#*immediately throws himself in front of a bullet*

[slcmml]

anyways scurries back now that ive hit the correct button...

i genuinely havent been able to stop thinking about teacher schlatt x teacher reader.. like him being protective of her?? i melt everytime i think of it..

like imagine another male teacher who weirdly picks on you/singles you out?? and schlatt catching him?? mr 6'3 towering in front of you as he steps in to lowfully threaten the guy.. turning back and suddenly hes so caring and making sure ur okay.. LIKE OH MY GODDDD i need him ineedhim

teacher! schlatt & reader. fluff, nsfw; mdni.

★ schlatt isn’t the type to go looking for trouble, but when he notices another teacher—some smug, condescending guy—singling you out, making you uncomfortable, he doesn’t let it slide.

★ he’ll start by just standing near you whenever that teacher is around, making his presence known. schlatt’s a big guy, and he knows it. sometimes all it takes is him crossing his arms and staring the guy down for the message to be clear: back off.

★ but if the guy keeps pushing? if he says something that makes you visibly upset? schlatt has no problem stepping in. he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t make a scene—he just gets real close, tilts his head, and in that deep, gravelly voice, says something like, “you got somethin’ to say? ‘cause i’d love to hear it, really.”

★ the guy usually backs off immediately, but schlatt doesn’t just stop there. he turns to you, the intensity in his eyes melting into something much softer, and asks, “you okay, sweetheart?”

★ if you’re upset, he’ll walk you back to your classroom, a hand hovering near the small of your back—just making sure you know he’s there.

★ later, he checks in again, maybe dropping by your room with a coffee or a snack from the vending machine. “figured you could use a little somethin’,” he says, leaning against your desk like he wasn’t just ready to throw hands for you an hour ago.

the hallway is nearly empty when you hear that voice again. the one that always finds a way to criticize your lesson plans, undermine your classroom management, make some backhanded comment about how you “must have your hands full” teaching art.

you barely have time to process it before there’s a shadow over your shoulder, a presence you’d recognize anywhere.

schlatt steps between you and the other teacher, posture relaxed but something dangerous lurking beneath it. he tilts his head slightly, voice low and steady. “y’know, i’ve been hearin’ a lot of shit comin’ outta your mouth lately. you wanna tell me what your deal is?”

the guy sputters, suddenly looking a lot smaller. “it’s just—joking around, man. nothing serious.”

“yeah? ‘cause it kinda seems like you’re tryin’ to get under their skin.” schlatt takes a small step closer. “and that don’t sit right with me.”

the teacher quickly excuses himself, and as soon as he’s gone, schlatt turns to you, all the sharpness in his expression replaced with concern. “hey. you alright? didn’t mean to make a scene, just—couldn’t stand that asshole talkin’ to you like that.”

you nod, still a little stunned. schlatt sighs, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if you’re okay with it.

“c’mon,” he finally says, voice softer now. “let’s go get a coffee or somethin’. my treat.”

love you, lambie! ur thoughts are such perfection, wasn’t sure if it’d be better as a drabble or in bullet points! also, know you didn’t ask, but i wrote you a lil something extra <3

★ after schlatt steps in to defend you, there’s this lingering tension between you two. he’s all riled up from putting that guy in his place, and you—well, you can’t stop thinking about how easily he switched from intimidating to protective, how his voice got all soft when he checked on you.

★ later, when it’s just the two of you in your classroom, he leans against your desk, arms crossed, watching you with this unreadable expression. “y'know, it’s real fuckin’ funny how that guy thinks he can talk down to you like that.”

★ before you can respond, he’s pushing off the desk, stepping into your space, his hands settling on your waist. “dunno why he’s talkin’ shit when you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

★ his voice is low, rough against your ear, and then he’s pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your neck, his chops scratching against your skin in a way that makes you whimper.

★ his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “bet he’d shut the fuck up if he knew how good you sound when i’ve got you like this.”

★ if you try to respond, he just hums, lips still on your neck. “nah, sweetheart, don’t gotta say a damn thing. just let me take care of you, yeah?”

★ he doesn’t rush—he takes his time, tilting your head to give him more access, hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, just barely touching your skin.

★ and god, the way he murmurs your name between kisses? “so fuckin’ sweet f’me… ain’t lettin’ some asshole ruin my girl’s day.”

★ he only pulls back when you’re breathless, when your hands are gripping his shirt like you don’t want him to stop. he smirks, brushing his thumb over your lips.

★ “c’mon, sweetheart. bell’s about to ring. wouldn’t want anyone catchin’ us, huh?”

© slcmml

[falling-star-cygnus]

1998 Vash is so gen-z coded; in the way he says “to tell you the truth, i strongly disapprove of suicide”

AND THEN IMMEDIATELY HE PULLS THE MOST SUICIDAL SHIT 😭

[bi-writes]

simon being protective of his mail order bride scratches all the right spots in my brain.

mail-order bride

you're almost relieved when you hear the knock at the door. you've been a holding a tree pose for a few minutes too long, and the girl hosting the online yoga class is starting to fry your eardrums with her too-perky voice.

you're sweating bullets, and her hair hasn't moved a fucking inch out of her ponytail.

you mute the television, wiping your forehead before making your way to the front door. you open it with a sigh, not really knowing what you expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the average-dressed man standing on the steps there.

you blink, raising a brow when his eyes roam over you, and you realize suddenly that you're wearing workout clothes, which is showing off a little more than you'd like to some rando standing on your doorstep.

"uh..." you look around a little. "i'm sorry, can i help you?"

he smiles. it's a little unnerving.

"right, yeah, i'm starting a business around here, and i wanted to ask if you've been needing any help with any fixtures around the house. i'm giving a 50% discount if you give me a rating on google."

you open your mouth for a moment, frowning.

"uhm..." you shake your head, "sorry. we don't need any help right now."

"you live here alone? sometimes it's hard to spot when the electric's on the piss, y'know? need a keen eye," he laughs, coming up one of the steps. you shake your head again.

"no, thanks."

he's a wiry man, but he's tall (not taller than your husband, but taller than you). you step back a little and start to close the door. he comes up the steps. out of the corner of your eye, you see the cat slip out between your legs, hissing a little as the distance closes between you and the man.

"wait! can i give you my contact info? i don't have a card, but i can leave you my--"

the sound of simon's truck pulling into the garage gets both of you to look behind. simon doesn't even park all the way inside. he throws the truck door open, stepping out of it, and the man on your steps moves back away from you immediately, making his way off the little porch.

simon looks huge, more so than ever. his steps are heavy, boots hitting the ground like a warning bell, and he's wearing just a short-sleeved shirt that's showing off those glorious fucking arms. you have never doubted simon's strength, but he looks like he could flip a car with the anger that's leaving him in heavy waves. you're surprised that you are not afraid; you just know somehow that simon won't touch you.

"oi!" simon yells, and the man definitely understands he picked the wrong fucking house to be a creepy salesman at when his knees nearly buckle as he tries to walk away. "where the fuck do y'think y'r goin', you twat?"

you sigh deeply, not realizing how much you were shaking until you notice your hands trembling around the doorknob. you watch as simon catches the guy by his dirty jean jacket, nearly lifting him completely off his feet as he drags him towards the fence gate.

"hey! hey! i didn't do anything!"

"i saw ya, ya fuckin' arse, know exactly wot the fuck y'were doin'," simon growls, tossing him onto the sidewalk. he hits the pavement with a cry, holding onto his arm, and simon slams the fence gate closed before pointing at him accusingly. "'f i ever see ya anywhere near m'fuckin' house or even askin' m'wife for so much as fuckin' directions, i'll cut y'r bloody prick off, y'hear?"

you blink as simon comes closer, the cat retreating back into the house once they see him. he keeps walking, crowding you back into the house before he shuts and locks the front door. his chest is heaving, black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the puff of his chest and how large he makes himself when he stands up to other men. he doesn't even need to make himself larger; simon takes up enough space for two men combined.

"he touch you?" simon asks, his voice low. you see his fists clench, and you have no doubt that if you said yes, simon would go outside and paint the pavement a new color with the man's face.

you shake your head frantically, and he lets out a deep breath, reaching up and wrapping a hand around the back of your head and pulling you close.

he bends, pressing his masked forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathes in slowly. he rubs at the nape of your neck, soothing you, and you smile when he pulls away, giving him those big eyes that say thank you, thank you, thank you.

simon cocks his head, staring behind you, and you turn with him to see the cat blinking slowly at the two of you from it's place on the windowsill.

"should get you a fucking guard dog instead," simon mutters, pulling his mask off and kicking his boots into the corner. you smile as he walks away, trying to cool your warm cheeks with the backs of your hands.

doesn't he know you already have one?

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋmy first, my last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ

pairing: exmafia!bakugo x reader

summary: katsuki left that life behind for you. but when the life you two built from scratch together was threatened, what else could he do but go back?

tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, clingy katsuki

status: complete.

wc:~2.5k

katsuki had been around blood for most of his life.

whether it was his own, or a bastard who he had to handle for his own, he'd grew comfortable to it. almost intolerant to it.

but seeing you, freaking out with a bullet in your shoulder, your blood spilled over the floors he'd taken you to pick out?

it was something he never prepared for.

glass was shattered, he ran to your side immediately. the hot flash of pain in your arm unbearable, even more so as he pressed down on it, his shirt now ripped as he had to keep the blood from pouring.

your wails echoed throughout the shop, the one you decorated and planned for months together.

he needed to call someone, anyone. you were bleeding and he needed the kit-- but it was too far.

he was failing you. you were crying and he was failing you.

he was shaking, "babe? fuck. stay awake." everything around him was mocking him. his phone being too far, everything was just out of his grasp. out of his control.

he couldn't get up and leave you, if he let up the pressure you could die in the minute it'd take for him to set up.

he always failed you in the end. this was all his fault.

until, kaminari and kirishima walked in, about to yell out and bug katsuki for some food like usual. "yo bro! what's--"

the sight in front of them was one they never expected to see. katsuki almost crushing your arm with pressure, your blood all over the place. the front of house ruined.

it was enough for them to jump into action. katsuki holding you still as kirishima worked to get the bullet out of your arm. kaminari throwing the medkit over from where katsuki had it stored in a shelf. it had barely missed an artery, you were a milimeter away from death.

honestly, they hadn't liked you for a while. before meeting you they only saw you as the woman who was taking one of their best friends away from them. from their own.

but they learned that you only wanted the best for him, so you'd all become close. they learned how katsuki made this choice because he wanted better life for the two of you.

how he was growing sick of the repeated bloodshed that never amounted to anything. how his heart ached at the sight of you crying over his wounds, his black eyes and knife cuts embedded in his skin.

how he vowed to himself that before he'd ever propose to you, that he'd tie up all loose ends with his group, before he knew he could fully dedicate himself to you.

and he did.

nobody couldve ever imagined that they'd be here, kaminari working to keep you calm, helping regulate your breaths. you were freaking out, and that wasn't good for the extreme amount of blood you were losing.

katsuki would be forever grateful for them. he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't here, if you had died in his arms.

your screams were haunting, but at least you were alive. they finally died down into groans of pain when the bullet was out and the fabric was tied tightly around your shoulder.

your shirt was bloodied, his hands were too. he picked you up and mindlessly followed the two into a car that they must of called when he wasn't listening.

back to his old life he went. his eyes were sharp and angry, his hand gripping yours tightly, his finger over your pulse.

he had frozen up. and that could've costed you your life.

your eyes were half-lidded, but open.

only the noise of the road was heard throughout the car. he was the only one in the back, holding you in his arms as he faced straight ahead. he didn't think he could handle looking at you right now.

"'suki?" you said, so quietly the thumping of the road almost completely blocked it out.

but he heard you, he always did. "don't waste your energy. we're almost there."

you nodded, squeezing tighter. your eyes stuck on his bloodied shirt.

you were immediately rushed to the medical wing, the old woman dubbed 'recovery girl' taking you into her care. "she'll be fine, young man. she was lucky. they missed." she scurried off behind the operation team, who had immediately taken her into surgery.

those words carried only a bit of comfort for him. he was guided back to the meeting room, the one he'd been in several times before. the one he took brutal beat downs just to get out of.

but he was back, and it was for you. the same reason why he left.

he stared back at his old blood. deku had taken over for all might a couple years back, so he stood at the head of the table waiting for the rest of them settled in.

he wore a soft face of sympathy. "go change." deku finally said, handing him a pair of spare clothes. "we'll wait for you. you look like.. crap."

"to say the least." katsuki muttered, before accepting the clothes and going to where he knew the old bathroom was.

he washed his hands of your blood, but he knew it'd never really leave. he had stained your life, put you in danger for something as fragile as love. you could've died today, for the only reason of you being connected to him.

he changed, emptying the tattered shirt and slacks into the garbage. he didn't want anything to do with them anymore.

after splashing his face with some water, he headed back to the room.

every old face was there waiting for him, some with understanding small smiles.

he sat next to kirishima, arms crossed as he looked to the head.

"kacchan." deku started. "you, you aren't seriously thinking of coming back, are you?"

all eyes were on him, his body tense. "of course i am. i'm going to find the dumbfuck who did this and bury them."

"but you're not one of us anymore." todoroki cut in. "you left, if you come back it's like you did all that for nothing."

"you can never truly leave though, if you think about it." iida replied before katsuki had a chance. "this is just proof of it. even though he worked so hard to get rid of the connections to us, she still ended up targeted."

"and by an ally no less."

"a what?" katsuki said, his hand slamming on the table. "repeat that shit to me scarface?"

"it's not confirmed yet--"

"don't lie midoriya, it's obvious from the bullet. even the color is mocking us." todoroki said, sliding a bag across the table, over to katsuki.

a bright purple bullet was in it. it was bigger than he remembered, a 12.7 mmx99. it took up almost the entirety of his hand. whoever shot this really had wanted to kill you.

but it couldn't be...

"..shinsou?"

"that's who it points to."

"but. it doesn't make sense. your wife was close friends with him, and we haven't had bad relations with '2 Block' for decades!" midoriya reasoned.

"that doesn't change the fact there was a bullet in her arm." katsuki grumbled, moving it around in his hand. he slammed it back down onto the table.

"wow bakugo, if you couldn't pick up on that, i don't think you should be working this operation." kaminari said, a hand behind his head.

"shinsou wouldn't have missed. she'd be dead the second he aimed for her. you should know that."

silence enveloped the room. kaminari was right, if he didn't pick up on that, he was rusty.

his eye twitched. "i fuckin' knew that dumbass."

"you have personal stake in this, we get it. but you'll end up dead if you keep thinking with your shit attitude." kaminari responded.

"he has a point kacchan. why don't you let us handle it, and you can--"

"no."

he silenced them all with that single word. a face of sincerity and vulnerability he barely wore present in that moment. "i have to do this. i can't sleep at night if i don't. you guys of all people should understand."

a collective silence came over the room. they didn't say anything, but they knew if this had happened to them they'd want back in too.

they knew midoriya had the final say though, so they wished for his opinion.

"fine. but youre not doing this alone. we'll all get in on this. you were one of our best before, im sure all might would agree."

everyone nodded in agreement, saying some variation of 'if you say so'.

kirishima patted katsuki on the back. "hey man, our duos back again!"

"only for this mission though."

"aw man."

"we start tomorrow, so fix yourselves up. i have a feeling we'll be traveling around some tomorrow." midoriya ordered. "dismissed."

everyone poured out, katsuki walking directly to the medicine ward. he passed by the hallways, the pictures representing the allyship between them and the several surrounding gangs mocking as he walked by.

it all felt so familiar, it had only been a year. not much had changed, except for the atmosphere that he brought along with him.

he finally made it to the ward, looking past all the rooms. 'lets see, torture room.. cell.. no she'd be here.' he thought before walking into a hallway.

there he found only one room with a light on. he was right, he looked in to see you, fast asleep with bandages wrapped around your arm.

'at least you were safe', he sighed. jumping slightly when 'recovery girl' started speaking to him. "you did well, a moment later and she'd be dead. don't beat yourself up young man."

a moment passed between them, her words resonating in his mind. he'd done all that he could doz

"you can go wait inside, just don't wake her. there should be a spare bed you can pull out."

and with that, she left.

he walked inside, pulled out the bed and held your hand as he slept. the guilt never dissipated, it was all his fault. and so he'd have to fix it.

he woke up to the feeling of you moving. he'd been on edge the whole night, so the feeling of your hand jerking out of his woke him up immediately.

"katsuki." you said, sounding so tired and confused it broke his heart a bit.

" 'm here." he hugged you quickly, being mindful of the wound in your arm. a desperate, tearful kiss shared between you.

you took his face into your hands, making him stare into your eyes.

"i was so scared, you don't even know." you said nervously. "i thought i was gonna die."

katsuki held you tighter, still so disappointed with himself for even letting you get to that point. he felt like he should've taken the shot. that he should be the one injured right now, but instead he leaned in closer to you. "i was too, but you're here now. safe. with me."

"mhm."

you held him for a bit longer, looking at the room surrounding you.

while he was thinking of the possibilities that could've happened, his one wrong step from you could've left him all alone, you examined the room.

it wasn't a regular hospital, probably not a hospital at all. you knew that from the guns laying on the counters. the stitches all around ready for work, the empty body bags that were bloodied. mocking as they hung from the ceiling.

the windows, all reinforced heavily. the door that had a bolt lock on it.

you didn't get to feel relieved for long. "katsuki. be honest with me."

he tensed up, he knew you'd find out eventually. but he wanted to finish this mess before you ever knew about it. "always am."

"are you.. back in this?" you asked, looking into his eyes with an anxious expression. your hands clinging to his sides.

he sighed heavily. "y'know i have to. i'll never relax if i know that fucker is still out there. he could come back and.. and hurt you again."

"and i can't change your mind about this?"

"...no. it's for.. for us. i wouldn't have left if i didn't care for you, you know that."

"i do."

"then.. just-- wait for me okay? i won't leave 'til later today."

you nodded, laying your head in his chest. "if you get hurt too i think ill die."

"i won't get hurt."

"you promise?"

"i swear."

you leaned in and pecked another kiss on his lips. though you were interrupted by kirishima walking in.

"oops, i really should've knocke-"

"yeah you should've dumbass."

"hi kiri!" you waved, shoving katsuki off of you. "hey [name]!"

katsuki had one arm around you, squinting seemingly annoyed at his partner annoying his wife.

the topic would randomly change from shows you were watching, to fun things that have happened recently, but it took a deep turn into what had just happened to you.

"so, [name]. you heard bakugo's hanging with us for a while, right?"

"yeah, i did." you said, holding him just a bit closer subconsciously.

"so, did he tell you who we think did it?"

"shut the fuck up kir--"

"you already know?" your attention was on him fully. the look in your eyes revealing just how much you wanted answers. "well, it's just a guess for no--"

"shut up kirishima."

"but we think it's shinsou."

your face twisted in confusion. "shinsou?...

no, you're wrong."

"babe, please stay out of this."

"shinsou wouldn't do this-"

"they found his bullet in your arm. nobody else who isn't retired or dead uses that shit."

you physically recoiled at that. "no way." you looked to kirishima, who only confirmed it.

"this has to be a set up or something? he wouldn't do that!"

kirishima made a face, which made katsuki squint his eyes in confusion. "what?"

"i mean.. she could be right y'know. we talked a bit before you came bro." kirishima said, walking in and closing the door behind him.

"right about what? shinsou is associated even if he wasn't the one who shot the bullet." katsuki asserted, standing up to meet kirishima, even if he was taller. this made kiri shoot his arms up in defense.

"i'm saying you're both right. we think it's someone closely associated to shinsou, someone who either taught him or was close to his teacher."

"eraserhead? the guy with a thousand hits under his belt?"katsuki glared, shoving a pointed finger in kirishima's chest.

"hey man, i'm just the messenger. but, no. someone else who learned from him too. but, midoriya called 'you know who' for information."

katsuki sighed, knowing the asshole who went by 'hawks' was about to be here any moment. "fine, i'll be ready soon. just.. let me take her home."

kirishima nodded, leaving the room with a "be back soon man!"

"i'm taking you home baby."

"fine."

"and you have to take all the medicine and stuff when i call you. we'll have to use burners again."

you rolled your eyes. "..fine."

"and, i want you to text me every hour and before you go to sleep."

"fucking fine. let's go already, this place creeps me out."

"good."

he grabbed your hand, helping you up. he let you change into some sweatpants and a tshirt so you didn't have to be the hospital gown for much longer.

you drove home, taking the long route so you wouldn't have to the see the remnants of your , almost, death in your own shop. he had to leave you in front and he wasn't happy about it. opening your door and hugging you tightly, you knew he wasn't going to see you for a couple days.

"babe, text me whenever you can. send me photos or voice messages i don't give a fuck."

"it's only a couple of days kat' you'll be fine, but i'll do it. you text me too, tell me when you sleep and stuff."

"don't let anyone in the house and don't tell anyone what's happenin-"

"i know, babe. i'll be okay."

he shared one last kiss with you. with a determined face he turned away, he would not sacrifice your life together like this. he wouldn't not let you get hurt again.

he would not fail.

next part

[diushek]

Shen Qingqiu decides that in order to avoid becoming a human stick... He should just become a woman and take a wife plot!! There are HUNDREDS of wife plots in PIDW, and well, Shen Qingqiu can become a woman and fall into one, become Luo Binghe's wife after the regulatory papapa, and be forgotten in the harem. It's not a bad idea.

(Shang Qinghua keeps his comments to himself, extremely amused by Cucumber-bro's mental gymnastics. Heaven save him.)

So, Shen Qingqiu bites the bullet and gets himself a rare flower that transforms his body into a woman body, with tits and... bottoms. He makes it look like an accident, which, combined with the effect of Without-A-Cure, has no immediate solution. Mu Qingfang is jaded but not skeptical, so they just let it be. Shen Qingqiu is still Shen Qingqiu, Peak Lord and resting bitch face™, only now he must wear robes that do not squeeze his grown chest so much and a belt that fits tighter around his waist.

Shen Qingqiu still thinks of himself as a man, the other Peak Lords and disciples still refer to him as Shixiong and Shizun, as the immortal master that he is, and more than that there is not much to say. Shang Qinghua occasionally makes a comment about him having nice tits and earns a couple of fan blows to the head, but it's not really too different from before.

He hasn't decided yet what wife plot he will use. Maybe the flower that sex-pollen-poisons him but makes him irresistible to any demon around him? It would tempt Binghe's demonic side a bit, and secure him the papapa. Or the water from that spring that would make the typical fuck or die plot only solvable with the Heavenly Pillar? Shen Qingqiu believes that he has time to think about it further; after all, there are still years to The Moment, right?

The plague of Jinlan City and Luo Binghe's unexpected and early return throw him into absolute chaos. Fuck! He still has nothing ready! Not even a flower of pollen on him that would make Binghe spare his life!

Well, Shen Qingqiu will have to cope with only the experience of trashy romance novels, improvisation and his arduous desire to survive.

...

When Luo Binghe arrives at his room, demanding answers from the elusive Shizun who hasn't even shown himself to him... Shizun only has inner robes. There's... Blush on his cheeks? Wet lips and bitten? The tunics open at the subtle curve of... Breasts? A tiny waist - even tinier than before, Luo Binghe is confident he can hold his hands around it without any problems - and wide hips where the fabric of his inner tunics almost seems transparent. Luo Binghe falls silent, his brain boiling in five different temperatures.

"Binghe?" asks his Shizun, who somehow seems to have been... cursed with this form? He looks vulnerable, a sweet fawn with huge eyes, a blushed face, and a sweet half-open mouth. "Is it really you?"

His Shizun looks big eyes on the verge of tears. He approaches, not caring about the ill-fitting tunics, not caring that one of his shoulders slides, revealing white skin, a stretch of cleavage. And his Shizun holds his face, hands cold and almost trembling, as if he were seeing a dream come true in front of him.

Luo Binghe... wonders if Shizun ever dreamed of that. If his Shizun ever dreamed of seeing him come back to now react in that way. Because now tears are streaming down Shen Qingqiu's face, and he is holding Binghe's face so lovingly in his hands that Luo Binghe can only melt into his touch.

"Shizun," he says, because it's all he wants to say, it's all he can say. His anger is a chaos that spirals out in all directions, but how can he let it out there? In front of the vulnerable Shizun who cries for him? There must be an explanation, Luo Binghe tells himself. He needs to hear that.

But he also needs Shen Qingqiu not to cry.

"My Binghe" his Shen Qingqiu says, his own heart racing. Luo Binghe lets Shen Qingqiu move him, pulling him, wrapping him in a hug. Luo Binghe must lean down to be hugged tightly by his Shizun, but there... There is a stretch of white throat exposed. There is so much soft skin exposed in every direction. He can see the pronounced curve of his cleavage, but he can feel almost beneath his mouth the throbbing in his throat, the scent of his hair, the perfume of his skin...

And Shen Qingqiu squeezes him tighter, almost making him bend over him, holding him as if he never wants to let go. And Luo Binghe can feel every curve of his body pressed against him, he can lose himself in the scent of his skin, in the strong grip of his arms. His own body is awakening irrationally and embarrassingly, but if Shen Qingqiu notices it, he doesn't say anything...

No, in fact, Shen Qingqiu is getting closer to him?

Is Shizun poisoned? Or something? Some pollen? Some flower? What's going on?

"My sweet disciple," Shen Qingqiu says, and as much as Binghe wants to pull away to see his face, Shen Qingqiu holds him against him. Luo Binghe believes it is because, despite everything, his Shizun's face is still so thin... "This... This Shizun has missed his good boy Binghe so much..."

Luo Binghe feels his own rational brain shutting down. Oh well. He'll figure out what needs to be figured out later. His cock will be taking control of all the blood in his body now.

(When Shen Qingqiu is pushed against a wall and roughly kissed, he restrains himself from pumping a fist in the air in celebration. YEAH!!! HE DID IT!! HE'S GOING TO SURVIVE THAT AND WITHOUT BECOMING A HUMAN STICK!!)

...

(Papapa - about five to six rounds, Shen Qingqiu lost count at some point - later, Shen Qingqiu is not too sure that he will actually survive. His little blackened lotus has a lot to learn. Ah, where did he learn to be so rough? Those kisses seemed more like bites than kisses. Lots of teeth, lots of teeth. And his touch is rough and not gentle at all, and Shen Qingqiu is more in pain from his clumsy fingers than from the Heavenly Pillar. Did the demon jiejie in the Abyss they hadn't taught him anything? At this point in the plot Luo Binghe should know at least something on how to be a good lover!!

Or was Airplane's poor writing now reflecting on the Protagonist!? Oh, Shen Qingqiu hoped not, because otherwise Airplane was going to pay for it with his blood.

Ah well. Once a Shizun, always a Shizun. Shen Qingqiu is going to have to teach his cute Binghe a little about this too. And sleepy after a some orgasms, the truth is that he doesn't object at all.)

[classyhoeeee]

'Distraction': Rafe Cameron 18+

Part 1 - Sarah, Kiara, and Cleo are on a mission to steal something from figure 8 with the reader. Something that Rafe Cameron, Topper or even Kelce wouldn’t let them get away with. The thing is, Rafe was their biggest threat. The pogue girls had an idea that involves the reader. They want her to distract him with a sexy truck wash. Thing is…the two of them have unfinished business.

pairing - Rafe Cameron x f!reader tags - enemies to lovers relationship, fingering, degradation, spit, overstimulation, a little rough, truck sex, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, knifeplay, dark!rafe.

a/n - just a warning…this one is VERY freaky. Hehe. It’s my favorite one that I’ve written so far. enjoy.

……………………………………………………………………………..……

The Distraction

“Y’all are crazy as hell.”

The words left your mouth before you could even think them through, your voice loud enough to make Cleo snort and Sarah wince. Kiara, however, didn’t flinch. She simply leaned back against the rusted van, arms crossed, watching you with an infuriating calmness.

“It’s not that crazy, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Kie! It’s Rafe Cameron. I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I think y’all forgot what he’s capable of. He literally swore he was gonna kill me.”

Cleo raised her eyebrows. “And yet, you’re still standing. Ain’t no bullets flying, is there?”

“That’s not the point,” you shot back, glaring. “The man is unhinged. He hasn’t forgotten what I did. I pushed his ass overboard. I stole his boat. His boat, Kie.”

“Exactly,” Sarah said, breaking her silence. “And yet, you’re the only one he hasn’t laid a hand on. Don’t you think that’s…weird? I’m his sister and he’s even tried to kill me.”

“It’s not weird. It’s Rafe. He probably thinks it’s more satisfying to scare the shit out of me from afar than to actually follow through.”

Sarah, Cleo, and Kiara shared a look, one of those silent girl-code moments you couldn’t quite decipher. It pissed you off immediately.

“What?”

“Listen,” Kiara started, holding up her hands, “we need this. You know we do. That safe in Ward Cameron’s study? It has everything we need to help the guys. But getting into Figure 8 without Rafe breathing down our necks? It’s impossible. He’s always watching, Y/N. And we know he’s gonna be there today.”

“And you think throwing me at him is gonna fix that shit?”

“Distract him,” Cleo corrected with a sly smile. “You know you can.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, the very thought making your skin prickle. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not gonna—”

“Wash his truck,” Sarah interrupted.

The words hit you like a slap to the face. “What?”

Kiara’s smile was almost apologetic. Almost. “It’s simple. He loves that stupid truck. You’ll get his attention in like…two seconds. Enough time for us to get in, grab the shit we need, and get out.”

“You want me to give Rafe Cameron a sexy car wash? Are y’all out of your damn minds?”

Cleo shrugged. “You look good. He’s obsessed with you. We’re just being resourceful.”

You pointed a finger at her, already fuming. “He’s not obsessed with me. He’s obsessed with revenge. There’s a difference.”

Sarah’s voice dropped, soft and coaxing. “Y/N, you’re the only one who can do this. If we screw this up, the guys are screwed. Please.”

You stared at her, at the pleading look in her eyes, and felt the weight of her words settle on your shoulders. You had come this far with them—you’d do anything to protect your own. That was the Pogue way.

Even if it meant putting yourself in front of the devil himself.

“Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “But if Rafe kills me, I’m haunting y’all for the rest of your lives.”

Cleo grinned, clapping her hands together. “Deal.”

———

The truck sat under the sun like a black mirror, drops of water clinging to its surface and glinting in the light. You hated how it looked—pristine, perfect, expensive. Just like him.

And, like clockwork, Rafe Cameron appeared, materializing out of thin air like a goddamn nightmare.

He leaned against the porch railing, beer in hand, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The buzzed hair only made him look sharper, those pale blue eyes locking onto you like you were the only thing worth seeing. He looked you over—slowly. Starting at the mess of suds sliding down your brown arms, down to the soaked hem of your white top where your leopard print bra peeked through. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs as you shifted in your tiny shorts, then flicked back up to your face.

Rafe smirked, slow and wolfish, before taking a long sip of his beer.

You’d already fucked up, and you hadn’t said a word.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” His voice was smooth and lazy, but the edge beneath it cut deep.

You turned to look at him, sponge still dripping in your hand. Despite the racing in your chest, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, tilting your chin up defiantly. “Rafe… I—”

“You what?” he interrupted, his smirk twitching wider. He stepped off the porch, the gravel crunching under his boots as he approached. He moved slow—deliberate—as though giving you the chance to run just so he could chase.

You glanced at the truck for a split second, calculating the space. Too far.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you said softly, surprising yourself with how steady your voice came out. “For everything.”

Rafe blinked. You saw it—the flicker of something in his expression as he stopped a few feet away. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you, his tongue running over the corner of his mouth. “Sorry?” he echoed, voice dripping with mockery.

You nodded, stepping just slightly closer, letting the sponge drop to the gravel. Your hand brushed your collarbone as you shifted, drawing attention to the trail of soap suds sliding down your skin. His eyes followed, just as you knew they would.

“I mean it,” you said softly, almost seductively, tilting your head just enough to let the sunlight catch the line of your jaw. “I shouldn’t have pushed you off the boat. I panicked.”

Rafe’s gaze darkened, but he didn’t say anything, his chest rising and falling steadily.

You kept going, forcing the words out like silk. “I shouldn’t have betrayed you. You didn’t deserve that.”

For a second—just a second—you saw his expression soften. His eyes dropped to your lips, his grip on the beer loosening slightly. He looked almost… hesitant. Like he wanted to believe you.

And then he laughed.

It was loud and sharp, the sound scraping down your spine like nails on a chalkboard. “You’re good, you know that?” Rafe said, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll give you that. You almost had me there.”

Your stomach dropped.

His eyes snapped back to yours, the smirk curling his lips twisting into something cruel. “You really think you can stand there, play the little innocent act, and I’m just gonna forget what you did?”

“Rafe, please—”

He moved fast, rounding the truck before you could react. You bolted around the other side, keeping the truck between you.

“Oh, this is cute,” Rafe taunted, his voice ringing out as you circled. “What’s the plan now, huh? Gonna fucking run? Where do you think you’re gonna go, Y/N? Huh?”

You didn’t answer. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you circled, your movements mirroring his as he prowled like a fucking lion.

“Stop running,” Rafe barked suddenly, slamming his palm against the hood of the truck. The sound made you jump. “You think I’m just gonna let you get away again? Like hell I will.”

He moved left—you darted right. It didn’t matter. You were too slow, and he was too fast. Rafe rounded the truck, and you ran.

You barely made it two steps before he caught you.

“Let me go!” you shrieked as his hand snatched your arm, yanking you back hard enough to send you stumbling. “You motherfucker!”

He didn’t. Rafe pinned you to the truck in one smooth motion, his body towering over yours. The heat of him, the size of him, made you feel small—helpless in a way that set your skin on fire.

Rafe’s face hovered inches from yours, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he murmured darkly. “You scared?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Rafe leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You should be.”

Your voice came out shaky. “Rafe—please—”

Rafe pulled back just slightly, and you saw it. The flash of silver in his hand. Your breath hitched.

The knife.

He twirled it between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on your face as you froze. “What was it you said last time?” he mused, dragging the blade lightly down your arm—not enough to cut, but enough to make you shiver. “I’m doing this for my friends, right?”

You whimpered softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it.

Rafe’s lips twitched, his eyes lighting up like you’d just given him the best gift in the world. “Say it again,” he whispered, pressing the flat edge of the knife against your throat—just enough to make your knees buckle. “That’s why you were stupid enough to come back to me, right? Those fucking pogues set you up?”

“Rafe,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes as you gripped his wrist. “Please…just let me go.”

The tears slipped down your cheeks, and you felt his chest rise sharply against yours.

“Look at you,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and almost… awed. “Such a pretty bitch when you cry.”

You shuddered, a broken sob leaving your lips as his knife traced the dip of your collarbone.

“Rafe…”

“Shh,” he murmured, the sound almost tender. “You don’t wanna say something you’ll regret.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, your breath coming in shaky gasps as tears streamed down your face. “What… do you want from me?”

Rafe’s smile widened, something twisted and triumphant lighting up his face. “What I want? You’re coming with me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like ice. “What?”

Rafe stepped back just enough to grab your wrist, tugging you forward as you stumbled to keep up. “You really think I’m letting you run back to your little Pogue friends? Nah. You’re done, Y/N. We have unfinished business.”

“Rafe—no the hell I’m not. What are yo-”

“Save it,” he snapped, dragging you toward his truck as you tried to fight him off. “You brought this on yourself. You wanted my attention, right? Well, you’ve got it.”

You thrashed against his grip, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, please—let me go! I’ll leave! I won’t come back!”

Rafe shoved you against the passenger door, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You’re not leaving, Y/N. You should’ve stayed off figure 8, Pogue.”

The finality in his tone made your stomach drop, and for the first time, you realized the truth.

You weren’t getting out of this.

Not this time.

———

The air inside the truck was suffocating-thick with sweat and heat and the overwhelming scent of him. Your back arched against the worn leather of the backseat, your hands clawing uselessly at his shoulders as Rafe moved above you, relentless as he fucked the shit out of you.

Every sound you made-every gasp, every choked-back moan-felt like a betrayal. You hated yourself for it. For the way your body responded to him despite everything.

Despite the smirk that stretched across his face, the glint in his pale blue eyes that said he'd won.

"Look at you," Rafe muttered darkly, his voice heavy with satisfaction. His hand slid down to your thigh, his grip rough, forcing your legs wider as he pressed you deeper into the seat. "Acting like you hate this…like you hate my dick."

"I do," you gasped, even as your voice cracked, even as your body said otherwise.

Rafe's laugh was low, cruel, vibrating through you as he ducked his head to press his pink lips against your neck. His teeth scraped against your brown skin, making you shudder, and when he pulled back, his expression was all sharp lines and wicked intent.

"You can lie to yourself, Y/N," he said, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. "But you don't get to lie to me."

You glared at him, your chest heaving, your nails digging into his arms. "Fuck you."

Rafe grinned, leaning closer until his lips brushed your ear. "You are."

You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but the words turned into a sharp cry as Rafe's hand shot up, tangling in your hair. He yanked your head back, not enough to hurt— but enough to remind you of exactly who was in control as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you.

"Say something now," Rafe growled, his voice low and smug as he pushed himself deeper.

"Come on, sweetheart. I thought you had something to say?"

Your nails clawed uselessly at his arms, your body arching against the seat as he hit something deep inside you that made your thoughts scatter. Your jaw clenched, your breaths coming in sharp gasps as you fought to hold onto your anger, your defiance, anything to ground you.

But all you could focus on was him.

The way he filled you-so deep it felt like he was tearing you apart and putting you back together all at once. The way his body towered over yours, his pale skin pressed against the deep brown of your thighs, the contrast making everything feel more raw, more intense.

His dick is too damn big.

The thought came unbidden, unrelenting as your body clenched around him, your mind spinning from the overwhelming pressure and stretch. How the hell is this motherfucker even fitting?

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, your nails biting harder into his skin as you tried to stop the heat pooling in your stomach from taking over.

"What's that?" Rafe taunted, his grin widening as he rolled his hips, making you gasp. "Didn't quite catch that, baby. You moaning for me already?"

"Shut the hell up," you hissed, though your voice cracked as the pleasure twisted tighter.

Rafe laughed, his grip tightening in your black hair as he tugged your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Nah, I don't think I will. Not when you're squeezing me like that. You like it, don't you? Feel how deep I am?"

You glared at him, fresh tears pricking your eyes as your lip trembled. "You're a piece of shit. I hate your ass."

Rafe's smirk widened, his teeth flashing like a predator's as his hips snapped forward, deliberate and rough. "Hate me all you want," he sneered, his voice dripping with cruelty.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're fucking taking it like a good little Pogue slut."

"You're disgusting," you snapped, though your voice wavered, your breath hitching with every thrust.

"Yeah? And you're pathetic," he shot back, his tone cruel as his hand slid down to your waist, gripping tight enough to bruise. "Talking all this shit while you're pushing back on me like you're fucking starving for it."

Your stomach churned, humiliation and heat flooding your chest as your body betrayed you again. Your hips shifted, just slightly, the pressure too much to fight.

"There it is," Rafe muttered, his eyes darkening as he felt you give in. His grip tightened, guiding you against him as his smirk turned wicked. "Look at that recoil. God…you fucking bitch, shit." He gritted the last part and gives your ass a hard slap, making you whimper.

His hand moved to your thigh, pulling your legs wider as he forced you to meet his rhythm. "Say you hate me again," he growled, leaning closer, his nose brushing yours. "Say it while you're bouncing on my dick like you don't want me to stop."

Your lips trembled, every sharp, degrading word tearing at what little resolve you had left. You hated him. You hated the way he owned you, the way his grip burned against your dark skin.

"Fucking say it," Rafe demanded, his voice a growl as his grip on your waist tightened, forcing you to push back against him. "Say you hate me while you're begging me to keep going."

Your acrylic nails dug into his arms, fresh tears streaming as you tried to stifle the sob threatening to escape. "I-I hate you."

Rafe chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "Yeah, well, your pussy doesn't." He pulled back just enough to watch your face, his smirk deepening as you arched beneath him. "Look at you. Can't even stop yourself from pushing back. Fucking whore."

You bit down on your lip, the humiliation twisting with the heat building in your stomach. You hated him. You hated yourself.

But you couldn't stop.

Rafe's hand slid to your jaw, forcing your tear-streaked face up to meet his. "There it is," he muttered, his tone softer but no less cruel. "Good fucking Pogue. Taking me just like you're supposed to."

And as you finally broke beneath him, your body trembling and tears spilling freely, Rafe's smirk widened, victorious and unrelenting.

"Speak ," Rafe hissed, his face inches from yours. "Say you want me."

You shook your head weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to fight him, to fight yourself. "I-I don't..."

"Bullshit."

His grip on your hair tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut, your body betraying you all over again. You hated him-hated his smug face, his cruel words, the way he made you feel like you were his plaything. But the worst part?

You didn't hate this. As much as you said you did.

"Say it," Rafe growled, his voice dropping lower. "Say you want me, or I'll stop."

You bit down on your lip so hard it hurt, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. He wouldn't let you get away with silence-he never did.

"Rafe-"

"Say it," he repeated, pulling just hard enough on your hair to send a shiver down your spine. "Be a good girl for once."

Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "I... I want you."

"What was that?" Rafe taunted, tilting his head as if he hadn't heard you. "Say it again. Louder."

You opened your eyes, glaring up at him through the tears you refused to let fall. "I want you."

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but Rafe's reaction was immediate. His grin stretched wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand loosened in your hair, smoothing down to rest at your jaw. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, almost gentle.

"That's what I thought," he muttered, his voice thick with triumph. "Took you long enough."

You turned your head away, biting back the sob that threatened to break free.

Rafe didn't let you escape. He grabbed your chin again, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in close. "You're mine now, Y/N. You get that, right?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Rafe smirked, his eyes dragging slowly over your tear-streaked face, down to the dark skin of your chest where his touch still lingered. "I fucking hate Pogues," he murmured, almost to himself. "But you? You're my exception."

And the way he said it-soft and dangerous, like a promise you'd never escape-made your stomach twist in something you couldn’t name.

You hated him.

And you hated yourself even more.

——

The backseat of Rafe's truck was a battlefield-your resolve crumbling and Rafe's triumph curling around you like smoke, choking out every last ounce of resistance.

Your body was a mess of heat and sweat, pinned under the weight of him, his grip unrelenting as he dragged you further under.

"Don't stop now, sweetheart," Rafe murmured, his voice a gravelly mix of amusement and cruelty. His lips grazed your ear, every word deliberate, every breath making you shiver. "You've come this far. You're not tapping out on me yet, are you?"

You bit your lip, trying to ignore him, to ignore the way your body betrayed you with every movement, every burning pulse of pleasure he forced out of you.

Rafe noticed. Of course he did.

"You're quiet all of a sudden," he taunted, his tone mocking as his hand slid up your thigh.

"That's cute. What? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just embarrassed? Bet your little Pogue friends wouldn't believe it if they saw you right now-dripping all over my dick, letting me do whatever I want to this pretty little pussy."

"Shut up," you whispered, a broken edge to your voice, hating the way his words twisted something sharp and hot in your chest.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. "Nah, I don't think I will. Not until you say it. Admit how good I'm making you feel. Tell me how much you like this."

You shook your head weakly, tears stinging your eyes as you tried to turn away. "I don't _"

The shrill ring of your phone cut you off.

You froze, the sound slicing through the thick air like a warning shot. Rafe didn't stop. If anything, his grip on you tightened, his smirk widening as his gaze flicked to your bag. He reached over, grabbing the phone with deliberate ease before holding it up to your face.

Kiara.

"Look who it is," Rafe drawled, his grin dark and knowing. "Your little rescue team, huh? Probably wondering where you're at. Should I tell her?"

"Rafe-please, don't," you choked out, panic creeping into your voice as you tried to grab the phone.

He yanked it out of reach, his other hand tugging your head back to force you to look at him. His face was too close, his blue eyes gleaming with something cruel and unhinged.

"You wanna beg now, huh?" he muttered, pressing the phone against your cheek, his thumb swiping over the screen. "Go on. Answer it. Tell her how you're too busy getting fucked to come back."

Your stomach dropped. "I can't-"

Rafe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Answer.The.Fucking.Phone. NOW."

The phone clicked, and Kiara's voice rang out loud and clear. "Y/N? What the hell is taking so long? Where are you?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to steady your voice. "Kie... I-I'm fine."

"Fine? You don't sound fine. Where are you? Did something happen?"

Your lips trembled as you felt Rafe move against you, his hand sliding back to your thigh, his grip firm and possessive. He pressed a kiss to your temple, mockingly soft, before murmuring into your ear, "Say it, or I'll say it for you."

"I'm fine," you said quickly, your voice breaking as you forced the words out. "I got—distracted. I'll catch up with you later."

"Distracted? What are you talking about? You don't sound-"

"I gotta go," you cut her off, your voice shaking as Rafe pulled the phone from your ear.

The line went dead.

You let out a shaky breath, your whole body trembling as you looked up at Rafe. His expression was pure smug satisfaction, his lips pulling into that wicked smirk that made your chest tighten.

"See?" he muttered, tossing the phone onto the floorboard. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're a fucking monster," you whispered, tears streaming down your face as you pushed at his chest weakly.

Rafe laughed, low and taunting, as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. "You say that now, but I don't think your pussy got the memo. You're squeezing me so tight right now-what do you think that means, huh?"

"Stop-"

"No, you stop," Rafe snapped, his voice darkening as he leaned in closer, his face hovering just above yours. "You wanna play the victim, act like you hate this, but I know the truth. You fucking love it.“

You couldn’t even argue with him. Not when he was abusing your g spot the way he was.

The backseat of Rafe's truck had turned into a world of its own-hot, suffocating, and inescapable. The windows dripped condensation, a cage of sweat and shadows that blurred the outside world into nothing. It was just you and him, and every second passed like a fever you couldn't break.

Rafe hadn't let up-not with his words, not with his hands. He was relentless, pressing you deeper into the leather, dragging every ounce of fight you had left out of you. Every time you thought you could pull yourself back together, he shattered you all over again.

"You're not even trying to fight me anymore," Rafe murmured, his voice low and taunting as he stared down at you. The blue of his eyes looked almost silver in the faint light, glinting with satisfaction as they dragged over your tear-streaked face. "That's sweet. Guess you finally figured it out."

Your chest heaved with shaky breaths, your body trembling beneath him as you turned your head away. "I hate you," you whispered weakly, the words barely audible.

Rafe grabbed your chin, his fingers digging in just enough to make you look at him. "Yeah?" he taunted, his grin wicked. "You love repeating yourself, huh?. Go on. Keep telling me how much you hate me while you're laying here, dripping all over my seat like a desperate little Pogue slut.”

You clenched your jaw, the tears pooling in your eyes making it hard to see him clearly.

"I... I hate you."

Rafe's expression didn't change. If anything, his smirk deepened, like he was enjoying every second of your misery. "Nah," he said softly, shaking his head as his thumb brushed across your lip. "That's not what I wanna hear."

"Rafe, please.." you choked out, your voice breaking.

"Please what?" he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery. "You want me to stop? Want me to let you go so you can run back to those broke-ass Pogues? Fuck that." He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you really want."

Your heart sank, every word tightening around your throat like a noose. "Don’t…Don’t stop," you whispered.

Rafe grinned, his hand slipping to rest at your jaw, his grip firm but not cruel. "That's better," he murmured, tilting your head back so you couldn't look away. "Say it again. Louder."

Your lip trembled as the words slipped from your mouth like poison. "Don’t stop, Rafe…please."

"Good girl," Rafe muttered, his thumb tracing along the tear-streaked curve of your cheek.

"See how easy that was? You can listen when you want to."

You closed your eyes, fresh tears spilling down your face, but Rafe wasn't done. His grip tightened slightly, a warning, as his voice dipped lower. "You know what else I wanna hear?"

You nodded your head submissively. "Please... tell me, Rafe.”

He smirks at your obedience before speaking, his tone firm and commanding. "Say you'd choose me over them. Over your little Pogue friends. Say it, Y/N."

Your eyes snapped open, horror twisting in your chest as you stared up at him. "No."

Rafe tilted his head, his smirk cold and sharp.

"No?" He chuckled softly, his grip never wavering as his free hand trailed down your side, slow and deliberate. "You don't get to say no. Not anymore. Say it."

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as you tried to pull back-tried to escape the weight of him, the weight of his words. "I-I don’t wanna."

"I didn’t fucking ask if you wanted to." Rafe growled, his face inches from yours. "You're mine now. Not theirs. Mine. Say it."

You shook your head weakly, tears streaming freely now as your chest heaved. "I-l'd choose you."

Rafe froze, his gaze locking onto yours, something wild and triumphant sparking in his eyes. "What was that?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, your voice breaking as you repeated the words he wanted. "I'd choose you over them."

"Look at me when you say it."

You blinked up at him, the tears blurring his face as you choked out the words again. "I'd choose you over them, Rafe."

His grin stretched wider, his expression dark and smug as he brushed his lips against your ear.

"Damn right you would," he murmured, his voice soft but venomous. "They don't deserve you. They never did. I'm the only one who sees you for what you are."

You didn't respond. How could you? The fight had drained from your body completely, leaving you trembling and broken beneath him as he watched you with the same victorious gleam in his blue eyes.

But Rafe wasn't done.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his tone low but firm, his grip tightening on your jaw.

Your stomach twisted, fresh tears spilling as you stared up at him, wide-eyed and uncertain.

"Rafe, why-"

"Do it," he snapped, his voice sharper now, his smirk twisting into something darker. "Don't make me ask again, Pogue."

Your lip trembled, your body shaking as you parted your lips hesitantly, the humiliation burning through you like fire.

"That's my girl," Rafe muttered, his eyes locked onto yours, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip before he leaned forward. Without hesitation, he spit into your mouth, the action deliberate, possessive, and utterly degrading.

"Swallow that shit," Rafe commanded, his tone calm but laced with authority. "Don't even think about spitting it out."

Your throat tightened, the shame twisting in your chest as you obeyed, swallowing under his watchful gaze.

"That's it," he murmured, his grin widening as he cupped your cheek, his pale fingers brushing against your tear-streaked skin.

"Good fucking girl. That's why you're mine. Because no one else could handle you like this."

His thumb dragged across your lips, smearing the wetness there as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again.

"Say it one more time," he whispered, his voice soft but no less commanding. "Say you'd choose me over them."

You choked back a sob, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I'd choose you over them."

"Good girl," Rafe whispered, his voice almost tender as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. "I knew you'd come around eventually. You just needed me to remind you where you belong."

He pulled back just slightly, his gaze lingering on your tear-streaked face as he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. "Bet you'd let me knock you up, wouldn't you?" Rafe murmured, his voice almost soft, his smirk curling into something sinister. "Let me put a fucking Kook baby in you. Make you mine for real."

Your stomach flipped, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared up at him in disbelief. "You're sick," you whispered, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his thumb dragging along your jaw as his pale fingers stood out against your dark skin. "Yeah, well so are you. Ditching your friends and begging for my dick." He leaned closer, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "What kinda girl does that make you, huh?"

You were quiet and couldn’t even respond…how could you. He was right. You begged him not to stop and even now you wanted him to keep sliding his dick in you.

Rafe's smirk widened as your silence stretched. "I asked you a fucking question," he growled, his hand suddenly tightening around your throat. The pressure made you gasp, your back arching against the seat as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your lips. "What kinda girl does that make you?"

You shook your head weakly, the tears spilling faster now as your chest heaved.

"Rafe, what do you want-"

"Don't fucking 'question' me," he snapped, his grip tightening further, sending a dizzying rush through your body. His other hand slid down to grab your hip, pulling you closer as he sneered, "Say it. Say what you are, baby. You're my little whore, aren't you? My dirty Pogue bitch who can't get enough."

A broken sob escaped you, and his grin only grew as he tilted your head back, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

Your breath hitched, your voice barely above a whisper as the words slipped past your lips, tasting like poison and fire. "I'm... I'm yours."

"Yeah, you fucking are," Rafe muttered, his tone softening just slightly as he released your throat, dragging his hand back to your clit, playing with it as he continues to thrust into you, deep.

Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, that coil of tension snapping inside you as you come around his dick. You gasp sharply, your head falling back against the seat as your body arched into his.

"Ah shit," Rafe grunted with a deep sigh, his voice dark and triumphant as his hand slid up your brown thigh, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

"That's my good girl. You're so fucking perfect when you cum for me."

You whimpered, tears spilling freely now, your mind fogged and overwhelmed. But Rafe didn't stop. He wasn't done with you yet.

"Look at me," he ordered, his tone commanding as he grabbed your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes burned into your brown ones, the smug smirk on his lips twisting into something darker. "You think I'm letting you off that easy. You're gonna give me one more."

"Rafe-" you choked out, your voice trembling.

"Don't fucking fight me," he snapped, his grip tightening. "You've got one more in you, baby. I know you do. And you're gonna give it to me."

Your body trembled, your head spinning as he pushed you further, relentless in his thrusts.

Every nerve was on fire, every sound that escaped your lips ripped from your chest against your will.

"That's it," Rafe murmured, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. "Give me one more baby…just one more around my dick."

The words hit you like a punch, and you shattered, the wave crashing over you so hard it left you breathless. Rafe followed you down, his grip tightening as his own body tensed, his head falling into the crook of your neck as a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as he got closer.

Rafe didn't stop. He followed you through it, his strokes still sharp and relentless, his grip firm as he kept you exactly where he wanted you. His breath was ragged, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

For a moment, everything stilled. The truck rocked gently beneath you, the windows fogged, the world outside feeling a million miles away. His weight pressed into you, heavy and grounding, his chest heaving against yours.

You should have been angry. Humiliated. But instead, the words left your lips before you could stop them.

"Rafe... cum in me."

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

The smirk that spread across his face was sharp and wicked, his tone laced with mockery as he chuckled. "Oh, you think you're calling the shots now?"

"Please..." you whispered, your voice trembling as fresh tears slid down your cheeks.

Rafe leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours as he sneered. "What makes you think you've earned that, huh? After pulling that little stunt on my boat? You think you can tell me what to do?"

You shook your head weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he moved again, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. "You wanna tell me what to do? No, I tell you what to do."

You whimpered, your hands gripping at his shoulders as your body trembled beneath him. "Rafe... please. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" His voice dipped into something darker, more dangerous, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "You'll cry for it, baby. You'll fucking beg for it, or you're not getting shit."

You bit down on your lip, the tears spilling faster now as your chest heaved. "Please," you choked out, your voice breaking.

"Please, Rafe. I need it. I need you."

"Louder," he demanded, his hand moving to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Let me hear you fucking mean it."

Your voice cracked as you sobbed, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. "Please, Rafe! I need you to cum in me! I'm yours-I'll do whatever you want! Just... please."

His grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his pale blue eyes as he tilted your chin up, pressing a slow, mocking kiss to your lips.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his tone dripping with triumph.

And when he finally came in you, letting himself unravel against you, the low, guttural sound that escaped him sent a shiver through your entire body. His weight collapsed onto you once more, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed his forehead to yours, a lazy, smug grin still plastered across his face.

Then Rafe tilted his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're never leaving me now, Y/N. Not after this."

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Because deep down, you knew he was right.

And that terrified you.

The haze came quickly after that, swallowing you whole. The heat, the sweat, the steady weight of him pressed against your trembling body-all of it felt distant and surreal. You weren't sure how long you lay there, pinned beneath him, his blue eyes watching you like you were a puzzle he'd just solved.

Then his hand came up, quick and light, delivering a playful slap to your cheek. Not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

"Hey," Rafe muttered, his smirk twisting into something sharper, darker. "Don't drift off on me. You're not getting out of this until you say it."

You blinked up at him, your breath shaky as the fog clouding your thoughts started to lift. "Say... what?"

Rafe's hand slid to your jaw, gripping you firmly as he tilted your head back, his lips brushing over yours in a way that felt both possessive and mocking. "Say you're sorry for what you did. For pushing me off my fucking boat."

Your lips parted, your chest heaving as his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, leaving you trembling beneath him. "Rafe, are you serious-"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice sharp but calm, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Apologize, and maybe I'll go easy on you."

A tear slipped down your cheek as the words caught in your throat. You hated him. You hated the way he owned you, the way he twisted you into knots with nothing but his voice, his touch. But the fight had been drained from your body completely, leaving you with no choice but to obey.

"I'm sorry." you whispered, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes.

Rafe's grin widened, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your lips. "Louder."

Your body trembled, the shame burning hot in your chest as you repeated the words, louder this time. "I'm sorry for pushing you off your boat."

"Good girl," Kate murmured, his tone laced with triumph as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, full of teeth and heat, and you felt yourself slipping further into the haze. His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp as his tongue claimed yours.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. But it was addictive.

He pulled back just slightly, his pale blue eyes watching your swollen lips, the tear streaks on your face. "You feel that?" he muttered, his voice low and mocking as his hand cupped your cheek. "That's mine now. All of it. Every fucking piece of you."

You didn't argue. You still couldn't.

"Open your mouth," he ordered, his tone soft but firm, his smirk curling as his thumb tapped your bottom lip.

Your lips parted instinctively, and the haze grew thicker as he spit into your mouth again, the deliberate action pulling a low whimper from you.

Rafe's grin deepened, his eyes gleaming with something wicked as he leaned forward and whispered, “Ready for round 2?”

You paused for a second to see if he was serious and when you saw that he in fact wasn’t joking, your rolled eyes.

You were never trusting Kiara, Cleo, or Sarah again. Not that you’d get the chance to since you belonged to Rafe now.

You were his. Not theirs.

[sordidmusings]

Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him.  He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes. 

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.) 

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back.  It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head.  He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

[igotanidea]

Tease: Jason Todd x fem!reader

graphic credit goes to @stariver00 - <3

A/N: I can't even find the words to describe how relieved I am that I finally finished this one! :D

Summary: taking care of Jason's wounds and being a tease sounds so innocent. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!! dumbifications, oral (fem receiving), my poor medical knowledge, mentions of wounds, teasing and bickering, a bit of rough play if you squint.

***

The view in front of her eyes was not she was expecting to see, however she should have seen that coming. After all it wasn’t the first time her boyfriend climbed up her window in the middle of the night, bloodied and wounded with a broken dog face expression, searching for a safe place where he could get back to shape. 

 “Patching.” he muttered sitting cross legged on the floor, with medical supplies splattered all over, his helmet and body armor discarded a few steps beyond. 

She knew the drill, they did this dance hundreds of times now. With a deep sigh Y/N threw her bag on the floor, kicked her shoes and moved to sit on the floor next to him reaching for the gauze he had in his hands and retrieving it swiftly.

“What kind of wound? Stab? Bullet? Punch? Hit?” she asked, immediately getting into this specific, factual tone, keeping her emotions at bay, focusing on the task of helping him out.

“Bullet” he muttered mimicking her pitch.

“Exit or…?”

“Entry.”

“But no exit?” her voice faltered only slightly. Anyone else wouldn’t even notice that subtle change, but Jason knew her for too long to let it slip. He was fully aware she was terrified of what was expected of her to do.

“It stayed in.” he muttered

“You really couldn’t let me have one good night, could you? “she sighed deeply reaching for the tweezers, disinfecting them, desperately trying to control her shaky hands and putting them inside his wound. “I’m not a freaking doctor you know!”

“Just get it out already!” he hissed in pain.

 “Stop squirming! It’s not helping!”

Jason clenched his jaw, wincing at every movement of the tweezers in his body but followed her orders, his fingers digging into his palms to prevent himself for hurting her in crazy fight or flight instinct.

“I got it….” She whispers finally pulling the bullet out and throwing it away, her heart beating frantically from the emotions yet her face blank and calm. It was crazy how they were both terrified and yet were dead set not to show it to the other to not amplify any of those negative feelings.

“Told you” he smirked

“Told me what exactly Todd? That you’re a selfish, reckless, stupid bastard who’s  gonna give me heart attack?. I’m not professional. I could have hurt you and yet I always take care of you…..”

“Told you a silly bullet wound won’t kill me.” Jason grinned and moved to lay on the couch. “Now, get those stiches and put them to use Y/N.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome….” She rolled her eyes, reaching for the needle and swiftly mending the damage done to his shoulder. “You’re lucky it didn’t shatter any bones, cause that would be way beyond my pay grade.”

“Yeah, whatever….” He muttered waiting patiently for her to be done and finish helping him by putting on a dressing, her soft, nimble fingers dancing on his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “Thanks doc.” He chuckled to diffuse the tension. It was weird that he got so many different sensations from her touch now. She did this so many times before and only now…. she shook his head not wanting to pursue that thought.

“Might as well use that title. Not of education by definitely from experience.” She hissed standing up, moving to kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine “by the way, did you know that experiments on living organism are forbidden?”

‘You meant me?” he raised an eyebrow watching her sip her drink.

“Obviously.”

“And yet you always stich me up. Every. time.” Jason raised from the couch, moving to stand in front of her.

„What if one day I refuse?” she teased, swirling the wine and looking straight into his eyes, almost daring him to play back.

„I’ll take care of my wounds and you take care of your liver” Jason pulled the glass from her hand putting it up away from her reach, making her pout and stuck the tongue at him.

“You gotta die from something. I’d rather go down doing something fun not fighting on the streets of Gotham.”

“Not on my watch. You can drop patching me up, but you’re not drinking. You’re gonna sit with me and watch some Netflix instead.”

“Shall I remind you it’s still my apartment?”

“Ekhem…. Our apartment.” He corrected.

“Mhm… sure… I work and pay the bills and you bleed on the floor from time to time. You’re right, you marked this place quite literally.”

„No one here is getting drunk.” He said with a stern tone.

“I’m sorry? Do I look drunk?” she scoffs “that’s offending.”

“After a bottle of wine?”

“Who said anything about a bottle?” she brushed him off, but his gaze travelled to the open, almost empty bottle standing on the kitchen counter. “Yesterday’s?” she made an innocent face at him.

“That’s your third glass, Y/N.” there was no way to hide the evidence of crime now. Damn his vigilante instincts and  observational skills. Of course she could have kept the play going, but it was no point now.

“Yeah, maybe I have a reason to. And you’re the last person on earth who can preach me on recklessness.” she mutters, snatching the glass from his hand, putting it to the sink and plumping on the couch putting on some TV. 

“Bad day, huh?”

“More less so….” she switch through the channels finding nothing worth keeping an eye on, and finally setting on reruns of Friends, hoping this would cheer her up even if only a little.

 “Care to share?” Jason sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace, resting his head on hers. 

“I don’t think I want to talk now….” Y/N snuggled into his arms, enjoying the warmth coming from his body. “Hi…..” she murmured softly, a  bit calmer now. He was all right, he was safe and next to her, not bleeding, not dying, not hurting. 

“Hi yourself...”Jason smiled kissing her forehead and tightening the grip on her.

“You gave me a scare, you know.”

“Sorry baby…… But you’re better now, right?” his hand moved from her waist to her back, caressing softly in a calming manner.

‘yeah… I’m better….” She sighed, feeling the stress coming off her in waves. “you feel like home”

“that’s because I am your home, princess.”

“Yeah…. Yeah… you are….”

“And you’re mine….” He added, brushing her hair and cheek softly putting finger under her chin and making her look into his eyes. ”You understand that, don’t you? That you are mine and my everything.”

“I love you….” She whispered connecting their foreheads in an intimate gesture, hoping he’ll understand all those unspoken words dying in her throat and impossible to sound.

“I love you more.” He brushed his lips over hers briefly, only to ignite her nerves and make her break.

“I could argue on that.” Y/N chuckles softly in return.

“Oh really?” his eyebrows travelled up as he pulled back looking into her eyes with a slight smirk “Try me.”

“I. am. Infinitely falling for you.”  Her words were like a balm on his heart and soul making him feel like he finally found that one person he belonged to. Whatever she said to him, whenever and wherever, it never failed to set him on fire, make his nerves and his whole body burn with the passion he never knew before.

“Y/N……baby…..”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’ve won this competition……” Jason’s leaned forward, leaving inches of space between them.

“I’m gonna take my prize now.” she murmured capturing his lips in hers and immediately, out of instincts wrapping arms around his neck. She wanted, needed to feel him, just to make sure it was all real and he was really with her, not just a friction of her imagination.

Jason was with her…… Safe, loved, all for her, matching every movement of her lips with passion, pulling her on his lap, caressing her hair, touching her back and waist, doing it all at once.

"Take everything you want, love. I'm all yours."

“Mine……” a few tears fell down her cheeks when she snuggled even closer to his touch, never getting enough of it. Of him, of his love, of his affection and care. Even though those were the sign of happiness, not pain of hurt, he noticed those little droplets in an instant.

"Hey, no crying on my shoulder." He chuckled wiping them away. “I got you…. You’re safe with me….”

“I can't lose you.....” she whispered, her right hand travelling to his shoulder, tracing over the wound she patched up a few moments later. “Every time you go out there ….” Her voice broke.

„Hey…. Hey….baby look at me….” Jason grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up on him “you’re not losing me. I’m right here…..” he guided her hand to his heart, letting her feel his heartbeat “feel that?” she nodded “it beats only for you. You won’t lose me…I promise you.” He kissed her temple nuzzling nose in her hair.

“I love you Jay....”

"I love you too, honey." He replied, wrapping his arms around Y/N  tightly, like he was afraid she might disappear, keeping her in the safe, strong embrace, rocking back and forth slightly.

 “Does it hurt?” she asked her soft, quiet voice breaking through the silence of the apartment.

“What?” Jason asked, slightly confused by her question.

“The wound.”

"Oh... yeah, it stings a little." He replied, glancing at his bandaged shoulder.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

His eyes grew wide, tiniest blush creeping on his face. Even if it was barely visible in the dark room she knew him well enough to recognise when he got flustered.,

"Baby…..that's the best offer I've gotten all week." He grinned.

“That's not a yes though.”

“You’re taking the conscious consent to a completely new level, princess. Do you see me objecting?”

“Jason Todd…..” she warned with the slightest chuckle

“I could never say no to you, my pretty girl.” he pulled her closer “yes.”

That one little word was all she needed connecting their lips again, relinquishing in the taste of his lips, taste of him. When her mouth were busy showing her love moving all over his face, brushing his cheek, jaw and neck, her hands, simultaneously moved down to his chest, her nimble fingers tracing his skin, moving over each of his scars, reminder of his past. Of the part of his life where she wasn’t with him.

She did it so many times already, focusing on the stab wound on his thigh, tiniest dents in the rib area, multiple cuts on his chest, slashes on his arms, bullet wounds, burn wounds, all kinds of those.

So many intimate times and yet, every single one of them was so different from the other.

"You sure you wanna do this right now...? I'm all for it but I don't want you to get my blood all over you." He chuckled

„It's just a kiss Jason....” she teased, moving to kiss over the sensitive, freshly patched shoulder with her soft, warm lips, causing Goosebumps all over him and smiling at the effect of him not stopping her ministrations

“Y/N…..” he groaned, his head falling back slightly. “God…..” his grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer, his mind (and not only mind) running wild and completely out of his control.

  „Shhhh...”  she mumbled against his skin, keeping on her ministrations, smiling even more upon feeling his hand tangling in her hear pressing her closer to the wounded shoulder. “Let me take care of you….” Her hot breath brushed over his neck when she started nibbling there getting a few more groans of pleasure.

“Do you feel better, Jaybaby?”

“Uh…uh-huh….”  He gasped slightly still trying to keep his composure “don’t want you to stop…..”

“I’m not, my love…..” she nibbled on his neck, biting gently. “Mmmh…. You taste delicious…”

“Y/N…..” his hands found a way under her shirt, tugging at the material. “you’re a devil…..”

“No, Jace….”

“But Y/N....” he whined desperately “I want you… I want to kiss you, touch you, let me love you…..”

“You’re hurt, Jason….”

“So what? I still want to have you….”

“You can kiss me, but the clothes stays on.”

“You’re such a tease, turning me all hot and then denying!” he pouted “how unfair is that?!” he shivered at her words, but even though not giving up just yet.

“Yeah, I can feel how excited you got…” she smirks, shifting to sit on his lap, purposefully brushing over his hard on.

“Come on!” he cried out, burning at the sensation. Even if it was through material he could tell himself the rest, imagination and memories doing the job. “It’s torture! Pleeeeasseeee….”

“Hmmm.. on second thought….” She pulled back stopping the kissing.

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“You promised you won’t stop!” he grabbed her hip harder, making her squeal in surprise

“I did not!” she exclaimed “I hit pause.”

“Resume it now….” He warned, his voice hoarse, his body desperate for her. “Or else….”

“Or else what, honey? What will you possibly do?” he whispered in his ear, tangling fingers in his hair, tugging and scratching gently, her eyes full of desire and love and playfulness combined. “From what I see and it’s a nice view from the top….” Y/N smirked  “you’re at my mercy. How does that feel?”

“Terrible.” He pouted “I’m injured and need to be taken care of and my girlfriend is all cruel and heartless…..”

“Oh…. Am I really?” she pushed him down on the bed, forcing him to lay on his back. “Is it really so terrible? How’s the view from down there?”

“covered….”

“Covered view?” she chuckled.

“Come on!!!”  he cried out, his impatient hands moving to her hips.

“Behave, Jason…..” she straddled his hips, laying on top of him, pinning his hands to the mattress, looking straight into his eyes, before moving to kiss down his chest.

“You’re playing with fire, princess….”

“Yeah, Kori has been giving me some … lessons. And let me tell you, that girl…. She’s really good. I mean she bedded Dick and all those tricks she showed me…..” she smirked, letting go of his hands and tracing over his scars, but unlike before this time it was far from sweet, gentle and innocent. This time, her single purpose was to spur him on, tease him, make him burn at her touch and at the single feeling  of her body on his.

“I hate you…..” he groaned

“We both know….” She brushed over his crotch “It’s not true.”

“Enough!” he yelled and before she could do as much as let out a single cry he pinned her to the mattress, kissing her with urgency and desire, not stopping to take a break, a breath, nothing. Now he was claiming her, her body, her soul, her mind. She wanted teasing, she should have known it comes with the price and Jason was not going to give up something that was rightfully his.

“Jason!” she moaned, but he was not going to stop for the world, tearing her shirt open, sending the buttons flying all over the room, sucking her skin up, biting, licking and kissing all over her stomach, finally, finally being able to teach her a lesson.

“You brought this on yourself….” He hissed, his mind too consumed by lust to even hear her crying out his name. “you brought this on yourself, princess”.

He was so fucking hungry, starved, deprived of her body, her skin, the taste of her. And his little, pathetic, helpless girlfriend really thought she could keep him on leash.

“poor little stupid girl….” he muttered, scratching her waist and moving hands up, cupping her clothed chest, feeling her body arch and squirm underneath him “I’m not your pet, baby….” He pulled the material of the bra away, revealing her right  breast and smirking vindictively at the view of her pebbled nipple. “You planned this, didn’t you?” he muttered, brushing thumb over the sensitive part eliciting a moan and desperate cry of pleasure

“please…..” she begged

“not so nice when you’re the one pleading, is it?” he chuckled cruelly, taking it in his mouth and sucking for a second.

“Jay…..!” she grabbed his head, wanting more, more, more……

“Oh no, princess….” He pulled back, her half exposed, reddened chest abused and neglected “It’s not gonna be that easy…” his eyes glistened in the dark room. In that moment he looked less like a Jason Todd and way more like a Red Hood. Like a predator looking at the helpless prey, baring his teeth and sharpening his claws, getting ready to pounce mercilessly, getting his payback and whatever else he wanted.

“shit….!” She squealedwondering how was it possible that she went from patching him up and getting all scared of hurting him, through absolutely innocent teasing to ending up pinned to the bed in the form of desperate mess, strangely turned on by his fury.

“Yeah, princess…shit, indeed….” Jason repeated, scratching the skin just above the hem of her jeans, one fingers diving down, grabbing the elastic of her panties pulling it up just to let it go and make it snap her skin with a sting.

“Ah..!”  she gasped

“Such a naughty, little stupid ungrateful brat….” He climbed on top of her, kissing up her stomach, her chest, her neck, jaw, cheek in a crazy pace, not allowing her to enjoy it, stopping at her lips. “I’ll make you beg for me. How about that? How do you like switching places…..” his mouth hung a few inches above hers, his thumb pressing at her bottom lip, forcing her to open those pretty mouth he was imagining somewhere else doing something different. “How about that, princess?” he asked again, his breath enveloping her face, clouding her senses, causing her to close her eyes. “Answer me, baby or might have to punish you….”

“Jason….” She moaned, not sure if she was enjoying this side of him or not. It was the first time in their relationship when he pushed him so far to actually make him this… vicious… this dominant.

“Answer me, princess…..” he muttered, grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head “How do you like that?” he bit her neck. Once, twice, three times, each time harder than before.

“I…..ah… shit… Jace….!” At this point she knew – she was definitely enjoying him like this.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?”

“You’re so mean to me….” she moaned at another bite, this time on her shoulder.

“And yet….” One of his hands left her wrist, travelling down her body, tracing over each of her curved and digging inside her pants, moving the material of the panties away “you’re so wet…..” he whispered into her ear “what were you thinking, beautiful? What sort of crazy fantasies are there in your head, little one? Do you wish me to touch you….?” his finger brushed over hersensitive, swollen clit. “you want me touch you like that?”

“Yes,….shit… yes, yes…..” poor Y/N thought she was a begging mess before but Jason was clearly just beginning to have his fun with her. “please…..” she struggled against his grip.

“funny how the tables turned, isn’t it?” he muttered, nuzzling nose into her neck.

“Todd…..” she tried her best to make her voice stern and serious, but it came as desperate and whiny.

“Yeah, baby….? Is there something you want?” he asked calmly, his tone a contract to the way he was rubbing her clit faster and more intensely, enjoying the sounds coming from her mouth, becoming less human by a second turning into a desperate wail of tortured animal.

“please, please… please….!” Her hips buckled off the bed, her body begging for more.

“Nah…. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, love.” He retrieved his hand from her pants.

“Jason….!” She looked into his eyes, her gaze broken, hair a mess, lips chapped, cheeks reddened.

“God, your such a mess…..” Jason smirked, but the way she was looking at him with so much love, trust and vulnerability got him crumbling a bit. “Beg for me…..”

“I need you….” She whimpered “I need you, only you, just you. Please……?”

“Y/N…… my love……. You were a brat……. Admit it now…..” her voice, her eyes, her whispering, her begging…. He was slipping back into her, getting lost in her. He enjoyed having her under his control, but it was never his intention to push her further than she could take. Y/N had a little less experience than him and Jason was just trying to show her different way of things.  To educate her, if you may.

But.

No matter how much he tried to dominate her, to punish and take what he wanted he just…. couldn’t.

He couldn’t be forceful on Y/N. His love, his one and only, his sweet, pretty girl. He wanted to protect her, love her, cherish her. Give her all the sweet loving she was missing through her entire life. Never hurt her. Never.

Unless she asked him too.

Spicing things up was good sometimes, but the tears in her eyes told him clearly enough she was on the verge. And Jason was not going to make her break and burst out crying during sex. Not with him. Not on his watch.

Never.

“Y/N…… baby…..” he let go of both of her wrists, reddened and swollen from the tight grip. “I love you….. I love you…..”

“I love you too, Jace,…. Please… please…..”

“Shhhh…. “ he caressed her head kissing her softly, reassuringly “I got you baby…. I got you… I’ll take care of you… Just promise….” He bit on her bottom lip “promise you won’t tease me again…..”

“Promise….” She whimpered, wrapping arms around his back, scratching his shoulder blades, dragging her nails down his body.

“I’m gonna pretend I believe you……” Jason whispered, too lost in his craving to say anything else and to control himself anymore.

It only took him a second to unclasp her bra, exposing her breast fully, licking, sucking, grazing his teeth over it, letting himself enjoy her hands in his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching, but not stopping there. His mouth moved lower, swiftly and capably sliding her jeans down, removing her soaked panties, spreading her legs and licking his lips at the view.

“Y/N……” his tongue moved to the place where she needed him ‘mmhmh… god….my favourite meal of the day…….”

“No…..” she whispered, pulling him back up by his healthy shoulder.

“what do you mean no?” he kept on lapping and sucking, swirling his tongue “your words don’t match your body movements….”

“I need you….”

“You have me baby…..” he licked all the way from her slit to clit making her moan and squirm again, more desperately than ever before “can’t stop me now…..”

“I want you….ah… ah…” her voice became desperate when those long, thick fingers complemented tongue movements, pumping in and out, doing it with ease with the amount of juices she already produces for him. “I want you… in….in…fuck…!”

“Inside?” he smirked, picking up the pace, knowing exactly what she was begging for.  She nodded her body tensing and sweating like crazy. Yes, she wanted him inside but with the way he was making her feel at the moment, bringing her closer and closer to release, she was slowly starting to not give a fuck how he would make her come. The only thing she cared about was to come at all, fingers, tongue, dick, whatever. And she was silently praying he wouldn’t fall back into that sadistic attitude and keep on edging her endlessly.

“Jace…. “ she spread her legs wider, opening herself to him fully, her body acting on its own.

He looked up from between her legs, his gaze hazy, desperate, filled with so much lust, passion and craving it made her shudder. In this state he was definitely notgoing to edge her and they both knew it. Their eyes met only for a second before he got back to eating her up in that way only he knew how, fast, hard, hitting all the right places in the perfect pace.

“Yes….!” She cried out, when her climax started to build, his fingers digging into her hips causing pain and pleasure and confirming her belief she would sport bruises next day. “Yes… yes…!” she moaned more and more, grabbing his hands and putting them on her breasts again, allowing him to touch,  squeeze, scratch and twist the flesh to his liking. “Yes….Jason…!”

He groaned and his voice reverberated through her whole body, making her scream his name , her body arching, hips moving off her bed as she was practically fucking herself on his face. Greedy, selfish little girl, craving the pleasure, the release, being so close, so fucking close she could almost touch it.

“Yes…. Yes… yes….!” Jason heard her sounds in the very core of his soul and body, picking up the pace more and more and more and more, not stopping. He could suffocate like this, die like this if it meant tasting her for the last time in his life. He grabbed her breast harder, digging his tongue deeper. It was not about her anymore, it was about satiating his hunger, his craving, his desire.

And then….

It felt like someone turned off the world that stopped existing.

It was only him.

And her.

Nothing more.

Her brain shut down when she came as intensely as never before, squirting hard, body tensing, releasing, bursting into sweat, shivering and shaking in no more than ten seconds. Oh, he prepped her so good and apparently a bit of roughness only added to the pleasure and the sensation.

“Jason…..” she breathed out heavily, her eyes closed as she tried to reach for his face blindly.

“I’m here, baby….” His voice came somewhere from above her, but before she could open her eyes and look at him, Jason pressed his lips to her, helping her to calm down and come back to reality, but also allowing her to taste herself. “I got you…. I got you, princess. It’s okay.. You’re safe. You’re mine, I’m here.”

“Mhmhm…..”was all she could reply, too lost in the sensation.

“How you feel?” he asked softly, pulling her to him, holding and caressing her back. He was going to clean her up in a second but for now she needed cuddles. She needed his warm embrace. And he was going to shower her with the aftercare. “I wasn’t too rough right?”

“At first.. maybe a little…..” she sighed, finally opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. His chin was glistening. “but it was worth it….” She smiled, wiping her own juices from his face “apparently….” They both chuckled.

“Do you remember what you promised me, though?” Jason smirked pulling her closer and ruffling her hair affectionately.

“are you serious?” she snickered “I’ve just barely recollected my last name! Of course I don’t remember what I said while being desperate for you!”

“Desperate, huh?” he raised an eyebrow. “Can you repeat that so I can record for my spank bank? Y/N Y/L/N was desperate for me….”

“Shut up!” she blushed punching his healthy arm.

“Make me, princess.” Jason grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. “You promised not to tease me, let me refresh your memory.”

“Did I really?” she frowned

“Yeah, really…..”

“What if I crossed my fingers?” she sat on the bed, wriggling out of his embrace, looking down at him with a smirk, her naked body so close to his. “What if I lied?”

“then we need another lesson to eradicate that terrible habit of yours….” he grabbed her waist and pulled her on top of him “I’m not in a hurry and that means you’re not going anywhere….” He bit her lip, his eyes glistening with the same greedy glow as before.    

Round two.

[queenie-avenue]

How do yanderes react to receiving a scarf knitted by a reader?

Knitted with love.

💌 ⤻ ft. ALL THE YANDERES

—> your gifts are only for them.

⤻ reader is gender neutral, typical yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, soft yandere, mentions of kidnapping (mafia boss), mentions of stealing (the baseball player)

note: i was too lazy to link all of the yanderes, especially since i have so many now, so i will just link my archives when i do joint posts.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

— He would absolutely be ecstatic but also torn about it. He wants to keep the sweater all to himself, but he also wants to show it off to the world and demand that the scarf be mass-produced and sold in stores. It's a very challenging decision to make, but he eventually decides to keep the scarf all to himself. He is — as he calls himself — a selfish bastard, after all.

— However, despite his internal struggle, he would keep a cool expression and thank you sincerely and compliment your hard work.

— Would gift something as a thank you, probably something designer. Or would just look at the shopping history on your laptop and buy something from there. Or buy all, black cards exist for a reason!

💌 ⤻ THE CHEERLEADER, KATIE WILLIAMS

— Would gush about it loudly about the fact you were so sweet to present them with a gift! Aw, sweet little you! Katie would hug, kiss and gab all over your form.

— Extremely territorial over the scarf, will not let anyone touch it.

— Sets a trend in the University you're at, where partners gift each other scarves.

💌 ⤻ THE BASEBALL PLAYER, JESPER HARGREAVES

— Oddly enough, he would sniff it first. Then he would utterly melt into it, thanking you profusely by holding you so tight it felt like he might choke you to death.

— Will wear it regardless of the weather. Even if it's sweltering hot and he is sweating bullets. You'll probably have to make something more summer-themed to get him to take off the bloody thing.

— Will beg for more handmade goods from you and will “borrow” the things you made for other people.

💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN

— Will not accept it at first. Will try to accuse you of trying to get close to him because of his family and wealth. If you persist, he will throw it into the bin in front of everyone just to humiliate you further.

— While patrolling the rounds of the school, he will go back to where he threw it and dumpster dive just to get it back. Look at how obsessed you made him, you have to take responsibility for that.

— The next day, an anonymous person has given you expensive chocolates. You realise that Min-Jun is carefully staring to see your reaction to it.

💌 ⤻ THE BARISTA, AKIMITSU MINORU

— Is shocked when you do so but immediately accepts and tells you you shouldn't work so hard next time.

— Offers you a cup of coffee as a thank you.

— Very reserved about it but from that moment on, he's always wearing the scarf. But not in ways you would expect. Sometimes it's hooked onto his waist, somethings around his neck — like how it's supposed to be worn — and sometimes just displayed in the coffee shop like some kind of trophy.

— Would convince you into only giving these sort of gifts to him.

💌 ⤻ THE COVER, VALERIO MARCHETTI

— Your habit of knitting started when you were bored and Valerio gave you something to play with. A knitting set, fitting for someone like you. He made sure to give you those blunt materials though, wouldn't want you escaping!

— Was shocked when you gave it to him. Probably sent it to get it checked for poison.

— Even after making sure it's not poisonous, he doesn't wear it. He simply leaves it with you.

— He isn't exactly obsessed (in this part yet), but he certainly is intrigued by you, would wear the scarf just to see your reaction.

💌 ⤻ THE MAFIA BOSS, VITTORIA CONSTANZO

— Utterly ecstatic at the prospect of you doing such a thing for her. It means you're slowly forgiving her, right?

— Will keep the scarf and use it as inspiration for her next collection of dresses, all using yarn. Will make a special dress just for you to wear out of yarn, just like you've done for her.

— You'll probably get more time without your restraints after this, she trusts you a bit more now and will give you a bit more freedom.

[tacticaldiary]

Gentle Hands

Request: Hey there! I love your writing so much and I was wondering if you could have some Johnny MacTavish brainrot with me. Johnny comes home from a looooong deployment and he wants to do nothing but collapse on the bed or couch. Until he sees our dear reader, cuddled up in their bed with one of his shirts on a pillow she’s cuddling. He can smell his cologne on the fabric and…whatever happens after that is up to you!

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

Genre: Fluff (You deserve it after the marathon of angst I've been feeding you)

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

A/N: The way I scrambled to write this the second I could, there's always time for Soap brainrot in this household

Masterlist

Sometimes he thinks the pinging of bullets ricocheting off of metal follows him out of the battlefield. It's the only explanation for the ever present tension in his shoulder after a long gruelling mission.

Soap sighs, stretching out a shoulder while he digs his house keys out from his duffel bag. The keys feel cool and foreign against his fingers as he clumsily slots them in a turns the lock.

It's been nine weeks since he's unlocked his front door.

Haphazardly pushing off his shoes in the entryway, he throws his bag onto the floor and peers farther into the house. Despite his exhaustion, a smile finds itself on his face at the prospect of seeing her again.

God, he misses her. It was difficult to contact anyone outside of his team when on a mission, even moreso when they were black. The fear of their lines being tapped and tracked is very real, and Soap would rather wait a few weeks to see her than compromise her safety and theirs by allowing himself one fleeting moment with her.

"Bonnie? You there?" He calls out, stepping into the kitchen. Empty. He fights the urge to collapse onto the couch when he checks the living room, the lack of sleep catching up on him.

He's surprised he's still standing, honestly. The OP he'd been on had been in a far mountain range, a lot of trekking and camping out in the middle of a humid, highly vegetated area. Visibility had been rough and they'd taken turns sleeping a couple of hours before they continues trekking towards the enemy safehouse they were aiming to ambush.

He hadn't been able to sleep on the chopper back either, buzzing with the knowledge that he'd finally see her again after months and months.

A damn real bed seemed like heaven after resting on a rough muddy floor for weeks.  

It was the middle of the day, but she was nowhere in the house. Not in her favourite armchair by the fireplace, nor in the garage or any of the bathrooms. He frowns a little. She could be out, then?

It's not until Soap pushes open the door to their bedroom that the next call of her name dies in his throat immediately.

His hand slips off the doorknob, hangs by his side as he takes in the sight, a soft grin on his lips.

There she was, sound asleep, arms cuddled around a pillow that had one of his t-shirts stretched around it. She looked so peaceful, face half obscured by the way she'd nuzzled into the fabric.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he tries to make minimal noise as he shucks off his shirt and sits on the bed next to her.

Huffing under his breath, he gently tugs the pillow out of her grasp, slides in next to her, adjusting himself until her face is tucked into his neck, not any different from how she was with that pillow.

As if on instinct, her body relaxes, sinking into him and curling closer.

Bliss.

Utter bliss.

A deep, satisfied rumble in his chest as he relaxes, holding the woman he loves so much in their room, their bed, with clean sheets and a heart full of love, is what prompts her to wake up.

With a small groan, she makes a move to pull what she thinks is her pillow closer, but what she grabs isn't a feather-filled soft cushion.

Hard muscle meets her palm, strong and familiar.

"Pawin' at me already, hen?" The deep, tired voice in her ear has a pleased shiver running down her spine, and her eyes fluttering open quickly. "I barely made it through the door."

"Johnny?" She mumbles, eyes widening as the hand around her waist tightens in response. "Johnny!" She pushes herself up on her knees in surprise.

Sure enough, laying right in front of her was the man in the flesh, smiling up lazily, satisfied with her reaction. With a happy squeal, she lunges forward, hugging him tightly. She giggles when he catches her by the waist, sighing into her shoulder and clutching her body to his tightly.

He lets her straddle his waist, looking down at him like she couldn't quite believe it. Her hands roam over his chest as if to assure herself that he was there, actually under her, that he was home.

They lock eyes for a moment, and neither of them knows who moves first but they pull each other into a hard kiss, moving against each other with a practiced familiar ease.

"Missed you," She mumbles against his lips as he runs a hand through her hair. He hums, lets her pull away and cup his jaw. "Missed you so damn much, Johnny."

"I know, baby. Seem like ya had my spot covered though." He grins teasingly, stroking her hair and nodding to the shirt-clad pillow on the ground.

The way she goes red is adorable.

"I told you I missed you." She mumbles. "It just...it still smelled like you, helps me when I miss you more than usual, you know?" She admits. A small pang of sadness hits him at the knowledge that she missed him enough to resort to this...makeshift Soap?

"I missed you too. This is one hell of a welcome." He smiles up at her, squeezing her waist.

She shakes her head but can't chase away the smile on her face. He was home. Johnny, her Johnny.

"Stay around and there'll be much more of that." She teases.

"Minx." He groans, propping himself up on his elbows to bring her into another kiss. As he's doing so, the ache in his shoulder tightens and he winces, a movement not missed by her. She stops him with a hand on his chest.

"You're sore?" She asks, taking a second to look him over slowly, and goddamn if it doesn't make him shiver.

"Nothing a few days with my girl won't fix." He says, trying to lean up again, groaning when she leans back out of reach. "Bonnie, your killin' me-"

"You look like shit, Johnny." She says bluntly, watching him pause to gape at her in mock offense. "You need to rest tonight, okay? Let me take care of you." Much to his dismay, she slides off of him, prods at his shoulder ordering him to flip over.

Too tired to argue, he turns onto his stomach with minimal protest.

Soap truthfully does look like hell; tired, dark circles lining his eyes, but the desire to have her close in any way he can clouds any and all other thoughts. "You know I love ya on top of me, but might I ask what you're doing?"

Johnny presses his cheek to the cool pillow to glance over at her curiously. He watches her straddle his back, her weight tearing a small sigh out of him, his aching muscles relaxing under the soothing weight.

"Nine weeks haven't taken your voice away yet, I see." She rolls her eyes, hands travelling up his bare back to his shoulders. Her eyes linger on those strong muscles she's felt countless times under her hands, her nails, her mouth...

"It takes more than that. Besides, ya love my voice-" She chooses that moment to press into one of the tight knots in his back, red flushing up her neck at the deep, surprised groan Johnny cuts his sentence off with. His head drops into the pillow, his back going up and down with a deep breath.  

Love his voice she does. She certainly does.

Her hands knead at the tension in his back, his shoulders, working out the knots built from weeks of stress.

Here. This moment right here. It makes the weeks of loneliness worth it. Days spent without him, waking up to an empty cold bed with only the remnants of his belongings scattered around the house to occupy her thoughts. It was all worth it when she got to feel the warm press of his skin against hers, when she got to welcome him back like this and spend the rest of her days with him.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they claim.

Her lips press gentle kisses down his spine as she works, soft presses that convey more love than she could ever verbalise.

"I fucking love you." He breathes. Goosebumps flash across his skin when she smiles, kissing the back of his neck. It warms her from the inside out.

"I love you too." She responds quietly, resuming her work. She kisses every mark, every freckle, and blemish, replacing every memory of harsh shoves and painful encounters with a gentle, loving touch. It reminds him that through the horrors he saw every time he strapped his gear on, there would always be people as good as her in the world. Untouched by darkness and willing to love someone like him, someone with so much damn blood on his hands.

Seemingly satisfied by her assurance, he relaxes, relishing the press of her hands against him. The room falls into a comfortable silence, mostly because he's too tired and blissed out to fill it with his usual chatter. A couple of minutes later, he's putty under her hands, languid and relaxed, his shoulders devoid of the tension he came in with.

It's only when his back rises and falls, deep and steady that she slides off of him.

He's fallen asleep, she notes with a smile. At ease, he's a sight to behold. She pulls the warm blanket over both their forms, shuffling close to him.

Johnny's arm comes around her, pulling her close instinctually. His soft mumble is incoherent.

He sought out her nearness, even when unconscious.

The press of his body is familiar, so achingly familiar. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his body lull her to sleep, comfortable and relieved.

She drifts off knowing that the next time she woke up it would be in his arms. Loved, protected, and cherished.  

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Comment and Like!

(15/07/2023)

[sgt-tombstone]

If You Ever Forget That You Love Me

Ghost x Soap || Gen

tags: major character injury, amnesia, amnesiac Soap, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, they’re in love your honor

————

Soap gets shot, but he survives. it’s a close call, but he makes it out of the tunnel and to the nearest hospital, leaking too much blood for Ghost’s comfort, and the front desk nurse gets the fright of her life when three frantic soldiers march in with a breathing corpse held up between them, blood coating them all from head to toe. thankfully, scaring the shit out of other patients is a sure fire way to get treated quickly, so Soap is immediately swept away. Price and Gaz have to hold Ghost back, to keep him from following, his heart in his throat as Soap disappears from sight.

when he gets stabilized in the hospital, two brain surgeries and multiple cardiac arrests later, the doctors warn the 141 that he could have severe brain damage when he wakes up. that he might not be able to continue serving. that he might not even know who they are, or who he is. it’s a possibility that they all prepare themselves for, during the long weeks waiting for Soap to shake off his coma, to come back home.

Ghost worries the most out of all of them. Gaz and Price beat themselves up, even though they couldn’t have done anything differently and they all know it. they both throw themselves into work, spending well over twelve hours every day holed up in Price’s office, poring over every piece of intelligence on Makarov that Laswell manages to scrounge up, and they visit Soap whenever they can in between, but Ghost doesn’t move. he planted himself next to Soap’s bed the moment his sergeant got out of surgery and he hasn’t moved since, to the nurses’ clear displeasure. he doesn’t care.

he never got the chance, never plucked up the courage, to tell Soap how he felt, and he almost lost him entirely. he’s not going to make the same mistake again. he just needs Johnny to wake up, to remember him.

when Soap finally blinks his hazy blue eyes open, squinting in the harsh fluorescent light, head falling to the side and face splitting in a grin when he spots Ghost staring back, Ghost knows that worrying was pointless. Johnny’s the strongest man he’s ever met; if anyone could pull themselves back from a bullet to the brain, it’s him. and he did.

Ghost wants to confess right then and there. the air is thick with anticipation, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t. he needs to get the doctors, needs to tell Price, needs to let Johnny heal in peace without the burden of Ghost’s feelings heavy on his mind. he presses the call button and slips out of the room in the resulting chaos, resolving to stay as far away from the medical building as possible. a return to normal.

he makes it all of three days before Gaz nearly drags his ass back, complaining loudly and at length about Soap’s incessant whining at the absence of his favorite lieutenant at his side, and the way Johnny perks up, his eyes glowing with excitement and something like relief, breaks his resolve in an instant. he could he deny his sergeant anything, after everything?

he confesses that night, and if the ensuing make out session sends Johnny’s heart monitor into a tailspin and the nurses into a frenzy, well… Price doesn’t have to know that part. (evidently, he does anyway, if the half-exasperated, half-fond look he gives Ghost the next day is anything to go by.)

Johnny recovers quickly, all things considered. bullet to the brain and all that. within weeks, he’s up and walking around, all but begging to be released. he’s passed every milestone and test they’ve thrown at him with flying colors. he’s alert and aware. he’s mobile and quickly regaining his dexterity. he’s restless, more restless than Ghost has ever seen him, but he can’t exactly blame him, either. none of them are made to be cooped up.

which is why, six months later, when Soap’s memory starts to fail, they do their best to hide it.

it scared the shit out of Soap the first time. it was something simple, a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite reach, and Ghost had watched in quiet horror as Soap floundered for several long seconds in the middle of the rec room, eyes welling with panicked tears. he’d quickly pulled them both back to Ghost’s room, unwilling to let his sergeant fall apart in public, and they spent hours curled around each other, assuaging their fears. one instance of a faulty memory was to be expected, right?

but it kept happening. nothing major, just enough to be concerning. words he couldn’t find, objects misplaced, details about the rookies under his command. Ghost took to trailing him like a lost puppy, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice should Soap’s mind betray him. he earned some odd looks for it, and Price was obviously itching to ask, but he refrained, and Ghost was infinitely grateful. if they were anyone else, doing anything else, he might’ve told him, but they were soldiers, and they needed to find Makarov. everything else could wait. men like Soap aren’t made to be cooped up.

they find Makarov, and that’s all that any of them are legally allowed to say. what happens to him afterwards is a story that even Laswell never gets to hear. the first (and only) time she asked, Price muttered, “revenge,” and she decides that some things are really none of her business; some things are better off staying unknown.

after Makarov’s death, though, Johnny gets worse. noticeably worse. it’s not just the occasional small detail that slips through his fingers like sand; the day he blanks on Gaz’s name when trying to get his attention is the beginning of the end, and the day he glances towards Ghost across an active firefight, wide-eyed and panicked, unsure of where he is or what they’re doing, is the end of it all.

the honorable discharge is nice, but none of them are in the mood to celebrate it, especially not when Soap clings to Ghost like a child while the 141 mingles. the circumstances of his discharge are strictly confidential, and most people assume it has something to do with his leg, considering the slight limp he walks with, and he lets them think it. he can’t exactly reveal the truth; the upper brass never like to hear exactly how their cannon fodder fare outside of the gilded halls of ceremony and awards. he’s the talk of the party and everyone wants to shake his hand and reminisce about the god old days. Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he doesn’t remember their names, much less any good old days they might’ve shared together. he relies on Ghost muttering almost silently behind his mask to get through the conversations with even a shred of dignity, and they last less than an hour before Ghost decides to call it a night. he can’t stand the anguished look in Soap’s eyes when he racks his brain for someone’s call sign or the name of their spouse.

it only gets worse outside, though; Soap turns to Ghost with tear-brightened eyes, and Ghost has never seen him so scared. they manage to make it back to the flat they co-signed for, back home, before Johnny falls apart, and Ghost retires the next day.

civilian life is… hard. for both of them. some days are better than others; some days, Johnny wakes up completely cognizant, and he spends those days curled in on himself, plagued by a fear of his own mind. other days, he wakes up lost and confused, his military training kicking in to defend himself against a stranger in a strange place, convinced that he’s been kidnapped.

Simon isn’t sure which days are worse. the former are spent trying to get Johnny to eat and get out of the house before his own mind paralyzes him and the latter are spent trying to convince Johnny that he’s not going to kill him in his own home.

there are good days, too, and those outweigh the bad in both number and quality. those are the days when Johnny wakes up and remembers Simon’s name, remembers his sister’s birthday, remembers that life is worth living. Simon hoards those days like treasure.

over the years, Johnny declines, slowly but surely. they both knew it would happen; it was only a matter of time, but it’s scary watching it happen in real time. Simon has lost count of the number of times that he’s been attacked standing in his own kitchen, making his morning cuppa, because Johnny woke up alone and terrified. he’s lost count of the number of times that he’s held Johnny in his arms, fingers threading through the overgrown strands of Johnny’s hair, reminding Johnny of their shared history. he’s lost count of the number of times that he’s had to remind Johnny what his name is.

the upside—because there are always upsides, Johnny was the one to teach him that—is that Johnny gets to experience a lot of things for the first time again. their Lord of the Rings marathon was a particular delight, especially when Simon got to wow his boyfriend with the Viggo Mortensen broken toe fact for the second (and third) time. his favorite, though, is when Johnny looks at his face like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it, all wide eyes and parted lips, like he’s caught a glimpse at the face of god. Simon always tells him that he’s seen it before, and Johnny never believes him, or at least pretends not to. it’s odd, having a running joke with an amnesiac, but neither of them have ever been normal, so Simon supposes it makes sense.

together, they come up with systems that help. it takes a lot of trial and error, and one too many awkward hospital trips where Simon has to convince the nurses not to call the authorities because his boyfriend stabbed him in the middle of the night, but they develop some routines.

Simon never gets out of bed before Johnny; he’ll wait hours for his partner to wake up, because he always wakes up better in Simon’s arms than in an empty bed. he leaves notes all over the house, little sayings and doodles that Johnny always gets excited to find, but the most important ones get put on the bathroom mirror, because he knows Johnny will reliably see it, vain creature that he is. their kitchen table is covered in a giant sheet of paper, which doubles as a drawing space and a living history; every detail of their lives, past and present, gets recorded on paper for Johnny to read whenever he gets lost.

it’s not perfect, but Simon wouldn’t give it up for anything. he adores Johnny, adores that he got a second chance to love Johnny the way he deserves, and it’s the one detail he’ll never let Johnny forget: that he is loved, unconditionally.

[star-eyed-angels]

Last Hope

Mafia!Hongjoong x gn nurse!reader

angst, fluff 4.2k

TW: mentions of blood, bullets, surgery, violence, swearing

Please read at your own discretion.

Where Hongjoong can’t think of anything else except to call you.

AN: heavily inspired by Atlantis by Seafret and Another Love by Tom Odell

_______

The dim room is filled with beeps and heavy breathing. Yeosang stands in front of a makeshift operating table. His sleeves rolled up past his elbow, and clothes covered in blood. Some of the blood belongs to him, but most of it belongs to Wooyoung who lays unconscious on the table. Yeosang frowns as he tries to stay focused on wooyoung in front of him. On the opposite side of the table, Hongjoong paces in front of them. His own clothes covered in blood, a frown etched onto his face.

Seonghwa hurries into the room, looking a mix of exhausted and concerned. Hongjoong barely spares him a glance, “How is he?”, he asks quickly. Yeosang swears under his breath, drawing the attention of the other two.

“I can't save him!” Yeosang curses from his spot in front of the table. Hongjoong freezes, turning to face yeosang. He glances up briefly at Hongjoong before turning his attention back to Wooyoung. He growls in frustration as he continues to operate on Wooyoung, the beeping of the monitors next to him growing more erratic.

“What do you mean you can't?” Hongjoong demands, stepping towards the table. Yeosang pauses, yanking the mask down from under his chin.

“I mean that I'm doing everything I can and even if by some fucking miracle I pull this off there's no telling if he'll wake up again,” Yeosang shouts. The room falls silent as the reality sets in. Yeosang shakes his head, doing his best to keep calm.

“I'm sorry hyung. He's too far gone,” he says solemnly. Hongjoong shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he thinks. Seonghwa watches him, seeing the thoughts racing through hongjoong’s mind.

“Joong,” he reaches his hand out to grab him. Hongjoong’s eyes widen, suddenly turning to Yeosang.

“Can you keep him alive?” he asks suddenly. Seonghwa and Yeosang both give him confused looks.

“What?” Seonghwa finally asks.

“Can you keep him alive?,” he repeats, emphasizing each word. Yeosang blinks at him, before glancing towards Seonghwa. He nods slowly, still unsure of everything.

“If Seonghwa helps, probably,” Yeosang starts, “but i don't see how-”

“Do it. keep him alive,” Hongjoong cuts in, turning towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa asks, already moving to help Yeosang. Hongjoong doesn’t bother looking back, simply pulling out his phone as he walks.

“To make a phone call,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing out the door. Seonghwa and Yeosang both give each other looks of worry before moving to help Wooyoung.

_________

Your room is dark as you lay in bed after your night shift. The hospital being understaffed making your shifts busier than normal. The second you came home, you'd gone straight to bed, only bothering to throw off your uniform. You’re halfway to falling asleep when your phone starts ringing. You frown, reaching over to check your phone. The number isn’t saved, but you recognize the area code immediately. Hesitantly you accept the call.

“Hello?” you ask softly.

“It’s me.”

After all this time Hongjoong’s voice sends a fluttering feeling through you. You’re so distracted by hearing his voice for the first time in so long you forget to respond.

“I know what we talked about, but… But I need you,” his voice desperate.

“Hongjoong, what are you-” Hongjoong cuts you off before you can finish.

“Wooyoung- he,” his voice wavers as he chokes back tears. You sit up in bed, now wide awake. Months have passed, but you know the sound of his voice when he's doing everything he can to keep himself together. Despite the time spent apart you still pick up on his little cues.

“Hongjoong?” you say, already getting you up to get dressed. A moment passes before he speaks again.

“Please. You’re the only one that can save him.”

“I’m on my way.” You end the call before he can say anything else. You’re dressed and out the door without a second thought, snatching your keys from the table as you race out the front door.

You thank whatever is having mercy on you as you drive for not giving you a single red light. The drive to the house is still ingrained in your mind as you speed through the empty streets, going far faster than you should be. The house looks the same as you pull into the driveway. The longing you normally shove away comes back to bite you as you stare at the house. You can still trace the floor plan in your head. Memories of you hongjoong and your friends seeping through the wall you built up. A big part of you wishes you’d come back under different circumstances. But you know better.

Having the notorious Kim Hongjoong in your life came with a price. Tonight, it means swallowing the feelings you spent so long trying to bury. You shut off your car, walking towards the front door. You don’t bother knocking as you unlock the door with the spare, never having taken it off your keys.

Hongjoong is pacing the foyer as you open the door. He turns to look at you. You do your best not to comment on how exhausted he looks. His disheveled appearance makes your worry grow as you step into the house.

“Y/n,” he says, both shocked and relieved that you showed up. Despite the urge to stop and talk to him, you push it back. There will be time to talk later.

“Where is he?” you ask as you close the door.

“Yeosang has him,” he says quickly. You walk straight towards the infirmary, not bothering to wait for Hongjoong. He follows you wordlessly, not surprised that you don’t spare him a second glance at a time like this. It’s why he called you after all.

You throw open the door of the makeshift infirmary to be greeted by Wooyoung on the table and Yeosang covered in far too much blood. Yeosang glances up briefly, before doing a double take. A look of relief flooding his features at the sight of you.

“y/n?” he asks, voice muffled slightly through his mask. You step into the room with Hongjoong hot on your heels.

“Fill me in. How is he?” you ask as you make your way towards the table.

“He’s barely hanging in there, Hwa hyung helped me clamp everything off, but he doesn’t-” Yeosang chokes back his words, giving you a watery look.

You nod at him, starting to roll your sleeves farther up your arm.

“Okay. Let’s do this, yeah?” you say softly. Yeosang lets out a ragged breath as he nods. You give him a small smile, before turning towards Hongjoong.

“You, out,” you say firmly. Hongjoong looks shocked as you look between him and the door.

“What? No. I’m staying here.”

You cross your arms in front of you, frowning at him. “No. You aren’t. This isn’t up for debate.”

Hongjoong crosses his arms, wincing slightly, your gaze flicks down to his arm quickly before you look back up. You find hongjoong already staring you down, standing his ground. Yeosang sighs, already knowing what’s coming. The only other person who could rival hongjoong’s commanding nature was you. You’d never been phased by his attitude. While many submit to Hongjoong’s dominating presence, you never wavered. You chose to walk directly into the fire and give it straight back to him. That still stands as you raise an eyebrow at him, your gaze hardening instantly.

“I’ll have Yunho drag you out if I have to,” you threaten, matching Hongjoong’s energy easily.

“He’s busy with San,” Yeosang calls out.

You whip around to look at him. “What happened to San,” you ask, your heart dropping.

Hongjoong shakes his head, he can still pick up on your cues as well. “He’s fine, a bullet to the leg. He’ll be fine,” Hongjoong is quick to ease your worry. Even when arguing he’d do anything to wipe your worries away. You frown turning back to hongjoong as he stares back you, unwilling to budge.

“Dammit Hongjoong just go!” you say.

“I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“And I need to make sure he lives.”

There’s a brief moment of silence as you continue your stare off.

“You can’t ask me to leave. Not when he’s like this,” Hongjoong looks at Wooyoung trying to step forward.

“I’m not. I’m telling you” - you take a step towards him. “I’m not gonna operate on him with you in the room.” Hongjoong’s eyes water as he keeps glancing towards where Wooyoung is. His lip trembling, fear laced into his features.

“Y/n I can’t leave him, he-” Hongjoong chokes on his words. You grab his hand before you think, forcing his attention on you. His gaze snaps towards you, like you’ve pulled him out of his own trance.

“I know, joong. I know. Wooyoung is my family too,” you say softly. Hongjoong looks into your eyes, watching as you blink back your own tears.

“We’ve got him okay? I’m gonna do everything I can to save him, you have my word,” -you squeeze his hand gently, even as your voice wavers- “But I can’t do this with you in here. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

His heart squeezes at the sight of your pain. Of course your heart aches as much as his in this moment. How could he forget? After all you were the one to sit and patch them up while you reprimanded them for being so reckless. No matter how upset you were, each and every time they came home battered and bruised, you would wait with your kit in hand, ready to scold them while you did it.

Even now that hasn’t changed. While you may not be scolding him yet, he knows it will come eventually. For now there’s a job to be done in the form of saving Wooyoung. And while many could try he trusts no one but you to get that job done. Hongjoong finally nods, sparing one last glance at Wooyoung before leaving, rushing off to sans room. You wait until the door clicks shut behind him before turning to Yeosang.

“Yeosang, where are we at?” You step towards the table once again, putting your focus on your patient. You grab a mask from the tray, covering your mouth as you stand near the table.

“I’ve counted at least nine rounds in him. I’m working in the stomach now, but he’s already lost so much blood…” he explains, “There’s just too much, he’s bleeding faster than my hands can work.”

You nod, glancing down at where Yeosang works. Your mind is already forming a plan as you scan over Wooyoung’s wounds. You grab gloves from the stand off to the side, pulling them on smoothly.

“We’ll need another person to do this quickly. Where’s Hwa?” You say turning towards the door. Yeosang is about to answer when the man himself enters the room.

“Caught joong on the way out of San’s room. Figured you’d need as many hands as you can get,”he says, pulling on gloves of his own.

“Where do you need me?” He says, pulling on a surgical mask quickly.

“Help me with his chest. Stitch and go,” you direct, already pulling up your own mask. They’re quick to follow your orders. The unspoken trust they have in you is as clear as day. They know just as well as Hongjoong does that you’re the only person for this task.

_________

Hongjoong is sitting in his office. The clock on his desk blinking 4:50 a.m. in angry red lights. He’s beyond tired. His eyes are protesting with him to sleep. But he’ll be damned if he sleeps before he knows if Wooyoung is okay. He shoots up from his desk when the door opens. You walk in, dried blood staining your clothes, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Wooyoung-” he starts, before you’ve fully stepped into the room.

“Is sleeping,” you cut him off quickly. Hongjoong lets out a sigh of relief. You shut the door lightly, continuing towards his desk.

“He’s gonna have a hell of a recovery, but he’s woo. He’ll be okay,” you say.

“And Yeosang?,” he’s quick to add. You wave your hand dismissively.

“Staying in Woo’s room with the promise to at least lay down,” you start to explain. Hongjoong sags against his desk slightly, looking at you in awe.

“Already sent Hwa off to bed too. Stopped by Sannie’s room and checked his stitches, they’re seamless. Barely will leave a scar, much to his disappointment no doubt,” you explain. You shake your head as the thought of San’s pouting crosses your mind.

“Yunho learned from the best…” he says matter of factly.

“That he did,” You chuckle, leaning against the cushioned chair on the opposite side of Hongjoong’s desk. You groan quietly, rolling your neck as your joints click quietly.

Hoonjoong winces, once again reminded of just how drained you look.

“Listen y/n, I’m sorry- I know it was late when I called and-” you look up, also taking in Hongjoong’s appearance. You squint at his arm, remembering how he winced earlier in the infirmary.

“Roll up your sleeve,” you cut him off. He pauses, giving you a look.

“What?,” he glances down towards himself.

“Let me see your arm,” you repeat.

“My arm is fine,” he says, too quickly.

You roll your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. Of course he’d never want to admit to anyone that he was hurt. But you’re not just anyone.

“Is that why you’re keeping it away from me? You’ve always been one to talk with your hands. but when you were arguing with me in the infirmary you kept it to yourself. But I saw the way it hurt when you crossed your arms, which is exactly how I know you’re lying to me,” you say, eyeing his arm closely.

Before Hongjoong can protest again you lunge forward, gripping his forearm with just enough pressure. He yelps in pain, grabbing your wrist on reflex. You frown, meeting his gaze.

“Roll up your damn sleeves kim hongjoong or so help me I’ll strangle you myself,” you demand. You merely raise an eyebrow, challenging him to ignore you. But of course he knows better.

He grumbles quietly as he sheepishly rolls up his sleeve, showing you the messy bloody bandage, haphazardly wrapped around his forearm. You can already tell from the color, that the large cut is deeper and will need more than this to heal.

“Fine my ass,” you mutter, gently pulling his arm towards you, “You call this a wrap joong? Did you even disinfect it?” you ask, eyes snapping towards him.

He turns his head, quickly avoiding your gaze. That’s more than enough to answer your question.

“Come on. I’ll make it quick,” you sigh, shaking your head. He quietly follows you around the desk and out the office.

_________

You’re sitting in his bed now, having sent him to change his mess of an outfit before forcing his arm under running water. You both sit against the headboard. His arm rests on the pillow propped over your lap. He watches as you stitch his wound carefully. He lets out a hiss as you pull another stitch through.

“Call it karma,” you say, not even bothering to look up from your work.

“You’re just being mean,” he huffs.

“No, you’re just stubborn,” you retort.

“That’s not fair! So are y- Ow!” he yelps, cutting himself off. You ignore him, setting your tools off to the nightstand.

“That’s the last one. Let me just clean and wrap it,” you say. He doesn’t interrupt as you start to clean his wound gently.

“You know the drill. Redress at least twice a day unless it starts getting gross. Don’t put weight on it and don’t even think about trying to itch it,” you order.

“I know, I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s heard this spiel more than enough times.

He watches you quietly. Hongjoong had never thought he’d see you like this again. So attentive in your work. It brings back feelings he knew had never left, no matter how hard he tried to let go. All the words he wants to say are eating away at him. He clears his​​ throat, preparing himself.

“Thank you… by the way. For coming tonight. I know it was late when I called. And I know we haven’t spoken but I-” he shrugs, turning shy once again, “Just- thanks. I really don’t know what we would have done without you,” he finishes softly.

“Lose your lives, that’s what,” you grumble out, keeping your head down. You do your best to blink back the burning in your eyes. The gravity of tonight’s events finally taking its toll.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” He laughs lightheartedly, shaking his head. There’s a moment of silence, where neither of you moves. You still have a gentle hold on his arm, your head tilted down. It’s only then that he notices you’re sniffling.

“Y/n?” He calls out quietly. You slowly look up at him, tears now running down your cheeks. He’s sits up in shock, at the sight of your tear stained cheeks.

“you promised,” you whisper, voice trembling.

“What?” His brain is going into panic mode, still confused as to why you’re crying. Your grip on him tightens slightly, before you let go, hastily wiping your tears away.

“When I left. You promised to be safe,” you choke out.

Hongjoong feels his heart crack at your words. Memories of your last night together flooding his mind. The fake strength and wavering smiles as you both said your final farewells. Your whispered goodbyes that night haunted him for months, He’d hoped they didn’t do the same to you. Now he knows he’d been wrong.

“y/n-” he wants to explain, to say anything. But you’re quick to cut him off.

“And then you call me tonight and I come to find all of you on the brink of death?,” you laugh, only sounding more broken, “I've seen bad, but this? I mean what the hell even happened hongjoong?.”

His own eyes burn as he takes in your broken state. He blinks back his own tears, letting out a shaky breath.

“We were making a deal over borders. The meeting was set up for tonight. There's a new group trying to climb the ranks fast. They caught wind of tonight's meeting and ambushed us on our way back,” he starts. He waits for you to stop him, to tell him you don’t want to hear it and storm out. He’d give you the out, he would never force you to stay and listen to the problems his lifestyle created. He’d let you leave and never look back if you wanted. But you weren’t that type of person and he knew that. When you give him a small nod, he continues.

“We were armed, but not enough for a turf fight. Wooyoung was at the front. He took most of the first rounds before we were firing back. We were near the car, but even then he was already bleeding so much. He was out before we even pulled onto the road,” he gives you the quick explanation of the night’s events. You let out a shaky breath.

“I was so scared Joong. He's my family. just like you and all the other boys. I know I'm not here anymore, but that doesn't stop me worrying about whether or not you idiots are taking care of yourselves.” you cry out.

Hongjoong has enough sense to pull you closer, tucking you under his arm protectively. He could care less about the stitches in his arm. The need to hold you was far more unbearable. You go willing, resting against his chest as you sniffle into his shirt.

“I know and I'm sorry. I never intended to have you in our mess. when I called you tonight I just didn't know what to do,” he admits quietly, “But I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have made you come here like this.” You shake your head, pulling away to look up at him.

“No. You should always call me,” you say, frowning at him.

“And have you worried sick? I won't put you through that sweetheart. I can't be the reason you're crying your eyes out in the middle of the night,” he says softly. He gently cups your cheek, catching the falling tears with the pad of his thumb.

“I'm not asking for your permission. I left to let you keep me safe. Even though it nearly tore me apart, I loved you too much to watch you kill yourself with guilt,” you say, softly grabbing his face. He leans into your touch easily, relaxing as he meets your gaze.

“But now look at you. Killing yourself by not letting me help,” he turns away at your words, feeling shame climb inside of him.

“You've always been prideful in everything you do, but that's just plain stupid. The hongjoong I know, knows better than that,” you turn his face back towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “The man I fell in love with would give his life to protect his family. So let me stay and help you make sure that never happens,” you confess softly.

His eyes turn soft at your words, his own tears finally falling. It could only be you to make the darkest part of his soul blossom with love. Your mere presence being all the hope he needed in the world. You, his saving grace and his biggest temptation all at once. He doesn’t think he could resist it even if he tried. He was a greedy man after all, in everything he did. That’s what made him the best in his line of business. So how could he not be selfish and need to have you? Especially after you say you want him too?

“My angel. always been our own personal guardian angel. Don’t know what I ever did to deserve to love you. A light so bright and good. Too fucking good for me and this damn world,” the smile on his face grows with every word. It makes your heart swoon, your watery smile mirroring his.

“My other half, my light, my life, and the only other person I've ever met who's just as stubborn as me,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. Your laugh is soft as you relax against him.

“Who else is gonna keep you all from the brink of death, hmm? Besides, from what I've heard, Hwa is just one more late night from kicking your ass,” you joke, recalling the conversation you’d had with him earlier.

“Even if he does, I'll have you to patch me up, yeah?” he giggles, pulling you closer.

“Always,” you breathe out.

“I love you. More than anything,” he says softly.

He smiles, peering at you with so much love that for a moment you don’t feel like you’re staring at a notorious gang leader. Instead you just see Kim Hongjoong, the man you fell in love with, the man that makes you feel like you’re floating just by looking at you.

“I love you too,” you say, loving the way his eyes light up at your words. He gives you the biggest smile as he tugs your face back to his, pressing your lips together in the sweetest kiss. All the time you spent apart fades away as he kisses you. Finally breaking your walls and filling his heart with the love he’d been missing.

_________

An afterthought…

“Husband, wife. Breakfast is ready,” you hear a voice utter quietly.

You peek one eye open to see Seonghwa sitting on the bed. He smiles gently at you, reaching out to pet your head.

“Morning sleepy,” he says softly.

You smile, stretching your arms as you sit up, Hongjoong’s arm still holding you as he stirs. Hongjoong groans as he feels you sit up, turning to glare at Hwa through his messy hair.

“Good morning, Gremlin,” Seonghwa says.

“Hwa. I swear to god if the time is anything before noon, I’m gonna shoot you,” Hongjoong says, voice still gruff from sleep. You stifle a giggle as you glance at your phone, seeing the screen read 11a.m. Seonghwa winks at you, moving to leave.

“Can’t shoot me if you’re still in bed Joong,” Seonghwa sing-songs. Hongjoong grumbles, chucking a pillow in the direction of where Hwa stands. The pillow misses completely, landing at his side.

“Love you too Joong. Come eat before the kids devour everything. You know they don’t believe in saving plates,” Seonghwa says before leaving the room.

You turn to look at Hongjoong who still has his eyes closed. You brush your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him.

“Come on Joongie, I know you’ll be grumpy the rest of the day if you don’t eat,” you say.

“Five more minutes, let me enjoy you before the others pester you” he says, tugging you back down with him. You laugh, letting him rest on top of you.

“Don’t worry. Even then, I’ll always find my way back to you,” You say. Kissing the top of his head. He only hums, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m glad you’re here, welcome home my love,” he says, his voice slowing as he drifts back to sleep. The grin on your face only grows, warmth filling your heart at the thought.

You are home. And there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[apluckedturkey]

One More Hour (Tomtord angst AU)

Trigger warnings: double suicide / substance abuse / they literally never confess their feelings

A comic for this au that I never finished- and with how long the script for it was makes me not finishing it make sense.

Below the cut is the rest of the script for the comic and the au, and the song it was named after.

This au contains dark topics and descriptive content, it isn’t silly haha I apologize. Please proceed with caution 😔

Trigger warnings: double suicide / substance abuse / they literally never confess their feelings

First a summary of the whole au then the rest of the script for the comic

The story is called One More Hour,

So, basically Tom had abusive parents when he was a kid and Tord helped Tom get through everything and they were the closest of friends, and ended up living together with Edd and Matt when they were done with high school. Tord ends up leaving and Tom gets really pissed off and sad, and eventually goes berserk in monster form sometime like.. maybe a year or two after tord left (the events of The End didn’t happen)

Tom gets captured by the government and experimented on, Tord reads about it in the news, and since he’s the leader of the Red Army he has the power to get Tom back.

When Tord gets there and breaks Tom out, Tom immediately turns back into a human and hugs Tord, crying- making a kind of funny spectacle where all the restrained guards and scientists are confused and baffled, even Tord’s soldiers are in disbelief as Tord hugs and coddles this once ferocious killing machine

He helps Tom escape and Tom ends up working for Tord while in monster form to take over the world, but Tom starts drinking more and becomes more and more unstable, so pretty quickly Tord decides to have Tom closer to him and get him out of that environment.

Tom had been on the front lines, where it rained bullets and the ground was covered in bodies and blood because of him, in monster form he’s bulletproof, but he remembers everything, even the taste

Tom and Tord start enjoying their time together, thus this scene.

But the thing about this scene is that it’s the most important because it’s right before Tom kills himself, he’s been planning to for awhile, and Tom wanted to spend more time with Tord before he would never see him again, but they end up in a little disagreement, and Tord decides it would be better if Tom took some time off, so Tom makes a failed effort to stay.

Tom comes back later to find the paperwork finished with Tord asleep on his desk holding a picture frame of all of them, but with Tord blacked out in marker, Tom had done that to every picture of Tord in the house after Tord left.

Tom realizes Tord had been crying and leaves and drinks more.

That night Tord finds Tom in Tom’s quarters, it’s a complete fricken mess, Tord drags Tom off the bed and put him in the bathroom, making him vomit everything up while Tord strips the bed (Tom pissed himself), puts on new sheets, then puts a metal chair he found in the tub, strips Tom and puts him on it, washing him off. After he gets Tom cleaned and dressed, with no protest, (Tom was silent the entire time, disassociating while Tord berated him with worry and sad anger,) Tord lays Tom on the bed and starts cleaning up all the empty bottles, trash, floor, cleaning and vacuuming, throwing away torn up furniture and broken dishes and glass- not having told anyone about what happened. Tom had been tearing up his place in anger, at himself, for making Tord cry and many other things.

But once everything is cleaned up he falls asleep in a chair by Tom’s bed. Tom wakes up. Goes into the bathroom. And Tord wakes up to a gunshot. He’s devastated and he calls paul and Patryk crying and sobbing over the phone, they end up having to drag him from the body.

After that Tord obsesses over his work, he trains his soldiers in person, he gives inspiring speeches, and even goes out onto battle fields. He ends up quickly spreading his influence over the entire globe, him being a mechanic who’s able to build advanced technology helps.

Tord ends up completing his mission to rule the globe.

He goes back to the spot Tom died, and shoots himself.

continuation of the comic at the top

⬇️

Tord: tom, if you wanted to earn less you could have just said so, you do not have to say another word, I will move you back to that old job of yours pronto! *Reaches for some files*

Tom: NO!

Tord: *bites his lip amusedly*

Tom: Now give me those papers! If you keep crushing them they’ll be so wrinkled and ripped we won’t be able to read them. *starts to pick the papers up off the ground*

…. Why am I your assistant anyway? Did no one sign up?

tord :... It is funny actually. You see, being by me all day has the downside of my position

Tom; as leader?

Tord: yeah. The assistants that signed up are not soldiers, like you, so they can’t defend themselves if someone comes after me, but the soldiers that signed up are completely incompetent when it comes to filing.

*they both smile*

Tom: And there was no one else better for the job? I find that hard to believe.

Tord: oh, there were certainly better people for the job.

*there's a pause*

Tom: Then why me?

Tord: because out of everyone *touches tom’s hand* I trust you the most.

Tord: and you certainly keep better company. *leans back and puts his own hands face down in his lap and looks away*

Tom: Even when I trip you in the halls??

tord : *relaxes and smiles. He laughs* yeah. You know, *he turns back to tom* edd would always think I was just being clumsy, he only found out it was you who kept tripping me after I broke my nose

Tom: *laughs* oh fuck! I remember, holy shit! I felt so bad that I kept apologizing , and when Edd came into the room I started running my mouth about how it was me who’d done it!

Tord: *laughs* I still have the dent!

Tom: *touches it* oh god- yeah- your nose didn't have that before

*there's a moment of silence as they reminisce*

Tord: *worries on the side of some papers, and glances at tom, keeping his head down* So uh.. You have not been drunk in a while…

Tom: *taken aback and confused* Is that an invitation?

Tord: *eyes widen at the misinterpretation, leans back and puts hands up* No no! *sighs and relaxes, turning away while rubbing the back of his neck while smiling in embarrassment* I have been *blinks and lowers his hands face up in his lap* or- have not been- *leans his head at his words* seeing you fill up your flask as much *he looks at tom*

Tom: *folds arms and raises brow* Is that the only evidence I haven't been getting drunk as often? *he lowers his arms and avoids eye contact, putting his hands into his pockets while putting weight onto one side in his stance* isn't being- *flicks hand out in aggression and looks at Tord* isn't a bodyguard or an assistant or whatever- not supposed to get drunk on the job anyway? What are you trying to say?

*There's an awkward moment of silence where Tord stares at Tom in surprise and begins to pick at the papers more. Tord ends up looking down at the little mess he’s made, he disapprovingly sweeps it off the side of the desk. They both watch it flutter to the floor and watch it land.

Tom stands awkwardly with one hand still out and one in his pocket, he puts it down to his side. Tom sighs, looking distressed at Tord,, his standing position shifts to look more unnatural and awkward, feet closer together and glancing this way and that. He huffs and furrows his brow, looking down on Tord*

Tom: Would you get up now? You’ve been sitting on those bloody papers this whole time, we’ll never get through this whole stack.

Tord: *looks sad and conflicted* right. *phases to deadpan and looks at the papers* I better get through this *he gets up and turns around, picking the papers up from the desk and avoiding eye contact* you can go tom, I will finish up.

Tom: *confused and surprised* really? Why??

Tord: I thought you would want a break.

Tom: well- *runs hand through hair* When would I start my shift again?

Tord: *worries on the papers he’s gathered, while facing away with a moment of silence* when you want to.

Tom: um.. Are you sure? *leans to the side to get a view of the stack*

Tord: yes. I have kept you long enough. I am sure you are tired. *closed off*

tom : *worried* well yeah but- *smiles awkwardly*

Tord: I will be all right tom. *view of toad looking darker a d blunt and tom confused and conflicted*

*silence then Tom leaves without saying bye.*

Hours later.

Tom: *gently knocks on Tord’s office door, silence, then Tom enters* Tord? *quietly with guilt*

Tord: *asleep in his chair with his head covered in a folded arm, he’s facing away from tom, all the papers are done.*

Tom: tord? *He steps closer and closes the door, then walks over to the desk. Tom looks like he feels bad. Tom notices tord’s holding a small picture frame. Tom’s curious enough to slowly take it and examine its contents. It's a picture of the whole gang with tord’s face blacked out harshly in permanent marker. Flashback of when tom got so mad when tord left that he ruined all the pictures of tord in the house. Tom holds the picture in both hands now, looking at it in pain.*

You kept it.. *he looks to tord, looking hurt.* why..?? *tom furrowed his brow, then looked back and passes his thumb against the glass covering Tord’s outline in the picture, staring in silence. The room feels so large (wide shot then small shot of toms eyes looking over to tord and examining him.

Tords hair is a mess, his eyes are red and puffy, his sleeve is still wet along with the desk.

Tom looks solemn and conflicted. He puts the picture gently back into Tord’s hand, looking scared then paces away. Thinking in Conflict. He turns around and stares at tord* fuck *he furrows his brow, looking sad, angry and hurt. Quickly he takes a swig from his flask, putting it back in his pocket he stands for a bit before hesitantly leaving, looking back, and stopping a few times before leaving*

This would be for the first half up until tom kills himself

This would be the second half where tord is taking over the world, obsessing over his work up until he kills himself

Extra one 🤫this would mostly be Tom on the battlefield and him deteriorating. And Tord telling Tom he’s moving positions, so he won’t go into battle again

[scimitar-and-longsword]

I love your headcanons. What's your favorite one about Nicky ? And/or your favorite character trait of him?

Oh my goodness, thank you!

Nicky Nicky Nicky 💕💕💕

My FAVORITE??? That's a tall order cause there are so many things I love about him. Luca did such a stellar job of taking this character who doesn't have as much screentime as some of the other characters and bringing him to life in the most subtle ways. (I have an entire meta about subtle face acting from him and Marwan lol which side note, is flagged for sexual content, and I was sitting here reading it like "what why?? This is just about facial expressions?" And then I got halfway through and went "oop- that'll do it 😅")

I wrote a meta about this back in the old days, but I think about it every time I rewatch the movie so I'm saying it again: I love that Nicky is fiercely physical with his love.

We certainly get to see Joe be more vocal about is love, (and it's a violent movie they all are physical lol) but every bit of Nicky's physicality and fight chreo is about protecting people.

He is constantly protecting those around him with his body (and to be fair, they all do this at some point. Perks of being immortal is that you can use your body as a shield) but Nicky just KEEPS doing it.

There's a subtle moment after Joe gets stabbed by Merrick where TO ME it looks like he's trying to get between Joe and Merrick. The guy holding back Nicky is like GRIPPING his shoulder.

Nicky is constantly going from the front of the group to the rear and back again. Like he needs to be the first line of defense against wherever the most unknowns are.

He does it when they first exit the lab they were being held in. He's second out of the door, following Nile's lead, but then immediately covers the rear (after executing a completely unnecessary slide move that you can only see in behind the scenes footage and always makes me laugh.) to then turn around and cover everyone else as they exit.

Then again when he takes the bullet for Andy, he's at the rear of the group with Joe, takes the bullet, and then runs through the ENTIRE group, while healing from said bullet, past the door they are going to go into (and presumably check that it's clear) to cover the other end of the hall. And look at that he's at the rear of the group again... Over the course of not even half a minute. Ping pong ball Nicky over here.

When Joe and Nicky are fighting Keane after the explosion Nicky is fucking reckless with how he fights, and mostly cause Joe is kind of getting his ass kicked. 😅 He throws himself onto Keane not once but twice! Both times when Joe is about to get absolutely bodied.

In a similar fashion, Nicky often acts like a battering ram, taking people down for Joe to take out just after him. (If you go back up to that behind the scenes gif of Nicky sliding you can see he does this there too. Shoots a guy in the knee who Joe then shoots in the head.)

Idk if this was at all coherent because I'm writing this on my phone while watching a Tinkerbell movie with my daughter 😂 so I'm sure I'm missing so many more examples of it. But Nicky is often quiet with his words, but he is not quite with his actions and I love that about him!!

[venusbae]

she's my collar - one-shot. | 2D x reader

this was literally made up in my head as i was driving on a fast road to this song lol, so enjoy !!<3 (might make another part to this so lmk)

content warning: none

summary: gorillaz as a band like to race their fancy cars every now and then, but when someone else shows up, they're all blown out of the water, especially 2D.

ONLY THING THAT STAYS CANON IS THE FACT THEY'RE A BAND.

Engines at the ready, 2D gripped the steering wheel of his bronze Ford Mustang. He looked to his right, where Murdoc was grinning at him menacingly in his Chevrolet Camaro, a few bullet holes in the side and painted with one large white star on the side. 2D lowered his head and looked at him with a deep death stare, he was going down. Murdoc revved his engine, before looking back towards the flag girl, who he had definitely had a thing with. 

2D looked to his left then, Noodle in her white Mazda Miata and Russel in his orange Jaguar Spectre. He could see they were both focused, ready to be out for blood. 

‘Three…’ 2D shifted in his seat, focusing his eyes on the road.

‘Two…’ The angry growl of his 1967 Mustang taunting his teammates, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

‘One!’ Just before the last number was called, 2D caught sight of a purple blob heading his way at lightning speed, yet he quickly forgot about it when his bandmates sped off. 2D managed to catch up, only two seconds behind in the first place. He kept his foot to the floor, not allowing himself to be distracted. He overtook Murdoc, then Russel, and now Noodle was his biggest competition. Racing side by side, Noodle giggled to herself, looking over at 2D and blowing him a kiss. 

What she didn’t know was that 2D was playing her the whole time, only slowing to let her have her small bit of fun. You know, like all siblings do.

2D fake caught the blown kiss, throwing it behind him as he sped up, flying past Noodle. Merging back into the left lane, he checked his center mirror, seeing the purple blob from earlier formatted into a car. A Toyota GT86. 

‘Nasty.’ 2D thought, the tinted windows hiding the look of who was driving it. They seemed to be teasing him, driving so far up their back end it would be fatal if 2D were to slam on the breaks. Eventually, the car came round the side, blocking off Murdoc’s boosted black beast, stopping him from getting past 2D. As the purple car approached, the passenger window was rolled down, 2D stared in awe as you kept an equal speed, one hand on the wheel and one on the gears. Hair blowing in the wind and lip bitten back.

You turned to look at him, smiling sweetly before speeding right up before a bend. You tucked in before 2D, slowing down in front of him, Murdoc had used his boost far too much and so now it was on a cool down, now you had nothing to worry about, neither did 2D. Except for each other. 

You knew who he was, of course, knew they were having this race, you’d been a long time fan, but to Stuart, you were something of another world, a destruction of desire. You were the thing he didn't know he needed. He sped up again, merging to the right lane just in front of an attempting to overtake Russel, he wanted another look at you. You knew you had to keep the lead, keep in front, and so you followed 2D’s pattern, everytime he moved lanes, you did too. No chance you were letting him get the time of day. In a flash of a moment, you reached the finish line, skidding across the track and you spun your car to face the others, Stuart not too far behind, followed by Russel, Murdoc and then Noodle. Your lap didn’t count though, this was the bands race. Not that that would ever stop you. You got out and leant on your car door, 2D immediately walking over to you.

“Who are you..?”

[thegreenlynx]

I Bite, Pretty Boy

Chapter 3: Blood-Sucking Hero

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Violence, attempted murder, and murder in this one.

It is now Saturday and Jisung is walking leisurely through the dimming streets, a heavy bag in each hand. The chilling breeze rustling his white t-shirt is the only other sound aside from the echoed tapping of his shoes against the pavement. He swings the bags mindlessly as he makes his way back to his house, where his friends are no doubt waiting impatiently for his return. 

The day of their long awaited hang out had finally arrived and the boys were all pretty excited, having had a grueling week of classes. Naturally however, you cannot have a good proper game sesh with your friends without some yummy things to munch on. And what is one to do when the friend group is in dire need of snacks but the kitchen is scarce of such comfort foods? Well obviously you play rock paper scissors and make the loser go get the snacks for the whole group; It's only fair really. 

It had been a long game, the four of them getting combination after combination of unwinnable plays but eventually it ended in a miraculous three scissors majority versus Jisung's single pitiful paper. It would seem they'd finally caught on to his simple, foolish repeating pattern of throwing rock, rock, scissors, paper, and then paper again.

It didn't take him long to find and purchase the snacks, he knew his friends well enough to know exactly what they'd want without asking. These cold autumn days fell to darkness quite early however, and Jisung shivers as the cold air bites his skin. 

He has only gotten about ten minutes from the convenience store when his leisure stroll back to his house turns into a brisk walk. He begins to feel the prick of anxiety tingle its way up his spine, goosebumps permeate across the tanned skin of his arms, and the hairs on the nape of his neck raise in alarm. 

While his feet move at an increasing pace he turns his head from side to side, glancing cautiously between the alleys and behind him in an attempt to find the source of this sudden unsettling feeling. He feels as though he is being watched, followed perhaps. However, no matter how hard he looks he cannot seem to find the cause.

He attempts to dismiss the feeling, shaking his head and turning to face forward once again. Only to be met with the barrel of a gun being pointed directly at his chest from roughly ten feet away. He immediately freezes, paralyzed in fear. He barely has time to register the presence of the weapon before the masked man goes to pull the trigger. 

The expected pain never comes though; instead a blur of movement his human eyes cannot process moves in front of him, blocking the incoming bullet from reaching him. He feels warm liquid splatter onto his t-shirt, and a woman with otherworldly beauty fills his vision. 

His consciousness seeps out of him in shock and you catch his now limp body in your arms, letting out an exasperated sigh in response while you gently ease him to the ground. You aren't surprised he fainted, and really it is probably a good thing since he wasn't even supposed to see you in the first place. But by hell is it inconvenient.

As you rise from lowering the cute human to the ground, you turn to face the man who put a bullet in your side. You feel an anger unlike any you've ever known as you stare at the man pitifully scrambling, tripping over himself, to get away from you. 

It is not even really that you're mad about the wound. After all while you are bleeding, in a sense anyway, it is isn't exactly a fatal wound for you like it may have been for the human. Still hurts like a bitch, but you'll heal just fine. In a week or so you'll be back to your normal everyday health. And even so while Minho isn't going to be particularly thrilled when he finds out, he'll also be quick to treat it. Whether necessary or not. 

The anger you feel stems more from disgust at the man than anything. A gang member, a pathetic one. He is known for wearing a mask whilst killing random, innocent civilians and stealing their possessions. He even uses the most cowardly of weapons, a gun. How is a mere human ever going to have a chance against a gun? You can think of few things as pathetic as that, if you're to steal you should at least earn your goods. Fist fight for it or perhaps engage in a good old knife duel. Shooting some random defenseless college kid? That's going too far. Not only that but it's pretty stupid, what college student has anything worth stealing anyway?

"Hey Min?" You hear your own soft voice echo through the streets as you walk slowly towards the man crawling backwards on the ground. You make no effort to increase your pace, no human could actually escape you anyway.

"W-Wha-?" You ignore the human as he speaks, assuming you must be talking to him rather than the vampire in your ear piece. 

That very vampire replies almost immediately afterwards. "Yeah? What is it y/n?" His voice attentive and worried as always. 

"I need to run something by you.." You respond thoughtfully. "I had a run-in with a gang member. Tried to kill some cute goofy-looking college boy in the middle of the street till I got in the way." You finally reach the man and push him further to the ground with your foot pressed to his sternum. "I know human vs human isn't typically our area but I couldn't just leave the poor guy to die so I stepped in. Before you freak out, we're both fine. Kid fainted but I need to know what to do with this guy cause he definitely saw me and the whole being a vampire thing."

"Kill him."

You tilt your head coyly, while pressing the heel of your foot slightly into the man's chest. Not reacting as he gasps in pain. "Oh? You sure? Chan might get mad." 

"No honestly he'd probably say the same." You hear the man let out a heavy sigh in your ear. "Near the area you are patrolling I've heard about a pretty rough gang terrorizing some neighborhoods. That's kind of why you were sent there, to look and see if there was any vampire involvement in it but I'm fairly certain it's just some filthy humans."

"That bad?" 

"Oh yeah. Theft, murder, assaults, human trafficking of both women and children, opioid dealings... the list goes on and on. That group's gotten so many people killed I think everyone would agree it needs to be stopped. Vampires or not, this is probably a situation where we should step in." He hums thoughtfully and continues, "Just make sure no evidence of your presence is left behind. The cops have been on their trail for a while now but have failed to actually catch them, I will deal with the gang by pulling some strings to make sure they finally do within the next week. So all you need to do is kill the man, make it look another gang member could have done it and take the kid home... The kid didn't see you right?" 

"Even if he did he probably won't remember it, he fainted immediately. And no one would believe him anyway."

"Good point. If he's a college student he's probably got an ID, so just dig through his bag and send me a quick photo of that when you're done. I'll send you his address. Drop him off at the door, knock, and then leave and come immediately back here. You'll have about reached the end of patrol time by then anyway and I am gonna need your help with my little plan. We also can't risk anyone seeing you with him. You are not to converse with the humans, you will leave the kid at the door for his family or dormmate to deal with. He's not your problem or responsibility, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" You respond with mock enthusiasm, a playful giggle tumbling past your lips while you get up and pull the gang member off the ground by his collar. 

The man whimpers in response and you ignore it again in favor of listening to Minho. "I mean it goofy girl, be careful and get your ass back here when you're done." You can practically hear the smile on his face even as he lectures you with his ever serious tone. 

"I know, I will, Have some gyoza and ramen ready for me when I get back?" You add a pleading lilt to your voice in an attempt to persuade him to feed you; his cooking is magnificent. To die for really. Vampires may not actually need human food to live, but that doesn't mean they don't crave it every now and again. Besides, it goes wonderfully with a thick glass of blood. 

"Whatever you want, princess." Despite the slightly sarcastic tone he uses to hide it, you hear Minho's chair fall to the ground behind him through the ear piece and barely resist a snort as you imagine how he looks darting off immediately to the kitchen. You shake your head, a fond expression on your face as you turn off your mic with your free hand.

"Now, where were we?" You smile in mock sympathy at the man in front of you whilst tapping your chin in fake consideration. "Oh right! Time to die." You don't give the man time to react as you grab a knife from your sock and lodge it into his neck. 

The man sputters in response, grabs at his neck as blood seeps down into his clothes. However there is nothing he can do. His body falls slack to the ground and the life slowly leaves his eyes. 

You don't stop to watch, simply sighing and turning back to the boy laid carefully on the pavement. You reach into his pants pocket to grab his wallet, scoffing and rolling your eyes at the intricate mermaid design on the cover. You take out the ID and snap a shot to Minho, who follows seconds later with the address. How he managed to do that so fast whilst cooking you a meal, you may never know. 

You groan in annoyance before lifting the unconscious college student off the ground, bags and all, to begrudgingly take him to his home. For a grown man, he's fairly light. It also helps that you are a vampire with strength no mortal could compete with.

You use your vampiric speed to get to the address quickly. It's only three blocks away, but you aren't exactly one to dally when Minho gives you orders. Especially when he's got a nice warm meal at home. Not to mention when he sees the gunshot wound he'll probably spend the whole night treating and pampering you. Might even feed you and prepare you a nice warm bath, the sweet man he is. 

It's not as if you expect him to do that but he'll do it even if you try to refuse. It's as if he's completely incapable of not doting on you. And well, that certainly beats carrying some weird guy around town. 

Although he is pretty nice to look at, for a human. 

You gently and silently ease the soft looking nerd against the wall of his house. His white shirt is soaked with your blood and he looks cold. You stare at his face for a few moments, a complicated expression taking over your features before you breathe out a sigh. You settle his bags next to his body and look down at the oversized hoodie tied around your waist. It's surprisingly clean, free of any blood splatter. So you quickly untie it and crouch down in front of the sleeping figure. You cover him snugly into the hoodie before turning to knock loudly on the door. 

However, before anyone can answer you disappear off into the night, back to Minho.

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