#edit: I TRIED TURNING HER HEAD AND SHE SNAPPED OFF :O | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blindingdutchy · 4 years ago

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share | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

summary: you don't like to share, but Tom's going to show you what happens to stingy girls on the playground.

word count: 10,663

warnings: i consider this a part two to switch. smut, little bit of angst, fluffy ending. language. explicit warnings under divide.

18+!!! minors stay away!

warnings: mean dom!tom, slight dom!fem oc, voyeurism, mff threesome, degradation, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), orgasm denial, touch denial, slight bondage (hands tied only), jealous reader + arrogant tom, some daddy + sir kink

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There was a familiar ache in your core as you made your way into work that day. It was a sensation that shouldn't have embarrassed you anymore considering it was in your line of work to take a beating of the sexual sort, but your blood bubbled with fluttery shame anyways because you knew it was definitely not from any job you'd done. The handprints that lingered on your skin were Tom's, as was the throbbing between your legs.

Your coworkers had grown accustomed to the funny way you'd been walking; after all, it had been months of you turning up to the studio just like this. Aching all over, exhausted, and all flustered smiles as every little jolt of pain in your body reminded you of him. Tom really knew how to keep a woman coming back for more, to say the least.

Despite the tender way you were forced to move around, you were excited to get into work that day. You'd been working on a new project behind the scenes for almost a month already, and today you were finally meeting with your favorite director and photographer to start the ball rolling. This was what you'd been fantasizing about doing ever since you'd been brought into the agency--straying away from your dominatrix persona and onto a more personal, enjoyable path.

Priscilla was already waiting for you in the conference room, bursting with energy as she always was and chatting the ears off of Archie. The two of them were sliding a few of your scribbled mock-ups around, along with more than a few stills of your naked body, and nestled so deeply into a conversation that they didn't notice the click of the door as it shut behind you. Even clearing your throat couldn't break their concentration.

"Starting without me?" you questioned, loudly, and finally caught the glimmering eyes of Priscilla.

Priscilla was practically buzzing with excitement as she grinned at you, clapping her hands once before waving you over, "(Y/N), perfect timing! So, Archie and I were thinking about your ideas for doing a cam-girl style video--"

She chattered on and on, only pausing every so often to take a heaving breathe before continuing. The more she said, the more you realized just how much work the two of them had done without you--Priscilla was already pitching set designs and potential scenarios for each video, and Archie was doing his best to help you visualize the filmography he had in mind. It was pretty hard to keep up, but you had to admit seeing their passion for the project only spurred your own to burn a little brighter.

The project was something you'd been dreaming of for awhile. A solo series of videos in the iconic style of a cam-girl; just you, your camera, and whatever you felt like putting out there for the world to see. For so long you'd been afraid to even pitch the idea out of fear of being denied funding, and rightfully so.

You'd had to fight tooth and nail to gain the backing of the agency. It had been a month of pitching idea after idea, crunching numbers and screening all the statistics of solo work so that you could propose a target profit for the company. In the end, you'd gotten the green light--but there was a lot riding on this first video.

If you failed to meet the target you'd set for yourself, the agency would pull the plug on the project and you'd be right back to the leather outfits and whining men. The thought of it urged you to outperform all the standards you'd set for yourself. You were peddle to the metal, full throttle ahead, and Priscilla and Archie's sounding board of ideas were exactly the encouragement you needed.

Archie fiddled with some settings on his camera, instructing you on a few head shots until he was satisfied. "That's it!" he cheered, "You like it? Obviously we'll work on better lighting for the videos, and there'll be editing--but I think this suits you."

Peering over his shoulder, your heart soared at the work of your favorite camera man. "Oh, Archie! That's perfect... If you'd just shown me that I'd definitely think it was the real deal." you gasped, and he grinned at you cheerfully. "How about a lunch break before we get back to work?"

The two of them muttered some hushed agreements, nodding absentmindedly as Priscilla looked over the photos and they returned to the scatter of papers and film on the table. "Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, honey." Priscilla cooed, waving a hand over her shoulder carelessly before tilting her head and squinting her eyes at one of your drawings. "Oh, what do you think about--no, that won't do... but maybe?"

With a hushed chuckle, you shook your head at the two of them and backed out of the room quietly. It almost seemed as if they were more excited than you were, but your stomach was rumbling and you needed something to eat before you started chewing on paper like a goat. Only, along the way toward the exit you paused outside one of the studios at the sound of Tom's voice.

Peeking inside, you smiled at the sight of his mop of curls bobbing--the smile faded to a grimace as you realized he was in no position to talk at the moment. You trailed a little further into the room and shot a tentative smile to one of the crew members who nodded to you, no longer surprised by your presence. Many times before you'd sat in on Tom's filming days, as he had done yours, but never before had you seen him at work with his most frequent costar.

Her name was Melaina, a startlingly attractive woman with what you were fairly certain was the world's most perfect face, and she was the star of most of Tom's work. You had nothing against her, having run into her quite a few times at work and never being anything short of pleased with her sweet and charismatic aura, but man was it hard not to feel inferior as you watched the two of them in action. It was as if they knew what the other would do before they even moved, connected on some spiritual level that boosted their chemistry to an astronomical level.

Tom's body was glistening with sweat and oil, his eyes dark and hooded with lust as he towered over her. The muscles in his back, chest, and arms all rippled with every move he made and caught the light just right, and you found yourself shifting on your feet subconsciously as you watched. Your hands twitched with the desire to push that one stubborn curl out of his face as it slid across his forehead, heavy and sodden with sweat.

Melaina gave a breathy moan that had you swallowing down a lump in your throat, her hands raking down Tom's chest only for him to swat them away and pin them to the bed above her head, "No touching!" he snapped, voice booming through the cavernous room, and you nearly groaned in sync with his counterpart. Too many times he'd growled those words to you, just like that, and the heat between your legs throbbed at the memory.

"Please, daddy," Melaina wailed, "I wanna cum!"

For a moment you rolled the name around your tongue, pursing your lips as you pondered what it would feel like to call Tom such a thing. It didn't feel right though; a sour taste compared to the deliciously sweet way sir rolled from your lips. His low, devilish chuckle brought you back to the present as you focused on the scene before you.

With a long, drawn out roll of his hips, Tom leaned down to Melaina's ear and spoke, "Bad girls don't get to come, darling."

Oh, fuck.

Hearing that name, that one little word, spill forth from his lips in reference to someone other than yourself ignited a certain flame within you that you hadn't felt in quite some time. It was green; everything tinged green in your vision like the sickening tone of the clouds before a treacherous storm. Jealousy wasn't something you wore often, but hearing that was enough to sit the crown of envy heavily upon your head.

Almost as if he could sense it, sense your turmoil, Tom's head tilted back until he looked you heavily in the eye. Your jaw tensed as he continued to push his hips harder through Melaina's cries and pleas, fingers clenching into fists as you tried to get yourself under control. It didn't mean anything.

You and Tom were nothing but friends with benefits, heavy on the benefits and light on the friendship, and this was his job. Hell, it was your job too! It didn't mean a damn thing.

His eyes never strayed from yours as that familiar pinch formed between his brows, his entire body growing rigid. He was brutal with the force of his hips, his hands groping roughly at Melaina's perfect ass and his lips parting in a silent 'o' that grew wider and wider until--there it was. His eyes locked on yours, Tom thrust twice more as a gritted laugh burst from his chest and he stilled completely. She mewled beneath him like a vixen, arching off the bed and crying, "Yes, daddy! Cum for me!"

He knew. His haughty smirk, ticked jaw, and glinting eyes told you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling, all the bitter and envious thoughts swirling through your mind. He knew, and he was thoroughly enjoying the way you were rooted in place under the weight of all your jealousy, your eyes locked with his and unable to break free.

"Cut!"

The sound of the clapper snapping and the director's loud shout startled you out of the strange limbo of envy and hunger you'd been trapped in. Tom muttered something to Melaina with a flirtatious grin that made your gut twist, and she laughed loudly whilst slapping a hand across his chest playfully. Suddenly, you weren't so hungry anymore, nor were you entirely interested in speaking to Tom.

You were out of focus for the rest of your day at work, earning disgruntled and concerned stares from your two colleagues who were working tirelessly to perfect all of your plans before the test shoot the following day. All of your thoughts were consumed with Tom, though, and it left you feeling nauseous. Never before had you cared much at all that he was with other women, knowing it was just a day's work for him, but seeing him with Melaina had truly rubbed you raw in the worst way.

The ache between your legs didn't make your heart flutter for the moment. Instead, each time you moved wrong and felt that persistent twinge, it made bile creep up your throat and your face burn with a mixture of bitter emotions. It wasn't that you were suddenly craving more from Tom--because you weren't, and as much as you enjoyed his company you weren't interested in a relationship.

Inferiority was a hell of a bitter pill. That was the root of the green eyed monster that was steadily taking control of you; Melaina made you feel inferior, and you hated it more than anything. Clearly he found her to be a better costar than you, considering he'd not once requested you even after starring in your own special. That was the first strike.

But, was she a better lay than you? Did she feel better, make him feel better than you? Did she talk dirtier, obey faster, and mold herself into whatever he wanted better than you? What if you weren't the only one he invited into his own bed at night?

By the time you left work the sun was setting, hours had passed, and you were exhausted from your racing mind. Usually Tom would have come to find you after he finished filming, but he hadn't and that bothered you. You knew it was probably all a game to him, a way for him to get you all riled up and tease you for it, but you weren't playing. You didn't want to play his games today, and when he finally texted you that night you left all of his messages on read with an acrid taste in your mouth.

"Ready for the big day?"

A peculiar sense of deja vu washed over you as you opened your dressing room door to reveal Tom perched on the other vanity seat, a tiny smile twitching at his lips and a twinkle in his eye. You really should have expected him to be there considering he'd been eagerly talking about watching you film for days, but after ignoring him you were more than surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to arrive. The door shut with a dull click, and Tom watched you closely.

Whatever he was playing at, you weren't going to bite--today was a big day for you, and nothing was going to distract you from your work. "What are you doing here?" you asked, huffing as your voice cracked and robbed you of your attempt to play it cool.

He just chuckled, a hoarse and airy sound, and licked his lips, "You think I'd miss the chance to see my girl touch herself for hours?"

His girl?

The words swirled around your brain the entire time you got ready, Marlena eyeing you curiously as you twiddled your thumbs quietly and payed no mind to either of the two people in your presence. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did your heart go on the fritz at those two silly words?

"Are you mad at me, lovie?" Eyes flickering over to Tom, you grew hot under his speculative gaze. Head tilted to one side, brown eyes narrowed slightly, and lips puckered in a tiny pout that made you swoon, he asked, "Have I done something to upset you?"

In the mirror you could see Marlena fighting back a smile, looking between the two of you with quivering lips as she held herself back from interrupting the moment. "No," you muttered, dropping your eyes back to your fiddling fingers, "I'm just nervous."

You didn't have to look to know that Tom was smirking, the sound of his soft laughter cluing you into the fact well enough. There was that deja vu again, your mind traveling back to that first time he'd sat in your dressing room and asked if he made you nervous. Teasingly, he asked, "Am I making you nervous, darling?"

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, "No."

Tom's eyes were all over you the moment you stepped onto the set and dropped your robe into an assistant's waiting arms. Clad in a skimpy lace negligee with nothing underneath, it was understandable that he'd be quite enraptured--never before had you worn something so dainty for your work, nor had you ever worn anything quite like the transparent scrap during any of your visits to his apartment. Even you yourself were quite enthralled by the look of it, having admired your reflection in the mirror for ages before finally joining the crew to start working.

As you soaked up the warm, tingling sensation of his ravenous eyes trailing over every inch of your body, you slowly relaxed into his presence. All the thoughts of Melaina drifted away, and you were biting back pleased smiles each and every time you acknowledged his gaze. It felt nice; it felt like it had every time he'd watched you film before, only better because now you were finally fully enjoying your project.

He hung back beside Priscilla in front of the big screen which displayed all the different camera angles whilst you ambled your way around the set. It wasn't complete, but it was enough for you all to get an idea of what the final design should be. A queen sized bed with dark, silk sheets in the center of a warmly lit stage, piled high with pillows of all sizes--already you were imagining towering bed posts with chiffon curtains framing the beautiful space.

There was one camera posted at the foot of the bed which was to be the main view point for the video. Climbing aboard you shifted until your bottom was posted over the scribbled X and leaned back onto your elbows, your knees propped up and spread wide. "How's this look?" you called out, craning your neck to see Priscilla, Archie, and Tom.

"Slide up a bit," Archie bellowed back, "a bit more--that's it! Oh, fuck, that looks amazing."

Having slid up the mattress half a foot, your head fell onto the bed of pillows that were finally within reach. From your new vantage point you could admire Tom, and the sight of him was enough to already have your thighs dampening. It seemed as if he were unsure as to where to look, his eyes flickering back and forth from the blown up, pixelated version of you to the real deal hastily.

The angle was awkward, and no matter how hard you stared he never made eye contact. It was then that you realized he couldn't see your face, at least not the real one, and a certain thrill sparked within you. Trailing your fingers over your stomach slowly, you reached for the frilled edge of the fabric and bit back a giggle as he tensed all over.

Licking your lips in time with Tom, you shouted, "Should we get started, then?"

Within seconds the clapper was dropped, and Priscilla boomed, "Test one, rolling!"

It was strange having to force yourself to look into the camera, rather than avoiding it so as not to ruin the flow of a scene. But, after a few moments of running your hands over your body and trying to get into the right mindset, your mind drifted away from the crowded room and into your own personal bubble. In there, that secret place you escaped to, it was just yourself and Tom.

Your body heated as you pictured him in place of the camera. In your vision he was bare and glistening, just for you; sitting on his heels with his knees spread apart and his hands ghosting over his length languidly. So many nights you'd laid before him like this, aching and begging for his hands to take the place of your own.

"Show me what those fingers can do, darling." he cooed, voice silky and sweeter than honey. It was a stark contrast to the dark, all-consuming pull of his brown eyes that lusted for you greedily.

Breathing a little harder, you tugged the stretchy lace further down your chest until your breasts were exposed to the chilled air. Tom's eyes glimmered, his tongue swiping over his lower lip, and you desperately wished it were his lips wrapping around one of your pebbled buds instead of your clammy fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you imagined it; reminiscing on the sensation of his hot, silky tongue swirling around your nipples and tugging them delightfully into his mouth.

It was incredibly hard not to cry out for him as you descended further into the scenario you'd created for yourself. Nevertheless, you swallowed down all the whimpers of his name that bubbled to your lips eagerly, instead whining soft noises that even turned yourself on. "Love those pretty sounds, (Y/N)." he always hummed down your ear, scorching breathe fanning all across your neck.

The facade didn't fade as you opened your eyes again with heavy lids that begged to fall shut again. You tugged hard at one of your rosebuds in sync with Tom's harsh pull over his cock, and your back arched as you gave a loud cry. He moved his hand faster and clenched his eyes shut for a second as he groaned, "Enough teasing, lovie, show me that perfect pussy. Wanna see you cum all over your fingers f'me."

You couldn't have agreed more. Your heat was hot and dripping, your thighs slipping across the sheets a little more easily as you pooled your juices onto the mattress longingly. Tracing your fingers over the swell of your chest and down your stomach, you peeled your flimsy gown back until it was all bunched up beneath your breasts.

Tom watched with baited breathe, held perfectly in sync with your own burning chest, as you teased your fingers all around where you ached to be touched the most. Just as you finally dipped the tip of your middle finger into the slick, a shuffle and quiet laugh shattered the vision of Tom. You huffed in frustration the buzzing in your veins dulled and your hand fell limp over your bare middle.

"Cut!" Priscilla shouted, and even she sounded frustrated as you sat up and ripped your negligee back down, "That was really good, (Y/N)! Wanna have a look?"

You did, but you could barely hear the words coming from Priscilla's mouth as you took in the scene before you. There was Tom, hands cupped over his crotch like they always were when he watched you film, but this time he wasn't watching you. Instead, he was entirely focused on Melaina who stood beside him with one dainty hand stroking his arm, the other twirling the skirt of her sundress lazily.

Your blood boiled to life once more, but no longer was it out of desire for Tom. Pursing your lips, you called back to Priscilla, "No, let's just keep going." He was still engrossed in his hushed conversation with her, and you added pettily, "Might I remind some of you to be quiet on set!"

Melaina's stifled giggle turned the green hue in your eyes red, but you took a deep breathe and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything. The mantra echoed through your head as you did your best to keep your ridiculous envy at bay; Tom wasn't yours, nor were you his, and you had nothing to be jealous of.

You did, however, roll your eyes at the sight of Tom's devious smirk. It only widened at the action, and in spite of your wish to pretend he didn't affect you, your thigh clenched subconsciously. "Sorry, darling, we'll be quiet." he hummed, greedily soaking up the distasteful purse of your lips with his eyes.

It was harder to get back into the groove once the cameras started rolling again. Tom's image wavered in place of the camera, your mind clouded with all the conflicting emotions you were feeling, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get back into that bubble. You pushed through, though, and picked up where you'd left off.

"Look at you," Tom simpered as your fingers dipped into your slick once again, your jaw slackening as you toyed one finger through your entrance, "absolutely dripping for me. Does it get you off to see me with another woman?"

What the hell was that? His words were like a record scratch in your mind, your fingers recoiling from your throbbing core in shock. Trying again, you changed your direction and drifted your fingers to your clit with a soft sigh. Closing your eyes to shut out his smirking face again, you rolled the soft pads over your bud and felt your lips part in a hushed moan.

How easy it would have been to keep them closed and push yourself over that edge with nothing but the sensation to edge you forward, but you knew that wouldn't make for a satisfying watch. So, begrudgingly, you opened your eyes again to the scene you'd created for yourself. Tom was sitting on the bed now, his legs spread wide before him to leave space for you between, and his length was laid against his thigh lazily. The tip was weeping and blazing red, a thick drop of pearly precum making your lips tingle with desire.

His hands wrapped around the footboard of the bed, gripping the solid wood so tightly his knuckles turned white and his arms rippled with unbridled strength. All that muscle, the sinewy, languid curl of hard muscle beneath soft flesh pulled taught in restraint; it was enough to have you drooling. Your fingers slipped easily from your swollen clit to your slit, and you dipped the tip of your middle finger inside with a choked cry.

Tom moaned back at you, his cock twitching as he flexed his stomach, eyes glued to the tight clench of your cunt around your fingers. "Fuck, lovie, do your fingers feel as good as mine?" he asked, "Does that pussy feel as good as hers?"

What the fuck?

Melaina's giggle echoed through the set, piercing the thickened air and startling you nearly as much as the wild turn your imagination had taken. Growling angrily, you slapped your hands onto the mattress beside you and pouted, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Melaina squeaked, sounding so genuinely apologetic it only irritated you further, "Stop it, Tom, you made me laugh."

Sitting up once more, propped up on your hands, you scowled fiercely at the sight of Tom's arm draped over her shoulders and his head dipped low to whisper in her ear. His eyes were trained on you, though, and you knew damn well that coy smirk that teased at his lips was meant for you alone. Melaina gripped the hand over her shoulder tightly as she stifled another laugh, eyes twinkling to match the beaming smile on her face.

Backing his lips away from Melaina's hair, Tom faced you dead on as his head cocked to the side playfully. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed as he winked at you. That bastard! You flopped back onto the bed with a growl, wanting nothing more than to kick him off the set, but you refrained. You knew it would only cement what he'd already figured out within his head; it would prove that you were without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

"How about we take five, everyone!"

You practically threw yourself off of the bed, snatching your robe from the timid assistant with a huff before stomping off the set entirely. What was he playing at? It was one thing for Tom to toy with you, but to purposefully throw you off when you were working? That was low.

Alone in the small room, you dropped your head onto your vanity with a loud groan of annoyance. So many new emotions were swirling around you, plaguing your mind and twisting your gut up into knots so tight you actually felt ill. You couldn't even begin to unravel the twisted mess to pick apart all the different things you were feeling.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and you didn't have to look to know who it was. "G'way!" you grumbled, hissing angrily when the door opened anyways, "I said--"

Tom crashed his lips to yours, choking your words and the muffled squeal of surprise that escaped you. Pushing his weight onto you and pinning you to the chair, he bit down on your lower lip until you whined pitifully, pulling away to look you heavily in the eye, "You ignored me last night."

"So? I wasn't feeling it." you retorted, the almost lie making your stomach flutter. "Is that why you're trying to ruin my test shoot? Another bullshit punishment?"

He gaped at you for a moment, his lips parting in surprise as he blinked down at you wordlessly. But, just as you were settling into the triumph of finally rendering him speechless, he sputtered a sinister chuckle and smirked. Clicking his tongue reproachfully, he tutted, "Are you jealous, darling? Is that what this little tantrum is about? Are you jealous of Melaina?"

The words of your imaginary Tom echoed in your ears, the thin flesh and cartilage heating up in embarrassment as you scoffed, "No, why the hell would you think that?"

Smirk widening, he leaned close to nuzzle his face into your ear as he hummed, "Mm, I think you're lying, lovie. I think you were jealous watching me fuck her yesterday, and today you're so bothered you can't even perform. Envy is a hell of a thing, wouldn't you say?"

His lips sucked on the tender skin of your earlobe, drawing the faintest of whimpers from your lips, and he released it with a dramatic suckle of a wet, sloppy kiss. He whispered tauntingly, "Did it make you jealous to see me cum for somebody else? To see me fuck Melaina instead of you?"

"N-no-- oh, fuck."

Tom's fingers dragged heavily through your folds, a gush of your juices immediately flooding into his open palm in response. His thumb rolled over your clit faintly, teasing the rapidly swelling bundle as he chuckled right into your ear, "Don't lie to me, darling."

That stupid name that he'd called her made you steel your resolve, stubbornly repeating, "'M not jealous, Tom. You can fuck whoever you want."

His fingers plunged into you to the knuckle, earning a loud gasp as your hands flew to his arms and clutched him tightly. "Yeah? 'S that so?" he asked, nipping the hot skin of your neck until you whined desperately, "Think I'd like a taste then, love."

This was certainly turning out far better than you'd expected. With a racing heart and a quivering breathe, you gasped, "Please, Tom." Tom's eyes narrowed at you, his expression hardening as he pinched your hip in warning. "Please, I want you to have a taste, sir."

He grinned, patting your cheek in a playful slap as he cooed, "There's my good girl. Spread your legs, darling."

Obediently, you eagerly spread your legs until your thighs were digging into the sides of your chair and shaking as you fought to keep them splayed so wide. The lace of your negligee was pulled taught and curled up over your hips at the movement, exposing all of you to Tom's greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he gazed down at his fingers still buried inside you as deep as they would go, flexing the two digits and closing his eyes as you cursed and clenched around them.

You crooned as he pulled them out and thrust them back in slowly, curling until the tips dragged over your spot lazily. "Please, sir, want your tongue, too." you pleaded, digging your thighs further into the seat as you rutted down onto his once again motionless fingers.

His eyes snapped open and he quirked his one ruffled brow playfully, "Yeah? You want my fingers and my tongue?" Tom dug the pad of his thumb into your clit deeply, pressing your button down and making your entire body spasm from the harsh stimulation, "I don't know if you deserve both, lovie. You're lucky you're even getting my fingers."

Whining, you threw your head back childishly and ground your hips into his fingers indignantly. He kept them steady, only slightly brushing your g-spot through your forced motion, and his free hand clamped down on your thigh in a bruising grip. "Please!" you begged, "Please, sir, I'll be so good!"

Your pleas molded into a shout as his lips closed suddenly around your clit, his thumb sliding aside to spread your folds open for him as he sucked at your sensitive nub harshly. Tom's fingers pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, his fist effectively punching your core and making you ache, but you moaned and begged for more. Each forceful blow pushed his fingers right into your spot, the tips curling to drag against your upper wall with every motion.

In mere moments you were seeing stars. Your stomach was tightening beyond measure, that coil winding so tight you feared you might break when it finally snapped, but you met each thrust of his hand with a jerk of your hips eagerly. His tongue flicked against your clit in rapid kitten licks, sparking your body to spasm violently each time. "I'm so close, sir!" you gasped, digging your nails into the armrest of your seat as your back arched in pleasure, "I'm gonna--"

With one last long, hard suck on your bundle, Tom pulled away from you completely. His fingers ripped away from your dripping slit and slid in between his glistening lips, that tongue swirling dramatically around the digits as he sat back on his heels much like he had in your imagination. Gaping, you huffed, "What the hell, Tom?"

He grinned devilishly, "Admit you were jealous, and I'll let you cum."

Sputtering, you spat out, "I told you I wasn't jealous."

"Mm, but I know you're lying, darling," he teased, eyes glinting playfully, "and I want to hear you admit it. You wanna cum all over my fingers and my tongue?"

You nodded hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, "Yes, sir."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours and his lips ghosting over your own as he whispered, "Admit you were jealous."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breathe. You felt hot all over with embarrassment, your skin burning and your blood boiling beneath, but fuck, you really wanted that sweet release that only he could give you. So, with trembling lips, you whispered, "I was jealous."

Eyes still closed, you jumped as his fingers brushed over your clit in a feather light touch. He pressed a slow, soft kiss to your lips that had you chasing him for more when he backed away and asked, "Are you still jealous?" One finger toyed with your slit, drawing a harsh line up and down your entrance as you resisted the urge to push further into his hand.

"Y-yes."

He chuckled, and your eyes snapped open as he backed away from you, his hand disappearing from your core. His eyes were dark in a ruthless stare as he stated, "You need to learn to share, love. Stingy girls don't get to cum." And, just like that, he retreated from the room leaving you staring after him in utter shock.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when you rocked up to Tom's apartment that night following his typical, "You up?" text. What you most certainly had not expected, though, was to find Melaina sprawled out on his sofa in nothing but a sheer negligee--nothing at all underneath. In a strange sense, you figured you should have seen it coming; what better way for Tom to torment you than to make you face the root of your jealousy?

"Mm, on second thought," you hummed, pursing your lips as you took in the woman's sensual form upon his couch, "I think I'll be going."

Turning to leave, you crashed nose first into Tom's hard chest with a muffled grunt of surprise. His hands crept around your waist in a lazy fashion, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until his warm palms found the icy chill of your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, much to your own chagrin.

He pouted, jutting his lower lip out at you tauntingly as he leaned close to brush his nose along the high point of your cheek. "You've only just got here, darling," he mused, "I missed you last night. You left me all alone."

It was really pathetic how easily he broke through your walls. Despite your tireless efforts to re-stack each brick he knocked down, the feeling of his soft lips ghosting along the supple skin of your cheeks had those same cinderblocks crumbling to dust. A gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek, a fleeting peck at the slope of your forehead, one slow trail along the angle of your jaw--you were putty in his hands when his lips finally found your own.

Even as his tongue traced the outline of your lips, you desperately tried to fight his hold on you. Grumbling into his mouth, "I'm sure you could have found company elsewhere--"

Tom bit down on your lower lip, hard, and pulled until it snapped back with a loud pop that made you whimper. Yet, his eyes were tender in a way you'd never seen before as he gazed down at you longingly, whispering, "I wanted you, though."

Yeah, you were fucked.

Breathing a little heavier, you gave into your more animalistic desires in spite of the jealousy and irritation that still boiled deep within your veins. A childish, prideful part of you boasted over his words; he'd wanted you! Not Melaina, not anyone else, just you. It was utterly ridiculous.

Tom's brown eyes were warm, inviting, and curious as he waited for you to make the next move. You could see the questions bouncing around behind them; would you leave? Would you stay? But, there was a familiar glimmer of mischief buried behind the thick honey gaze that had you waiting for the other foot to fall.

Taking your lack of movement as an answer, a desire to stay, Tom pressed another kiss to your lips. Long, slow, and mind-boggling--it felt like your soul left your body with the way he curled his plush lips into yours. Already you were heating up, your body buzzing and growing hotter with desire in each second that passed.

You clawed your fingers into the hem of his shirt, scratching your nails along the flesh of his lower abdomen in a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a frantic plea to him to hold you there, to keep you from floating away as his kiss took you to higher places. He gave a gentle hiss into your mouth at the sting, but pushed harder into your face as his hands inched higher up your back to toy with the band of your bra.

Fingers gently swept the collar of your shirt down, exposing your neck as fuller, softer lips ghosted along the line of the fabric. Wait--lips? Jumping, you reeled back from Tom's face with widened eyes to find Melaina blinking back at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

"What are you--"

Tom popped the clasp of your bra with ease, looking down at you with darkened irises. "Is this okay?" he asked, glancing at Melaina who was waiting beside your twisted, intertwined bodies for approval.

Her fingers swirled slow, tingling circles on your hip, lip caught between pearly, white teeth as she watched you with enraptured intensity. Two minutes ago, the word no would have spilled from your lips without a moment of hesitation--but now? Now, as your eyes lingered on the swollen, bitten lower lip that called for you to taste it; as you trailed them lower to admire the perfectly soft curve on every inch of her body, it wasn't so clear.

There was a supple rise of her chest with every breathe, hardened nipples poking through the transparent fabric of her dress. Rounded breasts upon a gentle, sloping waist, wide hips that certainly gave way to a perfect handful of ass and thigh, all leading the eye down the length of her sculpted legs. Melaina was like a work of art, and every inch of her that you admired sent tingles through your body.

Glancing back at Tom, you nearly moaned out loud. Her eyes burned the side of your face, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Tom's stare into your very soul. It sucked the breathe out of you and left you feeling dizzy, your vision darkening until all you could see were the artful angles of his face.

You spoke hoarsely, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Yes."

Tom's mouth parted against yours in an instant, his hot tongue slipping inside and making your eyes roll back as Melaina pressed her body against your side and latched onto your neck. Sucking, biting, rolling the soft muscle of her tongue all along each sharp nibble to soothe the tender flesh--it was an overload of sensation all at once. You didn't know where to put your hands as they both crept theirs all over your body.

It was impossible to decipher where one ended and the other began. Whose hand was that gripping your ass? Whose were peeling your bra straps down our arms under your sleeves? Who was slipping their thumbs along the waistband of your pants, tickling your hot, sensitive skin?

Moaning, you gasped, "Please!"

You weren't even sure what you were asking for, but Melaina quickly stepped aside to let Tom pull your shirt over your head as your bra fell to the floor at your feet. He admired your chest for a long moment, palms cupping the swell of your breasts as his thumbs rolled over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, earning a muffled groan from you. Licking his lips, he stepped back and waved the eagerly waiting woman forward.

As Melaina devoured your chest, you followed him with your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. He watched on with an indecipherable glint in his eyes, lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own. Those long lashes fluttered as he dragged his tongue slowly over the plump of his lower lip, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale as if he were tasting you all over again.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around your left nipple when he finally disappeared behind you, a shiver wracking your body when his fingers caressed the arch of your spine in a fluttering touch. Chest pressed warmly to your bare back, he dipped low to mix his own marks with the ones she had left behind. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, lulling to the side to expose the entirety of your throat to him in submission.

When had he removed his shirt? The bare skin of his torso was scorching on your back, matching the heat of his tongue dipping in your collarbone in time with a twirl of hers around your other nipple. Fingers, hands, lips, tongues everywhere; your body was reaching its boiling point.

"Come to bed with us?" Tom's husky whisper directly into the shell of your ear had you whining, arching your back until your behind rolled harshly into his crotch. His length ground into you roughly, a quiet groan escaping his lips at the stimulation, "Fuck, darling, you like this?"

Weakly, barely able to focus through all the pleasurable touches to your body, you whispered, "Yes, yes, sir. Please."

You should have known it wouldn't last. You should have anticipated the shift in Tom's attitude, revealing his true intentions to you as he lead you by the wrist into his bedroom to find a dining chair at the side of his bed. But, you blinked up at him dumbfounded as he held up a silk tie before your face with a devilish grin.

Melaina stretched out on the bed with a hand between her legs, knees propped open wide as she touched herself lazily and watched you closely. Glancing at the tie, then the chair, and then Tom's arrogant smirk, you mumbled, "What is that?"

He just chuckled throatily, grinning as he hummed, "Sit in the chair, darling." You blinked again, frozen in place, "Sit, now, or I promise you'll not like the outcome."

Instinctively, your knees crumbled until you fell into the chair with a frown. He snatched your wrists roughly, twisting them behind the back of the chair until the backs of your hands touched and you whined in protest, "That hurts, Tom."

He pulled further, a sharp ache burning through the muscles of your arms as they dug harshly into the back of the chair. "Watch it, (Y/N)." he growled.

"Sorry, sir." you muttered pitifully, eyes downcast to avoid the amused smile on Melaina's face, "What's going on?"

Tom didn't answer you for a long while, taking his time to tie your wrists with the tie until he was certain you couldn't break free. Testing the restraints, you pouted as the fabric didn't yield in any way to your tugs. He hummed under his breathe in appreciation, though, stroking a finger up the length of your arm as he rounded to face you again.

Melaina sat up and leaned into the arm he reached out toward her, your gut twisting bitterly at the sight of her purring under his touch like a cat. "I told you, darling, that stingy girls don't get to cum." he restated his words from earlier, and your body burned with embarrassment, "So, I'm going to teach you to share. You're gonna sit there and watch me, and you're going to deal with it like a big girl. Understood?"

"But I--"

"Do you understand?" Tom hissed, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare that dared you to challenge him further. You couldn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the familiar sting of his palm on your behind ghosting over the skin in anticipation of impact. He remained rooted in place, though, leaning into Melaina's body that was steadily wrapping further around him.

Her lips were on his chest, leaving a flurry of angry purple marks that made you want to scream like a child. "I understand, sir." you grumbled, slumping into the seat.

He smiled, "Good."

It was as if you disappeared from the room entirely in that instant. He turned to Melaina, completely absorbed in her presence as his hands slid around her waist to grab fistfuls of her ass. Groaning, he squeezed the flesh tighter until she whimpered. Your own body ignited in shame and jealousy, fingers clenching into fists that tugged uselessly against their bonds.

The sound of their lips smacking as they kissed, wet and sloppy sounds that echoed in your ears, made you want to whine. How had it come to this, when only moments ago they were kissing you like that? Was this the only reason you were here?

You watched on with an aching core, racing heart, and sweaty palms as the heat intensified between them. There was that chemistry you'd witnessed on set--their movements so in sync it seemed as if they were connected spiritually, a perfect flow of seamless give and take. It was almost painful to watch.

The jealousy that tore you to shreds was not from a desire to be the only woman in Tom's life, though a selfish part of you did secretly relish in the thought. It was an aching, grotesque and petty desire to know that you were the best. You were jealous of the way he found pleasure in someone else, when all you wanted was to know that you were unmatched. You were jealous to feel his touch on your body, and some part of you was growing desirous of hers as well.

It was a purely physical sort of envy; no feelings attached. Or, at least that's what you told yourself. In some sense there had to be a sort of emotional drive behind it, but it was easier to tell yourself it was stupid pride instead of murky, confusing feelings.

Your eyes clenched shut as you bit back a huff of frustration. Melaina's moans grew louder, until she shrieked, "Please, daddy, wanna feel you!"

There was a smack and a rustle, and when you opened your eyes Tom had shoved Melaina flat onto her stomach. The skin of her still rippling ass was reddened in a blazing hand print, his hand rubbing over the mark soothingly. "You wanna feel daddy's cock, princess?" he growled, "Think (Y/N) deserves to watch?"

"Yes, daddy," Melaina murmured, "want her to watch. Want her to see how good I make you feel."

The green eyed monster in your head was stomping circles through your brain, screeching over the cruelty of the situation. Yet, you kept your lips pursed shut as you glared back at Tom with just as much ferocity. He wasn't going to see you break; you'd come out of this on top, you were sure of it. You weren't going to let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on it's ugly, rearing head with her words.

You scoffed, and he glared at you with a sort of intensity that made your legs quiver, but you faced his scowl head on with a ferocity of your own to match. You wouldn't let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on its ugly, rearing head with those words; if he wanted to play, then you were going to play just as hard.

Or, maybe you were just emboldened by the fact that he hadn't called her darling again. Either way, you stared him in the eye until he looked away from you with a clenched jaw and twitching hand. Your first, and only, victory of the night.

It was torture. He moaned as he pushed into her, eyes clenching shut and hands squeezing at her flesh desperately when he bottomed out with his hips buried into her bottom. Yet, you couldn't decide which method of suffering was worse; to keep your eyes opened or closed.

Open, you had to watch his face contort with pleasure and the way he interacted with her eager, willing body. Closed, you had to listen to the sounds they made and feel the way your body reacted in accordance. You were dripping onto the seat, angry tears pooling in your eyes, and your arms were going numb from their restrained position.

"Eyes open, darling." Tom ordered, and you bit back the curse that bubbled to your lips. He watched you with hooded eyes until you met his gaze, immediately blocking you out again to focus on the messy, fucked out woman on his bed. She was wailing, and you were trying your best not to join in the chorus.

He was going an an unrelenting pace, each brutish thrust of his hips eliciting a strangled cry from Melaina. She was clawing at the sheets, incrementally crawling away from him until he pulled her back with a forceful tug of her hips. "Daddy, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned, breathless.

You squirmed in your seat, bottom sliding slickly over the wooden surface from how much you'd pooled into it. "Come on, princess. Cum f'me." he urged, voice strained as he rocked his hips faster into her. The sound of skin against skin mixed with the damp sounds from his force into her slick echoed loudly through the room, but it was unparalleled to the unrestrained scream the tore from her throat.

Watching with wide eyes and strained, clenched thighs, you gasped as Melaina arched into the bed wildly. Her actions were so over the top you'd have assumed they were theatrics, if it weren't for the way you could see her physically quivering with full body shivers. Fuck, why couldn't that have been you?

Tom pulled out of her roughly, turning on you and clambering off of his bed to lean over you. His hands wrapped around the arms of the chair tightly, the muscle of his arms rippling as he gripped it so tight the wood creaked. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" he demanded, nose to nose with you.

Nodding desperately, you gasped, "Yes, sir."

He disappeared from view, Melaina still crumpled into the bed and spent as she breathed heavily. When his fingers brushed your wrists, untying them slowly, you nearly wept with relief. Finally, he was going to touch you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Tom gripped your chin firmly as his thumb tugged at your bottom lip. "Want me to touch you, darling?" You nodded, begging him with your eyes and whining when he chuckled, "You have to earn it."

He sat back on the bed, scooting until his back was propped against the headboard with his legs spread wide. Patting the space between them, he beckoned you forward until you were perched between his knees on your own. You yelped as Melaina crept up behind you, hands sneaking up the skin of your back until they rested lightly on your shoulders, but you relaxed into her touch as she pressed a feather light kiss to your neck.

As she nipped at the skin, blossoming a new mark amidst all the ones she'd left before, Tom grinned deviously. "Let's make a deal, darling," he breathed, "if you can stop yourself from cumming all over her tongue, I'll let you come on my cock."

You squeaked as her fingers dipped down the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she drew nearer to where you were aching for any sort of touch. Deep down you knew how hard it would be not to finish at any sort of stimulation due to how worked up and ravenously needy you were, but if there was a chance to get Tom where you wanted him then you were going to take it. So, you nodded, "Please."

Melaina pushed you forward until you were bent over, propped up on your knees and elbows. Tom's length was straining against his thigh, and he flexed as your slightly frantic breathing blew across the sensitive skin. He reached out a hand to caress your cheek before winding it to the back of your head, pulling you closer until you wrapped your lips around the tip.

You groaned in sync with him as you felt her blow a cool breeze on your clit, your legs nearly buckling as she forced them apart with her hands. Stars were bursting behind your eyes the very moment she drew a line through your folds with her tongue, but Tom's shove against your head kept you grounded. Focusing, you pushed forward until your nose was buried in his pelvis and he moaned loudly.

Her taste was still all over him. Pulling back until you only held his tip in your mouth again, you swirled your tongue around the head and parted your lips to let your spit soak down his length entirely. You looked up and blinked at him coyly, flattening your tongue under his tip and sucking hard until he clenched his eyes shut and raked his nails into your scalp roughly.

Going down again, you gagged around him and tears sprung to your eyes when he held you there. He was choking you, but you weren't thinking about air--all you could think about was how hard it was not to reflexively clamp down each time Melaina tweaked your clit just right, sending spasms through your entire body.

You were fighting hard to keep from going overboard, your stomach twisted up in knots so tight you felt compressed. Explosive, even. He was moaning above you, dragging your head up and down his length slowly, and there were shockwaves of vibrations in your core as Melaina hummed along with him.

Finally, as you took all of him again and squeezed his thigh with your nails digging in, Tom hissed and pulled you off of him. "On your back, now." he commanded, and Melaina jumped back just in time for you to hastily slide into position. "Fuck, need you so bad, darling."

His hands were hot as they slid up your thighs, spreading your legs apart until he could slip between them and crawl over your body. "Needed you last night, lovie, but you decided to ignore me like a brat." he growled, and you flinched as he dropped to his elbows over you suddenly, "Don't even deserve to feel me, you know that?"

"Please," you whined, "I'm sorry I ignored you, I'll never do it again."

Tom dragged his tip roughly through your folds, scowling at you when you bucked your hips into him, "Do that again and you'll go back in the chair."

You froze, and he hummed in approval before continuing his teasing. Up and down, up and down, up and down, he dragged himself over your entrance and clit until you were shaking with need. Each slow rock of his length through your folds was adding fuel to the fire raging within you, your eyes threatening to roll back from the surface level stimulation alone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally eased into you slowly. You moaned breathlessly, clenching around him and fisting the sheets in a plea for him to just fuck you already. "Fucking love your cunt, darling," he groaned, eyes falling shut in bliss, "perfect little pussy, all for me. This all mine, lovie?"

"Yes, sir." you groaned, arching off the bed as he pushed deeper against you, "All yours."

He pulled back, dragging slowly against your walls until he slipped out of you entirely and left you feeling empty. But then he forced his way back in roughly, jolting you backward on the bed under the force of his thrust. Your lips opened in a silent yell, hands flying up to claw at his back desperately.

Tom's face dropped into your shoulder, mouthing open kisses into the skin that burned like fire. He picked up his pace with a steady, deep roll of his hips against yours that made you shiver all over. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping him against you as you gripped his shoulders heavily.

Your eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as you felt him continue to push roughly against that spot deep inside, sending sparks through out your entire body. The coil in your belly had already been strung so tightly you'd feared you'd burst at the first moment of contact, but you were doing your best to fight it off. You wanted this moment, this feeling of him filling you to the brim, to last forever.

But, Tom shuddered above you and moaned into your ear, "Shit, 'm not gonna last, darling."

He pushed deeper into you with his next thrust, grinding your hips into the mattress as he put his weight behind it. You yelped and your hands left his back to find his face, pulling his lips down to yours in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and clashing teeth, but it matched the desperate, animalistic rhythm of his hips perfectly.

That coil inside you was sparking now, fizzling with pent up energy just begging to burst. "Please, please, please, let me cum, Tom." you begged, and he groaned as you said his name, "Please, Tommy!"

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom pushed off the bed on one elbow and reached his hand down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers met your clit harshly, swirling rapid circles around your swollen bundle as he stared down at you like a starved man. "Say my name again, darling."

"Tom!"

His fingers moved faster, harder, deeper in time with his thrusts that pushed you to heights you'd never felt from him. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips pulled back in a grimace, jaw clenching as his curls slid all over his forehead in a sweaty mess. He looked beautiful like that--all messy and fucked out, desperate to reach that high that you were pushing him toward.

Your legs were shaking wildly, and your stomach was burning as your muscles began to contract. It was the buildup to the explosive release, and you cried out, "Gonna cum, Tommy, yes! You feel so--oh, fuck!"

Wailing, you clamped your legs around his waist and squeezed your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. The coil snapped and you shrieked, his tip ramming into your g-spot over and over as he fucked you through your high. It felt like you couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't anything anymore. All you could do was feel him inside you, pushing through your pulsing walls as his fingers continued to rub your clit like a madman.

"Fucking--fuck!" he gritted, hips faltering, "Love it when you say my name, (Y/N). Sounds so perfect coming from your pretty lips."

You were desperate to get him there, feeling the way he was shuddering with each thrust as his body protested the exertion. "Tom, please," you begged, feeling the coil in your belly tightening up again, "cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tommy."

He slammed into you harder than he had all night, making your pelvis ache but you saw white. The world faded away as you burst into the crescendo again, your throat burning as you cried out loudly. Just when you were about to tap out and push him away because it was all too much, he rolled into you deeply and collapsed onto your chest.

So high in your own climax, you barely felt his cock pulsing against your walls as you milked him of every last drop. It was the warmth, though, that brought you back down to earth. The deep, warmth that filled you up had you sighing and sucking in air desperately, blinking up at the ceiling as Tom breathed heavily into your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for awhile, fighting to catch your breathe as your hearts raced against each other's chests. It wasn't until your vision finally cleared and you could breathe a little more freely, though, that a thought popped into your head, "Where did Melaina go?"

Tom laughed, his chest rumbling against yours as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a tender kiss to the sweaty skin. "Mm, don't know. She probably left."

"Oh," you muttered, "I didn't notice."

You hoped he didn't notice how you smiled as he hummed back, "Neither did I, darling."

Curled up in Tom's bed, you shivered as his fingers traced lazy shapes into the bare skin of your thigh that was draped over his own. On his night stand sat two abandoned cups of tea, growing colder by the minute, but neither one of you was in any hurry to reach for them. You were content to just lay there in his embrace, soaking up his warmth.

This was what you'd grown to love the most over the past few months of hooking up with Tom. The sex was great, the orgasms mind blowing, but the time spent just enjoying each other's company afterwards was your favorite part. It felt nice to just be close to him, to feel connected to him in a more domestic sense.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, yeah?" he asked, suddenly, and you craned your neck back to look at him curiously. His cheeks were reddened slightly as he peered down at you with tender, timid eyes.

Sheepishly, you shrugged, "It's ridiculous, I know."

He frowned slightly, but the crease between his brows melted as you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing you feel is ridiculous, (Y/N)," he stated, "and it's okay to be jealous. You think I never felt shitty seeing you with any of the other guys you filmed with?"

The flush on his face deepened at his confession, but you grinned. He felt it too? "Really?" you asked, trying your best to keep from giving him total puppy dog eyes.

"Really." he repeated you, snorting when you grinned wider, "And, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're the only one who ends up right here in my bed, like this. Only one I want to be here, darling."

You buried your face into his chest with a flustered giggle, and he chuckled as his arms wrapped around you a little tighter. In a desperate need to keep things from getting too serious, still raw over everything you'd felt the past couple of days, you teased, "Mm, I'm only here for the tea--Tom!"

He dug his fingers into your ribs, fighting through your squeals and slaps as you tried to escape him. Easily, though, he got the upper hand and rolled until you were pinned beneath him. With twinkling eyes, a mixture of emotions you couldn't read, he taunted, "Admit it, (Y/N), you're in love with me."

In love with Tom? Your mind went blank as you stared up at him, but he just grinned down at you. There was a little flutter in your belly, and his eyes sparkled a brighter at your shiver. He knew. He knew the truth.

"Nah, it's definitely the tea--"

"Why, I oughta!"

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angelatmidnight1 · 3 years ago

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ahh great tysm! could i request a lee!octane x ler!reader where octane is blasting loud music from his room and won’t turn it down so the reader tickles him to get him to shut it off, and it ends up in a whole tickle fight between the two? thanks!!

Turn Down For What!

You are a new support Legend to join the Apex Games and are scheduled for a variety of lessons with the veterans of the game. Combat training was difficult enough, but you managed to get through it to Bangalore’s satisfaction. Now, it was time for another important lesson: picking your teammates up when they fall. Lifeline shows you the proper technique for reviving squadmates, but the lesson is interrupted by loud, blaring music coming from Octane’s room. You’d only met the speedster once or twice; he never sat still long enough to have a full conversation. You offer to go to his room to ask him to turn the music down, but not before Ajay sees you off with an interesting tidbit about him.

“Ajay…”

You cast an uncertain look at the combat medic beside you, holding the resuscitation syringe in a shaky hand. The MRVN was knelt down in front of you, animating the bleeding out effect, which only made your hands that much shakier. “I can’t...they’re gonna die…”

Lifeline shook her head and put a firm, yet comforting hand on your shoulder. “They won’t if yuh help ‘em. Remember what I told yuh to do?”

You frowned and met her eyes again, but she wasn’t backing off. So, you didn’t have a choice but to get close to the robot and help them onto their back. That was the first step. Then, you made sure that their arms were extended out by their sides to jab them with the serum. You hesitated; wouldn’t that hurt them?

Probably less than dying would. You thought, flinching a little bit when the combat medic squeezed your shoulder, urging you on. You pursed your lips and brought your hand down in one swift motion to inject the serum. At first, the MRVN flinched and reeled forward, but then they were able to grab your hand and stand up. Once they were on their feet, MRVN’s monitor flashed a smiley face, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

Lifeline smiled and nudged your arm. “See, what’d I tell ya, (y/n)? Yuh a natural doctor yuhself.” She complimented. She handed the MRVN her healing drone and a shield battery. Then, she looked at you again, her gaze serious. “I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ya gonna see a lot of bumps and scrapes once ya in the games. Even hesitatin’ for a second can determine whether ya get ya squad up or not.” She said, standing in front of you with her hands on her hips. “So you gotta get used to lookin’ at it.”

You sighed, shoulders slouching. “I know,” You admitted while rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ll get better at this.”

Lifeline scoffed. “‘Course ya are,” She answered matter-of-factly, making you arch a brow. When looked up, she was already handing you another syringe. “We gon’ keep practicing until ya feel comfortable.”

And that’s what you did. Ajay stayed by your side while you practiced reviving MRVNS. Over time, you felt more confident and got the robots to their feet more quickly. You gave the medic a huge smile, making her chuckle, but then she gestured to the robot in front of you. You looked at the MRVN, holding the syringe in a better grip, and moved to jab their arm. Well, that was until a loud guitar rift startled you, making you stick the syringe into the robot’s optic instead. The MRVN’s monitor flashed an exclamation point and you yelped, trying to correct the mistake.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

Lifeline held up her hand and shook her head, sending her D.O.C. over to revive the robot instead. Then she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I swear, one of these days, Silva…”

You looked at her curiously and cocked your head to the side. “Who?” You asked. Although you had an inkling about who she was talking about, you’d never learned the Legend’s real name. He wasn’t an easy man to get a hold of.

“Octavio Silva. But ya might know him better as Octane,” Ajay explained, having to raise her voice over the music. “Boy’s gon lose his hearin’, playin’ music that loud.”

The MRVN handed the syringe back to you, and you gave it back to the medic. You had to admit, the music was really loud. You wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of the Outlands could hear it. “I can ask him to turn it down,” You offered, putting your hands in your pockets. “That way we can continue with the lesson.”

Lifeline chuckled and shook her head. “O’s as stubborn as it gets, but if ya want to try, go ahead.” She said, nodding in the direction of his room. An idea came to her just before you could leave the medbay, and she called your name, making you turn around. “(Y/N), in case he refuses to turn it down, there’s somethin’ ya can do…”

What Ajay told you made you grin, and that grin stuck even as you approached the speedster’s door. Who knew that the fastest, most daring Legend in the Apex Games was ticklish? Welp, you did, now! You knocked on the door, not really expecting a response, but you thought it’d be polite to do it anyway. Octavio never came, most likely from not hearing it, so you let yourself in. You flinched, the sounds hitting you like tidal waves, which made you cover up your ears. In the center of the room, the adrenaline junkie was hopping from jump pad to jump pad, practicing trick shots in time with the music. You cleared your throat and called out to him.

“Octavio? Octavio!”

No luck. You rolled your eyes and walked towards him. That mischievous grin tugged at the corner of your lips as you got close, but you’d need to wait for him to land before you could get him. After another bounce, he landed back on the floor, which gave you the opportunity to tweak his side. Octane cried out and jumped away from the sudden touch. He whirled around and faced you, holding his arm against his side.

“Uh...hola? You need something?”

Since he wasn’t wearing his mask, you could read his lips, but you’d prefer to hear him. You pointed to your ears and shook your head. Octane obliged by turning his speakers’ volume down a tiny bit.

“Make it quick, I gotta get these clips uploaded so I can edit them.” Octane urged. He turned off the camera on his desk and turned to you again. His eyebrows rose. “Wait, we’ve met before. You’re new around here, right?”

You nodded, raising your voice a bit since the music was still loud. “Yeah, I’m (Y/N). We spoke a few times on the dropship.”

“Right! Well, I’m kinda in the middle of something, so we’ll have to hang out later.” Octavio chuckled, cranking his speakers back up to full volume. You flinched and hurried beside him to turn it back down.

His head snapped over to you and he grabbed the speaker. “What’re you doing?” He exclaimed, holding it just out of your reach. You huffed and tried to take it back from him. Octane, however, was much taller than you.

“It’s too loud, Octavio! Can’t you just turn it down a little--”

“Psh, no! I’m listening to this.”

You groaned and hopped up towards the speaker, missing it by inches. “Half of the ship is listening to it! Just turn it down, please?” You insisted. Instead of complying, Octane put the speaker on a shelf that was far out of your reach, and you weren’t skilled on using his jump pads yet. You narrowed your eyes and poked his side again, making him gasp.

“I’ll turn it down in a sehehecond!” He snapped, making a poor attempt at stifling his chuckles. You poked him again, making him yelp and make a grab for your hands, which you dodged by jabbing him in the stomach instead. “Stohop! Why ahare you poking me?”

You smiled and held out your hands, wiggling your fingers tauntingly. “Because Ajay told me that you weren’t gonna turn it down, and that I can tickle you if you refuse!” You chirped. Your smile turned into a cheeky grin when the speedster wrapped an arm against his torso, which only encouraged you to get closer. “So let me ask you again, Octavio, will you turn the music down?” You arched an expectant brow at him and managed to back him into a corner. The speedster shook his head, poised to defend himself.

“NooOOOO---”

That’s all you needed to hear to lunge at him. He managed to catch you and hold you by the arms before you could knock him over. You, however, had combat training with Anita earlier in the day, and you put that training to good use. You stuck your leg out and hooked it around his, pulling it towards you. This made him lose his balance and fall like a sack of potatoes. You cheered victoriously, shaking his hands off, and worked to get his arms pinned down.

Octavio grunted and pushed your shoulders, unknowingly freeing up the sweet spot that Lifeline mentioned. “Stop! Seriously, I have things to doOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NO! GEHEHET OHOHOHFF!”

You’d buried your hands underneath his arms and wiggled your nails along his armpits. He slammed his arms against his sides and burst out laughing. Now, you weren’t sure which was louder: him, or the music.

“I know you have stuff to do!” You laughed, drilling your nails into the center of the armpits. He responded by arching his back and letting out another scream of laughter. “At the top of your list should be turning down the music...right?”

“I’M NOHOHOHT TUHUHURNING IHIHT DOHOHOHWN!” The speedster fired back. He hugged his arms even tighter against his sides when you tickled at an even faster pace. He even made the attempt to buck you off, but you were straddling his waist, and just had to lean forward to counter his weight. You narrowed your eyes and opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted by something thumping at your waist. You looked down at your belt and beamed; you still had some medical tape on you, courtesy of Lifeline. Your hands were trapped by his arms though, and you only had one way to free them.

In one swift motion, you ducked down and blew a raspberry into Octavio’s exposed stomach. He writhed against the floor, laughing even harder, but he still didn’t loosen his hold on your hands.

“AAAH! STAAHAHAHAHAHAP! DOHOHOHOHN’T TIHIHICKLE MEHEHEHE!” He demanded through his fits of laughter. He squealed when you blew another one, just above his belly button, and bucked his hips repeatedly. “DOHOHOHOHOHN’T!”

“Huh?” You glanced up at him and cocked your head to the side. He panted heavily, a grin still etched onto his face, which only made you smirk. “Sorry, I missed what you said. What don’t you want me to do?”

The speedster was still plagued by giggles and had to reel them in before answering you. “I sahahaid stohohop tihihickling mEEEEE--”

Instead of letting him finish, you took a deep breath and blew a huge raspberry over his belly button. Octane bucked violently and shrieked, the wild laughter immediately following suit.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

His laughter was contagious and you found yourself laughing along with him. “Oh, were you still talking?” You teased, wiggling your trapped fingers back against his armpits. He cried out with laughter and kicked his metal legs against the floor, prompting you to tickle even faster. Finally, he released your hands during another attempt to push you away. Then, like clockwork, you seized his wrists with one hand and held them above his head. He yelped and squirmed, protesting the entire time, but his fate was sealed...literally. You’d managed to tape his wrists down on the floor and clapped your hands together.

“There, that’s better!” You smiled, putting your hands out in front of you. You wiggled your fingers again and snickered when he paled. “Now, where were we?”

For someone used to moving at trailblazing speeds, everything happened so fast for Octavio. One minute, he’s vibing with his music and jump pads, and now he’s pinned on the floor, laughing his head off? You’d already confirmed that all of this was basically Lifeline’s doing, and she was well overdue for some good ole revenge.

Hermana, you are so dead. He seethed, snapping out of his thoughts when your hands lowered towards his armpits. He panicked; now wasn’t the time for plotting. He had to get away!

“No, no, no! Wait, (Y/N)! Dohohon’t tickle my armpits, plehehease!” He pleaded, preemptively giggling and trying to curl in on himself. You grinned and held your hands so that they were just touching his armpits, sending ticklish jolts up and down his arms. “I juhst wahahant to listen tohoho my music!”

“I never said you couldn’t! I just need you to turn it down.” You repeated, pressing your fingertips into the exposed pits. He squealed and arched his back as high as he could, making you laugh again. “You gonna do it or what?”

Octavio blabbered out something, attempting to bargain with you, but that’s not what you were there for. You tsked and gently scritched circles around each armpit. As much as you wanted to dig into them, you wanted to drag this out as long as possible. The speedster snorted, giggling uncontrollably, and uselessly pulled against the tape.

“Ahahahahaha! Nohohoho, por fahahavor!” He yelped, bucking his hips when you poked at the center of the armpits. You squealed, almost losing your balance, but then you sat back on his waist and continued the gentle scratching. “Lehehet mehehe lihihisten to my music!”

“Will you turn it down?”

Octane’s head snapped up to you; you were stubborn. If he wasn’t giggling up a storm, he’d tease you about Ajay rubbing off on you already. He shook his head and yelped again when you grabbed his sides. You pinched them, making the poor man yip and snicker, and earned a bark of laughter when you stroked along his rib cage.

“Iiii—heheheheh--nohohoho I wohohon’t!”

“Wrong answer~.” You sang, swiping your nails against each sensitive rib. He arched his back, swearing in Spanish, only to fall back down and continue giggling.

“Stahahahahahahap!” He whined, tossing his torso from one side to the other, which didn’t do anything to stop you. You ignored the plea and scratched up higher, teasing his center most ribs, which made him gasp and kick. “AH! Noohohoho nohohoho, nohohot thehehere!”

“Not where?” You asked innocently, opting to poke at the ribs on either side. You alternated the pokes to keep him guessing and giggled at his high pitched squeaks.

“THEHEHERE!” He yelled when you suddenly honed in on his ribs and scribbled along them like there was no tomorrow. He tried to flip onto his side, buck you off, anything to get you to stop tickling. But you easily kept up with all of those fruitless attempts. “AHAHAHAH!”

You smirked, pressing your fingertips into the spot. You drew little circles into his skin, laughing when he threw his head back. “Here?” You repeated, fluttering the tickles from one side of his rib cage to the other. He nodded frantically, drowning in desperate giggles, but you pressed on.

“Oh,” You continued, still smirking. “Cause I was sure you meant here…”

You walked your fingers up towards his armpits at a slow, slooow, pace. Octavio jolted and squirmed violently, his protests lost in his laughter, and his wrists straining against the tape’s hold. He was basically cackling by the time you got to where his armpits started, but you didn’t attack yet. You just held your hands there, snickering at the panicked laughter pouring out of him already.

“What’re you laughing for?” You grinned, flexing your fingers, but still not moving. Octavio screamed, arching his back, only to fall victim to another fit of giggles.

“Plehehehehease…” He begged. He held his arms rigidly and met your eyes, which just made you smile more.

“Please what? I’m not doing anything, Octavio.”

He groaned and opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. Instead of attacking both armpits, you only attacked his right one, while your free hand scratched at his sensitive stomach. Octavio’s eyes bugged out and his desperate giggles spiked to loud, hard laughter.

“NOO--AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAHAHAHAHAHAY!”

You perked up while dragging a finger around his belly button. He screamed again and thumped his head against the ground, wildly shaking his head. “Okay?” You repeated, dipping your finger inside his belly button and scratching around. The wail of laughter initially startled you, but you kept on scratching anyway. “Okay what?”

“I’LL TUHUHUHRN IT DOHOHOHWN! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” He yelled. He sucked in his stomach and drummed his legs back against the floor the more you kept scratching. You grinned, feeling triumphant...but you were having too much fun to stop!

“Yeah? You promise?” You chuckled, jabbing a finger into his right armpit while you continued to tickle his belly button. He flinched and nodded over and over, finally falling into hysterics, and then silent laughter when you dug into both armpits. You slowed down the tickling to give him the opportunity to breathe.

“Y-Yehehehes...I prohohohmise…” He panted. You didn’t notice that the tape holding his wrists down was coming undone, so you felt perfectly comfortable in pushing your luck. You took your hands off of him and brought a hand up to your chin, pretending to think.

“Hmm, alright, Octavio. I guess that’s good enough,” You began, putting your hands down at either side of him. Octane breathed a sigh of relief, believing that you were about to climb off of his waist, but you pinched his hip bones instead. He gasped and reeled to the side, but then you did it again, and again, and again, until he was snickering all over again.

“Hehehehehy! Whyhyhy ahahahre yohuhuh--” The speedster yelped when you used all ten fingers to tickle his belly. He cackled, but hadn’t fully recovered yet, so he didn’t have as much energy to squirm. “WHYHYHYHY TIHIHIHCKLE MEHEHE AGAHAHAIN?!”

“Because it’s fun!” You laughed, ducking down to blow another raspberry over his belly button. Octavio howled and laughed even harder. “Haha, Ajay was right. You are way too ticklish for your own good.”

Now he had two people to get revenge on. And, through a stroke of luck, he was about to serve you your just desserts. Why?

Because when he arched his back to try to get you off of his stomach, the tape split with a resounding riiiiip. You froze, looking up towards the sound, and gasped loudly.

“Oh shit--”

Octavio having his hands freed gave him a burst of energy, and he used that energy to take you down. He sat up and grabbed your arms, making you swear again, and you pushed your shoulder into his chest.

“No! No no, truce! AHHH--!”

Octane far outmatched you in terms of strength, and he easily wrestled you to the ground. He pinned your arms underneath his legs and immediately went for your sides.

“Oho, not funny anymore, is it?” The speedster ridiculed, his wiggling fingers a blur as he scratched up and down your sides. You let out a screaming laugh and tried to sit up, but he was too heavy.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” You hollered, arching your back when he reached under your shirt and scritched at your bare stomach. “AHAHAHA! STOHOHP! I WAHAHAHS KIHIHIHIHDDING!”

Octavio scoffed and used one of his hands to dig into your left hip, continuing to tickle your belly. “Well, I’m not! I’ll show you what happens when you tickle me, amigo/a!” He quipped, snickering when you threw your torso against the ground. He kept switching spots at an alarmingly fast pace: your stomach, hips, sides, even knees. It didn’t give you a chance to resist the sensation and kept you guessing as to where he’d strike next...which proved to be pretty difficult.

“OCTAHAHAHAVIO!” You shouted, the panic dropping on you when he honed in on two of your worst spots: your knees and your stomach. You shrieked and kicked your legs against the floor, which was annoying him, so he opted for laying over your legs to hold them down. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHRRY!”

“Stop? Me?” The speedster snorted and alternated the squeezing along your knees. You howled with laughter and desperately pulled at your trapped wrists, but he wouldn’t budge. “Haven’t you heard, (Y/N)? There’s no breaks on the Octrain!”

When he reached under your knees to tickle the skin there, your laughter was louder than anything coming out of the stereo. Since your left knee seemed more sensitive than the right, he focused on that one exclusively, and reached behind him to poke at your stomach. It tickled so bad, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. So, as a last resort, you decided to cry out for your mentor.

“AJAHAHAHAHY!” You shrieked, jerking to the side when he pinched at the top of your knees. “I NEHEHEED HEHEHEHLP!”

Octane cringed and stopped tickling you, glancing at the door. He half expected the doctor to be standing there, waiting to pounce, but she wasn’t. You breathed heavily and laid your head back on the ground, grateful for the distraction. While he wasn’t paying attention to you, you tested the grip he had on your arms, and were surprised to find that you could move them slightly. You took a breath and managed to pull one of them free before the speedster turned back to you. Without a second thought, you squeezed his side, making him yelp and topple over.

“AH! Noohohoho yohuhu dohohohn’t!” He laughed and gripped the free arm, forgetting about the other one until you pulled it free. You poked his ribs and hopped back on him, drawing out the tickle fight that much longer. Ajay could hear the commotion from the medbay, but all she did was smile and prepare for your next lesson.

I hope this was to your liking anon! This was my first reader insert fic. Please let me know with you think. If you don't like it, I can try to rewrite it.

#apex legends #apex legends tickle fic #octane #octane apex legends #octavio silva #ticklish!octavio #ticklish!octaviosilva #ticklish!silva #ticklish!reader #lifeline apex legends #lifeline #ajay che #ticklish!octane #apex legends x reader #octane x reader #octavio silva x reader

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i-need-entertainment · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu!! Boys as Bad Dad moments

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou and Numai

**These are ways they “failed” as fathers. I am not talking about ACTUALLY failing as fathers, just things dads have done that most of us either remember/get told about NOT TO BE TAKEN S E R I O U S L Y it is just for f u n I also gave them all at least 2 kids cause SibLiNgS**

A ‘*’ means it happened to me lol

TW- Mentions of giving too much medicine, accidental pain caused to child, these are things I either experienced/knew people who experienced them, allusion to cursing/a FEW bad words (but I substitute a letter for something else :)

*Akaashi Keiji:

He had been working in his office when his son had come in.

You had been putting your newborn to sleep for a nap when your son decided he wanted to be with his dad.

His son was only 3, so when Akaashi was held up in his office editing his son, Kenji, would sometimes come in and plop himself in Akaashi’s lap.

His sons small feel padded on the floor while he made his way to his father, softly tugging on his pants as he stuck his arms up.

Akaashi smiled and softly chuckled before gently picking up his son from under his arms and placing him on his lap.

He got to work soon after, reading and revising the pages.

Other than having his son on his lap it wasn’t unusual for him to be drinking coffee while working.

Keep in mind, your son had inherited a lot from Akaashi, and not just his looks or personality.

But also his habits.

Because of this, your son was very fidgety, usually toying with a string or your fingers.

That meant he tended to move around a lot.

Akaashi had just lifted his not-so-cold coffee to his lips when his son had made a sudden movement, causing him to knock his arm and, “AHH” Akaashi’s eyes snapped open as his son started crying, cursing under his breath he stood up gently holding his son in his arms as he carried him to the bathroom.

Sitting him down on the counter he dried the coffee off of his son, luckily it hadn’t been hot enough to burn him, but it was still hot enough to hurt.

“What happened? I heard crying, is he okay?” Akaashi sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, he’s okay, he bumped my arm and I spilled my coffee on him. He’s okay! It didn’t burn him, but it did hurt...” Your frowned as you stood in front of your son, giving him a soft smile before kissing his arm, cause kisses always make it feel better~

You carefully picked him up from the counter, rocking him slowly side to side as he burrowed into your shoulder.

“Are you okay little man~” He nodded as he sniffled into your shoulder, little hands clutching onto the fabric of your t-shirt.

“You know daddy didn’t mean it, it was an accident.” He nodded again, lifting his head to rub his eyes and reach out for his dad.

Akaashi gave a wobbly smile before reaching over to grab him, kissing the top of his head as he carried him back to his office, making sure to have some iced coffee instead.

Washio Tatsuki:

This would be the first time Washio was left alone with the twins.

5 months ago, you and your husband had had your first children, your adorable fraternal twins Natsuki and Tatsuo.

Today would be the first day you would be away from them, but with your mother being sick and you being the only one available to take care of her you had to go.

You weren’t too worried about your husband, he was already a good dad so you had no doubt they were in good hands.

But it was never an enjoyable experience to have to leave your kids, especially your babies, and for the first time.

So, you decided to leave early in the morning, give them their good morning kisses and head over to your parents house.

Before you left you changed their diapers, letting them play in their little play pen while your husband tried to get up.

Rubbing his eyes Washio walked into the play room.

He had to go to the gym today for a meeting, fortunately EJP had a really good daycare system in the stadium, so he could leave his kids there while he attended the short meeting.

He stopped in his tracks as his face blanched and he felt his breath stop.

You had changed the twins’ diapers...but you hadn’t dressed them.

The twins were still young, so without looking at their, uh, biological differences you couldn’t tell them apart....

Now, usually when this happened you guys would just check the diapers, but you had just done them..

And he was already running a bit late.

So, he made his best guess, got them dressed (one in pink, the other in blue), fed and in the car driving them to the stadium.

Once he got there he quickly dropped them off, rushing to his meeting.

The meeting had been fairly simple, just some pre-season info he’d need.

After chatting with his coach/teammates, and stopping Suna and Komori from pulling a prank, he made his way back to the daycare.

He walked into the building when one of the younger care takers, Yui, walked up to him, One twin in each arm.

He smiled as he carefully put them into their carriers.

“Uhm, just a question...” He looked up to her and motioned for her to continue.

“...Were you aware that Tatsuo was wearing the dress?” Washio sighed as he ran a hand down his face shaking his head. Yui light heartedly smiled, “Don’t worry, we switched them.” Thanking them, he picked up his babies and went home.

He was not prepared for the way you cackled when he told you what happened.

*Konoha Akinori:

You had gone away for a business trip, leaving your husband Konoha home with your 3 kids. (You guys have 2 girls and a boy)

Your middlest child, your son Akira, had recently come down with a cold making the poor thing miserable when he tried to sleep.

Being the good dad that he is, he gave his son some benadryl!

The next morning he woke up, and after letting his kids sleep in for a little bit he woke them up too.

...two of them.

He tried several times to get his son to leave his bed, but the little kid couldn’t so much as swing one foot over the side of his bed with out falling asleep again.

He didn’t think too much of it, the kid had a cold after all.

So he let him sleep for another hour or so before making him get up for real.

A day later you got home, and everything was pretty much normal.

Until you went to put your son to bed, and realized he had crashed on the couch.

“...Uhm, Akinori?” Your husband lifted his head at your voice, setting the dishes in the sink and drying his hands with a towel as he made his way over to you.

“Yeah babe?” You took a look over towards your son before looking back to your husband.

“...Has Akira been like that all weekend?” Konoha ran his hand through his hair as he sighed. “No, only since Saturday. He wasn’t feeling good so I gave him some benadryl, he’s been dead to the world since.” You slowly nodded.

“Uhm, Akinori?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “How much benadryl did you give him?”

He left to grab the box, coming back with it in his hand as he continued to look at it.

He shook his head in confusion. “I gave him the amount the box said, 1 teasp-”- He paused.

Uh oh.

He in fact, had not given his son a teaspoon of benadryl.

He had given him a tablespoon.

*Kita Shinsuke:

You had to leave early one morning for a doctors appointment; you were pregnant with you and Kita’s second child.

Usually for these appointments Kita’s grandmother would watch your 3 year old daughter Kyoka.

But she had something to do that morning so Kita was the one responsible for getting her ready for preschool.

Kita was a good father so you weren’t worried.

You knew she would be put together, fed, and on time.

There was just one thing you couldn’t account for.

“Daddy?” Kita looked away from the mirror he was shaving in and down to his daughter, washing away the traces of shaving cream. “Yes sweetheart?”

She held out her small hand, 2 bright pink hair ties with little butterfly charms on them held out in her palm.

“Can you do my piggy tails please?” His eyes widened.

He hadn’t done hair...like...ever.

But from the puppy eyes his little princess was giving him, how could he not do it?!

Plus, it couldn’t be that hard...right? I mean, he had watched you do it plenty of times, and it was pretty straight forward.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed he had her stand on the ground in front of him.

He grabbed her brush and put the two hair ties she had given him on his wrist.

He brushed her hair and parted it as evenly as he could, trying to be gentle in the process.

Now time for the pig tails..

He pulled her hair back, trying to make it tight to it would stay.

...But he might have made it a little too tight.

He turned her around and realized he had made them way too tight.

Not only did her hair look like he had slicked it back with x4 strength hair gel, but it was so tight that her eyebrows had been stuck way up on her forehead.

He was quick to turn her back around, loosening the hair ties so she looks like a 3 year old again.

His face turned undeniably red as he told you what happened later that night, you light heartedly laughing at his misfortune.

Suna Rintaro:

Suna had just gotten out of practice, and now he was on the way to his kids school.

You and Suna had 4 kids, 2 boys and 2 girls.

The youngest 2 had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day, which you had taken them too. Meaning Suna needed to pick the older 2 up from elementary school.

He had been listening to music, his music to be specific.

He had pulled into the parking lot, changing the playlist to a kid friendly one right before his children got in the car.

After they had told him about their days, and he had told about his, he switched back on the music.

It had been fine for a song.

Until he realized that he had a few songs qued.

The fun little song had just ended when the bass dropped, the color draining from his face as soon as the song started.

The mentioned song being “Big Bank” by YG, 2 Chainz, Big Sean and Nicki Minaj of course~.

He was quick to turn the radio off, waiting until he could pull over, empty the que, and turn on kid friendly music.

He told the kids to ‘forget what they heard’ and he continued on his drive home.

Now, you’ve got to remember, his daughter is in kindergarten and his son is in 2nd grade, so they’re still kind of at that “monkey see, monkey do” age range.

Or rather, “monkey hear, monkey repeat.”

He thought it was gonna be okay, they were good kids so he figured telling them to forget they even heard it, they would let it go.

There was just one thing about his children that he didn’t account for.

As obedient and well behaved as his children were, they were also very curious.

That night at dinner they had all been sat down at the table, eating dinner and talking about their days.

You had been feeding your infant son while Suna had been watching the 3 year old, the other 2 older children happily eating their food. Until...

“Hey mommy?” You looked at your daughter with a smile, “Yes baby?” She continued to eat her dinner, “What’s a b!tch?” Your eyes widened as your husband choked on his food, your baby laughing at the scene before him.

Hitting his chest and taking a sip of water Suna tried to catch his breath.

“Nezuko we don’t say that, where did you hear that?!” She tilted her head as she looked at you confused before turning to look at Suna, pointing a small finger at him.

“It was on the radio, daddy told us to ‘forget’ but I didn’t know what it meant...What does it mean?” You sent a glare towards your husband as you sighed.

After explaining to your daughter why it was bad to say those things and not to repeat everything she heard you cleaned up your kids and put them to bed.

...You had quite the conversation with your husband later that night.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

Ushijima had been on grocery duty this week since you had a meeting with a friend.

He had the Friday off, and since you weren’t home he took the kids with him.

Now, I would like you to know that you guys have 6 kids. S I X.

Growing up with no siblings and divorced parents, Ushijima wanted to make sure none of his kids were lonely.

Originally you guys had two, each kid had a buddy.

...but then you had a third, and you couldn’t just leave him alone...

so you had another...then another...

And now you guys have 6. But it’s okay cause you both love kids anyway~

He was doing his best, he truly was. He had his 2 youngest sitting in the little seat by the handle bar, 2 kids in the basket, 1 hanging onto the side and the oldest walking alongside him.

When they got to check out he had to take one of the kids out of the basket, so he opted for his 3rd oldest, his son Kazue, figuring he was older so it’d be a-okay.

He checked out his extensive amount of groceries before loading them up into his car, and his kids.

He pulled out of the grocery store parking lot and got on the road, his kids singing along to the radio and chatting amongst themselves.

They had been driving for 6 minutes when his oldest child, Ren, spoke up. “Uh, dad?” He hummed, briefly checking the rear view mirror before returning his gaze to the road. “When are we going back to get Kazue?” His face lost all color as his eyes widened.

As swiftly and safely as he could he pulled over to the side of the road, whipping around in his seat to take a head count. ‘1..2..3..4..5...oh sh-’ Turning back around he got back onto the road, taking the nearest u-turn and rushing back to the store.

Unbuckling his kids from their carseats he hurried them back into the store, his oldest holding the 2nd borns hand, as he held all 3 of the younger ones in his arms.

He frantically entered the store, almost collapsing with relief when he saw his son sat at the customer service desk with the security guard, eating a lollipop before smiling when he saw his dad come to pick him up.

After giving proof that yes, he was his father, he took all of his kids back home after getting them some ice cream.

...this would be one conversation he was not excited to have with you....

Yahaba Shigeru:

Yahaba and his 2 sons had been hanging out in the living room while you finished making some snacks in the kitchen.

Yahaba had been trying to set up a DVD player, you guys were going to watch some home-videos from your high school days but they were all on CD.

So, after borrowing one from his parents house, he set out to hook it up to the TV.

...Which was proving much more difficult then he first anticipated.

His two boys, Itsuki (6) and Hayato (8) were in there with him, ‘helping’ as they had called it.

Yahaba groaned as he sat back, a hand ruffling through his hair as he racked his brain to think of the problem.

You had finished preparing everything so you came in, with the food, and set it down on the coffee table.

You came up behind your husband, kneeling down behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders.

“How’s it going?” He sighed, leaning back into you.

“Well, I think I know what I need to do, I’m going to have to stick my hand back there though. Hey Hayato, can you help me out buddy?” The 8 year old excitedly nodded.

“Great, I need you to hold this flashlight here, hold it steady okay?” Hayato nodded with a ‘Yup!’ before Yahaba laid down on his side, maneuvering to where he could see the back of the TV.

All had been going well, he had just got it hooked up, and after having you test it, it worked!

He tried to get himself out from behind the TV, until a sharp edge caught his finger.

“Sh!t!” Your eyes widened, “Shigeru!” He hadn’t realized his slip up until he was out from behind the TV, faced directly with your glare.

“Kids, don’t say that.” His youngest blinked at him. “But why?”.

Kneeling down in front of him Yahaba tried to explain, but it was a little hard when you were glaring holes into the back of his head and his oldest was giggling at the situation.

*Iwaizumi Hajime:

It was a weekend in summer vacation, and you and your husband were both off work.

This meant, you guys got a whole day to spend with your 3 boys, and one of the things you guys loved to do as a family was play games.

On this particular afternoon, your sons had chosen to play twister.

You were a little skeptical because you had 3 competitive, rambunctious boys.

And an equally competitive rambunctious husband.

But after getting 4 identical pouts you couldn’t say no...

But, you elected to be the spinner. (..for your own safety)

“Left hand, green.” This put your middlest son in quite the predicament.

The only space available was the Green directly by his fathers hand, meaning he’d have to crawl under Iwaizumi.

“Okay Hajime, right hand, yellow.” Iwaizumi grimaced as he tried to reach it.

This wasn’t good, the mat was slick, his hands were sweating-

“oOf” Before he could catch himself he had completely lost his balance, landing right on his son.

You gasped in horror as you saw the life get squeezed out of your 5 year old, scrambling from where you sat to check on your now pancaked son.

“...Hiro..are you okay..?”

His small head shot up with a “I’m okay!” Before he, albeit wearily, stood up brushing off his godzilla t-shirt before continuing on with his life.

You took a deep breath as you sat back down, flashing a warning look towards your husband who sheepishly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

And after checking that yes, your son really was okay, you guys continued on with some...safer games.

Futakuchi Kenji:

You had left for a weekend visit to see your parents in your hometown, leaving your husband and Your 3 girls alone.

It was a friday night, so after having a less than healthy dinner, ice cream and a fair amount of other sweets, Futakuchi figured a movie before bed would be a good way to finish off the night.

He scrolled through netflix trying to find a movie he could watch with his girls.

“Daddy, can we watch snow white?!” Futakuchi looked down at his oldest, Hayami, before he shrugged. “Sure.”

He may be a guy, but he was not above watching princess movies if it meant his babies were happy. Besides, it was a disney movie, what bad could be in it!

Everything was going swell, until the witch showed up.

He felt the sick feeling of dread in his stomach as soon as he felt his middlest curl in tight to his side, his youngest hopping off of the couch and climbing into his lap.

...Disney SHOULD have been a safe bet, but with the way his 3 girls were clinging onto him for dear life, he probably should have previewed it first..

That night he put them to bed, reading them a quick story before giving them each a kiss on their forehead and tucking them into bed.

15 minutes.

15 minutes of almost sleep when he heard you guys’ bedroom door creak open, 3 sets of little feet pad over to his side of the bed.

“...daddy..?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he opened them, brown eyes meeting the teary ones of his 3 children as they stood there. Speaking in as soft of a voice as he could he tried not to sound as tired as he knew he was.

“What is it munchkin?” His daughters all fidgeted where they stood, fiddling with the hems of their princess night gowns as they stood there.

“...We’re scared...can we sleep with you..?” Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get them to sleep like you could, and being incredibly tired himself he moved to the side, opening the covers and making room for all 3 of his princesses.

...This was going to be a long night for him..

Daishou Suguru:

Daishou had been playing outside with his kids, his 2 year old son Kento and his 5 year old daughter Shizuko.

His son was sat on his shoulders, one of Daishou’s hands wrapped firmly around the boys ankles while the other pushed his daughter on the swing.

You had been inside getting dinner ready while they had been outside; smiling fondly at the smiles that were plastered on their faces.

When dinner had finished you walked to the sliding glass door, opening it and calling to them. “Dinners ready! Come inside and wash up so we can eat.” Your daughter and husband replied with ‘okay!’ as you went back to get plates.

Slowing down the swing Daishou brought it to a stop so Skizuko could safely get off.

In all honesty, he was a good dad.

He was very mindful of his children and their surroundings, so they didn’t get hurt too often.

He was also very careful not to accidentally hurt them.

But accidents happen.

Walking to the back door, he, somehow either forgot or the thought didn’t register in his mind that his son was still perched on his shoulders.

He didn’t remember until a loud *whack!* was heard, and his sons cries sounded above him.

..He had tried going inside, through the door, with his son on his shoulders.

Bringing him down from his shoulders he quickly brought him inside to set him down on the counter, you almost screaming when you saw the bruise forming on his little forehead.

“Ah-wha-how- SUGURU! What happened?!”

Groaning Daishou gently put a small ice pack on his sons head, “...He whacked his head on the door frame...” You looked at him, “And how did he do that?”

Daishou sighed as he looked down, grimacing at the purple mark already present on his sons head.

...For the next few nights the couch became a good friend of his.

Numai Kazuma:

Today was your son, Kazuya’s birthday. Today he would be turning 1.

Kazuya was the first, and so far only child you had with your husband of 3 years Kazuma Numai.

You and Numai were still learning how to be parents, and it had been an interesting journey to say the least, but you guys were doing good!

Your relatives and friends had just left, leaving you, Kazuma and your son.

It was pretty late so you started cleaning up in the kitchen and Numai started in the living room.

Kazuya had been pretty fussy, you both figuring he was tired, but when you tried to put him to sleep he wouldn’t even close his eyes.

So, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way Numai held Kazuya as he was cleaning.

Things had been going just fine before Kazuya had reached out to grab at something on a nearby book shelf, causing the book shelf to start tipping over.

At that moment the only thing going through Numai’s mind was ‘stop the book shelf’, because at the moment, getting his son and him crushed by a bookshelf seemed like a very bad thing.

But what he hadn’t thought of was the fact that reflexively he had used both of his arms to stop said shelf (which didn’t even fall), the same two arms that had been holding his- “WAAAHH”

His eyes snapped down to the BABY he had just let go of, now crying on the floor.

You rushed into the living room, seeing your husband now cradling your still crying son, whispering apologies into his hair as he kissed the top of his head.

“Kazuma what happened?”

He avoided eye contact.

“...Kazuma...” Looking down he spoke.

“...I dropped him...”

...

“...you what?”

#akaashi x reader #washio x reader #konoha x reader #kita x reader #suna x reader #ushijima x reader #yahaba x reader #iwaizumi x reader #futakuchi x reader #daishou x reader #numai x reader #hq headcanons #hq imagines #Haikyuu!!#haikyuufanfiction #haikyu x reader

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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

Text

No Weakness [Spencer Reid]

masterlist

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

type - fluff, lil angst

request / note - “where the reader is new to BAU and they see dead body first time, and it kinda bothers them. and spencer noticed it, even when the reader tries they best no show it (bc they’re scared it makes the look like they’re weak) so when they’re just two of them spencer tries to make them feel better and tells them its okay and it does not make them weak.” this was so fun to write, ahhh! thank you @avrilstaro for requesting <3 *not edited lol oops*

summary - you’re embarrassed after freaking out from seeing a dead body, but spencer assures you that it’s okay

warnings / includes - descriptions of mutilated body, small description of case (child kidnapper case for this fic), crying, anxiety, nausea, little fighting, food mention. you and spencer are dating in this

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“I can’t believe I didn’t get to sleep in,” you mumbled, throwing your purse down on your desk rather roughly.

“Not like you would’ve anyways. Ariel was meowing for you five minutes before we got called in,” Spencer stated.

“So? I would’ve fallen back asleep after,” you shrugged. “You would’ve stayed up all morning playing with her, babe,” Spencer chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do! You’ve done it every morning since we got her,” Spencer argued.

You scoffed, shaking your head at your boyfriend. You trudged over to the coffee machine, getting out a mug the size of a bowl and filling it to the brim. It was already your third cup of the day, and while it was probably unhealthy drinking that much coffee, you needed it. It was your first week on the job and you still weren’t used to waking up at five in the morning for a surprise case. This was your second case, though, so you weren’t very surprised that you were still tired. You knew you would get used to it as time went on, but you wished that your body and mind would adapt faster.

“You’re coming on the field today.” Emily nudged your arm with a file.

Your eyes widened and you sputtered out coffee, coughing to try and clear your throat. Emily chuckled, patting your back gently to help you. You set your coffee down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand once you got control of your breathing.

“W-What?” You asked, the words Emily said not processing in your brain.

“I said you’re coming onto the field today,” she repeated.

“B-But…” your trailed off, trying to find a reasonable explanation. “I-I wasn't supposed to be on the field for another week. I’m still technically in training.”

“Well, part of the training is going on the field. You’re an amazing agent in the office, L/n, but you'd be even better on the field. You’re able to sympathise with the unsubs and solve the puzzles faster than most of us can, sometimes faster than your boyfriend. You’ll help us a lot better out there than in here.”

You chuckled nervously, heat crawling up the back of your neck. “Thanks, Emily, but I’m not ready.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s what all the new agents say. You need to just get out there, and there’s no better time to do that then early in the game.”

“I guess,” you muttered, lifting your coffee cup and taking a sip.

“You’ll be fine, Y/n. I have no doubts,” Emily smiled.

“Thanks.” You have her a small smile. “No problem. And hey, don’t tell Spencer I said you’re better at the job than him,” she winked.

You laughed and nodded, “I won’t, I promise.”

She walked away, leaving you to lean against the counter and to drink the rest of your coffee before going to the briefing room.

“So, I heard that Newbie is finally coming along with us today!” Luke exclaimed.

“Newbie is your nickname, Newbie,” Penelope narrowed her eyes at Luke. Luke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you excited?”

You sat down in one of the chairs between to Luke and Matt. “Not really, if I”m being honest.”

“Oh, why? You’ll be great!” Matt smiled. “So everyone says,” you sighed.

“Hey, I heard you’re coming with us today. Can’t wait to have you on the field.” Spencer smiled as he walked past you.

“Yeah, I’m excited to outsmart you, too,” you smirked.

“Oh, Reid, looks like you have some competition!” Luke teased.

Spencer shook his head and looked at you through his lashes. You gave him a challenging look, leaning on the table.

“May the best agent win, Reid,” you dared.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Better have no weaknesses, L/n.”

“Oh, I have none,” you smirked. Spencer replied to you with a hum, giving you an excited smile before paying attention to the case.

Penelope and Emily delivered the case to you six, then leaving you all to pack up your things as you were going on the jet. You got out the small duffle bag of clothes you had in your car for traveling on cases, also grabbing your phone charger and the case files. You walked up onto the jet, placing your bags up over the overhead storage area. You got seated across from Tara and next to Spencer.

You all talked about your plans to catch the unsub and where you all were assigned to. Tara, you, and Spencer were going to go to the crime scene to scope out the area. Emily and JJ would stay at the police station and work there, while Matt and Luke did witness and suspect interviews.

You were sitting back in your chair, looking out the window and admiring the sky as the jet flew through the clouds. You still had an hour before you landed. Everyone was either sleeping or listening to music. You had thought about going back to sleep, but it seems as though the three cups of coffee you had finally kicked in.

You regretted drinking so much coffee because now, your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. You weren’t sure if it was totally because of the caffeine or that you were nervous about being on the field for the first time, but you assumed it was a little bit of both.

Spencer, who was seated next to you, noticed your jitteriness. He closed his book softly, setting it down on the floor next to his seat, turning to you and taking your hands in his.

Your head snapped to him quickly, your eyes landing on his. He gave you a soft smile, beginning to rub his thumb over your knuckles.

“You’ll do great out there, alright?” He assured.

You sighed, turning away from the window and to him. “What if the lead I find doesn’t work? What if I can’t figure out where the unsub has the kids? O-Or what if I embarrass myself in front of the police chief?”

Spencer chuckled softly at your concerns, making you frown.

“Don’t laugh! Hey, I bet you had all these concerns when you first joined.”

“I did,” he admitted. “But, I learned that I worked with a team. It’s not just me doing the work, just like it’s not just you. You have seven people working with you on this. Try and relax, baby, alright? You do amazing work at the office. This won’t be any different.”

You scoffed, “Please. It’s like, a million times different.”

“Just try and relax,” he instructed, putting your hand up to his lips.

You smiled widely, your heart fluttering as he kissed your hand.

“Plus, even if it was just you working the case, I have no doubt you would figure it out quickly.”

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled and leaned your head against the headrest.

“Of course. I love you,” he said, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Oh, gross. You guys know I just became newly single,” Tara scoffed.

You laughed and turned to her. “That was like, nine months ago.”

Tara raised her brows, looking at Matt and Spencer, and back at you. “You weren’t even here back then. How do you know this?”

“I just know things,” you winked. “Yeah, well I’m betting someone blabbed,” Tara grumbled.

“We would never,” Matt disagreed. “Mhm,” Tara hummed, going back onto her phone.

You smiled at you teammates and looked back at Spencer and putting your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes for a few moments, opening your eyes again. You blinked rapidly, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You rolled your head around, your eyes settling onto Spencer who was back to reading his book. You turned your head back to the window, furrowing your brows as you noticed you weren’t up in the sky anymore.

“Oh, good. You’re up,” Spencer spoke, putting his book away.

“Are we here already?” You asked, your voice croaky and hoarse.

“Yep,” he nodded. “We landed about ten minutes ago.”

“Oh,” you frowned, sitting up and getting out of your seat. You stretched your limbs, yawning once more as you held your hand up above your head. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You sighed.

“You’re just so peaceful when you sleep. I couldn’t,” he explained.

You smiled and went to get your luggage. “Thanks, Spence. But everyone is probably waiting for me now.”

“No, it’s alright. We can’t go and see the crime scene yet anyways.”

“How come?” You asked. “Not prepped for us,” Spencer answered.

“Since when does a crime scene need to be prepped for the FBI?” You snorted.

“You’d be surprised,” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle.

You put your duffle bag over your shoulders and handing Spencer his, holding your hand out for Spencer to take. “Join me down the stairs?”

“Of course,” he grinned, standing up and taking your hand into his and his bag.

You two walked off the jet, going over to the SUV. Spencer drove you two to the hotel where you dropped off your things, immediately going to the police station.

“ ‘Bout time!” Matt exclaimed, seeing you two walking through the doors.

You chuckled, “Sorry. Looks like the coffee wore off and I finally crashed.”

“It’s alright. I think the scene is ready for you guys to look at now,” he said.

“Great,” you smiled.

You and Spencer found Tara, going into the SUV once again, driving to the house where the parents were killed and children taken.

“Wow, I’ve never seen this much yellow tape in my life,” you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s definitely not an eye sore,” Tara chortled, stepping over the caution tape.

You and Spencer followed her, going up to the police offers that were talking at the front door.

“Hi, we’re FBI agent with the BAU. I’m Doctor Tara Lewis, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, and Agent Y/n L/n,” Tara introduced you all.

You smiled and shook the two officer’s hand. “Nice to meet you two.”

“Likewise. I’m Officer Santiago and this is Officer Reynolds. The parents were killed in two different places. The father in the bedroom, mother in the oldest child’s room.”

“Lovely. Can’t wait to see,” Tara smiled sarcastically.

“Oh, I bet. Go ahead and go in, let us know if you find anything, please,” Reynolds said.

You nodded and stepped into the house, cringing at the heavy smell of bleach.

“God. It’s like a hospital in here, but twenty times worse!” You held your nose. “I should’ve told Emily I needed to stay back with Penelope.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Spencer smirked. “Wait until you see where they all got killed.”

“Ew, Spence!” You shrieked. “You’re supposed to protect me from all that.”

He chuckled, “All part of the job, baby.”

You nodded and sighed, knowing that he was right. As always. You three walked up the stairs, looking at where the father was killed. There was an enormous amount of blood of the bedsheets and some on the corner of the right nightstand, some splatters that were below on the floor.

“So,” you started. “We’re looking at a team, right? I mean, there’s no way that the unsub could kill the father without the mom noticing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking’,” Tara nodded. “Well, I could be possible,” Spencer contradicted.

You and Tara looked at each other, confused.

“Yeah, how?” You asked.

“Well,” Spencer said, walking over to the bed. “The unsub could’ve choked or suffocated the father in his sleep. I mean, there were ligature marks around his neck, right?”

“True. And the mom was saying goodnight to her children, so she obviously didn’t see her husband get killed,” Tara added on.

You furrowed your brows, stepped out of the parents’s bedroom, going to the child’s.

“Yeah, but, what about the kid? I mean, wouldn’t it have screamed and fought and ran out of the house?” You asked.

Tara looked to you, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, that is a good thought. So… unsub number one is killing the father while unsub number two is kidnapping the mom slash killing the child…”

“No, that wouldn't work. Maybe it’s a group of three?” Spencer suggested.

“Maybe,” Tara shrugged.

You stepped into the child’s bedroom, scrunching your nose as a foul smell wafted under your nose. You walked around, covering your nose with your sleeve. You saw the blood on the bedsheets and nightstand table.

“Looks like the unsubs all have the same MO’s,” you muttered.

You opened the closet, seeing nothing but toys, clothes, and shoes. You closed the doors, looking around the walls, your heart sinking as you saw all the finger pantings and pictures of family and friends. You walked up to the wall, losing your balance as you tripped on a a long, soft object.

You let out a yelp, falling on your shoulder. You groaned in pain, turning on your back while holding your injured side. You looked around for the object you tripped on, frowning as you couldn’t find it. Something pale caught the corner of your eyes. You raised your brow, getting up on your knees and moving closer.

“What the —” You muttered, your voice getting caught in your throat as you realised it was an arm sticking out under the bed. “Oh, my —” You gasped, peering under the bed, seeing the dead body of one of the children. “Oh, my God!” You shouted, scooting back, your back hitting the wall as you stared at the lifeless body. Tears welled up in your eyes and you put your hand to your mouth, loud and broken sobs escaping your throat.

The boy couldn’t have been more than a few days old, yet it was still lying there. You could see the lifelessness in his eyes, and still the fear. There was a slit across his throat and cheek, his upper chest red with with green and purple bruises. You felt nauseas and cold, your heart sinking all the way down past your stomach. Your body was shaking and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the body, no matter how hard you tried.

You heard the footsteps of your colleagues, their voices calling your name.

“Y/n, where are — O-Oh, my God.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he saw you crying on the floor. He immediately dropped down to his knees, taking you into his arms. “What happened.”

You were unable to move, your eyes staring wide at the body. Spencer followed your gaze, his own heart dropping down to his chest.

“Oh, man. Um,” Spencer said, looking away from the body and to you. His heart broke as he saw you so horrified. He put his hand on your cheek gently, turning your face so you were no longer looking at the body. “Let’s get you to out of here, alright?”

You nodded slowly, your breaths becoming laboured as you tried to calm yourself down in Spencer’s arms. He got up, taking you with him. He walked you out of the room, coming face-to-face with Tara.

“What happened?” Tara gasped.

“Looks like the unsubs left the older boy. Tell the police officers, I need to get Y/n out of here,” Spencer said.

Tara looked at you, nodding without hesitation. She let you two go, Spencer walking you down the stairs slowly. You exited the house, still taking heavy breathes as the image of the boy haunted your thoughts. Spencer gently got you seated into the car, buckling you in. He went to the driver’s seat, getting in and starting to drive.

You two sat in the silence for thirty minutes while Spencer drove around. You looked at the window the whole time, your eyes glossy and strained from crying and keeping them open. Whenever you closed your eyes, even to just blink, flashes of the dead boy raced through your mind. Spencer waited patiently for you to speak, understanding how shocked and horrified you were.

He parked in a Burger King parking lot, sighing and looking at you. He gingerly put his hand on your shoulder, only for you to shrug him away.

“Y/n,” he sighed.

“No,” you grumbled. “Take me back.”

“I think it would be smart if you took the day off. Seeing a dead body, especially a child’s and one you had no idea exited, can really throw you off. The first time I saw a dead body…. Man, I-I was sick to my stomach. I—”

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, waving your hands in the hair. You looked at him, your chest heaving up and down. Your brows were furrowed and mouth open, your eyes glaring at him. “Just shut up, Spencer!”

His mouth went agape, hurt flashing though his eyes. He didn’t let your outburst dampen his spirits, though. He knew you were embarrassed and still horrified, and that you didn’t like to feel belittled. So he gave you a small, comforting smile, taking your hands into his. You didn’t move away this time, but you avoided any and all eye contact.

“I know how you feel, babe,” he sympathised. “Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, your voice hoarse and dry.

He frowned and unbuckled, leaning closer to you. He put his hand on your chin, turning your head with strength and force. You eventually met his eyes, his smile dropping as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks once again, your lips pulled into a pout.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“N-No, it’s not,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I’m so weak. I should’ve been ready. This is what I’ve been tra-trainging for and I suddenly turn into a freaking wuss? I-I… I… It’s so embarrassing!” You shoulders racked with sobs as you hung your head down to cry.

“Oh, baby,” Spencer sighed, taking your head in both of his hands. He held your head up again, bringing his face close to yours. He put his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “It’s no embarrassing, alright? Your reaction was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a dead child’s body. Honestly, if you didn’t cry and freak out, I would be worried,” he chuckled.

You gave him a watery smile, laughing with him. “Y-Yeah, I s-suppose,” you sniffled. “B-But,” you started. “I-It makes me look weak. And I don’t want to look weak, Spence. A-All my life I’ve been told —”

He smiled widely, leaning back so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not weak, Y/n. You never could be, even if you tried. You’re just human, and that’s fine. It’s amazing, honestly. You know, I am so proud of you, babe.”

You frowned, “Why?”

“Because today was your first day out on the field, and you did fantastic. It can only get better from here.”

“Y-You really think so?” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“I know so,” he nodded confidently. “And it’s okay to show weakness, Y/n. No weakness is the real weakness.”

“Such wise words,” you laughed. He laughed with you and he shrugged. “I try.”

You laid your head back on the headrest, looking a him through tired eyes. “Thanks, Spencer. It really means a lot.”

He nodded with a smile. “Of course, honey. Now, why don’t you say we get something to eat, then go back to the precinct?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Sounds great.”

He nodded and buckled himself back in, putting his hand on the gearshift and looking to you.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

You smiled shyly, heat scorching your cheeks. “Yeah, I know. You’ve already told me.”

“Just making sure you know, baby.”

————

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dreeamscapeee · 3 years ago

Text

Your What?

Summary: Bruce thought one night of fun would be just that, not 18 years but when his 'Flavor of the night' turns up at the manor claiming they are having his kid he has no clue what to do.

Bruce Wayne x reader

Warnings: Implied fem!reader, Mentions of a shoe being thrown, Panic attacks

A/N: Yall this is my first time writing to just go easy on me please but tell me if I need to fix something😅

(Not edited)

Bruce Wayne was used to having his 'Companions' of the night come to the manor in hopes for something more. Who wouldn't? So it wasn't as big of a surprise when Alfred came into the dinning room informing Bruce of his guest outside.

"Master Bruce'' Alfred uttered ''It would seem we have a... visitor''

Bruce not having his second cup of coffee yet, and still tired from being up until 4 AM in the cave trying to find where the Joker went after his escape from Arkham asylum for the umpteenth time waved Alfred off.

“Master Bruce may I suggest that you speak to them. They have information concerning you. And your next 18 years maybe” Alfred whispered while pouring Bruce's coffee in his cup.

Bruce sighed but answered nonetheless '' Alright but would you wake Damian and Tim, I had to take his coffee pot again last night.''

Alfred nodded and went towards the stair case. Bruce didn't know why Alfred needed him to go answer the door considering if Bruce knew them Alfred would've let them in, and if it was one of Bruce's special lady friends Alfred would just tell them Bruce left from work. While effective for a hour or two all it did was put more pressure on his personal assistant to get them out before he got to work and they could cause a commotion.

The last time was with with a woman named Sarah or was it Savanah? Bruce couldn't remember but he did know that after she was asked to leave she threw a shoe at his head. God he hoped it wasn't her.

As Bruce neared the door he could hear the sounds of what sounded like a woman crying so he hurried his steps. When he opened the door he saw a beautiful (S/C) woman with (H/C) holding a manila envelope who looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Oddly enough Bruce felt like he had seen her before but he just couldn't figure out where. The woman stopped crying long enough for Bruce to make out the most beautiful pair of (E/C) he swore he had ever seen.

Bruce cleared his throat ''I'm sorry do I know you from anywhere?''

The woman looked lost for words, and considering her mouth kept opening and closing Bruce assumed she was.

''My name is Y/N. D-do you re-remember me?'' Y/N stuttered.

Bruce racked his head and he felt like for life of him he could not remember her from anywhere.

Y/N sensing Bruce didn't remember her tried to make it easier

'' We met at o-one of your gala's and w-we kinda...uh y-you know.'' Y/N added waving the envelope a little.

It was almost like something in Bruce's brain as he snapped his fingers ''The reporter right?''

Almost as if Y/N was embarrassed she shrunk as muttered 'that's me'

Bruce thought he had seen her before and he did it was at his gala for…. Something for Wayne Enterprises he never really liked the public appearances and all the people who think just throwing money at everything will fix it.

The billionaire wondered how he could forget her she had to be one of the most attractive looking women he’s seen that night, but the bar was set pretty low bearing in mind that his date that night was talking up some big shot lawyer and every other woman was filled to the brim with plastic. Thus is was only a matter of time for Bruce to see the (S/C) in a breathtaking (F/C) skin tight dress in heels (or sneakers) drinking with Lucius.

He remembered saying something along the lines of ‘A pretty woman like you shouldn’t be drinking alone’ as he walked over. And from there you know what happened.

' You know I didn't want to bother you you but I have this really, and when I say really I mean really big thing I have to tell you and I- I'm rambling again'' Y/N sprawled out

Bruce raised his eyebrow and just stood there

Y/N took a deep breath in and squeaked out a measly 'Im pregnant' just as Bruce turned around to go in the manor.

His body felt like it was was frozen as he worked things out, if she was pregnant and he knows they had sex why else would she be at the manor to tell him that. And was that what Alfred meant they have 'information concerning him?' Bruce was freaking out, yeah he had lots of people claiming to be having his child but none seem as honest as Y/N, and he could quite easily tell if someone is lying per being batman and Y/N was not.

''I know y-you don't believe me s-so here'' murmured Y/N as she handed Bruce the manila envelope.

As he opened the envelope his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. When Bruce opened the envelope he saw a sonogram with the words '7 weeks' and what little of that night with Y/N he could recall it was around 8-9 weeks ago.

Bruce took a shaky breathe and opened the manor door a little bit wider as spoke ''Why don't we talk in my office''

A/N: So uhh I think I did it😁😁 I hope it was good though😅

#bruce wayne x y/n #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #x y/n #dc x reader

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

Text

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger). Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

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cotton-tails · 4 years ago

Text

So I saw this last night, and the little angsty plot bunny in my head woke up and I just had to write something. Fully intended to be a drabble of sorts, but of course it turned into a four page tear-fest, so grab the tissues and strap in.

Oh, and I haven't edited this, it's just 3am word-vomit, so enjoy the mess!

“So, this hasn’t exactly gone to plan.”

Della snorts cheerlessly at Donald’s deadpan comment, struggling into a sitting position and wincing at a twinge in her elbow. The chains dig into her arms with every movement, a very clear upgrade from the ropes they’d all been able to break out of within several minutes not too long ago. These idiots don’t know who they’re messing with.

Or they do; probably a little too well, hence the plan that fell apart very quickly. And the chains. And the scary looking red lightning below them.

“Shut up!” Heron snaps behind them, cuffing Donald a little too roughly around the head.

He doesn’t react more than a sharp hiss and a dark glare behind him, and Della can’t help the sharp pang of guilt under the surge of anger. She bites back a comment, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until the villain is out of earshot.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, keeping her voice low.

“What? Why?” Donald sounds confused but she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“You should be with Daisy right now,” she says, “I’m the one who guilted you into staying, into coming on this stupid trip. And now we’re facing the very real possibility of dying.”

Donald is quiet.

Forcing herself to look up, she frowns at the look on his face. He still doesn’t say anything, but the expression says it all; ‘Della-you-absolute-idiot-what-are-you-blathering-on-about?’

“I came on this stupid trip cause our kids were in trouble,” he hisses eventually, “my family were in trouble! You think I wouldn’t ditch my vacation in a heartbeat for any of you?”

“I-” Della starts, but her voice catches, rendering her utterly speechless. He’s not lying, she knows exactly what he would do for the family, for her. Yet, somehow that knowledge isn’t exactly helping.

She misses her chance to reply, all conversation cut off with the explosive arrival of Scrooge and Bradford through the roof.

Della clenches her fist and almost bites through the inside of her cheek as he slams to the ground. She manages to chime out a ‘Hey Uncle Scrooge,’ with Donald when his pained gaze finds them. Beakley mutters a sarcastic ‘Fantastic,’ from her other side. She can only watch as a now armoured Bradford, armed with the sword, picks him up by the back of his coat and drags him up the stairs. He’s blathering on about something, but she’s stopped listening; too busy focusing on her battered and beaten uncle and how this could have gone so completely and utterly wrong.

It’s the usual spiel anyway, threats to destroy his family, his adventures, everything he had worked for, blah blah blah.

Then the contract is revealed, and her stomach drops to somewhere around her knees. If they don’t find a way out soon, Scrooge will have to either sign his life away or they all die, and frankly, neither option sound particularly appealing.

It’s only when Bradford sacrifices his own agents that the desperateness of the situation really sinks in. It’s one thing to talk about murder, it’s entirely another to actually do it. And if Bradford is willing to throw away his own agents, Della can’t imagine what he would be willing to do to her family if Scrooge doesn’t sign.

He tries to buy some time. Della can almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out how to get out of this one. She huffs out a half-hearted laugh at the sharp quip about the fine-print. He’d figure something out, he always does. Not to mention the kids are bound to have found a way out by now, they’d pick up the rest of their allies and be on their way to disrupt the whole evil plan.

It’s just a matter of-

“Ugh! Enough stalling!”

Never mind.

“You need some incentive.”

Della does not like where this is going.

“Perhaps the life of your most trusted ally?”

The three of them snap their heads forward as Bradford stalks towards them, sword dragging on the concrete threateningly. As the screeching rings in Della’s ears, the only thought racing through her mind is ‘not Donnie, not Donnie, please, don’t take my brother.’

Her heart almost stops when he scoops Donald up by his collar, his cry echoing in her ears.

“Donald!” Three voices scream.

She can barely breathe, crippling panic bubbling up inside. All she wants to do is close her eyes and scream, break these chains and drag him back to safety, but she can’t move, she can’t take her eyes off her twin as he’s dangled over the edge.

“What will it be Scrooge? Adventure? Or your Family?”

‘Just do what he wants!’ She’s not ashamed of the thought. They’ll figure out a way to reverse the contract, there’s always a way, always a loophole. Just do it so she can see her brother safely on solid ground.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

She can’t say she’s surprised at how quickly he gives in.

“No! Don’t!” Donald screams, “find a way out! You can beat him!”

The pen is already in his hand. “It’s not worth the risk lad.”

They can only watch in horror at the golden glow that circles around him, lifting him up and binding him with unbreakable chains that drag him to the ground.

“I did it!” Bradford crows triumphantly. “The great Scrooge McDuck, now only a poor old man!”

Della’s heart breaks just a little at the look of absolute misery on her old uncle’s face, but she doesn’t have time to mourn properly, because Bradford is talking. Again.

“Normally I wouldn’t indulge in such petty villainy,” he says, his gaze turning back to Donald, still dangling over the edge, with a glint in his eye that makes Della’s blood run cold. “But since this is a special occasion.”

He lets go.

Della’s eyes meet Donald’s for an agonising second, and then he’s gone.

There’s a flash of red, and someone is screaming.

She doesn’t even realise it’s her until a rough hand knocks her back.

“Shut it! Or it’ll be you next!”

Hot tears stream down her beak and she presses her forehead into the cold concrete, not even bothering to choke back a sob. Over the pounding of her own taunting heartbeat in her ears, she hears the sound of the machine powering down (‘Too late’ her traitorous mind provides), of her kids voices yelling something, and Scrooge shouting for them to be careful.

And Bradford, confused and angry as her family finally, finally step in to save the day.

His voice sets off something inside that she hadn’t felt since the day Lunaris betrayed her. A raging anger that burns through her, overwhelming any other emotion and completely taking over her mind.

The chains are no longer an obstacle, and even Beakley can’t stop her from launching herself at the buzzard. They tumble down the stairs, fists flying and feet kicking. Everything blurs after that, which may or may not be a side effect of a rather painful bump on the head as they hit the ground at the bottom of the staircase. She’s kicked off, then it’s just a cloud of lights and bodies and a strong arm holding her back from doing anything overly-reckless and potentially stupid.

The kids, her (their) beautiful, wonderful kids, figure out the loophole and the ever-binding contract disintegrates.

It’s done.

The maniacal villain is defeated once more. The world has returned to rights and the sounds of celebration fill the air.

But Della can only stand and watch, her hands trembling and eyes burning. Beakley stands behind her, hands hovering just behind her shoulders, ready to give comfort if needed.

He’s gone.

Her brother, the other half of her soul; just… gone.

And… oh.

Her knees buckle, a wrecked sob forcing its way from her throat. Beakley catches her with a arm round the shoulders and a hand under her elbow, lowering her gently to the ground as she crumples into a ball. She presses her hands to her eyes in a hopeless attempt to stem the tears as everything comes crashing down.

“It’s okay, let it out dear.”

He shouldn’t have been here. He should’ve been on that amazing adventure with Daisy, sailing together on that old houseboat. After everything life had thrown at him, after all the madness they’d been through, he’d finally caught a break, finally found that amazing person who loved him as fiercely as he loved her.

Then Della had come along, crying about lost time and not being ready. She hadn’t wanted to him to leave, even on a stupid vacation that he would very clearly be coming back from.

Now he wouldn’t even get the chance to go.

And it’s all her fault.

“Mom?”

The obvious confusion and concern in Huey’s voice is enough to send her tumbling over the edge all over again, fresh tears springing up at the thought of having to explain what happened to her- to his kids.

Scrooge hurries them away, and she tries not to listen to the hushed explanation, the startled gasps, and she has to cover her ears for the rest. She can’t stand it.

It’s all her fault.

“DELLA!”

‘What?’

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Her head snaps up so fast she’s half sure she’s given herself whiplash. Even through blurred eyesight, she knows that silhouette, that outfit, that stupid hat. She blinks, sniffing and scrubbing at her face with her sleeve, hardly daring to believe.

It shouldn’t be possible, there’s no way it’s possible. She saw it, she saw him fall, saw the flash of lightning, the empty space where he had been only moments before. She watched her own brother die. So how was he standing ten feet in front of her, laughing as he’s tackled by several small and colourful blurs?

A hand appears in front of her face and she looks up into the stunned face of her uncle. He looks almost as much of a mess as she feels, tearstains tracking down his cheeks and spotting on his coat.

“I think it might be best if we just don’t question it,” he says, helping her to her feet.

His hands are shaking as he holds hers tightly, but she doesn’t comment; it can’t be any worse than her own trembling limbs. They turn back to Donald, who’s ended up sat on the floor under the collective weight of the kids. He’s got a tearful Louie on his shoulder and several kids wrapped around his torso as he struggles to his feet, and Della can see him mouthing a headcount as he takes them all in.

“I swear every time we see you, you have more children.”

She hadn’t even noticed Panchito and José just beside him, grins wide and eyes twinkling with amusement and, in José’s case, something else that she can’t quite place. Donald just laughs at Panchito’s observation, the sound sweet as honey and causing even more tears to well up all round. The pure relief that sweeps through her is almost enough to make her knees give way again, but Scrooge’s hand gripping hers and Beakley’s arm still around her shoulders is just enough to keep her grounded.

Then he catches her eye.

“Hey Dells.”

The kids must see something in her face, cause they have to good sense to dart out of the way just moments before Della hurls herself at her brother. They almost topple backwards, but Donald is able to keep them just about upright while Della just focuses on wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. His arms circle her waist, holding her just as tightly. The tears are streaming freely now, but she’s beyond caring. He can yell at her about ruining his shirt later and she’ll just take it with a grin.

“You idiot!” she yells, her voice muffled by his shoulder, “I thought you were dead!”

“For a minute, so did I,” he says into her hair, “how about we just call it even?”

The soft jibe only makes her laugh, and she holds him just that little bit tighter.

Miracles do happen, and in the end all that matters is love, family and adventure.

But if he thinks she’s going to let him go galivanting off on some adventure without her now, then he’d better think again.

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imaginethatneathuh · 4 years ago

Text

The Sun: Mad Sweeney - American Gods

Mad Sweeney x friend!reader, romantic

At a coffee shop, you annoy Sweeney and he snaps so you drag him outside where he confesses.

Part of @dragon430′s Tarot Troop, edited by her as well.

Requested by @dreamers-wonderland - /knee slides in The Sun with Mad Sweeney?????

CW: Mentions of potential violence and you annoying the fuck out of Sweeney.

Word count: 1.1+ K

•

“O, O, O'REILLY’s AUTO PARTS!” You yell at the top of your lungs right into Mad Sweeney’s ear. Personally, you would have preferred to do the Red Robin jingle, but you did that yesterday and needed new material.

Mad Sweeney, more than a little hungover, groaned. “It’s too fucking early, Y/N. Go away, you chaotic fuck.” He tried to snuggle back into the sofa, but you had other plans.

You sucked in your lips, trying not to smile. “OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! Dow, dow, dow, dow, dow, dow. OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG! OOH EEH OOH AH AH TING TANG WALLA WALLA BING BANG!”

“ALRIGHT, WILL YA QUIT YER YAPPIN’ ALREADY?” Sweeney shouted, snapping his head to the side, his upper body still resting on the sofa.

You snickered and smiled at him.

“Yer a menace, N/N,” he said. “A right fuckin’ menace.”

“It’s a glorious day, my redheaded friend! We should do something!” You bounced around, pulling at his jacket. “We could go to the park and throw bread at people who try to feed bread to the ducks! Or go for a swim in a public fountain! Or maybe-”

Sweeney cut you off. “It’s too fuckin’ early for this. I need a fuckin’ drink before we do anything at all.”

“It’s also too early in the mornin’ for that,” you said.

Sweeney groaned and face-planted back into the sofa. You, being you, started poking his face.

“Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney. Sweeney.” Between every call of his name, you poked him. “Sweeeeeeeneeeeey.”

You didn’t know when this started. When you’d started bothering him at every turn, just, generally, being chaotic and troublesome. But it sure was funny. And if he really hated it, he could just walk away.

Sweeney groaned and turnt his head. “I need fuckin’ coffee before I start dealin’ with ya, ya fuckin’ cunt.”

You grinned and bopped his nose.

•

“OH, she’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes! Oh, she’ll be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes! She’ll be drivin’ six white horses--”

Sweeney clamped a hand over your mouth.

Wetting your tongue with as much saliva as possible, you start sticking your tongue out into his hand repeatedly, licking it like a cat licks their water bowl.

He pulled his hand away in disgust. It looked like he was getting ready to smack you.

“What the fuck is wrong with ya?” He asked. “Seriously? Why the fuckin’ hell would ya do that? I swear, yer battier than a fuckin’--”

An old lady with white hair muttered something. It was just loud enough for you to listen. “Big man like that. He oughta be ashamed of himself. Yellin’ at someone so sweet and innocent looking. Oh, that poor--”

He had enough of everyone in that moment. “How ‘bout you spend a day in my fuckin’ shoes. Deal with this--” he said, pointing at you. “--Little fucker for a day.”

The old lady glared at him then gestured to you. “They’re just a sweet, innocent little thing. And, you,” she said, pointing at him. “Are a brute.”

“Yeah, I’m sweet and innocent,” you said. The opportunity to fuck with him was right there. Of course, you’d take it.

Your false words fueled Sweeney’s rage. “Ya want a brute, I’ll show ya a brute!” He tried to get at the old lady, lunging forward and all that.

You were barely able to pull him back. “Nope, sorry, Sweeney, not today.” You push him toward the door and look back at the lady. “He’s a mess without his cuppa joe in the mornin’, ya know?”

As you meet Sweeney in the parking lot, you realize he isn’t just his usual angry. The look on his face screamed murder.

“Sweeney, come on, it was just a joke,” you said. “I know I’m not sweet and innocent, and you know I just do things to piss you off.”

“Ya do a lot more than piss me off! Ya make my life a living fuckin’ Hell, actually.” He neared you, a vein popping out of his neck. “I have no fuckin’ clue why da fuck I even hang ‘round you most of the time. Ya drive me fuckin’ mad, Y/N. Mad!” The tall man turnt his back to you and ran his hands through his hair. He seemed to be caught up in his thoughts as he stared into the sky. “It’s those stupid fuckin’ eyes, innit? And that laugh and smile.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s just every fuckin’ thing about you.”

“What are you talking about, Mad?” You asked.

He looked over his shoulder at you. “You don’t see it, do you?” He asked. “You have no fuckin’ clue.”

“See what?”

“That I love you.”

Your jaw dropped. ‘When did that happen?’ You thought.

Then you thought back to this morning and remembered him staring at you as you rambled about the things you could do together. Then about the night prior and how he had called you on a payphone, asking you to come get him, and how he had fallen into your arms, nuzzling his head into your neck. It was sweet, and you had laughed, finding his action funny. You continued thinking about the past. About how he’d slip his hand into yours when he could. How he’d look at you when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d call you late at night or just show up at your place whenever. It was so obvious now.

“Oh,” you whispered. “OH!”

Sweeney looked away, ashamed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?” You asked.

He shrugged.

You started moving side to side with a smirk, acting like you were dancing like Rick Astley. “We’re no strangers to looove. You know the rules and so. Do. Iiiii. A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of--” You sang before Sweeney stopped you.

Instead of putting his hand over your mouth again, he pulled you into a kiss, hands gripping your jacket. The force and passion behind it was intoxicating. You kissed back, setting your hands on his sides.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours and panted. The connection was nice, calming in a way.

“Y/N, don’t ya fuckin’ start with me,” he whispered.

You laughed. “Well, I’m happy. You?”

Sweeney looked at you, a slight smile on his face and kindness (or was it love? You couldn’t tell) in his eyes. “I’m very fuckin’ happy,” he said. “But will ya please not be so fuckin’ annoyin’?”

“Nope!” You grinned, mischief on your mind.

#american gods #american gods fanfiction #tarot troop #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x reader

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smaidjor · 3 years ago

Text

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #flower husbands #empires smp #my writing

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years ago

Text

The Mercer Legacy - Part 4

Pairings: Luke x Reggie x reader, Julie x Flynn x Carrie

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of Reggie’s parents fighting in the edits

A/N: oh man I’m so excited for this chapter. I usually share a lot of bits and pieces with the Ghost Squad while I’m writing but I’ve kept this one under wraps as a surprise! I hope you like it! As always, let me know what you think and drop a comment/send me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Part 3 Masterlist TML Masterlist

___

“Oh, by the way, Julie said her girlfriends are coming to watch practice today,” Alex said, looking up from his phone and you narrowed your eyes at him.

He tucked his drum sticks into the water bottle pocket of his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you.

“Girlfriends,” you repeated, drawing out the ‘s’ at the end. “As in multiple girlfriends?”

“Yeah, keep up Y/L/N,” Alex said teasingly before realizing why you had questioned it. “I told you you had no reason to be worried.”

When you arrived you were excited to meet Julie’s significant others and also glad to not have to sit alone during practice. However, that excitement quickly turned to surprise when you stepped into the garage.

“Carrie?”

“Oh hey Y/N,” she replied, sounding unphased but you noticed the light pink blush spreading across her cheeks. She hadn’t expected someone else she knew to be there just like you hadn’t/ “What’re you doing here?”

You tilted your head towards where Alex was settling in behind his drumset and Carrie nodded in understanding.

“I should’ve guessed,” she smiled and you were taken aback slightly at how genuine it was, used to her stage smile.

“He and I are going to have a long conversation about sharing information,” you said loud enough for Alex to hear on the other side of the studio, glaring at your best friend who just rolled his eyes in response.

“I know Reggie and Luke too.” You directed your words back to Carrie, glancing over to the two boys for the first time since you’d arrived to find them looking back at you and you tried to fight back the heat rushing to your cheeks. It didn’t seem to stop Carrie from noticing and she smirked knowingly.

“Ahh,” she hummed quietly to herself as if she’d just put something together but you had no idea what it could be.

“What?” You questioned a bit abrasively and you winced at your tone. You just didn’t like that she seemed to know something that you didn’t.

“Nothing, just— and you didn’t hear this from me— Julie said Reggie and Luke haven’t been able to shut up about a girl for weeks. I just didn’t expect it to be you.” Carrie shared in a hushed whisper and you flushed in earnest this time, your throat going dry at the information.

“Hey, Mercer are you gonna introduce me to your girl or?” The girl who you assumed was Julie’s other girlfriend called, thankfully interrupting your conversation with Carrie before you had to come up with a response. She slung her arm around your shoulder as she spoke.

Alex rolled his eyes but hollered back, “Flynn that’s Y/N, Y/N that’s Flynn.”

“I take it you’re the one nobody around here shuts up about?” Flynn asked as she stepped away from you.

“Flynn!” Carrie hissed, eyes flashing.

“What, is that supposed to be some secret?” Flynn replied and you laughed while Carrie rolled her eyes fondly.

“Apparently I am,” you shrugged with a shy chuckle.

Flynn nodded pensively, looking you up and down.

“I get it,” she said finally and you felt yourself blush for the umpteenth time since you arrived.

Carrie rolled her eyes, huffing out a quiet “oh my god.”

“Hey PeterPatter you better hurry up before I steal your girlfriend,” Flynn called to Luke and Reggie over her shoulder and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you right there. Luckily when you chanced a glance at the guys they seemed just as mortified as you, both of their faces beat red as they both pointedly avoided looking at each other or you.

“She’s not-”

“I’m not-”

The three of you blurted at the same time, your heads snapping up to stare at each other with wide eyes. Flynn cackled at that and Carrie smacked her arm, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch.

“Wow you guys make it too easy,” Flynn said when she finally stopped laughing, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes.

“Julie, can you please make your girlfriend stop flirting with my best friend,” Alex whined and Flynn flipped him off. “There’re already too many people here who do that,” he added, looking pointedly at Luke and Reggie and you turned to glare at him.

“Fuck you,” you mouthed but he just grinned cheekily.

“In your dreams,” he mouthed back and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“O-kay,” Julie said once she noticed Alex sticking his tongue out at you in response, interrupting the chaos that had consumed the studio. “Why don’t we start practicing.”

The boys nodded hurriedly, settling in behind their instruments while you, Carrie, and Flynn moved to make yourselves comfortable in the various chairs and couch.

“And Flynn? behave,” Julie called at her girlfriend’s back.

Flynn mumbling something petulant under her breath before plopping down on the couch next to Carrie, throwing her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder and pulling her into her. You did your best to stifle a laugh at the reluctant way that Carrie leaned into her girlfriend, arms crossed over her chest and what may look like an annoyed expression but you could see the fondness in her eyes.

The three of you chatted amicably throughout the band’s rehearsal, you getting to know Flynn and getting to know the “real” Carrie. It was nice, they were nice and you quietly wondered why you hadn’t formed a friendship with Carrie sooner. You’d always been amicable in school, but your social circles never really overlapped so you’d never had a reason to really talk to each other. You wished you had.

Practice flew by quicker than usual in the presence of both good music and good company and before you knew it the band was packing up their instruments and Carrie and Flynn were standing to go talk to their girlfriend. Before she got too far, Carrie nudged you in the direction of the two guitarists and Flynn sent you a sly wink.

You stumbled slightly from the force of Carrie’s push but continued to meander over to the band set up, intentionally avoiding the eyes of your best friend who you were certain was smirking knowingly at you.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Reggie said cheerfully when he glanced up from zipping up his guitar case to see you making your way over. “Luke and I were thinking maybe ice cream now that practice is done? Since you missed out the other day?”

You turned to find Luke nodding in agreement to Reggie’s statement and you smiled, heart warming at the gesture. You were certain that they’d be upset with you after you bailed on them with a shitty excuse the other day but it seemed they still wanted to spend time with you, and for that you were grateful.

“I’d love that,” you agreed, “Is Alex coming with?”

“Um, well, I was kinda hoping it could just be the three of us?” Luke spoke up, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “There’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you guys about…”

You nodded thoughtfully, trying to fight back the frown that threatened to take over your face as a pit of worry opened up in your stomach.

“It’s nothing bad! I swear!” Luke rushed to reassure you both as if sensing your worries.

“Okay.” You nodded again, this time more to yourself. “In that case, there’s a conversation I’ve been meaning to have with you both too.”

You weren’t sure why you’d volunteered that. Maybe you had been emboldened by Luke’s statement.

“I have something too but maybe we should wait and talk about it all over ice cream?” Reggie added hesitantly, sounding even more nervous than you felt.

You all agreed, deciding that whatever news you each needed to share with one another would be improved by the presence of ice cream. With your plans settled, Reggie and Luke finished putting away their equipment and you all said goodbye to the rest of the group before setting off.

It was a short walk from the Molina’s to Reggie’s favorite ice cream place and an even shorter trip with Reggie on his skateboard and you on Luke’s bike handles. Normally you’d spend a ride on Luke’s handlebars giggling loudly (or screaming whenever Luke would swerve suddenly in order to scare you) with Reggie skateboarding by your side. This time though you were all silent and you felt like you were buzzing with anxiety over the prospect of confessing your feelings to the two boys.

The three of you were uncharacteristically quiet as you got your ice cream, each of you paying separately rather than the usual fight over who got to pay this time. It made your gut twist, anxiety welling up once more at what Reggie and Luke had to say.

It wasn’t until you were sat around a table that anyone tried to speak up.

“Okay so-“

“Right, well-“

“I just want-“

The tree of you started at the same time before freezing abruptly. You couldn’t help the shocked laugh that bubbled out of you and you flushed at the inappropriateness of it. However, it seemed to break the tense atmosphere that had surrounded you all since you left the studio, Luke and Reggie breaking into laughter of their own.

“I’ll go first,” you volunteered, startled again when you heard the two boys speak in unison with you.

The three of you fell into short-lived laughter once more before you spoke up again, alone this time.

“Seriously, I’ll go first... if that’s alright?”

You thought back to the message you’d sent Alex weeks ago saying that you weren’t ready to have your heart broken like that. You certainly didn’t feel more ready now, but something in you needed to get this out. Heartbreak or not, at least you’d know for sure.

“Ladies first,” Luke acquiesced and you sent him a brief but grateful smile.

“Okay, um...wow this is a lot harder than I thought,” you muttered to yourself, stuttering over your words. “You guys are great guys and amazing friends but-“

“I have a crush on you!” Reggie blurted, cutting you off mid-sentence and you froze, unable to do more than blink at the boy.

“Both of you,” Reggie clarified after a moment before he began to ramble. “And I didn’t want it to change anything between us because you guys are so important to me and it’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same but...”

“But you just had to get it out there,” Luke finished, a knowing look on his face.

“Yeah, how’d you...?” Reggie trailed off, peering curiously at Luke.

“Because I have a crush on you too, you dork,” Luke confessed with a small laugh that sounded less like he thought the situation was funny and more like he was trying to hide how nervous he was. “Both of you.”

Luke and Reggie turned to look at you then, their nerves obvious in their facial expressions and suddenly the atmosphere was tense again.

“I... I-“ you tried to force out the words before cutting yourself off with a groan. “I can’t believe you guys!”

“What?”

“Here I am trying to get the words out and you- you guys cut me off and... and beat me to it! It’s- it’s not fair!”

“You... what?” Luke asked the question again, this time less out of confusion and more disbelief.

“I have a crush on you— both of you— too and I was trying to tell you but,” you gestured wildly about you as if to reference what had just happened. “I guess it doesn’t matter, huh?”

You were grinning by then, completely unbelieving of your luck. You felt breathless with it, the rush of the adrenaline from your confession combined with the euphoria of Luke and Reggie’s reciprocation was enough to make your head spin.

“So, what now?” Reggie asked, looking surprised that you’d made it to this point. You couldn’t blame him, you felt the same way.

“I vote we eat our ice cream before it’s entirely melted and call this our first date.”

You grinned as you watched Reggie and Luke blush but nod eagerly. You couldn��t help it that your cheeky grin slipped into something much sappier and fond as you watched the boys, your boys.

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayenneferburnham @n0wornever @bright-molina @reg-peters @calamitykaty @sunsetcurvecuddles @dream-a-little-bigger-x @bright-patterson

TML Taglist: @marinettepotterandplagg @everyonesannoyedwithme @percico-heronstairs @starjane312 @ifilwtmfc @jatphatones @cherrymaybank @sorrowfulfragmentation @stargazing-dreamer-girl @daisybutterlions @mynameisntluke @willex-owns-my-heart @theolivekiddo @90ssunsetcurve @avngrsinitiative @thatfandombitcch

#jatp #jatp fic #Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the phantoms fic #social media au #Alex mercer #Reggie peters #Luke patterson #Julie molina #Flynn jatp #flynn nolastname #Carrie wilson #peterpatter #peterpatter x reader #Luke x Reggie x reader #triple threat #Julie x Flynn x Carrie

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