#cw mention of being hit by a romantic partner

[emotelizardrambling]

Okay, so the idea was what if the BitterSweet Trio were friends as kids.

Because I have an all-consuming need to make things more complicated, my brain decided to come up with an entire alternate storyline to BitterSweet, where the roles are kind of reversed, and then build a childhood friends/rivals, to pining ot3, to lovers plotline...

This is the first part of it.

CW: mentioned domestic abuse, mentioned drastic personality change of romantic partner, mentioned (implied) mental illness requiring medication, cursing

Notes:

Background written up in a post here, but short version is:

SB was best friends with Seth and Frenemies with Alphonse when they were growing up.

SB was forced to leave without saying goodbye to Seth or Alphonse and remained separated from the two until sometime (less than a year) after Al's parents died, when they ran into Seth.

Shit with Derek didn't happen in this universe.

Seth and Al never worked for the gang in this universe and are still together after Al takes over the shop. (They still had some dealings with the gang and did meet Charlie through those.)

SB has an emotional support cat named Shade who is absolutely best boy and very smart.

While SB, Shade, and SB's partner are my brain children everyone else is from YuuriVoice's BitterSweet series. So all rights are his.

No beta we die like Derek did before he had a chance to fuck up the boys' lives in this universe.

End notes.

“Hello, this is the Corner Store.”

It's strange to hear a voice on the other end that sounds so much like Al's dad, but also clearly isn't. It sounds nothing like the boy they knew as a kid, but…

“Alphonse?” SB asked hesitantly, not certain they had even remembered the number correctly. 

“Speaking,” he responded, and SB was relieved for a moment, until he asked, “who ’s this?” 

“I…” SB suddenly realized they had no clue why they actually called the shop. What were they even hoping anyone could do for them? This whole mess had nothing to do with Al or Seth or anyone else, but at the same time SB couldn’t bring themself to just hang up. They searched for words, “I…. I’m sorry… I don’t,” SB was cut off by their own sob before they even realized they were crying. Shade rubbed against their foot trying to soothe his person. “I… he broke my phone… I … I don’t know any other numbers,” they tried to explain. 

“Okay, hey, it’s okay,” Alphonse spoke gently, “just take it slow, take a breath.” 

SB tried, but only managed a cough that made their cat urgently nudge their legs. 

“Slow breaths. In …. Hold…. Out… with me okay.”  Al talked them through enough breaths to ease their panic a little. They also crouched to pet Shade which helped.

“That’s it, can you tell me your name?” he asked more hesitantly this time. 

With their breath mostly back they couldn’t really control the torrent of words they let out. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I call you out of nowhere and I’m just crying like an idiot, standing in an old phone booth that smells like weed and piss, with my cat at… I don’t even know what time it is, and the only person I can even call is my childhood best friend’s boyfriend, ‘cause I never bothered to memorize anyone’s phone number and even if I did I…”

Alphonse cut them off. “Boo?” It had been years since they had been called that. You play the ghost dude a few times in Mario Kart… but they had to admit, right now, they welcomed the familiar nickname.

“I… yeah… it’s me. You can hang up if you want. I… fuck I don’t even know why I called to begin with. I mean even if Seth was there or something, what would either of you even do? I should have just waited till he calmed down, or, or left or something.” SB continued to ramble until Al cut in again. 

“Woah,  hey, Boo!” he called for their attention. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hang up on ya, just… what the hell is goin’ on? ‘Cause what I’m hearing is that you’re hiding out from somebody in a phone booth with your cat.” 

“I… well… kind of, yeah. I’m not really hiding, I just,” they attempted to clarify but trailed off knowing it would sound bad. “How did it get to be such a mess?” they ask themself. They were still processing the last half hour or so in their head. Their partner had been off for weeks, his brother was fairly sure he stopped taking his medication, and when SB tried to ask him about it he would just insist they drop it. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

“I… I went a few blocks and this is like one of those phone boxes with a door, I figured I could put shade down without worrying about him running away or something. I had some change in my pocket but I couldn’t remember any phone numbers…”

“I mean, before that. Why are you in a phone booth with your cat? Are you hurt? Is someone trying to hurt you?” 

They took a few more breaths, They didn’t want to explain it all to Al, Seth had talked about how much Al had grown up since they were kids, so they didn’t really think that he would be an asshole about it, but they knew if it had to do with them, Al would tell Seth. Seth who, ever since elementary school, looked out for them as if they were family, who may well assume the worst case scenario, considering his own experiences. “I’m not hurt… or, well, not really…” They absently rubbed their arm. My partner… he isn't like this. He stopped taking his meds, and then, tonight, he saw that I was texting Seth and somehow he thought that meant I was cheating on him, even though I told him about Seth before, and even that you two were together.” 

“Did he try to hurt you?” 

“He… I don’t think he meant to, but I’ve never seen them like that before. There was yelling, and he threw my phone down. Then he grabbed my arm and I panicked, Shade scratched his leg and, before he could do anything else, I grabbed Shade and locked myself in the bathroom. I… I don’t do well when I feel trapped though, so I climbed out of the window and made it a couple blocks before I even stopped to think… I don’t even know if he realizes I left.” 

“Fuck, okay, look I’ll… shit it’ll take me at least half an hour to get there.” 

“What? No you don’t have to do anything I just…” 

“Even if you hung up right now I’d be heading into the city to look for ya, you shouldn't have to be alone after something like that.” he must have sensed they were about to argue, so he added, “And let’s not even mention what Seth would do if I told him and didn’t already have a plan for getting you out of there safely. He'd probably rather go get you himself, but I can’t imagine that cat of yours would enjoy riding a motorcycle.” 

“Look I appreciate it, but it really isn’t that big of a deal.” 

“Well if it isn’t a big deal I’ll just drive over there and check on you. Or,” Al’s tone wavered a little, “I mean, if this is about me being… well… me, I can get Seth to…”

“No!” SB cut him off. “I mean, it isn’t that. I don’t mind you. I just…” 

“Great, is there anywhere nearby where you could hang out for half an hour? Somewhere that maybe doesn’t smell like piss and weed? A public place, a coffee shop, or restaurant?” 

“I… I doubt it, and even then I have Shade, and I don’t have his harness or carrier or anything.” 

“Right, okay, where are you? 

“I… I’m near the corner of 8th and Kennedy drive.” 

“Okay, listen, I got a… well, I know a guy. Pretty sure he still lives around there and he… he’s kinda a rat bastard to be honest, but he’s harmless and scared shitless of me n’ Seth. He owes us a few favors too so, if you’re okay with it, I could call him to meet up with you. I don’t like the idea of you sitting alone for so long, and I can ask him to find something to keep your cat from running off so you aren't stuck in a phone booth.” 

The last part was the most enticing. It really did smell and SB didn't do great with really strong smells. “Yeah, okay. I mean you really don’t….” 

“I want to help. Hell, even if I didn’t owe you for all the dumb-ass shit I did when we were in school, you’re Seth’s best friend, and I know you deserve a lot better than all this. Now I'm gonna call my guy and let Seth know what’s up. I’ll be there in a little over half an hour. If that ‘partner’ of yours shows up you call the fucking cops on his ass or something. You hear me?” 

“I… Yeah. Thank you, Alphonse.” 

“No problem Boo. I’ll see ya soon alright?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” 

—

[howdoesagrapewrites]

Hobie x spiderperson!reader where they both have COMPLETELY different types but they're so attracted to eo for some reason???

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚

Cw: Hobie Brown x reader, just fluff

>I don't think Hobie has a defined type, like, as long as you're not a fascist he's not one to be like "not my type"

>But he has something I would call "type by proximity" you know? He always hangs out with the same kind of people, so all his dates and hookups were always similar in style

>He has dated a variety of people though, different in a lot of aspects, just that they're all punks

>There are some views he has that he needs to share with his partner, but they're pretty down to earth and some very logic considering his political background

>He wouldn't get surprised or weirded out when he realizes he's romantically attracted to you, it just happens very organically

>His friends would be the ones to point it out (the ones from his dimension)

>"they certainly ain't Hobie's regular", "But he looks happy, innit?"

>But if you happened to be just the tiniest bit taken aback because of your new found crush, he'll notice, and definitely tease you about it

>If all your previous partners were goody goody two shoes, he's definitely, laughing, I'm sorry (though is unclear if he's laughing at them or you)

>He's honestly all up for the opposites attract kind of thing

>He'd definitely hype you up if you wear any kind of alternative fashion, it doesn't matter if it's something not even remotely close to his aesthetic

>I think he keeps a piece of you in his attire, maybe a necklace (pendant, choker, whatever) or a piece of fabric of an old item of clothing you threw out for any reason, if this is a "he was a punk they, did ballet" situation he finds so cute to have a pink article of clothing in his battle jacket, maybe it's cute earrings with the shape of a heart, teddy bear, ice cream cone, or anything adorable, or maybe it's a patch of pink fabric sewed in between all his pins and patches, to add a little more color

>If you mention he's not your usual type at a confession, he has the knowing smirk of someone who will weaponize this your entire relationship

>"No, it's not like that, it's just that you're far from my go-to type when it comes to dating"

>"So ya don't find me pretty, sweetheart?" He get really close just to fluster you

>"I do, but you're, um, a little different"

>"Why bother being so consistent? You may get impressed if you give good ol' punk scoundrel a chance"

>He likes that you're different, that you can show him new things, he's not one to stay in the same unmoving place for a long time, if he's serious, he needs you to know he'll never stay still, he craves the constant dopamine hit of learning new subjects

>He'd feel really flattered if you incorporated something of him to your daily life, whether it's his guts, disregard for the authority or black nails and spikes

[leafsbabe]

Andrei Svechnikov & Sebastian Aho & Teuvo Teräväinen - gentle love

cw: poly relationship (3 players dating gn!reader, relationships between players not specified but can be read as platonic or romantic), mentions of therapy, crying/“breaking down”, general mental health struggles (not further specified), some dissociation around time, food and eating (unrelated to mental health struggles), two mentions of a character accidentally burning himself while cooking … 1.7k words

Sometimes you could get so good at bottling up your feelings and suppressing emotions that everything felt fine. At least until you were sat in a therapy session —with the same therapist you’d been seeing for years— and they hit you, broke you, caused you to completely fall apart on an uncomfortable leather armchair.

Fuck, how you hated when that happened.

You were lucky, in a way, to break in a controlled environment. Your therapist let you cry it out and didn’t try to push the issue more or force you to talk about it. Not that you would have been able to, even if you had wanted to talk. They handed you tissues —single ones at first before just giving you the entire box— and let you go over your time for almost fifteen whole minutes with a simple “don’t worry about it” in a tone that told you she felt sorry for you. Hopefully sorry enough to let the overtime slide. That way your insurance wouldn’t complain over extra billed hours.

That didn’t mean you felt okay afterwards but at least that red hot ball of overwhelming emotion had shriveled into a heavy feeling in your stomach, leaving you numb but sick. You hated it, yet you couldn’t escape. Even though you were sitting in your car you couldn’t drive home. Not like this, with your hands body shaking and your vision going blurry from a combination of leftover tears and a post-cry headache.

While you could have sat there longer trying to calm down, there was nothing you wanted more than to go home. Calling your partners felt like admitting you were weak but fuck, nobody could be strong all the time and you were allowed to be vulnerable. Still, you were too shaken to call, fearing that they would hear the emotions in your voice. Instead you sent a message in your group chat asking if one of them could pick you up.

You were still in your car, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard your fingers hurt, when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot of your therapist’s office. It was hard to say who came for you. They had taken Andrei’s car but the Russian wouldn’t have taken the corner so carefully. Truthfully you only realized more than one of your boyfriends had come when Teuvo tapped on your window and you looked out to see him and Sebastian standing there. They were careful to look at you no differently than usual but you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t see the worry in their eyes. 

“Rough talk?” Teuvo asked as you got out, taking in your state. You could only nod in response. There was no point in pretending you were okay, not with them being able to see through you so clearly it made you feel like your entire being was made out of crystal. Fragile like it too, ironically.

“Come.” Teuvo put an arm around your shoulder, gently steering you towards the other car. “Sepe will drive your car home.”

The drive back to your place wasn’t too long without rush hour traffic but it still seemed to stretch into hours. Teuvo hadn’t turned on the radio and you didn’t know whether you were grateful for the lack of stimulation or annoyed at the lack of distraction. Then suddenly within the blink of an eye those hours turned into seconds and he pulled into the parking area of your building, your car somehow already parked in its usual spot but Sebastian nowhere to be seen.

Teuvo got out of the car and walked around it to open your door for you, a sweet gesture you suppose. Walking into the building you turned towards the stairs, your boys always complained about them but they tended to use them simply because they were quicker than the old elevator your landlord refused to upgrade. Today though, Teuvo steered you toward the elevator before pressing the button to your floor. The ride up was as silent as the car ride.

The entryway to your place was surprisingly empty as you toed off your shoes but you realized why once you walked in further. Your whole apartment smelled amazing, hearty and warm in the way only a good soup could. Muffled Russian cursing came from the direction of the kitchen so you didn’t have to guess who decided to play chef during your absence.

“He definitely touched the hot pot again.” Teuvo joked quietly while helping you out of your jacket. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely audible as you responded but he didn’t complain. Instead he steered you towards the living room where Sebastian already stood, holding up a soft blanket you liked to use.

The sight of him waiting for you made your heart ache in the best way. Your boys truly were so thoughtful. Walking to Sebastian you let yourself be wrapped into the blanket. The first touch of that dryer warm fabric against your skin almost brought tears to your eyes. Before you knew it you were sat on the couch, all wrapped up, while your boyfriends flitted around the apartment. There was a cup placed on the couch table, a coaster below it to catch any drips running down the ceramic and prevent them from leaving a print on the wood. Oh. 

Sebastian and Teuvo just awkwardly lingered around the room as Andrei walked in carrying a bowl of soup and placed it next to the cup. You could see the rosy spot on the back of his hand where he had burned himself while cooking but he pulled his hands away before you could react. He didn’t completely retreat like your other partners though. Instead he sat down next to you before pulling the table closer towards the couch. “Recipe from mama.” He said. “Makes bad days better.”

The realization of what was going on just made you tear up again. There was no way Andrei would have had enough time to cook after you had texted your boyfriends to pick you up. But if he didn’t make it from scratch following his mother’s recipe that could only mean one thing. He must have heated up some of the soup his mother had made for him the last time she visited. The soup that had been stashed away deep in the freezer for those days he felt especially homesick.

“Oh no. No. No. Don’t cry.” Andrei wrapped his arms around you gently, pulling you against his broad body. He continued to talk, something low and Russian you couldn’t understand, but you could suspect that it was something calming in his mother tongue. At least he didn't seem to mind you clutching at his hoodie and maybe crying into it a little.

The tears eventually stopped but you were still holding onto your boyfriend when your other boyfriends stopped hovering and instead came closer to the couch.

“Can we sit?” Sebastian asked, gesturing to the free space on either side of you and Andrei.

“Or would it be too much right now?” Teuvo added.

It was an age old conflict within you, wanting those you loved close for comfort while also needing as much space between you and others as possible. Today though, you needed them by your side more than anything. Making grabby hands at them felt slightly juvenile but you honestly didn’t care at the moment.

Theoretically all four of you should fit on the couch comfortably. It was big enough for your polycule as well as visitors in case your boys wanted to invite teammates over to play video games or hang out. But somehow you still ended up squished between the three of them.

You just let yourself enjoy their presence for a moment. Somebody began stroking your back through the blanket, soothing words in a foreign language filling the room.

“Can we…” You began, before stopping. They wouldn’t force you to talk but you still hated asking. Communication was important but you just couldn’t. “Can we not talk about it?”

A kiss was pressed against your hairline while somebody spoke, too soft to make out who. “Okay.”

By the time you gathered yourself enough to sit up and reach for the soup the hearty meal had cooled down, clinging onto the last remnants of warmth. It hadn’t lost any of the flavor though. You were well aware of the three pairs of eyes watching you eat but you just focused on the food in front of you.

Andrei didn’t fill the bowl up completely so it didn’t take you long to finish your soup. What Andrei had said was true —good soup, especially his mother’s soup, made bad days better— but your boys also helped immensely. 

When you were done you couldn’t even put the bowl down before they jumped up. 

“More?” Andrei asked at the same time that Teuvo asked “Done?”

Only Sebastian remained on the couch with you and you took the opportunity to snuggle closer.

“No thank you Andrei, that was more than enough. Thank you for sharing your soup with me.”

He smiled at you before Teuvo reached over and plucked the bowl from your hands, “Sit.” He told Andrei before walking away towards the kitchen. Behind you Sepe opened his arms and before you knew it you were sandwiched between the two men again.

By the time Teuvo came back the two guys had joined you under the blanket. Your oldest boyfriend just looked at you three before sighing and attempting to wrestle a corner from Sebastian so that he could join you as well. It was all in good fun but the chaos of it all —the tug of war about a blanket and the muffled Finnish curses—was enough to bring a smile to your face. 

The four of you were an odd relationship but you fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Even if your boys were incapable of sharing a blanket they shared love and that was far more important. There was an understanding between you that you had never experienced in a relationship before and that you never wanted to lose. 

Andrei noticed you smiling and wrapped his arms around you, using his body to shield yours from the play fight happening around you two. You just sighed —content— and leaned back against his broad chest, the smile not leaving your face. Some days were hard but with them by your side, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

[biribaa]

Victor sfw alphabet yaya

i loove victor. he deserves way more fanfictions

TW/CW: FNV spoilers

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Victor can be as affective as your heart desires him to be. Being a cowboy also includes being a gentleman, and he wants to show he's the right man for you. Victor is more used to show his love by words of affection and being protective, as these are the easiest options for him and also the ones he claims to be professional with. The securitron do wishes he could show more phisical affection, but he's afraid with a body as bulky and hard as his, it wont do much besides somes hugs, so its better for you to show all the phisical attention.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Your friendship with Victor would start right after you enter the Strip, that if you have some time left for some talk and even some rounds of blackjack, in which he's very skilled at. And you both would have even more free time after House win the hoover dam battle.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Because of his model, Victor is afraid you are going to feel uncomfortable during cuddling, but if you're willing to, sure, he would feel flattered. In moment, Victor would attempt wrapping one of his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The idea of having a calm and sweet domestic life with you is comforting for the robot, and he will make the effort to bring this feeling to you at the Lucky 38. As a cowboy, Victor does knows a few culinary tricks, but nothing out of the ordinary or extraordinary, its the basic of the basics in gastronomy.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Victor would wait for the right time for both of you and then tell you everything. He would be direct, but also trying to not keep the scene harsh, constantly reassuring you that you two can continue to be friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Victor never thought that much about weddings, or that he would ever marry someone, so he doesnt have a much strong opinion about it. Victor won't rush you, of course, but if you did propose for him in the right time of your relationship, he would accept right away!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Victor is extra gentle with you due to his securitron model, every movement with you are made with extra delicacy for you and only you to prevent any discomfort or injuries. His claws always caressing your shoulder in a flimsy, yet firm movement.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs! Victor deeply love any any type of phisical affection coming from you. He just struggles when its him perfoming them. But trust me, he loooves them.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Victor is far more used with perform his acts of affection to you(protection and being verbal) as a way to say his "I love you" to you, and hes not accustomed with PDA. So hes more comfortable with using the phrase when hes alone with you, or when youre talking with only him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Victor only gets clearly stressy when someone is obviously hitting on you, in that case, the cowboy grinds his teeth and makes subtle movements that imply the relationship between you two. He adds one of his arm around your waist, uses more romantic nicknames than usual, and repeatedly mentions the fact both of you are dating during dialogues, this while a blatant gaze is pointed at the person in question.

Victor trusts you, so when you are the person causing all this jealousy with someone else, he takes it way less seriously. He does feels the sentiment deep down, but he rather joke about it, as I mentioned, he trusts you. Unless its actually getting very suspect, then he will push you to a talk.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He LOVES to be kissed by you in his screen. You press your lips against Victor's screen and you experience the same staticky feeling everytime while his strong arms push you closer. He absolutly loves to (attempt) kiss your face and any part of it, and the same goes for him. If not your face, then perhaps, if he could, your neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Some kids are afraid of Victor, the others really enjoy him! Its just the cheerful cowboy personality that attracts the children. Victor doesn't mind, he likes to show them tricks and teach them small things while also being a jokester to them. With that being said, hes pretty good with children!

He never really thought about the idea of him being a father, tho, it gives him a good feeling, but he would definetly question you if you really want to have a family with him, a securitron, or if even House would allow it. In the end, if everything goes okay with House and you fully convince him that you really wants him to be the father, he would feel more than flattered... For a good while Victor will be all soft towards you and call you all the names that one can imagine.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Victor always arrives in the right time if he's not busy with some work coming from House. He bids you a "g'mornin'", and waits for you to get ready for the day, or rushes you, if you have any appointment for the day. Sometimes, if hes feeling extra, he even brings breakfast for you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

If you do want to sleep with Victor right next to you, laying by your side in your bed, that would be...difficult. So mostly, when sleeping in the Lucky 38, Victor prefers to stay by the side of your bed, still counts as company and he is right next to you!! If you prefer, he even offers his arm for you to hold.

In other times, where both of you arent in the Lucky, and rather out in the wasteland, when you sleep in the ground, it would be far more easy for Victor to lay in the ground with you! But he still prefers to stay up, getting up from the ground is difficult for a securitron, and he wants to keep you safe while both are out.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Theres not much Victor have to hidden, due to his amnesia(more likely caused by House). So you pretty much know everything about him already, and he would love to expand his historic with you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Victor is a happy folk, but that could easily change with any threat towards you or him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Victor is a securitron, so excluding his amnesia about himself, he can remember several things about you! Birthday, favorite food, favorite book, weapon, flowers, little details of your backstory, pretty much anything!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Victor adores the moments where both of you are out in the wastelands, alone, while youre laying next to him in the middle of the night. Its peaceful, no gunshots or anything of that except for the radio. A small moment Victor finds himself craving more.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Can be very protective to any threat towards you or any ally and isnt afraid of making a mess, unless demanded to not.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Victor got quickly used to perform everyday tasks for you sake, he even finds himself enjoying it, nothing more than his responsability. But when it comes to special dates, he adds some extra effort(with some help with Jane, too). Dates arent going to be perfect, of course, but he makes sure to make it charming for both of you, he cooks and prepare everything at Lucky 38 for you and you only.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

As I said, protective, sometimes a little too much. Without any warning Victor could be already poiting one of his weapons to anyone slightly suspicious or threatening to you. Hes already naturally protective, when hes with you it gets extra.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Theres not much Victor worry about, hes a securitron. And deep down, he enjoys the dust and scratches in his metal, makes him feel truly like a dusty cowboy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Victor wont feel like a disaster, nor he ever felt before dating you, but will certainly miss you. You just made things more exciting and bright, yknow? But in the end, he agrees if youre happy somewhere else, or with someone else, hes happy too.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Victor is always using a cowboy hat over his antenna, it spins like crazy, yeah, but makes him feel different and more original than the others securitrons. I also hc him as bisexual

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Debauched people or/and pure cowards, it bugs the securitron a lot, and makes him wonder if he can trust someone like you. Victor enjoys actions some time or other and having a honest partner. Not choosing violent is something, running away from it is another.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He can't sleep! The most Victor can do is shut down.

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Compromise

** Part Two of “Where I’m From” **

Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]

2k || Jake never thought he would fall in love with the woman who cried on the first date he ever took her on, but here he was months later standing in her kitchen even more in love than ever.

===

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

CW: swearing, kissing, relationship insecurity, mentions of past relationships (neglect)

Author’s Note: I just love this version of soft jake so much. And yes, this completely self-indulgent I am not sorry || cross-posted on ao3

Part One

===

===

“I hate Valentine’s Day.”

Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”

You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.

A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.

“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.

“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship, I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”

Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”

And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead, you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.

A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates, but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.

A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey, do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.

Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said, and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”

Arms opened; Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”

Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms, and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.

No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.

“Valentine’s Day.”

He quirked his head. “What about it?”

“I’ve never celebrated it before.”

Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”

Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.

“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”

Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”

He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”

“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”

“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”

You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”

“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”

You let out a laugh. “Jake!”

“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let, doll.”

You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” you told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.

In shock Jake jerked away from you.

And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.

A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.

Bonus:

“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene. “I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”

You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”

“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”

“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.

“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”

You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”

He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.

“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”

“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”

His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.

“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.

Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.

===

taglist: @potato-girl99981 @milani-marie @gizmodear​ 

[xoxoalette]

🌟 Eddie's NSFW Alphabet 🌟

CW: Sex, just sex talk

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's...not too experienced on soft loving care after sex (especially since he's never actually went all the way before)

Expect an arm wrapped around you, hand playing with your hair, twirling a strand with his fingers. If in a relationship, he's laying your head on his chest, holding you close. If there's anything you need, he'll get for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: He really doesn't have a favorite, but I suppose he likes just his physique in general. Not too lanky, but not too buff, balance is nice to him.

Yours: Waist. Whether it has some chub to it or it's petite, there's just something that draws his attention to it. It's so unoccupied, he just can't help but imagine his arms around them. (He could also say the same about your neck with his hands)

But if you cover it with baggy shirts, his second favorite would be your lips. Look's bitable (almost like the rest of you)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Think and salty, not to mention there's a lot of it when he cums. He doesn't partake in sexual activates that much besides jerking off once in a while, so he's loaded.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Probably has masturbated once or twice while working his nightshift (helps that it's not usually busy).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not that experienced in penetration, but is experienced in foreplay. His best talent is oral. Eddie has some sense on what he's doing and despite not being extremely experienced, it'd not rocket science to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl (not him riding lmao </3), having his s/o against the wall from behind, missionary but with s/o's legs above his shoulders.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. If you are in a relationship with him, you will catch some sort of soft side to him if you're lucky. But all in all he takes sex serious as it's not something he takes lightly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He tries to be well groomed so he ranges from well trimmed to a bit bushy. Eddie's carpets do match btw.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Really depends whether he's hate fucking you or not. The hate fucking is self explanatory, but other than that he can be intimate, especially if you ask him to. If in any way you're uncomfortable or hurting, he'll stop to make sure you're ok.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't jack off often, although it might be a good solution considering all that stress building up from his busy schedule. He prefers to jack off at night though before bed when he does, since it helps him sleep.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Alleyways, bedroom, clubs

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Jealousy, sensual massages (I felt like I had to specify, it has to be a massage with an intent to turn him on <3), body kisses, sexting (Diva also likes sexting forgot to add).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes/foursomes/orgies and noncon, dd/lg (it makes him feel weird and not the good kind)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving but doesn't mind giving. He's good with his mouth, and the piercings on his lips make it a little more cold to the touch when he's going down on you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough but the paces vary. If he's tired, his thrusting is a lot sloppier and quicker, but he'll still keep in mind to hit all the right places.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind them, and probably fits best with how little free time he has. Is perfectly down to meeting in the storage/break room of his work for one. But he wouldn't really want them often, he prefers taking his time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Down to experiment just not on a lot of things. But the more he opens up to you and is more comfortable, the more willing to try.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Can go up to around 3 rounds, but if you work him up maybe 5.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No he doesn't own any toys but Eddie wouldn't mind using some on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Isn't much of a teaser, BUT he really likes edging so look out for that.

He wants to hear you cry and beg to cum, the feeling of your body against his quivering for release.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quiet to be honest. You'll hear a few grunts and huffs, maybe a few husky whispers in your ear. If you really wanna hear him whine though, his body is sensitive.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has thought about car sex, really has. The thought of his s/o in his backseat or on the trunk of his car bent over or spread open for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.5 inches and has a slight girth, he's mostly just length. The tip is slight reddish pink color and the shaft is just a little bit lighter than his usual skin tone. He's also rather veiny, just a bit. He has star tattoos on both shoulders, as well as a sparkle underneath his cleavage and sparkles down his back.

His nipples are a faint pink.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very high, but there are times where he's feeling like he's an animal in mating season.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eddie tends to fall asleep fast, or just get tired quickly easily, so he prefers to have sex around night time since he has a better excuse to fall asleep. Wouldn't mind the morning sex though.

[ssahotchnerr]

i cant stop thinking about going on a date with hotch :(( what do you think are his go to’s for dates and would he be open to different kinds of date ideas?

omgomgomg

cw: mentions of food, a touch of jealous aaron >:( , suggestive content

-

dates with aaron 🥰 <33333 he's for sure more of a traditional date kinda guy. he loves taking you out to dinner, loves making you dinner even more- he'll set up the most romantic candlelit dinner for you in his apartment and have roses waiting for you 🥰 museum dates !!!! but the whole time you're in a museum, he's stealing glances at you instead of paying attention to the exhibits, because you're the most exquisite thing to him <3 and more often than not, every date ends up with you spending the night ;)

and just imagine the very first date with him!!!!🥰 hehe you're also on the team, and he's had a secret lil crush on you forever. however, it's not so secret, because everyone has clearly noticed how he always gets a lil more flustered and quiet and nervous when you're around 🥰 dave teases him all the time about it, just telling him to man up and ask you out, BUT he's hesitant because he thinks you don't feel the same and he doesn't want his heart broken just yet 🥺 but you do feel the same !!!!! it isn't until another detective hits on you right in front of aaron, which puts him in a mood for the rest of the day, that feelings are expressed <3 the two of you are alone, and you ask him what's bothering him - you picked it up immediately - he shakes his head and mumbles 'nothing' 🙄 so you ask him if it has to do with that detective and he's all ??? 'what detective?' 🙄 long story short you end up admitting that you don't have eyes for anyone who isn't him, it's been that way since the two of you met and AH he is the definition of ecstatic 🥰 he promises that as soon as this case is over, he's the one taking you out. not that detective >:( but him 🥰

so when you return home, a day barely even goes by and he takes you on that first date 🥰 the first date of so so so so many <3

and when it comes to dates, he can tend to splurge and spoil you a bit, because they have a different window of occurrence depending on how busy the two of you are case-wise. he is determined to make every single second with you perfect, because you don't know exactly when the next opportunity to go on a date is going to present itself. yeah you see each other everyday, which is amazing, but he would of course rather spend time with you when the topic isn't serial killers.

and yes absolutely!!! as long as the two of you are together, he couldn't care less what the two of you are doing <3 hehe imagine one saturday, the weather is perfect and the two of you go on a romantic canoe ride 🥹 or one night the two of you go out dancing <3 he would be the sweetest dance partner AH his hand on the small of your back, he's looking at you so so softly and murmuring sweet words into your ear and giving you lil kisses <3 imagine going to an escape room with him - it ending up being a waste of money because he got so into it, solving the hardest room in less than 20 minutes, setting a new record for the place. "what, that's supposed to be hard?" he tells you rolling his eyes, making you laugh and giving him a kiss for his lil achievement <3

just every moment is perfect with him 🥰 no matter the context

-

request something -> here!

tags: @sylvieofasgard @hotchgirlsummer @ssamorganhotchner @greg-montgomery @sannunah28 @anlin2058 @14buddy22 @thebaileybugle @GothWifeHotchner @dungeons-are-too-cold @RousetheMouse @louderfortheback @mulattomoon @itseightbeats @gspenc @reidsbookclub

[onepieceheadcannons]

I cant remember if I've done a request on here, apologies if I have! Can you write dating hcs for Nami, Kalifa, and Jewelery Bonney (separately) please? If not it's okay of course, I just like them all very much. Oh and gn reader please!

Hello, I loved doing this request and you didn't send one in before but also feel free to send anymore you have!

CW- Mentions of slightly nsfw but it's barely a bit of it

Dating Headcanons Kalifa, Jewelry Bonney, and Nami

Kalifa

"Tell me I'm the most beautiful lady you've seen"

She wants a lot of praise, she'd do best with someone who's love language is words of affirmations, even though she knows she gorgeous, she just wants reminded now and then.

She likes thinking of things that you don't necessarily even know you needed. If it doesn't exist, she'll find someone to get it done.

Lots of bubble baths, lots of them. With romantic candles lit and rose petals (or any flowers) and scented oils. She loves having you wash her hair for her and being clean while having a bit of fun.

Lots of secret touches, not one for much PDA but also isn't opposed. Caressing your thigh during an important meeting. Sitting on your lap while CP-9 discusses plans.

She doesn't say I love you for a bit, if you say it too soon she's the type of person to say, "Oh I love me too." and give you a pat on the back. But if you are lucky enough to win her actual love, she'll tell you sealing it with a kiss on the corner of the lip.

Anyone even dares insult you though, she's beating respect into them. How dare someone insult her partner. She may have been putting on a show for Iceberg, but for you it's sincere.

If you a jealous or possessive lover, she'll relish in your feelings. Letting a person hit on her, just to see a bit of a reaction from you. She won't let it go too far, and she'll make up for it later.

Everything is planned, even if she doesn't tell you. The day you guys got serious, she already had the wedding dressed designed secretly. But she wouldn't let you know.

If you can't defend yourself, she'll teach you some of her tricks from over the years.

She can be distracted easily, wearing something that fits on all the right places, she'll be staring you down til she can have time alone with you.

She is vain, prepare to have a lot of mirrors around, maybe even a mirror kink. And a bit of a roleplaying one.

Jewelry Bonney

You're probably on her crew, and if not she would invite you to join her. Just so she can have you around. She's fine if you don't spend every moment with her, but she likes just hanging out.

She likes going on adventures with you, she likes planning the perfect escape and finding the perfect risky scenarios.

She'll be rude to anyone who is mean to you, or even gives you a look she didn't like.

She'll definitely take your fries, she won't ask the first time, and she'll do it everytime after that it's just going to be a habit to get an extra order of fries if you wanted some.

Pda, she probably doesn't mind but if she's busy, she may get a little rude but she'll apologize later.

A good date would be an all you can eat buffet. She'll impress you. But she also doesn't mind doing a few events to steal some treasure.

She's a woman of respect, she respects you and you respect her and it'll be all good.

You can definitely tease her whenever she ages up or down and she'll bicker with you.

She won't shy away from saying I love you, it would be more of a casual thing with her.

She'd let you wear her hat every once in a while and she would make sure you are taken care of.

she won't put you in danger if she can help it and she'll get you out of trouble, or try her hardest.

Once you get past her occasional rudeness, which wouldn't necessarily be towards you after a bit. She's a loving partner who cares about your safety.

Nami

Her favorite type of day is taking you out shopping, she likes helping you pick out clothing and anything else you may want. Plus she likes having someone to give her some advice or let her know she looks good. She may expect you to carry the bags, but she can make the crew carry them if you don't want to.

She cares about you deeply and she doesn't want to let anything happen to you. She'll slap anyone for a suggestive comment or just blatantly disrespectful.

She loves buying you things, but not materialistic way. In a, you stared at it a bit long at a store and said you didn't need it, so she 'went to the bathroom' and haggled for it when you were outside waiting.

She may be cautious at first, she hasn't had the best past and she wants to make sure it's safe to love you.

She likes bossing you around but she makes sure to say it in a kind tone. She won't hesitate to tell you when your being an idiot.

You won't ever have to wonder if she loves you, she'll lay on top of you, trace your cheek at night and tell you things once you guys are close.

She doesn't want over the top PDA but she'll hold your hand and kiss you cheek, and if you haven't seen each other or gone through a battle, she'll kiss you and press her forehead to yours.

Lots of fun moments, getting to tease her (she'll tease you too).

Romantic dinners, fun adventures, and saving her from several creeps. She's a bit possessive, she'll shoot glares at someone who looks at you too much or flirts with you.

[sukirichi]

earned it (3)

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, explicit smut, oral (m. receiving), mentions of violence, TW dub-con, drama, drugs, mentions of virginity loss, dirty talk, unedited as always

series masterlist

Pained groans filled your ears, coating the dead silent night. Immediately, you sprang up awake, finding your husband clutching his knee beside you. You rushed to the bathroom to prepare an iced compress, helping him sit beside the bed. Naoya breathed heavily above you, his usually slicked back hair falling into soft bangs above his eyes. In this light, the fierceness of his face had smoothened down into that of vulnerability, fox-eyes replaced with a sort of tenderness that partnered his pain.

Looking down at the ragged scar running down his thigh to his knee, the gnarly scar popped from his otherwise flawless skin, you ran your hands over it. Naoya sighed as you kissed the scar gently, rubbing soothing circles over his good knee.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” he admitted. Both of you enjoyed the comfortable silence after that, with you kneeling on the floor as you helped numb his pain, your husband’s fingers looped through yours. Minutes passed and soon, the sunlight streaked behind him from the floor length glass windows, illuminating your dark silhouettes in a golden glow. Naoya’s eyes flickered to the clock on your table, his hands squeezing yours for a fleeting moment. “It’s today. Are you ready?”

No, you wanted to say. You and him had prepared for this moment better than anyone else, and yet, you couldn’t ignore the tightening of your chest. Much like Naoya, you both held wounds that couldn’t be healed by time.

But Naoya looked at you expectantly, soft hands cupping your face as if he immediately read the worry written all over you.

You wanted to cry, wanted to stay in his arms and pretend nothing would go wrong, but you couldn’t do it. Not when he’d saved you countless of times before, and this was your only chance of saving him.

Naoya needed you more than ever – you had to stay strong from him.

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be ready for anything,” you smiled at him, feeling warmth spread all over your chest when he reciprocated the gesture. You liked it on him; he always felt a lot more youthful every time he smiled. Reaching up to kiss his forehead, you trailed your lips down to the ring adorning his fingers to look him straight in the eye. “Always?”

Naoya nodded as a promise, “Forever.”

Your hands treaded through Satoru’s locks, his lips sweet and tender as he tasted you. It had been a few months since your arrangement began, and slowly but surely, little by little, you were growing more comfortable with him. There was still that voice at the back of your head screaming that maybe this was wrong, this was dangerous; you didn���t know him very well – but these thoughts slipped away the moment you felt his lips on yours.

If it was wrong, why did you fit in his arms so right? He felt like home; peaceful, secure, strong and stable. If it was dangerous, why was your heart at peace? If you didn’t know him very well, why did it feel like had always been there, a fragment you’d been unknowingly waiting to build you up in all those lonely years you walked this earth?

You’d definitely underestimated him. The cocky and smooth customer turned out to be the most caring person ever, his kindness showing through the fact he’d never pushed you for anything.

Making out with him was now a daily occurrence, though you never got past the first base. Sure, there would be teasing touches under your shirt, your curious hands trailing over his pants, but it had never escalated into more than that. You could tell Satoru was holding back; the painful tent in his slacks enough proof of this. His hardened cock rubbed against the thin material of your shorts as you grinded against him, earning a harmonious man from the man who’d gotten so addicted to worshipping you.

“Satoru, hmm, baby,” you stopped kissing him, turning to look at where his hands gripped at the flesh of your thighs. A thin thread of spit connected your lips from your heavy make out session, though your mind felt dazed, core burning at the friction. If you could just...

Satoru easily caught on the words bit down your tongue, his calloused hands caressing your cheek to coax it out of you. “What is it, angel?”

“I…Can I try something with you?”

“What is it?” he tapped your cheek, a sweet smile on his face when you groaned in embarrassment, head buried in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, don’t be shy.”

“Well, you’re always making me feel good and I know you’re holding back so I just wanted to…”

“Wanted to what, angel?” he pulled you back so he could look at your face, his usual teasing grin now hardened into a serious expression. Satoru had always been adamant to put your comfort above all else, his voice dropping an octave lower as he massaged your thigh. “I can’t know if you won’t tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you managed to look him in the eye, squeaking out, “I want to make you feel good too.”

Satoru’s brows dipped down. “Angel,” he said, that saccharine nickname dripping like honey from his lips. Did he even know how much effect he had over your heart? Apparently not, because Satoru swooped down to steal your breath away, pressing his lips harder to reassure you he respected your limits. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you insisted, hands fisted on his shirt. “Want to taste you.”

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, but you were faster, and for the first time in his life, he did not see something coming. His back hit the wooden headboard as you crawled down on his lap, tugging his pants down to palm the erection bulging from his boxers. His groans were deeply masculine, so fucking sexy coming from him that you rubbed your core against the sheets in desperate search for friction.

Your hands fumbled for his boxers until you completely pulled it down, gasping when his thick member slapped at his toned stomach. His muscles clenched above you, thighs quaking from your ministrations.

Truthfully, you had not the slightest idea of why he seemed so aroused when you were inexperienced at this. You had to keep sending him nervous glances as you placed a tentative grip at the base, thumb swiping the pre-cum away from his tip. Satoru’s head fell back on the pillows, strings of curses spilling past his lips. Fuck, you had no idea how to do this; you just hoped it could be good for him. Deciding to hell with it, you slipped the throbbing member inside your lips, his reaction reflexive.

Satoru fisted the sheets under him, hips thrusting up. The action caused him to buck deep into your mouth until he hit the back of your threat, tears springing at your eyes. You wanted to pull out to breathe until you looked at Satoru, and fuck, did your mind change.

“Goddamn, angel!”

Your boyfriend looked absolutely delectable like this – shirt crumpled and eyes snapped shut from the pleasure. His cock burned in your mouth, and purely out of curiosity, you swirled your tongue around his vein just to see his reaction. Satoru’s blown out pupils met yours the deeper you took him in, his arm reaching out to fist at your hair. It wasn’t painful – he never hurt you even if sometimes you wished he could go a little rougher – but you were determined to evoke more of those pretty moans from him, fighting back the tears that blurred him from your sight.

Your throat would burn like a bitch by the end of this, though that no longer mattered when his composed self fell apart bit by bits. Gosh, you loved him so much; you could keep him in your mouth forever if that could express it.

Satoru moaned the instant you hollowed your cheeks around him, pushing his hands away that moved to hold you. You didn’t want to be romantic; you just wanted to make him cum.

He saw your determination to push you over the edge that he let go, slipping his fingers through yours instead. It shouldn’t have felt so domestic when you sucked him off good, but nothing had never felt more right. You pulled him off with a pop, licking all around the base to coat his cock with his cum and drool. His groans painted the room and he wouldn’t stop squirming underneath you, dulcet low moans so, so addicting.

Other than his moans, you were also addicted by the taste of him. You flipped your head at a different angle before you took him in again, flattening your tongue on the base and making sure to poke hard on the veins. He had a fucked out grin as his knees bucked beside him, his hands keeping you flat on his head.

“Yeah, angel,” he gritted his teeth, “That’s so fucking good.”

Was he coming?

You had no idea, having never done this before. For now, you just wanted to repay all the kindness he’d shown you by sucking him off good that he’d never forget you. You probably cursed him then, conditioned this man into being so addicted to you that he would never even think about leaving.

The mere thought of that had you choking on his cock, driving him back deep your throat. Your nose came in contact with the neatly trimmed hairs on his base as you gagged on his length, nails dug deep into the linen sheets beside you.

One thrust, two more – his cock twitched, then he came. “Right there, angel, fuck!” he spilled inside you, pulling out just in time for the rest to smatter all across your face. You drew back just as his semen painted your face like he was the artist and you were the canvas, and you didn’t think you’d ever felt so majestic in your life. Satoru gripped his cock to smear the contents all over your face, on that day giving you a hint just how much of a kinky little shit he really was, but you let him – because you loved him, and you’d do anything for the one you loved. As you sat there licking away the cum sprayed on your face, he tugged you upwards for a kiss.

You leaned away, thinking he could be disgusted by the bitter taste flowing down your throat, but he paid no mind. He kissed you hard and deep, effortlessly flipping both your bodies until were trapped underneath him, cornered by the love pooling in his eyes. You stared up at him with that same adoration, albeit more hesitant, the pounding in your heart incredibly loud.

You were falling fast – way too fast – that you couldn’t comprehend what would happen if this ended. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you were still just a baby girl? Were you mistaking his post orgasm bliss with something else, were you getting too ahead of yourself?

Satoru nudged his chin on your neck, his lips hovering right before your ear. You could hear each ragged breath, your attention zeroed in on the deep, long cut that ran on his back. Not really aware of your actions, you slipped your hand downwards to trace the ragged flesh. Satoru hissed above you, his weight nearly crushing yours as he pulled you in for an embrace far too intimate for an agreement purely on casual fucks and company.

At least, that had been your belief, until – “I think…I’m falling for you.”

You didn’t remember any time you had cried harder, the sobs wreaking your chest desperate and pitiful. Satoru kissed your tears away, each peck of his lips translating to a thousand more i love you’s that healed every crack in your soul.

You held him close then, chest to chest, hearts beating above one another. Perhaps it was too early, but you loved him – excruciatingly so it scared you deep to the bone.

“Me too,” you cried, “I love you – I love you, I—”

“Shh, angel,” he cooed, his hands now trailing down your hips. He gripped at it, his cock once again hard as it teased your entrance. You knew what was to come next, and you squeezed his bicep in anticipation, both fear and anticipation exploding through your nerves. Satoru gazed at you warmly as he read the multiple thoughts running in your head, foreheads pressed into one another as he asked, “Can I show you? Do you trust me, angel?”

“Yes,” you answered in a beat, “A million times yes.”

“I’ll show you then,” he laced his fingers through yours, a lopsided grin so impossibly handsome you just fell harder for him. “I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll make you feel it deep ‘til you never think about anyone else but me.”

Had he failed then? Had he not shown you enough how much he loved you?

You were the same, but the person standing in front of him seemed so impossible to be you, as well. Your once sweet smile had been replenished by a perfectly practiced one, the taut tightness of your lips and the faux charm so sickeningly sweet.

But it wasn’t what he hated the most. It was the fact he was there, holding you right where Satoru once used to, kissing you right on the lips Satoru used to ravish all by himself.

He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger? Jealousy? Hatred – upon himself or upon you?

He didn’t know, couldn’t understand anything, that he brushed past Suguru’s equally stupefied face and found comfort in the back part of the cruise. Satoru had lost count of the drinks he’d taken from the waiters who had began to look worried, but he didn’t give a fuck. The image of you comfortably situated by that bastard’s side of all people stirred something dark within his chest. Satoru stared out into the dark ocean instead, dumping his drinks with a scoff.

What a fucking joke, he laughed at himself. He believed leaving you would mean protecting you, but life had a funny way of playing its part.

“Mr. Gojo,” an all-too familiar voice, one that was much too sweet and golden for his liking, caught his attention. His eyes slid over to your form, his jaw clenched at how empty your eyes seemed. There was no spark, not a trace of the light he had always loved, and not a sliver of warmth that never failed to melt his heart. It almost felt like it wasn’t you until your perfectly manicured nails rested atop his shoulder, all elegance and grace in your steps – just as he’d expected from the infamous Zen’in wife. “My husband, Naoya, wishes to speak to you.”

Husband. So you really married him.

You spun away from him with a salacious roll of your hips, and just like that, Satoru snapped. This was you, this had to be you – except it scared him shitless this time around because you were the one walking away from him.

It reminded him of the day he left you, dread sinking deep into the pits of his stomach. Satoru reached you in two long strides, spinning you around until you nearly collided on his chest. You glared at him so harshly he might’ve burned to the ground but god, this really was you and he fucking missed you – so badly that his suit felt impossibly tight he couldn’t breathe. You were still warm against him, soft in the places he was hard, and you were, you were there.

You came back to him.

“Angel,” his voice cracked, “I know that’s you, please—”

But your grip was ice-cold, eyes shooting daggers at the offensive hand on your shoulder. “Let go of me before I shoot your arm off, Mr. Gojo,” you sneered at him, the tension attracting the attention of other guests. Satoru could feel it; the burning gaze of passerby’s who’d stopped in their chatter to spectate the scene. “Just because you are invited, doesn’t mean you get to be too comfortable with me. You and I are not friends, much less acquaintances. Let me go.”

It’s over, his own voice screamed back at him, Let’s go.

Right. He left you, and it made sense you couldn’t stand to be around him. With a broken heart, he removed his hands on you, ignoring the slight scoff following afterwards. Satoru trailed after you like an obedient puppy as you led him inside a narrow hallway, unsurprised as two burly guards slid the double doors open.

Inside the grand room sat your husband himself, his good leg perched on top of his bad one. He was in the middle of his drink, cockily clanking the ice against the glass. His cane perched on the other side of the sofa, just out of it’s owners reach.

Satoru wanted to punch his stupid face but held back as you quickly seated beside him, possessive hands on top of his thighs. He took the seat across the both of you, his lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by the turn of events. Though the ocean reflecting the beauty of the moonlight gleamed terribly divine that night, and you illuminated even more radiantly than ever, Satoru felt no entertainment, no joy – just pure hatred.

“Gojo Satoru, the Six Eyes himself. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“You met me before,” he responded stiffly, expecting that Naoya would crack the same way his fucked up father would. But no, he was by far worse, the young man tipping his head back in laughter as if Satoru said the funniest thing.

Beside him, you buried yourself deeper into his arms, absentmindedly sniffing Naoya’s perfume before your shoulders visibly relaxed.

It was clear you trusted this man with your whole heart, though Satoru couldn’t make sense of the attachment. Why him? How did you meet him? Was it right after he left you? How did you wound up in the world he tried so hard to keep you away from? On reflex, Satoru’s need to protect you never wavered even after years, and his gaze trailed down each inch of your exposed skin to look for scars.

Nothing. Not even a single sratch.

And as if feeling his gaze on yours, you smirked back at him smugly, that damned smile reminding him that your husband was more than capable of – what he couldn’t do – protecting you. It was such a harsh slap to his face because Satoru was most evidently the most powerful man in the room; he had more connections, had been in this world long before he walked, had more experience and bloodlust than anyone else, and yet...he couldn’t keep you.

“Indeed, and it wasn’t such a great experience, was it?” Naoya’s voice kept droning on, waving a slender hand in the air. “This is what this party is for. I hope to alleviate any tensions my father may have caused between other clans,” he nodded at the untouched drink in front of Satoru, “Please, enjoy yourself. I only wish to discuss something about Xenet with you.”

“Xenet? You mean the drug your family tried so hard to keep to yourselves?”

“Yes, that. My father…was too prideful with his creations. He didn’t want to share what was his,” Naoya smirked to himself and leaned back into the chair, with you following the motion. Satoru fisted the couch so hard he might as well break it, unable to tear his eyes away from the comfortable way you rested on Naoya’s chest, blinking up innocently at him as you did so. Your husband paid you no mind, seemingly way too used by your affectionate gestures that he continued, “But I am not my father. I care about good connections and profitable business. I think if you’d let us borrow your manufacturing base in Osaka, we could supply you with Xenet to last a decade. Free of interest.”

“And what makes you think I want to have your little drug? It’s just an ecstasy pill.”

“That’s what we want you think,” you piped in, keeping your gaze averted from Satoru’s, shooting little kisses down your husband’s jaw instead. “Xenet is no ordinary drug. It was made with the intention of just making more bougee version of aphrodisiacs and poppers at first, but we found a much more…offensive approach to this,” you trailed off, eyes glistening with mischief.

It was alien – the look on you didn’t feel right. You had changed; his angel was no more.

“Xenet, once manufactured publicly, could even help us grow richer with how affordable it is. Other than the side effects of increased sexual drive and giddiness, it’s also strong enough to be a ticking time bomb,” you announced proudly, “Consume two a day and you might die from a heart attack.”

“So it’s a failed pill.”

Your eyes narrowed at his implications, reminding him that even though you may no longer be his, one thing had not changed: you were still that top student in your Chemistry class. How else could you have saved him from getting poisoned on that day? But now, you used your intelligence differently, marrying mafia leaders, creating drugs.

“I did not create failures.”

Satoru should hate it. Hell, it was wiser to steer clear from you, yet you’d never been more alluring. Your innocence and vulnerability from when you were younger had definitely aroused him in more ways than one, his mind often occupied with the different ways he could get you to cry for him. However, this version of you, the one who had risen from the ashes and flew around like a magnificent surrounded by your own burning flames – it would be a lie to say he did not find himself fascinated by your maturity.

Seven years really changed you.

“You mean to tell me,” he leaned forward, “That you’re basically asking to borrow my base so you can make suicide pills? Is that it?”

“Xenet is only dangerous when consumed in larger doses. But taken regularly, it actually boosts your health, clears your mind. It’s like a super vitamin. It makes you feel…well, on the top of the world. Makes you feel powerful.”

“Death is not the catch,” Satoru concluded from Naoya’s lilting tone, glaring at suspicious man who was staring at his drink in so much glee. He really was fucked in the head – what did you like about this guy?

“What’s your true reason behind this?”

“I want my relatives dead,” Naoya deadpanned, “Before we turned to illegal business, the clan stocks were debated to be passed either to me, or my cousin, Toji. He’s changed his name to Fushiguro now and even had a kid, but he can’t hide forever,” he lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, and finally, Satoru started to see glimpses of Naoya’s psychotic father through his eyes. Naoya grinned at nowhere in particular, rubbing his hand over the matching rings you wore, the sinister grin he wore uncannily similar to something Satoru had witnessed years before, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. “He’s not going to take what’s mine.”

Satoru scoffed, “Why do you think I would be interested in your family issues?”

“Because that cousin of mine is the only one who’s ever gotten successfully close into killing you,” Naoya snickered, “Remember? Shibuya, 2007? He was still inexperienced that time too. We don’t know how powerful he is now.”

“That fucker went after me for no reason.”

“Money is always his reason,” Naoya explained, “You see, my father was not the real clan leader. It was Toji’s father, my uncle, but he died of lung cancer and my father invited himself to the throne. He wanted everything to be ours, so he kicked my cousin out, leaving him nameless and penniless on the street. He was desperate to survive and—”

“—and became an assassin instead,” Satoru finished for him, to which both you and your husband nodded. You were taking your trophy wife duty seriously; keeping in mind to never interrupt your husband as he spoke. Satoru did his best to not pay too much mind to you, focusing on the looming threat of Toji Fushiguro present. “Let me guess, he was sent to kill me, failed miserably, and now he’s after your money? Why would he be interested in taking the mafia business when he seems fine enough being a hitman?” Satoru urged, “He looked like he enjoyed it.”

Much to Satoru’s surprise, Naoya slammed his glass down on the table, slapping his knee as he howled in laughter. “You are really as humorous as they say, Mr. Gojo.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Because from what I heard, Toji did not fail miserably,” you mumbled through Naoya’s neck, that grin of yours mocking as your lips trailed down his skin. “The scars on your back – you almost died that day if you weren’t saved by your guards, didn’t you?”

Oh, Satoru mused, two could play this game.

“And how’d you know I have scars on my back, sweetheart?”

Knowing he had you cornered, you scowled. You turned away from him and clutched Naoya’s biceps to soothe your wounded pride, but Satoru knew he’d most definitely hit a nerve. It was low, utterly petty of him, to be exact – but he didn’t care. Right now, his determination to win you over just grows stronger, but Naoya merely chuckled at your exchange, the fucker maintaining his eye contact with Satoru’s while kissing the top of your head.

“Darling. Don’t get too worked up. He’s a friend now.”

“Said who?”

“Said me,” he announced confidently, “My cousin may be ruthless, but he’s not as heartless as I am. He’ll do anything he can to sneak his son within the family ranks and make him clan leader. Toji may be fine living in the streets, but he wouldn’t want the same fate for his son,” Naoya rolled his eyes boredly, “He loved his pathetic wife so much that he’s burdening himself with the promise of securing their child’s future. He’s not going to stop until he finds me.”

“And where do I fall into all this?”

“Toji can’t kill me,” Naoya brought to light, and Satoru noticed the faint change in your face. You looked grim, empty faced from anxiety. “Nearly 40% of our all our money – including where our gold is stored – you do remember stealing that, don’t you?” Satoru shook his head, too distracted by your sudden silence. “You made the mistake of taking what was not yours, Mr. Gojo. It may have been just a disposable slush fund to you, but everything that account had, those were all Toji’s last remnants of his wife before she died. He kept all those money for his family, and you took it away from him,” Naoya leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, smiling through the drink he downed in one go. The sound of the glass setting down on the table was much similar to a final judgement – the dilemma hitting Satoru right in the face.

“Now unless you cooperate with us, I can’t guarantee you’ll be living for the next ten days. He’s in Tokyo right now, and from word on the streets, he’s looking for the Six Eyes.”

“I don’t have that money with me.”

“Right, because you transferred it to my wife seven years ago, right?” At his words, Satoru froze, peering at you for confirmation. However, you’d made yourself smaller, almost shaking while different memories replayed right before your eyes. Satoru wanted to come and wrap you in his arms, to tell you it’s okay because he couldn’t understand why you were trembling so much, but Naoya’s taunting felt too loud and clear. “You wouldn’t want her to die now, would you? It’s going to be a tragic story of Romeo and Juliet, two fallen lovers sharing their last breaths,” he added bitterly, “That account wasn’t activated, you fucker. Everything may be wired to her, but she can’t open it unless you complete the authentication. Now do everything I ask of you and—”

“Naoya,” you finally snapped, “Don’t.”

“Is it true?” Satoru pressed, feeling his heart crush harder in his chest. “You never got the money?”

Your face said it all. “I didn’t.” So it was all for nothing – Satoru had left everything for naught. This whole time, he thought he was doing the right thing, but it was nothing, fucking nothing, utterly useless.

He left you for no valid reason.

“Why my drug base of all places?”

“It’s the biggest running establishment. Besides, you’re a lot more influential and richer than I am. No one would dare step a foot inside while I take over the business, hm?” Naoya challenged, “Xenet’s side effects also include languidness that leads to submission. I simply want to have more control over my people.”

“You’re going to manipulate this entire fucking country.” It wasn’t a question – Satoru had really made sure this guy was fucked in the head, and he thought he was awful.

“I’m not that different from my cousin,” Naoya retorted, “We’d both do anything for money.”

“And you’re using your wife as a pawn to your sick game?”

Naoya remained unaffected by Satoru slamming his palms down on the table, standing in his full height in an attempt to intimidate him. However, your husband merely raised a brow, taunting him with a smirk. “Was I the one who caused her hell all these years by making her a target to all your rivals?”

Things escalated faster than you saw it. One moment, you were cuddled with your husband, the next, Satoru had him by the collar. Naoya refused to show the pain from when his bad knee bumped into the table, enraging the taller man with his endless goading of how Satoru threw you to the side for nothing, calling him useless, pathetic, weak. You stood in front of both of them and pushed Satoru hard enough he fell back into the seat, glaring at you from where he fell. “That’s enough!” you bellowed, protectively encasing Naoya in your arms to steady him. His grimace told you he was in a lot more pain than he let on, and you snatched his cane to the side, screaming at Satoru with so much anger it shook the walls. “Fuck you, Gojo! You need to leave!”

“You’re fucking sick,” he spat at Naoya, “You’re a thousand times worse than your old man. You’re just using her to protect yourself, you fucking coward—”

Your palm resonating with his cheek stung. Satoru was rendered silent from the burning sensation on his face, the flesh still hoarse while you shook in anger. “Don’t you fucking dare speak to him like that.”

“Why are you with this guy?”

“As opposed to being with you?” your anger thundered, “You need to leave, Satoru. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Escort him out,” said Naoya as he caressed his knee from the couch. His voice did wonders in calming you down, those three simple words for him regulating your breathing. As if a switch had been flipped inside you, you grew demure, exchanging a thousand words with your husband in just one glance. “You and I will talk later.”

Just like that, you gripped Satoru by the arm and pushed him out the door. He would’ve been happy by your touch, but your nails dug so deep in his suit he actually hissed.

You both didn’t talk until he’s made it through the speedboat that he came in, Suguru already giving you privacy with his back turned. Not that it would change Satoru’s behaviour much because he’s weakened by you again, eyes pleading as he caught your wrist. “Angel,” he whispered, his demeanor far too pitiful for a powerful man like him. Only you – only you could make him this way. “Are you really happy with him?”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” you answered, effectively breaking Satoru for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Because he loved you, and with loving you came knowing you – he knew there was no lie behind your statement. “I’ve had a taste of hell before, and now I’ve found bliss in my heaven.”

“You’re lying,” he tried to convince himself, shaking his head to get rid of the pathetic tears. “That’s not true, you said you loved me – that’s our promise, right? I’ll get you back, angel. I’ll protect you this time around I – I’ll do everything I wasn’t able to do before. Please. I need you back.”

“Good luck with that, Gojou,” you smiled, but nothing about is happy. In fact, you looked hopelessly, perhaps just as devastated as him. “Time is ticking. One of us is going to die soon.”

It had been three long gruesome days since that fucking cruise party. You were glad to have finally returned home – and yes, you did have a happy home now – but it just felt different when the spot beside you was empty.

You flopped down on your king-sized bed, legs kicking up in the air as you talked to Naoya through the phone. He had business to attend to overseas, leaving you all alone in the Zen’in Estate because he was going someplace dangerous. Though you assured him you could handle yourself just fine, your husband wasn’t having any of it. He shut you up with a kiss and left not long afterwards, so now you had to settle for hearing his voice.

“Have you arrived?”

“Yeah, plane just landed,” his voice that turned gentle only for you crackled through the other line, sounds of shuffling and clinking heard before he spoke again. “Are you in bed already?”

“Hm.”

“Bet you look so fucking pretty right now,” he teased, “You gonna touch yourself at the thought of me while I’m gone, princess?”

“You know my fingers could never compare to your cock.”

“You’re so dirty,” he chuckled back, and your laughter mingled. It was so easy to laugh with him through mindless conversations to kill the time; the two of you acting like the world around you wasn’t burning. “When I get back from Shanghai, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

“If you do that, I won’t be able to hang off your arm prettily in your events.”

“We can always cancel them, princess. I don’t mind spending the entire weekend in bed with you.”

“Naoya, stop,” you buried your face in the pillows, giggling like a schoolgirl while your husband chuckled. You could hear him ordering his favourite drink to the stewardess and for a moment, you grew jealous, thinking that maybe his servants would be pretty. Then, you remembered – Naoya hated every human being in this world with your exception – you had nothing to worry about.

“You like it when I talk to you this way,” he mused, and you made no move to deny. “So about our anniversary—”

You lifted your head from the pillow as you heard the bell ringing, which was odd because it was half past midnight already. Most of the servants had long retired into their quarters right now, the entire estate on heavy lockdown too. The only person who could arrive was probably a special parcel, and you eagerly hopped off the bed, tying your silk nightgown to make yourself modest. “Oh, hey, I think my package arrived. Someone’s ringing.”

“Is it the Louboutin I got you?”

“I hope so!”

“Have fun dressing up then,” you could hear Naoya’s smile, “Send me photos okay? No undies.”

“No undies!” you agreed, swiping end call before you rushed to the front doors. Gosh, one of the worst things about living in a manor was that you had to take three flights of steps down, the lights in the servants’ wing already turned off so you had to open it yourself. “I’m coming!”

Taking a few seconds to compose yourself, you swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

taglist OPEN: @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @friedghostspyathlete @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn​ 

ALSO GUYS!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ANON WHO MADE THIS NAOYA X READER DOODLE IM CRYING SO MUCHHHH I LOVE IT SO MUCH I AM LEGIT SPEECHLESS LIKE YOU GUYS? ARE? AMAZING?! ANYWAYS I FINALLY FINISHED THE ENTIRE PLOT OF THIS SERIES AND WELL...I mean, I hope you guys are excited for this as I am, hehehe!! I take back my former note that this was going to be angsty. I think this is more of drama tbh but we’ll see how it goes! (side note...IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FANART PLEASE.)

[ukaibitches]

timeskip!Tsukishima nsfw alphabet

gn!reader x timeskip!tsukishima

cw: nsfw themes, sex, nudity, mentions of choking, breathplay, knifeplay, degradation, humiliation, spanking, gagging, masturbation, the word ‘cock’ (tell us if we missed something)

a/n: hi, tsukki whores, this one is for y’all!! hope you like it! don’t forget to follow us send us requests... thank you for reading ;)

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He is the type to always have a water bottle near the bed to avoid having to get up to get water after sex. The aftercare wouldn’t be nothing too fancy, he would cuddle you and give you gentle kisses (especially when he thinks he was too rough).

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his own body is definitely his fingers. They’re long, strong and can reach all the right places when fingering you.

Otherwise, on your body, his favorite part has to be your waist. He loves the way your body curves and how his arms fit in perfectly when he hugs you from behind.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He loves when you swallow, it just makes sense with the humiliation and degradation kink that he has but he also has a thing for creampie. The view of his seed leaking from your hole is just fascinating, but he would only do it with your full consent.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s always rough and tend to be really closed, almost cold. But he secretly loves when you are rough and teasing with him

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Tsukishima was not really experienced when you started dating but he has always been observant and he almost studied what pleases you the most. In addition, he learns FAST

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position is doggy style not only because of the hypnotizing view, he loves the feeling of his hip slapping your ass and the control he can have. He often leaves marks at your hips and waist, where he grabs you to make the perfect angled thrusts hit your g-spot.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Let’s be honest... Tsukishima Kei is never goofy. It’s just his personality and that’s completely fine :)

H= Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

He’s not very hairy and don’t see the necessity of shaving it all off. He makes sure to keep everything clean and the short. Yes, the carpet matches the drapes, but it’s a little darker.

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

It depends. He is usually really rough and degrading but it doesn’t mean he can’t be romantic in bed or on any other occasion. Some days, he’s just on a soft romantic mood and the fucks you lovely *sparkles*

J= Jack Off

He is not the type to jack off very often and when you started dating the frequency became even lower.

K= Kink

Dom/Sub dynamics, Degradation, Humiliation, Breathplay, Gagging and Impact play

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom is the ideal location for him. Tsukishima is really reserved and he won’t risk being interrupted by someone while he’s having an intimate moment with you. Your privacy is the priority, at least for him.

M= Motivation (What turn them on)

He finds it really hot when you yell at him. Every time you two have a little argument, he gets a turned on and every time you tease him, he teases you back... the tension rises and become sexual. That’s the way you solve your relationship problems: fucking

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would hate food play for obvious reasons and someone interrupting you would be a big turn off

O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He prefers receiving but wouldn’t deny giving if you ask him. As we said before, Tsukishima would be really observant and would know exactly what you like. When receiving oral, his gagging and deep throat kinks show a lot.

P= Pace

His pace wouldn’t necessarily be fast but it would be really strong and almost violent. Sometimes he would thrust painfully slow just to tease you and see how desperate you can get for his cock

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

He wouldn’t feel like quickies are worth it. However if you give the idea and he’s in the mood, he wouldn’t say no.

R= Risk (Do they like to take risks, etc)

As we said before, Tsukishima wouldn’t like the possibility of getting caught during sex but he likes to try new things even if they’re considered dangerous or risky in any way, like choking, breathplay or even knife play

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

He can last long and definitely has a lot of(?) stamina but he prefers a long sex section than multiple shorter rounds since he’s already on the mood.

T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn’t own any toys. He would, in fact, like to use toys on you but he would prefer if you had your own toys. This way, you’re able to choose your favorites and the ones you feel most comfortable using.

U= Unfair (How much they like to tease)

We can all agree that he would tease A LOT. Anywhere. At any time. He likes to see you getting flustered and becoming a total mess so he teases you in various ways and he lives for it. At sex time, he likes degrading and humiliating you a lot and sometimes, he calls you by the nickname he uses to call you in bed, when your outside or with friends, to see you becoming a blushing mess.

V= Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He doesn’t moan a lot, would just let out some low groans here and there. However, he gets really aroused when you moan or when the sex gets loud in general... the sounds make him go crazy.

W= Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character)

Tsukishima and you were arguing over who would pick the film that you were going to watch. You were mocking that he always chooses bad movies and after losing all his patience he said “Why don’t you shut up and suck my cock” in a teasing way. After that, you completely forgot about the film and actually sucked his cock :D. After that night, situation/ like this started being a recurring thing between the two of you.

X= X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He has a long skinny penis lol

His cock is pretty and gets really veiny when hard. It is around 17cm (6,6 inches)

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It depends a lot on his mood. He gets turned on easily when he’s with you but when he’s alone, he doesn’t get desperate or anything

Z= Zzzzz (How quickly the fall asleep afterwards)

He sleeps really quickly but only after he makes sure you’re okay and feeling good after some cuddles and aftercare

do not repost our work

thank you for reading

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Ready for zombies, Zoro, and some hurt/comfort? Then take a swig of this potion for @quirkyseastone ‘s “Brew a Love Potion” event! (But please read the warnings first!)

Characters: Zoro x Reader; appearance by Bartholomew Kuma

Genre: Zombie/Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort (a bit light on the comfort though, woops)

TW/CW: Violence, guns and swords, blood, light gore, mentions of cannibalism, undead bodies

Inspiration: The concept for zombies in this fic is inspired by the novel Breathers by S.G. Browne (at least, what I remember from having read it over 10 years ago...)

Word Count: ~3.1k words

...

"Hold still, we're almost..." You apply the last bit of blush before appraising your handiwork. Not bad, if you said so yourself. At a glance, Zoro doesn't even look dead. "There. Want a mirror to see?"

"I trust you not to doll me up too bad." Roronoa Zoro yawns, even though the legendary zombie hunter no longer needs to sleep, having recently been turned into a zombie himself. Which, contrary to popular belief, is not in and of itself a death sentence. Most zombies act as they did in life, even if their bodies no longer recover the way a living human's does. The danger comes from the zombies who try to stop this decay by feasting on human brains...and sometimes more dangerous are the humans who've decided that every zombie is a ticking time bomb regardless of said zombie's intentions. 

At least Zoro had never been that way, but now he's got to hide from the hunters who once considered him a legend. Sure, it wouldn't be hard for him to fight off hunters, even if you've had to stitch each limb back on at least twice (and you're still not sure where one of his eyes ended up). But you'd rather your newfound partner in protecting innocent zombies not cause a scene simply by walking through the market.

"Remember, don't rub your face. This makeup cost me a fortune. And try to fake breathing this time, okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it." He manages to take a breath that's believable but isn't so deep that it rattles the loose bones and organs in his slowly decaying chest.

Both of you get to your feet and finish the rest of your preparations for the outside world. Your clothing hides as much skin as possible, even with the warm temperatures outside. You spray Zoro down with cheap cologne so he smells less like roadkill and more like a teenager trying to cover up a bad case of B.O. And you slip on filtration masks in a vain attempt to avoid the ever-present smoke and dust beyond your walls.

No one's sure if the zombies came about because of the bombs, or if the bombs were secretly launched because the powers-that-be learned about the first nascent zombies and failed with their pre-emptive strike. But now much of the world is a wasteland, and bargaining for resources is bad enough without half the population lobbing accusations of cannibalism at the other half. You can't hold off this trip any longer, because you've ended up looking after a number of innocent zombies, and they need medical supplies before they fall apart any further.

You shoo Zoro away from the driver's spot on your motorbike. "Nuh uh buddy, we aren't getting lost today." You've heard a new band of hunters is coming to town, and the last thing you want is to run into them before you have a chance to secure your supplies.

"I don't get lost! They just keep changing where the market is." Zoro still reluctantly waits for you to take your place at the front before he sits behind you and firmly snakes his arms around your waist. You pretend you can feel his pulse when he holds you, even though you know the heart in his chest has long stopped beating.

Markets are supposed to be neutral ground. Everyone needs resources to survive after all, and one of the few things that bombs and zombie outbreaks couldn't kill is commerce. Stalls line the aisles of what was once a grocery store, faded advertisements promoting foods that no one's seen in years, and someone has fixed the speaker system to play the same old pop hits in a vain attempt at normalcy.

You hold tight to Zoro's hand, both to keep him from getting lost and so he stays close in case of danger. He obliges, and even holds bags for you as you pull him around. You might've called this romantic in the times before, back when your purchases would've been far more frivolous than bandages and shelf-stable rations, but you're unsure how close you and Zoro would've been without being thrown together by circumstance.

You pause by one stall, eyes wide. Zoro doesn't notice and keeps walking until he notices that you won't budge. He raises an eyebrow when he finally joins you. "What, some kinda' plastic plant?"

"Not plastic. It's real." You forgive him the mistake though, as the plant has sturdy, waxy leaves that almost look sculpted. It feels like so long since you've seen anything green (aside from Zoro's hair), much less an actual plant. But you note the name scribbled in tape on its battered plastic pot. It's nothing useful, not medicinal or edible in the slightest. Just a begonia that hasn't even bloomed yet.

The shopkeeper asks, "Gonna gawk, or you gonna' buy?"

You know you can't afford a plant, what with how rare they are. You might be able to bargain and beg if it were something more useful, but...

"We'll buy." Zoro slams something down on the table. "This'll be enough?"

You catch the glint of gold peeking from between his fingers. Jewelry isn't useful anymore, but human greed has a hard time giving up old habits. The shopkeeper smiles wide and practically shoves the begonia at you with one hand while snatching up Zoro's earring with the other. You thank him and depart the stall without another word, clutching the flower close to your chest.

"What was that about?" You hiss at Zoro.

"Looked like you wanted it," he says with a shrug. You squint up at his remaining earrings, only to realize that in his haste to remove the one he traded away, he tore the hole in his ear a little in the process. Probably didn't even notice that he'd done so, the stubborn fool...

Well, what's done is done. "Thank you. I'll make sure to take excellent care of it."

"Don't mention it." Which you know is Zoro-speak for "you're welcome". So you smile back at him without saying anything more on the subject, and continue the rest of your trek through the market.

You make the mistake of thinking this is a surprisingly nice day. But you don't realize that someone has noticed how Zoro isn't bleeding.

When Zoro pulls out one sword and tightens his grip around your midsection, you don't have to ask why. You're being followed.

You absently wonder what gave you away. Never removing your masks? A smudge in Zoro's makeup that revealed the deathly pallor underneath? It doesn't really matter, you think. Whoever is after you will chase you down until they can swing their weapons and play at being heroes, so all you can do is fight on your own terms. You avoid going home and swerve the bike toward the burned-out husk of an abandoned store that not even the most desperate zombies would hide in.

You glance at the tilted rearview mirror on your bike. The figures chasing you are hulking brutes, but nothing compared to their ringleader. He's built like a brick house with legs, and his imposing figure is thrown off by the pristine white hat topped with small bear ears. Instead of a holstered weapon, he has a bible strapped to his side. You've heard of this man. Judging by the look in Zoro's eyes, he does too. One of the most notorious zombie hunters in the country: Bartholomew Kuma.

What is he doing here, of all places?

Zoro says, "Soon as we touch down, hide. It's me they want."

"I can't just leave you. You know who that is back there?"

"Doesn't matter. I already died once. They can't do worse than that to me. But they could still hurt you plenty. 'Specially if you came back before they were done with you." In the rearview mirror, Zoro's eyes are sharp and cold as his blades.

You know how to handle a weapon in self-defense, but you're nowhere near the master that Zoro is. And he has a point. You're still human, you can bleed, you can hurt. And that might chew Zoro up worse than anything Kuma and crew could throw at him. You resign yourself to your fate and think of where in that burnt-out building you might be able to hide, preferably while still keeping an ear out for danger.

You speed on, trying to shake your pursuers, but soon the road runs out. The bones of burnt buildings jut out before you like oversized tombstones. You remember scouting here before, trying to usher out displaced zombies before the remnants of the building could collapse on them. Much of the ruins have fallen since you were last here, but there's still a concrete bunker that was once a stockroom, and it's mostly intact. You can lay low there until the fighting's over. 

You relay this plan to Zoro, and you tell him, "I'll be safe there, don't worry about me. Once the fighting's done, I'll come back down and patch you up. So don't die on me again, alright?"

Zoro nods, even though he surely knows the claim is more for your comfort than anything. He's a zombie, after all, and they don't heal the way humans do unless they devour human brains. He won't bleed, but if he looses a limb, or even his head? There's nothing you can do to fix that. And to be honest, you're not sure if that'll do him in, or if he'd continue living in pieces. You don't want to find out.

You park. And you know you should hit the ground running, but your heart is hammering in your chest. You turn to Zoro as he pulls out his blades.

You quickly put your warm hands on his cold cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. You two never attached words to what's simmered under the surface for so long, but in case of the worst...you couldn't handle him not knowing how  you truly felt. He blinks as you pull away, briefly stunned. You wonder if he'd blush if he could.

You run into the burnt-out husk of a building. The touch of your lips on Zoro's is replaced by a sword between his teeth.

In another lifetime, before people stopped dying right and the world went to hell over it, this building was a clothing store. You shopped here for outfits you haven't seen in years. Once, a friend who worked here snuck you into the back room, and you ate cheap takeout while surrounded by wall-to-ceiling racks of clothing and shoes. If you took time to wipe away the dust, you might still find graffiti left by the workers during their final shifts. You wonder if your friend left one.

You cannot look because you are huddled on a shelf and trying not to make a sound. The shelves are sturdy metal and easy to climb even without the rolling ladder. You're hidden high above the heads of anyone who might come in and pressed against a wall. No one should find you here.

For awhile, you heard sounds from outside. Speaking at first, though you couldn't make out what was being said. Then battle, swords colliding and guns firing. Screams. Then...nothing. You don't know if it's safe to come out. You'll find out soon. There are footsteps approaching.

A voice you do not recognize says your name.

"Roronoa Zoro is dead. Again. I am sorry that it had to happen." Heavy footfalls contrast a voice that is soft, almost even kind. "I understand why you might want to save him. You've built quite a reputation for that, you know. But I'm afraid it ends here. We cannot allow you to keep any more abominations alive. You understand that is what they are, don't you?"

You know he's trying to goad you into revealing yourself. It takes everything in your power to hold still and silent.

Metal crumples nearby with a shrill squeal, as if it could protest its false bones being broken.

"If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?"

The question throws you off guard, almost enough for sound to escape your lips.

"We do not have to kill you. All the government wants is to talk. If you cooperate, you'll be transported somewhere safe. Free of zombies, even." More metal crumples, and you wonder how Kuma is doing it. Does he have a weapon, or is he strong enough to break the storage shelves with his bare hands? "All you have to do is come willingly, and when we're done, you can go wherever you'd like, and you'll be kept safe."

But the only place you can think of is home. With Zoro. No matter what might come after you there.

The shelf under you shifts, and your body spasms as if you fell in a dream and awoke with your mind still lurching. You reach for anything to grab onto, but your fingers only touch air. (For the briefest instance, you spy graffiti drawn by a familiar hand upon the wall.)

You do not immediately recognize the feel of the arms, because they are warm and pulsing with life. You stare up at Zoro's face in disbelief. He's missing an eye and his face is smeared with blood, mouth drawn in a thin line.

"You survived," Kuma intones softly. "You ate them." And you wish you could refute him, but even before he spoke, you knew it to be true. Zoro's bloody fingers dig into your clothes to hold you tight. You hear his heartbeat for the first time, and it rarely skips a beat. Kuma says, "Let your friend down, Roronoa. You don't want to do this."

"Think I'm some mindless cannibal? Think again." Zoro sets you down and looks  you dead in the eye. "Told you I wouldn't die. And neither will you. Now, get out of here." Half a second before returning his sword to his mouth, his tongue flickers over his blood-stained lips. "Hurry!"

You do as he asks and flee to the doorway of the building. You know you should run to the motorcycle and drive out of here, but there are two problems with that. One is how you don't want to leave Zoro again. The other is that even if you admit the truth to yourself, that he finally gave in and consumed the brains of his enemies like the zombies he used to put down...you don't want to turn around and see what he did to the corpses of Kuma's followers.

The fight is swift and brutal. You've seen Zoro fight before, but while he's normally a whirlwind with his blades, now he's a demonic torrent. Much as he tries to stick to his traditional fighting forms, they slip into more instinctual slashes when Kuma pushes back, and the only thing that keeps Zoro on top is sheer ferocity. He moves so fast, you swear he's slashing three times faster than a normal man, leaving the afterimages of a three-faced demon. (You've heard rumors of zombies growing entirely new parts when they've eaten too much mortal flesh, but surely those are only rumors, survivors not understanding what they're seeing...)

Kuma is far quicker than his size would suggest. But even he begins to buckle. He blocks one blade with a bible far sturdier than it appears, and then lunges forward in a final desperate attack. Zoro braces to parry an attack, but is taken aback as no blow comes. Something metal and blinking is clasped onto his wrist.

"We will not meet again."

And Kuma is gone. You blink in surprise. You swore you didn't see him leave through the other holes in the building, didn't feel anyone pass you, and yet...

The normally composed swordsman growls as he sheathes his swords and tries to pry the blinking metal bangle (a tracking device, what else could it be?) off his arm. You want to approach him, but are unsure if you should; all you can do is watch as he uselessly paws at the bangle. Until he stops suddenly. You catch a glimpse of fresh crimson.

Zoro freezes as the reality of what he's done, what he's become, finally settles in. He's a statue slowly dripping red, most of which isn't his own. His breath shudders, and that too takes him off-guard. He sways where he stands, almost falling to his knees but somehow staying upright.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet carry you toward him, and you reach out. Your fingers brush against his back. He growls, "Don't. I'm not..."

"It doesn't matter what you are. You're still Zoro." 

Gentle pushes at his shoulders turn him around so he faces you. His face has more color than you've ever seen, blood red and flesh pink and mottled blues and violets of bruises. His closed eyelid twitches as the eye underneath regenerates. How long will it be until all the color's gone, and electrical impulses run short to leave his heart to hang heavy and empty in his chest, and how much longer than that until he gets a taste for life again regardless of the cost?

That doesn't matter right now. The future looms taller and more frightening than Kuma, but right now, you're two scared humans in a broken warehouse. You wrap your arms around Zoro and pull him close.

For the briefest moment, you feel his mouth open, hear the click in his jaw. His teeth brush against your ear. You close your eyes and refuse to think about it.

His chin rests on your shoulder. Mouth closed. Arms wrap around you right and your hearts beat together, lungs scramble for air together, blood and worry (and tears, you think, but you're not sure whose) intermingle and crawl to a slow stop until only a numb and temporary peace remains.

"You'd be forgiven for walking away." His voice is raw and tired with the weight of living again and all that took.

"Maybe. But someone has to keep you from getting lost." You give him one final squeeze before letting him go. "Come on. Let's go home and get you cleaned up."

When morning comes, you'll have to face what the future holds for a brain-eating swordsman and the one who looks out for him despite it all. But tonight, the both of you are miraculously alive and breathing, and there's a green new plant in the window ready to soak up all the sunlight tomorrow can offer.

[bakugohoex]

I know we all love the monkey man and hes sexy and everything...but maybe Zeke for number 1 or your 1k fluff prompts? Theres never anything for him that's fluff...🥺🙏

“you’ll be mine one day”

pairing: zeke yeager x female reader

cw: language, mentions of weed and alcohol, fluff, reader cheating with zeke, mutual pining

word count: ​2500+

a/n: yes i all monkey man sm and of course this fluff has a bit of a weird theme to it but i hope you still liked it

summary: in which after meeting zeke multiple times throughout the month, every time saying the same thing, the only problem being that you have a drunken boyfriend in his way

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Zeke loved coffee, everyday for the past month he’d walk right into the coffee shop right before work started, ordering his favourite coffee and waiting in the seat right beside the window. The atmosphere smelled of crushed coffee beans, the cakes and desserts that were behind glass. Zeke loved coffee especially when the pretty barista with locks that framed her face perfectly was the one to take his order and give him the coffee cup with the perfect heart in it. He loved coffee like an addict does opium, he loved the way it sat on his tongue, the way it looked at him with such lust. The way it’d be gone in a matter of seconds in one rash blink.

You knew the man’s routine so often that when he’d be running late a hurt was felt through your body. Zeke and you both knew that the constant glances in the half an hour he stayed at the window seat, the lingering touches as you grabbed the empty coffee cup to get him another was wrong. But even then how could he resist you, the way your eyes spoke so much in just a mere glance. He felt infatuated beyond belief but there was one thing in his way of pursuing anything with you, your boyfriend.

With his unkempt hair and smell of weed always around him, Zeke didn’t understand why someone as delightful and pretty as you would go for someone who looked off his head. He was unemployed from what Zeke had gathered; he knew if you were with him you wouldn’t have to work this job. You could stay at home and be his, you wouldn’t have to worry about making ends meet as long as you stayed by his side.

Even with your boyfriend being a minor factor in his mission to get you, he left the same words on the napkin each day, he always left as soon as you went into the back to restock the cupcakes and savoury desserts. The napkin placed on top of the empty mug, you hated how much influence the man had on you.

You had had many conversations with him when work got slow which occurred a lot when he came in the early mornings. But even then his insistence that you’d come to him was prevalent, maybe you did have a crush on the man, he was older by a couple years, established in life, had the stability and security you and your boyfriend never had and worst of all. He had the ability to flirt with you so easily even with the risk of your boyfriend around, Zeke may have respected the position of your relationship with another, but he would never give up on you as easily as you had expected him too.

It was another early morning, you stood behind the counter, watching Zeke in his tight suit, the white shirt unbuttoned as his suit jacket swayed with the wind. The cigarette that he had in his mouth being chucked to the ground as he stepped on it putting it out. The sound of the door jingling made you plaster on a smile at the blond boy who came with a small smirk on his face. “Hello, what can I get for you today, Zeke?” The place was pretty much empty, it hadn’t hit the morning shifts yet and you assumed Zeke started working a lot earlier than the rest of the city. You were the only one at the counter as your colleague had gone to make some food for when the breakfast rush came.

“Morning Y/n, can I have a white coffee and your number on the side?” He spoke the last part confidently with his lip twitching upwards at how you shook your head.

“Nice try Zeke, anything else you need?”

He paused thinking as he stared at you, you looked so delicate and pretty, all the things he could do to you flashed through his head. Maybe it was sleazy to think such crude thoughts but what you didn’t know didn’t harm you, right? “You, if possible.”

“I’ll have your drink made in a couple minutes, Zeke.” You chuckled out, he loved the way you said his name, the way you gave that soft touch as he passed you the money. Your fingers gliding against his own, he took his normal seat watching you pour the hot liquid into the cup, he knew you’d give him another heart like you normally did. You always did concentrate too much on the finer details, you took the cup and plate that went under it bringing it to the man. Placing it down, Zeke saw the heart as you gave him a soft smile, “what you working on now?” You questioned knowing nobody else was going to come in.

You took the seat opposite him, the papers in his hand that looked really important, “foreign affairs, all hush hush, but for a pretty girl like you I could tell you the details.”

“Wouldn’t that be a national security issue?” You folded your arms raising an eye at the man, he gave off this presence of confidence and knew exactly what he was doing with his life. A stability that seemed ever so far away from you, you had often imagined what dating a man like Zeke would be like, how you could work full time at university instead of part time, how you could come home to warmth rather than weed. “Tell me more about what you do.”

You leant your head against your arm as you often spent mornings listening to him ramble on about his career, nodding and humming along whenever the time came. He seemed to enjoy speaking about his work, you could listen to it forever, you nodded almost love struck as the man spoke. Your work colleagues often saying you looked like a girl who was talking to her first crush. “One day I’ll show you what we’re working on.” You nodded at the false promise, one day he’d forget about the barista, he'd become too big, too important for a girl who had nothing going for her than an alcoholic weed smoking loser.

“Promise.” You hadn’t meant to whisper the words, but Zeke gave a soft smile.

He watched how you put your hands out, away from your chin as you leant backwards, grabbing your hands he looked you dead in the eye, “I don’t lie to pretty girls.”

You gave another chuckle, seeing how your eyes went to the arriving customers, the rush about to occur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You walked away without another word, he watched you go into the back to help bring some of the new produce. Quickly bringing his pen out as he wrote the words onto the napkin, you’ll be mine one day, in his cursive handwriting, his initials were underneath before leaving it beside the empty coffee. Grabbing his stuff as he left just as customers began to barge past to get their morning fix, he took one last look inside seeing you happily smile and take their money, before finally walking away.

You had managed to hand out the coffee cups to those in a hurry before starting to clear tables, taking the napkin Zeke left, the same words every day. Maybe if you had outright told him to stop he would, but the excitement each day you got from the romantic gesture filled your heart. You didn’t know what had gone wrong in your relationship with your boyfriend, maybe it was the drugs or his loss of job. Maybe you had fallen out of love and he had notices, his lying and pleas to make you stay by him. The manipulation and deceit something you wouldn’t get from Zeke; you stuffed the napkin in your pocket ready to put it with the 28 other napkins you had.

Keeping all safe within a box in your bedroom, the fear that arose from being caught with it all. Maybe it was emotional cheating but in a relationship like your own maybe you deserved better, you wiped your hands on your apron. Everything has subsided as you and your colleague went on your break as your manager took over.

“I see how you look at Zeke, just break up with your shitty boyfriend.” She said taking a sip of her coffee, you had your own in your hand thinking about the man.

“I can’t, he needs me.”

She raised her eyebrow at the comment, “he needs a fix and therapy, Y/n, I might sound like an ass right now, but all your boyfriend thinks about is getting his dick wet, getting high and getting drunk.”

There was truth in your friends words and as your break ended, you gripped the napkin tighter than you had imagined. Staring at the eloquent writing, the way he wrote Z and Y, even his handwriting seemed perfect. You took a sharp breath realising that in the 29 days you had known Zeke, he had provided more love and warmth than the man you had been dating for years now. You needed to break up with him, needed to confess to Zeke that his crush wasn’t one sided.

Just as the café closed up, you nimbly parted ways from your friend as you began to walk to your apartment. You knew what was to occur, your boyfriend on the couch high with his friends beside him, you really didn’t want to go back. You felt your phone begin to ring as you answered it to hear the drunken shouting of your boyfriend, you didn’t even bother with the words instead hanging up. Clinging the napkin between your fingers, you walked a different direction, towards the offices that Zeke had so often told you about.

You didn’t know what you would do once you arrived but the glass doors with the frosted words of Marley led you to walk inside. The yellow lights bringing warmth as you walked towards the front desk, you didn’t look like you belonged, looked like some stray. You tapped your fingers against the white marble as the woman finally turned to meet you, “hi, what can I help you with?”

She smiled at you as you really had no idea what to say, “Zeke.”

“Zeke?” She paused, “like Mr. Yeager, one of the partners here.” You nodded as she gave a confused look at you. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of his, do you know where I…I can find him.” She looked at you hesitantly.

She tapped on the keyboard, the only sound being her taps, “I can call him down if he’s a friend, we have a security measure so I can’t send you up, but if you wait on those chairs he’ll be down shortly.”

You nodded quickly turning on your heels as you moved to the white chairs, it looked empty, the staff probably having left hours ago. You hadn’t realised Zeke to have been a partner of this place, it seemed way above your standards. You felt the need to leave and never come back, to apologise for wasting the woman’s time but just as you were about to get up. The ding of the elevator made you stop, Zeke coming out with a brunette-haired woman, she smiled at the man as he walked beside her speaking on some matters.

He went to the front office lady and he pointed to you as both him and the woman looked at you. Zeke confused before beginning to walk up to you, “Y/n, what happened?”

“I…I…don’t know why I came here?” You paused taking a sharp breath, “so…sorry I should go, I…” You were ready to run away, embarrassment across your face at the fear of feeling vulnerable in front of this man.

He grabs your wrist stopping you from leaving, bringing you to face him again, “Pieck, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The woman he had been with nodded saying a goodbye before she left herself, “come on, you can explain everything in my office.”

You didn’t know how you had agreed to go with him, your other hand had been clutching the napkin out of instinct, he guided you up the elevator, his taller frame against your own as his hand was on your back. He shuffled you along past the many smaller offices before his name was frosted onto the door, opening the glass as he let you into the much larger area.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the couch that had a coffee table in front of it, he got out some alcohol putting it on the table as he poured two glasses out for the two of you. “What happened?”

“I…I…I’m sorry, I interrupted your meeting, and I shouldn’t have come here.” You were ready to get up again, but Zeke moved to sit beside you. His discarded suit jacket on his desk as he had rolled up his sleeves, his glasses sitting perfectly across his face.

He brought his hands to your one shaky ones, it seemed to have calmed you down, but he noticed the napkin scrunched up in your hands. “Shoosh it’s okay, take your time.”

You nodded taking a sharp breath as you explained how your boyfriend had shouted at you and how you really didn’t want to go back to your apartment. “I just can’t do this anymore Zeke, I…I deserve happiness right, I do don’t I?”

Zeke had noticed the tears form in your eyes, it cascaded down your perfect face as he wiped them away softly. He was frustrated, frustrated at your arrogant dickhead of a boyfriend, frustrated at the world for making his girl cry.

“You deserve happiness.” You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but at his tender sweet words you moved your hand onto his thigh, crashing your lips onto his own. You felt no guilt, nothing as you kissed the man, your other man moving to his blonde beard as you cupped his face. He knew it was wrong, you had a boyfriend, you were cheating but he couldn’t resist you. He felt you crawl onto his lap, pushing him against the couch as you deepened the kiss. His tongue gliding inside your own as you gave a soft moan of his name, it sent him into an overload as he gripped your waist with one hand and the other to caress your cheek.

He watched as a string of saliva stayed between the two mouths as you both parted, “I…shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t go back on me now, doll.” He teased, laying underneath you, he brought his hand to touch your hair, his touch making you go soft inside. “I told you…”

“Told me what?” You questioned still on his lap; he brought his head closer again to your mouth.

Through every kiss he gave you, he said the four words, “that you’d be mine someday” In a matter of seconds you realised the implications of his words, you were his, you were everything he had dreamt about. You would leave that disgusting man and be Zeke’s forever.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[bottomvalerius]

I’ve talked about this more in GCs than on here, but after the plague hits and Sam effectively loses two of his closer partners (Lucio and Donna), it definitely. Chills him the fuck out LMAO but that’s mainly because of all the unexpected grief and trauma of losing two people like that

He’s kinda always gone through cycles of either being fairly chill and responsible (like. By Sam standards. He’s not as bad as say Lucio, but he’s still Sam lmao) or just completely off the shits and going on bender after bender. Gonna talk in a bit more detail about his earlier adulthood (mid twenties-mid forties) undercut, but CW for more mentions of death and drug use ❌

When he was originally serving Mara, she was very good at keeping him in check and making sure he didn’t totally lose himself in their hedonistic life style. She knew she was bringing him into a much more twisted world than he was used to, and she wanted to ensure he would always be able to handle himself, with or without magic and with or without her. The reason Sam takes things like consent and open communication so seriously is 100% because of her, and his relationship with Donna is fairly similar to what his relationship was like with her (take that as you will lol)

But once she’s gone (as in she having Sam kill her), Sam really takes a fucking nose dive. Mara was and still kinda is the only other person Sam truly cared about and loved (not necessarily romantic but a similar energy) other than his family; she was what kept him grounded and put together. Losing her in such a traumatic way and being thrust into an even newer, more grimy life style just made it all the more easier for him to just……. Really go off the deep end. Lots of drugs, lots of drinking, lots of sex all at once with the wrong type of people. Anything to not think about what happened or what he was doing or what it all meant that this was what his life was now.

Obviously he pulled himself out of that (I’m trying to think more on his personal philosophies/spirituality. It’s still a WIP so I’m keeping this…. Vague. LMAO) and obviously he found a circle of people who actually cared about him for more than just his fancy dildos And money. So when he meets Donna and eventually Lucio, he’s still a hedonistic piece of shit, but he’s actually…… much tamer than he had been LMAO

All of this to say that when he loses them, it brings up a lot of that heavy grief from losing Mara. But he’s much older now and just a little bit wiser; he knows he needs something grounding and not just a weekend thrill. I think I’ve mentioned that he actually spends much more time home in Prakra and really just keeps to his close circle of partners. I’m thinking that it’s also around this time that he considers reaching out to his family; he definitely does post the game events (which he isn’t really involved in, but like. He’s in the background. LMAO); it’s not necessarily that he wants to settle back down again, he still travels, but it’s more so he wishes to rebuild the bridges he tore apart with his teeth and hands lmao

BASICALLY Peepaw is always peepaw, but he does get softer with age and also some good angst lmao

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Stolen Moments (Love Letters)

Word Count: 5,848 CW: Mentions of violence, cursing, hospital

Gavin opened his messages, desperate to hear some news from Nines. Instead of getting a message from Nines telling him he was fine and ready to return home, he got an automated message from the repair hospital telling him he needed to pick up his personal effects, more information in an email to follow. Gavin switched over to his email and found a large file.

He sat down at his terminal, ignoring that it was his work device and he was on the clock, and opened it to find over two hundred messages from Nines, all addressed to himself. The email itself said that Nines, as his professional partner, was mostly his responsibility and property and that Gavin was responsible for his bills and the choice to repair or replace him. He needed to come to the hospital by end of day and make the decision.

Gavin scoffed. “I guess some things still haven’t changed no matter how progressive people pretend to be.”

He reread the last line until it set in that Nines’ life was in his hands. He jolted out of his chair, the seat rolling back until it hit the side of someone else’s desk, and rushed to Fowler’s office. He threw the door open, not caring that the captain was in the middle of a meeting.

Gavin didn’t bother with preamble, getting straight to his point. “Sir, I need the day off.”

Fowler sighed, moving things around on his terminal for a bit. “You’ve got days off saved up. Go ahead.”

Gavin thanked him, rushing out the door and to the repair hospital. He just about crashed through the doors and made a beeline for the receptionist. “I’m looking for an RK900 unit who goes by the name ‘Nines’. What room is he in?”

She looked up at him, expression bored. “Serial number?”

Gavin frustratedly gave it, having memorized it long ago, and waited impatiently to be told where he was. When told, Gavin didn’t bother thanking the receptionist before he was off to see Nines. It was agonizing having to wait for the elevator, even worse having to stand in it as it went up, his fingers tapping on his leg the entire ride. His eyes scanned the room numbers, getting frantic with the thought of not getting to him in time. When he found the room he’d been told was Nines’, he went directly inside.

Nines was alone in the room. He was lying on a white bed, his chassis exposed from his toes to his neck. His head and neck were the only things that still had his skin on it, looking for all the world as if he were peacefully sleeping despite the LED that kept a steady yellow light. Gavin sighed in relief at him being there, despite the numerous injuries he still sported, and pulled a chair over to sit next to him. He held his hand and grabbed his tablet from his bag.

“Alright, tin can. What’d you send me?” He opened the large folder, looking at the abundance of files that were inside it. Turning his head to Nines, he joked, “Any idea where to start?” Sadly, Nines stayed as silent and still as before, not a word to be spoken.

Gavin kissed the back of his hand, running his thumb over a crack in the plating. He turned his attention back to the tablet and scrolled down through the file names. Each one had a series of numbers as a name, something Gavin quickly figured out was a date. Scrolling through them, they were in chronological order. He only found it fitting to open the first one and go from there, wondering what they could be.

Detective,

The other day, we were talking on a stake out. I mentioned there being more to admire about you than to detest and have just now realized the error of not continuing that thought. I admire your work ethic, the way you have a single-minded drive to complete the case assigned to us. I appreciate how gentle you are with victims and those you like. You may not notice it but care is in every word you speak and every action you make for those you genuinely consider to be loved ones and the few victims we’ve spoken to. I’ve noticed your actions softening toward me, even as your words stay as harsh as they’ve ever been. I might be wrong, but it seems you’ve come to care for me yet wish to continue our ribbing as something more friendly. If this is your way of extending an olive branch, I am more than willing to accept it and will continue to banter with you.

Gavin smiled as he looked back at Nines. “Thank you so much for understanding me, you barely held together stack of rust and bolts.”

A voice laughed but it wasn’t Nines’. Instead, Gavin’s attention was drawn to the doorway where someone in a white lab coat, a small pin on the lapel reading ‘they/them’, stood. “I see you arrived.”

Gavin stood, laying the tablet on the bed but not letting go of Nines’ hand. “Who do I have to tell that this man is a person who deserves every right to live and fight as anyone else?”

They laughed again, coming inside the room to lean against a wall. “That would be me. I’m Ash Windlock, head of Simon Repair Hospital. I apologize if the message made it seem more urgent than it truly is.”

Gavin clenched his jaw, having to force himself to take even breaths. “What’s Nines’ condition?”

“I’m not going to lie. He’s in some pretty bad shape. We can only repair the body, not the coding and neural pathways he developed by being deviant. Right now, our best team is gathering to do a surgery, as repairs have taken to being called, as soon as we can. I’ll update you when that happens.”

Gavin’s hand held Nines’ just a bit tighter. “How well do you expect that to go? What do you mean, you can’t repair his code?”

“The surgery is expected to be a full success. When an android becomes deviant, their code changes in ways the programmers weren’t equipped to handle. It would take too long for them to learn the new coding that is specific to every android just to be able to repair them without fear of damaging the new coding and, thus, the deviant. Even if that were possible, RK900s are extremely rare in this part of the world, not many having been found and awoken. So, it’d take even longer to figure out his specific neural paths. That’s time we don’t have. So, while we can do everything in our power to repair his chassis and wiring, we can’t do anything about his mind palace unless he does something about it himself. He went into low power mode when he was damaged and we don’t know if he’ll come out of it after the surgery.”

Gavin nodded, struggling to process the amount of information that was just pushed onto him. “Okay, yeah, I’ll sign whatever permission waver you need me to when it comes to the surgery as I’m closest to next of kin while Connor is out of town. Just, charge the bill to the DPD, he’s under their employ.” Connor should be back by that afternoon but they didn’t need to know that.

They nodded. “I’ll be back in a moment with the paperwork for next of kin.”

Gavin sat back down, fidgeting with Nines’ fingers as he usually did when nervous. “While we wait,” he spoke to Nines, hoping it was like a coma where he could still hear him, “how about I look at another one of your files?”

This one was a video, a few days after the writing. It didn’t seem like much, just a video of Gavin flipping through some files while he worked. There were captions on it, little things being picked out. Gavin's bouncing leg, how his dominant hand was tapping a tablet pen against his fingertips and knuckles, the half full cup of coffee that Gavin had sitting on his desk, the mess of a desk that he knew like the back of his hand. Other things were noticed too, the way Gavin’s brow was furrowed as he concentrated, the clump of hair that’d fallen over his forehead, his nose wrinkling, the slight redness on his fingers from the repeated tapping of the pen, even the creases of his jacket were picked out as important. The video couldn’t have been more than two minutes of Gavin working but it said a lot about what Nines thought about him at that time.

Gavin looked back up at Nines, lying so still on the bed he would have looked dead to anyone else. “Did you really have a crush on me back then, toaster?” His voice was light and teasing. He wanted Nines to be awake, to tell him to stop with the android jokes, to tell him Gavin had been crushing long since Nines had, to tell him all sorts of things.

A video. Gavin walked down the stairs, Nines staring up at him. Suddenly the scene paused and became monochromatic, as a white outline of Gavin reached the bottom of the stairs, a grey outline of Nines leaned forward to kiss his cheek. The outlines reversed until the white outline matched with Gavin again and the scene unfroze, the world filling with color. Gavin passed Nines and the android turned to follow.

Another one, edited to follow that. Gavin sat at his desk. The world paused and faded again as a grey outline of Nines approached with a coffee cup, kissing the top of Gavin’s head and placing the cup on the desk before leaning into him and running his fingers through his hair. The images reversed and instead Nines simply handed him the cup, Gavin giving a brief, “Thanks.”

Three more scenes similar to those followed in sequence, where the grey outline tried to interact in a romantic way with the white outline before Nines inevitably didn’t act on those thoughts.

Gavin sat and stared at Nines, his grip on Nines hand tightening just the slightest bit. “You should have told me sooner, dumbass.” His voice was soft, softer than he ever spoke to anyone besides Nines.

Windlock came back in with a tablet that Gavin had to fill out. Other repairs Nines had previously had, if he knew who did those, if he knew who originally built him, signing a bunch of things that came with medical power of attorney. When he handed the tablet back, he was told they’d operate in a half hour.

Another video. This one was different, footage of a garden. Gravel crunched under footsteps and animals were heard but not seen, water. Nines stopped by a pond and glanced down, brushing a stray strand of hair back into place. His shirt had a simpler collar than normal and was a lighter shade of black. He leaned back, continuing on the path. Images of Gavin appeared along it, some sitting on benches doing random actions, others walking beside Nines for short periods of time. One of them came up to Nines and started talking about the case at the time, Nines participating in the conversation.

Gavin looked from the tablet to stare at Nines. “Were you dreaming about me?” His voice was quiet, bewildered yet flattered.

The next ten files were similar things, Nines’ dreams about Gavin and videos of Gavin doing mundane tasks that wouldn’t be considered special in any way. At least, none that Gavin could tell. As far as he was concerned, the videos of himself that had been overanalyzed were sweet but he didn’t understand why Nines kept them.

Soon enough, a group of people came in and took Nines away to the operating room. Gavin was allowed to stay in the hospital room but was warned the operation would last several hours. He reluctantly put down the files Nines had addressed to him, files he was quickly realizing were simply labeled with his name and may have been misinterpreted as for him when they were just about him, and pulled out a book instead. He tried to lose himself in a plot line but was too anxious to do so.

Calling Tina got him nowhere, her phone off while she was on patrol. He’d taken the day off to be with Nines so wasn’t technically allowed to work on case files. Besides, nothing felt the same without Nines being there to help him. So, he reluctantly pulled up the files again and selected the next one, a video. There seemed to be a lot of those.

Gavin smiled as Nines approached, coming to stand next to him on his balcony. They were quiet for a moment, both looking out at the city. Nines looked at Gavin, his sensors again cataloguing small things about his appearance. “I need to tell you something.”

Gavin looked at him, eyes trusting. “Shoot.”

Nines’ eyes shut briefly before he looked at Gavin again. “I’ve developed feelings for you.”

Gavin blinked, his posture changing from relaxed to attentive. “Okay, that’s something.” He took a deep breath, letting it out with a laugh. “I guess it’s ironic, you telling me that just as I realize something about myself.”

Nines head tilted to the side. “What would that be, Detective?”

“I’ve, somehow, also developed feelings for you.” He shook his head. “I dunno how I’ve done it, but I’ve come to really care for you.”

Nines took a step forward, towards Gavin. “What does this mean for us?”

Gavin shrugged, looking up at him. “What do you want it to mean?”

Nines leaned down. “I would enthusiastically pursue a romantic relationship with you if you say you would like that.”

Gavin smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek before heading inside. “I wouldn’t say no,” was tossed over his shoulder.

In the top right corner of the screen, Gavin’s name came up highlighted in blue. Under it, highlighted in white, the word ‘companion’ changed to ‘lover’. Nines followed Gavin inside.

Gavin didn’t realize he was crying until a tear dripped onto the screen and he frantically pulled his sleeve over his hand to wipe it away. “Damn android,” he muttered, not truly angry with him. 

They were slow dancing. Gavin’s head rested on Nines’ shoulder, one hand placed on his other shoulder while Nines had a hand on his waist, their other hands clasped together. A small pop up in the corner of the video identified the song as Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis. They were turning in a slow circle as the notes played. It was a peaceful moment until Princess walked into the room, screaming for food, and the charm was broken with laughter. Nines pulled Gavin into a kiss briefly before Gavin went to feed the cat.

Gavin took a deep breath. He remembered that night, remembered the hard day before it and the cuddles on the couch afterwards. He’d never been able to remember what song they’d been dancing to, it blurring into just another generic love song at the time. He wondered if they’d ever get the opportunity to dance to it again.

Gavin,

Every day, my soul rejoices in being able to see you, to wake up to you being there with me. I want it all. I want the quiet domesticity that comes with waking near you, that comes with you making breakfast while I feed Princess. I love being able to get ready for work with you, even if that means we end up discussing the cases in the shower and while you shave. I love being able to work with you, to have you as both my work and personal partner. I enjoy getting you coffee as you look over the case files, to make sure the desk is still in the organized chaos you left it in, your files and trinkets spilling over onto my pristine desk. I probably enjoy that more than most would think I do. However, I love watching you from afar as I wait for the coffee, watching the way you sit and interact with your environment, how you hold yourself while you read.

There’s a hidden beauty in the way people do things when they don’t think others are watching, the little mannerisms they pick up that are just for themselves and are all their own. I’m so glad you’ve let me into your life enough to feel comfortable showing me those and I hope that I never betray that trust.

I love being able to drive home with you, to relax after a long day and curl up with you. I relish the fact that you will fall asleep in my arms, that you trust me enough to keep you safe while you’re unaware of the world around you. I love being able to have you fall asleep on the couch and trust me to carry you to the bed, the ability to fall asleep beside you.

Gavin, darling, I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. You’ve been a driving force for me, a guiding light. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve influenced so many of my choices. Thank you, dear, for helping me find life in deviancy, for helping me find love in turmoil.

Gavin wiped a tear from his eye, vision turning blurry. Nines didn’t usually use pet names for him, sticking to ‘Gavin’ and ‘Detective’ to the point that the latter felt like an endearment. It felt nice to see the endearments from him. He really hoped Nines would pull through and be okay. He couldn’t imagine living life without him at this point, he relied on him so much. He shifted in his seat, trying to get a bit more comfortable, before clicking on the next file.

A video. This was a memory that Gavin could fill in the smaller details for.

Nines was on his back on the couch. Gavin was laying on top of him, arms curled around Nines’ sides. His head rested on Nines chest, their legs entangled, while Nines’ hands carded through Gavin’s hair and over his back. They were watching an old rerun of some cop show that not even Nines bothered remembering. Nines’ shifted, kissing the top of Gavin’s head. He hummed, holding a constant note for longer than a human could.

Gavin looked up at him, chin resting on Nines’ chest. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Kiss you?” He chuckled. “Because I like to.”

Gavin smiled but pressed his hand to Nines’ side. “No. The humming thing. It sounds like a cross between a cat purring and the whirring of a fan. Are you okay?”

Nines nodded, smiling. “It’s kind of like a cat’s purr too in that I only do it when I’m content and safe. It’s also a way of doing a self-diagnostic of my systems as it tests both vocal modulator and fans.”

Gavin leaned forward to peck Nines on the lips before laying his head back on his chest.

Gavin sniffled, wiping a tear from his cheek. He hoped to get the opportunity to lay with him like that again soon. He believed Nines was going to pull through this, that he was going to get through the surgery fine and that he was going to come back to him. He had to.

“Detective.”

That sounded so much like Nines that his name was halfway out of Gavin’s mouth before he realized it was Connor, not Nines, that was standing in the hallway with his hands behind his back. “Oh. It’s just you. What do you want?” His voice was flat, none of his usual bite left.

Connor smiled, taking a step into the room, closing the door behind him. “Officer Chen overheard some of your conversation with Fowler and logged into your computer to gather information. She sent that information to me and I just now arrived to do anything with it. Scans indicate that you haven’t eaten in the past twelve hours. I suggest we deal with that first. What do you wanna eat?” His LED swirled yellow as he probably pulled up a list of nearby restaurants.

Gavin sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day kick in. “At this point, you can pick. Give me whatever you think is best. Just! No fish, and no zucchini.”

Connor tilted his head. “That’s not in any medical files you have available. Am I correct in assuming that’s personal preference?”

Gavin nodded. “Can’t stand the texture of either of ‘em.” As he fully tuned into the real world, he pulled his shoulders back and grimaced at the sounds of all the machines and the buzzing of the lights.

“Okay, there’s a Chinese restaurant nearby that has some meals that look good. What do you want from there?”

“Uhh, sweet and sour chicken with noodles.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll go get that for you. In the meantime, how is my brother?”

Gavin filled him in on the details before Connor went to grab the take out for him. While he waited for his food, he opened the next file, another letter. This one was small, as if it were hastily written. From the date and what Gavin remembered, it was from a time where they’d been covering a case with a lot of violence and they’d been split. The letter reflected Nines’ frazzled emotions during that time as it wished Gavin good health and it was a small goodbye if Nines didn’t make it. Gavin was glad he had.

Another round of videos detailing Gavin doing mundane things followed the letter, many of the scenes now domestic as well as professional.

Connor came back and put the bag near Gavin. “Did you need me to stay? Tina only told me to check on you, not stay with you. If you want me to go, I will.”

Gavin thought about it. A year ago, he would have snapped for Connor to leave instantly, not seeing him as anything but a machine with nothing to offer. Now, he knew Connor was alive and actually trying to reach out. Gavin let a reluctant smile drag a corner of his mouth up. “You can stay, if you want. I’m not sure if you’ve got the time for it but you’re more than welcome.”

Connor smiled, gracefully sinking to sit on the floor. “I cleared my schedule to be at your disposal.”

Gavin groaned, letting his head roll back. “Am I that bad?”

Connor shrugged. “Hank was taking the rest of the day off already so it’s only natural for me to as well. Besides, Nines is kind of like my little brother. I want to be here.”

Gavin took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Gavin picked up the tablet again and looked at the next file.

Gavin,

Happy first anniversary. I don’t know if you expected us to last this long but I’m grateful we have. I’m grateful for every second I get to spend with you. I don’t know where I would be right now if I hadn’t met you, if we hadn’t been partnered. I’m so glad I have you as both the best detective partner I could ask for and a most amazing lover. It warms my soul every time you forget I’m not human, especially when it’s tacked on to an android joke. Those instances make me know you care so deeply for me and love every part of me.

You taught me to take life slowly, to savor what I have. That sentiment has been applied to every part of my life. I savor stakeouts, holding you in my arms, feeding Princess, even doing paperwork and being on the hunt. They are all good to me simply because they are part of my life and because you are there.

I don’t know what life would be like without you. I’m so used to you being with me every step of the way.

Gavin looked up as footsteps approached the room, hoping it was Windlock with news on Nines. The feet passed the room, the person casting a shadow across the frosted glass of the door, and kept on their way.

A video. Nines was sitting on the couch, reading, when Gavin’s voice called from the bedroom. Nines’ HUD measured the level of distress in his voice as high and he went to investigate.

Gavin had torn the bedroom apart, a pile of things on the bed. Nines scanned him, noting the disheveled appearance and lack of caffeine along with his elevated stress signals. “What’s wrong, Gavin?”

Gavin turned to him, tears in his eyes. “I can’t find something I need and today’s been bad enough.”

Nines nodded. Gavin’s unmedicated ADHD could be a lot to deal with after a long day. He stepped forward, pulling Gavin into a hug, his hands rubbing soothing circles along his back. “What do you need me to do?”

Gavin sighed, melting into the contact and stability that came with the hug. “Could you scan the room for my tablet pen?”

“Of course.” Nines moved his head and time froze, going down to grey and white. He located the pen easily enough, it’s black shape standing out starkly. He chuckled and released Gavin to pick it up. “It was right beside your tumbler.”

Gavin took it, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Sorry for making such a fuss over something so small.”

Nines reached out, his hand cradling Gavin’s cheek and thumbing at his tears. “Nothing is too big nor too small for me to help you. I understand your stress and I know the way you get. I’m perfectly content to help you find something right in front of your nose.” To punctuate the statement, he leaned forward to kiss Gavin’s scar.

Gavin wiped a tear from his eye. “Come back to me soon, tin can.”

Connor looked at him. “Did you say something, Detective?”

Gavin shook his head. “No, nothing.”

The door opened and Windlock came in. “Detective Reed, the surgery is complete.”

Gavin sat forward in his chair, resisting the urge to pace. “How did it go? Is he online yet?”

They shook their head. “Unfortunately, his neural network is still non-functioning. However, the surgery was a success. His chassis is intact and functioning again, every bicomponent in its place. His skin isn’t on as he’s not online to do that. Would you like to see him?”

Gavin stood, gathering his things. “Yes, please.”

Connor stood and approached Windlock. “Is there anything more you can tell us about his status? Have you at least figured out why he isn’t online yet?”

They shrugged. “I’m as in the dark as you are, RK800. Any insight you can spare would be helpful.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Gavin slung his bag over his shoulder. “Lead us to him, please.”

Nines was almost the same way as how he’d left Gavin three hours ago. His skin was retracted below the neck, letting the white plating show, and he was lying so peacefully that for a moment Gavin almost thought he was just sleeping. Gavin walked over to the chair closest to the bed and sat down hard, leaning forward to take Nines’ hand. “I’m here, toaster. I’m right here.”

Connor placed a hand on his shoulder and Gavin was distantly aware of him asking for Windlock to leave them be. Gavin’s entire focus was on Nines even as he knew there were only a few more files in the folder to get through.

He held onto Nines’ hand with one of his own, letting his partner know that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere, and pulled the tablet from the bag by his feet.

The next file was a series of pictures. It seemed Nines was sentimental in that regard. All the way from first meeting up until just a night ago, they were pictures of Gavin doing various things. It started as just Gavin doing work at his desk, moving to crime scenes and the break room. Photos of him doing mundane tasks and midchase. The time stamps moved past their getting together and the pictures became more domestic. Gavin waking in Nines’ arms, sleeping on the couch, Princess coming home for the first time. He’d documented her entire growth process from stray kitten to spoiled adult.

Gavin smiled at Nines. “You really do have a soft spot for that cat, don’t you? Maybe it’s about time we get her a playmate.”

“I’ll leave you two be for a moment. I need to speak with someone.” Connor slipped out of the room.

Gavin opened the next file, shifting to sit beside Nines on the bed now that Connor was gone.

A video. Gavin was cooking breakfast as Nines fed Princess, their usual routine. Nines came up beside Gavin, kissing him on the cheek. “How’s the bacon coming along?”

“Pretty much done.”

“Good.” Nines turned the burner off and took the spatula from Gavin’s hand. Somewhere, music started to play and Gavin chuckled as Nines pulled him into a dance. It was sweet and short before Gavin was released to finish making his breakfast.

Gavin smiled, recognizing that morning from only a few days before the incident. He gripped Nines hand just a bit tighter as he clicked on the last file.

The last video. Nines was standing on a roof. Gavin was down on the ground, watching out for their suspect. “Hello down there.” He muttered to himself, not loud enough to carry.

He stepped away from the edge, pacing the length of the roof. “Is it weird to think that I’m bored? I’m an android with the internet at my fingertips, I should be able to wait for a few minutes.” He sighed. “I guess that’s the trouble with living and working so closely to you, time is meaningless and a minute is too long for you.” He chuckled. “You’re so used to moving so fast that slowing down is a difficult task for you. That’s okay, though. I like it that way.”

The door to the roof burst open and Nines sprang into action, launching himself into a fight with their suspect. They grappled for a moment, both trying to pin the other and get a better grip. In the end, Nines backed them toward the edge.

“I now know,” he was still muttering. “No matter how much time has passed, no matter how much time will pass, you truly are the love of my life. This is why . . . I’m doing this.” He took a final step backward, diving off the roof and taking their suspect with him.

Gavin sat in shock as the video ended, almost waiting for it to finish or replay or do anything but leave him there with that information and the knowledge of why Nines had been damaged almost to the point of no repair.

He looked to Nines, laying so still on the bed. “Why? Why’d you feel the need to do that?!” He released Nines’ hand to stand. “There could have been some other way! You could have called me! You could have used lethal methods!” He hit Nines’ chest with a fist too weak to do any damage to a human. “You don’t need to sacrifice your-damn-self just because you feel like it!” He knew he was shouting but he didn’t care.

A hand touched his arm and Gavin jolted to look at Nines. His eyes were open and his hand was hovering in the air. “I knew you would catch me.” His voice was weak and full of static but Gavin was so happy to hear him he cried, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Laying down, Gavin threw his arms around Nines. They lay there for what felt like an eternity and an instant, simply holding each other and comforting themselves that the other was alive and safe. Nines ran a hand up Gavin’s back, cupped the back of his neck, then began to softly card through his hair. His free arm curled around Gavin and pulled him close, holding him and feeling him and making sure he was real. Gavin pulled one arm down, curling it by his side and grounding himself by grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets, and let the other rest over Nines’ torso and had the hand sit on the white chassis of Nines’ shoulder.

“Did you look through the folder?” Nines’ voice broke the silence, not filled with as much static as before.

Gavin nodded, turning his head to look at the tablet resting innocently on a nearby table. “I watched, read, and looked at every single file in that folder while wondering if it would ever be added to again.”

Nines pressed a kiss to his neck. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I should have warned you or tried a different path.”

Gavin shrugged and turned back to rest his head on Nines’ shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He paused for a moment. “The engineers said they could repair your body but your mind was too damaged for them to do anything with.”

Nines’ head rested against Gavin’s, his hand never slowing in Gavin’s hair. “I know. I heard bits and pieces of it, especially toward the end of the surgery and just now in the room. While they were spending all that time fixing my chassis and biocomponents, I was working on my coding.”

Gavin laughed, his jubilance at Nines being okay bubbling up. “An AI that fixes its own code, would you fucking look at that!”

Nines chuckled. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Detective. However, it’s simply the world we are living in where an android is capable of modifying their own code. Still, it was hard and taxing work to rebuild my own functions line by line. I shall be back to myself in no time at all, I assure you.”

A knock at the door caused them to abandon their conversation. Gavin turned onto his back to better see who came in before calling for them to enter. Connor stuck his head in, eyes lighting up at the sight of Nines. “You’re awake! I’ll go get Windlock, you two stay put!” He shut the door and left them with the sound of his fading footsteps.

Nines let his head fall back against Gavin’s and his hand hold Gavin’s, interlacing their fingers. “Who did he go get?”

Gavin did his best to explain as he sat up, cradling Nines against him. Connor came back with Windlock, who gave Nines a clean bill of health and said he was free to be discharged. Gavin ran home and got him some clothes as Connor dealt with the paperwork.

That night, Nines recorded another instance of Gavin falling asleep and marveled at just how lucky he was.

I don’t currently have a taglist for DBH but you can check out my masterlist before sending an ask to be added!

[needleanddead]

2, 21 and 33 for Teddy and Rose? 😈

shdfyrh ok anon, i see what youre doing. cw beneath the cut for domestic violence and abuse, alcoholism and mentions of homophobia and childhood abuse.

What’s their biggest regret?

Teddy tries to say yes to everything; he’s in constant search of love and fun. He does not want to have regrets! He regrets, sometimes, never going back to his family - never shaking his degree (one that would have been heartily disapproved of; couldn’t he have chosen something manly?) in his father’s face, or never being able to show off his first boyfriend. Say; ’see what you couldn’t hit out of me. Look how successful I am, without you’. He supposes he regrets not having kept in touch with all of his siblings - surely more than one of them has turned out to be a decent person - but all in all, Teddy refuses to dwell on the past when he’s so insistent that the future is going to be bright. 

Rose should have run faster. The first time they met the man they wasted three years of their life on, they should have sensed - beneath that cocky business student exterior - that there was something else lurking there. They shouldn’t have been charmed by being wanted for the first time in their life. They should have known. 

What’s one secret of theirs that could potentially ruin a relationship they have?

Teddy tries to keep his more illicit desires quiet until he’s sure about someone. He’s had a lot of partners turn tail and run (often calling him a whole host of hurtful names) when he’s asked them to perhaps bruise him up, or hit him, or make him bleed. He hates that feeling; of people being disgusted by him. It’s even worse than being ignored. 

And, too, he outright lies about his family and why he doesn’t see them. They live across the country, they’re terribly busy, he says - the truth is that Teddy does not want to be pitied. He wants to be adored and loved and liked without the fear that people are doing it because they feel bad for him. He knows if someone he cares about finds out about his lies, they’ll feel betrayed he couldn’t confide the truth - but that doesn’t stop him. 

Rose is terrified that if Teddy found out about the ghosts, he would either think they were crazy or would be . . . weird in an unpleasant way about it. As a whole, they prefer not to talk about themselves. Teddy is gentle with them, but not pitying - if he knew everything about them, he’d look at them differently, wouldn’t he? It’s almost funny how both of them fear such similar things.

Actually, Rose feels the same way about any possible romantic entanglements - they feel a little bit like ‘damaged goods’. Nobody could really want them, with the stark reality of all they’d be taking on in front of them. It’s better for everyone concerned if they keep their secrets. 

What’s the worst injury they’ve ever had?

Teddy fractured his shoulder once, improperly lifting a girl he was dancing with. As a dancer, actually, he’s sustained all kinds of fractures and strains - he’s got cupboards full of slings and braces and anything else that might possibly be needed! He’s never had a really scary, life-threatening injury though - not that this stops him from fantasising a little bit, about how nice the hurt from a non-fatal stab wound might be. He’s fine and normal! Why, yes, he would love to be choked until he couldn’t breathe - as long as they stopped before they damaged his voice, of course. 

Rose had very few injuries for most of their life; they were an extremely careful child. From the ages of eighteen to twenty one, though . . . They’re not in hospital records, because their ex-boyfriend was very methodical, usually, to ensure he did not do anything that couldn’t easily be explained away by either Rose being clumsy, or Rose not leaving the house for a week while the most noticeable bruises faded. (In fact, one of the only hospital records is for a broken wrist and several fractured fingers, explained with a smile from Rose’s far more charming and personable partner as ‘falling on concrete and using their hand to break the fall’ - and not ‘having a door slammed on their hand for daring to try and stop themselves being hit’.) Rose often thinks of how much of what he did to them could have killed them, if he had just pushed a little further - slammed their head against a wall harder so that they bled out before they could get stitches, or choked tighter. They could easily have been the man in a bar fight that finally got him arrested - only there’d have been no witnesses, if that had been Rose. It’s a difficult thought to have. 

[crimson-wrld]

Caged

Helloo my name on here is Crimson, you can call me that or Z. I found the whump community recently, it's always something I've enjoyed but just recently found the name for on a random check-in to Tumblr lol. I've followed a lot of cool blogs and done my fair share of lurking and reblogging before I decided now is the time to share one of my writings. I have also been thinking about making a new whump story, just for my tumblr here and maybe posting drabbles too.

I write a story over on Wattpad (lol) that is very whumpy and this is a snippet of my most recent chapter. Now here is some context because this is from chapter 38 meaning there are a lot of characters and I felt like it sounded better without changing them to their respective roles, so I hope it's not confusing.

The backstory is that the whumpees are being held in captivity by the whumpers. The whumpers are watching back a video of the narrator whumpee from the night before while making the whumpees serve them. Lucas did not know what happened and gets distracted by a part of the video, which is where this starts.

Whumpers (nicknamed) - Hardhead, Vicious, Baldy, Chip, Sasquatch, Crazy

Whumpees - Talon (narrator, also referred to as Mutt), Lucas (also referred to as Runt)

Caretaker - Sebastian (is a romantic partner to Talon the narrator)

((I've never done this before so I'm not totally sure how to write the CW and tags but I'm trying. Just know that this is heavy writing))

CW: brief implied past noncon, brief noncon mentions, past noncon drugging mention, brief slut-shaming language, captivity, choking, manhandling, hair pulling, claustrophobia, sensory deprivation, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, dehumanization, suffocation, stress position, collared, restraints, muzzled/gagged, blood, sleep deprivation, hallucinations, thinking they're going to die (please let me know if I missed anything)

"This is my favourite part!" I hear Hardhead exclaim loudly, then the tv becomes louder, so blaringly loud that it sounds like I have my ear flush against one of those really big box speakers. Lucas continues grabbing a case of beer from the fridge but we both turn our heads toward the tv at the sudden volume change.

It's the part where the drug kicks in and Hardhead has me on his lap facing the tripod camera, hand squeezing the life out of my neck. I can hear myself desperately struggling for air, trying to plead for help, something... for it all to stop- but the drug turns my words into mush. I can see it from another perspective this time, I can see my face losing colour and the sort of foggy memories of it come flooding back.

Then I see his hand trail down my stomach. My arms are weakly flailing out and trying to pull his other hand off of my neck. Then his hands are on my privates and in real life, I look away from the tv. Tears are falling down my face as I hear him verbally teasing me on the video, calling me a whore and laughing at me as I try to breathe. I was so drugged I don't even remember that.

"I bet you like that, dirty whore, don't you?" I hear him say. I start to bring my hands up to cover my ears.

The sound of a gasp and shattering glass fills the room and I jerk my head up to Lucas. He's holding the fridge door open and is staring at the tv, mouth agape and face horrified. It's like a train wreck- he just can't look away. The pack of beer he was holding is on the floor, bottles now in a million pieces scattered around, beer puddling in the tiles and spreading all over the place.

"Shit," I say, staring wide-eyed at the mess on the floor.

"What the fuck was that?!" Vicious yells from the living room.

Lucas snaps out of it then, looking down at the foam bubbles and liquid and glass all culminating together.

"Oh no--- What do I do?!" He whispers, voice cracking in panic. My heart is pounding in my chest harder now. Without much thought, I make a hasty decision.

"Don-don't worry-- I'll take the blame," I say, stepping closer to the broken box so it seems more believable. I hear the couch creaking and steps nearing the kitchen.

I just don't want to see him get hurt.

"Wait don--" Lucas starts to say but falls silent when Hardhead and Vicious walk through the door.

I can hear Hardheads voice echoing in my head, "Rule four; listen. Do what I say. If you don't, I'll punish you- if you make a mistake ill punish you too."

I know I've only known him for about two days, and the situation is deathly far from ideal, but I kind of see him as like a little brother, and I feel the strong obligation to protect him from these terrible terrible fucking people.

"What the hell are you two dogs doing in here?" Hardhead yells, looking down and seeing the mess between our feet. "Which one of you bitches did that?" He yells louder, his face getting angrier.

They take their beer really seriously.

Before Lucas can say anything I look Hardhead in the face and speak in my still semi-croaky voice, "I- I did it. I'm sorry Master." I say bowing my head after.

Lucas looks at me with wide worried eyes speaking, "No! I--"

"Shut the fuck up Runt! Go grab a mop and clean this shit up." Hardhead demands. Lucas brokenly stares between me and Hardhead. I can see the guilt on his face.

Viscous taps his foot, grumbling, "Do it now, Runt."

Lucas looks back at me again, and I give him a nod of encouragement. He frowns and reluctantly leaves to grab the stuff to clean.

"Now Mutt, you sit." Vicious instructs, hooking his finger through the collar loop and pulling me down, letting go when I allow myself to fall to my knees the rest of the way. I feel some of the glass slice into my knees and legs and I hiss, not daring to move though.

"I'm sorry Master's- it just, just slipped," I plead, seeing if I can maybe lessen whatever this punishment is going to be.

Hardhead chuckled evilly, "Oh you're gonna be sorry." He crossed his arms over his chest and takes a single step forward. Lucas gets back into the kitchen now, keeping his eyes trained to the floor as he starts sweeping some of the glass from the floor a little further away.

"Nevermind that for now Runt. Let's have a show. There's something I've been wanting to try for a while now. This is the perfect teaching moment..." he says creeping right up next to me. He grabbed me by my hair tightly and pulled me awkwardly behind him into the living room where the rest of the men are still finishing the rest of the video. Vicious follows closely behind, tugging Lucas by the arm.

I rub my head when he lets go and tosses me to the floor. I hit the ground with a groan, the wounds on my chest bursting with pain, quickly scrambling to get on to my knees though, so I don't get in more trouble. I remember they like me in this position when I got into trouble before.

I whimper when I feel the glass in my knees push in deeper, and I try to pull as much as I can out when they turn away. I manage to get most of it out and I hold my hands over the wounds with pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding.

"Tie him up please," Hardhead says to Vicious, louder than the rest of the conversation. Then he opens the door to the basement and quickly disappears down the stairs.

Vicious smirks, saying, "Don't mind if I do." He opens up a drawer of a dresser on a wall nearby and pulls out a few bundles of rope. They keep that stuff everywhere- because they're sadists.

He stalks toward me until he's behind me, and he shoves me onto my stomach. I reflexively put my arms out in front of me so they don't get crushed and see there's now blood smeared on my hands- more than I expected.

Vicious planted one of his knees on my back to keep me down and the other knee on one side of my body to trap me even more. He grabbed my arms and forced them behind my back. I grit my teeth when he tightly ties new ropes over the deep wounds from yesterday's ones. Then he takes hold of my elbows and jerks them closer together. I gasp and let out a surprised yelp. This would hurt regardless; because elbows are not supposed to bend that way, but it also brings my injured shoulder into an extremely uncomfortable position. I squirm and struggle without even realizing, kicking my feet slightly and raising my head, mouth open in a silent cry of anguish.

All I really notice is Lucas onlooking the scene with a deep frown, twiddling his fingers before a hand tangles in my hair and shoves my face into the rug on the floor.

"Calm it down there, doggy," Crazy laughs, pushing my head down more than should even be possible. The shag rug tickles the side of my face and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel more rope wrap around my elbows. They pull taught, but not touching, and only because I'm not flexible enough to do that, because if I could, Vicious would have done it. There's no slack though, the rope is so tight that I can't move my arms apart at all, and he tied the space in the middle too, so I couldn't try to move them closer either. It's very uncomfortable, and my shoulder throbs harshly. Involuntary whimpers escape my lips. The men find that funny.

Then the knee on my back disappears, Crazy keeps his hold on my head, and I feel hands reappear on my legs, tying just above the bend of my knees and then my ankles too. I can't stop focusing on how tight the bonds are.

Once Vicious finishes, Crazy lets go of my head, and grasps me from under my arms, lifting me back up and positioning me back on my knees like a kid playing with a Barbie doll. I let out a long breath of resignation. My hair is now a mess on top of my head and hanging in my face, reminding me of the bed head Sebastian says is so cute on me.

Hardhead comes back upstairs with a tote bag in hand. He must've gone down there to gather the stuff for whatever he wanted to try. The fact that it was something he wanted to try out scared me more, because I had no idea what it could possibly be.

He closed the basement door and walked a few steps toward another door about three feet down the wall. He opens it up and reveals something that makes my heart drop.

It's a cage.

A metal wired dog cage, only big enough to fit a medium-sized dog. It's rectangular, and the roof is short, way too cramped for a human.

I start freaking out, tugging against the ropes and jerking my body around, struggling futilely to get away.

"No, wait!" I cry as Hardhead starts walking toward me. I struggle more, tears falling down my face, trying to tilt backward but Vicious and Crazy hold me down in my place.

"This is what happens when you fuck up," Vicious says evilly, and I look around the room desperately, like there's anything I can do. The men are amused, and joking amongst each other, clinking beers and watching the scene unfold. I look to Lucas, and he's crying too; silent tears, pooling from his brown eyes. They're filled with so much guilt.

"I'll do i-" He starts to say, but when I realize what he's doing I cut him off.

"It's fine Lucas!" I shout panicked and wide-eyed. That's one thing I'm not going back on; I don't want him to get hurt.

When I speak Vicious violently backhands me, so hard that my head snaps to the side and I sob out.

"Shut up." He growls, then he tightly grips my jaw and straightens my face out so I'm looking forward at Hardhead instead of at Lucas, holding me there.

Hardhead comes toward us, dumping the contents of the bag onto the floor. It's a random assortment of things and I don't like any of them. Among those things is a muzzle- a fucking muzzle. My heart just pounds harder and harder, the tears just fall faster.

Hardhead crouches in front of me, right up close into my space. He reaches behind my neck and grabs hold of the collar. He unclasps the back piece and I almost feel a breath of relief coming until he pulls it tighter.

"This is an extra punishment for escaping," he says pulling it tighter and fumbling with it until he fastened it closed, "I'd say about two more notches is good, for now."

I feel my breath escape me, it becomes even more of a chore to breathe in-- it's miserable. I hate the feeling of being manhandled like this, having to let them touch me, feeling so helpless... no control.

I just want Sebastian to hold me and tell me it will all be okay.

Hardhead picks up a bag of cotton balls from the pile on the floor and he stuffs a few of them deep into my left ear. I try to pull away but Viscious just tightens his hold and corrects me the way they want me. The sound in the room distorts, everything is muffled on one side. He pushes the cotton in as much as possible, then places some sort of earbud on top that wraps around the base of my ear and fastens it so it won't fall out. My fighting does nothing to stop them mirroring this on my other ear.

I can barely hear anything after that-- only very slight chatter, but I can't make out what any of it means. A hand touches my cheek from behind me, and I don't even hear it coming. I jump and turn to see Crazy laughing. I don't hear that either, which is like a blessing and a curse at the same time. Vicious lets go of me when I turn.

On my way looking around the room Lucas catches my eye again. Chip is next to him this time, pulling him close to his side, like in a hug, but it's obviously not in a comforting way. Lucas is sort of shrunken into himself, but when he notices me looking he puts his fist to his chest and rubs it in a circular motion.

He's signing 'I'm sorry.'

I shake my head at him.

It's not his fault... and it's not mine either.

I look back at the closet. The cage feels like it's looming over me--- it terrifies me.

My vision goes black, and at first, I think I've passed out, but that's obviously not the case because I'm clearly still conscious. Then I realize that I've been blindfolded when I fell the knot tighten at the back of my head, hair pulling into it painfully. I flinch when they touch my face to adjust it.

"No, please..." I start to beg, "I'm sssorry, I'm so-rry-- p-please." My pleading is interrupted by sobs and hiccups. I can hardly even hear myself speaking, I mainly just feel the words rumble and vibrate in my chest as I speak them, and I don't like that feeling by itself.

I gasp for breath, facing wherever I think Hardhead is standing and continue again.

"Please I-" I was cut off by something being pushed into my mouth. I recoiled backwards instinctively, being stopped by someone standing behind me. What I now realize is a bit is shoved further in and I'm forced to bite down as my mouth is enveloped in leather and the leather straps pull taut against my skin so tight I feel like they're cutting in.

The muzzle...

Nothing happens for a few seconds. I feel a slight movement, then hands on my legs, and hands on my sides. One of the fingers hits the burn by my ribs and I let out a muffled whine, feeling the floor disappear from beneath me. I try to struggle again, fighting against them as hard as I can, though it's useless, and I quickly have to give up because the tight collar, the bit in my mouth and the leather residing over it leave me breathless. I suck in air from my uncovered nose desperately, having to focus on it alone because of how hard it is.

I'm not even claustrophobic, but the thought of being stuffed in that cage, in the closet, alone... scares me so much. It's even worse because I'm being deprived of nearly all of my senses.

Then I'm being set down and bent forward, pulled around and shoved until I feel the cold metal of the cage against my legs. They have me sitting on my knees again, bent so that I fit under the short roof. I can feel the wires against the skin on my exposed back and the back of my head as well.

I was thinking it couldn't get any worse when my head gets pulled downward harshly by the collar. I get surprised and jerk up reflexively only for someone to grab me by the hair and push me back down lower. I feel hands fumbling at the front of the collar and occasionally a bit of rope touching against different parts of my neck for a minute before they and the hand in my hair go away. I try to lift my head back up but I can't- it's held in place. They must have tied a rope from the collar loop to the bottom of the cage.

I realize they still aren't finished when my tied wrists are pulled up next. They get tied to the part of the cage where the roof meets the side. My hands are flush against it and some of my fingers are forced to stick out. The same thing happens to the rope on my elbows to the roof of the cage, making my arms nearly form a ninety-degree angle.

I'm left still and locked into the stressful position, then there's a slight vibration, followed by a larger one, then... nothing.

It must've been them closing the doors- shutting me off from everything completely, except for the cold metal beneath me and the throbbing, pulsing, pain. I can't decide if this is better or worse than what was originally planned for me today.

I mean it should be better, right?

There's no warm breath over my shoulder and on the nape of my neck, no hands trailing over my body, no breathy groans in my ears, no chapped lips over my skin and my mouth, no hands pulling my hair, nobody forcing themself onto me...

There's just nothing.

So why is my heart still racing?

Why does it feel like the walls are closing in?

I don't know. I don't know why I want to stay in and leave at the same time- why I can't decide even though the options seem easy.

I feel like it's only been a minute or so when my arms start to ache and my shoulder develops a raw stabbing pain, not unlike the way it felt when it was originally injured. I attempt to shift my position to relieve the ache, which is where I come into even more of a problem.

If I lean forward and bring my head low, which id hoped would allow my arms to move down more, it pulls on my shoulders. The rope securing my arms to the top of the cage makes sure my arms can't move when the rest of my body does, and therefore threatens to pull my shoulders out of their sockets, which especially doesn't bode well on the one that already has been.

When I try to do the opposite and lean my head backward, a similar problem with my arms arises, but to go along with it, they've somehow tied the collar so that it pulls tighter when I pull my head away from the floor, completely cutting off my airway. It feels just like when Hardhead was squeezing his hand around my throat.

If I return to the middle like I originally was, I realize that I have to give my effort to keep my head in the right position, or risk losing my arms... or suffocating.

I decide that I definitely want out.

Seemingly on cue, the pain of everything else seems to slam into me full force, like all the adrenaline of the situation has fully crashed. If I have to hold this position... then I don't know how long I can last... and I don't know how long they're going to keep me in here.

Tears soak through the cloth blindfold and I can't manage to get my sobbing under control, which in turn spirals away the focus I had kept on my breathing. I start to panic, my chest tightening. I'm going to die.

Holy shit. I'm going to die.

I have a hard time doing it, but I scream, as loud as I can through the muzzle. I can't even tell if I made any noticeable noise or not, I can only feel the rumble in my chest, hear my own racing heartbeat. I have to wait a second before I do it again, jerking my body as much as I can -which isn't very much- and squeezing my eyes shut tight. My mouth feels dry because of the bit pushing on my tongue, the pain in my throat comes back full force. My attempts to move make the new cuts on my knees hurt. Everything hurts.

I can't fucking breathe.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

In my moment of total desperation I think about it- Sebastian- think about him, his soothing voice.

"Breathe baby, breathe," I can hear him say, "Just focus on me Cuci, in... and out."

I remember how he helps me through a panic attack, ''I'll do it with you, just copy me,' and I can almost see him in front of me, appearing in the darkness, taking deep breaths in for me to mimic.

And I do.

I suck in a large breath through my nose, following the fake Sebastian that I'm so inclined to think is real. I'm staring into his blue eyes, and he's staring back into mine. He raises his hand, and lightly places it on my cheek, mostly resting over the tight leather, and he whispers to me, but I don't know what he's saying, all I hear is the noise. I want to lean into his touch, but I cant-- I want him to hug me tight, and kiss me, but I can't ask him to either. He looks so real- but he's not... right?

I can't tell, but it doesn't matter, I just match his breaths until they're back under control- the tint bit of control I have over them. He whispers more to me, leans forward and gives me the lightest kiss on the forehead, then disappears, a puff of smoke into the air, like it was blown from Hardheads very own cigarette.

I wanted to laugh, a bitter laugh... it can't have been that long yet, and I'm already losing it. But obviously, I couldn't. I can't do anything.

I don't know how long later it was when my tears had dried up, the hallucinations had been plaguing me for so long. I could feel cold hands on my sides, my hips, feeling over my shivering body, grabbing at the shorts, and I couldn't tell if they were real, but I couldn't even manage to care, because I had to focus on breathing and keeping my head up.

I'm so fucking tired. My throat is dry-- it burns, I can't feel my arms, my legs sting, my wrists and ankles never had time to recover from yesterday, the direction of me trying to move rubs against my burns, everything sore, my feet are numb from sitting on my knees for so long, I'm seeing random shapes and hearing random things. I'm losing my mind.

I just want to lay my head down, close my eyes, relax, sleep.

Please let me sleep.

It gets to a point where my eyes drift closed, and it gets harder and harder to open them back up each time. So hard I eventually resort to leaning forward slightly every time I start to drift asleep so it relights the pain in my shoulders and forces me to stay awake. I just have to remind myself; if I fall asleep ill pull my shoulders out.

I'm exhausted. My brain is fuzzy. I don't know how long I've been in here in this stress position. I don't know how much longer I have to hold it, but I hope it'll be over soon.

If they let me out ill be good, I'll be so good for them. No mistakes...

So good...