'd prefer to keep in the dark. And yet he sees something wet and salty gathering in the corners of your eyes, and he sees the ways your body scrunches like a child wanting nothing more than to curl up to the floor and cry.

When was the last time he saw you even come close to crying? You never cried, for as long as he’d known you. If there ever was a time, it was the day he left you behind on that dock so long ago, and he had already turned his back before he had a chance to see the waterworks leak.

He finds it strange how some things seem to change whereas others don't. When Rogers first brought you onto the crew, disheveled and thin as you were, you never made a sound or showed any emotions. Being a man who wore his feelings and thoughts on display, he found it fucking weird. You were weird. You are weird, now more than ever.

Now, seeing you like this, knowing he's the one who brought it out, he doesn't know whether he's the detonator or the executioner. Maybe a bit of both?

His general nature is to deny accountability and put the blame on something or someone else to save face. It's always been like that; a habit by now. Call it cowardice, but he calls it a way of life. A bank getting robbed after the employees got knocked out by Muggy Balls? Not him. The white lion having a stomachache after eating old slabs left for too long in the cooler until it developed an ecosystem of its own? Not his fault.

But you crying?

You being hurt.

You hurting.

His fault. All his.

You, the strongest person he knows of; the same person who laughed at his jokes, worried about him, kicked ass seven days 'til Sunday, and shone so brightly in the moonlight by the docks, crying ...

His fault.

You're the strongest person he knows. Hell, you're probably one of the strongest people in all of East-Blue, yet still, he's the one who managed to make you cry. A beast rendered to a tearful child, still so small even after all this time, all because of him.

What does that make him? The strongest person in the East Blue? Or the worst? He's never minded being the worst at what he does, but he realizes in that moment, perched on the tabletop, that he can stand anyone's tears but yours.

Never yours.

You’re fighting those tears the same way you fight everything else; putting every ounce of strength your body has to offer, clawing at it, gripping it, doing everything in your power to keep the tears from spilling and potentially revealing something more.

Still, it doesn’t matter how strong you are. You could’ve lifted the world and held it in the palm of your hands, and the tears still would’ve proved the biggest challenge you'd face yet.

If he had his hands, he’d cradle your chin, hold you close, and promise to never let go ever again. You’d fight him all the same, kick his ass, claw at him, break all the bones in his body, and he’d let you.

He’d endure your strength, dance across the blazing charcoal that is your wrath, but nothing you’d do would make him let go, even if you were to separate every atom in his body one by one.

He'd hold on, and when he gets his body back, that’s what he’ll do.

“I’m sorry …” he whispers, the apology tasting like bitter peppercorns on the tip of his tongue. “I … Shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have” Fuck, he sounds pathetic. “… I’m so … so fucking sorry.”

For all of it.

He’s never once apologized in his life, not to anyone, but for you, he’d apologize a thousand times over. He’d learn “I’m sorry” in every language known to man, recite every prayer, suffer every penalty in the book.

This could all have been avoided if he’d just fucking talked to you that day instead of running. As if divinity decided to deliver punishments, he was haunted by that thing he ran from for twenty years; torturing him, driving him mad with longing.

Twenty years of bullshit in your absence … all of it avoidable had he not been the fuck-up he acknowledges he’s been.

He’d dive head-first into the ocean if it meant he could take back what he said that day. He’d take on the Marines too if he had to. He’d find the One Piece and give it to you, forgo his own dreams. He’d do anything, just to take back what he did.

Just to have you look at him with something other than scorn. Just to have you look at him the same way you used to.

A few drops of salt land on the table right in front of him, and save for the occasional sniffs and heavy inhales, you remain stubbornly quiet. This time, he keeps his mouth shut and awaits your judgment. The likelihood of you refusing to forgive him is the most probable one, and he can’t fault you for that as much as he’d hate it. The chance of you forgiving him just like that … is less.

A minute of silence becomes two minutes, and two become three, and five, and ten.

You raise your head to peer down at him, your eyes reddened and heavy, but you finally do look at him. He holds his breath in anticipation and wonders what’s working behind them.

What are you thinking?

What are you feeling?

Is it rage? Is it vengeance?

Will you wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze until there’s nothing left but an ashy head? He doesn’t know if asphyxiation will have the intended effect given his condition, but there’s only one way to find out.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and imagines that it will be his last.

The door slams and the room rattles, throwing him off in surprise.

Buggy opens his eyes and sees that you’re not here anymore.

You’re gone, again.

He releases the breath he’s been withholding, not knowing what to make of this. Will you come back, or will you leave him here by himself: put him through the same state as he left you in?

His head burns thinking about it.

Not even a minute later, you return to the room, and the scent of something delicious fills the atmosphere.

You’re holding something in your hand, a plate. It takes him a while to realize what it is, and as he’s about to open his mouth to ask, you wordlessly put the plate down in front of him.

Buggy drools like a dog. It’s food. Actual fucking food. Some kind of dish (fish?) with boiled potatoes and cabbage on the side, with sauce distributed evenly over it. He usually hates cabbage, but as hungry as he is now, he thinks it looks like the most delicious thing of all. Even better, the food is still hot, and it’s been cut so that it’ll be easier for him to take in.

He looks up at you expectantly and watches as you sit down, cross your legs, and put a glass of water with a bendy straw next to the plate. Did you bring him a bendy straw? Holy fuck, you brought him fucking bendy straw! He can’t help but stare at you like you put the sun in the sky because, how could he not? You brought him food, you brought him a drink, YOU BROUGHT HIM A FUCKING BENDY STRAW!

Bored eyes turn to him as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. “It’ll get cold,” you state matter-of-factly, which he interprets as Hurry up and eat, asshole.

Buggy doesn’t have to be told twice, and he digs in like an animal. Decorum was never his thing anyway.

Maybe this isn’t forgiveness, and maybe you’re still rightfully pissed, but that’s alright. This gesture implies that, at the very least, there’s a bridge now. It’s made of rusty nails and unsteady planks and runs over a shitty river, but it’s a milestone from his point of view.

He’ll wait for as long as he’ll have to, even if it’s takes another twenty years to make up for it, even if it takes a hundred. He'll wait and he'll work for as fucking long as he have to, just to see your smile again.

He knows your dream.

He knows you care; you protected him, after all. You held him close, put yourself in harm’s way just to keep him safe.

That means, even after all this time, you still consider him yours.

All that remains is for you to finally find our for yourself.

-----

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#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #Didn't mean to make your heart blue #one piece buggy #captain buggy

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notroosterbradshaw · 6 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - six

word count: 5.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: well, they're broken. it's unceremonious and it's real and they're hurting so deeply, coping in ways only they know... the wrong way. You're here to meet Bad Choice Bradley, I presume? I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support and if you like it… please comment and reblog it! x

five.two

“Rooster,” Annie smiled before him, Ava strapped to her chest in her baby carrier sleeping peacefully.

Bradley felt his poor, old heart sink because he’d done so well to now avoiding you and your family since everything blew the fuck up in your relationship. It was a small town and the more you tried to avoid someone, the more likely they were to cross your path. “Ann,” he gave a slight smile. “How you doin'?”

“Morning coffee brings me back to life after a rough night,” she reported. “Not on base today? Look at the beard,” you said, fondly as he realised Annie didn't have a clue.

“No,” he bit back the sour taste in his mouth. Obviously you’d not told your family about his pending trial… and in a way, he guessed he was thankful. It probably brought a certain amount of embarrassment to you, if he thought about it truthfully, given Viper and the respect he still commanded at work and from the locals. You didn’t need his bullshit on your shoulders. "Few more weeks to myself. Just finished my run,” he said even though it appeared the most obvious thing in the world. Shorts, runners, Navy tank glued to him, sweating from top to toe from morning humidity.

He just wanted to get his coffee and head home to shower. He should have just forgone the fucking caffeine. He had a perfectly good coffee machine at home for Christ’s sake. He cursed the fact you introduced him to this coffee shop and he knew, eventually he’d see you here, but he’d been so smart. He knew your work schedule and now, he was always the first in line when he knew your first classes for the day were clocking over. He was no dummy - sure, he had his moments when his head was stuck up his ass, but caffeine was his drug of choice and after you’d secretly revealed to him the best in the town and he was addicted. “Lucky. You just missed her…” Annie told him softly, nodding off in the direction towards work... his villa was in the opposite direction and taunting him and his poor choices.

He hummed, unreadable. “Did I?” He was pleased with the relief that washed over him. It was such a non-committal response and he knew he owed Annie so much better. Annie wasn't the cause of his recurring cycle of problems. But shit, he was so good at making his problems... everyone’s.

“Loves her morning coffee,” Annie waved her reusable cup towards him, and gee, it was so awkward. Rooster nodded, pleased that he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one in this conversation. Even Annie, usually outgoing, funny Annie, seemed completely out of character with her current word vomit.

And though he was desperate to, he would not ask after you because he knew there was no way you could feel as awful as he did but he forced it out anyway. “How is she, Annie?” he tried to hide the sadness in his voice, but it was impossible. He was so desperate to catch even the slightest whisper about you - whether it was Annie, Phoenix or any other mutual acquaintances. The radio silence was quietly killing him.

After a beat, Annie replied warily, “A wreck. Not that she’d ever let us know. We’re not seeing hell a lot of her so that kind of speaks for itself, I guess. Or it's exactly what she wants, I don't know," she rambled because Bradley could see Annie didn't know what to do to help you, and that hurt him more. The frustration in the air was paramount. The people you were once closest to now the one furthest at arm's length and he knew that was because of him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing a lack of interest in his voice. He didn’t want to sound emotional that you were upset, but he certainly didn’t want to feel sad for you for the decision that you made. Bradley needed you to know that you were feeling the way you were feeling for what you decided to drag you both through. He wanted to work things out, he didn't want either of you to be hurting like this - “Sorry to hear that.” He shrugged, knowing how cold it sounded and the surprise on Annie's face telling the story. What the fuck else was he supposed to say?

All the texts he'd sent bounced, and he knew you'd blocked him - what was the use of calling? He considered sending flowers, champagne, fucking skywrite if it got your attention, but all his desperate ways for your attention would fall on deaf ears. And as desperate as he was to go to you, knock on your door and hold you until reason came back into that smart brain of yours, he knew for now, you simply needed your time. He just hoped it wasn't forever.

“So... how are you?” Annie asked, welcomingly changing the subject.

He shrugged, sipping his coffee. He didn't feel like admitting he was about to head home, shower and see his JAG. It just didn't feel like it could roll off his tongue properly without the rest of his life crashing around him. He’d been so good to protect his façade and damn, he lied so easily. It was his most hated personality trait and he wished he could stop it, but sometimes it was just easier. “PT,” he lied, but he knew fully well Annie didn’t care for his physical recovery - she had good intentions but he knew she wanted to pry into his convoluted, messed up brain, see if he was as tragically missing her sister, if he was as tormented as you were.

Dissect and get into the deepest, darkest crevices.

But Bradley would never tell. There were enough people trying to get in there as it was. And right now he wasn’t going to give anyone the benefit of that bullshit. That hurt stayed with him, no matter the cost. It motivated him, got him through the day to be better, stronger, harder and he wasn't letting his guard down for anyone, not Annie, not Phoenix, not Mav.

Not you. No one.

“That’s fantastic,” she said as Ava wriggled against her, waking. “I’m glad for you, Rooster,” Annie bobbed to settle the little one, whining and probably ready for her morning feed. "You need your head in the clouds."

If that ever happened again.

“She got big,” Rooster said, keenly changing the subject and turning his attention to Ava. He reached for her her little hand and Ava wrapped her chubby little palm against his pointer. Bradley knew even if kids weren't in his future, the future he had quietly hoped to share with you, this was a cute kid and it only reminded him of you when you were playing World’s Greatest Aunty and putting the idea in his head that maybe… yeah, he could get the family he always wanted with you. It was going to take more to desensitise himself, he realised.

“They do that,” Annie said, with a gentle smile. “Way too quickly. I feel like she's minutes away from rolling, crawling, and then up and walking out to college."

And Rooster laughed, because there was Annie, the Annie he grew up with. They both needed that little break in the terse. "I hope not that fast," he gently pressed a kiss on Ava's knuckles and loosened his finger, free again.

"Well, I’d better get her home for some food and start our day. Good to see you, Rooster,” she gave him a small smile. “If you need anything, call me, okay? Don’t be a stranger.”

Bradley did the cordial thing and nodded. “Will do. See ya around, Annie," he said, not waiting for a dragged out goodbye and heading in the other direction. He had a house to start bringing back to life even if he had fallen apart in every other way.

It had been about month since you and Bradley… yeah. Since then. Things had been fairly busy for you, you’d stayed to yourself, regardless of nagging from your family, some other friends who wanted to claim your time now you were single again and, of course, Natasha. She was shipping out in a few days and wanted to have a drink but the last place you’d be caught dead at was The fucking Hard Deck. Reassuring everyone you were good, or okay, was next to useless. No one believed you anyway.

You'd kept yourself busy. The apartment needed to be unpacked again, with no time like the present, a perfect time to purge and it felt so much better in your small part of the world that you’d rid yourself of those little things you simply didn’t need anymore. Clothes, kitchenwares, changed up the orientation of the bedroom, indulging and confusing yourself with feng shui and vastu shastra on household karma/good vibes among other things.

But you really did feel lighter. You built a cute study nook for your business stuff. You and Bradley had planned to use one of the rooms in the Bradshaw place, giving you more time to work from home, instead of staying later after classes to do your never-ending small business accounting.

But that wasn’t the case now and you had all the time in the world.

“Fuck, Nat. Stop,” you muttered to yourself, scarfing down some leftovers for dinner. It was late and frankly, you had little to no interest in heading out, even if it was to a venue of your choice. You had to give Natasha credit: she was trying so hard to release you from your self-imposed imprisonment. You know what you were up for - 20 questions about how you were coping. You'd be lying to say you weren't worried about his impending trial and were curious to reach out. But it probably would just distract him and he didn’t need that. You were sure it was this week or next.

Maybe you would get Grandpa to contact Bradley?

But as far as you were concerned, Bradley seemed to be doing just fine. Like you’d agreed, you didn’t need each other anyway. Besides, he hadn't contacted you - and you hadn't let him after yep, taking the high road and blocking him. Maybe he needed this more than you did, you tried to reason with yourself. A guy like him didn't deserve to be tied down with someone who had the baggage you did. He deserved better.

You tossed your fork on the plate, suddenly not hungry for the stir fry you were desperate for only minutes earlier although the need to get tiddly didn't sound terrible at all.

Enjoying his quiet drink, Rooster knew his time was running out as Phoenix sidled her way to him, a fair smile on her face. Unreadable, and God, he hated that. “Didn’t know you were coming out tonight,” she commented, as she put two beers on Payback’s tab, placing one before Bradley.

She followed his gaze to the pretty woman across the bar, making pathetic doe eyes and suggestive overtones with her beer bottle and tongue. Natasha would never get used to it. And sadly, Rooster seemed pretty into it, for what she could gather. “Know her?” Phoenix asked as Rooster’s lip quirked and he stumbled to find an undefined answer.

Truth be told, yeah. Rooster did know her. Not super well, but well enough to remember how into him she seemed as she led him back to her place last week, the first person he’d fucked since… and, he supposed, it was fine. It was good, she was eager to please and she had zeroed in on him the minute he walked in last week and again tonight. Rooster didn’t generally put his boots under the same bed twice, but he lately wasn’t feeling particularly fussy. He did ask himself if there was a supposed grieving period for how long he should probably wait before getting into the game again but his brain (and Hangman) told him what he needed to hear.

Fuck her.

“Oh, Rooster, no. You slept with her?” Natasha asked, the disappointment dripped from her voice and Bradley felt about three feet tall.

“Oh, fuck this,” he bemoaned. “She broke up with me, I have to be celibate too?” he asked. It seemed so rehearsed and he didn't lie but he knew the shit he was going to cop for spending time with any woman that wasn’t you.

Natasha sighed. “No, I guess not.”

“Believe it or not, I can fuck who and when I want, Phoenix,” he gruffly reminded her. "You don't get to dictate."

“No, you’re right,” she agreed. Who was she to argue? She was desperate for her friends to get over this little ‘blip’, but seeing you separately and the hurt you’d both caused each other, she began to wonder if this blip as she'd hopefully referred to is as was really the end of what could have been the best thing that happened to both of you.

You were no longer a couple. Rooster had moved into his parents' old place alone and seemed to be enjoying taking to it with a sledgehammer. You were doing your usual MO when things went sour – you didn’t answer calls, and rarely responded to texts before anyway. You were working and looking at growing the business, so it was the best excuse in the books not to come to the bar, a surefire way of making sure she didn’t pump into Bradley.

“I can’t see him, Nat. He was the love of my life. And not being able to touch him, kiss him, laugh with him? It would just kill me,” you had told her sadly, week’s earlier when Natasha came over unannounced and sporting Thai food and rosé.

“What is so fucking funny is that I keep hearing how badly she is doing, yet no one gives a flying fuck that maybe, just maybe, I’m going through it too," Bradley muttered, Natasha surprise crossing her face as he continued, "Nat, we were moving in together. But it’s over now,” he poured what was left of his beer down his throat, knowing that coming out tonight was not his wisest idea. Bad Choice Bradley was bubbling in his bloodstream and frankly, he didn't mind if he escaped. He was so sick of doing everything by the rules, but where had that gotten him? Absolutely no-fucking-where. Jobless and Loveless. “And for the record?” he hissed purposefully to Natasha. “I was in that fuckin’ relationship too. I didn't call time.”

“Okay, okay,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re wholeheartedly allowed to feel that way. We just don’t see you… as down about it,” she used her words carefully.

“It was weeks ago,” he sniped.

“It wasn’t that long - ”

“Jesus, Phoenix. She was the fucking love of my life,” he hissed. "I wanted to work this out. She blocked my number, she wants nothing to do with me."

Natasha held her palm towards his chest but didn’t dare touch him, she could feel the heat, the anger reverberating off him. “Okay, I agree. I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting, buddy. And I’ve let you down.”

He frowned and paused. “What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t just the breakup, Rooster,” Natasha said, adjusting her posture to stand with him and continuing before she could let up. “Everything has been a bit of a shitstorm. Your past is always following you around, you were part of a suicide mission that almost got you killed and now you’re waiting for trial and I should have been doing more to make sure you were okay with that."

And for the moment, Bradley was silenced and frown in reply.

"Are you still seeing the shrink?”

He huffed out a breath, replacing his beer eagerly with the one Natasha had slid towards him. He didn’t need this holier-than-thou bullshit where Natasha got to try and save him to be really honest. He just gazed back at her, now unreadable.

“Isn’t it mandatory?” she pressed lightly. “You should really be talking to someone – ”

“I’m still going, I’m hating it. If I don’t get clearance from the shrink, I never get in my jet again regardless of how the trial plays itself out. Satisfied?” he rolled his eyes. “See ya later, Phoenix,” he said, leaving his her side and heading over to his new friend, who greeted him with a tender kiss on the side of his mouth, and while he wasn’t repulsed, you used to do that to him, and he didn’t like it half as much as he used to.

“Didn’t think you were going to come over and say hi, Rooster.”

“I’m here with friends,” he admitted, whom he’s just ditched to come over here and line up an easy lay for the night.

“You wanna dance?”

He nodded, a small grin gracing his features that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Yeah, lemme hit the bathroom first really quick, okay?”

“Sure,” she smiled as he grasped her forearm, gave the easy smoulder and disappeared. And she, with the name he couldn’t recall (but really wanted to), devotedly followed moments later. Messy, unplanned bar head wasn’t on his bingo card for the night, but he’d surely take it. He tried to be surprised when she cornered him into the stall and undid the few top buttons on her shirt, her breasts brushing against his chest as she groped his half-hard cock and played with the zip on his jeans before letting her soft, warm palm slide beneath his boxer briefs. His breathing immediately shallow because her hand was better than his hand and she sank to her knees and licked her lips, she didn't give an ounce of hesitation to take him deep.

He guessed he never really had to work hard to get what he wanted.

And he couldn’t hate himself more for it, because he compared everything to you. The way your big, beautiful eyes would peer up at him, begging for reassurance you were pleasing him, giving everything he deserved and more, your delicate strands he’d mess his long fingers into… it wasn’t the same but he came deep in the back of her throat that she swallowed and tidied up devoutly and he kind of wanted to be sick. But as she did that thing with her tongue, he wanted to cum so badly, as she gripped his thighs to keep her balance, he regarded her, knowing this wasn’t a woman he could fall in love with. He would only ever love one woman and right now, she wanted nothing to do with him.

He shook the notion from his head, concentrating on how silky her tongue caressed the head of his cock and remembered this didn’t happen all the time and to enjoy it as he thrust into her face, closing his eyes and imagining you again, getting him over the line as he knotted his fingers in her hair and fucked her face. Seeing you and those pretty sounds you’d make gagging on his cock, deep as you possibly could and what you couldn’t, pumping in your delicate palms.

He grunted as he came in wild spurts down her throat until he was spent and watched as she tidied him up, sweetly placing his softening dick back in his boxers and pulling his jeans back into place, sweetly caressing his throbbing groin.

With a quiet laugh, he helped her to her feet, cupping her chin a little rough. "You didn't need to do that, you know?"

"No," she agreed. "But you tasted so good time, I couldn't wait for more."

Bradley blushed, mostly ashamed. He certainly had nothing to be proud about. “I’ll be right out…” he said to her and she nodded and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lipstick was improper, her hair was well and truly a mess. Just how he liked it… if it was you. And he knew she would run out to tell her friends exactly what had happened, darting out alone.

Rooster looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection and rubbed his tired face. “Who the fuck are you, Bradshaw?” he accused himself. He took a deep breath, ran his hands under the cool water, washed his palms then splashed some water on his flushed face. “Jesus,” he muttered to himself before inhaling sharply and straightening up.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” Natasha muttered to herself as Bob caught wind of her strife and looked up from his peanuts, concerned for his friend. "Fuckkk."

“What’s up, partner?” he asked, perplexed. She lifted her phone and the text you’d just sent. “Oh,” Bob said, adjusting his glasses, a trait he did constantly as he grew nervous. “That is… that is not good.”

“No…” Natasha agreed, casting her gaze to find Rooster, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.”

Rooster had spotted his new friend with her group and gave a slight nudge towards the exit when she caught his eye. Excitedly, she gave a wink back as her friends gave her teasing words of encouragement but Rooster didn’t care. He just needed to get out of there.

The bar was stifling and he didn’t feel like Phoenix’s third degree on his life choices anymore. He wasn’t a dickhead – he was well aware he was making poor decisions. Bad Choice Bradley. But this wasn’t his first one lately, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

Darting through the throng of officers and civilians, he made a beeline for the door, thrusting it open, and he’d be lying to say in his frustration, there was some heat and malice behind it.

“Jesus, goddammit,” the voice hissed on the other side, the heavy door hitting a patron on the other side trying to enter. Rooster tried to catch them, almost knocking them to the ground in the process and he couldn't believe his dumb luck that it was you who were on the other side as he tried to phantom his escape. You skipped backwards quickly as Rooster yanked the door back, trying to stop its force. His face paled when he realised just who it was he’d almost knocked off their feet.

He whispered your name, and you’d swear you had seen a ghost. “Shit, I’m so fuckin' sorry," he said, the recognition all over his face as he took you in, scared and studying you.

"Shit," you muttered. Bradley could hear the pain in your voice, whether it was through injury or just disgruntled, he couldn't be sure. “Hey,” you said nervously. This was not how you wanted to see him for the first time since you’d broken up.

“I was just leaving,” he explained, reminding you the door had walloped you in the elbow and you rubbed it in recollection, a gentle thrum from its impact. He looked back over his shoulder. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said again. He so badly wanted to reach out and kiss your injury better. The injury he caused, and he loathed himself for it. “How bad I get you?” he asked softly, taking a step closer.

Before he got closer, you closed in on yourself and covered the sting in your elbow with a step or two. “It’s fine, Brad – Rooster. It’s no worries,” you reassured him, flippantly. Your body language told him everything he needed to know. He was flatlining.

He nodded slowly, saddened at how you recoiled from him. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

“Okay. Sorry, huh?”

“It’s fine really,” you said as a pretty young thing wandered out. She joined Bradley on his hip and you didn’t miss how her hand curved into his elbow and how his face changed, the guilt masking his handsome features. She looked back at you both expectedly.

“Ready to go, Rooster?” she asked as he paused, gauging your response. He knew his timing was about as bad as it could be.

And yep, it looked exactly as it looked.

“Yeah. I’ll be just a minute,” he said, the embarrassment etched all over his skin as he ripped out your heart and toyed with it in his beautiful hands before you. His ears reddened and he licked his lips as she wandered away, calling back over her shoulder when she’d reached his Bronco. Well, she knew his car, maybe this wasn’t as new as it looked.

Yep, it looked exactly as it looked.

You’d thank Natasha personally for the warning in a moment - she probably wouldn't like it though. “Friend of yours?” you figured trying to balance your tone. Who were you to get upset at him? To Bradley Bradshaw, you were no one and that was what hurt the most.

“Something like that,” he admitted quietly.

Maybe you didn’t need that drink Nat promised. You needed Penny to drown you in the top shelf. “Nat’s waiting for me,” you explained to him. “Have a good night, Rooster,” you told him as he reluctantly pulled the door open for you to scurry under his strong, golden arm and get lost in the Friday night throng. He watched after you until he lost you.

Rooster ran his clammy palm over his face, he felt ill as he stepped away from the door. He wanted to be sick, he knew exactly how pathetic he looked. Why the fuck didn’t Natasha tell him you were coming? He would have hauled ass ages ago and without incident. He pulled his phone out and threw a brutal one-liner at her about giving him a head’s up next time and made his way to his car, where his friend/date/hook up/whoever was waiting with a bright grin.

“Thought you were gonna ditch me,” she laughed lightly, he could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling too well right now, and I have a real early start tomorrow morning. Think we could take a rain check?” he asked, keeping a safe distance from her. She raised an eyebrow.

“You sure? Five minutes ago, you seemed really fucking into that blowjob in the bathroom,” she hissed at hime. And it was fine head, her lipstick was still smudged on his cock, he would always be appreciative of anyone giving him their best. But again, it wasn’t your pretty lips, nose desperately trying to nuzzle the soft hair at his happy trail, staring up at him like he possessed all the stars in the sky. God, he was truly beginning to hate himself and he missed your mouth, however smart it was, wrapped around his cock, giving him an earful... kissing him.

He shook his head dismally. “Look, I can’t do this, okay? M’sorry,” he unlocked the car, hopped into the driver’s seat and keyed the ignition, peeling out of the carpark to the allotment of insults and birds being hurled his way. It would be some time before he decided to venture back to The Hard Deck, which was probably best.

And deservingly so, he reminded himself. He'd take a few weeks off from the bar, he’d been through this before. Never go back to the scene of the crime, especially after one-night stands. He knew better, but it all seemed so easy tonight until you were before him and ruined everything.

He pulled into a car park, the ocean bustling before him and he sat for a moment, his palms latched onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white as the adrenaline of the night coursed through his veins. Taught and teetering, he stared out to the ocean, needing answers to all the questions in his messed up brain.

God, you looked so beautiful. You had done something different to your hair, not a lot, just subtle, but he noticed it, the scent of his favourite perfume, it was so ridiculously expensive but it was the only real fancy thing you afforded yourself even if you used it sparingly, that drifted off you and enveloped him. He remembered it on his pillows, it lasted for the week until the sheets were changed.

But your eyes… They told the story. Seeing each other was a shock to the system, but you just looked so upset when… fuck, whatever her name was made her presence known. Getting his phone from his pocket, he sighed and found your last texts to each other.

It was all so sweet.

You: I love you, big boy. Hurry home to me xxx

Bradley: Love you too. Lemme finish up and I’ll be right there x

He ignored the subsequent texts he tried to send that all bounced back. Now it all seemed like another world and another time.

“So, yeah, that was fun,” you told Natasha as she gave Penny the signal to keep lining the shots up.

“You okay, darlin’ heart?” Penny asked sadly. Not that she wanted to pry, but Live had asked her to keep an eye on you if and when she could and she didn’t know if your mother was really wanting to see how brokenhearted you were.

“I’m awful,” you confided, voice strong but powerful because if you didn’t talk about this, you’d sink into another one of those solitary states where you wallowed in the misery of your broken heart, you were going to explode. “I have ruined the best thing that has happened to me then I get to see him take a one-night stand home.”

In no world would Natasha tell you this wasn’t their first hook-up and tossed back one of the lined up shots to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. “He’s slipped back into old habits,” Natasha shuddered as the tequila burned. She wasn’t defending him, but it was what it was as Penny made some polite excuses to continue working. “He a fucking moron, all dudes are the same. Easy pussy, get their dicks wet. They should all be lobotomised," she raised her shot and you, Natasha and Penny whipped the shots back.

But Rooster Bradshaw owed you absolutely nothing. And he proved he knew it too.

“He talked to me like a stranger. He’s never spoken to me like that in thirty years.”

“What do you mean?”

“Has he said he’s missed me or anything?” you asked, sadly and as Natasha prepared to answer, you dismally added, “I’ve ruined everything because I was scared about all the wrong things. Nat, I’ve messed this up and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

She nodded but she heard what she heard. “…do you want to fix it?”

“I can’t function without him. I am just bumbling along, missing him while he is recovering alone. He's about to stand trial... he needs support,” and you know fully well that Natasha, Penny, Mav and others had Bradley's back but you also knew there were only a few people he'd truly let help him. “Will you still be here for the trial?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be here… I’m a witness. It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Can you tell me how it goes?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I can’t believe I gave all this up.”

She nodded. “I hate seeing you hurting like this.” Both of you, she wanted to add.

“Does he talk about me?” you asked quietly.

Phoenix sighed, she didn’t want to get into this. Anything he’d ever told her was done so in confidentiality. And while you were her great friend, he was too. Rooster didn't have many confidants. "I - "

“Natasha. Does Bradley want to fix us?” you raised your eyes, and Natasha saw the tears that threatened to spill.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Only hours before he was talking about his latest conquest. She saw that woman follow him into the bathrooms but she had no idea where her friend stood, even if she knew you two were so much better together. She could tell you how angry about it he was. But there was no way that was going to help the situation even if she was desperate to say or do anything that could possibly help.

You shrugged and took another shot. “Whatever, he’s clearly moved on and I will just have to accept that. Another round?" you asked, a casual frown gracing your features and Natasha nodded.

"One more," she loaded the bar up and couldn’t imagine being in her plane tomorrow if this was how the night was going to go.

masterlist.

Big thanks as always to @gretagerwigsmuse for helping me get this fic over this line x

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

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Protector, mine

pairing: BF!Chris Evans x GF!Reader

summary: Hi! If you take requests can you write one where reader is home alone when there's a break in while Chris is out with friends?

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist, full masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/n padded around their open pan kitchen gracefully, her boyfriend Chris pressing a soft kiss to her lips, his hands placed onto her chin. “I’ll be back before midnight baby, alright? Ring me if you need anything, I love you so so much” He whispered against her lips, kissing both her cheeks then her nose, causing it to wrinkle adorably in response.

“Okayyy Chris, go enjoy yourself and don’t get too drunk. I’ll be fine, now go you big goof” Y/n laughed pushing her man’s hands from her waist and pushing him towards the front door, even handing him his baseball cap on the way out.

'Finally’ She thought to herself, a night just for her to relax by herself, and of course her baby Dodge who was now looking up at her with his puppy eyes. Giving him a scratch to the ear she went off to her first mission, a lavender scented bubble bath with a lush bath bomb, something Chris had specifically bought for her.

God was he smitten with her. His friends were even surprised he came out tonight, ever since they had started dating 2 years ago he had been on his knees for her basically, he was definitely the happiest he had ever been. Taking off her clothes Y/n settled into the steaming hot water, her hair tied into a bun onto the top of her head, her skin turning in the purple water.

It all started when Chris came into her family’s restaurant that Y/n was helping out in over the Christmas holidays, and Chris couldn’t help but obviously ogle the gorgeous woman in front of him. Her beautiful eyes and caring demeanour immediately attracted him, heck on their first date he even made her a bouquet out of books. Books she had mentioned that were on her reading list during one of their first conversations-

*BANG*

Interrupting her daydreaming session, Y/n sat up a bit more in the tub, but this time more alert. Silence filled the bathroom,

Chris would definitely have called up to here by now?

Not having a good feeling whatsoever, Y/n stood up and put on Chris’ white fluffy robe that she tended to steal often. Dodger’s poor whines calling at her through the en suite bathroom. Opening the door, she knew something was wrong when she heard multiple male voices booming from the downstairs. Her heart basically dropped to her pussy, bless her soul.

Within seconds she went from a state of panic to pure fear, what the fuck do you even do in this situation? What if they were armed?

Hearing footsteps come up the house, she backed herself and Dodger back into the bathroom, turned off the lights and settled them into the corner furthest away from the door. Her hands were shaking as she texted Chris

Y/n: There’s people in the house Chris, I don’t know what to do but i’m calling 911. Do not call me or else they’ll hear

Not even waiting for his response she straight away called 911, and those few seconds of ringing were the worst few seconds of her life. Poor Dodger was whining at his momma, his snout booping her arm to hide under it himself. Y/n was shivering, cursing at herself for putting her clothes into the washing machine before getting into the bath. Now she was stuck and practically naked.

911: 911 What’s your emergency

Y/n heard whispers and shouts coming from the direction of their bedroom, surely they were close by, fuck sake.

Y/n: There’s people that have broken into my house, please come quickly, i’m at (insert address)

911: Ma’am who else is there with you? I’ve dispatched a team, so stay on the line with me

Y/n: U-uh just me and my dog, my boyfriend’s out right now but I’ve let him know-

*Rattle*

Y/n: please please hurry they're trying to get into the room im in

Y/n felt herself freeze, multiple bangs were thrown against the tough bathroom door, which she could only assume was them throwing their shoulders against it; accompanied with the door knob rattling every few seconds.

911: Ma’am they’re on their way I promise, stay on the line with me, you don’t have to talk but stay on the line

Y/n switched the tabs on her phone and saw the spam texts from Chris

Chris: babe what do you mean?

Chris: Hello?

Chris: HELLO

Chris: Did you call 911?

Chris: Y/n are you safe?

Chris: I’m on my way.

And that text was sent 8 minutes ago.

Y/n: Dodger and I are in the bathroom hiding, I don’t know how many there are but the police are on their way. I’m not coming out of here unless you’re the one outside the door

Turning her phone off, she listened to the reassurance coming from the caller, her breath shuttering and her eyes letting tears out from fear. Thankfully the intruders seemed to have just left the bathroom door, probably ransacking the array of jewellery hidden around their shared bedroom.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Chris’ knuckles whitened on his drive home, dare I say he even ran through a few red lights and speed limits. His girlfriend had sent him that most recent text and Jesus, his heart was going 100 miles an hour.

Approaching their suburban house, Chris saw the police cars lined up and down the street, multiple officers standing by the front door.

“Excuse me officer, my girlfriend is inside” Chris said shoving past them and forcing his way inside to see two officers cuffing two men who were clearly off on some sort of substance, Chris didn’t even want to imagine what they were capable of.

Ignoring the questions and pleas from the officers to calm down, Chris sprinted up the stairs, skipping a few along the way. Their house had absolutely been ransacked, furniture and their beloved items thrown carelessly around the place, photo frames cracked and scrambled. To say he was angry was an understatement, not even words could describe how he was feeling.

“Ma’am it’s okay to come out, it’s police, i’m Officer Birch-“

“I told you, i’m not coming out until my boyfriend is here” He heard her voice say, not the usual jolly sound he loved, but a fragile broken tone.

Going over to the door past the officers,

“Baby? It’s me Chris”

“Chris?”

“It’s me honey, your Chris-“

Before he could even say anything else, the door had been thrown open and his girlfriend was back where she belonged, with him and in his arms. Her body still clad in his white robe as sobs wrecked through her entire body, was this really happening right now?

Chris felt himself sigh in relief knowing that she was safe,

“Sir, we need a statement-“

“Can we leave it to tomorrow bud? It’s late, you can come back tomorrow” Chris whispered, but the silence in the room amplified it. His arms rubbing up and down Y/n’s back, his lips kissing the top of her head. Nodding at Chris, the officers left and the only thing to be heard a few minutes later was the front door clicking shut.

“I-I was so scared, Dodger was scared too. What if they got the bathroom door open-“

“Bunny shh, i’m here, you’re safe now okay?” Chris cupped her face in his hands, his nose nuzzling gently against hers, Y/n’s glossy eyes staring back into his deep blue ones.

“Do we have to stay here Chris? Don’t wanna”

“No baby, i’ve got something set up for us already, you don’t need to worry your pretty head about anything else. Now let’s get you and Dodge all set up and ready to go” Before Chris could even leave the embrace, Y/n had latched onto him shaking her head, his heart breaking even more.

“Alright bunny you stay with me yeah?”

Nodding, Y/n held onto his hand and let him lead her towards her dressed. The shock from the break in still extremely fresh in her mind. Holding onto his shoulders, Chris helped her slip on her underwear and fluffy pyjamas bottoms and then his soft jumper to top it off. In silence Y/n watched Chris pack both their overnight bags, along with Dodger’s who was sitting patiently with his head in Y/n’s lap.

“Come on bunny, let’s get outta here” Chris said softly holding his hand out for her to hold, both of them getting out of the car quickly and into Chris’ car, Y/n not letting go of his hand once.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“ babe, we’re gonna stay here is that ok?” Chris had driven them to his smaller bungalow almost an hour away, a place they use for small getaways to the countryside. Y/n nodded looking at him with a small smile, feeling a sense of comfort looking at the familiar house.

With Dodger settled in the living room in his bed with his water and food bowl, the pup knocked out from exhaustion almost instantly. Chris frowning at the effect it had on his little companion before following his lover into the small cosy bedroom. Lit up by rosey lamps, Y/n took his hand and led him to the fluffy bed. Her arms wrapping around his torso, her head laying on his pec.

“I was so scared of losing you ya know?” Chris whispered brushing through her hair with his hands, his lips pecking her forehead every so often, her fingers tracing shapes over his bare chest. His clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly with Y/n whimpering about wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“I love you Chris, thank you for coming as soon as possible. I-I was terrified and I still am to be honest. I know with you i’m safe”

“I-I love you so much more baby, you don’t even understand. I will never let any bastard come near you again, and it never should have happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more though”

“You’ve done all you can Chris, and you’ve done more than enough by just being here with me”

Chris tilted her head up and kissed her lips softly, his lips travelling to her cheeks and neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed wet kisses; something he knew comforted her. One of her legs wrapped around his waist so she was fully on him, her lips pecking his chest softly before laying her head down.

Thankfully soon enough, Chris watched her eyes close peacefully, the stress of the day leaving her for now. All Chris knew was that he would be with her every step of the way during this whole ordeal, so much that he couldn’t help but steal another kiss from her lips, her lips smiling subconsciously in her sleep. His hands up under his jumper that she was wearing, lazily drawing shapes onto her back, her soft breaths filling the room.

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @ilovereadingfanfics @patzammit @pandaxnienke @stormcloudss @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @chrisevansdaughter @cevansgurl @marvelgurl @evanstanwhore @mirikusashes @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @mischiefsemimanaged @thereisa8ella @uwiuwi @bval-1 @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @lastwandastan @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @fdl305 @bluebellsn @mdpplgtz03 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @roofwitty779 @aerangi @s-void @oliviah-25 @nikkitc0703 @meetmeatyourworst @girl-of-multi-fandoms @imboredat2am @mansaaay @adoreyouusugar @annajustwrites @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @royalwriteroftheuniverse @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chrisevansangel @tinyelfperson @emvebee @madebylilly @bxdbxtxh15 @tojisbabymomma @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mrspeacem1nusone @seren-a-ity

#romance #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans one shot

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twsthc · 10 months

Text

twst character playlists 🎧☆

⚠️ warnings: i have bad music taste. also a lot of nightcore. sorry.

last updated: october 10, 2023

🌹 🎼

Riddle: Bôa - Twilight , Laufey - Let You Break My Heart Again , Nakaniwano Shoujyotachi - SHISHAMO

i was thinking about putting in regal classical music or something, but its like, the whole point of riddle is hes a KID and that was taken from him

this is what he sounds like on the inside; a sad teenager lmao

Ace: Estelle - American Boy , Pharrell williams - Hug me , Bruno Mars & Cardi B - Finesse

teenage boy pilled

HUG ME! BRING IT IN! WOOO!!

Deuce: Beastie Boys - Fight for Your Right , Childish Gambino - Girls Look Better , ROAR - Christmas Kids , Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

2 people simultaneously agreed hed listen to the Beastie Boys in my discord so here we are!!

Cater: Azelia Banks - ANNA WINTOUR , Magdalena Bay - How to Get Physical , Katy Perry - California Gurls , Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

Azelia and Beyonce are in there cuz pop culture and cater and blah blah blah

i personally think hes a nightcore avril lavigne kid

Trey: BTS - 134340 , Sion - lies , Hyeln Joo - Hair Cut (미장원)

i would give you some super deep and understandable reason for these but.

idk!!! it just sounds like trey. this is what he sounds like.

🥩🎶

Leona: A Tribe Called Quest - Electric Relaxation , MF DOOM - Hoe Cakes , Sade - Smooth Operator , Kendrick Lamar - We Cry Together

i had to consult the african council (my dad) for this one

ATCQ of course, and Sade because my dad asked politely

Ruggie: GROOVY - Jersey Luv , Tay-K I <3 My Choppa , Lil Gnar - Sticky Rice , Odetari x 9lives - I LOVE YOU HOE

i dont have to explain myself to you

(hes african american boy coded)

Jack: Ice Cube - It Was A Good Day , Micheal Jackson - Rock With You , Bell Biv Devoe - Poison , De La Soul - Me Myself and I

i think he would be into oldies and ruggie would tease him for it

micheal jackson stan

🫧🎵

Azul: ABBA - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! , Dalida - Love In Portofino , Caravan Palace - Lone Digger , Caro Emerald - Tangled Up (Lokee Remix)

old sounding music for the "nostalgia" (he wasn't even born during these eras)

the songs that play at the lounge and it kinda got stuck in his head

he fantasizes about preforming these songs in drag btw

Jade: Antonia Carlos Jobim - Girl From Ipanema , Laufey - From the Start , CAPSULE - TICTAC

songs he listens to on long hikes while thinking about violence

Floyd: 41 minutes of Roblox music , Megurine Luka - Tako Luka Maguro Fever , Euday L. Bowman - Twelfth Street Rag , ₳С₴łĐ₳ - PRIVET PRIVET 2009 ST

haha get it spongebob music because hes a fish

(gets booed off stage)

🌞🎼

Kalim: Serani Poji -Pipo Pipo , 레드벨벳 - Day 1 , takeshi abo - LEASE , MAXIMUM THE HORMONE - ChuChu Lovely...

cutie patootie happy-go-lucky songs

i feel like Takeshi Abo - LEASE is what goes through his head on loop 24/7

Jamil: Paramore - Renegade , Bôa - Duvet , beabadoobee - the perfect pair , LeTigreWorld - Deceptacon , Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

Paramore - Renegade was actually a recommendation! thank you yorick :3

otherwise i think rock/soft heartbroken songs go well with him

👑🎶

Vil: Lana Del Rey - Doin' Time , Magdalena Bay - Killshot , Kitty Kallen - It's Been a Long, Long Time , Mitski - Liquid Smooth

queen. flawless. stilettos. category: bad bitch.

too classy for this world, forever that girl

Epel: KYLE - Don't Wanna Fall In Love , Ram Jam - Black Betty , WHAM! - Everything She Wants , Hot Freaks - I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend

a mix of older and newer songs i guess

i hc he works on a family farm (for fun and allowance). hed be blasting Black Betty in his left airpod while wrestling a sheep in the mud

music taste slightly influenced by deuce and jack methinks

Rook: Vendredi sur Mer - Écoute chérie , Camille - Le Festin , ラムのラブソング , Shelly Duvall - He Needs Me

you know i had to do it to em

okay but these songs unironically fit rook to me idk

☠🎵

Idia: 【らき☆すた】スーパーアハアハデラックス , 初音PV新作くるみ☆ぽんちお.flv , Caramella Girls - Caramelldansen , 6arelyhuman - Hands up!

the first one represents how i hc he listens to those 16 year old anime tohou remixes on a daily. he injects them into his veins.

nico nico douga war veteran. u u uma uma...

Ortho: Nanoray - DesktopBuddy , METAROOM - S.N.U.F.F.Y

cute and electronic sounding songs!!

🐉🎼

Malleus: Malice Mizer - Ma Chérie , this entire playlist , Yoko Kanno - Green Bird , NASTYONA - My September ,

being honest idk much about malleus

all i know is he would listen to malice mizer and he is gay

Silver: The Smiths - Heaven Knows I'm Miserable now , Burn The Ballroom - Kiss Me You Animal , Wienners - GOD SAVE THE MUSIC

lilia influenced his music taste a lot

Sebek: deaf, doesn't listen to music

Lilia: Mothy - ヴェノマニア公の狂気 , MASA WORKS DESIGN - 狐の嫁入り , Kenshi Yonezu - KICK BACK

trying to stay true to his war general roots while also remembering hes a gamer otaku thing now...

also hes in the "light" music club so

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #music #playlist #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #making this hurt me physically #for some reason the octatrio were the hardest to assign???#despite them being my favorite dorm #hmmm #character playlist #twsthc

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rebornologist · 2 months

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Hi! Im unsure if you could line in for the day your requests open but I just fell in love with your writing and the way you depict the characters. I just wanted to shoot my shot and ask if you could write your take or headcanons on what Tsuna would be in love? Anyways I hope you have a nice day!!!

Omg hiii Anon!! These took a hot minute but I'm so excited to share these noww because writing these up had me all smiley and happy that Tsuna exists :')

♡ Sawada Tsunayoshi in Love ✧

༚✧⁺˳₊˚‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ ⁺˳₊ ♡ ₊˳⁺ ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿˚₊˳⁺✧༚

Initially a flustered mess, you’ve seen how he is with his middle schooler crush on Kyoko.

Tsuna has never had great self esteem, which is super interesting when combined with his really good people skills?! He’s extremely intuitive and able to pick up on people’s intentions and get a general read of them really easily, but he gets stuck in his head with the “what if they don’t actually like me? I’m misreading..” thought loop.

In love and in a romantic relationship, he curbs some of that thinking with time and experience in knowing his partner. If there’s anything that he can and will believe in, it is his partner’s words and actions, the way that they actively express their love for him and seek out his time and attention.

He also knows deep down that he values them so so so much, and he learns to be fairly at peace with knowing that no matter what, he will do his best to treasure them and be good to them. He would become most frustrated with a partner that behaves recklessly, or is dismissive of/not understanding of his expressions of love and devotion, especially because he does not make particularly grand gestures of love.

Tsuna is not perfect, even when he’s older. He will slip up in his communication and miss scheduled quality time with his partner every once in a while, mostly because he has a lot on his plate and gets super busy and easily overwhelmed. He makes a very active effort to keep in touch with his s/o because I think when he’s in love with someone, they’re 100% also his closest friend and confidant. He bonds with people well over shared vulnerability and life experiences together.

His love is most expressed in how patient he is with a partner, how consistently he is there for them (even more than for himself, sometimes), how supportive and protective he is, and how much he just enjoys their company! He’s not a great gift giver, he’ll perform acts of service for his s/o if they really ask him to, but usually doesn’t go out of his way to do so and is uncharacteristically blunt with saying no when he feels unable to do a task for them. It might sound like he’s being dismissive, but he is just being his most honest self with them. When he isn’t as close to someone, he’s more likely to be a people pleaser and promise something that he knows he cannot fulfill, and he would hate to do that to his loved ones.

He’s not particularly touchy but will really appreciate small gestures of PDA such as hand holding and little kisses. It’s really easy to make him blush with that because he’s such a puppy boy.. It's like, if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

His words of reassurance are the best. He’s not an impressive speaker, but everything that he says comes from the heart, especially the ones that are emotionally charged. He feels his feelings quite deeply, and that might be one of the things his partner loves about him: that being sensitive to their needs comes pretty naturally to him, and he learns to be very patient with people and have a lot of hope in them, especially when he knows how great they are deep down.

bonus song that makes me think of loving Tsuna: he's the type to be content with just doing laundry and taxes with his loves ♡

#khr #hitman reborn #khr headcanons #katekyo hitman reborn #khr x reader #sawada tsunayoshi #tyl tsunayoshi sawada #khr tsuna #tsuna khr #I hope the subtle song recc is a hit o3o

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chemistryread · 2 years

Text

washing machine heart

robert 'bob' floyd

summary: a regular night turns into an opportunity during a game of truth or dare, thanks to jake.

disclaimers/tags: minors dni. female reader. no Y/N.

a/n: ok so while i finish right cowboy, wrong time’s last chapter, have a short bob one shot! i wanted to turn the ending into smut but maybe next time. the title is just because i was listening to the song while writing this, and thinking about how reader wants bob. lmk your thoughts :)

The book you had promised to yourself that you'd read at least one chapter of now sits untouched on your lap, as you type away on your phone.

You're occupying the entire loveseat, stretched legs, arms above your head, screen shining brightly over your face. Everyone else sits on the armchairs or the floor, since you refused to give away any space.

"Jesus, you're not even reading, go be on your phone somewhere else."

"I was here first, Jake. Stop stressing, you're gonna get wrinkly."

The Dagger Squad fills the base's 'peace room'. That's how you all decided to call it after you agreed you'd not bring any training tensions into it, but it became a very ironic name given that Bradshaw and Seresin were constantly working to shred any semblance of peace in the area. And so it stuck.

It was supposed to be a very boring Tuesday night. If only you knew.

Coyote and Hangman peer pressure a group of Navy pilots into playing truth or dare, spinning an empty Gatorade bottle.

A middle-school energy fills the room quickly.

Phoenix is dared to poke her tongue up Fanboy's nose. Payback gets Hangman to tell the story of his first blackout, and how he embarrassed himself in front of a pretty nurse and her doctor husband. Nat asks Rooster if his mustache is real, which turns into daring him to let her and Fanboy pull on it at the same time. Brown eyes fill with tears, but he swears it only hurt a little.

You're too lost in your texting to really pay attention, until Seresin calls your name.

Head turning, the group seems to remember you are there.

"What?"

"Care to participate for once?"

It's not that you dislike fun, you love it, it just so happens that what Hangman considers fun tends to make you roll your eyes. When you told him as much, he obnoxiously read it as you being too no-nonsense. Now, he takes every possible opportunity to fuck with you.

To see the fire in his eyes, you decide to play along. Sitting up and cracking your neck.

"Sure. Dare."

Six people woo. Your expression remains unamused, communicating to the main instigator that you're not scared of his antics.

"I don't know why you decided to grace me with this tonight, God, but thank you-"

"Get to it, airhead."

"I dare you to take a trip down memory lane and stop at Seven Minutes in Heaven." Some scoff, you only chuckle. Predictable. "Me, Rooster or Bob. What's your pick?"

Phoenix smirks your way.

"I get to choose? Uncharacteristically nice of you."

"So?"

This will be good.

"Bob."

Spines straigthen and heads snap up, glancing between you and the mousy young man hugging his knees up to his chest in the corner.

Jake looks utterly confused.

"What?"

"Contrary to your delusions, Bagman, not everyone is invested in your dick measuring contest with Rooster. Just because you're the loudest doesn't mean you've caught my eye."

"But baby on board?"

Shrugging, you manage to mask your excitement pretty well, you hope. Truth be told, reserved and kind was always your type.

Big, round eyes. Lightly curled hair. Neat look, with an effort. You know it takes confidence to be unapologetically modest in a testosterone exhibit such as the Navy. Bob doesn't care, and that is very attractive. The day he told Seresin he always manages to offend, calling out his bullshit, you had stifled a satisfied laugh behind your fist, clicking your pen. He glanced back at you, and the proud albeit flustered smile has been seared into your brain ever since.

You like to believe the two of you get each other. Maybe you lean into the jokes a little more, but your words have similar bites, carrying the same goal of taking these raging overinflated egos down a notch.

"Your roster. Plus, I'm curious." Usually, you don't target him, spare him of the teasing. He gets enough. But now, you lean on the edge of the loveseat, biting your lip when you look his way, finally noticing the book balancing on his knees. "Are you even playing?"

"No, I said I wasn't. At the beginning."

Jake's lips start to move, probably to say you'd have no choice but to go for him or one of your oldest friends who you had said you'd never swap spit with because of how weird it would feel. So him.

You cut him off, still watching Bob. "You are now."

The group laughs, you stand up, smoothing down inappropriate short pijama shorts, and he burns up.

Natasha, the only person who has caught on to your crush on her backseater, clears her throat. "Pantry? We can lock the door with one of the stools from the kitchen."

"A-are we actually doing this?"

He finally gets up, mimicking your actions and nervously straightening his shirt.

"Do you have somewhere to be in the next seven minutes?"

Rooster interrups your flirting with a belly laugh. "Relax, baby Bob, she's never kissed anyone during that game. I would be more worried she might punch you. That happened once, ninth grade."

In your mighty defense, you said no and the boy still made a move. Your hand happened to come up at the same time. With a lot of force. Into his nose.

"No distractions!"

Payback rips your book and phone from your hands. You chuckle at how unaware they are, you're not planning on cowering from this one.

When the two of you reach the door, you turn back to Bob, setting a timer on his wristwatch. You feel his arm hair stand up as your fingers work the band, undoing the strap and chucking it to Phoenix.

The last thing you see is Hangman's furrowed brow and crossed arms. "I can't believe this."

It's very dark, once the door is closed.

"Lights on or off?" You joke.

"Up to you." His voice is shaky, swallowing dry. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the idea that you make him feel like this.

Blue eyes shine, and you can make out the silhouette of his face, a bit of a pink tinge to his cheeks. Scared the brightness would give your own anxiousness away, you opt to stay hidden, lights off.

He jumps when you thump heavily on the door, hearing Fanboy gasp. "Back to your game, you nosy kids. We'll be out in seven."

You stay close to it, making sure that you've been left alone for real this time.

"That was smart."

Nice, you're definitely blushing now. Thinking of a 'good girl' in his voice being added to that sentence.

"Thanks, Floyd. Means a lot coming from you."

"Oh, right. Sorry, didn't mean to sound condescending."

Curse your sarcastic nature. You're so used to it, to biting back, that sometimes it comes out when you don't mean to.

"No, no." You take a step forward, still unsure. "I meant it. I think you're probably the smartest out of all of us, and we have similar- Okay, now that sounded bitchy and narcissistic. Everyone in there is obviously very intelligent, I genuinely think so, I just meant- Uhm, what I meant was-"

"Wait," He breathes out your name. "Are you nervous?"

Bob is leaning on one of the shelves, practically sitting on it, across the room. Arms behind his back, one shoe propped up, in a way that highlights defined biceps and thick thighs. You audibly swallow.

Your eyes trace his crooked goggles, quickly fall to his lips, then snap back up to him.

"Floyd, have you noticed I didn't say 'don't try anything'?"

He smiles, and you shrink, feeling small under the shy teasing coming from him. This is new. Usually, you act as equals, like-minded partners in social situations. Now, he's turning the game on you.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Another step forward, hands behind your back, like his, and a small tug of your lips.

"Like I said, I'm curious."

"Curious?"

His arms cross in front of his chest now, legs spreading, looking even more appetizing.

A sheepish smile covers your features, eyes effortlessly dragging over his body, head to toe. You hope he is seeing this.

"Just, uhm," You chuckle. "I don't know. Every time we hang out, there are these little moments, fleeting, that I think- I think there's something there. A pull. When your jokes fly over Hangman and Coyote's heads, when you basically only speak to back up Natasha no matter what, when you let them mock your game just to pocket three in a row. I see all of that, and I think you see me seeing it. And you like it. But maybe I'm being conceited."

"You're not."

His voice goes somehow lower, soft twang to his accent bleeding out more, even with two simple words. You're quickly crumbling under his stare, transfixed on the way his teeth trap the bottom lip, pink turning redder.

He has built the same walls you have that aren't easy to break down. Different from the others. Uncharted territory, and you're fumbling big time.

"Mhm." Cracking your knuckles behind your back, looking at his shoes. "But we don't have to, if you don't want to. I hope I'm not being pushy, really, I've just thought about this before and it's like scratching an itch inside of my brain. Phoenix knows, by the way, so she's probably gonna tease the hell out of both of us when we-"

Large hands pull you by the waist, foreheads bumping very lightly before his lips are tugging on yours.

Bob tastes amazing, like the hibiscus tea he was just having. His hands are calloused but not rough, or maybe that's just the way he's using them.

It takes you a second to react, so he moves back, preparing to mutter an apology between your parted lips. But, with your eyes still closed, your hands finally revive and wrap around his neck, pulling him to you again.

You're stuck together, as if by a gravitational pull, legs trapped inside of his spread, in a way that you have to bend your neck down to meet him.

Fingertips slide an inch down his waistband and you realize he skipped the underwear.

You open up for his tongue to swipe under yours, and it's a divine feeling. Your heads move back and forth naturally, chasing each other. Scratching his neck, his throat, clinging to the collar of his shirt.

It happens fast.

A desperate bite to your lip and you forget to contain your moan, totally mindless of where you are and grinding down on him. You feel him buckle, his groan so breathy and restrained swallowed down your throat, and he changes your position. So now he's pressing you against the shelf, crotch fitting perfectly against your hips, one hand coming up to pull on your hair, grazing your breast on the way, while the other grabs your ass like he depends on it to breathe. Funny, since you're not doing much of that anyway.

You probably waste three minutes doing that.

It would be so easy. Your shorts are thin and, well, lacking length. He's wearing sweatpants. So, so easy to just…

A loud knock. Rooster. Thirty seconds left, and then the stool goes back to its original place.

Bob sighs, lifiting your chin with his index, thumb running across your bottom lip delicately, setting you up for another kiss. Reluctantly, you stop him.

"Should take those thirty seconds to sort that out."

He follows your gaze, down to his erection pushing against the fabric.

"Oh." At last, his hands leave you, fast and sorely missed. He steps back, blushing furiously in the dark.

"Take a seat, breathe. We'll stall."

He does, sitting on the floor of the pantry as you turn the lights on. You don't regret the inital decision to leave them off, the brightness makes both of you wince.

It's definitely awkward to watch him try to concentrate and will his hard-on away, but it would be worse to help and have him walk out of your little game with an unmistakable stain in his pants.

You pick a jar of cherries, popping one into your mouth and crouching next to him, hand soothing his shoulder. He jumps.

"Don't do that!"

An apology is spat out amidst unstoppable laughter. Another right after when he glares at you. Yeah, you can't do much here.

You're laying on the floor, opposite to him, chewing cherries and silently laughing at his state.

"At least they're black. It's not as easy to see."

"It's not gonna go away."

"Just say you're going to the bathroom."

"That's too obvious."

"Fine, bedroom then. I bored you to death and you're sleepy."

"Hardly true." He blushes again and you grin, toothy and proud. "Stop! You're not helping. This is your fault, telling me you've thought about me, talked to Phoenix about it. A girl like you…What did you think was gonna happen?"

He's more helpless, than angry. A self-satisfied grin blossoms on your face. Simply knowing you think and talk about him got him hard. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid making things worse again. Sitting up, you breathe in, working on how to make sure you come across as genuine as possible.

"Bob, I'm not just fucking around." His eyes squint behind the goggles. Your hand slides on the carpet, pinky curling around his. "I really like you."

His eyes roam your face, smile lines strengthened, and he's going to say something when Phoenix opens the door.

You retrieve your hand.

"It's been eight minutes. You're up."

Her dark eyes investigate everything in the room, including the both of you.

"Oh, we got lost talking about our books, sorry."

You throw her a very suspicious smile, bumping her shoulder lightly on your way out. She chuckles under her breath.

Jake and Javy took over the loveseat and you're arguing with them when Bob announces he's turning in.

He walks with the book in front of his crotch, and Nat nearly chokes on her water. After he leaves, she's quickly pulling on your elbow.

"We're gonna go too, goodnight!"

Thankfully, your and Bob's rooms are on separate ways, passing by a very impatient Hangman.

"You guys suck."

You bend down to whisper in his ear. "You're just moody because you got no action tonight."

His blond head whips around, yelling for you as Natasha drags you along.

"Did he? DID HE?"

#robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #tgm #lewis pullman

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luveline · 6 months

Note

idk if you would write for this I checked your guidelines and wasn’t sure but I would LOVE a pregnancy scare with Aaron (May be reader is younger than him?)! And she’s just panicked bc he’s older and already has a kid and etc and the test can be pos or neg totally up to you!

thank you for requesting! 1.3k, fem (possibly) pregnant!reader

cw reader's and hotch's attitude towards pregnancy is mostly positive

Your period is twelve days late.

That is not a small amount of time.

You don't notice it at first, and when you do you figure it's a few extra days without an irksome pain, a balm to soothe the ache of your absent boyfriend and a hard job, but when Aaron comes home from a case and you still haven't started your period, the panic begins to set in.

You have a hard time keeping things from him for obvious reasons. His being a human lie detector felt fascinating when you first met, but now it's making things worse. You would've liked some time to yourself for denial, only he can always tell when something is wrong, though it's clear to you he's not sure exactly what it is. He'll realise eventually, you know.

"Let's go to the store," he suggests, his hand flirting with the back of your neck. "You always feel better after a sweet treat."

You've been to the store today, unbeknownst to him, for some emotional support chocolates and a small box you'd rather not think about. You'd hoped that he might get called away to give you time to open it, but without him you're not sure you have the strength.

You hadn't expected to feel this way. You want desperately to tell him, but you're just so, so scared.

"I don't feel like going anywhere."

He hums as his hand moves to your shoulder, squeezing a loving path down to your hand. Jack bangs a toy down in his bedroom across the way, and the washing machine spinning from the utility closet sounds louder than it ever has before, like a rocket about to erupt. You don't know what it is that gets you, but suddenly you're overwhelmed, a confession stuck in the back of your throat as Aaron meets your panicked gaze.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Here, honey, sit down."

He guides you to a kitchen chair.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, bending at the waist.

Your head rushes with white noise for a second. You wet your chapped lips with the tip of your tongue; you've missed your period, but it isn't that alone that scares you. Perhaps in an instance of a psychosomatic symptom, you feel weird, other. Something has changed. And you're starting to feel sick.

"Aaron, I don't know what to do," you say.

His eyes widen with an expression you don't often see. "Has something happened?"

It's so, so hard to say. "I think I've messed up."

"Not in any way I can't fix."

"Maybe I have," you say miserably, panic hot behind your eyes.

He shakes his head. "You haven't. I swear you haven't. Please, tell me what's wrong before I have a heart attack."

You can't say it while he's looking at you, and when you do it's hardly audible. "I think I'm pregnant," you breathe.

Aaron pauses. You can't even raise your head, anxiety its own heartbeat and nausea rising fast. You let out a gasp you'd held in and try to calm down, even while every little part of you worries about what he's going to say.

You don't know if you want to be pregnant, or have a baby, but you know it would probably break your heart just a touch if Aaron didn't want to have one with you. You're not sure why. And Jack is a beautiful kid but he's growing up. Aaron isn't young.

"How sure are you?" he asks, tone completely measured.

"I… I feel it," you say. "I know that's stupid… 'N my period is really late, nearly two weeks now."

"You feel it?"

"I feel sick." Your elbows on your thighs and the backs of your hands pressed to your eyes, you curl in on yourself. "I'm so scared."

"You're scared?" Hands on your forearms. Aaron gets down on his knees in front of your chair and rubs fondness into your skin, his voice a soothing, familiar comfort as he says, "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be scared of. Don't be scared. I'm right here."

Tears like a shock, relief and horror mixed into one. "I'm so stupid, I haven't even taken the test yet, I don't know why I'm acting this way."

"We all react differently to foreign situations than how we might imagine. What's important now is that you take a breath, because otherwise you'll panic."

While you're afraid of what he's thinking, you trust him implicitly. "Okay."

"Okay," he says, pulling your hands away from your face. "Just breathe, honey."

He's more patient than you knew another person could be. He wipes your straggling tears with his hand without a word, his breath coming in even inhales and exhales for you to follow. The small spike of panic swiftly melds to plain old tears. You're embarrassed. You're unhappy. You and Aaron certainly weren't trying for this occasion.

"What are you scared of?" he asks eventually.

"Of you. Of what you're thinking, and– and what if I– I mean, what if I'm pregnant?" you ask, as though pregnant is a new word. When you said it at first, you'd meant, what if we end up having a baby together? But now you're more inclined to think about the process itself. What if you're physically pregnant?

"Well, you have absolutely no reason to be scared of me. I love you." Aaron puts his hand just under your ear, his thumb to your cheek. "Whatever happens. Nothing else matters to me besides you."

"Because you want a baby," you say unhappily.

"Who says I don't?" He smiles at you softly. "I think we should've had this conversation a long time ago, but the long and short of it is that I love you. I love you and I'll do what you need me to."

"I figured you'd be done having babies," you say, still hesitant.

"Evidently not." He laughs, and you laugh back and he acts like you've hung the moon. "If you're scared of being pregnant, maybe you should take the test before you wind yourself up, hm?"

"I guess I'm acting pretty silly, huh?" you ask, sniffling and wiping your eyes, the two of you caught in breathy laughter again.

"Hormonal, maybe," he says. "Don't be scared. I don't want you to be scared."

"What do you want?" you ask.

"I just want you to stop crying. It's not right…" He strokes your damp cheek. "If I'm honest? If you take that test, and you aren't pregnant, or if you don't want to have a baby," —his face is calm, a small smile playing on his lips— "then I don't want you to, either."

"But if I am?" you ask.

"Then I will be so, so happy, because it's you."

A missed period isn't necessarily indicative of pregnancy, and you could be freshly pregnant or four whole weeks and the test could still come out negative. Maybe your weird feeling is indigestion. Whatever happens, you really believe that the man in front of you is here for whatever answer you find.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, bone deep sincerity turned to something lighter, fondly teasing as he lifts himself up and hugs you close. "You know that."

You let him hold you for a little while, calming down, looking at the positives and all your options. "You think Jack would be happy?"

"He'd love a brother or sister… eventually."

You wipe your tears and runny nose in his shirt and he does you the generosity of pretending not to notice. If you are going to have anyone's baby, you'd want it to be his.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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sizzlinbaconpeach · 1 year

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Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly Again

Chris stirred from his sleep as the scent of breakfast and the warm rays of sunshine enticed him to wake from his restful slumber. It was still something he was getting used to; sleeping through the night and waking feeling rested. There had been so many nights where that was not the reality for him. Many nights where he dreaded the darkness of insomnia staring back at him, and even more where he would find himself waking from another racking nightmare... sweating, pleading, and searching for what felt like delusional signs or hints that she was okay.

He closed his eyes again as he let his body sink back into the bed, the softness cradling his muscles, that for so long had never ceased to ache. But those nights were mostly gone now. He wasn't desperately seeking answers anymore, suffering sleepless nights of his mind racing or of the intense ache gripping his heart that burrowed deep inside him. No, those nights were nearly 6 months ago now.

He lifted his head and turned his body to check the bed for his better half, but realized that she must be what is the cause of the intoxicating smell of food from the kitchen. He stretched and yawned, allowing himself to shake the sleep from his mind and body. Then he heard her soft footsteps come up behind him.

"Chris," her voice barely a whisper, "I made breakfast." He felt her hand gently graze his shoulder as he grabbed at her wrist.

In one swift motion, he pulled her in close against him, smelling her sweet hair as he buried her into his chest and wrapped his limbs around her. Her gleeful protests would be ignored as he held her firm in his arms under the blankets, planting sweet kisses on her head. He spoke as she continued to resist his embrace with giggles.

"Good morning, my Jillybean." His groggy deep voice hummed in her ear.

Her body immediately melted into his as she nuzzled her face against his chest. She could stay in this moment all day, as they had done once or twice before. She reminded herself that they were making up for all the lost time and missed opportunity from the past. Did he crave it as much as her? Did the warmth bring tears to his eyes, too?

How long had it been that she was stuck in agony, praying for any relief to save her from the shredding of her soul? A piece of her being stripped away every day for what felt like unending years. But he was the reason she hadn't shattered into a million pieces, though at the time it felt like her mind and heart would. When she saw him, standing before her, begging her to come back to him, she was going to push through any pain to reach him again. She wanted Jill to be the one to touch him, say his name, gaze into his eyes; not the mind-controlled machine she had become in those dark years. What would have happened if he hadn't come for her? How long had he searched for her? He was a man of few words, but the dedication and care he demonstrated toward her was enough for her to know that he wouldn't have been anywhere else but by her side.

The intense comfort she felt in his arms, the safety, the strength, was everything she needed and more. What happened in those years were paling in comparison to the immense love she felt for this man. The tears came more freely to her eyes and she allowed his shirt to wipe them away. Just as his voice had washed away the emptiness she was trapped in for so long. Just as his touch made her feel a warmth she had long forgotten, a gentleness she hadn't experienced since the fall.

He was the captain of a ship that had saved her from the frigid raging sea of death and destruction that was pulling her under. A ship she had leapt from in an attempt to divert its course. But how could she ever weather the stormy seas by herself? She was thrashing and gasping for air as he came and saved her from flailing and drowning. He had always done that for her, hadn't he? But what she hadn't realized was that the captain needed her spot light to navigate those seas, they needed each other to keep the ship afloat. The captain would sail aimlessly without her, damaging the ship in storms and unforeseen obstacles. They needed each other, now and forever. That had been a truth since the day they met. It only became more undeniable in the many years that followed. And now they were life partners: husband and wife. Forever entwined with one another. And Jill wouldn't have it any other way.

He felt her breath hitch in her throat followed by the dampening of his shirt again. He closed his eyes to prevent the prodding emotion from falling out of them. He delicately rubbed her back with his thumbs as he placed more kisses in her hair. He heard her sniffle as she rubbed her face against him. She clasped at him, his shirt, his arms, his waist. And he just held her tighter. What he wouldn't give to ensure she never had to endure any hardship again. To never be plagued by the ramifications and dangers of their work. To never have to feel or fear the flashbacks of despair when they were separated. When she was tormented and abused. How could he protect her from this suffering?

Just when he thought his own emotion would spill out of him, she lifted her head with a smile, her eyes tinged with red from the tears, but she spoke with so much gratitude and joy.

"I'm so happy you're my husband." She pressed her lips to his. "Now, come on. Your breakfast is getting cold."

He stared at her beautiful face for a few moments, in total awe of her strength. He kissed her forehead as he released his grasp on her, "... of course."

#fanfiction #post re5 #resident evil #valendfield #chris x jill

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cool-island-songs · 10 months

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i have craig tucker AI cover of washing machine heart stuck in my head so bad and it just sounds like mitski with a head cold.. ashamed....

#the best craig tucker AI covers are the ones where he is flat #canon!!!

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fan-g0rl · 10 months

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Washing Machine Heart

Warnings: Angst (Happy Ending?), Mentions of poly relationship

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Gender Neutral Reader

Gif not mine.

Kissing Satoru always has a sadness to it nowadays, I can’t place if it’s coming from me or him, it’s honestly probably a bit of both.

How can we cling to each other with such passion but also feel such an empty hole in our hearts? Like a piece of a puzzle that is missing. Our puzzle is nearly complete but will always have an annoying spot right in the middle, a spot left empty. Oh how one little piece can be so distracting.

I grip him closer by his hair and that’s when I hear it…

”Suguru” he whimpers

We both instantly freeze, my eyes widen in shock not knowing what to do next but pull away, my hands release their grip I had on his porcelain hair as my eyes scan his face. He looks at me with such pain and guilt.

“(Y/N)….I…I’m sorry, I just.” He looks down in shame searching for the correct words to say

I move my hand towards his cheek to silence him, he closes his eyes at my touch while his frown deepens

“It’s ok Satoru, I know.”

He opens his arctic eyes to look back into mine with that guilt-ridden look.

“Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to think of him, it's just…I don’t know.” He sighed while once again looking away as to not meet my gaze.

I move my hand from his cheek back down to my side and clench my hand into a fist and release it a couple of times to ground myself, preparing myself to confess.

“There’s no need to forgive you if I too am guilty of the same sin” I whisper with that same apologetic expression while tears threaten to fall from my eyes.

At my declaration his eyes quickly move from the floor back up to my eyes, this time I am the one that cannot bring myself to look up. He stares at me for what feels like years, he slowly reaches for my hand that’s stuck in a fist from trying to fight back tears. He clasps his hand in mine.

“(Y/N), please look at me.” He begs with a slight tremble in his voice no doubt trying to keep himself together.

I lower my head more, I can’t bear to look into his eyes knowing that once I do the dam will break open and I won’t be able to close it again for quite some time.

With his free hand he reaches for my chin to lift my head from its lowered position, my eyes still refusing to meet his own.

“(Y/N), my love. Please, please look at me.

He calls my name again with a softness I hadn’t heard since the day he told me Suguru would be leaving us for good.

I finally brought my eyes up to him. I didn’t think my heart could break anymore from that day, the day Suguru left us but the look in his eyes proved to me otherwise.

Satoru’s expression was filled with such anguish.

The dam breaks and my tears fall, it feels as though they’ll never stop.

His hand moves from my chin up to caress my cheek to catch the tears that fall from my now reddened eyes.

“If we both carry the same burden, why should we shoulder it by ourselves? We made a promise to always lean on each other in our time of need, let me help to carry the load” he finished with a hum.

The other hand that was still clasped with mine he squeezed for comfort, His eyes filled with love and care.

I bring my empty hand up to hold the one he had on my cheek and intertwine our fingers. I look into his eyes and press our foreheads together slowly closing our eyes.

“It seems we both find it hard to lean on others for help. Heh, Sugu’ was always the one to bring down our walls and get us to talk. I think it’s time we learn to do so with each other. I’ll let you help carry my burden but I get to help carry yours too, you might be the strongest when it comes to taking down curses but no man could be able to withstand a heartbreak such as this by themselves. I love you, Toru’. I always will” I bring myself to say with a conviction that I didn’t know I had.

I lean away from him to look into his eyes, we stare at each other with a new kind of love, a healing love that will continue to grow and navigate through with just us two. I briefly look at his lips as he does mine and we lean in.

The kiss was filled with a new spark. A happiness and a hopeful kiss for this new chapter we would enter in our lives.

We’ll always mourn the loss of our other partner and we’ll always love him, but It’s time we finally move on with each other.

Authors note: Hey! This is my first fanfic, I hope y’all like it! Please leave a comment and let me know what y’all think. Thanks for reading!~fan-g0rl

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #angst #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader angst #gojo jjk #fanfic

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the-likesofus · 2 years

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we all fall (down)

Buddie | 9-1-1 on Fox | 1475 Words | fluff, kisses, bruises, chim is a sore loser

The 118 firehouse throws a carnival fundraiser & Buck and Eddie take a tumble.

For the prompts: Three-Legged Race & Kissing Bruises

Not me ignoring all my WIPs cos they don't like me very much right now and writing a whole other fic. I spent all day trying to make progress on the Miscommunication Fic and got nowhere so a trawled a fic prompt generator for some inspiration and this happened.

Read on AO3

It's for charity, that's what Eddie keeps telling himself. It's for the children. Eddie likes children, he has a child. But staring out at the array of obstacles and the crowd of onlookers waiting for him to fall flat on his face, he's seriously reconsidering having turned up to work today.

"Are you sure you shuffled those?" Hen queries.

"Of course I did," Bobby confirms staring down at the pieces of paper in his hands as if they have personally offended him.

"Surely we redraw. They can’t be paired together. They have an unfair advantage." Chim complains trying to grab the container out of Bobby's hands.

"How do we have an advantage?" Buck says indignantly.

"You two practically share a brain, how do we know you won't cheat? Like, telepathically."

"Really, Chim?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Thank you, Ravi!"

"We're not redrawing, it'll take too long. Just pair up and let's get going, okay." Bobby says, always the voice of reason, though he still looks decidedly frustrated as he watches Buck collect his piece of rope and head in Eddie's direction.

"You ready, partner?" Buck grins at him and Eddie's heart does a flip-flop in his chest.

"As I'll ever be," Eddie replies, casting a glance back at the crowd until he spots Chris standing at the edge. He's leaning against Maddie's side and waves frantically when he catches Eddie's gaze. Eddie waves back with his best I'm super excited to run a three-legged race (in front of a bunch of strangers whilst physically tied to my best friend who doesn't know I'm in love with him) face.

Even he doesn't know what that expression looks like but he hopes it's positive.

This whole debacle was Buck's idea, obviously. Early last week they had a call to the local orphanage after one of the kids had climbed out the window playing hide and seek and found himself stuck on the fire escape. The window had fallen shut behind him and then gotten jammed. Thankfully when the other kids found him they had the decency to tell the Matron who called 911 after not being able to pry the window back open herself.

The drive back to the station in the engine mainly consisted of Buck blabbing on about depressing social services statistics and generally bringing down the mood after what had been a simple and successful rescue. Later Buck had suggested to Bobby that they hold a fundraiser for the orphanage and Bobby had agreed that as long as Buck came up with the theme and did most of the organizing, he would run it by the Chief. After much debate and chewing Eddie’s ear off about it throughout dinner the following evening, Buck had decided on a small-scale, classic carnival.

So far the day was going off without a hitch. Eddie was put in charge of the balloon darts, Hen was judging a very competitive game of corn hole and Buck only lasted an hour in the dunk tank before he switched out with Chim. Eddie then had to watch him walk around him in a sopping wet LAFD t-shirt for the rest of the afternoon.

"I'm watching you, Buckley!" Chim calls as they stand on the starting line.

"Watch your own feet, Howard, or you'll trip!" Buck shouts back. Eddie can't help but chuckle at the way Chimney's face screws up.

Buck wraps one arm around Eddie's shoulders and Eddie follows suit, folding his own arm around Buck's waist. Tucked in this close he can smell Buck's deodorant and the laundry powder from Eddie's own washing machine. It's a good combination. Too good really.

"Take your marks!" Lucy shouts from the sidelines, from the corner of his eye Eddie can see Chimney and Ravi, and Hen and Bobby take their positions.

"Let's smoke 'em." He whispers to Buck and he gets a wide grin in return. Eddie may not be all that keen on public displays of idiocy but he never said he wasn't competitive. Besides, he'd like to wipe the smirk off Chim's face, for the children.

"Get set!"

Game time.

"Go!"

Inside leg, outside leg, repeat. Maybe Chim was onto something, like everything else they do together, Buck and Eddie are perfectly in sync and quickly taking the lead. Bobby and Hen are gaining on them, Chim and Ravi obviously let their need to win overtake their ability to communicate, both starting with their left leg, causing them to stumble right from the get-go.

Eddie's heart is thrumming in his chest, adrenaline pumping, and Buck's hand gripping his shoulder tightly as the finish line comes into view. Eddie swears he can hear Christopher shouting from the sidelines and it spurs him on even more.

As quickly as it started it's all over and predictably Buck and Eddie race through the finishing tape well ahead of the other pairs, followed by Hen and Bobby and then Chimney and Ravi, complete with another round of complaints about their suspected telepathic connection.

"I call for a rematch!" He shouts.

"Shut up, Chim." Ravi grumbles, "You're the one that made us lose in the first place."

"No, that was definitely you! I said outside leg first."

"We agreed on inside leg."

There's commotion all around them, and Eddie can still hear Christopher cheering.

The excitement of their win is what causes their downfall, quite literally. They lose their balance in an instant, their ankles getting tangled as Buck throws a fist in the air in victory. Moments later they are twisted in a heap on the ground, Buck groaning as his head collides with Eddie's shoulder and Eddie barely suppresses a shout as Buck knees him in the upper thigh, a little too close for comfort.

"Ouch," Buck says, his forehead pressed against Eddie's sternum. It's only then that Eddie realizes that he'd wrapped his arms around Buck in an attempt to protect him from the fall.

"You okay?"

"I think I'm gonna have a black eye." Buck reaches up to cup one side of his face and he's right, Eddie can already see color blooming across the ridge of his cheekbone.

"Can we try to sit up?" Eddie asks, already surveying whose limbs are where in the knot they created.

"Ahh yeah just-" Buck tries to roll off him but forgets that their ankles are still tied and just ends up pulling both their legs in the wrong direction. "Shit."

Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him and reaches for the rope. "Hang on a second, stop moving."

The angle he has to lean at to reach their feet has Eddie pressed almost flush with the side of Buck's ribcage and he can feel the way Buck's heart pounds against his chest.

"Almost got it, hang on." The rope slips in his shaking fingers, high on adrenaline and the closeness of Buck, but eventually, he manages to pull one end free and the rope falls away, separating their limbs.

He puts his hand on Buck's shoulders and helps him to right himself as they shuffle up onto their knees. "There we go. Okay, look at me."

"Eddie. It's fine." Still, he lets him hold his chin as he checks both of Buck's eyes and the already forming bruise. He must have given himself quite the knock on the way down.

"Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

"No and no. I'm fine, really. It just hurts a bit, you know, throbbing."

"You are definitely going to have a black eye," Eddie confirms and his tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth as Buck turns his brilliant blue gaze directly at him. His eyes are wide and a little bit watery and Eddie gets lost in them. Maybe there is a little bit of telepathy between them after all because, in that instant, Buck's chin still cupped between his fingers and his knee pressed into Eddie's thigh, he swears something falls into place between them. He doesn't even care if anyone is watching him anymore.

Eddie leans forward and presses a gentle kiss just under Buck's eye over the blooming patch of red and purple. He hears Buck's breath hitch as he lingers and can't help the small smile he presses against the warm skin of his cheek.

"There, it'll heal faster now," Eddie whispers as he pulls away.

Eddie straightens, brushing his hands off on his knees as he stands up. "Right, I think that's enough games for me."

He's trying hard to ignore the mooning look that has spread across Buck's face. His blue eyes are wide and almost vacant in their stunned expression. He pats Buck on the shoulder and heads for the loft.

"No, wait! Eddie!" He hears scrambling from behind him and then Buck's footsteps running after him. "I heard they need more volunteers for the kissing booth!"

#meegs writes stuff #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 ficlet #ao3 #chimney han #howard chimney han #howie chimney han #ravi panikkar #bobby nash #hen wilson #lucy donato #maddie buckley #christopher diaz #soft buddie #buddie kisses

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