#any this is definitely not deep and i probably shouldn’t get upset about something so trivial

[sammi-xox]

:/

[coryosbaby]

𝑀𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑀𝓎 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

Ramsay Bolton x fem! Reader

Content warning . Acts of manipulation, arranged marriage, Stockholme syndrome, nsfw. Reader is implied to be plus sized but perceive her however you want. 18+, MDNI !!

*. ੈ♡*ੈ⸝⋆

Ramsay Bolton was never someone you intended to love, but it wasn’t long after your arranged marriage that you started to fall for him.

As much as you hated to say it, the man had a specific… softness for you. You knew deep down that it was probably a manipulation tactic to make you more vulnerable towards him, but it was working like a charm, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. When you were both asleep in your chambers— see, he had had a room specifically designed for you to both sleep in the same bed— you would curl up onto his chest, sleepily smacking your lips and muttering a “g’night, Ramsay,” as you drifted off into slumber.

A slumber that you always felt safe in, for some strange reason.

Ramsay would only hum, his grip around your waist almost possessive even as you both slept. If you got too uncomfortable when staying in that position for too long, you would flip over. Ramsay would soon follow suit, his arm slinging itself over your waist, mumbling something like, “keep still, pup,” as he pulled you close against his chest. That was your routine every night after the first month, curled up in each other’s embrace.

During the day he would go hunting. You didn’t dare ask what he hunted for, though you had a vague suspicion. You didn’t mind the handmaidens gossiping around you so you could learn more about your husband, and so far, it wasn’t anything good. Not that there was anything good that you heard to begin with—It was no secret what Ramsay Bolton did behind closed doors. When he would come back from a hunt, he would be giddy, proud, caked in blood and gore, an almost violent smile on his face. You would smile back at him, glancing up with sweet eyes as he pulled you into his arms. He would kiss you hard on the mouth, hands traveling down to the hem of your dress— “Shouldn’t I get a reward for my hard work, lady wife?”— and then he would bend you over the nearest surface and make you cum on his cock for hours, ridding you of any apprehension or thought.

You didn’t mind these things. You were married, after all, and Ramsay Bolton was definitely skilled in a lot of aspects. This included playing your body like a violin, rubbing and licking and pushing in ways that made you squirm. He loved to be in between your thighs and eat your cunt like a man starved, or thrust his fingers into your needy hole until you were releasing messily all over his mouth. He’d bend you in half instead of over on a lot of nights, putting all his weight on top of you so you couldn’t move away from him.

So you couldn’t escape him.

There were hardships sometimes. Ramsay would be in a very angry mood, and you would do something very minor and it would upset him— he’d yell at you, call you names and laugh in your face when you began to cry, or he’d scream some more if you decided to snap back at him. But it was all because he was a blind person when he was angry; you didn’t try and judge him too harshly for that. He had a long fuse when it came to you, compared to the others.

Regardless, he would always return to you the night of the argument, covered in blood once again, with apologies on his tongue and a gift on occasion. Like the wolf pup he had gifted you on your twentieth name day— “A protector for when I’m not around. You look so perfect when you smile, my beautiful girl.”— or his head between your thighs. Whichever worked, really.

When he asked you to accompany him on a hunt one day, your eyebrows had raised in surprise. What could he have awaiting in those woods for you to shoot down with a bow and arrow? You wondered about it, and honestly dreamed of the day when you as a lady would have the freedom to learn the ways of hunting. But when you got there, there was no prey to be found.

None except you, of course.

It wasn’t as scary as it sounds. Ramsay had left his weapons behind, which you noticed once you got a decent way into the woods. Such a ditzy little thing you were, always in your own world and too far gone to even notice. Ramsay had told you to run, that you were both playing tag. When you were It, he had shoved you down onto the forest floor and lifted up your skirts, a growl evident in his throat as he claimed you.

“Mine.”

You had came back to the castle, shy, your dress’ bodice ripped from Ramsay’s rough manhandling. No one said a thing, and Ramsay gave you the reward of keeping his cock warm while you slept.

When you bathed, he loved to watch you. You never understood why, but you assumed it may have been some weird sort of intimacy that only Ramsay Bolton would want with his partner. He would sit in a seat reserved just for him, and he would watch your body sink into the water, bare breasts supple and soaped. He would watch the curve of your ear as you pushed your wet hair out of your eyes and the Cupid’s bow above your lip. Sometimes he loved to admire the thatch of hair between your legs, covering the place he loved most, or the soft tummy you had grown to have because he fed you good, hearty food.

Other times, he would listen to the tinkling of your laugh as he told you something that was funny. He would pass on his information of Philosophy and the fine arts which Roose had forced him to learn, and he would adore how excited you got when he taught you these things. It seemed like everytime, eyes wide with fascination, you would bloom, like a pretty orchid or a wild rose.

Ramsay swooned when you presented your psyche to him this way, but you never knew that unless he told you such.

One night he had even helped you bathe. He had gathered a sponge and a bar of soap, had asked quietly if he could do the work for you. You had been exhausted from the previous day and had nodded your head, sighing in content when he begun to gently rub the sponge over your back. He had ran it over your shoulders, arms, thighs, every nook and cranny just to watch the contortions of your form. He had washed you off, and with a soft voice as sweet as honey, began to speak.

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know how to reply to him, though you knew answer already.

“Yes.”

He had tilted his head, something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. He resumed his tasks, now moving on to massage your scalp with soft fingers. He had gently pushed your head under the water so he could rinse your hair, and his hands had held you under. Not forcefully, it seemed, but he wanted to.. keep you there. And you let him. Your body relaxed against the warmth of his hands and the waves, and it was then that you realized he could hurt you at any moment. Drown you, hold you under and water board you, beat your head against the tub until your brain splattered to mush.

But he didn’t. And as you stared at him, eyes wide through the water, watching his blue eyes staring back at you, you knew then that you were completely and utterly fucked.

You hated yourself for it, for this revelation that overcame you in that moment: You were basking in this man, in the complete darkness that was Ramsay Bolton. You didn’t know how or why it became this way, but you liked your husband, big and strong, there to keep you and hold you and gift you small trinkets and whisper sweet nothings. It was almost too much.

But that night, you curled up onto his chest anyway, like a kitten, purring in a soft lilt, “I love you, Ramsay.”

He had squeezed your hand tight, a small smile on his face. This is exactly what he wanted.

“I know you do, little dove.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through. 

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference. 

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again. 

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things. 

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him. 

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana. 

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood. 

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally. 

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request. 

Not happening. 

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.”  While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled. 

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness. 

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not. 

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head. 

She’s clearly looking for Solana. 

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him. 

And that’s not the case. 

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy. 

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze. 

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway. 

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list. 

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.” 

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day. 

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!” 

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins. 

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air. 

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs. 

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?” 

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.” 

Dulce barks in response. 

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit. 

He got the blueprint from Roman. 

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way. 

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.” 

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.” 

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.  

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans. 

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does. 

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment. 

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit. 

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown. 

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled. 

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive. 

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in. 

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma. 

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess. 

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done. 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign. 

Protectiveness. 

It feels like he’s being protective of her. 

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around. 

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother. 

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable. 

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?” 

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his. 

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually.  Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.” 

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact. 

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now. 

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch. 

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.” 

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right. 

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage. 

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her.  “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that. 

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even? 

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things. 

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over. 

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken. 

So unlike her. 

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such.  “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her. 

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man. 

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him. 

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does. 

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing. 

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.  

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them. 

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back. 

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom. 

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in. 

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later. 

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously. 

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were. 

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired. 

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat. 

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back. 

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity. 

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target. 

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other. 

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies. 

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning. 

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting. 

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink. 

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really. 

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped. 

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure. 

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear. 

It’s just the calm. 

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable. 

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest. 

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes. 

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up. 

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs. 

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt. 

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

[maidflowery]

Fortified Wager ♣♣♣ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 9

♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ８】

𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝐂𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐕𝐒 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 (2)

╔══ ≪ ♠♢♠ ≫ ══╗

“You’re most definitely getting punched.”

The briefing for tonight’s plan began, unsurprisingly, with Marius. Who else could it be? He nonchalantly propped his face against his hand. Honestly, he might as well have been sipping juice while casually adding, "Oh, and he'll probably dropkick you too, no big deal."

You, who sat around the table with Teo and Christy, raised your hand like a diligent student.

"A question!”

“Ask away.”

“You said 'most definitely,' so it isn’t certain. What’s the percentage like?"

Marius, who sat in front of all of you, crossed his arms with a look of contemplation. Since it was a secluded spot, away from the main dance venue, the music was distant. In fact, you could even hear him ponder, “hmm...”

“Ninety-nine-point nine percent.”

“Holy shit!” You couldn’t help but exclaim, but quickly regained your composure. "But only if he’s upset, right? Then, if I keep him entertained—"

"You'll probably get seven words out before his fist flies to your face—this is in the ideal scenario. Why do you think I instructed all the waiters to stay away from his table?”

No wonder I didn’t see any waiters serving their table this whole time!

“I won’t even get to say the introductory line like that! No, I’d be lucky if I even got any word out!”

"Are you seriously considering performing a magic show for them?"

“Well...”

You stared sadly at the small paper bouquet in your hand, crafted to match your idol's eye color and your favorite flower. It seemed that giving this to Aventurine was nothing more than a pipe dream.

“What’s wrong?” Marius tilted his head with an oblivious look on his face.

“Everything?! The magic show aside, going there just to get punched is—”

“So what? Just duck.”

“’Just duck,’ my ass!! Why didn’t you duck that night, huh?!”

“What?! Remind me again, who signed up for all of this?!”

As things were getting personal between you and Marius, Christy and Teo interrupted from the side.

“Guys, I don’t think we have time for this...”

"No, really! He always goes for the face, so it gets predictable after a while! The key is to keep calm!”

Of course, one of this was unlike the others.

Teo continued, “He throws slow punches, too. If it helps, just take a deep breath, focus on his fist, then duck!”

...A tad too cheerfully, if you might add.

No, on a closer look, there was something resembling pride in his face, as if he’d gone through a countless battle and won.

Ah, but Teo... you would know best, wouldn't you? Yet you still tried to reassure me...

You choked, stifling a sob.

Was Big Baddie such a godforsaken menace? What was Teo's superior doing? Ah, right, he got punched, too...

Then what about the manager’s manager?!

This question of yours would be answered later.

"...Besides, if he takes a swing at you, a commotion will naturally follow. Slipping it into his pocket then shouldn’t be any harder than slipping a Band-Aid into someone's pocket mid-conversation? Or did I misjudge your abilities?”

Marius, who’d calmed down, explained. Deep cobalt blue eyes met yours, a glimmer of trust shining within.

“...! Marius... No, I-I’ll do it! If he punches me, I’ll duck!”

And that was how they encouraged you to get punched by Big Baddie.

“Well, just to be safe, here you go.” Marius slid a silver tray toward you, with a neatly folded handkerchief on top of it. “At Primavera, we never compromise on quality. This tray is crafted from—...”

The handkerchief, in particular, caught your eyes. You opened it to see the embroidery of a familiar-looking flower, woven with purple, tosca, azure, and cyan threads. Despite the dim lighting, the colorful threads shimmered with iridescence, as if radiating light of their own.

“It can even deflect bullet—hey, are you listening to me?”

“Eh? Oh, sorry, yeah, so it can deflect bullet, huh?”

You were too preoccupied to notice how outrageous that was.

Marius sighed, before staring at the handkerchief in your hand.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, I mean, this embroidery...”

"I have tons at home, no thanks to a certain idiot. Don’t you dare lose it.”

This time, you caught the inconsistency in his words. But before you could retort, Marius went on.

“Anyway, that thing reflects light like crazy even in the dark. If you feel things are getting dangerous, give it a wave. You have a three-second head start.”

“Got it! Count to three and run!”

“No, absolutely do not run.” Marius cut in; the words ‘are-you-stupid’ written all across his face.

“...Ah.”

You also realized your mistake. The main dance venue was filled with crowds. You also hadn’t accounted those who surrounded Aventurine and Big Baddie’s table! It was easy to imagine what would happen if you were to run in such a scenario.

Perhaps due to the confused look on your face, Marius explained, “When the time comes, you might panic and attempt to escape as quickly as possible, but those are the last things you should do. Instead, stay calm. I’d say this is the most important part.”

You gulped—and also the hardest part!!

“Then, focus on the flow of the crowd and find a gap, break, or split in it. When you see the chance, step inside—not too slow, but not too fast, either. Hold your head high and walk with purpose. Unconsciously, people will make way for you.”

With a faint yet proud grin, Marius taught you how to slip past the crowd. He was probably—no, he was definitely flexing, but this time, you couldn’t argue.

You recalled how he, Tasha, and Christy approached you, Teo, and the others. Naturally, Marius, being the first in line, was the first one you saw.

With languid steps, he effortlessly blended into the crowd, never once bumping into anyone. Despite blinding lights, or the darkness left by their absence, he never lost sight of his destination. His calm and composed demeanor masked any signs of tension or crisis.

It was definitely an impressive sight, not that you’d ever admit this out loud.

“Ooh! Marius is teaching you the technique! Congrats! He considers you one of us now!”

“Don’t worry! We got your back!”

Christy, the brunette with curly hair, winked and gave you a thumbs-up. You’d come to known her for her friendliness and easygoing nature. Teo also smiled and nodded.

That’s definitely reassuring...

“...No, actually, I’d prefer it if you stayed out of this.” Marius touted.

It was Teo’s time to shine.

“C’mon now, Marius. Since a commotion is bound to occur either way, you’ll need to do a lot of explaining later. Moreover, Lady Theia is coming to visit today. That’s where we’ll come in. You and I were in the bar...”

As Teo showed his expertise in dealing with the grouchy manager, you whispered to Christy.

“Who’s this ‘Lady Theia’?”

“Uh... She’s our CEO...”

Christy’s expression turned awkward and somewhat uneasy. She didn’t seem to want to elaborate further.

“...I guess it can’t be helped.”

Meanwhile, Teo managed to convince Marius, albeit the latter still seemed dissatisfied.

At the same time, Tasha, the tall waitress with straight black hair, returned to your table. She gave you an apologetic look and handed Marius a sheet of paper, which he promptly passed to you.

“Anyway, before we start, I’d like you to sign this.” Marius sternly stated while staring straight at you.

You stared at the words written in the paper and realized that it was a Non-Disclosure Agreement. Basically, you weren’t to disclose any of tonight’s events to anyone.

“Marius, you...!” Christy, who peeked at the paper from the side, sighed in exasperation.

“We’re basically trusting a random stranger with our internal issue, and I’d rather not have it hanging over my head for the foreseeable future.”

“—No, I get it. Does anyone have a pen?” You interjected before they could start quarrelling.

You thought Marius was just doing his job. Not only was he upholding the prestige of Primavera, but he was also covering his bases to prevent negative rumors and avoid being blackmailed later.

As you signed the paper under Marius’ watchful gaze, he spoke.

“...In accordance with clause three, you will be compensated for your efforts. This situation arose due to my oversight, and I wish to make amends by providing appropriate compensation.”

“Now, ask him for free meals every time you visit from here on out!”

With fiery eyes, Christy smacked you on the back.

“Ouch...”

“Emphasizes on 'appropriate compensation,'” Marius scowled.

Yeah, thought so...

Still, you had to make it count.

When you told Marius about the reward you sought, his deep-blue eyes widened slightly for a moment.

“...Understood. I’ll grant it once and if you successfully complete your duty. Pass me the pen.”

Then, Marius signed the NDA with flourish.

🂡 🂠 🂣 🂠

Afterward, courtesy of Christy, you heard about the incident that involved the waiter, Judith.

The incident took place on the exclusive floor of Primavera, which only accepted reservations. his eagerness to flaunt his wealth. From what you’d heard, the difference between the main dance venue you usually visited and the exclusive floor was like night and day. Moreover, it came with a host of pretentious rules: strict dress codes, no reporters, journalists, or cameras allowed, personal servants only, and so on.

Since it cost an arm and a leg, booking a table was naturally a status symbol. Only the crème de la crème went there—old money, nouveau riche, celebrities, and influential figures—including Big Baddie. Apparently, Big Baddie usually would only dine there—which made sense, given his eagerness to flaunt his wealth.

The case itself was resolved peacefully, with both parties admitting fault. As such, the details weren’t made public.

Of course, the truth couldn’t be farther than that.

Unlike the main dance venue, on the exclusive floor, only the faint, almost inaudible clinking of silverware served as an accompaniment, as any other noises were frowned upon.

“—HOW DARE YOU?! Acting like a smartass now, bitch? You think I won’t remember what I said? You calling me senile?!”

“Eek... Marius, Marius...! You’re bleeding...!”

Amid the symphony of silence, Big Baddie’s bellow and Judith’s cries echoed as she clung to Marius.

Clink, clang, clang...

“Ahem.”

“Ugh...”

That night, even the crowds were unusually noisy. Purposeful and deliberate clattering of silverware against the porcelain plate rang in the background, accompanied by contemptuous, disdainful sounds directed at the ruckus.

“Marius, get a hold of yourself...!”

But no one made a move—not even the CEO of Primavera, who was present and conversing with the wealthy guests that night.

“He’s bleeding! Someone, please...! Call an ambulance...!”

Clink! Clang! Clang! Clang!

“I didn’t sign up for this!”

“Peace and quiet are too much to ask for, apparently!”

“Even a saloon offers a better service than this!”

“How unsightly.”

“Dear lord, take it outside!”

The rattling, clinking noises of expressed complaints and frustrations only grew louder as the gossiping murmurs became more heated. Only then did the CEO of Primavera stepped forward.

“—Is something the matter, Sir Billy Burnett?”

A cheerful, melodious voice that was off-tune with the overall atmosphere.

“Marius, how did things become such a mess?”

A question asked in a clueless, oblivious tone, yet unmistakably conveying, "How could you let things get to this point?"

“...My apologies, Lady Theia, this happened because—”

“—Lady Theia! Please help! This man...”

"Go on, tell her! Tell her everything you said, you lying skank!”

Perhaps provoked by Big Baddie, or driven by self-righteousness after seeing her friend wounded, Judith did exactly that.

"He said we deliberately messed up his order, but my colleagues can confirm that he specifically asked for that item!"

“Is that so?”

‘Serene.’

Such was the word Christy used to describe the CEO—Lady Theia’s—expression at that time.

"It seems that you have yet to understand your position."

If Judith made any mistake that night, it was believing the CEO would take her side.

"In Primavera, the food, the drink, the music, the service, and the staff all exist for one purpose: to provide enjoyment to the guests. If a guest says 'black,' then it is black, and the same goes for the opposite. Yet, you dare to disregard a guest’s wish. Just now, you said that your colleagues will back you up on this?”

“I-I...”

It wasn’t even about who was right and who was wrong.

“Then, they’re all accomplices. Gather them here. They are to receive equal punishment. Sir Billy, deal with them as you see fit. Consider this an apology from Primavera."

“No...!”

“AHAHAHA! That look on your face! Absolutely fucking priceless! Now round them up!” Billy burst out laughing, cracking his fists.

“—If my staff behave unsatisfactorily, it is my responsibility as the manager for failing to properly educate them. The blame and any resulting punishment are mine to accept.”

A solemn, unwavering voice resounded in the air.

“Marius, no...!”

"Oh, is this lovely new recruit from your little village again, Marius?"

A voice filled with panic, and one completely the opposite of it.

“Stay the fuck out of this! You wanna play saint? Fine! How many colleagues does this bitch have? 20? 30?”

“With the addition of the new interns, there are approximately 75 staff members working at this branch.”

A serene, cheerful voice helpfully added from the side.

“Seventy-five punches, then! I’ll smash your head in!”

“Understood.”

Why didn’t Marius duck that night?

“If you back down halfway, your staff will make up for the rest!”

“...”

What about the manager’s manager?

“I shall bear witness and count. At Primavera, we do not offer apologies that are anything less than complete.”

“No... NOOO! I-i-it’s all my fault...! I beg of you...! It was my mistake, I misre—no, I lied, I lied! So, stop this! Please! Please stop! Don’t hurt him!”

In the end, Judith begged on her knees, crying.

Afterward, by a stroke of luck, Big Baddie was called away for an urgent meeting. Although Marius was spared from enduring 75 blows, he still faced consequences from the higher-ups, ultimately leading to Judith's resignation.

Ultimately, no justice was served.

🂥 🂠 🂧 🂠

You had always thought of it as odd.

When the twins stole from Big Baddie, Teo prepared to take the beating. Then Marius stepped forward to take the fall for him. The two readily tried to appease his wrath, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But now you know why. What else could they do?

Their CEO and even the police refused to do anything about it. Even such a huge commotion was disguised as a case resolved peacefully, with both parties shaking hands and hugging each other.

It certainly wasn’t a solution, and it didn’t address the problem in the slightest. In the future, Big Baddie would surely cause more chaos, and someone else might end up bearing the brunt of it.

But at least, in that moment, someone else didn’t have to suffer.

The same went for your plan tonight.

In reality, what would returning Big Baddie’s wallet and phone even solve?

You’d just be delaying the siblings’ suffering. They wouldn’t suddenly become friends down the road, would they? Letting them endure something they shouldn't for one more night was simply unbearable.

Hence, this whole time, you racked your brain for a plan to put an end to Big Baddie’s atrocities, once and for all.

How to bring about the downfall of someone so high and mighty?

You thought long and hard, even when you were sitting on top of your idol’s lap.

Now, you felt like an idiot for doing so, when the answer was staring at you all along.

╚══════╝

🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ 10】

Afterword:

I thought it's about time you guys meet Marius! Do tell me if he's anything like you imagined him! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 7 - Choke hold

Shouta doesn’t know why he’s still doing this. It’s been years at this point and even though he claims often enough that he’s not a masochist, he must be, deep down, because there is no other explanation for why he always ends up at Hizashi’s place right before he goes out for one of his public appearance thingies.

Shouta doesn’t show up to those, never. He’s not invited to any of these things, because it’s his goddamn job to not be in the spotlight as a hero and it’s not as if he has any fashion or make-up advice to impart to Hizashi, so he shouldn’t be at his place right before one of them, either.

Hizashi likes to pretend otherwise, though, always showing off possible outfits he could wear, but Shouta knows that the decision has been made long before he arrives because most of the time Hizashi and his dates match.

And Shouta really doesn’t want to think about that.

He huffs out a harsh breath before he lets himself into Hizashi’s apartment and is immediately met with a flurry of activity, even though Hizashi is alone at home.

“Shou, you made it!” he calls out as he rushes past him, doing god-knows-what and Shouta rolls his eyes.

“I always make it,” he mutters under his breath and he wonders why he can’t stop.

He already sees Hizashi every day at work, and then on joint missions and also in his private time because they are best friends, so there really shouldn’t be a need for him to be here right before one of Present Mic’s public appearances as well.

There’s no need for him to be here and yet he is, simply because Hizashi asks. He always asks, without fail, and Shouta never manages to tell him no.

“You decided on an outfit yet?” Shouta asks as he follows Hizashi deeper into the apartment, taking in the mess all around, because Hizashi is by no means a neat or organised person, which is surprising considering he somehow manages three jobs at once.

Hizashi’s only answer is a considering hum, which tells Shouta that yes, he has decided on an outfit—or an outfit has been decided on for him—and no, he’s not going to admit that and instead submit Shouta to at least half an hour of fashion show for—whatever reasons.

Shouta never understands why Hizashi feels the need to torture him so, but it’s probably because Shouta fucked up big time in his last life or something like that.

It’s the only thing that makes sense for this hell he finds himself in.

“You’re so messy,” Shouta grumbles under his breath as he puts some pillows back on the couch, folds up a shirt that is haphazardly thrown over the couch and when his way leads him past the kitchen, he quickly puts a few glasses and a plate in the sink as well.

“Stop being such a good housewife and come help me decide on a shirt,” Hizashi calls out from his bedroom without even sticking his head out to check what Shouta is doing and that, too, is maybe a part of their routine by now.

It’s been years, after all.

“Not a housewife,” Shouta says, almost on reflex and he vehemently denies how Hizashi’s following cackle makes warmth unfurl in his chest.

He has gotten good at hiding all outward signs of the love he holds for Hizashi, so none of that warmth shows on his face when he finally steps into the bedroom, only to briefly fear that he stepped into a warzone.

It’s worse than it usually is and that alone makes Shouta frown.

“Everything okay?” he asks, because Hizashi only gets this purposefully messy when he’s upset about something and when Hizashi turns around to him with his perfect Present Mic smile plastered on his face, Shouta knows that something definitely is wrong.

“Now why would you think that something wasn’t okay?” he sing-songs, shuffling in front of his closet as if nothing at all was wrong, but of course Shouta knows better.

He has known Hizashi for years, he can look straight through all of his bullshit.

“Because you’re like—” he gestures at the entirety of Hizashi and tries his best to not let his eyes linger on his exposed chest—“this.” He finishes almost awkwardly, but Hizashi deflates where he stands and then looks downright murderous for a second, before he gets himself back under control.

“My—date for the evening is someone I told my manager to not say yes to,” he finally admits and Shouta doesn’t flinch at the word date even though he wants to.

“Then cancel,” Shouta immediately says, because it’s just that easy, but Hizashi simply gives him a look.

“I can’t cancel, tonight is a charity event.”

“So? There will be enough high-ranking heroes around then, let them do the work for once,” Shouta simply shrugs, because he doesn’t understand how Present Mic has still not managed to make it into the Top Forty, but is being asked to come to every big event there is, simply because his presence gives it that much more credibility.

Something there is definitely wrong and Shouta will forever hold a grudge.

Present Mic should be Top Ten at least.

“It’s for orphans, Shou,” Hizashi sighs out and Shouta knows that there’s no way he won’t go.

Not when this is a little too personal for him.

“Then tell your manager to get rid of your date,” he suggests next and Hizashi huffs.

“Can’t do that either, they promised to pay a hefty sum if they are allowed to go with me, and for all that I really don’t want to, it’s for a good cause.”

Shouta bites his tongue instead of saying what’s on his mind, because Hizashi hates it when he says that his feelings matter too, that he should take care of himself as well, but going by the look Hizashi knows anyway.

“Shirts, then?” Shouta says after a moment of silence, hoping to dispel the almost awkward atmosphere in the room and thankfully Hizashi follows his lead because he immediately holds up two different ones.

Shouta pushes some clothes to the side so he can sit on the bed and then he subjects himself to their usual spiel.

He somehow manages to survive until Hizashi checks his watch and lets out an unhappy sigh.

“Time for me to go,” he mutters and Shouta fights the urge to reach out for him and tell him to stay.

Hizashi is not going to, he knows that, and it’ll only make things awkward again so he simply nods and leads Hizashi to the door.

“Phone, keys, something for your throat in case things go sideways?” Shouta asks, routinely by now, and Hizashi nods for every point.

His manager will have his directional speaker, because the bulky support item usually doesn’t pair well with whatever suit Hizashi is wearing and his dates have expressed displeasure about that in the past.

“Good, then have a good—” Shouta starts but he’s interrupted when Hizashi pulls him into his arms and hugs him tight for a moment, releasing him before Shouta can get his bearings and do anything, like hugging him back for example.

“Thanks for being here tonight,” Hizashi mutters and then he’s out of the door before Shouta even manages to open his mouth.

Fuck, Hizashi must really hate his date for the night, Shouta thinks and then tries very hard not to think about all the people Hizashi has taken out on these things before, because that way lies madness, though he is kind of grateful for the fact that none of the dates ever pick Hizashi up at his home, so Shouta never has to see them in the flesh, only in pictures and news clippings afterwards.

His manager always makes sure to pick well-known celebrities; actors, models, musicians, sometimes even fellow pro heroes and Shouta hates them all with a passion, especially so because he could never measure up to any of them.

He might be a good hero, reliable in what he does, and he might even be a good teacher and friend, but he’s definitely not beautiful enough to be taken to these kinds of things and Shouta knows it. Hell, Hizashi himself does not get tired to remind Shouta all the time that he looks like a tired, homeless hobo and pining helplessly after one of the most radiant heroes out there is not helping him any.

Shouta knows that everyone looks beautiful on Hizashi’s arm, but Shouta has never been uglier than when he’s filled to the brim with jealousy and not even Hizashi’s charm would be able to make up for that.

Shouta allows himself one minute exactly to wallow in his helpless crush and his misguided jealousy, allows this choke hold Hizashi has on him still, even after all these years, to take his breath away and then he packs it all away again before he turns around and gets to cleaning Hizashi’s apartment.

If he hates his date this much, he’ll be agitated when he comes back home and for all that Hizashi doesn’t mind a little clutter around, this mess will stress him out, so Shouta is just being a good friend by helping to prevent that.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Hizashi will call him a good housewife for it again.

~*~*~

Shouta paces in his bedroom. He has no goddamn idea how he let Nemuri talk him into this and there is no way he’s going to leave his house like this. He didn’t even know he could look like this and it’s honestly kind of upsetting to look into the mirror and not recognise who’s staring back at him, but he guesses that was kind of the intended effect.

Nemuri had promised to make him look hot after all, and Shouta has to admit that he kind of does. Maybe. It’s just—he’s not used to seeing his face like this, bare and shaven, his hair artfully done up in a bun that looks effortless but took Nemuri the better part of an hour to get right and there’s a reason he doesn’t wear skin tight clothes, because they are uncomfortable and make it hard to move.

Incidentally they also make him hot, if Nemuri is to be believed and Shouta has to admit that his thighs do kind of look good in the pants she wrangled him into.

None of that changes the fact that Shouta almost feels sick with nerves, though, and he asks himself again how he let Nemuri talk him into this, because this is madness.

This is absolute madness and there’s no way he’s going to go through with it.

It doesn’t happen often that a date cancels on Hizashi for a function or another, and it happens even less that Shouta and Nemuri hear about this before the event starts but as soon as Nemuri had heard the news a dangerous glint had entered her eyes and Shouta had known he was fucked.

Well and truly fucked, because he is supposed to be Hizashi’s date now.

Shouta has no idea how Nemuri convinced Hizashi’s manager to go along with this, and Shouta is actually in no rush to show up in tabloids or the news, to have his identity speculated about—or god’s forbid, revealed—and he might actually feel a little sick now.

I’m not going, he quickly types out to Nemuri who only sends him a thumbs-up back and dread curls in Shouta’s stomach.

She’s planning something. She’s planning something else and it’s going to lead straight to Shouta’s death and he doesn’t even want to think about what Hizashi will say when he sees him like this.

Shouta thinks he might throw up if Hizashi finds him beautiful like this because this is not him. He doesn’t look like this, he doesn’t do effort for his outfit and if this is what finally gets Hizashi to look at him Shouta is going to hurl himself off a very tall building. Without his capture weapon.

He’s still freaking out, trying to decipher what the thumbs-up could mean when he hears his front door open.

“Shou? Are you here? Nem said you needed to talk to me?” Hizashi’s voice calls out and Shouta goes cold before blinding hot rage overtakes him for a second.

You’re dead, he sends Nemuri and then throws his phone onto his bed before he crushes it in his hand.

“Shou?” Hizashi tries again and his voice is considerably closer than it was before and Shouta debates for a very serious second if diving under his bed and hiding there is a valid option.

Before he can make up his mind though, Hizashi sticks his head into the room and then promptly freezes where he stands.

“Uhm,” he intelligently says and Shouta wants to die where he stands when he sees how wide Hizashi’s eyes have gone. “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Shouta bites out and tries to revel in the way Hizashi drags his eyes down Shouta’s form, but it only stings.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Hizashi asks after a long moment and Shouta tries very hard not to notice the way his eyes linger on his thighs and his neck and instead busies himself with planning a murder.

Nemuri has laughed her last villainous laugh, Shouta will make sure of that.

“No reason,” Shouta says, clenching his hands at his side and desperately missing the weight of his capture weapon around his neck right now, because it’s always a good hiding-spot for him.

“Sure,” Hizashi slowly says as he steps fully into the room and Shouta dies a little inside when he realises that their colours match.

Of course Nemuri would make them match.

“Shou, seriously, what’s going on?” Hizashi asks again, his eyes raking over Shouta again and it hurts in a way Shouta was not at all prepared for.

“Stop looking at me,” he hisses out and abruptly turns away from Hizashi. “Don’t you dare look at me!”

It’s unreasonable and Shouta hateshates acting unreasonable but he has always been bad at handling his own emotions and especially so when it comes to Hizashi.

“Okay,” Hizashi’s soft voice reaches out and Shouta instantly feels bad. It’s not as if Hizashi has done anything wrong, not really, but Shouta can’t seem to get a grip on himself. “Why though? You look—”

Shouta cuts him off before Hizashi can tell him just how he looks because he doesn’t want to hear it. Can’t hear it and not break under it.

“Because it’s not even me,” Shouta grits out, hands reaching up as if to tangle in his capture weapon only to meet air.

He feels horribly exposed like this.

“And I hate that you’re only looking at me now,” he adds, his voice shakier than he would like around the admission but he had seen the interest in Hizashi’s eyes, had almost felt the way his eyes moved over him and it’s not fair.

Shouta shouldn’t only get to have this when he’s so far from being himself that he barely even recognises his own reflection.

“Shou,” Hizashi softy sighs out and then startles Shouta by dumping something on his head but the shock only lasts for a second before Shouta recognises the familiar weight and shape of his capture weapon.

He immediately tangles his hands in it, ducks his head to hide behind it and it makes breathing a little bit easier. He’s not sure if he hates that Hizashi knows him so well.

“Don’t,” he says, again, desperation leaking into his voice, because for all that Hizashi pretends to be a stupid airhead when he’s Present Mic, he’s far from dumb and he’s incredibly emotionally intelligent.

Shouta already admitted too much, he knows this, and he doesn’t want to hear Hizashi’s no doubt gentle rejection.

“I hate that you’re only realising now that I’ve been looking at you,” Hizashi says, despite Shouta’s clear order and Shouta stills.

Hizashi doesn’t give Shouta time to process his words before he steps in and moulds himself to Shouta’s back, arms coming up around him to hug him to his chest and Shouta’s head spins.

“I’ve only ever looked at you,” Hizashi whispers right next to his ear and it sends shiver after shiver down Shouta’s spine.

“Don’t—don’t lie,” he manages to get out because he has seen Hizashi’s dates and Shouta is nothing like that.

He’s not beautiful like they are.

“I’m not, Shou, come on, I’ve never lied to you,” Hizashi mutters and Shouta hates that he’s right.

Hizashi makes it a point to always be honest to a fault when it’s them, no matter how ugly it might be and Shouta’s eyes burn in an entirely unfamiliar way.

“I’m not like your dates,” Shouta whispers and Hizashi’s arms around him tighten for a moment.

“And I wouldn’t want you to be. Hell, there’s a reason I make my manager deal with all of that because I can’t be bothered. I don’t care about any of them; I usually don’t even remember their name afterwards. They are part of the job, Shou, that’s all. And I never take the same person twice.”

Shouta doesn’t know if that’s true, but if Hizashi says it, then it must be and it makes breathing a little bit easier.

“I might clean up nice, but—this is not me,” he then tries next and Hizashi huffs out a laugh.

“No, it’s not. I mean, yeah, you do clean up nice—real nice, even—but I kinda miss your gruff look already. I like knowing you’re comfortable in what you’re wearing, how you look. You never cared about that before.”

“I’ve cared about it for ten years, because I knew I wouldn’t ever catch your eyes like this,” Shouta admits and now Hizashi laughs for real.

“Shou, you caught my eyes the moment you stepped onto the field and then proceeded to wipe the floor with me. You were gruff, and tired but so, so determined and you were more radiant than the sun that day. I’ve never stopped looking at you even once since then.”

It takes Shouta’s breath away, to hear Hizashi state it that plainly and it feels as if everything slots into place after that. All the times Shouta looked at Hizashi only to find his gaze already on him; all the times Hizashi knew where Shouta was without having to think about that; all the times the unspoken trust between them filled every nook and cranny of whatever room they were in, to a point where their friends complained when their eyes so much as met.

It all makes so much more sense now.

Shouta turns around in Hizashi’s embrace and for all that he’s mostly certain that he’s not misreading this, he still buries his face in Hizashi’s neck, just to avoid his gaze for a moment.

“You laughed after I flipped you out of bounds that day, and I don’t think I’ve heard anything more beautiful since,” Shouta quietly says, offering his own admission in face of Hizashi’s and he feels Hizashi nuzzle his hair.

It’s going to undo Nemuri’s work but Shouta couldn’t care less.

“I’ve loved you all this time, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make you see that,” Hizashi says and Shouta’s heart almost beats right out of his chest.

“It’s not like I could make you see it, either,” Shouta gives back, almost feeling giddy with the knowledge that they’ve been in the same boat all this time and he almost melts into Hizashi’s arms when he feels the lips he pressed to his temple curl into a smile.

“Better late than never,” he decides, pressing a kiss to Shouta’s skin before he pulls back, finally looking straight at Shouta.

And it’s so much now that Shouta knows what to look for, but it’s overwhelming in the best kind of way.

“We’re not going out today,” Hizashi decides and cups Shouta’s cheek in his hand before he frowns. “Please don’t shave again, this is weird,” he then mutters and Shouta barks out a laugh.

“It feels weird, too, so don’t worry, it’s not going to happen again. And what about your event?”

“Not happening, they can deal without Present Mic for a night. I have more important things to do.”

“Like what?” Shouta asks with a raised eyebrow and doesn‘t blush when Hizashi kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Stare at you some more, probably,” he cheekily says before he rests their foreheads together. “But please get changed first. You do look unbearably hot like this, but I can also see that it makes you uncomfortable and I think it would be more on brand if you wore a shirt with a cat print for our first date.”

“I can get behind that idea,” Shouta agrees, incredibly reassured by what Hizashi is saying and so he dares to lean in, to steal a kiss for himself. “I can get you a change of clothes as well.”

“Offering me your clothes on our first date? Moving fast, huh?”

“You have your own drawer in my closet,” Shouta reminds him and is suddenly hit by how domestic they haven been all these years.

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” Hizashi mutters as if it’s only dawning on him now as well and Shouta thinks that this might just work out perfectly.

Clearly they are on the same page and have been for a decade and it’s not at all time wasted, but well-spent instead.

Because it was spent together.

[zhongster]

I saw your post about starting dungeon meshi and I totally agree that it has SO MUCH potential for food related kinks so I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons? Especially for the main characters?

I absolutely do dearest, I also included Toshiro despite him not being part of the main cast because he’s my personal favorite character <3

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DNI IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

Laios:

He’s a little stupid (affectionately) so he tends to eat things that he very much shouldn’t with concerning regularity

Because of this he’s no stranger to indigestion of all levels of intensity

His burps are pretty big

Probably the loudest in the group, honestly

He and Falin were definitely raised with manners considering who their parents are so he DOES know how to mind his manners he just doesn’t see the point in being uptight about it when it’s just people he considers his close friends

Gets all excited when he lets out a really good one like “Guys did you hear that?! :D”

Lowkey loves when he can taste the last thing he ate when he burps

“It’s like I get to eat it again!”

Marcille and Toshiro think he’s absolutely vile for that

His burps are really deep and loud but pretty short

He doesn’t usually get more than one in a row unless he’s particularly bloated

Here’s a video reference

Marcille:

High pitched burps

Pretty long ones too

She gets so embarrassed if they manage to slip out when she’s with the others

Unfortunately for her she often has to consume things in pretty rapid succession when she’s trying to replenish her mana

This’ll usually lead to pretty intense burping fits that she has little to no control over

Long drawn out burps just force their way out of her as she hides behind her hands

Here’s a video example

Senshi:

I feel like it just feels right to say he has incredibly deep, bassy belches

He’s literally a dwarf man idk

Tries his best to be polite about it but he really doesn’t trip if he lets one out

Will typically try to burp into his fist and face away from anyone he might be with

He tries to be a gentleman 😫

Oddly enough he doesn’t actually burp very often

He has a stomach of steel (aside from motion sickness lmao) so nothing he eats really upsets his stomach at all like some of the others

Here’s a video example

Chilchuck:

Legitimately the CEO of idgaf

Burps whenever he feels like he needs to

Won’t burp on command because he thinks it’s juvenile but absolutely will not hold a burp in unless it’s for stealth reasons

He doesn’t care if people judge him

The only time he burps on purpose is if he’d already burped naturally and someone told him to excuse himself

His immediate response is to flip said person off and let out an even louder belch

Luckily for him most of his companions really don’t trip if he burps (probably only Toshiro)

Here’s a video reference

Falin:

Falin’s burps are actually surprisingly bassy

Probably bassier than her brothers

Which serve as a pretty stark contrast to how soft spoken she is

It’s a bit of a surprise for people the first time they hear her burp because it seems a bit unlikely that such a loud sound could come from her

I do think she tends to get a bit embarrassed if they slip out in front of anyone that isn’t either Laios or Marcille

She tries really hard not to be rude and gross people out and she knows that some people in their company don’t really like it when others burp around them

Here’s a video reference

Toshiro:

Out of all the characters he’s the one that’s most likely to get horrifically embarrassed if he accidentally burps in front of someone else

Especially since he’ll actively scold any of the others for burping out loud so he feels particularly awful when he can’t hold one back

It’s even more rare to hear him burp than Senshi but it has been known to happen on occasion

Especially since I feel like he’s definitely the type to have a bit of a sensitive stomach

Similar to Marcille, when something upsets his stomach there really isn’t much he can do to stop the burping fit he knows is coming

He typically tries to hide from everyone when this happens but his burps are loud enough that they can usually hear anyway

They’re also extremely long so his brain has time to realize he’s fully belching in front of another person before it’s even ended

Has never once freely burped in front of another person, they’re always muffled behind his hands, his closed mouth, or both at once

Whenever he burps in front of another person he has to apologize 8000X before he can move on

Laios has been known to compliment his burps whenever he’s around to hear them which Toshiro absolutely HATES

Here’s a video reference

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 16 - Regard

What went before

Yes, this was just going to be a single explanatory paragraph, but I swear whenever I get within 3ft of the inside of Scott’s brain it all spirals… so… ah I dunno *flings words*.

Let’s just say that the fact the sequel with have the square of the number of chapters of the original fic is symbolic of how, when buried, issues like these can escalate into something much bigger and more uncontrollable over time? That sounds plausible. Definitely deliberate then. Yep.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

A digital landslide of distracting paperwork loomed entirely unheeded as Scott sat perched on the edge of the desk with his back to it, sipped his coffee and focussed intently on the security feed John had routed to his tablet.

Virgil was sleeping again.

Gordon had unloaded the contents of a cabinet on to an empty bed and was methodically sorting through, discarding some items, probably expired, and placing the rest neatly back into place. On another occasion Scott would have commented on the contrast with the squid’s approach to just about every other space he inhabited, but recognised the action for what it was. He touched the screen as if to stroke tiny Gordon’s head than jumped a little as his fish brother looked up suddenly like he was aware of it. The door opened and Grandma popped her head through and Scott let out an embarrassed breath. Of course, how could Gordon have felt anything? Scott grudgingly acknowledged that it may have been possibly a little too long since he last slept but it was what it was. Sleep wasn’t an option yet.

He watched, as Grandma and Gordon conversed and, seemingly satisfied, she left again. Gordon dropped himself into the chair next to Virgil’s bed and rested his head back. Within a few minutes he appeared to have nodded off.

A cloud shifted and a ray of sunlight crept across the floor and nudged him. Scott stretched like a cat and basked in it for a moment, before carrying the tablet over to the window. He spared the ocean a glance - it continued to do its thing, oblivious of the turmoil on the island it held in its arms.

He returned his attention to the feed. Gordon definitely sparked out, slumped down in the chair until he was nearly horizontal. Virgil was… Scott squinted… ok he was still sleeping too. The lack of sound meant big brother was spared the overwhelming sensory experience of the wingmen snoring in concert.

Good. This was good. Both their minds needed the rest and time to heal. Scott could keep an eye on them from here.

Was this what it was like for John all the time? Observing from above but unable to reach out and touch? Scott didn’t rate it at all. His need for physical proximity to a brother in distress was like an itch. No… a bruise… a nasty deep bruise… or… or perhaps the feeling left behind when one lost a limb. He grudgingly admitted this was better than lurking outside the door, however.

When John had appeared through it moments after Gordon had left, Scott had rolled his eyes so hard it made the tense muscles behind his eyebrows throb. He knew when he was about to be Managed, but when John still looked so vulnerable Scott couldn’t upset him more. So he allowed it. And thus he was up here in the sunshine with access to coffee and what he suspected was the spoils of a Gordon-related raid on Kayo’s secret candy stash. The consequences of that could be dealt with later.

He felt a little… uncomfortable… watching this way but was it really any different to sitting by his brother’s bedside? Not really. Well. Maybe a little. There was the consent issue… what would Virgil say if he knew? Would he be angry?

But… he reminded himself yet again… it wasn’t actually that Virgil didn’t want his big brother around, it was just his brain was struggling to explain the presence of two of them at once. And while all the articles Scott had consumed in the last 29 hours confirmed one shouldn’t play along with the delusions, they were also clear that it wasn’t a good idea to challenge or to try to reason him out of them. And Scott’s physical existence was currently proving to be such a challenge. Grandma had spoken to the psychiatrist and established they just had to wait until the meds started to kick in and the hallucinations lessened enough for reality to take precedence and then Scott could take his rightful place by Virgil’s side again.

Which was fine. At least he could keep an eye on things from here. He was an adult and of course he could be patient and focus on how fortunate it was they had a solution they knew would work for Virgil.

The fact that Scott was constantly fantasising about drop kicking this “other” Scott into the ocean was one he needed to keep to himself. He put the tablet down, drained his coffee and went to make another, tearing himself away from the screen for long enough to give himself a brief reprieve from the eye-strain headache that was developing. He leant over the kitchen sink and splashed cold water over his stinging, reddened eyes.

It was going to be fine.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

[typicalopposite]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

So I haven’t done one of these before… and idek what qualifies as a tidbit… maybe this will be more of a tadbit… a tonofabit… but to go hand in hand (oh boy that’s a pun I definitely didn’t intend and is a little painful given the context… you’ll see soon) with the cover art I made for the breakup/accident fic today as well as the snippet I plan to share tomorrow I’m sharing the whole prologue below the cut <3 enjoy(ish) 🙂

Buck looks at his hands.

“Buckley,” Collier calls from the helicopter. “You want a lift back to your vehicle?” A moment passes before he repeats, “Buckley,” a bit louder.

Then there’s a hand on his shoulder, it’s McCarty. “You good? Do you need to be checked out?” He asks. Buck lifts his eyes from his hands to McCarty’s face. He blinks, trying to register what was even just said to him. It clicks, he shakes his head.

“No, I’m fine,” he lies. Or, well… he mostly lies. Physically he is fine. Mentally, though? Emotionally? He’s honestly a wreck. But the pain in his heart—the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts and regrets running wild in his head—is not something anyone is going to be able to look at and fix; it’s not something anyone needs to worry about. He deserves to feel it. He blinks slowly, looking back down to his hands, suddenly hyper aware of how tired he feels from the adrenaline finally plummeting to the ground (as sickly ironic as that metaphor may seem now). “I’m— I’m fine,” he repeats, thinking maybe doubling down on the statement will really sell it.

He turns and walks away before either can respond; off of the hospital’s helipad through the sliding glass doors into the oh-too familiar white walls, and the strong scents of disinfectant, iodine, and saline.

He probably shouldn’t be able to navigate the hospital as well as he has become accustomed to doing. He is a firefighter after all, not a doctor… Yet his eyes remain on his hands, rather than ahead of him, and he still easily manages to reach the elevator—taking it down to the emergency room floor—with no issue.

A part of him desperately grasps for a shred of positivity. Internally he gives himself reminders of all the times he has been here before for some situation that seemed dire and then turned out alright in the end. A much bigger, much more negative, but logical, part of him replays the fall, the flight to the hospital, the hospital staff taking the gurney through the doors out of sight, over and over and over as if to say: How can this turn out alright?!

The answer? It can’t. It won’t. It’s not possible. He fell from too high; he lost too much blood; he sustained severe internal damage.

He continues to look at his hands…

“Buck,” a voice calls just as he steps into the waiting area; it’s Bobby. He looks up shocked to see his team there, unsure how they even knew to come, and wishing he could find some solace in the fact they are here, and he is not alone. He finds none. “What happened?”

“He happened,” another voice says, so angrily it makes Buck flinch. Morris storms across the room towards Buck, face red and pulled down into a deep frown. Buck realizes his team isn’t the only one here… “What the hell are you even doing here, Buckley?” The man snarls, making it into Buck’s space. Bobby reaches out an arm to keep him from getting any closer. Morris scoffs: “You don’t have to protect him, Nash. I’m not stupid, I won’t touch him… Tommy wouldn’t want—” Morris takes a breath and steps back from Buck anyway. “Why don’t you just leave, kid…” he says, voice suddenly drained as if he put all his energy into the sudden burst of anger. “You’re good at that.”

Buck wilts. He tries to not let it be visible; he doesn’t deserve to let it be visible. He doesn’t deserve sympathy (he doesn’t think anyone is really going to sympathize with him anyway… maybe his team will… although they have been pretty upset with him too). “That’s enough,” Bobby says, staring down Morris like he’s daring him to speak again; it manages to make Buck feel better and worse at the same time.

Hen approaches him, with Chimney and Eddie on her heels. “What do we know, Buck?” She asks, voice kept low so that the question stays within their circle. “How bad is it…”

“It’s— He— He’s… in surgery. I was so— so close, Hen—” Bucks shoulders rise up then fall in a helpless shrug. “I tried. I tried to get to him but he fell; I couldn’t— there was nothing I could—”

He looks at his hands, they are trembling.

He wants to cry. He wants to finally let go and break down, and just maybe someone will have pity on him enough to comfort him through it. He takes a breath and once again pushes the emotions away. He doesn’t deserve any kind of release. He doesn’t deserve pity, or comfort. He does deserve the anger… he has half a mind to chase after Morris just to be given another dose of it. He looks at his hands.

“Buck,” Eddie says, squeezing his shoulder. “You can’t— it’s not—” Buck looks up at him, eyes pleading for him to not go there. Don't attempt to take what is rightfully his. Don’t tell him not to blame himself. It is his fault. Even with the pity in Eddie’s eyes, Buck knows he has to know that, too. Just like he’s certain Chimney knows it, and Hen knows it. They think it; they feel it. Hell Ravi is the least close to Tommy and he even became distant—clearly choosing his side—after everything blew up.

No one was on Buck’s side then, when he was so sure he was right. When the idea he could ever matter so much to someone that their life would fall to ruins without him. When he had let his stupid over thinking—his anger and his self deprecation—cause him to ruin the best thing that has ever happened to him… the best thing that will ever happen to him.

They tried to tell him. They tried to warn him. He let his own inner voices be louder than the ones who were pleading with him to look at the damage he was causing. Then when he finally decides to listen… It's too late. Why would they be on his side now?

More of the 217 arrive; more people that look at Buck like the villain he very much feels that he is. This is his fault, after all. He looks at his hands.

There is blood on his hands…

Tommy’s blood is on his hands…

And now for the no pressure tags <3 (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@onthewaytosomewhere @scripted-downfall @do-androids-dream-ao3acc @30somethingautisticteacher @girlwonder-writes @shroomonabroom @bucksxkinard

[baronfulmen]

Why you should clear your brain’s cache and cookies

A Rant About Shrooms, AI Art, Trauma, and Appreciating Life

Hey look at this image.  You shouldn’t trust evolutionary psychology people because it’s often Just So Stories people make up, but that doesn’t mean we should throw out the baby with the bath water so let’s talk about the evolutionary importance of ✨PATTERN RECOGNITION ✨

Okay so the tiger in the picture above is trying to hide so it can eat us, and we’re trying to see it so we can avoid being eaten.  Great.  Cool.  That means there’s a VERY important part of our brains that has evolved to look at noisy images and play “find the tiger”.  (It works for non-visual stuff too, we’ll get to that.)

This is also how AI-generated art works, basically.  You give a computer some random static and then say “somewhere in this image is [insert prompt], find it” and it tries very hard to do so, like when you point out shapes in clouds to someone.

Our brains work via committee, so the part that’s doing that kind of pattern recognition and visual processing isn’t really any smarter than something like Google Deep Dream which you can hand a picture of some dude and say “FIND THE DOGS” and it’ll give you this:

People have compared images like the one above to being on shrooms and, having now taken shrooms for the first time I can say I get the comparison.  What’s important, though, is WHY this seems to be the case.  So far as I can tell (I’ll say this disclaimer once, I am some random dude on Tumblr and this is an anecdote, not scientific data - your experiences and brain chemistry may vary, do your research, I am not endorsing anything illegal, etc.) what happens on shrooms isn’t you being high, in the traditional sense.

Some drugs interfere with your perception and processing of the world.  That’s what I was expecting, and for a moment it’s what I thought I was getting.  But instead, I think what the shrooms did was delete my brain’s config file.

So now you’ve lost all the built up definitions and stored patterns, and you look at the walls and your brain no longer knows if there’s something important in all the detail.  Is there a tiger hiding in there?  WHO KNOWS!  And it takes all those little swirls and textures in the plaster or paint and starts over-processing all of it looking for patterns.  This means you don’t so much “come down” from being high, but finish re-calibrating.  At some point your brain is all, “Hey I’ve determined that’s just a normal texture for the ceiling to have, I’m not going to look that closely anymore”.

Okay but what does that have to do with trauma and appreciating life?

So glad you asked, hypothetical reader.

As I mentioned above, it’s not just visual stuff that we look for patterns in.  From an evolutionary standpoint it’s super valuable to be able to say “hey I ate that plant and then got sick, those are probably related and I shouldn’t eat that anymore”.  But there’s two big problems with that.  The first is that as with the visual processing that one part of your brain on its own isn’t smart.  It’s an algorithm, not an entire brain, so it fucks up sometimes.

I know a guy that couldn’t check his mail, because he’d been in really bad debt for a while and the fear of losing his home and the hounding by debt collectors  traumatized him so badly that his brain said “Man every time we look at the stuff that comes in the mail we get SO UPSET!  Better avoid looking at mail!” which meant when someone put envelopes down on top of the groceries (meaning he’d have to pick up what might be bills to get to the food) he found himself thinking “maybe I should just order pizza” even though he knew how stupid that was.  Trauma is a bitch, y’all.

The other thing is that sometimes the pattern was valid but is simply no longer useful.  The context has changed, and now it’s getting in the way rather than helping... but your brain doesn’t have a reset button.  Well, not a built-in one... but turns out this shit does the trick:

This is a PB&J&M sandwich I ate yesterday.  Ignore the chipped plate.  It made me feel kinda queasy all day, and at first I was disappointed.  I felt a little floaty and wobbly and things did start to look a little interesting, and I was having a nice time, but it wasn’t the mind-blowing experience I’d been hoping for.  And then the shrooms finished deleting all my stored patterns.

You know that stoner thing where they’re like “dude this cat is, like, so soft.  Why can’t we all just love each other and pet cats?” and you roll your eyes at them?  Yeah, well, the thing to know is that’s not them being stoned, that’s them seeing the world with a fresh perspective and realizing that, yeah, cats ARE soft and we don’t appreciate that enough and man why CAN’T we just relax and love each other?

In other words, it’s not distorting your perception - it’s resetting it.  You get to experience that wonder and joy of seeing things for the first time, and it’s lovely.  There are so many details that your brain files away as unimportant - it’s busy checking for tigers, who cares about appreciating the grass?  I had a great talk with my daughter (side disclaimer, she’s an adult and I was totally lucid by then and I cleared it with my designated babysitter first) and got to really see her as an adult for the first time.  Kids grow up a little at a time and it’s wild to be able to wipe out the “yeah, yeah, that’s your kid, you know what they look like” thing and SEE them, see how they’ve grown and what they really look like as a whole adult person.

I also realized I wasn’t being fair with her.  She’s had issues I won’t go into here, she’s done some dangerous or irresponsible shit like most kids have and I was still filled with parental anxiety about that and was viewing her through that filter.  What is she up to?  Is she acting squirrely?  She hasn’t been home for a few days and now she’s all manic, is she safe?  Is she fucking up?  Am I fucking up by letting her fuck up?

And with that filter erased, I could see... she’s a good kid.  She’s manic because she has ADHD and decided she doesn’t want to take meds.  She has some issues, but she’s an adult now and those aren’t my business anymore; those are now her adult issues that she can work on in her own time and her own way.  I can finally look at her as... not a peer, she’s still my kid, but as a complete adult person that I don’t need to fix and can just love and support.

It’s like Marie Kondo came into my brain and was like “hey does this pattern you’re viewing everything through spark joy?  No?  Okay let’s thank it for its service and send it on its way.”

And this is why people use shrooms to treat trauma.  I’m not saying it’s a magic cure-all, I’m not saying that it will work for everyone, but... man it’s pretty great to clear things out.  That sense of wonder and appreciation is already fading, but it’s not that the shrooms are wearing off - the wipe was an event not a condition - it’s just the normal process of my brain filing things away as “not a tiger” and ignoring them again.

It’s like those power washing videos.  You scour off the accumulated grime, and then the grime starts to build up again but at least you get it nice and clean for now and were reminded that, hey, that can look pretty nice.  I can see why people say not to do them too often, as wonderful as my experience was there just wouldn’t be a point in doing it again right away.  Maybe in a few months, who knows.

Final thoughts and warnings

I was queasy the whole day, longer than most people seem to experience.  It didn’t bother me much, I never felt like I was in danger of throwing up although I know people who have.  If you’re worried about it there are ways around that, it’s caused by the actual mushrooms rather than the active chemicals so you can (supposedly) make a sort of tea and strain out the actual mushroom bits. 

I tried watching some of those trippy videos, and that was a mistake.  There was too much visual stimulation and the disconnect of “wait it looks like we’re flying through a psychedelic landscape of fractals but it feels like we’re just sitting in a chair” made me feel antsy and uncomfortable.  Turns out it’s better to just look at something fairly boring and let your brain over-analyze it.

Have a babysitter.  My wonderful supportive wife was mine, and I ended up not needing one but frankly that might be my own strange brain.  I’ve always had a strong separation between the main “thinking” part of my brain and the rest, so there wasn’t really any chance I would mistake my altered state for normal life.  Better safe than sorry though, especially at first.

Do your research.  Don’t go for the highest dose you can in search of some crazy trip - the best thing is the mental refresh, not seeing the walls move.  I took 3.5g, just for reference.

Plan for it to take up your whole day AND to be kinda tired the day after.  Think of it like taking a sick day, you’re going to want to spend most of the time just laying back and dozing on the couch.

Be in a good mood, and a place that makes you feel good.  Lots of people suggest being out in nature, I can imagine that would be really nice.

Be extremely cautious when combining shrooms with other things.  Don’t do it on purpose - it’s not needed, I promise - and do your research if you’re on anti depressants because while it seems mostly safe there’s theoretically a chance of having a bad interaction like serotonin syndrome.  My own research has implied that’s probably not an actual concern but I’m just some guy on Tumblr and you shouldn’t trust me.

Don’t use drugs if you’re under 20, don’t do illegal stuff, don’t blame me if you fuck yourself up.  I will not under any circumstances assist anyone in obtaining shrooms.  All I’ll say is they’re legal in some places and if you don’t live in one of those places you’re on your own.  While they do grow naturally in some places, so do mushrooms that will fucking kill you - and it can be hard to tell the difference.  Don’t eat random mushrooms, ever.

[slasherhaven]

✨Hi✨Can you write a headcanon for slashers' toxic treats in a relationship? (It may their insecurities, being too jealous/overprotective ect..) thank you so much and i love your blog 💖🦄

You mean other than the murder and sadism???? Sure! 😂 (Not all of these are ‘toxic traits’, some are just problems that you might have in the relationship. Not including the whole murder thing...)

The Slashers and their toxic traits:

Thomas Hewitt 

His insecurities. He beats himself up so much about everything and it occasionally gets in the way of your relationship. For the most part you are able to reassure him and he comes around, missing being with you. However, he can start to hide down on the basement and start avoiding you, causing a divide between you both. He’ll comes around or you will march down there and confront him, lovingly, and he’ll feel better for a while. It’s a slow process building Tommy’s self worth but you’re a huge help!

His family? I mean...we all know Hoyt isn’t exactly friendly. Once you’re a part of the family, he expects you to have some sort of part in their chores. He also has a habit of teasing you and Thomas, and not in a very playful way, normally worsening Thomas’ insecurities. Luda May isn’t completely innocent either, though. She does love you but is pretty tough in the early stages of your relationship, like she doesn’t trust you. Once you’re officially a member of the family, she eases up on you though. 

Michael Myers 

Can be very cold. This shouldn’t be surprising. He’s a very stoic, cold man who is mostly unaffectionate. It takes so long to start building physical affection with him that most people would just give up before they get there. Of course, it’s worth it for when he finally starts to open up to it, but it can be draining on you.

Likes to get his way. He’s stubborn and independent. The thought of having somebody rely on him or to rely on somebody else makes him very uncomfortable, he isn’t used to it at all. And yet, here you both are. So, he doesn’t ask before doing most things, he just kind of...does. He doesn’t understand why you explain that you would like for him to mention it in the future. An example of this is just leaving the house without telling you, leaving you looking for him before realising he left for the night. He’ll gradually come around to improving on it, starting small, but that means a whole lot coming from Michael.

Jason Voorhees 

His insecurities. Jason doesn’t pull away from you because of it but the more understanding and patient you are, the better it will be. It takes a long time for him to remove the mask and, naturally, that can cause some tension. He’s too worried about scaring you away while you’re worrying that he doesn’t trust you as much as he claims too. This is something that can be dealt with eventually. Once he’s removed the mask and you make him feel loved, this issue slowly fades away.

Isolation? It’s not really his fault. He lives out in a cabin in the middle of the woods near an old run down summer camp and now you live with him. He’s not purposely keeping you away from other people but it’s something that can’t be helped. Of course he’s not going to stop you from taking trips to visit family or friends even if he would miss you, it’s just now always very easy to do so.

Brahms Heelshire 

Selfish. Brahms has a major case of only child syndrome. He can’t accept ‘no’ as an answer, he demands everything he wants, he only really things about himself, mostly because that’s what he’s used too. Thank his parents. Deep down, he really is a sweetheart but you have to chisel away all that nastiness. It’s hard work and you play more of a caretaker role before a romantic partner.

Get’s extremely jealous. He hates the grocery boy’s guts with a vengeance, all because he flirted with you that one time. But he gets jealous over stupid things as well, just when he decides that you aren’t giving him enough attention, which he wants a lot of.

Uses guilt trips. This one you need to stop as soon as possible. It’s how he got his way with his parents, and now he will try to use it against you. As you try to reign in his selfishness, you have to for the same for his guilt trips.

Bo Sinclair

Can’t take responsibility. It takes so much to get him to sincerely apologise. He really needs to see that he’s done something wrong and has really upset you in order to actually apologise. Otherwise he’ll just brush it off and move on, refusing to admit that he did anything wrong.

Manipulative. It’s almost like being manipulative is Bo’s second nature. He does it all the time with people who come into the town but he doesn’t really mean to do it to you. But when he wants something or he’s irritated, he just slips up and it happens. Big fan of saying things like “you’re overreacting”.

Vincent Sinclair 

His insecurities. Vincent can become very withdrawn from you due to his own insecurities. It can really get in the way of your relationship. Of course you’re understanding and compassionate but it does start to wear you down, making you a little irritated. You never let on to those feelings though, always trying to comfort him. Vincent will come around eventually after some reassurance but it can be a tough time.

His relationship with Bo. This is probably a bigger problem than his insecurities. Bo has a lot of power over Vincent and you don’t like it at all, even if you have developed a fondness for the other twin as well. Most of the times it isn’t a problem but when Bo is in a bad mood, he mostly takes it out on Vincent. It can feel like Vincent puts Bo above you, even when Bo is being awful. You understand it, you really do. Bo is the toxic one, not Vincent. But that doesn’t always make things easier.

Lester Sinclair

His relationship with his brothers. Lester isn’t a very toxic person but any relationship with somebody who has a life like his could become a little toxic. You are incredibly important to him but...so are his brothers. It’s highly unlikely that he would leave Ambrose to live a more honest life, or at least try to. He’s more likely to do so than either of the twins but it’s still very unlikely to happen. Sometimes it can make you question his priorities, but he really really does love you more than anything.

Bubba Sawyer

His family. His family is extremely toxic, this shouldn’t be much of a shock. Bubba is probably the least toxic out of all of them, this man just wants to love somebody and be loved in return. By family, I mostly mean Drayton.

Isolation. Like with Jason, this isn’t really his fault but it’s something to consider. If you have family or friends, you likely won’t be able to see them much at all. You could still call and message but you live with the Sawyers now that Drayton doesn’t like the idea of you coming and going. This probably links back to the toxic family dynamics.

Billy Lenz

Jealous/possessive. He’s pretty much a shut in, he doesn’t like leaving the house even though he probably could. He doesn’t have a problem with you having friends but gets a little pouty if you go out with them for a long time, and when you get back home, he is extra clingy. He won’t stop you but you’re well aware that he would rather you just stay with him. He probably feels more lonely than anything.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Manipulative. Asa knows what he wants and when he wants something, he will get it. He does genuinely try to not purposely manipulate you since he cares about you. However, manipulation usually comes so easily to him that he might not even realise he’s doing it.

His need for control. Asa likes being in control and he loves when you’re submissive to him. This means that he can find it a little difficult to give up some control in the relationship or around the house. It can be infuriating but can be adjusted slowly but it’s not going to be easy.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

Overprotective/possessive. As soon as another man is talking to you, he will be right by your side, his intimidating figure usually being enough to scare them off. If he had it his way, he’d have you with him at all time, only for him to touch or even look at. However, he won’t resort to that unless it’s something you want...still, it’s obvious and it can become overbearing if nothing else.

Depending on your feelings towards his ‘job’, he can be gone for long periods of times. Unless you are completely okay with what he does and go on the ‘business’ trips with him, you are going to be left home alone for long periods of time. Of course, you might be completely okay with that and if that’s the case, there’s no problem. If you need him around some more...well, you might start to feel a little lonely. He always makes it up to you when he gets home though!

Otis Driftwood 

Very focused on himself. He’s just used to only thinking about himself, ever since he was a kid. Of course he does genuinely care about the family and about you (and he doesn’t express that to you better than he does the family) but he’s nowhere near perfect with it. He also has a tendency of pulling away from you when this gets bad. When he realises that it’s bothered you, he doesn’t really apologise either, but he’ll still offer you some comfort.

Anger issues. This man has a temper. He would never turn you but oh boy is it hard work. Most of the time it’s just ranting and shouting about whatever pissed him off. While it doesn’t turn physical or is ever directed at you, it can be a little draining.

Baby Firefly 

Doesn’t take much seriously. Baby tends to treat everything like a joke or just doesn’t realise how serious the situation is to you. It’s not an constant thing, if you’re upset, she’ll notice and take it seriously as she comforts you. But she still sometimes brushes off your concerns (as well as everyone else’s) because she’s practically bouncing with energy.

Yautja (Predator) 

He. Is. An. Alien. I wouldn’t really call this a toxic trait but it definitely causes some complications. The traditions of his race can be...startling. You find far too many skulls in your home when you start courting. You are also likely the thing to introduce him to monogamy, but he adapts to that very fast because you’re so precious to him.

Pretty possessive. He isn’t the jealous type, just very possessive. You are his mate, his little human, and he wants everyone (especially other Yautjas) to know that. At times it might become a little suffocating.

(Look...I’m bias here okay!)

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[starryhyuck]

dangerous game. (m)

pairing: dilf!jaehyun x younger!reader

words: 1.9k+

summary: jaehyun is your father’s co-worker, but it’s not your fault that he’s undeniably hot.

genre: smut

warnings: older!jaehyun, younger!reader, car sex, public sex, creampie, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy

“It’s not like he’s your dad, you know.”

You glare at Sookyung, who’s innocently sipping at her glass of champagne. You pinch her arm and she squeals.

“He could be! He’s just as old as my dad,” you comment, eyes roaming over Jeong Jaehyun’s figure.

He was just recently hired into your father’s corporation and proven himself to be a worthy asset, his dimples charming everyone who comes his way. He’s built up a strong relationship with your parents, bringing over his daughter to hang out with you sometimes. You wonder if he’ll always see you as a kid — a friend of his daughter’s to have play dates with.

Speaking of the devil, Haerim bounces over and smiles at you and Sookyung. Luckily, Haerim got her looks from her mother so you don’t feel so odd when you gaze over at her.

“How are you two doing? I’m kind of bored,” she comments, fingers gripping her own champagne glass.

Sookyung gives you the eye and you know what she’s thinking — you practically sped home from college just to stare at Jaehyun all night, jumping at your father’s invitation as soon as he called.

“We’re doing fine,” Sookyung replies, and you grow wary of her mischievous smile. “How about you and your dad? Any luck with finding him a date?”

Haerim shakes her head. “Nope. He’s probably just not ready to move on yet.”

Sookyung grins. “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl.”

You glare at her. Haerim shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe.”

—

It’s only a few weeks later when you come home for Christmas. Your father greets you at the door and your mother lets you know they have company over. You try to keep your resolve when you see Jaehyun at the table, his smile taking your breath away like it always has.

“Jaehyun’s spending Christmas with us,” your father mentions as you take your seat.

“And Haerim?” You ask, eyes locking with Jaehyun’s.

“At her mother’s for the holidays,” Jaehyun responds, dark eyes gazing at you. You nod, and as soon as you dig into your meal, your father and Jaehyun are chatting it up. “That’s crazy, Doyoung. I couldn’t imagine any of the investors buying that crap.”

Your father laughs and your mother leans over to speak with you.

“I want you to be nice to Jaehyun while he’s here. He’s having a rough time, first holiday after the divorce and everything.”

You smile. “I’ll keep him good company, I promise.”

She pats your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

It’s later in the night when you keep your promise, knocking on the guest room door. You’ve taken Sookyung’s advice and luckily packed all of your best underwear, matching bra and all. You know deep down you shouldn’t get your hopes up, especially since Jaehyun is still learning to live without his wife.

All those thoughts are thrown away, however, when he opens the door. You grin innocently at him.

“I hope you’re enjoying your stay, Mr. Jeong. I was just checking up on you.”

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Is that so? Well, thank you for being such a hospitable host.”

Sookyung’s words bounce around in your head, still lingering when you called her after dinner. Flirt. Remind him you’re very mature for your age. And wear that red thong I bought you for your birthday!

You laugh. “Yes, well, I think my father would be upset if he knew I wasn’t being very friendly.”

He chuckles and nods his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t.”

Your gazes lock, and you swear his eyes darken a little. He opens his mouth to say something before you hear footsteps. Your father comes around the corner, smiling and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“I can see you’re treating Jaehyun nicely.”

“She was,” Jaehyun answers. “You raised her well, Doyoung.”

“I hope so,” your father laughs, placing a kiss on your head. “Listen, Jaehyun, we’re going out tomorrow to get all the groceries we need to make Christmas dinner. I was wondering if you would tag along with Y/N to find a suitable tree for the living room.”

Your eyes practically light up, and Jaehyun chuckles.

“I think that would be fine,” he nods, gaze returning to you. “We’ll leave in the morning?”

You smile. “Sounds good.”

—

Car rides with Jaehyun are more arousing than you expected. You’ve been on edge since you’ve been on the road with him, mainly because you’re unsure of how to make the first move. If he ends up not even liking you in that way, he could definitely tell your father and further humiliate you.

“You’re quiet this morning.”

Your head darts to look over at him, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Oh,” you laugh awkwardly. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Care to enlighten me?” He hums.

This is a very dangerous game.

“I just- um-“ you pause, trying to comprehend your thoughts. Jaehyun chuckles at your internal struggle. Oh God. What if he just sees me as a kid? I’m wearing this uncomfortable thong and all he sees is his daughter’s little friend-

“I don’t think we can,” he comments, taking you off guard.

You frown. “Don’t think we can what?”

He sighs. “I want to be with you in that way, but your dad-“

Your eyes widen. “Wait wait wait. You like me? I mean, you like me like that?”

He smirks, taking his eyes off of the road for a mere second to glance at you. “Yes, I like you like that. But it’s too complicated. You’re young, and-“

You scoff. “I’m not that young.”

“You’re as young as my daughter,” he reminds you. “And your father and I are good friends. Plus, he has all the power to fire me whenever he wants, and I don’t think I can afford to lose my job right now.”

Sookyung’s voice grows louder in your head. Make him want you. Show him he can’t resist.

Your eyelashes flutter closed, fingers drifting down to your core.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You ignore him, one hand slithering into your underwear and stroking your folds gently. You throw your head back and moan. You can feel the car swerve a little.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be doing this. I’m driving, this is dangerous and I-“

“Touch me, Mr. Jeong,” you beg, opening your eyes to stare directly at him. “Please?”

It isn’t long before he pulls over on the side of the road and leans over the console to press his lips against yours. You whimper when his fingers tug on your hair, exposing your neck to him.

“Such a little slut,” he hisses, lips attaching to your neck and sucking gently. “We could’ve gotten into an accident.”

“But we didn’t,” you remind him, guiding his hand to your core. “Can you fuck me now?”

He growls. “Filthy little mouth. Does your dad know you talk this way?”

You shake your head. “No, daddy wouldn’t like that.”

He curses lowly and you know you’ve got him. He pushes the seat all the way back and climbs until he’s hovering over you, tongue desperately exploring the expanse of your mouth. He replaces your fingers with his, digits slowly playing with your folds before sliding two into your waiting hole. You whine into the kiss and he pauses briefly.

“You’re not a-“

“Virgin?” You raise an eyebrow. “No. But don’t tell daddy.”

He growls, attacking you once again and curling his fingers upwards. You’re both lucky he’s pulled over to an abandoned part of the town, and his tinted windows giving you even further security.

“We have to be quick, baby,” he whispers breathlessly. “Still have to bring a tree home.”

The clothes come off quickly after that, your hands gripping Jaehyun’s shirt and flinging it over your shoulder. He laughs at your eagerness, palming at your breast and kissing your mound.

“Such a pretty body,” he murmurs, lips darting over your nipple. You moan and arch your back.

“Yeah? Prettier than your ex-wife’s?”

He smirks. “Prettier. Younger. Hotter.”

You whimper when he throws your dress to the side, fingers dancing over your choice of underwear.

“Isn’t that pretty? You wear that for me, sweet girl?”

You giggle. “Only for you, daddy.”

He flips you over, smacking your ass along the way. You enjoy the way he manhandles you, pulling your hair back and tugging it harshly.

“Is this how you like it? Exposed like a whore for anyone to see? What would your parents say if they saw you like this?”

“What would your daughter say if she saw you about to fuck a girl the same age as her?” You counter.

He smiles. “She wouldn’t like it, that’s for sure.”

You feel his tip prod your entrance and you moan, gripping the headrest of the passenger seat. Jaehyun kisses your shoulders, cupping your breasts and sliding into you.

You cry at the stretch, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he enters you. He’s thick. And huge. Definitely the biggest you’ve ever taken.

He curses in your ear. “Fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

“Never-“ you gasp, catching your breath when he sinks deeper and deeper. “Never had someone this big, daddy.”

You both groan when he bottoms out, lips parting at the pleasure you’re receiving. You feel so full, and Jaehyun’s cock is like a fever dream.

“Jaehyun, please,” you beg, aching for him to move.

He follows your order, grabbing your hips and snapping into you. You moan loudly, the sound of his hips connecting with your thighs echoing throughout the vehicle. He feels so perfect inside of you and you blubber his name over and over again.

You imagine how sinful you both look, with Jaehyun fucking you desperately in the passenger seat of his car, where Haerim probably sat when he used to drive her to school everyday. You whimper at the thought as Jaehyun drills into you, panting in your ear.

“Feels so good, baby,” he praises you. “Wanna fuck you all day.”

“Will you?” You ask, whining when he nudges against your sweet spot. “Will you fuck me when we get back home?”

“If you can stay quiet,” he chuckles and you giggle with him. He groans when you clench around him. “You going to cum for me, baby? Show me how much you want it, sweet girl.”

You fall apart around him, squeezing his cock for dear life as you orgasm. You’re completely spent but Jaehyun still plows into you, chasing his high. You prod him a little.

“Please, daddy. Want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you on the pill?”

The beat of silence is deafening. “What if I wasn’t?”

He groans. “Don’t mess with me, baby. I’m going to explode.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see that? Your cum dripping down my thighs at dinner, trying not to let my dad see? What if he found out I was pregnant? What would he do then?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaehyun hisses. “Baby, I can’t. I’m going to cum.”

“Knock me up, Jae,” you giggle, pushing back against him. “Show everyone how filthy you are, getting a girl half your age pregnant with your child. What would Haerim think?”

He pushes deep inside you and cries out, shooting ribbons into your waiting womb. You smile deviously, pushing further back onto him so none of his cum would spill out. He’s still cumming after a minute, and his warmth fills your stomach.

You grin. “Had a lot to give me, didn’t you?”

He growls and leans down, nipping at your ear.

“I’m getting you pregnant while I’m here, you little minx.”

“Looking forward to it.”

[ynscrazylife]

Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After  a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.  

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[michelle-is-writing]

Family Matters, Greg House

Word count: 1.7k~

In the time I’ve worked at Princeton-Plainsboro teaching hospital, some might say I'm the bubbly doctor in our group. Although I don’t know how true this might be, I do know everyone can agree I'm definitely more bubbly than doctor Gregory House, but that's for another day to discuss. I'm usually the one people send in to try and cheer up patients. Because of this, I mostly work in the pediatrics ward where young, sick children are. Sometimes, I have an easy time talking to the kids and making them happier, and sometimes, I don't; usually, when I'm upset, I have a hard time.

Right now, I'm having a very difficult time.

A young New Jersey girl at the age of 11 had developed mastoiditis, an infection that affects the mastoid bone above the ear and is typically caused by a middle ear infection. Usually, this all clears up, but sadly, this infection had grown to be so bad that the girl ended up with only twenty-three percent of her hearing left in the one ear. Although this is the case, I'm not having a hard time because of the girl's loss of hearing, no.

I have my own problems at the moment.

Since I'm working in the children's ward, I don't get to see Wilson or Greg as much as I want to. Despite Greg's tendency to be an asshole, he's still my best friend and not to mention that Wilson is the kind of guy anyone can talk to about anything. However, our schedules are all different, so, as I said: we don't get to see each other that often.

At least they're still in my life though. For my family, I can’t say the same. Recently, I've just lost the closest person to me in my family; although it wasn’t through death, but through immaturity and childishness. Because of this, all of my other family members have closed me out as well, causing me to be alone. With all of my friends busy and my family shutting me out, I have no one to talk to or enjoy time with... no one. I can't even get a boyfriend for Christ's sake, and it's not like the guy I have my eyes on actually likes me back. Greg is the type of guy you can easily fall in love with, yet at the same, you really shouldn't.

"Doctor (y/n)," the young girl by the name of Jessie states. Putting all my focus back on her, I remind myself not become distracted anymore today. This isn’t the first time, unfortunately. "Will my hearing ever return?"

I smile sadly at her and shake my head. "I'm sorry, Jessie," I tell her. "Your hearing in that ear won't return, but it's not a bad thing!" I assure her. She smiles in relief. "We can always get you a hearing aid, and that will help get your hearing back to normal again, but the wait might be a little long," I explain. "Is that okay with you?"

She nods her head at my question. "I'm okay with that, doctor (Y/n)," Jessie tells me, "I'll have my family help me until then," she smiles brightly. "You can always look up to your family, right?" She states, confident in her words.

Tears slowly rising to my eyes at the thought, I nod and quickly blink them away. "That's right," I tell her, still smiling. "And don't you ever forget it," looking toward her parents, I nod my head. "The discharge nurse will be here in a few moments with the papers. If you'll excuse me..."

Without another word, I quickly leave the room and walk as fast as I can to the nearest empty room. I prefer going to James’ office instead, but it's two floors away, and I don't want any awkward elevator trips. So, before I have a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway, I find an unlocked janitorial closet before walking in and closing the door behind me, ultimately sliding down the hardwood door once it's shut.

Sitting on the cold, tile floor, I begin sobbing as quiet as I can, my hand covering my mouth. I already had my family drama on my mind all day, but for that girl to unintentionally throw it back in my face? That was the frosting on top of the already leaning, three-layer cake.

Tears stream down my cheeks like raindrops as I cry my heart out. I can tell my cheeks are red by the sensation of heat I currently feel on them; my hands feel it too. I'm crying so hard my chest begins to heave up and down as if I were having a panic attack. Oh God, I can't have a panic attack. Not here, not now.

Behind me, I feel two knocks on the door, causing me to halt. The only problem is: the knock wasn't above me, it was where my back is against the door. Remind you, I'm currently sitting on the floor. The only way someone can knock that low is if there is a midget behind the door there or someone used something like a cane... it's Greg.

Slowly moving up a little, I shakily open the door and let the grey haired man in, watching as he looks at me with pity. I've never seen the confident doctor House look like this with anyone. It's like a... a totally different Greg.

Sitting down beside me against the door, Greg drops his cane beside him as he sighs and wraps his arm around me before gently tugging my body close to his. Shocked, I tense up, tears no longer pouring out of my eyes. Greg never comforts anyone like this. He always makes fun of them or says something that many people take offense to, but he never... he never cares. He always brushes it off his shoulder, yet for some reason, he seems like he actually cares this time.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice deep as usual with no emotion.

I wait a few seconds before lying. "Nothing important," I tell him, my voice wavering from my scattered emotions.

Pulling me back to face him, Greg looks me in the eye before sighing again. "I know you've been crying by the wet tears on your cheeks, slight puffiness, and redness to your eyes, and fast-paced breathing - and I don’t even have to be a doctor to notice that," he breaks down my current state, lifting an eyebrow. "Now, are you going to begrudgingly tell me what's wrong or do I need to stay in here with you until you finally give in to all my unrelenting sexiness."

His comment makes me laugh, causing a grimace of a smile to fall on House's lips. Out of all of us, I've been the only one to do that. I've been the only one to break Greg's stone exterior and interior. Plus, It doesn't help that I like Greg romantically. I like the fact that he's confident and witty; he's not afraid to be himself. Although, he can still be quite an ass to others, but to me, he’s always been nothing but kind. Even when I first started working here, he was still patient and sweet - a rare sight to everyone else. It used to hurt me to think he’ll never feel the same way as me, but I’ve gotten so used to that fact that it doesn’t even bother me anymore.

"It's just... my family," I explain, Greg pushing my head back onto his shoulder as he holds me. At this point, I'm not shocked by anything he does. The infamous doctor could be high for all I know. He probably took a few Vicodin tablets before coming down here now that I think of it.

"They've completely... shut me out," I explain, shrugging as I rest my hand on his shoulder. "They never talk to me anymore, they've blocked me in any way of even trying to talk to them. My cousin just sent me an email last night telling me that I didn't need to contact them anymore as they no longer wanted me in their lives," I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Plus, I wish I could work with you guys again," I take a breath before saying the next thing. "I miss you."

A few seconds of silence pass before Greg leans down to my face level. Opening my eyes, I'm greeted by his own sapphire orbs, watching as he continually inches forward until his lips plant themselves on mine. Our eyes close at the same time in response to the touch of our lips, and they stay that way too. With my heart beating fast and a different fire in my cheeks, I instantly respond to his kiss while placing my hands on the sides of his face, feeling his hands attach themselves to my hips as I do so. We kiss until we have to breathe, both of us pulling apart simultaneously.

"They don't deserve you," Greg tells me, a little out of breath. "You are wonderful; a decent and kind human being, inside and out," he takes a small pause, flashing his blue eyes down to mine. "I never thought I’d say this, but… because of you, I think maybe not everyone is a horrible person and that maybe I can be a bit nicer a time or two," he then smiles at me, kissing me once more. "You have made me feel love believe it or not."

Smiling, I lean up to kiss his forehead before sitting back down and resting my head against his chest, my eyes cast upon him as he looks down at me. "You've also made me feel love," I confess to him, my voice shy. "I've grown to love you as well. You and your sarcastic comments and witty comebacks and your insults to apparent stupid people," for once, he laughs, making me grin. "I can't help but love it all."

After a few moments, Greg speaks up. "I know I can't be your entire family," he murmurs, holding me close. "But I can try to be your... your..." He draws on, clearly trying to come up with an appointed title for himself. After a few seconds, I giggle and cut him off.

"Boyfriend?" I ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I was going to say significant other," he argues, looking over to me. "The term boyfriend is so, well, childish," he complains, making me giggle.

Leaning closer, I peck his lips. "Good thing you have a childish mind," I tease him, pressing my lips to his one more time before he responds to my comment with something horrible or completely inappropriate. It is Doctor House we’re talking about, after all.

[katyasrussianaccent]

i don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips (corpse x reader)

Summary: Corpse suggests you flirt with each other to mess with the fans. What happens when you suddenly catch feelings?

Authors Note: This has been in my brain for so long so I decided to write it. May or may not write a part 2, im not sure. Lemme know what you think! My requests are open for fic/headcannons aswell 💖

It should have been simple.

Flirt, mess with the fans a little, sit back and relax.

It should have been simple.

You remember Corpse coming to you with the idea.

“Why would we do that?” you had asked, frowning at your phone screen. It had been another late night phone conversation with him; something that was starting to become a regular occurrence.

You pictured him shrug as he answered. “Fun?”

“Are you so bored you wanna make a fake relationship with me?”

“Not a relationship. Just do what we do now, but like, more.”

You had agreed before your brain had even registered it. On paper it was straightforward. You already flirted a little anyway, you were naturally a flirtatious person, and so was he. It made sense; or at least you had told yourself that it did. You knew the fans already shipped you together, you saw the things they tweeted as you occasionally lurked the ynhusband tag on Twitter. It was just innocent fun right? No-one was going to get hurt.

For a little while that was true. For a little while he called you baby and you called him darling and it meant nothing. Your face didn’t feel flush when he commented on your latest Instagram post and your heart didn’t do a little flip when he would call you just to see how you were. The phone conversations were your favourite; curled up in bed with the phone on your pillow, trading secrets into the night. He had suddenly become this constant in your life, this almost routine familiarity like brushing your teeth or going to get milk.

You weren’t sure what changed, when it had gone from being innocent fun to meaning something. It was like someone had flicked a switch, and Corpse was no longer a warm glow but this bright, blinding light that hurt your eyes to look at too long. It was almost cruel, the way you wanted something so unobtainable; the universe’s idea of a joke had no humour in it. The thing with Corpse was he was so unaware of the power he had. He was mysterious yes, but he was faceless among a sea of faces; of course people were drawn to him. And you were just another.

You started to pull away. You played different games with different people, you ignored his tweets. It was easier, if you never interacted with him, you could pretend there was nothing but shallow feelings instead of the crashing waves that threatened to pull you under. The fans had started to notice; your streams were filled with questions that you refused to answer.

“Where’s Corpse?” you read aloud as you scrolled down the chat. “Probably in his house? Go ask him.” Your tone was bitter even to you and you inwardly cringed. He hadn’t contacted you in 2 weeks, and while you were thankful, you were hurt by it. It was stupid and hypoctritical of you to be upset by something that was your own doing, and you weren’t sure what you had expected from him. He had other friends, other people to talk to, why would he have cared about you anyway?

Your phone lit up next to you, and you ignored the pang of disappointment at Rae’s picture flashing up.

Rae: Among Us???

You hesitated for a second. The likelihood of Corpse being there was high, but you knew deep down he wouldn’t say a thing to you, not on stream or in front of your friends. You could just ignore him, like you had been doing and it would be fine. You weren’t sure you believed yourself anymore.

“Guys, you want to watch me play Among Us? I’m not sure who’s playing, other than Rae.” You looked at the fast flowing stream of affirmatives and emojis. Guess you had to do it now. You opened up the game and joined the lobby.

“-yeah she looks really fucking cute,” you heard Corpse say as you logged in. You looked down at your outfit,; he definitely wasn’t talking about you in your oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. You had been on stream for a few hours now; your eyeliner was smudged a little and any lipstick had worn off with the constant drinking and licking your lips. No, he definitely wasn’t talking about you.

“Hey guys,” you said tentatively, swallowing down the feeling of jealousy at Corpse’s previous words.

A chorus of greetings hit you, and you smiled at their enthusiasm. You had played with Rae, Sykunno and Toast a few times before, but Felix, Jack and Ash were new to you, though you knew of them.

“Hey Y/N,” Corpse said. You had hoped after 2 weeks he wouldn’t still affect you so much, but the way your stomach turned said otherwise.

“Hey Corpse,” you replied, hoping your tone was casual.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?” he asked.

“Oh. Uh yeah, I’ve been a bit busy I guess, how are you?” You looked down as you answered, picking at your nail polish. You glanced at the chat that was filled with messages.

corpsesbaby: You can always tell when someones lying coz they look down” llamadelrey: why is this so awkward lmao arent they friends??” simpsforrae: This is like is a breakup i swear

“I’ve been okay, thanks” Corpse answered, drawing your eyes off the chat and back to the game. You nodded as you muted your mic to go back to your stream.

“I hope I don’t get imposter, I always suck at that so much.” You watched as the screen counted down and the word IMPOSTER flashed up alongside Corpse’s name. “Guess I jinxed it guys.”

Great. Not only were you imposter, you were imposter with Corpse, which meant you would have to actually speak to him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to.

You both followed Rae as she walked up towards Greenhouse, and you cornered her while she did her task, killing her quickly.

“Everyone seemed to go right, so we should vent back towards cafeteria to avoid suspicion,” Corpse said.

“Okay,” you answered. You vented together, and you muted your mic to laugh. “This is kinda cosy guys.” You said to your chat. You briefly imagined what it would be like in real life to be so close to him.

You moved to Admin where Toast was doing his task. Before you could say a word, Corpse had already killed him and you both vented outside Cafeteria. “Fuck, that was so close,” you muttered, chuckling a little.

“Don’t worry, I got your back,” he replied, making your heart sing a little.

“Oh my hero,” you said, making a point of swooning to your chat, your voice high and airy. “How will I ever repay you?”

He chuckled, “You shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

You flushed at the suggestive tone he had taken, and you hoped it wasn’t noticeable but judging by the comments in your chat, it clearly had been. This was another issue you had with Corpse; he always made these type of comments with you and it was really annoying. You knew there was no chance he was being serious, and sometimes you wished he would stop it purely because it got your hopes up.

delilah: shes BLUSHING dreamofme: uWu yn uWu

You opened your mouth to respond when Dead Body Reported flashed up, bringing your thoughts back to the game.

“Toast and Rae are dead,” Sykuuno said. “I found Rae in Greenhouse and Toast in admin.”

“I was in balcony, I went there from the cafeteria,” you said confidently. You hated being Imposter, especially being teamed with Corpse, who was so good at the game, you had a lot of pressure to do well.

“I was in MedBay, I didn’t see you YN,” Ash accused.

“You only see if they enter through the left door. She entered through the other door,” Corpse answered for you.

“And how do you know that?” Felix asked.

“I was in Cafeteria,” Corpse replied.

“You could’ve vented YN,” Jack said.

“No I couldn’t have, if Ash was in MedBay, she would have seen me. Unless she wasn’t in MedBay,” you suggested, smirking to your cam as you muted. “It’s not going too bad I don’t think? Always feel like I’ve been arrested when I’m Imposter.”

“Little sus of you Ash to say you were in MedBay when you weren’t,” Corpse said. You gaped a little at how easy it was for him to manipulate the situation, it was almost scary.

Ash argued as the other players began to agree and discuss among themselves. You smiled in success at the text on the screen.

Ash has been ejected.

You split up this time, and while you hadn’t really spoken during the game, you kind of missed Corpse’s astronaut next to yours, and you said that to your chat. “Haha, our colours did look cute together, I agree.”

Any previous trepidation you had had disappeared as soon as you had heard his voice; and you realised how much you had missed him. You would simply just need to deal with your feelings; they would go away eventually anyway. You just hoped it wasn’t too late for you to start again with him.

You walked to MedBay with Skyunno, making small talk as you did.

“I’m glad to see you playing with us, it’s been a little while,” he said and you felt bad that you would have to kill him. As you turned towards him, ready to kill as he did his task, Jack walked in. You mouthed oops at the cam.

“What’s going on here?” Jack asked, suspicion in his voice.

“I was just saying how nice it was to have YN here,” Sykunno replied. You stood and faked your task, watching the green bar fill as you did. It would be too risky to kill here.

“Ah yeah, Corpse has been asking after you constantly,” Jack said. You blinked at the response, it had caught you off guard.

“Oh?” you replied simply. You mentally shrugged it off. Of course he would have asked about you, you were friends, that was all.

DEAD BODY REPORTED

“Felix was dead in Reactor,” Corpse announced. “Oh Corpse, you’re taking a risk here” you said to your chat.

“I was in MedBay with Jack and Sykunno,” you replied, smiling as they agreed. “Where were you Ash?”

She sighed sadly. “I was in Labs, but I was doing a task, I swear!” You all agreed quickly that Ash would be the next voted out.

“2 to go,” you said triumphantly. “I thought I was gonna drag Corpse down, but it’s going okay!”

The round started again and you could feel yourself getting tired. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too much longer to finish the game.

You circled round Corpse a few times, hoping that he would understand your signal. Luckily he did, and you both vented to Decontamination where Skyunno and Jack were. The room had already started to emit steam, making it extremely easy for you both to vent unnoticed and kill them both.

You grinned at the Victory message that flashed up.

“Good game guys!” you said. The others congratulated you and Corpse on your win and you smiled at the sound of your names together. You had it bad.

“It was all YN,” Corpse said.

“Pfft you ssh being humble, it was all you,” you replied, taking your hair out of your ponytail and running your hand through it.

“Your hair looks nice,” Corpse commented and your eyes widened. Your heart started to beat a little quicker. How long had he been watching your stream?

“It’s bad to watch someone’s stream without telling them,” you replied, making a show of pouting for the camera.

He laughed a little. “What can I say, I’m a bad guy,” he said, singing the last words. You laughed at the sudden Billie Eilish.

“Guys, either play another game, or get a room,” Felix interrupted. You blushed a little and rolled your eyes, the chat going crazy from the corner of your eye.

“And that’s my cue to exit,” you said, yawning. “Bye guys, have a good night!” You wished everyone and your chat goodnight before closing the stream and leaning back in your chat. You couldn’t believe Corpse had been watching you. You hadn’t said anything too incriminating, but still.

You prepared for bed, settling back into the softness of your pillows as you grabbed your phone - a terrible habit you really needed to stop.

Corpse: Can I call you?

You gulped at the message that appeared on your screen, a gnawing feeling of nervous clung to your throat as you typed yes. His name came up almost instantaneously and your hand shook as you pressed to accept the call.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even while your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“It was nice playing with you again,” he commented.

You sat up a little as you held the phone against your ear. “Did you call me to tell me that?”

“I haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

You sighed a little. “Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy, sorry - “

“You’re lying to me and I don’t know why,” he replied. You had never heard his voice like that before; so angry and hurt. You tapped your foot against your mattress as you thought what to say.

“I -”

“Did I do something?” he asked. You had been so selfish; blocking him out to avoid being hurt, but you hadn’t thought about his feelings. He was more popular than you were, you had assumed he would be fine, that he wouldn’t care if you were around or not.

“No, you didn’t do anything, I swear -”

“Then what? Because I thought we were friends, close friends and then suddenly you pretty much disappear. But you’re still streaming with other people. It’s pretty shitty of you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked up, the sting of tears threatening to fall. “It was really shitty of me, I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” he asked. “Please just tell me.”

“I don’t know what I’m meant to say,” you replied softly.

“What do you want to say?”

You blinked, the anticipation of unspoken words caught in your throat, making it hard to swallow. The taste of them was bitter on your tongue. “I...I have feelings for you.”

There. You had said it. There was no taking it back now, and you felt like your heart was about to shatter with every single second of silence that passed. You could hear him swallow on the other end of the phone. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

You bit your lip, taking in the meaning of the question he had asked. It wasn’t something you had thought of, you hadn’t conceptualised your feelings for him, not put them in a box labelled love or anything. “I don’t know. I feel something for you. And it kinda sucks being your friend and having those feelings. So I pulled away.”

“Why does it suck?”

You laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t it? Feeling something for someone that doesn’t feel the same is fucking shitty.”

“I asked you to flirt with me YN -”

“Yeah, for fun,” you interrupted.

“No, I said for fun, but really I just wanted you to,” he replied. “I feel something for you too. How could I not? Has anything I’ve ever said to you sounded like it was just for fun?” You smiled at his response, your heart no longer on the fit of breaking, but suddenly doing flips and soaring through your chest, radiating warmth through your body.

“Oh,” you said, your brain was overloaded with thoughts, and was apparently no longer capable of coherent sentences.

“Oh? That’s a great response, thanks,” he teased, but you could tell he was smiling as he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say that, I don’t really know what to say honestly,” you replied.

“Well, baby, how about you say yes to a date?” he asked.

“Yes.”

[sourholland]

Omg u should do an imagine of season 2 the bonfire scene but instead of it being Sarah and John b it could be the reader and jj and tipper being the readers ex and the use like a random girl from the party

Bonfire || JJ Maybank

Summary → You and JJ are broken up and Topper takes you to the annual bonfire.

AN → This is based off of an episode in szn 2 so OBX2 SPOILERS! Send in OBX concepts/requests!

Pairing(s) → JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Underage Drinking, Violence, Blood

Word Count → 1.0k

“I’m planning on getting absolutely shitfaced, how about you?”

Topper couldn’t help smiling at you, taking a sip of that Natty Light he’d been thrown a few minutes before. The clouds were hanging low in the sky, only a few stars visible through the thick smog. That didn’t stop the blazing fire from sending up grey smoke into the air. Clusters of teenagers were sat around the fire, others messing around on dirt bikes and skateboards.

“Don’t you think you should just take it easy? I don’t want you to make yourself sick,” he told you, leaning over to get closer.

He had been an amazing friend in the week you’d been staying in his pool house. After getting off Figure 8, you and the rest of the Pogues ran off and got into some deep shit. Your parents told you not to bother coming home, mad about how you were dating JJ and sneaking off every other night. Once the cops got involved, you figured you were royally fucked.

So a few days before the bonfire, when you weren’t thinking straight and broke up with him, you essentially had nowhere to go. He was family. The Pogues were family.

Topper let you crash at his, though. It was weird at first, mostly because you had history and everything. You had no choice, it was his place or sticking around the Cut and having to sleep ten feet away from JJ.

“This is me taking it easy,” you sighed, taking another sip of the beer in your hand.

“If you’re not up for this, Y/N/N,” he started with a tone of seriousness. “We can head out and go get something to eat if you want.”

God, why did he have to be so respectful and sweet. It made it so much harder. He woke you up for school in the morning all week, brought you breakfast, helped with whatever homework you didn’t have the energy to do.

And still, you missed JJ more than anything in the whole fucking world.

Topper slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him a bit closer than would be considered platonic. You could smell his Armani cologne, the one he always wore when you were together. And as if timing couldn’t get any better, you looked up from you drink to see JJ being pressed by some senior girl you recognized from your lunch period.

His eyes flickered from her dark hair to you, taking in your appearance and the way Topper had you so close. His lip was busted, cheek sporting a black and blue bruise from a right hook he’d received a few days prior.

“You alright?” Topped asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Mhm, yeah,” you mumbled. “I’m fine.”

The speaker was blaring whatever song, the girl placing JJ’s hands on her hips and letting him sway her around drunkenly. He kept looking over her shoulder, watching you with a hard expression and narrowed eyes. She even at one point seemed to lean into him, waiting for a kiss. He looked the opposite way, ignoring the girl’s huff in frustration and continued to let her dance with him.

“I’m just gonna grab another beer,” you told Topper. “Hold on.”

Pushing through the groups of people, you kicked a few red solo cups and felt your face heat and heart quicken. You weren’t against confrontation, not when you knew he was trying to get a reaction from you.

JJ looked up, watching you near him and and tried to play it off like he wasn’t smirking ever so annoyingly. The smug look lasted until you were standing right in front of the both of them, hands on your hips and eyes trained on her specifically.

“Who’s your friend, J,” you said with more malice coating your voice than intended.

“What’re you doing, Y/N,” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be over there tending to Top and his frosted tips?”

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes.

You felt Topper come up beside you, JJ stiffening and the girl visibly upset at you talking to him. It was definitely not ideal, but you assumed that you looked upset to at least him. He always knew how to tell if you were in a mood.

“Look, Y/N. Just go, are you really so desperate that you can’t leave your ex-boyfriend alone?” The girl spoke up, getting into your face a bit.

“I’m sorry, were you talking?” You mocked her.

“He doesn’t want you—”

The sound of your fist colliding with her nose seemed to shut her up. There was a loud reaction from the clusters of teenagers, some taking out their phones to record you. JJ looked taken aback, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless.

“Crazy bitch,” she choked, spitting blood onto the ground.

“You want to see crazy? Get up and I’ll show you how fucking crazy I am!”

Topper put his arm in front of you, as if to stop you from doing anymore damage. This only struck something in JJ, his arms shoving Topper back onto the ground with a collective shout from everyone around.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her!” He warned through gritted teeth.

It didn’t take long before both of them were on the ground, punches being thrown and people taking sides. John B and Pope had run up soon after, Kie pushing through everyone and yelling at JJ to knock it off. You grabbed him by his shoulders from the back, yanking him onto the ground and watching Topper back away.

“Both of you!” You yelled, “what the fuck is the matter with you, god!”

Sirens could be heard in the distance, meaning in the middle of whatever that was—a freshman probably called the cops. JJ stood with a battered face and black eye, he stepped up to you and exhaled with blood dripping down and his chin.

“This what you want?” He snapped.

He turned away, walking off and leaving you to stand there with glossed over eyes and a bruised hand.