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measuredingold · 6 months

Note

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all.

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter.

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything.

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it.

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?"

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

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sentientgolfball · 8 months

Text

Lessons

I did it. I wrote the damn Swiss/Phantom/Reader that's been rattling in my brain.

18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3051

Tags: degradation, choking, Swiss is a bit of a voyeur, rough Phantom if you squint, irresponsible use of quintessence

Summary: Phantom admits he's never been with a human. You and Swiss share a look before deciding that's about to change.

“Look at just how fucking wet they are.”

“You sure you didn’t bring me a water ghoul?”

Phantom laughed to himself before sliding his fingers between your legs gathering as much slick as he could. You whine when he draws his hand away much too soon. He stares in awe at his fingers, his thought process clear as day on his face. Swiss pushes him lightly with his foot

“Not yet ant. You still don’t know just how delicate humans are.”

You huff a laugh “I’ll show you delicate when I stick my foot up your fuck—“ You were cut off by the tip of Swiss’ tail snaking around to brush lightly over your swollen clit.

“First lesson: humans are so sensitive. It only takes a few touches to get ‘em going” he demonstrates this by letting go of one of your wrists and sliding a finger into your cunt “But it’s a double-edged sword. They’re so easy to overstimulate. Gotta take your time.” He draws his hand back, wiping the slick onto your thigh.

The way he was talking about you like you weren’t even there like you’re nothing more than a tool to teach Phantom how to fuck was only making the pool of slick between your legs worse.

He was right though. Everything felt so hazy. How long has it been? You remember a sloppy make-out session with Phantom as Swiss critiqued while palming himself in the corner. That was a while ago. You may not remember how long the three of you have been at it, but you do remember how you got there.

You snuck into the ghoul den after your shift in the kitchen had ended with an armful of sugary contraband. Siblings weren’t typically allowed in the dens unless personally brought into them, but your job got you a free ticket. It all started when you caught Swiss and Dew trying to break into the kitchens in the middle of the night. After some negotiations including a decent amount of tongue, you settled on a simple deal. You bring them as many pastries as you can carry and they’ll fuck your brains out.

When you had gotten to the den it appeared Swiss was the only one present, so you flopped onto the couch and shared the cakes with him. When you had finished your fill, Swiss had pulled you into his lap mumbling something about needing something sweeter before he licked a stripe from your neck to your jawline. That’s when Phantom walked in. When you noticed him you quickly jumped out of Swiss’ grasp much to his chagrin.

“Do you want some?” Swiss had asked the quintessence ghoul assuming he had been drawn out of his room by the sweet smells of baked goods. This caused him to go rigid with a small blush creeping into his face “I’ve never been with a human…”

You were about ready to clear up the misunderstanding when you caught Swiss’ eyes. You recognized that look and you immediately knew he was going to dig his heels into this. His gaze flicked to you for a moment seeking your permission before he opened his mouth. Fuck it. Your growing grin was all he needed. You and Swiss made a show out of groping and kissing each other for the other ghoul who just stared on slack-jawed shifting himself around in his pants. You three only left for Swiss’ room when Dew and Rain came through the main door

“Oh come on we’ve only had this couch for like a week.” Rain huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Go fuck somewhere else so we can eat in peace or I’ll up your tax.” Dew stuffed a brownie into his mouth not even looking up from the horde of sweets.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. Pressed firm against Swiss’ chest, wrists squeezed between his clawed hands, tail wrapped around one leg to keep you open while Phantom sits crouched in front of you eyes wild, dick painfully erect, shaking with anticipation. He looks up at Swiss with pleading eyes

“Can I taste them? Please?”

“Hands-on learning, I like it. Go right ahead.”

Phantom’s eyes sparked and he dove between your spread legs eagerly licking into you. You cried out and arched against Swiss as he pushed impossibly deeper, swiping his forked tongue from your clit to your slit. He was lapping at you in earnest, filling the room with obscene wet noises. Swiss hissed and bumped Phantom’s head with his knee to get his attention. His head popped up with wide, blown-out pupils and a wet chin. He looked at Swiss with a furrowed brow and a whine deep in his throat.

“What did I say? It’s not like one of the girls. It’s a human.”

Phantom nodded and lowered himself again slowly circling his tongue around your clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking. You gasp and push your hips closer to him to the best of your ability. Swiss chuffs a laugh and wraps an arm tight around your midsection forcing you to keep still.

“See what I mean? Humans are so easy” he brings his lips to your ear pressing a kiss to it “Come on be a good little pet for him. All you have to do is lay there and take it.”

You threw your head onto his shoulder with a moan feeling Phantom’s tongue drag over your hole before carefully pushing in. Part of you wanted to kill Swiss for the little game he was playing, convincing Phantom to go so painfully slow that it had you shaking. The other part of you was too drunk on being brought to the edge and let down over and over again to stop him.

“Tastes fucking amazing.” He pulls back slightly to look up at Swiss for approval

“If you think that’s good, wait for lesson two.”

Phantom looked at him grinning wildly urging him to continue. His tail was beating against the side of the bed rhythmically.

Swiss smiles “Glamour your claws” Phantom does so immediately waiting for more “You’ve been with Cirrus you know what to do from here. Just take it slow, you don’t wanna break em.”

You have half a mind to curse Swiss but the thought quickly dies when you feel Phantom slide a finger inside of you “shit Phantom if you’re gonna touch me then touch me.” You try to cant your hips chasing any friction but Swiss holds you firmly in place.

“Filthy.” He laughs before removing his finger. He brings his hand to his mouth and wraps his tongue around his fingers groaning when he tastes you. He then all at once shoves two of his fingers into you. You cry out trying to snap your thighs shut but Swiss’ tail holds strong.

He tuts “How many times am I gonna have to tell you to go slow.”

Phantom's laugh sends a shiver through you “Aw come on I think they can handle something a little more.”

Swiss growls in warning. Phantom rolls his eyes but compiles, leisurely curling his fingers inside you. He applies pressure to your clit with the pad of his thumb as he drags his fingers against your walls searching for the sweet spot. You bite your lip to stifle the groans threatening to spill, but that quickly changes when he dips his head back down adding his tongue to the mix.

“Sing for him pet. Let him know just how good he is.” Swiss says as he presses kisses into your neck occasionally letting his fangs scrape the skin.

Your free hand shoots to his head grabbing a fist full of hair as he fingers you faster, tongue flicking over your clit in time with his thrusts. He moans at the feeling causing you to shiver at the added vibration. You let out a series of little groans and huffs as you feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop. So fucking close.”

Swiss takes a deep breath and kisses a trail from your neck to your ear “I’ll make it up to you later.” He laughs and bites your lobe. Your brow furrows in confusion for a moment before he speaks again

“Hands off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Phantom falters for a second not knowing who to listen to before he pulls back and sits up to look at Swiss. You whine pathetically, burying your face into the multi-ghoul’s neck feeling yourself clench around nothing.

“Time for lesson three. Humans go crazy for this one.” Swiss places a firm hand on your stomach. There’s a split second where you can smell ozone. You don’t have enough time to react before the feeling of pure pleasure ripples through you causing you to cum with a string of obscenities.

“What the fuck was that?” Phantom asks in awe looking from your dripping cunt to Swiss’ hand.

“You’re seriously telling me you’ve never once thought to use your quintessence like this?” Phantom shakes his head with a growing smile, fangs poking out of the bottom of his lip.

Swiss smiles and removes his hand from your stomach only to grab Phantom’s and place it there.

“Find the thread and isolate it.”

You can feel the quintessence spark to life on your skin, through your whole body filling every nerve with energy. This lasts for a few seconds before you’re screaming, arching against Swiss’ grasp as you feel nothing but pure overwhelming pleasure ripple through you. Phantom rips his hand away looking genuinely fearful for a moment.

Swiss just chuckles “Neat trick but save that one for Dew. Remember lesson one.”

“Humans are easy.” He says quietly

Swiss nods “All it takes is a little spark.”

You squirm in Swiss’ grasp when Phantom reaches for you again. He stops and folds his hand in his lap not sure what to do. You take a second to catch your breath, your mind fuzzy with the most intense orgasm of your life.

“You wanna stop just say the word.”

You felt like you were underwater. Everything was too much and too little. You needed more. This is why you kept coming to the ghoul den after all, you wanted your brains fucked out and unfortunately for you, you could still think. You settle back against Swiss chest still heaving

“Just lay there and take it right?” You let yourself go slack. Phantom sighs with relief upon seeing that he didn’t actually hurt you. He’s soft for about a second before he grabs your hips and looks you up and down.

“Can I try something?” His gaze flicks to Swiss.

“Depends. Does that something include what I’ve shown you?” He nods a growl forming deep in his throat.

“Consider it your final exam then.”

Phantom barks a laugh “And what if I fail?” The look in his eyes was wild as he squeezed your hips harder. He never removed his gaze from your waiting hole.

“Then I won’t share my toy with you anymore.” Swiss runs a hand up your body cupping and squeezing one of your breasts like he’s showing you off.

Phantom flicks his tongue out with a sick grin on his face that makes your heart speed up. He slowly brings the head of his cock to your entrance stopping only to seek Swiss’ approval. When he’s met with no resistance he pushes in with a guttural moan.

“Fucking shit are all humans this tight?” His chest heaves as he bottoms out pausing to give you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him. You throw your head back against Swiss’ shoulder squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even realize tears had fallen from the corners until you felt the fork of a tongue lick a stripe up your face. You let out a choked gasp when Phantom starts to move experimentally. He thrusts into you a few times before growling in satisfaction. He grips the leg not currently held by Swiss’ tail hard before throwing it over his shoulder to get a better angle.

Gone is the Phantom that cared about your comfort as he begins to pound into you like this is the last time he’ll ever have sex. Each thrust pushes you harder against Swiss, he grunts with each movement and you swear you can feel a wet spot on your back where his dick is pressed. You let a string of moans leave your throat as Phantom snaps his hips against yours muttering something in Infernal.

He sits back to watch himself fuck into you for a moment before removing his other hand from your hips. He slowly drags the tips of his claws up your abdomen, between your tits before coming to a stop at your throat. He tests the waters by wrapping his nimble fingers around your neck without any pressure. You gaze up at him with big pleading eyes that practically throw him over the edge. He begins to apply pressure to the sides of your throat, squeezing and releasing in time with his thrusts.

“Such a fucking freak. Risking your job to get some demon dick. I bet you’d like it if I did this.” He punctuates his sentence by squeezing hard around your neck and holding it, forcing you to open your mouth in a silent scream in an attempt to get air. He only releases the pressure when your eyes start to flutter closed with tears spilling out.

He laughs “I can see why you like fucking humans so much.” Swiss only groans in response too lost in his own haze of lust to keep up the role of teacher. He keeps his hand secure around your neck causing you to clench around him. He moans loud and low, hips faltering as his orgasm creeps closer to him.

Suddenly the air is once more filled with the smell of ozone as Phantom’s quintessence sparks to life. The pressure returns to your throat as you feel his magic course through every vein in your body. Your eyes snap open as you scream silently grabbing onto Swiss’ arm for support as your vision blurs from the lack of oxygen and the force of your orgasm.

“Look Swiss no hands.” He grunts as his brows furrow as he concentrates on fucking you through the waves of pleasure and keeping his quintessence flowing into you. Both his hands are squeezing bruises into your hips before suddenly you’re empty and all you can feel is his cum splashing onto your stomach practically reaching your chest.

He takes a brief moment to catch his breath before snapping his fingers. You take in a gulp of air as the feeling of the pressure around your neck disappears. You stare up at the ceiling chest heaving as you come down from your high.

“What the fuck was that?” Swiss asks in awe mirroring your own thoughts.

Phantom smiles proudly at the tone of the multi-ghouls voice “Told you I wanted to try something.”

“You’re so showing me how to do that.” This causes Phantom’s tail to beat against the side of the bed. There’s a bit of a dusty blush creeping onto his face.

“Can we please save the magical choking contest for another night? I think I’ll die if I cum again.” This earns a laugh and a sweet, chaste kiss from Swiss, but Phantom looks genuinely mortified. You feel a prickle of guilt reaching up with a shaky hand to guide his lips to yours. You give him a kiss before pulling back and kissing his nose. A purr kicks up in his chest immediately as he softens.

Swiss brings a hand to Phantom’s head and gives it a scratch “Now it's time for lesson four.”

You’re about to protest when you’re suddenly lifted by the multi-ghoul.

“Swiss what the hell?!”

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realize you wanted to lay in cum and sweat all night please forgive me”

You squeal and cling to his neck when he makes an over-exaggerated move to put you down “That's what I thought.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as he carries you to the bathroom connected to his bedroom, Phantom hot on his heels.

He gets the bath ready setting out all your favorite soaps and explaining to Phantom the use of bath salts. The tub is only big enough for two of you to soak comfortably so you end up curled against the quintessence ghoul as Swiss scrubs your hair from the side of the bath. Phantom hasn’t stopped purring or asking if everything was okay, that he didn’t hurt you. You attempt to quell the little ghoul’s worry with a few soft kisses to his chest. While this does shut him up, you’re well aware of the occasional pop of magic filling you with relaxation.

I’m going to kill Swiss for making him think I’d break you think to yourself, wait…oh shit Swiss.

You raise your head from Phantom’s chest and look at the multi-ghoul who was gathering towels for when the two of you were finished.

“What?” He tilts his head with a smile.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Your eyes flick down to his half-hard dick. He chuckles when he realizes.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m a big ghoul I can take care of myself,” He kisses you before you can protest “Besides, I gotta have something left in me for when I walk back out there and Dew has inevitably eaten the rest of the stash.” You huff when he winks at you and resign yourself to cuddling with Phantom.

You two stay in the bath until the water cools, but at this point, you’re hardly conscious. The two ghouls have to practically drag you up and out of the tub and into some clothes. Phantom flops into the bed and pulls you close to him, wrapping his tail around your waist as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. Swiss presses a kiss to your temple and passes a hand through Phantom’s hair before throwing on his sweatpants and leaving the room. The last thing you hear before passing out is a muffled yelp and a “Told you he’d be pissed.”

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #nameless ghoul x reader #swiss x phantom #mdni #ghost fic #the band ghost fic #golfball writes

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 3 months

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The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter 1

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.6k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

Chapter 1

The first time you met Joel, he stank like shit. Literally, he smelled like he had rolled in it. You issued him soap, and sent him on his way. That was a loss to Jackson’s ledgers you were more than willing to take.

The second time, he smelled better. Unremarkable mostly, more of a neutral scent tinged with man smell around the edges. Nothing to write home about. Still, you issued him deodorant. Couldn’t take any chances.

He requested bullets, a basic first aid kit, and warm clothing. With Maria’s approval, you made the relevant deductions and issued the items at hand. You even sprung for wool socks. With a winter like this, he could use all the help he could get.

“You’re headed south, right?” you asked him as he packed a worn duffel bag.

“Colorado,” he replied. You waited, but that’s all he gave you. Guess he didn’t feel like elaborating.

“What about the girl, she need anything?”

He considered the offer, then asked, “You got any pens, pencils or anything? Notebooks? She likes to keep track of things, take notes. Draw, mostly,” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face, “And we’re almost out of paper.”

You smiled at that. A girl after your own heart . “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

* * *

You asked Tommy about him, once the two of them were gone. He didn’t have much to say.

“Barely talked to the girl. Probably know about as much about her as you do. Joel… Well, Joel’s an enigma.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Come on, Tommy. I’m asking for the basics, not his social security number.”

Tommy sighed. “He’s brash, he’s protective, he’s opinionated… I don’t know what much else to tell you. He’s just Joel. One of those people you gotta get to know just by knowing ‘em, I guess.”

You blinked twice. “Supremely helpful, Tommy.”

* * *

The next time you met Joel, he smelled better but looked worse. You only half-remembered his eyes, but something in them last time had been warmer. The ones you saw now were… dead, almost. Like something within them had been destroyed. Whether he’d been the one to do the destroying or it had been done to him remained to be seen.

You’d seen him and the girl with Tommy and Maria in the dining hall that first time they’d come to town, wolfing down chili like they’d just discovered, well, chili. They ate slower now, both of them, not like they weren’t in a rush but like their heads were elsewhere. The girl seemed to stare into nowhere—not all the time, but it was distinct when she did it.

Joel didn’t zone out. No, if anything he was zoned in . On that poor girl who had been so full of life just months ago, now hollowed out like far too many others. You’d see about filling her back up later. But for now, he was the one that perplexed you. Why was he so focused on her? What had happened out there? Part of you never wanted to find out, but part of you really, really did.

Regardless, she needed new shoes. So you joined them. The man stopped mid-chew, looking up at you with trepidation.

“Hi,” you smiled, “glad you two made it back in one piece.”

“Me too,” he replied, turning his attention back to his cud. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not. You turned your attention to the girl.

“You’re Ellie, right? I’m Doe. Or that’s what most folks around here call me, anyway.”

“Doe?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Like a deer?”

“A female deer,” you winked back at her. She stared at you blankly.

“It’s a song,” Joel muttered to her softly, “from before.”

“Oh,” Ellie nodded. The silence dragged, but thankfully you came prepared.

“Cobbler?” you offered bowls to each of them. It was fresh from the oven, still steaming and smelling of cinnamon.

“Yes, please!” Ellie yanked the bigger bowl towards herself, broccoli forgotten. She got a few bites in before Joel intervened, pulling the sugar aside and reinstating the vegetables. The girl frowned at that, but his pointed look said not to bother arguing. So she didn’t.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be hot in a minute.” You tucked into your own cobbler, savoring the warm sweetness as it glided across your tongue. Even in Jackson, it was a delicacy. But it was spring, and the cherries were here. And you’d accounted for everything.

“Did you want something?” Joel asked, finishing his own plate and reaching for the cobbler.

“Ellie needs new shoes.”

“We’ve got it handled,” he said.

“Do you, though? You haven’t got much to trade with, and we’ve got plenty in inventory. That’s kind of what it’s there for. Why suffer blisters when communism’s got your back?”

“Can I?” Ellie’s face lit up. You liked seeing her eyes like that: brighter. They belonged that way.

Joel swallowed his cobbler, mulling over the idea. “After lunch,” he agreed, nodding to the eager teen. “Finish your cobbler first.”

* * *

Ellie’s new light-up sneakers lit the way as you exited the storeroom through your office. Joel had insisted on a sensible pair as well, but you couldn’t deny the kid a little whimsy.

“Maria give you your patrol schedule yet?” you asked him, nodding to the well-worn chalkboard in the corner. Routes on the left, days and times up top. Names filled in the boxes in between, a testament to your logistical wizardry.

“Not yet,” he said, crossing to examine it. “Guess she doesn’t need to, now.”

“I’ve got you paired up with Tommy. Seemed easiest, to get you started. You’ll be headed up to the lodge, it’s a pretty standard route. Get the occasional runner, but it’s wildlife more than anything.”

He nodded, heading toward where Ellie was already scampering out the door.

“See you Tuesday, I suppose. Guessing you’re the one to check-in with?” he asked.

You smiled at his correct assumption.

“Sure am.”

* * *

You didn’t know Joel well enough to make assumptions about his punctuality, but Tommy was never late. Even you were late from time to time, often getting swept up in tasks and losing track of things. But the man was annoyingly punctual. According to Maria, that’s part of why she fell for him.

Tommy was late today.

You crossed to the large observation window lining one wall of your office. It gave you a clear view of the front gates and surrounding guard stations, but there was no sign of Tommy anywhere. Or Joel, for that matter.

A knock on your door interrupted your analysis. It was Eugene. The grizzled old man acted anything but, a smile breaking out across his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, Doe! How’s things?” He asked.

“Fine. I’m looking for Tommy, actually–”

“Didn’t you hear?” He interrupted, “Maria’s gone into labor. He’s with her at the clinic.”

Your stomach dropped. Here you were preparing to chew Tommy out for his tardiness when the whole time he’d been busy becoming a father. A very valid excuse.

“And Joel?” you asked. “They were supposed to patrol together this afternoon, lodge route.”

“Not sure. He wasn’t with them. Listen, I gotta go grab the baby blanket I made and drop it off, but you and I need to have a drink one of these days. I worry your hair’s gonna start falling out in clumps if you don’t take a break eventually.”

“Yeah, but then what would you do, patrol out to the dam with Jesse? There’s a reason I don’t pair you two up anymore.”

“Because you don’t like blackberries?” he chided.

You frowned, “No, because you spent so long harvesting them your 8 hour patrol took 12. I was this close to sending out a search party. A little planning prevents a lot of headaches, Eugene.”

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder to get the last word. “You know what else is good for headaches? Whiskey.”

You sent Eugene on his way with instructions to give Maria your best. You’d visit her when the baby was here. For now, you had a community to protect.

With Tommy out of commission and Joel MIA, you’d have to find someone else to help you cover this patrol route. Dina was always a solid partner, if she was around. Devon the bartender could generally be counted on to have your back. Eugene would be ideal, but you didn’t want to make him work a double.

You headed to the stables to see who you could find. Upon entering, the warmth of the building and company of the animals soothed your unease, if only slightly.

You found your horse’s stall, the gray spotted mare whinnying at your arrival.

“Hey, Bailey,” you smiled, offering her a slightly bruised apple. She took it gratefully, big brown eyes closing in enjoyment.

“She’s beautiful,” a voice said from behind you, making you jump.

“Sorry,” the voice stepped into the light, “It’s just me.”

“Joel,” you took a deep breath in an attempt to slow your racing heartbeat.

“Sorry I’m late–”

You cut him off with a raised hand, looking him in the eye.

“You’re not with your brother,” you finally said, more of a statement than a question.

“You’re not with your best friend,” he replied, offering no further details.

You sighed, debating arguing with him about it before deciding the subject was better left untouched. You had your reasons for staying away from childbirth. If Joel had his own, he was entitled to that. You weren’t going to press him on it, so long as he didn’t press you.

“Come on,” you said, swinging your leg over Bailey’s back and settling into the saddle, “We’re making up for lost time.”

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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jinkookspencil · 7 months

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like couples do | knj

you run out of period products at dawn, and there's only one person who's up....

description/tags: namjoon drabble / fwb to lovers / fluff / but mentions the fact that namjoon and reader had unprotected sex (don't do this) and reader is relieved to get her period afterwards / so obviously mentions of period and blood / maybe a bit angsty? / been busy and been working on a request! but it's been a while since i wrote namjoon and, gosh, i love writing for him even though whatever comes to me for him is usually the most random bursts and ideas, like this one i thought of last night / let me know what you think <3

wc: ~1.6k words

Your gasp pulls you from heaven to hell.

Extracted from your dream, you’re out of the covers in a flash, dazed as you try to meet your reality. The room was sweltering despite autumn settling in and the fan whizzing away in your room as it always did. The sound you’d grown so accustomed to only made it harder to think, but you didn’t have to. The wet pools at your back and around your body suddenly made themselves known, with your black pajama top sticking to your sweaty skin. With a quick change into a tank top and a sip of cold water, you were ready to escape into a dreamland, far from the hellhole that had been your bedroom...

Only to be met with a small pool of a different kind when you pull away the blanket.

Fuck.

Quickly feeling between your thighs confirmed it - you bled through your shorts.

Well, at least it’s here, you think, your heart settling after days worrying about the sudden delay in your cycle. After all, Namjoon hadn’t used any protection…

It was hard to put away the mental image of him once you were in the bathroom, remembering that one time he had you propped up on the cabinet, but looking through it now, the panic returns. You were all out of pads and tampons.

This is why people have roommates. Or stupidly organized Virgo boyfriends, you think, cursing yourself while rummaging through every drawer, cupboard, and overnight bag without finding a single tampon for the evening.

The minutes spent on your phone were quick to squash any more of your hopes - the delivery service app had been shut down for the night after some seemingly catastrophic bug on their end, and your female friends who lived nearby hadn't answered your texts and calls, as expected at this time of day.

Reading the time on your phone, you knew one person who would definitely be up. The person who always showed up. The man worked ridiculous hours, following his ‘late-night creativity’… unless the universe really wanted to torture you and, for the very first time, he’d be asleep as well.

You consider running to the convenience store, double layering your bottoms with black fabrics, and taking a scooter... only for a stinging cramp to shock you at your lower back.

He had to answer.

to: joon 🌒[3:58am] - hi are you up?

to: joon🌒 [3:58am] - text asap please it’s urgent

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - yes i’m up. are you okay y/n?

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - i’m finally done with work for the night.

to: y/n🍀 [4:01am] - are you okay? i’ll call as soon as i’m out of the building.

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - don’t call i’m embarrassed to say this to you out loud plus i'm in pain

to: joon 🌒 [4:02am] - can you get me some pads and tampons? i got my period (aka the pain) and i’m all out so….

to: joon🌒 [4:02am] - i need em and i can’t get em

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - y/n of course. phew i thought this was going in literally the complete opposite way considering…

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - anyways, aren’t we past embarrassment? never feel that when it comes to me please.

to: y/n🍀 [4:03am] - safe space just for us, remember?

to: joon🌒 [4:04am] - yes :) thanks joon

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - :) getting on my bike now. i’ll be there in 10.

to: y/n🍀 [4:04am] - the sky’s starting to change colors. look outside, pretty :) (1 image attached)

The knock, though expected, jolts you enough for your new bedsheet to spring away from your grasp once again. Frustrated, a groan escapes you as you walk to your front door, tightening the robe that covered your body and stained shorts.

“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon giggles at the door, seeing your furrowed expression. “Oh, you’re most definitely on your period, huh?”

“Get in here and shut up,” you groan once more, letting him in. All too familiar with your place, he unpacks one of the bags in his hand, carefully displaying an array of period products on the nearest table.

“I’m surprised you didn’t send a photo and ask me to choose one,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes.

“I… I grabbed everything in the aisle without thinking. Shit, I should’ve sent a photo, right? Are these not good enough? Are they the wrong size? Will they fit your....? I can go to another convenience store,” he murmurs, head tilted down as he surveys the products before you.

“No, Namjoon, honey, the photo is just a thing boyfriends tend to do when they’re asked to get period products. You asked the same size and fit question, though,” you laugh before quickly realizing you compared his actions to that of a boyfriend. Something he most definitely was not.

“I lived in a dorm full of boys, how was I supposed to know?” he says, scratching his head.

“These are perfect, and I’m stocked for at least the next three months. Thank you, Joonie,” you say, squeezing his arm.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he replies quietly, pulling you closer to him so he can kiss your forehead. It only hits you both when your hand is rubbing at his back in his embrace, and it takes even longer to break away than it did to realize the situation.

Something shifts in Namjoon’s gaze when he sees you emerge from the bathroom in new pyjama shorts. “Cute PJ’s. I’m not used to seeing them on you for more than five seconds.”

“Enjoy the show, then,” you quip, plopping down next to him on the couch and extending your legs over his lap. You hadn’t really meant it as a command, but can’t help but smile catching the fact that Namjoon had obeyed. His fingers draw mindless circles at your ankles as his gaze travels upwards. Minutes are spent in silence, eyeing your thighs with intent before his eyes rest on your exposed clavicle. His circles stop, gripping your ankle and noting the undeniable rise and fall of your breathing and breasts, swollen and tender against your thin cotton tank top.

“Oh,” he finally says with a cough, breaking the silence and raising his brows. “I almost forgot. I thought you might need these.”

Leaning forward, Namjoon dumps the entire contents of the second plastic bag onto your hard coffee table. Small, colorful circles bounce off of it and onto the floor, long bars land with a thud, and instantly recognizable plastic packages are cushioned by its contents.

“Oh, Joon. I do. I do fucking need this,” you let out, almost as a moan. “You already know what I want.”

Smiling, he tears open a plastic packet of your favorite chocolate-flavored bread and another for himself. The time spent biting and savoring the pillowy snack was heavenly in the comfortable silence -save for the birds that begin to chirp from somewhere outside your window.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the sticker,” you say, handing Namjoon the tiny square envelope in your now-empty plastic packaging. He’s quick to grab it from your hands, giddy to see whatever Pokemon character was inside.

"Take mine, too," he says, handing you his square, with an illustration of a pink, deer-like creature - not at all like the Pokemon he usually mentioned.

"Oh, she’s pretty!”

"Exactly..." he says. "Deerling, that's her name. She's a new favorite of mine, actually. Her colors change based on the different seasons in the year... and when she evolves, her deer form's antlers are basically how branches are decorated in nature: budding flowers and leaves for spring, greenery for summer, you get the picture. She's the only one that truly encapsulates the beauty of our world..."

"All that for a Pokemon? I'm jealous," you tease, but he doesn't laugh, quietly opening the envelope you'd handed to him.

“Yes!” he cheers. “I don’t have this one yet - Moltres. Ah, you really are my good luck charm, huh?"

"Am I? I guess you should keep me around, then, huh?" you say, leaning back on the couch and poking his shoulder.

"That's the plan," Namjoon says, his eyes still thoughtfully fixated on the sticker he fiddled with, but only for a moment. “Uhm… I… we… should probably get some sleep, huh? I should probably…go. Uhm, should I?”

“Do you want to go?” you ask, feeling a tightening in your chest at the thought. Just like all those nights in bed, it was too comfortable to remember that this wasn't your entire reality but stolen, secret time. Always, one found themselves reminding the other to snap back to reality. It was beautifully torturous, just as you two had liked it for so long… until it began to sink in that the beauty could stand on its own…. if only one of you had the courage.

“….No. No I don’t really want to go, Y/N. But if you want me to….”

“I don’t want you to,” you interrupt, nudging his fingertip with yours right over your knees until your hands are intertwined. “I mean someone has to help me fit that stupid sheet onto the bed... and you're quite familiar with my sheets."

“I am,” he smiles, nodding to himself and squeezing your hand with his.

“Then we can get in… and just go to sleep… or cuddle,” you wonder, feeling Namjoon's soft hand under yours.

“Like couples do?” Namjoon asks, finally meeting your gaze for the first time that night.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m thinking like couples do,” you whisper, your breath hitching on the words that spoke your once unthinkable, far-fetched desire while looking at it right in the eyes.

“Me too,” he smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss it and rest it at his dimples. “Like couples it is then.”

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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Give 'em What They Want

*not my gif*

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, dirty talk, smut, mommy kink, praise, strap on. Summary: it's safe to say that *that* scene in s16e5 broke more than a few of us, right? So this is obvi inspired by that. Taking basically only that scene and a few other lines from canon, meanwhile we ignore everything else that happened in the episode. Also, disclaimer, I know there are plenty of daddy!emily lovers out there as well as the mommy!emily lovers. I'm someone who can easily see both, but it's more the grey haired older prentiss that i say works with mommy. if that makes sense... If you'd like to be added to the taglist: fill out the for HERE! (i have added a few people who commented/reblogged the sneak peek so lmk if you DONT want to be on here when i did tag you...)

“I’m giving him what he wants… mommy.”

You were perched in the corner of the interrogation room, watching as Luke tried to get anything out of Benjamin, but you knew it was basically a lost cause. Doing your best to not let out an audible sigh you rolled your eyes, Benjamin’s back to you so he couldn’t tell as Luke huffed. There was a sudden increase in volume from the other side of the door, Emily’s muffled voice ringing into the room.

“Get out of my face or I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you!”

You did your best not to smirk as she stepped into the room and you instantly found your breath caught in your throat, doing your best to not choke on air. She’d undone two more buttons on her shirt, the way she sauntered through the room simply exuding the ‘mommy’ energy the team had said would make Benjamin crumble. You tried to pay attention as she mentioned something about him being a ‘bad boy’, how she effortlessly shifted into the right mode, playing with her greying hair that she knew you loved so much. You suddenly shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tingle between your legs, rubbing your thighs together and as much as you knew no one else would have noticed her eyes move from the unsub, they flicked up to you lightning fast and you definitely caught on to it.

The entire thing was over before you could really even gain control of yourself, the senator and her lawyer barging into the room. You did your best not to roll your eyes, pushing off the wall and following Emily out of the room. It was barely loud enough for you to hear, but she smirked slightly, sharing a very quick glance meant only for you as she spoke.

“Careful, you’re blushing.”

It was a few hours later that you were wrapping up your day, ducking into Emily’s office, wondering what was in store for you. You knocked gently on the frame before stepping in and Emily glanced up, a warm smile taking over her face.

“Are you done for the day?”

“Yes Ma’am.” You nodded, “just wanted to check in before I left.”

The two of you always kept a professional relationship at work, but you knew there was more of a play to it right now. The authority figure that Emily held in the workplace regularly translated to the home atmosphere and this was just a preview of what was to come.

“I’ll see you at home.” Emily smiled before it turned to a wicked grin, “and you remember our no touching rule, right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, “I’ll behave.”

“You know, you’re being rather shy tonight.” She chuckled, “I take it that has something to do with this afternoon?” She leant back in her chair, “you liked the whole mommy thing, didn’t you?”

“I.. uh…” You stumbled over your words and she let out a soft laugh.

“Go home sweetheart, but don’t forget the rules. Mommy will be there soon.”

You weren’t sure how long after you got home Emily would take to follow in your steps, sometimes it was only an hour, sometimes she had mountains of work to do before she would appear. But tonight you were sure it wasn’t that long, the way she spoke, the words she snuck into her conversation you just knew it would only be a little bit. So you poured out a glass of wine for yourself, pulling the scotch down from the shelf, knowing she could grab however much ice she needed and retreated to your bedroom. You showered, changing out of your work clothes and into an extensive set of lingerie, the blue lace wrapping around your skin in such a perfect way you knew Emily wouldn’t be able to resist. You wrapped a silk robe around you and padded out to the main part of the apartment to sip your wine while you waited for your girlfriend to come home.

The key clinked in the lock and you felt your entire body tingle, a shiver running through you as you retreated back to the bedroom, dropping the robe to the corner of the bed as you climbed onto it. You settled at the foot of the bed on your knees, sitting pretty as you listened to Emily moving through the apartment. The tell tale sound of her stepping out of her shoes, her blazer being tossed over the back of the couch, ice cubes clinking in a rocks glass before the swooshing of liquid being poured into it. When she rounded the corner into the bedroom you did your best not to gulp, those same two extra undone buttons dragging your attention to the swell of her chest.

“Look at you…” she greeted with a sly grin, “all pretty and ready for me. Were you a bad girl?” She raised a brow and you vehemently shook your head.

“No ma’am.”

“Good.” Her fingers tilted your chin up to her, nudging it gently to the side and her lips brushed against your jawline, voice murmuring against your skin, “you probably thought about it though, hmm? Thought about the way I would touch you, the way I’d fuck you?” She nipped at your earlobe, “you can tell the truth you know sweet girl; I can already smell you.”

“Yes…” you breathed out. Emily chuckled softly, kissing the side of your neck before she straightened in front of you.

“Well?” She gestured to herself, “you know what to do.”

Eagerly you sat up on your knees, hands swiftly undoing the buttons of her shirt, watching as she let it fall to the floor behind her. One of her hands slid up the side of your face, curling around the back of your head and pulling you to her for a kiss. It was tender at first, letting you relax against her, some of the pent of tension of both the day and anticipation for what was to come finally melting off you. Her tongue traced your lips and it slid into your mouth as her hands slid around you, unclasping your bra, guiding it off your body. You mirrored her motions, your hands cupping at her through her bra as she pinched at your nipples, pulling gasps and little whines from you. One of her hands closed around your wrist and guided it around her back to undo her bra, letting it fall to the floor, joining her shirt as your lips continued to move with grace against each other. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and you could feel her lips smirk against yours before a hand sunk beneath the fabric. She cupped at your pussy, fingers teasing at your folds and you gasped, breaking the kiss, causing her to chuckle.

“I just knew you’d be wet already….” She husked and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

You followed her lead once again, your hands swiftly moving to her waistline, undoing her pants and a hand sunk in, suddenly letting out a louder gasp at the bulge that met your hand, your eyes shooting up to hers.

“Have… have you been wearing that all day?” You asked and she chuckled, shrugging lightly with a sly grin on her cheeks.

“I would have loved today ending with you begging me to fuck you over my desk, but this is just as good.”

“Thought you didn’t like begging?” You raised a brow with a smirk on your lips as you made a callback to earlier in the day and Emily laughed, her fingers softly pinching at your chin.

“I never said I didn’t like the sound of you begging.”

“I’ll remember that.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat before you surged towards her for another kiss, lips meeting yours with fire this time.

Emily nudged you back on the bed, kicking off her pants and pulling off her underwear, leaving her bare in the strap before her fingers slid into you panties, tugging them down your legs. You settled against the pillows on the bed with a happy hum, one that morphed into a groan as her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, her fingers mimicking the movements on the opposite side. Your hands trailed across her skin, unsure of where to settle as her mouth moved across your chest, eventually one of your hands slid between your bodies, gently pinching at her nipple and her lips left your skin.

“Uh-uh.” She scolded, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist she moved it above your head, pinning it to the bed, “mommy wants to you to relax, alright? Let me take care of you princess.”

“I…”

“I don’t need to tie your hands up, do I?” She raised a brow and as much as you liked the sound of that for a future night you still shook your head, “I thought you were mommy’s good girl?”

“I am.” You murmured, a hint of a whine in your voice as you spoke and Emily couldn’t help but softly laugh, shifting upwards and nudging your nose with her own before stealing a gentle kiss.

“Good. Now don’t worry about me, let mommy spoil you.” She murmured against your lips, her breath hot on your skin and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut, your body tingling with anticipation and sparks already.

Once she was sure you weren’t going to move Emily’s lips traced their way down your body, leaving kisses and little love bites all across your skin before she settled between your legs. Her teeth gently sunk into your inner thigh, causing you to gasp quietly before her tongue soothed the burn. Her lips met the same spot, sucking and nipping at you tender skin until she was certain there would be a mark only for your eyes come morning. Her fingers glided between your legs, spreading your folds open for her, taking in the way you were glistening in the low light of the bedroom.

“Such a pretty pussy.” She purred, “and always so wet for me.”

You didn’t have time before her tongue darted out, licking through you and flicking at your clit and you gasped as she buried her mouth into your cunt. You couldn’t help it, letting go of the headboard your hand flew to her head, tangling in her grey tresses, both a way for you to hold her but also help her keep her hair off her face while she ate you. You knew she’d told you to not move, but it seemed like the mommy side of her wasn’t going to be one to punish, only one to reward and she wasn’t going to switch things up tonight with how things were going. Her tongue sunk into you, pulling out as much of your juices as she could, smearing them around your pussy, sucking and kissing at your pussy while she moaned against your body.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, nails scratching gently at her scalp as your hips rocked up to her mouth, little whimpers and whines leaving your lips, begging for more. The heat was coiling deep within you, tightening with each pass of her tongue, your noises getting louder whenever her nose brushed against your clit. Somehow through all of your pleasure and lust you managed to remember her words from earlier, finally able to muster up the strength to find your voice again while your entire body tingled.

“More… please…” you gasped as she sucked harder at your pussy lips, feeling her mouth curve into a grin against you. She slowed down at your request, her tongue slowly sweeping through you before her eyes flicked up to yours with a fire behind them, a brow cocked perfectly and if she hadn’t been making you feel like fucking heaven you would’ve dared to scold her. “Please!” You cried out, “please mommy, I need more.”

“Hmm…” Her mouth closed around your cunt again, tongue delving in before she licked up and popped off you, her hand shifting up to your entrance, fingers teasing you lightly, “this what you’d like princess?”

“Yes! Please!”

“So fucking gorgeous when you beg.” She murmured right before her fingers sunk into you and you moaned, your head dropping back against the pillows. Her mouth shifted up, lips wrapping around your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing in her mouth.

“Oh god…oh fuck!” Your hips began to shake while Emily’s fingers thrusted and curved with expertise within you, she knew just where that sensitive spot was and never had any trouble finding it within two pumps of her fingers. Pressing upon it a little bit harder with each pass of her hand, dragging out the contact more and more until you were a panting mess under her. Her tongue traced patterns across your clit, flicking it, alternating between heavy or light strokes or sucking it deeper into her mouth. “Fuck!” You cried out, the fire shooting through your body, thighs shaking around her, “don’t stop!”

Emily would never have dreamed of stopping, her eyes shutting as she focussed on how wet and warm your pussy felt. The way your legs were trembling around her, threatening to close, the way your pussy was clenching down around her fingers and how your clit pulsed in between her lips. You were shivering, at a loss for words as pleasure began to rock through you, the heat building right under your skin before the coil broke and you let out a wanton moan, your fingers pulling at Emily’s hair as you hit your peak. Smirking, with one final lick her lips slipped off your clit and she was able to truly watch you come undone, body shaking against the bed as her fingers softly fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s my good girl.” She cooed, fingers slipping out of your drenched pussy before she crawled up your body, caging you to the bed and chasing your lips for a breathless kiss, murmuring against your lips. “So pretty when you come for mommy.” She kissed you again and you let out a hum at the taste of your juices on her lips, “you think you can come once more for me angel?”

Her voice was soft, hand coming up to push back a few pieces of mussed up hair off your face while she let you catch your breath. You nodded, looking up to her with begging eyes,

“Please. Want your cock mommy.” You felt yourself blush at the words, as if this was the first time you’d ever said something so brazen, like you hadn’t been begging for her to fuck your face less than a week ago.

“Whatever my sweet girl wants, she gets.” Emily cooed, pressing a fiery kiss to your lips before she sat up, settling on her knees between your legs. She wrapped a hand around the base of the toy, running it through your dripping pussy lips, smearing the juices around it, watching the way your breath caught in your throat at the feeling. She sunk into you with one smooth thrust and you let out a breathy moan, your eyes fluttering shut,

“Oh god…”

Above you, Emily chucked softly before she pulled her hips back, leaving only the tip in before sinking fully into you once more. She set a steady pace, fucking deep into your cunt with each pump of her hips, watching the way your hips matched the rhythm of hers, rising off the bed to meet each thrust. Your hand grasped out in search of hers, fingers linking as they rested on your thigh. The toy was curved perfectly, each thrust of her hips the tip hit the sensitive spot within you and had your pussy fluttering around it in no time, ridges dragging across your walls, pulling louder whines and moans from your lips as Emily began to pant slightly above you.

“Feels.. so good…” you groaned, squeezing at her hand and she knew you wanted more, a grin splitting her lips at the way your brow scrunched, the way you tugged your lip into your mouth before she gave you a hard thrust as your lips broke open in a gasp, “more! Please! Oh god mommy, harder please!” You words were simply whines at this point, pleasure shooting through you with each thrust of her cock, body still sensitive from your first orgasm, trembling under her.

Emily shifted, grabbing at one of your legs she propped it on her shoulder, leaning forward so her cock would reach even deeper in your tight cunt. You let out a gasp of a moan when she started hitting the new angle, each thrust harder than before, just as you’d asked. A sheen of sweat shimmered on your body, heat creeping up your chest and cheeks as you panted and whined, your entire body tingling. Emily could feel your thigh shaking against her hand as she pushed forward even further and knew that you were close. Her free hand sought out your clit, pads of her fingers beginning to rub circles, pressing harder and faster with each snap of her hips.

“Be a good girl… come for mommy. I know you’re close, let me see you squirt all over my cock.”

You bit at your lip, barely able to whimper as the heat built up more and more under your skin, your pussy clenching down around her cock as the pressure gained force. One of your hands wrapped tightly around Emily’s wrist, nails digging into her skin as you felt the pleasure burst deep within you and you cried out, juices leaking around her cock as you trembled beneath her. Her fingers left your clit as her hips slowed, gently fucking you through it. She let your leg fall back down to the mattress and softly collapsed over you, her hips still moving ever so lightly as her lips kissed your collarbone and trailed up your neck, letting you catch your breath before her lips met yours, moving with gentle grace together.

“Good girl.” She praised, her hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking at your skin while she kissed you again. She shifted slightly onto her side, slipping from within you and you let out a light hiss at the sensation, feeling your juices dribbling across your thighs. She took a moment to toss the strap to a spare chair to be dealt with later before turning back to you on her side, tugging you to her, entangling her legs with yours, wrapping you in her arms. One of her hands came up to cup at the back of your head, scratching gently into your hair, smiling softly at you as you came back down to earth. She felt your fingers begin to trail up and down her back, pulling a shiver from her, making both of you laugh gently, your eyes finally cracking open as you gazed up at her.

“Who knew you could be so versatile.” You teased with a grin and she laughed, shifting inward to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Who knew you would like it so much.” She retorted and you laughed, opting to shift closer to her, nuzzling into the nook of her neck, a happy sigh leaving your lips at the feeling of her embrace. A comfortable silence took over the room while her hands danced around your body until she spoke again, “have you eaten?”

“No.” You shook your head, “wasn’t sure how long you were going to be.” You glanced up at her, “besides, I was a little distracted.” She laughed, eyes sparkling as she looked back at you, quickly stealing a kiss.

“Why don’t we order something? Can finish up what we’ve got left of that movie?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Yes, it was safe to say that despite your healthy exploration of kinks with each other, that day certainly had awoken a different side to be indulged in when it came to the bedroom.

________________

@rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @aliensaurusrex @melindawarnersgf @mandy-asimp @evilregal2002 @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @ssa-sapphic @kades95 @daddy-heather-dunbar @svulife-rl @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @andreasvu @softgamerking @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @mysticfalls01 @anya-casablanca @dead-of-niight

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal mind x reader #mommy!emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal mind evolution #criminal mind evolution fanfic #emily prentiss x reader

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party-hearses · 7 months

Text

pairing: dieter bravo x f!oc x f!reader (no use of y/n)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 6.6k

summary: your girlfriend and her close friend want to give you everything, and more.

warnings/tags: explicit smut, threesome, porn with some plot, breeding kink (heavy emphasis), pet names (baby a million times), alcohol consumption, dom/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, fingering, oral (f receiving), pegging, unprotected piv, squirting, creampie, painful sex (but it’s very consensual), overstimulation, very brief mention of drug use, cliff beasts 6 jumpscare. please let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

a/n: this fic belongs to @nostalxgic and @bastardmandennis; i cannot thank y’all enough for beta reading, letting me bounce ideas around, and allowing me to be depraved about this in general.

“It won’t be weird. I promise.”

You pause, toothbrush in your mouth, turning to face your girlfriend. “Em, I don’t know how it won’t be weird. The whole circumstance is weird.”

She tuts, sliding her hands across your hips from behind, fingers coming to rest at the soft place just below your stomach. “But worth it?”

“Worth it,” you confirm around the flimsy plastic between your lips. She pulls her hands away as you lean to spit toothpaste in the sink, mewling in protest.

“Sorry, baby,” she responds off-handedly, wrist curved, eyes on her watch. “I’m already running late — but I’ll see you tonight?” Her gaze meets yours again, reassuring and tender. “Everything will be fine. He already knows, he already agreed, this is just…a formality.” You watch in the mirror as she waves her hand around the word in the air, the confidence of the action settling the nervous needling in your belly.

You wipe the remnants of toothpaste off your mouth with the back of your hand before turning and stretching upwards to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. She’s out of the bathroom and down the hallway before you can make it more, the anxious excitement of it all making your fingertips buzz with desire.

“Worth it, baby! Just remember that!” she calls over her shoulder, the front door clicking closed behind her.

Your Lyft runs late, which you’re sure is a bad omen. Emily chalks it up to shitty traffic in a metropolitan city. You settle on both being right, neither wanting to spoil the night before it even starts. Not with so much on the line.

The restaurant you arrive at is casually upscale, all dark wood, gold flourishes, and the richest emerald green upholstery you’ve ever seen. The hostess leads you away from the bustling room in the front, to a more secluded area in the back, her bored smile not reaching her eyes.

Emily is tucked away in the large, nearly-empty room, alone in one of the grand booths. Relief rolls through your limbs, loosening them — you may be late, but you still manage to arrive before him.

Him — the mysterious entity that holds your future in the very palm of his hands. Emily hasn’t divulged much about him, meeting your questions with shrugs and ‘you’ll just have to meet him’s.

It doesn’t instill much confidence in you, which is why you’ve been so keyed up about the dinner date she’s set.

She anticipates your anxiety, handing you a glass of chilled white wine as soon as you crawl in the booth next to her. Just being near her reins you in, her pressed white button-up molded to the contours of her body, black blazer puddled in a heap next to her.

“You’re looking very corporate-sexy tonight,” you observe, lips pressed together in a slight frown as you pick up the glass. “How was work?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, she lets out a long, slow breath. “Let’s just say I’m happy to be here with you now.”

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, the reminder of exactly why you’re here settling low in your belly.

“Hey,” you whisper, tipping your glass in her direction, “cheers to having a baby put in me.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins, throwing back what’s left of her own wine.

You’re on your second glass of wine when a distinct buzz erupts from the front of the restaurant, as if all the energy in the building had burst at once. The same hostess, previously dead-faced and slouched over, pushes her shoulders back and wrings her hands nervously on the surface of the podium.

Knitting your brows together, you crane your neck to see exactly what — or whom — the commotion is all about. You can’t see much, just a pair of hands making animated gestures, multitude of rings catching the light of the foyer.

When the owner of the hands finally moves into view, it’s impossible to miss how devastatingly handsome he is — unkempt, overgrown brown curls framing the golden glow of his skin, a strong, masculine nose and hard lined jaw covered in dark scruff, broad frame under a wrinkled black t-shirt with Siouxsie and the Banshees scribbled across it. Elegantly disheveled, like he’d rolled out of bed hungover to show up at a red carpet event.

And a pair of sunglasses, no doubt designer, obscuring his eyes.

He dips his chin slightly to peer over them, gaze sweeping past the hostess to lock directly onto you. It startles you, the assuredness with which he does it. As though he’s looking for you. A dazzling grin splits across his features, his cheeks rounding with the size of it, never breaking eye contact.

But you do.

“Oh shit, Em! It’s Dieter Bravo!” you hiss, snapping your head back to stare wide-eyed at Emily. She’s watching him, too, but with a different expression — a knowing expression. Her eyes flit to yours for the briefest of moments, her plump lips curled into a shy smile.

“So it is.”

It takes you all but two seconds to put the pieces together, your mouth popping open in surprise when you do. Anxiety builds in your chest, the thought of letting a movie star impregnate you never having crossed your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Dieter fucking Bravo? Why didn’t you tell me that you know Dieter fucking Bravo?” You keep your voice low, but sharp. Pulse quickening, panic spreading through your limbs once again, you grab at Emily’s arm.

“Didn’t want you to freak out more than you already were,” she replies, turning to you to brush a tangle of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, more gentle than you deserve at this moment, allowing the boiling of your blood to settle to a low simmer. You chew your lip, dropping your hand into Emily’s lap to intertwine her fingers with yours.

Your eyes track between the two of them, Dieter’s approach to the table slowed by the hostess and a handful of patrons wanting autographs, pictures, handshakes — some moment of intimacy with a celebrity, some story to tell their friends.

But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, a tender smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth all the while.

When he does eventually reach the table, onlookers in his wake, Emily stands to greet him, but he extends his hands to you, picking your own up from its place on the table.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His voice is strawberry ice cream with sticky cherries on top. You’ve only ever heard it on movie screens, and hearing it spoken directly to you sends waves of electricity up the column of your spine.

Your hand still in his, he brings it to his mouth, pressing the most delicate of kisses to your knuckles.

“Fucking corny,” Emily mumbles, shoving into his shoulder with the flat of her palm.

He laughs smoothly at the impact, finally removing his sunglasses to expose the warm amber of his irises.

“I’m Dieter.”

“I kn-…I…I’m…” you stutter, caught off guard not only by how much more handsome he is up close, but by how charming he is right off the bat.

“I know exactly who you are, sweet girl.” He kisses your knuckles once more for good measure, placing your hand gently back on the table before turning his attention to Emily.

“Em,” he grins, adoration seeping through the way he says her name. She matches his expression before they air kiss each other’s cheeks, his hands on her shoulders, and you’re all at once taken aback at how intimate it feels.

That same intimacy envelopes you as he slides into the booth, immediately beckoning the server over with two fingers in the air.

“What are you drinking?” His gaze is burning through you again, voice low. Like you’re the only two people in the room. You’re marginally aware of Emily’s fingers stroking the flesh of your inner thigh, too entranced with Dieter to pay attention.

You’ve always been aware of him as an enigma — celebrity tabloids capitalizing on his very public drug problems, interviews labeling him an eccentric artist. Not to mention the infamy of the Cliff Beasts 6-turned-scathing-documentary and his subsequent marriage.

The question falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, some strange combination of star-struck and anxious-enough-to-vomit knocking the sense out of you.

“Aren’t you married?”

He runs a palm over his mouth, failing to conceal the playful smile therein.

The server materializes right then, but Dieter keeps his eyes on you, even as he orders.

“Champagne. A bottle. We’re celebrating.”

Wicked curiosity flickers in the pool of his gaze, waiting to see your next move. The way a predator watches prey.

The only move you make is to look up at him through your lashes expectantly, hands folded in front of you. It’s Emily who quietly thanks the server, sending him on his way. Her own body language is relaxed, back sloped against the tufted material of the booth, thumb tracing aimless circles beneath the hem of your dress.

“So, I get to put a baby in you, hmm?”

Heat blooms across your chest, rising into your cheeks. Emily is as taciturn as you’ve ever seen her, unfazed by how direct the statement is, her fingers crawling higher to ghost the lace of your panties.

You squirm under both her touch and his stare, nodding lamely at the question, heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“I should be so lucky,” he breathes, drawing closer to you, skimming his knuckles over your cheekbone.

It’s sultry, the way he touches you. The way Emily lets him touch you. You’re all doe-eyes and plush parted lips when she tips forward to whisper don’t be nervous, baby, into the shell of your ear.

And you’re not — not anymore.

The champagne comes, nestled cozily into a bucket of ice, at the same time Emily’s work phone buzzes, hard and jarring against the surface of the table.

“Hafta get this,” she grumbles, eyes falling to the screen, voice edged with irritation. Dieter acknowledges her with a tip of his head as she excuses herself from the table, already barking orders at the person on the other end of the line.

The server pops the cork, pouring the bubbly liquid into three glasses, and you feel the vibration of it in your bones.

In any other circumstance, you’d be self-consciously fidgeting with your dress, or reaching for the champagne too quickly, or avoiding eye contact completely. But it feels different with Dieter, natural. Like you’d been here a million times before — like he’d touched you a million times before.

“So,” he prompts, fingers brushing yours as he hands you one of the glasses, “Emily tells me you’re an artist?”

You sip the drink, the bubbles tickling your belly as they settle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He gives a sly half-smile, eyes sparking with humor as he leans back to tip his own drink into his mouth. He extends an arm over the back of the booth, and you notice for the first time the solid black triangle tattooed there. He doesn’t say anything when you reach out to glide your fingers over it, just notches his head to watch it happen.

“I’m not married.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, glancing back in his direction.

He shakes his head slowly, studying you. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”

You say nothing, just sip your drink again coyly without breaking eye contact. It keys him up, you can tell, by the way he downs the rest of the champagne in his glass.

“Figure I deserve to know, if we’re gonna be…involved, in whatever capacity.”

His eyes flash then, pupils nearly swallowing the color around them. Unbeckoned, the server returns to fill your glasses, but Dieter doesn’t even look his way.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he breathes, leaning in to diminish the space between your bodies.

You wave your hand in the air in front of you, an invitation. He knows what you’re asking — what everyone asks. He sucks in a deep breath.

“Covid really fucked me up, if I’m being totally honest. Not that I didn’t have issues before…but quarantine really…exacerbated them. And lucky for me, it’s all on tape.” He grins.

Bringing your glass back up to your lips, you consider this. It’s endearing, the way he’s at ease with himself. How he can make a joke of it, but still feel entirely authentic.

“Isn’t it kind of weird, us asking you to do this?” It’s a genuine question, playful pretense dropped.

He shrugs, sipping his champagne again. “I’m kind of a weird guy.”

You giggle, mind made up. Adrenaline surges through you, and you’re almost surprised when you recognize the depth of your desire with it.

Emily makes her way back to the table, shaking her head and typing out of a message on her phone. She stops next to you, finally looking up, eyes darting between you and Dieter.

“I want Dieter to come home with us tonight.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that he wants it, too. That he’s wanted it since the moment he sat down. You drop your hand to his thigh, squeezing suggestively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Emily grins in response.

Dieter familiarizes himself with the living room as Emily opens another bottle of champagne in the kitchen. The quick popfizz of the cork excites you, makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. You’re so aware of your body in this moment — the curves and swells, the scorching heat rolling through your veins. The arousal you’ve felt all night is on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill over.

He’s looking at your framed photos on the mantle, hands nonchalantly buried in his pockets. He looks so competent, you think, standing on the precipice of this. It’s endearing. It’s sexy.

“Dieter.” His name leaves your lips as a purr, low and sultry. There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he turns to face you, as his eyes rove over your flushed form, as he closes the distance between the two of you.

The atmosphere in the room is thick, a heady electricity buzzing in your ears as he drops next to you on the couch, solid thigh pressing into yours. It doesn’t take more than a moment for him to take your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, angling your face to him. His lips ghost yours, a barely-there kiss that makes you pout and chase his touch.

He laughs, a sweet, gentle laugh that makes your blood spike, and you press your mouth to his hard enough to bruise. He reciprocates by running his hand down your body to grasp your thigh, dragging you over top of him. He nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him devour you, kissing you like he’s waited too long to do so.

There are fingers at your neck, sliding up into your hair to fist at the root and tip your head backwards. You mewl, lips abruptly torn from Dieter’s, but Emily’s quickly replaces them, licking into you attentively while Dieter laves kisses across your collarbones.

You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you grind down onto him, searching for friction — for relief. He catches on quickly, canting his hips up into you, wordlessly encouraging you to take, take, take.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, baby,” he groans when it’s too much, cradling your ass with his hands tight enough to him that he can stand, to carry you into the bedroom.

It’s hard to keep up with who belongs to which touch — Dieter’s calloused fingers grip your thighs from beneath, wrenching them apart, your dripping sex on display. He’s on his knees, wedged between your splayed legs, while Emily’s deft maneuvering of the hard peaks of your nipples is familiar, her tongue against the column of your neck keeping you grounded, present.

She’s sat back on her haunches, muscular thighs making a home against your hips, allowing you to slope back against her body. Her head is dipped to the hollow of your neck, but you know her eyes are on Dieter — on the way he kisses the soft space just below the round fullness of your tits, the way he nips at the tender flesh of your ribs and belly.

You can’t help but reach out and card your hands through the length of his hair as he kisses further down your body, pulling back just slightly when he gets to your glistening cunt. You feel Emily grin against your skin, still watching.

“She wet, D?”

“Soaking,” he mumbles, before licking a broad stripe through your folds, eyes hazy. His arms hook beneath you, fingers curling so his rings press indents into the softest parts of you. He holds you to his mouth, the thick chain around his neck and coarse mustache scratching against your silk skin.

It’s overwhelming.

Dieter circles your clit with his tongue expertly, drawing it down every few strokes to taste the salt of your slick. Your head falls back against Emily’s shoulder, quiet moans punctuating the sound of his mouth against you.

His tongue snakes into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp and grind down against the lower half of his face. He hums in approval, arm stretching across your body to pin you down, to hold you still. You tug on a handful of messy curls, fingertips catching deliciously against his scalp.

His hums take the languid shape of groans, and you feel him rocking his hips down into the mattress, searching for some sense of relief with the friction.

“Use your fingers, D,” Emily growls, in a voice you’ve never heard before. A different kind of thrill winds up your limbs, digging its tendrils into you as her mouth moves down to meet her fingers, drawing your nipple taut between her teeth.

At her command, he unwraps his hand from your thigh to nudge a thick finger against your opening, still lapping at your wetness with his broad tongue. You’re nodding and mewling and clenching — please D, please — so when he grants you an extra finger, stars burst behind your eyes. He presses them all the way in, crooking at an angle that makes your hips cant upwards desperately.

“So tight,” he mutters, dragging the rough tips against your velvet walls again, finding that place deep within you that makes everything feel fizzy and hot.

“Good boy,” Emily purrs around your pebbled nipple, and Dieter moans against you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Say it again, Em.” His words are mangled, lips suctioning to your clit, gently toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Emily giggles darkly, a taunt if you’ve ever heard one.

“Not until you make baby cum all over your fingers.”

Dieter’s eyes flash open, locking onto yours from his place between your legs. The warm amber of them is alight with lust, eclipsed by the blown-out black of his pupils.

The urgent need rolling off his skin turns you inside out, makes the muscles in your abdomen pull taught. You feel as wrecked as he looks, the soft edges of an orgasm swirling into focus in your core.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, the words edged out by your quickening breath.

“Cum for D, baby,” Emily implores. “Cum for us.”

Dieter can feel how close you are, too, given the way he pumps his fingers into you with a new ferver, one final suck of his mouth tipping you over into oblivion.

Your cunt clenches around his massive digits, head lolling into the crook of Emily’s neck as the waves of pleasure overwhelm you. She skates her fingers up the delicate line of your neck to grasp your jaw, wrenching it up to press your lips to hers, swallowing every moan that you emit.

Dieter fucks you through it, flattening his hand against your abdomen to prolong his ability to gather the slick that pours out of you on his tongue.

“Good boy, Dieter,” Emily repeats the praise between kisses, “very, very good boy.”

He draws his fingers out of you, growling as he raises his body and sucks them into his mouth. You watch, Emily’s tongue massaging hot against yours, as he savors the taste of you on his skin. Your slick shines wet on his cheeks, glitters in his facial hair.

You rove your gaze over the entirety of his hulking form, hard muscles and soft belly, kneeling at your altar. Ready and willing to give you the one thing you so badly want, without hesitation.

Emily peppers kisses down your cheek and jaw, allowing you to turn your full attention to Dieter. The lingering aftershocks of your orgasm intensify as he drops his hand to the base of his cock, the head flushed dark and dripping pre-cum when he squeezes.

He looks like heaven.

There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he bears his weight back down on his arms, crawling up the bed to hover over your pliant body. He ghosts his knuckles across your womb, dipping his head to press kisses down the other side of you.

“Can’t wait to see you round with our baby, baby.” Emily murmurs, her gaze flitting up to Dieter’s hand on the place below your stomach, the reality of it settling into your bones.

It’s all consuming, the sudden need to have Dieter buried to the hilt inside of you — to give you a baby. You mewl, a pathetic, broken sound, grasping his wrist to drag his hand back down to your aching sex.

“Mmm, needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Emily hums in agreement, hands grasping at your hips from behind.

Dieter cups your mound in his large hand, raising his head to meet Emily’s eyes.

“Can I fuck her, Em?”

She tips her head to the side, pressing a final kiss to the sensitive skin of your throat.

“Hmm, I don’t know, D,” she teases, nosing the soft cut of your jaw. “What do you think, baby? Has he earned it?”

You nod enthusiastically, needing, needing, needing, elevating your hips to rock your core in Dieter’s hand.

“Okay, baby.” She turns her gaze to Dieter again, reaching out to trace his plush bottom lip with her thumb. His eyes are glassy, chest rising and falling raggedly. “Can’t cum til I say, right, D?”

“Yes, Em.”

She pushes her thumb into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it obediently. She bites down on her bottom lip, and you can feel her pulse pick up from where you lie.

“Sit up, baby,” she suddenly directs, easing you forward. Dieter follows, backing up onto his knees, wrapping his arms around your form to keep you pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and smoke and you, and it’s intoxicating.

Before you can fully process what you’re doing, you’re wrapping your fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, dragging his face down so you can taste yourself on his lips. He reciprocates immediately, licking into you with such intensity that you both nearly stumble over.

You wrap your other arm around his neck, his own tightening in their embrace around you. It’s secure — so secure that you don’t feel Emily slip out from her place behind you.

Dieter’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he guides you down onto your back, nudging your legs apart with his knee. He only pulls away to glance down as he grasps the base of his cock, notching himself against your slick entrance.

“Wait, D,” you whine, pushing feebly against the solid plane of his chest. “Wanna be on top.”

He draws back, eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? It’s…I’m…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“She can take it,” Emily cuts sternly from somewhere behind him. “She’s a good girl. She’ll take whatever you give her.”

He knows better than to question further.

Reaching backwards, he pulls one of your legs around his abdomen, and you follow by doing the same with the other. He slips a massive arm behind your back, and in one swift motion, he’s flipping you both over.

He settles his mussed halo of curls on the pillow, maneuvering your abdomen to situate your cunt just over the length of his cock. You roll your hips forward, catching his tip against your swollen clit. A ribbon of light unfurls down your spine, tightening around it when he groans from low in his throat.

You flatten your palms against his chest, anchoring yourself as you rock against him a second time.

“C’mere sweet girl,” he rasps, planting a thick hand against your hip to poise his leaking head against your entrance.

A tangled pant escapes your lips as you finally sink down onto him, the sumptuous sting of the initial stretch waning into an insistent throb.

“Fuu-uuck, baby,” he gasps, “you’re so tight.”

Neither of you move for a moment, each adjusting to the other, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

Emily drops behind you, kneeling between Dieter’s legs. Her hands slide down your sides, one grasping at your waist to encourage you forward, to make you move, the other stroking wicked ministrations at your throbbing clit.

Dieter grunts out a strangled noise, his fists balled in the sheets beneath him. Emily tuts, removing her hand from your side to grip his wrist, placing his palm over your breast. She pushes her fingers over his, a silent direction to squeeze.

He obeys, lifting his other hand to caress the full roundness of your tits, drawing his fingernails over the peaks of your nipples. You shiver, goosebumps rising over the span of your arms and thighs.

You’re moving against him faster now, his cock hitting athe deepest parts of you. It’s so much, you’re so full, and the tight circles that Emily rubs across your clit send you spiraling to the edge.

Emily can feel it in the way your back arches against her, can see it in the way you tremble over Dieter’s cock, can hear it in the way your breath hitches and soft, breathy moans punch the air between you.

“Baby’s gonna cum, D. Look how good you’re doing,” she coos. “What a good boy you are.”

He clenches his eyes closed, focusing on anything but how your tits feel in his palms, on the heavy drag of his cock in your soaked folds.

“D,” Emily directs, leaning across you to dig her fingers into his cheeks. “You know better than to close your eyes.”

His fluttering lids pop back open, expression pleading, jaw slack. But Emily angles his head so he’s forced to look at the way he’s splitting you open, how the soft pads of her fingers are undoing you.

And you break, then, throwing your head back and bearing down on Dieter’s cock, fast and hard. Your orgasm washes over you, stars bursting behind your eyelids. Dieter growls, low and animalistic — primal.

“Again.” Emily’s voice is gruff in your ear, her fingers relentless at the apex of your thighs.

“I…I don’t think…” you start to stammer, but she hushes you by leaning in and pressing her tongue into your open mouth.

“Again,” she repeats when she pulls back.

Your moans shift into broken pleas, high-pitched and desperate. Dieter pulls at your hard nipples, rolling them between his skilled fingers. He’s groaning, too, eyes half-lidded and chest flushed.

It’s all so much, your body tightening more, more, more, hypersensitive from not having come down yet.

“You like it, baby? Like bouncing up and down on his cock? Like knowing he’s gonna cum so deep inside you?”

“L-like it, Em. Like it.” You mumble, vision deliciously blurred, words meaning nothing to you.

“Love seeing you cock drunk and babbling. It’s the only way I’ll let him give you a baby, baby. If you let him fuck you stupid.”

Dieter’s fucking up into you now, your own body no longer capable of being in control. His movements are sloppy, erratic, arms wrapped around your waist for leverage, but hitting every part that you need him to. Emily’s pace on your clit is grueling, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

But you’re cumming again, strangling Dieter’s cock with your convulsions, slick streaming out of you, pooling in the cradle of his hips. Fat, salty tears roll down your cheeks.

Emily finally drags her fingers back, smearing slick across your hip, skating them up your body to deposit them in your mouth. You suck obediently, obscenely, eyes closed. She laughs lowly, delighted at your capitulation.

And then she’s gone, her footsteps receding across the bedroom floor.

It takes everything in you to stay upright, Dieter’s weighty arms and warm chest an alluring invitation. But you know you’re not done, the grand finale within tasting distance.

Dieter shifts, loosening his grip, slowing his movements. Allowing you both some reprieve from the overstimulation, a chance to catch your breaths. He doesn’t stop completely, however, rocking up into you deliberately — almost sweetly.

It doesn’t last. You hear Emily return, her steps stopping at the threshold of the door.

“Look at our pretty girl, Em,” Dieter babbles, fingers splayed across the globes of your ass. He drives up into you again, hard, using his hands to spread you apart from behind at the same time. Putting all of you on display — your stretched open cunt, strained against his length, and the delicate ring of muscle just above — for Emily, who smirks from her place in the doorway.

You look over your shoulder at her, eyes hooded and chest heaving, your breath catching when you see what she’s sporting — the black harness and pink strap that you’re so accustomed to. You swallow hard, unprepared.

“O-oh. I didn’t know…”

“S’not for you, baby,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Dieter with her chin. You watch, mesmerized, as she runs her hand over the length of the toy, as commanding as you’ve ever seen her, while striding across the room.

Dieter whines when he sees it, his hips stalling against you, eyes practically rolling back in his head at just the idea of it. It would be pathetic, if it didn’t turn you on to see him so needy.

Emily comes to stand beside you, skating the tips of her fingers up the notches of your spine. The neon toy bobs suggestively between you, and despite your heavy limbs, your mouth waters.

She flattens her palm against the small of your back, effectively crumpling your lithe body against Dieter’s chest with little effort. He whimpers in your ear, cock flexing against your walls at the sudden change in position.

But he’s impatient, and Emily is persistent.

“Up,” she commands, tapping his thigh twice before moving to stand at the end of the bed. He obeys, rolling your both over gently, depositing you on your back, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck and collarbones.

“I got you,” he mumbles knowingly into your sticky skin, before Emily grasps his thighs from behind to drag him down the length of the bed.

You yelp, a giggly, surprised kind of yelp, as his grip pulls you with him, cock still buried in the furthest reach of you.

He’s kissing you again, tasting you with a different kind of urgency, while he hovers above you on all fours.

“You’ve been so good, D, giving baby what she needs,” Emily soothes, voice dripping with lust — with authority. “Now it’s your turn to get what you need.”

His body stills, save for the pounding of his heart against yours, his forehead dropped to rest on the slope of your shoulder. His heavy breath punches near the base of your throat, a hard swallow as you hear the cap on the bottle of lube click open.

You watch Emily through your lashes over the incline of Dieter’s back, his hips raised in perfect alignment to her imposing cock. She squirts the slippery liquid on her hand, and Dieter’s body quivers at the noise — at what he knows is imminent.

The way she jerks her hand up and down over the toy sets a fire in your belly, and you can’t help but arch beneath Dieter, your vigor renewed at the sight of it. You so badly want him to move, to buck back into you, to fuck you until he cums.

Emily smirks from where she stands, dripping the lube over the curves of Dieter’s ass, and you feel his jaw tighten against you when she does. It’s followed by a dark giggle as she trails her fingers through the slick, spreading it over every part of him.

“Ready, D?”

He hums in affirmation, a desperate, splintered noise that rolls across your skin. A plea.

She slips one finger inside him, all the way to the knuckle. He responds in kind, his hips jerking into you, a guttural moan crawling from his throat.

“Enough?” she taunts, pumping in and out of him the same way he’d done to you.

His hips keep rhythm with her, and the relief pooling low in your cunt makes you want to sob.

He shakes his head, mouth moving to capture your nipple, laving his tongue against the peak of it.

“Say it, D.”

“More,” he growls in response, muffled by the flesh of your breast. “More.”

Emily inserts a second finger, and he keens, driving into you with more force than he has all night. You squeak, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, the warm metal of his chain heavy beneath your fingers.

His hips snap against you relentlessly, almost painfully. Your lashes flutter against his sweat-damp curls, and in one swift moment, Emily removes her fingers to be replaced by the toy.

She pushes all the way into him, grinding against the meat of his ass when she reaches the hilt. His body arcs, hammering into your already-used pussy with such power that a choked sob catches in your throat.

Tears swim in your eyes again, streaming down your cheeks only when Dieter hooks his arm under your thigh to press it up into your ribs. Your calf rests on his shoulder, and the position stretches you open more than you ever have been before.

“Mmm, perfect, D,” Emily approves, voice faltering. “If you really want to put a baby in her, you need to cum deep.”

He grunts in agreement, his breathing shattered and sharp. You can feel the way Emily thrusts into him as he thrusts into you, and it’s all at once too much.

Heat swirls in your cunt, tight, tight, tight, snapping as Dieter’s groans grow louder in your ear. Seeing him come undone sends pinpricks of intense pleasure over every part of your body, and you think you brokenly whisper the words gonna cum into his hair.

He pounds into you hungrily, encouraged by the way your pussy pulses around his thick length. It’s all you need — your cunt spasming, devouring, taking, as another orgasm rips through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Everything following is a white static.

Dieter isn’t far behind, his thighs shaking between you and Emily, torn between the push and pull of giving and receiving deliciously.

“Need to cum,” he finally cuts, voice tight. He doesn’t stop, but Emily doesn’t stop either, still slamming into him as hard as he does into you.

Emily doesn’t hesitate in her response.

“No. Not yet. Need to make baby cum one more time.”

Those words cut through, a knife through the fog.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cry, fingernails digging into Dieter’s muscular shoulders, at the same time Dieter cries out.

“Please, Em,” he begs, voice cracking through the air in the room. “Please.”

“One more,” she directs, hands gripping Dieter’s hips, guiding him back onto her length. “You can, baby. You can.”

You’re sobbing now, knee pressed into your chest, spread open, split in two, stuffed full.

“You can, baby, you can,” Dieter echoes in your ear, his own voice just as desperate — strained and thick. “Cum for me. Let me give you a baby.”

And you do, melting beneath his solid body completely, tears dripping down your temples into your hair. It overtakes you entirely, slick gushing from your aching cunt, soaking both Dieter and the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter spits, and you can taste the urgency in his voice. “I can’t…I need…baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Ask for it, D.” Emily smirks, knowing, too, that he’s well past the point of return.

“Pl…please. Need…need… to c-cum,” he chokes, thrusts brutal and frantic.

“Cum, then. Give baby a baby.”

Immediately, Dieter’s entire body tenses, tight as a bow string, before he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon, arms flexing, primal growls ripping from deep in his chest. He presses his open mouth to your shoulder, teeth scraping your buzzing skin, as thick ropes of cum spill inside of you.

Time slows as it happens, your awareness of every pulse and clench of his cock heightened. There’s so much of it — flooding your pussy, gushing out around his still-hard cock, dripping down the curve of your ass.

For what feels like an eternity, the only sounds in the room are three rugged, matching breaths.

“Good boy, D,” Emily finally gasps, leaning forward to ruffle his curls affectionately. “You did so good.”

He mumbles something against your skin that you can’t make out, but sounds a lot like thank you.

Your head is still swimming, the bittersweet throb between your thighs persistent.

Dieter finally pulls out, delicately, easing his frame down next to yours.

“Okay, baby?” he mumbles into your ear, and you think you nod.

Your eyelids are heavy, so heavy, body overwrought and sensitive to the touch. But you don’t pull away when he nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing the tender flesh there. The pads of his fingers slide back and forth over your womb a few times, a mesmerizing movement that lulls you half to sleep.

“Sit up,” Emily whispers, rousing you just enough that you let her guide your malleable body to a sitting position. “Arms.”

You obey, eyes still cloudy, raising your arms over your head so Emily can pull a t-shirt down over your exposed body. It’s too big, and smells too much like Dieter, to be your own. The material puddles in your lap, and Dieter fists the hem to tug you back down to him. He’s all soft sighs and kitten licks when you capitulate, open palm tugging your hips flush to him.

Then the mattress bows, Emily climbing on the other side of you, sandwiching your body between the two of them. She gently clasps your cheeks, angling your face towards her so she can press her mouth to yours reverently.

“Tired, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” is all you can muster, your limbs still liquid.

Dieter presses his forehead to the contour of your shoulder, warm breath fanning your dewy skin when he speaks in a whisper.

“I should go.”

Your eyes fly open, and you’re squirming around to face him, winding your legs into his to cling to him.

“No. I want you to stay. I want you to stay at least until it’s for sure,” you pout.

He cranes his neck to look across you at Emily, unsure how to proceed. She laughs affectionately, brushing away the hairs clinging to your sweat-damp forehead.

“Baby makes the rules, D.”

“Baby makes the rules,” he affirms, dropping his hand between your legs to thumb any stray drips of cum back into you.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fan fiction

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sickficideas · 4 months

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start over || skk injury/sickfic

ao3! 5.9k - please refer to the tags and notes in the link for content + warnings!

Dazai is fairly certain he has a few broken ribs, but that’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

He resists the urge to run his hand over that spot on his chest. It’s sore and painful even completely untouched. He’s already gotten used to taking shallow breaths, anything deeper than that makes him cough, makes him only feel worse.

But he won’t see a doctor. He never does.

“I’ll take care of the report. You should go home,” Kunikida tells him. Dazai’s not used to the concern in his voice. They’ve been out all night and day on this case, which isn’t too unusual for them, but Dazai’s exhaustion has hit him much harder this time. It’s visible enough that Kunikida is concerned, but Dazai doesn’t think he has any idea about the condition of his ribs. “Might not be a bad idea to have Yosano check you over before you go, though.”

“She’s in Osaka, isn’t she?” Dazai asks, vaguely remembering the discussion from the night before. He yawns, the motion from his chest proving to be rather painful, but he hides it well from his partner, he thinks.

“She’ll be back tomorrow night,” Ranpo tells the two of them, always secretly listening. He looks like he’s actually busy with something at the moment, typing away on a computer.

“I’ll take you to a doctor, then,” Kunikida insists, setting his stack of reports down on the desk and rummaging through his bag for his keys.

“Nah, that’s alright. I think I’ll just go home, I feel fine,” Dazai insists, regardless of his true situation. Kunikida saw him get hit. He was thrown against a staircase during an altercation against someone who didn’t have a gift, and while Dazai can usually hold his own in a fight, there’s not much he can do against someone highly skilled in physical combat and nothing else.

“Are you sure? You got thrown pretty hard,” Kunikida says with a disapproving frown, setting his bag down.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll probably just bruise,” Dazai says. He didn’t bring anything with him to work today other than a messenger bag, so he picks that up, and leaves his coat hanging over his chair. It’s far too hot for that today.

“If you’re sure. I’ll take you home, at least,” Kunikida insists, but Dazai waves him off before he can continue his search for his keys.

“I’ve got errands to run. I’ll do ‘em on my way home,” Dazai says. He knows Kunikida will stay here even though he’s scheduled to go home as well. He would rather get his work done than put it off.

Kunikida sighs and waves a hand as Dazai heads for the exit.

…

“He has a few broken ribs,” Ranpo says.

Kunikida lifts his head, eyes darting in Ranpo’s direction. It’s been a few minutes since Dazai left. Ranpo doesn’t elaborate, and he’s not quite sure how Ranpo could gather that just from looking at him.

“Are you sure?” Kunikida asks.

Ranpo lifts a brow. “Am I sure?”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“The way he was breathing. It’s causing him pain,” Ranpo explains as if it was obvious. “And he was hunched over by a few degrees. It’s more painful if he stands with good posture, but also when he sits down. He didn’t put his coat back on either, probably not worth it with the pain he’s in. It’s definitely his ribs.”

“Why the hell would he tell me he’s fine?” Kunikida grumbles with a heavy sigh. He can feel a headache coming on. Dazai is so incredibly -

“Well, I’m not a relationship counselor, I’m a detective. So, can’t help you there,” Ranpo shrugs.

Kunikida resists the urge to throw something at him.

…

Chuuya’s fancy penthouse it is, Dazai decides as he boards the subway.

His chest is starting to hurt a bit more. Going from standing up to sitting is slightly more painful, so he decides he’ll stand on the train instead and hold onto something at waist level to avoid unnecessary pain. He thinks he should text Chuuya that he’s heading over there, but he ends up in his own head, distracted by miscellaneous thoughts and advertisements in his view.

He almost misses the stop.

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he knows it’s Kunikida, and he doesn’t feel like answering. He’s sure Ranpo knows, he’s sure he’s told Kunikida, and answering the phone would certainly mean being harped on for not looking after his health.

Dazai understands his concern, he really does, but he’s fine. As long as he can still breathe, he would rather not see a doctor if he doesn’t have to.

The evening’s rush hour has started to calm down, thankfully. Dazai’s not sure he could handle being stuffed in a train car with that many people, especially now, but he gets out of the station unscathed and only has to endure a few minutes of walking to Chuuya’s penthouse. There’s a moment where he almost turns back around, but he’s already paid the train fare. Might as well finish what he started.

He digs through his bag for the key card he has to get to Chuuya’s floor, and he only manages to find it just when he makes it to the building. The elevator opens for him, and he ascends a few floors up to make it to Chuuya’s place. He takes in a few breaths, disappointed to find it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe. Thankfully, Chuuya’s not as observant as his coworkers.

The elevator opens right to Chuuya’s living room after he's prompted once more to scan the key card. Normally, anyone else would have to be let in by him, but Dazai has stolen this extra key card of his to make it easier for him to get it. He doesn’t care for the extra steps.

He’s grinning when the elevator door opens to Chuuya almost half-dressed and sitting on his couch with a glass of wine, wide-eyed and not very happy to see company.

“Did you steal my fuckin’ key card again, Mackerel?” Chuuya grumbles, standing up from his spot on the couch to take his remote and pause the TV. He’s watching some brainless reality TV like he usually does, that’s no surprise, but Dazai’s at the point where he wouldn’t even mind watching it with him.

“You should wear that more often,” Dazai hums as he hangs his bag on Chuuya’s silly hat rack, something he knows Chuuya hates, but has given up reprimanding Dazai for. He sees Chuuya’s face redden a little at that comment. It’s an almost-too-small tank top he’s wearing with a baggy pair of sweatpants, but he’s got some nice-looking arms. He likes seeing them.

“You always scare the crap out of me when you show up like this,” Chuuya groans, obviously trying to change the subject. “I told you to text me when you’re coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” Dazai jokes, but he’s lost the energy to put any sort of teasing tone into his voice. He trudges over to the couch to sit down, slower than he normally would and carefully as he sinks down, trying to avoid making any grunts to show he’s still in pain.

Chuuya, though, isn’t as stupid as Dazai thinks he is. “You okay?”

Dazai’s still staring at his arms. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Stop looking at me like I have a pair of tits. You’re gross,” Chuuya grumbles, marching over to the kitchen. Dazai pouts, staring at the still-paused television, with no will or energy to get up to unpause it himself.

“Slug, can you unpause it?” Dazai asks, turning his head to watch Chuuya, who has taken his phone from the kitchen counter and sat at the bar, typing away.

“Do it yourself,” Chuuya huffs. “You want somethin' to eat?”

“‘M okay,” Dazai says. He should probably eat, but he’s never really hungry.

“I’m ordering food anyway. You like Chinese food, right?” Chuuya asks.

“Uh-huh,” Dazai nods, turning his head back to stare at the television, which has already moved to the idle screen. Dazai thinks he was watching a singing competition show, which isn’t nearly as bad as his usual choices.

Dazai sinks back into the couch and manages to snake one of the throw blankets over himself, feeling a little cold. He hears Chuuya muttering in the kitchen, always weirdly polite when he’s on the phone, ordering much more than the two of them could finish together.

He breathes in and breathes out a few times, realizing that not only is it not getting better, it almost feels worse. He’s having to take more shallow breaths. Maybe it would be a good idea to at least let Chuuya know, just in case Dazai suddenly can’t breathe anymore, but he’s certain Chuuya won’t handle news of broken ribs very well.

Chuuya returns with a shirt and pajama pants that Dazai left here ages ago, because obviously nothing Chuuya owns will fit Dazai’s tall frame. He lays the clothes over the side of the couch and clicks his tongue when Dazai’s eyes drift over to him.

“You look exhausted,” Chuuya murmurs.

“‘M fine. How long till the food gets here? I’m hungry,” Dazai huffs.

“Now you’re hungry, huh? Geez," Chuuya mutters to himself. "Change into these before you get on my bed.”

Dazai is well aware that he's not allowed to wear outside clothes in Chuuya’s bed and resists the urge to make a comment about the more serious topic of Chuuya's undiagnosed OCD in favor of getting closer to time in a bed. Chuuya's mattress is fantastic. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy mattresses that give him the most rested sleep of his life. Maybe he can lay down for a little before the food gets here. He just needs to relax, he’s fine.

Chuuya starts to wander off again.

“Slug,” Dazai whines. “What are you doing now?”

“I needa do laundry. You wanna help, or keep up your freeloader lifestyle?” Chuuya calls as he walks off. Dazai doesn’t have the energy to shout back at him. Dazai realizes he didn’t make any solid plans at all to hang out with Chuuya, and that the latter has things he needs to do too, but he wishes he would use his absorbent amounts of money to hire someone to do his laundry for him.

Dazai, instead, starts to change into the clothes Chuuya brought out for him. The sweat pants are easy to slide on as he’s sitting down. It doesn’t hurt his chest too much at all. Taking off his collared shirt and vest isn’t too difficult either, he doesn’t have to pull anything over his head with the buttons, but he realizes he’ll have to with the shirt.

He puts that off, realizing he needs to change out his bandages, too. What a pain in the ass.

“Slug,” Dazai murmurs as he approaches Chuuya’s laundry room. He’s wearing a cardigan all of a sudden. Chuuya always puts something on as soon as it comes out of the dryer, he likes how warm it is. It’s cute. “Do you have bandages I can use anywhere?”

Chuuya finishes folding up a shirt before he looks at Dazai peering in the doorway, his eyes drifting down to his bandages. Dazai suddenly feels nauseous. He knows Chuuya has seen his skin without the bandages, he knows Chuuya doesn’t care, but he hates it. He hates it so much it makes him feel sick.

“Dazai, you know that I don’t -”

Chuuya stops when his eyes meet Dazai’s expression, probably on track to say something about how he doesn’t care about what’s underneath his bandages, but Dazai doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. He just wants to change the bandages so he’s clean enough to lay in Chuuya’s bed.

“There’s some left in the bathroom next to my bedroom. Second highest shelf on the right,” Chuuya says quietly, turning his attention back to folding his remaining articles of clothing.

Dazai wanders over to Chuuya’s bedroom with the shirt he’s supposed to put on folded over his arm, and he locks the door behind him, even with the knowledge that Chuuya can open it whenever he wants.

He starts to peel off the bandages, and he winces at the side of the deep purple bruise blooming over his ribs. That doesn’t look good at all. He doesn’t usually bruise like that. He runs his fingers over the spot, shivering at how his skin feels under the touch of his hand. He’s not sure any of that is real. He thinks he might have a fever. He’s overly sensitive to touch when he’s running a temperature, even at his own hands. But whether or not the fever is from his possible damaged ribs or just exhaustion, he won’t know until later, probably.

He lazily washes his face and runs a damp washcloth over his upper body, anywhere that’s reachable and doesn’t hurt to get to, before he dries off with a dry towel. He should probably shower, but he definitely can’t do that without it hurting right now. He does, however, hold that wet washcloth up to his face. It feels so good. He wonders if ducking his face into a sink filled with water would feel better than this. Maybe he’d drown while he’s at it, too.

But Chuuya’s sink is too low. He’d have to bend over a ton and that would hurt too much. He’s not in the business for a painful suicide.

He starts to wrap his arms back up, deciding to only wrap his neck and arms, and letting the t-shirt do the rest of the covering. He can’t lift up enough to get high on his chest, and it’s too much twisting around his body. He stares down the t-shirt that he’s set on the counter with a deep sigh. He just needs to rip it off like a bandaid. Pull it over his head. It can’t hurt too bad if he’s fast.

Only, it does. It hurts so much that he can’t even pull it over his head. He lowers his arms back down and whines, throwing his head back against the door. It’s so bad that it’s making him nauseous, although he’s not sure if he was feeling sick before that. His chest rattles when he takes in a breath, and he spits phlegm into the sink.

Bad sign.

"What's takin' so long?" Chuuya puffs from outside the door. Dazai almost jumps. He didn’t think he was in here for all that long, but apparently long enough. Dammit, if he opens the door and asks for help, Chuuya will see the bruise on his chest. But it’ll hurt too much to cover it, and then he’ll take even longer.

"Chuuya needs to help me put this on," he murmurs as he unlocks the door, the shirt still pulled up to the sleeves.

"What's wrong, you sore? I have ones that button from the front, if that's easier," Chuuya says, walking off to the closet before he even sees Dazai. “You guys do some crazy stuff today?”

“I got thrown against the stairs,” Dazai groans, leaning against the door frame from the inside, Chuuya’s footsteps approaching again. His arm comes in through the crack of the door with a shirt that buttons from the front, thank god, and his arm disappears once Dazai takes the shirt. He narrowly avoided a confrontation.

“Ow. You get hurt bad?” Chuuya asks, staying outside the door as Dazai shuts it again.

“No, just…sore, like you said,” Dazai manages with a little pained groan as he slips his arms through the sleeves, buttoning the front of the shirt.

“Good. That shit can really suck,” Chuuya huffs. “Actually, I saw Akutagawa curb-stomp a guy on a staircase the other day. Seriously brutal.”

Good to know Akutagawa hasn’t lost any of his violent tendencies, but he finds himself shivering at the idea of curb-stomping someone. Strange how much things have changed. Maybe it's just because of how he feels right now.

Once Dazai finishes buttoning up the shirt, he trudges over to Chuuya’s bedroom, deciding he’ll just lie down for a while as they wait for their food, but the nausea that’s starting to settle in his stomach is making him want to pass up the idea of food.

Dazai decides to just lay down on his side. Chuuya almost wanders out of the room, but he stops and turns around once he’s realized Dazai is lying down. He frowns.

"My tummy hurts," he mumbles.

"You probably haven't eaten all damn day,” Chuuya huffs. Dazai can’t deny that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t eat anything more than a snack yesterday, either, but he won’t admit it to Chuuya. He just whines to himself. “But I’ll get you some Pepto or something if it’ll help you feel better.”

Dazai isn’t sure that will do much for him, but Chuuya is already off to the kitchen before Dazai has anything to say about it. He forces himself to sit up, up and off Chuuya’s too-comfy mattress before he lays a hand on his chest. A deep breath almost has him in tears, he’s wincing so hard that the moment makes it hurt more. It feels like a knife is stuck between his ribs and he thinks if he takes a breath like that again, he’ll throw up. Not a good sign, even worse with how swimmy his head feels once it’s off the mattress.

Chuuya returns with a little medicine cup full of Pepto Bismol and Dazai doesn’t even have the energy to give him a reassuring smile, because it’s obvious that Chuuya is concerned, no matter how much he tries to hide it. His eye twitches as he approaches him, and he reaches a hand up to his cheek. Dammit.

"Shit, Dazai," Chuuya murmurs as he pulls his hand back. "Why the hell are you so hot?"

Dazai wants to make a joke, it's such a good opportunity to, but he can't. He feels awful. He’s considering making himself throw up, but he knows that’s not even remotely related to the root of his problem.

"Tell me what happened," Chuuya growls.

"It's just a few broken ribs," Dazai says quietly, but he’s finding it to be quite painful to even speak right now. He brings his hand back up to his chest.

“I’m calling one of our doctors over,” Chuuya hisses as he sets the cup of medicine on the nightstand.

Dazai freezes at the mere suggestion of that.

“No, Chuuya. Please,” he says, his breath hitching halfway through. His brain is flooded with awful things he doesn’t want to consider. “They’ll report to Mori.”

Chuuya stops in his tracks, his shoulders dropping at the last word Dazai speaks.

Dazai knows he's being paranoid. Realistically, Mori can't get to him anymore. Chuuya would never let him, he doesn't think anyone would, but none of them know the half of what Mori did to him. He would gladly use any opportunity to treat his body like a cadaver, wouldn’t he? Even now?

Even if he wouldn’t, Dazai is so paranoid about it that he’s losing his composure, and that's the problem.

He leans over the bed and gags into his hand, fully expecting to throw up, but it’s just saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. He keeps his hand under his mouth just in case, but now the nausea is pushed to the back of his mind, his brain focused on how much his current posture is hurting his lungs.

“Shit, hey. I won’t call our doctors,” Chuuya murmurs quietly, a gentle but cautious hand landing on Dazai’s shoulder. “Well…what about that doctor at your agency? Can’t she help you?”

“She’s in Osaka,” Dazai recalls. He winces at the concern in Chuuya’s voice. “I’m…I’m fine.”

“Fucking hell, Dazai, you’re not fine,” Chuuya huffs. His voice shakes. Dazai should have known that Chuuya is just as protective as Kunikida, if not worse. He can’t kind from any of them. “I’ll just - I’ll take you to a hospital.”

“You can’t just walk into a hospital, Chuuya," Dazai laughs dryly. He shivers at the thought of going to a hospital, but it’s a far better idea than being found by Mori. It doesn’t make him gag, at least.

“I don’t fucking give a fuck,” Chuuya growls. “You know how serious broken ribs can get, especially if you already have a fucking fever. You’ve probably got an infection. Why the hell would they just let you go home?”

Dazai wants to tell him that they let him go home because he didn't tell anyone he was injured. He doesn't like bothering them if he doesn't have to, and honestly, he prefers to avoid medical treatment of any kind altogether if he can. He was just trying to see how long he could go avoiding it.

"I'm gonna call a taxi and take you downstairs," Chuuya breathes out, turning on his heel and heading back for the kitchen to find his phone.

Dazai is left with his own brain, which is incredibly dangerous. He groans from the pain he’s in, and he’s trying not to think too hard about needing to go to a hospital. Maybe they can just sedate him before they do anything. He’d much prefer that. Is that an option?

He lays down on his side and curls up into a ball, but he doesn’t feel any better, it’s getting harder to breathe and that nauseous feeling won’t go away either, and it comes back with a vengeance. He forces his head up because he knows something is going to come up out of his throat, and he does feel a tiny bit guilty about getting it on Chuuya’s bed, but he can’t avoid it.

Dazai can't breathe. He's not entirely sure what he's coughing up. Foam, phlegm, vomit, maybe some blood, maybe a little bit of everything. He's seen Akutagawa do this on several occasions, actually, but he's never experienced it himself, so he's almost certain this has something to do with his lungs. Maybe the broken shards of his ribcage have poked holes into his lungs.

Oh god, he really can't breathe.

Chuuya's talking to him, but he can't hear a word. He hears his own name, he thinks, but all he can focus on is the sharp, unbelievable pain in his chest.

…

“It sounds to me like he has a lung infection, Dazai,” Mori says to him, expectant. He was waiting for Dazai to agree, to hand his subordinate over and let Mori take care of the rest. But even at seventeen, Dazai was smart enough to know Mori’s true intentions.

“Oh yeah? You’re a doctor now?” Dazai jokes. He’s stalling, only in Mori’s office to take a book or two out of his library that Hirotsu mentioned he needed for something he was working on. Akutagawa is outside the office, waiting. He’s coughing every now and then, coughs that really don’t sound good and that Dazai is well aware of, but he won’t hand him over to Mori.

“Come now, Dazai. Don’t let your subordinates suffer on account of your stubborn nature,” Mori teases.

“I’m not letting anyone suffer, Mori. A little cough never killed anyone,” Dazai says back, mocking that same teasing tone as he pulls out the last book he needs, but when he turns around, he realizes Mori had plans of his own. Elise was busy opening the door to the office and taking Akutagawa’s arm to lead him inside.

Akutagawa looks to Dazai, unsure of what’s going on, what he’s been brought in for, and Dazai is frozen. Dazai has been trying to limit their contact as much as humanly possible, and Mori seems to have become aware of that.

“My, don’t you look awful. How long have you had this cough for?” Mori asks him as Elise drags him closer, but Akutagawa resists the closer he’s brought into Mori’s frame of view. Dazai shakes. He’s been looking for a way to have Akutagawa seen by a doctor that Mori wouldn’t know about, but it’s nearly impossible. It’s something he’s been trying to do for himself, too, and he still hasn’t figured out how to do it. How to get one step ahead of Mori.

“Don’t answer him. We’re leaving,” Dazai growls, glaring at Akutagawa so he knows he’s serious, and Akutagawa shrinks back, still dead silent. Dazai takes Elise’s arm to pull her off of Dazai, and she disappears as soon as they make contact.

“Dazai, really? That wasn’t very nice of you,” Mori huffs. “It’s cruel of you to let your subordinates suffer. You know I would never want that for you, don’t you?”

Dazai takes Akutagawa’s arm and pulls him toward the exit, ignoring Mori’s words. Akutagawa is rightfully confused, but Dazai doesn’t need him to have any more information than he already does. He closes the door behind the two of them, and Akutagawa pulls his arm up to cough into his elbow. Dazai hears his chest rattle. He’s undoubtedly got a fever, too.

“Don’t ever go to him for any of this. Understand? I don’t care what he says,” Dazai bites, audibly frustrated and maybe a little scared, but Akutaagwa can’t pick up on the second half.

“I know,” Akutagawa answers, voice hoarse, “you’ve told me already.”

“Just making sure you listened. You’re not very good at that.” Dazai huffs, leading him down the corridor and back to the elevator.

Akutagawa looks like he’s ready to retort that claim, but he starts coughing again, into his hand, this time - blood and foam coating his palm, visibly startling him, too. He needs to see a doctor, he might even need to go to a hospital, Dazai doesn’t know the extent of his infection at all, but this isn’t normal.

Akutagawa trips when they pass the threshold of the elevator, clearly his head isn’t where it’s supposed to be - he catches himself on his hands and knees and the coughing only gets worse, bright red blood splattering on the marble elevator floor. He takes in shaky and unsteady breaths in between. Dazai just spends a few seconds staring. What the hell is he supposed to do about this?

Akutagawa collapses completely after one heavy breath seems to take all of his remaining energy out of him, and Dazai only thinks about how lucky he is that this happened here, and not in front of Mori. He just stares at his shaking form as they descend the building, and Dazai needs to have a game plan of what to do once they reach the bottom.

“Dazai,” Akutagawa barely manages to breathe out, making a pathetic attempt to get off of the floor, only to crash back down into it. Dazai kneels down beside him. He can’t even carry Akutagawa. Who does he call? What does he do?

“I know. Give me a few hours to figure it out,” Dazai murmurs.

Anyone but Mori. Akutagawa can’t go through what Dazai went through.

…

When Dazai wakes up, he’s stuck in a hospital room, the sterile smell of it all only reminding him how nauseous he is.

He imagines he’s been asleep for quite a while, but he doesn’t feel well-rested at all. He’s never felt that way after a hospital visit. It’s the pain medications they pump him full of, he thinks - they’re the only reason he’s slept at all, probably.

But he can breathe a little easier. There’s a mask over his nose and mouth, probably not a good sign.

There’s a nurse in the room with him, looking surprised to see his eyes meeting hers. She says something to him but Dazai doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying. The mask she’s wearing makes it impossible to even guess. She seems to jot down his vital signs before she scurries out of the room.

He realizes what she was saying to him when Chuuya comes trailing in through the door, his hair tucked into a beanie that doesn't suit him and wearing a hoodie, a black mask and a pair of fake glasses.

If Dazai had the energy to laugh right now, he would probably do it until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Chuuya doesn’t look all that ridiculous, it’s a decent disguise in practice, but it’s hilarious all the same. Only because Dazai knows Chuuya.

A shaky hand of his reaches up to pull down the mask, and Chuuya almost pulls it back over his face once he’s at Dazai’s bedside, but the nurse gives a little nod. She says something to him before she leaves the room, but the sound is muffled.

Chuuya’s voice, though, is as clear as a bell.

“You look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, brushing his hair back and out of his face, pulling off his own mask once the nurse is out of the room. Not the first thing Dazai wants to hear when he wakes up, but it’s Chuuya.

“You look stupid,” Dazai retorts, his voice so hoarse it almost sounds like he’s lost it completely. He wants to clear his throat, but has a feeling that won’t make him feel any better.

Chuuya grumbles something under his breath before he pulls off the beanie and pushes the glasses up on top of his head, and Dazai’s never been so glad to see that annoyingly bright colored hair before. He’s really kind of gorgeous. Maybe it’s the drugs making him think that.

"I'm sorry I left you," Chuuya murmurs, reaching over to squeeze the hand that’s free from an IV. "I know you hate places like this."

Dazai's a little unsure of what to say. Chuuya's not the type to get so candid with him, and while Dazai truly does despise being in hospitals, he doesn't remember ever telling Chuuya that directly. Then again, his memory of the past has been hazy. He doesn't even remember much of anything after losing his breath on Chuuya's bedroom. For all he knows, Chuuya could have been with him the whole time.

"I'm an adult now, you know," Dazai teases, flashing a weak smile.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Not what I'm talking about. But whatever."

"It's fine, slug," Dazai tells him. It’s not nearly as bad of a fear as it used to be for him. He knows that sometimes it’s unavoidable. He knows he doesn't have to worry about Mori anymore, at least not while in the care of the Armed Detective Agency.

“You scared the shit out of me. Seriously,” Chuuya mumbles. “You’re staying with me for a while once you’re discharged.”

“I have to go back to work,” Dazai whispers. Sure, it’s not the working part he’s concerned with, but he really should pop in every now and then at the very least, so that they know he’s alive. Before Kunikida decides to end his life prematurely.

“Since when you do give a shit about that?" Chuuya groans, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "They're the reason you're in this mess in the first place, aren’t they?”

Dazai’s stomach drops at the notion, because that’s really not the truth. He simply lied to them, just like he lied to Chuuya. It’s what he always does. It has nothing to do with any of them.

They probably would've taken good care of him, too.

“Mm…I think you've got it all wrong, little Slug,” Dazai says, feeling himself start to doze off again. He's exhausted and doesn't particularly feel like explaining any of that to him, even though he's sure Chuuya would at least consider it.

“Don't call me little, you ass,” Chuuya grumbles, squeezing his hand a little tighter, “I'm taking you back to my apartment once you're discharged. End of story.”

Dazai's eyelids start to feel heavy, and he doesn't fight Chuuya's demand. He can always sneak out if he needs to.

But maybe he'll be okay with Chuuya looking after him, for a while.

…

A week later, Dazai thinks he's well enough to slip out of Chuuya's apartment early one morning, to pop into the Agency.

“Healing well from your broken ribs, Dazai?” Ranpo says as he happens to wander past him just as soon as Dazai enters the building.

“Can't keep any secrets from you, can I, Ranpo?” Dazai says, only sounding a little nervous because he can feel Kunikida glaring at him all the way from his desk. It seems the two of them are the only ones here so far, like usual. At least Atsushi isn't here to witness Dazai's inevitable death at Kunikida's hands.

“You know I don't normally air out everything you try to hide, but Kunikida already wants to kill you,” Ranpo says casually on his way back to his desk. “Figured it doesn't matter what I say.”

“Morning, Kunikida,” Dazai says as cheerfully as he can, but Kunikida has already hurled a pretty heavy report collection his way, one that Dazai's head just narrowly misses. He brings his heads up to his face in surrender.

“Don't morning me, Dazai. Where the hell have you been? Obviously you were injured, and I haven’t heard from you in over a week -”

“Aww, Kunikida, were you worried about me?” Dazai teases. His eyes dart over to Ranpo blissfully ignoring everything happening before him, wondering why he didn't give Kunikida his whereabouts when he could have easily figured out where he's been hiding. He just smiles, though. Ranpo keeps hidden what Dazai doesn't want everyone to know about.

“I'm one more incident away from putting a tracker in that damn bolo tie,” Kunikida grumbles, somehow managing to get past his anger and sit back down in his chair. He grumbles something that Dazai doesn't quite understand. He feels safe enough to approach his own desk, and sit across from Kunikida.

“What was that?” Dazai asks, tilting his head.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida says, straightening up a stack of reports on his desks with a heavy huff.

“I'm okay,” Dazai says with a half smile. “No need to worry your pretty little head about me, Kunikida. You know the universe won't let me die.”

“That's not the point, Dazai,” Kunikida grumbles, almost reminiscent of a comment Chuuya made to him at the hospital. These two always insist on worrying over him. “Tell me next time you're hurt. At least send me a damn text so I know you're not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.”

“Well, I could be, regardless of the contents of whatever text I might send you,” Dazai teases, and Kunikida looks like he might throw the pen he's holding right at Dazai's head, but he refrains.

“Get to work. You still need to finish that report,” Kunikida grumbles, tossing him a blue folder.

“I thought you said you'd finish it for me,” Dazai says, lifting up his head as the door opens, revealing Atsushi and Kyoka, both looking surprised to see him. Atsushi rushes past everyone else as Dazai smiles at him.

“No, you pissed me off. I started it, you do the rest,” Kunikida sighs just before Atsushi sits beside him and starts a string of worried questions and assumptions that Dazai only half listens to, only watches his eyes. Chuuya really does have them wrong, they would never want him in that situation.

Chuuya would definitely like Atsushi, with how much he likes Akutagawa. He might even get along with Kunikida. Chuuya joining them for dinner sometime is some faraway ridiculous fantasy that he could only ever see Oda suggesting, and he just smiles to himself.

“Are you even listening?” Atsushi sighs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dazai says. “Start over?”

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the-possum-writes · 2 years

Text

Reunited with Finn after coming back from the islands.

❥Ship: Finn x Gn!Reader

❥ Tags: Fluff, N/S/F/W, Vanilla, gender neutral reader

❥ A/n: Okay, this was originally part of a request for needy Finn s/mut after not seeing his s/o, but they specified fem!reader and more of a date night so instead of adjusting this draft to fit the request I'll submit this as it's own thing while I rewrite the request. Takes place after the Island's and elements special. Bon apettite.

❥ Taglist (open): @watchingfromthefloorboards

Finn left at the worst time possible but you can’t blame him for it, the prospect of learning more about human culture and his own origin was a very enticing opportunity he couldn’t miss. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Is what he told you, but even then the universe has a crude sense of humor. By the time he sailed off into the ocean and disappeared beyond the horizon something wrong started happening within the under skin of Ooo, magic was out of control, kingdoms were divided in four elements of candy, ice, fire and slime. Even then, it’s hard to pinpoint how or when it happened, all you remember is worrying about Finn’s safety before your mind became consumed with thoughts about singing and soda pop as your flesh was replaced with tooth rotting candy. If there’s one good thing about his departure it’s that he was safe from this chaotic magic.

He promised he’ll come back, and he kept his word. With the candy’s influence removed from your mind and body, the first thought that came to mind is your knight in a shining bear hat, running through grass plains without stop until you reach the tree house completely sunburn and exhausted, but any remaining doubt evaporated from your mind as you saw him bust open the door at the sight of you.

Finn’s bedroom is warm and inviting, with a bear pelt draped over the window to keep the room fresh and semi dark except for the lamp on his bedside. You’re entangled in his arms just as his hand is in your hair, caressing it fondly.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” He laments with every kiss, deeper than the previous one. “But was it worth it?” you rub his forearm, littered with scratches and faint scars.

Finn sighs momentarily, breaking the kiss. “Definitely.”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize.” You massage the back of his head in comfort, his own locks feeling like a gold cascade running past your fingers. Every time you brought up the topic about his island adventure Finn’s body would go rigid and rapidly blink his eyes to avoid any droplets, so you naturally change the conversation. “You know... I bought a new pair of underwear for when you came back.”

“Oh really?” Finn hums contently, to which you only nod. “Can I see’ em?”

The sheets wrinkle under the weight of your body when you part away from Finn’s arms, kneeling in a way that gave him a good view of your lower body while unbuttoning your clothing of choice. Finn patiently leans against the headrest of his bed as you toss behind you the discarded article, Finn places his hands on the dip of your hips, his thumbs playing around with the elastic band of your bright colored underwear with a funky hot dog pattern. “Not bad, looks good on you,” he chuckles, pulling the elastic back before purposely releasing it against your skin. “But it’ll look better on the floor~” his ironic pick up lines never fail.

It’s your turn to laugh. “Oh wow, that was terrible,” you snort lovingly. “But you get a B+ for trying.” You smooch his forehead the same time Finn tugs you closer to him, placing a kiss on your clothed crotch. The pleasant chills running down your tummy as you rake your hands down his chest, eventually leaning forward to plop you on your back, but your grip was still held on his shirt.

Upon your request he removed his t shirt. The boyish chub you remember from way before now replaced by lean muscle overtime, his adventure spent as sea did wonders on him like the tan marks left by his usual outfit on his thighs and arms, there’s also subtle dark specks peppered over his body like a seasoned dish. A dish you’re more than eager to dig your teeth.

You lick your way up his neck before eventually nibbling the sensitive spot under his chin, taking delight in hearing Finn’s strained moans as he ruts his growing hard on against your thigh. “Sorry babe, say goodbye to your hotdogs.” The young man peels the underwear from your legs and nonchalantly tosses them aside much to your slight disdain. “Hey watch it! Those were expensive.” You scold him but not really holding it against him, especially not when he’s holding one of your legs on his waist with the other raised on his shoulder. “Pfft really? You’re getting mad even when I have you like this?” he laughs. But just to rile you up further. Finn frees his hefty cock from within his blue shorts, rubbing his leaking tip between your legs in a repetitive motion almost like a massage, smearing his sticky humidity all over your heated intimates. “I’ll get an-angrier if you keep teasing me like this.” You snap back but not without groaning in the process, feeling the him squeeze his tip without warning.

“What if I like seeing you angry~?” Finn practically purrs in your ear, unconsciously shuddering every time he slips his sensitive gland in and out of you, but not precisely penetrating yet which is maddening. “FINN! LUBE ME UP ALREADY!”

“Already on that babe,” he smooches you before pulling away, retrieving the bottle of lube from his nightstand just for occasions like these. Meanwhile you lay there like one of those damsel in distress with an arm tossed over your forehead, the chill skin contrasting with the burning desire that has you absolutely feverish and wanton. “How about I leave for a month? Let’s see if you’ll miss me as much.” You taunt, jabbing at how he’s taking his sweet time with you while you been waiting for weeks to get railed. “Hey babe don’t say that, of course I miss you,” Finn pulls out his fingers from you, feeling all lubed up and ready to go. “And I’ll make it up to you… by rearranging your guts so good you won’t sit straight for weeks.”

Just like when he said he would come back, Finn also kept his promise on this too.

#finn the human x reader #adventure time #adventure time x reader #finn the human

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direwombat · 9 months

Text

it's like some kind of wednesday in here (+ a bonus WIP music wednesday because I'm late)

tagged by @g0dspeeed, @adelaidedrubman, @gaeadene, and @socially-awkward-skeleton (or pseudo tagged anyway <3) for another wednesday

tagging @strangefable, @strafethesesinners, @detectivelokis, @sstewyhosseini, @confidentandgood, @river-ward, @wrathfulrook, @henbased, @voidika, @madparadoxum, @euryalex, @clonesupport, @schoute, @poetikat, @aceghosts, @inafieldofdaisies, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @harmonyowl, @purplehairsecretlair, @ivymarquis, @cassietrn, @neverthesameneveranother, @roofgeese, @jacobsneed, @trench-rot, and anyone else who has something they want to share <;3!

here's the bit of dialogue right before syb does some dumb shit (surrendering herself to John)

“Chosen chopper incoming. Want me to shoot ‘er down?”

She shakes her head even though she knows he can’t see her. “Don’t,” she says. “They’re here for me.”

“Uh…I ain’t followin’.”

“I made a deal with John,” she explains. “Myself in exchange for your and Kim’s safety.”

“What!?” Nick exclaims. “You’re just handin’ yourself over to him?”

“I ain’t happy ‘bout it either, but I ain’t got much choice,” she says. “John’s just gonna keep throwin’ his men at us til one or both of us ends up dead. Least if I do this, you n’ Kim can pack your bags and get to Falls End before he decides to go back on his word.”

Besides, the sooner she knows where he’s keeping Joey, the sooner she can figure out how to bust her free.

Then she can go looking for her brother.

“Look. Just trust me, okay? I know what I’m doin’.”

She hopes she sounds more confident than she feels.

“If you say so,” Nick answers, but she can hear the reluctance in his voice.

“Just get your ass back on the ground and go to your wife. Let me handle the rest.” And with that, she tunes into the Falls End frequency. “Grace, you copy?”

The few moments it takes for her to respond drags on for an eternity, but finally, she answers. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Sybille breathes a sigh of relief. “Great. Listen, I need you to get to Nick’s airstrip ASAP.”

“What’s goin’ on? You need backup?”

“Kinda,” she answers. Poking her head out from behind her cover, she glances at the Peggies awkwardly idling on the airstrip. One of them happens to meet her gaze and she hesitantly gives the man a wave. Puzzled, he waves back, and then she disappears back behind the bar. “Told John I’d surrender if he left Nick and Kim alone.”

“And why would you do something stupid like that?” Grace asks.

Sybille sighs and drags her hand down her face. “Was either that or risk Kim gettin’ shot,” she says. “Look, I ain’t trust a single word that comes outta that snake’s mouth, so if you could come down and make sure he doesn’t try anythin’ once he’s got me, that’d be great.”

“And if he does?”

“Then you get Nick and Kim outta here,” she says bluntly. “Don’t care where you take ‘em. Just make sure they’re safe.”

“And what about you?”

She sighs again. “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

Grace is quiet for a long time, and there’s a brief moment where Sybille worries that she might refuse her request. But then her voice comes crackling through the radio once more. “You remember when I called you crazy?”

Sybille laughs. “Which time?” she asks.

“Don’t matter,” Grace answers. “I take it back. You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Her smile widens. “So you’ll be here?”

“I'm on my way,” Grace says reluctantly. In the background, Sybille can hear the roar of an ATV coming to life.

The tension in Sybille’s shoulders immediately relaxes and she closes her eyes, leaning her head back to rest it against the wood paneling of the bar. “I owe you,” she says.

“Damn right you do,” Grace grunts. “Oh, and Dep?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get dead.”

“Copy that,” she smiles. “See you on the other side.”

WIP MUSIC WEDNESDAY

been trying to get myself into the john seed mindset so here's a song (my ethel cain katc epiphanies earlier this evening aside) that's been helping me as i struggle to write him lmao

Listen up all you beggars, you liars and you thieves I'm about to bring you something that's gonna take you to your knees And you know that I could never let you down Oh when you feel the might and you hear that old soul sound

You've been waiting on the wind You've been waiting on the winds of change to blow your sails into the night Oh but all you do is sit and cry

You got to go down to the river and wash your soul clean You got to go down to the river and wash your soul clean Ooh down to the river and wash your soul clean You got to go down to the river and wash your soul clean

What you want (Down to the river) You ain't got (And wash your soul clean) What you got is all that you need

#wip wednesday #some radio chats between syb and nick and syb and grace #and this week on wip music day we have shawn james. who does a lot of heavy lifting in giving me katc insp #Spotify

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dearheart42regenerated · 11 months

Photo

bro (yes homo) ♡ - a Muckles fanmix

♡ playlist link: Spotify ♡ artwork used: @livelivefastfree

(do I dare tag this legendary amazing motorcity fanartist who hasn’t posted in a year?? yes. I do dare. I miss their stuff. I hope they make more stuff.)

anyway HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO ME!!!

here’s a slow burn friends-to-lovers playlist for two dorks I miss very much. has a bit of a fanfic-y story arc to it if you pay attention. ;) LOTS of fun nostalgic dumb teenager I’ve-known-you-forever pop-punk vibes, with sprinkles of indie and pop, and just a dash of indulgent angst in the middle.

if any shippers still lurk in this tag, I hope you enjoy this~

(I’m always adding more songs as I find ‘em and I roped my sisters into helping, so there will likely be more than this on the tracklist lol)

--> ♡ main tracks & lyrics:

The Bro Duet - George Salazar, Jason Gotay

Remember that time we were surfing / And I almost drowned / (Heheheheh, yeah) / And you dragged me to the beach / And performed CPR?

You Told The Drunks I Knew Karate - Zoey Van Goey

I do the dumbest things for you / Why do I do the dumbest things for you? / I would be safer on my own / I didn't care, you were the most exciting thing I'd ever known

You And I - Anarbor

You and I, we've never felt so right / That just might be just what I need (to get me through the night) / You and I, we're the perfect fit, you've got me hooked / So lit I could never never quit, I just burn away

I’ll Be There - Walk Off The Earth

When your heart could use a break / And it's too broken to be open / I'll be patient, I will wait / Until you're ready to be open / Everybody / Needs somebody / And you got me

With You - Tricia Brock

Through it all / I'll go down to the bottom with you / They can take it all away / But I'll be alright with you / As long as you are by my side / I'll be okay

More Than Useless - Relient K

I'm a little more than useless / And when I think that I can't do this / You promise me that I'll get through this / And do something right / Do something right for once

My Pace - Stray Kids

(English translation) There's no need to rush, my pace / Don't compare yourself with others / It's okay to run slower / Just follow my lane, my lane / Take it easy / Just look ahead and run

A Daydream Away - All Time Low

I wish you could see your face right now / 'Cause you're grinning like a fool / And we're sitting on your kitchen floor / On a Tuesday afternoon / It doesn't matter when we get back / To doing what we do / 'Cause right now could last forever / Just as long as I'm with you

In Your Car - Big Deal

I got a friend who never lets me down / Driving in your car / I wanna be wherever you are / Asleep in the backseat / There's nothing more that I'll ever need / It's a secret, a secret, a secret

Sticking With You - Addison Road

Come on, it's me you're talking to / There's something going on inside of you / Don't have to say it, but I wish you would / 'Cause it would be much easier

Curl Up And Die - Relient K

Clinging to the remnants of perfection / Like most do after they break it / Not knowing which direction’s the correct one / Do I discard or remake it? / 'Cause if I don't know, then I don't know / But I may know someone who knows me more than I

Army - Besomorph, Arcando, Neoni

Seeing monsters out your window / I know you can't sleep, you pretend though / You don't have to play the hero / 'Cause I got you, like you got me / When the earth shakes / When the bombs scream / 'Til our last breath, every heartbeat / You know I'll come running / If you go to war then I'm going with you

Safe And Sound - Taylor Swift

I remember you said don't leave me here alone / But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight / Just close your eyes, the sun is going down / You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now / Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

Hometown - Sheppard

Well, love just don't feel right / When I don't have your hand in mine / I'm scared you're slipping away / But once I'm homeward bound / From the moment that I touch down / I realize nothing has changed

Odds Are - Barenaked Ladies

Struck by lightning, sounds pretty frightening / But you know the chances are so small / Hit by the A-Train, crashed in an airplane / Better chance you're gonna buy it at the mall / But it's a twenty-three-or-four-to-one / That you can fall in love by the end of this song / So get up, get up, no I'm never gonna let up / So you might as well sing along / The odds are that we will probably be alright

I Would Do Anything For You - Foster The People

Every day is a battle I face / Strange life I live / But it's what you've decided / I'll give it all into your hands / Do what you will / With me

Must Have Done Something Right - Relient K

And I'm racking my brain for a new improved way / To let you know you’re more to me than what I know how to say / You're OK with the way this is going to be / ‘Cause this is going to be the best thing we've ever seen / If anyone can make me a better person, you could / All I gotta say is I must've done something good

I Melt With You - Bowling For Soup

Moving forward using all my breath / Being friends with you was never second best / And I saw the world crashing all around your face / Never really knowing it was always mesh and lace / I'll stop the world and melt with you / You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time / And there's nothing you and I won't do

Boom! - Simple Plan

Don't worry about tomorrow / ‘Cause these walls will never fall / I just wanna let the world know / What we've got's unbreakable / We got it under control / We're good, we're solid, we're gold

Rock To My Roll - Anarbor

You are the rhythm to my rhyme / And you are my radio / Turn you up when I feel low / You are the soundtrack to all I know / You are the rock to my roll

Running Towards A Place - The Killers

And if we're running towards a place / Where we'll walk as one / Will the hardness of this life / Be overcome? / If I lay with you in love / Will you meet me there / And shake the lightning from the locks / Of your unbound hair / Can two become one?

Quarter Past Midnight - Bastille

It's a quarter past midnight / As we cut through the city / Yeah, yeah, yeah, the streets are getting restless / Good times, bad decisions / Yeah, yeah, it's a quarter past midnight / And the sirens are mending some hearts / But we're the losers on our back seats / Singing "Love Will Tear Us Apart"

Passenger Seat - Death Cab For Cutie

When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride / When you need directions then I'll be the guide / For all time / For all time

#motorcity #muck #muckles #mike chilton #motorcity chuck #*insert bugs bunny meme here* I would like to wish this dead fandom a Very Happy Pride Month #my mixes #made by yours truly

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fanficfanattic · 6 months

Text

Gotta poll below for the Family Curse fic. But first! Background:

Jamie says he’s injured, he is, Ted yells at him, but before he can go do cones Nate runs in saying a baby appeared in the middle of the pitch out of nowhere. Ted & Beard assume he just somehow missed seeing the baby when he first went out, which, rude.

But Jamie asks if the baby is in a Man City onesie, hole in the shoulder? And Nate was like “How would I know that?” Which is when Jamie realizes that Nate didn’t bring the baby inside!

Roy is convinced this is some elaborate prank or revenge or something on Jamie’s part. Which Jamie is confused about. How is a magic baby either of those things? But more importantly, he’s saying the baby is him. One day after his first birthday.

See, his family is cursed:

At some point in their lives, they get haunted by their past selves. First day is the day after their first birthday, second the day after their second birthday, etc. Until they catch up to their nearest passed birthday.

Each generation has the mysterious day it shows up happen earlier and earlier. No one can figure out what triggers it. But the rules are always the same. 12:01 clicks over and your past self appears at your home. In the room that you are and with no one else present.

Jamie’s past self appears by 10:01 and at Nelson Road. On the pitch, in front of Nate, and now he’s told 30 some people what had otherwise been a secret his family has always taken to the grave.

So I have to figure out the actually injure reveal.

1) One idea is that the skeptical Roy “it’s a trick!” can easily be addressed. If the baby has the same birthmark on his lower back that Jamie does, same person. It’s only when he’s unzipped his jacket (no shirt under it) that he remembers why he wasn’t planning to train today. But it’s too late, the bruises on his body are now very obvious.

2) My second idea is that Georgie and Simon show up to help the first few days. So the lads are on the pitch doing drills and Jamie is holding Baby Jamie on the sidelines. Simon gets to him first because Keeley had greeted him and Georgie at the front of the building. They were jump hugging and screaming so Rebecca lead him out to the pitch.

When Georgie gets out on the grass she shouts her customary “JAMIE!” And he hands the baby off to Simon so he can catch her up when she throws herself at him for the hug. Ted is even treated to Simon’s commentary about “here they go again”. Except Jamie screams fuck and clutches his ribs.

He explains with all the excitement he’d kind of forgotten the ribs. But he’s all right. And she unzips his jacket right then and makes Simon come check him over. (This Simon is an EMS lol).

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #roy kent #keeley jones #rebecca welton #jamie’s mum georgie #jamie’s stepdad simon #james tartt #implied james tartt sr #james tartt sr #physical abuse #magic baby

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another-whump-sideblog · 1 year

Text

Jane’s Pets Chapter 65: Sleep

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

“When do you think we can go back for Kitty and Puppy?” You ask Diya in a hushed voice. Secrecy isn’t necessary, you and Diya are on a walk and neither Greg nor Barron are close enough to hear, but you’re nervous about asking for some reason.

“Hmm… maybe Barron can go see how they’re doing. It can cast an invisibility spell, teleport over there, and teleport back. If it thinks they’ll come with us this time, we can stage another rescue mission.”

“How soon can it do that?”

“I’ll ask when it gets home from work. Or you can ask.”

“…I’d rather you did.” Diya’s said that Barron never hurt em, and you know Diya well enough now that you believe em and think ey would warn you if ey thought Barron was dangerous. You’re just also aware that Barron not hurting Diya doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’d be right there. I know you don’t trust Barron, but you trust me, right? If anyone tried to hurt you, I would stop them, and that includes Barron.”

“I don’t want to. I’d rather you asked. Didn’t you say that if you feel forced to do something that scares you it doesn’t actually help?”

“…Yeah. I’ll talk to it.”

“Thank you.” You wanted Diya to agree with you, but now that ey has you feel kind of like a coward. You loosen your collar another notch, and it only makes you feel a little terrified out of your mind. That’s progress!

Diya notices, ey clearly notices, but doesn’t say anything. Probably worried about freaking someone out again.

“Do you think they’ll come with us this time?” Diya asks.

You sigh. “I don’t know. They’ve both escaped before and been brought back, so they have reason to not trust that it’ll last. I don’t know how long I’d have to be safe for them to believe it. I hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

Diya nods. “We won’t give up on them, no matter how long it takes.”

You’re always astounded by Diya’s kindness. Greg and Barron’s too. Were you this shocked by kindness before Jane took you? You broke Diya’s fingers, and Puppy beat the shit out of Greg, and still they offer nothing but support and care.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Of course. Um… how’d you sleep last night?”

You frown. “Not great. Why do you ask?”

“…I heard you crying. I didn’t know if you’d want me to wake you up. And then I thought you might be awake, and you said that if you wanted my help you’d ask for it, so I didn’t know what to do.”

“Huh… I don’t remember crying, so I was probably asleep. I think- if I’m screaming, or crying loudly enough that it’s making it hard for you to sleep, you should wake me up. But I don’t remember having any nightmares last night, so I think you should let me sleep through it otherwise. What about you? Should I interfere, if I hear you having a nightmare?”

“I mean, if you can hear it Greg is definitely already helping me. You can come see me if you want, I’ll never complain about having more attention, but don’t feel bad if you want to just go back to sleep. Why didn’t you sleep well, anyway? If you don’t remember any nightmares.”

“I had a headache. It’s hard to get to sleep when you’re in pain.”

Diya stops walking and turns to face you. “Ethan! We have pain medication! You could’ve asked for help.”

You keep walking, and Diya follows. “I know, but medication doesn’t make the headaches completely go away, and you were all asleep, and I didn’t remember where the medication was.”

“You can wake us up, don’t worry about that. I’ll show you where the medicine is when we get back.”

You nod. Eir kindness always feels too good to be true, but you think that’s helping you to understand. You want to return the favor, or help someone in the ways Diya’s helped you. Ey said Barron helped em when ey needed. Ey probably feels the same way, the same push to pay the kindness forward. That’s why ey’s so nice. Ey’s not trying to trick you. Probably. Definitely. “Thank you.”

Diya and you walk in silence for a while. You enjoy walking with Diya a lot more now that you know ey isn’t walking with you to supervise you. Knowing you could walk alone if you wanted makes walking with em really nice. Ey just genuinely wants to spend time with you. And you like spending time with em.

“Do the nightmares ever go away?” You ask.

“Probably not.” Diya’s voice is nonchalant. “I mean, people who haven’t been tortured and held in captivity have nightmares too. So I don’t think the nightmares will ever completely go away. But I think it’ll eventually get to the point that they don’t negatively impact your overall quality of life anymore.”

Diya slows down a bit. You don’t think it’s on purpose. “You know… I’m not actually an expert on this stuff. I’ve only been free for a few months, and I’ve been giving you advice as if I’m completely healed- like I’m mentoring you through something I went through a long time ago, when I’m really just as much in the midst of it as you are. I still can’t even handle being alone…” Ey sounds embarrassed.

“I didn’t feel like you were acting like an expert. You were just sharing your experiences and opinions.” You reassure em. “Maybe I want the advice of someone still in the midst of it.”

“That’s fair. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say. I guess just that if you disagree with something I say, or just feel like it doesn’t fit your experience, those feelings are just as valid as agreeing with me. Which would be true even if I was an expert, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You don’t want me to be mad at you if you give bad advice.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not just that. I don’t want you to take bad advice if I give it. I just… when I freaked out the other day… I don’t know. I think I get overconfident, especially because I was in school to become a therapist for a while. I don’t want you to get hurt because you thought I had things all together and I didn’t.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t think you have things together.”

Diya laughs. “Good, good. Yeah, you know not to just blindly follow my advice, you’re not gullible or naive. I don’t need to worry about that. Sorry, I was just rambling.”

“I like rambling.” At least, you have since meeting Kitty. You miss them so much… “You can worry about me being gullible or naive a little bit. That’s how I got into this mess.”

“Heh. I’ll worry just a little bit, then. But you seem plenty cautious to me.”

You are definitely less trusting than you were before. You’re worried it’s not enough to keep you safe, but at least you won’t follow someone to a second location because they gave you ice cream ever again.

You’re making your way back to the cabin. “…Is it just time then, with nightmares? Or is there something I could be doing to make them happen less or be less… bad?”

“Oh, I looked into that a while ago! I had Barron get us a bunch of books on nightmares and trauma and stuff. I don’t remember much about what they said, except that I did not want to do any of the things the books suggested. But we still have those books, you can look through them if you want.”

“Why didn’t you want to do the things in the books?”

“I think it just… sounded hard? And I was already having a hard time with, like, everything, and I figured that the nightmares would get better as I felt safer, and I was already working on that.”

You nod. You think you will look at those books.

You’re suddenly very conscious of how loose your collar is. You could forget it’s there, except that the way it brushes against your skin when you move your head feels so different. You tighten it a notch again.

When you get back to the cabin, Diya shows you where the medications are, in a drawer in the bathroom. There’s a wide variety. “Just let Barron know if anything starts to get low. Or let me know and I can let Barron know. And be safe, follow the instructions on the labels and ask someone if you have questions.”

You nod. “Thank you. I will.”

Diya brings you back to the living room and shows you the books about nightmares. Most of them are textbooks that you know will make your head hurt in just a few paragraphs, but there is an autobiography that seems interesting. You’d still need to take breaks (and maybe pain meds), but you think you’d be able to get something out of it.

You settle down onto the couch with the heavy book. Diya picks out a book of eir own from the shelf and lies on eir stomach on the floor.

“…You can sit on the couch if you want, Diya.”

“I’m comfortable down here. Thank you, though.”

You open the book to the table of contents, suddenly realizing this book is going to be heavy in more ways than one. It’ll be easier to understand and relate to than a textbook, but reading about someone else’s experiences with this stuff might be upsetting. Maybe it would be more helpful to focus your time on writing your name and loosening your collar. Or, for handling problems around nightmares, it might be more helpful to just… ask a question or two you’ve been scared to ask.

Diya is already several pages into eir book, deeply engrossed.

“Diya?”

Diya blinks. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been wondering… would Barron be upset if- well, am I allowed to look at any of the books on the bookshelf?”

“Of course.”

“At any time?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. And the computer, am I allowed to use that at any time?”

“As long as no one else is using it. Are you worried there’s a time you wouldn’t be allowed to do those things?”

“…Well, just at night, sometimes I want to read or do something for a while to calm down after a nightmare, but I don’t know if that’s, like… against the rules. Since I’ve never seen one of you do that.”

Diya sets eir book down. “We wouldn’t keep rules a secret from you. And… you live here. You don’t need permission to use anything. Well, I guess some things do just belong to one person, you shouldn’t use our toothbrushes or anything, that would be gross. But pretty much everything in the living room and kitchen are yours as much as they’re ours, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. Sorry for distracting you from your book.”

“It’s no problem. I like talking to you.” Diya picks eir book back up.

You loosen your collar a notch. That’s a good idea, right? You’ll use the book to distract you until you’re not freaked out by the loose collar anymore. Two birds with one stone.

You get through three pages before your head starts hurting. You sigh in frustration. You can go grab some ibuprofen, and you will, but you shouldn’t have to. You used to be able to read for hours. It’s not fair.

You’re too tired to get really upset over it, though. You set down the book and go take some ibuprofen. Maybe you’ll work on writing your name instead of reading more. Your collar is loose, and it feels like if the restraints on a roller coaster were loose. Unsecured, unsafe. But you know you’re safe, or at least that the collar isn’t what’s making you unsafe.

You grab the notebook you’ve been using to write your name and a pencil and sit back down on the couch.

Liam, Liam, Liam. That’s your name. Jane tried to take it from you, but it’s still yours. You close your eyes. Liam.

You can reach it. It’s terrifying, and your heart pounds so hard it makes you feel sick, but your name is yours again.

You write it a few more times, to make sure it sticks, and then put the notebook and pencil away.

Your head still hurts. You should’ve taken the meds before you started reading, so it never got really bad. You’ll do that next time. You put the book back, then curl up under your weighted blanket on the couch.

You kind of want to chat with Diya, but ey seems very into eir book. Maybe Greg will want to hang out… but wouldn’t they come out to the living room if they did? No, if they’re in their room, they probably want to be alone.

There’s no clock in the living room, so you go and check the one in the kitchen. Barron usually gets home around this time.

You really appreciate clocks, after so long with Jane, where time seemed to stretch or contract depending on how much pain you were in. It’s nice to have an objective measure of time, and especially nice to know what to expect at different times.

You hear the front door swing open. Right on time. You tighten your collar and back further into the kitchen.

“Hi, Barron!” You hear Diya say cheerfully. “How was work?”

“I didn’t make a lot of progress on anything, but I learned a lot and did blow anything up. How was your day?”

“Good! We all got some chores done. Me and Ethan went on a walk, and Greg didn’t sleep well so they’re taking a nap. Ethan asked about nightmares so I showed him those books you got us, and now we’re just reading.”

“We?”

There’s a pause. “Oh, Ethan must’ve gone to do something else. I didn’t even notice.”

“What’re you reading?”

“A book.”

“Haha. Haven’t you read all of the books we’ve got? Do you want more?”

“We don’t have a lot more room. Maybe some library books? I don’t care either way, I like rereading things. Oh, Ethan wanted me to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“When do you think we’ll try again on rescuing his friends?”

Barron sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to put you or Greg at risk again, if they react violently.”

“I told him that maybe you could check on them. Invisibly. See if they’re ready.”

“…That could work. I’d have to prepare some spells first. Maybe in a couple days.” Barron walks into the kitchen as it talks. “Oh, hi. Are you hungry?”

You’ve pushed yourself a lot today. Surely you can have a normal conversation with Barron. “Um… yeah.”

“Me too. I was going to get started on dinner. Do you want to help? I was going to make some pizza.”

“…Sure. That sounds good.”

Diya peaks in. “We’re making pizza?”

“If you want.” Barron says.

“Awesome! I’ll go see if Greg’s awake.”

Diya runs off.

“Ey can make pizza whenever ey wants.” Barron mutters, pulling out ingredients. “Don’t know why ey gets so excited.”

You don’t say anything.

“…You overheard me talking to em, right? You know what the plan is with your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. It’ll just be a few days while I prepare the spells.”

“…Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Diya and Greg walk into the kitchen, holding hands.

“How hungry is everyone?” Barron asks. “Do you want to make homemade dough, or just heat something up quick?”

“I can wait a bit longer.” Diya says. “What about you guys?”

Greg nods. “I don’t mind.”

“Me neither.” You say.

“Perfect.”

Over the next 45 minutes, the four of you awkwardly make some pizza. Four people might be too much for something that simple, but it’s nice. Warm and close and just… nice. You don’t talk a lot, but you enjoy listening to the others converse. You loosen your collar. It still makes your stomach drop, but you focus on the pizza you’re making and Diya’s voice and the clock, there’s a clock here, and you feel better.

It should’ve been like this with Puppy and Kitty. If Jane wasn’t there…

Well. It will be like this with Puppy and Kitty once they let you save them. That’s something to look forward to.

After dinner, you play a couple card games with Greg and Diya, while Barron prepares spells in its room. You win all of them, of course, and keep a careful eye on Greg.

When Diya and Greg go to bed, you have nothing to distract you, and you’re reminded of how loose your collar is.

You could tighten the collar back up, but… it’s been such a good day. You can push yourself one more time.

Slowly, you take off your collar. It feels like skydiving without a parachute. You take a deep breath and focus on emptying your lungs before taking another breath. You focus on the sound of the wind whistling outside and the softness of your blanket.

You should find something to distract yourself. Would it be safe to go on a walk?No, it’s too late. Reading or knitting would hurt your head, even if you took ibuprofen.

You decide to see what games they have on their computer. There are quite a lot. You try each of them out until you find one that’s simple and relaxing. You’ll just play it until you’re tired enough that your heart stops pounding.

You don’t sleep at all.

“It’s my fault, really. I shouldn’t have gone so easy on you the last time you spoke without permission.”

Puppy was tortured for months for speaking while in a fevered haze. And Master considers that going easy on her.

She should’ve known better. She won’t disobey Master again.

“We’re going to make sure you remember how important being a good Puppy is, and then, if you ever speak without permission, you will never see Kitty again.”

It’s a vague threat. It could mean that she’ll kill Kitty, or that she’ll blind Puppy, or any number of things. Usually Master’s threats are more specific.

“Hey, look at me. Say ‘thank you, Master.’”

There is still barbed wire in her mouth. She makes a strangled sound she hopes sounds like a thank you.

“You can do better than that. Say it. Say ‘thank you, Master.’”

She tries to speak through the pain, she really does, but only the vowel sounds end up really clear.

“Hmm. Good enough for now. I need to go work on Kitty, anyway.”

Master kicks Puppy in the side, triggering so much pain she almost throws up, and then vanishes.

Puppy lies on the ground, wrapped in slowly cooling barbed wire. The cooling doesn’t help anyway, there’s still barbs digging into the burns.

She takes a ragged breath. She can’t stay here, in her body, feeling everything. And Master isn’t here to make her.

The apartment she has with Charlie and Liam always smells nice. They have loads and loads of candles, and there’s almost always one lit. It’s probably a fire hazard.

And it’s beautiful, too. It has nice furniture and the sun is always streaming through the windows. The apartment is bright and warm and full of games and blankets and half finished projects, and she doesn’t have to be in there long to feel the love seeped into every wall, every object. This is a safe place. Puppy is safe here. Charlie and Liam are safe here.

Puppy doesn’t fall asleep, but her eyes glaze over as she goes deeper, deeper into her own mind, away from the pain.

Kitty is shaking and sweating from whatever drug Jane gave them. They don’t like it.

“Still sleepy, Kitty?”

They just about jump out of their skin. Their heart pounds and pounds and pounds. They shake their head.

“Good. Let’s begin. Give me your hand.”

They hold out the hand that wasn’t just stabbed through.

Jane produces a knife. “Hold still.”

Kitty can’t stop shaking. “I’m trying.”

Jane sighs and grabs their wrist tightly. “I guess this’ll just hurt really bad.”

Jane brings the knife up to the edge of one of their nails and slowly, slowly slides it under. Kitty’s shaking does the rest of the work, and with a crack half of the nail snaps off and falls to the floor.

Kitty grits their teeth, even as tears spring to their eyes. They’ve been through this before, and they won’t give Jane the satisfaction of their screams.

Jane gets the knife under the rest of their nail, and then presses up. The other half of the nail pops off their finger. They swallow a scream. Their finger throbs with pain.

“You used your hands to defy me. You won’t do that again.”

Jane slides the knife under another fingernail. Kitty squeezes their eyes closed.

“Eyes open, Kitty, you know the rules.”

Kitty opens their eyes again. Sees the knife under their fingernail, watches Jane flick her wrist, watches their fingernail fly off their finger. They can’t stop the scream that follows.

Jane smiles. “Do you want to know what I did to Puppy?”

She slides the knife under their nail. “I heated some barbed wire up in a fire.”

Their shaking snaps the nail again, vertically this time. “I wrapped it all around her.”

She flicks her wrist. Another fingernail gone. Seven left. “I put some in her mouth, even. And on the soles of her feet.”

Kitty would rather focus on the burning, aching, throbbing pain in their fingers than think about how Puppy must be feeling right now.

Jane trades her knife for a pair of pliers. They harshly grip one of their nails. “She broke my rules to protect you.”

Jane yanks, hard ripping the nail off. Kitty cries out. “She knew the consequences would be bad, and she chose to protect you anyway.”

Grip, squeeze, yank. A scream rips from their throat in tandem with the nail being ripped from their finger. One hand down. “If you hadn’t been such an idiot, we would’ve finished our little experiment. Neither of you would be getting hurt right now.”

Jane pulls their index finger back as far as it will go, then farther with a loud snap. Kitty fights the urge to pull away, knowing it will only make things worse.

“So, once your hands have been taught their lesson, I’m going to put you in sensory deprivation for a very, very long time. And once you come out, you’ll be so good for me, won’t you?”

No, not that, especially after they fucked Puppy over so badly, it’ll be all they’ll be able to think about. They sob.

“I’ll be good without that, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I’ll focus on keeping you happy instead of what I can get away with, I’ll be good, a good Kitty, please.”

“Shut up. You don’t actually think begging will stop me, do you? Has that ever worked? What are you trying to accomplish?

“…please, Master.”

Before they can process anything, another snap rings out, and then sharp, sharp pain in their hand. They scream.

“I said to shut up. See, this is what I was talking about. You’ll be better after some quiet time.”

Kitty’s shaking is jostling their broken fingers. They clamp their mouth shut, hoping Master- hoping Jane will see the effort they’re putting into obeying, into shutting up.

They really, really wish they could pass out again.

My naughty pets need a break before more punishment, for maximum effectiveness. But I still want to punish someone.

I eat an apple quickly, just so I can show Peyton how little it impacts how violent I’m feeling. After that, it’s time to pay her a visit.

It’s late at night, so she’s in bed, asleep. So peaceful. I shake her awake.

“Peyton. Peyton. It’s Jane. You were wrong.”

“Huh?”

“You. Were. Wrong. I ate and I rested and I did everything right and I’m just as violent as ever. I tracked it, if you want to see.”

I take the notebook I used from my void and throw it at her.

“…ow. Jane, it’s so late. Can we talk about this another time?”

“No! You’ll talk to me when I want you to talk to me!”

“What’s going on? You sound upset.”

“Oh, aren’t you so observant. Kitty disobeyed me. Months ago, I gave them a key to some chains, to unlock someone for me, and I realized yesterday that they never gave it back. They thought they could keep it, thought maybe they could use it against my will someday, but they aren’t stupid. What would they even use it for? They know full well that if any of them were released from their chains before I wanted it there’d be hell to pay. No, their main intention wasn’t to use it. They were defying me for the sake of defying me.”

“Maybe they forgot?” Peyton turns on the lamp on her nightstand and starts paging through the notebook I gave her.

“That’s what they claimed, but I know they did it on purpose. And even if they did forget, that just means their training wasn’t good enough, and they need to spend more time in the basement. They need to remember their place, that they belong to me.”

“I see…” her eyebrows furrow. “You starved them? I didn’t tell you to do that. I didn’t ask you to do half of this stuff. All I asked was for you to eat and rest regularly and see how it made you feel.”

“I went above and beyond. You’re welcome. The worst thing, though, is that Puppy spoke without permission. She knows better than that. She was all like ‘you’re not thinking clearly, you’ll kill them.’”

“Were you going to kill them?”

“That’s not the point! You have no idea how long it took to get her to only speak when I allowed it, and apparently it didn’t go as deeply as I thought. Maybe I’ll just cut out her tongue and be done with it…”

Peyton sets down the notebook. “So, you haven’t noticed any difference at all from eating and resting regularly?”

“None. You should see what I did to them. Maybe I’ll take some pictures for you.”

“I understand perfectly well without pictures. What do you want me to say, Jane? That you’re right, there’s no way you’ll ever feel better, so you might as well torture people to numb things for a while? Because I don’t believe that.”

I scowl. Sometimes, I really hate Peyton. “Right, you think I should just suffer and suffer and never do things I know will help, because mortal’s comfort is so much more important than mine.”

“I think you’re suffering anyway. I don’t think what you’re doing is helping you at all.”

"Yeah, that's easier to believe, isn't it? Of course you don't understand, you're just a mortal. You have no idea what I've been through. Fucking- go back to sleep."

I teleport away without waiting for a response. Everyone sucks today.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else! Parts of this chapter keep disappearing and I don't know if that's just on my end or not...

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #multiple whumpees #nonhuman whumper #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #nail whump tw #broken bones tw #torture tw #disscussion of torture tw #jane’s pets #2nd person pov #3rd person pov #1st person pov

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lyranova · 2 years

Text

I Promise my Life

Hi guys! Here’s my day 1 for YamiChar week, i chose the prompt “Promise” and I hope you all enjoy it, it kind of became a little bit of a sequel to the one I did last year, but it can be read on it’s own! I hope you guys enjoy~!

Tagged: @eme-eleff @flow3rbudz @vwdxwnsk @yamicharweek

Word Count: 676

Warnings: None

———

Yami quietly watched Charlotte from across the way. It had been a little over a year ago that he had planted all those roses in the Castle Garden for her, he almost chuckled, he would never forget the look on her face from that day. She had been so surprised but so happy. As the weeks went on he and Charlotte had planted various flowers from Clover and from Hino as well, which made this little garden a flowery oasis.

And this is the place he would promise to give her his entire life.

Yami slowly made his way towards Charlotte, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous. Maybe, when they had kissed for the first time? Yeah, that was probably it. He shoved his hands into his pant pockets and he felt the ring box and held it tightly in his hand.

“ Oh Yami, you’re here already?” Charlotte asked as she looked towards the dark haired mage, Yami nodded and sat down next to her.

“ Yeah, am I too early?” He asked in a slight teasing tone, Charlotte shook her head as she looked around.

“ No you’re right on time.” She told him with a small smile, the two sat together quietly for a few moments, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, he seemed nervous.

“ You’re the one who asked to see me remember?” Charlotte teased, Yami nodded and cleared his throat slightly.

“ Yeah you’re right Princess.” He muttered, he sat there quietly as he tried to gather his thoughts, finally Charlotte spoke up.

“ Do you remember the promise we made about a year ago?” She asked curiously, Yami frowned as he tried to think. The two of them had made many promises to each other over the years, so he was trying to remember which one.

“ Oh, the one about telling each other everything?” Yami asked, Charlotte nodded and suddenly rested her head against his shoulder.

“ Yes that one, we promised to tell each other everything so that way there wouldn’t be any more misunderstandings between us. So whatever’s making you so nervous you can tell me without any fears of judgement.” Charlotte told him softly, Yami took his hand out of his pocket and sighed before wrapping it gently around her.

Yami wanted to tell her what was making him so nervous, but then it would ruin the surprise proposal. He tried to think of some roundabout way to tell her, but Charlotte was very smart, and would probably know what he was talking about.

“ I want to promise my life to you, but I’m nervous too.” Yami admitted, Charlotte frowned and moved her head to look at him. “ I want to promise to give you my entire life, to promise to always come home after a mission, to promise that even when we fight we’ll always try to make up, but for some reason I’m holding myself back.” Yami finished softly, this was very unlike him, he was always so confident and so strong, and maybe that's why people forgot that he also had a soft and vulnerable side.

“ Don’t you always tell your squadmates to ‘surpass their limits’, so why aren’t you doing the same?” Charlotte asked softly, Yami shrugged.

“ I dunno.”

“ Are you…scared that I’ll reject you?” She asked him kindly, she felt him tense up and a small smile graced her face, ah that was why. “ Well, if you were to promise me those things, do you know what I would do?” Yami turned to look down at her.

“ I would promise those same exact things, because the thought of promising to spend our lives together sounds very lovely.” Charlotte told him softly, Yami blinked in surprise as his grey eyes stared into her blue ones. He could see that she was telling him the truth, and that he better not challenge her on them.

“ So, I guess it’s a promise?” Yami asked, his normal demeanor was back and his nervous smile became more playful.

“ Yes Yami, that’s a promise.”

———

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day 🥰!

#black clover #black clover fanfic #black clover fanfiction #yamichar week 2022 #yamichar week #yc22 #yamichar #charlotte x yami #yami x charlotte #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #my oneshot

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sophie-i-guess13 · 2 years

Text

Some Photos By A Dumb Hood

based on this headcanon <3

words : 1381

genre : tooth-rotting fluff, proceed with caution

characters: Curly, Angela, Tim Shepard, Sylvia Jackson-Merrill, Buck Merrill, Ponyboy Curtis, Dallas WInston

Tw : N/A

tag! - @mjmacchio1991 @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato @patrickslayze @outsiderslamb @frypansgirl @unorginalchocolatemilk @jackettslut @johnnycadesjeanjacket @james-fucking-hates-dallas

{honourable mentions: @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me @mysemantics @xosunshiine] Ask to be added / taken off :)

May 23, 1968

Hey, Mr. Syme. Bet you didn’t think I’d make it this far, did you? It’s okay if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be the only one. Since this is the last assignment I’ll ever hand into you (as if I actually did all those other assignments), I felt like doing something a little different. You suprised yet old man, dumb hood like me doing something original for once? You better be. The photos I’m talking about are in the envelope stuck to the back if you felt like looking at them. Sorry in advance for all the cursing and shit, but you’re probably used to that by now. Thanks for not giving up on me. Tim really appreciates it.

Some Photos by A Dumb Hood

C. Shepard

I. Sleeping Beauty This is Tim. He’s asleep in the living room, The Twilight Zone was playing on the television when I snuck in past curfew. You taught him a few years ago, if you remember him. He didn’t show up a ton in your class, but that’s just because he was taking care of me and my sister like he’s doing right here. Ignore the stains on the sofa, those are from our folks. Tim doesn’t say he worries about us – or at least he doesn’t say he worries about me. I know he does, though. He complains all the time about how uncomfortable the sofa is every time he falls asleep on it, but he’ll sit there all night if he has to, making sure I get home okay. I’ve never been a great kid. I’ve done, and still do, a lot of stupid shit. I know it makes him worry – only twenty-one and he’s already going gray. But you didn’t hear that from me, man, I’d like to keep my teeth.

II. Ain’t Vanity A Sin? Angela’s about as spoiled as a girl on the east side can be. Joys of being the baby sister, I guess. All she’s gotta do is bat those damn lashes, and she’s got half us guys bending over backwards for her. I can’t remember the first time she left the house with all that makeup on, but Tim was just about as white as the sheets he was airing out on the clothesline outside. He had a long talk with her when she came home - about how even if she looks sixteen, seventeen, maybe even eighteen, she sure as hell ain’t old enough to be doing all the things the other girls are. I told her guys are gross when Tim left her room. She said she already knew that, since she lives with two of ‘em. She was having a meltdown tryna get her eyeliner right in this photo. Took it right before she gave up and asked me to draw the other one. I don’t think she’ll ever ask for my help with make-up again after that.

III. Making Friends + Breaking Bones I broke my arm when I was fourteen, this was the telephone pole that did the damage. It didn’t fall on me or anything, I was tryna show off to Ponyboy Curtis and tried to climb it. I’ve broken plenty of bones (not all were mine), but that hurt the worst. Having the wind knocked outta you when you hit the ground? Jesus Christ, that was a whole different kind of pain. I’m damn lucky Pony’s in track, he ran the whole way back to my house and told Tim what happened. We went over to the Curtises afterwards, all so that their momma could tell me it was too broken to be mended at home. I think this is when Tim stopped coming to school; he had to work pretty hard to pay off all those hospital bills. Ponyboy and I got to talking a lot after that, did a few more stupid stunts together. That’s where he got that scar on his hand, actually, we were playing chicken with our cigarettes. He’s heading off to university this fall. I’m proud of him. All us east siders are. You must be, too. It’s your assignment that made him write that essay after all.

IV. The Yankee I got this picture after a Rumble. I meant to get a picture of Ang and Tim playing nurse to the rest of our gang, but there’s someone else in the left corner, on the couch with a bag of frozen peas to his black eye. That’s Dally. You know about him, that one kid that got shot by the cops after Bob Sheldon died. Tim would die before he ever called Dally a friend, and I’m sure Winston felt the same. I did like him though, and wanted him to like me too. Came all the way from New York, with nothing but a jacket, switchblade, ring and necklace. I tried taking it once, he almost beat me to death in my own front yard. I’m sure Dallas would've killed me if it weren’t for Tim getting between us and calling me a stupid kid who got dropped too many times to know any better. We fought a lot, though nothing ever got as physical as that first one. I don’t think he hated me, even if he said he did. Hell, he’s saved my ass more times than I can count. It’s been three years already, and it still feels weird knowing I’ll never wake up to him on the couch again.

V. Good Morning To You, Too This is Sylvia, Tim’s best friend and Dally’s ex-girlfriend. Before you ask, yes, they’ve gotten into plenty fights over her. She and Angela share a room the nights she comes over. To be honest, I think she’s spent more nights at my place than she has her own. She was screaming like a banshee after I took this, even chased me down the stairs. She’d gone out with some friends the night before, and it was obvious because of the makeup caked under her eyes and how messy her hair was. She lives with us now, her and her daughter, Loretta. After graduation she was seeing this guy, even got an apartment with him. It didn’t last very long though, once he started taking her money and never paying her back. Tim went over one night after she bailed him out and told her the house was always open if she needed it. It’s a little cramped now, but I don’t mind. I got my own room now, Tim took our parents’, and the girls all share since Lori’s crib doesn’t take up much space.

VI. Us East Siders This is the whole clan- Sylvia’s cousin, Buck Merrill, included. The first nice day of May felt like something to celebrate, so we spent the day outside. Tim and me did some handiwork on the house, like cleaning out the gutters and fixing some shingles while Ang and Syl painted their nails and got a head start on their tans. Buck even brought over a shitty little paddling pool for Lori, borrowed the neighbor’s hose to fill it up for her. We all really love that kid. I got this picture once the sun was beginning to set and we were getting ready to call it a night. Saturday nights always mean dinner at the Dingo, after all. You’ve taught just about every kid in this picture, haven’t you, Syme? Bet they must look mighty different. Tim didn’t have that scar, and Syl didn’t have a baby on her lap. I don’t think Angela had her hair cut short, either. But that’s us, I guess, Buck and Tim in the back, wiping sweat off their faces, the girls sitting on the first step. I’ve got plenty of photos of them, but this has gotta be my favorite. Probably because they’re all smiling.

That’s it, huh? The big final English assignment of my senior year. Thanks for being a decent teacher, Syme, I know I didn’t make it easy for you. I’ll see you around, though. You’ll probably be teaching Angela next year (good fucking luck man, you’ll need it), and I know I’m not headed off to college come September. I’m a dumb hood, remember? One that can take some decent fucking pictures, though.

#soapie’s stuff #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders #curly shepard #tim shepard #angela shepard #buck merrill #sylvia (the outsiders)#ponyboy curtis #dallas winston

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