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freedomfireflies · 9 months

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Break Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

The one where Harry edges you into your subspace for the very first time.

Inspired by this request!!

Word Count: 2.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Again.”

You whine as Harry’s hand travels down the length of your stomach, his nails curling into your warm, sweaty flesh. “Har—”

“Again, Bee,” he murmurs from his place between your thighs, tongue darting out to drag through your pussy. The low and gentle vibrations of his deep voice send waves of pleasure directly to your cunt, reverberating through your clit until you nearly begin to cry. “Thought you promised to be my good girl, hm?”

You arch from the bed, arms straining against the rope that keep your wrists taut to the headboard. Keeping you from him. “I…I—”

He looks up. Soft green eyes now piercing right through you until your breath hitches, and you feel your chest just about cave in.

You know he’s right. Know you promised him. Swore on every star to behave. But that was before. Before he’d decided almost two and a half hours ago to edge you right to the brink of orgasm just to abandon you on that endless edge with no hope of getting down.

Or getting off.

“Come on,” he urges, pressing your thigh deep into the mattress to keep you spread and pliable. “Know you can do it, baby girl. Know you can. Been so good for me already. Come on.”

You peer down at him through damp lashes, the tears on your cheeks warm and glistening beneath the soft light of the lamp in the corner of the room. “H…”

His expression softens but the kisses to your cunt never cease, proving that this act of sympathy is all for show. “Say it, sweetie,” he whispers, lips trailing toward the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “What are you, hm?”

You inhale a greedy gasp for air, lashes fluttering shut as if to hide from him while you finally answer, “I’m…I’m yours. Only yours. Your fucktoy. Just…just a hole for you.”

The grin that splits his face is large and pleased, and you feel oddly relieved to have made him so proud.

“That’s right,” he agrees, squeezing the flesh of your waist in his hand. “My sweet little slut. Just a hole. Just a thing for me to use, yeah?”

You nod quickly, face turning toward your arm as though to hide from his amused gaze.

But he doesn’t like this, instead sitting up to take hold of your jaw and tug your attention back. “Uh-uh, Bee. None of that. Want you to be proud. Want you to be proud of the way you submit to me. Proud of your place beneath me."

You stumble over a soft sob, finally peering up at him with awe and admiration as the edge of his mouth quirks upward.

“You’re okay,” he says gently, thumbing at your tears before giving your throat a quick squeeze. “You’re okay, and you’re gonna behave for me like you promised. Isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod wordlessly. Watching with slight terror as he crawls back down your body and returns his focus to your cunt.

He loves to look at you. Loves to watch the way your body twitches or squirms. The way your clit becomes swollen and puffy, the way your pussy turns red and raw from his ministrations. The way you plead with him for release even though you know he’ll never offer it to you.

He reaches for the bullet vibrator that sits on the bed in wait, bringing it back into play as you whimper and attempt to close your legs in retaliation.

But his large body keeps them open, as does the pointed glare of warning that he shoots you before flicking the toy on.

Just the sound of the vibrations makes you whine, a chill traveling straight to your core as you begin to breathe a little quicker. Eyes locked on the weapon in his grasp.

You know what comes next. Know the pain and the pleasure that’ll be forced on you as you fight against your orgasm. Harry can be cruel, but you don’t imagine he’s ever been as cruel as he is today. With his unbreakable desire to ruin you.

The moment the tip of the vibrator comes in contact with your clit, you begin to cry, already too sensitive from the last round. Even without release, your body feels spent. Tortured and overstimulated. You don’t think you can take much more. Don’t think you have the strength to hold off the way he’s demanding you do.

“Shh,” he coos from below, attention zeroed in on the movement of the toy. The way it circles the aching nerves, the way it presses against them, deep into the bone. “You can take it, you’re okay.”

You want to believe him, but after everything else…you aren’t quite sure.

Depraved and desolate sounds fall from your mouth without pause. There’s no room for air in your lungs with the way you sough and sigh from the unforgiving touch of the machine.

He’s focused and unrelenting. Digging the tip deep into your flesh before dragging it through your pussy, using it to spread you open. It gets lost in your arousal, the silicone coated with your wetness as he circles your fluttering hole with glee.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, sweetie?” he purrs, shifting a bit closer to press a kiss to your clit.

You buck up and gasp his name, and that’s answer enough.

“Yeah?” He does it again before just barely slipping the vibrator inside. “No. Hold it.”

It’s the meanest thing he’s ever said to you, and the tears fall a little faster with every push of the toy into your cunt.

The feeling is indescribable. The way the pulsations echo throughout your entire nervous system, dragging you quicker toward the end than almost anything else has so far. You clench and unclench around the vibrator over and over and over. The low hum nearly driving you mad.

And it makes Harry so goddamn proud.

He chuckles rather sadistically, in the kind of entertained tone that forces a new wave of arousal to pool between your thighs while he fucks the toy into you.

“There you go,” he hums, rubbing circles into your thigh with his other hand. Perhaps in an attempt to soothe you, but all it does is remind you of what you can’t have. Him. “Bet it feels so good. Doesn’t it, baby girl? Feels so good to be used.”

“Harry,” you whine, wrists burning from the harsh friction of the rope against your skin. “Please…please—”

“Look at you,” he continues, ignoring your pleas. “So pretty, baby. All fucked out and ready. You like being easy, don’t you? Like being my easy little whore.”

“H—”

“Know you do. This pretty little pussy just begs for me, doesn’t she? Yeah? All I have to do is look at you and you’ll drip down to your ass for me.”

“God, please…please—”

“Look at me, baby girl. Want you to look at me. Want you to watch. Don’t be shy, lovie, come on. Know you fucking love it—”

“Harry, please—"

“No,” he says softly. Quietly. Refusing your attempt before you can even offer it. “No, sweetie. Gonna hold it. Gonna do what I asked.”

“I…I can’t,” you gasp, already feeling the seams unravel. “I can’t, H, please…please—”

“No,” he repeats, a touch more stern, shooting you a look of warning. “You promised, Bee. Promised to be my good girl.”

“Trying—” You manage through a strangled sob. “M’trying…can’t…can’t—”

"Yes, you can. Hold it, love. You fucking hold it. Do not cum."

"I'm...I...Daddy—"

He seems to understand before you do, hand tightening around your thigh as though to punish you before he’s tugging the toy from your spasming pussy.

But it’s too late. It hits you like a fucking freight train until your vision goes fuzzy and your heart nearly pummels out of your chest.

You don’t know how many times he’s edged you. You’ve lost count, but it catches up to you now as the release nearly blinds you, practically sending you into a second before the first is even finished.

Harry’s hand smacks down on your clit, the wet sound of skin on skin making you cry that much harder until your body nearly recoils away from him.

Your muscles ache from the way you’re straining, arms sore in every possible place as the rope keeps you stuck beneath him.

And it feels so good, but you can’t seem to stop the heaving of your lungs. Can’t seem to subdue the tears falling from your eye or the soft sounds of remorse that slip between your lips.

You’ve done the one thing he asked you not to do, and you tried so hard. You really did and you can’t understand why you came anyway. You shouldn’t have cum – he asked you not to cum, but you did. And you’d been doing so well. You’d been his good girl. And if you’d just held on a little longer…maybe he would have been good to you.

Now? Now he’s never going to touch you again. He’s going to send you to the guest room or make you sleep on the floor. He won’t cuddle you or kiss you or even look at you.

You can already see his disappointment, can already feel him taking himself away, and you begin to shake your head furiously.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you blubber, voice breaking on every syllable. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry. I tried, I really tried, I promise I tried. I don’t…don’t know what happened, don’t…couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t, I tried. I tried, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, expression twisting into something that makes your gut wrench. “Baby girl…breathe. Breathe for me, okay? You’re okay—”

“No,” you wail, tucking your face behind your arm in an attempt to hide from him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Baby,” he exhales, and you feel his large palm slip around your jaw to force you back out, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Hey, look at me. What happened, what’s going on?”

You stumble over a hiccup and peer up at him through wet lashes. “M’so sorry, Daddy. I tried, I promise. Please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—”

“Shh,” he murmurs quietly, dipping down to nudge his nose against yours. Taking a beat until he feels you suck in a wounded inhale. “I know, sweetie. I know. I pushed you really hard. I know you tried. Did so good for me.”

However, his sympathetic encouragement merely brings the tears back tenfold, and you begin to shake beneath him as you desperately search for more. More of his voice, more of his touch, more of his praise. It’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, stomach rising and falling with each quick breath. “I’m sorry, Daddy—”

He frowns but it’s gentle. “I know, baby girl,” he says, thumb stroking the stained skin of your cheek. “I know, I’m not mad. Could never be mad at you. Ever. I’m proud of you. Did so well, sweetie. Did so fucking good for me.”

You nuzzle into his hand, lips pushed into a desolate pout as you try to kiss any part of him you can reach.

You hear him sigh, although you don’t look. You simply allow your eyes to fall shut as you bask in his glow.

“Bee,” he murmurs, using his other hand to squeeze your hip while his body comes to rest above yours. “Sweetie…did I break you? Did you slip? Did you slip away from Daddy?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you’ve done or why you feel the way you do. But the sound of his question – even though quite odd – makes you feel sparkly. The deep cadence of his voice as soothing as the fingers dancing circles against your side.

You crack an eye open and find him. Taking note of the curiosity on his face and the slight upset attempting to weave into the furrowed skin of his forehead.

“I’m right here,” you say softly, desperately wanting to assure him that you haven’t left him.

He’s unconvinced. “You’re here,” he agrees, squeezing your leg with a nod before he moves his thumb to your temple, and taps it twice. “But are you here?”

You begin to frown, a little unsure what he might mean. “I’m here,” you repeat, a bit more pointedly. “With you.”

For a moment, he merely stares. The corner of his mouth dancing up into a delicate smile as he sighs and leans down to kiss you.

“With me,” he echoes, nipping at your bottom lip until you giggle. “Always with me.”

Feeling rather soothed, you settle beneath him, and allow him to map the expanse of your body with his mouth. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your throat. The space below your ear, the curve of your shoulder, the valley between your breasts.

Then, he moves up. Trailing those kisses up your lifted arms, one after the other until he reaches your wrists.

He begins to untie them, flicking the knot undone until your hands fall to the pillow, and you release a grateful whimper.

You move to reach for him – desperate to feel his warm skin or the soft curls atop his head – but he’s already a step ahead.

He brings your fingers to his mouth and presses his lips to each knuckle. Over and over as you grin and watch with doe-eyed wonder.

He moves to your wrists. Gently trailing his ginger touch across the tender, red flesh that’s been rubbed raw. He’s so very good. Beautiful and sweet in the kind of way that makes your heart ache.

He runs his hand up and down your side, making sure to remind you that he’s close. He moves onto the mattress just beside you and curls his body toward yours.

In turn, you do the same. Snuggling into his chest, legs tangled with his, and face nuzzled against the butterfly on his stomach.

You hear him breathe out an amused laugh before he’s pressing his palm to your spine to keep you close. “Bee?”

You smile. “Yes, Daddy?”

His heart races against your lips. “Are you okay? Do you feel safe right now? You feel…you feel good?”

You glance up, lashes fluttering with surprise at the hesitant tone of voice. “Of course. I’m always safe with you.”

The relief in his expression nearly explodes across his face as he chews on the inside of his lip. “Yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Mhm. I’m so very happy.”

“Good,” he murmurs, seeming to fight against another grin. “That’s good, baby girl. I always wanna make you happy.”

You giggle again, grateful for his attention now more than ever. “I wanna make you happy, too. Don’t wanna make you mad by being a bad girl.”

You hear him chuckle before he reaches down to lift your head up. “I thought you liked being my bad girl?”

Your brows furrow. “…only when you say it’s okay.”

He smirks a little wider at this, and you wonder what he finds so funny. You’re telling the truth. You just want to do what he says. Just want to behave and make him proud.

“My silly girl,” he hums, landing a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re always good. Even when you’re bad. Daddy likes you any way you are.”

And it feels as though your heart is going to burst out of your chest. This reassurance that you will always have his affection and care making your insides sparkle. “Promise?”

He nuzzles his nose against your temple.

“Promise, Bee.”

Previous Part:

~ Take Me*

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

Amazing credit for the beautiful dividers to @firefly-graphics 💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

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lev1hei1chou · 11 days

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Physics Class

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo teaches physics to his child, and it doesn't go the way they want it to. Masterlist

It was a typical evening in the Gojo household, or so it seemed. Satoru Gojo was seated at the dining table with his teenage child and a pile of physics textbooks. His usual demeanor was replaced with a look of sheer desperation as he attempted to explain the intricacies of quantum mechanics.

"Okay, so imagine this," Gojo began, summoning his Infinity to illustrate his point. "You have a particle, and it can be in multiple places at once..."

Haru, stared blankly at his father, eyes glazed over with confusion. "But Dad, I still don't get it. How can something be in two places at the same time?"

Gojo rubbed his temples, mentally cursing the day he decided to take on the role of tutor. "Well, you see, it's like... umm... Hollow Purple!" With a flourish of his hand, he conjured the swirling vortex of energy, hoping it would somehow make the concept clearer.

Haru's expression didn't change. "It just looks like purple fog to me, Dad."

Gojo sighed dramatically. "This is harder than fighting curses," he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, a light bulb seemed to go off in Gojo's head. "I know! Let's try a practical demonstration." Within seconds, he summoned a small rubber ball and a series of miniature black holes using his powers.

Haru's eyes widened in alarm. "Dad, are you sure this is safe?"

But before he could protest further, Gojo released the ball into the gravitational field of the black holes. Chaos ensued as the ball disappeared and reappeared in seemingly random locations.

"Dad, I think you just broke the laws of physics," Haru exclaimed, a mix of awe and terror in his voice.

Gojo chuckled nervously. "Well, umm... let's just say it's a... creative interpretation."

Despite the chaotic lesson, Haru couldn't help but smile at their father's antics. "Thanks, Dad. I still don't understand quantum mechanics, but at least I had fun trying."

Gojo grinned proudly, tousling his hair affectionately. "That's my kid. Now, let's tackle the next chapter: Kinetic Energy!"

As Gojo delved deeper into the world of teaching normal subjects, he realized that traditional methods simply weren't cutting it. So, he decided to incorporate his sorcery skills into the curriculum, much to the dismay of his teenager.

Satoru decided to demonstrate the concept of kinetic energy using his Infinity. He summoned a couple of marbles and set them rolling on the table, intending to show how their speed affected their energy.

"See, Haru, the faster the marble moves, the more energy it has," Gojo explained, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

His son nodded along, trying to follow his father's logic. But when Gojo decided to ramp up the demonstration by using his powers to increase the speed of the marbles to near-supersonic levels, chaos ensued.

The marbles careened off the table, ricocheting around the room like tiny bullets. Furniture was overturned, vases shattered, and Gojo found himself ducking for cover behind the sofa.

"Dad, I think we should stick to the textbook," Haru yelled over the chaos, dodging a marble that whizzed past his head.

Gojo emerged from his hiding spot, looking sheepish. "Right, maybe that was a bit much."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Gojo household. The door swung open, and you walked in. You were greeted not by the usual calm ambiance of home, but by a scene of utter chaos.

"Baby, what on earth happened here?" you exclaimed, taking in the overturned furniture, cracked decorations and the faint scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air.

Your husband looked up from his haphazard pile of textbooks, relief washing over his exhausted features at the sight of his wife. "Oh, thank goodness you're here. We've had a bit of a... situation."

Your son sat at the table with tears glistening in his eyes, surrounded by scattered papers and half-hearted attempts at calculations. He looked up at his mother with a mixture of frustration and defeat.

"Mom, I just don't understand any of this. We tried so much and nothing worked," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your heart broke at the sight of your son's distress. You crossed the room in a few quick strides, wrapping him in a comforting hug. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll figure this out together."

Turning to Gojo, you found her husband in a state of near-panic, his usual smirk replaced by a look of sheer desperation. "Love, what's going on? Why is everything in shambles?"

Gojo ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his frustration palpable. "I've been trying to help Haru study for his physics exam, but nothing seems to be sinking in. I've tried every trick in the book, and then some my personal tricks. It didn't do much though."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of your usually unflappable husband on the brink of a meltdown. "Well, why don't we take a break, and then try some different approach?."

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Terror

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby.

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward.

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street.

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are.

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere.

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo.

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can.

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing.

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes.

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment.

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.”

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up.

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.”

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe.

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently—

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?”

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again.

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago.

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while?

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin.

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).”

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to.

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door.

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently.

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light.

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him.

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads.

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin.

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head.

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family.

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning.

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky.

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

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perotovar · 2 months

Text

bloody kisses — part two: i don't wanna be me

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 6.6k content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, descriptions of a crime scene/injury (bullet wound and head trauma)(not shane or tim), heavy petting, oral (male receiving), protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, tiny bit of misogyny (shane is ignorant af and it's like 2002 lol), first time bottoming, shane's internal battles, tim being a really fucking good partner, f e e l i n g s, seriously this is sappy y'all, if i missed anything lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @chronically-ghosted (seriously i can't explain how much taylor has helped with this story, go give her some love!)

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

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Shane locked himself in his bedroom for three days after the disaster at Tim’s apartment. He’s never felt so stupid in his life. How could he just… kiss him like that?

Why did he do that?

He thought about that moment constantly, for hours at a time. Tim’s lips, for how briefly they’d touched his own, felt so… correct. They were soft, a little chapped, but warm. It was like things clicked into place for him. He doesn’t remember any kisses with Raven ever feeling like that. Or any girl he’d been with, for that matter.

He hated himself for how good it felt. Especially because Tim ended it before it ever really began.

Shane wasn’t sure if there was anyone else he could go to about any of this. Legally, he still lived with his mom and her husband in their downtown apartment, but they never saw each other. He basically had his own area of the apartment to himself. His mom and her husband made enough that they didn’t really notice or care what Shane did with his life. He didn’t have any goals, and he guessed that’s why he did petty crimes like he did. He was just so fucking bored.

And now he was dealing with… this.

He stared at Tim’s business card, his thumb rubbing over the older man’s name. He was curled up on his bed, holding one of his pillows close. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. The bright green text read 2:18am. He sighed to himself and rolled over onto his back.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

Nobody noticed a change in Tim at work. If they did, they were professional enough not to bring it up. He felt fucking awful for how things went down with Shane. He wanted to reciprocate so badly, but Shane was vulnerable and Tim didn’t want to take advantage of him like that.

“Boss, I got those files you needed.”

Tim looked up from his desk, pen still in hand while he filled out the paperwork for a robbery he’d taken care of the day before. He’d thought about Shane and his magazine the entire time. “Thank you,” he grunted, pointing at an empty spot on his desk. “Can just set it there, please.”

The agent set it down and took off, getting back to work.

Tim looked back down at the file he was working on and sighed, losing his focus. He looked over at the phone on his desk and frowned. He didn’t have Shane’s number so he couldn’t call him. He wanted to tell Shane that what happened wasn’t wrong, or even unwanted.

The sound of heavy footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. Matthews, his partner, slammed Tim’s office door open.

“There’s been a shooting!”

Tim furrowed his brows, pushing his thoughts of Shane away for now, and focusing on the task at hand. “Where? Do we know anything else?” He asked, opening the drawer in his desk to put his gun holster on over his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was at a liquor store downtown. We have an idea of who the victim is based on descriptions from the employee working at the time, but not of the shooter,” Matthews answered, handing Tim’s trenchcoat to him.

The two detectives made their way to Tim’s car and sped off to the crime scene.

“His name is Howard Xavier, and he’s twenty-eight,” Watson, the cop who was in the area, explained. “He’s on his way to the hospital now, but he looks to be in decent condition.”

Tim nodded, eyes looking over the crime scene. Flashes of photos being taken filled the peripheries of his vision. There were bottles of wine and hard liquor crashed everywhere. “Looks like Xavier tried to run from the shooter,” he mumbled, crouching down to look at the dirty boot prints on the linoleum floor.

“Do you think they knew each other?” Matthews asked.

Tim sighed, looking up at his partner before standing again. “Who’s to say?” He shrugged. “Maybe. Do we have any information on any relatives or associates?”

“No family, but we’ve found a couple of friends on file,” Matthews replied. “I think we’ve got them back at the station.”

Tim nodded. “Let’s head back and see what we can find.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim couldn’t believe his fucking eyes.

Known Associates: Tracy Wynanski and Shane Morrissey.

This had to have been the coincidence to end all coincidences or Tim had an insane amount of luck. There was a phone number for Tracy, but no address. He stepped out of his office and approached his secretary, an older woman by the name of Dolores.

“Can you get me Shane Morrissey’s file, please?” He asked, voice a little more gruff than he’d intended.

“Of course, sweetie, give me one moment,” Dolores smiled, rolling her chair to the file cabinets.

Shane’s file in hand, he sat back at his desk and started looking through the files for Howard Xavier again. A bullet wound to the thigh, and blunt force trauma to the head.

He figured it’d be easy to get the professional parts out of the way first and called Tracy, asking if she knew anything about the shooting. She said she didn’t, since her and Howard hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months. She’d gone back home to Philadelphia after a breakup.

“Thank you, Tracy,” he said. “Do you happen to know Shane Morrissey? He’s one of Howard’s other known associates and I’d like to ask if he knows anything.”

Tracy let out a bitter laugh and said, “Oh, I know Shane. He can kiss my ass for all I care.”

“Ms. Wynanski, please–”

“I don’t have a number for him, but I can tell you where he lives. Not saying he’ll be there, though,” she paused. “Likes to frequent this one house full of his ‘friends’ when he’s not at home moping.”

Tim felt his entire body relax, shutting his eyes as he took a deep breath. “That will be very helpful. Thank you, Ms. Wynanski. Do you have the address for the other house?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t go in there like you’re looking for him, though. They’ll all run off.”

“I can handle it. Thank you, Ms Wynanski.”

After confirming that the address Tracy had matched the one they had on file, and wrote down the other address, he called Matthews, who decided to check on Xavier at the hospital.

“He’s stable. He’ll probably stay here for a couple of days,” his partner said through the phone.

“Alright. I’ve got a lead on one of his associates. It’s fucking Morrissey, John,” Tim chuckled.

“You’re shitting me. Employee at the liquor store said Xavier looked like he walked out of the Satanic Temple so I guess I’m not too surprised.”

Tim rolled his eyes and snorted, making one last note on Howard’s file. “I’m gonna head out and look for him. Could you go to one of these addresses for me?”

“Sure thing, Tim. Don’t get trapped in some ritual sacrifice.”

“Fuck off,” Tim laughed.

Tim decided to go to the second house full of Shane’s “friends”. He figured it was more likely that he was there, and he was right. It looked like it was a gathering of about ten or fifteen other kids around Shane’s age, all dressed in similar clothing.

The house was filled with smoke and had music playing, so he decided it was better if he stayed in his car until Shane came outside. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid.

It didn’t take too long, Shane stumbling out of the house and laughing loudly. Tim turned the key, the engine for his Caprice coming to life. Shane startled and looked over, eyes locking with Tim’s behind the wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane barked, stomping over to the passenger window and glaring at the older man.

“I need your help,” Tim said softly.

Shane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you fucking stalk me here? You can’t be here– They can’t see me with you.”

“Then get in. They won’t know.” Tim looked up at him, eyes softening when he saw the clear hurt on Shane’s face. He wasn’t very angry by the looks of it. Just upset.

Shane scoffed, looked back at the house, and raised his arms in defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled, opening the passenger side door and sitting down.

“Seatbelt.”

“Eat me, old man,” Shane rolled his eyes. He lifted a leg and rested his chunky boot on the car’s dashboard.

Tim sighed heavily and didn’t argue. He’ll just clean his car later. “You wanna talk at the station or at my apartment?”

Shane bit his lip, picking at a rip in his jeans and making it worse. “I don’t wanna go to the station.”

“Figured as much,” Tim exhaled, looking behind the car for any oncoming traffic and pulling out of the neighborhood towards his apartment.

Shane stared at Tim’s arms underneath the tight white dress shirt, the fabric pulling at the thick muscle. He wondered what Tim looked like on top of him, those strong arms pinning him to a mattress and–

“You know a Howard Xavier, right?” Tim asked, eyes squinting at the file in his hands.

The two of them were seated at the table in Tim’s dining room, the surface in front of them covered in documents and files.

“Yeah, that’s X,” Shane mumbled, picking at his nails so he could hide the pink in his cheeks.

Tim raised a brow but didn’t comment, nodding. “Do you know if he had any enemies, Shane?” He asked, digging his glasses out of his front pocket and putting them on. “That’s better,” he said to himself, the text on the files clearing up.

Shane blinked a couple times, the sight of Tim wearing glasses doing more for him than he thought possible. His breathing picked up a little, heart pounding in his chest when Tim made eye contact with him, waiting for Shane to answer. “U-um, I don’t think so? X was always pretty chill,” he mumbled.

Tim nodded and took notes on a sticky pad. Tim’s phone started ringing, making the older man get up and answer it. “Rockford,” he grunted into the receiver.

Shane stayed seated and kept to himself, listening to the one sided conversation.

“You’re shitting me. He did? Thanks, John. Yeah. You too. Have a good night.”

Tim exhaled and hung up the phone, clicking his pen. “Good news,” he smiled, taking his seat at the table across from Shane. “Xavier woke up and described the shooter. My partner found him.”

Shane nodded, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. “‘S good,” he mumbled.

Tim watched Shane’s face closely, eyes trailing over the piercings and the messy hair. “I’m sorry I took you away from your party,” he said softly.

“‘S okay. Don’t like those guys very much,” Shane shrugged. Now that he was here, he was having a hard time not curling in on himself again. He couldn’t even look Tim in the eye without thinking about what his lips felt and tasted like.

Tim furrowed his brows. “Why do you hang out with them, then?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to pry, but it was sort of his job to find information. Shane wasn’t a job, though. He was much more than that.

Shane sighed and angrily looked at Tim for a second before looking away again. “Why do you care?”

Tim bit his lip, fiddling with his tie. “You really wanna know, kid?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he rolled his eyes.

“Because I see a lot of myself in you, Shane,” Tim admitted gently, crossing one leg over the other.

Shane furrowed his brows and looked at Tim incredulously.

“It’s true. Would you believe me if I said I got arrested? Was about your age, too.” Tim chuckled as he remembered what caused his arrest.

A small smile grew on Shane’s face. “What’d you do?”

“Public Indecency.”

Shane’s eyes grew three times in size. “Did you get caught having sex? Were you streaking?” He giggled, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Uh, well,” Tim chuckled. “I was in my car at the time and having sex.”

Shane laughed, face as red as a tomato. His thoughts flooded with images of what Tim having sex looked like. What sort of faces did he make? What kind of sounds did he make? Was he more dominant or submissive?

“Were you going down on her or…?”

“Him,” Tim answered easily. “And no, we were uh… I was found on top of him.”

Shane froze, eyes wide. He looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked back at Tim briefly before settling his eyes on Tim’s tie. “You’re…?” He asked shakily.

“Yeah, kid,” Tim chuckled. Shane looked terrified and it broke Tim’s heart. “I said I was here for you if you needed me. I still am.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy, shaky breath. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans and looked at Tim with wet, glossy eyes. “I don’t– I don’t understand,” he shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t seem–”

“Not every gay person is really flamboyant, Shane.”

Shane blushed in embarrassment. “Why did you turn away from me, then? Why didn’t you kiss me back?” He frowned, voice shaky and hurt.

Tim’s eyes rounded, his whole face becoming softer. “I wanted to,” he admitted, looking down at Shane’s ring-clad hands. “But it wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t… I didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.”

“Take advantage–! I kissed you!” Shane roared.

“You were vulnerable and confused. And,” Tim gulped. “And I’m a lot older than you, it’s… It’s not appropriate.” He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly at how much it hurt to say out loud.

“Tim,” Shane whimpered, biting his lip. He felt a thick lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation right now. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. It felt like he was having an out of body experience. “I don’t care about that, I’m– I’m more worried about you being a cop than being older than me. I’m an adult,” he scoffed, his bottom lip trembling.

Tim couldn’t hold in the chuckle that bubbled out of him. “I know you are. I just don’t– I don’t know how this could continue–”

“Please, shut up,” Shane begged, getting out of his chair and making his way over to Tim. He looked down at the older man, face burning, and slowly crawled into Tim’s lap, wrapping his arms around Tim’s neck. “I don’t wanna talk anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t wanna think anymore. Please.”

Tim’s hands instinctively found their place on Shane’s hips. His eyes moved from Shane’s to the younger man’s lips, then back up. “Are you sure?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumbs into Shane’s hip bones.

“No,” Shane mumbled. “Well, yes, but… No.”

Tim raised a brow and smirked. “How about we take things slow.”

Shane nodded, biting his lip. “Okay.”

Tim smiled and softly connected their lips, caressing Shane’s head, thumb rubbing at his jaw. Shane whimpered quietly as he tentatively kissed back. His lips trembled against Tim’s, soft huffs of air expelling out from between them. He’d kissed before but this was so… different. The feeling of Tim’s facial hair against his lips was weird. Good, but weird.

Shane experimentally ran his tongue along Tim’s bottom lip. Tim took the hint and softly caressed Shane’s tongue with his own, making the younger man gasp into his mouth. Tim squeezed Shane’s narrow hips, trying to ground him, and sighed into the kiss. It built a little over time, but eventually, they found a rhythm. The soft clinking of metal from Shane’s earrings filled the otherwise silent apartment. They learned each other over the course of their kissing. Tim learned that Shane liked to nibble and bite, and Shane learned that Tim liked to encompass him entirely, like he could devour Shane’s mouth if given the chance.

When Tim pulled away for some much needed air, Shane whined in protest, his face leaning toward Tim’s to keep going. “Slow your roll, kid,” Tim chuckled, pressing his forehead to Shane’s and panting quietly. Shane blushed, and chewed his swollen bottom lip while he waited. “C’mere,” Tim grunted, tugging Shane’s leather duster off his shoulders. Shane went along with it, pulling his arms free before the sound of squeaky leather fell into a heap on the floor.

Large hands ran over Shane’s hips and waist, but never ventured lower. Shane shivered when Tim’s blunt nails lightly scratched at the exposed skin of his lower back as his t-shirt rode up. Shane’s cock twitched in interest, making him blush high on his cheeks.

“‘s okay, sweetheart,” Tim hummed. He rolled his hips a little, his own half-hard cock rubbing against Shane’s.

Shane’s eyes grew twice their size at the feeling and looked down at the bulge in Tim’s slacks. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. His imagination was a lot easier to handle than the real thing pressing into his inner thigh.

Tim furrowed his brows in concern and rubbed Shane’s skin underneath his t-shirt comfortingly. “What are you thinking about?” He asked softly.

Shane inhaled heavily, and slowly let out a deep breath before turning his head back toward Tim. He opened his eyes, but didn’t make contact. “Just… weird. Feeling your…”

Tim hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you want to stop?”

Shane shook his head, eyes still burning holes into Tim’s slowly rising and falling tummy.

“Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“N-no, I don’t want to stop,” Shane whispered.

“Do you want to lie down? There’s no expectation for anything,” Tim said, sitting up a little more in the dining room chair.

The stretch in Shane’s thighs suddenly overtook any doubts he had, making him shakily get up from Tim’s lap. He was used to having someone sit on his lap like that and being in that position made his stomach hurt.

Tim laced his fingers through Shane’s and gently guided him to his bedroom. He kept the lights low and rubbed his thumb over Shane’s knuckles. “You okay?”

Shane stared at Tim’s bed and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Y-yeah,” he croaked.

Tim chewed on his lip in thought and let go of Shane’s smaller hand. He gave Shane some space as he took off his glasses and removed the tie he was wearing. He toed off his dress shoes and put them in his closet. When he turned around after unbuttoning his dress shirt, Shane was sitting on his bed, hands curled up into fists on his ripped jean-covered thighs.

Tim sighed softly and sat next to him on the bed. “What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, tugging on pieces of Shane’s hair that were sticking straight out.

Shane shut his eyes and took another deep breath. “I’m just… I’m having a hard time being… like, the female part.” He curled in on himself, his shoulders hiding his ears.

Tim blinked a couple times. “Sweetheart, we’re both men.”

“I-I know that! I just,” he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Usually, I’m in your position. Taking charge.”

“I see,” Tim sighed, getting more comfortable and turning toward him. Shane did the same, but didn’t make eye contact with him. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Shane blushed, those big brown eyes of his lifting up to meet Tim’s.

“Alright, firstly, who told you there were ‘male’ and ‘female’ roles?” Tim raised a brow.

“W-well, uh–”

“It’s alright, I already know who. Lesson number one,” Tim smiled reassuringly. “Just because you’re sitting on my lap, letting me ‘take charge’, doesn’t mean you’re weak, honey.”

Shane gulped and nodded, taking all of this in. Tim felt like a professor. Probably the first one Shane would ever listen to.

“And women aren’t weak, so get that out of your head, too.”

Shane let out a heavy breath. This was a lot to take in.

“Did you feel good?” Tim asked, picking up one of Shane’s hands and rubbing his thumb over the scabbed knuckles. When Shane nodded jerkily, Tim grinned, his chest feeling warm at the admission. “That’s all that matters. Think of it this way,” he paused. Shane hung onto every word. “Everything we do? It’s with your say-so. You’re driving the car here.”

Shane blinked as he thought about it. He could work with that. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“You want me to make you feel good again?” Tim smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. Shane’s heart thundered at the sight.

“Y-yes.”

“Go ahead and lay back for me, alright?”

Shane nodded and got comfy, head cradled by Tim’s fluffy pillows. His entire body was buzzing and tense. He kept his eyes on Tim’s popcorn ceiling, the sounds of Tim’s belt jingling filling the room. When the bed dipped with Tim’s weight, Shane’s heart stuttered a little. One of Tim’s big hands cupped his cheek and gently turned his face so he could look at Tim again. Shane wasn’t expecting the softness in Tim’s features, or the heat in his eyes.

Tim rubbed Shane’s cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to go far tonight. There’s no rush.”

Shane nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

This time, when their lips connected, Shane eased into it a lot sooner, kissing the older man with renewed fervor. He sighed into it, the warmth radiating off of Tim being an endless source of comfort. He gripped onto Tim’s opened dress shirt and tugged it down his shoulders. Tim released Shane’s lips briefly while he shrugged the shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Shane moaned weakly when Tim surged forward and sucked his bottom lip between his own.

Shane’s head was fuzzy, all the blood there rushing down between his legs. He gasped when Tim rolled him over and hovered over him, pressing his hips between Shane’s thighs. Tim took his time with him, kissing him languidly while he unbuckled Shane’s jeans.

“Can I touch you?” Tim breathed between kisses.

Shane nodded quickly, holding the sides of Tim’s head and tangling his fingers in the short, thick locks of Tim’s hair. Tim smiled against the younger man’s lips and pulled Shane’s baggy, ripped jeans off. Shane toed off his own socks before wrapping his legs around Tim’s thick waist. Tim was so much larger than Shane was and it made his head spin.

Tim’s hands played with the bottom of Shane’s t-shirt and slowly lifted it up, bunching under his armpits. He pulled away to look at Shane’s torso and grinned when he saw the small tattoos there. Both hands holding Shane’s sides, he gently rubbed at the younger man’s nipples, making Shane gasp. Goosebumps and flushed skin covered his entire body in seconds, making Shane lightly smack Tim’s shoulder. Tim laughed lightly and softly kissed his way down Shane’s torso until he was eye level with the tent in the younger man’s boxers.

Shane blushed hard, eyes wide. “W-what are you doing?”

Tim raised a brow and tilted his head slightly, tugging on the elastic of Shane’s boxers. “Said I’d make you feel good, sweetheart.”

Shane blinked. “B-but isn’t that…”

“There are no roles. But if you don’t want me to, then–”

“I do!” Shane smacked his hand over his own mouth and shut his eyes, hoping the bed would swallow him whole.

A wolfish smirk crossed Tim’s features as he lowered his head, kissing along Shane’s pelvis. Shane whimpered at the feeling of Tim’s facial hair across his skin, his body shuddering. “Breathe, sweetheart,” Tim whispered, shutting his eyes to suck gently at Shane’s hip and leaving a mark.

Shane forced himself to take a deep breath, shutting his eyes to center himself. When he opened his eyes, Tim quirked a brow up at him as he tugged on Shane’s boxers again. Shane nodded his consent and almost groaned at the cool air in the apartment hitting his throbbing cock. Tim hummed appreciatively and didn’t waste a second, kissing the tip, then making his way down the shaft.

Shane moaned openly gripping the sheets of the bed into tight fists. “T-Tim, what–”

“Shh…” Tim whispered, engulfing the head of Shane’s cock in his mouth. He moaned at the taste and watched Shane’s face as he slowly bobbed his head up and down. Shane’s eyes rolled back and arched his back off the bed.

Shane felt his cheeks throb and the blood rushing in his ears, doing everything in his power to keep his hips down. When his hips bucked up on their own, he moaned weakly, looking at Tim’s face to make sure he didn’t choke him. What he found instead made his cock twitch.

This was one of Tim’s favorite things to do. Making his partner feel good with his mouth was something he always got pleasure out of and Shane was no different. In fact, this was probably one of the more rewarding times, because this was the first time a man had done this for him. He felt good knowing he got to be the first, and a little possessive side of him liked the idea even more.

Eyes shut, Tim moaned around Shane’s length, losing himself in it. He gripped Shane’s hips and rubbed the bones there to soothe him. Shane’s chest rose and fell quickly as he watched. He felt a little embarrassed to admit that this was probably the best head he’d ever received.

Tim opened his eyes, keeping an eye on any changes in Shane’s face.

Shane felt his balls drawing up, making him moan weakly. “I-I’m gonna–” He cut himself off, gripping the sheets tighter. Tim doubled his efforts, bobbing his head a little faster. “Oh, fuck,” Shane whined, his thighs trembling on either side of Tim’s head.

Tim moved his hands up Shane’s torso and rubbed at the younger man’s nipples again, urging him on.

“W-wait, wait–” Shane gasped, smacking his hand against Tim’s shoulder as the pressure built and built. Tim watched closely and if he could, he’d grin to himself as he watched Shane’s eyes roll back. Shane’s entire body stilled and he came hard, thick ropes of cum shooting down Tim’s throat. Shane’s moans went up three octaves as he shook with pleasure, his toes curling.

Tim swallowed everything and slowly, gently, raised his head. He licked Shane clean, kissing back up his torso. Once he was hovering over Shane again, Tim smiled at the blissed out expression on his face. He chuckled lightly and kissed Shane’s cheek.

“Still with me?”

Shane shivered at the gravelly tone of Tim’s voice. It must be an octave or two lower than normal given what he’d just done. He slowly blinked his eyes open and didn’t have the energy to hold back the smile when he saw Tim’s handsome face. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he mumbled, his body feeling heavy and sated.

“Good. You should get some rest, sweetheart.” Tim’s laugh rumbled in his chest.

Shane pouted, big brown eyes glazed over, but determined. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay. Get some rest,” Tim said, kissing Shane’s forehead. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked, pulling the material down from where it was bunched up under his armpits.

Shane nodded, watching in awe as Tim took care of him. It was at this moment that Shane realized Tim was completely serious with him. He wouldn’t make fun of him, or use him. Shane felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but quickly blinked them away.

“Be right back, okay? Gonna get you some water,” Tim grunted quietly, crawling off the bed. Shane didn’t have the energy to argue, and just watched Tim’s broad back leave the bedroom.

When Tim returned with the glass of water, he was greeted with the sight of Shane’s sleeping form. He smiled at him, and set the water on the nightstand closest to Shane.

He got himself undressed, making sure to be careful of his own half-hard cock. Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he crawled into bed behind Shane and held the younger man close. The day caught up with him as he laid there, eyes trailing over the messy curls and multiple piercings in Shane’s ears.

He drifted off quickly, and had a dreamless sleep.

Twitch. Twitch.

Shane groaned in his sleep.

What was that?

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He tried to turn and feel what was poking against his back, but he was held firmly in place by… Were those arms?

Shane’s eyes snapped open as the memories from the night before came flooding back. His cheeks burned as he looked down and saw the strong, very male, hands holding him close to a broad chest. Tim huffed in his sleep, making Shane smile shyly. He couldn’t deny it, being held by Tim felt really good. It was so warm.

He tried rotating in Tim’s arms, silently exhaling in relief when he didn’t seem to wake the older man. He felt the twitching again and looked down between their bodies.

Oh.

Shane smiled at the sight of Tim’s morning wood through his boxer briefs. He looked back up at Tim’s sleeping face and decided against doing anything until he’d woken up. For now, he ran his fingers through the thin layer of chest hair on Tim’s skin. It seemed obvious when he thought about it, but it was so different than when he was with a woman. He didn’t feel like he had to hide with Tim. Tim wouldn’t judge him.

Tim made him feel safe.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

Shane startled and looked up, Tim’s soft smirk and sleepy eyes greeting him. He shook his head in lieu of an answer.

When Tim grumbled in response, it reminded Shane of a bear.

“Do you want… You need help with that?” Shane asked timidly, pointing between their bodies. Their legs were tangled together and they were touching everywhere. The proximity and the feeling of warmth radiating from between Tim’s legs had Shane throbbing in no time.

Tim snorted and leaned forward, kissing Shane sleepily. Shane moaned into it, grinding his own cock against Tim’s. Tim pulled back and panted a little against Shane’s lips.

“We don’t have to. I’ll be okay–”

Shane cut him off by gripping Tim’s ass and squeezing. When Tim made a small noise of surprise, Shane smirked, attempting to pull Tim onto his own lap. “I want to,” he said, voice determined, but shaky. “I want… I wanna know what it feels like. I have to make sure.”

Tim blinked at him, a little shocked by the sudden change in Shane’s behavior. One of his legs was draped over Shane’s waist as he cupped the younger man’s face. Shane seemed to melt at the gesture, making Tim smirk. “Are you sure?” He asked, brows pinched in concern. He didn’t want Shane to rush into anything.

“Yes,” Shane nodded.

There was more conviction in that one word than a lot of things Shane had ever said to him, so Tim smiled softly at him. He held onto Shane’s thighs and rolled them over so he was hovering over Shane again, and rubbed the smooth skin comfortingly. “Alright. Lube and condoms are in the top drawer,” he nodded his head toward the nightstand.

With pink cheeks and a determined expression on his face, Shane reached over and dug out the necessary equipment. Everything really settled in his gut when he was holding everything. This was really going to happen. This wasn’t some dream he’d come up with while he was alone in his bedroom, looking at the cracks and fist-sized holes in his walls.

“C’mere,” Tim grunted, gently taking the items from him and holding Shane’s hip. “Gotta get you prepared, okay? Don’t want it to hurt for you.”

Shane nodded appreciatively and watched as Tim discarded his own underwear, kneeling on the bed between Shane’s thighs. He looked the older man over, eyes raking over the messy, gray curls and pillow creases on Tim’s cheeks. His eyes traveled down over the broad shoulders and chest, and down to the swell of Tim’s stomach. That was probably one of Shane’s favorite parts. His eyes landed on the thick cock between muscled thighs and Shane bit his lip. He had to remind himself not to pinch his arm, because this was real.

Tim carefully got the condom secured around his cock and drizzled some lube on his fingers. “You ready?” He smiled down at Shane, chest warm at the sight of him. Shane nodded, smiling shyly up at him.

Tim curled his fingers around Shane’s cock and pumped slowly. Shane sighed and shut his eyes, lips parting. Tim couldn’t help himself and surged forward, kissing the younger man deeply. He kept his hand on him, keeping up a decent pace as he teased a finger against Shane’s hole.

Shane’s body jerked at the intrusion, making Tim soothe him gently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.”

Shane let out a weak noise and nodded, holding on tight to Tim’s shoulders. He spread his legs a little more and wrapped them around Tim’s waist.

The first press of one of Tim’s thick fingers inside him already had Shane seeing stars. He panted as he looked down between his legs, trying to see what was happening. Tim cupped his face and forced him to look there instead. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Shane bit his lip and nodded, but gasped soon after as a second finger joined the first. His face twisted into an almost pained expression. Tim watched closely, eyes locked onto him. Tim pumped his fingers in a steady rhythm, searching for that sweet spot inside him. Shane was panting heavily, eyes glossed over, but staying on Tim’s face.

When Shane rolled his eyes back and he gasped, Tim knew he found it. Shane moaned, his cock twitching violently against his lower tummy. “H-hurry up, old man,” he groaned, toes curling on either side of Tim’s hips. “P-please,” he breathed.

Tim snorted, but didn’t argue, removing his fingers gently. Shane groaned at the loss and braced himself for the intrusion, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sweetheart, I need you to breathe first.” Tim leaned over him and kissed him tenderly. He watched as Shane let out one last deep breath and nodded up at him. “Atta boy,” Tim grinned.

Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. As Tim lined himself up, Shane’s heart thundered in his chest, watching the focus on Tim’s face mellow out. He had that same facial expression whenever he was interrogating Shane back at the station, or reading through files, or taking notes. But here, with Shane, he seemed to deflate a little. He relaxed.

The first push in knocked the wind out of Shane. He moaned, digging his nails into Tim’s broad shoulders. Tim hid his face in Shane’s neck and kissed along the younger man’s sleep-soft skin. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he breathed, hips slowly pushing forward.

Shane trembled in Tim’s arms until Tim’s hips were flush against him. Time stopped as Tim settled, letting Shane adjust. Shane had to blink a few times, swallowing around a lump in his throat. All thought left Shane’s head and the only thing left was the sweet stretch of Tim’s cock inside him. Every wall he’d built up was successfully crumbling at his trembling form.

Tim petted Shane’s sweaty hair out of his face, kissing him on every available patch of skin he could find.

“M-move,” Shane panted, eyes half lidded and glazed over. “Please.”

So Tim did.

He built up a slow, steady rhythm. Before either of them knew it, their bodies rocked together in perfect harmony. Tim hugged Shane closer, his hips being the driving force while his arms kept Shane grounded.

The sounds leaving Shane’s mouth were so unfamiliar to his own ears, he couldn’t even tell where he was for a moment. The only thing he could feel or think about was the stretch of Tim’s cock, Tim’s heavy breathing against his neck, and Tim’s big hands holding his hips. It was all Tim, Tim, Tim.

He didn’t even feel the tear slowly falling down the side of his face until Tim gently wiped it away. He nearly sobbed when Tim kissed him, chest hitching with every powerful thrust.

Tim grunted every time Shane clenched around him. He was so tight, which he expected, but he was having a hard time keeping a steady rhythm. He was still tired and his body was trying to catch up. He watched the younger man’s face twist in pleasure and sped up a little, moaning down at him.

Shane wailed, one fist curling up tight and weakly hitting against Tim’s chest. “I-I’m close,” he panted, his cock dripping pre-cum onto his stomach. “T-Tim, I’m–”

“‘s okay, I’m here,” Tim groaned, curling his fingers around the younger man’s cock. He started pumping his fist in time with his thrusts, eyes glued to Shane’s face.

Shane nodded furiously, scratching his nails down Tim’s chest. Not long after that, his entire body shook like a leaf and he clenched hard around Tim’s cock, coming in waves. He moaned out loud, his back arching off the bed, and gasping for air.

Tim’s own eyes rolled back as Shane squeezed around him. Shane’s face was turned into the pillow as he breathed heavily, coming down from such a high peak. Tim slowed down some, letting Shane have a moment.

When Shane made eye contact with him again, Tim’s heart stopped. He didn’t think Shane had looked more beautiful than he had right in that moment. His hair was a mess, his face was blotchy and red, there were tear tracks down his cheeks, and his lips were swollen from all the biting. Tim was pulled out of the fantasy when Shane clenched around him again, making a moan bubble out of him.

“C’mon, old man,” Shane smirked, voice tired.

Tim huffed a laugh and hugged Shane close, hips snapping quicker now. Chasing his own release, he hid his face in Shane’s neck, sucking a dark mark against the younger man’s collarbone.

In just a few short, quick thrusts, Tim was following Shane over that ledge with a deep groan, emptying inside the condom.

Shane exhaled deeply, arms wrapped around him. Then, he giggled quietly. He was elated, he was on cloud nine.

Tim lifted his head, hair sticking up every which way. He raised a brow at the younger man and smirked. “You alright?” He chuckled.

Shane nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” Tim grunted, slowly moving out from between Shane’s legs to dispose of the condom. He crawled back into bed and cuddled close, kissing Shane lazily. They both sighed into it. Eventually, they had to come up for air, and when they did, Tim breathed, “You hungry? I’m hungry.”

“God, yes. I’m fucking starving,” Shane groaned.

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes and pressed a light kiss to Shane’s lips. “You like pancakes? I make some really good pancakes.”

Shane giggled, feeling lighter than he had in years.

#shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey #shane morrissey #dio morrissey fanfiction #dio morrissey fic #dio morrissey au #tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford au #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #oaksfics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Nightlife 20

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, touching, coercion, manipulation, violence. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Part of The Club AU

You flip the steak and listen to it sizzle. The recipe you found online, along with some tips for cooking the best roast potatoes to go with the sirloin. After the disastrous fitting, you just want to make it up to Lee, show him that he hadn’t wasted all that effort. You can be good to him.

The peppercorn sauce boils and you turn it down to a simmer, checking your laptop once more for the next step. You work through each bullet point until it’s all on the plate. You drizzle the sauce over the steak and garnish with a touch of parsley.

You take the plate and peek through the doorway to the front room. Lee sits watching TV with his back to you. You bring the plate to the small dining table and light the candle you put out earlier. You circle back around to the living room and rub your hands together nervously.

“Dinner’s ready… honey,” you eek out.

“Huh, ah, sweet thing,” he looks over as he points the remote at the TV and flicks it off, “smells good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum and back up as he stands.

He enters the dining room as you retreat to the other side of the table and watch him sit. He grabs the cutlery as he eyes the meal, “mm-mm-mm, you did all this?”

“Yes,” you smile shakily. “I hope it’s good.”

“I’m damn sure it is. Look at it,” he grins, “what about you, blossom, ain’t ya gonna eat with me?”

“Um, I’m not very hungry, sorry,” you twist your fist around your fingers. You actually forgot to make enough for yourself.

“Well, would ya at least sit?”

“Yes, sir,” you diligently pull out the chair and lower yourself onto the seat.

“You’re too sweet, you know that?” He praises and you beam a little bright. The weight slowly lifts from your shoulders. Even after what you did in the car, he was still tense.

He cuts into the steak as you watch. You anxiously fixate on his knife and fork. He puts the triangle of medium rare beef in his mouth and groans. He scoops up some of the potatoes and tastes those too.

“Delicious,” he says through a mouthful then swallows, “now why you so worried about not being a good wife, hm? You doing just fine and ya know, blossom, I don’t feel right you actin’ like a wife and not bein’ my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout.

“Don’t you give me them eyes. You’re as bad as the cat,” he reproaches.

You nod and look down, “well, er, I was looking online, when I found the recipe, and…” you look up at him from beneath your lashes, “I saw some vintage dress I liked better than the ones in the shop.”

“You did?” He sounds genuinely surprised, “now, honey, that’s great.”

“Really?”

“Aw, you know, I only wanted to see you tryin’. To know that you want this too. That you want me,” he lowers the cutlery, framing his plate with fork and knife, “I’m not unaware. I’m older, I got a bit extra, but I wanna be good to you.”

You look away shyly, “you are…”

“Well, then, you get your computer and show me these dresses,” he goads playfully.

“I’ll let you finish.”

“I can eat and look, darlin’,” he insists.

“Okay,” you say sheepishly and stand.

You flit out to the kitchen and grab your laptop. You sit in the chair closer to him as you open it up and go back in your history. You bring up the first page, your favourite. The dress has a ruffle around the shoulders and several more tiered around the skirt. It’s simple but nice.

He tilts his head as he chews. He pokes his fork towards the screen, “I like it. It would look real… sexy.”

“Lee,” you nearly squeal.

“What?” He grins at you, “blossom, you know you’re sexy, don’t you?”

“Stop,” you close the laptop and touch your hot cheeks.

“Of course you know, you seen what you do to me,” he growls, “and you cooking me steak, mm-mm, now that’s dangerous.”

You giggle and push your shoulders up. You rock in the chair bashfully as you clasp your hands. He takes another bite and gulps.

“Do you think I’m sexy?” He asks.

You peek at him again. Your eyes round as your mouth falls open. You wet your lips, “y-yes, I… I do.”

“Really? Don’t sound like it,” he squints.

“No, I do, I just… didn’t expect you to ask,” you teethe your lip, “I… think you’re sexy, honey.”

“Yeah? You don’t wish I was younger?” He wonders.

You shake your head. You really never thought of it. You didn’t have anything to compare him too. You never really looked at boys like that. You were always too skittish. And what would your dad think?

“Don’t wish I was slimmer? More toned?” He challenges.

“No, sir,” you frown, “why– do you wish I was prettier?”

He chortles, dropping the cutlery, “now don’t you be silly. I don’t know any other girls that are prettier than my blossom.”

“Lee,” you fidget.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“Uh, no, I just… I’m nothing special.”

“You’re everything special. You’re my world, sweet thing,” he purrs, “do I need to prove it to you?”

You sniff and shake your head, “no, no,” you look at his plate, “please, I believe you. Please, finish your dinner.”

He sits back and peers down at his uneaten steak, “course, don’t want it to go to waste. You take such good care of me.”

“I’m trying,” you say.

“Mm,” he picks up the fork and knife again, “well, what’s for dessert?”

You flinch and the glow fades from your eyes, “I didn’t…”

“Sweetheart,” his timbre deepens, “I don’t mean food.” You stare at him, wide eyed, and he winks, “why don’t you go put on something pretty?” He licks his lips and jabs his fork into the sirloin, “then I’ll come eat you up.”

You gasp and fold your hands over your chest. He pops another morsel into his mouth and growls. You’re on fire with his suggestion.

“I’m not playing, sugar,” he saws at the steak, “I’m gonna eat you whole…” his lip curls as he speaks, “so you go on, get yourself all warmed up.”

You part your hands and nod, standing rigidly as you tingle. You’re just happy he’s not mad anymore. You twiddle your fingers and step close, bending to kiss his forehead, “yes, sir.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, “steak’s good, but I know you taste even better.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #drabble #nightlife #series #au #the club #the devil all the time

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

Note

Ooo hii can I please request a Tangerine x fem!reader where she is in her early twenties and she’s the White Death’s more forgotten daughter as she’s not a violent person or a criminal (she’s pretty much treated like the Cinderella of the family by everyone- By her Dad, her sister (The Prince), her brother (The Son), and their Dad’s men). Her sister (The Prince) threatens her into helping with the whole Bullet Train scheme. At some point she has Y/n go up to the Twins with a weapon to “threaten” them… Poor Y/n is terrified and squeezing her eyes shut and shaking (and probably holding the weapon incorrectly), and the Twins are pretty much tilting their heads in confusion at the sight in front of them, and are pretty much like, “You’ve never done this before, have you? You’ve never even held a weapon before, have you?” They gently (and easily) take the weapon from her and ask if she needs help and who’s making her do this, andddd then she breaks down and details her sister’s whole master plan + they find out how awful Y/n has been treated by her whole family and they get her out of that situation and take her in and becoming the family Y/n always wanted🥺🥺 Tan honestly having to be held back when he hears Y/n’s sister berate her. Tangerine and Y/n falling in love?

Readers adopted so everyone can read, I made this super long so buckle up, Suggestive

Black sheep

You were just at your job, normally waiting the tables. It was late and you guys were about to close.

“Hello! I’m y/n, I’ll be your server today, what drinks can I get you to start off with?” You looked at the person, thinking they looked oddly familiar.

“Sister.” the woman said.

You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes widening at the realization.

You said her name, it sounded more like a question. She nodded. You stumbled back a bit, before she grabbed your wrists, making you drop the pen and paper in your hand.

“I’m here because I have an offer- well not really an offer. You are going to go with me on a mission. To kill our so beloved father. If you don’t, I’ll just kill dad, and then I’ll kill you, and then for fun I’ll kill your dog.”

You were shaking at this point, you tried to talk and your boss came up.

“Everything all right here?”

You were gonna speak when she did before you. “Everything’s fine.”

“Right.. take off for the night, okay?” He looked at you, and you were dragged out the doors.

———————————————————————

The three of you were soon in a bathroom, and Kimura held a gun to her head.

Your eyes widened again, stepping away from them both, stumbling against the wall.

“Picture it.”

“Picture what?”

“Well, the man. Watching your son. I wonder how he’ll do it. Maybe a pillow to the face. Maybe something clever, like an air bubble in the IV.”

You went to go outside the door, when she caught you in the mirror.

“And imagine your poor dog. Whining and barking all because her owner couldn’t help her sister.” She looked at you. And you gulped and stepped back inside. You loved your dog.

Kimura took the gun away from her head and held it, going to give it to her.

“Give it to her. The innocent young girl act doesn’t really get you very far. If you’re holding a loaded gun.”

His phone ringed, and he talked to his father.

She took his phone, and she took the gun, then handed it to you. You looked at it, breath shaky along with your hands.

“You’re going to sit here and you’re going to go through every combination until you open up that case.”

“Kid, that could take f-“

“No, no, it won’t. I’d start with the low numbers. Just a thought, c’mon, you’re coming with me.” She dragged you along out the bathroom.

———————————————————————

You passed your brother then, you gasped and took a step back, running into a table and falling to the ground.

Your sister just looked at him and took off his glasses, spitting in his face.

She looked down at you, kicked you, and you stood back up.

Of course you were the black sheep of the family, and they all treated you bad, but still. He was your brother.

—————————————————————-

You and your sister walked back to where he was, and he had opened the case.

“Look at that. I knew my luck would rub off on you. Fuck.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kimura asked.

“I am doing the same thing that I did to the gun in her hand.”

You looked down at the gun.

“If the gun doesn’t kill him, the case will.”

“This thing could’ve killed me at any point-“ you said.

“No, no, it’s inert until you fire it. But I do want you to fire this one.” She handed you one that was in her bag, a normal one.

You looked at it, in disbelief as you put the other one down.

“I’ve never..”

“Well your gonna. Kill the twins and the old guy… what’s his name? I don’t care..” she waved you off, you stared at her again.

“Are you se- wha-“ she pushed you out the door, you fell onto the ground.

“And I have a camera on it, so if you don’t do it, I’ll find you and kill you myself.” She said, and then the door closed.

You mumbled something under your breath, and shakily picked yourself back up.

————————————————————-

That’s how you were now holding a gun to Lemon. He held his own to your face, as you screwed your eyes shut. He looked confused.

“You know your holding the gun wrong, right?” He said, you opened your eyes and he noticed your anxiousness.

He grabbed his phone out and texted tangerine to come.

Soon enough tangerine was rushing there, and held a gun to you quickly. You winced as both guns were now pointed at your temple. They backed you into a corner, you didn’t have anything to do.

“Start talking, we don’t got all day.” The one with the mustache said.

Your eyes started to water and you broke down. He slowly took the gun away, and you were now putting your face in your knees, both men looked confused now.

Lemon put his gun down, and stared at you.

“M-my sister made me do this- I don’t even know what I’m doing! I don’t even know how to shoot or hold a gun!” You told them. “She’s trying to kill our dad. The white death.”

“Your dad is the white death? Your the guys sister?” Tangerine asked.

“Adopted. But yeah.” Your lip quivered and you looked up at them, nodding.

“Fucked up family.” Lemon snickered, Tangerine nudging his arm.

“Sh-She’s using me as bait, to kill you and the glasses guy, but I don’t know how to kill anyone and-“

“Calm down, yeah? Your safe.. just, explain where she is, can you do that?” Lemon asked, crouching down next to you as Tangerine looked around and ran a hand through his hair.

Your eyes widened when you remembered the gun had a camera.

“We have to go, like soon.” You mumbled to them quietly, and you quickly scrambled away, running.

They just followed you, you weren’t much of a threat they thought. You were literally shaking just holding a gun.

——————————————————————

That’s how you were now underneath a table, as the twins sat.

“She’s fucking insane, if she sees me-“

“Relax. We jus’ gotta find glasses and tell him.” Tangerine said, mostly talking to lemon.

“Yeah, before he shoots our heads off.” He snorted. You looked over at your brother mostly, and then just hid your head in your knees.

“Hey! You Haven’t happened to see my sister have you?”

“What’s she look like?”

“She has e/c eyes, and h/c hair. She’s insane, a literal psychopath. Her therapist wanted me to take her but I can’t find her.” She shrugged.

“Nah, sorry.”tangerine quickly said.

She glanced under the table, clearly seeing you.

“Mm.. just tell her if you do see her that I’m looking for her.. I’ll be waiting.”

“Mhm.” Tangerine nodded, and motioned for her to keep moving.

“She knows. Damnit.” You mumbled, and went up from underneath the table and next to Tangerine.

“So now what do we do?”

“Like I said, jus’ wait for glasses.”

———————————————————————-

You all waited for a while, then he moved on the seat across, holding a gun to Lemon.

“I thought I knocked you out. But anyways who are you?” He looked to you, pointing the gun to you now as both men quickly pulled their out and pointed it to him.

“Her sisters the target, mate. Put the gun down.” Lemon said, and he slowly did.

“And we don’t need you, so one fucking move I’ll blow your brains out.” Tangerine said.

“Mmm.. so then why am I here?”

“Jus’ fucking listen.”

As you explained your family, and how they had always treated you, Tangerine and Lemon looked as each other for a moment then looking back, then you started to explain how your sister wanted to kill your dad to become the new white death.

“So she wants me to be bait. She doesn’t want any distractions so that’s why she sent me-“

“Why didn’t she send Kimura instead of you? I mean, if you don’t even know how to hold a gun wouldn’t it make more sense?”Ladybug asked.

“Probably because she’s always wanted me fucking dead.” You mumbled.

“Ohhhh.. got it. Yeah that makes sense.” He nodded.

“Alright, jus’ calm down. We’ll stop her from.. doin’ whatever to you, yeah?” Tangerine said. Lemon quirked an eyebrow, Tangerine wasn’t exactly known for being a sweet guy.

You nodded, and you just looked as they came up with a plan.

“She’s not gonna fall for it.” You mumbled. They all turned to you now.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she still has Kimura. She brought him here for him to fail. For her plan to work. She’s not gonna die before he does. She’s a selfish little prick-“

“Fuck, I knew I should’ve gotten off this train.” Ladybug mumbled, groaning in annoyance.

“And the hornets still alive.” You said.

“Who?” Lemon and tangerine asked.

“Actually….” Ladybug scratched the back of his neck.

“You killed her? Fuck. That’s crazy, my sister always went on about how she was annoying. She found out the wolf was here for the hornet.”

Tangerine sighed. “Can we please get back on fucking track?”

Tangerine got a call. He looked at you and picked it up.

“You have been lying to me, my friend.”

“Well, cats out the bag now, innit?”

“You were responsible for keeping my son safe, for keeping my money safe.”

“I don’t know a thing or two about being a parent, but you know what I would do, being that it’s your son and your money? I’d stop crying about your dead wife, get off your lazy fucking ass, come here and finish the job yourself. And while your at it, maybe apologize to your daughter or something, I dunno, just a thought.” He paused.

“But as we’re having a bit of a heart to heart, got a couple things to tell ya. Your sons a complete bellend, and as for your case I haven’t seen it since Toyko and I hope someone’s fuckin’ found it, put it all on red and having a fuckin’ wonderful time.”

“I will meet you at Kyoto Station.“

“Oh, how wonderful. I can’t fucking wait.”

“I want to look into your eyes when I kill you and your brother, along with my daughter.”

“Good fuckin’ luck, morning rush hours rolling in quite nicely. Uh, what’s your plan, mate? You gonna fuckin’ waltz in here and blow my brains out in front of the whole fuckin’ carriage of witnesses?”

“There is no one left on that train. I know. I bought every ticket until the end of the line.”

The elder walked into the train, and Ladybug stood up.

“Yeah I’m getting off this train. Sorry bout your family and deaths but I gotta go to a temple or some shit… reevaluate everything I’ve ever done.”

Tangerine and lemon then held a gun to his head, motioning for him to sit back down.

He sighed and put his hands up, sitting back down.

“Looks like I’m staying.”

———————————————————————-

So they made up another plan, with you involved this time.

The elder sat across from the princes.

“You are the one who pushed my grandson off the department store roof, why?”

“Your son. He’s going to help me kill the white death at Kyoto station. And that was the only way to get him on this train.”

“The white death.”

“That’s right. But he couldn’t even do that. So he’s dead, just a few cars back. They are both dead.”

“My grandson was pushed off a roof. What makes you think I would leave him unprotected?” He got a text message.

“My grandson is safe. And my son is not dead-“

“Listen, old man-“ she stood up.

“The only thing you know about an old man, young lady, is that he has survived much more, and much worse than you.”

She took her bag and quickly ran away.

—————-

A snake came slithering up towards Ladybug, your eyes widened and Lemon and Tangerine stared at it.

“What? There something on my face-“ he was interrupted when it latched onto his arm, biting him.

“Ow! Motherfu-“ he ran to the nearest bathroom, and shoved it into a toilet. He sighed and sat down for a moment.

Then the elder sat down, right across from Ladybug.

“Who the hell are you?” Tangerine asked, remembering how the white death bought every ticket, keeping his guard up.

“I am Kimura’s father.”

“Do you know where he is…?” You asked.

“I do.”

So then he took you, only you for some reason. He didn’t quite look how everyone else held a gun to him first thing.

They talked, his son was still alive. Barely.

You all went back and you helped his son clean up a bit. Lemon and Tangerine talked for a while.

“I don’t need help.” He mumbled.

“It’s the least I can do to apologize for my shitty sister.” You gave him a meek smile, and Tangerine and Lemon came over to you two. You gave them a smile and then went back to helping Kimura.

Then you went to hang out with Lemon and Tangerine only, Kimura wanted space.

“Thank you.” You blurted out.

“For what?”

“Everything. You both saved me. If I’m gonna die, I don’t wanna die because of her.”

Lemon smiled and nodded.

“It’s nothin’. The only problem now is killing them both, yeah?” Tangerine said.

“Yeah.” You smiled again.

———————————————————————-

That’s how you lemon, and tangerine started out. You started to call and text them in Japan, then deciding to move, but not knowing where, they decided hey why not that house down the street?. It was a nice house, so you said why not.

That’s how you now lived in London, you and Lemon were great friends. You and Tangerine were more complicated.

“So… this can’t happen again.” He would always say, laying down next to you. Even though he’d love for it to happen again.

“Agreed.” You mumbled.

It happened again, a lot more times.

“We can’t keep doin’ this to Lemon.” He would say. Lemon if anything, wanted it to happen.

“You two would make the best couple.” He said one day when they were eating dinner, Tangerine choked on his food and stared at him.

“What? Don’t think I haven’t heard you two. Oh yes, right there!” He mocked you, making him laugh loudly and Tangerine throwing a piece of bread at him.

“Go fuck yourself.” He stood up, grumbling and going to his room.

Lemon continued to laugh, and then you walked in.

“Heyyyyy… don’t mean to bother you. Where’s Tan?” You asked.

“Hey, we were just talkin’ bout’ you.” He snickered, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“He’s in his room. I’m guessing you’re gonna…” he snickered again, you didn’t understand at first.

“Lemon!” You groaned, and he laughed loudly again. Your cheeks heated up and you just went into Tangerines room.

“Oh man. Too good. Too funny.” He laughed.

In reality you came to borrow a book, but ended up staying the night. Lemon came in to give him something, and then he saw you both cuddled up, Tangerines arms wrapped around you.

He took out his phone, taking a picture.

“I’m never gonna let them forgot this.” He smirked to himself, closing the door quietly again.

#tangerine x reader #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #lemon x reader

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snootlestheangel · 5 months

Text

Horror-ish AU Idea

The 141 (just Price and the Sergeants) gets assigned to stop a massive artifact/artwork thief ring. It's the biggest crime ring in the world currently, and they're known for taking big artworks, especially statues, and real artifacts from museums without ever getting caught.

There's barely any leads on them, but the 141 are chasing the most solid one.

Price, Soap, and Gaz find themselves in a massive underground bunker that has a massive room in the center where all the stolen artifacts/artwork is kept. It's poorly lit in there, the only light being a massive spotlight shining on the direct center of the room.

And in that spotlight is a massive statue of a figure cloaked in all black with its hood up, a skull mask bright against the dark. It's got a massive scythe in one hand and the other pointing towards the only entrance to the room.

There's a plaque on the statue's base, which Soap reads. It says "Spectral Protector" and the figure itself gives them all the goosebumps.

The entire time they feel watched, but they brush it off as all the art with eyes and the different statues and mannequins. But when Soap is close enough to the statue in the center, he realizes the figure is eerily lifelike. The appearance of the cape's fabric seems real, and the skull mask looks a bit too good to not be a real skull broken up and glued to the statue. But most of all, he notices the sculptor took such attention to detail, the bloody thing has eyes. And those brown eyes seem so lifelike. Not to mention the blood painted onto the figure's scythe. It seems so real, yet is out of reach to tell for sure.

But Soap is an artist, and he's been doing his best not to totally nerd out over everything in the room. There's so many gorgeous paintings that he's only ever dreamt of seeing in person. Then this statue, with its intricate details and very lifelike appearance, it's hard not to stare in admiration, mouth slightly parted in absolute awe.

They agree to ignore the statue and document/mark all the artwork/artifacts so they can move on from the room. They have a list of everything that's been stolen by this crime ring, and they're verifying it's all there. They're in the middle of their work when the door to the massive room opens and there's criminals coming in. It's clear they know the 141 is in there, and they're not leaving without a fight.

The fight starts, there's bullets flying and lots of yelling. Soap peeks around the box he's hiding behind to fire back when he realizes something very disturbing: the statue is gone.

And the enemies notice too. There's a lot of panicked swearing in a language Soap doesn't understand before they're all cut off with wet gurgles and the distinct sound of a bladed object slicing through flesh.

And now Soap and the other two are the ones being hunted by this "Spectral Protector"

But there's nothing. Price orders them to get out and wait for backup to remove the stolen goods so they can be returned to the right hands. But as they're leaving, they realize the door is blocked by the figure, it's scythe dripping with fresh blood.

Soap can't think of anything else to do or say so he simply blurts: "we're here to return this shite to where it came from. We're nae a threat" and something about his words seems to placate the menacing figure. The scythe is lowered and he steps out of the way, gesturing for them to leave. Soap is the last one to leave, and he feels a strange desire to stay.

He convinces Price and Laswell to let them be the ones to help move the artwork and stuff out of the room. He asks if they can leave the statue for last, claiming he has a hunch the thing is called a "Protector" for a reason. Like a protector of the arts or something.

Either way, they're there as everything is removed. And the figure has returned to its pedestal, in the same position as before, but no one knows he continues to watch with a careful eye. Soap can't stop himself from standing and admiring the figure, because while clearly not a statue (or at least a cursed one), he's still a work of art in Soap's eyes. One that deserves to be admired.

Finally, the figure must grow annoyed by Soap's staring/admiring, as he suddenly looks down from his pedestal with a mean glint in his eyes. Soap gets all flustered and apologizes, cause he didn't realize the figure was still aware.

By the time they get everything else out of the room, it's revealed that no one knows where this "Spectral Protector" came from. There's some strings pulled and he ends up in the art museum not far from where Soap lives. And Soap makes regular visits to sit and admire during the day, sometimes drawing the figure.

But then he starts sneaking in at night. The owner is a good friend of his, and lets it slide for a good bribe.

That's where Soap learns the figure's name is Ghost, or at least he prefers being called this. Then he learns Ghost was once a real person, that a man named Roba betrayed him and cursed him into being a living piece of art, a statue during the day and human again at night. So he made himself someone to protect the artwork he was quickly surrounded by. Ghost is now doomed for an eternity for a life he never asked for.

So Soap makes sure he stays visible to the public, that people can come and admire him. Because at some point the figure's position changes. It becomes softer and draws more of a mournful gaze from its viewers than fear.

To be honest, I have zero clue what happens next. This was a half baked idea I slapped down and then it got out of hand.

#maybe Soap finds a way to be cursed to also be artwork #Ghost gets mad at first cause like “this shit sucks”#but Soap is all “it sucks when you have to be alone”#i don't know this just appeared #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghoap au #cod mw2 #call of duty

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baguettehead · 3 months

Text

Luke Castellan X Child of Hades (she/her reader)

Summary - Y/n first arrived at Camp Half-blood when she was 16, it was weird and difficult at first but she met people who made it better and maybe the love of her life?? They're not quite sure yet...

A/n - I know I haven't posted since 2021 but look, the creative juices are flowing and Luke Castellan has me by the balls and he's twisting real fucking hard so...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you first arrived at Camp Half-Blood you were bloody and confused, to say the least. You had just finished fighting, and killing, a Cyclops. Which apparently exist now, before stumbling into Camp Half-Blood and passing out from blood loss. Honestly, pretty cool way to die you thought as you looked up to the clear sky before your eyes closed and you were out. You woke up in a weird room, got told you were a child of a Greek God, and had a new scar stretching from your collar bone to your shoulder, cool.

Two months later you were claimed. You're sitting in the Hermes cabin when you hear screams from outside. Being fairly new to the whole demi-god thing, you don't immediately jump out of bed and rush to the noise like the others in the Hermes cabin. Instead, you count to ten and slowly rise from your bed and peek your head out of the door to the cabin, only to come face to face with a hellhound. How it got into camp, no ones quite sure, but its staring you down and you're sweating bullets.

"hello.." did you just fucking talk to the hellhound? You could've sworn your survival skills were better than this. But it just tilts its head at you, almost like it recognized you.

As kids with spears and swords begin to circle the creature it sits, staring straight at you, as if waiting. Everyone stops and stares, most looking from the hellhound to you and back again. You look up, confusion in your eyes, begging for help, but they just stare like they're waiting for something. Whether that is for the hound to maul you or not you're not quite sure. Looking up from the hellhound once more you lock eyes with Luke Castellan, someone you had slowly begun to trust at camp. He nods his head as if to tell you to continue and signals the others to wait. Taking a deep breath you straighten your back and look directly into the hell hounds red eyes, "Go home" you say firmly. The hound nods its head, turns around, and begins to walk out of camp. You hold your breath as you watch the hellhound leave over the hill until its gone. The large crowd that accumulated stares in awe before someone lets out a gasp and points above your head. You look up immediately, honestly expecting a dragon or something to fly down at you, only to see the mark of Hades floating above your head.

It's been three years since then, three years as a year round camper, and three years with some of the best friends you ever made.

"sup dickhead" Luke says as he sets his tray down next to you and slips onto the bench. "aw I love pet names" you sarcastically drawl while picking at your food. "Would you rather I call you sweetness? Or my Princess of darkness" he practically purrs the last name as your eyes go wide and a blush coats your cheeks. Your head snaps up to look at him.

His cheeks are red and blushing as he stares at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. Like he thinks you are the most beautiful thing in the world, blessed by Aphrodite herself, but not fragile. No, Luke knows you're anything but fragile and can easily hold your own, and that makes him fall even deeper into this pit you have dug for him that he swears will be his grave.

But you don't see this, of course you don't, you're stuck in this treacherous loop of convincing yourself he only see's you as a friend while you're hopelessly in love with him.

Looking back down at your tray you mumble "Princess of darkness doesn't sound half bad", he laughs and pushes your shoulder, "Don't get pompous on me love, being a kid of the big 3 is getting to your head". You muster up the best innocent face you can before saying "what's it like hating from the outside?" you dissolve into a smug smirk as he deadpans at you causing you to fall into a fit of giggles he quickly joins.

As you're both laughing, you leaning on Luke and holding your stomach, Chris and Clarisse join you both setting their trays down. Lunch continues with he two of you bickering, Clarisse and Chris sharing knowing looks.

Later that day you join Luke again, this time for training. Chris mediates as well as you two tend to get carried away.

You often train together as your skill sets are pretty evenly matched even though he loves to hold the title of 'best swordsman in camps history' over your head, like daily. You're warming up and sparring when a group of campers join, notably a few Aphrodite girls, and begin to watch. You roll your eyes as Luke sends them a wave and cheeky smile, they blush and giggle, and you ignore the burning feeling in your stomach. One of the girls even sends you a dirty look, oh fuck no you're not doing this today.

"can you stop flirting with the Aphrodite girls for one minute so we can spar?" you grind out through your teeth, and Luke has the audacity to look smug. "jealous?" he raises his eyebrows looking you in the eyes.

Yea you're definitely kicking his ass.

Chris begins to look uneasy as you raise your sword and he signals the fight to start.

You circle each other before Luke initiates combat, swords making a loud clink as they mash together. You start out somewhat lazy, if theirs anything you know about Luke its his ego. So you let him think he's winning before focusing in on his week points. Luke might be better with a sword than you but you have more stamina. You start striking hard and fast barely giving him a break before you're able to sweep one of his feet and knock him to ground. Crouched over him, holding down the hand holding his sword with your right foot and pressing your sword to his neck, you smile at him. Right as you're about to claim your win he uses his body weight to flip you over and straddle your waist, holding your hands above your head. You struggle for a minute but give up, looking up at him, and realizing just how close to you he is.

His face is inches from yours and you can feel his panting breath on your face. Your breath hitches and a blush rises to your cheeks, but all you can seem to do is stare directly into his eyes. He pulls that stupid cocky grin once more and whispers for only you to hear "nice try princess" and all you want to do is grab the back of neck and smash your lips into his. You probably would have too if it weren't for Chris clearing his throat. Luke quickly jumps off you running over to Chris and you slowly sit up still processing what he said mere seconds ago. As you're staring off into space Luke walks back over to you and extends a hand, a worried look on his face.

"Are you okay?" he quickly asks pulling you up "m' fine" you mutter as you begin to pull away but he pulls you into his chest and begins looking you over for injuries. "did you hit your head? was i too rough? Gods I'm so sorry I got carried away" you cut him off by hugging him and muttering "I'm fine Luke, just got distracted a bit" he holds you there for minute, relishing in your touch, and you make a point to stick your tongue out at the Aphrodite girl over Luke's shoulder as she leaves with her friends. Chris laughs loudly but covers it with a cough as you send him a glare.

Eventually, and much to your dismay, Luke pulls away. He holds your shoulders, still keeping you close, and stares at you with the same look from earlier.

"You're beautiful" he mutters without breaking eye contact "I'm sweating like a pig" you retort and he laughs shaking his head. "go get cleaned up" and with that he kisses your forehead and jogs over to Chris to head back to the Hermes cabin.

You head back to the Hades cabin and bask in the silence for a minute. Silence is a rarity at camp. Hopping in the shower you let the cool water wash away all the dirt and grime on your skin and you think about what he said. Sure, he's called you pretty quite a few times but it was different this time. You've always been touchy with each other and forehead kisses are common but, for some reason this one gave you a spark of hope. As you're questioning basically the past 2 years of your life you hear a knock at the bathroom door and a muffled "almost done?". You realize you've been in the shower for longer than you planned and quickly turn off the water shouting "let me get dressed I'll be right out!" before stepping out and putting on a pair of shorts and oversized hoodie, one that you stole from Luke actually. You step out of the bathroom, still drying your hair, and see Luke on your bed flipping through one of your books.

He looks up and freezes. Sure, he's seen you in his hoodies many times but every time it takes his breath away. It doesn't help that you look ethereal right now. As you sit next to him he pulls you down to lay on his chest and begins scratching your head, your absolute weakness. You melt into him and his touch realizing just how tired you were after that match. You close your eyes and begin to drift into sleep when you feel him plant a kiss to your temple before whispering a barely audible "I'm in love with you".

Your eyes snap open and you can feel his breathing pick up. Raising your head you meet his eyes, not moving from his chest, and he begins "I knew I liked you when you stood up to the hellhound, you looked so scared" you stare at him while he looks past you with a soft smile on his face "but you did it anyways" he shakes his head "I knew I liked you but Gods" he pauses and you hold your breath "I never knew I held the ability to love someone this much" his eyes finally meet yours and he cups your face in his hands "I never knew i could hold my whole world in my hands" your eyes well up with tears and you try to speak but nothing comes out. So instead, you gently press your lips to his and try your hardest to convey all your emotions into one kiss. Pulling away you rest your forehead on his "you make everything worth it" you say staring into his eyes "all the monsters and the absent father, I would go through all of it a thousand times over if it meant I got to meet you" You wipe a fallen tear on his cheek and kiss him again both of you smiling into the kiss. Once you pull away you rest your head back on his chest, both of you adorning dopey grins.

"looks like we have a lot of time to make up for" he says

"we have the rest of our lives to do so" you reply before drifting off to sleep laying on the boy you love more than anything.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #x reader #child of hades #hades #Luke Castellan x hades reader #hades cabin #pjo #pjo series #pjo fandom

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mountymase · 1 year

Text

MAD ABOUT YOU - DAD!PULISIC

SUMMARY: Christian misses your son’s first steps but you’re there to make sure he knows he’s the best papa.

WARNINGS: slight sex mention.

AUTHOR: Reposting this because there was a major formatting error. I won’t take any responsibility for what thinking about Christian as a dad does to me. This is fiction, have fun.

Christian had been acting all weird lately and you knew why. Though he wasn’t treating you bad, he was… distant. He shut off. But all the time, he’d cup your face on his hands, look so deep into your eyes you’d feel like he was eating your soul, and tell you that you were the most perfect woman and mother in the world. And how much he loved you, so much it was nearly overwhelming. It eased the knot on your throat but then he distanced himself again, spend most of the time watching Liam, your 10 month old son, and every little move he made.

It seemed to amuse the little one, who was absolutely obsessed with his old man. Those two were like magnets. You were the love of Liam’s short life but his dad was clearly his hero, his best friend, from the very first kick when you were still carrying him and Christian used to talk to your bump.

It was when you were having breakfast and Christian had his eyes glued on Liam, barely touching his food, that you decided to finally say something. “I need you to talk to me, Christian.” As if he was waiting for it, he sighed and simply nodded, gaze lowering to his barely untouched food. He knew you were serious about it because you rarely called him Christian. “You have to say it, love. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

You reached out for his hand, brushing the back of his hand with your thumb. The slightest touch of your skin on his instantly made him relax. Christian was mad about you, his love language was touching you as much as he could, praising you. You were not only his fiancé, but also the person he trusted the most.

“I wasn’t here.” He started. “I wasn’t here, I missed my son’s first steps.” It seemed like he was almost embarrassed of finally say it. “What else am I going to miss because I’m away for a match? I’m feeling like the worst father, like I don’t give him enough of my time. I’m scared he won’t know how much I love him and how I’d jump in front of a bullet for him.” Each word just made him shrink a bit more until he was back looking at his food. The sound of Liam clapping to a bird that was near the window, making him giggle to a point he had to catch a breath, made Christian gulp. The sides of his lips curling into a smile. “Do you like the bird, buddy?”

“Dada!” Liam pointed at the bird, clapping again, now making Christian giggle. Your heart melted. Those interactions were pure joy.

Before Christian could go back to feeling awful about something that was far from being his fault, you stood up and walked towards him, sitting on his lap with your hands cupping his face. That man was so beautiful. “Baby…” Your man.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “You can’t control everything,” Christian tried to look away, but you didn’t let him. “You won’t be able to control everything and be here 24/7, and I need you to understand that it’s fine.” He shook his head, disagreeing on you. “Yes, Christian. It is fine.”

“How can it be fine, me missing the most important things in his life?”

“You’re not, baby. It was just two clumsy steps, and I know it’s a huge thing but you’ve been here all the time. What if he had taken those steps while you were in the shower, or something? Children can’t be predicted.” He knew you were right, remembering you had missed Liam saying ‘mama’ for the first time because you were in the shower yourself. “You make this kid so happy, my love. So fucking happy, he’s mad about you.”

He sniffed. “Do you think so?”

“I know so.” You reassured, starting to spread soft and short kisses across his face. “You’re his best friend, his hero, the best papa in the world. He’s already so proud of you and I’m so happy it’s you, because you’re absolutely perfect and…” you sighed.

“And?”

Your cheeks flushed a bit. “I get so horny seeing how great you are with him, I want to have all the babies with you.”

Christian wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he simply touched your lips with his. “Woman, I love you so fucking much. We can definitely have the most fun trying to make those babies, and I won’t mind seeing your bump growing again when I put another one in you.”

“Gosh, you’re such a soft perv…” You both giggled, and even more when Liam kept clapping in approval each time you did, enjoying how happy his parents were. “I love you too.”

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader #dad!pulisic

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Note

Can I put in a drabble request for yoongixreader where neither of them are big on Valentine’s Day but yoongi still is romantic on the day bc he’s like the person at the store sold me on the idea for the day? (Idk if that made sense but thank you!!)

hello, you absolutely can put in this request! thank you for sending it. this was fun. <3

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used)

genre: established relationship au, fluff

warnings: swearing. mentions of alcohol. yoongi being cute in his weird little yoongi ways.

wc: 1k

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

You have a standing nine a.m. meeting on Tuesdays.

Like clockwork, Namjoon appears on camera and talks your ear off for thirty minutes about something or other, and that’s exactly what he does this morning, too. Some distributor in Europe is experiencing shipping delays, so there’s not much to catch up on because nothing’s moving, even though that’s paperwork too, so he just rocks back in his chair and says, “Doing anything fun for Valentine’s Day?”

And you pull a face, just like you always do. “No, we don’t really celebrate it,” you answer, because it’s more socially acceptable than going through your well-rehearsed Valentine’s Day is a capitalist scam bullet points.

Namjoon just hums, says something about chocolate and roses for his partner, maybe wine over a candlelit dinner, and it all sounds dreadfully uninspired.

So that’s how the rest of the day goes. You have another afternoon meeting with Jimin, who pops up on your screen wearing a headband trimmed with feathers and sequined hearts on tiny springs, and Jimin is animated, so they bobble in every direction the more excited he gets. Which—he works in human resources, so what is there to even get excited about?

By five-thirty you’re ready to log off and spend the rest of the evening on the couch. Maybe order some takeaway you’ll have to wait three times as long for and soak in a warm bath until all your skin turns pruney. You pick up your phone, halfway to texting Yoongi to see what he wants to do for dinner, when the lock turns in the front door.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, because there’s Yoongi, cheeks pink as he curses the cold, holding a suspiciously large gift wrapped in metallic red paper. “Hello,” you intone.

He gets caught up trying to toe off his sneakers and nearly brains himself on the console table. “Motherfuck,” comes his response. Then, like he’s just realizing you’d spoken, he says, “Hi, baby,” and sends you a gummy smile.

“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the package in his hands. “Looks an awful lot like it might be a Valentine’s Day gift.”

“It is,” he answers simply. “Do you want to open it?”

This is… not how this is supposed to go. Yoongi is arguably more of an anti-capitalist than you are. Your Yoongi would never buy you a Valentine’s Day gift. “Um.”

He takes one look at your expression—half confusion, half exasperation—and laughs. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“Yeah, but—”

He sighs. Finally gets his sneakers sorted in the rack and waddles over, still wrapped tight in his winter coat. “But nothing. Here, open it.”

With one more questioning glance (that Yoongi promptly ignores), you take the gift from his hands. It’s heavy; feels solid, whatever it is. You pop the seams of the wrapping paper one at a time, still not convinced it’s not going to bite you, until the paper falls away to reveal a matte black box. A foot or so long, not as wide. You hear yourself gasp when you lift the lid.

Inside, there’s a gorgeous cutting board. Oiled maple, with the date of your and Yoongi’s anniversary etched into the corner. Resting on tissue paper with little hearts printed on it, for fuck’s sake. It’s almost sickening, how perfect it is. How thoughtful. How Yoongi it is, because this is his version of romance: something practical, something you’ve grumbled about needing a million times but haven’t gotten around to buying, because every time you mention getting a new cutting board Yoongi always scoffs and says, Why would I spend all that money on a cutting board when I could just make one for cheaper, and you reply, each time without fail, Have you seen the price of wood lately?

And, now, here it is. A cutting board with your anniversary etched into it, Yoongi still in his puffy jacket, looking bashful and a little embarrassed, fidgety as he awaits your reaction. “Do you hate it?” he asks. “I know we don’t really do gifts, but—”

“Min Yoongi, I am going to kick your ass.” You try to sound intimidating and Very Serious, but it comes out all waterlogged.

“Uh,” he responds, “I’m not really sure if that’s a yes or a no. Baby?”

“Of course I don’t hate it. Are you insane? Where did you even do this? When did you do this?”

He laughs, deep deep deep. Scratches at the back of his neck. “Funny story, actually. You know that weird store in the mall? The one with the ceramics and the painting and shit?” You nod; Jimin keeps trying to drag you there to get shitfaced and paint watercolors. “Yeah, well. I stopped by the mall today to buy Slam Dunk on DVD—”

“On DVD? Jesus, Yoongi, what are you, eighty years old?”

“—and some guy was standing outside trying to get people to buy shit, and I wasn’t gonna make you a fuckin’ lumpy mug, was I? So I said no, and he said come on, you look like a romantic guy, and I know he was lying and trying to get a reaction out of me, so I was like, yeah okay, but only if you have cutting boards, because you’ve been talking about getting one and I wasn’t expecting that weird fuckin’ store to have cutting boards, and then he said they did and it… just kind of spiraled.”

You’re a little stunned.

“Oh my god,” you reply. “You’re ridiculous. You’re the best. I love you. I didn’t get you anything, though.”

Yoongi shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I got the DVD set so just pay me back for it and we’ll call it even.”

“I can’t do that,” you argue. “You got me this nice, thoughtful gift—”

“Technically, I got you more, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna murder me first.”

“What—” you begin to say, but then the doorbell rings.

There’s the delivery person, bag of takeout in hand from your favorite restaurant. Behind him, another delivery person from the bougie florist across town, holding what looks like a hundred roses.

“Min Yoongi!” you yell, and Yoongi quickly thanks the people at the door and shuts it. “I will sue you!”

#vday drabbles #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #jewel answers

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straw-kid · 2 years

Text

As He Falls In Love With You... - Diego Brando Oneshot.

JJBA Steel Ball Run Headcanon

It was at the Steel Ball Run race when Diego laid his eyes on you. When he rode next to you, he would stare at you with a sullen expression. He always passed you at Silver Bullet, leaving you with dust on your lips, what a annoying guy. He always seemed to want to show himself to you.

Full of himself.

Diego was very unsociable. He didn't talk to anyone, he just scowled at the Steel Ball Run members. He never smile.

For Diego, feeling some curiosity in wanting to know who you were was something that messed with his ego. Why would he want to know who you were?

Pfff you are pathetic!

But damn, to watch you hold the bridle of your horse with a strong expression, with a desire to win the race, oh my... what good looking...

It was on an extremely hot day that you can't keep up with the race, your horse is tired, sweaty from ears to hooves. It would be fair to stop and rest. Uuuh what a terrible day. You tethered your horse and left it under one of the few shades that held a horse. You, on the other hand, almost sunbathing. Sweat ran down his forehead. Would you be able to continue this race alone?

You take the canteen, empty. Ah, bad luck.

That's when you hear a distant gallop getting louder and louder. It is then that you recognize who is there. Diego.

You give a heavy, dry sigh. "What is this guy doing here?" you think with yourself.

That superior expression washed over you and all you did was look away. Diego didn't say anything, he never speaks, and it's in that moment of intense silence brought by him, that you notice, he was a strong figure, an aura of power, it was as if he controlled the sound around him, for a moment not even Silver Bullet's hooves echoed.

Diego approached. "you look awful" took a canteen from his things. "here, drink it" it was the first time you heard his voice. it was more serious than you expected to hear.

You divide the water by filling your canteen with Diego's water. "ah ah ah, I need it more than you. It's not because I'm being nice to you that you might take advantage of me." He take his canteel back.

"tsc" You make a mean face. "Don't look at me like that, if I didn't share it with you, you wouldn't make it past today".

Diego was bold in his words, a bit full of himself. In addition to the canteen, he offered a few snacks for your horse.

After that moment, everything seemed to be over, that diego only showed a mere pity for you and continued the race alone, but it was not what you expected. Diego then makes you a proposal. "You look like you're carrying a lot of junk on your horse. I wouldn't do that with my Silver Bullet if I wanted to win.... However, the path ahead will get colder. We're going up some hills."

Indeed, you carried a lot of junk. But as the Steel Ball Run courses were, it was definitely important that you were prepared. It was impressive the fact that Diego carried almost nothing in Silver Bullet, it made sense that he ran like the wind, he was light as the wind.

Without delay, Diego got right to the point. "I would need support during this route, as you can see I also don't have so much water because we share it. So let's make a deal, I'll take you on the safest and fastest route of this race and you give me shelter with firewood.”

It was a fair deal. you wanted to win and you weren't in the best of conditions to continue, Diego knew different paths but he wasn't going to be able to continue for that long.

"Sure" you say shaking Diego's hand and at that, he opens a naughty smile. And because of the newness on Diego's face, you not only noticed the perky lips, but what preceded his face. Diego have hazel eyes, how big and full of life they were.Diego had a harmonious face when he wasn't with a grumpy look. You felt something.

You found out that day, Diego was a pretty boy.

Riding with Diego was like riding alone. He didn't talk to you, very silent, he just warned you about something far down the road, it was like he smelled the dangers and you had no idea how he was so good at it (his stand but you just don't know about this OR even know that this exists!)

Resting in makeshift camps with him was awkward at first.He was bossy, told you what to get and what he needed, criticized the way you arranged things, but as time went by, you got used to his way, and also, he stopped bossing you around.

Diego's company was pleasant even though he was someone in a bad mood.

Diego would never tell you this, but since he decided to give in his ego, to have you for company, it was comforting.

There were nights when you shivered with cold, and he stoked the fire instantly. There were days when you hadn't eaten enough and Diego would say "I don't need all of this, if you don't want it I'll throw it away". You have been noticing these subtle gentle behaviors. He didn't know how to be kind.

As the journeys passed, he became more sociable with you. Having said that, he started talking more. You had kept the following information with you: a big fan of coffee, he liked the strong taste that comforted with the heat. He enjoyed the company of animals more than that of people. Too much noise disturbed him to think and sleep.

Although Diego became more talkative, he didn't bring up many facts about himself and you were more interested in that, but it seemed like asking him that was too much. Without having the facts spoken aloud, those being watched spoke much more about him.

Diego likes to eat, even if it's a goo or a delicacy from an expensive restaurant, he'll eat, no matter how much he complains, any food seems to please him. He is very fond of family, from the little he tells about his tragic childhood, he always speaks highly of his beloved mother, he seems to like the idea of being surrounded by people he likes, or dreams of. In moments where you catch him off guard, he's looking at you, but he doesn't turn away when that happens.

Normally you turn, it's embarrassing!

Diego is always looking after you. But it is no longer like someone who is angry about something, however, relaxed eyes, Diego has a calm look for you, and only for you.

You guys didn't break up after the deal, you're an unbeatable duo. You like being together. Sometimes Diego passes by you and always touches your shoulders and very rarely, touches your waist, but when you do that to him, he tends to dodge his back, you never understand.

Yeah, Diego touches you sometimes, rubs your back when cold, touches your arm when want attention, touches your hand when need to make a quick move. But don't try to do that to him, he will give you a grumpy look.

There was only one moment when the touching was more intense than the casual ones. The race was intense and Diego had hurt his forehead. you had demanded that he let you help him, he was proud, he wouldn't even let him pay triple the prize of the race. With that said, you left him in agony on the floor overnight. In the middle of the night, you woke up, with a bad feeling. Diego was lying down badly, he had a fever. He was weakened, it would not be possible to continue like this.You took his head and placed it in your lap, so you could handle his face well, clean the wound properly, and help with his fever. Your icy fingers touched Diego's hot forehead, who contracted his eyebrow in disdain, he knew it was you with him. You ignored his expression. You took his hair off his forehead, tucking it behind his ear, wiped the damp, warm cloth on his forehead.

Without realizing it, you massage your blond hair with one hand. Angel hair, fine and light, it glistened in the firelight.

Even though it was no longer necessary, you didn't remove the cloth or hands from Diego's face anymore and he had nothing but the expression of tranquility on his face.You slide your fingers across his features. Dry, plump lips, thickly wired brows, strong jawline.

What a man to be in your lap right now, right?

Suddenly, you feel a hand touch your back, slide gently to your waist and meet your hand, Diego took your hand, waking you up from your trance. He looks you deep in the eyes and places a kiss on the back of your hand. "Thanks Y/N, you sure are sweet". He smiles.

You are simply on fire from the heat you felt.

That never happened between you again, Diego was someone too closed for any interaction that required a lot of personal space.

Even if you didn't know about the existence of stands, Diego always used it to protect you, sensing danger for miles around and smelling fruit or animals to hunt, however he would never tell you or show you, maybe that would spoil something, maybe it would make you think he was a scary monster.

Diego is like that, he only demonstrates from afar without being direct.

#diego brando #diego #dio brando #steelballrun #steel ball run #part 7 #jojo #diego brando headcanon #diego brando x reader #diego brando fanfic #y/n #jojo x you #diego brando x you #jojo headcanon #jojo part 7 #jojo part 7 headcanon #steel ball run headcanon

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lotuslolitasblog · 7 months

Text

ROTI phone hcs, go!!!

Anne Maria:

The phone case is pink.

VERY PINK.

Pink & purple leopard print. I am right. You can’t fricking deny it

She has a phone string with purple and golden charms on it

It’s a pretty new model.

There’s a crack on the upper right corner.

She has trouble typing up the code with her nails, so she has Touch ID.

Her lockscreen is probably some bad pic of her and her gal pals or a great one of her and Vito

Her home screen is some dreamy purple background. Probably some clouds with tiny sparkles all around

Her ringtone… this one was hard. I don’t know any techno! I decided to go with like the one song I know, Evacuate The Dancefloor by Cascada.

She has a special ring tone for Vito, Everytime We Touch (also by Cascada)

She talks about the most unhinged gossip on the phone in public

Every contact is saved with a pretty emoji next to them (Jo insisted that if she HAD to have her name saved with a heart, it had to be the black one)

…

Nah, kidding.

He has a clear phone case. Simple, but efficient.

His phone is pretty old, and he knows it inside out.

His phone has been through some shit, but the screen is somehow intact.

His Lock Screen is probably some pretty science-ish thing, like a butterfly nebula.

His Home Screen is just one of the default ones.

His ringtone (I don’t know why anyone would call him, but anyway) is some instrumental… I can’t come up with what he’d listen to tbh.

Absolute meme lord. Has a meme or a GIF for every occasion.

He has one alarm at 6:30 every day and never misses it (TEACH ME YOUR WAYS B)

Brick:

Black leather phone case. Dare to tell me I’m wrong. I am not.

His phone is absolute blasted. You cannot tell me there aren’t at least ten cracks. That man is a KLUTZ

These bullet points really show you who my favourite character is up until now

His lock screen and home screen are the same green army pattern background.

He changes the Home Screen to a picture he stealthily took of Jo

Old model.

iPhone? What is that???

His ringtone is absolutely awful. No song in mind, but Brick just sounds like someone with absolutely no taste in music.

Reveille is his alarm sound which goes off at 0600 hours every day. He’s also an adept at waking up with one alarm. Bro is always ready to seize the day

Talks ridiculously loud over the phone

Has absolutely no social media. He is nowhere

Cameron:

Bought a phone with the prize money

It’s one of his most prized possessions

His mom bought him one of those mom phone cases with the wrap in front (I don’t know how to word that correctly)

It’s black

His lock screen is a picture of a butterfly. Not just any butterfly! A Danaus plexippus (AKA a monarch butterfly - the orange and black ones with those little white dots)

His home screen is a picture of him with Mike and Zoey

His phone is a pretty new model. His mom was afraid it would overheat too much if he had an older one

His ringtone is You’ve Got A Friend In Me

He doesn’t need an alarm because his mom wakes him up every day

Dakota:

Pink,pink,pink!

Bubblegum pink!

She has a personalised pop socket! It has D written in gold and the rest is - you guessed it - pink

Her lock screen is a picture of her and Sam (cutie piessss)

Home Screen is her favourite picture of her

It’s the newest model (obvi)

Touch ID & Facial recognition for easy use

Has paparazzis on speed dial

Her ringtone is Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen

If you have some time, check out the music video. The last few seconds are PRICELESS

She has every social media app you can think of

She’s verified too!!

Uses emojis religiously. Always uses !! or ?? instead of a single sign

Dawn:

Got a phone solely to be able to give tarot readings over call

She gives the money she makes from it to associations

She has a clear phone case, but she put an upright Fool card in it

It symbolises innocence and free spiritedness

I looked it up on Wikipedia. Thanks Wikipedia (Henry Cahill would be disappointed)

It’s a decently old model, but she doesn’t plan on changing it anytime soon

Somehow always charged

Her homescreen and lockscreen are different pictures of her friends (both human and animal)

Has a ringtone, but she can somehow always sense when someone will be calling a few seconds before it starts ringing

It’s probably some New Age music (Gwen: 😖)

Always answers 3 to 5 business days after you send a message. It’s better to call her directly

Jo:

A simple black phone case

Her Lock Screen is just a black background with white text that says: “Why are you even touching my phone?”

Her home screen is literally the worst picture of Brick ever.

She always manages to catch him at the worst moments

He used to hate it, but he finds it endearing now

Again, you can really see who are my favourites rn

Her workout playlist goes hard!

Her ringtone is It’s My Life by Bon Jovi

She doesn’t have an alarm

Alarms are for chumps

You’ll die before you ever see her use an emoji.

There’s a few cracks around the lower corners

It’s a miracle there aren’t more considering how much it falls while she runs

Her voice mail says: “It’s Jo. Just don’t call me.”

Lightning:

Newest model. There is no way he isn’t one of those people who change phones every time a newer one comes out

Has a personalised phone case.

It’s a blue one, with yellow lines, his jersey number and his name

Both the Home Screen and Lock Screen are pictures of him

As it should, king!!

His workout playlist is also great

He listens to Brick’s music recs too much though, so it’s not as good as Jo’s

Only sends voice messages

Sends every sports video he ever sees to Jo and Brick

Jo nearly blocked him because of it

Has an awesome group chat with the rest of his football team

Again, my favourites really show

His ringtone is Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5

Thought Jagger was a football player for the longest time

Mike & Co.

Mi: Black phone case so the system won’t go crazy

Mi: His Lock Screen & Home Screen is a picture of him and Zoey

The System: Writes out entire convos in the notes app

V: Everytime he’s in control, he changes the Home Screen to a picture of him and Anne Maria

V: He also calls her every single time

Cutie pie

V: voice messages are his thing

V: definitely dropped it a dozen times. It’s cracked all over.

S: Follows every gymnast you can think of on social media

S: She’s the reason Mike has a Russian keyboard too

S: Her and Simone Biles are literally besties

S: Forced him to install Duolingo to learn Russian

Mi: He makes her learn Italian

MS: Tries to install dating apps every time he’s on the phone

MS: Searches for “Single Women In The Area” way too many times for it not to be concerning

Reminder: He’s married.

MS: Mike changed the password and no one can tell him what the new one is

C: “Alarms? Back in my day, we woke up with the sun!” *disables it*

C: Also doesn’t know the new password

Ma: Are you kidding? Obviously doesn’t know the password.

Ma: Guessed it once, and changed Mike’s ringtone to fart sounds

Mi: The original ringtone was Under Pressure by David Bowie & Queen

V: Likes to change it to Ice Ice Baby because Mike won’t notice it instantly

Ice Ice Baby <3 Thank you Laurie Elliott

Sam:

A Mario phone case. No other option.

His Lock Screen is the same as Dakota’s

CUTIE PIESSSSS OMG I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH ASIDHDHS

*cough*

Anyways, his Home Screen is probably some game related Easter Egg.

Not an actual easter egg jic someone gets the wrong idea

His ringtone is Jump Up Superstar by The Living Tombstone

My personal fav version is the one by VGR

It’s a pretty new model

Dakota offered to buy him a newer one but he said it wasn’t necessary

It always has a low battery percentage so he carries a charger everywhere

Definitely a moderator on a few gaming rated subreddits or Discord servers

A lot more low-key than his gf on social media

They have matching profile pictures

Scott:

His phone is a hand me down

It’s so old it’s nearly a family heirloom

Dude doesn’t have a phone case

It SHOWS. His phone is beat up.

His lockscreen is a photoshopped pic of his sister’s head on the body of a donkey.

They’re each others biggest hater

His homescreen is just a big pile of dirt.

It always reminds him of home.

I’m having so much fun with this one you have no idea

Scott and Jo have the most insane Twitter beef I swear

There’s a Tumblr account dedicated to it.

Scott also has several fan accounts (all ran by me lmao)

His playlist is absolutely insane.

The only Kanye songs I listened to are Monster & American Boy - because he’s awful - and they’re both 10/10 songs I fear

Scott actually has an amazing taste in music

Dude probably loves Whistle

I hate to admit it but it’s a good song

His ringtone is Right Round by Flo Rida & Ke$ha

Staci:

Phone case is light blue.

Both backgrounds are family photos

The family group chat is crazy

She makes it her job to alter Wikipedia articles every weekend

Her calendar is full of family functions

Her ringtone is Beautiful atiful Liar by Beyoncé and Shakira

Unfortunately her music taste is great too

Her voice messages are infinitely long. So are her voice mails

Multiple people from Total Drama (Jo and Scott) have her blocked

Zoey:

Her phone case is clear. She slipped a Polaroid photo of the Revenge cast inside

She made her phone string herself. It’s full of cute charms like little mushrooms, flowers, ladybugs, leaves…

Her Lock Screen is a cute (and slightly goofy ) picture of her, Cam and Mike

Her Home Screen was a group selfie taken on a girl’s night she had with the Revenge girls. Jo has her middle finger out - it was painted black at Dakota’s insistence-, Dakota and Anne Maria are posing while Dawn and Staci have each other in a half-hug and Zoey is taking the picture and doing a peace sign

I should draw that sometimes…

Anyway, Zoey is definitely an avail emoji user too. Also kaomojis (/*•*)/

Her ring tone is Take Me Away by Christina Vidal

Freaky Friday anyone??

She posts the cutest pics on social media

Tries to defuse the Jo/Scott beef

Fails, miserably

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

Text

Daring to be truthful (Eddie Munson x Reader fluff)

Thanks to this text post from @mcbeanzontoast I had to write a little something about it so here it is.

Word Count:1,584

Warnings:Badly written fluff, games of truth or dare, nosebleeds (but nothing graphic don’t worry), confessions of love, best friends to lovers, don’t think I’m missing anything? but let me know if I am so I can tag it

It was Steve’s idea to host a get-together for the group, shared trauma brought people together or something like that, you reasoned. The drinks had been steadily flowing as the group settled down in front of the huge tv that resided in the Harrington’s spacious living room. Steve had brought a few tapes home with him after his shift at family video and somewhere between Top Gun followed by Labyrinth, which was an odd route to go down for a movie night, but everyone seemed to go along with it nonetheless. Nancy and Jonathan had snuck away after she had climbed down from her space curled into him on his lap. It wasn’t long before he was hot on her heels, quietly tip-toeing out of the room with a blush rising to his cheeks.

With the happy couple now gone, it was only you, Robin, Steve and Eddie in the living room. The sounds of the movie now going largely ignored, fading into background noise.

Robin downs the last few sips of beer from her bottle as she speaks up

“Let’s play truth or dare” she suggests, her freckled features rosy with the buzz of alcohol.

“What are we, twelve years old or something?” Steve scoffs, taking a sip from his bottle.

“Scared of a little game, Stevie?” Robin teases.

“Alright then, I’m game if everyone else is. God knows I don’t have anything to hide.” Steve professed.

“Okay then, Steve..” you turn to look up at him from where you sat on the floor. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Is it true that you use Farrah Fawcett hairspray?” you snickered as you asked him the question.

“Jill? from Charlie’s Angels?” Robin squawked out between laughs.

Steve’s face burned bright red, how did you know about that?

“I bet Dustin told you, didn’t he. That kid couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it” Steve started.

“Actually, I told her.” Eddie speaks up. “Admittedly after Dustin told me. You know I can’t be keeping secrets from my best friend, right?” he chuckles, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“So it’s true?” Robin asked.

“Yeah..Yeah laugh it up, alright. It’s true” he confesses, ducking his head down with a small laugh of his own.

“Truth or dare?” Eddie asks you from where he’s lounging in one of the living room’s big sofa chairs.

“Truth.” Eddie practically knew everything about you anyway, this was going to be easy.

“What was the worst date you’ve ever been on?” he asks you, his grin stretching across his lips. Fucker. Eddie knew all too well of the story of the worst date of your life, remembering how you told him how your date had not only showed up 20 minutes late with no explanation or reason why, and that he then proceeded to talk all about his ex-girlfriend, and how he’s probably still be with her if she hadn’t found about the other girl he was secretly seeing behind her back. Needless to say there wasn’t a second date.

“Oh my god! That’s awful! Sounds like you dodged a bullet there, y/nl” Robin chuckled.

“Yeah it was all downhill from the moment he opened his mouth” you joined in, laughing at your own story.

____________________

The night went on like that, swapping stories, like how Robin was almost late for band practise because she had been making out with Vickie in the school’s auditorium, or the fact that Eddie on more than one occasion had been completely wasted whilst performing on stage at the hideout.

As well as challenging each other to do increasing stupid dares. Watching Steve try to swallow an entire spoonful of cinnamon had been a particularly amusing highlight of yours.

But Robin, who, at this point was not handling her drink very well, had dared Eddie to show-off his best metal head-banging, things had taken a turn.

The force with how much Eddie was showing off his best head-banging air guitar routine, had caused Eddie to have a nose bleed.

By now Robin was stumbling around and Steve had made the executive decision to wrangle her from where she was standing on wobbly legs on the couch cushions of the sofa.

"Are sure you guys are gonna be okay down here whilst I try to get this one to bed?" Steve asked as he held up Robin's swaying frame.

"I've got it from here Steve, you go look after Robin" You assured, watching as Steve carefully manoeuvred his friend up the stairs, before taking Eddie by the hand and leading him into the Harrington’s kitchen.

“Here..” you say, handing him a bunch of tissues. “Tip your head forward and pinch your nose. That should help stop the bleeding” you say.

“Thanks, you don’t have to help me, I’ll be alright.” he muffles from behind the tissues scrunched up under his nose.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help and look after you when you needed it, huh?” you smiled at him.

After a while, Eddie’s nosebleed seemed to have stopped. With a cool damp cloth you begin to clean away the dried blood from his face.

“Y’know I never got to ask you the truth question I wanted to ask you” you say whilst dabbing the cloth against his skin.

“I don’t think that’s quite how truth or dare works, sweetheart.” Eddie teases. “I think I’m supposed to choose?”

“Okay, I know but can I ask you my question anyway?” you ask hopefully, bright eyes looking up at him.

“You can ask me anything, no secrets between us, right?” That wasn't strictly true. He did have one secret, one that he kept very close to his heart. That secret was just how big of a crush that he had on you. You two had been friends for as long as he can remember. Wherever Eddie went you followed and vice versa. It wasn’t often one of you was seen without the other. He never wanted to ruin the friendship that you two had, that relationship was one of the most important things in his life, but he couldn’t help his heart ruling his head, and the thoughts of holding you close and kissing your lips came to mind more often than he’d care to admit to.

However, what Eddie wasn’t aware of was that despite all his pining over you, and trying to keep his affections for you hidden, you very much loved him in the same way.

Maybe it was childish to think of your best friend like that. Daydreaming about holding his hand, going on dates to the movies and kissing his lips whenever you wanted, but you couldn’t help it. Eddie Munson had been it for you ever since you’d first laid eyes on him all those years ago.

“What’s something you would do if you knew there would be no consequences?” you asked.

Maybe it was the buzz of the alcohol, or the comfort of being in such close proximity to you, but as usual, Eddie’s mouth was moving faster than his brain could keep up with. Without hesitation, he blurts out,

“Kiss you.”

The boldness of his answer shocks you for a moment. That’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear from him, your heart racing from the thrill of it all.

“I dare you.” you whisper, not quite yet trusting your own voice. “Kiss me.”

He leans down to you, cupping your cheek in his large hand, his clunky metal rings are a welcomed chill against the flush of your heated skin. His big brown eyes look deep in yours before he closes the gap between the two of you.

He tentatively presses his lips to yours in an delicate exploratory kiss, the tip of his nose slightly bumping against yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, with just the slightly bitter tang of beer. You can’t help but smile against his lips, having dreamed about kissing for so long and now it was actually happening, setting the butterflies in your stomach fluttering. You never wanted it to end.

He pulls away from you, his brown eyes are soft on you as his smile spreads across his lips.

“Y’know, since we’re being all truthful and shit..I’m gonna be honest here and say I’ve always wanted to do that.” Eddie confesses.

“Well I suppose I owe you the truth, too. I’ve always wanted to kiss you too...” you say looking down to your feet, shyly. “..But more than that, I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, Eddie.” you finish, looking up to him hopefully.

“Well you know I don’t just go around kissing girls without it meaning something to me, sweetheart..” he says with a smile. “I love you too, have been ever since I laid eyes on you.”

“So what does that make us now? Because I don’t think I can go back to being just friends.”

“Well how about we try being boyfriend and girlfriend?” Eddie offered. He’d wanted to call you his girlfriend for so long that the only title felt natural to him.

“Yeah I like the sound of that, Eds”

“Only if we can still be best friends too. Don’t think that because you’re my girlfriend now, that doesn’t mean you’re not still my best friend.” he assured.

“I’d like that Ed.” you perch up on your tip-toes to press one more quick kiss to his lips. “I’d like that a lot.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @i-me-mine @harringtons-cupid @seatnights

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader fluff

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kxizoku-ou · 14 days

Text

CP9/Reader Shorts

I've posted these on Ao3 already, but I think they're of a reasonable length to be here too! They're more or less just character studies/test-run shorts written so I could get a feel for this group (and their unique brand of issues, of course). Enjoy the angsty fluff~ ;3c

. . .

—Lucci—

It’s not exactly rare for Lucci to be touched (in combat and while being patched up afterward, at least), but not like this.

This meaning lying on his stomach while your unnervingly gentle hands take a leisurely path down his back, pausing to trace over every scar they find along the way. There’s strange confidence in the unhurried, careful motions— or rather, none of the usual caution of someone handling a living weapon.

“These are awfully deep,” you comment as your fingertips trail feather-light over the uppermost circle branded into his back. “Do they hurt?”

“Of course not,” Lucci replies, almost automatically.

Those wounds are old enough to barely qualify as damage. He’s grown used to the hindered mobility and the aches that come and go— they don’t affect how he fights, and that’s all that matters.

You give a sympathetic-sounding hum, following the arrangement of scars with a broader touch. This time, the motion feels more like petting , and Lucci is vaguely horrified at how his body relaxes ever-so-slightly in response. It still doesn’t hurt, but the deeper patches of scar tissue are uncomfortably sensitive, nerve signals radiating outward from every new point of contact.

And despite a lifetime of experience spent hardening his body into a perfectly controlled tool, he finds himself alarmingly unprepared.

By now, you’re past the lowest of those five scars, moving on with no further comment. There are plenty more marks to examine— two bullet wounds low on his shoulder blade seem to catch your attention next.

Against every trained instinct, his body relaxes a little more.

—Kaku—

Kaku is built tall and lean, all straight, narrow lines and square-ish angles, with lithe, corded muscle that betrays unexpected strength.

With your hands on either side of his torso, palms resting at the lowest point of his ribs, you can feel that strength in every movement— each slow intake of breath or subtle, nervous fidget makes iron-solid muscle shift under his skin.

Skin that bears far more scars than a normal two-ish decades of life could account for.

The ones on his upper body are mostly from battle (or so you’d guess); bullet wounds, a couple of burns, and messy, jagged slashes too uneven to be from a doctor’s steady hands. Your touch moves lower, brushing over those long-healed marks on the way, and Kaku goes tense .

“You okay?” you ask. Usually, he suppresses bodily reactions better than that.

Kaku nods. He won’t look at you, but with no hat brim to hide behind, avoiding eye contact doesn’t save him. “F-Feels a bit peculiar, that’s all,” he insists, though the tremble in his voice says otherwise.

Lower down, you find more; neat, faintly pink lines arranged next to the crooked places in his shins, and pale, shiny splotches haphazardly covering his bony knees. The damage is worse here, more obvious, and with every inch your careful fingers explore, Kaku seems increasingly overwhelmed by the sensation.

Whatever brutal training goes into Cipher Pol agents didn’t prepare them for gentleness— you’ve seen Kaku shrug off pain that would put most people unconscious, yet a bit of skin-on-skin contact makes him flinch.

—Jabra—

The scar on Jabra’s face may be the most obvious, but it’s far from the worst. From the pale shine of countless split knuckles to lopsided rows of what were once hasty sutures lacing together some awful wound, the scars are everywhere.

With his skin bared and his hair down, Jabra seems older, tired; some of his sharp edges filed down.

Sprawled on his side so you can inspect a series of gashes along his shoulder blade, he’s oddly silent. For once, there’s no boasting or playful teases— nothing to distract from the somber reality of what his body’s been through.

“Are these all from fights?” you ask, idly tracing a particularly messy line.

“Nah. Some of ‘em are from training,” Jabra explains, “back before I’d been good enough for any real fights. And some are from getting patched up afterward.”

You trail your touch down, to the side, until your fingers lie parallel with his ribs. A shiver runs through him, and he hisses through clenched teeth, eyes slipping closed. Not a response to pain (he’s better at hiding those), but sensation , too sudden and unfamiliar to withstand in silence.

A few seconds tick by. Slowly, the coiled tension goes slack; in its absence, Jabra slumps backward and almost into your lap. It’s a deliberate show of trust, likely intended to convince himself more than you.

Brushing a few locks of hair off his face earns a contented, heaving sigh. Your fingertips follow his scar from forehead to cheekbone, the caress feather-light.

—Kalifa—

You can wrap your hand around Kalifa’s ankle with room to spare, yet even the slightest shift of muscle betrays strength behind the narrow joint.

It’s not as obvious that she’s a well-honed weapon, just looking at her; Kalifa knows intimately how lust can catch a target off guard, and her appearance is intended to make full use of that. This close, however, you can see the scars crisscrossing smooth skin, and feel solid muscle under every uncushioned curve.

Moving up her shin, the bone seems crooked in places, uneven like fractures that never fully healed. Painful, you’d think, but Kalifa stays perfectly still— at least until your careful, exploratory touch moves past her knee.

“That’s—” The start of a familiar phrase drops off as quickly as it slipped out.

“Sexual harassment?”

“...strange.” She says it with an odd sort of deliberation, as if the word doesn’t quite fit. Her gaze stays intently fixed on where your hands meet her skin.

“Do these hurt?” you ask, resuming your slow path up her thigh. Lines of textured scar tissue stand out under your fingertips, as do the neat, freckle-like puckers of sutured wounds long healed.

Kalifa shakes her head. “Not anymore. What you’re doing doesn’t hurt, either. It’s just... different.”

That’s as close to a confession as you’ll get from someone who’s used to weakness being a punishable offense, but the implications add up just fine. Your thumb traces the ragged edge of a broad slash across her hip, and Kalifa’s next breath comes a little sharper. She doesn’t move, and doesn’t flinch.

—Blueno—

Even though Blueno’s discomfort is sharply present, visible even through the layers of suppression and stone-faced sufferance carved into him by years of practice, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

Of course, it’s tricky to tell whether that’s a sign of genuine contentment or just one more hard-taught habit to unpack.

“Still okay?” you ask, keeping your open palm unmoving on his chest.

“It’s fine,” Blueno assures you, and offers no further words than that.

You slide your hand up closer to where his voice rumbled when he spoke; from sternum to clavicle, tracing over scattered blotches and lines of scar tissue as you go. Cipher Pol agents are durable. They heal well. Or at least, they have to, to last more than a scant matter of years at the job.

As you trace the tight lines of muscle leading upward, Blueno closes his eyes. His throat bobs beneath your touch, but his skin stays unhardened. No Tekkai to guard him, should your wandering hands suddenly try to do harm.

His body feels rather iron-like even without the added defense, however. The thick layers of sculpted muscle beneath a canvas of callused, scar-spattered skin are a weapon and a fortress all on their own, regardless of his unprotesting willingness to yield himself to your handling.

Perhaps that’s what makes this whole scenario bearable— that near-mechanical surrender of will found in following orders with no choices to be made.

Lie still. Don’t hide. Let me see you.

Your hands shift outward to broad, sturdy shoulders, memorizing the textures of old wounds along the way. Blueno exhales slowly, the breath almost a sigh.

—Fukurou—

Fukurou’s body is sturdy; it has more soft parts than one might expect for a highly trained combatant, but solid. Durable. Like a sandbag that won’t tear at the seams no matter how many hits it takes.

With your hands on his skin, however, Fukurou wishes he could zip his mouth shut before something comes leaking out that he’ll really regret.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you ask, splayed fingers trailing over a deep, puckered line of scar tissue.

“N-No, it doesn’t...” As always, Fukurou is honest. He tries to stop there.

Your touch wanders lower, though, kneading into his stomach as if trying to feel the battle-hardened muscle underneath, and Fukurou’s startled ‘chapa—!’ comes out as nearly a squeak. It feels strange to be handled like this, especially when you’re watching so intently for every little reaction he lets slip. You won’t think less of him for anything, but the scrutiny is still hard to face.

“What’s this one from?” Your fingers settle on a wide, pale mark just a few inches above his kneecap, clearly old and long-healed.

“Oh, a bone broke badly enough to poke through! Back in training, I missed a step when I was high up, and didn’t think fast enough to...”

The words keep flowing from there. As always, once he starts talking, he gets too caught up in the details to know when to quit. You’ve exploited that weakness countless times— not that Fukurou minds, by now.

He’d rather be talking than thinking about how your touch makes him feel.

—Kumadori—

When you get close enough, the sakura-pink curtain of Kumadori’s mane-like hair does little to conceal the scars. For once, he’s silent.

At first glance, only the wide, jagged-edged scar across his abdomen stands out. You move slowly when you reach for it, leaving plenty of time to suppress any instinctive flinches or hardened skin.

Still, you see Kumadori’s chest rise with an inaudible, startled gasp. Abdominal muscles spasm under your palm, rigidly nervous— but he doesn’t pull away. You trace the bumpy path of healed-over tissue, moving up toward his rib cage, and feel the effort it takes him to stay still.

Brushing his hair out of the way reveals more damage. There’s a deep, curved row of old suture marks along his side that stands out most, and the slightest pressure at one end of it earns a subtle flinch.

“Did that hurt?” you ask.

“N-No, it was merely unexpected,” he assures you, though his usual dramatic intonation comes out oddly subdued.

Up higher, past a solid chest, broad shoulders, and the sharp ridge of his collarbone. Kumadori silently allows your hands to wander. He keeps his eyes closed until your palm comes to rest on one side of his neck— his head tips away, then, yielding to the touch almost too quickly to be deliberate.

When you cup your hand over his jaw, he sighs. There are little scars and spots of damage even here, and unevenness in the bone that hints at a messy break.

Still, when you don’t move away, his head soon sags into your touch.

—Who’s Who—

You start with the tattoo on his chest, tracing the inked-in letters and the dark outline of an eye. Already, you find plenty of scars— most of them subtle and faded with age.

Moving up, however, they get worse. One thick, sharp-edged line starts on the side of his neck, then veers inward, narrowly missing his jugular on its way down. Who’s Who nearly flinches when your fingertips brush over his collarbone (you don’t point it out), but he still rolls over obligingly at your request.

“You just gonna... touch shit until you get bored?” His deliberately nonchalant tone is far from convincing, with the mess you’re looking at now.

The scars on his back are deeper, many of them patterned far too neatly to have come from a fight.

“Would you be okay with that?”

Who’s Who shrugs. “Sure. If you’re that interested, do whatever.”

A palm on his back earns another not-quite-stifled twitch. You stroke gently down, then back up, going slow enough to feel every rough patch of skin on the way. Who’s Who goes tense all over at that— as if he can’t decide whether to melt into your touch or brace for a blow.

You just keep petting him, tracing scars to find the softer, unmarred gaps of skin in between. He doesn’t protest the handling, and you don’t call attention to the unsteady breaths that he can’t quite suppress.

#One Piece #CP9 #CP0 #Lucci #Rob Lucci #Kaku #Jabra #Kalifa #Blueno #Fukurou #Kumadori #Who's Who #One Piece Who's Who #Reader #Fic

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finn-m-corvex · 8 months

Text

Whumptober 2023 Day 3 - "Make it stop."

Skybound angst time to shine! This is the first time I've ever tried to write Skybound anything so it was a brand-new experience for me! I don't know if I quite did it justice but I gave it a shot. Little disclaimer that all of these may read as a bit disconnected and that's mostly because I've written 30k words in like, less than a week and it's hard to keep things diverse. I'm def reusing phrases and words but oh well!

@splinnters your third tag of the day! Hope you're doing great man!

Words: 2.2k

He cried out as his head collided with the stone behind him, blood splatterings from previous beatings painted across the wall. Ducking his head, it took everything in him to hold in the meager scraps he had been given for lunch, and in his despartation he tried to tuck his legs up, flinching as the one weighed down by the vengestone ball and chain ached in response.

Another fist smashed into his face, and Jay felt his nose break under the force. It was far from the first time. Someone else grabbed his hair, yanking, holding his head up as he was punched again and again and again. The rough hands cradled his chin, fixing it in place and leaving Jay’s bloodied face on full display for the pirates in the room.

Pirates?

Why the fuck was he back here?

Jay tried to plead with them, but one of them drove their boot straight into his injured stomach. The bullet wound Flintlocke had given him screamed in protest, and this time Jay did vomit onto the ground, and his head started swimming when he saw tiny flecks of blood mixed into the bile. He couldn’t make out any of the pirates’ faces, but he didn’t know if that was because of how dark it was in his tiny cell or because of the vision loss in his left eye.

“Look at him, Flintlocke,” one sneered; it was the one pulling his hair. “Ain’t he such a cutie?”

“Quite right,” Flintlocke drawled, and the accent alone almost made Jay want to shit himself, “but I think he’d look a lot better if we roughed him up some more.”

“Would the captain be okay with that?”

“I think Nadakhan would give you extra if you did that,” and Jay could hear the smile playing on the firstmate’s lips. “And we all know how much pirates like extra.”

Everyone else started cackling, and the sound made Jay’s blood run as cold as Zane’s ice. He needed to get out of here; he didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he had to get out of here. Someone must’ve seen him struggling to get away, because his head was quickly slammed back against the wall and someone else’s foot slammed down onto his injured leg. Jay yelled but bit his lip, determined not to let them get another peep out of him.

He wasn’t breaking. He had survived this ship once, he could do it again.

Not again.

“Listen here, boy,” Flintlocke said, and his face was blurred even though he had crouched right in front of Jay’s sight. “We’re not looking for information. The only thing we want is to see that precious face of yours as bloodied up as we can possibly get it. And you know what that means.”

“No,” Jay breathed, panic rising when he saw the firstmate walking away. Flintlocke had never been friendly to him, but he always kept the rest of the crew in line. Without him here…”You can’t leave me here with them! Flintlocke!”

“Have fun, boy!” he hollered, flicking a two wave salute behind him that had Jay’s heart plummeting, “and good luck! We both know you’re going to need it!”

“Wai-” Jay didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence before another fist was flying into his face at an alarming speed, throwing his head to the side and cracking his jaw. He coughed, spit flying from his mouth as the other pirate kicked him hard in the ribs. Jay felt something crack in his chest, and dark blood tinged the spittle dribbling down his chin.

His head was wrenched upwards again. “Aw look, he’s crying!”

Jay didn’t even realize that teardrops were rolling down his face until it was pointed out, but now that he knew they felt white-hot against his skin, but the shame welling up from inside of him burned more.

“Please,” Jay whispered, trying to dislodge the man’s grip on his hair, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Except I do, little boy,” a wicked grin filled with sharp teeth and breath that could melt acid, “because orders are orders. But I guess you would know that more than anyone, right?”

A metal pipe came flying in from the side that Jay couldn’t dodge in time. The blow sent him to the floor, reeling, gasping as his vision went white from the pain. He thought that it would’ve been the good ol’ one tap two tap system where they would hit him once, ask him a question and then hit him again.

It was not the one tap two tap system.

Again and again, the pipe came down with the force of a thunderclap, bruising and breaking his skin with resounding smacks, and Jay did his best to escape to no avail. Before long he was hauled up by his armpits and forced to sit there and take it as the pirate assailed his ribs, crack after crack as they snapped one by one. Jay was crying out with every blow, yelling when the pirate went after his knee, dislocating his kneecap with ease. He grinded the heel of his boot onto the kneecap, making Jay yell and sob with pain as the other pirate forced him forward.

Now bent in half, Jay tried to push himself back up, only to quickly give up once the man had started raining punishing blows against his spine. It stung against his still fresh lash marks from the most recent whipping, and Jay could feel his breath leaving as his face was pressed farther and farther into the floor. Never before had he been so glad for Wu to give him so much flexibility training.

One of the pirates was chuckling as Jay was finally given a reprieve. “Guess I can see why the captain likes you so much, eh? I don’t know a lot of men who can do the things you can.”

“Make it stop,” Jay gasped, and he was ashamed of himself for begging. Why was he begging already? Hadn’t he taken worse on this goddamn ship? “Please, make it stop.”

Sighing, the pirate with the pipe leaned down next to Jay’s ear, making him shudder in disgust. “You know as well as I do, boy, that there is no stopping once we’ve started. Now, care to sing for us a little more?”

Taking a hold of his hair again, Jay sobbed as his face was lifted off of the filthy wooden floor, and he barely had a second to catch his breath before it was being slammed back down into the planks.

But it was different this time.

The pirate kept smushing his face down. Jay could feel the blood coating the bottom of his mouth as blood was forced out of his nose, and he very quickly realized what the pirate was planning to do.

Jay was going to drown.

First Master they were trying to drown him in his own blood.

He thrashed in place, desperation forcing his already chipped nails to claw at anything they could grab until his hands were pinned under someone’s boots, standing painfully on top of his bruised fingers. Jay tried to thrust up with his hips and dislodge their grip on him, but the pipe just came back down with a harsh blow, and nothing he tried was working.

Vision blurring, Jay could feel his chest to constrict and turn in on itself, his awareness starting to fly away in a dreamy haze. He opened his mouth to yell, to cry, to beg for mercy but the only thing that filled it was his own blood. Choking on it, Jay tried to spit it out, but opening his mouth again only made it worse when the pirate pushed harder.

Nothing. There was nothing he could do.

Crying profusely, tears mixing with the blood rolling down his face, Jay let his vision go black, only praying that the ship wouldn’t be the thing to greet him if they ever let him wake up.

“Jay!”

What? Who was that?

Thinking that it was impossible, Jay opened his eyes, seeing the white walls of his room at the Airjitzu Temple greet him as he woke up. There was a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently, and lips pressed to his hair before giving kisses to the skin behind his ear. Belatedly, Jay realized that the person’s other hand was rubbing soothing circles on his chest, and the flood of panic that had been overwhelming his senses finally subsided.

He knew who this was. “Nya-”

“I’m here, Jay,” she said softly, moving her lips down to his neck and pressing more feather-light kisses to his collarbone. “I’m here, so let’s just take a deep breath and try to relax.”

Inhaling, the breath got caught in the back of Jay’s throat and he started, hand going to his chest and checking for any injuries. Nothing fresh, but the raised bumps of his scars made his fingers tingle with repressed feelings, and Jay curled into himself as he started feeling like he was floating. He needed grounding and he needed it now.

“Do you need your gloves?” Nya asked, watching as his hands started shaking uncontrollably, his element threatening to encompass his fingers and sparking at the tips. Jay nodded wordlessly.

Reaching for the garments on his bedside table, Nya was quick to stuff his hands into them and make sure that they were secure, and relief crashed over his body when the pressure started giving him something to focus on and from the knowledge that his lightning couldn’t hurt Nya. Apparently Nya had been here longer than a few minutes, as she already had his weighted blanket out and ready. She unfolded it and spread it across the both of them, and Jay reached for her wrist when she moved to get out of the bed.

“Wait,” he said, feeling his voice crack with emotion. He didn’t want to be alone, “please, I need you here. I-I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Nya said, and Jay sobbed from how gentle her tone was. “Sit up for me, okay? I’m gonna spoil you a bit.”

He did what she asked, sitting up and watching as she laid down against his headboard and boxed him in with her legs, crossing them over his waist and cushioning his head against her shoulder as he laid back down. Pulling the covers up and over both of them, Nya whipped out her phone and set up the kickstand so it would balance on Jay’s bed. Jay had his eyes shut, so he didn’t see whatever she clicked to start playing, but he immediately relaxed upon hearing the sound of his favorite Starfarer movie.

The sounds of Fritz Donnegon and his trusty crew washed over him, drowning out whatever remnant of the nightmare that still clung to his skin. He was flat on his stomach on top of Nya, and he was all too happy to just watch the movie as her hands started doodling random shapes across the skin of his back. At least he thought they were random until one of the lines was unmistakable: she was tracing his scars.

Both of them had spent so much time getting him readjusted to positive touch, and one of those exercises had been tracing the scars littering his back. Jay would sit crisscrossed on the floor with a stress toy or a pillow, doing whatever he needed to do to keep himself calm as Nya would rub her hands across his back from top to bottom. The memories brought back some joy, and Jay wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s waist, only giving half his attention to the movie; the other hafl was going to the way her hand was carding through his hair.

“I think I wanna start growing my hair out,” Nya murmured, and Jay gave her as much of a surprised look as his sleep-adled brain could conjure.

“Any reason why?”

He was pretty sure he knew why, but Nya only shrugged. “No reason in particular, I just want to try something new.”

“Something new is always good,” Jay said, a large yawn escaping his mouth. The hand on his back drifted further up to his shoulderblades, and Jay knew that he would’ve started purring if he were able to as her short nails scratched the melt spot right below the nape of his neck. “I can do it too.”

“You hate your curls,” Nya chuckled, “even if I think they’re one of the cutest things about you.”

Jay blushed, and Nya giggled as the red stretched from his rosy cheeks to the back of his neck. She was quick to wipe his tear tracks away, kissing his forehead and then his cheekbones.

“Maybe I can learn to like them,” Jay said quietly, “at least, I think I want to start trying to.”

“And that’ll be good for you, dear,” Nya said. “It’ll be good for both of us.”

“Mhm,” Jay agreed, and he craned his head up to press a kiss to Nya’s chin. He kept trailing kisses downwards until he reached her breastbone, where he knew the scar from the poison still lingered under her shirt. He nuzzled against it, hearing Nya’s breath catch and her hand still on his shoulder. Having Starfarer play in the background wasn’t exactly how he envisioned this moment going, but Jay wasn’t particularly picky.

Until Nya had to go on and rain on his parade.

“We’re going back to sleep, Walker, that’s enough action for you.”

“But I didn’t even get to do anything!”

#whumptober 2023 #finn's writing #ninjago jay #ninjago fanfiction #lego ninjago #ninjago whumptober #whumptober day 3 #ninjago nya

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