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hecateslore · 2 months

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💌

supervisor!Simon

posting another ch. in a couple, so sorry for the double tag 😬

But it was a Friday, there was no work tomorrow. You thought about it for a second and smacked yourself in the forehead. You open the phone app, and go to the call log. Your finger hovers over his number. You could call him back, but he’s probably in the shower.

So you make him a contact on your phone. Was it weird, sure. Did you feel weird for it, oh absolutely. But he found your phone number throughout the files, so you were good. If you could keep score of all the crazy shit Simon has done just to talk to you. Yeah, he’s number one on the leaderboard.

You begin to type, Hey. You then delete the three letter phrase, “It’s friday lmfao” you type. A response not even a minute later, “Just realized.” You smile at his message, and that smile fades once you realize you’re texting your Supervisor on a friday night on your dinner table.

“Did you take your luxurious bath?” you chuckle at your cheesy message. “It was a shower. Don’t like baths.” he responds. Three dots are on your end, you wait for his message. Then they disappear. You can almost hear his voice in your mind, just like his emails, short.

You place your phone on the table, and get to cleaning your kitchen. Trying to rid him of your thoughts. Scrubbing the dishes from earlier this week harder than usual. You get a ping from your phone and your head snaps, looking at the tiny screen light up, a notification from your messages.

“Any plans this weekend?” the text message read from… Johnny? Your heart jumps a little bit. Your expectations lowered when you realize it wasn’t from Simon, not that it would be, he wouldn’t ask about your weekend. Not that you know, anyway.

“None so far 🙃 why??” you respond, putting your phone back down, and picking up your recently used plate. Soaking it in the scalding hot soapy-water. Checking your phone for his text message, “You want to grab dinner on Sat.”

You look over the message, thinking of a response, you could lie and say you do have plans, or you could just go and be a nice person for once. “Sure. Where are we gnna go?”

“New place that opened up next to my house 😁”

“Who uses emojis like that?” you cringe aloud, laughing off the second hand embarrassment, “I’ll see you saturday 🤪” you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You finish cleaning the kitchen. And go back to your room, plopping on your bed, face first of course.

You wanted to ask how his shower was, did he shower with warm water? Probably cold, military habits. He uses 785 in one, you bet. He has residency in your brain at this point. It was getting annoying. He’s been polite and you’ve just been lusting over him for almost a week.

You almost wore out the battery in your vibrator last weekend. After the valentine's day party you definitely had a lady boner, there was something so sexy about Simon eating a goddamn grape, opening your chips, and let's not forget the rain incident. You were gonna combust. And it’s all his fault. He’s so smug, so handsome and that damned dimple.

“I needa stop.” you say, face stuffed in your blanket. You lift your head up, and check the time on your phone. It was getting pretty late and you needed to get ready tomorrow, you also needed to buy a new outfit for dinner.

You get up around 10:30, brush your teeth, make yourself presentable enough to be with the rest of the population. A sweater and some sweats with your slides. Keeping your sunglasses on.

You go to the Giant mart, having to buy some necessities for your apartment. Getting some soil for your baby plants, a couple bags of cat feed for the strays, some laundry soaps and an outfit for tonight. You stopped by the coffee shop in the plaza getting a drink (fuck starbucks!!). You drive to the giant parking lot, cussing at weirdos who don’t let you in or who are constantly taking parking spaces you were looking for.

You finally find a space, farther than you would like, but hey, You found one. You get out of your car grabbing your things and making sure your sunglasses are on your face, trying to make yourself as unapproachable as you can , hoping you won’t see anyone from your past, present or job. You grab a cart and thank the teenager who’s been busting his ass in the sun all morning.

You go and get the necessities first, so, catnip. Checking the prices for which was the cheapest so you could buy the most for the poor little kitties. Settling for the store's brand you buy two big bags. Laundry soap was next, but you got caught up talking to some random guy who had brought his cat in.

You get to the laundry aisle, rolling your basket, you see a familiar figure standing holding two different types of dryer sheets. You peep the shoulder brace on, “What’re you doing on this side of town?” You joke rolling your cart closer to him, he snaps his head quickly then laughs and meets you halfway. “I live around here.” he informs, “Me too,” you say enthusiastically, which makes you clear your throat.

“I see you're in your civilian clothes,” you note his gym wear, “I just came from the gym," he nods, “You got cats?” he asks. “Uh no. These are for the strays.” you pat the large bags, he nods again. “You look like you were having some trouble,” you nod to the dryer sheets.

He holds both boxes up, frowning at each label, “My favorites got discontinued.” He says. “Poor you.” you chuckle, “I know.” He sighs.

“Those ones are the ones I use.” You point to the green box with flowers. “Ah, I used to use those ones.” he says as place the two boxes back into their spots, picking up the other box.

“Guess I'll go back to what I know.” he shrugs, and you shake your head at him, “You’re an odd man.” he only shrugs at your words. “So, are you getting groceries?” he asks, “Uh I have a couple things I need to get but I also need an outfit.”

“An outfit?” He raises a brow. “I have dinner.” you say grabbing a bottle of detergent, looking for the softener. “Johnny finally grew some balls, I see?” he snickers. “It’s just dinner.” you shrug, “Can you grab that?” he looks at you and points to his shoulder, “sorry.” you blurt, reaching for the big bottle. “He’s gonna propose.” He laughs. “He’s not.” you say organizing your cart so the new edition can fit. You start walking out to the laundry aisle, heading towards the outdoor section. “What are you getting now?” Simon asks, walking at your side. “You’re a part of my errands now?”

“Guess so. Can I put this in here?” he asked, holding his box of dryer sheets over the cart. You nod and he drops it in, not caring where it lands. “I need some soil.” you say aloud reminding yourself. You both get to the soil section looking over the types and picking up two new planting pots.

“So you and Johnny huh?” he says snapping you out of your soil reading session. “Me and Johnny huh?” you say in return. “You guys, you know?” he winks and you roll your eyes, “No,I don’t” you snort. “You’re stingy.” He jokes, “I’m private.” you point at him. “You're a pointer, that's what you are.” he points back at you, causing you to laugh at his actions.

“We’re just getting dinner, nothing more, nothing less.” you shrug, Simon narrows his eyes at you, “ Yeah, yeah.” he sighs. “I’m serious.” you giggle. “I am too, just don’t invite him in.” He smirks. “Gross, Simon.” you groan and he cackles at your distorted face.

“Well I better get going” he pats your shoulder, The warmth of his hand making you feel feral enough to eat him whole. You frown, “Thought you were gonna be a part of my errands?” He smiles lightly, “Some other time” He says, “Wouldn't want your boyfriend to get mad at you.” he jokes one more time. “Oh god!” You exasperate. He laughs, “I’ll see you monday.” he winks, he grabs his box of laundry sheets, and pats your shoulder again and walks back inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You wanted to watch him walk back to the door. A part of you wished it was Simon who’d text you. You felt guilty for it. You felt even guiltier for fondling your bits at the thought of him. You grab a bag of soil and throw it in the cart lazily, pushing it through the automatic doors.

Your back in the car waiting for your phone to connect to the bluetooth. Staring ahead. “Don’t invite him inside.” You’d invite Simon in if he’d let you. “Don’t be gross.” you say as you look in the rear view mirror. You needed to get something, “Kind of fancy” Johnny’s words, not yours. So you go to the mall, it's a 30 minute drive and luckily you have so much time to spare. The reservation is set at 8 and it’s barely 2.

When you finally get there, you hit up the usual stores. Go to sephora, buy a couple things and finally get a cute dress. You stop at the candied apple shop and buy yourself one. Sitting at the food court alone, you watch couples eat chinese food, or buy drinks from the boba tea shops.

‘The mall would be a cute date’ you think to yourself. You’d never been to a fancy restaurant on a first date. You weren’t into fancy cuisine and you don’t really understand the culinary arts. But if foods are good, foods are good. That’s all that really matters to you.

Johnny’s a fun guy, right? Maybe you’ll have fun tonight, maybe a little more of his personality will show. You get up from your seat and throw the rest of your apple away.

On your way home, you started to stress a little bit, were you really doing this? You tried your best to brush off the feeling of dread. But it was still there, and so were those feelings of Simon.

When you get home you fill the two bowls of cat food, putting one bowl in your small front porch and the balcony in the back. The regular black and white cat already perched on the back balcony’s railing, “Hi there, baby.” you say softly reaching to pet the top of its head softly, “am I having a day?” you chuckle scratching behind its ear. The cat jumps and heads for the bowl, taking a couple of bites and then runs off to go back to god knows where.

You go back inside, switch some plants into the new pots and then decide to get ready. You jump in the shower, do your hair and makeup, waiting a bit to get dressed. You open up a small bottle of Rose that had been chilling in your fridge for a couple of days. Sitting on the couch in just your robe, you feel bored and you want to bother simon. Ask him what he was up to, what else did he get up too. You wanted to tell him all the things about today, what you saw at the mall, what you brought home, what you were wearing.

You stare at your reflection on the tv. All prettied up. You sat until you had an hour to wait for Johnny, putting your dress on, body butters and creams so your skin would be smooth, glittery and glowy. You put your jewelry on, making sure to stack your rings, and fix your anklet and toe rings. 15 minutes until Johnny comes and you're barely putting your perfume on, taking pictures of yourself and choosing which one to put on your instagram story. A bunch of mirror selfies, and pictures of your face makeup to see if it matches, you get a text message that he’s down the street, You rush running around the house barefoot searching for the new shoes you found at the thrift, Prada kitten stilettos. You grab your purse, ID and pepper spray just in case.

“I’m here!” The text reads. You spray yourself on more time with perfume, and rush out the door, you can see Johnny's headlights from your front door. You lock your door and do a speed walk to his car, you open the passenger door and get in. “Hi.” you smile, “Hey!” he says, looking at you “You smell good.” he adds. “Thank you, I bought the perfume today.” You answer.

“You look handsome.” You compliment and he smiles lightly, “You look good.” He keeps his eyes on the road and your eye almost twitches. Everything was just, good? “So did you find this restaurant yourself?” you ask hoping for more conversation, and trying to be better than good.

“Through a friend.” you nod. “Through a friend,” you repeat, “What’s the menu like?” you question. “Just a mix of things.” he shrugs. You hum and stare out the window. This night has to be over quickly. “Can I put some music on?” you ask, “Uh sure.” he points to the aux cord in between the seat and middle console. You grab it and plug it in, hitting shuffle, letting it play whatever.

The car ride to the restaurant was more awkward than any encounter you’ve had with an old man hitting on you, And that’s very awkward.

“I’ve never been to a restaurant like this.” you say looking around, “Really?” He says, looking at the menu. “It’s pretty in here.” you look at all the other couples around talking, laughing, drinking wine. “Should we get some wine?” you perk up. “Sure.” he shrugs.

You both order a glass and you almost down yours. “So, johnny?” you chuckle at yourself. “So.” he says. “What have you been up to?” you ask. “Nothing really. Work is all.” he chuckles.

Johnny’s so handsome but, poor guy. “That’s it?” you say in disbelief, “Oh kay. So what's your favorite color?” You take a sip from your drink. “Blue.” another sip.

“Do you have siblings?” “Just a brother and two sisters.” Another sip.

And that’s how it went all night, trying to pull information out of him. For twenty minutes until you both ordered. “Why’d you leave early on friday?” He asks, mouth full of food. “I had a really bad headache.” you answer, trying to hide your grimace. “Oh.” he takes another bite and then sips from his glass. “Did you miss me too much?” you try to tease. “Uh no?” your smile drops, “I was joking.” you say, and then clear the discomfort in your throat.

“Well I am just stuffed.” you say, with one of your sides still on your plate. You pick up your third glass of red wine, and down it. Johnny’s eyes on you. “You a big fan of wine?”

“I’m a big fan of anything that makes me have a good time.” you smile sarcastically.

Johnny pays and you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Feeling slightly buzzed, you check your own location, you are on the other side of town. So 45 more minutes of awkward conversation and just weird subliminals. You look at yourself in the mirror. You look good, you smell good.

Everything's good. The food was good. The wine was good, that song choice was good, everything was good, not great, not pretty, not beautiful, not even cool, just good.

You sigh and open your messaging app, and your thumb hovers over Simon's contact. You stare at it for a long time, maybe you could call him up, and complain, he’d listen. Johnny doesn’t, everythings good to him. He sure does pay attention to the cute little server in her cute little hostess outfit. You noticed. You didn’t say anything, just sat there and ate the splatter of whatever vegetable that was decoration on your plate.

You’d felt like this before. When you were young and the boys overlooked you for your friends, they were prettier. You understood the boys, your friends were and still are pretty and have beautiful personalities. Your eyes started to water, you grabbed some tissue and cleaned your eyes. A knock on the door interrupts your little moment. You opened it and there Johnny stood, “you okay?” he asks brows furrowed, “Yeah” you nod.

You get back in the car and sit with your body turned to the window. “Food was good.” He says breaking the silence. “Mhm.” you hum. “You got a buzz?” he chuckles, “No, I'm great.” you say quietly. Looking at the lights on the street. You can see a gas station coming up and an Idea pops up in your head. “Actually, can you stop at the gas station?” He looks at you confused but switches lanes to turn in anyway, “Is there a reason?” He questions you. “I’m gonna get another ride, I have something else after this.”

“I can drop you off-” you cut him off quickly, “No need!”

He pulls into the gas station and you get out, waving at him, you walk to the entry. A lady with bright blue eyeshadow works the front counter, “Nice shoes.” you look down, “Thank you” you smile. You open your contacts and click on Simons, not thinking at all.

“Hello?” his deep voice picks up. “Hey.” you say softly, “Were you sleeping?”

“I was laying down.” he says, not confirming or denying. “I’ll call some other time-” he stops you with a hush, “What’s wrong?” you suck in a breath and that makes him sigh. “What happened?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m at a gas station.”

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#supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #cod

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grave-z-boy · 3 months

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Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader

A/n: Tumblr straight up deleted the original ask :/ also the ending is kinda rushed cuz Ive been working on this for too long.

Request: if ur taking requests, can i request a arthur morgan x male reader where the reader gets kidnapped by o’driscolls, gets injured a lot, and arthur comes, pissed asf, screaming, “where is he” and shit, basically rescues reader, and comforts him later after they set up camp and basically start making out which the leads to sex, but arthur is super gentle, and very careful and isn’t sure if they should because of readers injuries but they do and he’s super sweet and, making sure reader is ok and stuff. (already were in a relationship prior to kidnapping) if this is way too much i get it lmfao. i like your writing a lot!! ~anonymous

Summary: Arthur rescues reader after he's been kiddnapped

Word count: 3,442

Warning: torture, murder, reader gets shot, bruises and scars, guns in general, passing out, smut, bottom!reader, top!Arthur Morgan, hurt/comfort, short smut.

A stray bullet flew so close to your ear that you could hear it cutting the air. The oozing hole in your leg only spit out more blood as you crouched down behind a tree, your shoulder pressed hard against the bark as you tried to keep your head from spinning. You whistled for your horse, only to hear a sudden pained whiny from her somewhere across the O’Driscolls camp, you swore under your labored breath. Another bullet flew past you.

Using the tree you pushed yourself up, the old, sharp bark tearing the skin on your palms. Breathing in, you tried to block out the searing pain in your leg. It worked just enough for you to peek around the tree and aim your pistol at the O’Driscoll. Squeezing the trigger, the man fell back, you hit him square in the chest.

He wasn’t the only one though- this camp was chock-full of O’Driscolls, and they were all looking for you. You spotted another man, hunting rifle in hand, slowly creeping into the tree line, you aimed, but he was faster, shooting you in the shoulder. It hurt like hell, you yelled as you hit the ground. He crept closer- he was fast, but he wasn’t a good shot, you could tell as he nervously reloaded his gun. The shot wasn’t enough to kill you, even if you let it sit and fester. Before he could aim again you raised your pistol and shot him, once in the chest, and when he didn’t go down you shot him between the eyes.

Letting out another breath, you pushed yourself onto your knees. Only to feel warm metal against your neck, before you could even swear, you were hit with the butt end of the gun, your vision blurring to nothing in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~~~~~

“He should of been back by now..” Arthur said for about the fourth time this hour.

“Y/n’s a strong man, he’ll be fine. Probably just…camping out again.” Karen, who’d had to listen to him complain about four times this hour, muttered, her hands and mind more focused on mending a pair of Sean’s pants.

Sitting with Karen tended to comfort Arthur more than it should have, but right now her presence only made it worse. Her husband was out there with you and yet she wasn’t worried. She sat idly sewing like death couldn’t come to her man at any time. Arthur knew all too well how death could sneak up on a person. Especially you, who have had at least a dozen near-death experiences this year alone, and dozens more in the years before that, and that's with Arthur around to try and keep you breathing, he doesn't like to think about the shit you’d gotten yourself into before you met. Some of your little stories, stories you told so casually, made him sick at best and unbearable angry at most. You were everything to him and to think of what people had done to you made his blood boil beneath his skin.

“Look there, it's Sean, Y/n shouldn't be too far behind.”

Looking up, Arthur watched Sean nearly fall off his horse, leaving his lead untied, then bolting straight towards Arthur.

“They got him!” Sean shouted as he ran through camp, “Those fuckers got Y/n!”

Arthur was on his feet faster than he could process, grabbing Sean by the collar, forcing the frantic, fidgety man to stay still- at least a little so he could explain himself.

“Who has him?” he asked through clenched teeth, he knew he shouldn't be mad at Sean but he was. Whatever happened, they were supposed to be watching each other.

He felt Karen's hand on his shoulder but paid it no mind.

“We were just riding around, found some O’driscal camp out North. I swear I didn't mean to leave him, but we were surrounded and I thought he’d get out on his own-”

“You left him?!”

“I heard a horse bolt and I thought he was on it-”

“Bullshit, you're a goddamn coward, Sean-”

“Arthur!” Karen shouted from behind him.

Arthur's grip on Sean loosed enough for Karen to drag him away, muttering comforting words to him.

Arthur was out of camp in less than a minute, pushing his horse to the limit, blowing past trees, towns, and other riders until he came across your horse, standing in the middle of the road, dried blood covering its left side.

He breathed out slowly, hopping off his horse, taking slow, careful steps towards the spooked thing, hesitating for a moment before petting him.

“That's it..” he muttered, listening to the horse whiny, “I know, I know. I'll find him..”

Arthur caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of his eye, just beyond the tree line. He took the lead of your horse and guided him off the road, carefully watching the barely hidden man. The only thing keeping Arthur from seeing him was the shadow cast by the trees and the rapidly falling sun.

With his hand hovering over his pistol, he gave your horse one last look before a sudden shiny glint caught his attention. He didn't think, whipping his pistol from its leather holder and firing, watching the glint disappear and the shadowy figure falls back.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he walked forward into the treeline, glancing down at the body, and the gun in its hand, then stepping over it.

~~~~~~~~~

Your own senseless muttering was the only thing keeping you awake, pain searing across every part of your body, blood pooling beneath you, dripping from your wounds, down to your feet, and into the waiting puddle below. The quiet dripping of your blood had become too soothing, too rhythmic- in your exhausted form it had begun lulling you to sleep.

You knew you couldn’t, you weren’t stupid enough to let that happen. You’ve seen guys twice your size with wounds yards milder than yours take little naps and never wake up. You weren’t going to risk it.

You blinked in the darkness, you’re husband will be here soon. Sean rode out like his ass was on fire, camp was only a couple of miles away, Arthur will ride in here, ready to blow the whole damn camp- and every O’Driscoll he sees- sky high. You laughed at the thought, wincing when the slight move aggravated every open wound, as well as the robe burns around your wrist.

The door behind you slammed open, the pitch-black room was suddenly flooded with the warm, mid-day sunlight.

Heavy footsteps thudded behind you, getting louder and louder as they came towards you. Without warning, your hair is pulled back, your scalp flared with pain, but subsides quickly. You locked eyes with the man, tall and pale, yet so strong, as you had learned over the past few hours.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?” he growled, a forced glare on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond, something hurtful and defiant, just as all of your other words had been. But you couldn’t, your throat was dry, and the bruise on your cheek was sweltering. So you just stared at the man.

There was a sudden thud from outside, then another, and another.

You blinked hard, the tall man let go of you, hand on his holster, creeping towards the door. He peaked around the door, glanced at you with that same forced glare, then back out the door. When breathed in deeply, then jumped into the doorway, whipping his gun out as fast as he could. It was in his hand maybe half a second before he was shot at least four times, falling back when the first two hit him square in the face, the other two must have just been for fun, once in the neck, then in the chest.

Unnecessary, rageful- more thuds came from outside, shouting, screaming, gunshot. You closed your eyes, letting your head hang low, finally relaxing your strained neck. You were being rescued.

~~~~~~~~~

The O’Driscoll camp wasn't hard to find, from afar, it looked normal, a couple of guys sat in an unhorsed wagon, drinking, and laughing, a couple more were cooking around a fire. Two were standing guard outside the door of a shack, the only permanent building in the camp, all holding guns. Every last member of the O’Driscoll camp.

Arthur breathed out, he wanted to think this out, he wanted to be reasonable, he wanted to sneak you out the back, a quiet escape. But it was too peaceful here, they were having too nice of a day and you were somewhere, hurt- or…worse- and they didn't care or better yet they were happy about it. About your pain.

Arthur checked his gun, then his knife, it's all he needed.

Then, he charged.

The first man to notice him didn't even get to get a word out before being met with a bullet, the next four followed the same fate. The last man from around the fire made a perfect hostage. Young, the whole crew jumped when he was grabbed. Arthur held a gun to his head, one arm around his throat, glaring at the others as they closed in around him.

“Let ‘im go!” one of the men shouted, gun trained on Arthur.

He wouldn't shoot, it was too close of a shot.

“I'm only gonna ask once,” Arthur yelled, the man shrunk away from him, “Where is y/n!”

Silence.

Arthur pulled the hammer of his gun back.

“We don't know no ‘y/n’, whoever the hell he is, he ain't here!” the same man as before shouted.

Arthur blinked, then pulled the trigger. The man hung limply in his grip for a second before he let him crumble to the floor. A bullet flew past Arthur's ear a second later.

Somebody here is fast- a shame he can't aim.

Arthur shot the five men down before anymore could pull their guns.

The camp erupted into a mix of shouting orders, and screams of pain as Arthur made his way through the camp. His gun was holstered in exchange for a knife and his bare fist.

Another man, also young with dark hair, watched with wide horrified eyes as Arthur practically tore a man open with his knife, then set his sights on him. Running didn't work, he didn't get very far. Jerked back by the back of his collar, turned around with so much force his legs gave up on coordination and ended up in a heap. Arthur held him by his rumpled, red shirt.

“Where is he?!” Arthur said through gritted teeth, his voice deep and guttural, panting from the force he'd used on every man in this camp who stood in very similar positions to the man he was holding right now.

“The shack-” the man nearly cried, choking on his own breath, “it’s-it’s where we keep our meat.”

Arthur shoved the man to the floor, his back hitting the ground with enough force to crack it.

In the short moment he had- he could hear more members of the camp coming- he reloaded his gun.

Two O’Driscolls came from behind a large tent. Arthur got them in one shot, straight through both mens chests, they collapsed on top of each other in a soon-to-be rotting heap.

The rush of O’Driscoll’s was brought to a quick and brutal end. The last line of defense for the meat shack- for you- was a tall, pale man.

With bullets to spare, Arthur emptied the barrel of his gun into the man, storming into the shack. It was dark, the soft light the sun provided wasn't enough, old wood creaking beneath his boots as he took slow, careful steps inside. Vague figures, six, hanging from the ceiling.

Even in the dark, he recognized you immediately. His heart sank as you hung there, unmoving.

A sudden deep breath broke the silence, then a groan. You shifted slightly against the rope around your wrist, muttering something as you did.

Holstering his gun, he sped over to you, putting both hands on your face, and even in the impossibly low light he could still see your eyes staring straight into his.

Cutting you down and carrying you out was a blur, he didn't look at you, your body, he didn't think he could, not with how he was now. He knew you were hurt, you'd hissed painfully when he picked you up, and despite his attempts to keep his eyes off of you, he could see that your shirt, at the very least, was torn and stained with blood.

He felt like he was burning, even with the camp extirpated and you safe in his arms. He still felt a furor building in his chest as he searched for your horses.

Your head rested against his chest, eyes just barely open, vision entirely blurred.

Unaware of your surroundings, you let Arthur’s familiar presence take you over. Listening to his ragged breath and pounding heart.

You don't remember being brought to camp or dozing off, but you felt better, your arms felt lighter and your head had stopped spinning, you could feel bandages on your shoulder, stomach, and leg. You blinked, looking down at yourself, your clothes had been changed, they were mismatched but comfortable. Resting your head back against the cot, glancing around the little camp Arthur had set up.

Kneeling by the fire, swearing under his breath as he stared into the hanging pot.

Pushing yourself up, you realized how sore your wrists still were, but you pushed passed it. Finding your barrings, you walked over to him, feeling dirt and twigs crunch under your boots. Arthur, staring so deeply into the pot, so frustrated with everything and everyone, did not hear you coming.

You sat behind him, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight, feeling his warmth envelope your aching body.

“Hey, Hon..” you muttered into his neck, your throat was a little sore, you realized.

His hand found yours quickly, but they lingered on your wrist, over what would soon be scars. You breathed deeply, setting your head on his shoulder.

“Rope burn ‘s no joke”

You heard him breathe out.

“I was so…” he started, trying to find the word.

Enraged, pissed, livid, angry-

“..scared. With Sean riding into camp the way he did I couldn't help but think the worst.”

Sighing, you moved carefully to sit next to him. Your bruises ached, your cuts and gashed burned, and the bullet wound in your shoulder felt like hell, but you smiled.

“You know I'm not going anywhere, not without you. If I'm going to hell you bet your ass I'm taking you with me.”

Hd smiled softly, “I know, I know,”

Stirring the pot a bit, he said “Food’s not gonna be done for a while.”

“How long?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, a moment passed, you pressed a kiss into the leather of his coat, another moment passed, you kissed his neck, right under his jaw. You felt him shift his head to the side.

A few more moments and a few more kisses later he pulled away. He was already hesitant to reciprocate, he'd seen the extent of your injuries when he was cleaning you up, it was a hard sight to see. So many cuts and bruises that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep track of them all.

The second he reciprocated, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, kissing you slowly, his hand curling around your hip- he pulled away when a small, pained noise left your throat.

Guilt immediately flooded Arthur, his heart clenching, then dropping into his stomach when you moved your pants down to reveal a deep purple bruise. Still fresh and no doubt painful.

He mumbled your name as you checked out the bruise, then fixed your pants, looking back up at Arthur like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay,” you said, your mood clearly not phased the way Arthur’s was.

“I’m sorry..”

You hummed, getting close and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be.”

“You know I can't help it..”

You pressed a short kiss into the crook of his neck.

“Then make it up to me.”

It was a well known fact that Arthur was wrapped around your finger, you knew it, he knew it, and all your friends at camp knew it. So it didn't take much begging, despite his better judgment.

His brain was screaming at him- you were hurt, covered in bruises. Sex would not make you better, it would actually make you worse.

Yet here he was, kneeling on the cot with you laying in front of him, a relaxed smile on your face as he popped each button on you pants open. You spread your legs, hanging them over Arthur’s hips. He hesitated.

Your hands found his in a moment, pulling them up to your lips and kissing from his wrist all the way up to the tips of his fingers. He sat there silently admiring you, every touch of your lips stinging him with a feeling of both guilt and need.

You stopped with a bite, taking the tip of his thumb in your mouth, biting with just a little bit of pressure. Then you kissed it like you had done all the others. It brought to mind a rougher memory, with you at his mercy, with him doing nothing while watching you writhe, pleas falling from your lips rapidly.

He blinked and the memory was gone.

Arthur let out a slow, unsteady breath. Then leaned down, burying his face in your neck, listening to your breath, feeling your pulse, kissing your exposed skin. Hearing the relieved sigh you let out, he began to grasp just how much you wanted him.

With practices ease, he blindly unbuttoned your shirt, moving from marking your neck to marking your exposed chest.

As gently as he could muster, he ran his hands down your sides, feeling the hard, hot bruises that littered your body.

You breathed out as he went farther and farther down, from your neck, to your chest, all the way down to your barely exposed hip. His fingers in two belt loops, slowly tugging your pants lower and lower. He kissed every inch of your skin, and every time he exposed more, he devoured it.

Pulling back to take your pants all the way off, nearly disturbing the now healing cut that went across your thigh. Your already hard cock rested against your stomach. Balling up your pants and setting them to the side. Resisting the urge to run his hands across each scab that had formed on your skin. A deep-seated urge to soothe and comfort, but he knew he couldn't do much more than he already had.

He pressed into you slowly, holding your hip steady in his hands, your thighs flinching several times, bitting down on to your lip as the pain of being stretched open lit every nerve in you body. Letting out a rigid, stuttered breath as he slowly pulled out after a moment of waiting- your hand squeezing his arm, giving him permission to move.

He did, holding your body close to his, reveling in every little whimper and moan, no matter how small. His praise boundless and constant as he thrust into you. You could feel him holding back, you’ve been with Arthur far too long to no know- he’s doing it for your well-being- you probably couldn’t handle more that what he’s giving you now.

Your body clung to Arthur’s as you came, your own shattered breath was the only sound you could hear for a long moment. Slowly releasing Arthur from your crushing grip, you blinked as your vision - which you hardly even realized was skewed- became clear again, and the mildly worried face of your lover came into view.

You couldn't help but smile- not that you wanted to let help it- especially as relief flooded his rigid figure.

“‘You okay?”

You nodded, shutting your eyes for a moment, finding that opening them became harder with every second that passed. You could hear Arthur talking, small mutters to you or to himself, your words only came out as a quiet, incoherent noise. You were exhausted, but quite happy. Even as your body settled and new pains set in with the old ones. You were happy.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #male y/n #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #✮ — z boy

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amhrosina · 1 year

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Bad Dreams (Hold Me Closer) - Frank Castle x f!Reader x Matt Murdock

A/N: The first time I posted this, it somehow deleted every person I tagged AND half of my fic lmfao anyways lets try this again?? Also, is this not the most SUBMISSIVE gif of Matt Murdock ever??? A big thank you to my lovely beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish <333

Find the rest of my poly!Frank/Reader/Matt fics here!

Summary: When Frank is haunted by his worst nightmare, you and Matt must help him through it, even if that means having some fun in the shower to cope.

(Warnings: pretty much every smut warning applies, p in v, oral (male receiving), hand jobs, lots of things happening with cum??, facials (!!!!!!!), delayed gratification, denied orgasms, choking, also angsty as hell at the beginning, Frank and Matt are boyfriends!!!!, this is so self-indulgent, i had to ask a mutual to make sure it wasn't too dirty, probs forgot some lmfao)

Frank Castle was a brave man – he was dauntless, and intense, and extraordinarily unafraid, and it was because of this bravery, because he was exceptional as a Marine, a protector, that he had never experienced the fear that was now eating him alive. It was a confusing situation for Frank, to say the least, who was willing to bet he’d experienced more danger than most of the population.

Each time he’d been deployed, he’d expected it. Fear was a natural response to being sent halfway across the world on dangerous, top-secret missions. He saw it in his military brothers’ eyes, felt it oozing off his wife and kids every time he had to say goodbye, but it never visited him, and he was glad of it.

When Maria and his kids were killed, fear was a luxury only time could’ve afforded him. It had happened quickly, so fast that even Frank hadn’t been able to assess how dire the situation was before losing consciousness, and when he awoke days later to a group of sympathetic nurses who broke the news of his dead wife and dead kids, fear was nowhere to be found. A rageful vengeance overwhelmed him, and it would be years before it subsided long enough for him to grieve.

Frank Castle was a brave man, until he met you – until he met Matt and fell in love with the both of you. He wasn’t the same man he’d been when he fought for his country, and he certainly wasn’t the same man he’d been when he lost his family. He was entirely too aware of the world’s horrors now, and the thought of either you or Matt experiencing them made his stomach turn.

He tried to hide it – the fear that overwhelmed his senses so thoroughly that it paralyzed him – and he would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for Matt’s keen hearing. Or so he thought.

A firm, warm hand on your shoulder brought you out of your slumber. The gentle caress of Matt’s touch was a welcome feeling, but when you fluttered your eyes awake and took in the darkness surrounding you, you blinked at him in confusion. It was hours before any of you had to be up for the day, and the furrow in his brow made it clear he wasn’t waking you out of carnal desire.

“Matty, what's-”

He shushed you, nodding toward the sleeping figure on your other side.

“His heart rate.” Matt swallowed thickly, furrowing his brow further, “It’s pounding. I’ve never- He's never-”

Matt shook his head, panting. You eyed Frank’s sleeping form, which had twisted itself in the sheets so thoroughly that it looked claustrophobic. His breath stuttered out of him at an erratic pace, and you moved toward him before your sleep addled brain could warn you against it.

It was risky, you realized, to wake an ex-Marine so abruptly, especially at a time like this, no matter how much time had passed since his official discharge. This thought rang through your mind like a bell as Frank flipped you on your back and brought his hand to your throat, squeezing hard enough to maintain control, but not so hard that you couldn’t breathe. A warning, mostly sleep induced, but a warning, nonetheless. Matt was instantly beside you, trying to pry Frank’s hands away from your neck.

“Hang on, Matt.” You murmured, searching Frank’s face for recognition. You knew Matt could easily shove Frank off the bed, but you wanted to try a gentler approach first.

The man who stared down at you wasn’t the man you’d fallen in love with, and the murderous glare on his face was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Matt warned, though he had stopped trying to pull Frank away from you.

“Frankie, baby.” You cooed, “It’s me, honey. It’s me and Matty.”

His grip on your throat tightened slightly, the only indication that your plea was heard. Matt looked like he was going to be sick.

“Frankie.” You tried again as a tear slid down your temple. “You’re safe, baby, and you’re loved. We love you. Wake up, honey.”��

Frank blinked, furrowing his brow. He glanced around the room, taking in your alarmed expression, the tenseness radiating from Matt, and the hand that he still had wrapped around your throat. The tightness around your neck eased, and Matt visibly relaxed as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fra-”

He threw himself backwards, off the bed and onto the hard floor, the thump of his rough landing echoing across the room. Frank barreled backwards as if his dreams had followed him into the real world, and if it weren’t for Matt’s agility, he might have crawled directly through the bedroom door.

Matt sank to the floor, grasping at Frank’s shaking hands. Frank leaned against the door, eyes shifting back and forth as panic overtook his body. You couldn’t hear like Matt could, but you’d be willing to bet Frank’s heart was thundering in his chest. You inched closer to them, unsure if crowding Frank was the best thing to do.

“Breathe, honey.” Matt murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Frank’s fingers. He cradled Frank’s hands to his chest, pressing until he was sure Frank could feel his steady heartbeat. “Breathe.” Matt’s voice left no room for argument. He wasn’t requesting – he was demanding.

Frank obliged, focusing on the rise and fall of Matt’s chest as he finally caught his breath. He reached a hand toward you, beckoning you closer until he could grasp your hand, squeezing it as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

The room dissolved into silence, and you waited for Matt to indicate something, anything about Frank’s inner turmoil. He still cradled Frank’s hand into his chest, and a sorrowful expression rested on his face.

“Honey?” Matt whispered, barely loud enough to register, almost as if he was afraid of scaring Frank. “Are you okay?”

Frank pulled his arms back into himself, wrapping them around his midsection as he hunched forward. A self-soothe if you’d ever seen one.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You shook your head at him, grabbing his hands. “Don’t shut us out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Matt asked, placing a tentative hand on Frank’s thigh.

“I’m-” he started, and you held your breath as he searched for the right words. “It’s not- I'm fine.”

You studied the positions everyone had ended up in. Frank was in a hunched sitting position, leaning against the closed bedroom door. You were on his left, squeezing his hands into your chest. Matt was on Frank’s right, rubbing soothing circles into Frank’s leg. You arched an eyebrow at Frank. He was clearly not fine.

“I’m fine.” He insisted, urging you to drop it. “It was just a bad dream.”

You let out a slow breath, weighing the risk of what you were about to say in your head. “You attacked me in your sleep when I touched you, Frank. You’re not fine.”

Your tone was gentle. You hadn’t wanted to impose more guilt onto Frank, only to point out the lie for what it was, but Frank’s face crumpled at your statement all the same.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” His eyes welled with tears, and he angled your chin as he assessed the damage done to your throat. You didn’t think he had choked you hard enough to bruise. In fact, you were certain he had choked you harder during one of many games played with Matt. You tried to salvage the conversation before the guilt ate him alive.

“I’m okay, Frankie. You didn’t hurt me. See? I’m fine.” Frank ran a finger down the column of your throat. “But you’re not fine, baby.”

You shifted yourself closer to his figure, wishing he could see the tenderness that ached in your chest for him. Matt spoke before you could gather your thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“It’s okay to be afraid, honey, but don’t be afraid of us.”

You nodded along silently, trusting Matt to navigate through the minefield that was Frank’s psyche.

“It’s not-” Frank shook his head, swallowing thickly, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of something. I can taste it in the air around you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

You didn’t speak, didn’t move as he laid himself bare for the both of you to see. Matt tilted his head, bobbing his chin in a slight nod – an encouraging gesture for Frank to keep talking.

“I can’t,” he paused, shuttering, “I can’t do that again. I lost Maria and I lost my kids, and I thought my life was over. I had nothing else to lose, so I didn’t have anything to be afraid of. But then you two showed up, and made me care, and now I have something so precious to lose, and I can’t do that again.”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. “You won’t lose us, Frankie. We’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor.

“I know that we’re here now, and that we love you.” Tears blurred your vision, and this time you let them fall. “And the rest of it is up to fate or the universe or whatever.”

Matt cleared his throat, and for the first time since he’d awoken, a small smile formed on Frank’s lips.

“Or God,” you chuckled, “or whatever.”

Matt nodded at your amendment, shifting closer to Frank. “You can’t be afraid to live, Frank. Don’t torture yourself over things you can’t control.”

“I wasn’t afraid until I met both of you.” He shrugged.

“I know.” Matt bobbed his chin. “I see you, remember?”

“That’s sort of funny, coming from a-”

“Frank!” You yelped, but Matt’s face had morphed into a feline grin. You rolled your eyes, biting your lip so you wouldn’t laugh at Frank’s awful excuse of a joke.

“Someone’s feeling better.”

“I’m feeling sweaty.” Frank corrected, rising to his feet. “I need a shower. Care to join me?”

—-----

A heavy fog hung over the bathroom as the steam from the piping hot shower coated every available surface. Frank had thrown off his clothes and jumped into the large walk-in space quickly, and you’d be willing to bet it was so he could process all the emotions he’d just experienced without any interruptions.

You and Matt hung back for a few minutes, whispering your concerns under hurried breaths.

“Do you think he’s okay?” You asked, pulling your shirt over your head.

“I think he’s been feeling these things for a while and hoped we wouldn’t notice.” Matt wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. He sighed and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Do you think he’ll-” The thought was difficult to put into words. You didn’t like verbalizing something so terrible. “Do you think he’ll leave if he can’t move past the fear?”

“No.” Matt’s voice held a resounding firmness that eased the tension in your shoulders. “He wouldn’t leave us, sweetheart. He loves us too much for that.” You couldn’t decide who Matt was trying to convince more – himself or you.

Warmth encompassed you when you stepped into the shower, sending a wave of goosebumps up your spine. Your nipples perked at the heat – something Frank immediately registered. A lusty glaze overtook his stoic expression. You sent him a coy smile in return. You’d do anything he asked you to do, if only to give him the control he desperately clung to.

Matt followed behind you, shuffling against your back as you nuzzled into Frank’s chest. Water sprayed over Frank’s shoulder, soaking the three of you while you held each other close. Frank placed a hand at the base of both of your necks, and a fuzzy feeling blanketed the anxiety you had been feeling minutes before.

You looked over his features. His eternally furrowed brow, the big nose that you and Matt adored even though he hated it, the hard cut of his jawline. He was so pretty, and you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. He looked down, meeting your wandering gaze.

“When you look at me like that, baby,” he hummed, tugging you against his increasingly hard length, “It drives me fucking crazy.”

You hazily blinked at him, smiling. “I’ve spent my entire life looking for you. Both of you.”

A softness that was only reserved for you and Matt crossed Frank’s face, and for a moment, the only things you cared about in the entire world were the two men enveloping you in their arms. You lifted your chin toward Frank, ghosting a kiss over his lips before nestling your cheek against his broad chest.

Frank looked from you to Matt, who had situated himself behind you, focusing on the way your body vibrated against his chest every time you spoke. A cocky smirk was plastered on his face, daring Frank to do something about it, and Frank was never one to back down from a dare.

He surged forward, careful not to knock you off balance, and pressed his lips to Matt’s in a bruising kiss. Matt met him with equal force, shoving his tongue into Frank’s mouth and whimpering, whimpering, when Frank wrapped his hand around the column of his throat. You tried to ignore the pounding of your core as they kissed over you and could only let out a soft whine when one of Matt’s hands snuck around your waist and began rubbing tight circles around your clit.

Frank broke away from the kiss, wide-eyed and panting. You leaned your head back onto Matt’s shoulder, gasping when you saw how achingly hard Frank was. You moved before you were fully aware of what you were doing.

You barely felt the thump of your knees hitting the shower floor, barely registered the curse that came out of Frank’s mouth as you wrapped your mouth around his cock. Matt’s stunted groan merged with Frank’s when you turned your head and did the same thing to Matt.

“Did you like seeing us kiss, Kitten? Is that what has you so needy for our cocks?” Frank cooed. You stroked both of them off as you met his gaze. Heat flooded your core at his tone, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how incredibly turned on you were if Matt hadn’t uttered his next words so pathetically.

“I want to taste him, too.”

You paused your movements, smiling up at Frank, whose cock twitched in your hand.

“Come taste him, Matty.” You stroked Matt’s cock one last time before tugging on his hand, “You want him to taste you, right Frankie? Can Matty taste you?”

Frank bit his lip in an attempt to smother the moan that crawled out of his throat at your question. A stunted groan lodged itself in Frank’s chest as Matt dropped to his knees, mouth already open and ready to be fucked. The first lick up the underside of Frank’s cock weakened his knees. He didn’t think he deserved this kind of treatment, but Matt was eager to please, and began sucking him off so perfectly that Frank swore he saw stars behind his eyelids.

You and Matt took turns, licking and sucking and kissing Frank’s achingly hard cock, and Frank, the poor bastard, quickly became putty in your hands. He was convinced that if he died in this exact position, with you and Matt so desperate for his cum, he’d die a happy man.

He couldn’t help it. He started thrusting into Matt's mouth, and the first time Matt swallowed around Frank’s cock, which was lodged so deeply down his throat that he definitely wasn’t breathing, Frank almost fell to his knees. It was a wonder he lasted as long as he did.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come. ‘M gonna come. Shit. Fu-”

Matt pulled away from Frank’s cock, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. A mirror image of you, sitting pretty and ready to be soaked, and that image was enough to bring Frank Castle to his fucking knees. He fell against the shower wall, groaning loudly as he came all over the two perfect faces in front of him.

Then, he promptly blacked out. The only thing he could focus on was the twitching of his cock every time another rope of cum shot out of it. The entire world faded around him, and when he finally re-entered his body and opened his eyes, the sight of Matt’s tongue down your throat almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

“Tastes so good, baby.” You mumbled against Matt’s lips, though the comment was clearly for Frank’s benefit. Matt groaned in agreement. Frank’s cock twitched with desire.

“Please,” Frank begged, palming his sensitive cock, “Please, don’t stop.”

You and Matt obliged him. Matt swung you around, pressing your spine into the shower wall and hiking your leg around his waist. His lips didn’t leave yours as he slid the tip of his cock through your folds, testing your readiness. And shit, you were so ready.

A steady ache had been building in your core since you’d stepped into the shower earlier, so much so that your inner thighs were coated in your slickness. Matt’s groan as he thrusted in, and in, and in, was downright sinful, tugging at the fire brewing in your gut. You stretched around him, gasping when he nudged against the soft tissue connected to every nerve ending in your body.

“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so tight.” Matt grunted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The sight of Matt sliding in and out of your wet cunt was met with a wicked groan from Frank, who sidled closer to your panting figure. You latched a hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. Your orgasm was fast approaching, and it was going to be a big one. Frank’s lustful gaze was enough to make anyone crazy, but combined with Matt’s rough pounding against your core, you were pretty sure the Earth was about to shift beneath your feet.

“Like what you see, Frank?” Matt teased, smirking as you squeezed around him.

“Shut the fuck up, Red.” Frank grunted, stroking himself at the same rhythm that Matt was grinding into you.

“You’re both so pretty.” You breathed, whining as Matt quickened his pace. “Oh, shi-”

“Don’t come yet, sweetheart. Not until I say so.” Matt was trading off between whispering in your ear and sucking on the spot right below it. His hand made a slow ascent to your neck, wrapping around the column of your throat and lightly squeezing. If he was trying to get you to hold off on coming, he was doing a shitty job of it. “Can you wait, pretty girl? Hmmm?”

You groaned, looking to Frank for help, but his slack jaw and stuttering breaths told you that you were on your own. He was captivated by the sight of Matt slamming in and out of your wet cunt and only shushed you when you tried to get his help.

“Fuck, Matty.” You whined, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Beg for it, and maybe we’ll let you come, Kitten.”

“Oh, shit. Please, please, please, can I come? Please, can I? Haven’t I been a good girl tonight? Please let me come.”

Tears sprung free, streaming down your face. You held your breath, focusing on everything but the fact that Matt was deep inside you. Matt’s smirk slipped as you squeezed around him again, and you gasped when he hit the spot in you that would normally send you into the stratosphere.

“It’s up to Frank, baby.” he muttered, gritting his teeth as you squeezed around him again. It was his kryptonite, and you knew it. Two could play that game, Mr. Murdock.

You shuttered as Frank rubbed his thumb over your lips, contemplating how long you might last like this, how pretty you’d look coming on Matty’s cock. You were on the brink of sobbing, begging for any kind of relief when he lowered his hand and pressed it against the hand Matt still had wrapped around your throat.

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” Frank cooed. His breath shuttered against your cheek, and you realized just how close he was to coming as well.

“Yes!” you cried, panting through the pleasure-born tears, “Yes, please.”

“All you had to do was ask, Kitten.” He smirked, gripping your throat tighter. “Come, sweet girl. Be a good girl. Come around Red’s cock.”

The tiny thread of control you had left snapped at his words, sending a steady stream of fire throughout your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut, rocking against Matt’s body as your orgasm pulsed through you. Warmth filled your cunt, and you vaguely registered Matt coming deep inside you, vaguely heard Frank curse as he came for the second time. You weren’t entirely sure you were breathing by the end of it. The tightness around your throat loosened, and you felt the pad of Frank’s thumbs wiping the tears that had gathered on your cheeks.

You gasped in air, sagging against Frank, who pulled you off your feet and into his arms. He held you close to his chest and stepped out of the long-forgotten shower, forgoing drying off completely as he laid you down on the end of the bed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Matt followed close behind, though he had made the wise decision to grab a towel before exiting the bathroom.

“Mmmm.” You mumbled, snuggling into the soft sheets. The bedroom held a dim glow, lit only by the early morning light. If you strained your ears, you could hear the beginnings of the workday in New York City. Taxis, subway trains, bodega gates – New York was waking up.

As if it were waiting for the perfect time to make itself known, your stomach grumbled loudly, earning you the soft chuckles of your favorite boys. Frank pulled the towel from Matt’s hips, earning him a swift smack on the chest, and hurriedly dried himself.

“I’m hungry.” You mumbled, matter-of-factly.

“We can tell.” Frank grinned, pulling you to your feet. You reached for a fresh towel, drying yourself before pulling on one of Frank’s old T-shirts.

“I’ll make the bacon if you make the eggs. And Matty, you just sit there and look pretty. Deal?” You asked, padding toward the bedroom door.

“Deal.” Frank smiled and followed you into the kitchen, tugging Matt behind him.

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adawngswife · 4 months

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sean diaz + daniel diaz modern hcs

i kind of forgot this was exclusively modern at the end just ignore that LMFAO

- sean has no social media presence whatsoever

- a lot of people from school follow him but he only follows lyla and his track team back 😭 popular loner energy 🥀🐺

- i feel like if sean went to hs now hed be sm more popular esp w girls but hes rlly humble so he doesnt see it at all

- hes stupid and just thinks theyre being nice

- it gets on lylas nerves bc he refuses to believe anybody wants him 😭

- all his stories are like fireworks he posted when he was thirteen that he never bothered to delete

- its titled Highlights bc he doesnt know how to make an aesthetic instagram

- if anything, if he posts now its skate videos, drawings, or funny pics of daniel

- sean def takes 0.5x photos of daniel where his eyes go two diff directions and threatens to send them to lyla whenever he starts acting up

- daniel always throws a tantrum and esteban gets mad and tells sean to delete the pics (he doesnt)

- speaking of daniel he def got wayyy into skibidi toilet

- daniel tries to explain skibidi toilet n sean just tunes him out and says “uh huh” every so often

- hes those impressionable kids that gets into literally anything on the internet. among us, squid games, ROBLOX FOR SURE. sticky ipad baby energy overall!

- sean plays roblox with daniel on very rare occasions. i can imagine daniels avatar is decked out with limited items and sean is a bacon haired woman 😭

- daniel has definitely swiped estebans card a couple times under his nose for his robux…

- daniel purposely chooses games hes good at to watch sean struggle and die over and over again

- daniel watches weird kid youtube videos like… among us 24 hour challenge with spiderman and elsa giving birth kind of videos. sean gets really pissed off partly bc theyre rotting daniels brain and partly bc daniel always put it at max volume in the living room

- once sean gets paid he always goes thrifting. he fs goes to the bins and finds dirty dookie drawls every weekend 😭 but its worth it bc he finds cool shit

- as a skater boy i feel its obligatory for him to wear those afflication types of clothing as well as ironic graphic tees

- sean def wears baggy jeans in 2023 🙅‍♀️ none of that straight leg jeans from the game!!

- he also probably loves those ironic wolf shirts w the galaxy print n thinks theyre so funny

- sean also buys clothes in his style for daniel from the thrift n records 360s of daniel in his skater outfits

- “can i go play roblox now?” “no u have to cover ur nose when u turn around”

- got a buzzcut and surprisingly it looked really good

- esteban, daniel, lyla, and practically everyone else in his life kept making fun of him for being bald and would rub his head like a genie bottle tho

- daniels go-to is “well- well at least i don’t look like… look like caillou!” bc i imagine he tries to make funny comebacks but always stutters in the middle 😭😭

- eventually grew it back out bc he got annoyed at everyone making fun of him. they dont see his blond album cover early 2000s vision 💔

- daniel has no room to talk bc sooner or later he goes to the barber and gets a fucked edgar bowlcut

- sean laughs until he can barely breathe 😭 when lyla sees she TRIES to cheer him up about it but its too late

- even esteban laughs a little but only when daniel cant see bc he knows how much itd hurt him

- back to the blond album cover… sean LOVES music. his playlists are hours long

- i feel like he indulges in a super LARGE range of music likeee from bad bunny to deftones to pinkpantheress

- everybody hates it when he has aux and boos him off

- when esteban orders mexican food, sean and daniel both get horchata. sean dgaf if hes grown he still loves it!!

- i imagine esteban slowly stopped enforcing mexican food and culture overtime. bc of this, daniel knows barely any spanish and has 0 spice tolerance. sean always makes fun of him bc he goes gets water after a couple hot cheetos

- daniel tries to recreate those videos of people eating carolina reapers in hot sauce to prove a point and almost dies

- sean absolutely LOVES halloween. horror movies, costumes, the weather, everything abt it

- a part of him always gets jealous of daniel bc hes no longer considered trick or treating age anymore

- lowkey hed be willing to pull up in a full body costume just so he can trick or treat again

- when watching horror movies, sean will get way too immersed and start judging the people in the movies 😭

- daniels not allowed to watch but he peaks around the corner when estebans not watching

- “why the fuck is she just standing there? RUN! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!”

- “language mijo”

- he acts like he cld fight off the killer and explains his mastermind plan during the movie

- he doesnt admit it but he gets jumpy after a horror movie 😭 esteban and daniel take advantage of this every single time

- sean daniel and esteban are a tight knit family REGARDLESS of sean’s moodiness and daniel’s annoying gen alpha brainrot theyre so 😢

yes im aware that 2016 wasnt tjat long ago but i dont want to imagine sean diaz enjoying dank memes and saying boi 💔

#life is strange 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #esteban diaz #sean diaz hcs

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hopefuloverfury · 6 months

Note

ey yooooo are requests still open?? if so, what are the bachelor/ette's first impressions of the farmer? who do you think has a crush right off the bat and who takes a little longer to warm up to them?

They are open! I’ll let y’all know when they’re closed, but you can still send in requests regardless—I won’t delete any, but I have to wait until I have time to work through them. This got away from me, it’s so long, and I really wanted to do a bit for everybody, but the post is a monster so I'm going to make the bachelorette's a little later, if that's alright! It also fell a little more toward “How The Marriage Candidates Fall In Love With You,” so. Uh. Whoops? I hope you enjoy!

Bachelorettes are here.

This is super fluffy for some of them, others not so much, Shane is Shane, and Seb is Seb. There’s some little bits of dialogue here and there, but I didn’t go crazy, and I tried to stick to canon but also I did not stick to canon lmfao

Sam

Sam saw you on the first friday of spring, at the saloon

He thought you looked… pretty normal, actually

like, yeah sure, you had work boots caked with dried mud, and a backpack stuffed past-full with an assortment of busted up tools slung over your shoulder, but other than that, pretty normal

Besides, it wasn’t weird for people living on a farm to have a lot of tools, right?

He’s got the image of you seared into his brain for a few days afterward, but doesn’t talk about it with Seb and Abigail because they’re both weirdly touchy about the subject (more on that later)

Then you approach him at the egg festival to introduce yourself, and Sam’s curiosity grows that much more

Your boots are still filthy, your backpack is practically bursting at the seams, and he’s pretty sure he saw you drop at least 5000 gold on seeds at Pierre’s stand

He wants to talk to you more, but then Lewis starts the egg hunt, and for the first time since Sam moved to Pelican Town, Abigail loses—to you

Everyone is surprised, Abigail is bitter about it, Sam wishes he’d had the chance to talk to you again after the egg hunt was wrapped up, but he couldn’t find you

He’s even more taken aback when he hears about your stints in the mines to the north of town, because aren’t there monsters down there????

Not to mention you apparently have a nasty habit of falling asleep in town instead of at your farmhouse?? Where you should be sleeping?? Hello?????

Plus the acts of literal deforestation you’ve apparently been enacting outside of Seb’s house? (with robin’s permission, but still)

He is so confused

The flower dance rolls around

You don’t ask anyone to dance, but you do make your rounds, making sure to talk to everyone—even Clint and Mr. Mullner, and he’s especially surprised when he spots you talking to the homeless guy that lives behind Seb’s house

He’s interested to get to know you, but isn’t self-aware enough to examine the underlying intentions there

Over the course of your friendship, he starts feeling things he didn’t know he could

When you defend him with Lewis, when you take the blame for the egg incident—and when you arrive to the bus stop twenty minutes early for their gig in the city—even though you hate the city

You dressed up for the occasion, and Sam almost drops his guitar case in the dirt when he sees you

You help them load up their equipment into the bus, and Sam can’t stop looking at you

Asks to sit next to you during the drive

You share his earbuds and he shows their music to you

You both bob your heads to the beat, and your thighs are pressing together, but he's the only one who notices

He wants to hold your hand so bad

And then when he’s on stage, he’s got anxiety bubbling in his gut, but one look at you standing in the front row has him jumping headfirst into the set with a wild grin on his face

He catches you buying one of their band shirts and a CD from outside the venue

He gets breathless every time he sees you wearing it around town after that

You wear it when you hand him the bouquet, too, and he swears he could fall to his knees

Seb

He doesn’t like you

Even before you showed up, he didn’t like you

For weeks, you were all anyone could talk about

He couldn’t make it through one conversation without hearing about you, and it drove him nuts

He didn’t understand the allure, or the interest, and he was genuinely irritated every time you were mentioned

Like a song that you overplay so much that you end up hating it?

Yeah. exactly like that

When he meets you, he’s even more put off because he doesn’t understand you

He doesn’t understand why you’d leave the city to go to Pelican Town

He understands the allure of a gigantic swathe of land waiting to be claimed, but still.

Pelican Town???

Also weirded out by how eager you are to make friends, and the first time you gift him a quartz crystal, he doesn’t know how to react—mainly he’s just afraid about how you knew he liked them because he knows for a fact that he's never told you

But even though you make him uncomfortable at first, he’s not going to be outright rude to you or go out of his way to be a dickhead

And honestly, you’re still nice

You’re weird, and he’s never seen the land around his house so devoid of trees before, but that’s really as far as his opinion goes

his mother isn’t stressing nearly as much about bills anymore due to your commissions, so he’s kind of glad about that

But you’re so different from him, and he’s pretty committed to getting the hell out of pelican town, so what does it matter? He’s not going to be around for long enough to make a real friend out of you

Oh, Sebby

He immediately changes his tune the first time you give him sashimi

It was surprising that you didn’t make up a story or give an excuse for it, either

You waltzed into his room like you owned the place, waited until he was finished with work (which was… a new experience for him) and set the container on his corner shelf

“You like sashimi, so I made this for you. Tell me what you think. Have a good day, Seb.” and you smiled at him, and maybe you didn’t notice the way his ears flushed bright red, or maybe you were just too nice to point it out

And it was good sashimi

It wasn’t a special occasion, it wasn’t a prank, and he was dead confused because you’d only exchanged a few hellos and stilted conversations that altogether totaled a grand three minutes, so he had no idea how you knew again

Worked up the courage to ask

Everything clicked into place when you told him that his mother and half-sister mentioned it to you

And then he was stuck with the knowledge that you talked about him to other people—that you even asked about him

You’re respectful of his time and boundaries, you speak kindly to him, show an interest in his hobbies, and he’s amassed a small collection of frozen tears and quartz crystals lined on his shelves

He orders stands for every last one, dusts them all regularly, and when you give him an obsidian stone, he starts carrying it around with him in his pocket, just because

He fights with himself for months before he can admit to himself that he has a crush on you

Definitely has that “oh no” moment lmao

Can’t look at you for a little while, but once he gets over that, he can’t stop looking

Takes longer to admit it to anyone else, and doesn’t intend to admit it to you

You throw a wrench in that plan eventually :)

Alex

We all know he finds you attractive right off the bat

Which—obviously, why wouldn’t he? (<3)

But unlike Shane, for example, he’s readily kind and eager to talk to someone other than his grandparents or Haley

He might be attracted to you, but he’ll try his best not to let that color his interactions as much

There are moments where he slips up, but there’s no negative intentions there

And because he knows himself, he figures whatever mini-crush he’s developing will eventually go away

When it doesn't, he gets really down on himself

Starts thinking about you constantly, and rethinking all of your interactions so far

Kind of ashamed of how he treated you

You’ve always been so kind to him, and so supportive of his goal to go pro

But he’s never really… reciprocated that

It takes him a long while to work up the courage to apologize

He wishes he didn’t do it while in the middle of a workout, but the moment felt right otherwise

It helped that it was just you and him, because you’re so damn popular with the rest of the town that he can rarely get a moment alone with you

And just like he figured you would, you accept his apology without any fanfare, and then turn right around and encourage him again

He’s got hearts in his eyes, trust

His crush builds over the course of months, and the moment it’s solidified is when you catch him on the beach, reminiscing about his mother

You don’t judge him for his tears, and even though you laugh when he asks you to keep it under lock and key, the sound is bright in his ears like wind chimes

And you still kept his secret

Alex is gone on you from that moment, 100%

You’re kind, and attractive, and you treat him so well it almost makes him feel insecure

When he’s working at the ice cream stand during the summer, there are plenty of times where he’s almost scooped out of the wrong tray because he was busy thinking about you

He’s never felt this way about anyone

All of his crushes have been super shallow in the past, but this is different

They were all physical, but he fantasizes about living on the farm with you, and wonders what kind of partner you’d be on the regular

Sticks his face in the freezer when his thoughts veer into less innocent territory (he thought about how you might like to kiss him)

Haley makes fun of him about it lmfao

Y’all don’t figure your shit out until year two, probably during the dance of the moonlight jellies

You ask him to watch them with you, and with the glow of the ocean illuminating your face, you hand him the bouquet

He accepts it (duh) and tries to play it cool, but he’s cheesing for the rest of the night

Elliott

Sees you fishing on the beach after an early morning spent in the mines

He walks out of his cabin to stretch his legs after a long night sitting at his writing desk

He’s only been in Pelican Town for a year himself, but he notices a new face right off the bat

You’ve got your legs hanging off the edge of the pier, fishing rod in hand, and two buckets next to you (one for bait, the other for your catches)

Elliott knows you’re the new farmer immediately

Though he’s not entirely sure why a farmer would need a sword, or a shoulder guard

He’s not intending to introduce himself to you, but when you look up and lock eyes with him, there’s a sudden tug in his chest

He believes in soulmates, I’ll just say that

Then you wave at him and smile, and he walks up without thinking about it

You take your fishing rod out of the water and set it aside, getting up to introduce yourself, and Elliott is fond of you already

Anyone who prioritizes the person they’re speaking to is going to be very attractive to him

And because Elliott’s a little sensitive, he tends to take it the wrong way when the person he’s speaking to doesn’t give him their full attention

One of my personal hcs is that he came from a rich family that never paid any real attention to him or valued his input

So when you give that to him without a second thought, he knows he’ll get along with you just fine

He’s curious about you in the beginning, but that’s as far as allows himself to take it

He thinks of you as a friend, or at least he tries to

Maybe it was the way the sunlight streaming through his windows caught your eyes as you inspected his struggling rose, or maybe it was the soft smiles you gave him when he would find crabs in his shirt pocket, but he’s constantly catching himself thinking about you

He plays it cool for the most part

But then you gift him a bottle of squid ink, mentioning how you noticed his stock getting low during your last visit, and the gears in his head make a funny noise

During the long process of writing his book, there were many times he was cemented in place by his writer’s block

But when his brisk walks through town and his piano breaks weren’t enough to spark inspiration, even a short conversation with you was enough for his fingers to twitch

You make him enjoy his art again, and he doesn’t care if someone notices the similarities between you and the protagonist of his book

Finally embraces it and dedicates his book to you

He knows he’s probably being so obvious about his feelings, but your face flushes brightly when he tells you during his reading at the library

If I’m honest, I don’t think he’s actually capable of having crushes on people

He feels everything so deeply that he might just fall straight into the ‘smitten’ category, but he swears that something about you is different

When you hand him the bouquet, he doesn’t blame fate, or any cosmic forces

None of them hold a candle to your power over him, anyway

Shane

We know how this guy is

Or rather, we know how he acts

He’s not at all curious, and he would rather you leave him alone entirely, but it’s not because he hates you or anything

He just doesn’t know you

But most everyone in town looks at him with pity, and he can’t stand another person looking at him like that

He’d rather you just not like him at all, so at least your expression will be different

Except you’re a persistent little shit

Every request he sticks on the board outside Pierre’s will be completed within the first few hours of the day, and he knows every time that it’ll be you, with whatever he’s asked for in your hands and an eager smile on your face

You always make time to talk to him, you smile at him on your way to whatever it is you get up to in your free time, and he’s pretty sure you’ve spent a small fortune on pizza and beer for him at the saloon

You laugh at his jokes, you listen to him rant about Morris and shitty customers without a shred of complaint—you make him feel like he’s actually worth listening to

The first time he’s properly mean to you is when he’s on his way to work

He’s finally accepted that you want something to do with him, and you’re tentative friends now, so it isn’t on purpose, but it’s still his fault

It’s cold outside, he hasn’t had a drink in two days, and he can’t drink before work if he wants to keep his job, so his withdrawals are bad

The wounded look on your face when he snaps at you swims behind his eyelids for his whole shift

He’s fighting tears back for the rest of the day, and his self-talk is the worst it’s been in a long time

He’s convinced he’s driven you away for good, and while part of him is almost glad that he’s managed to do it, the other, much louder part of him, is breaking apart because he’s really and truly fucked up with you

He’s at the saloon that night, already two beers in, when you waltz in

He makes eye contact with you out of habit, and your smile falters, just a bit

He feels like shit immediately, and looks down into his pint

For the first time he realizes that having you hate him feels infinitely worse than how it would if you pitied him

But with that knowledge, he reserves himself to his fuck-up

Even though he knows he should apologize, because that’s the right thing to do, he figures it’d be better for you if he just kept to himself and left you be

Until you plop down on the stool next to him at the bar, with a drink of your own

“Hey, grumpy. Do you feel like tolerating some company now?”

Stares at you in surprise for what feels like a minute before he stares into his pint again, squinting and trying to find anything wrong with it

You chuckle at him and guide him into setting down his beer

“No one spiked your drink, knucklehead, it’s me”

Was convinced that you’d want nothing to do with him, but then you order a pizza for the two of you, and he’s struck clean through by how… normal you’re being about him

Apologizes while you’re waiting for your food, and asks pretty bluntly why you’d still want to talk to him after that morning

“I figured you were just in one of your moods,” you shrug, taking a long drink from your glass, “Besides, I’ve had my moments, too. It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to get on your ass about it. But I forgive you, so quit beating yourself up about it, yeah?”

Probably doesn’t believe you’re capable of any “moments” because you’re always busting your ass to be the kindest you can possibly be

He used to think it was weird, and probably took you as the manipulative type when you first arrived, because you gave gifts and started conversations undeterred, desperate to win affection

But looking at you right then, he finally figures it out—that that’s just you

Maybe you do want everyone to like you, but your interactions with everyone have never been shallow

His chest gets tight, and he sets down his pint. He doesn’t intend on finishing it, because his vision is blurring around the edges, and he really wants to remember your conversation

Usually you’d ask him about how his shift went—if Morris was an annoying prick again, but he beats you to it while you’re in the middle of a sip

“Tell me about your day?”

The surprise coloring your features makes him feel guilty, but he shoves that aside in favor of listening to you talk

He didn’t know you went into the mines as frequently as you did, and he has no idea what the hell a “skull cavern” is, but he hangs on every word

You both walk home together, dropping him off at Marnie’s as you go, and he flops into bed with his head swimming and a dopey smile on his face

He wakes up the next day with a hangover, but he’s off work, and he’s still got the image of your smile tattooed on his brain

“Fuck.”

Y’all he’s so dumb

Harvey

You have this man stressed out from day one, and it takes him longer than the others to realize his feelings—or develop them (longer than Shane, too. Wild isn’t it?)

He’s a little impressed with your complete lack of anxiety about most things

He’s been the valley doctor for years now, but he still doesn’t have a very personal relationship with most of the townies

But you moved in three months ago and you’re already on your way to being besties with half of the town

The only thing he’s not sure about is your apparent lack of self-preservation instincts

You’ve passed out in every part of the valley at least once, and he’s treated several broken bones and serious injuries of yours by the time summer rolls around

he’s worried about you—as the valley doctor, he practically holds everyone’s lives in his hands, and there are patients that he’s lost in the past and can’t forget about

So making sure everyone is taking care of themselves is already nerve-wracking enough without throwing someone like you in the mix

You, who can’t go one week without some incident happening

He’s started up a tentative friendship with Marlon up at the guild, if only for the many times he’s carried you down to the clinic with varying level of injuries littering your skin

But you’re aware of the stress you bring him, and over time, you start improving

You get better at defending yourself in the mines, and he hasn’t found you passed out in front of someone’s porch in at least two months

That doesn’t sound like a long time, but given your track record, it’s impressive

And you’ve made a habit out of bringing him a coffee twice a week as a silent apology/thank you

He appreciates the caffeine, and your efforts to not stress him out

And during your check-up, he’s surprised to find that you’re actually—all things considered—pretty healthy

You bashfully admit that you’ve been trying to take better care of yourself so he doesn’t have to worry, and even though there’s no way he won’t worry, he appreciates it nonetheless

He properly realizes his feelings when you watch the plane fly overhead together

You’ve got your head poked out his apartment window, trying to catch a glimpse of the plane

He’s watching you carefully, making sure you don’t lean too far out, when it hits him

He’s not sure why, but you’ve got the sun shining on your face as you squint through your fingers to look at the sky, and the smile on your face when you spot the plane is brilliant

His breath leaves him in a silent gasp, and he doesn’t really care that he doesn’t get to take a good look at the plane, because he’d rather look at you

Over-explains his model planes to keep you around longer, but thinks about it for days afterward

Can’t stop thinking about how you looked, listening to him talk with your full attention

He doesn’t have many friends, and no one has ever shown a real and true interest in his hobbies—most people have found him dorky for it, but not you

He can tell the model of a plane based on the shadow of it in the sky and the sound of its motor, and you never fail to point one out and ask him which one it is

The glee on your face when he picks it out easily will never fail to make him smile

For what feels like the first time in his life, he can impress someone

His family is full of successful people: lawyers, musicians, a few unsavory cousins of his have turned to politics, and there’s more than a few pilots as well. Him being a doctor was never impressive to the people around him growing up—it was expected

He didn’t get much praise, forever overshadowed by everyone else in his family

Fake praise grinds his gears, but he knows it’s never anything but the truth when it comes from you

And the fact that it comes from you, who took up the mantle of your grandfather and turned the farm around from its steady decay and deterioration with your bare hands?

His confidence always jumps a level or two when you compliment him, because if you like him and think he’s cool, then he must be, you know?

A few weeks later, when he sees you standing outside the clinic through the window, he’s a little confused

He’s pretty sure you’ve already given him his caffeine for the week, but when he walks out to ask you what’s up, he sees the bouquet in your hands

He’s your doctor, and because he’s your doctor, he knows the blush on your cheeks and the scattered eye contact isn’t indicative of anything but nerves

You’re both practically steaming with how hard you’re blushing, and he gently takes the bouquet out of your hands

He doesn’t mind that he didn’t get to be a pilot. If he had, he doesn’t think he would’ve met you, and with the scent of flowers in his nose and your image etched into his memory, there’s nothing he’d hate more aw you guys are so cute

#sdv #stardew valley #elliott #shane #alex #sammy #sebby #harvey #stardew valley headcanons #anon #asks #this took me so long agh #i will get to the bachelorettes!#don't worry!#(I promise i like them lmfao)#thanks for the request! i really appreciate it #blurbs

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pip-n-chips · 1 year

Note

Everyone been talking to you abt Harper so I want to do it too. Although sorry for not being horny lol

What do you think about one dialog with a patient in asylum that says that Harper was a patient? I think about it a lot… Perhaps one of the main reasons why I like them

The text in question: "That Harper isn't a Doctor," a person mutters. "Not really. When I first came here Harper was a patient like the rest of us. But now suddenly Harper's our Doctor. THEY all play along, and everyone who might remember has conveniently forgotten. Or disappeared."

omg hi!! I love your art a lot kdhd, and no worries! I enjoy the non horny parts of the game just as much lmao

Harper isn't a real doctor, never has been. But he's clever, and knows how to work in the shadows to get what he wants, and he wants power (COUGH control freak COUGH)

The details are fuzzy for what got him landed in the asylum in the first place- maybe he went somewhere he wasn't supposed to go, maybe he saw something or someone* he wasn't meant to see. Maybe his facade was easier to break down in his youth, maybe he reached his breaking point.

*I'm a fan of the headcanon that Harper met/saw the Ivory Wraith at some point, even if it was just for a few seconds, and he couldn't get them out of his head no matter how hard he tried. Harper craves knowledge, so I wouldn't be surprised if his little obsession with the figure in the lake got taken out of hand as he tried to find out more. I can also see him having an encounter with the tentacles in the mirror, because I feel like it connects well with his experimentation later on. Either way, his mind is strong, but he can only hold on for so long until it slips from his grip.

ALSO a bit of an unrelated thought but I would also like to mention that while he was still mansplain manipulate gaslight girlboss in the past, he was less put together and less calculated like present day Harper. Part of it probably chalks up to teenage hormones since he'd probably be like 18 or 19 when the asylum thing happens, but also inexperience. (He's had less victims, and I like to think that's because a lot of his peers in his hometown thought he was a little fucking freak and avoided him like the plague lmfao, but other people- more specifically authority figures like therapists and teachers- were easier because they either recognized his talent or were wrapped around his finger. He told people what they wanted to hear.) He also had less control over his emotions and that caused more slips in his little facade + more impulsive decisions

Anyway, he gets himself landed in the asylum and he does NOT like it, because his sense of control is stripped from him. The treatment works, at least they all think it does. And maybe it does genuinely work at first, but it's hard to say where the line between it being real and him faking it lies. But either way, it builds up the trust of the staff according to plan

I headcanon that Harper turned the tables on his original doctor, and I wonder if he would have practiced hypnosis on fellow patients before making a move :0? Though I could just see him doing it for fun lmao,, Either way he sees it as a game and a way to get out of this god forsaken place.

He's subtle enough to not arouse suspicion, and he plays around a bit because while he's done this stuff before it's never been this big, but he's still confident in his abilities. He begins by sowing the seeds, putting ideas in his doctor's head, and it just escalates and escalates until he can make a big change.

I'm unsure if he'd act like he's always been a doctor here or transfered to the area, but I do know he'd make sure to delete any evidence of his previous,, position. If any staff speak up instead of turning their pretty little heads, Harper has a chat with them to clear up the confusion <3 (gaslighting and hypnosis xoxo). He doesn't pay as much attention to patients because they're crazy, they don't know what they're talking about. But if they're insistent then, well, it's off to the quiet room-

Hey, wait a minute!

What have you got me talking about? Those are just rumors, there's nothing to look into. And the patient who fed you lies is crazy, look at how paranoid they're acting. Why do you think they're here in the first place? Harper is a real doctor, always has been.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #harper the doctor #dol harper #ask #anyway *cough* yes i think about it a lot too #i actually have an art wip of asylum!harper i wanna finish at some point but straitjackets are so hard to draw ack #thoughts-n-hcs

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coexistentialism · 3 months

Text

TW for C S A, nothing graphic, just the topic - I am spacing that out and not putting tags because the last time I put C S A tags on a post, I got an anon telling me I deserved to be SA'd, so no thanks. Nothing in here is graphic.

[Before anyone says it, and before you read, no, this is not about shipping discourse. I am not touching that shit with a 10 foot pole. Do not ask me about that shit, I barely know what it fuckin' means, I'm not talking about that, and if you think I am, no I am not.]

It really does baffle me that people seem to only be okay with vent art, so long as it's not extremely graphic. Especially, particularly, if it's extremely sexually graphic in terms of sexual abuse survivors. Like most people are in agreement that things like traumacore (which is a broad category of just overall trauma vent art in my own opinion and perception) and like general art to vent about other abuse and trauma, but suddenly because it's about extreme, graphic abuse and trauma, it's "STOP ROMANTICIZNG IT, IT'S UNHEALTHY!!!", "IT'S A BAD COPING SKILL, YOU'RE JUST AESTHETIZING IT AND ROMANTICIZING IT!!!" when people literally said, and still say, the exact same thing about self-harm vent art, depression vent art, anything like that. Like I have lived through those years of Tumblr era and online in general where people saw any kind of vent art that depicted self-harm, depression, abuse, etc. and people would get dogpiled and harassed and shamed for it and treated like they were romanticizing abuse, self-harm, etc. when they. Literally are just venting about their feelings, their trauma, their struggles??

Oh, and it's not just if it's C S A related, it's not just if it's related to more extreme abuse - it's just if the artwork/writing itself is extremely graphic and doesn't sugar coat anything. Like I'm not saying you have to enjoy looking at someone's extremely graphic vent art, but surely you see the hypocrisy here? Vent art is only okay if it is sanitized.

Once again, it always goes back to trauma survivors having to sanitize ourselves and sugar coat everything so that it doesn't make others violently and viscerally uncomfortable. And like, yeah, it is uncomfortable lmfao. Imagine how we feel.

Not to mention. Once again. Art therapy is a thing? That exists? That literally helps people? There are plenty of studies that talk about this. There are plenty of studies that even show that oftentimes drawings by children are some of the only ways they can tell what happened. Same for adults, especially if you have DID.

And even if that random stranger on the internet is somehow making artwork that is in some way only worsening their trauma or whatever, that's not your business. 🤷 Like maybe don't shame people for having maladaptive coping mechanisms that aren't to your tastes.

I've drawn extremely vile things. I've written extremely vile things. I have no idea what they mean, I have no idea if they are hinting at any kind of actual events I have actually experienced or anything, but you know what didn't help me? The amount of people who say you are a pedophile for even daring to make art that depicts such horrific, graphic, and vile sexually abusive things. I constantly feel terrified that I am secretly a pedophile and don't know it, don't realize it. I am constantly terrified that my artwork is just me being a sick, disgusting, vile freak, instead of. Y'know. The possibility that it really is just a manifestation of extreme fucking abuse.

This is where it gets a bit more graphic, but I am NOT describing specific C S A acts or anything, but it is graphic in a way.

I am going to speak about this as if I know for a fact that I experienced these things, even thought I don't know, just keep that in mind before I say this. I'm being extremely bold sharing all of this and I might edit this out later or delete this post altogether, but I have experienced C S A under the lens of believing it as a healthy, consensual, pleasurable experience. Most of my vent art and things I have written depicts this. They depict C S A as if it was normal, healthy, consensual sex. As a result, a lot of the artwork and things I've written could even be mistaken as literal erotica or "romanticizing sexual abuse." Other stuff I've drawn/written is just straight-up graphic and violent C S A, it's just not sugar-coated or sanitized and is extremely graphic.

Like are you sure that person is "romanticizing" or "aestheticizing" their trauma/abuse? Are you sure that person is exploring their trauma in an "unhealthy" way, or is their artwork/writing the only way they can express deep, personal feelings that you could not possibly understand? And in the case that one out of every whatever number of people IS just making art and writing things that is only making it worse for them, do you only think that about people who make artwork/writing that you find gross/vile/uncomfortable/too graphic/etc., or does that apply to other vent art as well? Because if not, you should rethink that thought process. And again, do you really think it would be okay to shame people for having maladaptive coping mechanisms?

#my posts

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ticklishraspberries · 2 years

Text

Shiver With Anticipation (Inej/Kaz)

Summary: As the couple grows more comfortable with physical affection, Inej finds out that Kaz is ticklish. Instead of striking then and there, she promises to remember that information for later, putting him on edge. (So...I accidentally deleted this fic off my blog, lmfao. Still not sure how, must have been in a 2am haze or something. Anyway, this was originally written for Day #1 of @august-anon‘s TickleTober prompts.)

Slowly but surely, Kaz and Inej were growing used to physical touch. It started with holding hands, first with his gloves, and then without. The first time they hugged, it had ended in mutual panic, but they had since gotten the hang of that, too. They even managed to kiss on occasion, but it was saved only for special moments, like when Inej first docked her ship back in Ketterdam after a few months away, or when she was about to set off to sea once again.

They could share a bed as long as they used separate blankets. Sometimes they woke up cuddled together, and most times, it didn’t put their mornings off to a bad start.

Inej’s issue was more with being touched, but she didn’t mind doing the touching. It made her feel in control of the situation. A reminder of her freedom. Kaz was the opposite; if someone else was touching him, he could feel the heat of their skin, the movement of their body, their pulse. Proof of life.

And so, Kaz kept his hands to himself and offered himself up for Inej to initiate touch, as long as he knew what she planned to do. First, she wanted to play with his hair, which he had enjoyed immensely. Then, she tried pressing soft kisses to each of his knuckles, bruised after a fight. It had been such a tender moment, Kaz could have cried.

Before her last departure, she had asked to try massaging his shoulders.

“You always seem so tense,” she explained. “I thought it could help.”

Although his pride wasn’t thrilled at accepting the offer, he found that it was hard to say no to Inej, especially when she had to be so goddamn kind about everything. Of course she would ask permission to help relieve some of his pain. That was just the kind of girl she was, and it was one of the many qualities that made him fall for her in the first place.

So, he had sat on the edge of his bed and let her kneel behind him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Her thumbs pressed little circles into the muscle, and Kaz couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure that left him.

“Is this alright?” Inej asked.

He nodded. “I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

“Well, I may or may not have asked Nina for some pointers,” she replied.

As she worked the knots out of his back, he found himself relaxing into her touch more and more. He shut his eyes and listened to her hum a tune he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until her hands moved up towards his neck that he felt goosebumps rise on his skin, but it wasn’t from a flashback. No, there was no nausea or panic, only the way that his nerves suddenly seemed on high alert, and the strange urge to…smile?

Well, shit. He thought he’d grown out of that. No one had roughhoused with him in such a way since Jordie died, and he had assumed that after a decade of being stony-faced and constantly pissed off that being ticklish had somehow escaped him.

Apparently not all weaknesses could be tackled so easily.

Inej’s fingers accidentally brushed against the side of his neck and sent him flinching away.

“Are you alright?” she asked, retracting her hands immediately. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, no, you’re fine. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

Inej knew pretty much all of his secrets, but there was something so embarrassing about telling her the truth. He knew she wouldn’t tease him too harshly, and she definitely wouldn’t attempt to tickle him any further without asking, but it just felt vulnerable and childish to admit. His ears burned at the thought, and he prayed to the Saints he didn’t believe in that the blush would go unnoticed.

“Do you want me to stop?” Inej asked.

He turned to look at her, with her big, worried eyes and cursed himself for being entirely susceptible to the kicked-puppy expression. “No, you can continue if you’d like.”

She perked up, and it made his heart soar to know he had caused that happiness. He managed to keep still for a bit as she started to massage once again, but his nerves were alert and Inej’s touch was becoming far too ticklish for him to ignore. She had moved from his shoulders to his upper back, and her thumbs kneading into the muscle made him feel as though fizzy bubbles of champagne were running through his veins.

“The point of a massage is to be relaxed, you know,” she said. “If you aren’t enjoying this, I can stop. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Kaz sighed. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I just…”

Inej scooted over so that she sat beside him rather than behind him. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to pry his words from his mouth sooner than he was ready to speak them. She just sat, waiting. Sometimes, the things that they tried just didn’t work out. They never shamed one another for needing a break or putting an end to it entirely. However, not speaking up in those moments was something that both he and Inej took very seriously. The last thing they wanted was to upset the other, to send Kaz back to the water, or Inej back to the brothel.

Yes, Kaz was a cheat and a liar and a pretty big asshole, but ever since he let his walls come down around Inej for the first time, he found it hard to put them back up. If Inej thought he was hiding his discomfort, he would feel as though he was betraying her trust.

“Don’t laugh,” he finally said. “And if you tell anyone about this, I will take the ship back.” It was a thinly veiled threat, but she got the message anyway.

Inej raised her eyebrows at the comment, but the words that followed were gentle. “I would never laugh at you.”

“You were tickling me,” he said, trying to ignore how warm his ears had become.

Inej didn’t laugh, although he swore that the corners of her lips tugged upward for just a second. “And so instead of telling me to stop, you were just going to hold your breath and try to ignore it?” she asked, voice thick with amusement.

Well, it sounded pretty stupid when she put it like that. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

She did laugh then, giving a fond shake of her head. “You know you can always ask me to stop.”

“I know.”

“Well, maybe next time I’m back from sea, I can find out where else you’re ticklish,” she said.

“Okay,” Kaz replied after a moment. Perhaps love had really made him an idiot.

Inej looked at him, clearly surprised that he had agreed to her half-joking suggestion.

The rest of their night went by without incident. They simply fell asleep beside each other, just far enough apart on the small mattress to be barely touching, only their fingers were lazily interlaced.

In the morning, Inej quickly pecked his lips before getting onto The Wraith and sailing off, leaving him on the dock like a wife watching her husband go off to war.

***

Inej was due to come home tomorrow, and the anticipation was eating Kaz alive. Yes, he was excited to see her. He was excited to kiss her, to see her smiling face. He had missed her terribly, all of the Dregs had, but he hadn’t forgotten her proposition in the month she had been gone.

It seemed that the universe was taunting him with it, as he watched Jesper squeeze Wylan’s knees beneath the table, or Nina prod at Matthias when they thought no one else was watching.

He had even tried to replicate the feeling on himself, running gloved fingers down the expanse of his own side, but it didn’t give that same goosebump-inducing sensation.

As Kaz tried to sleep, his mind was reeling. What if he hated it? What if it reminded him too much of Jordie, and sent him into a panic? What if he wasn’t half as sensitive as he thought, and Inej was disappointed? Or, what if he was twice as sensitive as he thought, and couldn’t handle it?

He felt ridiculous. He was the leader of the Dregs, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the fucking Barrel and he was losing rest over a little tickling. When he finally willed his brain to shut up, he fell asleep and dreamed of Inej with mischief glinting in her eyes and a smirk curled on her lips.

The Slat was all aflutter the next morning, everyone buzzing in excitement for Inej’s return. Kaz, along with Jesper, Wylan, and Nina made their way to the docks when the sun hung high above the streets of Ketterdam.

It was a joyful reunion, as usual. Inej departed her ship with a glow about her, all the confidence and bravery of Captain Ghafa not a wavering mask, just who she truly was. She hugged Nina first, then Wylan, then Jesper, and then she reached Kaz, and her smile grew just a little wider.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied.

She gave him a quick kiss, which still never failed to surprise their friends, and they were off to spend the day celebrating her return with drinks and probably a bit of crime.

Kaz found himself watching her hands all day: The way that she held her glass, fingers curled, almost poised in a claw. How she picked a lock, the precision and speed with which she moved. She would surely be the death of him, but he would be alright with that fate.

As the festivities died down, Kaz retired to his room. Usually, Inej spent her first night back in Ketterdam with Wylan and Jesper, so he began changing into his bedclothes and was startled when Inej’s voice came from his window.

“Please, don’t stop on my behalf. You never had a problem being half-naked in front of me before,” she teased.

Kaz’s ears turned pink. “I thought you’d be staying at Wylan’s tonight.”

Inej shrugged. “I can, if you want me to.”

He shook his head. “Stay, please.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

As he finished changing, he handed Inej some clothes as well, respectfully averting his gaze to the papers on his desk as she put on the much-too-big clothing. The sight of her nearly swimming in his shirt made him smile.

“How was your trip?” he asked, placing his cane beside the bed before sitting, relieved to have the weight off of his leg after a long day.

“Productive,” she replied, sitting at the opposite end of the mattress. “Rewarding, you could say. But I’ll spare you the details this evening.”

“I can’t wait to hear,” Kaz said. “If you want to sleep, I can grab an extra blanket.”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” she asked. “If you’re tired, we can rest, but I still feel wide awake.”

“What would you like to do then, my darling?” he asked.

“Talk to you,” Inej replied. “Maybe hold your hand, if you’re feeling scandalous this evening.”

He chuckled. “Both of those are well within my ability tonight,” he assured her, reaching out his hand, gloves sitting on his desk a few feet away.

She took his hand and interlaced their fingers. Her skin was warm and smooth, save for the callouses on her fingertips.

“There is something else I’d like to do, if you’re up for it,” she said.

He had almost forgotten, but her words quickly sparked his memory. The feeling of anticipation set in almost instantly. Still, he played dumb. Nonchalant, if you will. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to try tickling you, if you’re okay with it,” she said. Even she looked a bit flustered at the concept, which made Kaz feel slightly less silly.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been thinking about it since you left?”

Inej nodded. “You rarely let yourself laugh, or have fun. I think it might be nice to witness.”

“I have fun all the time,” he replied. “I find heists quite fun.”

That made her laugh, that carefree laugh that made him feel intoxicated. Perhaps he understood why she would want to hear the same from him.

“Have you thought about it?” she asked.

He nodded. “A bit.”

If she knew he was selling it short, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she moved closer on the bed, so close that their knees brushed through the safety of cloth. “Well, where should I start then?”

It was rare that words failed Kaz Brekker, but Inej had a carefully crafted way of rendering his brain and mouth entirely useless. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Wherever you like, I suppose. I assume in a normal situation, I wouldn’t get much of a say in that anyway.”

“Is there anywhere I can’t touch?” Inej asked.

Kaz considered it. “My bad leg. And stay above the clothes, please.”

“Of course.”

The tension was thick enough for Inej to cut it with one of her many knives, and Kaz wasn’t sure if his emotions were better described as nervous or excited. The perfect middle ground between the two, perhaps. Gently, Inej coaxed him to lie back on the bed, and she sat beside him, cross-legged, seemingly scanning his body for a place to start.

Her hands slowly reached out and hovered a few inches above his stomach, making him instinctively suck in a breath. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she brought her fingers down and experimentally wiggled her fingers.

Kaz’s breath caught in his throat. The fabric of his shirt did little to dull the sensation, but the barrier was appreciated for reasons unrelated.

“Is this okay?” Inej asked.

He nodded, because if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing was going to spill out. Like a giggle, and Kaz Brekker did not giggle. His lips were already attempting to curl into a smile, but he sucked his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give in so soon.

Her touch was still semi-bearable, more like an annoying itch than anything hysteria-inducing.

“I guess you aren’t too sensitive here,” Inej said, and he could hear the smirk in her tone. She was clearly enjoying herself, and Kaz…Well, he would die before admitting that he was too.

Fingers scampered over to his side, and the new spot sent him squirming away in surprise, a little huff of laughter escaping him. He opened his eyes with the intention of glaring at her, but he only managed to look stern for about a second before she picked up the pace, blunt fingernails scratching at the bottom of his rib cage, and the laughter spilled out before he could stop it.

It had been a long time since he had laughed like that, hard and without concern for seeming weak, or for keeping up the tough face of Dirtyhands. He felt youthful when he laughed that way.

Inej smiled down at him, bright and genuine. If it took making a fool of himself to see that smile, Kaz would become a jester for the king of Ravka. He would fumble every game of cards, let Jesper tease him more often, do cartwheels through the streets. All to make her smile.

Her fingers brushed a sensitive spot by the top of his ribs and the noise that escaped him was much higher in pitch than he thought he was capable of. To save what little amount of dignity he had remaining, Inej did not comment on it. However, she did hone in on the spot, searching for the sound again.

Kaz brought a hand up to cover his face, hoping to both muffle his laughter as well as hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Kaz,” Inej said softly. “I love hearing you laugh.”

Her words were enough to make him melt. Tentatively, he let his hand fall from his mouth, just for a second, so that she could hear the raspy sound of his laughter.

Inej only tickled him for a bit longer, not wanting to wear him out. The sound of her laughter intertwined with his residual giggles and attempts to catch his breath.

“Was that alright?” she asked.

Kaz nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to speak truthfully if he opened his mouth. It was hard for him to admit things, sappy or flustering things specifically.

She grinned and leaned down to kiss him, softly and he returned it.

They did go to sleep then, the spare blanket pulled out of the closet and the two of them curled up on the mattress. Kaz fell asleep with a smile curling his lips, secretly hoping that Inej would do that again soon. He had waited so long for her to follow through on her words, so he figured it was only fair to indulge in the act some more. And besides, she had plenty more spots to find.

#kanej #kanej fluff #six of crows #soc fic #soc tickle fic #soc ticklefic #grishaverse #grishaverse fic #shadow and bone tv #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #inej x kaz #fic #raspberry writes #six of crows fic #ticklish kaz brekker

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