#TURNS OUT I STILL GOT REPETITIVE AND OVERWHELMED

[seresinhangmanjake]

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long. 

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips. 

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together. 

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed. 

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart. 

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters. 

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her. 

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you. 

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house. 

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism. 

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?” 

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.    

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

“This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance. 

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”       

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation. 

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.  

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question. 

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it. 

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him. 

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers. 

“No chance,” he tells you. 

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[hyewka]

warnings. possibly unfaithful, switch!beomgyu, ex best friends, pull out method, drunk sex, not proofread

you’ve always felt big feelings towards beomgyu, after all he has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, its just never ever been lust, even as a teenage girl with rapidly changing hormones. you love beomgyu, but it was never romantic. and yet as much as it surprises you, in the moment, it feels so right. like this is exactly how its supposed to be. getting maniacally mounted by choi beomgyu in a bathroom with your sense overwhelmed with the soju and beer breath. yeah, that sounds about right.

you just hadn’t expected it to turn so sappy so quick, despite the alcohol in your systems.

“i missed you…i missed you, i missed you”

at some point, you would’ve guessed those repeated declarations would’ve faded into white noise had it been any other person—any other person but him. someone who’d you considered the most important being of your entire life, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from in two entire years when your entire relationship had consisted of seeing each other all the time, someone that you’ve also, terribly missed.

when you share the same sentiment, when you also feel the need to repeat it over and over again, the heartache you’ve felt and the utter devastating emptiness that you’ve lived with for so long now being satiated—the repetition doesn’t let the words turn into sounds of nothingness as it naturally would’ve. rather, it continues to ram against your skull every time he gasps and whines them. like it gains a deeper, more intimate meaning the more he whispers them against your neck, trailing his wet kisses along your jawline.

“what happened with him?”

it’s like he got worked up at his own question, gripping the plush of your ass so hard his nails painfully digs into your flesh, having you hiss. you don’t blame what you register as an involuntary response—your ex boyfriend was the sole reason for your fallout with beomgyu, it’s a sore subject to poke.

“we broke it off six—s-six months after.” after you and beomgyu fell out you would’ve said, but how can you when the prick’s practically ramming his cock in you.

“oh,” he groans speeding up his sloppy pace, finding more rhythm—all while wearing a dopey smile, the frown on his face returning to ecstasy. “why?”

“just didn’t work out.” you reply curtly, trying to move on from the topic of your ex. he lets you, humming contentedly.

there was a part deep inside him that urged him to be smug and petty with an i told you so, or get mad that you dumped him for a relationship so futile to your life, but he can’t find himself to do so as he gets lost further in the way your face contorts, reacting to each jerk of his hips. you’re perfect, he thinks to himself over and over again. you’re perfect.

he thinks he could cum right then and there.

but somethings on the tip of your tongue— in fact, the moment you had registered him inside your head when you went inside that damned karaoke room, you noticed the ring. you quickly dispelled your first thought—it doesn’t look like a ring for marriage, it looked far too casual for that.

but you had still eyed it practically the entire night curious if it held any meaning and you had so badly wanted to pry. then you finally concluded that beomgyu has always been into jewellery, rings no exception. an hour ago, you didn’t know why you were so curious of his relationship status. but now? now you’re being fucked. you have a reason, so you try to bite the bullet to satiate your curiosity. “what about you?” you choke out. however, your question immedietely evaporates from your head when he smashes his lips against yours again heaving.

you don’t question it, you melt into it, pulling him in closer to the point there’s absolutely no space between the two of you.

“missed you” he whines. it has you uncontrollably tumble out giggles between your smushed lips before he steals your breath away yet again. you feel like you’re on drugs, you’re so high off of the adrenaline you feel. never in a million years would you have expected the original deep set uncomfortable tension between the two of you three hours ago to turn into this. when you had been invited out to hang out with your old college friends to come in and be met with familiar faces—you just didn’t expect your joy to so quickly be replaced with suffocating dread when the most familiar looks you up and down.

you weren’t warned of his presence. and now you were crowded by it.

“i couldn’t,” you gasp, your hooded eyes flying open when he revisits a hickey, grazing his teeth. “i can’t, i can’t live without you. that’s what i’ve realized, i can’t do it.”

you nod over and over again along to his words, frankly out of it, rolling your hips pathetically in rhythm with his. “wh-what about you?” he asks, his vulnerablity on full on display. long gone was the confident, vulgarity that oozed out of him.

it turns you on so much, it’s wrong but it does—his teary eyes, imploring you to put him at ease as he drives his cock deep inside your cunt. it feels right, it feels natural to try it out with him. the moment your finger flick his nipples, beomgyu gives you an immediate, satisfactory reaction—a combination of a gasp and a shriek before his head just pathetically falls to bury his head into the junction of your shoulders.

“you’re sensitive,” you note, letting your fingers lightly lay against his chest. the faltering of his pace is extremely noticeable as he had been increasingly building up his pace. it gives you a rush of dopamine, enough of it to have you more confident with what you want.

“whyyy..why’d you touch..” his whines muffle into your skin.

you peel his head off your shoulder by a fist of his hair and for what feels to be the hundredth time this night, he knocks the breath out of you—he’s gorgeous. when you started making out earlier you had passively asked him to keep his glasses on, you didn’t expect him to make such an effort to keep them because it’s practically falling off the bridge of his nose, crooked and foggy. he looks like a perfect mess.

your ex boyfriend hated it—when you had introduced domming during sex it had immediately killed the mood even though he promised you afterwards that it totally wasn’t because of your risque play with his nipples. after a while, you believed him—you wanted to believe him so you tried to ease into it again, showing him some porn, he’d surely like it as much as you did. you were sorely mistaken. he didnt, he practically ridiculed you, basically implying you were a total freak. it’s one of the things that served as a catalyst for your eventual breakup.

but beomgyu, god, beomgyu.

he transcends even your wildest imagination—hes everything you’d wish to hear and more. when you experimentally let your finger twist his hard buds again as he attempts to pick up his rhythm he gurgles on his spit, moaning loud enough for you to completely lose it. he slows down again, almost completely stilling, looking like he’s about to sob with his face a shade of red and pink, as if hes asking you for mercy.

“what?” you slur, cocking your head. “who allowed you to stop? i was close.”

he shakes his head, bottom lip slightly wobbling, “i c-can’t. if you keep touching my-”

your groan cuts off his rant. “hurry up, my legs are starting to cramp up gyu.”

he flinches at your harshness, falling into a pout. it’s a habit that as long as you remember, had driven you up the wall. but right now, you can’t help but find the action adorable, in complete contrast to the dirty situation you’re in. “but what if i just…like, cum?”

you sigh, propping yourself up again, “when you feel it coming, pull out.” you say simply, which doesn’t seem to ease his mind but he doesn’t resist shaking his hips again. it isn’t long before he’s losing himself in you, slap of skin against skin no longer your concern, totally ignoring the semi public setting. the moment he feels like he has has the upper hand you do it again, playing with his nipples until you’re sure they’re pink and plump, sore.

he not once questions anything, which makes you feel so immensely comfortable. “he would’ve hated this,” you comment absentmindedly, more to yourself than beomgyu. you hadn’t even thought he picked up on it when suddenly he becomes a lot more vocal, moaning obnoxiously loud you would’ve definitely slapped him silly and hopped off his cock…had you not been completely trashed. your brain is turned off, only mustering up a wobbly smile as you drown in his outward display of pleasure. it makes you feel so powerful. he both exaggerates and at the same time actually fucking loses his sanity.

he says those words again, panting, eyes completely glazed over and mouth almost permanently hung open, his hand reaching down to shakily play with your clit, making you arch into his touch, absolutely out of breath. “can’t live without you,”

at that final declaration, you clench around his dick to which he immediately reacts, erratically fucking into you, having your tits jiggle lewdly. he thinks hes hypnotized, he thinks he would’ve probably just bust a nut inside you anyway, but he snaps out of it, getting a sense of clarity.

beomgyu's cock throbs one last time inside you, before he pulls out, giving his cock only one small pump before spurting his load, some of it landing on your stomach and legs, some dripping to the floor. he lets out a soft moan, his breath hot against your neck. after what you believe to be an eternity, your sweaty selves interwined with each other, wallowing in silence as you finally get your breathing controlled, beomgyu pulls away to look at you.

it’s like you truly are telepathically connected, something you’ve joked about for years due to the instance you’ve completed each other’s thoughts. but you’ve come to realize it might be closer to the truth than anything you’ve ever known to be true. your feelings were intertwined, scarily so.

so its to not to your surprise when he doesn’t ask for a round two, he knows. like he always does.

you just try to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.

[megalony]

Too Stimulating

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on a few anon requests and is my first imagine writing neurodivergent reader. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread@musicistheway@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@luula@missdreamofendless@bradleybeachbabe@woderfulkawaii@amberpanda99@daggersquadphantom@marvel-and-chicago-fan@angryknightstatesmantrash@minjix@lyjen@kmc1989@itsmytimetoodream@noonenuts@hiireadstuff@ashie-babie@classyunknownlover@jayyeahthatsme@sp1ritssz@dumb-fawkin-bitch@oliverstarksbae@gimatida@heart-35@supernaturalstilinski@stefansalvatoresgf@kyky9103@wutheringhearts2275@gay4hotmilfs@itshamleth@chaoticnosleepinfluencer@gs29@wh0reforsmutstuff@mel-vaz@natashamea18@chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena@targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19@marvelmenarebeautiful@gillybear17 @zoeybennett

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Buck finds his girlfriend in the middle of a car crash, he helps her through a meltdown when everything gets too overwhelming. (autistic reader)

Enjoy.

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"Can't sleep?"

Evan didn't bother to open his eyes. He inched himself closer until his chest was almost touching (Y/n)'s back. His arm was already draped loosely around her waist with his hand on her lower chest and his thumb dragging up and down her bare skin.

He knew drawing patterns or doing something as simple as gliding his thumb across (Y/n)'s skin in a repetitive manner could help calm her down at night. He thought it would have done the opposite at first, that it would have given (Y/n) something to focus on and keep her awake. But instead, the touch calmed her down and stopped her mind from hyper-focusing on different things.

She had much more sensitive hearing than Evan. (Y/n) could hear the lightest drizzle of rain tapping on the bedroom window. She could hear the boiler clicking on during the night or the A/C buzzing in the background. Little noises stole her attention and kept her awake.

But Evan couldn't hear anything tonight, he couldn't hear any little sound that might be keeping (Y/n) awake. Meaning it was something else gnawing at her mind, preventing her from shutting down.

"Sorry," (Y/n) muttered into the pillow while she moved her hand down to hold Evan's wrist that was looped over her waist.

"Why, what's up, baby?"

Evan kissed the back of (Y/n)'s head and moved to glide his hand up and down her chest rather than just his thumb.

It was normal for Evan to feel (Y/n) fidgeting during the night. He could tell precisely when she fell asleep- if she fell asleep before him- because she suddenly went still. While she was awake, Evan felt her toes curling and her foot twitching back and forth in bed. It was like she had nervous tension and her muscles were tightening. (Y/n) didn't know she was doing it most of the time, it was either or foot or her leg that started to move and she had to always be moving. Constantly.

She would toss and turn to get comfy, sometimes Evan realised she was humming and she didn't know it. Or she had one hand beneath the pillow and started tapping the headboard.

"Don't know," (Y/n) didn't know what the problem was, she just couldn't seem to get settled.

"Got an idea?"

She could hear the gruff tone to Evan's voice that was laced with sleep and it made her stomach flutter with adrenaline. He knew her like the back of his hand. And when (Y/n) didn't answer, she felt Evan chuckle into her hair and she all but whimpered when his hand left her skin.

He reached out and skimmed his fingers along the edge of the bedside table until he found (Y/n)'s phone. He murmured "Make a note," into her hair and held her phone out to her.

They both knew that if (Y/n) put the lamp on and tried to write down her idea, she wouldn't be happy in the morning. She would want to stay awake right now and write out a more detailed plan of whatever idea she had gotten, whether it was for something to create or something to write. And if she made a rough, sketchy note in a notebook and realised in the morning that it looked horrid and rushed, (Y/n) would either stop using the notebook altogether or rip the page out.

Whereas if she jotted down the note in her phone, it wouldn't look sketchy or scruffy and typos didn't matter in a little word document.

Evan wasn't bothered by the dim light of her phone; after ten o'clock at night, her phone automatically went on night mode where the brightness turned down and the colour changed to a damp shade of yellow. The background colour was yellow to try and ease her mind and help her settle. (Y/n) wasn't sure if it worked or not but she was too used to it now to dare turn it off.

When the brightness suddenly disappeared, Evan presumed (Y/n) had finished whatever note she had written down, but he knew the idea would still be floating around in her head.

"Alright baby, spin round for me."

"Hm?"

A squeak bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Evan hooked his arm around her waist and rolled her over while he inched backwards. He turned her until she was laid on her left side so she was facing him and he pressed a wet kiss to her temple.

"Doodle, send us both to sleep, baby." Evan spoke against her temple and dragged his hand up and down her back. He made sure there was an air of space between them so (Y/n) could start to doodle.

Evan had a variety of tattoos and (Y/n) loved each and every one of them, but what she loved even more was to trace them with her fingertips. She loved going over the lines like she was drawing them herself. It grounded her and gave her something to focus on and a lot of the time, it took so much of (Y/n)'s attention that she forgot where she was or what she was doing. And at night, it soothed (Y/n) enough for her to drift off to sleep.

When she was having a meltdown, tracing his tattoos helped, especially the circular band around his right forearm. (Y/n) would trace and draw that line thousands of times to focus and ground herself back to reality.

Evan found himself smiling when (Y/n) shimmied down until her head was tucked beneath his chin and her lips merged with his collar bone. He continued to glide his hand up and down her back while he felt (Y/n)'s fingertip trace the line of cursive writing just beneath his collar bone near his shoulder.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see the ink littering Evan's skin and she was almost annoyed that she couldn't properly see the little bird outlined on his other shoulder. She liked tracing that one, but Evan was laid on his right shoulder.

(Y/n) settled for the writing, it was much easier to focus on and if she felt like she didn't draw the cursive loops just right, she restarted and began again.

Evan could still feel (Y/n)'s feet tapping, but it was different this time. The muscle in the back of her thigh wasn't tightening and twitching like a wild rabbit. Her foot wasn't bashing down into the mattress and giving him a drumbeat coursing through his blood. It was just her toes continuously curling back and forth while her foot glided softly along the mattress.

It was such a soft, lulling movement that Evan had to focus to actually feel that she was still moving, and that was a good sign.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s lips on his skin made Evan shiver and the pad of her finger causing goosebumps and pins and needles in his skin made Evan smile against the top of her head.

"G'night, baby."

***

I want to go home! I want to get out the car! I want Evan!

(Y/n) could feel herself bubbling up in her seat like a pot on a stove about to boil over. There was a scream clawing its way up her chest, ready to errupt the moment one more thing set her off. Every part of her began to shake and her head bowed down with her chin tucked deep into her chest to try and see if it would make her feel any better or feel any sense of control.

One minute (Y/n) was on her way home from work and the next, she was in a crash. A speeding car flew past (Y/n)'s car in the outside lane and either couldn't break in time or wasn't paying enough attention. They crashed into another car and there wasn't enough time or space for (Y/n) to break before she collided with them.

(Y/n), along with four other cars, collided when they all tried to break and swerve out the way. And (Y/n) was relieved other people were around to call for help. She had never had to call 911 before and she knew she wouldn't be able to calm herself down enough to have a conversation that wasn't her screaming down the line.

She wanted to get out the car. She wanted to get out and leave and find someone that could help her, but she knew the rules. She remembered Evan going through what she should do if she was ever hurt in a crash.

If she was injured, it was best to stay in the car and wait for help unless the car was on fire or the situation was a dire emergency.

She was hurt.

Her chest hurt, she was sure a few ribs were fractured or broken. Her left knee has bashed into the gearbox and the dashboard had crumpled in the collision. It would take a lot of effort to wrangle her leg away from where it was boxed in and she didn't want to do that alone.

Something didn't feel right with her left wrist either but whenever (Y/n) looked down at it, she gagged and looked away. It was twice the size it should be, felt as hard as a car tyre overfilled with air and her fingers were trembling.

Her body was shaking, her nerves were going haywire and the adrenaline made it hard to focus on one thing in particular.

Heat prickled along the back of (Y/n)'s neck and flooded her skin up to her wrists. Blood didn't seem to want to circulate through to her hands that were numb and on fire from panic. When she started to get anxious, she lost the feeling in her hands and they went cold and numb, blood went to the vital organs and forgot about her hands and feet.

Coiling her arms up to her chest, (Y/n) pressed her palms forcefully against the sides of her neck and scratched her nails into the skin at the base of her head. Despite the agony that crackled through her wrist, (Y/n) continued to dig her nails into her skin and she tilted her head forward, begging herself not to scream or act out.

She had to wait for help. She had to wait. She didn't want to wait. She wanted out.

Where would she go? She was on a bridge, a motorway flooded with cars that were going to be backed up for miles. There was nowhere for (Y/n) to escape to and she wasn't sure how far she would get. She just wanted to go home and be somewhere safe. She would consider Maddie's house a safe place right now. She just wanted to be somewhere familiar with someone she was comfortable with.

But she was alone, trapped, hurt, and extremely overwhelmed.

She could smell the petrol, oil and burnt embers floating through the air, rolling into the car along with smoke that had been building up gradually since the moment they all crashed. And (Y/n) could feel her body trembling back and forth in the seat that felt cold against her unusually heated skin.

(Y/n) could feel each ragged breath that bubbled past her lips. Her throat was aching, her chest was rising and falling rapidly and her heart was beating wildly out of her chest.

When she realised she was focusing and counting each breath, her eyes snapped closed and her arms pinned over her ears. But that just made it worse. She could now hear each breath she took as if her ears had popped the wrong way and she had been submerged underwater.

A horrid, choking scream flew past (Y/n)'s lips before she dropped her arms and slammed her body back into the chair. Her head hit the headrest and bounced back with such force that it seemed to shake her brain and her eyes lost focus for a second or two.

Reaching her right hand out, (Y/n) curled her fingers into a fist and slammed her knuckles against the roof, but it didn't make an impact. All it did was make a dent in the padded roof and it seemed to infuriate (Y/n) even more.

Her hand moved down slightly and she bashed her fist into the top of the door, earning a successful jolt that shivered all the way down to her elbow and up to her shoulder. The top of the door was made of metal. Another scream vibrated past her lips along with a howling sob as tears fell down her face like acid rain and her hand battered against the door as fast and harshly as she could.

Why couldn't everyone else just be quiet?

Why did they have to scream? Why did they have to stomp their feet against the concrete like ogres breaking through the ground? Why was someone's car horn blaring out, why hadn't they turned it off already? Was the sirens she heard the sound of an ambulance, the sound of a fire truck or the noise a police car made?

Everyone needed to be quiet so (Y/n) could focus. She was going to get herself out this car if everyone continued to overwhelm her.

It was like rage bubbling up inside of her, desperate to be let out in any way she could. It was worse than when the tv froze and she couldn't finish watching a movie she was desperate to see. This was worse than being in a stranger's home and wanting to go back to her safe space. This was so much worse than being in a crowded restaurant with too many people and no means of escape.

This was worse than just a simple pain that (Y/n) couldn't control or deflect. She couldn't take all the pain away by hurting herself in another area. She couldn't smash her forehead against the wall or chomp down on her hand or punch the wardrobe and deflect the agony she felt.

Deflecting the pain didn't stop all the noises or the horrid smells or take her out of the car that felt like she was stuffed into a cramped little box she couldn't escape from.

Deflecting did nothing to take her out of this situation and it didn't alert anyone that she needed help. But it gave (Y/n) something to do, something to focus on and a sense of pain that showed herself she had some sense of control and the pain in her mind and deep within her bones was now exuded somewhere else in her body.

"I want out!"

***

"Buck, get me the jaws!"

"Copy." Evan hollered back while he pushed his helmet further back on his head and turned around. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder who was standing in front of him and silently pointed him towards Hen who would take him to the paramedics waiting on standby.

Evan turned away from the now empty car and once the driver was safely with Hen, he moved in the direction of the truck that was parked on the hard shoulder. He didn't get more than three feet before he noticed something familiar.

(Y/n)'s car. That was her car; her number plate. She was involved in this mess.

His hands reached out and clamped down on Chimney's shoulders before the medic had chance to turn in the other direction or take another breath. "Get Cap the jaws." Evan hissed in his ear and gave him a nudge towards the truck before he weaved around him and bolted.

He couldn't help Bobby get someone out of the pick up truck that was wedged into the middle railing. He had to go and get his girlfriend out.

Evan could see the car jolting to one side before he got near it. (Y/n) was moving about inside, she was definitely doing something. He rounded the side of the car and planted his left hand down on the roof so he could lean over and look through the window.

As quickly as anything, Evan curled his hand around the door handle and wrenched the door open. He stumbled backwards when (Y/n) leaned along with the door she had just been pummelling her fist into.

"Baby- baby, it's me." He tore off his gloves and tossed them down on the floor while he crouched down beside the car.

He cringed, bracing his hands on either side of the door when (Y/n) screamed. It wasn't the kind of screaming Evan was used to. She didn't usually scream so raw and violently like that even when he witnessed her having a meltdown. He hadn't seen this kind of extreme meltdown in a while.

His eyes managed to catch a glimpse of (Y/n)'s right hand that had been smashing into the door before he opened it. Her knuckles were starting to swell. They were split open, splattered with dried and fresh blood and her whole hand was shaking.

"Baby-"

Whatever he was about to say got cut off by another scream. This time, it was a deeper, more guttural scream before (Y/n) slammed her head forward into the steering wheel.

Evan jolted back on the heel of his boots as he felt his stomach tightening and his lips clamped together.

She hadn't done that in a while.

When she did it a second time, Evan leaned over with his left hand on the back of her chair. He pressed the back of his right hand against the steering wheel and braced himself, waiting for her to do it again. He could see the surprise blister across her face when she smashed her head forward and collided with his palm instead.

Her eyes were closed. She hadn't expected Evan to do that. He'd done it before; when she started to hit the wall and bash her temple into the wall, Evan put his hand in the way. He would much rather have (Y/n) let out her frustrations this way where she caused less pain and harm to herself.

Evan boxed and trained at the gym and in his line of work, a sore hand and a few bruised knuckles was nothing to him.

After a few seconds ticked by, Evan dared to rest his other hand on her shoulder and see if she would be alright with his touch or not. She didn't shy away and she didn't scream; he took that as a good sign.

"Baby, can I get you out the car, please? I'll see if you're hurt, then I can get you out of here."

He kept his hand on the steering wheel as a precaution but he was fairly sure (Y/n) had stopped hitting his hand now. She was breathing so harshly he worried her heart was going to give out, it sounded like she had burst a lung. Her lips were dry and chapped, her throat was tense and raw and her chest was violently heaving to try and catch back her lost oxygen.

Evan gently reached out for her hands and uncurled them from the steering wheel so he could rest them on his thighs and take a look.

Her right hand was battered, but he was sure she hadn't damaged or broken her knuckles. Her left hand, however, looked like her wrist had been fractured.

He glided his fingertips slowly up her arms, taking his time so he didn't overwhelm her. When he tried to touch and assess her chest, she whimpered and pushed back in the seat. And when he trailed his hands down her legs, he realised why she was so distraught. Her left leg was wedged under the steering wheel where the bonnet had crumpled down on her leg.

"Let's get you sorted out." He trailed his hands over to her left leg and tried to assess whether she had busted up heer knee or broken any bones.

He didn't want to leave (Y/n) and he didn't want to ask someone to bring him a pair of jaws to cut through the bonnet. (Y/n) was distressed enough. He slammed his hand up into the bonnet to try and dent it enough to wiggle (Y/n)'s leg free. And he reached down to shuffle her chair back to see if that would make a difference.

If he had a few more seconds, just another minute, and Evan would have loosened the bonnet enough to get her leg free without any pain or aggravation.

A blaring siren caught them both off guard.

Evan cringed; he recognised the sound. It was a police car turning up and knowing their luck, it might even be Athena. But the noise was distinct and loud and it cut right through them both.

(Y/n)'s ears were finely tuned and direct, high pitch noises physically hurt her. The siren was no exception. As soon as it started to blare, (Y/n) jumped back in her seat and screamed.

Evan wasn't sure whether she meant to drag and lift her leg up or whether it was out of instinct. Either way, (Y/n)'s upper thigh cut against the broken plastic and chunks of metal in the bonnet and her leg was prized free. Blood splattered down her thigh but she didn't care. She could barely feel the new sensation over the ringing in her ears and the pain that was pulsing through every inch of her skin.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body and she flung herself to the right, scrambling onto her hands and knees on the floor. Partially landing on Evan's thigh, sending him down on his backside, not that he cared.

She wasn't sure where she was trying to go. All (Y/n) knew was that she needed to get out of that car and get away from all the noises, but being out in the open only made it worse.

She could hear raised voices; people directing others away from the cars, telling them where the paramedics were. A strong voice cutting through the air asking for assistance. Sirens wailing in three different tones from three different vehicles. Crying. Harsh breathing. Loud footsteps made with the same heels as Evan's work boots.

Five feet away from the car left (Y/n) hobbling in the middle of the road and she didn't know which direction to go or whereabouts she needed to move to. Every angle was blocked. There was no escape. She couldn't leave. She wasn't safe.

Her weight dropped down until she was knelt on the tarmac that cut through her knees like blistering hot coals digging into her skin. The heel of her shoes dug into her bum and her stomach clenched as she coiled over on herself.

Her body began to rock back and forth while her chin smashed down into her chest and her hands smothered her face. Every breath fanned against her palms and made her lips hot and sweaty like they were melting and it made (Y/n) scream.

"Shh, alright baby, it's okay." As quick as anything, Evan shed his jacket and scrambled over towards (Y/n). He stayed on his knees in front of her and reached his arms out for her.

He pinned his elbows into her sides, pressed their knees together and curled his palms over her ears. He tucked his chest into his thighs and merged their temples together so she could see him and hear his voice over the loudness of the rest of the world.

"You're okay. You're with me, baby girl and you're safe. Just focus on me, nothing else."

He repeated those words over and over like a mantra until his voice drowned out everything else and (Y/n) stopped screaming. He felt her rock back and forth but with him knelt in front of her, he couldn't move along with her without accidentally headbutting her in the process.

So he slowly let go of her and wrapped an arm around her waist so he could shimmy her over to him.

(Y/n) stayed loose and moveable, allowing Evan to pull her onto his lap so her back was pressed into his chest.

"Help." Was the only word (Y/n) could manage and she squeezed Evan's wrists and tugged until he realised what she wanted. She didn't have to voice it for Evan to understand; it was one of the things she loved about him.

She could feel his lips smothering the top of her head and his hands went straight back to covering her ears. He breathed into her hair and started to hum while his elbows dug into her sides and he felt (Y/n) reach up to keep hold of his wrists. She was trying to ground herself to him. Sitting on his lap wasn't enough, she had to hold onto him to know he was still here, keeping her safe.

Her breathing started to become deeper rather than shallow or breathless screams.

She snapped her eyes closed and pushed back into Evan's chest so she didn't slide off his lap as he began rocking them back and forth. It was as if they were sat together in a rocking chair in the middle of the blocked-off road.

"There we go, that's my girl, hm? You're okay, you're safe."

Evan continued to rock back and forth. He'd never done anything like this before he met (Y/n), but whenever she shut down like this, she dropped to the floor. She would curl up as small as she could or sit or kneel on the floor. Sometimes she looked like she was praising the carpet with how she dragged her hands along it, but he knew she had to recalibrate herself.

Now, if ever she went down to the floor, Evan would kneel down with her. He would hold her in bed and start to sway and rock back and forth. He would do all of her coping mechanisms with her so she wasn't alone and knew he was trying to help.

"Buck… how are we doing over here?" Eddie looked over at him with a mixture of perplexity and a hint of recognition in his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it was a somewhat familiar sight.

He didn't get too close, he could see Evan had a handle on this situation and he didn't want to get involved and make things worse or upset whoever Evan was cradling in his arms.

"Do you need the ambulance?" He pointed behind him to the 118 ambulance that Chimney had backed up. There weren't that many casualties here and dispatch had sent quite a few ambulances to the scene just to be on the safe side.

"Yeah I- I need it but you have to turn the lights off."

"What?"

"The lights are way too stimulating, it will overwhelm her. Can you turn them off, please?"

Evan had seen (Y/n) drive when ambulances had been passing. The sirens made her flinch and start to stim when she pulled over and she had to close her eyes when the lights passed.

The ambulance had flashing blue and moonlight white lights blinking on and off continuously and someone had left the lights flashing on the ambulance. They were far too stimulating and if (Y/n) looked over there she would immediately close her eyes and freeze up.

Some movies were too bright for (Y/n) to watch, especially children's films that had a blast of rainbow colours glittering the screen. Movies like those gave (Y/n) headaches and blinding lights sent her into a sensory overload. Some people could handle those sort of stimulants, some people were classed as hyposensitive where they enjoyed loud noises and bright lights and lots of people and rides and thrills.

(Y/n) was hypersensitive, she couldn't handle the noises or the lights or too many people overwhelming her or crowding round and getting in her face.

"I'll turn them off, do you need the gurney bringing out?"

"No, I'll bring her over."

Eddie sprinted off into a jog to turn the lights off while Evan dared to let go of (Y/n)'s ears and he moved his hands down her sides to hold her hips. She kept hold of his wrists and leaned her head back on his shoulder while he continued to rock them back and forth.

"Baby, we're gonna go in the ambulance and go to the emergency room, alright? I'm not gonna leave you at any point, I promise. You'll be safe with me. Can I get you up?"

The moment (Y/n) nodded, Evan gave her hips a squeeze and pulled her up with him while he slowly pushed up to his feet. He waited for (Y/n) to make the first move, to show him whether she was okay to walk ahead to the ambulance. Or whether she was in too much pain or too overwhelmed to walk.

When she turned in his arms and smothered her face in his chest, Evan could feel her panting breaths and the tremble that overtook her body. She didn't want to walk. She didn't want to move. If they stayed still for a few more seconds, Evan just knew (Y/n) would drop down to the floor again because she wasn't settled or calm or okay at all.

"Alright baby, it's alright." His hands moved to the back of her thighs and he hoisted her up in one fell swoop. He hooked her legs around his torso and moved one hand to her upper back to keep her steady against him.

(Y/n) tucked her face into Evan's neck so tightly she could barely breathe and she began kissing his neck and making popping sounds against his skin. It was an unusual stim that Evan felt interested in because he somehow liked the sensation against his neck.

He smoothed his hand up and down her back while he made a beeline for the ambulance where the lights had finally been turned off.

Once he climbed up into the ambulance, Evan carefully sat (Y/n) down on the gurney. He had a gut feeling she wouldn't lay down on it and he was right. She perched on the side of the gurney with her legs hanging over the edge and her hands clinging to the side so she didn't fall off.

She began to rock back and forth while Evan sat down on the gurney next to her and Eddie sat in front of them.

"Baby, this is Eddie, can he take a look at you?"

Eddie waited patiently until (Y/n) gave a cut nod and he held out a stethoscope so she knew what he was going to do. She stopped rocking and sat up straight. He noticed her eyes focused on his chin and he wondered whether she was staring at his jacket; she was clearly focusing on something so she didn't have to look him in the eye.

He leaned over and pressed the stethoscope to her chest and then to her back to listen to her breathing.

"Can I check your blood pressure?"

Her lips rolled together but she nodded and held out her right arm since her left wrist was swollen and shaking.

Eddie smiled softly when (Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head onto Evan's shoulder while Eddie slipped the cuff up her arm so it was near her shoulder. He started to squeeze the air and watched the band tighten around her arm, but his eyes kept glancing down to her hand.

She stimmed in a similar way to Chris. Eddie could see (Y/n)'s thumbs on both hands were pressed against the back of her index finger right near her knuckle. And her index fingers were curled into her palm while the rest of her fingers were left out straight. He knew it was a sensation she must feel calming but whenever Chris used to stim, he would curl his fingers in rather strange ways that would hurt anyone else. But Chris was used to it in the way he figured (Y/n) must be too.

"Do you want me to assess your leg, or you can wait for a nurse if you want." Eddie didn't want to push any boundaries.

He knew a little of (Y/n) from what Evan had told him and Eddie didn't want overwhelm her or make her feel uneasy. If she didn't want him to try and patch her up at all, he would gladly sit and hand her over to a nurse when they got to the hospital.

"Please." If Evan trusted Eddie, then (Y/n) would rather have him help her than a stranger at the hospital.

A wave of relief washed through Evan when he heard (Y/n) quietly click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. That was a stim he recognised. That was one of her usual stims that she did hundreds of times throughout the day. If (Y/n) was doing that, it meant she was starting to settle and calm down.

(Y/n) stayed as still as she could manage, despite her right foot tapping against the metal bar on the bottom of the gurney.

Her eyes watched with intrigue as Eddie got out a small pair of scissors and carefully cut through her leggings so he could rip the material and see the extent of her wound.

It wasn't too deep. A vertical gash right in the centre of her thigh that was oozing and trickling blood down across her knee and squelching beneath her on the gurney. (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath and made a quiet noise when Eddie poured some saline over the wound and started to swab and clear away the blood.

His touch was delicate and precise and he didn't even look up at her as he worked, he kept his eyes focused on her leg so (Y/n) didn't have to avoid eye contact with him. She reached out and started to draw aimless patterns on Evan's thigh to distract herself while Eddie put suture strips across the wound to tape it together. It wasn't deep enough for proper stitches so little medical tapes were enough. And he stuck a large rectangle plaster patch on her thigh to keep it clean.

"You're all done… let's get you inside, you'll need an X-ray and probably some bloods taken."

When Evan got up, he waited for (Y/n) so he knew whether to walk in front of her or behind her. She curled her right hand around Evan's bicep and tucked her face into his arm and when she closed her eyes as they got out the ambulance, Evan smiled. He moved his right hand to cup the back of her head and smothered his lips into her hair.

He felt Eddie hovering beside them and the three of them headed into the emergency room and followed a nurse who beckoned them over when she noticed the uniform.

The moment they got into the empty cubicle, (Y/n) seized up. Her body went stiff beside Evan and she clung to him tighter until she was practically meshing her face into his arm. She didn't want to sit down. She didn't want to be in here. She wanted to go home.

Two nurses walked into the room with them and closed the door to give them some privacy.

When one of them began to ask questions, (Y/n)'s name and date of birth and all her details, Evan answered. Whenever (Y/n) went to the doctors, she never usually said what was wrong or answered them. Whoever went with her to her appointments usually spoke for her and this was no exception. Evan didn't mind. He would always speak for her when she couldn't.

"If you'd like to sit down, I'll take a look at your wrist."

"No." (Y/n) shrunk back into Evan's side when the nurse tried to approach her. But when she looked to the left, she realised Eddie was still in the room. He was leant up against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "I- please?" She gingerly moved her damaged wrist in Eddie's direction until he understood what she was asking.

She would rather have Eddie help her than someone else. He didn't ask questions. He didn't pester her. He didn't force her to maintain eye contact. He asked and waited before he assessed her and his touch was gentle. Evan trusted him, so (Y/n) would trust him.

The soft smile on Eddie's face told (Y/n) he wasn't annoyed at her request and when the nurse moved out the way, Eddie walked over to her. He didn't ask or move her towards the bed. He simply stood at her side and held her hand in his left hand so his right hand could press down her hand and over her wrist.

"I'd say it's fractured an inch below the wrist. She needs an X-ray, and if she needs a cast, you need to note in her file that she needs a removeable cast. Do not give her a pot cast."

The stern, authoritative look on Eddie's face told the nurse not to argue with him. He knew either way, whether (Y/n)'s wrist was broken or fractured, she would need a cast. And he knew a pot would drive her inside and send her into a meltdown. She wouldn't be able to take a pot cast off or move her hand or bend her wrist.

But if she had a strapped, removeable cast, they came with metal rods on either side so it would keep her wrist and arm in place. And she could take it off for an hour or so each day to get a wash or stim or get dressed. And she would be able to stim better with a foam cast.

"We'll go and get an X-ray booked, and I'll find a kit so you can take her bloods."

Surprise flooded Evan's face as he looked between (Y/n) and Eddie. The nurse was handing this over to Eddie. Clearly they could see (Y/n) wasn't going to cooperate for anyone else.

"I uh, I guess you'll have to stay with us for a while." Evan's smile was sympathetic. Bobby would allow Evan to have the rest of the day off, but he would want the team to get back in the truck and head back to the station as they were all still on shift. But Eddie had seemingly been hijacked for a while longer.

He could see in Eddie's smile that he didn't mind. He would rather stay here and make sure they were both alright than go back on shift worrying about them. And if he could be of any help to (Y/n) he would gladly stick around.

"I guess so."

[nrdmssgs]

Liar

Masterlist Smut Pairing: Captain John Price X reader TWs: no

"Should we even..." Your voice is barely audible from the water hitting the sink.

You catch a glimpse of your own reflection right before you: eyes half shut, hands bringing him closer despite your own doubts, lips deliciously parted. John stays outside the sheaf of light, provided by the only lamp in the bathroom. His lips crush against the back of your neck repetitively, but that doesn't fulfill his hunger. So he bites down - not hard enough to break your skin, but more than enough to make the world around you grow hazy, as you melt.

"Should you have teased f`so long?" Prices voice reverberates deep in his chest, and you don't even hear his answer - you feel it with your back pressed against him.

He is not incorrect - there were months of playing around, friendly teasing bordering with flirting. So now it looks like a time for payback. John couldn't care less, it was at your mutual friends house, in the middle of the party. He needs to feed you your own medicine.

Until your brain can't form a single thought.

Until you realize no one else can put you in so deep.

So his hand leaves your neck and reaches down to press you against his bulge so that you feel how hard you made him. And if your knees didn't fail you before - you are now so weak, that only big hands are keeping you from collapsing.

"Not here," you mewl, turning your face back to him. Only to be met with a messy, hungry kiss.

"Here." And his tongue slides past your lips, getting a good taste, taking your breath away. He has to force himself to stop kissing you for the next word to be said.

"Now."

The water is still running down the sink, but all you hear is his heavy breath. You're so needy for his touch, that you have to bite down your lip, to not make a sound, when he finally slides your underwear to the side.

***

You wake up, breathing shakily. That goddamn dream - it's been a few months already, since it happened, and that dream still haunts you. It feels nice to wake up to such a dream at your cozy bed back at home. But to wake up next to him? In a safe house, where you and his Task Force had to wait, until the new intel on enemy disposition gets a confirmation from your scouts? This was a torture.

You two barely talked about what happened at your friend's place, but decided, that you both were rushing things too much. You were trying to keep personal business as far from work as possible. And for now, John Price wasn't your old friend - he was a colleague. So you clutched your teeth and did everything to keep the memories of him being so intoxicating and overwhelming away. But you just couldn't control your dreams.

You hold your breath and listen intensely to surrounding sounds: distant voices - coming from other rooms, howl of the wind outside the window and Johns calm breath. He seems to be sleeping, which is a good thing - you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself with your neediness here and now.

You just need to cool your head down, splash your face with cold water - anything to forget the feeling of his hands on your body. So you carefully release your hand from under the blanket, grab the edge of the bed and try to pull yourself towards it in order to slip out unnoticed.

"Going somewhere, darling?" His bear paw lands right on your stomach and drags you back under the blanket.

"I've slept enough, I'll go switch for a watch with one of your men, Price."

"M-m-m-m-m, liar." His warm breath rolling against your skin makes you shiver.

"Ok-ok, you got me, Captain. Bad dream. I don't think, I'll be able to fall back to sleep, so I really gotta go."

"Bad dream you say?" Price clicks his tongue. His hand leaves your tummy and snakes down your hip.

"So it was a bad dream, that made you roll over in bed?" John grips your upper thigh gently yet authoritatively.

"`twas a bad dream, that made you pant and whisper my name?" It feels more like being trapped in captivity to predator's grip: he is not yet trying to feed on you, but he is not letting you anywhere away.

"Just a bad dream... that made you grind against me so deliciously?" He guides your thigh up his hip, spreading you, pressing you closer, and 'demonstrating' to you the fruits of your labor.

And as you try to calm down the rushing heart and hide the fact, that the blood is surging to your cheeks, you mumble some excuses incoherently. Only for John to quietly chuckle, enjoying, how worked up you get from just a dream about him.

[seuonji]

彡 as long as you're here, i can endure it. — yoon jeonghan

—office worker au! desk neighbour jeonghan.

notes ๑ gn!reader. oneshot. alt title: 9-5 jobs suck

genre ๑ fluff to angst.

warnings ๑ smoking (i don’t support smoking but it’s for the plot.)

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

the agonising sound of keyboard clicks, printers printing, and overlapped conversations rang in your ear. overwhelmed, you curled into your arms and let out a distressed exhale. you covered your ears and for a while it was tranquil.

only for a while.

“ynnnn let’s go for a smoke,” your desk neighbour, yoon jeonghan casually tugged at your sleeve without looking away from his screen. one of his hands held his cigarette pack and a lighter. even with the bulk, he was still typing like he normally would. you squinted your eyes at his laid-back nuance but did not have the energy to point out his weird skill.

you took a peek to your screen and it seemed like a good time to take a break anyway so you fulfilled his demands and got up from your seat. you waited and adjusted your clothes, standing beside jeonghan who was finishing up to his goal.

"alright, let's go!" he practically jumped out of his seat after saving his work.

+

as you reached your designated smoking spot which was just the rooftop of the building, you embraced the breeze that greeted you. you held onto the railings and looked down at the semi-dead street, wishing you were down there catching a taxi that was headed to home.

jeonghan plucked two cigarettes from the pack and positioned one in between your lips. he sparked a flame and lit his cigarette before leaning closer to you. he held your chin and as the tips of your cigarette touched, your cigarette ignited.

“9-5 jobs suck,” you exhaled expressing your disdain for your current life situation. “did someone not warn you beforehand?” jeonghan chuckled before continuing, “i think even pre-schoolers know that.”

“i'm probably just tired of how works getting repetitive," you sighed before turning to him and asking, “how are you holding on?“

“i’m fine, i really don't mind this line of work,” he took another puff, eyes squinted because of the sun targeting his face.

“really? i would've suspected that you'd hate this job more than me."

he seemed taken aback by your statement, "do you know me enough to assume things like that?"

you pouted defeatedly and nodded in agreement. he had a point, your 'relationship' with him had only begun a few months ago and there was only so much you could know about him.

-

you and jeonghan were the newest employees of the company who had started on the same day. overtime when you started to get comfortable working there, you coincidentally ran into him on the roof. both of you knew you were there for the same reasons.

since then you two have gotten closer. you two would only rely on each other, even occasionally grabbing lunch together on your accord but most of all you two always spent your breaks smoking together.

-

“just assuming from what i’ve observed so far,” you answered, pinching the smoke in between your fingers.

“you’ve been observing me?” he said cheekily.

“barely,” you sternly say while rolling your eyes.

he was humored by your expression. moving closer, he closed the distance between you and him and leaned on the railing right by you. his shoulder grazed against yours and you jolted at the sudden physical contact but tried to hide your reaction.

you cleared your throat to fill the silence, “so, what do you like about this dreadful 9-5?”

“well...it’s a bit flexible in terms of schedule. the food in the cafeteria sucks though and the people in our unit are kinda incompetent, except for me of course. the air conditioning system is quite good but it gets stuffy at times. another thing, they seriously need to upgrade the machines and technology, the printer keeps jamming on me—“

you softly smacked his arm cutting him off, “you are describing it how a person who hates this job would.”

he sneered as he looked off into the distance as if he was in a movie. he had a slight grin on his face as he truly answered your question,

“i don’t mind this job because i met you in the process."

you were in the middle of taking a drag from your cigarette when he said that. caught off guard by his words, you profusely started to choke on the smoke. “yn? you good??” he worriedly called your name and patted your back, as if that would help.

“i’m good—” you said in between coughs. "do you want me to get your water?" he bent down to your level, still patting your back.

“it's okay, we’ve got to get back to work anyways," you weakly said as you walked towards the exit door.

you faced your colleague and kept up an energy despite your throat literally dying from the inside, "come on now, i’ll make fun of you if you work overtime again," you joked, silently changing the subject.

he shook his head in disbelief and laughed as he walked towards you.

you threw your cigarette into the ashtray and opened the door to the stairs. jeonghan followed behind you disposing his cigarette before placing his hands into his pockets.

+

as you both settled down at your desks, you shared a smile with him before silently getting immersed in your work. in spite of that, some parts of you drifted into thought.

on your side, you thought that if you knew any less, you would've assumed jeonghan had feelings for you with the way he worded that answer. it wasn’t possible, he meant it in the friendship way, right?

on jeonghan's side, he was a bit disappointed, he thought today was the day he could finally confess. maybe he should’ve been a bit more direct, or was it too soon?

overall he didn’t fret much, he gets it if it was a topic you weren’t ready for. for now, as long as he had you as his desk buddy who would smoke with him in any given moment, that was enough for him. sooner or later, he knew he could eventually work his way up to being something more than someone who just smokes and gossips with you.

-

that was what he thought, until he saw your phone one day. he happened to glance at it when it was near his side. it had just received a notification from a sender under the name, “shua” followed by a pink heart. he even caught a glimpse of your smile when your eyes saw the notification.

suddenly, everything in the world clicked but for jeonghan, everything had shattered.

「shua💓: hi my love! i’ll be home early today, what do you wanna have for dinner tonight?」

[morehotch]

[8:02 PM]

when aaron walks into your shared apartment, you’re for once thankful that jack is at jess’s for the night. you immediately stand up, chest tightening just looking at his bloody lip, the small scratches on his cheeks and forehead, and bandaged ear. he looks entirely exhausted and hurting; watching him makes your heart sink and breath hitch. 

aaron warned you that he was a little ‘banged up’ from the unsub when they confronted him; he called you from the jet before they took off, detailing how he and morgan went in to successfully save the unsub’s last victim before he set off one last bomb. still, no words could prepare you for how you feel when he walks in the door. you never feel okay seeing him after a case; always on some level mentally and physically exhausted- but this. 

you suck in a deep breath, tears instantly welling up in your eyes as aaron’s brows furrow and his frown deepens. you can immediately tell he feels bad for upsetting you and you hate it. you hate everything about him coming home so broken and exhausted yet still so determined to be strong for you. 

“honey,” aaron starts, loosening his tie and walking towards you, “i’m okay, i promise.”

you stand to hug him carefully, thumbing over his cheek that doesn’t have a bandage on it. “you need some new bandages and ice,” you decide softly. 

“you don’t have to do that,” he whispers but it’s not convincing as you shake your head adamantly. “i want to. let me help you, please.”

aaron doesn’t say anything, only nodding, as you get up and he follows you into the bathroom. you pull things out of the first aid kit you keep tucked away in the bathroom. usually it was reserved for jack’s soccer games and other unpredictable kid activities but times like these it was always helpful too. 

“stay still,” you mutter and aaron immediately obliges. he looks up at you through hooded eyes that gaze at you with so much admiration that you’re momentarily distracted by their intensity. 

just by your face alone, aaron must be able to tell you don’t think he’s okay. 

“i already got cleared by the medic at the scene, honey.” his voice is thick but he’s not fighting you. you can tell he feels guilty. 

the way he says it so casually and the way his eyes contain such a raw form of honesty make you look away momentarily, knowing how easily convinced you are by him.

“i don’t care.” you say it with such sternness that aaron doesn’t bother arguing with you anymore as you begin to refocus on re-bandaging his ear. “i still want to take care of you,” you whisper, disinfecting his cuts and wiping the excess blood from his face.

but the further you examine his injuries, the more concerned you become. “you need ice for the swelling, they didn’t give you ice? maybe you should call your doctor tomorrow for your ear, especially because of your injury a few years ago.” you hear yourself ramble frantically, trying not to get worked up as you grasp tightly onto his cold hand, looking around your bathroom for anything to soothe his irritated skin.

“it’s okay,” aaron looks up, managing a reassuring smile and searching your eyes in an attempt to ground you.

“no, no it’s not,” you say, pouting, “you can’t come back to me all bloody and bruised.” you suck in a deep breath as your thoughts overwhelms you entirely, “i don’t like it.” you try to wipe your watering eyes and stop your fumbling lip. you turn away from him to face the sink, hating how weak you feel when aaron is always so incredibly strong for you.  

he looks up at you and feels bad. aaron doesn’t say anything, what can he say? he has always been scared, terrified, that you would slowly grow tired of the repetitive wounds, days without seeing him, and his constant, demanding work.

he fears someday you’ll decide that you’re tired of all the baggage that comes with him; the pain and suffering he brought home weekly or all the nights you’ve spent staying up waiting, worried, and scared. aaron wouldn’t blame you if you were tired of all of it.

but you never are. you’re different from anything aaron has ever seen or experienced. your touches are delicate and careful, roaming his body softly and gently, like no one else ever has. you take care of him and listen. you understand and always try to understand. you love jack, love him, and it’s so encompassing and beautiful that aaron hates when you have to see him like this. 

you can easily tell what he’s thinking about, the guilt that he permanently carries on his shoulders. “i’m not leaving,” you say quietly, gripping his chin carefully and urging him to look up at you. you smooth a hand over his shoulder, still covered by his dress shirt. 

“i know,” he whispers hoarsely.

“i want you to feel extra sure then,” you smile, letting his arms snake around your hips to pull you closer as his head buries into your leg, covered by your soft pajama pants.  

it’s silent for a few moments and aaron shows no signs of moving, head still resting on your hip, eyes glued to your bathroom counter; your toothbrushes in a cup together. the shampoo you always use that smells like mango, your lives so perfectly intertwined together. 

you say after a moment of silence, continuing. “i think you need a reminder sometimes,” you whisper, hand running through his hair. you toss the old bandage in the trash, bending to kiss the crown of his head, “i’ll always stay because i love you.” 

and aaron entirely believes you. 

[theonewhospeaksinweird]

💜Protection (Charlotte Katakuri x Female!Reader) Pt. 1💜

💚 = Lime/Lil Spicy

💛 = Lemon

💙 = Sad

❤️ = Angsty (won't do many of these unless prompted) 

💜 = Fluff

💔 = Heartbreak (rare unless prompted)

🖤 = Normal 

I'm sorry to anyone who has tried to request a story from me since I started writing here, but I was going through some things with school, graduating, and getting my life ready for adulting.~ I also got married, and am moving with my husband!~ And now I'm back with a self-indulgent story for my favorite character from One Piece, Charlotte Katakuri!~ Enjoy!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

Nervousness seeped into my bones as I tried to calm myself. Gardening the castle grounds wasn't necessary, but I had nothing else to do with my anxious hands, so I tended to the house and my personal garden with them. I had already tried to sit down and read a book in our room, but seeing the bed reminded me of the moment I shared with my husband this morning. For once, that was what I was trying to distract myself from right now, and my husband was the source of my mounting anxieties.

"Why do you have to go today?" This variation of my needlessly repetitive daily question slipped from my lips as I breathed in his sweet scent. One I felt the need to ask every morning as if he would choose to stay in bed with me all day rather than do his job. Sometimes I, selfishly, wish he would stay, but I'd never make him choose. The devotion to his family that he shows every moment of the day is one of the many things that made me fall in love with him, after all. Even if it's clear that this duty takes a hefty toll on his body and mind, I still support him in every endeavor he chooses.

His morning voice rumbled more than usual, and it made me press further into his warm, enveloping skin under the covers as we whispered sleepily to each other. The bliss of our intimacy alone had me never wanting to leave my paramount husband's side. His arms were so immense and encompassing, and I was so small and protected. Never fearing anything but the absence of my husband. A deep sigh from him lifted me up and down on his chest as he came to a clearer consciousness.

"It's my duty, love, you know that." His beautiful incisors gently grazed my head as he spoke, entertaining my usual silly question of worry. Butterflies still tickled my stomach at the endearment he addressed me as, even after three years of marriage. Those flutters overwhelmed me with a wave of adoration for my giant lover. Of course, I believed in my husband's strength, I've seen what he is capable of firsthand multiple times.

If this were almost any other pirate crew member his mother was executing, I wouldn't be worried, but this was one of the worst generation's crew members, Black Leg Sanji of the Strawhat Pirates, so I couldn't help but fret a little. There wasn’t anyone on the Grand Line that had not heard of this infamous crew that had done the impossible over and over. And that was all before they disappeared for two years, presumed to be disbanded after a disheartening defeat at both Sabaody and Marineford. Who knew how much stronger they were after all this time. All of that didn’t even include the superhuman abilities of Germa 66 that were sure to turn on us the moment the betrayal registered.

Letting out a small hum, I attempted to dispel the worry from my thoughts so I could relish the last half hour I had with my husband for this morning before he went off to put himself in harm's way. For his family. For me. My droopy eyes opened slowly to see the hidden beauty of my husband that only I was allowed to gaze upon. From his beautiful, pearly teeth to his peaceful face that also only seemed to be reserved for my presence. The sharp, masculine lines of his face seemed softened, especially his arched eyebrows that were always furrowed when he was around anyone. Anyone except me, that is. My significantly smaller thumb brushed along his rough scar, making him shudder as he too opened his worn eyes filled with adoration the same as mine. Our equally sleepy eyes met as I continued to caress his momentary tenseness and my worry away.

I gave him a soft smile as I leaned in closer to nom his nose playfully, my lips covering my teeth. Technically, I could bite it off, but he currently seemed to be too sleepy to regrow it. A smile of his own upturned the corners of his mouth, making me undeniably happy and let slip a few giggles. Even though I've seen it multiple times before, it still makes me giddy to know that I make him smile. My tittering was joined by his rumble of a chuckle as we cuddled impossibly closer, his strong arms enveloping my person tighter than before. A comfortable silence cocooned us as we soaked in each other's care.

It was only about us right now.

Mirth had me smiling to myself as I absentmindedly caressed sugary dirt off of a fully grown candy corn on the cob, just like I had his cheek. A gentle but chilling breeze brought me back to the present, and my smile fell away as I automatically looked towards the nearby main island of Whole Cake. My soft blue antennas and small white wings swayed in the wind as I sighed and stood up to head inside with my now full basket of candy veggies.

Looking up at the pink cotton candy clouds I've grown used to, they were a far cry from the white and pristine ones I grew up on. As a fallen Skypeian, it was still odd for me to be looking up at the clouds rather than being in them. My abnormal antennas gifted me abilities similar to that of a Devil Fruit power, though the sea does not scorn me for mine. With the power to read and gently influence people's emotions, as well as view their memories when I touch them, it was hard to live blissfully unaware of things when they affected someone's emotions. When my emotions rise, so does the sensitivity of my gift, therefore, when going out in public, I wear silk gloves. Katakuri does a lot with helping me manage my emotions in public, but it's nice to have a backup aid. If only he were here now.

By the time I was done cleaning the candy veggies and storing them, my worries had soared to new heights, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Even though it was senseless, I rushed to our room, and quickly put on a yellow tulle, knee length dress while pocketing my white silk gloves before leaving through the back door. The front and sides were guarded by Cracker's biscuit soldiers that he offered for extra protection this morning. Upon opening the door, I was immediately met with the hollow, smiling faces of about ten homies which made me shudder. Not because I was scared of them, but because I knew what kept them alive.

After marrying Katakuri, I eventually confronted him with my experiences of seeing human memories when touching Homies around the kingdom, and he reluctantly explained. The truth drew me into a mournful stupor, heartbroken for all of the stolen life forces constrained to these obedient slaves. This depth of my sorrow had me distancing myself in a separate room for a week until I calmed down. Any person that came near me was overwhelmed with sobs as I was, except Katakuri whose eyes only watered. Katakuri sent away his Homies for me to feel comfortable, and brought in human staff to replace them, but I still avoid Homies as much as I can when we go to other islands.

"Hello, Miss Y/N! Where are you rushing off to in a hurry? Katakuri-Sama appointed us to join you if you decided to leave the grounds!" Spoke one cheerfully. These weren't like normal Homies, as they were made out of Katakuri's mochi, yet the familiar material did nothing to quell my uneasiness. The sentiment he put forth in this change touched me nonetheless since I knew he only wanted to protect me.

I tried not to look into any of their soulless eyes, which made it slightly easier when I quickly reached my bare hands forward to tap two of the Homies and activate their locked away memories. With this trick I learned from Pudding, I made quick work of the rest of them, stunning them into a melancholic stupor as I ran past and into the tree line before one of the biscuit guards could come. A shudder wracked my body as I tried to shake away the memories of those stolen lives plaguing my thoughts now. I ignored it, like Katakuri taught me, and focused on my end goal.

It was a short jog to the edge of the juice sea ebbing on the cake donut shore where my own personal boat sat anchored. With it being relatively small, the force of me hopping onto it jolted it forward a little, and I raised the anchor before starting the engine. My hands twisted on the tiller, (Tiller: The steering stick on an outboard motor engine) making the engine roar up louder as I steered towards the mistily hidden island of Whole Cake. As I flew across the violet juice, my left hand fingered the ever-present mochi bead bracelet around my right wrist that I had forgotten in my emotional frenzy.

"Do you have to go?" The first time I'd ever asked that silly question. My quiet voice matched the dewy expression I wore as I watched my handsomely half naked husband brush his teeth in the bathroom a few feet away. Those entrancing magenta eyes, normally sharp but now softened and puttying even further as they meet mine, traced my partially covered body before sighing and spitting. My antennae matched the striking pink of his eyes.

He finished his bathroom routine before lumbering over to me and taking a knee to nuzzle his face into mine. I gladly welcomed the unabashed affection, softly kissing his parted lips in return. He hadn't even begun to be this close until a year into our marriage which was two months ago, so I welcomed it all. My hands traced the defined yet soft muscles along his chest as I tried to memorize every dip and line his body made in response to years of rigorous training. A shiver slips down my spine as his large teeth gently graze my soft lips engaging his in a deeper kiss. The kiss ends just as I was starting to tug him back into the bed by his neck, his large hands stopping his descent by holding onto the edge of the bed. With a pout, I stubbornly hung onto his neck as he sat back up until one of his large hands gently tried to tug me away.

When I did finally relent, I could see my red-faced husband bashfully averting his eyes, causing me to giggle and lie back down a little more satisfied than before. He used one hand to cover as much of his face as possible, and the other he outstretched towards me. I sat up again to look at his bare hand, about to place my own in it until little balls of mochi started to float up into the air. About twenty of them were created before they spun around and arranged into a bracelet. The newly formed piece of pristine white jewelry fell back into his large hand soundlessly.

I was already in awe of the delicate display of his powers, but upon realizing that the creation was for me, I was hesitant to take it. Stealing a glance up at him, he motioned to the bracelet with his eyes while still sporting a red, yet now uncovered, face. With his extra prompting, I gingerly took the bracelet. The instant I did, I felt an overwhelming wave of love tainted with anxiousness flood my body, making my wings flutter and antennas glow a deep reddish pink. The inevitable smile creeps onto my face, exploding into a wide grin and an unstoppable flurry of giggles. At hearing my unadulterated laughter, Katakuri starts to chuckle with me and leans in to nuzzle his nose against my neck.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me with you, and I'll always feel your heartbeat to know you are well. Perhaps this will bring both of us some peace of mind." He rumbled in my ear before slowly pulling away. This time I don't try to pull him back, but still begrudgingly watch him stand up to his full height. While maintaining eye contact, I put on the bracelet and rub it against my cheek. A thrum of arousal rings from it into my warm cheek, which blossoms a devious smile on my face as my antennae's red overtakes the pink.

"I think this'll do a few more things than that.~"

A particularly rough wave jolts me to the floor of my white boat, making the engine idle and the boat cruise without my steadying hand. Through my wall of worries, I hadn't focused on the bracelet, the window into my partner's soul. Wanting the bracelets to be a two-way street of emotional clarity, I had Katakuri make himself another and infused it with my powers so he could feel my emotions too. Now crouched down in the bottom of the boat, I clutched the bracelet to my chest and breathed in a few calming breaths. Bump. A dash of anxiety, always present despite his cool exterior. Bump Bump. Swirls of skepticism, he's people watching. Ba Dump Dum. My cheeks heat up as the dominating warmth of love spreads through me. Love was the best emotion to feel from him. I used his calm emotions to steady my own but felt bad that he's had to deal with all of my topsy turvy ones, as usual. He and I were complete opposites.

Now with more peace, I returned to the tiller and, with a softer twist, continued my trek towards Whole Cake. The closer I got, the stronger myriad of emotions I could sense from my bracelet. Nervousness is stronger, tense pulses of exploration followed by a ripple of anger. He's using his Observation Haki and what he sees is not good. At this revelation, the moment my boat hits the shore of Whole Cake, I'm up and running towards the looming chateau that stands in the middle of the city.

I can hear a faint rumbling, even from the edge of the city, which makes my stomach turn in an ocean of my worst fears. I can see a giant wedding cake up at the very top where Big Mom always has her tea parties, and it seemed like it was . . . crumbling? Running all the way from the shore to the center of town, I joined the townspeople in staring up at the top of the chateau in horror. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as feelings of annoyance edging on ire came from Katakuri.

If what I think is happening, is happening, then all the townspeople will soon be in danger. Mama has been raving about that wedding cake ever since she decided to "marry off" Pudding, and it's been in production for weeks now. If Mama doesn't eat that cake, she's going to have hunger pains and won't stop until a new one is remade. Which means I have my work cut out for me. Despite this acceptance of my duties for today, that didn't get rid of the fearful lilac filing my antennae. The townspeople started to murmur nervously to themselves about what was happening, and finally noticed I was among them.

"Lady Y/N! Do you know what is happening?"

"Miss Y/N, please tell us what is happening at Miss Pudding's wedding!" These first outcries were followed by a cacophony of worried voices that flooded my ears. After a few moments of trying to get my bearings, the yelling became too much. The mixture of my heightening panic, the thrum of my husband's own elevated emotions and the frenzy of the growing crowd exhausted me. The clear lilac muddied into brown.

"I. . ." A pulse of simmering anger from my bracelet makes me gasp before I could give the citizens a proper answer. The continual rumbling of the cake chateau made me uneasy, and I'd rather be safe than sorry about the townspeople's safety. Pushing out of the crowd, I ran over to a Homie guard.

"Miss Y/N, is something-?" Before he could finish, I cut him off with a frantic answer.

"We need to evacuate the city, Mama's cake is falling and Katakuri is fighting someone, that can only mean that the Strawhats are up there! It'll only be a matter of time before Mama starts her hunger pain, even if the Strawhats are defeated. We can't let the citizens get in the way. Tell everyone to evacuate as soon as possible!" The guard nodded obediently and ran off to spread the news. I was running in the opposite direction, back towards the chateau, yelling for people to evacuate, and trying to ignore the emotions flooding my senses as my husband expressed his rising anger and frustration.

I knew he should've stayed at home in bed with me this morning.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

It didn't take long for the townspeople to catch wind of the evacuation warning, and soon the usually bustling capital of Totto Land was desolate. Everyone knew the dangerous nature of Mama's hunger pain rampages, and that drove them to leave as soon as possible. Before I could think of what to do next, a surprising yet fleeting emotion dripped icily into my veins from my husband: fear. It was fleeting, but I've never seen or felt my husband fear anything or anyone, though I didn't have to wait long for the cause of it.

A large explosion sounded off at the base of the whole cake chateau, washing a wave of heat and debris over me as I crouched down and covered my head with my hands. Light purple lit up my face as I pushed my antennae down against my head as well. My heart pounded out of my chest as I stayed down until the wind died. A horrible groaning and cracking noise resounded around me from the chateau, urging me to look up at the damage done.

The entire chateau was falling towards me.

An undeniable fear of my own clawed out of my chest as I stood up and started to sprint away from the falling structure. My lungs struggled to keep up with my frantic breaths as I focused on staying upright and dodging continuously falling debris. As I ran, I tried to look back towards the top of the crashing structure to see if I could spot anyone, but after almost getting crushed and tripping a few times, I decided to focus on my escape first. Despite my best efforts and no matter how hard I ran, the shadow of the chateau never seemed to leave my figure. Hopelessness dragged down my tiring body, painting my antennae a dreary gray.

'I'm not going to make it. Why did I come here? I should've just stayed at home like Katakuri told me to, Katakuri is always right! Stupid, stupid! Now he'll blame himself if I die here! He'll work himself even harder!' Tears began to waver my sight, and stream down my sweaty, dirty cheeks as I kept pushing my legs harder and harder. I could hear the crashing of larger debris behind me, and even though it scared me, I started to slow down until I dropped to my knees. Each breath seemed like it wasn't enough, especially as I kept crying under the looming shadow of the chateau.

Trembling on the ground, I threw my head back to stare up at my inevitable fate, only to face a large chunk of sponge cake falling towards me. Everything seemed to slow down as my wonderful life in the past three years with Katakuri flashed through my mind. I didn't want to die. Didn't want to leave him.

"If you ever need me, just call out my name, and I'll come to you no matter where I am. I will always protect you." Katakuri's promise from all those years ago resounded in my mind.

Clenching my eyes, I let out the loudest yell I could muster.

"KATAKURI, PLEASE PROTECT ME!! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!"

I felt a surprising surge of energy burst through my tired body as I screamed out and waited to either be swept off my feet by my husband or crushed. All I felt was an even greater fatigue. What a pitiful way to die on the Grand Line. 'I'm sorry, Katakuri.' After a few hard beats of my heart pounding against my ribcage, and neither of those things happening, I cracked my eyes open to look at what had happened. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing through bleary eyes, but even when I wiped them what I saw confused me.

The first thing I noticed was white. At a glance, I thought it was the familiar mochi of my husband who came to save me, but realized this was definitely different once my mind cleared. A buzzing bubble surrounded me like a shield, and it was deathly quiet. 'Did someone else make this, or. . . is this me. . ?' Nothing was heard other than my labored breaths. I saw the large piece of sponge cake that had been hurtling towards me moments ago nearby on the ground in smaller pieces. The second thing I noticed was that the entire cake chateau had been turned into real sponge cake, and heavy cream was spilling its way towards me. Not a moment after this fearful realization did my bubble shatter.

All the sound that had been blocked out by it came rushing back all at once. The gushing of heavy cream, settling of debris, groaning from the buildings that were supporting the now sponge cake chateau, and a few pained groans from nearby. Despite all the noise, there was one noise that made my breath hitch as I turned towards it.

The sound of spurs.

I saw my mountain of a husband, Katakuri, running towards me rapidly with Daifuku and Oven close behind.

"Y/N!" He yelled as he got to me, my arms already raised and ready for him to pick me up, which is exactly what he did. Faint yellow relief filled me.

"Katakuri! I'm sorry I left the house, I should have stayed home, but I was worried, and I felt your emotions and, and-" I couldn't even finish my sentence before I was breaking down into tears as all the stuff that had happened so quickly washed over me. Everything was a mess, I was a mess, and I almost died. He held me so close and tight in his large, strong arms, pressing my body into his heaving chest, and head into his scarf. My hands slipped under his scarf so I could wrap my arms around his bare neck and ground myself in his contact. I could feel the fast thumping of his heartbeat against my own pounding chest as he tried to futilely hide the fact that he was shaken up.

No doubt when he heard me scream his name a few moments ago, he looked into the future and saw me about to be crushed by a cake. We both just relished each other's safety for a few moments, his mouth nuzzling its way to my cheek in his scarf. The shakiness of his breath made me whimper and cry a little more. We stayed like this before he gently tugged me away from his comforting body after we had mostly calmed down. His crimson eyes were imperceptibly watery as they searched my face and body for any injuries. Normally furrowed eyebrows were upturned in worry.

"Why are you-? No, first, are you okay? I didn't think I was going to make it in time. I saw the cake, and then a flash of white, I thought-" He abruptly stopped that line of thinking along with his fast breaths that were edging on hyperventilating. He quieted and focused on catching his breath as he studied me. I couldn't look him in the eye for long as guilt wracked my body for making my husband feel so worried about me. A few sniffles are all that sounded from me as I let him cycle through his emotions to calm down. Katakuri saw my reluctance to look at him straight, sighed, and brought me back towards him. My forehead touched his as one of his gloved hands lifted to my chin and redirected my averted gaze up to his worried pools of magenta. There was no anger, just concern and fear, even though he had every right to feel angry with me. This softness was something I only saw when we were alone, and it just broke me again. Tears quickly filled my eyes as I nodded in response to his second question.

"I-I'm fine. I don't know what happened with the- the cake and the forcefield. I'm sorry I left the house, but I was just so worried about you, and I couldn't help myself! And when I got on the island, I heard Mama screaming and you felt angry, and then the cake fell, and I evacuated everyone, but then the chateau fell and-" It was a wonder if he could understand my blubbering as I gestured wildly around us to the mess everywhere, but he let me go on until I ran out of breath. He just stood there, listening, and rubbing his thumb along my cheek to wipe away the tears.

"Anything else, love?"

A blush warmed my cheeks at his soft tone and pet name, but nodded, nonetheless. It wasn't a condescending question, he just wanted to make sure I was getting everything out. Despite causing trouble because I disobeyed him, he still wanted to make sure I was well. Another rumbling hum resonated in his broad chest as he studied my tear-stained face, dirtied yellow dress and flushed face. This softened his gaze even further as he felt regret at my sullied state.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I don't know what I would do without you, Y/N, and I would rather not think about it. Although you did disobey me and slipped past the many Homies I had stationed around our home to try to prevent this very event from happening," I winced guiltily under his momentarily scolding gaze, "I am, nonetheless, happy that you came, and are safe. Your kindness knows no bounds, and I feel unworthy of such a display of love, yet I humbly accept it." His last sentence was quieter than the rest of his gentle scolding, still aware of his brothers nearby helping the rest of his siblings up from the rubble.

A wobbly smile tugged at my lips as new tears stung my eyes and I nodded. The warmth of our shared love for each other in this mess transitioned my relieved yellow to a lovingly deep pink.

"You're the one who's kindness is endless. I didn't listen to you about staying home and caused you extra stress. You should be furious with me, but you just care about me being safe. I have no one to blame for my state except myself, Kata, and you know it. None of this is your fault. And of course, you're worthy of my love, we've been over this, silly. You deserve the world, especially with everything you do for your family, and for me. I would do anything to ensure your safety, just as you do for us." I wanted to give him a kiss on the lips, but we were in public, so I just settled for giving him a lingering kiss between his eyebrows. He seemed to relax a little at this gesture, taking my return compliment well. Before either of us could say anything more, a shrill and angered voice called out for my darling love.

"Big brother Katakuri! What are we going to do about this mess, and all the traitors and intruders?! We have no time to just stand around!" It was Mont d'Or screaming and being followed by what looked like a giant chicken man in a familiar pink suit, Brulee, Compote and a few other higher ranking Charlotte siblings. Katakuri's tender face of worry hardened back to his serious one, which saddened me that our moment was already over. Duty calls, though, and I was used to it by now.

Katakuri made no move to put me down yet, so I just let out a soft sigh and leaned into his scarf to rest for a little. He finally turned around to face his oncoming siblings, and a few were surprised to see me in his hold. The first person to speak up about it was Brulee who walked forward with concern written all over her long face.

"Y/N-nii! What are you doing here? You look a mess, are you okay?" Everyone expressed different levels of concern over my state, but before I could say anything for myself, Katakuri spoke up for me.

"She was worried about Pudding's wedding, so she came to make sure everything was fine, but got a little caught up in some of the chateau's destruction. She's fine now." Katakuri's firm voice left no more room for questions, so everyone accepted this answer. I didn't look at anyone in particular, opting to just stay snuggled in the soft fabric of my husband's scarf.

Everyone started to talk about the attacks on the chateau, but I was only partially listening. I was staring absently at the ground, in thought, when a long pink and black, twisted lollipop invaded my vision. I perked up a little at the offering, looking past it to a smiling Perospero who gave me a little wink when my gaze fully met his. With a little giggle, I took the treat and began to suck on it as I settled back against Katakuri. He didn't say anything about it, but I could feel his cheeks shift under his scarf in a smile which had me glancing up at him with a small smile of my own.

Once again, our moment was broken by someone yelling, but this time it was Daifuku directing troops. From what I had heard snippets of, the explosion on the chateau was still unknown, the bird man was somehow Tamago based on how he was talking, Strawhat Luffy and his allies had caused a lot of damage, Jinbei announced his resignation to join the Strawhats and Capone Bege had betrayed us to help the Strawhats assassinate Big Mom. The last piece of information was a disappointment but not a surprise. Katakuri had always had his suspicions on Bege's loyalty. Jinbei, though, was more saddening.

Ever since Whitebeard died, he was quick to ally with Big Mom to protect Fishman Island from pirates. He only visited the chateau when Big Mom called him, and rarely came to Komugi Island unless it had something to do with Katakuri. Nevertheless, the times he accepted my invitation to tea when he was around, he was kind, respectful and a joyful company to have. He didn't disclose any sensitive information outside of personal information, but I'm sure he was being reasonably cautious since I was married to Katakuri. One might think he was just nice to me because of my relations to one of Big Mom's highest-ranking members, but I like to think he genuinely enjoyed our time together as I did.

"Brulee, come with me. I'm going after Strawhat." Katakuri demanded, and as Brulee agreed and started to rant about what they put her through, I could feel Katakuri's anger rising high as he listened to his sister. The development made me a little nervous because the higher strung his emotions were in a fight, the more likely he was to slip up.

"I will personally make sure he is stopped. Not only has he destroyed our kingdom, put the family in imminent danger and tried to assassinate Mama, but", his grip tightened on me, "he almost caused serious harm to my wife. I must stop him here before he becomes a bigger threat to Mama later on." His protectiveness over everyone, especially me, had me blushing as butterflies tickled my stomach. Though, the thought of him getting hurt on our behalf churned my stomach over the butterflies.

This pirate had managed this much damage, even if he did have some powerful allies to aid him. Either he was as strong as his bounty suggested, or this was all pure luck. Even if Strawhat Luffy lived up to his current bounty, it was still only half of Katakuri's which totaled in at a billion berries. I had done enough doubting of him today, so I tried to quell the growing uneasiness that colored my antennae a lime green.

Just as Katakuri prepared to put me down to leave with Brulee, a loud rumbling and sounds of massive destruction caught everyone's attention. Soon thereafter, Smoothie was running towards us, urging us to do the same. If she was this frantic, that could only mean one thing: Mama's hunger pains had started.

<コ:彡ミ☆<コ:彡ミ☆ <;コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆ <コ:彡ミ☆

Wah!~ Okay, sooo this turned into something WAY longer than I expected it to be, so I split it up!~ The scene I started this story in mind with can be reached in two parts.~ The second part is mostly done already, but now I kind of want to have another part for just pure fluff and maybe a little somethingggggg, I don't know!~ I'll decide when I get the planned parts out and see how they do and how I feel, I suppose.~ Take care, dearies!~

Part 1 - -> Part 2 - -> Part 3

[parvulous-writings]

Don’t push it. // Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: You nurse an ill, and very reluctant Miguel

Warnings: I’m bad at Spanish, Miguel has a cold and is grumpy git. Gender neutral terms used around reader to the best of my ability! 

Words: 2.3K

Notes:  Am I somewhat out of it? Yes. Shush.  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!   If you’d like to support me more, consider donating to my kofi! I’d appreciate it loads!!  

Not my gif

It wasn’t uncommon for Miguel to be grumpy; the stress of everything pertaining to the multiverse weighed heavily on him. He could not have what happened to him, that gut-wrenching loss of life, happen to anyone else. He would make sure that everything stayed in order, that canon events happened when they were meant to, that all spider-people were on the same trajectory. The task and the past that it stemmed from weighed heavily on him, always. So, statistically, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he started developing cold symptoms - he was under so much stress that his ability to fight off illness had been heavily affected. He found the symptoms mildly annoying to begin with, but since he was still able to continue his work without much impairment, he did so, trying to make sure he did as much as he would normally do even though he could feel his nose getting steadily more and more blocked.  After a few hours, an ache began to make itself known on his forehead; a massive headache. Miguel tried to power through this, too, but steadily it became very overwhelming to him. The lights - which were typically dimmed anyway due to his sensitivity to them- were starting to bug him. 

“Lyla.” 

Hell, he sounded sick, like he was pushing his voice past it’s limit. 

“Turn out the lights.” 

Without a word, everything went black, asides from the soft orange glow of the screens around him. Typically, Lyla would have given him a quip, or a joke in retaliation, but she didn’t even try this time, she could tell he was too ill for things like that. She appeared near his shoulder, only just in his peripheral vision. “You’re not looking too hot, y’know... You want me to call someone?”  “No.”  “You should-”  “I said no.” He replied gruffly again, “Just let me get on with my work.” He shirked his shoulder, as if Lyla actually physically stood there. The hologram tapped her chin, pouting slightly as she thought - well, as much as she could think at least. She knew exactly the course of action she’d have to take here. 

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen side, prolonged and repetitive - the screen flashing with the caller ID: Lyla ✨. She had added the emoji herself a while ago, and you hadn’t had the heart to remove them. If Lyla was trying to contact you without just randomly materialising in front of you, something was off. You didn’t need Spidey-sense to know that it would be about Miguel. You tapped the screen a couple of times, answering the call and putting it on speaker, so you could continue in the kitchen, making yourself some lunch.  “Go on, Lyla, fill me in.” You said to her. “Well...” Lyla began, drawing out the syllable an almost humorous amount of time. “Miguel is ill, and he’s refusing to rest or take a break. I think you’re going to have to come in, to either get him to rest here, or just take him home. He’s going to tear someone’s head off if we’re not careful...” She warned. You sighed quietly, you knew she was right, even if she was slightly exaggerating.  “Alright... Give me ten minutes, okay?” And with that, the call finished. You quickly got through your food, before putting on your shoes and heading out of the apartment, hoping to catch one of the speeding trains to the edge of the city. One of the perks of getting to reside in Nueva York, was that there was at least somewhat easy access to the place where your beloved worked - and practically lived it felt like. It also helped that most of the Spiders knew you, and helped you to navigate the rather large, and confusing building. If you needed to be somewhere in the building quick, you knew you didn't have to be afraid to ask one of the many, many Spiders milling around every corner of every room in the structure. Thankfully, that wasn't the case today - you weren't entirely sure that a lot of fast paced swinging would help your food go down. Instead, you were taking one of the many elevators installed, straight up to the top of the building; of course, the dark, brooding Miguel O’Hara had to have something that could only be described as a lair. The fact that the lights were off were not helping the matter, either. 

As soon as you entered the room, you knew where he was - Miguel was always  in the same place. His shoulder twitched slightly as the doors slid open quickly for you - he had picked up the minuscule change in light. He hadn’t, however, realised it was you entering the room; one downside of not having the spider-senses so many others seemed to be blessed with. “Go away.” He gruffly called down to you, not even turning around.  “Fine way to greet your other half...” You chuckled softly, and it was then that he glanced over his shoulder, eyes wandering down to your distant silhouette.  “...Corazón... What are you..?”  “Lyla called... Come down, Miggy...” You spoke softly, not taking his former gruffness to heart. You knew he didn’t mean it, not really. He was sweet to you always - a softie through and through, beneath the rough and ragged exterior, the front that he put up in front of others, to keep them at arms length. At an almost comically slow pace, his platform began to descend. It seemed like forever had passed before Miguel was shuffling towards you. You open your arms when he gets close, and embrace him. For a moment, you both just stand in the hug, drinking in the sense of being in one another’s arms. After a minute or two, you pulled away slightly, cupping Miguel’s face carefully in your hands, subtly examining him. Miguel still noticed what you were doing, though. “Stop, mi amor... I’m fine...” He told you, bringing one of his large hands up to your own, and resting it on top. “Absolutely fine...” He reiterated, but of course, you could see it wasn’t true. His entire face was red, and hot - and you knew that for once, it wasn’t you that had caused this. You stayed quiet, thinking. How could you get him home to rest, without agitating him too much? Not an easy task, no. 

“Come home for lunch, sweetheart...” You suggested to him. “I’ll make you something special...”  He was going to protest about this - you could see it brewing behind his eyes, but you kept going. “Then you can come back here later... okay?”  “The multiverse isn’t going to watch itself...” The man grumbled, his brows furrowing together, putting creases through his forehead; ones that had been used so many times before throughout his life.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine for a little while... And besides, Lyla can keep an eye whilst your gone, can’t she?” You look off to the side, where the glowing little form of Lyla was hovering, jumping back and forth, before giving you two thumbs up. “’Course I can.” She confirmed. “That’s what I’m here for.” She chuckled softly, before zipping away to examine the many amber monitors at the back of the room, before Miguel could try and protest that she wouldn’t be able to; not that the glowing AI would take no for an answer anyway.  “The trip home isn’t too long, Miguelito...” You told him, carefully starting to lead him out of the room, though he was putting up some resistance now; you had called him the nickname primarily used when he was ill.  “I’m not sick...” He protested, before glancing over your shoulders to the door that was about to snap open, and he stopped in his tracks, unmoving though you tugged at his arm. “... The lights are on out there...” He mumbled, red eyes glancing down at you. You knew all too well that he would not be able to handle any of the light on the way home. You hummed quietly in thought, before looking at him. “Did you bring your sunglasses with you?”  “No,” He scoffed. “I didn’t need to, when I came in.” He told you, his wide arms crossing over his even wider chest. “I don’t need to go home..” He insisted, “I will be fine..” Considering you now had no way to get  him back to your shared apartment without giving him the biggest flashbang, and biggest accompanying headache of his life, you figured you’d have to make do with whatever you could find in his office. Your eyes darted this way and that, trying to find anything soft that you could use as a pillow, so that Miguel could actually lay down, and rest. There were a few chairs, of varying plushness, which you could perhaps repurpose for nap time.  You moved quickly and with purpose, moving items this way and that to create a small nap area for your partner. “There we are...” You announced after a few minutes, stepping back to admire your work. Was it five star hotel worthy? Perhaps not, but it would do for the moment. Miguel seemed to sneer at  the sight,  but after a gentle push on the arm, he acquiesced. Maybe amusing you wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carefully, you guided him down onto the bed, comprised of plush desk chairs. It was an awkward fit, but with a little bit of work, Miguel was just about comfortable, though he still looked very grumpy. “You didn’t have to do that.” He muttered, “I was fine as I was.”  “You continuing as you were would have ended up with slobber all over the consoles.” You joked, shaking your head as you tried to help him get a bit comfier.  “I don’t drool in my sleep.” That was a flat out lie - he knew he did. It was hard not to, what with his fangs; it was hard enough keeping them in his mouth when he was awake sometimes.  “Uh huh, alright honey, if that’s what you say..” You tease quietly, quickly pecking his cheek. “Now... You try and have a snooze, okay?”  “... I’m not five.”  “Have a snooze, Miguel.” You repeat, just as soft as before- there was no use in being too hard on him when he was like this, he was going to be stubborn no matter what you did or what approach you had decided to take. He huffed, a frown clear on his lips, despite the darkness in the room.  “Yes, mother.” He replied sarcastically. As much as he was protesting, however, he had to quietly admit to himself, laying down and closing his eyes for a moment did feel nice. Almost heavenly, in fact. 

“How quickly did the symptoms come on, Lyla?” You asked, your voice nothing more than a whisper.  “Fairly quickly.” She replied. She wasn’t forcing her voice to be quiet like you were, she had only turned her volume down in a literal sense. “Started sniffling, then on came the headache.” She shrugged. “Though I do have to say - never seen him give up that quickly before. Usually Peter B argues with him for at least an hour before Miguel even takes a five minute break, let alone a whole nap. I’m impressed.” Her golden form zipped away for a moment, clicking a quick selfie with the already sleeping Miguel, before returning to her prior  position. “Well, I suppose being his lover does help a bit... I’d like to think he has a soft spot for me.” You chuckled, joking with Lyla. You had always been fond of her, even if she wasn’t human, she certainly knew how to act like one. Miguel always acted like he found your bond with his AI companion to be more trouble than it was worth, but in actuality, he found it rather cute - he too had his own unique relationship with the software.  “Yeeaahh, I think you’re right... I think he’s got more than just a soft spot for you, though. He’s just soft for you.” She told you. “Now, don’t tell him I told you this, buuut... You know how he keeps way too many tabs open at once?” Anyone who even took one sideways glance at Miguel’s floating desktop knew how many tabs he kept open at any one time, so you just nodded. “Well... By my calculation, about 53% of those are centered - one way or another - on you. Like your favourite food, song, tv shows and movies, as well as-”  “Alright, alright, I get it, Lyla...” You laughed gently, your eyes landing on the peaceful form of your sleeping boyfriend, who was already starting to gently snuffle in his sleep; the cold had overcome him quicker than he could have ever expected, and it was clear that his body was thanking him - and you - for giving it a moments peace. A little bit of solace from the immense pressure that never went away. “C’mon.. let’s leave him be for a little while... D’you know where Peter B is?” You asked, slowly starting to move towards the door. “Might go tell him that Miguel is having a nap, at work of all places.”  “Oh, he’s going to love that,” Lyla replied, taking a seat on your shoulder. “Though I think he’ll keep asking how you managed to do it... I think he’s in the cafeteria.” She chuckled, waving vaguely in the direction of your new destination. Your voices both faded off into the distance as you strolled down the hall, leaving the sleeping O’Hara to whatever dreams his mind could conjure for him, and there he would likely stay for the rest of the day - he certainly did need that rest. 

[nurse-floyd]

Little Moments of Comfort

Bob Floyd x Reader

Reader has a tough day and Bob looks after them (heavily implied as ND!reader but it isn’t specifically mentioned).

Age regression is NOT the same as age play. This is not meant to be read as sexual and is not a kink. This fic is purely for comfort.

Work had been awful; there was no other word for it. As the day came to an end, you found yourself retreating further into your mind and recognizing the familiar signs of regression that usually came when you felt like this. The stress and overwhelm from the day had you wanting nothing more than to be home safe with Bob. You tried to ground yourself, to hold off the sensation that was creeping over you, but it was becoming harder with each passing moment.

Bob had always been attentive and understanding of you. He loved each and every part of you unconditionally and knew you even better than you knew yourself. He recognized the subtle changes in your behavior as soon as he stepped through the door and saw you on the couch. He noticed you clutching your bear tighter, the way you avoided eye contact with him, the slight raise in the pitch of your voice, and the way you seemed withdrawn.

He took a seat on the sofa next to you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he kept his voice low, “you had a rough day, didn’t you?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as you kept your eyes on the bright colors of the cartoon on the screen. You hated feeling like this, so small and so vulnerable, but Bob always made you feel safe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

You shook your head. Words were too hard right now, and you felt too little to explain.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to speak right now. Can I touch you, sweetheart?” Bob asked, not wanting to overwhelm you but also wanting to provide as much comfort as he could.

You leaned into his side, letting him wrap an arm around you as he pulled you a little closer.

“How about we do something else? Something to take your mind off things. We could build some Lego? Or maybe color?”

The mention of coloring brought a small smile to your face. You loved coloring and had a stack of books and various pens for days like these.

Bob gave you a wide smile back, his eyes filled with nothing but warmth and love. “Coloring it is then.” He got up and fetched your favorite unicorn coloring book and box of pens and crayons and even grabbed a dinosaur one for himself. He set it all up on the coffee table in front of you and sat with you while you both colored together, the only sound coming from the cartoon you had playing in the background. “You’re really good at this,” he said, watching as you picked out a bright purple glittery pen and began to fill in the lines.

You could feel yourself begin to calm. The repetitiveness of the task helped in regulating yourself, as well as the presence of Bob, quietly coloring by your side and occasionally helping you pick out new colors.

After a while, Bob spoke up again. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he reassured, smoothing back your hair and placing a kiss on your temple.

Bob’s words were enough to soothe your frayed nerves as you leaned into him and his arm wrapped around you. He could tell you were slowly starting to feel better, but he knew you still needed him. “How about we get you into your PJs, sweetheart, and get you some dinner?” he suggested gently, standing up and offering his hand.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief at the thought. You took his hand, and he led you to the bedroom. Bob had always been good at knowing what you needed without you having to say a word. He opened the dresser drawer and pulled out your favorite soft, pastel pajamas and a pair of fluffy socks.

He handed them to you, then turned his back to give you some privacy. “Let me know if you need any help, okay?” he said.

You managed to change into your pajamas, feeling the comforting fabric against your skin. “All done,” you said softly, speaking for the first time that night. Your voice sounded younger than usual, and Bob’s heart broke a little.

Bob turned around and smiled at you. “You look so cozy,” he said, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “How about we head to the kitchen, and I make us some dinner? How does mac and cheese sound?”

You nodded, your eyes lighting up as you smiled at the mention of one of your favorite meals.

Bob chuckled softly and took your hand again, leading you to the kitchen. “Come on then, sweets.” He started to prepare the mac and cheese as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. You watched him from your spot at the kitchen table, another coloring book open as your eyes flocked between him and the pages, feeling safe and content.

As he cooked, Bob chatted with you, keeping the conversation light and soothing. “Did you know that mac and cheese is probably one of my favorites too? It always makes everything better, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, feeling a little more like yourself with every minute that passed.

Soon, the delicious smell of cheese filled the kitchen, and Bob plated up two servings of the pasta. He brought the plates to the table and set one in front of you. “Here you go, sweetheart. Just how you like it,” he said with a warm smile. You looked at him with tears in your eyes as you spied your plastic children’s plate, the one you used in times like these—another added comfort.

You picked up your fork and took a bite, the familiar taste bringing a sense of comfort and normalcy. Bob watched you with a gentle expression, clearly relieved to see you eating and looking more relaxed.

After dinner, he suggested another movie to wind down the evening together. He put on your favorite animated movie and wrapped you in one of his soft blankets, one that smelled just like him. You snuggled against him with your teddy and felt completely safe.

As the movie played, you felt the last of the day’s stress melt away. With Bob’s arms around you and your favorite movie on the screen, you knew that no matter how tough things got, you would always have him by your side to help you through.

Later that night, when you were tucked up safe with him in bed, you drifted off to the sound of his voice as he read you a story. He’d picked one of your favorites and kept his voice low and gentle as he read to you. By the time he’d finished the chapter, you were almost asleep, snuggled up against his chest.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Remember, I’m always here for you.”

[daboyau]

this chapter is kicking my butt so as a thank you for waiting so long here’s about 1000 unedited words of chapter 3 of the Tournament prompt fic! Chapter 3 part 1 i guess?? The rest of the story can be found here.

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@madcatgurl

“You are a blathering ignoramus! A slathering miscreant! Dunderheaded moron! I cannot believe you did this!”

Egghead had been going on like this for the past fifteen minutes, throwing every insult he could think of. A few of them were actually almost impressive in the beginning, but with every passing moment that his words didn’t garner a reaction from Leo, his insults just got more and more repetitive.

“Don,” he heard Big Red sigh. “Can you at least turn the music off?” 

Egghead went quiet. His music didn’t, though. At some point he’d changed it from 80’s jams to the angriest sounding techno music Leo’d ever heard. The little device strapped to his wrist had some impressive speakers.

“Absolutely not,” Egghead scoffed after a second of consideration. Leo could imagine the way he would cross his arms and the affronted expression on his face, though he didn’t turn to look. “A scolding of this degree deserves the proper mood music.”

Big Red and Sunspot both groaned. Leo stayed right where he was, curled up on his side, staring stubbornly at the wall no matter what the three kappa did to try to get his attention. 

“Hey! Answer me, you…you baka!”

“Oooo we’re moving on to the weeaboo insults now,” Sunspot stage whispered. “That’s how you know he’s run out of big fancy words to say dumdum.”

“Shut up Michael, it’s not weeaboo shit if dad’s literally Japanese.” 

“Donnie, Mikey. That’s enough.” Big Red’s voice was a gravely rumble that Leo could feel inside his bones. He shivered, grimacing and tucking his knees closer to his plastron, wishing that his Nexus armor let him go inside his shell. 

“Leo, it’s us. Please say something.” Sunspot sounded almost hopeful, but didn’t say anything more when his plea didn’t get any kind of response. He heard Big Red sigh, and it sounded tired and sad more than anything else. 

“Leo,” Red repeated, and his voice was low and gentle. Dangerously calm. 

Why do they all know his name? Why do they all say it with so much familiarity? No one should know his name! All he can think is that this must be some kind of test. Some sort of trick. Another way for Big Mama to mess with his head and make sure he knows his place. He curls tighter, muscles trembling with fatigue and pain as Big Red continues talking. “I think what Donnie is trying to say, is…what the fuck, man?” 

Someone makes a weird wheezing sound, like all the air has been punched out of their lungs. Something in his tone makes Leo frown, shaking him out of his fear driven stupor. The question doesn’t make any sense to him.

“What are you talking about?” he croaks before he can think better of it, muscles finally beginning to relax as he slowly lets himself uncurl. He doesn’t move to sit up, though, or turn to them. He stays on his side, eyes trained stubbornly on the glimmering wetness dripping slowly down the stone of the dungeon walls. 

“It’s been three years! Have you been here all this time? Just…just playing at being a champion?”

At this, Leo sits up and whirls to face them. There is an indignant fury burning in his belly, momentarily overwhelming the fear of what is to come. He’s glad that the mask still covers his face, hiding the way his cheeks flush with humiliation and anger. He’s weak and easy to read, never able to hide how he feels; no wonder Big Mama insisted he cover his face. 

“Playing? Is that what you think happens in the Nexus? I’ve been fighting for my life! Fighting to make something of myself so I might actually have a future!” 

“What are you talking about?” Egghead demanded, surging forward, hands wrapping briefly around the bars of the cell before he yelped at the shock of pain and withdrew them. He shook them out, nose wrinkling at the smell of burned flesh but eyes never straying from Leo, his face a mask of frustration. 

“Buddy, you don’t have to prove anything,” Big Red said, shuffling as close as the bars would allow him without getting shocked himself. His eyes were big and sad, like he was seeing a hurt kitten when he looked at Leo. Unseen, Leo’s lips pulled back in a furious snarl at the condescending tone.

“Even if you did, why would you just…just disappear?!” Sunspot added, crawling up Red’s shell with an ease that was only further proof of their familiarity. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, but his brow was creased with what could only be anger. Watching their faces, hearing their anger and their concern, something finally clicked inside his head. Leo’s stomach churned and he wondered how he could have been so stupid to not put the pieces together before. He hated his traitor heart for daring to squeeze around the slightest hint of hope. He didn’t need to be disappointed again, but….

“Do you know me?” The words were squeezed from his tightening throat, hitting open air and hanging there like a noose. The other three went all grey faced, horror painted over their features like they were watching him walking towards the edge of the gallows of his own free will. 

“Leo,” Egghead said, voice tight, that single word layered with so many meanings and emotions that he could never hope to parse through before it settled on a cold fury. Something dangerous and horrible, promising retribution for a crime Leo couldn’t remember committing. “What did she do to you?”

[golden-afternoon]

completely self indulgent college au kazuha drabble that i just pumped out like 5 minutes ago while stuck outside of the house and overstimulated as heck. this is part of a college au i've been working on with my dear friend @puffybee-dreams. poe belongs to her! (thanks for letting me kidnap her >:33)

warnings - gn! reader, vent/comfort thing about being anxious and overstimulated in public. not really going anywhere, just a little drabble that helped me feel better :33 so yeah unedited self indulgence be upon ye

Fire. Burning, burning, electricity that lingers on the ends of your fingertips, leaving everything feel like frayed wires, arcing like somethings not connected where it should be, or perhaps like there was power going through where none should be. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt.

Overwhelmed.

Overclocked.

Overloaded.

For a moment, you had even forgotten where you were, standing in the coffee shop, not even realizing that the woman behind the counter had called your name multiple times already. Confused, and maybe a little perturbed, she turned to her coworker, shoving the paper cup in his hands as he approached, asking him to take over, her mahogany ponytail whipping as she turned to greet another customer who had entered.

Red eyes glanced down to the cup in hand and then back up to you standing there, eyes unfocused as you stared off into nothing. Puzzlement melted into understanding as he put together what was going on. Fortunately they weren’t very busy at this hour, giving him the opportunity to slip around the counter, trusting Poe with the other man who had come in on her own. There was a moment of hesitation, as he didn’t want to alarm you. Raise his voice too loud and that could send you deeper into fight or flight, tap your shoulder and he’s at risk of catching a fist to the face.

He opted instead to step into your line of vision, piping hot cup of coffee still in his hands as he extended it closer, watching your eyes click into focus, zeroing in on the cup before snapping up to meet his gaze.

“O-Oh god, sorry. My bad.” The gentle smile never wavered on his face even as you stuttered, hands reaching out for the cup with slightly trembling fingertips.

Burning burning burning burning burning.

“Its quite alright,” he said, making a point to keep his voice soft as he spoke, hesitating for a moment before chuckling beneath his breath as he adjusted his visor to fix his white hair beneath, seemingly out of habit. “Though, if I may say, I’m not sure a coffee would be ideal right now.”

He watched as you blinked back at him, cheeks turning pink from embarrassment. He worried he spoke too much before you looked down at your cup, thumbs brushing against the warm paper above the sleeve.

Grounding. The heat of the cup was grounding. Slowly the familiar, soothing scent of roasted coffee, bitter and warm, began to register vaguely in the back of your mind.

A slightly awkward laugh left your lips. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I kinda just… got what I always get.”

His expression softened further, a light chuckle passing his lips as he did. As much as he would like to claim ignorance, he didn’t miss the aversion of your eyes from his as he laughed. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction to him, but on you, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to mind. “That’s understandable.” He motioned to the cup in your hands. “If you’d allow me to, I wouldn’t mind replacing that with a tea. Only if you’d like, of course.”

A beat of hesitation. Thumbs brushing slowly along the space between the sleeve and the lid of the cup, repetitive, thoughtless, necessary.

“I’d hate to bother you with that.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Its no trouble at all.” The answer was soft, firm, sure. Immediate. “No one else is in at the moment anyway.” Another soft chuckle left his lips, one that made your heart flutter in a different way than it had been before. Well, at least these feelings swirling in your stomach almost completely blew away the former dread that had settled in there.

Slowly, with a small smile on your lips, you offered him back the cup, glancing to his nametag before meeting his eyes. “If you’re sure. Thank you, Kazuha.”

His smile returned, gentle, warm, like sunshine peering out from the clouds to warm your skin beneath its glow. It was so simple, but you couldn't help but smile back, basking in this gentle warmth as the burning feelings cooled to embers, not gone, but far more bearable.

[issdisgrace]

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE SOME NSFW OTIS HEADCANONS🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 PLEASE

OTIS DRIFTWOOD KINKS

WARNINGS: Nsfw duh

A/N: I hope you like this also I tried not make this repetitive so I’m sorry if it is.

I’m going to preface this with Otis into a lot of things and for my sake this isn’t all of them. But this is still a lot of them.

BLOOD KINK

Otis loves being covered in blood whether it is his, yours, or some else’s. If he’s covered in blood he’s in heaven. He loves the way it feels and looks on his skin. He also loves when you use blood as lube. It’s just so hot and sexy that it causes him to cum almost as soon as you start using it to stretch him open.

KNIFE AND GUN KINK

Otis loves when you fuck him with the handle of your knife or the barrel of your gun. He also loves when you cut him up and spread his blood around. And another thing he likes is when you hold your gun to his head or your knife to his throat while you fuck the absolute shit out of you.

COCK AND BALL TORTURE

Please for the love of god torture his cock and balls till they’re all red and sore and hurting. Torture them till he’s full body sobbing and he simply can’t take it any longer.

HUMILIATION AND FEMINIZATION

Otis loves when you humiliate him via feminization. Dress him up in a bra and panties and a dress, put make up on him, paint his nails, do his hair, then take photos of him while making fun of him. Then fuck the shit out of him while calling him a good girl, princess, slur, whore, etc.

ORAGSM CONTROL

Otis loves when you control his orgasm doesn’t matter if you’re edging him for hours on end ruining orgasm after orgasm or overstimulating him making him cum so many times that he’s shooting blanks.

HAIR PULLING

He loves when you pull him by his hair. Whether your fucking him from behind and pulling it. Or you’re pulling at his hair as he goes down on you. Or you’re pulling him by his hair to your guys bedroom so you can fuck him. He fucking loves it.

IMPACT PLAY

Slap him, kick him, punch him, anything like that will have him folding for you in an instant and cumming on the spot. He just loves the pain so fucking much and is so addicted to it that it doesn’t matter if he’s crying, bruising, or if you broke on off his bones. He will want you to continue but you will of course stop because you don’t want to cause long lasting damage.

MARKING

Otis likes for people to know he’s yours so he’s all for you marking him up. Whether it’s hickies, scratches, bruises, or a tattoo even. As long as he has a reminder of you and people know he’s yours he’s a happy man.

PISS KINK

Piss in him, piss on him, force him to piss himself, force him hold his piss in. Anything to do with piss gets Otis turned on to the max so I highly recommend using this to your advantage.

SCENT KINK

Otis immediately gets hard when you force him to sniff your armpits or your ball after you’d been doing something that got you sweating. Your scent is so strong and overwhelming and fucking hot. He loves it but what he loves even more is when you force him to lap up your sweat.

SOMNOPHILA

Otis purposely goes to sleep naked and in revealing position in hope that you use him. Because god does he love waking up to find his hole gaping and your cum leaking out of him.

VOYEURISM

Otis loves the audience but not always. But when he does he gets a couple of his victims and ties them down to chairs and force them to watch as he get his hole absolutely demolished by you.

PUBLIC AND SEMI PUBLIC SEX

This goes hand in hand with the voyeurism. Otis is willing and wanting to get fucked anytime and any place because when he wants your dick he’s going to get it. And the fact that you guys could be heard or seen fucking by others adds another layer of hotness to everything.

[jinkookspencil]

Hi 👋 could I request a cute fluffy fic of girl y/n caring for sick jungkook who caught a bad cold because he was playing with bam in the rain . Fluffy and comforting

jungkook never listens | jjk

description/tags/author's note: ~1.8k words / jungkook x (f) reader / fluff / established relationship / no warnings / omg im sooooo sorry that this is so late! life got busy & overwhelming all of a sudden but it's finally here! i hope you like it :') thank you sm for requesting!! / feedback is always welcome and appreciated!! 💗 /

Jungkook never listens.

It was a simple fact. One his hyungs warned you about right at the beginning of your relationship, not knowing he’d proven that fact to you already. Since then, you learned how to use it to your advantage - reverse psychology works on your innocent boyfriend every single time - but it didn’t change his nature. It was just…. Jungkook. And this simple fact can also be incredibly frustrating on days like today.

Peeking inside the bedroom, sure enough Jungkook was still fast asleep, after hours of insisting he wasn't tired before he finally surrendered to his bed an hour ago after you ignored him. It hurt to do so, but just as you suspected, it eventually got him in bed. You knew he needed it more than he needed another gaming hour with you, no matter how much he begged. Now, finally looking at him, you couldn’t help but think of how adorable he looked then and there. It wasn’t the time to think about it, you knew he was sick and probably in pain… with his furrowed brows on his round head peeking out over layers of blankets, not any other part of him showing… his nose, red as a button, sticking out and letting out the most inhumane noises you’d ever heard since his cold only made his snoring worse, still… he looked cute.

It pained you to leave him there with the door ajar, not to disturb his sleep. But then came the sneeze. The gigantic sneeze and the subsequent coughing fit that woke him up. And the most heartbreaking groan you’d ever heard in your entire life. That was your cue.

“Jungkook?” you whisper, tip-toeing into the room only to be met with the same groan and the same sight of a sleepy Jungkook… Sitting by the edge of the bed, you can’t help but brush away a few strands that fell over his eyes. He’d need a trim - either as soon as he was better or even sooner with your at-home scissors. Considering how fast his hair had been growing, it might be the latter. Another sneeze reminded you - this wasn’t the time to think about all that. Your boyfriend was sick. When you wipe off the drool on his chin with a tissue, he begins to realize that you're there.

“Jungkook-ah….”

“Mmmmm…..”

“I’m here.”

“Don’t be.”

A scoff escapes you. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Jagiii……” he says in his grumbled, now husky voice.

“I want to take care of the love of my life. Is that such a crime?”

Another sneeze.

“Jagiyah… leave. You’ll get sick.”

“So?”

“So?!” Jungkook’s shock sends him into another coughing fit that jolts you to the medicine cabinet to grab the cough syrup and any other medicine you could find before scattering them on the bedside table. A moment of guilt runs through you for forgetting to force him to take the syrup earlier - you had told him to, but… it wasn’t enough, considering his state, of course, he’d have forgotten. He wouldn't have listened, and at least now he has no choice. After you help him sit up slightly on the bed - ignoring Jungkook's repetitive groans in protest- you bring a glass of water by his lips, he takes a sip and his cough subsides.

“Drink,” you softly command Jungkook, now sitting by his legs with the cough syrup dose ready in your hands. He reluctantly obeys, resting his head on the headrest and closing his eyes after swallowing the thick liquid. Not knowing if that’d turn into the continuation of his nap or just a brief moment of rest, you dash to the kitchen to make a quick cup of chamomile tea with honey, lemon, and ginger - the same tea he’d given you when you were sick months earlier. Had he actually fallen asleep again, you wouldn’t have minded drinking the remedy yourself - the familiar taste bringing back memories of Jungkook doing nothing but adorably and worriedly doting on you for a week straight. He’d be knocked out by the cough syrup soon, the least you could do is force in another remedy... if he was awake.

Reentering the bedroom, you find Jungkook in the same spot you’d left him in, zoned out entirely until you walked in... If someone didn't know his habit of spacing out, they would've guessed he'd been sleeping with his eyes open.

“Don’t… don’t stay so close.”

Ignoring him, you put the cup of tea right in his hands before you run your fingers through his hair, finally tying it with the spare hair tie you’d kept around your wrist.

“Is this okay?”

“No.”

You can’t help but look at Jungkook - your 25-year-old muscled, tattooed, incredibly strong boyfriend - pouting with his eyebrows furrowed and his arms across his chest, all while being in his coziest pajamas and wrapped up in too many blankets to count.

“Jagiyah…”

“I said no. This isn’t okay.. I...”

His train of thought is interrupted by the loudest sneeze you’d ever heard in your entire life. Followed by another… And another one right after it. It hurt you to see him this sick. If his sneezes weren’t as loud as a train’s engine, you would’ve kissed his red little nose right then.

“I know you’re in pain, baby, but your nose is even cuter when it's red.”

“Mhmmm… baby, I’m too tired to… talk and act cute.”

“So don’t, Jungkook. Luckily for you and for me, you’re cute without even acting cute. But, luckily for you I know exactly what you need…which is a lot of rest and a lot of medicine and care. Is there something you want? Take out? Soup? A stupid reality show on TV? More blankets? Tell me what you want... Anything...”

“I just… I want to be better. I want to be okay. Normal. I want to be able to cuddle with you. I want to play with Bam again. I want to work. I want to.…  I want to continue writing that song I told you about. I want to -“

“You will do all of those things, baby,” you say softly, cupping his face with your hands. Of course he wants to do the things he cannot and shouldn't do…. Jungkook never listens. He tries his best to reach out his arm to bat your hands away in fear of you catching his cold, but he can barely bring his hands up to do so. He’s weaker than you thought, and the despair on his face hurts.

“Jungkook, you will do all of those things and more, baby. There will be better days, and Bam & I will be here for all of them,” you repeat, knowing he needs it and the light massage you give him, squeezing his muscled am and his thighs over all the fuzzy fabrics.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

Jungkook scoffs in response. You weren’t about to let him protest.

“You know what else I believe?” You stare directly at him when you ask the question, and he coos in response.

“I think if we don’t take a break, our bodies will force us to take one.”

“But… but this happened because I took a break,” he pouts. “I was working, then I just… I saw the rain, and I thought Bam would like to play around in the garden - and he did! I know you told me not to stay too long when you came home and saw us but... he was so happy.”

“Still, you had been working for two weeks straight, baby…. And weren’t you working on your arms at the gym too? No wonder you’re exhausted.

I think your brain - your beautiful brain, which is still a part of your beautiful body - came up with the idea to run around with Bam in the rain just so that it could manipulate you into taking a break…”

“That makes no sense….”

“Rest up, and it will,” you chuckle at Jungkook’s comment and the expression on his face - more childlike and adorable than ever. Using your finger, you can’t help but bonk his forehead… which was still warm.

“Why does something so horrible have to come out of something that brought me so much joy?”

“Baby…. please… don’t make this that dramatic. This is just life…. we all get sick. Like I did and you took care of me. Let me do the same.” He looks away at those words, trying to find the words to refute your undeniable fact…. but when he looks back at you, he does so more softly… more accepting. It took a long time for and Jungkook to be truly vulnerable with one another….let down your walls… and you just saw him do so before your own eyes, remembering that you were the love of his life too...

“With time, or even now, you’ll still find joy here, in moments like this. You have me. You have Bam. And you have that ginger tea in your hands - chug it, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook drinks the tea in one go before washing it down with a sip of water. If he hadn’t taken the syrup, the burning sensation of the ginger definitely would’ve kept him awake… but a few grumbles later, he’d already started to yawn.

“Jagi— can.. you take off one of the blankets? I’m kinda suffocated….”

In a rush, you got up from your spot by his legs to take off one of the fleece blankets over him before checking his forehead and the sweater he’d been wearing. Your fingers find the hem of it beneath the blankets, slowly taking off the too-thick jumper on your boyfriend’s body, leaving him in a t-shirt, the duvet, and another blanket. His hair flops down in front of his face when you undo the tie at his nape, but they’re pushed back moments later when you put a headband over his head. The fever would break in no time, and if he was gonna pass out, he shouldn’t have been too uncomfortable….

“Thank you, jagiya,” he mumbles, sinking down until his head met the pillow again. It’s only then that he looks at you - really looks at you - and in those tired, wide eyes, you can see it all. His gratitude. His pain. His concern. His love… It was too much to bear, all at once. And in an unwise decision that you hope would be undone by regular intakes of vitamin C and immune boosters… you lay beside Jungkook. And to your surprise, he doesn’t protest. He knows you know the risks, but more than anything he knows that he needs you. And he’s accepting it.

“Just… stay for as long as you have to.”

“I’ll stay for as long as I want to.”

Your fingers delicately graze his arms, over his shoulders and collarbone, before caressing his face and patting his head ever so gently… It often calmed Jungkook on stressful nights, the soothing touch would usually be accompanied by little kisses you desperately held yourself back from, but the effect was almost the same. Jungkook fell asleep to your touch minutes later. You almost yawned as well, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath your fingers, the familiar sensation usually putting you to sleep in minutes as well, before Jungkook began snoring…. Quietly hopping back to the bedroom door, you leave it open, looking at the love of your life asleep once again.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know 6/?

Ok, ya'll so we start getting kinda angsty again. Enter Makarov >) It does not line up perfectly with the timeline but that's what fic is for :)

Triggers: Not too many, just overly controlling, intimidating Graves as usual. Does Makarov need to be mentioned in triggers? Because he's evil AF but so damn hot. Price acting like a dad :(

Summary: 141 and Shadow try to work together with Alex and Farah to try to locate Makarov's chemical weapons and Makarov catches Val's scent.

Taglist! @bellgraves, @lily-lily131313, @unicorngirly1 (thank ya ma'am for always talking ideas!), @sharksausages, @shepgurl

-

You were not to come within arm’s reach of any of 141’s members. Should they come close to you, “You holler,” Graves had commanded. “Riley should help. He at least looks intimidating.”

But then again you were confused because Graves was sending you in sans mask. He wanted you to catch Makarov’s eye. If this man loved you like he’d told you last night why in the hell was he sending you into a terroristic war criminal’s lion’s den?

“You’ve done this before, Val,” Graves had assured. Yes, you had used your looks and your female curves to distract and draw in other men targeted by Shadow but you felt like Makarov was in a league all on his own.

-

You’d been bouncing your leg nervously the whole flight. Riley had tried placing his head on your knee in an attempt to get you to stop what must have been in infuriating, repetitive noise for him but not even that got you to stop.

“Stay onboard,” Graves had demanded. He’d moved you from one aircraft to another before 141 arrived because he didn’t want them anywhere near you.

You heard the radios and you heard Laswell saying, “You and Graves are on the same team, John. Don’t forget that.”

“I don’t forget anything,” Price responded tightly.

“Looking good, boys,” Graves commended his men. “We are a go for pre-check,” he called out before repeating the same ordered into his radio.

You heard and saw Graves laughing when he met up with Farah and Alex. That man, Graves, was an adrenaline junkie. Gaz was close by. Farah shook Graves’s hand as did Alex. Gaz did not and walked away. Price walked past Graves without acknowledging him.

You met Gaz’s and Price’s gaze from the plane but quickly looked away. You felt like just looking at them could brainwash you into doubting your stay with Graves all over again and you didn’t need that. But you still found yourself signaling the universal gesture for A-OK. Just to let them know you were as okay as you were going to get.

Their eyes said they didn’t believe you. You wondered if the rest of the team knew you were pregnant. You quickly answered yourself that unless they’d been around when Price had yelled it in that hospital, they likely didn’t. Price wasn’t a gossiper. And he certainly wasn’t going to spread your business.

-

“Ground team, we have visual on you,” hearing Graves’s voice over the blowing sand was a relief. At least you knew your radio was functional. Farah and Alex had heard a little bit about how you’d gone missing and suddenly turned up but there was no time to talk. You were working more closely with them than with 141. Graves’s request. You’d simply told them Graves had saved your life in Las Almas when you were abandoned. He’d given you a home.

And then all hell broke loose as Shadow Company unleased hellfire on Konni and their infrastructure. You couldn’t help but think it was adorable that Riley had been given headphones to protect his ears from the heavy sounds of artillery.

It’d been a while since you’d been in an active battlefield and the noises were sometimes overwhelming. The headphones and radios helped but it was still loud.

Your mission? Locate those chemical weapons with Riley’s help. Riley found them easily.

Your job duties were interrupted when you all heard on the radio, “Enemy helo coming in from the northeast,” from Shadow Company’s navigator.

“That’s Makarov,” came Shepherd’s confident response.

And your heart skipped a beat. You got dizzy. That son a bitch was headed ya’ll’s way.

“Shadow, gun that son of a bitch down,” Shepherd demanded.

There was some quick back and forth on the radio about the helo was firing on ground troops as well as targeting the chemicals. It all ended with, “Enemy helo’s coming down.”

“All stations, enemy bird is down. Vladimir Makarov is E-KIA,” Graves’s confident voice breached the silence after the ground shook with the impact of what you assumed was the chopper crashing. You could’ve shouted in joy but you were told to maintain radio silence unless there was an emergency. Now the wreckage needed to be checked so everyone could be sure that fucker was dead.

Before you knew it, ground team, including you, were clear and that hangar was destroyed.

-

“Three things you can’t outrun in this life, folks: death, taxes, and me,” you heard Graves say on the radio. And that line, even though you weren’t standing next to him at the moment, you found that line kinda hot.

Your delusions of never having to meet Makarov were slashed when you, along with the ground team approached the wreckage. You made sure you follow Graves’s orders not to come within arm’s reach of a 141 team member. But when Price said the kill wasn’t confirmed you couldn’t help but jog over to where he was.

“Six to all stations. The kill is not confirmed. I say again, the kill is not confirmed. We need to search the site for PID on Makarov,” Price stated into his radio.

“Gold Eagle Actual to all stations, your orders are to stand down. We got nothin’ but fire and brimstone out there and that’s all the confirmation we need.”

You then heard the command for Price to switch channels.

“That’s what you said about your little Shadow Graves, yeah? And then he committed war crimes on one of my soldiers before takin’ her a second time,” Price added angrily.

And you only assumed Shepherd disputed you were ever hurt before telling Price again that Makarov was dead.

“He’s dead, right?” You asked when Price approached you and Farah.

“Shepherd only sees what he wants,” Farah responded.

“His name on a win, another medal on his chest. What do you see?” Price asked.

“It’s what I don’t see what worries me,” Farah responded.

Price sighed before looking at you.

“What’are you doin’ out here?” he was concerned.

“Doin my part,” you responded. “Just because…I’m—” and you forced yourself to shut your mouth before then adding, “That doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

“He shouldn’t have ya down here,” Gaz commended.  “Shows how much he cares about ‘cha. He just cares about the money.”

“If he’s alive, he’ll let us know,” Gaz changed the conversation after seeing how uncomfortable you’d gotten.

“Where and when, that’s the question,” Alex added.

Well, fuck. So Makarov would continue to haunt your nightmares.

And maybe, if your luck was bad enough, he’d actually get his hands on you. 

You were about to turn away when Price laid a hand on your shoulder. And so you hesitantly turned to meet his gaze.

“Val, please,” Price started. “Come with us,”

You shook your head. “I can’t.” And suddenly you were terrified of how Graves would react if he knew Price was talking to you about leaving with 141.

“You can get immunity,” Price continued. “All you have to do is say what happened. What they did to you. That he raped you.”

And you fond it hard not to swing on your previous commanding officer. Why did everyone keep saying that?

“I’m done, Price,” you said darkly before attempting to turn away.

“Val,” Price caught your attention again.

“We can get you a new life,” the captain added. “You can disappear with your kid. Just get away from Graves.”

“Val who’re you talking to?” and you jumped. Because that was Graves’s voice coming from your earpiece. You instantly took a few steps back from Price. Graves was talking to you on a private channel.

“We’re trying to figure out if Makarov is KIA. He might not be,” you replied, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Because you were lying. You were lying to the man in charge of pretty much everything in your life.

“Now you’re not talking to anyone I told you not to, are, darlin’?” Graves’s voice was tight, dangerous, and it almost promised violence.

“No, sir,” you lied. Again.

“Get ready for exfil,” Graves demanded. “We’re pullin’ ya outta there. You’re right about one thing, Val,”

“What’s that?”

“Makarov ain’t dead,”

You took a few steps further away from the group but you could feel the group’s eyes on you, especially your captain’s.

“How’d you know?”

“Classified, soldier,”

“I’ll let them—”

“No,” Graves said sharply. “You keep your mouth shut and you don’t tell them anything.”

-

And so instead of returning to base like you’d expected, you hauled your tired self onto a chopper.

Graves was there.

And he signaled you to walk over to him with his index finger. And your breath hitched in your throat because what if he knew you’d been lying? What if he knew you’d been talking to and entertaining Price when Price was trying to convince you to leave Graves?

You brought Riley with you because honestly, despite not having the dog a long time, you felt like he was already your therapy dog.

Graves gave Riley a command and he hung back without question while Graves cornered you in the back of the cargo area where no one else could see.

“You were talking to Price,” Graves said immediately. And he had you completely cornered. And he had that look in his eyes.

“You have eyes on me everywhere, what the fuck, Graves?” you snapped.

But when he grabbed you by your upper arms and tightened his grip to an almost painful level. And that made you lose your bravery immediately.

“I do,” Graves stated simply. “You’re mine. You’re not leaving and you’re never getting rid of me. You’re carryin’ my fuckin’ kid, Val.”

“We were just talking about Makarov,” you managed to squeak out. There you were, lying again.

“I love you, Val,” Graves released you and your hands jumped up to rub your upper arms. You wouldn’t bruise because he didn’t grasp you that hard but it had still hurt. “And you’d better feel the same about me,” he then finished with, “The sooner your realize you can’t hide from me the better.”

-

You. Were. Exhausted.

A Shadow had infiltrated Makarov’s group and was apparently relaying information about Makarov still being alive. The communication line had went dead raising concerns about the Shadow being identified or even being killed.

Graves was not one who liked to lose men so he immediately wanted to jump on this.

Graves had briefed you shortly after landing. The chopper had landed in the middle of nowhere. Shadows were hoping to surround the perimeter and wither actually kill Makarov or haul him in. Another win for Shadow Company and Shepherd.

You were going to be bait.

Except Graves said he hated using the term bait.

War paint was used to make you look injured. You were to pretend to be lost. Abandoned. You were told to pretend to not remember anything. To communicate that you were amnesic. Makarov liked puzzles so a confused, cute, doe-eyed, little thing like you should hold his attention while Shadows surrounded the base. Doe

“What if he recognizes me?”

“No one knows who you are, Val,” Graves assured. “You were 141 before Shadow and we’re both secret units within our respective countries.”

Your uniform was stripped of all Shadow insignia and you were only left with a black military uniform with no identifying information and a thin vest that likely wouldn’t even protect against the higher calibers.

“We’ll have eyes on you,” Graves promised. “I always have eyes on you,”

You honestly felt like he was just handing you over to Makarov but you kept quiet.

-

At least it wasn’t as cold as you were expecting it to be. Your homing beacon was hidden in your clothing so unless you were stripped or they checked you for bugs no one would know it was there. But what if things got a little to close with Makarov and didn’t exactly get to keep your homing beacon?

No, you’d told yourself. Graves wouldn’t let it get that far. Hell, that man hated it when other men so much as looked at you.

You knew what to look for and you saw Shadows surrounding the shady warehouse in question. You convinced yourself the place was surrounded.

You were jarred out of your thoughts when you heard someone shouting at you in Russian.

Stupid you, you replied in English and just happened to say, “No Russian.” You quickly corrected yourself and said, “I don’t speak Russian,”

You got on your knees, holding your hands out.

“Please, I don’t know where I am,” you sniffled. Part of you was acting scared but more than half of you was indeed terrified.

“American,” one of the men said as he yanked your hands behind your back and wrapped your wrists in zipties.

“I don’t know,” you replied

“American accent,” another confirmed.

You were yanked to your feet and in that moment you hated Graves. You knew he was likely steps away and that everything was under control (you hoped).

You were blindfolded and that only scared you more.

You were shoved forward after being yanked to your feet. They were forcing you to walk bent over at the waist, a common technique used in Russian prisons. You have to completely trust them to lead the way.

You were then pushed onto your knees once you got into the abandoned warehouse. And you couldn’t help but be reminded of the night Graves took you in Las Almas.

Things were dead quiet except for someone screaming in pain far away. You wondered if the Shadow who had been feeding Shadow Company intel was being tortured.

Then you heard footsteps approaching you. And while you couldn’t see, you knew exactly who it was: Makarov. You couldn’t cry and you repeated this like a mantra in your head. You couldn’t let this man see you were scared of him. You still had to act amnesic, like you didn’t even know who he was.

Your blindfold was yanked off…

And there he was, right before you.

Vladimir Makarov.

And then he said something…the last thing you expected him to say. He said it in that characteristic Russian accent he was so well known for.

“Hi, Val,”

[geesegooseblog]

Patterns - Connor x autistic!reader (dyscalculia)

A/N: this one is based on a real interaction I had the other day with my best friend at work. I have dyscalculia, which means I can’t add up any equation, no matter how simple they seem - and I figured Connor would be the most comforting character to help [Y/N] out. I also wanted to dip my toes into autistic!reader fics!

Content warning: hyperventilation, for my dyscalculia buddies i did put some numbers in there too but it’s just for show, I wrote them all out in sentence form too to help cause it helps me :D

The break room was cold, but that didn't stop you from standing there, wide eyes fixated on the whiteboard on the wall. You had been asked to tally up some scores on the whiteboard in the break room at your behest, but according to Hank, "you're the only one bothered enough to do it". Little did Hank and the rest of the precinct know, you can't read number patterns.

Everyone in the precinct had been asked to put down suggestions for the Christmas party, with everyone writing down their suggestions in different coloured markers. This was fine, except lots of the other officers had stopped adding suggestions, and had started promoting the ones already written down by writing "+1" next to them in different colours. This would also be fine, except there were too many repetitive numbers stuck next to each other, spanning all across the whiteboard. With your dyscalculia, all it did was create confusion for you. You couldn't decipher these seemingly simple patterns that just seemed to overwhelm you.

So there you stood, effectively white-knuckling the opened marker in your hand as you stared at the numbers like a deer in headlights, praying to god that no one would walk in and see you shaking like a leaf as you stared at the numbers.

"Hello, Detective."

Connor's familiar voice would often bring a calmness to your day, but in this moment it only made you shake more with the fear of being called out. You stayed silent, your back turned to him as you stared at the patterns and your chest rising and falling faster as you tried to calm down.

"It's getting late, [Y/N], usually you'd be out of office by now and I-... is something wrong?"

You slowly turned to face him, your eyes still wide as you looked up at him. He stood as he usually did, his uniform pressed neat and his expression neutral, but his LED blinked yellow as he tilted his head, expressing his gentle, unspoken concern.

"... I need your help." You quietly breathed, your breath hitching as you admit defeat. There was no way you were gonna be able to count these numbers up on your own and you hoped that Connor, of all people, would be the least likely of the staff to spread gossip.

Connor nodded his head once and stepped closer to you, standing at your side and surveying the whiteboard.

"How can I help?" He asked simply, not questioning why.

With a shaky hand, you pointed at the first suggestion.

1. Paintball +2 +1 +1 +1 +1

"... what does that say?" You asked quietly as you looked over at him, hoping that he wouldn't react with venom like so many others have before. You had already prepared for a nasty remark as he opened his mouth.

"Six."

His simple response caught you off guard. You had expected him to laugh in your face or insult you, even though you knew that he wouldn't do that for a second. You nodded your head and slowly scratched the numeral under the equation, taking your time with the single number.

You pointed to the next suggestion, the pattern seemed smaller,"... And that one?"

"Five."

You scratched that number slowly under that equation too.

Your confidence slowly came back as Connor helped you with the numbers. He didn't comment on anything else, only speaking the answers to you with the same gentle tone: "Ten.... Four... Eight... Thirteen..."

You got into a bit of a rhythm with him, your breathing calming slowly as you realised that you didn't have to explain yourself away to him. He seemed content just helping you with this little task, and that's something you're grateful for.

This feeling dissipated quickly when you hit the largest pattern. You felt your breathing begin to hitch again, but Connor answered before you even had a chance to point to it for his cue.

"Twenty-seven."

You nodded your head, and lifted your marker to write the numeral, but found yourself distracted as you stared at the equation. It wasn't like the others, people had started adding numbers higher than 2 to the suggestion, making it way to overwhelming. You had the answer; all you had to do was write "2" and "7" next to each other and move on, but your mind was cast back to your schooling years when you were met with numbers like this, causing your breathing to become rapid as you started to hyperventilate.

"Here, may I?"

Connor's hand wrapped around yours securely as it held the marker, guiding your hand to the space under the numbers. His grip was gentle as he helped you etch out the numbers. You held your breath as you let him guide your hand, helping you etch out the neatest 27 you've ever seen.

"... thank you." You breathed softly, exhaling as he kept your hand held in his.

You noticed the LED flicker from yellow to blue as he looked over at you, his neutral gaze softening as he spoke gently. You knew he’d keep this a secret, but at the same time you knew that he’d give you this same help without question next time.

"It's my pleasure."

[v3nusxsky]

Hi so this is based of a pov i just watched. But could you do Lady Lesso x reader platonic. Where r is hearing voices it could be over thinking or an unknown ability but she cracked and lesso found her about to junp of something like a bridge or tower. And she says ‘i’m hearing voices all the time and their not mine, i’m hearing voices and there haunting my mind’.

X

It's the voices

*Authors note~ based of some of my own experiences so please keep in mind these aren't everyone's experiences. Not everyone has an understanding Nora *

(The thought feels hard to control. Intrusive thoughts are often repetitive and won't go away. )

And I love this idea smmm yes Harley Quinn pops into my mind here for the title. *

Trigger warnings~ intrusive thoughts, mental health, possible trigger of suicide or attempted suicide swearing? Panic attacks

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

The first time it happened you honestly thought you'd misheard someone's conversation but the thought wouldn't leave, you couldn't make it stop, which in turn made you so anxious you had a panic attack. You felt like your whole lungs were completely collapsed. No air could enter or leave the vital organ which in turn made you panic more. But once you'd somehow managed to calm yourself back down you realised one massive thing. You were alone. But you had hope that it was just a bad day.

It wasn't a bad day though. These thoughts began to come and go more often, you found yourself thinking and saying the most horrid things, sometimes about you, sometimes about others and it always made you feel so terribly guilty. Truly, you didn't want to hurt yourself or anyone else but you can't control them. They were loud and overwhelming and so realistic, all you could do was surrender to them until they passed.

Exhaustion seemed to be a permanent fixture of your life these days and the headaches didn't help what so ever. You noticed how withdrawn you were and how irritable people were finding you to be. One by one you watched people give up on you now. It was like you were too much to deal with and not worth the air you're breathing. Immediately you knew what you needed to do to fix the problem. To fix you. You were numb as you made your way to the top of the tower, you didn't care you were skipping class, or what you were going to do. You didn't feel sad or scared, the voices loudly guiding you through your journey. They were right, you couldn't fight them any longer than you have.

Standing on the edge of the tower the first thing you noticed was the beautiful sunset glowing over the trees in the horizon. It was truly something magical and a fitting send of for you. Yet you didn't want to miss a single thing of the sun setting. As the sun set you said goodbye to all you knew and attempted to calm your mind by imagining what your after life would be like. You didn't want to give too much thought on who would find you, or if you'd even be worth a funeral, you already knew you weren't. Your thoughts agreeing with you and encouraging you to jump. The thoughts were horrid and they promised the only way they'd stop is if you'd just step over the edge. Blindly you stepped out expecting to fall only to be grabbed by the last moment and tugged backwards to safety.

"Let me go" you whined trying to get back to the edge, "let me go! I want them to go away" your temper was flaring as the voices got louder. "Y/n, stop" lesso boomed in her regal dean voice and you immediately halted. "L-ady Le-sso?" You stuttered in  your evident shock. "Now little dove, why don't you step back into my arms and we can talk about this?" You could tell she let a kind edge seep into her voice but there was still no room left for arguments so you allowed the red headed dean to pull you into a hug.

One thing you forgot in the whole process is Leonora loves you more than life itself. She views you as her own.  She didn't know you would hear voices and you'd pulled away from her, she wanted to give you space but hearing you skipped you lesson and knowing how lost and alone you'd seemed recently she had to follow you. Just to make sure you were okay, thankfully she found you just in time. And for that she'd always be grateful to anyone out there who helped her save her dove.

"I'm hearing voices all the time, I'm hearing voices that aren't mine" you mumbled into the woman's neck, red hot tears burning her skin. "Oh my darling, you could've come to me darling, they aren't real dove I promise you that" she tried to reassure but the voices grew louder in an attempt to block her out. "Stop please fucking stop. I don't want to do this anymore. Shut up, shut up. Shut the fuck up" you ranted through ragged breaths, Leonora knew you well enough to know this was a panic attack now and you weren't really seeing hearing or feeling the real world.

"Shhh dove, can you follow my voice? I know there's lots of loud ones in your head but you know which one is your Nora's?" She murmured a hand gently rubbing circles in your back. "Nora" you whimpered clutching at your chest, "can't breathe, help me." If you could've seen her heart you would've saw it break at that but luckily you couldn't and now she could remain strong on the outside even if her heart ached for you. "Shh dove I'm here, I'm here and you're safe love, come let's go inside yes? Your much to cold my little bird. Let nora mend that broken wing of yours, so then you can go fly again." Leonora always had a way with words, it's one of the many reasons you love her, and it's one of the skills she's thankful for as she managed to coax you into your bed. You hadn't t noticed the sunset had faded into an onyx sky, but you did notice being in your chosen mothers arms and hearing her heart beating quietened the voices.

Word count~ 1058