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tojisbbygworl · 1 year ago

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The Apartment Across The Street pt. 1 - Sukuna x Reader

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.

Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

Words: 6.7k

Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)

WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence

AO3 Version

Masterlist

author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

That apartment used to be empty.

Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.

Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.

He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.

After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.

All it took was the next morning.

Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do.

He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.

He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.

He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.

He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.

The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.

The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.

“She’s cute though.”

Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”

This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.

“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.

‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”

His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.

He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.

Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.

In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.

It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.

Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.

The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.

As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.

There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.

Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.

He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.

Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.

He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”

Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?

Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.

Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.

“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”

Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.

Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.

“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”

He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.

Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.

Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.

“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”

I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.

To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.

“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”

Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.

He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.

It was over.

He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.

Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?

She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.

His memory is not enough. He wants her.

He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.

Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.

He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.

He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.

Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”

“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.

Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”

Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”

He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.

She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.

Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.

“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.

She ran.

And that was the worst thing she could have done.

There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.

That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.

She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.

She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.

In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.

She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.

She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.

As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.

Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.

She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-

What was that noise?

A bump. In her bedroom.

What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?

No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…

Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.

The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.

He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.

She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too.

When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.

And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.

He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.

It all happened in a second.

She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?

She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.

She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.

Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”

Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”

She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”

She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”

He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”

He disgusts her.

He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.

He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.

That’s how she felt.

He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.

‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’

She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.

He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.

He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”

She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?

“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.

Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.

Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.

“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.

He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.

“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.

“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”

He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.

His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”

“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.

“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…

“I’m yours, Sukuna.”

A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?

She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.

If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.

She was so fucking stupid.

He repeated that all night.

‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.

He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.

He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.

‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.

She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.

Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.

She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.

She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?

She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.

In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”

What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”

“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk?

Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?

Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.

She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.

Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?”

She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”

He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”

Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”

“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.

“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.

“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”

ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !

Masterlist

W E L C O M E P A G E

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader #dark content #very dark #be warned it’s dark #toji fushiguro #toji

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chansdoll · 3 months ago

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방찬 ─── cracks in the mirror 2

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ drama ig, kinda fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ mean girl mina , chan is mean but to mina :3 ♡ synopsis ៸៸ chan confronts mina. [ part one ] a/n ๑ i messed up the format please don't laugh at me— this second part is confrontations like requested but if you guys want i’ll write a fluff scene to close the lil series ! [ 1.7k words ] ♡ masterlist

the next morning, chan walked into the company with a clear mission. mina was sitting inside a practice room, scrolling on her phone, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“mina,” chan said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.

she looked up, surprised at the abruptness in his voice. “oh, hey, chan!” she flashed him her usual sweet smile. he didn’t reciprocate, instead crossing his arms. “we need to talk.”

mina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, adjusting her posture. “oh? what about?” he shut the door and turned to face her.

“mina, i’m going to be straight with you. what you said to y/n yesterday was completely out of line.” her brows furrowed in mock confusion. “what do you mean? i didn’t say anything wrong to her. we were just talking.”

chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “talking? you called her ‘brave’ for being confident with extra weight. do you really think that’s appropriate?”

mina hesitated for a second but then tilted her head, trying to appear innocent. “i didn’t mean it in a bad way! i was just giving her a compliment. if she took it the wrong way, that’s on her.”

“no, mina,” chan interrupted, his tone sharper. “it’s not on her. you’ve been here long enough to know what’s acceptable and what’s not when it comes to how we treat people—especially our colleagues. y/n has done nothing but work hard, and the last thing she needs is passive-aggressive comments or veiled insults.”

mina’s expression hardened slightly, her facade cracking. “i think you’re reading too much into this, chan. maybe you’re just overly sensitive about her.”

“don’t deflect,” he countered, his voice steady but firm. “this isn’t about me being ‘sensitive.’ it’s about respect. and it’s about creating an environment where everyone feels safe and valued, not judged.”

mina crossed her arms, defensive. “fine. if she’s that upset, i’ll apologize.”

chan shook his head. “don’t just apologize to check a box, mina. think about why this behavior is a problem and how it affects the people around you. if this happens again, we’re going to have a much bigger issue to deal with.”

there’s a moment of tense silence before mina finally nodded, though her expression didn’t suggest much remorse. “got it,” she muttered, looking away.

chan sighed, his disappointment evident. “good. i hope this is the last time we have to have this conversation.”

as mina left the room, chan stayed behind for a moment, running a hand through his hair. he knew he couldn’t force someone to change, but he hoped his words would at least make her think twice before targeting you—or anyone else—again.

later in the day, you were back in the studio, focusing intently on your work. you were determined to push the events of yesterday to the back of your mind. mina’s cruel words still lingered, but chan’s support had given you the strength to move forward, even if only slightly.

the faint sound of voices carried through the hallway as you typed away on your laptop, but you didn’t pay them much attention until the door to the studio opened, and in walked mina. you glanced up briefly, then returned your attention to your work, pretending she wasn’t there.

“hey, y/n,” mina said softly, her tone uncharacteristically subdued.

you didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to finish typing your thought. then, you leaned back in your chair and gave her a curt nod. “what is it, mina?”

she hesitated, her usual confidence replaced with something resembling awkwardness. “i just… i wanted to say i’m sorry. about yesterday. i think i might have come across the wrong way, and i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you studied her for a moment, trying to decipher whether her apology was genuine or just another act. “is that so?” you asked, your tone as neutral as you could manage.

“yes,” mina said, clasping her hands together and giving you what she probably thought was a sincere look. “i was just trying to make conversation, but i think it came out wrong.”

you let out a soft scoff, turning your attention back to your laptop. “right. making conversation.”

she faltered, clearly not expecting your cold response. “i mean it,” she pressed. “i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

you gave her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “funny, because you seem to be really good at saying things that hurt people, mina. so forgive me if i’m not buying this sudden burst of remorse.”

the door creaked open slightly, and you noticed the reflection of two familiar faces in the glass window—changbin and han. they were leaning against the frame, partially hidden but clearly listening.

mina didn’t seem to notice. her expression shifted instantly, the veneer of sweetness cracking. “well, i was just trying to be nice,” she snapped, her tone defensive. “it’s not my fault you’re so sensitive.”

you smirked, though there was no humor in it. “there she is,” you said, your voice low and pointed. “i was wondering how long you’d keep up the act.”

hans’s low mutter of “oh, hell no” barely registered, but changbin's quiet snort did.

mina’s face reddened, her fake apology dissolving entirely. “you know what? maybe i was wasting my time trying to apologize.”

you leaned forward, meeting her glare with unwavering calm. “then maybe you should do us both a favor and not waste your time next time.”

she huffed, crossing her arms. “whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel. as she opened the door, she froze, noticing changbin and han standing there, arms crossed and faces set in disapproval.

“oh, don’t mind us,” han said, his tone light but dripping with sarcasm. “we were just passing by.”

mina’s eyes darted between the two of them before she shoved past and stormed down the hallway.

changbin let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he stepped into the studio. “wow. she’s worse than i thought.”

han followed, plopping down onto the couch. “nice work.”

you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “thanks.”

you sat in the breakroom, nursing your coffee and trying to shake off the encounter with mina earlier. her fake apology and subsequent outburst had left you drained, though you wouldn’t let her know that.

the door swung open, and you glanced up to see chan. his jaw was set, and his usually warm eyes were stormy.

“where is she?” he asked, his tone clipped.

you blinked, startled by the intensity in his voice. “who?”

“mina,” he bit out, already turning to leave. “i heard what happened. she’s not getting away with it this time.”

before you could protest—or warn him—he was out the door, striding down the hallway. you followed hesitantly, curiosity overriding your instinct to stay out of it.

chan found mina sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling on her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world. he didn’t hesitate.

“oi, mina,” he snapped, his voice carrying across the room.

she looked up, startled, and quickly masked her surprise with a saccharine smile. “oh, hey, chan! what’s up?”

he stopped a few feet from her, his posture rigid. “cut it,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, each word sharp enough to cut glass. “what the hell is your problem?”

her smile faltered. “excuse me?” she said, her voice rising indignantly.

“you heard me,” chan said, his tone low and hushed, as if trying not to let anyone hear. “why do you keep goin’ out of your way to be such a goddamned pain in the ass?”

mina’s mouth opened and closed, clearly taken aback. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

“oh, don’t play dumb with me,” he shot back, his voice rising. “i’ve heard how you treat y/n. and today? you waltz in with your half-arsed apology, then turn around and throw more shade when it doesn’t go your way. are you serious?”

mina straightened her spine, trying to regain her composure. “i was just trying to be nice—”

“bullshit,” chan interrupted, his accent thick and raw. “you were bein’ a snake, and you know it. nice doesn’t look like what you do, mina. nice doesn’t leave people feelin’ like shit after every conversation. so drop the act, yeah?”

her face reddened, her carefully crafted facade crumbling. “i don’t need this from you,” she snapped. “i was just trying to help, but clearly y/n’s too sensitive to handle a bit of honesty.”

chan took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “honesty? you call tearing someone down ‘honesty’? nah, mate, that’s just you bein’ a spiteful cow. and if you think i’m gonna let you get away with it, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

mina looked like she wanted to retort, but chan didn’t give her the chance.

“you’re done,” he said firmly. “you don’t get to treat people like that and expect everyone to put up with it. especially not y/n. so unless you’re ready to actually grow the hell up, you can’t work for me, or anyone else here.”

the room was silent, and all eyes were on chan as his chest heaved. mina’s jaw tightened, and without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out.

chan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair before turning around to see you standing there. his expression softened when he saw you standing there, half-hidden behind the doorway.

“you heard that?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

you nodded, your chest tight with a mix of gratitude and surprise. “yeah. you didn’t have to–”

he offered a small smile, his eyes warm again. “no, i didn’t, but.. you don’t deserve that from her. no one does.”

you walked over to him, taking in his worked up, flushed state. “are you okay?” you asked him, cautiously inching closer. he nodded, sighing. “yeah. but i already know i’m about to get scolded for talking to her like that.” he looked up at you from his fists, his gaze tender.

you bit the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself. “do you wanna step outside, and go for a walk or something? to cool off?”

he stood up straighter, nodding. “sure,” he grinned, showing off his adorable dimple. “after you.”

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

#skz x reader #kpop x reader #bang chan #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz bangchan #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz bang chan #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan #bangchan imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop fluff #stray kids scenarios #chan stray kids #chan fluff

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tacticoal · 9 months ago

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「V.I.P. for me ?!」: ̗̀➛ part 2 to biker!racer!simon

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sfw, gn reader, unedited, suggestive content if you squint, mdni !!

wanted to throw in a big big thank you for all the recent support loves, you have no idea how welcomed you've all made me feel. please enjoy.

you. are. beaming.

ecstatic, delighted, overjoyed, hysterical, your mind lists all the words that could only ever possibly describe how you're feeling as you grasp your phone with nearly enough force to crack the screen.

simon riley, the #1 motorcycle racer in britain, upholding a 5-year champion streak, the man you've known and adored for years, is doing a meet-and-greet in your town.

and you're staring down at the VIP ticket on your phone.

your friends messaged you in the group chat, explaining that they all chipped in for your special invitation, buying the standard, cheaper tickets for themselves to come with you. the VIP admission gives you access to a shorter line that simon gets to first, as well as a photo with him and his bike. oh, that work of beauty, you think, already smelling the gasoline it burns off.

you spammed them with several thank you's and holy shit's, before calling a nearby restaurant to reserve a table (the poor lady on the other end could barely make out your warbled and giddy speech). just imagining next week makes you squeal and giggle into your pillow all night.

next week. the event is next week. exactly 6 days, 10 hours, 54 minutes and 4 seconds from now. 6 days to go out, get a fresh set of clothes, hair trimmed, and figure out any other essentials. surely that's more than enough time, right?

well, with no more than an hour left until you have to be out the door, you're pacing around your bed, 5 different outfits splayed over it. your friends -- who knew you'd be in this situation and arrived about an hour earlier already dressed up -- sit around your room, either watching you or on their phones listening as you ramble about how this outfit would catch his eye, but this one looks more comfy--

they knew not to interrupt you, providing the most company they can while you grumble, beginning to get impatient with yourself. eventually, you settle on something loose and airy, but revealing enough to gather the right kind of attention.

"what if he thinks i'm ugly.." you mutter, brushing down a stray hair in front of the mirror with a shaky hand.

"then y'know he's knocked his head into the concrete one too many times," your closest friend giggles.

huffing out a laugh, you nod and go to arrange a tote bag, throwing everything you want simon to sign. an official t-shirt promoting his name, two framed photographs of him, and a notepad. obviously the bag is getting signed too -- you'd throw in your arm and forehead in there if they weren't attached to your body. sigh, modern day problems.

finally, finally the time comes where you're waiting in line. holy shit, this is really happening. you can see a glimpse of his tracksuit from here, your body trembling with nerves. you've separated from your friends a bit ago, jaw dropped as you passed by the crowds of people lined up for this event. music blasts through your earbuds, in an attempt to tune out the bass blasting throughout the streets and boisterous screams 'n chatter. keeping your friends updated on where you are, you stay hunched over your phone as you slowly inch up the line.

"'nd what's your name?-"

simon's gaze tilts up from the checkerboard table to you, his breath immediately caught in his throat. you were still looking down, thumbs tapping on the screen in your hands. your glance flickered up for a split second, before your head completely snapped up to him, eyes widening as they get caught in the riptide of his deep, darker ones. with your mouth agape, you both stare at each other in silence. a beat or two passes before you rip your earbuds away, shoving them into your bag, alongside your phone.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry, i wasn't paying attention to the line, i was texting my friends and got distracted with them-"

it's you, he thinks. the one from the pub those few weeks back. he clears his throat and nods, watching you hastily pull out the things for him to sign, his heart clenching the same way it did when he first laid eyes on you. you giddily point at where you want his signature, and he's quick to oblige, the permanent marker squeaking against glass.

"i'm a really big fan," you admit bashfully, unable to hide the excited grin that stretches across your face, "since freshman year of college, 'm pretty sure."

now, simon's heard that from basically every fan he's encountered, but he's never truly believed them until now. he looks up to you, sliding the framed pictures to the side to make room for your notepad. your eyes glitter with a childlike glee as you stare back at him, and he wonders what your pretty head's thinking.

"that so, love?" he muses, tilting his head.

"yeah," you beam at the nickname, "i don't know how you do it -- everything you do is so cool."

he breathes out a laugh, ignoring how he's holding up the line behind you.

"i'd be glad to show y'round it sometime."

"really?"

you watch him with gleaming eyes, jaw dropped, as he writes a string of numbers below his name.

"text me anytime, love," he teases, handing it back to you before flicking his hand, "now shoo off, before security gets on ya."

"what about the photo?" you pout at him in disappointment, and he can't help but grin wolfishly in return.

"i promise you much more than a photo if you keep in touch."

@ tacticoal do not repost !!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #call of duty #gn reader

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briefinquiries · 2 months ago

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Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 7

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 7

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: After an unsettling night at the Garrison, you begin to understand that Tommy Shelby’s bad moods are rarely without reason. When a familiar face confronts you outside the pub, you realize you’ve drawn the attention of someone dangerous. Forced to tread carefully, you play your part, but the encounter leaves you with more questions than answers.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

The party was still in full swing when you slipped out the back door– the warmth and noise of the Garrison fading as soon as it swung shut behind you.

Your boots clicked softly against the damp pavement as you started walking.

Your hands were still trembling. You clenched your fists, trying to shake it off. But the weight of Tommy’s words, the sharp, cutting way he had looked at you, like you were an inconvenience, a problem that needed to be corrected, still clung to your skin like an ugly bruise.

The thing was… you hadn’t even fucked up. At least, you didn’t think you had. Arthur took a swig of the whiskey you’d poured him right there at the bar– he even toasted to you.

But even if you had given Arthur the wrong whiskey, did that really warrant a public dressing-down?

Harry had taken one look at you after Tommy stormed off, muttered something about “Fuckin’ Shelby moods” and told you to take the rest of the night off.

You hadn’t argued.

You didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to stand behind that bar and pretend everything was fine when the weight of Tommy’s words still sat heavy in your chest.

So you left.

And now, as the damp night air curled around you, you tried to shake off the feeling of humiliation still burning beneath your skin.

You were so caught up in your own head that you almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out from the shadows ahead of you.

Your breath hitched slightly, your pace slowing on instinct.

The man was standing just off to the side of the road, hands clasped behind his back, posture upright and intentional. Not a drunk stumbling home. Not a lost traveler.

He had been waiting.

And when he took a step forward, the dim light of a nearby lamp caught his face– Your stomach twisted.

You knew him.

The same man from the market, who had slipped into the Garrison without being noticed.

Your pulse picked up, and you forced your expression into something neutral.

He offered a polite, almost cordial smile. “Evening, Miss.”

You swallowed, shifting your weight slightly. “Can I help you?”

His head tilted slightly. “I hope you can.”

Your brows furrowed.

He stepped forward again, slow and measured. “I couldn’t help but notice you at the Garrison tonight. You’re new there, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. “Been there a few weeks.”

He hummed, like that was something of interest to him. “And before that?”

Your spine stiffened slightly.

You hesitated for only a second before responding, voice careful. “Before that, I wasn’t working for the Shelbys, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man’s smirk was brief, but pointed. “Is that so?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr…” your voice trailed off as you waited for him to offer his name.

He did, though not without a small, knowing smile. “Campbell.”

You swallowed. “And what exactly do you do, Mr. Campbell?”

Campbell studied you for a long moment, then gave you another one of those polite, curt smiles. “I look into things.”

Your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression neutral.

Campbell took another slow step forward, hands still clasped behind his back, posture as stiff and calculated as his words. “And tell me,” he continued, voice smooth, almost pleasant, “what exactly have you seen in your time working for the Shelbys?”

“I pour drinks,” you said simply. “I wipe down the bar. I keep the books when Harry needs an extra hand.” You tilted your head slightly, feigning confusion. “Is there something specific you’re hoping I’ve seen?”

Campbell exhaled sharply through his nose, the ghost of amusement flickering across his face. “Come now, Miss. I think we both know that the Shelbys deal in more than just whiskey.”

Your stomach twisted, a slow coil of unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You met his gaze, willing your expression to remain impassive despite the prickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. You couldn’t let him see you waver. Couldn’t let him pick apart the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

“I know Mr. Shelby keeps horses,” you said evenly.

Campbell’s smile was slow, condescending. “Yes, and the devil wears his Sunday best, but we both know what he really is.” He took a step closer, the air between you growing thick with unspoken threats. “I’ll ask you again– what do you know about their business?”

Your jaw tightened. Tommy had been a right bastard earlier, cold and cutting as ever, but still, there was something in you, some irrational, unshakable instinct, that made you want to protect him. Protect all of them. The Shelbys had a way of pulling you into their storm and making you feel like you belonged there, even when you knew better. Even when it was dangerous. Even when Tommy made it impossible to forget that you were expendable to him, that he could push you away whenever it suited him.

And yet, here you were, standing in front of Campbell, lying through your teeth for a man who just berated you in front of the entire pub.

“I wouldn’t know,” you replied evenly. “They don’t exactly tell the barmaid their business, funny enough.”

Campbell’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t let his irritation show. Not yet. “Do they talk about the horses?” he asked.

That, at least, was an easy answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, careful to keep your expression neutral. “They’re betting men. Own a few racers.”

Campbell tilted his head slightly. “That all?”

You shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

He let the silence stretch between you, his sharp eyes watching, searching. You didn’t waver.

Finally, he gave you a small, unreadable smile.

“Very well,” he murmured. “I appreciate your time. Goodnight, Miss.”

You forced yourself to offer a polite nod. You didn’t thank him. Instead, you turned on your heel, before walking away at an even pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. And the entire time, you felt his gaze lingering on you.

Watching.

Waiting.

You couldn’t get home fast enough. Your heart was still racing by the time you reached your front door, breath uneven, pulse thudding in your ears. You fumbled with the key for a moment before finally shoving the door open, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind you, twisting the lock into place.

Then, for what felt like the first time since leaving the Garrison, you exhaled.

Your mind raced, replaying every second of the encounter with Campbell, dissecting every word, every shift in his expression.

Who the hell was he?

You had no idea if he was police, if he was working for someone else, if he was just another enemy in whatever war the Shelbys were waging. But the way he had questioned you, the way he had watched you, searched you, made your skin crawl.

Then, as if on command, your mind flickered back to the bar, to the way Tommy had stood too close, his voice cutting sharp as a blade.

The words had cracked like a whip, dragging everyone’s attention to you whether they wanted it or not. Because it wasn’t just what he had said. It was the way he had said it– like you were foolish, like you were insignificant, like you hadn’t earned your place in their world despite everything you had done to prove otherwise.

You shook off the thought, pushing your coat from your shoulders and setting it on the hook. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you moved through your usual nighttime routine, lighting a candle and placing it on the small table near the window.

You needed to calm down.

You moved through the motions, grounding yourself in ritual– setting out a glass of water, washing your hands, brushing the dust from the windowsill. Little things. Familiar things.

Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away. You reminded yourself.

But then–

Bang.

A fierce knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Your eyes flickered toward the candle, the only source of light in the room, the flame dancing wildly from the sudden jolt of sound.

Another knock. Harder this time.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to move.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached the door, wondering if you should even entertain asking who was there. What if Mr. Campbell had more questions that you couldn’t answer?

Just before you reached for the handle–

A voice, low and familiar, rang out. “Open the door.”

You hesitated for only a second before undoing the lock and pulling the door open.

Tommy Shelby stood on your doorstep, coat damp from the lingering mist in the air, eyes sharp, unreadable.

His gaze flickered over you, scanning your face, before settling on your wide-eyed expression.

His jaw tightened.

“What did Campbell want with you?”

Before you could even offer a response, Tommy pushed his way inside.

You stepped back on instinct, barely catching the door before it could slam into the wall. He moved past you without hesitation, shaking off his coat and tossing his flat cap onto the nearest chair.

You stared at him, still gripping the edge of the door, your pulse racing from the way he had stormed in like he owned the place.

“What–” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, ignoring your question completely. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“What did he ask you?” he demanded, still pacing. “What did he say?”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Who is he?” you asked instead, your voice careful, despite the tangle of emotions raging inside of you.

Tommy stopped pacing just long enough to pin you with a sharp, cold stare. “He’s a problem,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, “And I need to know exactly what he said to you.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, but the weight of the entire day was pressing down on you.

You were so tired.

Tired of being snapped at. Tired of being humiliated in front of an entire pub. Tired of Tommy Shelby acting like you were a problem one second and something worth his time the next.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you exhaled slowly, trying to push past the sting in your chest.

“He asked how long I’ve been working at the Garrison,” you said, voice quieter than before. “Asked what I know about your business.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “And?”

You lifted your chin slightly, fighting to keep your emotions in check. “And I told him the truth. That I know nothing. That you deal with horses. That’s it.”

Tommy watched you closely, like he was picking apart your words, searching for something unsaid. “Did he ask you anything else?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Tommy cut you off before you could get a single word out.

“Did he mention any names?”

You frowned. “No, but–”

“Did he threaten you?”

Your frustration spiked. “No–”

“Did you–”

“Jesus Christ, will you let me fucking talk?” The words exploded from you before you could stop them, your voice sharp, breaking through the tight space between you.

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes, the sting of everything, the exhaustion, the frustration, the way he had been so cruel– only an hour ago, and spent the past week pushing you away, only to show up at your door demanding answers like you owed him something.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, your voice raw when you finally spoke again.

“I am so fucking tired of you talking at me.” Your hands trembled as you jabbed a finger toward him. “You either ignore me or snap at me or decide when I’m worth speaking to, and I am–” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, “I am so done trying to figure out what the hell I did to piss you off.”

Tommy didn't speak right away. Instead, he just stood there, watching you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming a little heavier than before. You hated that silence. That cold, infuriating patience of his.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You didn’t do anything."

You let out a hollow laugh, disbelieving. "Really? Because you’ve spent the last week acting like I did."

Tommy inhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face, before exhaling just as deliberately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, lower, more measured than before. “I was trying to keep any of this from happening.”

Your breath was still uneven, your chest still tight from everything that had boiled over moments ago. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders, almost like he was trying to shake something off before meeting your gaze again, calmer now. “Campbell’s got his eye on us– on me. He’s looking for any reason to dig deeper. The last thing I needed was for him to think you had anything to do with our world.”

Your brows pulled together. “I don’t have anything to do with your world.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change. “You patched up James.”

Your brows furrowed. “And?”

Tommy let out a slow, measured breath, watching you carefully. “James isn’t… he isn’t just a Blinder,” he explained. “He’s wanted. By Campbell.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “Wanted for what?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He’s been running jobs for me. Big ones. Campbell’s been after him for months.”

You swallowed hard, something cold settling in your chest. “So Campbell knows?”

“He knows someone patched him up. I think he’s making connections.” Tommy’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. Tommy must have seen the panic in your face because his expression shifted, his voice lowering. “Listen to me.”

You met his eyes, the steel in them keeping you from unraveling completely.

“I know what Campbell’s capable of,” he said, his voice even but firm. “Because I work with him.”

You blinked. “What?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened.

“I don't have a choice,” he said. “He has leverage. Things he can use to break us. So, I play his game.” His gaze flickered, as if the memories had sharp edges. “I do what I need to do to keep the family safe. To keep them alive. Campbell’s the kind of man who doesn’t let go of things,” Tommy continued. “Not grudges. Not power. If he thinks he can use you, he will. If he thinks you’re in his way…” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish.

Tommy watched you for a moment before speaking. “I think he’s trying to figure out where you fit into all of this.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“I didn’t want you anywhere near this,” he said, and for the first time since he’d stormed through your door, his voice didn’t carry that usual edge of control– it almost sounded like he meant it. “I thought… if he saw me talk to you like you were just a barmaid, he might actually think that was true.”

“So you humiliated me on purpose.” You huffed a humorless laugh, crossing your arms.

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t deny it. “I needed Campbell to think you were nothing,” he said plainly, voice low. “That you weren’t involved, that you didn’t matter to any of this.”

“Well, congratulations. You did a hell of a job making me feel like I was nothing.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t immediately reply.

You took a step back, exhaling through your nose. “Christ, you could have told me.”

“I thought it would look more genuine if you didn't know.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that! Like I’m some disposable piece of shit you found on the street,” you snapped, voice raw with emotion. “Like I’m just another thing to be used when it suits you and tossed aside when it doesn’t. I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out what I did wrong,” you went on, your voice rising. “One minute, you walk me home– act like you give a damn, and the next, you’re humiliating me in front of a bar full of people. Acting like I’m some incompetent idiot you barely tolerate to hang around.”

Tommy held your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I do give a damn,” he sighed, voice lower now, rougher. “More than I should. That’s why I did it. You weren’t supposed to get involved… not like this. You were supposed to stay on the outside of all this.”

You froze, blinking at him, your breath still heavy, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Finally, you let out a slow, uneven breath, your anger slowly fading. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, you don’t get to treat me like that, Tommy. You don’t get to decide when I matter and when I don’t. I’m here– I stitched up James, I just lied through my teeth to Campbell. I'm pretty far from the bloody outside. But I know what I bloody signed up for. So stop using me like a pawn in your little game without at least giving me the courtesy of telling me about it, first.”

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes flickered. You knew he was used to control, to making all the choices, to moving people around like chess pieces without them even realizing it.

Tommy exhaled slowly, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. His sharp gaze flickered over your face, his jaw tightening just slightly, like he was weighing his options, deciding what move to make next.

Then, after a long pause, he simply said, "Okay."

You blinked. "What?"

Tommy sighed, rolling his shoulders as if this conversation had worn him out. "Okay," he repeated.

Your arms stayed crossed tightly over your chest, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. "That easy?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Tommy exhaled another slow drag of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "Would you prefer I argue with you about it?"

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I’d prefer you actually mean it."

Tommy’s brows pulled together slightly. "I do."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Forgive me for not entirely believing you, but you just spent the last week acting like I was worse than the scum under your shoe. And now, what? You just say okay?" Your voice was sharp, unwavering.

His jaw tightened, but this time, you saw it– the flicker of something in his eyes, something unguarded, something that told you he wasn’t as composed as he wanted you to think.

You huffed a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a bastard."

His lips twitched, his face unreadable. “Aye. That I am.”

You gazed at him skeptically, slightly taken aback by his submissive stance to the situation. Tommy Shelby didn’t strike you as the type of person to admit he was wrong. And the fact that he was doing exactly that… in his own way, made the armor in your chest soften the slightest bit.

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He glanced away for a brief moment, exhaling smoke, before his gaze flickered back to you. Then, finally, he sighed. "Look, if it helps… We run racecourses– legal ones and the kind that aren't. That’s where the real money is."

Your breath hitched slightly. You'd known there was more to their dealings, but hearing him say it out loud? It made it real.

Tommy continued. "We take protection money from businesses that want to keep their windows intact. We run bets. Move goods. Some of it’s clean. Some of it’s not." He tilted his head slightly. "Campbell wants to make it sound worse than it is. But you’re clever enough to know that corruption runs in every part of this city– including the ones he works for."

You searched his face, trying to make sense of this version of Tommy Shelby– the man who wasn’t arguing, who wasn’t pushing for control. "Why tell me all this now?"

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came low, rough. "Because I don’t want you looking at me like that."

Your brows pulled together. "Like what?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Like I broke something I can’t fix."

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

Tommy watched you carefully, measuring your reaction. "Look, if you’re in, you have to trust me," he said. "That’s the only way this works. But I want you to know the kind of fight you’re walking into. As well as the kind of men Campbell answers to."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "And what kind of men are they?"

Tommy’s expression darkened, his blue eyes turning to ice. "The kind that don’t leave loose ends."

He took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Campbell isn’t just after me. He’s after control. He wants to crush the Blinders and make an example out of anyone who stands in his way." He paused, jaw tightening. "That includes you now."

You held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation. But all you saw was truth. Hard, unflinching truth.

The worst part was– you believed him.

You sighed. “I had a whole speech prepared– Reasons why you should tell me more… reasons why you should let me help.”

A brief flicker of amusement, gone as quickly as it had appeared, flashed across his face. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dimly lit room. “That so?” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head, your arms still folded tightly across your chest. The tension between you had thinned, but it wasn’t entirely gone– still lingering beneath the surface like embers that hadn’t quite burned out.

“That’s alright,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I think I’ll save it.”

Tommy arched a brow, waiting.

“I never know when you’re going to start acting like a bastard again. I might need it later.”

That time, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Right,” he muttered dryly. "If you do save it, make it a good one."

You let out a small, tired chuckle, though the exhaustion still clung to you. “I will.”

His lips twitched, just barely.

"Does that mean you’re finally going to be honest with me?" you dared to ask.

His jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he simply looked at you– measuring, considering.

Tommy inhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, his sharp gaze locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Suppose it does."

Tommy’s gaze flickered over your face, searching, waiting for hesitation, for regret. "You stay now, there’s no running away later,” he said.

Your breath was tight in your chest, but your voice was firm when you finally spoke. "I wasn’t planning on running."

For a second, something in his face shifted. Not surprise, but something else. Something almost like... admiration.

Then, just like that, the flicker was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable expression again.

Tommy nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Alright. Get some rest, then."

You hesitated for just a second, watching him walk towards the door. He didn’t say it like a suggestion. He said it like a command.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you replied.

You caught the way he paused at that, the way his cigarette lingered between his fingers, his head tilting just slightly.

Then, after a beat, he said, “Stop calling me that.”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “What?”

Tommy sighed, “Anyone brave enough to call me a bastard to my face can call me by my first name.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Alright then,” you said, voice quieter now. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

His lips twitched again– just slightly, but it was there.

“Goodnight,” he murmured.

…

You had spent the next few days turning over your last conversation with Tommy, picking apart his words, the way his voice had softened, just barely, when he admitted you weren’t nothing to him. The way he had let you in, even if only a fraction.

True to form, he hadn’t mentioned it again. He hadn’t tried to explain himself further or reassure you. He had simply gone on being Tommy– stoic, calculating, always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

But something had shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did, or at least, you were beginning to.

He still kept his distance, still carried that sharp edge of authority wherever he went, but there were moments– fleeting, barely-there moments, where you caught him watching you like he was waiting for something. Like he was measuring this new version of your place in his world.

And while he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make things easier, you hadn’t missed the change in how others treated you, either.

No more cold shoulders. No more skeptical glances.

It started small– checking the books, keeping an eye on deliveries, noticing when numbers didn’t add up, but it had grown into something else entirely. Now, you weren’t just counting crates of whiskey; you were keeping tabs on who came and went, who talked too much, who looked nervous when Tommy’s name was mentioned. You had learned that a missing shipment wasn’t just a mistake, it was a message. That a man running his mouth about the Blinders one night often ended up with a bruised face the next. Tommy hadn’t sat you down and explained the rules of his world, he had let you figure them out on your own. And the worst part? You had. You weren’t just a barmaid anymore, not really.

You knew it. And so did Tommy.

And now, as you wiped down the last of the glasses in the near-empty Garrison, you felt it again– the weight of something hanging in the air.

You glanced up just in time to see Tommy approaching, his movements slow and deliberate. His coat was already off, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows– like he had settled in, like he had time.

That was rare.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, reaching for the glass you had just cleaned. He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb along the rim, his expression unreadable.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Alright. What is it?"

Tommy arched a brow, finally looking up at you. "What?"

"You never just... sit," you said, nodding toward him. "Not unless there’s a reason."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped a cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a slow drag before speaking.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, exhaling smoke into the low-lit room.

…

Later that night, the Garrison was nearly empty, the low glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the bar. You wiped down the counter, letting the hum of the quiet night settle around you.

Which was why you weren’t surprised when the door creaked open and a new kind of tension settled in your chest.

You didn’t have to look up to know who had walked in.

Mr. Campbell.

His heavy boots echoed against the wooden floor as he approached, a picture of cold confidence in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t belong here—not in the way the usual men did. The Blinders carried violence in their hands, but Campbell carried it like a quiet threat beneath his skin.

"Evening, Miss," he greeted smoothly, settling onto a stool in front of you. His voice was controlled, measured.

You forced your grip to stay relaxed around the cloth in your hand, offering him a polite nod. "Mr. Campbell."

He hummed as he pulled off his gloves, setting them neatly on the bar. "I’m looking for Mr. Shelby.”

You nodded, reaching for a glass. "He should be back soon."

Campbell hummed again, slow and thoughtful, like he had all the time in the world. "Then I suppose I’ll wait."

You forced a neutral expression. “Whiskey?” you asked. You waited for him to nod before you poured him a drink.

The liquid sloshed softly in the glass, the only sound between you as he watched you too closely– assessing, searching for something.

“How have you been enjoying your time here?” he asked.

The casual question made your pulse tick up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you shrugged, placing his drink in front of him. "I like it enough.”

Campbell smiled– tight, knowing. "I imagine you see some things."

Before you could respond, the doors to the Garrison swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the heavy sound of boots against the wooden floor.

Tommy.

He entered with purpose, slow and deliberate, his coat unbuttoned, cigarette already in hand. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto the two of you at the bar.

And something flickered inside you.

It was quick, unexpected. A brief, unsteady jolt in your chest, something that had nothing to do with fear, nothing to do with the plan.

It was the way he carried himself, the quiet authority that demanded attention without needing to ask for it. The way his eyes, sharp, calculating, found yours first, even if only for a second, before flicking to Campbell.

You swallowed hard, shoving whatever this feeling was, down, forcing yourself to keep your posture neutral.

"Campbell." His voice was flat, unreadable.

Campbell barely turned his head. "Mr. Shelby."

Tommy strode forward, settling beside Campbell at the bar like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting there.

He glanced at you once– brief and fleeting, before tilting his chin toward the bottle. "Pour me one."

You moved without hesitation, sliding a glass in front of him as he took out his cigarette case. His movements were calm, measured, as he tapped one out and lit it, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector. Campbell?"

Campbell took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down neatly. "Just checking in. Making sure you remember our… arrangement."

Tommy smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Hard to forget when you keep sniffing around."

The tension stretched between them, coiling tight like a wire about to snap.

Campbell turned slightly, eyeing you again before speaking. "Your barmaid here was just keeping me company."

Tommy exhaled smoke, leaning against the counter with calculated nonchalance. "That right?"

Your stomach twisted, but you stayed steady, busying yourself with straightening bottles.

Campbell hummed again. "It’s a shame, really. Being in a place like this, working for a man like you."

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Campbell for a moment longer before he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "No sense in talking business out here, eh?" His voice was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. "Why don’t we step into the back?"

Campbell hummed, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. "Lead the way, then."

Tommy nodded, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray before pushing off the barstool. He adjusted his coat, already turning toward the hallway.

That was your cue.

You reached for the glass beside Campbell’s, fingers just slightly unsteady, just careless enough. As Tommy turned, you made a sudden, deliberate movement, just enough to send the full glass of whiskey spilling forward, drenching the front of his shirt and coat.

"Shit!" The exclamation left your mouth before he could react, and you snatched a rag off the counter, reaching toward him in a hurried, useless apology. "Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I–"

Tommy jerked away from your touch sharply, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the spreading stain, his fists twitching like he was deciding whether to hit something or walk away.

When he looked up, his eyes were cold, cutting.

"Fucking useless," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Campbell to hear.

You flinched. Trying to sell it.

Your hands tightened around the cloth as you stepped back, bowing your head slightly like you were expecting worse.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head in disgusted dismissal before exhaling sharply, straightening his coat. He turned back to Campbell with a forced smirk, like this was just another inconvenience in a long list of them.

"Apologies, Mr. Campbell. I hate to waste more time, but I’ll need to change."

Campbell chuckled under his breath, casting you a side glance that made your skin crawl. "No need to apologize, Mr. Shelby. I quite enjoy the entertainment."

Tommy didn’t acknowledge Campbell’s remark, just let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath before striding toward the back, shoulders tense with barely-contained irritation.

You kept your eyes down as he left, hands still gripping the cloth, still playing the part.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, the air shifted.

Campbell exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bar, stretching out his fingers like he had all the time in the world. "Cruel man, isn’t he?"

You hesitated, just for a second– just enough to make it believable, before shaking your head weakly, giving him the reaction he was looking for. "I spilled a drink on him," Your voice was quieter now, unsteady. “That’s just how Mr. Shelby is.”

Campbell hummed, eyes sharp, calculating. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing some great truth you hadn’t yet realized.

"No, my dear," he said smoothly. "That isn’t just how he is. That’s who he is."

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching around the cloth. "It’s fine."

Campbell’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Ah, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what he was truly capable of.”

You hesitated again, just long enough for him to notice. That was what he wanted.

“What’s he capable of?” you asked quietly… weakly.

Campbell tilted his head to the side daringly. “Things that would give you nightmares, my dear.” His voice softened, becoming almost coaxing. "I’ve seen the way he treats you. Like you’re nothing. Have you ever thought about getting back at a man like Tommy Shelby?"

Your breath hitched.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, blinking once, as if the thought had never crossed your mind, until now.

The hook was set.

Now, all you had to do was let him reel you in.

…

The air inside Watery Lane was thick with cigarette smoke and whiskey, the dim glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the walls. You sat at the worn dining table, the weight of the evening still pressing into your chest as you recounted every detail of your conversation with Campbell.

Arthur let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he tipped back a drink. "Christ, love– you're a proper fuckin' spy now, ain't ya?"

You scoffed, shaking your head, but your fingers tightened slightly around your glass uncomfortably.

Polly, sitting across from you, wasn’t laughing. She had that sharp, knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made you feel like she was peeling back your skin, searching for cracks.

"I don’t like it," she said, voice clipped as she tapped ash from her cigarette. "This game you’re playing with Campbell– it’s dangerous."

Polly flicked her gaze to Tommy. "And you? You’re just lettin’ her walk right into it, aren’t you?"

Tommy, who had been silent up until now, just listening, finally spoke, his voice low, certain, final.

"It’s the best plan we have. This is the only shot we have at getting ahead of Campbell for once."

A hush settled over the room at that.

You exhaled slowly, your shoulders relaxing just slightly, but not completely. You were still trying to feel like you belonged here.

Arthur, still grinning, smacked his hand against the table. "Reckon we should give you a razor cap next, eh?"

John snorted. "Make her a proper Blinder, aye?"

"Enough!” Polly’s sharp voice cut through the room, instantly silencing John and Arthur’s amusement. She leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette with more force than necessary, her gaze locking onto Tommy.

"I mean it, Tommy. I don’t like this. It’s too dangerous."

Tommy exhaled slowly, fingers pressing against his temple before he finally met her eyes. "We’ve been over this, Pol."

"And I’ll keep sayin’ it till you listen." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "You’re putting her in the middle of something she has no business being in. You think Campbell won’t see through this? You think he won’t turn it back on her the second he gets the chance?"

Your chest tightened at her words, but you stayed quiet, watching the exchange between them.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. "We’ll handle it, Pol." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it– the kind that meant the conversation was over.

Polly’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she turned her gaze to you, her expression softer but still carrying that same weight. "Be careful."

You swallowed, nodding once. "I will."

Tommy leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the tension settle before he sighed, rubbing his temple. "It’s late."

You took that as your cue, standing up. "Right. I should go."

But before you could even push your chair back properly, Tommy stood up as well. He didn’t say anything, just reached for his coat, shrugging it on like it was second nature.

Arthur smirked into his glass. Polly just watched Tommy closely, her fingers laced together on the table. John raised a brow.

Tommy ignored them all, tilting his head slightly toward the door.

You hesitated before falling into step beside him.

As you moved toward the door, Arthur leaned back in his chair, smirking over the rim of his glass.

"G’night, Doc," he called, amusement laced through his voice. "Try not to get into any more trouble, eh?"

You huffed a quiet breath, shaking your head as you pulled the door open.

Arthur’s chuckle followed you out, but you barely heard it as you stepped into the cold night air.

Tommy was already a step ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his stride easy, unhurried but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered saying something, asking why he kept doing this, why he kept walking with you even when he didn’t have to.

The night air was crisp and quiet, the distant hum of the city settling into the darkness around you. Tommy walked beside you, his steps measured, thoughtful, but there was a weight in the way he carried himself tonight– like something was pressing against his ribs, like he had something to say.

Finally, after a long silence, he exhaled sharply, his breath curling in the cold. "You know this plan is dangerous."

You didn’t hesitate. "I know."

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead. "Campbell isn’t a fool. If he figures out what we’re doing–" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

You swallowed, your fingers flexing inside your coat pockets. "I know."

Tommy scoffed lightly, shaking his head as he took out a cigarette. "He won’t just throw you in a cell and be done with it. He’ll make an example of you."

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers pressing gently against his shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

Tommy’s entire body stilled. The shift in him was immediate, his breathing slowed, his posture tensed, like he wasn’t used to being touched like that. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

"I know," you repeated.

Tommy shook his head, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again, his voice lower, more measured. "You don’t know what he’s capable of–”

“You’ve told me."

Slowly, he looked at you, the sharpness in his expression cracking– just for a second.

You swallowed hard, voice steady. "I know the risks, Tommy."

His lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"And I still want to help."

Tommy’s throat bobbed with a slow swallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes.

You let your hand drop, taking a breath. "I care about your family. About what happens to them. And I care about what happens to you."

His shoulders tensed beneath his coat, his expression shifting.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking, what calculations were running through that sharp mind of his. But after a long moment, he exhaled slowly, turning away slightly, running a hand over his face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"I wish you didn’t."

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coffeefleecy · 2 months ago

Text

Serpent in the Shadows

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Summary: Insomnia is a cruel captor.

You've been having difficulty sleeping for months and trying every natural remedy under the Sun. As a last resort, you try begging - pleading for a little bit of relief. Will your pleas finally be answered?

Word Count: 4.1k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Part Four

Tags/Warnings: incubus!Caleb, smut, degradation, dacryphilia, slight manipulation, dream sex

Insomnia is a cruel captor.

For the last few weeks - months, really - you’ve tried every vitamin, tea and trick under the Sun. Melatonin works in spurts, lulling you into a light doze right before experiencing a jarring falling sensation that yanks you from the slack grasp of the REM cycle. Rather than feeling any kind of relief from this, the Melatonin leaves you feeling slightly drunk, groggy in a way that makes you crankier than if you had just gone without sleep entirely.

No amount of sleepytime tea offers you any kind of reprieve. The floral chamomile and mild sting of spearmint soothe your senses, but ultimately create more problems with the extra bathroom trip that so conveniently occurs right as you’re dozing off.

The light pink alarm clock on your nightstand that’s normally pleasant and relaxing to look at blares bright red numbers back at you that you can’t blink away.

2:09

The silky satin of your hair-friendly pillowcase feels stifling and no amount of switching the pillow over seems to cool it off. With a strangled groan, you turn on your side to face away from the alarm clock’s mocking glare.

“Please,” You beg silently. “Please, just an hour. No - thirty minutes. Something.”

Your only solace for the current predicament is that you don’t have work in the morning. At least there’s that, you think. No amount of caffeine serves any kind of benefits for you, the jitters and stomach pains that come with the anxiety render coffee and energy drinks pointless.

Between counting those proverbial sheep and inventing new colorful curse words, sleep mercifully claims you.

Your dreams are never all that eventful and for the longest time, you thought that was normal for everyone. The idea of keeping some kind of dream journal used to be enticing for you, but the reality was that the entries would be so painfully dull they wouldn’t even be worth the paper they’d be written on and forgotten moments after waking. Sometimes your dreams are so mundane it doesn’t even feel like you’re asleep, so when you feel the bed dip beside you, your dream-state self pays no mind.

“Hello, there,” a male’s playful voice purrs into the depths of darkness.

It’s as if you’ve been doused with liquid nitrogen, body freezing into absolute terror. Is this sleep paralysis?

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you,” he promises as he rests a large hand on your hip. “I’m actually here to help you.”

The line between dream and reality warps as your exhausted brain tries to piece bits of what’s happening together into a puzzle that makes sense. On one hand, you’d like to investigate the source of the voice and the touch you find that you’re not shying away from - but on the other, the idea of what’s awaiting you incites a cacophony of alarms and sirens, begging you to listen to reason.

“Don’t be scared,” He murmurs, delicately trailing his fingertips from your hip to your waist, his touch feather-light. “After all, you did invite me.”

“I invited you?” Your voice wavers with uncertainty.

“Mhm, in fact, I think you begged for me to come here tonight.”

You swallow thickly as you realize your body is relaxing into his touch, all innocent on the surface with malicious intent and threats lurking in the shadows. With an unsettling gentleness, the unknown man’s hand drifts further up, purposefully ignoring your breasts to soothingly trace your collarbone.

“I - I don’t understand.”

“What’s so difficult to grasp? Weren’t you begging for an extra hour of sleep by any means necessary?”

Even in your sleep-addled confusion, a frightened half-gasp robs you of breath.

“How did you know that?”

“I know everything, pipsqueak,” He taunts. “I’ve been watching you for a little while. Poor baby can’t seem to get any sleep, huh? How about I fix it for you? You want me to make it all better?”

“Who are you? How have you been watching me?”

“Hm, guess that’d be Caleb to you,” He grants, callous and cavalier as he drags his fingertips up your neck and to your jaw. “The rest is none of your fuckin’ business.”

“Am I - am I dreaming?”

Caleb hooks his index finger and thumb under your chin, moving you just so you’re forced to meet his gaze over your shoulder. You’re met with a commanding and conniving countenance, sinister intentions that marr an otherwise ethereal face. Caleb’s eyes are smoldering violets flecked with afire cinders beneath a frame of thick, long lashes no man has ever deserved the right to possess. The outer corners of his eyelids turn down to give him the illusion of a charming sweetness, his puppy-like visage further exacerbated by the captivating way his lower eyelids puff out. Caleb would be the portrait of the unassuming, starry-eyed boy next door if he wasn’t looking at you like he wants to consume every last bit of you.

“I dunno,” Caleb pretends to consider. “Do you think you’re dreaming?”

“Why are you here?” You demand, ignoring his sarcastic echo of the question he’s deflecting.

“I told you, pipsqueak, I’m here for you. You know that I’m right and you know that you’ve been begging for sleep, so why don’t we cut the dumb act? Doesn’t really suit you, y’know?”

Caleb releases his grip on your chin and sits up behind you and you don’t know why you’re so shocked at how large he is; every part of him so domineering and demanding to be seen. He cocks his head to the side, observing you with a calculating curiosity that immediately makes you feel the need to cover up despite being entirely clothed.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? This is gonna be fun for me. Why don’t you turn over on your back for me so I can see you a little better?”

This must be sleep paralysis. Despite his unnecessary permission, an invisible force weighs you down, rendering any movement in your limbs fruitless. Even talking proves to be a task for you and every word you’ve managed to utter thus far has left your throat desiccated, screaming in protest and raw with exertion.

“Oh, right - my bad,” Caleb snorts. “Here, that any better?”

A warm, tingling phenomenon washes over your body as the gravity weighing on you vanishes entirely, leaving behind a painfully pleasant buzz akin to the renewed circulation of blood to a previously cut off limb. The sensation of feeling returning to your body is jarring and so sudden that you can feel yourself trembling and almost pay no notice to Caleb turning you over on your back to look up at him.

“What was that?”

“I dunno, it’s your dream isn’t it?” Caleb smirks down at you, cruel and handsome as his eyes sweep over the newly visible parts of you.

“This feels so real,” You argue.

“Does it? Huh,” Caleb shrugs. “Guess that just makes it better for you then, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you here?” You press, uselessly covering your clothed body with your arms, the act more of self-soothing than actual utility.

Caleb’s eyes narrow and he scoffs, clearly annoyed with your probing line of questioning.

“I already told you why I’m here, dummy. Just be a good girl for me and I can take care of you, okay? I can help you sleep, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know who you are?”

“You might not know who I am directly, but you did ask for me. I just told you, don’t you remember?”

Caleb grins when you look at him with a dumbfounded expression.

“Please, an hour - what was it? Something like you whining for thirty minutes of uninterrupted rest? Come on, I can put you to sleep.”

“Who are you?”

“I told you who I am. My name is Caleb,” He presses a finger to your lips when you try to interrupt. “I’m here to put you to sleep. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“But I was already asleep -”

“Okay, how’s this - I’m here to fuck the sleep into your body. That clear enough for you? You’ve been having trouble sleeping - anyone can see that from those bags underneath your eyes - and I’m here to make you feel so good you can finally relax. I already told you that I know who you are and what you want - why else would I have come here? I’m in your dream, pipsqueak - this is your mind telling you exactly what you want, so why deprive yourself?”

His words are crass and impatient, cutting through the unnecessary fat of pleasantries and straight through your core. You hate how his vulgarity makes you throb and the fact that he’s voicing thoughts you’ve never uttered yourself make you want to shrivel up with shame.

“Since we’re so certain this is a dream, then what’s the harm? Surely you can indulge a little, hm?” Caleb prompts and flattens the palm of his hand on the fabric over your stomach.

You can feel your resolve dwindling at his touch and judging from the way he’s voicing the things you’ve been secretly desiring, he likely knows it. Sensing the lingering threads of your hesitation fraying, Caleb tugs at them a bit harder.

“Those flowers over there - the ones on your dresser,” He jerks his head in the general direction. “Are they normally there?”

Flowers? You’re not certain – they aren’t something you keep in your home considering the short lifespan and the fact that you’re not great about keeping those kinds of things alive with your busy work lifestyle. Maybe he’s right, then - why would you have flowers in your room? You lift your head to see that he’s right, greeting you with the sight of an unassuming, small vase containing two blood-red roses. They sit on your dresser next to a smattering of knick-knacks - jewelry boxes that you definitely remember and a few other items that are too hard to make out even with the moonlight.

“See? Those wouldn’t be there if you weren’t dreaming, right?” Caleb reasons, his fingertips curling into the fabric of your comforter in their itch to throw it off of you.

“I - I guess not,” You concede, pondering the likelihood and vaguely registering the gooseflesh prickling your skin as Caleb pries the blanket from your body.

“That’s it, relax for me, sweetheart,” He encourages you with a gleeful grin. “You’ve been having some trouble, huh?”

“Y-yes,” You shudder as Caleb toys with the hem of your plain, thin sleep shirt.

“Oh, I know,” He says sweetly, tugging the fabric up just enough to expose half of your stomach. “I can see it, sweetheart. I can hear it when you’re frustrated, all restless when you toss and turn.”

Caleb lowers himself over you, caging you in with strong, secure arms as his shaggy hair tickles your forehead.

“I can feel it, too – feel how tightly your body is wound up, how desperate you are when you can’t make that feeling go away. You’ve tried so hard with these useless little fingers of yours, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know -”

“Shh,” Caleb admonishes before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. How many times have you tried to touch yourself before you give up, baby? I know, but do you?”

“Caleb, I don’t - it’s embarrassing.”

“8 times in the last three days, but you seem to have taken tonight off,” Caleb observes nonchalantly, as though he’s not privy to the most secret and hidden parts of your lack of pleasure. “Why’s that, I wonder? Is that why you had to beg for me tonight?”

“Are you really here to help me?” Your voice is distant even to your own ears, small and trembling like the last leaf on a barren tree.

“Oh, absolutely,” Caleb swears as he simpers over you, tone sickly saccharine and saturated with conviction. “Will you let me? I need you to say it out loud and I need you to fucking beg me for it or I’m not giving you anything.”

“Please help me, Caleb,” You whine, his hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your stomach sapping the last of your inhibitions away.

“Not good enough, pipsqueak. Be more specific, yeah? I know you can use those big girl words,” Caleb trails his lips from your cheek to your ear and whispers menacingly, “Beg for me to touch you.”

“Touch me, Caleb,” You amend, shivering as Caleb tugs at your earlobe with his teeth, sharp enough to leave indents but not enough to draw blood. “I want you to make me feel good and help me get sleep.”

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, so pliant and desperate under the touch of a man you know nothing about save for a name you’re almost certain isn’t real. Everything around you melts away as Caleb envelops your body, practically swallowing you as he commands your focus.

“Awe, asking me so nicely,” Caleb licks the shell of your ear and delights in the way you tremble beneath him. “How do you want me to touch you, though? You’ve got to be specific.”

“I thought you knew e-everything,” You moan, craning your neck for him as his lips travel to your throat, his tongue darting out to soothe over the little bites he’s nibbling into your skin.

“I want YOU to know what you’re really asking for, though,” Caleb slightly raises himself up on his elbows for his gaze to bore into yours. “I’ll give you everything you want if you ask for it.”

“Please, touch me like I’ve been trying to touch myself,” You pant. “I want your f-fingers.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Caleb praises, lowering his head to lick the pulse point in your throat. “Mm, you taste delicious.”

He sucks a bit harder into your skin, something you would be worried about if you weren’t so sure this is a dream and sigh when he pulls away, disappointed by the loss.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m just gonna take these little shorts off, yeah? These are a little revealing, aren’t they? Fuck, these legs. Such a shame no one ever gets to see them.”

Caleb gleefully hums to himself, clearly pleased with the way things are unfolding as he hooks his fingers into the hem of your shorts and carefully pulls them down your thighs. You surrender yourself to the feeling of his deceptively delicate touch and faintly register the intoxicating scent of apples, the scent soothing away your anxieties even when your pink cotton panties are exposed.

“Aren’t these just adorable,” Caleb remarks, his eyes blazing and hungry with the unexplored territory. “I could just fucking devour you.”

The idea of his head between your thighs makes you clench them together and with the friction, you register the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. A raw, animalistic groan rumbles in the back of Caleb’s throat as he observes this, gaze locked to where you’re squirming.

“Open your fucking legs, sweetheart,” He demands, his hands digging into both of your thighs as he coaxes them open. “That’s it, you’d better be a good girl for me or I’ll just leave you like this.”

“No, no,” You panic, parting your legs completely for him in the sudden fear of him leaving. “Please, I’ll be good.”

Caleb’s grin widens, lips curling villainously as a glint of amusement dances in the light of his eyes.

“That’s fuckin’ right, you don’t honestly think you could do this without me, hm? That’s right, good girl,” He purrs, dragging his fingertips up your thighs. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, it’s all over your legs, you messy girl. I’m gonna touch you, okay?”

You nod vigorously, praying your body tells him what you can’t vocalize, the pathway from your brain to your mouth short circuiting, compromised with the intense feelings. Mercifully, Caleb doesn’t demand you to speak anymore and preoccupies himself with the pathetically wet fabric covering what he wants to see most. Caleb maddeningly runs his hands up your thighs until they meet your pelvis, teasing you there with gentle touches that only serve to drive your desperation.

“I thought you were supposed to be touching me,” You complain, irritation seeping into your wrecked voice as Caleb’s fingers whisper over your legs.

“Oh, that’s just bratty,” Caleb chides, not even bothering to keep the amusement from his expression. “You gonna beg me a little more? You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg.”

All of the objections you’ve been sharpening on your tongue die at the tip when Caleb presses against your heat through your panties, the pressure shattering your complaints as he rubs in circles, delighting as you silently scream, mouth agape and eyes glazed over.

“You want ‘em inside?” Caleb asks as he watches your hips buck into his touch. “Bet you’re clenching around nothing right now, yeah? Would you like that?”

“Y-yes, please,” You implore, legs spreading as wide they can of their own accord. “I just want -”

“Wanna come? Awe, you humans are so cute,” Caleb coos, the fact that he made any kind of comment about species drowned out by his fingers tugging your panties to the side so he can touch you properly.

You melt into his touch, chasing his fingers with every bit of exertion your body has left. Caleb parts your lips with his middle finger and gently probes inside, trying to gauge what his best course of action is. Instead of the faint resistance you’re expecting, his finger glides inside of you with ease and he begins shallowly fucking you with it.

“It’s not enough is it?” Caleb asks with a sarcastic sympathy, his smile widening when your eyebrows knit together as you glare at him. “Of course it isn’t, look at how greedy this pussy is.”

Caleb thrusts his finger in all the way before slowly dragging it out and removing it entirely, a thick, clear strand of your arousal stretching with his hand as he produces it for you to examine.

“You’ve never been this turned on in your life, have you? Wow, that’s sad, you poor thing. Only action you can get is in your supposed dreams and even then you have to beg for it - wait -” Caleb trails off as he observes your face.

“Wh-what?”

“You cryin’?”

Your tears of frustration have gone under the radar of your attention entirely and it’s only when he directly points it out that you register the wetness on your cheeks. Caleb chortles, shoulders shaking with laughter as he revels in his amusement.

“You are, you’re fucking crying! Oh, no,” He consoles you, using his hand soaked with your arousal to make a show of wiping away those tears, smearing your slick across your face. “That’s better, don’t worry - you’ve been such a good girl for me, I’ll make you feel better.”

Caleb leans forward like he’s going to finally kiss you and instead flattens his tongue against your cheek to lick up your tears the mess he’s made on your face. The sick fuck shudders at the taste and has the audacity to smack his lips.

“I need to get a taste directly from the fucking source, you’re so delicious,” Caleb groans.

“Y-You can,” You find yourself saying, acquiescing to a request you’re not even sure he’s going to follow through on when you know damn well you’re not ready for it.

“Naaah, not tonight,” Caleb teases you and it’s almost like he can hear your thoughts. He sits back on his heels to tug your panties down your legs and lets out a choked groan. “Fuck, that’s a sight.”

You can feel yourself being lifted with little to no decorum as Caleb sweeps a strong arm under your butt, raising your hips closer to him for better access. Before you know it, Caleb is pushing his middle and index finger inside of you, working his thumb on your clitoris in tandem. His fingers are precise, diligent and practiced in a way that makes you wonder how many people he’s done this to. The thought is fleeting; inconsequential and obsolete when Caleb presses his thumb harder against you, using his other arm as leverage to force you to grind against his palm and coating him with your wetness.

“That’s it, pretty girl, ride my fingers. Oh, you’re doing so good,” He sounds like he pities you, like the pleasure he’s commanding from your body means nothing more to him than a means to an end, but his blown out pupils tell a much different story.

“C-Caleb,” You choke out through freshly shed tears, the sound and sight awakening a newfound energy from him.

“Give me your tears, give me your pleasure and give me your everything,” Caleb snarls, scissoring his fingers inside of you while he toys with your clit. “Come all over my fingers and give me something to taste like a good girl.”

His words are harsh, demanding and congruent with his actions in the way his fingers are working you into a fucked out disarray. You succumb to your pleasure, unable to control the sound and pitch of your voice as you choke out sobs of the name he’s given you and nonsense. The coil inside of you snaps, pleasure shattering like shrapnel into every fiber of your being, weaving into your makeup and taking over. Black dots spot your vision and Caleb filters in and out of view as your grasp on reality ebbs and flows in turbulent waves.

“Rest now, sweetheart,” Caleb’s voice soothes you as you come down from your peak, uncharacteristically kind. “Just call me again if you need me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you.”

It’s almost like he cares.

A beat skips and a sudden silence permeates your clouded mind. Time is working in funny ways and your post-orgasmic haze cloaks you in confusion. How long has it been? A second? A minute? An hour?

“W-wait,” You reach out, blindly, sight still compromised as you come back from your blacked out bliss.

You feel nothing but the chill of the cold air and you’re suddenly very aware of how sweaty you are as liquid beads at the nape of your neck. As you blink, the room comes slowly back into view. Caleb is nowhere in sight and the image of him that was so clear in your dreams begins to taper off, fading slowly no matter how hard you try to remember.

A dream.

The blankets and sheets that usually stay put even in your more restless nights twist around your ankles, leaving your body exposed. Panicked, you paw at yourself and sigh in relief when you find that you’re fully clothed, despite an uncomfortable, cold wetness in your panties. Slightly confused, you pry yourself from the linens trapping your feet and stumble across the room to your dresser in search of new clothes.

It had to have been a dream, you tell yourself, comforted by the fact that everything seems to be in order aside from your own dishevelment.

In your haste to find new underwear, you yank one of the drawers out a little too roughly, causing the entire dresser to shake. Rumblings of loose jewelry and clutter create a racket, the contrast of sounds an unpleasant dissonance as things noisily fall to the floor. You ignore the chaos in favor of dry clothes, deciding you’ll deal with it when you’re decent.

With trembling hands, you peel your sleep shorts and drenched panties from your body, using the fabric to soak up the evidence of your wet dream guilt. You fight the urge to cringe as the wet fabric hits the floor; laundry being another thing you’ve decided you’ll deal with later, but you notice smattering of a few hair clips and miscellaneous jewelry litter the floor from your bull in a china shop tendencies. With a sigh, you gather each of the items to place back on the dresser, groaning when you see what disarray the surface is in.

A jewelry box lays on its side, the contents spilling out. You reach forward to right it, seeing that a picture frame has also fallen in the chaos and you fix that, too. Liquid pools around the bottom of the picture frame and you frown, eyebrows knitting together in concern as you try to locate the source of the liquid. You feel your throat constrict as you look to your left. A cracked vase lies on its side, two wilting, red roses sag haphazardly in the spilled liquid as collateral damage.

#caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x reader smut #incubus!caleb #love and deespace smut #lads #love and deespace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb xia #lnds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb x reader #caleb smut

325 notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 months ago

Note

Oh mighty, darling Revel, can we possibly get some more Kup when you have the chance??? I am hopelessly in love with that old man and I need more people indoctrinated into loving him, so he gets more content 🤣

Sure!

Don’t You Pt 2

Kup x Reader

• Aware of the young bots only somewhat paying attention as Springer goes over the mock plan, Kup works his cygar from one corner of his mouth to the other. Staring down the youngsters when they look back at where you’d settled yourself wrapped in a blanket on his thigh. Recharging or whatever it is humans do after you’d crashed from all the fear. Resting a servo on you, he still doesn’t know what to make of your claims that you’d just appeared on this world. And not sure what to do with you.

• Even if the war is over, there are always threats. Decepticons, Quintessons, Pit, their war hasn’t exactly made them many friends across the universe, tending to spill onto other worlds and cause devastating collateral damage. But because there’s no immediate threat, the new recruits don’t want to listen. Cutting up and far too green, not realizing that there’s always some threat looming on the horizon. That the Wreckers hold the line, quietly resolving issues before they’re even known. Before they can become problems. Looking down when one of your legs slides against him, eyes opening and afraid for a moment before you seem to remember and shudder, he nudges you with a servo. “You good, kid?”

• You’re hardly a kid, but it doesn’t seem worth arguing with the giant. Sitting up slowly, you study the others. “Yeah,” you lie. Listening to the green one growling in their weird language at the ones who’d been tormenting you before your current protector had shown up. Because none of this is good and you’re far from it yourself. Realizing you might be in shock, because you should be freaking out. Instead of just strangely resigned.

• Can’t stop mulling over you. It’s a funny thing. One little human out here alone. No supplies or gear. No chance at surviving if he hadn’t found you. “You’re a terrible liar, aren’t you,” he mutters and you just blink up at him before offering him a rueful smile. Chewing on his cygar, he vents. Until he figures out where you’d really come from, he’s going to have to keep you with him. Those brats will torment you if he doesn’t watch over you and you certainly can’t stay on this world. Knows he’s not cut out for this, doesn’t have the patience. Thought about handing you over to Springer, kid’s got a good spark, but that had felt like abandoning you when you’re clinging to him for safety.

• “Kind of still hoping this is just a weirdly awful dream,” you admit and he laughs, the sound a gruff bark of noise. And he reaches to tap you a bit too roughly on top of your head. Stomach growling, you look up at him. “You don’t have food, do you?” What would giant alien robots eat? Gasoline? Diesel? Whatever it is, you’re sure you’re not going to be able to eat it. A worry that strengthens when his weird metal cigar droops as his mouth opens then shuts and he solemnly says what you suspect is an alien swear word.

#transformers x reader #kup x reader #transformers kup

201 notes · View notes

blackpearlblast · 1 year ago

Text

a rundown on the listed e-sim platforms from this tweet from mirna el helbawi. visit esimsforgaza to learn about this effort. (they also have a tutorial on how to purchase an esim and send it to them)

update v12 (5/21/24) holafly (israel and egypt), nomad (regional middle east), simly (palestine and middle east), mogo (israel), and airalo (discover) are currently in the highest in demand. if it has been more than 3 weeks since you initially sent your esim and your esim has not been activated, you can reforward your original email with the expiration date in the subject line. you can see gothhabiba’s guide for how to tell if your esims have been activated. if your esim has expired without use, you can contact customer service to renew or replace it.

troubleshooting hint 1: if you are trying to pay through paypal, make sure you have pop-ups enabled! otherwise the payment window won't be able to appear. (this issue most frequently seems to occur with nomad)

troubleshooting hint 2: if you are trying to purchase an esim using the provider's app, it may block you from purchasing if your phone does not fit the requirements to install and use their esims. use their website in your browser instead and this problem should go away.

nomad

for the month of may, first time referrals give 25% off for a person's first purchase and 25% off the referrer's next purchase! it's a great time to use someone's referral code from the notes if you are a first time buyer.

you can use a referral code to get $3 off your first purchase and also make it so the person whose code you used can buy more esims for gaza. many people have been leaving their referral codes in the replies of this post and supposedly a referral code may eventually reach capacity so just keep trying until you find one that works! BACKPACKNOMAD is another code to get $3 off your first purchase, it's been working for some people but not others so try out a referral code instead if you can't get it to work. NOMADCNG is a code for 5% off any middle east region nomad esims posted by connecting gaza. it can be used on any purchase, not just your first but is generally going to give less off than the first-purchase only codes, so use those first. it can be used in combination with nomad points. AWESOME NEW CODE: nomad esim discount code for 75% off any plan, NOMADCS25 do not know how long it lasts but this is an amazing deal esp. since they are really low on esims right now! (nomad promo codes do not work on plans that are already on sale, unlimited plans, and plans under $5)

weekly tuesdays only code on nomad web, PST timezone! it gives 10% off plans 10gb and above. NOMADTUE

nomad also seems to be kind of sluggish sometimes when it comes to sending out emails with the codes. you can look for them manually by going to manage -> manage plans -> the plan you purchased -> installation instruction and scroll down to install esim via QR code or manual input then select QR code to find the QR code which you can screenshot and email to them. often just the act of logging back into your nomad account after purchase seems to cause the email with the code to come through though.

mogo

mogo's website is fucking annoying to navigate and i couldn't find any promo codes, but their prices are massively on sale anyway. you have to pick if you want your esim to be for iphone, ipad, or android for some reason. according to statcounter, android makes up approx. 75% of mobile markets in palestine while iphone represents approx. 25%. so i would probably recommend prioritizing donations of android esims but if you can afford multiple, try buying an iphone one too? if i can find any official direction from the connecting gaza crew on this i will update with it.

a good referral code to use for mogo is 8R29F9. the way things are worded are confusing but as far as i can tell, if you use it we both get a 10% discount on your first purchase. (the referrer gets a 10% voucher that allows them to top up in use esims, they are someone who i know has bought a lot of esims and will be able to make good use of the top-up discount vouchers!) also upon signing up it automatically generates a password for you which you can change by downloading the app. (check your email to find your account's current password)

holafly (also looking for holafly esims for egypt now)

holafly is pricier than the others and the only promo code i could find was ESIMNOW for 7% off. someone in the tags mentioned GETESIM7 as another 7% off code they had received, so if you have already used ESIMNOW or can't seem to get it to work, try GETESIM7. another 7% off code is HOLAXSUMMER7 which is valid until june 2nd. referral codes only seem to give 5% off and they don't stack. (i don't remember the source, it was on some sketchy coupon site i don't want to link to and only can recommend because i tried it myself) you can also use my referral link for 5% off if you can afford the 2% worse deal on your end, it will give me $5 credit which i can put towards buying more esims. connecting gaza has also posted the promo code HOLACNG for 5% off but since it is less than the 7% off codes and as far as i can tell does not give credit towards others to buy esims like the referral links, i would consider it lower priority for use.

simly (note: simly must be downloaded as an app to be used, the website link is to help people confirm they are downloading the right app)

i have not personally used simly so i am going to be going off of the sixth slide of mirna el helbawi's instagram guide, with some corrections from someone who has successfully purchased an esim from simly. after downloading the app and making an account, search for palestine or middle east and purchase your preferred package. the page the app takes you to after your purchase should have the QR code to send to the esimsforgaza email, it won't show up in your email receipt. someone kindly left her referral code in the tags of this post, it gives $3 off your first purchase and will give her $3 credit to put towards purchasing more esims for gaza. the code is CIWA2. (if this referral code doesn't work, try one from the notes of this post!) according to someone in the notes, ARB is a simly promo code for 25% off esims that is still working as of march 3rd.

airalo

some people have noted issues trying to sign up for airalo using the browser version of the website, it worked for me but if you are struggling you can give the mobile app a try and that should work. you can use a referral code to get $3 off your first purchase and give the code suppler a $3 credit for buying more esims. KARINA9661 is a code sourced from this post which is also a wonderful example of how using people's referral codes can really make a difference. if for some reason that referral code isn't working, you can find more in the notes of the original esim post i made here.

@/fairuzfan also has a tag of esim referral codes for various platforms!

(note: mogo and holafly both link to israel esims as there are no general regional packages for the middle east like on nomad and the esims for gaza website specifically linked to the israel package on mogo, so i linked to the equivalent on holafly.)

#esims for gaza #esims #gaza #palestine #free palestine #connecting gaza #despite not having used simly myself i'm fairly experienced with esim services at this point so i will likely be able to answer some #questions and i also have someone familiar with simly i can ask if i am not sure of the answer myself. so please go ahead and ask questions #if you're struggling with donating an esim from any of these sources!

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notsunnyowo · 1 year ago

Text

Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ

Part 2

Summary: Gojo Satoru is known for being a flirt, but what happens when he gets a taste of his own medicine?

Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Gojo getting flustered, Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)

Word Count: 778

It was well known that the infamous head of the Gojo-clan was a huge flirt. And understandably so. He was a striking young man with good looks that could rival the ones of even the Greek gods. Not to mention the personality to match.

He was a cocky little bastard. Always using his good-looks to his advantage. Didn't feel like paying the regular price for a double scooping of ice cream? - He'd just charm the vendor into giving him a "customer discount". Wanted to get into the VIP lounge of some club? - No problem. One wink, paired with a flirty comment towards the security was all it took for him to waltz right in like he owned the place.

Everyone knew he liked having things his way. After all, no one had ever opposed the strongest. And gotten away with it at least-

You supposed that's what ultimately resulted in his unique personality. . .

His boyish charm worked on almost anyone.

Except you.

There were only a handful of people that could resist Satoru's charming attitude and you were one of them. And for some reason it only made you a target more than everyone else.

But could you really blame Satoru for wanting to make the cute new girl wrapped around his fingers?

He just found you so interesting (not to mention adorable) whenever you rolled your eyes at his flirty pick-up line, brushing him off as if he wasn't the Satoru Gojo.

You were absolutely perfect.

One could only imagine the look on his face when you actually responded to his flirty comments.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Satoru spoke in his usual charming tone as he leaned over your desk. "Don't you have someone else to bother Gojo?" Raising your head from the book you were reading, Satoru was met with your unamused expression. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Satoru answered. "No. Suguru's out on a mission and Yaga-sensei called Shoko to his office not too long ago. Said something about practicing for a medical exam, whatever that means." "Which means that you, sweet girl, get to spend the evening with yours truly." He added, flashing you his signature boyish grin. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you said sarcastically. "Gee. How lucky am I?" Grinning like the dork he was, Satoru completely dismissed your unenthusiastic tone and simply carried on with his 'speech'. "Don't get too excited now. I wouldn't want Suguru getting jealous." "But then again- Who wouldn't get jealous over the lovely little lady that gets to spend the evening with me?" He continued on with his 'speech'. Letting out a defeated sigh, you looked up at the white haired sorcerer. What was that old saying again? If you can't beat them - join 'em. "Y'know what.." You spoke up, capturing Satoru's attention. "You're absolutely right." "Oh?" The boy hummed, raising a brow at your response. Had he finally gotten to you? "Definitely." You chirped, shifting in your seat. "Heh, I knew you'd see it eventually." Gojo commented, his cocky grin resurfacing once more. "After all, it was only a matter of time till you fell for m-" His words were suddenly cut off by your hand tugging his shirt and getting him down to your level. Cerulean eyes meeting yours, Satoru could feel his heart picking up its pace at your close proximity. His breath hitched as he saw you lean in, till your noses were almost touching. "What's wrong, pretty boy?" You cooed, your grin matching the one on his face just a few moments ago. "Cat got your tongue?" There were no words to describe how fast Satoru's heart was beating in that very moment. Nor how lightheaded your words, and actions, made him feel. If his blood pressure didn't kill him you would. For once in his entire life. Satoru was left speechless. Chuckling at the flustered state you'd left him, you gently patted his rosy cheek with one hand, before pulling away. "Y'know Gojo.. You're not as bad when you shut up." You said, offering him a cheeky smile. "You should consider letting your face do all the talking next time." "Chao~" Once you were out of the room and Satoru couldn't sense your cursed energy any more, he let out an embarrassed groan as he raised a hand to cover his flushed features. He glanced back at the door you'd walked through a minute earlier as he muttered to himself, hand covering his mouth. "What a woman.~"

After that little fiasco, Satoru was never the same.

He had a new goal in his mind. Get the new girl to do that to him again.

Author Note:

OMG I did not expect my previous post to blow up this much-

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3

Also, I hope you enjoyed reading this lil' fanfic!

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ladykailitha · 10 months ago

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Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate

Welcome to the little story I was working on during my move! Just a fun little thing to keep my writing streak going without have to dive into my heavy hitters.

The original idea is here.

I originally planned to go farther than the original idea like season 2-4 but as I was just needing something lighthearted it became a short little story three chapters long that might get turned into a series of What if's.

Summary: After the events surrounding Will Byers and his return to life, Steve has decided he can't control anything in his life but school, so he seeks to put a stop to the bullying. Cue Eddie getting heart-eyes over popular King Steve protecting his little sheepies. So he decides Steve needs a knew title. Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate will work just fine.

Steve was still reeling from actual fucking monsters and shit. And he actually had to go to school the following Monday like none of it had happened.

Fuck, they didn’t even offer therapy, just NDAs and money to keep their mouths shut. He had no doubt that the Byers family and Nancy had the worst of it, so he wasn’t even mad that she broke up with him.

He got it more than most people that she needed to time to grieve the lost of her best friend, be with family and hold them close for awhile.

It sucked.

Steve wasn’t going to pretend that it didn’t, because it absolutely did. But he understood. He told Nancy that if she ever needed a friend to give him a call.

His temper was short and his capacity for bullshit was low, that was the only reason he could come up with what happened that Monday morning.

He walked into the hall that held his locker to his books for the day when he saw Tommy H. having a go at some freshman. Like this kid still looked like he was in elementary, he looked that little.

“Knock it off, Hagan,” Steve huffed. “There is no reason to be harassing this kid.”

Tommy turned around and got in his face. “What’s it to you, Harrington? I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Dude,” Steve said, stepping forward instead of back like Tommy thought he would, “why are you so angry all the time? Chill out.”

Tommy’s head reared back as though he’d been struck in the face. He pushed Steve away. “Again, what’s it to you? You want to be friends again now that Miss Priss is finished with your scaly ass? Because where was my loyalty? We’ve been friends for years and you threw it all away for some piece of ass!”

Steve didn’t even stumble, he just crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know what you did was over the line and you did it anyway. Because that’s the problem, Hagan, isn’t it? You don’t know where the fucking line is, do you?”

Tommy frowned and tried to push him again, but Steve just let his body slide with the motion and it didn’t even hurt. Tommy stared at him for a moment before stalking off down the hallway to his own locker. Steve just shook his head and went over to the kid who Tommy had been bullying.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked gently, helping him pick up his books. “If he does that again, you come running for me. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington, just ask around, someone will know how to find me, yeah?”

The kid nodded and took the books back from Steve before he took off in a tear. Steve sighed and he put his hands on his hips like a disappointed mom.

He looked around the hall to see everyone staring at him in shock. And that was when he realized what he had done.

Last week, he might have called Tommy off, but not really done anything about it. But he had not only called Tommy off, he put him in his place, and then helped the kid.

Yeah that was quite the turn around. So he just did like he would have done at basketball game.

He clapped his hands together once, nice and loud to make sure everyone was paying attention to him even more now.

“Right,” he said loudly. “Nothing more to see here. Move along now.”

They stared at him in even further shock now.

“Come on,” Steve said impatiently. “Move along. Shoo!” He waved his hands in front of him, trying to get them leave, but it was like herding cats.

Someone slammed their locker and that broke them out of their trance allowing them to move about their day like that didn’t just happen.

Steve looked around and saw Eddie Munson leaning against his locker, with his arms crossed. A locker, Steve was pretty sure was open when he walked in that morning.

Huh.

That was certainly interesting.

Eddie had been having a rough morning. He spilled milk on his only clean pair of jeans. He was going to do laundry after school. He was! He just didn’t do it over the weekend because he had gotten a new book. A book that was currently being painstakingly dried out by Uncle Wayne with an old hair dryer, because Eddie dropped it in the sink. Then he almost forgot his homework and had to run back for it. He had managed to get to school on time, but Tommy H. had decided to chose violence that morning against a nerdy little freshman literally next to his locker.

He promised Uncle Wayne that if Tommy started something that he wouldn’t fucking finish it. He needed to graduate from high school and as it much as it sucked ass, he had to look the other way.

So imagine his surprise when Steve got in Tommy’s face and almost threw hands with the guy, telling him to back off. What was even more surprising was how quickly Tommy stood down.

But that wasn’t the last of Steve Harrington’s surprises, oh no...

He helped the kid gather up his stuff and offered himself as a white knight if Tommy did it again. But by then Harrington had drawn quite the crowd, but instead of soaking the attention like the full tilt diva the asshole jock most certainly was, he had tried to disperse the crowd. Like the attention had made him uncomfortable.

So he thought he’d throw the king a bone and slammed his locker shut. The loud noise startled the populous out of their stupor and sent them packing. He was more than a little shocked to see that maybe Steve had figured out who had rescued him.

And wasn’t that a kick in the head.

By the time he got to lunch news had spread that that morning’s incident was only the start of the king’s campaign to clean up the hallowed halls of Hawkins High. According to ye ole rumor mill, Steve had broken up a fight, called out two accounts of bullying, and stopped a class from rioting when the teacher had a medical emergency.

What was even more surp– he needed to find another word. Shocking. Astounding. Astonishing. Mind-boggling.

Anyway Steve sat down next to Carol and Tommy. Like even the great ex Nancy Wheeler dropped her fork, flabbergasted.

Tommy and Carol exchanged a glance.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Tommy growled. “Why don’t you sit next to your girlfriend? Oh that’s right she dumped your ass.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “You made a valid point, we have been friends for years and I’ve decided I’m tired of running away from my problems.”

“And what,” Carol sneered, “we’re one of your problems now? Fuck off, Steve.”

Steve threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on his knuckles. “You didn’t use to be this way, you know. You used to be the sweetest girl and I’m trying to figure out if it was Tommy that made you this way or if you turning into a bitch is what made Tommy become such an ass?”

Tommy and Carol’s heads rocked back in unison. Tommy moved to stand up to hit him, but Carol pulled him back down.

“If we bother you so much why don’t you leave and stay gone?” she asked, low and menacingly. “We don’t need you, you need us. We made you king.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “No, you really didn’t. You need someone to keep you from your worst selves. And that’s what I’m going to do. You could be good.” He slid a piece of paper over to Tommy. “This is Miss Chen, the school counselor’s office hours. You will make an appointment with her by the end of the day.”

Tommy threw it on the table. “Fuck off, Harrington. You can’t make me.”

Steve leaned forward on his elbows. “Actually you’ll find that I can. After all they’re still trying to find the culprit who put the smoke bomb in the garbage in the principal’s office last year.” He slapped the table for emphasis. “It would be a real shame if they learned it was you.”

Tommy blanched and gulped heavily. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Steve confirmed. “I know too much about you to have you go against me.”

Carol folded her arms and huffed. “Like we don’t have information on you, too.”

“Do you though?” he asked, sitting back in the chair and lazily stuff his hands in pockets. “I was never directly involved in any of it. Including the buying of weed for all those parties.”

This time Carol’s color drained. “Shit.”

“So this how it’s going to go,” Steve murmured. “You two have become my pet projects. I’m going to see if you can be reformed. Become better people. And to do that, we’re going to have to be friends again.”

Carol frowned as she twirled her hair around a finger. “Why are you doing this, Steve? I mean really. When you think people aren’t watching you, you get this haunted expression. It’s a little freaky, honestly.”

Steve sighed. “I have learned the hard way that running every time things get tough will only lead to worse consequences and I hate to see you come to harm because you realized the same thing too late.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I do care about you guys, of course I do. But this behavior is frightening. What if you hurt someone so bad that they took their life or they died because of your direct actions? Do you really think you could live with yourselves?”

“Tha–that can’t really happen, can it?” Carol asked, holding up her hand to stall Tommy from scoffing.

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “That something you really want to test?” He leaned forward again on his elbows. “Having someone’s blood on your hands?”

They were both thinking it but Tommy beat Carol to it. “Is this what this about? Barb Holland? You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

Steve turned his head away.

Carol slapped her hands on the table on either side of her tray. “If that’s what Miss Priss said, blackmail be damned, Steve, I’m going throw hands, do you understand me?”

Steve’s head snapped her direction. “What?”

“Look,” Tommy said, “what happened to her was a shame, but you did everything you could to make sure she was okay before we went in to dry off.”

“Like, she wasn’t even supposed to be there that night,” Carol said, nodding. “That’s all on Nancy. Don’t carry her shit too, just because you loved her. You tried to include Barb and she was rude.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and nodded, choking down tears. “Thanks, guys.”

“I suppose,” Tommy said with a put on sigh, “we could be nicer. I guess.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed as Carol shook her head. He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

Tommy shook it first and then Carol.

“Friends,” they agreed.

Eddie wasn’t able to hear what Steve and Tommy and Carol were talking about, but whatever it was it had ripples that quivered through the halls of the school.

Word had it that Tommy was seeing the school counselor and Carol had stopped making snide comments in passing.

Like, you could tell Carol was fighting back every nasty word that came to her head, as Steve would nudge her side and she would whisper to him what she was thinking instead. You could tell she was still being nasty but at least it wasn’t aimed at the target anymore.

But there were starting to be other changes too.

The basketball team was the worst of the jocks when it came to harassing the masses, but when Steve caught one of the members bullying someone, the next day, the guy was too tired to start shit.

So Eddie decided it was time for a little research and that meant actually going to PE. Fuck, he hated high school.

He dragged his ass to PE and the coach merely raised an eyebrow, but wisely said nothing. He knew why Eddie was there. Same reason as all the other kids that never came started showing up.

Steve Harrington.

The coach blew his whistle to call a foul and the kid who had been fouled immediately got up and in the other guy’s face.

Faster than lightning, Steve was between before the coach could even take a step toward the mounting trouble.

“Come on, Kenny,” Steve was saying soothingly. “It was fair play, you were just in the right place at the wrong time. Walk it off, then take your shot. You’ve got this.”

Kenny glared at the other player, but did as Steve suggested. Steve turned to the other player and patted him on the chest, murmuring something Eddie couldn’t hear, but the other guy just nodded and took his place on the line.

Eddie laughed out loud when Kenny biffed both shots and the other team got the ball. He didn’t know enough about basketball, but he could still appreciate a good strategy when he saw it.

As the game wore on, Eddie was starting to see the pattern emerge. If it was malicious, Steve would be up in the guy’s face telling him to knock it off and to play clean. If it was a good play and the fouled player was pissed, Steve would calm him down and praise the other team.

It was almost freaky how well Steve seemed to know the difference. And Eddie loved freaky.

Part 2 Part 3

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #season 1 au #knight protectorate au

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juniperss · 9 months ago

Note

heheh i’ve always wondered how the outsiders boys would kiss. like is it sweet and soft or like heavy and passionate. or even where they like to be kissed 🤭🤭🤭 i love my silly little greaser boys

*kicks my feet* coming right up, anon!!

Kissing the Gang Headcanons:

Darry:

In ‘Chocolate Kisses’ I wrote that Darry’s kisses are always heavy and full, so allow me to expand on what I mean by that! I fully believe that Darrel kisses with his entire being each and every time he kisses you as if he’s trying to convey how much you mean to him with just his mouth. “Full” meaning that his lips are completely on yours and “heavy” meaning that you’re usually not just kissing, you’re full on making out. He’s pouring everything he has into those kisses, He’s not big on PDA and since he’s almost always surrounded by the Gang he makes up for lost time by kissing you A LOT in private and with all of his attention. The kinds of kisses that make your chest burn from how long they are. His lips are usually chapped or dry since he works outside, usually under the sun. He’s a great kisser and has had years of practice (look he was a football star and pretty popular, what do you want me to say???).

Two Bit:

One word: Fun. His kisses are always followed with a smile from one of, or both of, you. He’s kissing everywhere on your face before he gets to your lips and then he squishes your cheeks as he reaches your mouth. Even when he’s trying to be sexy about it there’s such an element of fun in the way he kisses you. You make him happy and that always comes out in his kisses. I don’t see him having a problem with PDA at all, much to the annoyance of everyone around you two! While he loves to kiss you on the lips, I can definitely see him being a fan of neck or shoulder kisses!! Especially when you two are lounging around or waiting in line for snacks at the drive in; he just presses kisses to your shoulder while he stands behind you.

Sodapop:

Soda is a romantic, or at least he likes the idea of being a romantic. We see that when he loves someone, he’s completely dedicated to them and that definitely translates into kisses. His kisses are gentle and earnest, always chasing your lips with his even if he’s the one who initiated the kiss. He makes sure he’s wearing chapstick so his lips aren’t rough and he always tastes faintly of mint. Soda is a big fan of kissing you when you’re sitting on the kitchen counter or on one of the cars he’s working on so he can put his arms on either side of you while you two kiss. Really he’s not paying attention to anything around when you’re smooching him and whenever you pull away he’s got this glazed look in his eyes like he’s coming out of a trance. Because he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings during kisses, you two have been caught kissing A LOT by the guys and that means you have to deal with the roasting that follows.

Dally:

His kisses are either possessive or playful and I don’t think there’s really an in-between. Dallas’s temper and emotions run hot and cold at an incredible speed, so it only makes sense to me that his kisses vary on mood, day and whatever happened .2 seconds prior. His possessive kisses are slow and forceful, one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you still the entire time. His playful kisses are fast, almost teasing and leaving you chasing after his mouth. Dally likes to kiss, he likes to makeout and he’s happy to do it whenever you ask. He’s not much into PDA, he prefers to have his attention on his surroundings and the environment and PDA makes him concerned that he’s not going to be prepared.

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit #two bit matthews #dally winston #dally winston x reader #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #my writings

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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when i break, it’s in a million pieces

alexia x putellas!reader

the pressure on r is intense, from her sister more than anyone. an injury pushes her to her breaking point. desperate not to let her sister down, r struggles under the weight of her injury.

-----

Something that was always said about your sister was that she pushed everyone around her to be better. This was something that you knew to be true on a whole other level. The pressure of being Alexia Putellas' sister was immense; not just from the media, and the coaches, and the team, but from your sister herself. She expected a lot from you, she always had.

Alexia knew better than anyone what it took to be a great footballer, and when you expressed to her that you wanted it too, she promised herself that she would help you get there. The raw talent was there, and with your sister by your side, it seemed to the world that you would be unstoppable.

It was your first real season with Barça, having spent the last 2 seasons on loan at Sevilla. It had been good for you, helped develop your skills and allow you to be independent. Now, at 20, you were back in Barcelona, playing with the first team, and with your sister, for the first time.

Your sister always toed the line between pushing you just hard enough, and pushing you too hard. Your mother often had to step in, and get Alexia to back off, just a bit. Not that you were on the team with her though, where she was the captain, training with her everyday, you couldn't really go to your mother for help when Alexia pushed you too hard. You just... took it.

It was a lot, several stressful months at the beginning of the season where you tried to carve out your place in the team. It felt like Alexia was breathing down your neck, always asking for more. It was an environment that you had thrived in, before. And then you'd gone on loan, and you'd learned to push yourself.

Alexia's pushing, compounded with your pushing was, if you were honest, too much for you. You could never tell your sister, though, not when she was just trying to get you to be the best version of yourself.

It didn't help that the media had wild expectations for you; they were expecting you to perform how Alexia had when she was 28, and you were only 20. Every mistake, every missed shot had media outlets questioning if you would ever be as good as your older sister. You knew Alexia didn't pay attention to the things said about her online, and you tried to do the same. You weren't as successful.

Things only got worse when Alexia hurt her knee. Your heart ached for her, knowing exactly the toll not being able to play took on your sister. Still, you were suffocating in her absence from the pitch.

You needed to be better, stronger, faster, play harder, pass more precisely, shoot right on target every time. You needed to be passionate, but not hot headed. Confident, but not cocky. You felt like you were being pulled in a thousand different directions; every move you made seemed to be the wrong choice. Your solution? Work harder. Train extra. Push yourself to the absolute brink.

Everyone seemed to realize that you were pushing yourself too hard. Everyone, that is, except your sister. She only saw the results, how well you were playing. It was like she was blind to how exhausted you looked. Your teammates tried bringing it up with you, and with Alexia, but you both insisted that there was no problem. Alexia, because she genuinely didn't think there was one. And you, because you would rather drop dead than disappoint your sister.

Somewhere deep inside, you had convinced yourself that if you weren't perfect, completely and entirely perfect, Alexia wouldn't love you the same. Your sister's praise and approval was something you'd always sought; only recently did it reach the point that you were willing to do anything to make her proud of you; fuck your body and it's limits- Alexia was counting on you, expecting things of you, and you were going to do them. No matter what it took.

-----

It made sense, then, that your body would reach it's breaking point. The load on you was immense; playing almost every minute of every game. You were overworked, but you wouldn't admit it. You'd gone back out for the second half of the game against Eintracht Frankfurt, dismissing Jona [and Irene, and Patri, and Marta]'s questions about coming off to rest. You had more to give, you assured them. And give it your all, you would.

You were on the left side of the pitch, attempting to dribble past one of the opposing midfielders. The tackle wasn't really very clean; she came sliding in towards your ankles after the ball was already sailing towards Mario. Still, if you weren't so exhausted and overworked, you would have seen her coming, and moved out of the way. Or, at least, you would have managed to move just enough that the tackle wasn't catastrophic.

Instead, she caught you just right, crashing into you so hard that your ankle rolled in a way it wasn't supposed to. You felt the crack as well as heard it, the excruciating pain that followed forcing you to the ground.

Your head was left completely untouched, and the ref let play continue, apparently feeling that the tackle didn't deserve a yellow. You felt like you could feel every nerve ending in your ankle being lit on fire, at the same time as a deep ache permeated out from the bones in your lower leg. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, truly. You were on your stomach, face hidden away in the crook of your elbow, as you raised your other hand in the air, gesturing wildly for help.

Your heart was racing, ankle throbbing, as you felt everything come crashing down around you. This couldn't be happening. How could this be happening?

"Y/n?" Ingrid asked quietly, resting a hand on your back. Mario had kicked the ball out, and the medics were sprinting across the pitch towards you. Ingrid was closest, and while the rest of the team stood frozen, praying to anyone they could think of that this wasn't as bad as it seemed, the Norwegian crouched down by you, able to hear the small, pained whimpers escaping your lips.

"Ingrid, help," you choked out, reaching blindly for her. She grabbed your hand, holding tight.

"The medics are almost here, just hang on."

-----

Up in the stands, Alexia sat, watching on in absolute horror, at the way your body laid on the pitch. She'd been much too far away to hear the crack, but she knew what a broken ankle looked like. Your reaction only confirmed it. She was gripping the arms of her seat like her life depended on it, barely able to tear her eyes off you when Mapi called her name for the third time.

"Go, Ale. Get down there. She'll need you." Mapi nudged, looking to Jana when Alexia made no move. Mapi was still on crutches, unable to grab Alexia and go like she needed to. Jana got the message, standing and grabbing Alexia's hand in hers.

"Alexia," she called, waiting until her captain's eyes looked up at her. "Come on. She needs you." With another tug on the blonde's hand, Jana got Alexia to stand, before she pulled her out of the row of seats, and towards the stairs.

-----

The medics had maneuvered you onto your back, before they asked you what hurt. They already knew, even as the question left their mouths.

"What hurts?"

"Ankle. It's bad, it's really bad," you cried, before yanking your jersey up to cover your face. It was bad enough that this was happening, and the entire stadium, everyone watching being able to see you cry only making it worse.

You stayed in your little hiding place, shirt covering your face, until the crowd of medics around you, combined with the medical cart that had been driven onto the field, provided enough of a shelter. When you removed your kit from your face, you were met with the sight of most of the team standing over you, pained expressions across their faces. You were handed the dreaded green whistle, which you tried to push away. The medic insisted, and Irene leaned over you, as if daring you to reject it again.

You accepted it, then, taking deep inhales of the medication. Your brain felt hazy, suddenly, and it didn't really register when they put the puffy orange cast over your leg.

The team hovered, silent support, as you were moved onto a stretcher, and then the cart. You were left with pats on the shoulder and kisses on the forehead before the cart began moving, driving off the pitch. The crowd clapped as you went, and all you could think was that you had no idea how long it would be before you could get back on the pitch.

-----

"Where is she?" Alexia questioned, grabbing the arm of the physio attempting to pass by her. She'd been waiting for you by the medical rooms for a few minutes, only growing more nervous as time passed.

"Ambulance. They're taking her right to the hospital." The physio replied, looking sympathetically at the blonde.

Alexia swore, taking off down the hall and towards the doors. Thank god she was cleared to run again. The blonde just barely caught the ambulance before the back was slamming shut, hopping up and in. She slid in right next to the stretcher, instantly leaning over you.

"I'm here, pequeña." She murmured, taking in the absolutely devastated expression on your face.

"It broke, I heard it break." You whispered. Alexia felt like her heart was being squeezed at the sound of your shaky voice.

"It's all going to be okay, I promise."

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, Ale." You barely got the words out, a loud sobbing ripping it's way out of you.

Your sister looked confused, reaching a hand down to cradle your cheek. "You don't have anything you need to be sorry for, hermanita. Nothing."

The conversation was only agitating you, and the paramedic gave your sister a look, one telling her to change the topic.

"Does it hurt?" She asked, glancing down at your heavily wrapped ankle.

You bit your lip. "No."

Just then, the vehicle hit a bump, jostling the stretcher slightly. Your ankle was jolted, and you let out a high pitched squeak, gripping on tight to the sides of the stretcher.

"Sure, it doesn't hurt." Alexia sighed. "We're almost at the hospital, okay? They'll fix you right up."

Alexia was speaking to you like she had when you were much younger; when the injury to be fixed was a scraped knee, not a broken bone. It was comforting, though, a glimpse of soft and sweet Alexia that you hadn't really seen much of recently.

"Can you call mom?" You asked quietly. Your sister swallowed back tears of her own at how young you seemed suddenly. You were only 20, and though normally you acted much more mature than that, she was reminded of your age by the look of complete fear in your eyes.

Your mother, however, was out of the country on a girls trip with her friends She had been texting Alexia pretty much nonstop since the injury, and Alexia had only managed to reply to one of the texts. She told your sister, though, that she didn't have good enough cell reception to call. Alexia was going to have to be enough for you.

"Her internet isn't good enough to call, remember? I'm right here with you, though. I'm not going anywhere." Alexia vowed, peeling your hand of the side of the stretcher, and wrapping her hand around it.

Your sister didn't miss the unsure glint in your eyes, and although your hand tightened around hers, she could tell that you were holding back from her, at least a little bit. The trouble was, she didn't understand why. You used to go to Alexia with all your problems; she was one of the only people you would let see you cry. Now, though, you chewed aggressively on your bottom lip, blinking away your tears.

Alexia wondered when you'd stopped trusting her the way you used to, and why.

-----

Thank god that Barça had connections at the hospital; you were in and out of x-ray fast, seen by the doctor, put on crutches within the hour. Your foot was encased in a moon boot, all the way up your shin, and you were... miserable. There was a permanent scowl set on your face, and you were answering your sister's questions with simple yes's and no's, refusing to make eye contact.

Alexia's chest ached seeing you in this much pain. She felt like she used to feel when you were little, and you'd cry; like she'd do anything, anything at all, to make you smile again.

Your other sister arrived in a flurry of chaos, and Alexia watched on as you practically melted into the hug Alba offered. She didn't understand; you went to Alba when you were in trouble, or if you wanted to goof around. You went to Alexia if you were upset. That was how it had always been, but suddenly, you couldn't look her in the eye.

"Olga went to go get you some stuff from your apartment. You can stay with Ale until you're better, alright?" Alba said.

Alexia didn't know when Alba had contacted her girlfriend, or how the decision for you to stay with her had been reached, but she was glad for it. You shouldn't be on your own, physically, and if your current attitude was any indication, also mentally.

"Did the doctor say how long you'd be out?"

You grew visibly pale at the question. "At least 4 months."

Alba opened her mouth, clearly about to comment on how that was... a long time for a broken ankle. Alexia elbowed her in the side, sending her a look to not bring it up. Alba promptly shut her mouth, figuring Alexia would explain later anyway.

What she didn't know was that you'd broken both your fibula and your tibia. The bones would take time to heal, time to rehab, as well as the partially torn muscles in your ankle. You'd asked about surgery, but the process wouldn't be sped up at all if you were operated on. You had no choice, but to wait it out. 4 months away from the pitch. 4 months.

"Hey, y/n?" Alexia said, waving a hand in front of your face.

"What?" You asked.

"I said your name like 5 times." Alexia told you, taking in the bewildered expression on your face. You'd completely tuned out, lost in your thoughts.

"Oh."

"Ready to go?" Alexia asked finally, when you didn't offer an explanation.

"Yeah."

You stood, slightly shaky on the crutches from the pain medicine, and began to make your way to the doors of the hospital. Your sisters followed close behind you. They didn't know it, but anyone looking at the two of them would have instantly known they were sisters; sporting matching worried frowns as they watching you move down the hall. Neither of them was really sure what to say to you, to make you feel better, and they hated standing by and watching you be upset. Nothing seemed to be working though, and you offered them nothing as you made it to your sister's car, sliding into the backseat without a word. The car ride back to Alexia's was completely silent, both of your sister's were lost in their thoughts, as you were.

-----

Alexia lay awake in her bed, unable to shake the feeling that she needed to check on you. Staring at the ceiling, her mind was racing, through every interaction she'd had with you recently. She couldn't figure out when you'd started acting so... strange. In retrospect, it had definitely gotten worse recently, and she hadn't noticed. The blonde had been busy, dealing with her knee and her contract renewal. Now that she'd taken the time to really look at you, for the first time in weeks, she saw someone who was hurting. All she wanted was to fix it.

"Go check on her, Ale." Olga spoke up from next to her girlfriend. "I can hear you thinking from here, just go so you can see she's fine, come back, and go to sleep.

Alexia considered for a minute, before leaning over to kiss her girlfriends cheek, and sliding out of bed. She was wearing socks, and her footsteps were quiet as she padded down the hall and to the door of the guest bedroom. She was just going to peek in, but when she rested her hand on the knob, she heard quiet snuffling whimpers coming from behind the closed door.

Twisting the knob and stepping into the room, the sounds cut off with a sharp breath. Alexia didn't say anything, not yet. Instead she walked closer to the bed, towards where you were facing away from the doorway, pretending to be asleep in the middle of the bed. Your body was trembling under the covers, so much so that she could see it even in the dark. She took a careful seat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on your arm. As soon as she did so, you broke, curling up into yourself as a heart wrenching sob fought it's way out of you.

Before your sister could say a word, you were twisting to face her and gasping out an apology. "Sorry, Ale, I'm sorry."

Alexia didn't know why you kept apologizing to her, but she desperately wanted you to stop. "Shh, just let it out. It's all okay, nena."

"It's not okay, Alexia, it's not. I can't play. I can't play, not for months. I can't do it, I don't want to do it." Nothing you were saying was really making any sense to your sister, but she was sure she wasn't getting any more out of you while you were still so worked up.

"Just come here, nena," she murmured, opening her arms up for you. For a second, you looked so unsure, so apprehensive, and Alexia felt like crying herself. Then, something inside of you must have given up, and you were launching yourself, as best you could, across the bed and into your sister's arms. Alexia held you close, humming a soft tune as she held you tight against her, like she used to do when you were very small.

For once, you didn't worry about disappointing her, or seeming weak in front of her. You let yourself fall apart completely, your sister's arms wrapped around you feeling like the only thing stopping you from breaking into a million pieces.

"You are strong, pequeña, so strong. You can do this, I know you can. My strong hermanita. You can do anything. I bet you'll be back on the pitch before 4 months is up." Alexia's words only seemed to make you cry harder, so she stopped talking, focusing on rocking minutely back and forth.

What if you weren't strong? You knew you weren't as strong as your sister. What if you were weak? What if you couldn't do it? Alexia said you should be able to come back before 4 months, but what if you didn't? You'd be disappointing everyone, Alexia most of all. The fear of that, of letting her down, felt like it was squeezing all the air out of your lungs, until all you could do was cling to your sister, and wait for it to pass.

It wouldn't pass. The thoughts wouldn't stop ricocheting around your head, your deepest fears and anxieties. Everything you'd been pushing down for weeks was bubbling to the surface until you were a trembling mess in your sister's arms.

"You have to calm down, nena, breathe." Alexia tried to remind you. You could only shake your head frantically, and your sister sighed, her worry increasing. "Okay, let's go call Alba."

Without another word, she held tight to you and stood up off the bed, walking towards her room. You were past caring, at this point, where you had your breakdown. Calling Alba might be a good distraction, you thought. So, you wrapped your arms around your sister's neck, trying to steady yourself.

-----

Olga had just been considering getting up, and going to check on the pair of you, when she heard her girlfriend's steps returning down the hall. They were slower than normal, and her lips tugged into a smile, knowing exactly what was about to walk through the door.

Her smile fell when Alexia walked in with you in her arms, the miserable sounds you were making filling the silent room. She made eye contact with her girlfriend, feeling her heart sink at how helpless she looked.

Alexia placed you in the middle of the bed, pulling away just slightly so she grab her phone and call your other sister. She hit Alba's contact, absentmindedly rubbing your back as you cried into her. Olga scooted closer, resting her head on Alexia's shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort to her girlfriend, who looked completely distraught at the state you were in.

"Hello?" Alba answered, grumpy at being woken in the middle of the night.

"She's really upset, can you talk to her?" Alexia asked, forgoing a greeting and holding the phone to your ear. Alba sat straight up in bed, her soft voice a stark contrast to the tension and stress flooding her. She began talking, about her day, about her week, about the silly thing she'd seen at the dog park the other day.

Your sister's soothing voice, your other sister's calming patterns rubbed into your back, Olga's nails scratching lightly at your scalp, all probably combined as you began to calm down.

Alba's voice had vanished, and Alexia smiled despite herself, knowing the other girl had probably fallen asleep talking. When your sobs quieted to small whimpers, and your sharp gasps for air turned to the occasional hiccup, Alexia spoke again. You were half asleep, and you felt safe, so safe, so tired. You let Alexia's words wash over you, the final push before you shut your eyes, drifting off on top of her.

"I love you, so much. Always. I'll be with you the whole way, nena. I promise you."

Groggily, you wondered if she meant it. If she really would be with you through this, if she really would still love you when you inevitably failed. Because you were sure you weren't strong enough for this. Despite your certainty, you also knew that you would do everything you could to meet your sister's expectations. The doctors had said 4 months, you'd do it in 3. No matter what it took, no matter how hard it was. If you failed, you'd deal with that later.

-----

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader

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