#KINDLY! nobody ever talk to me again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daylighted · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart two !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤULTIMATE REVENGE.

summary memories are reawakened with the arrival of soldier boy into your life again, but his presence is not the only new thing slipping its way through the cracksㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, light discussions of trauma, violence against men HAHAHA, me trying to mimic butcher's accent ( embarrassing edition )ㅤㅤㅤword count 2.1k

ㅤㅤㅤ"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ANGRY WITH ME?" it was a ridiculous question to be asked, considering all that happened, but you'd let him talk. how deep of a hole could one man dig himself into?

you don’t dignify him with any answer. of course you were angry. it had been festering since you were created, switched between homes like a rejected foster child that no one really wanted, but got stuck with. it was bad enough knowing that the entirety of your long existence would be spent being a pest to the ones stuck with you; they did not need to find ways to torment you.

you shove the closet door open with your shoulder, having waited in the closet until soldier boy vanished. he didn’t deserve any of your attention, and didn’t deserve any indication that you knew him. that was another irritant to your fury.

“i told you to stay in your space.” it’s the only defense that the legend has, so he milks it, stresses the points of it as if that can deter your frustrations. “i told you that this is the risk i was keeping you from, dammit—”

the legend doesn’t have to get it, and so he never will. still, you can’t help but feel the need to try. “you knew it was a risk,” you say it slower, as if that will make it click in his rotten head, “and you did not tell me. you knew that soldier boy was alive, and could come back, and kept it.”

“look at how you’re reacting!” his hand shoots up toward you, hovering in the expansive closet’s entrance. “you decked him. you crushed his nutsack—”

“not. enough.”

“plenty enough, indy.” your name is always a weapon in men’s mouths. no one ever looked at you and thought you were something worth whispering or promising. you were a gun, your words the bullets, the safety always off. and nobody wanted a girl in a constant state of misfire. “i get what you’re going through, and what is going on inside of your head—”

“you do not.”

his lips thin in his frustration. “are you going to let me finish a single fuckin’ sentence today, indy, or are we going to argue around each other because you don’t listen?”

your jaw clenches tightly, teeth grinding together. “you do not get anything that is in my head. you are just an old man minus a leg.”

“you are old too,” he shoots back at you, wagging his finger in your face. you shove his hand away with a scoff. “just because little miss indestructible doesn’t physically age doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here as long as i have. so you should know better than to act like an insolent child.”

it’s so easy for a man to flip the script on you and blame you. you were not asked for permission before you were created. you were not ever treated kindly in the tests you endured after it. you were shaped and molded into something as strong as you’d been as a manmade shield, and then punished for what evolved from that.

“i would know better if i was not locked away.”

somehow, his thin lips press together tighter. you’ve got him. you always get him on that point, and still, the legend doesn’t ever listen to you. it was so useless to have a voice when it did nothing for you.

the bell to his door rings, and your head snaps in that direction. you can see the front door now, from where you stand — considering the fact you’d broken down the hinges to that side of the penthouse, and soldier boy had dismantled your door.

multiple shadows stand on the other side. you see their outlines, big and broad, through the glass walls surrounding the doorway. your eyes narrow. “soldier boy has brought guests.”

“i hardly doubt he will come back.” the legend steps around you, back into the living room, with a glance over his shoulder. “i’d highly suggest sitting this one out.”

“you cannot keep me away anymore today.” you stalk after him, following him again through the broken mess of doors scattered around his living space. “the door is ruined. you have to let me see.”

“i don't have to do a thing.”

he never listens to you. you’ve been stuck with him for forty years and he does not listen. he’s the cruelest sort of captor, controlling everything of your life down to the rooms you’re allowed to take up space in.

you shove past the legend, grabbing the doorknob before he can, tugging the locked, heavy door open with an agitated growl. “go away. you are not wanted here.”

the man in the center on the other side raises his eyebrows. “sassy lass, ain’t ya?” he has an accent, just like you, except his is much more pronounced and nothing like how yours sounds. “i didn’t know the legend kept around girls that can beat him in a tongue lashin’.”

sickening how every single man you’d had the displeasure of meeting assumed you were one of the legend’s playthings. this was the consequence of his containment. you faced the scrutiny of his choices.

you dash forward, grabbing the gun he had poorly concealed at his hip. you release the safety and step back before any of his crew can process the barrel of the pistol pressed against the center of his chest. “mind your mouth.”

his hands raise in mock surrender. “alright, love. i don’t think we should be playing with things we don’t know how to—”

you’d known how to shoot a gun since you learned how to grip. you cock a bullet into the chamber and point it backwards, pulling the trigger at the two feet distance between the legend’s cane and your own feet.

the tall, lankier man in the back of the group shudders out an, “oh my god.” the one next to their assumed leader grimaces at the ringing echo of the bullet. behind you, the legend is seething, hissed curses falling out of his spluttering mouth.

you press the warm barrel to the man’s chest again. “tell me i am too stupid to work a gun again.”

the corner of his mouth tilts higher. “my apologies, lass,” he says, raising his eyes from your face to behind you. “might i speak to the man of the hour?”

“he has nothing worthy to say,” you say, finally dropping the hand holding the gun to your side, “not unless you like idiocracy and long-winded tall tales.”

the man shrugs. "i'm afraid that's all this lot has got to offer, anyways, yeah?"

you don't give the gun back. you untuck your shirt from your pants and stuff it in the waistband, offering a smile to the group of men waiting outside. "i can tell," you hum, turning on your heel, walking back the way you came from.

the basketball game is still on, but it's wrapping up — as far as you can tell, anyways, through the giant black hole in the center of the screen. you weren't in any sort of mood to get in another argument about the channel after what you'd gone through, so you drop down onto the couch again with only a huff of protest.

expectedly, the men follow afterwards. expectedly, the legend is apologizing on your behalf to men that don't deserve it, using words you'd never use. she's really sorry. no you weren't. she's always been crueler than the other of vought's creations. the familiar sentence, still stings all the same.

"she's a supe, then?" the lanky one asks, like you aren't even there. he catches your eye when you turn to glare holes into his temple, and his face flushes a little. "you're a supe?"

your face twists up. "i hate soup."

"oh." he nods a couple of times, clearing his throat in the process. "well. that answers... nothing."

the irritable, disgusted scowl becomes one more laced with anger. "i am not one of the heroes." the legend's reaction is proof enough to an unanswered question you had. that, no, before soldier boy's departure, he did not inform the hero of who you really were, and he was dancing around it now. you'll spare him from the science lesson. "i was created in laboratory. by the vought man." he's never been doctor frederick vought to you, because he never acted as a doctor, only an enforcer. "a someone out of something."

the lankier of the men blinks his surprise, somehow not deterred even with the look you gave him before. "created how?"

no one has ever addressed you in these conversations. usually legend apologizes for you, and they talk about you like you don't exist, and you are expected to stand down even when the order is not enforced. a long silence passes before you speak, unwilling to answer if he was not genuinely asking. but his eyes don't stray from you, and so you nod slowly in acceptance.

"you know of soldier boy?" his name is poison in your mouth, the only thing that has ever hurt you. "the great american hero with a shield?" there is no point of you explaining the world's first hero to these people. they probably know more about him than you ever would. "i am the shield."

the original man, the one with a smirk permanently plastered across his face, turns to you, then, abandoning whatever plans he'd come with. "bullshit."

"you are bullshit." you don't need any of them to believe you. trying to convince others of what you knew to be true was pointless. you slump backwards against the couch again, your eyes zeroing in on the shattered television screen.

it's the lanky one that comes to sit next to you. the legend doesn't even sit as close to you as he does, and he'd lived with you for forty years. "vought does some crazy shit." his shoulders lift in a shrug, letting out a little hum. "doesn't seem so off base that they turn a shield into a girl."

"the shield is with him," you clarify, finding it hard to actually meet his eyes whenever he's watching you with more understanding than anyone had bothered to offer. he wears the same curiosity that you saw in soldier boy's, which simply wouldn't do. "it is just useless now."

"does he know?" the original man, his rugged voice giving way to its own sort of morbid curiosity. there are too many men around you, and not enough space for you to feel safe and secure.

you shake your head, shooting a pointed look at the legend, balking on the other side of the room. "he did not tell him."

"ben is not going to be doing anything with that shield to warrant knowing its truth—"

frustration pours out of every orifice of your body. "soldier boy is a ticking bomb." he has always been volatile. a man cannot change simply because the man was locked away for decades. from what you saw of him, there wasn't any ounce of growth from him at all.

"she's right." the man sitting beside you turns to look back at the legend, and for once, you feel seen. someone else sees the hypocrisy of the man you were stuck with and is not afraid to reflect it back at him. maybe the legend would listen this time, now that a man was telling all of his sins to the choir. "he's a ticking time bomb."

"don't start, hughie," the rugged brit says, his voice nothing more than a growl.

"no, she's right." he gives butcher a long, hard look before he shakes his head, glancing sidelong at legend. "you know what we're planning to do. you know that we're trying to use him for it. and you sent him into the world to die."

the confirmation makes your stomach feel leaden. you should not care at all about what that means. you shouldn't care that soldier boy could die. and you don't. it's just—

"and what do you want me to do about that now, huh?"

the room is quiet, the only sound being the distorted audio coming from the broken television. you know where this is going. you sense it in the way that the man that isn't hughie stares at you, piecing together everything that the options laid out for them offered.

hope was a bitter thing in your mouth. this could be your sole chance of freedom, finally getting to see a breath of the world you'd spent your entire life locked away from. it just came with the added downside of—

"hand over soldier boy's shield," the man finally says, his eyes never leaving yours, "promise with every inch of my wee heart we'll take good care of 'er."

notes. indy beat up all men ever era !!! billy butcher EAT UR HEART OUT. just a heads up that this !reader has a structured timeline vs baby & lore not <3 u can still send asks abt her if u wanna but in my head this lil lady is all plotted for ... i dont wanna say it in case i abandon it midway ... so just know there's a proper number of parts oKAYYY thank u 4 reading love u bye

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz @mahi-wayy

#dahlia's ☆ journal #shield!reader #soldier boy x shield!reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy angst #soldier boy fluff

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batmanlovesnirvana · 1 month ago

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THE SHRINK

THOMAS SHELBY X FEM!READER

PART 2 ( PART 1 )

synopsis : After constant pressure from Polly, Tommy finally gives in and goes to see a therapist … though he’s not happy about it.

A/N : Here you go, guys … Part 2 :) As always, I have no idea what to think of it, but oh well... I just hope you enjoy it. Lmk what u think, and if you’d want this to turn into a series or smth. English isn’t my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

THE SECOND TIME Thomas Shelby walked into the office, he looked just as reluctant as the first. If anything, there was a slight edge of irritation about him now, like he was here because he’d lost a bet.

He looked different too.

He still had the same sharp cheekbones, the same heavy wool coat, the same cigarette rolled between his fingers — but there was something else. A tension in the way he carried himself, something coiled tight beneath the surface.

You noticed the bruises on his knuckles the moment he walked in.

Split skin. Faint swelling. Deep purple seeping beneath the surface.

But you didn’t comment.

You just tilted your head toward the chair, the same one he’d occupied last time.

He hesitated for half a second, then sat.

“You came back,” you remarked, pen poised over your notepad.

He exhaled sharply, barely a sigh. “Polly made me.” Then, after a beat, he added, “And I was already in town.”

Which meant he had no real excuse to avoid it.

You nodded, scribbling something down. “How was your week?”

His mouth pulled slightly at the corner, something between amusement and exhaustion. “Same as always.”

You arched a brow. “Which means?”

He leaned back, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. The match flared, its sharp scratch loud in the quiet room. He took his time inhaling before answering.

“People talk. People drink. People want things from me.”

You let your gaze drop to his hand again. The bruises. The tension still coiled in his fingers.

“Rough day?” you asked, tone neutral.

His eyes flicked up, unreadable but unimpressed. “You could say that.”

You just nodded. No more questions. Not yet.

Silence stretched between you, thick but not uncomfortable. You waited, watching, knowing he’d fill it when he was ready.

Tommy wasn’t a man who responded well to direct questioning, especially not when he was like this. He needed space to say things in his own time, in his own way.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand down his face. “We had a bit of trouble with a family called the Lees.”

“I see.” You glanced at his hands. “They didn’t take kindly to you, I assume?”

Tommy smirked faintly. “Nobody ever does.”

He stretched out his fingers, looking at his own hands like they belonged to someone else. “It’s always the same. They come at us, we go at them. People act surprised, but it’s just how it’s always been.”

“Because of your background?”

His gaze flicked up to you, sharp, measuring. “You mean because we’re gypsies?”

“Yes.”

Tommy exhaled slowly, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “It’s not just about that. But yeah… it plays a part.”

He tapped the unlit cigarette against his knee.

“People don’t like people like us. The coppers, the rich bastards in their suits, even some of the ones who drink in our pubs. Doesn’t matter that we’ve been here for years. Doesn’t matter that we fought for this country. We’re still what we are.”

“And what is that?”

His jaw tensed slightly. “Outsiders.”

You studied him for a moment before responding. “Your mother —was she an outsider too?”

Something flickered across his expression. Not quite pain, but something close.

“She was … like us.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “She used to say things were better when we were on the road, before we settled. Said when we had wagons, we had freedom.”

“And what did you think?”

Tommy hesitated, tilting his head slightly. “I was a kid. I liked the horses, liked running through the fields, the smell of wood smoke at night. But I never thought it’d last.” He glanced at her. “Nothing ever does.”

You nodded, tapping your pen lightly against your notebook. “You said she used to say that things were better before. Is that how you feel about your own life? That things were better before?”

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. “Before what?”

“That’s up to you.”

He leaned back slightly, considering. Then, he exhaled through his nose. “Before the war, yeah. Before everything turned to shit.”

“That’s normal.” you met his gaze. “Your brain was wired to adapt to survival. The war changed the way your mind processes everything — danger, safety, even time. That’s why nothing feels the same now.”

Tommy watched you, unreadable. “And what do you suggest? That I start painting? Take up knitting?”

You smiled faintly. “I suggest you start understanding what’s happening in your head instead of pretending it’s not.”

When he didn’t respond, you continued.

“When we experience trauma, especially repeated trauma like war, our brains go into survival mode. We stop thinking about long-term consequences and focus only on immediate threats. That keeps us alive when we’re in danger, but when the danger is gone, our brains don’t always know how to switch back.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “So what, you think I’m still in the trenches?”

“In some ways, yes.”

His fingers twitched slightly. He was listening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You leaned forward slightly. “Have you ever heard of hypervigilance?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“It’s when your brain stays on high alert even when there’s no immediate danger. You scan for threats without realizing it. You sit with your back to the wall in a pub. You notice exits in every room. You don’t sleep properly because your brain is waiting for something to happen.”

Tommy’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

“That’s why people who come back from war feel like the world is moving too fast and too slow at the same time. It’s because your brain is still in survival mode.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “That’s a nice little theory, but — ”

“It’s not a theory, Mr. Shelby. It’s science.”

You continued to tap your pen lightly against your notebook.

“When you were fighting, your body was flooded with adrenaline every day. That’s what kept you alive. But now, when things are quiet, your body doesn’t know what to do with itself. That’s why you drink more. That’s why you get into fights. Because, whether you realize it or not, you’re chasing that feeling again.”

Tommy swallowed slightly, fingers still against his knee.

“You said before that things don’t feel loud enough.” She tilted her head slightly. “That’s because your brain got used to the volume being turned up all the way. Now that it’s quiet, it doesn’t feel real.”

He didn’t respond. Just sat there, staring at a spot on the floor.

For the first time since you met him, he looked truly ... unsettled.

Good, you thought. That meant he was listening.

You leaned back slightly. “I know you don’t like the idea of talking to someone, but you’re not the first man to sit in that chair feeling like this. And you won’t be the last.”

Still, silence.

Then, finally, Tommy exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I don’t need fixing.”

“I know.” You nodded. “But you do need to stop running.”

He lifted his gaze to yours.

Then, after a long moment, he stood.

He didn’t say anything as he reached for his coat, pulling it over his shoulders.

But just before he reached the door, he paused.

Without turning around, he muttered, “Same time next week, then.”

And with that, he was gone.

When Thomas got home that evening, Watery Lane smelly like coal smoke and damp earth.

The street was quiet, save for the distant barking of a dog and the occasional murmur of drunks staggering out of the Garrison.

He pushed open the door, stepping inside the cramped but familiar house. Dim candlelight flickered from the sitting room, casting long shadows against the walls.

Polly was waiting for him, perched in her usual chair, cigarette in hand. The amber glow of the tip pulsed as she took a slow drag.

“You went,” she said, not looking up.

Thomas sighed, shutting the door behind him. He shrugged off his coat, wincing slightly as his knuckles brushed against the rough fabric.

“You gave me no choice,” he muttered, making his way to the small drinks cabinet.

The whiskey sloshed softly as he poured himself a measure.

Polly exhaled smoke, finally meeting his gaze. “And?”

He took a sip, savoring the burn before answering. “And nothing. Same as last time.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. “You talked?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “I answered questions.”

Polly sighed, leaning back. “And how long do you think you can keep that up?”

“As long as I need to.”

She scoffed. “You think you’re clever, Thomas, but that woman — she’s not fucking stupid. She’s not one of your men. She knows when you’re dodging.”

He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the way the candlelight caught the amber liquid. “Doesn’t mean she’ll get more than I want to give.”

Polly studied him for a long moment, then flicked ash into the tray beside her. “And what exactly do you want to give, eh?”

Thomas didn’t answer right away.

No, he downed the rest of his drink and set the glass down with a quiet clink.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted.

Polly hummed, a knowing look in her eyes.

She stood, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said, disappearing down the hall. “Whether you like it or not.”

Thomas stayed there for a moment, then, with a quiet sigh, he poured himself another drink.

The following week, Thomas Shelby walked in without hesitation.

No reluctance this time, no irritation.

If anything, he looked resigned, as if he’d already made peace with the fact that he’d be here again.

But there was something else too.

A heaviness in the way he carried himself. A deeper tiredness lining his face. The same cigarette between his fingers, the same wool coat draped over his shoulders, but his shoulders looked heavier today.

You noticed the fresh cut along his cheekbone, a thin line of red just starting to fade. The bruises on his knuckles were darker now, healing but still visible.

He sat without waiting for an invitation.

You didn’t comment on the cut, nor the bruises.

Instead, you simply noted, like a mantra. “You came back, again.”

Tommy scoffed lightly. “Against my better judgment.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” He exhaled smoke, watching it curl toward the ceiling. Then, after a pause, he muttered, “My aunt said she’d send Arthur instead.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And that convinced you?”

He smirked, just barely. “Arthur talks too much.”

You let that sit for a moment before glancing at his hand, the one holding the cigarette. He noticed.

“No fighting this time,” he muttered preemptively.

“Then what happened to your face?”

His smirk deepened slightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said I walked into a door?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

“Well, then.” He took another drag, exhaling slowly. “Let’s just say not everyone in Birmingham is thrilled about the Peaky Blinders expanding.”

You made a note, then met his gaze again. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “What is it with you and feelings?”

You didn’t respond, only waited.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s not about feelings. It’s about business.”

You tilted your head. “Business doesn’t bruise your knuckles.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

He hated being asked like that, yet instead of staying away, he kept coming back.

Maybe it was because you intrigued him, or maybe he just liked the way you made sense of him, how you saw him in a way others didn’t.

Thomas didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied the cigarette between his fingers, like he was weighing his words.

“Sometimes business requires persuasion.”

“And sometimes persuasion is just an excuse.”

That made him pause.

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, sharp as ever. But instead of snapping back, instead of deflecting, he just watched you, considering.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re a persistent one.”

“I have to be. Otherwise, men like you wouldn’t come back.”

Another pause.

Then, to your surprise, the faintest glimmer of amusement crossed his expression.

“Is that what I am?” he murmured. “A man like me?”

You tapped your pen against the notepad. “You tell me.”

He smirked, but it was softer this time. “You really think there’s a way out of this?”

“Out of what?”

His jaw tensed. “The way things are. The way things have always been.”

You watched him carefully. “That depends. Do you want there to be?”

Tommy held your gaze for a long moment. Then, for the first time since he walked in, he looked away.

“I don’t know.”

Honest.

Uncharacteristically so.

You nodded, jotting something down before setting your pen aside. “Then maybe that’s something we should figure out.”

He didn’t answer. Just sat there, cigarette burning between his fingers, gaze fixed on the desk in front of him.

Then, Tommy stirred, breaking the stillness.

“You know,” he said, his voice a bit more distant now, “I’m heading to the races tomorrow. You’d think a man like me would get tired of it, but…” He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line.

“You’re going to the races?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow.

It was an odd way to shift the conversation, but not unexpected.

For all his layers of business and violence, Tommy Shelby was still a man with his routines, his vices, his escapes.

He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah,” he muttered, sounding almost casual, but you could hear the undertone of tension, the same tension that always surrounded him like a cloak.

“And you invited someone?” You probed further, your curiosity piqued.

He hesitated, just for a beat, before the words left his lips. “A woman,” he said, then smirked, though it was more to himself than anyone else. “Grace. The barmaid at The Garrison. Thought it’d be good to have a little company.”

He was waiting for your reaction, but you didn’t let it show. If anything, you appeared... uninterested.

Surprised, yes, but mostly indifferent.

"Grace?" You said, leaning back in your chair. “And what makes you think she’s the right choice?”

Tommy’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though it was brief. “It’s not about right or wrong. She’s been around long enough. Thought I’d take her out, see how she handles herself in a crowd.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, picking up on the layers beneath his words. “So, you’re testing her?”

Tommy’s smirk softened, his gaze flicking over to you for a brief moment. “Maybe. Or maybe I just need someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.”

You knew better than to dig into Tommy’s words too deeply.

There was always more beneath the surface.

But you couldn’t help but wonder, what was Tommy really looking for in Grace? What did she represent to him?

“Well, I hope she’s ready,” you said, tapping your pen against the desk idly. “The races are never just about the horses.”

Tommy gave you a look, a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “They never are.”

He stood, moving toward the door with the same fluid grace he always had. His coat swished as he turned, looking back at you.

“Same time next week?” He asked, though his tone made it clear that it wasn’t a question.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Same time.”

Tommy lingered for a moment, a strange silence hanging between the two of you.

He adjusted his cap, slipping back into the cold, calculated Thomas Shelby you knew all too well.

But what came next was something you weren't prepared for.

"Your name is Y/N L/N. Daughter of F/N and M/N L/N. You live in Small Heath, just outside Watery Lane. You studied in France. You were a nurse during the war. You have two siblings. Not married, not seeing anyone. You go to the apothecary every Friday, and that’s how you met my aunt.”

Your eyes narrowed, but he continued, as if reciting a poem, his tone detached and matter-of-fact. "I know everything that goes on in my town, Doctor. And you better keep everything from our meetings to yourself."

Your hands tightened around your leather notebook, the pages flipping nervously. You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself before responding.

How the fuck did he knew all of that ?

“I took the Hippocratic Oath. Everything my patients say stays strictly within this room.”

“It better,” he muttered, colder than ever, sending a chill through your spine.

With one final glance, he turned and walked out the door.

It was only then that you exhaled, the tension in your chest releasing.

Fuck.

taglist : @mrsnms

anyway bye and plz drop a comment or two babes xx

#thomas shelby x imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #polly gray #the queen herself

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doitforbangchan · 1 year ago

Note

sorry if it's a little long. I love to come up with plots more than the smut part

you were just supposed to meet them backstage after a concert and get a picture. but hyunjin was obviously interested so chan asked you to stay behind, offering to drop you off since you were there alone. while they were waiting for the fans to leave, hyunjin kept talking to you and managed to get you to accept going with them to the dorms with them to chill after the concert. not the type to be able to say no easily, you accepted. you ended up drinking with them. the members tried making conversations but a tipsy hyunjin was doing all he could to keep your attention on him. after a while, the others left to sleep and since it was too late for you to go home, you had to stay over. hyunjin wanted you to sleep on his bed so you'd be comfortable and he'd be in the living room but it didn't seem fair to him. that's how you ended up in the same bed. the two of you were just talking at first but as you sobered up, things escalated between the two of you...

After party - Hyunjin

Masterlist

Idol!Hyunjin x Fan!Reader (Afab)

The pics are formatting weird and I dont know why :(

CW: Light smut, kissing, grinding, thigh riding, drinking, softdom!Hyunjin, sub!reader, cursing, anxiety (Lemme know if i missed any) Not proofread :) to my requester- I hope you enjoy please let me know what you think lovey <3

WC: 2.4k

Hyunjin was enamored by you. The second you walked backstage for your VIP picture with the group he knew he was doomed. Not only were you beautiful but so kind. You were all smiles as you greeted them each, handing them each little figures you had created for them of their Skzoo animals.

For you, this was the greatest thing to ever happen to you. You had waited so long for this, counting down the days since purchasing your ticket and backstage pass. You only expected it to be a quick meeting, get a picture maybe a hug and then be on your way. You were honestly shocked when Bangchan had invited you to hang out with them for a while.

"Did you come alone?" Chan had asked you when he noticed nobody was with you.

"Yeah, I did." You answered sheepishly, "I don't have any other friends into K-pop so I'm pretty used to attending events and concerts alone."

"It just means you have good taste." Hyunjin winked at you, and you felt the heat rush to your face as you mumbled a 'thanks'.

Hyunjin was sat next to you with his arm slung over the back of the couch you were both sitting on but he wasn't touching you. He just wanted to be close to you without being weird.

The two of you sat there for over an hour as he asked you questions about yourself, of course the other boys would chime in every now and again but generally they liked watching Hyunjin try and be cool with you. It was entertaining.

It was nearing closing for the venue and they had to leave soon, but Hyunjin didn't want this to end. He looked to Chan for a quick second with pleading eyes before he looked back at you and blurted "Do you wanna come home with us?"

You were thrown off by his sudden inquiry, "Huh?"

"Not in a gross way!" He panicked as Jisung burst into laughter watching his friend struggle. "I mean, we're headed back to our dorm and we planned on having a few drinks and hanging out. Our version of an after party. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh uhhh" you looked around at the encouraging looks from Felix and Chan, ignoring the snickering from Jisung and Seungmin. "I mean, I guess if you want me too, maybe an hour or so wouldn't hurt." You were a people pleaser and couldn't say no on a regular day, but especially not when your favorite idol asks you too.

"Perfect" He smiled brightly.

The ride over was more luxury than you were used too, even being shoved into the back of the black SUV. Perspective really was everything huh?

Once back at the dorms the boys wasted no time in getting acquainted with the bottle of tequila Minho had slyly taken from the venue. Though you kindly refused to do shots, you couldn't say no when Felix offered you a mixed drink he made you with some juice from the fridge.

Time felt like it was flying by. Before you knew it, it was nearing midnight. It was easy to loose track of time, though. Since the moment you got here Hyunjin had take it upon himself to keep you company. He had only taken two shots but he was clearly tipsy; his mild slurring and glassy eyes being a dead giveaway.

Not that you were any better, being a lightweight yourself. That's probably why it took you so long to notice the latening time.

"Shit" you cursed after checking your phone, only now noticing how late it was. "It's getting really late, I think I gotta head out."

Hyunjin looked around and noticed you two were the only ones left in the living room, the other members seemingly having gone to bed or to their own dorms. "Damn, how did we not notice how late it was?" He knew exactly how he didn't notice. You were too mesmerizing for him to want to pay attention to anything else.

"I should probably try to call an Uber." You sighed, opening your phone and praying you could get an available ride. Most Saturday nights were impossible to get a ride, since it seemed like the whole city tried to get one at the same time.

Hyunjin spoke before his brain could catch up. "Sleep in my bed tonight." He backtracked at seeing your eyes widen at his proposition. "Uhh what I mean is, it's really late and getting a ride might take hours anyway, so you could just stay here tonight if you wanted.."

"Oh umm." You bit your lip, nervously. "I don't want to be an inconvenience for you."

He shook his head in disagreement, shaggy hair bouncing at his vehement action. "It's no inconvenience, hon. Really, it would even make me feel better knowing you were here safe instead of waiting for a rando or walking home in the middle of the night."

"Aren't you kind of a rando, Hyunjin?" You had a slight tease to your voice.

"A rando who you came home with, yeah." He giggles, standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. He looked at you expectantly when you hesitated to grab his hand in return. "Come on, y/n. You can take my bed and I'll take the couch tonight. No objections!"

You shyly took his hand in yours, giving up on trying to leave knowing he was right.

You found yourself unable to sleep. It has easily been 40 minutes since Hyunjin had made his bed for you and wished you goodnight, and you couldn't stop thinking of just how you ended up in this situation.

You only meant to get a picture with your favorite K-pop group- nothing more nothing less. It's what you had paid for, at least. Never in your life would you have imagined this is where you would be at the end of the night. In Hwang Hyunjins bed. The sheets smelled of him, the silk holding onto both his natural scent and traces of his expensive cologne. Honestly it was quite sobering, your buzz fading by the minute.

As if his ears were ringing, the bedroom door slowly creaks open to reveal Hyunjin, peeking in curiously. The only light in the room was the soft glow of the moon shining through his window. It was just enough for him to be able to make out your still figure in his bed.

"Pssst" his voice was a whisper, "are you awake?" He didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping so he kept his tone low.

"Yeah." You whispered back, equally as soft. "Are you ok?"

He shuffled close to you in the room, "Uh yeah, it's just that.. the couch is really uncomfortable."

"Oh, uh" You stammed, "I can go to the couch so you can have your bed back."

You went to remove yourself from his bed but he stopped you, his hand finding your shoulder to keep you in place, "Well I was thinking, if you didn't mind, I could just stay in here with you."

You blinked in surprise, contemplating it for a moment. He wasn't slurring his speech anymore so you knew his tipsiness was wearing off. " I guess that would be ok." You slowly scooted further into the bed, giving him space to climb under the covers with you.

He situated himself under the warm blankets and turned his body to face you. Now you were both looking at each other through the dim light.

"I do appreciate you coming and hanging out with us tonight." He breathed out, breaching the silence.

You balked, "Are you kidding? You brought me into your home, and now you're letting me in your bed! This whole night has been incredible, really. I should be the one thanking you." You said in a hushed tone, fighting back the urge to word vomit your appreciation.

Hyunjin chucked, "No need to thank me." He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, gathering his nerves. "If I'm being honest, something about you had immediately caught my attention the second you walked backstage to meet us. You were so... Captivating. And sweet. Those little Skzoo minis you made for us are so cute and I can tell you took your time to make them for us. I knew I wanted to know you more." He reached for your hand in the dark and you tentatively let him grab it and laced your fingers together.

Your face was burning hot at his confession. Honestly you were at a loss for words. You hadn't considered yourself special in anyway. Sweet- maybe. But captivating? Never. It was a whirlwind of emotions. You didn't doubt that he was speaking his truth, more so your heart didn't want to believe it.

As if sensing your inner turmoil he gave you a shy grin to ease your mind, "I understand if you don't feel the same. I know it's crazy to spring that kind of thing on someone you just met."

"No its not that!" You protested louder than intended, before sheepishly lowering your voice back to a whisper. " This is all very surreal to me, right now. This isn't how I imagined my night would be, but I am so glad it did. I really liked getting to know you guys, especially you... Who may or may not be my bias." You hid your eyes behind your hand.

You tried to tug your other hand from his grasp but he held on, tighter now after your confession.

"Oh, I'm your bias, huh?" You could hear the smirk on his face as his confidence grew exponentially. You turned your head at buried it into the pillow, unable to meet his gaze.

"Don't be mean." you mumbled.

"I would never dream of being mean to you, sweetheart. You're the one who can't even look at your bias. So really you're the mean one here, angel."

You took a peek at him to see his signature pout gracing his features, the dumpling shape of his lips making you want to bite them.

"You're lucky you're pretty" You huffed, feeling his other hand reach for your waist and pull you closer. You held back a squeal at his action.

"You think I'm pretty?" He abandoned his pout for a boyish grin.

"Mhm" you responded, so quietly he almost missed it.

"Well, between you and me, angel," He leaned in closer to your face, eyes flickering back and forth between your lips and eyes, "I think you're prettier."

The singer left you room to deny his advances, but when you made no move to get away he gently pressed his soft lips against your own. You felt your eyes close on impact, and sighed into him as he swept his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Once you parted for him and allowed him entry into your mouth he let out a low moan; the sound coming from somewhere in the back of his throat.

You fisted his shirt when he let go of your hand, instead his found purchase cupping your cheeks as he deepened the kiss even further. His body pressed as close to you as he could get, letting himself get drunk on your taste as he sobered from the alcohol.

You whimpered when he wedged one of his thighs between yours, the strong muscle creating a friction on your clothes center.

"Mm I liked that sound. I wanna hear you sing more pretty melodies for me, angel." He retracted his lips from yours, choosing to instead pepper smooches down your neck. He ground his thigh into you, eliciting another whimper.

Hyunjin sucked a mark onto your flesh, the extra stimulation causing you to buck your hips, seeking more. "Hyuuunnee"

"That's it baby, ride my thigh. Fuck, I can feel you soaking through both of our clothes, angel." He really means his clothes, as he had given you a pair of sleep shorts to wear. He sped up his movements, the grinding getting harsher against your core.

Your clit was rubbing so deliciously against your panties, and you definitely knew with how much you were dripping for him that he was telling the truth. You couldn't believe how worked up you were getting, already on the verge of cumming and you hadn't even been really touched yet.

His hand traveled down to the hem of your shirt, and he pushed it up to reveal your braless chest. He let out a groan of his own at the sight. "You not wear a bra for me, angel? Being a naughty girl?"

You moaned when he latched his mouth onto the skin of your tit, "Mmmmm, no Hyun. Jus' can't sleep in it." one of your hands found his hair.

"I don't think that's true, angel." He said it between nips to your flesh, "I think you wanted me to come in here and ravish you." He nipped particularly hard and you gasped. "Bet you were laying here, soaking in your panties waiting for me, huh?" He switched to your other breast.

Your panting was getting harsher, getting closer and closer to cumming on his thigh. "Hyune, m' gonna..gonna..."

"Gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess for me, hmm?" You nodded as best you could, "Go ahead, angel. Hyun's got you." At his permission you let go, a soft cry escaping you as you shook against him. The whole time he kept steady in his grinding, working you through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're even prettier when you cum, oh my god. Prettier than a painting."

When the shocks of pleasure faded into over stimulation you tried to give him a light push to signal him to stop. He took the hint and slowly ended his grinding. Your breathing was heavy and your pupils were blown wide, the sight enough for him to crave you even more if that was possible.

Keeping eye contact with you, he gingerly reached into the front of your (his) shorts, his long fingers finding your dripping wetness and collecting some of it onto the pads of his fingers. You bleated a moan at the contact of him sweeping through your wet folds.

You almost came again when Hyunjin removed his fingers from your pussy and brought the shiny digits up to his mouth. He groaned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head when he sucked your essence off his skin.

"Fuck angel, you really are sweet." He was quick to flip you onto your back, causing you to squeal. "Gotta be quiet, sweet girl." He scooted down your body, pulling your bottoms and panties down with him. "Can't have the boys coming in here while I'm eating my new favorite treat, right angel?"

A/n: Yesssss I know its not full smut, but honestly i liked the it this way. i think it fits better :) I hope you enjoy please let me know if you did

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

#stray kids #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #requested

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tinytennisskirt · 19 days ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors

part one/part two

Summary: heavily based on the lyrics of behind closed doors by lana del rey, patrick zweig takes genuine interest in one of the 'matches' his parents have thrown at him to try and rope him back to high society. she takes him and herself by surprise, finding she's not all spoiled, perfect, and innocent. nobody is rooting for them, but they don't care. if it feels good. then it can't be bad. behind closed doors.

Part Two: On their second date, socialite good girl!reader finds herself navigating unfamiliar territory as Patrick Zweig sets the pace. He’s determined to coax her out of her carefully curated shell and bring to her to try something new, but the drinks only blur the lines further. Tension builds as desire grows harder to contain. Reader drops a personal detail that drives Patrick a little crazy.

warnings: talk of touch, making out, drinking, smoking

His car was parked outside, so there was no way to hide from your parents that you were going out again, but after all, they did make the arrangement with the Zweigs, so as long as they didn’t know about the cigarette, you’d be fine. You walked down the steps. He didn’t say where you were going so you dressed somewhat nicely. A pink skirt and a cream-coloured knit sweater and you were already drawing the line toward casual, so you topped it off with your Vivienne Westwood necklace. Your father was in his study and you said goodnight as you passed him and told him to tell your mom as well. You kindly dismissed yourself, putting on tasteful socks and mary janes.

His first thought, in jeans and a t-shirt, was that you really were a princess, as you emerged from the double doors to your pillared front entrance. He was never a second-date sort of guy, especially not with the women his parents threw his way, but you were something different and he knew it. He got you to smoke on the first day, part of him liked how it felt to have aided in something so controversial. Proper girls don’t smoke, but you, you took that chance. You walked over to the car, his window down. “Can I get in?”

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. He moved his sunglasses from the seat next to him as you hopped up into his car. Your skirt, though pretty, was just a little short, he noted. Well, short for girls like you. Maybe it was a sign, he thought. “You ever been to a bar before?” He hid his smirk as he drove away before you had your seatbelt on. Your eyes widened, was the prettiest sight. He chuckled to himself.

The bar was one of his favourites. Not too trashy, but probably just trashy enough. You already looked out of place on the somehow wet asphalt outside, your arms folded, looking up at the sign above the door. “They’ll let me in? I’m not 21.” You reasoned, looking at him. His smile was wide and gorgeous, god, you hated how much a look from him could make your heart accelerate. You were a weak woman, you thought. Weak.

“They’ll let you in,” he nodded. “I know the guy who runs the place, you’re fine.”

You walked with him to the entrance and he held the door for you. You smiled a ‘thank you’ and with adjusting eyes, looked around the dimly lit bar. It was a little busy, a little bit bustling, but Patrick was greeted in seconds. You could only think to yourself, watching him interact with his friend, that he was carrying himself in a manner that he was not thinking about you. He was with you one second and gone the next and it wasn’t like he meant to, but he still did. You tucked your hair behind your ear.

The floor was sticky, you noted, following Patrick just a little. He had a seat at the bar and when you came over, he helped you up onto the stool next to him. Truth was, he could not stop thinking about that kiss the other night- not for one second. It was part of why he was here with you now, a second date, a second chance to kiss you again. It only occurred to him after three minutes that you were talking to him. “Patrick?” You questioned, just a little curious as to why he wasn’t blinking.

His eyes met yours, rising up from your lips. He couldn’t help the smirk that broke out. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You’re on campus next week,” he nodded. It was all he caught. You raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry,” he added at the moment of your expression. “Do you want a drink?” You could deduct he wasn’t all that sorry.

“I’m not 21,” you reminded him. He was older by a good amount, you remembered. “I can’t.”

“You can here, I cleared it with my friend when we came in. You’re 21 as far as he’s concerned.” He smirked, laying the bait. Could he get the girl in Mary Janes to take a shot with him? “You’ve drank before, right?”

You shook your head, “Only champagne, low percentage.”

“Without any pressure,” he leaned a little closer to you, his face just a little closer than it should be, his eyes flickering from your lips, back to your eyes, “Would you like to? Drink.”

He liked how flustered you got. He wondered if it was from him or the offer, but it was both. You blinked a few times and your nose got a little pink. “What would I…” You were taking the bait with such ease. He grinned. “No… But you can drink if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“No?” He shrugged. Strong-willed girl. But he put his hand up to the bartender, “One Jaeger bomb and a pornstar?” He asked. The names made you blink extra hard. You flushed and turned away, he said pornstar so loud, everyone must have heard. It was… strange. It was embarrassing a little bit, but the bartender didn’t bat an eye, just started making drinks.

You turned back to him, a curious and quizzical expression on your face. “Is the second one for me?”

He nodded, “If you change your mind.”

“Alcohol is a gateway,” you told him.

“Who told you that?” He asked with a laugh as the bartender set the two drinks down. One was brown, the other was purple, which you guessed, was yours. “Weed is the gateway. Plus on the grand scale, nicotine is so much worse than a single drink.”

You twisted your mouth to the side. He was so hot. Every word out of his mouth was hot. You wished it was appropriate to kiss him right here and now, for no reason. “I’m not drinking that.”

“That’s fine. It’ll just sit there.” He smirked, taking the other drink and drinking half. “I know you have low tolerance, it’s not very strong. And you don’t have to.”

You looked at it, it looked good, honestly, garnished with a lime. “I feel like I wasted your money.” You leaned on your hand, your elbow on the bar.

Patrick shrugged, “So don’t waste it?”

“It’s alcohol,” you whispered. He chuckled at that. Only you would whisper about alcohol at a bar. It was cute. “I can’t drink it for another year.”

“Suit yourself, princess,” he said, finishing his drink. The nickname, again. You couldn’t hide the blush that took over your nose, your cheeks. He was a fan of it, how cute you looked when you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. Princess. You were exactly that. And you got to talking more, genuinely, with sweet banter and stolen glances at lips when the other wasn’t paying attention and once you got into your music taste, Patrick was still sure you were a princess, but a different kind for sure. You weren’t like any upper-class girl he’d been forced to meet in his lifetime.

You liked some of the stuff he liked. Which was for sure not parent-approved. He found out you liked books and kept CDs under your floorboard, which was endearing. You said you got the idea from a show you liked. It was cute. He made a note to watch the show- which caught even him by surprise. His favourite thing was to uncover that you like eyeliner, but your father said it made you look like a whore, which was laughed at, instead of agreed with, (which you found refreshing). “I’d love to see it. No, kill to see it.”

“It’s not that special, but I feel so ugly without it, isn’t that weird?” You laughed. “I never wear it out. Ever. Only in my bedroom.”

“Yeah, it sounds hot,” he grinned, leaning forward. He was now two drinks in and your drink was still sitting there. He had pushed it a little closer and you’d be lying to say you weren’t tempted to drink it and to kiss him. “You should wear it out somewhere.”

“You asking me on another date?” Your turn to smirk. His eyebrows raised. Amongst all the surprising things he’d learned about you, this suggestion, this ask, took him most by surprised. It was more bold than he’d heard from you. He watched how your hand walked along the table, hesitating near the drink. He grinned.

“Might be.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night.” He replied. You were a little flattered he wanted to see you again so soon. “If you’re free.”

“I’m free,” you nodded, pulling the drink slowly toward you. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek smugly. “I pick, though.”

“Dangerous.”

“Safer than a bar.” You nodded, looking down at the drink. He could tell you were contemplating drinking it. You picked it up, holding the straw to your lips. So close… too close. His eyes fell on the plush of your lower lip, how the straw pressed against it. Maybe it was the three drinks, but he knew he wanted you more than anything. You noticed him watching you hold the drink and giggled a little, turning away. “I was going to drink it.”

“You should,” he nodded, eyes moving between your lips and your eyes, “Won’t hurt.”

“Promise?” You said a bit quieter than your other words, with innocence so strong it almost knocked him into you. Maybe it was the shot he’d just taken. Your eyes are wide and they’re evil. And you drink the martini and you scrunch your nose just a little and he wants you. And with your low tolerance and maybe trying a shot, and a few sips of what he was having, you were just a little tipsy and you want him. Banter is banter, he makes you laugh and under the grit, he’s so charming.

You stand up with intentions to move over to the dartboard, but you don't get far, his hand catches your wrist and with a calculated tug, he pulled you into him.

It felt good to be so airy and spinny and to kiss him. Kissing him, walking backward into the wall. It felt dirty, his hand on the back of your head, in your hair, your hands grabbing at the front of his t-shirt. You rolled against the wall, your hand falling behind you to press open the door to the girl’s bathrooms. No idea how you got so far, but there was nobody in there- the bar was filled mostly with men. He was so good at kissing, better than any boy who wore a sweater vest, better than anyone you’d ever kissed before. His hands slid under your sweater, surprised to find you weren’t wearing any sort of tank top, pleased to have his hands slide easily over the skin of your waist and back.

All of this, though it felt good, being picked up and put on the counter, it was dirty. It was dirty and it was wrong, it was bad. The sink wasn’t wet, but it was disgusting for sure. Though all you could think about was how good it felt to be pressed against him, legs at his hips, your skirt slipping upward. Oh god, your skirt was almost up to your hips, thank god you wore shorts.

Your hands stayed around his neck, the buzz of the alcohol making your ears ring. The only noise was the muffled music of the bar and the kissing along with the heavy breathing. His hot hands on your skin felt so good, his tongue in your mouth felt dizzying in itself. He kissed you like you were the last person he’d ever kiss and it felt natural, the way you kissed him just the same.

Goes without saying that he was into you, more than his usual girls. Something about knowing what you were taught to do and undoing it felt like a drug. Felt a little like revenge without actually causing any real harm. Your skin was as soft as silk and you tasted like lime when he kissed you, he’d take it, with a side of getting back at his parents. Aside from that, he was feeling his heart beat hard in his chest as he was clouded over by passion. Everything, every sense, all filled with you, you, you.

His hand slipped down your hip, over your leg, back up your thigh- god, your skin was so smooth. He moved just slightly, making space between the two of you, his hand sliding over your thigh toward the inside, toward where it mattered, but you stopped him. Tipsy or not, you stopped him abruptly, hand on his wrist, moving away from the kiss as well. “Patrick…”

“I should’ve asked.” He mumbled against your lips. A response you didn’t expect from Patrick, let alone Patrick with a few drinks in him. “Just assumed.”

You felt yourself flush pink, your heart accelerated beyond the pace it was already at. “I’ve never…” You started, but the embarrassment caught up to you.

“Never what?”

You were out of it and honest, too honest, “Been touched.”

“At all?”

“Only boobs,” you nodded, then cringed a slight bit.

Familiar heat in your cheeks, but it was like a fire ripped through Patrick’s body as your blatant statement was absorbed properly. It lit something up, bright. “You’re a virgin?”

Oh, this was so much better than he thought. A grin spread up his face unintentionally and somewhat evilly, though he was overwhelmed with some new emotion. A stronger one, close to lust but more motivated by the unattainable. You nodded, your eyes soft and the next words from his mouth fell out in a breathy slip, “Oh, fuck-” And those large hands of his grabbed your face and pulled you into a harder kiss, stronger than before, more potent than it had been.

You took it gladly, passionately, not caring about the way he was fucking up your hair or your makeup. Skirt slipping up, hands behind his head, in his hair. You’d made out with other guys, but all those little sessions seemed so empty. All those guys were afraid of you, of ruining your curls and ruffles. But not Patrick… Not Patrick. He kissed you like he meant it and yeah things were spun a little different with this much in your system but it was better than anything you’d ever experienced.

He kissed you right, kissed you until a biker woman came into the bathroom, eyeing the two of you wordlessly as she passed. Oh, she must have thought you were trash too, you realized. You felt your lips, just a little swollen as you laughed into his shoulder. “We have to go,” you sighed, the dizziness still making your head spin. He was wearing cologne, a nice one, unexpectedly. He smelled nice. “Can we go?”

“We can go,” he nodded with his gorgeous, dimpled grin. He reached over to the paper towel and grabbed a piece to wipe the lip gloss off his mouth. You pressed your fingertips to your forehead, trying not to laugh at anything. Patrick looked at you, your nose pink, hair a little messed up, still sitting up on the counter in your skirt and your sweater. Yeah, you were hot, you could kiss and your hand placement was perfect, but right now, a little tousled, you were pretty. Maybe it was the drinks. You were beautiful. “C’mon.” He gave you your hand and you slipped off the counter. He paid with bills and rusted coins, held the door for you on the way out, and with a hand on the small of your back, he helped you into the passenger seat.

It was weird to feel so spinny. It was like your body was static and floating at the same time. It was strange, but kind of warm. All you could think about was kissing in the bathroom, how close his hand had gotten. It was all you could think about, all you could feel. It was like his hand was still there.

Patrick watched you press those perfectly manicured fingers to the plush of your lower lip. The night was still early, still young, and you were tipsy. Smoking and drinking could easily be checked off, As much of an accomplishment it was, he still couldn’t bring you home like this. He’d never see you again. Part of him, just a small part of him, knew that was something he didn’t want to risk. He’d made plans with you for tomorrow already. Plus, he had you right now and he could not stop staring at you.

Your eyes seemed fixed on some random point, he wondered what was on your mind but if it was anything like the way he was thinking, he understood. He was zoned out on you, on your eyelashes, on the way some of your hair was a little messed up, honing in on the colour of your lips without the gloss. You were too beautiful for him and he knew that. He knew it. Everything about you was so- too beautiful. It was definitely weird to think so much about anyone. Especially someone his parents ‘chose’, but they had no idea what they were in for. And you were you, and you were here in his car right next to him and he was feeling things that he usually wouldn’t have to deal with. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t a second-date kind of guy. Maybe it was the fact that maybe he could genuinely like you. Maybe.

“You’re staring,” you said, meeting his eyes. He must have zoned out too far. It was the alcohol. You turned in your seat, your knees to the side, facing him. He chuckled, looking away. “Your eyelashes are pretty.” You noted, elbow on the middle console, your face leaning against your hand.

“Yeah?” He tried to smirk, but it was more of a smile.

“And I like your freckles,” you continued. “I’m too honest, this is weird. Like I can’t control what I’m saying.”

He nodded slightly, “Drinking does that.”

“I should shut up.”

“I think you should keep talking.”

“Why?”

He almost laughed. “Why not?”

You were quiet and that smile of yours fell just a little as you looked at him. It didn’t disappear, just settled to something small. You were cute, it was all he could think. On top of hot, on top of everything, right now you were cute. It was killing him. “I think you like the compliments.”

“Who wouldn’t?” He reached down and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. Those same ones. With that reach, his hand grazed your thigh. As if you weren’t thinking about his touch already, god it was worse. The touched pricked up every inch of your skin, spreading out from where he touched. Sensitive…

“Fair.” You met his eyes. Something, everything was charged. It felt like a volt of electricity. It felt like hot and cold at the same time. It felt dangerous and wild and you still felt floaty so maybe it was all of that and more. Maybe it was good, maybe it was horrible. It felt horrible. To think about it so much, to look at him and want but want what? You hardly knew him, he was just a family friend’s son and he was nothing like you’d expected and that was somehow better than knowing? When was not knowing ever better than knowing and how did he make smoking nicotine and drinking seem normal and even worse, how did he make it seem hot? Why did it make you want to kiss him so fucking badly? You’d think you’d had enough but no. Dark curls, blue eyes, freckles, dimples, rusty coins and crumpled bills. You broke, giggling just a little. “I was staring now, oh my god.”

Patrick couldn’t help the smile that kept on his face. You needed water for sure- water or coffee or something sobering. But you were cute. “Fair is fair.” He replied, holding up the cigarettes. You could still feel his hands on your body. It was electric. “Back outside the car?” He knew you’d both just gotten in, but a cigarette was a cigarette. And any moment like that kiss the other night, any moment to kiss you, really, without a centre console in the way, was something he craved the same way he craved the cigarette. Despite making out with you in the bathroom, he was thinking about that first kiss. Part of him knew he wouldn’t be able to smoke again without thinking about it. You. Which was stupid, he was not your boyfriend- he wouldn’t be. You were not his. But he was thinking about it, you, the kiss, the parking lot, your waist. Replaying every second of just… kissing. Which also was not much like him.

His tolerance was higher than yours. Obviously. So he was feeling a little out of it, but not too much. And he wanted to kiss you, but thinking about it, he felt just a little bad that he’d gotten you this fucked up. It was a small feeling, overpowered by the fact you were pretty and that you wanted him, and that you were a virgin… But it was there nonetheless. He looked at his hand, “You just stay here a minute actually.” He said gently. Your eyes met his, pretty eyelashes fluttering. And you nodded.

Patrick grabbed his lighter and a dart and hopped back out of the car, the paper between his lips. You sat in his car, leaning your head against the plastic bit by the edge of the window as the world felt so spinny around you. It was a lot of feeling- him, the way he made you feel. You felt like you were doing so much wrong, like you were breaking all the rules, but it felt freeing. It was too bad you weren’t much informed on the Sunday Scaries.

You hummed a song that played over the speakers in the bathroom just moments ago, dwelling on every part of his touch, every little brush, every little graze of his lips over yours between kisses. How could something so wrong feel so right? You shut your eyes to stop the spinning- you didn’t even drink that much. You were drunk and you just wanted to kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. And touch him and kiss him and probably kiss him again.

Little sparks of thought began to rise from the heat of your body. Ideas, wantings…. And you could see him reproaching the car through the windshield. So you sat up and tousled your hair.

my asks are always open!!! trying to post more.

part one/part two/ part three

#challengers #patrick zweig #tinytennisskirt #challengers x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #josh o'connor #challengers smut #challengers movie #patrick zweig x you #challengers masterlist #good girl socialite! reader x patrick zweig #lana del rey #behindcloseddoors tts

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heartavenue · 2 months ago

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✎ᝰ. Things That I Scripted Into My Better Cr That Makes Sense, Part 2!

Okay so nobody asked for this but I saw how well the first one did (and because I have more things that I scripted) I decided it was time for another one! And thank you all for the love you gave the first part!

1. Game Room

I did this because my brothers LOVE video games so I thought it would be nice for them to have a room dedicated to it! And plus...I like playing games too so it's a win-win!

2. No Light Pollution

Can you imagine looking up into the sky and seeing galaxies upon galaxies?! I really just want to see the nighttime sky, but really see it! I want to see every wonder the universe has to offer!

3. Local Farm (yes I know I said this in my last part but I have more to say!)

Okay again I'm a country girl, and I will forever be one! Some Love Lore for you I visited a farm once when I was little and I LOVED IT! I forgot to mention this in the last part but I WANNA RIDE HORSES! And feed the baby goats! And to think getting fresh dairy and produce from the farm YES YES YES!

4. Hoedowns/Rodeos

Linedances, country music, cowboy boots, southern eating, and daisy dukes what more can I say?

5. Women can get other women pregnant

Yes I know that this is technically true in this reality but the process is very long and very expensive so unfortunately it is not very affordable/accessible to wlw couples. Let sapphics get other sapphics pregnant!!!!!!!!!!

6. Hidden/Secret Place Just For My S/o and I

Okay, this by far is one of my favorite things ever!

I scripted that it's kind of like The Chronicles of Narnia type situation! Basically there is this weeping willow (one of my favorite trees) and when you go through it there is a enchanted garden waiting for you! There's a flower field, a water fall, fairies, and more! I also scripted that the water has the power to take away an worries/fears basically any negative emotion. And there is a talking tree there where you can vent.

7. Magic Is Real

But like not too much magic. I mean like pixie dust, and the magic that's in a Disney movie. Which leads me into my next thing...

8. Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, etc are Real

Imagine you're a kid and you're baking cookies with your mom on Christmas Eve, that would hit so HARD!

Making reindeer food, the Santa tracer being REAL! Making a list, I mean come on! And imagine you're a little kid and your tooth fall and way up to pixie dust all over your pillows, just beautiful!

9. Plants Can Understand You

Okay call me crazy but I think they already do? You know the rice experiment? (If you don't just type in rice experiment!) A part of me believes that plants are conscious so I put this in my script just to make it definitive. I mean I talk to my plants all the time (it is good for them yk because of photosynthesis and all) but I think it would be need to actually know that they understand me. So speak kindly to your pets.

10. More holidays, "national xyz day"

Who doesn't love holidays? I mean come on so why not script more. Now I do not know exactly what I will script here, as of current I'm thinking holidays to celebrate the seasonal solstices, the moon, nature things like that! As for the "national xyz day" think of pi day! Or national sibling day! I think it would be fun to recognize these type days!

11. Lucky Syndrome

Maybe you find a $10 bill on the floor, or you get out of class early, or maybe someone pays for your meal. Just little things to make your life easier

#things to script #shiftblr #desired reality #reality shifting #shifting realities

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starlightsuffered · 2 months ago

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Call Me

A/N - this is an old fic I decided to rework since I have no ideas for Bob Dylan fics but you guys seem to really want them

Call Me

Info - banter, minor embarrassment, modern au, famous reader, fluff

Your music career was taking off like a jet plane. You were creeping up the charts. People were shocked that a virtual nobody was able to release hits with little to no presence beforehand. Suddenly, you were being asked on shows like Ellen, the Late Show with Seth Myers, and others you'd always dreamed of being invited to. You were beyond excited that everything was going so well.

Right now you were preparing for the Late Late Show. You were looking forward to it immensely. A little while later you were on a soft chair, laughing with James.

"So y/n, you are a self-proclaimed 'music ho', so what kind of music do you like?" James asked jovially.

"Well, I don't know, I can appreciate a lot of different genres," you said.

"Oh, that's a boring answer," James joked. Everyone laughed, including me.

"Okay, I'll help you out," James smiled. "What did you listen to on the way here?" He asked.

"I listened to Bob Dylan ," you admitted with a grin.

"Ohhhhh, good ole BD," James smiled knowingly. "So you're a Bobcat then? Or just a normal, chill, fan?"

"Definitely a Bobcat," you answered quickly. It wasn't a lie, your room at home still was plaster with posters of him, Your personal Tumblr followed hundreds of Dylan blogs. You had all hid albums, and he was by far your most listened to artist in your iTunes library.

"I see." You could see a mischievous twinkle in James's eyes. You knew some more jokes were coming that might make your cheeks turn pink.

"You know I'm very good friends with him,”James informed me.

"Oh I know," you laughed. "I love when he comes on this show, it's always hilarious."

"Well thank you," James said, pressing a hand to his heart with mock bashfulness.

"I bet you didn't know that he’s thinking of adding me to the band," James said with a charming smile.

"Um," you laughed. "I'm pretty sure Bob said that wasn't a possibility," I said giving him an equally charming grin.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" The crowd hooted.

"Well, Bob may have said that with his words, but his eyes say 'yes James, please come save us. We need your creative input and killer high notes."

"Of course," you nodded with a giggle.

"Well, it seems like you like him a lot, and you know him pretty well. Have you ever met Bob?" James asked.

"No, but it is a dream of mine, if I'm being completely honest," you told James.

"Well, I could call him up," before James could even finish his offer the crowd went mad, clapping and screaming with excitement.

"Yeah!" James addressed the crowd happily. "Yeah, I could call him up and set you up together," James said, and the crowd was hooting again.

"Oh that would be mortifying!" You claimed. The idea was intriguing though.

"Oh come on," James saw right through your facade. "You're choosing the easy answer again." You stayed quiet, just smiling at James as the crowd chanted at you to let him.

"Come on," James urged cheerfully.

"I couldn’t ask you to bother him, he’s got enough on his plate.”

"Aw look your eyes went all soft, you really like him!" James was enjoying this immensely. You still felt a bit embarrassed, as if a teacher was talking to you about your crush in front of the class.

"I'm pretty sure he's single now too," James looked around for someone to answer him.

"Yeah, he is," you answered without thinking.

"Well of course you'd know ay," James winked. "Probably biding your time, ready to pounce."

"Oh no," you laughed. "I don't think he'd like me."

"Aw don't be so hard on yourself," James said kindly. "You're a great girl, Bobby would be lucky to have you. Plus you're both very funny."

"Well, thank you," you said graciously.

"Alright, I think that's about all the time that we have. Buy y/n's new single on iTunes, it's a banger! And Bob, if you're watching, y/n is a great girl, and she definitely wants your number."

After that ordeal, you worried that the fans would hate you. Being one yourself, you'd seen first hand how vicious they could get. There were definitely some who were pissed, but a lot of them were saying how they wanted to live vicariously through you. A portion of them even shipped you with Bob, which made you pretty happy.

About a week after that interview, you woke up to thousands of mentions about Bob. Apparently, the band had been on Late Late, and James had talked about you! With shaking fingers you pressed play on the link dozens of people had sent.

"So, were you guys able to catch the show last week?" James was smirking.

"Yeah, actually we were," Bob had a grin on his face, and you imagined he probably knew where this was going.

"Well we had y/n on here, and she said she's a big fan of you," the crowd clapped when they heard your name.

"Yeah, we did manage to see that," Bob said. "And I mean even though she's new and everything, her style is amazing, and it's just awesome to know she was a fan.

"So you like her music then?" James asked.

"I was listening to her album on the way here," Bob said. "Absolutely wonderful, unique sound, good lyrics, it's kinda just, the whole package you know?"

"That's funny because last week she said she was listening to you on the way here," James explained, emphasizing his point with gestures.

"Yeah, well, that's why I did it," Bob said. "I wanted her to know we appreciate her kind words," Bob said then turned in his seat to look at the camera. "So y/n, if you're watching, I love your album, and thanks for supporting us," He gave a bright grin and a thumbs up, and your heart practically melted away.

Bob gave an adorable, tight mouthed smirk to James. The one he used when he knew people were talking about him.

"She had plenty to say about you."

The crowd cheered. He gave a winning smile. James waited patiently for the yells to quiet down so he could pester his interviewee some more.

"So Bob, what do you have to say about what romantic things y/n said?" James asked.

"Well, I love her album. I think she has a really pure voice, very easy on the ears. The production is very good as well. I know I'm rambling a bit here but as someone who often writes lyrics, I'm impressed she writes all her own lyrics because they're quite good."

James sat there staring at Bob with a knowing smile on his face. The crowd tittered with laughter. Bob gave him a smirk back. James began shaking his head.

"Wow, what do you get taught in media training school?" He asked and the crowd laughed more. "I mean that was a lovely response, but not to the question I asked. Them you almost got away with it, you almost distracted me, but I'm on to you."

Bob was blushing a bit though he was trying to hide it. The crowd was roaring with laughter. Your heartbeat was quickening. If you knew James, he'd get a proper answer out of him if it took all night. This kind of gossip and drama was popular, he would want his show to be the one that announced Bob Dylan’s response to a lovesick up and comer.

"All right you got me," Bob admitted.

"Why don't you want to say what you think?" James asked.

"Well, it's kinda embarrassing innit?" Bob quipped. "It's like if your mom asks you if you like a girl at a family dinner or something," he said readjusting the way he sat nervously.

"Come on, she was embarrassed too, but she did it," James urged. Bob just grinned some more. After a bit, it seemed he was finally ready to answer.

"Well, she seems very lovely. She's always polite, and she's quite funny," Bob said kindly. Your heart had practically stopped beating. Could it really be you he was talking about? "And obviously she's very pretty, but I mean, I've never met her so.... but you never know."

"But you wouldn't be opposed to meeting her?" James asked.

"'Course not," Bob smiled. "I think I'd enjoy it, I think we're both going to a red carpet event next week. Maybe I'll be able to catch her there."

"Well," James laughed. "If I'm there I'll make sure of it!"

The clip ended. James had captioned it "can these two just meet already" with the hashtag of your couple name that the fans had created. You felt like you were living someone else's life. Bob had been so sweet as always, and you were so flattered by his words. You hoped you'd be able to finally meet him and the band on the red carpet.

It was true. Both of you would be attending a red carpet event tomorrow. You weren't very vain, but since you could be seeing your favorite artist, you got pretty dressed up.

On the carpet you were signing things, shaking hands, and taking pictures as fast as you could. You glanced over to see Bob Dylan a little ahead of you, doing the same. You tried not to let him distract you and continued to talk to the fans.

Suddenly, a bunch of people started pointing and motioning you to look at something. You turned to see Bob breaking away from the crowd. He was coming over to you! You couldn't move, you felt like your body was on fire. He finally reached you and stuck out a hand.

"Hi," he said in his angelic voice. "I'm Bobby."

You let a wide smile take over your face. Your chest was swelling with happiness. You shook his hand back.

"Seems like a lot of people want us to meet," he laughed.

"Well, I've wanted to meet you for a while," you said, and then cringed inwardly. "Sorry if that sounds weird."

"No, I don't mind," Bob grinned. You and him discussed a few more things until someone said the two of you needed to move along.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," Bob said sweetly. He leaned in and slipped a piece of paper into your hand. He then leaned in a little further and kissed your cheek. He winked as he moved on and went back to join the band.

You smiled and waved as he left. You moved on as well to let more people through. You glanced down at the paper in your hand. In Bob’s familiar handwriting it said, "call me xx," and listed his number. You couldn't help smiling the rest of the night.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker @therealbeabodoobee

#reader insert #x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee fluff #timothée chalamet fluff #call me #bob dylan #Timothée Chalamet Bob Dylan #modern au #Bob Dylan x reader #a complete unknown

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tortillamastersblog · 30 days ago

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Just A Nobody - Part 6 | Mabel

Pairing: Mabel x reader

Warnings: mentions of substance abuse and addiction, and swearing

Summary: You never wanted to return to New Bedford, but when your dad relapses, you’re forced to go back for the summer and work to earn some money to pay for his rehab.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

ON HOLD

_______________________________________________

I didn’t actually end up going home after all. I drove there, yes, but then I thought about what would be waiting for me when I went inside – the mess I haven’t cleaned up yet and my dad, probably hungover as hell and moody– and I decided to go straight to the café instead.

I’m just finishing up my shift, sweeping the floor while the late afternoon sun streams in through the windows, bathing the whole place in a golden glow. Karen’s somewhere in the back, going through inventory.

She didn’t comment on what happened or why I’m back earlier than planned, but she did eye me with some confusion when she noticed my clothes were still a little damp from when Mabel pulled me into the shower fully dressed. Just like she didn’t mention me coming home early though, she didn’t mention that either. She just gently told me what needed to be done, and that was that.

I’ve got to be honest, I feel kind of disgusting still wearing the same clothes from last night, and I’m looking forward to finally showering, but the thought of my dad waiting at home, and the mess that’s still there, makes me sweep and clean a little slower than I could be.

After a few more minutes, there’s literally nothing left to clean, so I put the broom away and head into the back to tell Karen I’m leaving.

She looks up from her clipboard, standing next to a shelf full of flour and sugar and smiles kindly.

“It’s about time. I told you you could’ve left three hours ago,” she scolds playfully, which just makes me smile tiredly.

“I know, but I needed the distraction,” I admit, and her smile fades just a little.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks gently.

I shake my head. I already told Mabel and it drained me, so no, I don’t want to talk about it again, especially not right before going home where I’ll have to face the music.

“Okay then,” she says, accepting my answer without pushing. “Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

I nod, and she squeezes my forearm for a second before going back to her clipboard. I turn and leave after untying my apron and hanging it up on the back of the door.

The air outside smells like it always does, salty and a little fishy because of the docks nearby, and I sigh, climbing into my dad’s truck and starting the drive home.

I keep thinking about the way Mabel comforted me last night. How I actually managed to open up to her, even though we barely know each other. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and the weirdest part is… I trust her. It’s not logical. It’s not earned. But it’s there, sitting warm and heavy in my chest, and I’m holding onto it because she’s felt more like home in the past twenty-four hours than anyone else has in years.

I know I have Dan and Karen, and I’m grateful for them. I really am, but I don’t tell them everything. They’ve got their own lives, their own worries, and they know my dad. I’ve seen the way their expressions change when I bring him up, and I don’t want to make it worse. With Mabel, it’s different. With her, it feels like I don’t have to explain myself. Like she’s got her own demons too, and maybe we don’t have to fight ours alone if we’re both already carrying them.

When I pull into the driveway and step out of the truck, I stretch and run a hand through my hair, dragging my feet up to the door. I check my phone out of habit. A text from Charlie—nothing new about the site. I ignore it and pocket my phone before going inside.

The second I walk in, the smell of stale beer and something bitter hits me. I sigh and drop my bag by the door.

“Dad?”

No answer. Just the hum of the fridge and the low buzz of the lights.

“Dad? I’m home.”

Still nothing.

I stand there for a second, hoping I’ll hear a groan or movement, but the apartment stays quiet. He’s probably still at the bar or crashed somewhere. I swallow the frustration and toe off my shoes. There’s no time to spiral over it right now. I’ll shower, start my laundry, put away my stuff from the boat, and maybe go look for him later.

I pick up my bag and round the corner.

And then I see him.

“Dad?”

He’s on the kitchen floor.

The bag slips from my hand and thuds on the floor as I drop to my knees.

“Dad!” My voice breaks as I reach for him, rolling him onto his back, and I feel my stomach twist.

His shirt is soaked. There’s vomit on the floor and in his beard. He’s cold to the touch and his lips are tinged with blue, his breathing shallow and uneven.

“Dad, come on.” I tap his cheek. Once, twice. Nothing.

My hands are shaking as I fumble for my phone, already dialing 911. My voice stumbles through the words as I cradle his head in my lap, trying not to panic.

The woman on the line talks me through it. I check his mouth, make sure there’s no blockage, then turn him on his side, trying to keep him steady while watching his chest rise and fall. She tells me to be ready to do compressions if his breathing stops which makes my heart drop.

Luckily I don’t have to do anything but watch him breathe though because five minutes later, the paramedics are there. I open the door with numb hands, then step back and let them in. They move fast, efficiently, checking vitals, fitting the oxygen mask, and asking me when I last saw him.

I tell them I wasn’t home last night which makes them nod and keep working, and before I know it, they’re loading him onto a stretcher.

One of them asks if I want to ride with them. I normally wouldn’t, but my legs feel like jelly and my head’s still spinning, so I just nod and follow.

In the ambulance, I sit with my hands clenched together, watching the paramedic check my dad’s pulse, and watching the rise and fall of his chest. They stick defibrillator pads to him, just in case which makes me look away. There’s a lump growing in my throat and it burns.

This is my fault.

If I’d come home last night instead of staying at Mabel’s… If I hadn’t let myself feel something good for once…Maybe I would’ve found him sooner. Maybe I could’ve stopped this.

But I didn’t.

And now I’m sitting here, watching the only parent I have left get smaller and smaller beneath all the wires and tubes and machines. I can’t turn back time. I can’t fix it. I just have to sit here and watch and pray, even though I don’t believe in God.

I keep thinking about the last things I said to him. How he asked me to watch Breaking Bad and I blew him off. How we argued about going back out to sea. What if that’s it? What if those were our last moments?

He’ll think I hated him, but I didn’t. I never did and I still don’t.

I hate the drinking, I hate what it’s done to him, I hate that I’ve had to be the adult since I was fifteen, and I hate the way it’s broken both of us, but I love him. Even now. Even when it hurts more than it heals.

A hand on my shoulder makes me shoot up in my seat, and my eyes fly open.

"I'm sorry," a nurse says, and I relax when I remember I'm in the waiting room of the hospital. It's been about three hours since I got here, and I must have fallen asleep while I waited for the doctors and nurses to take care of my dad. They immediately rushed him to the ICU, and I was actually going to follow them, but then the same nurse that just woke me stopped me with a gentle smile and told me I couldn't go after them.

"It's okay," I croak, running a hand down my face in an attempt to wake myself up. "How's my dad?"

I feel absolutely filthy in my clothes, and I'm tired and overcome with guilt, but all of that is overshadowed by the worry I have for him.

The young nurse takes a seat next to me and lowers his voice so the elderly woman across from us doesn’t overhear, even though she seems to be in her own world of worry right now. Maybe she’s here for her husband, who's got God knows what that made her come to the hospital a little past eleven.

"We've sedated and intubated him because his breathing wasn't strong enough," he says, and my eyes briefly drop to the keychain around his neck, where his ID is clipped, revealing that his name is Henry. "He's stable for now," he goes on, "and we've already run an MRI to rule out brain swelling, but they're still keeping a close watch on him in the ICU. You can see him soon, but he won't be awake for a while."

"Okay, thank you," I say, sinking back into the chair with a shaky exhale.

Henry sends me another soft, gentle smile before leaving, but I don't reciprocate it. Not because he isn’t kind or I think they’re not doing enough, but because I literally just can’t.

This morning, I felt light for the first time since coming back to New Bedford. Talking to Mabel, just having the space to be me for once, felt like a breath of fresh air. I was going through our date plans for tomorrow all day during my shift at the café, but then reality had to slap me in the face once again and make me feel nauseating guilt for spending the night at Mabel’s in the first place instead of being home when my dad got back so I could have called for help earlier.

I go to close my eyes again, to once again wallow in self-pity and grief, when my phone pings. It's another text from Charlie, but unlike his earlier one when he said there was no news about the site, he’s now texted that a court date is being set for Tuesday and that Tom is going to be the only one who goes in. And then, right after, he texts again, asking if I've been doing okay and if I want to come to his parents' house sometime over the weekend for dinner, and that I can even bring Mabel if I want to, as if we're some kind of couple.

I stare at it in disbelief for a moment, anger flashing through me at him even suggesting that, as if everything didn't just turn to shit. But then I feel that anger falter as quickly as it appeared because he doesn’t know what's happening and he's just trying to reach out.

I don’t have the time to hang out though, because I have to work to get ahead on the money I might have to chip in to get the site back. And now, also because of the hospital bills that are definitely going to pile up along with all the other bills at home.

I pocket my phone without answering and watch the woman opposite me again, getting news from a different nurse that seems to be good because she starts crying and smiling before being led away, leaving me alone in the waiting area while doctors and nurses bustle around.

I shut the door behind me with a soft click and lean back against it with my eyes closed. It's a little past six in the morning, and all I want to do is sink to the floor and cry, or sleep, or both. But I can't. I can't because I have to shower and go to work. A little after Henry left, he came back and took me to see my dad, and when I saw him unconscious, intubated, and looking like a literal ghost, I almost collapsed. I sat with him for hours, telling him about what happened with the site and how Tom's going to have to go to court over it. I even admitted to him that I knew going out fishing wasn't the smartest move and that I was sorry we fought, even though I knew he probably wouldn't remember any of what I said when he woke up. If he wakes up...

I flinch at the thought but push myself off the door to shower and finally get out of my clothes. The doctors said I should go home to get some rest when they found me half asleep next to my dad hours after Henry brought me to him, and that they'd call me if things changed with him, so I agreed and left. But not to sleep. No, it's like I said, I have to work. Not just because of the money, but because of the distraction it offers.

I stumble to the bathroom, finally strip off all my clothes, and take a quick shower before getting dressed again in some jeans and a simple shirt, not forgetting to put on my glasses again because I can’t handle putting in contacts right now. A quick look in the mirror makes me cringe at the dark circles under my eyes and the exhaustion written all over my face, so I quickly look away again and pull out my phone to shoot Charlie a quick text that I don't have time to see him this weekend.

Then I clean the kitchen and living room, gagging at the smell of my dad’s vomit and the moldy takeout boxes on the coffee table before heading out of the apartment.

I take my dad’s truck to the café and head inside. Karen and Jules, one of my coworkers, are already there. Karen vanishes into the back right as I get inside, while Jules just shoots me an amused look and raises an eyebrow.

"Rough night?" she chuckles, but I don’t reciprocate it. I just mumble, "Yeah, something like that," and brush past her to get my apron from the back.

Karen is just taking a batch of cookies out of the oven and smiles at me over her shoulder, but as soon as her eyes settle on me, her smile fades, clocking that something is wrong instantly.

"What is it?" she asks quietly, putting the cookies down and approaching me, lifting her hands to cup my face. But I turn away before she can and put on my apron, whispering, "I can’t, Karen. Not right now..."

"Y/N—"

I just shake my head and head back to the front, feeling my throat burn with unshed tears. I can’t afford to break down right now.

When I get out front, Jules is just finishing arranging the pastry display case. She gives me another smile, but this time it’s less teasing, and simply hands me a coffee and a blueberry muffin before I can say anything.

I thank her quietly and sip on my coffee, also taking one bite of the still-warm muffin before moving around the counter to take the chairs off the tables.

The café is set to open in a few minutes and there’s still a lot to do, so once I’m done with the chairs, I wordlessly help Jules set up the coffee while Karen pops her head in from the back every couple of minutes with a concerned look on her face. Every time her eyes meet mine, I quickly look away, and then the cafe opens and the morning rush begins.

"Y/N?"

I’m in the back, grabbing a box of new to-go cups from the top shelf, trying not to knock anything else down, when Karen sticks her head in.

"Yes?" I ask, finally getting the box down and turning around. It's almost half past nine now, and the morning rush is finally over, which has given me the opportunity to slip into the back for a breather under the guise of getting the cups.

For a moment, I'm worried Karen is going to want to talk again, but then she just says, "There's someone out here asking for you."

I shift the box in my arms and raise my eyebrows. "Who?"

Karen shrugs, and even though I can still see the worry in her eyes, there's a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I don't know her name, but it's that girl I saw you talking to during your shift the other morning."

Mabel.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. Is it okay if I take a little break?" I ask quietly, setting the box down, and Karen just nods and pats me on the shoulder on my way past.

I’ve honestly not thought about Mabel or our date later tonight ever since I saw my dad in his hospital bed, but now that I know she's here and she asked for me, I can't help but feel a little nervous because everything is just getting to be too much. I don't know if I can go on that date with her when I should be working, or when I know my dad is in the hospital, fighting for his life.

Don't get me wrong, I like Mabel. Like, really like Mabel. It actually kind of scares me. But right now, I don’t know if I can be there for her the way she expects me to be.

I already bombarded her with all my drama and trauma, and now this? My dad in the hospital because he literally almost drank himself to an early grave—still might? She deserves so much better.

I wipe my suddenly clammy hands on my apron and head back into the front of the café, where I instantly spot Mabel sitting in her usual seat by the window with her back turned to me.

Jules sees me stop in my tracks for a moment and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, but I just ignore it and hesitantly make my way over to her.

"Hey, you." I slowly slide into the seat in front of her, feeling my heart flutter when she looks up and a smile instantly blooms on her face.

"Hi!" She closes the notebook she was scribbling in and places her hands on top of it. "Busy morning?"

"Mhmm." I hum and try to smile, but it falls flat, and just like Karen, Mabel clocks it instantly. Her smile falters and a crease forms between her eyebrows, but she doesn’t ask about it. Not yet. Instead, she takes a moment before asking, "So, you ready for our date later or are you getting cold feet?"

I know she probably means it as a joke to lighten the mood, but it strikes the exact nerve I was worried about, and I actually cringe, which makes her drop her apparent resolve not to pry.

"What is it?" she asks.

I swallow thickly and wring my hands in my lap. "I actually have to work at the shop this afternoon—pick up an extra shift."

Mabel blinks, surprised, and hurt flashes across her face as she sits up a little straighter, probably thinking I changed my mind because of something she did. So I’m quick to go on before she can overthink anything.

"It’s not because of you, I swear. It’s just..." I avert my eyes. "My dad..." My throat closes and I swallow harshly again, but before I can go on, Mabel asks, "Your dad? Is he okay?"

I shake my head, still keeping my eyes trained on the table. "Not really, no. He’s—he’s at the hospital. I found him passed out in his own pool of vomit last night when I got home from work, and..." Tears spring to my eyes and I blink rapidly to get rid of them. "They had to sedate and intubate him."

"Fuck..." I look up, glassy-eyed, to see Mabel staring at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah... fuck," I agree quietly, quickly wiping at my cheek when a single tear rolls down. "I have to pick up extra shifts in the next couple of days to cover his hospital bills. And then there’s this whole thing with Charlie and Tom and the others and the site and... and—"

"Hey." Mabel takes one of her hands off her notebook and slips it under the small table to grab one of mine. "It's okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it."

I press my lips into a thin line and nod, feeling my eyes well with fresh tears. I'm just so glad the tables around us are unoccupied, and both Karen and Jules are too busy at the counter to notice my distress.

"I'm sorry."

"No." Mabel shakes her head, her dark eyes filled with so much understanding and compassion it tugs at my heart. "Don't apologize. It's okay. We'll just reschedule, yeah?"

Still feeling like I might just be too much for her but clinging onto this one good thing in my life nonetheless, I mumble a quiet, "Yes please. Thank you for understanding."

"Of course." Mabel squeezes my hand before letting go and looking around to make sure no one is watching, then cups my face and uses her thumb to swipe a tear off my cheek. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes before opening them again and gently taking her hands off my face.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to get back to work," I say quietly, rubbing my thumbs over her knuckles.

She hums and nods, squeezing my hands. "It’s okay."

I exhale shakily and squeeze back before letting go and getting back to my feet. I’m about to walk away when Mabel tugs on the back of my shirt, making me stop in my tracks.

She grabs the front of my apron and pulls me down, pecking my lips and taking me by surprise before sending me off with, "You know where to find me if you wanna talk or just get away from everything for a while."

It takes me by surprise, even though she’s been this soft with me before. But we’re in public right now, and I wasn’t expecting this kind of display of affection when she’s usually more sarcastic and aloof. It also makes me realize that even though we haven’t known each other that long, I’m already in too deep to just freeze her out now because I think she deserves something better.

So I just nod and thank her quietly before getting back to work.

_______________________________________________

Part 6 is finally done! I'm sorry it took so long to write. I've just been low on inspiration for this story lately.

Anyway, I hope you liked it <3

Tag list: @idontliketoread2137

#x reader #mabel x reader #mabel black label #finestkind #mabel finestkind

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darkness-follows · 11 months ago

Text

NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS IDK WHY IM WRITING IT

Abuse of power

Shane x Female Reader oneshot

Tw: Shane is a piece of shit, if you watched the Shield or just some of it you'll know. Abusing his Power as a cop. Rough Sex. Rough Oral.

Dub Con kinda stuff guys.

Slapping each other around a bit...Beware. Mention of a bloody kiss. Creampie (Shanes favorite item on the menu)

And minors do not read please.

⚠️⚠️ ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 ⚠️⚠️

Interview time with one of Shanes favorite P.I's.

"I don't know okay.. I swear I didn't hear anything" you sigh, Shane has you pressed between him and his station car, he's always been like that, since you met him, pushy and grabby and overall way too much in your space. He might have squeezed your ass a few times or your breasts... and yeah there was that one time where he made you give him a blow job in the back of his private truck. But other than that? He never took it to actual Sex. And he might be a bit off and uncomfortable but he's never been too rough with you.

He doesn't slap you around or degrade you too much. Sometimes you even think he really likes talking to you.

"Give me something, anything Baby, you don't want me to bust you for hookin' now do you?" He teases.

"I'm not a fucking hooker?!" You try to get away from him but no way, no chance.

"Good luck tryin' to proof that to the Departement darlin' " The evil tease in his voice, the smirk on his face. He makes you sick and at the same time... blowing him wasn't the worst thing you've ever done.

"I really don't have anything Shane! I swear, not a peep at the moment. Not between me and my girls or the idiots we hook up with, alright, I can't help you on this one! Now...let me go" You try to squeeze past him again but he doesn't let you. His hands grab your hips, you can feel his fingers digging into your bones.

"If I find out your lying to me..." Shane warns. He leans in closer, you can feel his breath against your cheek. "I'm going to shove my 9 inches into every fucking hole you got" He pushes you away almost so hard that you go stumbling. But you manage to catch yourself in time. Watching him get in the car and drive off.

Fuck.

You hope that wasn't a real threat because..you just lied to him.

❤️‍🔥

"SHIT" You try to push the door shut again but no chance, Shane already has his boot and then the rest of his leg in the door. He's not alone either, feeling two strong arms wrap around you from behind. "You lied to me Angel! Im so..- heartbroken! You didn't tell me that TJ came to your fucking house to what..? Get a quickie in and hide his god damn coke?" He asks.

"Really hoping he didn't shove it up your ass but I might have to do a little search just to be sure" He grabs your face to force you to look at him.

"No...no- please I swear it wasn't like that. He didn't hide anything! I promise...Shane.. I promise. I tell you where, I tell you" You beg and thank god he nods, the arms release you, fuck, Vic.

"I got this." Shane tells him and you watch Vic slowly leave. That's either good or really bad.

"So? He fucked you and stashed his shit somewhere. Where?" He huffs.

"He didn't fuck me..." You groan. "He forced me to let him in, cried like a little bitch and told me he put the damn powder into a flour jar in the youth Center...-" You sigh. Thank god that Center is on summer break. "Oh, really? Cause he told me a different Story!" Shit. He found TJ before coming here. "What's his Version?" You ask when he looks around your place, not exactly treating your things kindly.

"His story was that he hid it here after he fucked you from behind sweetie, now I don't care which tale is true here. I just gotta know where the blow is at" He points out. After knocking some of your stuff over he walks back towards you, taking a fistful of your hair and throwing you onto your knees.

"THE YOUTH CENTER! Shane I swear! Flour Box in the kitchen cabinet." You look up at him with pleading eyes. Watching him make a phone call and moments later you hear a car leaving your driveway.

"They are going to check that out but darlin' if that is another lie...." he tugs on your hair as a warning. Sitting down on your couch with a loud sigh, he lets go of your hair to light up a cigarette. "Why did you lie, your blowing this whole god damn thing for me, you ain't gonna get any more paychecks i hope you fucking know that" He huffs.

"Because he was crying...like a Baby....I felt bad but I told him there is no way in hell he's gonna leave this shit here..So he took it over there. That's all there is to it, I didn't know you guys cared so damn much for a brick of coke" You frown. "Hey!" His foot kicks into your side "You got no idea what this is about so shut it" He uses your coffee mug as ashtray at least. This whole waiting and sitting around, him on your couch and you on the floor thing is more than nervewrecking. What if TJ moved it and it's not there? Would he...- would Shane kill you?

When he gets a call you prey a little, not being religous at all, but it can't hurt right?

When he gets off the phone you shake...hands trembling, looking up at him with big eyes. "You got lucky this time, Vic found it." Shane mumbles.

Oh thank fucking god.

"That doesn't mean your off the hook, you lied to me." Shane reminds, you watch him stand up again, grabbing a hold of your shirt and then he draws back his right arm, turns his hand into a fist.

"Please don't..- don't hurt me. I'm sorry, god so so sorry!" You claw at his jeans. "Shane. Let me Show you how sorry, please." You open his belt with a nervous smile, dragging down his zipper. He's simple like that, it will work.

His arm lowers itself and in a matter of seconds he's shoving his cock into your mouth, down your throat. Making you Violently choke on it, sob around it, gag on it, all the things you know he likes. It's better than a beating, and even though you hate his fucking guts you can't help but to moan around him. Show him how good you can be, useful, that you suck cock a lot better without a busted lip.

Shane slowly breaks it off to sit down on the couch, watching you follow and lift your arms onto his lap before your head leans back down.

He is simple like that. Which is great for you, works in your favor. Might mean you will get out of this one smoothly. He tugs on your hair but gently this time, hearing a deep rumble and moan coming out of him turns you on. Oh he's been desperate for this, he didn't get off in a while. You can tell.

But to Shane a blowjob won't be enough, not tonight. He lets you treat his dick like a candy cane for a little while longer before he grabs your head with both hand, lifting it off of his hard and aching actual 9 inch cock. You lick your lips and wipe your mouth when you look up at him, he loves this shit.

"He really didn't screw you? TJ.." He asks.

You wonder why he's so strangely curious about it. But when his hand holds your chin and his thumb wipes softly over your lips you smile genuinely up at him.

"No, fuck no, crying piece of shit like that? Im not that desperate." You huff. Licking along his cock from the base to his tip and watching him throw his head back. "Maybe he said it cause he knew it would get to you?" You suggest.

"Get to me? Why would that get to me? I don't give a shit about you or who you spread your god damn legs for" Shane huffs, he seems really annoyed at that. Botherd. So much so that he shoves you off, pulling his pants back on. Why is he always so weird?

"So the idea of him bending me over and fucking me in the ass doesn't bother you?" You ask curiously. He scoffs at you, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket. "No" He huffs loudly.

He's lying.

It totally does bother him. Fuck, but he's been so...ugh. That can't be how he behaves around a woman he actually likes right?

"Are you...jealous?" You get up, a teasing look on your face. "You totally are! But that would mean that you like me and- there is no way because you treat me like dogshit" You point out.

He moves to the door but his hand stays on the handle, not twisting it. You can see how he's breathing faster, the anger on his face, how he seems as if he's aruging mentally with himself right now.

"I'm not, and your right, there is no way. You mean nothin' to me darlin' nothin' . But..- you are into that, you love it when I treat you like that, when I press myself against you, when I grab at you, when I pull your hair and throw you around like some 20$ whore from the street corner." He points out. Hanging his jacket at the door before he takes a step towards you again.

"The more you squirm against me, the stronger that urge in you gets to spit in my face or clock me one the harder you make me baby. That's what you know, that's why you do it" Shane does it again, pushing you into the wall and pressing himself against you.

"Your into women spitting on you?" You question with a laugh. Then the back of his hand connects with your face, not hard enough to leave a bruise but hard enough to make you try and squirm away from him again. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't like that" He huffs back.

And then you spit into his face.

You watch him slowly wipe it off with the back of his hand, and then his tongue licks up your spit from his hand. Fucking god.

Whoever breaks first now admits to what the other accused them of. If he kisses you he's gonna admit that he actually likes you, if you kiss him first you admit that you like being smacked around a little.

Shane kisses you first.

Which is surprising considering you had his dick in your mouth not too long ago. The way he's kissing is so demanding, needy, he wants to possess all of you, your mouth, your body, every fucking inch of you. You push yourself harder against him, moaning softly into his mouth when your tongues press roughly into each other.

When the air thins in your lungs you pull back slowly, searching his eyes. "Jesus Shane, really?" You question. He looks guilty, he looks broken that he admitted to liking you. "Vic wanted me to rough you up, not a whole lot, just enough to make you understand that you can't lie to me, to us." He frowns. "He's gonna be so pissed when he finds out I screwed you instead.." He sighs deeply.

"What would that have done? Just because you are scared of someone doesn't mean you magically start yappin' the truth. It would have done nothing to me except for giving me a Black eye or a busted lip." Your hands stroke over his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"Your right and I'm sorry that I almost.. -" his hand touches your cheek. He almost did it. That's how much Power Vic and the guys have over him.

"But you didn't Shane, and that little backhanded smack-" You shrug. Feeling his hands tickle your sides "I knew it!" He laughs. "You totally liked it, I'm never wrong about my women" He says proudly.

"Can you just fuck me now, Shane? Mark what's yours? Cause I don't want..TJ or some other fucking gang banger. I want you, I want the Cop that had his hands all over me from the day we met" You kiss his jaw.

"Promised you 9 inches in every hole for that lie of yours didn't I? Let's get to work then" He grabs your pants and practically tears them down, doing the same with your panties but being as gross as he is... He takes them and brings them to his nose and mouth. Taking a deep breath.

"God darlin' how do you manage that scent, that's the greatest smelling pussy I've ever known" He comments, you take Note on how he stuffs your panties into the back pocket of his jeans..fuck.

"Remember that Collin guy? You wanted to know so so badly where he was, you pinned me to the car, I was squirming against you, you didn't leave off me and then you took a hold of my crotch. Pressed two fingers between my legs while I started talking about where he's hiding out at?" You huff.

"Mhm?" His hand moves there again, cupping you and pushing two fingers into you.

"Those are the same panties I wore that day. Washed of course but, I think it's a bit funny." You point out. "If I remember that correctly too.. you were beggin' me to stop, wanna repeat that?" He asks.

You bite your lip, rolling your hips slowly into his touch to simulate squirming against him again. "Shane stop...-" You try to squeeze your legs together but his big hand is in the way.

"STOP...- stop stop..- please I told you where he is, that's all I know" You mimic your voice from back then. The expression on his face is adoreable, he really is an asshole but god he's so fucking hot. The way he moves his fingers into you, so deep and steady.

His other hand lifts your leg up, he starts moving against you as if he's fucking you against the wall but it's still only his two fingers. "You better be honest with me from now on, I can only convince Vic that it was a mistake and you will never do it again one exact time. It won't work a second time..." and suddenly the play pretend turns into the Real Deal again.

"Don't care who's sobbing into your ear, you hear me?" His fingers move harder, rough now, Drilling into you at a not so comfortable angle.

"What's he gonna do if it happens again?" You ask with genuine fear on your face and his silence makes your stomach turn. "I vouch for you, for this one, I'd forgive you a second time, he wouldn't. I don't know how he would handle it. Bust you for hookin' somehow." He takes his hand away from your wet core. Licking his fingers with a loud 'pop' before he undoes his belt and zipper, dropping it all onto the floor.

"Turn around" He nods towards the wall.

"No" You huff, not after what he just said?! That Vic would throw you in jail for something you didn't do if you ever forget to tell the whole truth again?

He scoffs at you, hands grabbing your hips, turning you around and pressing you into the wall. "Shane! Shane don't! Im not done talking about this..." You squirm for Real this time. His ego is sickening.

"Well I am" He grobes your behind roughly, spreading your cheeks apart. When he lets go you can feel his tip at your hole. The wrong fucking hole. "No...no no! Shane! I'm serious this time, no. It's gonna hurt so bad, please don't" You hear him sigh loudly, and then he pushes into your soaked pussy. "FUCK" But a whole lot better than the other option.

The snaps of his hips are brutal, but god it's so good. You hate knowing that a piece of shit like him is so damn good at fucking, but most are, aren't they? You moan loud, hands trying to reach back to make his hips go a tiny bit slower but he simply grabs hold of both of your wrists. "God damn Baby, I should have done this so much sooner" He groans. His other hand smacks your cheeks roughly, spreading you open to watch his cock move in and almost out of you over and over.

"You don't ever fucking lie to me again or im gonna have you like this for a few friends of mine, they ain't gonna make it this good though" He huffs. And this time you really want to push him off, but he Hits the spot. He just does. His tip is thick and heated and you can feel it drag over a spot that just feels incredible deep inside of you. And with that speed? You knew he was fit but that's some Athlete kind of shit.

Your shoulder and face softly ache from being forced into the wall, you'd ask him to move it somewhere else but your pretty sure he doesn't give a shit about it.

"So good, so fucking good Shane" You moan a bit extra intense just for him, even though he really is doing a good job.

"Yeah I knew you'd like that." He grabs your hips with both hands thrusting so hard that you suddenly slam with your face first against the wall. You knew you'd end up with a busted lip somehow.

"Ow!" You groan, holding you chin not wanting to touch your lip.

Shane at least is nice enough to stop fucking you raw for a moment, he pulls out and turns you around, gentle hands holding your face. "Shit im sorry..." He seems like he does feel bad about it, but not for long. "Hold on, Hold that pose" He looks through his pants on the floor and takes out his flip phone. Snapping a pic of your face with his hand holding it. Getting a good shot of your busted lip.

"Sending that to Vic! So he thinks I taught you a lesson" He smirks wide.

"Your unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable Shane." You curse his Name, turning away from him.

"Hey im sorry, but it works doesn't it, I didn't see how close your face was to that edge there im really sorry" He turns your face to look at him. Kissing your busted lip gently, feeling his hard cock press against your hip.

You nod while he apologizes. Smiling up at him when he kisses it better. Only to smack him one back as hard as you can. You can see a look in his eyes, it's burning, you've never seen such a psycho look in someone's eyes before.

Before you know it he grabs you, lifts you and carries you to your bed. He throws you onto it, hovering above you before he forces his body between your spread legs. A hand wraps around your throat when he pushes inside of you again he picks up the exact same speed of his hips like before.

Your legs wrap around his waist and all you can do is moan, that's all he can do apparently too.

Your moans, your movements, everything is in perfect sync. His hand lets go of your throat to squeeze your breast, rubbing his thumb over your already hard nipple while he slams his fucking hips into yours. "Shane....Shane...stop!" You bite your lip with a smirk when he looks at you to confirm if you really meant it or if you were teasing again.

It's nice that he checked, you didn't really expect him to.

"Think you can just lie to me you stupid bitch huh? I fucking own you. You'd be a broke whore without me" He looks into your eyes and you can tell, for the first time, that he doesn't mean it. It's not how he really feels but it turns you on either way.

"Please...stop, please Shane" You make your voice Sound as desperate as possible and he fucking cums. He moans so loud that your shitty neighbours start banging against the wall. You can feel his cock throbbing and leaking his cum deep inside of you, shoving it in deeper with every thrust that still follows until you cum too. Your raw fucked core clenches around him while your whole body lifts off the bed with your hand and leg strenght only.

Hand in his hair roughly pulling until your done and your body falls back onto the mattress. His on top of yours.

"Shit.." You breathe out, feeling a drop of blood on your lip but before you can wipe it away he kisses it away. Licking his lips and kissing you deeply again.. a kiss tasting of your blood and he's almost ready to fucking go again. Christ.

Your breathing barely turned back to normal when his phone suddenly rings and he pulls himself out of you.

"Oh good fucking god darlin' wish you could see that, my favorite kinda pie" He chuckles, staring at the mess he made of you when he stumbles around to grab his phone. When he returns he keeps you from closing your legs with a hand. Pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder...moving between your legs. "Ya?" He's on the phone while his tongue drags over your soaked and cum leaking core.

He really is a piece of work.

Your so overstimulated but you don't know who he's on the phone with so you stay quiet.

Your hand strokes through his hair when your hips squirm once more because of Shane.

"Oh yeah she uh, she learned her lesson" Shane looks up at you, silently asking if you did.

You smirk wide and give him a thumbs up before his tongue rolls over your sensitive clit.

You could swear a finger of his is toying around with the mess he made while just casually chatting up Vic on the phone.

"Yeah I'll be there in 10" He mumbles.

But you pull roughly on his hair.

"15..Sorry" He tells Vic and you do it again.

"Imma be there in 30 alright? Gotta take care of something, okay, later" He hangs up and tosses the phone next to you.

"Got 15 more minutes out of this deal Baby, how do you wanna spend it?" He's going to need 5 minutes to get dressed and going and 10 for the ride back to the station.

"Well, 15 isn't enough to get me ready for anal so we might have to do that some other time. So, honestly?" You look down on him placing soft kisses onto your lower stomach.

"You can make it up to me now, how you've been treating me since we met." You tug on his hair again and you don't even have to tell him twice, he's so eager. "Yes Mam." He lowers his head.

And for the next 15 minutes you let him work his tongue, you make him clean up the mess he made inside of you. And give you as many extra orgasms as you desire...

You could get used to that, but god he's a dick!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

EYY Thank you for reading, I really really hope you liked it!!! (I did not spellcheck this. Apologies)

Tags: @justme12200 @its-in-the-woods @dichromaniac @coolranchdavidian @thotslayers

GIF Credit: https://www.tumblr.com/theshieldfx-blog?source=share

#walton goggins #the shield #shane vendrell x female reader #shane vendrell #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #boyd crowder #justified #lee russell #vice principals

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princessofgotham777 · 2 months ago

Text

Dating Jason Todd (Part Sixteen: Let Down)

Jason Todd x Reader

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey guysssss, posting two days in a row is WILD but I’m happy about it lol. I tried to make this as sad as possible so hope you enjoy lol. Backstory is coming soon I’ve just got a bit more planned for the rest of this one and who knows maybe I’ll keep adding to this as well as the backstory. Hope you enjoy!

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, Arkham Knight, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief, violence, panic attacks, PTSD

Part Sixteen: Let Down

“One day I am gonna grow wings

A chemical reaction

Hysterical and useless”- Let Down, Radiohead

After Jason woke up everything was a blur. The league, the feeling of his body healing yet being in excruciating pain, the realization nobody ever came to save him…not you or Dick or even Bruce. His memories were foggy, fragments came back to him. Nights his mom got high and he wasn’t sure she’d wake up, boosting cars and getting taken in by Batman, putting on the Robin suit and feeling invincible, and finally you…your smile, the way you blushed when Jason spoke, the way your hair swayed as you walked. He remembered the first time he ever saw you. It was at the manor. You were wondering around looking for Dick when you found Jason. Jason longed for the years he’d never be able to return to. The days you two spent becoming friends before you even knew he was Robin. The stolen glances at titans tower that turned to midnight drives through the city. The shock when he figured out you liked him back. He’d never known he could be loved so gently, so kindly. He expected time and time again you’d leave him but you never did. You defended him to Dick and the team. When everything happened with Deathstroke you comforted him through nightmares and ptsd. When he wanted everything to end you talked him off the roof. And when he chose to leave the titans you left with him. He knows Joker killed him but nothing else. All he knows is he has to find you.

Present Day

You figured the guys who grabbed you were sent by Joker. Although you should be focused on how you’ll escape you can’t stop thinking about the last words the voice on the phone said, “it’s me.” The words echoed through your mind. “It’s me,” It’s who? Maybe it’s Joker playing more mind games with you. Maybe this guys working for him. But killing dealers selling to kids and going after Black Mask isn’t very Joker. Suddenly someone rips off the bag from your head. Big surprise, it’s the clown.

“What the fuck do you want from me!” You scream.

“Well somebody’s a bit upset,” Joker says.

“You killed Jason and I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You scream as you try to escape the chair you’re tied to.

“We’ll see about that,” he says. You look to your leg and notice your tracker hasn’t been cut out. It’s not a Batman one, you’d cut that out when you left the titans. It was one you had Thea put in cause you knew no matter what you’d want her to know where you were. “You’re probably wondering why that little tracker hasn’t been ripped out yet,” Joker says. You glare up at him in response. “I’m just waiting for the original boy wonder to pop in so I can reunite him with the recently deceased Robin 2.0,” he laughs.

“Why are you doing this,” you say with anger trying to hid the horror and desperation in your voice.

“Maybe I just love the drama of your little love triangle, that would be something huh. No I may be insane but I’m not boring. Course it all boils down to the big guy…the bat. He thinks you kids are all that, that he’s trained the next justice league when in reality you kids can’t even manage to keep yourselves alive,” he says. “I mean look at poor Jason. And now Grayson’s not to far behind. As for you I’m not sure what would be sweeter…killing you or letting you be the only one to tell Batman his first two sons are dead…because they were blinded by stupidity…because of you,”

“Dick is gonna kill you!” You yell.

“And break daddy’s number one rule, I don’t think so. I wonder if you could though, if you really have it in you,” he says.

“Untie me and you can find out for yourself,” you say. Something Jason always said in training was acting like a smartass is a great way to mask fear, you’re hoping you’re doing a good enough job cause you’ve never been so terrified.

“I can see why you went with the replacement, better personality match I suppose,” he says. “Gosh where is boy wonder is that tracker working,” he says. He grabs a knife and stabs it into your thigh. You yelp in pain. He drags it through your flesh and rips it out. Then he takes his pasty fingers and digs out the tiny tracker. You throw up slightly at the feeling of his fingers in the wound. Course you had a bit of training on how to handle pain but it wasn’t Batman level. Suddenly you hear a gun go off and Joker ducks. Out from the shadows you see that red bat symbol. It’s Red Hood. Joker crawls across the floor to escape the 6’4 man armed with two scorpions. Red Hood is trying to get a clear shot when another gun not belonging to him goes off. Hood ducks and in the corner of the room running towards you, you see Dick. Joker crawls away trying to escape and Dick is running for you but Red Hood isn’t focused on either of them; he’s focused on you. You recognize him for a moment; it’s the man who helped you in the nightclub. The one with the red mask and white streak of hair. He’s been following you for a while.

“Who the fuck are you. You’ve been stalking me!” You scream. You’ve been stalked before and you understand it’s not some romantic gesture, it’s dangerous. Red Hood pulls a knife from his pocket and you scream, “get the fuck away from me!” He cuts your arms loose and you try to push him away. You fail but nonetheless he backs away and scans the room for Joker. He turns around and is immediately punched in the face by Dick. You see Joker lying on the floor, Dick must’ve knocked him out.

“Hey fuckface I’m here to help,” Red Hood says. Your jaw drops slightly. Only two people have ever called Dick “fackface” you…and Jason. You try to stand up but get dizzy. Red Hood removes his mask, his back is to you but you swear you see Dick say, “Jason?” As you pass out Dick punches Red Hood in the face again.

I hope you liked this part. Also sorry in advance cause some of the next part is written already and the Dick Grayson x Reader lore for the backstory only gets wilder. If you liked this fic remember to like, repost, comment, and/or follow. Any positive feedback is much appreciated it helps me stay motivated to keep writing and posting parts. Check out my Masterlist for the other parts to this fic and also to keep an eye for when I start posting parts of the backstory for this fic (it’s gonna be about how reader meets Dick and Jason and becomes a titan/her time as a titan). Also if you’d be interested in any of these characters x reader there’s fics for, Anakin Skywalker, Dick Grayson, Peter Hayes, and Christian Ozera as well. Thank you for reading and have a great night!🩷

Masterlist

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theink-stainedfolk · 5 months ago

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1 artist or writer on tumblr you will never stop recommending ?

Hello dear anon, i know you are very nice and kind and you don't want me to be cooked so i will change that 1, to many of my favourite writers/artists as it is really really hard for me to choose because i literally love their works. I hope you don't mind it.

@cssnder , she was one of the 1st writers in the writerblr community to befriend a nobody like me and kindly respond to my questions, i also fell in love with her blog and i never imagined she'd ever notice me.

@finickyfelix , their writingis spectacular yall go reas it!!!

@willtheweaver, another spectacular writer and artist!!

@leahnardo-da-veggie, i love her writings and sense of humor

@illarian-rambling, beautiful writing anf beautiful blog

@winglesswriter one of my friends and also a great writer

@paeliae-occasionally lovely writer and artist their lore is super good!!

@the-golden-comet my favourite! I love her stories and I'm planning to read all of them!!

@thecomfywriter my dearest friend with so much stories and lores to tell!!

@drchenquill another one of my first friend, she supported me alot and still does, idk what i would have done without her

@wyked-ao3 amazing stories and art!! I love everything!!

@the-inkwell-variable another one of my friends!! I'm glad we met and our sense of humor matches perfectly and i love her stories!!!

@corinneglass , as soon as i got tagged, i knew i was in for a treat!!

@seastarblue another of my friends with almost the same things in life, like we both are 18 and muslims lol. I'm glad we enjoy eachother's company and works

@frostedlemonwriter, i miss them alot, idk what happened and i hope we get in contact soon because i really miss chatting with them, we talked almost daily and i loved their atmospheric writings dearly. I hope they come back again, and if anyone knows about them or what happened, please let me know.

Apart from my moots, i like @literarygreens , @orphanheirs , @duckysprouts (i really loveee the transmigration one where a normal person like us transmigrated to The Twilight series's Jason. Just like SVSSS), @mgmok , @writeblrfantasy and @nondelphic and more but i can't remember sorry.

Thank you for asking me this question anon, this made me deeply think about the importance and impact of my friends in my life. Hope you have a great day ahead💖💖💖

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #writers #writing #writers and poets #writblr #writers of tumblr #my writing

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aceattorneyheadcanonblog · 4 months ago

Text

Herlock Sholmes has Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Submitted by: Anonymous

Propaganda:

Source: I made it up /j

No but for real. In The Adventure of the Unspeakable Story, we have the following interaction after returning from Windibank's for dinner:

⚙️: "Hurley? Oh, he's been like that ever since he got back."

⚖️: "...Hellooo! Mr Sholmes!"

🔍: "I beg that you won't speak to me."

⚖️: "Sorry?"

🔍: "I don't know who you are, but kindly take your leave."

"As you can see, I'm not here."

⚖️: "........."

(I, I don't know how to respond to that.)

⚙️: "I do apologise. When he gets like this, he's completely oblivious to everything."

Everyone seems to brush it off, but Iris's "when he gets like this" stuck out to me. This is a regular occurrence? Now, I'm no psychiatrist or anything, but that doesn't exactly feel like... normal behaviour?

And then later, Sholmes comes out of... whatever he was doing, sitting at his desk with his back to everyone, and he doesn't realize that Susato and Ryunosuke have entered and have been talking to Iris for several minutes. He goes back to his cheery and interesting self.

The fact that he doesn't remember ever being in this state, or ever acknowledges anything else about not remembering it afterwards, stood out as not being normal. Nobody else brings it up to him otherwise, as far as I remember. I think Ryunosuke was a bit concerned maybe? But otherwise nobody says much about it.

That being said, I don't remember if this ever happens again in any other cases or is brought up, it's been a while since I've played it and again, I'm not a psychiatrist or anyone who can diagnose that stuff, but it still stuck out to me.

#herlock sholmes #dgs spoilers #headcanon #anonymous #tgaa1 #tgaa spoilers #tgaa #tgaa chronicles #tgaac #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs #dgs1 #the great ace attorney #tgaa 1 #ace attorney headcanon

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cloudy-em · 2 years ago

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ok mayhaps a carmen x fem!reader and she’s like his childhood bsf? then she just kinda shows up one day after not seeing him for years idk

ooh I like it!

xxxxxxxxxxx

The memories came flooding back to Carmen. He felt frozen. Richie had pulled him close, a hushed but audible sound in the busy kitchen and all Carmen could do was focus on what Richie said; "Y/N is here". Suddenly nothing else mattered, and Carmen rushed to his office, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back in the chair, breathing deeply to stall the anxiety.

Y/N, his closest friend. He remembered the day they met so vividly, it was like watching it on a screen. She was riding her bike down the sidewalk, doing her best to work with her helmet that was a little too big and her uncoordinated 5 year old body. She approached him sitting on the old wooden steps of his house.

"D'you wanna play?" she asked him. And the friendship took off flying. They took each other away from the pains of their homelives in treehouses and days playing by the creek. They grew older and stayed just as close. Carmen struggled in school and Y/N helped him with his homework, offering to do the math for him if he read the English novel. They skipped middle school dances together by sitting in that old treehouse that was quickly getting too cramped, smiling and laughing together.

But the times changed, like they often do, and Y/N's mom remarried and they had to move away from Carmen. He could feel the hurt still inside him as he wrung his hands, pacing the floor in his office. He felt betrayed; she did leave him to deal with everything alone. She had escaped the life she'd always led, moving out to some western coastal town where she would be happy without Carmen. The door opened, and Carmen whipped his head around to face it.

"Cousin," Richie said, seriously for once and not being an asshole. "She's still out there. Nobody's taken her order yet. Thought maybe the Chef would like to do the honors?"

Carmen stared back, wide-eyed, unable to speak.

"Ya can't run away forever," Richie told him.

Carmen took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Richie was right. His dearest friend, the one he hadn't seen in a decade, was sitting in his restaurant. He could see her again, one last time. Maybe she'd recognize him and they would make small talk for a minute or two after she paid the bill and he would have closure. Or maybe she wouldn't recognize him and all he'd ever be to her was a lost memory.

It was undeniably Y/N. He knew as soon as he left the safety of the kitchen that it was her. God, she'd barely changed. As Carmen approached the table where she sat alone, he swore time was moving slower than it ever had.

"Good evening, may I get you something to drink?" he asked, cringing at how his words sounded.

"Carmy?" She practically squealed. "Oh my god, I can't believe it's you! It's me, it's Y/N." He smiled politely and bit his tongue to keep from saying, "I know".

"Wow, Y/N! It's great to see you," he said, trying to steady the shake in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, mom and Robert finally got divorced, and mom's old, so I helped her move back to where she grew up," Y/N said, softly. "I heard about this new restaurant, got rave reviews. Figured I would try it before I head back to New York."

"Oh, you live in New York now?" Carmen asked her. If only he'd known that, they were probably in New York at the same time. This meeting could've happened so much sooner.

"Yeah, I'm in marketing for a law firm," she said. "Well, what about you? What've you been up to?"

"Me? I-" but Carmen was interrupted by Richie.

"Chef," he said. "If you'd like to sit and talk with your...friend, I'm more than glad to take her order."

Carmen didn't have a chance to answer, because Y/N answered for him.

"Oh, Carm, please stay!" She said to him before turning to Richie kindly, thanking him and ordering an appetizer to share with Carmen. Richie nodded, walking back towards the kitchen.

The silence made Carmen uncomfortable as he sat across from his childhood best friend.

"So..." Y/N began, trying to keep her smirk behind her lips, but failing. The gesture made Carmen smile softly at her; she never could quite contain her joy or humor. "Chef, huh?"

Carmen nodded shyly. "Yeah. Revamped the place, I-I'm proud of it."

"You should be! It's great, Carmy, it really is," Y/N smiled, reaching her hand across the table for his hand. He didn't move his hand, letting her skin graze his.

"I'm glad to see you, I really am," Carmen told her, hoping for a split second that maybe, just maybe, they could repair what they once had.

"I'm sorry we lost contact, Carmen," Y/N apologized. "It's no excuse, but Robert didn't want me to keep talking to you. He wanted me to find new friends, and I- god, I'm just so sorry."

Carmen, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "It's okay, Y/N. I wanted you to find friends and I wanted you to be happy. Plus, it's just as much my fault as it is yours. We both got busy, and it was a stupid mistake. We'll make it better, yeah?"

Y/N smiled at Carmen's forgiveness and maturity and happy at his proposition to rekindle.

"Yeah, Carmy. We'll make it better."

#fanfic #writing #female reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carm berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #the bear s2 #carmen berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you

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harrowharks-iliac-crest · 11 months ago

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Sixth skull! Ohh, we might be digging deeper into Cam and/or Pal.

She said she didn’t mind what happened so long as Pyrrha got paid, because she wanted a birthday present. Then they chucked her beneath the chin and laughed a lot and Nona didn’t know why, because she had been perfectly sincere.

Had to look up the unfamiliar idiom (chuck under the chin) and I think it means that what they're trying to say is "what are you, five".

And of course Nona was perfectly sincere. Does she even know how not to be? I love her so much.

Nobody in real life would ever have the problems those people in the paper had, and the suggestions were even worse.

Nobody in your life, maybe.

Nona thought about it. “Tell me the story about how you met me again. Neither you nor Palamedes have told me that one in ages.”

Oh hell yes.

You’d disappeared. We’d been trying to get you. We found you and Pyrrha. You were hurt. Pyrrha helped us escape from an attack. We lost people. Ships. Something very important.

Did they lose Gideon's body in the attack? Did they get separated from Corona abd Judith there? But they are (presumably) still in touch, so it might have been Blood of Eden people we don't know who died, were "lost".

… back then We Suffer trusted us. We Suffer even let Pyrrha live. Pyrrha talked fast. Then I found a way for the Warden to come back.

Please say more, Camilla. I want to know how you did it!!!

You were waking up. You met me for the first time.” Nona said, “What did you think of me?” knowing the answer. “I thought I didn’t know you at all. You were new.” Nona always loved this answer unreasonably; the idea that that was when Camilla met her, that was her birth.

Camilla spent a lot of time with Harrow and Gideon. She knew Harrow became a Lyctor. She looked at Nona and immediately knew: This wasn't one of those two.

I love this answer as well, for slightly different reasons to Nona; I just love the idea that Camilla knew Harrow and Gideon both so well that she could instantly tell Nona wasn't them.

I mean, in fairness, it is pretty obvious. Neither Gideon nor Harrow could ever be sincere like Nona or show love like Nona.

“I don’t understand why We Suffer hates Pyrrha.” “Pyrrha’s best friend killed We Suffer’s boss.”

Hang on a minute -

Wake died three times. The first time, trying to deliver baby Gideon to the Ninth. The second time, her revenant was defeated by Harrow and friends in the River (or perhaps just fled). And finally, at the hands of Pyrrha herself, as she blew Cytherea's brains out while Wake was in there.

So they must be referring to the first time here - Gideon the First was on Wake's trail when she was on her way to the Ninth. That was when Wake's body died, at least.

Or did Pyrrha lie when she told people who killed Wake's revenant? She was in Gideon's body. It was definitely Pyrrha - she hid her eyes before killing Cytherea!Wake.

I reckon they're referring to Wake's body's death here. But Pyrrha could easily have lied about this, just to save her own ass. Blood of Eden would not have taken kindly to knowing, and they could torture this info out of Camilla/Palamedes. If Gideon the First killed Wake once, it wouldn't be implausible that he'd kill her again.

Sometimes it was hard not to be happy; sometimes it was so difficult when everyone else had that hard, hurt look at the corners of their eyes that meant they didn’t quite know how to carry on: the men at the dairy, Pyrrha, Palamedes, the nice lady teacher at school, Kevin.

Oh no, oh no. Even Kevin? Little Kevin, the youngest of Nona's school friends? Seven year old baby Kevin?

Man, everyone here has seen some shit, huh.

At least Nona is happy.

#nona the ninth #nona the ninth liveblog #ntn liveblog #tlt liveblog #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #the locked tomb spoilers

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fruitcoops · 2 years ago

Note

WAIT CAN WE HAVE THE FIRST TIME JAX SAW REGULUS CRY PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

(bonus points if they comfort him)

Fic O'Ween Day 4: Dead End, or three times Regulus almost cried in front of his friends and one time he actually did. Thanks to @noots-fic-fests for compiling all these amazing submissions, and to @lumosinlove for a tragically beautiful Regulus <3 Jax, Kris, and Vanessa are OCs of mine!

TW for injury, and canon shitty treatment at the hands of the Snakes

Regulus was really good at not crying. Not crying was the easiest thing in the world. Instead of letting himself get worked up until he spilled over, he could just…not do that. He could swallow it down. Choke it back. The problem was that once he started crying, he couldn’t stop, and since nobody would care either way, it wasn’t worth the effort and embarrassment. He was a grown man. He’d been through worse.

Worse than a B minus, at least.

He was pretty sure.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answered mildly. “And yourself?”

Jax’s mouth turned down at the sides. “Uh, can’t complain. What’s…what’s going on?”

Regulus shrugged one shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to close the tab of his failure. “Preparing for the week.”

“Right.” Jax didn’t sound like they believed him. Unfortunate. He used to be a much better liar.

“I always do that.”

“I know.”

Odd. He hadn’t expected them to know his habits. It had only been three months.

“You seem—” Jax broke off, setting their bag down on the floor with an unusually delicate touch. They leaned against the edge of their desk and gave him a funny look. “Do you want to talk?”

Regulus’ gut twisted on reflex. “About what?”

It came out too harsh—they shrank back slightly, shoulders drooping, dark eyes flicking away. He should apologize. He should.

“What would you like to talk about?” he tried instead.

“Dunno.” That was another thing he was getting used to: the way people started speaking just to speak, to fill the silence. Jax rarely second-guessed their words. Even now, they shifted their weight from one hip to the other only once before beginning again. “I was at the gym this afternoon.”

A strange thing to note. He waited for them to continue; when they didn’t, he mustered an encouraging noise.

“So if you’re ever interested…”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Well, I—if you’re interested—”

“Why would you want that?” What was it about college that made people so vague?

Jax gestured at him with one hand. “I don’t know! You’re in good shape, I guess I figured you were there anyways. And it seems dumb to go at different times when we live together.”

“But then we don’t have to argue for the shower.”

Regulus wasn’t always good at facial expressions, but even he could read the exasperation (though not irritation) in the set of Jax’s eyes and mouth. “I want to spend time with you,” they said bluntly. Kindly. Almost like Sirius, without his awkwardness. They tilted their head to look at him. “You don’t have to, but we haven’t had a lot of time to just hang out. I’m going for a shared hobby here, man.”

Hobby. Regulus didn’t recall the last time he worked out for fun. Never, probably. Running out his feelings on a treadmill made him less likely to curl up under his blankets in a screaming possum ball, but it wasn’t necessarily fun.

In his periphery, his computer screen dimmed. His heart went with it when he wiggled his computer mouse and the reminder of everything bad in the world glared back. “I don’t know if I can,” he said carefully. “I just failed out of English, so I should probably focus on that.”

“Wh—” Jax’s eyebrows shot toward their hairline before knitting in the middle. “How do you know that? It’s not the end of the semester.”

Regulus jerked his chin toward the screen. They followed his gaze. Looked back at him. Back to the computer. Back to Regulus.

“You’re looking at me like that explains everything,” they finally said.

“It’s a. Um.” Bitterness filled his mouth. “B minus.”

“And?”

Are you stupid? Regulus bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. “It’s a B minus,” he repeated. “And so they’re going to kick me out.”

Jax let out a long breath, as if they were holding many things back. Regulus didn’t like it when they did that. He’d feel much better if they just told him they pitied him outright. “That’s not…no, that’s not how that works. Reg, no professor will fail you out of their class because of a B minus.”

The part of his brain that had been running through various explanations when he inevitably slunk back to Sirius’ doorstep came to a sputtering standstill. “Excuse me?”

“Dude, that’s not even a failing grade.”

Something next to his lungs began to shake. “Explain, please.”

“A C is considered average. You’re above average. Do you know that?” Jax’s concern crept back into their face. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Average.

Above average.

He had been screamed at for above average. Lived in terror of doing his best and being found lacking for above average.

The fury was white-hot and all-consuming, and unexpected enough that he had to blink several times in quick succession to clear the burning from his eyes.

“Reg?”

“Excuse me,” he muttered. He tried to stand and found he couldn’t so much as twitch for fear of combustion.

“Hey.” Jax’s voice gentled. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kindness was the cruelest thing university could have given him. It was too-tight shoes and a necktie done just wrong on game day. Regulus felt his nostrils flare around a few deep breaths. A pulsing rod blazed just behind his eye. “You didn’t. Sorry. Yes, we should work out together sometime. Text me when you’re free.”

He stood on unsteady feet, left the dorm, and began to walk.

II.

“Don’t move, don’t move—”

“Shut the fuck up and do not touch me.”

The pain was overwhelming. Regulus’ temple throbbed from the force of squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel them all there, crowding him, closing in with their worry, holding their breath because he was angry and scared and angry because he was scared and scared because he was angry and in pain. And in pain.

He could work through pain. He had done it so many times.

Breathe. His chest didn’t hurt. His shoulders didn’t hurt. His stomach didn’t hurt. The throbbing below his waist could wait until he had taken a few deep breaths.

“Reg?”

Analyze. His leg was too hot and too cold at the same time. Everything below his left hip echoed his pulse, but his shin had a special kind of searing to it. His palms, too. Someone’s fingertips hovered at his pulse point and he twitched away. They stopped. They left him alone.

Do not cry.

The corners of his eyes were too wet in the gentle breeze.

Step Three: Do Not Cry.

“Reg, are you alright?” Kris’ reedy voice should have grated on him.

“I’m fine.” His voice wavered, but did not break. He unclenched his fists and flexed them, wincing at the sting of scraped skin. He took a sharp breath and wiggled his toes—no immediate pain. His leg muscles constricted when he told them to, relaxed when he breathed out.

Move on.

He went to bend his knee and immediately heard four people stumble over each other to stop him.

“You’re fine,” Jax said near his right ear. “But also, please don’t do that.”

Regulus opened one eye and frowned up at them. “Pick one.”

Jax hesitated a half-second longer than his patience. Regulus muttered a curse under his breath and sat up, grimacing at the carnage. The heels of his hands were trashed from the concrete; they would need full gauze, without a doubt. The gash running down his shin bled freely onto his (favorite) jeans and was beginning to seep out onto the ground. He sighed. “That’s not ideal.”

“Can we help?” Kris asked, all big eyes and bigger heart while he fiddled with the zipper of his first-aid kit. “I’d prefer to get a bandage on that before you move much, but we need to wash it out.”

Regulus tried to keep the judgement off his face. It seemed rude. “That’s not necessary,” he said. “But thanks. Pardon.”

Standing turned out to be a bad idea after all. The first bit of weight made his entire bad leg buckle and he narrowly missed crumpling on the ground for the second time in five minutes. Pain lanced up to his hip; Regulus dug his hands into the sidewalk to anchor himself, and when that only made it all hurt worse, settled for a handful of measured breaths.

The touch to his shoulder blade was featherlight. “Let me help,” Vanessa said softly.

Regulus hesitated. Better up than on the concrete, he supposed. He just—what if she couldn’t hold him?

She waited for him to nod before holding a hand out for him to take. Deadlift calluses and a firm grip reminded him just enough of Leo to not pull away when she braced her other hand behind his elbow and hoisted him upright, catching him when he swayed into her. “Easy,” she soothed. “Take your time.”

Regulus felt himself buffer, eyes fixed on her. Thick, dark hair drifted into her face in tiny wisps where it escaped her ponytail. She frowned down at the jagged rock that had cut into him like it personally wronged her.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. The upset vanished from her round face when she looked up again; there was a light squeeze to his torso. He got his weight under him, and yet she didn’t let go. Vanessa’s hold didn’t falter as they limped their way down the sidewalk, supported on every step.

He caught Jax’s eye as they turned toward the engineering building and found them already smiling.

III.

It’s a dumb movie, anyway.

That’s what Regulus told himself, listening to Clare sniffle while Kris watched the screen in openmouthed horror next to him. Jax’s description had been vague at best—something about a house and balloons and an old man’s emotional support Boy Scout.

But here they were, five minutes in, with no sign of balloons, Boy Scouts, or emotional support to be found. Just utter devastation and the inevitable march of death in spite of overwhelming love.

Goddamn mailbox, he thought. This whole problem could have been avoided if those two didn’t love each other to the ends of the earth. Which, of course, only made him think of Sirius’ ability to love with his entire heart and he really hoped Remus didn’t die first because that would be such a nightmare for everyone involved and oh, god, Sirius was going to die someday and leave him there—

“I forgot about this part,” Jax whispered in the darkness of the dorm. Their voice was only just loud enough for Regulus to hear over the movie.

He exhaled, and was surprised by how shaky it sounded to his own ears. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” they said sympathetically. “Fuckin’ Pixar. Need a minute?”

Regulus shook his head.

“ ‘Kay.” They sat quietly for another few seconds. A shoulder pressed gently against his own. “Let me know if you do, though.”

+1:

On an unassuming Thursday in April, it happened. The hammer came down. The other shoe dropped. Regulus’ luck ran out, the final bits drip-drip-dripping out into the ether and leaving him in a dead end of his own making.

In a way, it was inevitable.

“Holy shit,” Kris said, quiet and stunned and slower than Jax had ever heard him. His green eyes were blown wide; what had been a comfortable sprawl across his mattress for over an hour was now tense, the catch of breath before a scream. One airpod sat snug in his ear. His phone was lax in his hand and utterly innocent from Jax’s side of the room, save for Kris’ look of growing horror among his confusion.

“Kris?” they ventured. Kris remained silent. Jax’s pulse kicked. “What happened? Come on, man, that’s ominous as hell.”

“It’s Reg.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat and fell right into the canyon below. “What?”

“He’s—” Kris’ mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t…”

“Is he hurt?” Their phone was here somewhere, buried under their notebooks goddamnit their mother was right about the organizing bins— “Kris, is he hurt? What happened?”

“He’s famous.”

They stuttered to a stop with their hand buried in the mess of their backpack.

“I think—I think he is? Or was. Or something. Hey, did you know he played hockey?”

Jax stared at him, then shook their head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come see this.” Kris finally looked up, motioning them over with his head as if he couldn’t let go of the damn phone. “Come here, c’mere.”

“Are you seriously about to make me watch a Tik…”

“Regulus, do you have any comments on the rivalry being set up between you and your brother? Does it get in the way of your personal relationship with Sirius at all, being on the Lions and the Snakes?”

“My brother’s got a dirty game—”

Jax didn’t hear the next few words. They were a little too concerned with the sudden absence of the floor beneath their feet.

“—don’t endorse that sort of hockey.”

“And your personal relationship? How about Thanksgiving?”

“What personal relationship?”

Jax closed their eyes. It wasn’t enough.

“As far as I’m concerned, he might as well stay away with the rest of his pack of cubs—”

“Stop.”

Light music halted and left the room in the soft rattle of their ancient radiator.

“This isn’t—stop,” they repeated, though Kris had long since abandoned his phone on the sheers. His pale hands were pressed against his mouth. Jax felt their skin crawl. “This isn’t right. I’m not watching that.”

“He looks sick.”

“Yeah. Jesus, yeah.” Something was wrong in that video. Regulus’ bright, clever eyes were emptier than a scoured pot. A scrape marred his cheek. The violent green of his uniform—jersey, maybe? Or just a shirt?—washed him into a greyed-out version of himself. His hair was cropped harsh and short above his ears, hardly a curl in sight.

Someone was laughing in the background of the video. Jax didn’t like the way he looked at Regulus. There were too many cameras and microphones shoved into his space; Regulus wouldn’t like that, either.

“He doesn’t talk about his brother that way.”

“No,” Kris agreed in a murmur. “No, he doesn’t.”

Not that Regulus talked about his family often, but on the rare occasion it came up, Sirius was always the first one he mentioned. Jax had met him back in September—tall and broad and handsome, with a barking laugh and a voice that carried. Regulus gravitated to him like a magnet, though Jax wasn’t sure it was a conscious habit.

What personal relationship? He might as well stay away.

Kris was right. He did look sick in that video.

“Can you…” God, this felt wrong, but they had to know. “Can I use your phone real quick?”

Kris’ sideways glance made them swallow convulsively. Nevertheless, he picked up his phone.

Search: Regulus Black

Buzzfeed: NHL DROPOUT APPLIES TO…

ESPN: Regulus Black: Where Is He Now?

NHLWorld: Black Jerseys 70% Off—Everything Must…

Hockey Daily Magazine: Broken Contract and Rumors of Court!

#BlackBash

#RegulusBlack

#RegulusBlackSnakes

#BlackSlytherin

#BlackBrothers

#Playoffs2020

#AllStars2020

“Holy shit…”

NHLNews: Player Abuse in Sly…

#RegulusBlackCollege

#RegulusBlackSiriusBlack

@ hockeypalooza: I’m sorry but Regulus Black was the best player that team had ever…

@ slythlife: Black better not show his face in slyth ever again I stg

“When was that taken?”

Kris’ throat bobbed. He turned his phone off. “Last November.”

Jax pressed their fingers to their temples and let a sour breath out. This was too much. Too much. Their skull was going to implode. “Okay. Okay. Christ. Okay. Reg was famous, he left, he’s here now, it doesn’t matter.”

“We can’t tell him we know.” Kris stared into the middle distance—or, no, at Regulus’ bed. Always made, but a little wonky, like he was still figuring out how to do it right. A loose sock laid on the floor by one of his astrophysics books. “He doesn’t want us to know, or he would have said something. I’ve never heard him mention hockey. He said sports weren’t his thing.”

“He was a professional player.”

“For, what, half a season?” Kris’ lips pursed. “I’m not telling him we know. He left for a reason. Fine. That’s his business. He’ll say something when he’s—”

A key scraped against their door lock and Jax…Jax’s organs discovered the miracle of negative acceleration along the y-axis.

Regulus stepped in and slung his bag onto his desk chair. He opened his mouth to speak, saw them, and stopped. Stopped, like a deer staring down a Ford-F150. Every muscle primed and wound tight, as if someone had pressed ‘pause’ on the rotation of the world. His fingertip hovered in the handle-loop of his backpack.

“Oh,” he said simply. “Oh, no.”

And he left.

“Wait,” Kris called, far too weak and far too late. Jax’s brain refocused all in a rush—they both scrambled for the door, slipping on shoes and snatching wallets off whatever horizontal surface they called home.

“Shit, shit shit, shit,” Jax muttered. They shouldn’t have done this. They shouldn’t have looked. Kris was always right, always reasonable, never knee-jerk, so much better at this. They should have known better than to dig where they shouldn’t.

“I’ll check the library,” Kris said, jamming his phone in his back pocket. “I’ll—mother of fuck, this is not what I wanted. I’m deleting TikTok. And Google, fucking Google?”

Jax’s jaw throbbed with tooth-locking guilt. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have looked, I’m so sorry.”

“Abuse cases? Abuse cases.” Kris swore again and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fine. Alright. I’ve got the library. Text if you find him first. Holy shit.”

“I’m telling Vanessa to keep an eye out.”

“Good, yeah, whatever.”

Jax fought every urge to sprint down the hallway. Regulus was already long gone. Causing a scene wasn’t going to help. He probably wouldn’t come back to the apartment unless they found him first. Maybe ever. Oh, god, Jax would never forgive themselves if Reg left because they were a nosy little shit with no poker face.

For the first time, Jax wished NYU didn’t span a million city blocks. A fenced-in Ivy in the middle of nowhere would make them miserable, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to corner his flighty roommate when his hiding place wasn’t the entirety of New York City.

Well—well.

Regulus’ backpack was still in the dorm. He kept his wallet in the side pocket, zippered up tight. No MetroCard meant no subways. No student ID meant no twenty-story buildings to slip into. Regulus’ Ultra Panic Mode meant…nothing good, but at least he wouldn’t go far. Jax’s stomach twisted more than usual at the thought of him falling apart alone.

They shot off another text to Vanessa (whose string of ????? was the only correct response to their disaster of an initial message) and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

For a day with the potential to ruin a new and treasured portion of Jax’s life, it was quite beautiful out. The air was crisp and only reeked a little from the crusty hot dog stand down the block; the massive column sticking out of a manhole was missing its usual billow of subway steam and left the sky an unmarred blue above them. They were learning to like the spring on this coast. It was cold, sure, but if they wanted it to feel more like home, they would have gone to California. New York was their escape in every sense. They just—

They just really didn’t want to lose Regulus.

They hadn’t been sure what to make of him at first: so quiet, so reserved, every emotion leashed. But then he was kind and smart and funny in his weird way. He hadn’t fumbled a pronoun since the first day. He came home early from winter break, just so Jax and Vanessa wouldn’t be alone for their last holiday week after flights home fell through.

It wasn’t that Regulus didn’t like them. It was just that he was so very afraid of some looming shadow that had remained unnamed until that very afternoon. Jax couldn’t even blame him for it. If hockey made Regulus that ill, it was a small wonder he did everything in his power to leave it behind.

The bell of the narrow bookstore on 14th street chimed when they entered. The corner seat was unchanged, down to the burnt-orange cushion with a torn side seam. The rest of the shop vanished behind a massive chestnut shelf when they sat, folding their legs up. It was nice in here. Dim lights and a quiet heater. The owner had swapped out the winter candles for fresher springtime scents just a few weeks before.

“I never lied.”

“I know.” They stretched one leg out to roll the tension from their ankle. “You okay?”

“Non. How did you find out?”

His accent was thicker. Upset was etched in every angle in the corner of Jax’s vision. Shame wedged icy fingers between their ribs. “A video popped up on Kris’ TikTok feed. We shouldn’t have watched it.”

“I wouldn’t have told you.”

“I figured.”

“I wasn’t—I was trying—” Regulus’ jaw ticked. His forehead furrowed as he picked at the laces of his shoes. “You have no idea what it was like. The way it got twisted up, I—and I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t leave.”

Don’t fucking cry.

“I couldn’t get out. Not until that game.” They saw him shake his head minutely. “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have tried.”

“What game?”

“The…” Regulus turned to look at them then, eyes narrowed. “What was in the video?”

My brother’s got a dirty game. What personal relationship?

“You were in a room. I don’t know, there was a lot of hockey stuff around. People had stuff all up in your face.” Jax brought a fingernail to their mouth and bit absently at it. “It was an interview, something about your brother.”

“Fuck.”

The quiet ferocity of it made their heart clench in surprise. Regulus tipped his head back against the cool window. The edges of his lips had gone white with tension and Jax had never felt such regret for honesty in their entire life.

“I hate that fucking video.” It came out hoarse. Jax’s belly went Gordian. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No, dude, I’m sorry. We should have scrolled past it. We should’ve—we should have waited for you to tell us.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t,” Jax said gently. “And that’s fine.”

Regulus’ mouth turned down at the corner. “I can be out by Saturday.”

In the throes of disbelief, all they could do was shake their head. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t bring a lot of stuff. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Reg, what are you talking about?”

An owl-eyed stare pinned Jax; intense, but not angry. They had been prepared for anger. Not…whatever this was. “Why are you here?” he asked carefully.

“To apologize? Because Kris and I fucked up and you left before we could say anything?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jax insisted. “And clearly not enough people have apologized to you even once in your life, ‘cause it’s shitty when your secrets come out and it’s scary and so I’m here for you. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For this, and for all those assholes who made you play hockey when you were meant to be a space nerd.”

Of all the reactions to a sudden outburst Jax had expected, a trembling lower lip wasn’t one of them.

“Oh, god.” Panic pulsed in their chest. “Was that too much?”

“I hate that fucking video,” Regulus whispered, voice breaking. His eyes welled with tears. Jax’s tongue turned to lead in their mouth.

This couldn’t possibly be real. Not this. Not sitting in a hole-in-the-wall bookstore while Regulus took stuttering breaths around tears he didn’t seem to know how to handle. “Hey,” Jax said softly. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Regulus muttered angrily, scrubbing at his cheeks with shaking hands. “Fuck—merde, one second.”

“It’s okay.”

“Non, stop it.”

We’re doing this. We’re doing this. “Reg, it’s fine. Is this—is this alright?”

Regulus froze up at the tentative touch to his shoulder. Jax waited, heart in their throat, before Regulus gave a slight, pained nod and leaned ever so slightly into them. It was incredibly heartbreaking and also deeply weird, the way Jax supposed it would feel to pet a wild tiger in a zoo.

Worst of all, it made sense. The mottled skin of Regulus’ ankles. His careful silence, only broken in the presence of a few friends. He had hardly spoken unless spoken to until January. Jax had seen skates, just once, tucked in the corner of his closet behind his laundry bag.

They had chalked it up to the Canadian thing. One of their stupider moments, looking back.

“Please don’t leave.”

Regulus paused with his sleeve pressed below his nose. “Quoi?”

“It’s…” There was a dent in the hardwood beneath the toe of their sneaker. “I mean, you’re my best friend. So I’d like it if you stayed. If you want.”

The request felt too fragile. The wound, too raw. Would Regulus be angry that they asked?

“Why would you want that?” Regulus asked after several beats of empty air between them. He sounded mystified by the very thought.

“You’re my best friend.” The corners of their eyes stung. They gave Regulus a little pulse of pressure, the shadow of a hug. “I’d miss you if you left.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.”

A tear glimmered in the light as it fell from Regulus’ cheekbone to his jaw, where he brushed it on the sleeve of his shirt. The cuffs were stretched, like he’d been gripping them in iron hands; they matched the frayed hems of his hoodies in a rather sickening way. “I want to stay.”

“Thank god.”

A rueful smile pulled at Regulus’ mouth. “You know, you might be the first person who wanted me around.”

“That’s so…” There were no words. Literally nothing could encompass the fresh-scrape sting of each new layer of tragic backstory peeling away. “Is there any part of your life story that isn’t depressing as hell?”

“Probably not,” Regulus snorted.

He was warm under Jax’s palm. The shivering had stopped. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Merci.”

“Do you—”

“No.”

They nodded and mimed zipping their lips, and it made Regulus smile just a little, so it was worth it. He hadn’t pulled away from their one-handed hug yet. Jax counted that as a victory. It was sort of like washing a wound in the ocean: it stung like a bitch, but they were better for it in the end. Regulus’ wounds had been opened and reopened for nineteen years by uncaring hands. His cleanse was going to burn more than most. But even if gifts baffled him and kind words made him grimace and hugs were—whatever this was, Jax would be there. This time, he wouldn’t have to do it alone.

#regulus black #jax #kris #vanessa #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hurt/ comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic o’ween 2023 #best friend comfort #3+1

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