#he beats the shit out of it until it is ragged and full of holes and I have to replace it

[koifrog]

can we see tango pwease :3?

ABSOLUTELY YOU CAN!!

His first gotcha day was at the end of February this year 💚

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Untitled

Author's Note: Not requested of me specifically, but I did promise to write a lil something something featuring Michi and rougher sex. So, here it is!

Pairings: Takemichi x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Takemichi, rough sex, dacryphilia, pillow princess Michi, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation

Tagging: @wazabii @hxpel3s5-slxxt (if you'd like your tag removed please lmk!)

“Aah-!” Another shrill scream bounces off the walls of his bedroom, proceeded by a sharp slap.

Your ragged panting is barely audible over the sound of your hips beating Takemichi's ass — his skin turning an even deeper shade of pinkish red with every collision.

“Fuck, haha... look at you, baby,��� you rasped, “look at you taking me nice 'n deep like that. I told ya you'd be able to handle this dick.”

The words didn't quite make it past his lips, instead turning into a whimper that tumbled out when Takemichi tried to protest. He's always so coy — "nooo it won't fit! You're way too big!" he'd say, despite the fact that you regularly wreck his holes. I mean, yeah, you were pretty thick down there, but your partner has proven time and time again that that's not much of a problem.

Even now, as his nails dig into his sheets and tears stain them, Takemichi's walls grip you like a vice; pulling your cock further inside with every motion. And the way his once coherent speech turns into babbles, all because you're rearranging his insides? Priceless.

“Ah fuck-! Mm yeah, take it, baby. Take daddy's cock-” It's all the little slut can do to keep his hips up in the air; his legs may as well have become jelly at this point with the way his thighs shake when you pull back — nearly pulling out — then snap back as if there's some magnetic pull between you two.

Your little pillow princess is full-on sobbing as his teeth grind against the fabric of his sheets. Yet another slap to his ass and Takemichi somehow cries harder, getting choked on his own spit.

Meanwhile, you have been holding back, desperate not to cum just yet so that you can stay inside your lil princess for a while longer. But that ache deep inside of you has only built up, exacerbated by Takemichi's tight hole wrapped around your dick. If only he didn't feel so fucking good, then maybe tonight could last a little longer...

“Gonna fuckin' cum... Hah... Where does my little whore want it, huh?”

No response. Only a drawn out whine where Takemichi's face is buried in the mattress.

You can't stifle the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “Inside it is, then. Ngh-!”

With a few more deep thrusts, you finally explode inside your partner — gushing white, hot ropes that fill him up as you grab a handful of his hair and push his head down further, cutting off the pathetic thing's oxygen for a moment.

“O-ooh shit... haha... damn, baby, you took everything I had, didn't ya?” You tease, exhaling the breath you'd held in during your climax.

Your hands slid down your darling's back, moving towards his hips to rub soothing circles on the skin, then roaming over more of his smaller body — Takemichi's breathing steadies as you do this, gradually calming down until his muscles release their held tension. After a moment, you pull out, leaving your partner's hole gaping, as you usually do, and leaking a fat glob of your cum.

Rolling over onto his side, Takemichi searches for your hand; which you happily oblige him, and meet his touch. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles and you lean down to kiss them before laying down next to him.

“You ok?”

He nods. “Mhm... felt really nice...”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him blink lazily; best to help him over to the bathroom before he falls asleep, or before you fall asleep, for that matter. And after you're both cleaned up and relaxed, you'll have a little rest together.

Before you roll over and out of his bed, you place a tender kiss on Takemichi's forehead, giggling along with him.

[luminenwalker]

[14-1-2024]

Between the yellow paint and blood- all you can see is the blood. Your mistake was costly, and can't be repeated. Another day of living in Cinci, right? Right. Doesn't make it any better. //RRH

Glass hits you. You're caught in a crossfire, and all hell is breaking loose around you. Nearly deaf, simply confused. How quick can you move? You feel heat pumping from your chest. //RRH

Your whole life is a calculated risk. Good days feel like that. Just a deal, but everything if you pull it off. Another day, another week, another month. Just keep working. //RRH

Buried treasure? No, you want to think that. But, it's just another dead drop. Some cash, a few thums, and a spike. SensPerience. Could be game changing but it's doubtful. //RRH

Your eyes lose focus, and you force yourself to blink. Keep putting one foot in front of another, just figuring out where you're going and if you have a reason to even go there. //RRH

Your heart is beating, and somehow that's all that matters right now. They're fast, but you're more limber. You turn down an alley, and then another, and keep going until they're gone. //RRH

Something's wrong. Your ports are still itchy. The diagnostic is red, and the spike ports are... Is this the shakes, or the treatment last month, or... You need help, and soon. //RRH

You keep plodding along. Just one foot in front of the other towards the city, through its gates. Something bad will happen, but something worse will happen if you keep doing nothing. //RRH

He's ragged. Ragged at best. You listen, and glide your pen over the scrap. All he has are names and numbers. And, they all need to know. Not your job, but someone has to do it. //RRH

Does the name mean anything to you? No. Whoever they were is gone. You try to focus, but they're not in your programming now. You've lost something, but, does that matter? //RRH

Self-styled 'nanite artist' Genetrix Io's latest work is a dismal affair. An implant 'seeding' flowers in the human body? Blossom-matrixed keratin for petaled nails; pistil-patterned tonguebuds for pollened saliva? Trite, grotesque, and kitsch-ridden thriftshop fare. //TruthWave

There's new grub down at Gamble. Steamed streetfood tightly scribbled all over with Chinese calligraphy. Triad thing? Tried to get the lowdown from an Asian head, but it's all hush-hush, some secret lingo or dialect she didn't know. Looks killer though, real eyecandy. //TruthWave

Found a derelict SensPerience parlour once. A Chinese sign that looked like a melting sundae outside, men lying silent like mannequins inside. When I came back, the men were dead. Only one remained. He came to the window and smiled. Golden eyes, mouth red as blood. //TruthWave

Corpo exec went poof at the airport and there's still no buzz on the news. Tale got nixed the moment they sniffed something shady in the footage. All those tunnels down there—it's the goddamn catacombs. One wrong step and you're gone. Swallowed. Total black hole zone. //TruthWave

Individuals experiencing retinal implant-induced hallucinations are advised to refrain from interacting with visual anomalies to prevent the misdirection of retinal nanites onto unintended neural pathways. Cases of people falling into unrousable dreams are escalating. //TruthWave

Our bash got stormed by the pigs and yeah, our bad for not fisting their asses full of dough beforehand, but they nabbed some real weird shit. Drugs and guns chillin', but the houseplants? Every last pot gone. The hell? Anyway, we're hittin' Tower back to save Fernie. //TruthWave

Met a man claiming to live not on food, not on water, but air; a proprietary blend of gases some exclusive clinic deep in the Projects injects into his lungs. Made a bet with a sniper; she's now down 15k and up a brain-splattered, half-chewed burger. Ho hum. //TruthWave

Rip Van Winkle spike ain't a myth—it completely ruined my Ma. She's just a shell cryin' over some ghost life, now. A lifetime lived in a blink. Irony is you don't came back to a future world like the tale. You come back to a world that you no longer have any use for. //TruthWave

Ready to sing like Xara One? Insiders report that Sens star Genetrix Io is spearheading a partnership between CinnTech and SensPerience for her hotly anticipated new Sens series, said to use a revolutionary next-gen Sens spike designed to leave bio-imprinted souvenirs.//TruthWave

Fears of implant sentience gain awareness as anecdotal accounts of pain controller implants 'Pavlovian-conditioning' individuals become widespread. "It's deliberately choosing when to turn the pain tap on or off," one man says. "Subtle, insidious manipulation." //TruthWave

[conretewings]

Broken Things Can Still Be Fixed

-Day three entry for Arcane Parenting Week, today's chosen theme being 'Fix it'. Mylo and Vander get into a heated argument, and sharp words are carelessly thrown, leading to a question of what can, and if, be repaired...

"Stop struggling idiot!" Vi grumbled as she tried to dab alcohol on Mylo's cuts.

The boy flinched and pushed her hand away, "Quit it I'll patch myself up jeez! I'm not a baby."

"Then stop acting like one and lemme help you you never do it right!" Vi grabbed his arm and held it down as she slapped some ointment on the dirt-streaked scrapes and he continued to protest.

The four of them had holed up in their 'living room' after a...mishap to lick their wounds and with a first aid kit to actually treat them as well.

Claggor and Powder meanwhile were too busy, and too weary, with treating their own injuries to pay them any mind. Powder held her sleeve up allowing Claggor to carefully douse her scrapes with more alcohol. She winced and he mumbled apologies, to which she grinned and said she could take it. She offered to fix his bent goggles later and he cracked a smile himself, saying that'd be great.

It was in the middle of all this that a quick knock was heard followed by the door immediately flying open. They froze as Vander stood there taking up the entire doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest, literally and figuratively conveying there was no escape.

Oh shit, came the quartets collective thought.

"First of all, are you guys okay?" he questioned calmly, though they could practically feel his annoyance buzzing just underneath.

"We're...we're alright...yeah." came Claggor's quiet reply, avoiding eye contact; he knew they were in for it.

The large man stepped further in, closing the door behind him and descended the couple steps to drop into an old armchair, it's springs protesting his weight as he leaned forward to stare them down.

"Good. Now," here his tone shifted, "Ya mind tellin' me what's this I'm hearin' 'bout a group of kids pickin' a fight with some Enforcers? Hmm?"

Each of them caught each other's eyes in turn, asking silently who should speak up and what they should say. Lying was out of the question; the way he was looking at them, his calculated words and vocal pitch, he already full well knew. They also knew anything they'd agreed upon on the way over would be useless as they saw the quietly controlled anger in Vander's gaze.

Eventually, with everyone looking at her, Vi rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, "There were three of them beating up one guy. We couldn't just let them so we tried to help and...we at least kicked their asses as best we could before running!"

Groaning, Vander pinched his brow and exhaled loudly, saying nothing for a few moments except to inaudibly curse before speaking back up, "Why would ya get yourselves involved? Three grown and fully armed adults against you four?"

"Hey we were holding our own until they started fighting dirty..." Mylo explained, "And besides how was it fair when it was three against one?"

"That's besides the point...gods what were you lot thinkin'?"

Claggor only stared at the ground, wisely keeping his mouth shut and Powder curled herself into a ball, nervously toying with a ragged blanket in her bruised hands while also staying out of it.

Vi pointed vaguely in the direction they'd fled from, "The point is they're a bunch of overgrown bullies and someone has to let them know they can't just push people around!"

"No!" Vander snapped, slapping the table and causing them to jump, "The point is you can't go around pickin' fights ya got no business startin' or chance of winning! Did you even think there might be a reason for what was going on?!"

Flopping into another chair, Vi crossed her arms and sank into it, running out of steam for this fight and sulking; she knew somewhere he had a point, but was too frustrated and still running on adrenaline to admit it.

Mylo, however, stinging from his wounds and still feeling they were justified, had chosen violence. He stood, and with how Vander was sitting, for once he was slightly taller, giving him a bit of confidence.

"What difference does it make if they had a reason? What would it be anyway?! They keep coming down here thinking they can just do whatever they want and treat us however they want and I'm sick of it! C'mon you gotta hate it too!"

"You're still not gettin' it, are you?" Vander all but growled as he slowly stood, and Mylo's confidence was dashed as the older man towered over him again, "There's a concept called pickin' your battles, and you gotta look at all the factors before ya go in swingin'!"

His voice rising, Mylo kept pushing it even as the others were subtly trying to signal to him to just drop it, "You were fighting when you were our age!"

"And I got my arse beat until I learned better, and my friends too! I lost some even," Vander raised his own voice in frustration and trying to impress his point on the boy, jabbed a finger toward the others, "Do you want to lose them? Look at them! Look at yourself! You're lucky that's all you got. Next time one of ya could be permanently injured or worse. I do my best to look after ya but-"

"Stop acting like you're our real father!" shouted Mylo, his words echoing painfully loud in the silence that followed.

Everyone froze, gaping at him with varying expressions of shock, confusion, hurtfulness, or in Vi's case, renewed anger and disgust. Per usual she was the first to act and lunged for him, grabbing his shirt in both hands and shaking him.

"What the fuck Mylo?! How dare you, after everything he's done for us?!"

Powder curled herself into a tighter ball, burying her face in her knees and Claggor reached over to rest a hand on her back, shooting Mylo a withering look when he looked to him.

"Vi..." muttered Vander, much quieter now, but the girl didn't hear him as she continued to berate her 'sibling', "-didn't have to take us in but he did, and he's done so much to take care of us you dick! I swear you-"

"VIOLET." Vander barked sharply, and the pink-haired girl stopped, her breath coming in short gasps before she shoved Mylo away and stalked back to her chair, muttering 'asshole' under her breath. In all this, Mylo had only been silent, eyes trained on the floor and all fire in him evaporated, the gravity of what he'd said sinking into his gut like lead. He dared not meet anyone's eyes, and after a few more moments of unbearable quiet, feeling tears threatening to start, he abruptly dashed past Vander, leapt up the steps, threw open the door and made a run for it.

Sighing in exhaustion on a couple levels, Vander sank slowly and heavily into the chair he'd been using, resting his forehead in his hands, taking a brief respite before going to seek Mylo out and making sure he was okay.

A heavy silence hung over the room, unbroken except for someone's occasional sigh or sniffle, no one quite sure what to say and Vander simply tired and hiding his wounded heart; of course he wasn't their father. No one could ever replace the parents they'd lost that horrible, bloody day, but he'd been trying, at least, to give them something better than he'd had.

At length, Powder uncurled herself, gazing at Vander's hunched form and got to her feet, quietly going over to and gingerly tapping his shoulder. He looked up at her, forcing a small smile.

"Hey Powder..."

As she clutched a much-patched pillow she softly and sincerely said to him, "...We're sorry...and I...think you're being a good dad..."

He relaxed a little, that wound healing somewhat at her words and he nodded, "Thank you..."

"Yeah...we...that was kinda dumb. We'll try not to do that again." added Claggor, "And she's right...you do a good job."

Vi wiped a hand across her face and sat up, "What they said...we were being reckless...sorry. You do a lot for us, and I know you care, even when we're being a pain in the butt..."

Straightening himself and gently brushing some of Powder's unruly hair out of her face with another small, genuine smile Vander looked at them, "Just...promise ya won't do that again. You're right, I do care about you, a lot. That's why I'm tough on ya. But you're a good lot, and I know you'll learn," he stood slowly, "And now I have to find Mylo before he does anything else stupid."

Mylo sat curled on a buildings wide ledge that overlooked part of the river, the lights from various businesses across the water reflecting off of it and giving the area a peaceful, if eerie, glow. It was a place he came to when he needed to think, and right now he indeed needed to think; he knew what he'd said was rotten and hurtful, something he couldn't take back and now was wondering if he could fix it. His spot was secluded enough he was generally safe from anyone bothering him, and only a couple people knew of it-

Including the one who's voice and footsteps he heard softly approaching now. Mylo felt his heart drop to his feet as he saw Vander's leg out of the corner of his eye before the large man knelt to sit next to him. They were silent for a time, watching the lights dance across the water below and tendrils of mist snake around buildings as they gathered their thoughts.

Finally, swiping at his face to remove the tear-stained, dirty trails there, Mylo spoke up in a quiet, serious tone, "I know that was shitty of me...and I'm sorry...I didn't mean it."

"Thank you...and I know you didn't." replied Vander sincerely.

Feeling a little more encouraged, the boy kept talking, "You've been taking really good care of us, teaching us and protecting us and I...threw it in your face...gods I was so mad I felt like we had a point and..." he paused, "You were right...we could have gotten really hurt..."

Vander gazed out over the city, finally pointing to a small building in the distance, his eyes narrowed, "Ya see there?" and when Mylo nodded he continued, "That's where I got beaten so bad I couldn't walk or lift my arms for days. If it hadn't been for a couple friends I probably wouldt'a made it. I had no one older and wiser to stop me, to teach me the fights I was gettin' into could kill me. I wasn't much older than you."

Mylo's gaped at him as he added, "I'll never replace your dad. I just want you lot to be safer, smarter, to not have to learn everything the hard way like me, for someone to always have your backs. I don't enjoy being a hard-ass, but I do it to give you somethin' I didn't have; structure, and hopefully a better future."

The lump in his throat was affecting his speech, but the boy swallowed it down; he wasn't sure if he felt better or worse now, but he at least knew one thing, which he now voiced, "...If I'm a dad someday I hope I can be good at it like you..."

His eyes widening the slightest and mouth half-open, Vander glanced at him before smiling warmly and nodding, and the two sat in a much more amiable quiet, simply enjoying each other's presence and the knowledge their little patchwork family would be there for each other, no matter what.

[whumperooni]

Natsuo getting tired of Touya stealing amd fucking his girlfriends that years later he finally fucks the one girl dabi actually cared about. What am I saying I'm a dabi Stan lol

No, nonny, please- that’s so good

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natsuo’s put up with Touya’s bullshit for years and years- has had to go through his prick of a brother stealing his girlfriends and fucking them stupid for years. Touya deserves a comeuppance- he really, really does.

And by god Natsuo is going to be the one to give it to him.

It’s nothing he intentionally sets out to do. Yes, he has a burning resentment towards his brother and he wants to make Touya feel the same rage and humiliation he himself has been subjected to so many times over the years. But he doesn’t know how to get back at his brother- it’s not like fucking one of the girls Touya messes around with will do anything. Natsuo knows Touya doesn’t give a shit about them. He knows that Touya would just laugh in his face. Touya doesn’t care about them. He never cares about them. Never. He’s never cared about anyone.

Except, well....

Except for you.

Sweet, cute little you that had Touya wrapped around your finger. Sweet, cute little you that had Touya soft and weak with just a giggle and a smile. Sweet, cute little you that had Touya following you around like a puppy dog without even trying.

Sweet, cute little you that broke Touya’s heart into so many pieces.

Sweet, cute little you that just so happens to be sitting in the bar Natsuo’s in- all by yourself in a booth with a sad, lonely little expression on your face.

Seeing you is like a blast from the past- Natsuo hasn’t seen you in years. Not since you broke Touya’s heart. Not since you ran from the house sobbing and scared because Touya couldn’t accept the fact that you broke up with him and tried to strangle you despite the hero commission having been visiting their father.

(And what a day that had been- Natsuo had never seen Enji so pissed before. Touya couldn’t move right for a good week after Enji had beat his ass.

That was the only time Natsuo had been okay with his father’s temper)

It’s been forever since he’s saw you, but it’s clearly you sitting all by yourself in that lonely booth. It’s a surprise but, more importantly enough, seeing you so suddenly after such a long time makes something in Natsuo’s brain click.

Before he knows it, he’s ditching his friends and sliding into the seat across from you. He grins when you look up at him in surprise and that grin grows when startled confusion gets replaced by wide eyes and a delighted smile.

“Natsuo!”

You had always liked Natsuo. Maybe more than you had liked Touya, even. Natsuo had always been good to you- sweet and friendly and nice. Not like Touya had been at all. Seeing him is a surprise, something you’re happy about- that’s very clear to see.

And seeing you has the gears in Natsuo’s mind slowly turning, jerkily moving. Seeing you has an inkling of an idea forming- nothing quite concrete just yet; a vague notion that has the tint of something a little mean and a little selfish and very satisfying.

The idea doesn’t really completely form until the two of you are chatting and catching up and you just happen to let slip about a recent breakup with a particularly shitty sounding boyfriend.

“I really know how to pick them,” you tell him- lips forming a small pout as you sigh and a finger twirling a lock of hair. “He was almost as bad as Touya....”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you just said and there’s an immediate blush on your face- eyes widening and embarrassment, panicking flicking across your expression. Natsuo just smiles despite your worry, though, and he leans his cheek on his fist, offers a friendly grin.

“He must have been a real douchebag then- Touya’s pretty hard to beat, let alone get close to in terms of dickishness.”

A startled giggle leaves you- awkward and surprised- and it fleshes out into something more loose and carefree. You relax when Natsuo joins in with a laugh of his own and are happy to jump on the change of conversation when he asks about school.

Natsuo listens as you talk about your classes and your studies and your roommate. He buys you a drink when you finish your first. And then he buys you another. And one more after that. He watches with an easy, friendly grin as a rosy blush claims your cheeks and as your voice gets softer and a little whiny when you talk about something that makes you pout. He’s handsome and his eyes are half-lidded, almost seductive as he flirts in a nice, non-predatory way that you’re really not quite used to. His flirting seems...safe. Friendly and without consequences if you don’t reciprocate. It’s nice, has you relaxing even more past what the booze has you lulled you to.

Which, really, he didn’t have to keep buying you booze and getting you drunk. You had been hesitantly considering getting into bed with him by the time you finished your first drink- mind unable to help but wonder how Touya’s much nicer brother would compare.

When he asks you if you want to go home with him, you agree with a shy giggle and a nod- lips twitching into an eager, curious smile as you follow him out of the bar.

Natsuo is such a gentleman. He’s always been good to you- friendly and kind and warm. He’s always been everything Touya is not- even with Touya weak to you he was still a prick and a half. Natsuo, though? He’s always been nice.

And he’s still nice.

He’s nice when he flags down a cab and slips his fingers through yours when you curl up next to him in the backseat. He’s nice when he holds your hand as you walk up to his apartment and when he lets you walk in first. He’s nice when he takes your coat and hangs it up with care. He’s nice when he kisses you like something to be treasured- gently, sweetly, adoringly.

He’s nice, too, when he slowly strips off your clothes- cool hands running over your body and lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your heated flesh. He’s nice when he lets you come first- head between your thighs and tongue working you through your first orgasm as your back arches and your fingers curl into his snowy hair and you mewl his name again and again- “Natsuo, Natsuo, Natsuo!”

He’s really nice when he oh so carefully slides into you- watching your lashes flutter and listening to all your soft little noises to make sure he’s not hurting you. He’s nice when he runs his hands up your arms and laces his fingers through yours- pressing your hands into the mattress and lips capturing your own in a passionate, sensual kiss.

And, god, he’s so nice when he makes you come again and again- until you’re a panting mess drunk on both booze and pleasure. He has your mind fuzzy from bliss- so fuzzy that you don’t care when he comes in you, so fuzzy that you don’t care or panic when he creams your wet, hot cunt. He presses tight against you when he comes- mouths at the crook of your neck as he tells you how good you feel, how he loves how wet you are, how you sound so fucking good baby and he just wants to fill you with him again- can he, please?

And you- blissed out, intoxicated, thrilled you that has never been fucked so intimately and sensually before- nods because, god, yeah- you need more of this even if your limbs are already heavy and your focus is fading from everything unrelated to how good his dick is making you feel.

So he fucks you again and again and again- fucks you until your filled to the brim with his cum and your mind is melted by his needy, hungry kisses and the way he makes you come over and over and over.

You’re completely fucked out by the time he’s done- made stupid and dumb by good dick and so much pleasure. You’re so tired and blissed out that you can’t do more than twitch a finger by the time Natsuo finally pulls out of you, but that’s okay- Natsuo is nice enough to wipe you down with a warm rag and tug one of his shirts onto you.

He’s so nice. So sweet. Such a gentleman.

Once he pulls on some sweatpants, he joins you in bed- smiling when you snuggle up against him and giving an almost fond sort of huff when you almost immediately pass out against him.

He waits until he’s sure that you’re asleep and then he grabs his phone.

Natsuo takes a photo of you curled against his chest first- making sure that Touya will be able to see that it’s you- the one that broke his heart- cuddled up with him- the brother he’s always screwed over.

He’s smirking in the photo- he can’t help it- and that smirk stays as he carefully pushes the shirt he lent you up your body and snaps pics of the love bites he’s left on you- teeth marks that will fade away and form faint bruises for you to flush over later on.

He catalogues those and then he moves on down lower- carefully spreads your thighs and then your still swollen cunny lips so he can takes photos of the way your glistening hole is still painted white, how you’re still so full to the brim with his cum.

Natsuo makes sure that Touya will be able to see that you’ve been bred by him- that he’s taken his brother’s first and last love and made her his.

Some part of him feels guilty as he takes the photos, but there’s a bigger part of him that’s angry and smirking and viciously vindicated- a part of him that’s been festering for years and is finally, finally getting the revenge it wants.

You’ll be upset if you find out, sure.

But Touya has had this coming for a long time now and Natsuo is finally going to get his brother back.

Natsuo sends the photos to his brother and he grins while he does, adds a simple little “payback’s a bitch :)” to the message that is sure to enrage Touya even more.

And then he shuts off his phone and climbs back into bed- wrapping an arm around your soft body and falling asleep with a smile on his face.

[elsewhereuniversity]

rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already. 

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back. 

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole. 

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”. 

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about. 

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

x

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Monday, 15:18

Song: The Neighbourhood - Reflections

The clock at the front of the lecture hall is too far away for Sander to actually hear its ticking, but it feels like it’s louder than the tapping of his pen where he’s drumming it against his notebook. This is propped open with only a few lines of actual notes and a lot of doodles, with a quick, ragged sketch of Robbe on the bottom half of the page. Sander sighs quietly to himself as he fails his futile attempt to listen to the professor, and goes back to the drawing to add on some extra shading and more careful detail.

This is so much easier to get caught up in. Time disappears when it comes to art or Robbe, so combining the two is similar to falling into a black hole. The gravity of it is so strong, making it impossible for Sander to escape as time stops and everything else ceases to exist. He gets eaten up in it, lost until the point where everything whites out but the scratch of pen on paper and the familiar shape of Robbe’s eyes. There is no talking or ticking to make him want to peel his skin off (or at least fidget about in his chair).

It’s not the best plan, however, because he zones out a little too completely. He doesn’t realise that the class has ended until a girl clears her throat next to him, standing in the aisle and waiting to get past. Sander whips his gaze around and notices his other classmates already filing out of the room.

He flushes, muttering an apology as he quickly gets to his feet and presses back to let the girl and her friend slip past him. She glances down at his notebook as she passes and her lips quirk in a knowing smile, but she merely says, “Cute. Nice work on the lips.”

Sander’s blush deepens, but he returns her smile and manages to thank her quietly before she slips away. Her friend raises her brows and smirks at him, but doesn’t say anything as she follows. He lets out a breath and slumps back against his now folded-up chair, taking a moment to collect himself. He snatches up his bag and hastily stows away his belongings, only taking time to carefully close the notebook and tuck it in between the others in his bag. He trots down the steps and almost makes it to the door without any further embarrassment, and then the professor is calling his name.

Lars Coomans isn’t Sander’s favourite professor, only because he teaches art theory rather than anything practical. Sander doesn’t mind learning about history when he finds the subject interesting, but that only happens about twelve percent of the time. (Again, this isn’t Lars’ fault.) The man is not his favourite professor, but he might be one of his favourite people. He’s a tall man in his late forties with a tiny bald patch on the right side of his head and a soft voice. He’s relatively laid back and certainly kind.

For this reason, Sander doesn’t even feel the need to groan as he hangs back, even while the last stragglers shoot him curious looks on the way out. Lars waits until they’ve left to smile at Sander and lean back against his desk, head tilted as he considers his student.

Now, Sander begins to feel a bit nervous.

“How are you, Sander?”

The question is kind, careful, and it baffles him. He knows that all of his professors are aware of his illness, but none of them make a habit of checking up on him. They’re aware, from when he misses a week or two of classes or, on the rare occasion, needs to ask for an extension on an assignment. They’re aware, but beyond that, it doesn’t come up. No one makes a fuss about it and he’s grateful. And maybe Lars isn’t, either, maybe it’s just his kindness sprouting in the start of the conversation, nothing more than a mere courtesy. But the searching way he’s looking at Sander makes him hesitant, and he clasps his right hand around his left wrist and shifts on his feet before clearing his throat. He decides to take the casual route. “I’m fine, how are you?”

Lars seems to relax, lips quirking further for a moment before he shakes his head and waves a hand. “Oh, good, good, thank you. No, I’m not trying to be nosy, I just ask because you didn’t submit your assignment before noon today.”

Sander blinks. “Sorry?”

“The papers that were due this morning?” Lars blinks back, tilting his head. When Sander continues to stare at him blankly, he offers, “On the renaissance?”

Oh. Sander’s mouth opens and closes for a moment before he finds his voice. “But that’s not due until Friday evening?” It comes out as a question as his brow furrows in confusion. He’s sure the two assignments weren’t due in one day, and he frequently checks his calendar. He’s lost, and he’s beginning to panic slightly.

“No, it was due today,” Lars says softly, searching again as he crosses his legs at the ankles and taps the edge of his desk. “Daems has an assignment due on Friday, I believe, you have him, don’t you?”

Realisation hits abruptly. “Fuck,” he breathes, raising a hand to cover his face. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know—I must have mixed the dates, put the classes in wrong.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But Lars just nods, his whole posture softening in understanding. “Alright,” he sighs. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, it’s an easy mistake. Can you get it to me by the end of the day?”

Sander swallows. “I haven’t started it,” he admits. He’d started doing the research, but he didn’t even have enough of that yet. He would be lucky to finish that by the end of the day, never mind the paper itself.

“Okay, well, you thought you had until Friday.” Lars rubs a hand over his chin and finally just shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll put you down for an extension until the time you thought it was due. And at least you don’t have the other one to worry about now, since I’m assuming that means you submitted it this morning.”

Relief flows through Sander in streams, but the banks are prickled. He purses his lips tightly and squeezes his wrist. “Lars, I just fucked up. I don’t have a good excuse, I don't want any pity.”

“No,” Lars immediately protests, pushing away from his desk to stand closer to Sander. “It’s nothing of the sort. No pity, or special treatment. You explained you made a mistake and I’ve no reason not to trust you.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re one of the best students here, Sander. I know because I pass that work of yours on the street every day. Even someone that good has to slip up sometimes, hm?”

Sander can only stare at him, feeling his cheeks warm again. He ducks his head, embarrassed at the compliment and the thought of his professor seeing the magnitude of his sappy love on a regular basis.

Lars only chuckles, bumping Sander’s shoulder. “I know I’m teasing, but I mean it. You’ve never even asked me for an extension before. I know you weren’t just slacking off. It feels bad, I know, but it’s not a big deal, kid. Just brush it off and then get it done, alright?”

Sander considers him. Then with a deep breath, he nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Don’t stress.” Lars squeezes his shoulder, then waves him away. “Come find me or email me if you have any questions, okay? Now go on, no need to hang around an old man any longer.”

Sander huffs, but offers him one last nod and grateful smile before making his way out. As soon as he’s passed through the door, he falters in his step and his eyes close, anger towards himself returning with a vengeance. How could he have made such a stupid mistake? How has it taken this long for that to happen?

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment, willing the frustration away. It doesn’t work entirely, but he manages a few slow breaths and collects himself enough to leave. He doesn’t think too much about where he’s going, just follows the feeling and lets his feet carry him to his bike, then pedal automatically through the streets.

The garage comes into view, and Sander tucks his bike away before rapping his knuckles against the door, not having to think about the familiar knock beyond muscle memory. His feet are tapping on the ground, and he does his best to shake the nerves out of his skin as he waits.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, not really. The only thoughts he can conjure are more swears and variations of stupid, stupid, stupid. He needs something distracting enough to quiet these rants down, but mindless enough that he can attempt to sort his thoughts out.

This is part of the reason he can’t go to Robbe, no matter how much he wants to. Robbe will be too kind. Too soothing. He’s the only one ever able to fully drown out Sander’s thoughts enough so that he stops being unkind to himself.

He doesn’t want that, at the moment. He thinks he deserves this more.

This being the frustration that leads him to bang the rhythmic code on the door once more when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Woah,” a familiar voice interrupts. “You’re not usually the kind who breaks in by knocking the place down.”

Sander turns slowly on his heel to face Adi. The man (as Sander considers him, because he is actually three years older and holds genuine wisdom on occasion) is staring him down in amusement. Quite literally staring down, as he has a good few inches on Sander, but he often leans back and slouches his shoulders to make up for it. He’s only about as tall as Jens, really, but he’s broader and looks overall bigger and more intimidating.

Robbe might be tiny next to him, and Sander might find it adorable, but Robbe is also completely unfazed because of long-time exposure to Jens.

Which is only mildly disappointing. (Robbe is extra adorable when he’s both dwarfed and flustered.)

“Sorry,” Sander says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t think that there might not be anyone here. I should’ve texted you first.”

Adi just huffs and moves to open the door, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, that would’ve been easier on your hands.” His own light-brown hand is slender and quick as he unlocks the door, movements as automatically familiar as Sander’s when he’s drawing.

They don’t speak even as they make it inside. Adi traipses around quietly to turn on lights and check up on everything, weaving between trucks, and Sander moves through to the back of the room to the piece he’s been working on. He throws his bag down and immediately crouches to examine his paint cans, eyes flickering between them and his work as he debates where to pick up again. Adi joins him after a moment, but still hangs back, leaning against the wall behind Sander silently.

Sander thinks this is probably why Adi might actually be his best friend, because he has known Adi even longer than his group from the Academy and Adi understands him just as well as Lucas.

“I fucked up,” Sander says eventually, so quietly he’s unsure if Adi hears him over the spray of the can. He’s ready to repeat himself in the responding silence, but then Adi is standing at his side.

Adi tilts his head. “Not with Robbe.”

“No,” Sander agrees, and finds some relief in it. At least it isn’t Robbe.

“Another friend?”

“School.”

“Oh. Bad?”

Sander lets his hand fall to his side and sighs. Adi is calm and curious but not comforting, nothing more than a steady presence next to him. It allows Sander to reorder his thoughts into something he can actually articulate. “No, it’s not even a problem, really. I just made a mistake and it’s pissing me off.”

“But it’s not a disaster?” Adi tilts his head further.

“Probably not.” When Adi only continues to stand and look, he heaves another sigh. “I mixed up the dates for two assignments and submitted the wrong one today, meaning I missed the actual deadline for the other. But he’s just giving me that time as an extension, because apparently I’m a good student. Can you fucking believe that?”

Adi’s lips finally quirk, his amusement returning at Sander’s incredulous, exasperated exclamation. “No, I can’t, actually. But then again you’re kinda art obsessed, so maybe.”

This time Sander blows out a breath that can’t really be considered a sigh, with the farting noise that accidentally accompanies it. He wipes a hand over his mouth as if it will erase the sound while Adi barks a laugh.

“So you’re just pissed because your brain did you dirty,” Adi summarises.

Sander grimaces, but nods. “And wondering how it’s taken this long for me to fuck up like that.”

“Maybe because you’re not a fuck-up.” Adi raises a brow pointedly, but Sander simply waves him off. The sentiment is kind, but it doesn’t change the fact that he fucked up. Then Adi adds, “And anyone can get their wires crossed like that. You’re not that unique.”

It draws a snort out of Sander against his will. It doesn’t matter that he knows what Adi is really trying to say, hears the reassurance and reminder tucked within the words; the blatant dry tone it comes out in startles him enough to set it off. Adi’s forming grin doesn’t match it and makes it easier for Sander to see through him, but he’ll let him away with it this once.

He knocks his paint can against Adi’s shoulder. “Thanks.” It’s much more clearly genuine than Adi had been, and more than Sander expected himself to give, but he does feel better and he appreciates it. It doesn’t matter that ‘thanks’ is as difficult as ‘sorry’; that just means Adi will know he means it.

Sander is sure of it when Adi simply nods in response, turning to examine Sander’s artwork rather than put pressure on him to figure out his expression. He watches on as Sander gets back to work, and eventually shifts to lean back against the wall. “Things are good with Robbe, then?”

“Yeah, always.” Sander smiles, unbidden, at the simple mention. He doesn’t feel the need to be embarrassed about it, even when Adi huffs.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” he notes, and Sander pauses. “Any special plans?”

Sander stays still for a moment, and then shrugs, putting his arm into motion again. He hasn’t thought about it. He might have been avoiding thinking about it. “Unless it’s a surprise. I know I’ll see Robbe, but that’s it. I do that everyday.”

“You not hanging out with all of them? What about Gilles and his gang, and Lucas and whoever?”

Sander’s mouth twitches, but he quickly schools it away. “I’ll see the guys at uni and maybe Lucas if we go to the flat or I pick Robbe up at school.”

He can just see Adi in his peripheral, and catches his thoughtful nod and careful bite of the lip. “Right, right. You ever planning on bringing him here again?”

“Robbe?” Sander asks, just to be a little shit.

“Fuck, no. I love him, I do, but he’s hardly an artist. Nah, Lucas.”

Sander brings Lucas at least twice a month, and Adi knows it. “They’re all busy with school. Final year and all that.”

“Yeah, but he’s applying to the Academy right? So, technically, this is like studying.”

“Do you want to see Lucas again, Adi?” Sander asks, mustering as much mock-astonishment into his tone as he can.

He receives a scoff for his efforts. “You know it’s not like that, you fucking asshole.”

“Good, because you know, he has a boyfriend, Adi.”

“Who happens to be Robbe’s best friend and your kind-of friend, yeah, yeah, I know. I also happen to be straight, dickhead.” He cocks his head at Sander and his lips slip into a smirk. “While you also have a boyfriend, and you’re whipped as hell for him, and yet look who you still came running to to kiss your boo-boos.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sander says this time, tossing the now-empty spray can at him. Adi dodges with a startled noise followed by his low, booming laughter, and Sander just shakes his head and marvels at his quiet mind.

~^~

previous/next

[putas-in-suffering]

Terms of Endearment

Pairing: Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, desecrating quinceañera dresses (oops) 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Part 1. Mutual attraction doesn’t always mean you’re on the same page.

A/N: You asked and we delivered. We got the OG daddy himself, Bishop aka El Presidente, showing up and showing out for you sucias. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

*Check out our Cartel Daddy in part 2 of this love/lust triangle here

Your eyes caught his across the factory floor. He was making his way towards you, a self-assured smirk decorating his bearded lips. He stopped to greet one of the workers, winking and smile at the passing women with all the charm of a teenage boy. His swagger was undeniable, his confidence radiating like a neon sign. He was a man that knew what he was doing, knew what he was capable of. If the fine lines decorating his face and the grey in his facial hair didn’t give him away, the glint behind those warm cocoa eyes did. He had experience. The kind of experience that captured your attention, in more ways than one.

“Obispo,” You greeted coolly, unwilling to let him bear witness to your more than business-like interest in him.

“Querida…” He responded, smirking and moving in for the obligatory kiss on the cheek.

You didn’t chastise him for the pet name. You may be one of Miguel Galindo’s most trusted employees, but you were still a woman in a male-dominated world. Running a cartel was surprisingly conservative work. The men treated you like a woman instead of as an equal, and while that used to piss you off, Miguel had taught you to utilize your feminine strength. So you did. You batted your eyelashes and laughed when you were supposed to. But the minute someone crossed the organization, you were front and center putting a bullet between their eyes. It was the nature of the game.

So you let the demeaning names go and you let the men think they were smarter than you. It always came back to bite them in the ass later.

But Bishop was different. He may be old-school, but you knew he respected you. You were the middle man for him and Miguel and he’d confided in you many times that he’d rather look at you than have to see another pressed suit. You had laughed at that despite the dig at your boss.

You accepted the kiss he offered and forced the heat of attraction down as his eyes quickly, but not so discreetly, appraised your figure. You smiled, pleased with his examination of you. Your heels clicked as you turned and beckoned him to follow you, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too tight. His eyes were on you. You could feel them burning a hole in your back. You reveled in the attention, feeling your nipples begin to harden against the lace of your bra. Thank god you hadn’t worn a white blouse today.

“Shipment ready to go?” You asked over your shoulder, hearing his heavy steps follow close behind. The rest of the Mayan crew were situated at tables, lining the traditional dresses of womanhood with your product.

“Yeah, tonight. As planned.” He supplied, gesturing to the box truck being loaded.

You nodded, pleased with the sight. You didn’t necessarily have to be here to facilitate, but you’d decided at the last minute to swing by. Bishop had things under control as usual. And you got to ogle him under the guise of management, though you were sure you were fooling no one.

“Good. You have any issues give me a call.” You recited dutifully. He nodded, that smirk still staring back at you as if he found the whole thing amusing.

“Will do.”

“Did they get the new patterns we sent over?”

Bishop nodded, rubbing at his facial hair. “Yeah, they’ve made some already. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” You said as you followed him this time. He led you to the back, a locked storage room your destination. It was practically deserted back there and you were glad for it.

Bishop opened the door and allowed you to pass before him, winking as you did. You smiled bashfully, trying hard to hide it. The door closed with a heavy thud behind you both as you made your way over the rack of dresses. Miguel had sent over a new sewing pattern for the ladies, the new design allowing for more product to be moved in one dress. You inspected the delicate craftsmanship, in awe of the women’s talent. It looked exactly how Miguel had wanted. He’d be pleased.

“All good, princesa?” Bishop’s deep voice sounded against your neck, his proximity a lot closer than you’d ever been to him before. You could feel the heat of him behind you, not pressing into you but close.

His words sent shivers down your spine, his nearness making a rush of adrenaline pool in your panties. His hot breath on your neck made your heartbeat journey down and stop right between your legs.

“Great. These look great.” You managed to say, voice now raspy with raw lust. You shifted your neck a fraction of an inch, allowing him more room. You were inviting him to take it further, assuring him you wanted to.

His fingertips danced along your waist, barely touching you but setting your skin ablaze all the same. He stepped closer, pressing himself against you. You gripped the dresses in desperation as his beard scraped at your neck. His lips didn’t move and you groaned in impatience. He only laughed.

“We don’t have time to fuck around, Bishop.” You bit out, trying to goad him into action.

Again he laughed, the chuckle tickling your skin and forcing your heart to beat double-time.

“Say it again.”

“What?” You asked in confusion, trying to comprehend what it was he was demanding of you.

“My name…say it again.”

You moaned in response, pushing your ass back against him. His words made your whole body feel drunk. Your limbs felt heavy. Your lips ached for his. Your lower half sought him out desperately. Your pussy clenched in need. Your nipples peaked against the fabric of your blouse. You wanted him. You wanted him bad.

“Obispo.” You purred, purposely using his legal name. You’d never heard anyone else call him that. The idea of you being the only one gave you a rush of power you hadn't realized you’d been searching for.

Silent elation flooded you at his quick intake of breath and the low groan that sounded seconds later. His fingertips no longer hovered, but instead latched onto your hips and held your ass to him. He cradled you against his hardening cock, the ridge of the zipper making you lean forward ever-so-slightly out of instinct. Bishop’s hips jutted in response, his excitement overflowing at seeing your bent position.

“Fucking shit…” He cursed, rough hands rubbing sensuously at your ass. “You sure you wanna do this?”

His hands were already drifting down to the hem of your skirt. You bent forward again, letting your ass push back into his stiff cock.

“Fuck yes…” You moaned, both in response and encouragement of his hands at your thighs. He pulled the constricting fabric of your skirt up, revealing your thighs and ass. He skimmed a hand over the flesh, pulling at the lace of your thong as he did so. The fabric caught on your clit, forcing a moan from you lips.

“Shhhh, preciosa.” Bishop gently chastised, his thick finger running from your lower back to the flooded slit between your thighs.

The sound of fabric ripping was ignored, the seam of one of the dresses you’d been gripping now split. The hangers strained against the weight of your hold, but you didn’t care. You needed the support against Bishop’s unrelenting hands. He teased your clit, dipping his fingers into your wetness and then back out again. His other hand groped your breast through the silk of your blouse, pinching your nipples with precision.

He was manipulating your body exactly how he needed. And you fell right into his clutches, letting him do as he pleased. You arched into his touch, you ass continuing to push back until he gave you what you needed.

“Bishop, please…”

His mouth attacked your neck, his tongue dancing along the flesh in erotic fashion. He soothed the burn left behind from his facial hair, lapping at you tenderly. He showed no signs of acknowledging your plea.

“Bishop, goddammit.” You cursed as the seconds passed by without his cock stuffing you full. He made no move to release himself from his jeans. His inaction forced you into action. Your hand left the dresses and reached behind you, feeling for the buckle on his jeans.

“What’re you doing?” He gritted out. He wasn’t stopping you, so you forged ahead.

“Knitting a sweater.” You deadpanned, failing to release his belt with one hand. “A little help?”

Devilish laughter filled your ears once again.

“Yes ma’am.”

You rolled your eyes in response. Bishop would use this occasion to address you as something other than the terms of endearment he’d been using. Something that denoted respect. 

Ironic.

A moan, loud and satisfying, left your lips at the feel of Bishop’s warm, hard flesh meeting yours. He’d finally pulled himself from his jeans, letting his cock sit dangerously close to your begging walls. You could feel the wetness already dotting the tip of him, the liquid smearing across your ass. You pushed back while he rutted against you, your bodies needy and seeking friction.

“Ready?” He asked, biting at your earlobe as he did. You could feel the weight of him pressing against your entrance, the head barely slipping past but already making your muscles burn. His hand was holding your panties to the side, affording him the perfect view.

“Yes. Do it.” You demanded breathlessly, jutting your ass out further. He let his cock slide against your opening, coating himself. Each pass caused him to bump your clit. You struggled to stay still, ready to implode from the inside out. Just when you were about to tell him to fuck off, he finally entered you.

“Fucking hell…”

“Jesus…”

You both released ragged curses at the joining of your bodies. You could feel him throbbing against your heat, feel the ridges of his thick cock as your walls squeezed around him. He nudged at your cervix, the angle ensuring you were about to get the most intense fucking you’d ever had. He began to move, sliding effortlessly in and out. Your pussy contracted, your climax already embarrassingly close.

“Harder.” You demanded, thankful that the racks you were supporting yourself on were cemented into the ground.

Bishop grunted, his hips acquiescing your request. He thrust so hard you almost went headfirst into the cement wall. He caught you though, his hand gripping your hip and keeping you mercilessly attached to him. You whimpered at the brute force of it, the tingles of euphoria getting stronger with each plunge.

“I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, querida.”

Your walls tremored in response, as if proving his statement. He growled, his hips faltering at your tightness. He let both of his hands come together at your hips, stabilizing you for his oncoming assault. You bit your lip, trying to keep your delirious moans at bay. The slap of skin reverberated throughout the room as he fucked you with all the savagery of a wild animal. Despite your effort, noises of extreme pleasure flew past your lips. You trailed a hand down to bathe your abandoned clit with attention. Within seconds you were coming.

“Shit, shit, shit…” You chanted as your entire body convulsed in intense waves, the orgasm so powerful that it felt like it lasted for hours. Your eyes were squeezed shut and all you could do was hope that Bishop kept his firm hold on you.

“Fuck baby…that feels fucking good.” He praised, letting you ride out your pleasure. You spasmed until your energy was drained and your mind had traveled back to earth. His touch still burned you, but in a much different way. You were utterly satiated and still yearning for more.

He resumed his movements only when he felt you lazily push back, signaling you were ready for him to continue. He started off slow once again, but sped up as he got closer to his own climax. Your pussy came to life once again, struggling to grasp against him as he thrust. Your release coated you both, making it difficult for him to stay buried inside you.

You hissed when he hit that intensely sensitive spot within you, forcing you to try and pull away. But he didn’t let you. Instead, he held you tighter while he thrust faster. The grip on your hips hurt, but the extreme pleasure between your thighs eclipsed it. You could feel his hips start to falter as he dived right off the cliff to join you.

Warm spurts of his cum filled you. The sensation was almost as fulfilling as your own orgasm. You felt his entire body tighten up before it released and practically went immobile. His hands drifted from your body, his cock barely inside you anymore with the abundance of moisture between the two of you. His breathing was ragged, coming out in rapid succession. He steadied you as you moved to straighten yourself, your legs now teetering on your heels. The sound of his belt buckle alerted you to his movements as you shifted your skirt back down. You were both attempting to appear as if you hadn’t fucked in a storage closet full of quinceañera dresses. And while you both were still on the clock.

You adjusted your blouse, tucking it back into your skirt. You met Bishop’s gaze, dead-set on not jeopardizing your working relationship. He cracked a lazy smile, showcasing his now sluggish mood. 

You laughed.

He joined in, shaking his head as he did. “Miguel’s gonna kill us.”

“Not if he doesn’t find out. You plan on calling him up to tell him?” You teased.

“Thought about it.” He shot back, the humor clearly displayed all over his face.

“And why would you do that?” You arched a brow and crossed your arms.

Bishop stepped into your space once again, licking his lips as he held your stare. You waited with baited breath, heart back to pounding wildly against your breast bone.

“To let him know I fucked you and he still hasn’t.” Bishop all but gloated.

“And what makes you think he hasn’t?” You replied with obvious attitude.

“The way he looks at you. That man hangs on your every word. It’s almost fucking sad.”

You blinked, not shocked by his observation, but still surprised. You and Miguel had a past. One that did not include you sleeping together though it had gotten close. You’d made it your own rule to never sleep with the men you worked with. It was imperative that they respected you. 

But Bishop had been different. Bishop had experience that made you feel like a novice with most things. You supposed that was the allure.

He pulled a cigarette from the pack hidden inside his leather. A silver lighter appeared from his jean pocket, the flame already dancing against the end of the stick in his mouth.

“Say a word of this and I’ll have you silenced in a heartbeat, El Presidente.” You warned. You knew he wouldn’t, but you could never be too careful. Men liked to think they were superior and above emotion, but they could be worse than any woman you’d ever known. Their dicks seemed to always get in the way of logic and the last thing you needed was a pissing contest to take place between the two alphas. 

Bishop paused, eyes narrowing at your obvious threat. He sucked in a mouthful of smoke and let it plume out and into your face. He laughed at your words, but you could still see the seriousness in his expression. But you didn’t back down. You may have just let him fuck you, but he wasn’t the one that signed your paychecks. Nor did you take orders from him. The cartel was bigger than him. And he knew that.  

“Oh, I have no doubt…princesa.”

[betweentheracks]

Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖

[crybabyjam]

ship: todochako 

rating: g

length: 3k

summary: Todoroki picks up hitch-hiker!Uraraka.

c/w parental death (past), joking about murder

deleted from twitter, written for a former friend

---

The sun beats down heavy as Ochako tightens the straps of her backpack. In it was three changes of clothes, some stale bread, her dead phone.

It was only mid-morning but already she was sweating her absolute ass off.

She runs her fingers through her choppy hair, uneven on one edge because she hadn't had a mirror when she'd taken a rusty pair of scissors to them. Now she wishes she'd just shaved it all off, if only to save herself from a sweaty, overheated neck now.

Her parents had loved it when she'd had long hair.

Ochako remembers how her mom would wash the long strands for her every weekend, even when Ochako huffed and puffed and said she could do it herself.

Her mom always took the time to wash it gently, and condition with something sweet smelling— "Because a sweet girl like you deserves sweet hair, too."

And how her dad would braid it every time she visited, even when Ochako would have to undo it the next day. He would take his strong, worker's hands and lift each length of hair carefully so that he didn't tug on her tender scalp.

Now that they were gone, Ochako didn't see the point in keeping her hair long. It just slowed her down. It just made her /sad/.

She sighs, and steps out of the way when a car plows through a puddle right beside her.

Her legs get soaked, but it isn't anything worse than the day prior, when a truck had soaked her from head to toe.

Ochako just sighs and brushes the muddy water droplets from her already dirty legs.

It's a good thing she was out of socks, or else she'd have to start worrying about her shoes molding at this point.

She's just begun kicking her shoe off, to finish the rest of the trek up to the next city barefoot, when a car pulls up to a stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" A low voice asks, to her left. Ochako startles and twists on her heel.

She almost ignores it, because cars like that didn't stop for hitch-hikers like her.

But the car follows her a few more feet as she slows to a stop.

When she looks over her shoulder, confused, the man in the car tilts his head at her and nods.

"Are you alright?" He repeats. "I saw you get wet."

"Ah!" Ochako yells, and then lowers her voice. Geez, where are your manners, Uraraka? "I'm fine! Sorry."

The man blinks, and Ochako belatedly notices that he has the most stunning, grey eyes. Like darkened silver.

"Why should you be sorry?" He asks with a frown.

And then, he shakes his head.

"Do you need a ride? It's dangerous to get in a stranger's car, but you shouldn't walk around barefoot. Glass would hurt." He pauses, and then adds. "Probably less than murder, but I promise not to murder you."

Ochako is speechless.

But not speechless enough not to /laugh/ at the absurdity of the stranger.

She feels it bubble up in her chest like boiling water, and it floats out of her ugly, like when a pot spills the water and burns on the stove burner.

The man just watches, silent, as she wipes tears from her eye and keeps on laughing. He just leans against the steering wheel and waits patiently, face completely deadpan.

He's /serious/, and that just makes it funnier.

She gasps for breath as she leans against his car, one shoe falling to the pavement and skipping beneath the undercarriage, shit.

Ochako's laugh starts up again as she drops to her knees to retrieve it.

When she comes back up, knees blackened by sidewalk dust, and hands darkened by asphalt, the man is smiling. Just barely.

"I guess murder /would/ hurt more than stepping on glass." She agrees. "Depending on the type of murder."

He murmurs the words underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're right," he says, troubled.

She leans into the rolled down window, arms crossing to hide the ripped hem of t-shirt.

"You sure you /promise/ not to murder me? I kind of need my life."

Well. All things considering, it was pretty much all she had left. She couldn't exactly afford the house after her parents died. They hadn't been able to finish the down payments, and none of them (including Ochako) had enough savings to keep her afloat.

So, hitch-hiking. Walking to nowhere and hoping for more.

A few miles in an air-conditioned car was more than what she had, so she'll take it.

The man turns serious, though. The smile wipes off of his face— not replaced with a frown, but replaced with another deadpan look. He nods his head, making eye-contact the entire time, and says,

"I promise not to murder you."

Well.

He promised, at least. Ochako still had a little bit of mace in her pocket, if she needed it.

So she gets in the car.

---

His name is Todoroki Shouto and he has an open duffle bag of yen, two pillows with embroidered pillowcases, a shattered phone, and a half-full photo album in his backseat.

Ochako stares at the photo album instead of the other three things, because she definitely does not want to get murdered, thank you very much.

He was a cute baby. Two-toned hair from birth, and big eyes that only had one expression: wide. Ochako traces her ragged thumb nail across one of the pictures, where he's covered in cake frosting at his second birthday, and accidentally creases the polaroid image.

She hurriedly flips the page.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," Ochako mumbles, ignoring her tummy which immediately begins to grumble in argument. She flips another page to muffle the noise, and comes across more empty pockets than full ones.

From the way there's the edge of one polaroid still caught in one of the slots, Ochako assumes that they used to be just as full as the rest.

She flips to the back, and a roll of film flops into her lap.

"Do you even still have a camera for this?" Ochako asks, holding the strange, almost novel-looking thing up to the waxing light of the returning sun. Then she brings it back down to the shadows in case that might ruin the film inside, oops.

"At home," Todoroki says, low. Her shoes are in his lap, because he wanted her to have more room to look at the photo album. Ochako had tried to just place them on the floor of the car, but he looked so earnest in his offer that she hadn't been able to say no without feeling bad.

Besides, she had a feeling he was pretty harmless. Weird, but who wasn't?

"Oh, are you moving or something?" Ochako asks, and then immediately grimaces at the invasion of privacy. "I mean… 'cause of the stuff in your backseat."

"Moving…" Todoroki repeats, focusing on the road. They're driving slow enough that almost everyone passes by them, but Ochako got pretty motion-sick so she appreciated it.

Todoroki leans back in his seat, both hands at the very apex of the steering wheel. It's outlined in a leather cover and is so shiny that it almost looks metallic. Expensive as fuck, probably.

Everything about him looked pretty expensive, actually. The car was brand new, from this year. Still had the new smell and everything.

Ochako was actually pretty glad he insisted on the shoe-thing, if only to prevent mud stains.

Although his pants /did/ look pretty designer. Ah, fuck.

"Yes," Todoroki says, after the long moments of silence. "I'm moving."

"Oh! That's… fun. That's fun!" Ochako nods.

Todoroki turns them off of the road, and pulls into a parking spot. Ochako blinks past the raindrops on her side of the window, and squints out at the illuminated signs.

A restaurant. Ah, /fuck/. Ochako pats her shorts for her wallet, as if she could even /pretend/ it had money in it. All it had was her ID (almost expired) and a coupon for leg waxing.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Todoroki asks, turning to her completely. The seatbelt gets caught, and it does that thingy it does where it locks and gets tighter until you take it all the way off. He doesn't seem to mind.

Ochako smiles, though even she can feel how strained it is. "Ah, I'm fine. I should probably go actually, but thank you for the ride. The rain should stop soon, so…"

"Oh."

Todoroki frowns, glancing at the arm rest between them. He's engaged the parking brake even though they aren't on an incline, and Ochako's smile relaxes to something more real.

"It was really nice to meet you," she says. "I'd give you my phone number but I kinda didn't pay the bill." (Since, uh, last year, but he didn't need to know that.)

"It was nice to meet you too," Todoroki says. "I can buy you food."

"Oh," Ochako parrots, dumbly. Her eyes dart to the yen-bag and she hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't—"

"I don't mind. It's my dad's money— and he hates me. And I hate him, so." Todoroki finally takes off his too-tight seatbelt and it rattles noisily as it smacks against the car door.

"I…"

Ochako isn't sure how to approach /that/ particular landmine. Nor is she sure how she's supposed to resist free food. When had she last eaten. Two days ago, or something? She'd kinda been ignoring it, but the walking helped.

Now that she's technically resting, she can feel her tummy about to throw a conniption.

Todoroki blinks his wide eyes at her as he waits, not making a move. His blinks are slow, like a cat, and his eyes flicker back and forth between her own.

She sighs heavily, but a grin is already parting her lips. "You're a strange one, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"I don't have any money, so you have to pay for all of it," she warns.

"I will."

"And I eat a lot! I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okay."

"And… and I want my shoes back."

Todoroki hands her the shoes. There's mud residue on his pants and the bottom of his shirt.

But he has a small smile on his face as he watches her struggle to put her shoes on in the closed space, so maybe it was alright.

---

Shouto watches as Uraraka stuffs two donut holes in her mouth, licking away the powdered sugar that paints across her lips. It looks like snow when it dusts down to her shorts, and smears chalky residue on her thighs.

He hands her a napkin, and she blushes pretty like a sunset paints ocean water pink when it sets at night.

"Sorry for the mess," she says quietly.

"It's okay. Is it good?"

"It's good!" She wiggles in her seat, and it reminds Shouto of a really happy hamster. "Do you want some?"

She's very beautiful. Her hair is cut in a way he's never really seen before, but it frames her face nicely. He likes it more than his almost-bowl cut. Some of her hair tickles across her shoulder, but she ignores it as she holds a donut hole out to him with a toothpick.

She keeps holding it as he bites down on the warm, cooked dough. He'd never really been fed by someone before. Well, as a baby— sure. But he had a feeling this was different. Was it different?

Shouto chews thoughtfully, and Uraraka smiles at him. She doesn't seem to mind feeding him. She stabs another one with the same toothpick and holds it out for him again, one hand underneath to catch the crumbs.

"Yummy, right? Thanks for buying them! I'll…" She flinches, interrupting herself. Her smile dims a little, like she'd lost power. "I'd offer to pay you back but, uh… ahaha, you know?"

Shouto /doesn't/ know, but he nods anyway. "I can buy you more," he says, soft. "You can take them with you. When you leave."

She uses the toothpick to prod and poke at the remaining few donut holes. They roll in the leftover powdered sugar at the bottom of the box.

"I'll be alright. But thank you." Her eyes get watery at the bottom lashes, and Shouto frowns. "You've been really kind."

When she laughs next, it's thick like she's close to sobbing. Her voice is shaky. Shouto doesn't like it- liked it much better when she was laughing /happily/ instead.

"Thanks for not murdering me," she adds. "This is probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"You can stay. I can drive you anywhere you want."

"Oh!" Uraraka jumps in her seat, as if he'd yelled it. He hadn't really spoken any louder than before, but he clears his throat and speaks even softer anyway.

"We just met, but I can take you anywhere you need to go. And I have enough money for the both of us. I really enjoy your company."

They're pulled off at an empty lot near a supermarket. Somewhere off in the distance is a park. The children there are loud, voices echoing in the evening ambiance.

Uraraka looks out towards the noise, but he can see her swallow heavily.

"That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? We just met."

She says it like how she says other things that are meant to be teasing. He nods anyway.

"It is. You can drive, if that makes you feel better. Or you can sit in the backseat. I would have bought a bigger car if I knew I would meet you today."

She laughs again, starting with a snort and ending with a giggle. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, and he isn't sure if he's nervous or happy to hear it.

"What if /I'm/ the murderer?" Uraraka stabs one of the donut holes and brings it up to her mouth. She smiles at him when he frowns, and then smiles wider when he shrugs.

"If it happens, it happens."

"/Todoroki/." She slaps her palm against her forehead and sinks down in her seat. "That's the most dangerous mindset I've ever heard."

"I'm sorry?" He glances down at her the further she sinks, but she doesn't seem particularly angry. It looks like she's fighting, but on the inside. "It's not that dangerous."

"It's pretty dangerous."

She brushes her legs clean. Sits up straight and looks out the window again. Her breath fans out across the glass, fogging it.

He rolls the window down for her, and she does that snorting laugh again.

"You're a funny guy, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"You are." Uraraka shifts in her seat, to pull her legs cross-crossed. There's one donut hole left in the box, and she rolls it around a few more times before she pokes it with that same toothpick and shoves it in her mouth.

As she chews, she glares at him. Almost like she can't see him and needs glasses. He leans in closer so that she can find what she's looking for.

"You're funny in both ways. Weird… but you make me laugh."

She closes up the box, fitting the toothpick between her teeth so that she can absently chew on it.

"So you're… 'moving'," she says, finally. "- and I don't have a home anymore. Where would we even go?"

Shouto glances past the parking lot, at the semi-distant street that is starting to pile with traffic after a brief lull. But his eyes inevitably drag back over to her.

Uraraka stares back, cheeks pink. A small smile grows on her face. She runs her fingernail across the edge of the empty donut box. He'd have to figure out a place to recycle it if he could.

There are so many places they could go. Somewhere warm, towards a beach. Or somewhere quiet, with wide hills and short buildings. To a festival. To a shoe store.

"Everywhere?"

"/Everywhere/?" Uraraka shakes her head, exasperated. "What about when we run out of money?"

Shouto shrugs. Uraraka laughs again. Her hand drifts to the middle console, palm up, and Shouto watches it for a while.

Then she leans over to grab his hand. Her fingers are warm, rough at the tips but soft everywhere else. She would look pretty in nail polish. /Prettier/, rather- if it were possible.

He maybe had a crush on her. Was this what love felt like? Soft hands and warm smiles? He liked it.

"I-"

She interrupts by leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, like a feather landing on snow. "Take me everywhere, then. And then I'll give you my answer."

Shouto, dazed, touches his fingers to his cheek. He forgets to stop holding her hand, so hers come along with it. She doesn't seem to mind. "Your answer?"

"On whether or not I'll stay," she says, cheeky. "So you'd better make it a fun ride."

Shouto squeezes his other hand down on the steering wheel, if only to keep his heartbeat in his veins so that the organ doesn't leap out of his chest and act a fool. He accidentally steps on the gas, and the car revs in protest.

Uraraka laughs again. She tightens her hold on his hand and pulls it back down between them. He squeezes it back.

And when they get back on the road again, fifteen minutes later, Uraraka has gone from laughing to singing loud to the radio and dancing in her seat. She's pure joy.

---

It stops raining, and the world feels brighter.

[cesabutterflywrites]

Maybe-Nevers

@jasperwhitcock made a post that put me into a trance-like state where I needed to write this little oneshot or I’d explode 

though i chose a different song than what you put in the tags Cassandra it just came on as i wrote the first bit and felt too perfect

Summary: As Jacob struggles with the frustrations of make up homework, Bella does what she can to be there for him. What was an attempt to meet Jacob halfway turns into a moment that adds to the list of ways Jacob has helped her heal from loss. Ao3 link

Songs: Through Fire and Flames by Dragonforce , It’s the Only One You’ve Got by 3 Doors Down

Word Count: 1823

Maybe-Nevers 

It was a homework day for us, so that meant it was quiet time in the garage. 

I liked doing homework in the garage with Jacob. He had a desk in the far back that he used for making lists for parts, plans for engines, and pieces of tiny machine parts that I assumed were spark plugs. On homework days we'd push that to the side against the wall. I was content keeping my reading on my lap and my writing on the desk, since he had a habit of sprawling his work out. 

The only sounds between us were our pencils scribbling on our assignments. I was so engrossed with my history assignment about the 1960s Civil Rights movement that I didn't notice that Jacob was struggling until I heard the sharp snap! of his pencil breaking. 

I jumped at the sound. I looked him up and down. Jacob's fists were shaking. 

I tried to keep my voice calm for him. "What's wrong?" 

His mouth was shut tight, and I could tell he was grinding his teeth. I tentatively put my hand on his arm. It was hotter than his usual heat. I could feel his muscles straining, but his arms stopped shaking as he registered my touch. 

"I just-" Jacob took in a deep breath when I started rubbing my thumb back and forth. His words became slow and deliberate. "I just find it frustrating. Not only do I have a ton of make up work to do, every time I feel too stupid to get it I- I want-" 

He ripped his arm away from me. He ran his hands through his short hair. My heart ached for him. Not in the way it ached for…others…but in the way it did for him. Seeing my personal sun struggling with his new self hurt. 

"What can I do to help? I can help." I knew I was begging for my own selfish reasons. I didn’t want to see my friend so stressed. I tried to take a deep breath quietly. I don't need to be scared. Jacob would never hurt me. 

His back was turned to me. He had his arms crossed, and his breathing was ragged. "Bella, I need you to leave me alone for a sec. I need a break from thinking about math and shit." 

"Okay…" I trailed off. I grabbed my bag and supplies as quick as possible, which meant that I kept dropping pencils as I walked towards the door. 

"No, Bella, I don't want you to leave for good." Jacob rolled his eyes for emphasis. "I just need a few minutes to take a break, okay. Go wait in the house and have a snack or something." 

I was confused, but I set the stuff that was still in my arms by the door. I threw a confused look over my shoulder to see Jacob walking over to the radio. 

Oh. He was going to listen to some music, and he remembered that I don't like listening to music. 

I hurried out the door before I could hear whatever song he put on. I made it halfway down the path towards the house before I stopped. Jacob didn't listen to love songs, right? Maybe…maybe I could go be there with him. I could try. 

I made my way towards the garage with intention. If he needed a break to listen to some music, I'd be there. He already had to try adjusting on his own so much. I wasn’t there for him when he changed. The least I could do was put myself through some…discomfort...for him. 

I didn't recognize the blasting beat as I opened the door. What I did recognize was Jacob smiling as he moved things around the garage. He was nodding his head along to the bass as an electric guitar solo played. 

I didn't move from the doorway yet. I was too busy admiring the way he looked like his old self. I was too caught up in seeing my smile. The grin that reminded me of the sun. 

He noticed me as the lyrics started up. His face went from shock, to confusion, to closed off. "Sorry." He went towards the radio but I blocked him before he could. 

"No, no. It's okay." I tried to smile at him. "I'm okay."  

The song was still permeating through the garage with its loud shrieks of electric guitar strings being strained. It was tough, angry, and I really did like it. 

I tilted my head towards the radio. "What song is this?" I asked loudly. 

Jacob eyed me for a second. Probably to gauge my reaction or wait to see me fall apart. I didn't blame him, a part of me was waiting for it too. Yet I knew I would be okay. I was with Jacob. He would keep me together. 

" Through Fire and Flames by Dragonforce." 

A good, tough, angry title. I could dig that. I nodded along off-beat as the solo kept building up. I giggled, sure I was making a fool out of myself. 

Jacob seemed to loosen up just watching me. "I didn’t take you for a metalhead, Bella.” 

I laughed. “Me neither” 

As Jacob started to close the space between us, the song ended on a final guitar shriek. Soon I heard the beat of drums that were much tamer than the first song. Soon a man’s voice started singing. 

I froze. The words were draping me and skirting around the edges of the hole in my chest. I think Jacob noticed the change. He reached behind me to turn it off, but I grabbed his hand. I looked up at him. My eyes were welling up with tears, and I knew I probably looked terrified. 

Each lyric felt purposeful. Like this song was from Jacob to me. I wanted to try it out. I...needed to stay with him. Without letting myself chicken out, I put my hands on his shoulders and started to sway. He didn’t stop me. Instead he put his hands at the small of my back and swayed with me. 

We went in circles around the space in the front of the garage. The words were draping over us like waves of healing water. The singer’s voice was rough and warm but tender. So soft, just like Jacob was as he held me. I leaned my head on his chest to hide my tears. 

This wasn’t a love song. Well, not a romantic one. 

Jacob started humming along. 

“You know this one too?” I whispered. 

“Of course. It reminds me of you.” 

I blushed, and brought my face away from his chest to look at him. His face was free of anger and frustration. He was soft. His brown eyes were seeing me. It was as if he was reading my mind, something even...it was something no one had ever been able to do. 

“Memories have left you broken.

And the scars have never healed.

The emptiness in you is growing.

With so little left to feel.

You're scared to look back on the days before.

You're too tired to move on.” 

We kept sway-dancing. I recalled the time when he showed up to my school dance. We had a bit more rhythm now. Maybe because changing into a wolf had given him more than a cure from clumsiness. It seemed to have given him a sense of rhythm that I still lacked. He was strong enough to lead this dance now.

“Jacob…” I started. He put his finger on my lips. 

“Just listen, Bella.” he commanded quietly. 

I obeyed, but only because I knew that the hole threatening to burst open was only closed because he was holding me. 

The music swelled, and suddenly he started moving us with purpose. Simple steps to still keep me upright, but we were becoming one with the song as it spoke to both of us. 

“You hide behind your walls of 'maybe nevers'

Forgetting that there's something more,

Than just knowing better.

Your mistakes do not define you now

They tell you who you're not.

You've got to live this life you're given,

Like it's the only one you've got.”

I smiled, which turned into a giggle, which turned to gleeful laughter as he spun us around. He lifted me into the air. 

“Oh, what will it take?

Oh, to get you to say that I'll try.

And what would you say if this

Was the last day of your life?” 

Jacob’s voice wasn’t smooth like ice. It didn’t hit a perfect pitch. It was gruff as the man on the radio. He was hitting a deeper timbre, which seemed to harmonize perfectly. His singing voice was pleasant. I’d heard him hum to himself before, even when he tried not to let me hear. Still, I heard what he was saying clearly this time. I knew what he was asking me.

I couldn’t tell if we were still dancing in rhythm, but I knew he was holding us as we went. The garage blurred around us from my tears. He was still clear. He was radiating warmth and compassion and kindness. 

We rode out the final chorus by going back to the sway-dance we started. I was full on sobbing now. He just held me. In his unique, quiet understanding, he didn’t try to speak to me. He let me cry into his chest. Eventually he picked me up to move us to the rolling chair by the desk. He just held me as I sobbed. The radio hadn’t been turned off, but the music was just a pleasant buzzing in the background. 

He pet my hair gently. I eventually brought myself back to the present through the sound of his heartbeat. It was like a steady drum. The sweetest song I would ever hear if I could help it. 

I pulled back. I smiled sheepishly while I wiped my eyes. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

His lips upturned in a sad grin as he helped me wipe the tears. “Don’t be. Thank you for that. I needed that.” 

I nodded. “I think I did, too.” 

He looked at the desk next to us, then the clock on the wall. It was past our usual end time. He started chuckling. “Well, I guess we’ll have to save the rest of our work for next homework day.” 

I giggled. I pushed myself up off of his lap. “Let’s eat dinner, then.” 

He helped me gather my things. Then we left towards the house where Charlie was probably waiting with Billy. I noticed that the radio hadn’t been turned off as we walked down the path to the small house. Jacob kept watching me, trying not to make me notice. I think he was waiting for me to curl up in pain. 

I didn’t, and I held it together through the night as I slept. 

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Let me know if you want to be put on the taglist for any of my writing! 

[duskholland]

Some Haz and reader smut? Just soft and loving when your insecure after you gave birth🥺

this makes me soft || 18+ !!!! contains nsfw material.

-- it’s blurb night !! --

“You don’t need to hide, love. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Harrison’s reassuring voice brings a tender smile to your face, and you swallow back the lump in your throat as you look up at him through wide, nervous eyes.

“I don’t look like I used to, Haz,” you mumble, trying to loosen your grip on the top of the duvet. You know he thought it was odd when you decided to clamber beneath the sheets instead of staying on top of the sheets to fool around, but you hadn’t expected him to pick up on the source of your nerves so easily.

“You look beautiful,” he assures you. Harrison’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with his warm, blue eyes that sparkle as they meet with yours. A warm, adoring grin hangs from his lips. “I love you, Y/N, and I think you’ve only grown more stunning.” He reaches up and takes your hand, his lips dusting your knuckles with a few light kisses. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

You give him a short nod, and Harrison slips beneath the duvet. He finds you easily, caging you in between his arms as he slides above you, nuzzling his lips against yours in a warm, tender kiss that only deepens as you wind your fingers through his sandy curls and pull him closer. His chapped lips feel smooth like silk, and you whine softly into his mouth as his wide fingers travel down to rest between your legs. Your thighs part subconsciously, and you whimper quietly into Harrison's mouth as he gathers the wetness from your flushed entrance and twirls his fingertips around your clit.

“I love your mouth,” he tells you, pulling away from your lips eventually. His hand continues to work between your legs, but his eyes are fixed firmly on your face, watching out for any signs of discomfort or insecurity. “I love your tits, too.”

You giggle as Harrison dips his head down, his lips pressing all over the curves of your breasts. He kisses your nipples, one by one, his tongue cheekily darting out across their perked tips and drawing short squeals from your mouth.

“Haz!” You exclaim, batting at his shoulder playfully.

“What!” He exclaims. “They’re so big, now,” he says, dark blue eyes meeting yours. The smile leaves your face as he slips two fingers into your wet entrance and starts to slowly fuck you. “Mm, I love the way you feel around me, too.” You bite your lower lip as Harrison continues his venture over your body, his fingers continuing to explore the walls of your silky cunt.

“And I love these.” His lips brush over your hips and stomach, to the lines of your stretch marks. He glares at you when you scrunch your nose up in disagreement, jumping in before you can say a word, “These show me that you’re alive, and that your body carried our baby.” He kisses all along the harsh lines, and it makes you swallow deeply. “You’re so beautiful, angel. I really wish you could see it, too.”

You bite down on your lower lip as Harrison’s hand presses your thighs apart, and he finally settles between your legs. His fingers momentarily disappear from inside you as he repositions, and when he glances up at you, his eyes are darker.

“And, of course, I adore your pretty little pussy.” He raises an eyebrow as you whimper. “Mind if I have a taste?”

His voice, all raspy and full of admiration, makes you weak. You nod your head furiously. “Go ahead, Haz.”

With gentle fingers, Harrison pushes your thighs further apart and tilts his head down. He leaves a series of teasing kisses all down your slit, before settling with his lips wrapped around your clit. Your eyes roll back as his tongue places delicate, teasing kitten-licks all over your bud, and it makes you fist your hands in his head as you moan softly.

“Shit, I missed this,” you tell him, twirling your fingers into his hair. The sight of Harrison nestled between your legs is so familiar, and already the sensation of his tongue lapping through your folds makes you feel a rush of heat in the pit of your stomach. “Mm, Haz, please use your fingers.”

He’s eager with his tongue, but Harrison pulls back for a moment, just quick enough to say, “Of course, m’love, anything for you,” before his mouth is back on your hot slit. He obliges, his long fingers sinking back into your wet hole and languidly fucking into you.

He takes his time. There’s no sense of urgency as Harrison coaxes you towards your high - rather, it seems he’s enjoying every pretty moan and whine he draws from your parted lips. He worships you, his tongue soft and hard and his fingers perfectly curved, and it isn’t long until his caresses and his hot touch bring you over the edge.

“There you go,” he says, voice drifting up from between your legs. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

You cry out his name as his fingers stroke your walls, massaging your pulsing pussy as you come. He moans around your mound as his free hand pushes your hips down to the bed, keeping you still as he takes every last whimper and moan you give him. Harrison doesn’t let up until you’re completely spent, your breathing ragged and your eyes wild, and you’re pushing at his head.

“So pretty,” he tells you, slipping up your body to unite your lips in a steamy kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you cling to him tightly.

“I love you,” you say, your heart beating strongly in your chest as his clean hand cups your cheek and he stares at you adoringly.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice soft. He catches your lips in another warm kiss, and his fingers pad over the tops of your cheekbones. “I’m going to show you how much I love you, every day, until you start believing it again.”

There’s not much else you can do but twirl your hands further into his hair and bring him back to you in a long, hearty kiss, clinging to Harrison closely, thanking your lucky stars for matching you with someone as wonderful as him.

[ghostiewriter]

20/57 for the best couple ever jj and kie

I apologise in advanced for this, I haven’t looked over or edited it but oh well🤡

Word Count: 2.4K

Prompts: “It’s just rain, you aren’t gonna melt!” // “We could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain.”

Whenever JJ thought of rain, he always thought of Kiara.

In a way, I guess you could say it was a force of habit of the universe to always put them together. It seemed like at every important point of their life, the rain was right there with them. JJ wasn’t even sure if he liked the rain because of Kiara or the other way around. They were so interchangeable because whenever he had a moment that mattered with her, the rain wasn’t far behind to make it just a little more memorable. Any significant memory JJ had of Kiara, there was always rain. Every single one.

Like, when they first met.

“I still don’t get.” The young boy huffed, arms crossed over his chest as he watched his two friends try and balance on one foot.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jay? Girls like hopscotch. If we get good at hopscotch, we can impress them.” Little John B whined, arms flailing as he tried to maintain his balance before he grabbed onto Pope for support.

“That’s stupid. Girls are stupid.” The blond replied stubbornly. In the distance, a thunder clap echoed through the sky.

“Maybe we should head back inside,” Pope muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the grey sky. “Mrs Taylor said we shouldn’t be out here anyways—”

“We’re fine!” John B assured him. “Dad said the storm won’t roll in ‘til tomorrow night. And he is never wrong.” He puffed his chest as he spoke which didn’t do wonders for his balance.

“How reassuring.” JJ commented dryly. Even as an 8 year old, the boy had sass.

“My dad said that it will be here by four.” Another voice spoke up.

All three boys turned to see a girl standing there, almost like she appeared out of nowhere. She was around their age, JJ noted. And as he glanced over her appearance, that seemed to be where their similarities ended. He noticed how pristine and fancy her clothes looked. They didn’t have holes like his did, and her shoes seemed brand new and fitted to her feet, unlike the ragged ones that were handed down to him from some older kids at the dock. She was one of them, those rich folk he always heard his dad complaining about. Instantly, his face scrunched up in distaste.

“Well, your dad is wrong. Big John knows everything.” JJ retorted.

The girl’s eyebrows furrowed together. “That’s impossible. He can’t know everything.”

“He’s Big John, anything is possible for him.”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

The two of them continued to bicker back and forth, unaware of how consistent the thunder claps were becoming and how the sky looked much angrier than before. They were both wrong. The storm was coming now.

“Uh, guys—” Pope spoke up, alarmed.

Neither of them stopped.

“Guys!” John B tried this time.

He was unsuccessful.

Then suddenly rain started pouring. Heavily.

Shrieks escaped the young kids, both out of shock and laughter. Thunder clapped and the rain just kept getting heavier. He briefly heard John B yelling about heading back inside and Pope muttering how they were going to die.

“It’s just rain, you aren’t gonna melt!” The girl called out as Pope was running towards the entrance back into the school, a pouting John B following him. But JJ stood there, a massive grin on his face.

“What a bunch of wimps.” He scoffed and the girl laughed. JJ decided that maybe she wasn’t so bad. “I’m JJ, by the way.”

“Kiara.” She replied with a matching grin.

Rain just happened to be one of those things that become a comfort in their relationship over the years, one that become a comfort to them individually too. Kiara didn’t understand her fascination with rain for a very long time. At first, she assumed it was just the relaxation and serenity she got from listening to rain sounds. But every time a storm hit the island, Kiara found herself excited for the rain to come. She would find any excuse to be in it, to just let it pour down on her and engulf her whole. Kiara always assumed she liked the calmness that surrounded rain.

That was until she was fourteen and realised just why she liked the rain so much.

It was the summer before freshman year when they decided to have one last bang before school dragged them under again for the next few months. Kiara found herself in the Boneyard with a cup in her hand (it was full of a god awful beer but she had grown to tolerate the taste, plus it was cheap). She was standing off to the side, just watching the party go ahead, needing a break from being sandwiched between dancing bodies all night.

Her eyes searched for her boys in the crowd, noticing them all pretty quickly: John B was surrounded by a group of tourons as they played some shitty drinking game she couldn’t really identify from the distance, Pope was talking away to some stoners in the corner who seemed interested in whatever he was rambling about, and lastly, she noticed JJ surrounded by a group of people as they happily drank and danced their troubles away.

It was gradual at first. A little bit of spitting, barely noticeable to the ongoing party guests as they continued to smile and laugh and drink. Then it got a little heavier, but people just laughed and assured the tourons that it would eventually die down. And then suddenly, it was pouring down and people were screaming and cheering and laughing. Kiara found herself smiling at the scene in front of her.

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY FUCKING STARTED!”

Kiara laughed, cringing a little at the choice of words but it seemed to work on the rest of the party-goers because they didn’t stop. Music blasting, people singing along, everyone enjoying their last few moments of freedom before the summer ended.

That’s when Kiara’s eyes spotted him once again and she felt her stomach drop a little.

JJ. JJ with his arms wrapped around some random girl’s waist, face nuzzled against her neck as they laughed and danced and howled at the rain. The rain pouring down on them, making the shirt he was wearing stick uncomfortably against his body and it seemed he thought the same because soon her threw it off. Her eyes trailed down his torso, appreciating the abs that were beginning to form and the muscles he was building up.

But that wasn’t what got to her.

It was when the random girl had turned around to face him, her arms wrapping around his neck before she pulled his lips down on hers.

Kiara’s heart skipped a beat as she watched closely.

She then saw JJ’s hands hover for a few seconds before he situated them on her hips and tugged her closer, returning the kiss was the same fever the random girl was giving.

And then she felt her heart stop. Watching him, kissing another girl, the rain pouring down on him as he was left unbothered while she stood there completely shattered.

Kiara liked the rain because it had always been their thing.

And now it wasn’t.

She saw him pull away, saw the random girl lean up and whisper something in his ear and then suddenly they were walking away from the group. They were heading for the grove, the place where couples only escaped to for one reason.

She thought about her moments with JJ, the times their hands had brushed more times than could be coincidental, the lingering looks they sent each other, the small blush that would appear on his cheeks whenever she complimented him. She thought it meant something but it clearly didn’t. And the idea that she could’ve made a move, made a fool or herself and ruin her friendship with him because of her feelings scared Kiara.

The next day the ‘no pogue on pogue macking’ rule was made.

But then the gold summer came crashing down on the happy group when they least expected it and they weren’t prepared. It caused a lot of problems for the pogues, changed things.

They always knew where each other were, no matter what. They made sure to check up on each other at least once a day. There were smaller rules within that, things they never really specified but just seemed to fit in—mostly the lack of complaining from their parental figures on how much they hung out, especially after that fateful night with The Phantom. There weren’t many of them left but they would be damned if they lost each other too.

One of the biggest changes that JJ found was his hatred towards storms. As a child he found them freeing and wild and fun. They were an escape from the usual (and unfortunately shit) Outer Banks he lived in. Storms and rain were something he loved. But after seeing his best friend go down in one, in the boat he had put him on, JJ couldn’t bring himself to see rain in the same way.

Until she changed that.

Kie knew about the storm approaching, and she knew it would be a bad one. Originally, the three of them were going to stay over at the Chateau, but then Pope was being dragged into storm protection duties with his father. So it was just her and JJ, not that she minded too much. Things had been a bit awkward after John B’s departure, Kie acting on her emotions and not thinking clearly. She made some mistakes, and those mistakes almost made her lose both of her best friends. She hadn’t risked anything since then and finally, they were in a place where thinks didn’t feel so forced.

Things felt normal. They felt normal.

The storm had been raging outside for a while now, Kie and JJ sprawled on the pull-out as they just enjoyed each other’s company. Kie was reading a book, JJ’s head on her lap as she gently ran her hands through his hair. JJ had dozed off at some point, but Kie didn’t have the heart to wake him up, not since she knew he had been struggling to get a wink of sleep lately.

It wasn’t until she realised she had left her bag in the car. Usually, it wouldn’t be an issue. She would just borrow some of JJ’s clothes without a second thought. But her toiletries were in that bag and she didn’t fancy sharing a toothbrush with JJ anytime soon.

As quietly as she could, she gently slipped off the pull-out and grabbed her keys. She wasted no time in sprinting towards the car, quickly unlocking the car to grab her bag before running back to the shelter of the Chateau. Except, it just so happened the door had locked behind her.

Cursing slightly, she found herself knocking frantically on the door until a slightly dazed JJ came shuffling from the living room, opening the door and glancing down at her soaked figure. His eyes then fell down to her bag and just simply nodded before he turned to grab a towel from the bathroom, knowing what she wanted before she could even say it.

However, JJ seemed to be taking him time in getting that towel. Kie found herself turning back the rain. She hadn’t really seen the rain as anything but a nuisance since John B and Sarah’s disappearance. She couldn’t bring herself to see it anything but that. But this storm felt different, she almost felt like she was in a trance as she walked back into the exposed storm.

Her eyes shut, arms limp on her side as she leaned her head back and just let herself enjoy the slight nipping feeling of the rain on her skin, embracing the cold wind that came with it.

“Kie? What the fuck are you doing?” She heard JJ call out from the doorway but she didn’t move. She stayed stuck in her spot, a feeling of euphoria washing over her the longer she stood there. It was cleansing, refreshing. It’s what she needed after the months of hell they had been through.

She opened her eyes when she felt JJ’s hands on her shoulders, trying to shake her out of whatever moment on insanity she was having.

“Kie, c’mon, let’s get back inside.” But she just shook her head.

“Can’t you feel it?” She asked him and he only gave her a bewildered glance in response.

“Feel what, my balls freezing off? Because the answer is yes. Now let’s go.” He tried to pull her back to the Chateau but she dug her heels into the ground, shaking her head. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders, grabbing them in her own and pulling him closer.

“Just give in, Jay. It’s okay, I promise.” She murmured, JJ’s eyes on her lips like he was mesmerised by the way they moved. And when JJ finally stopped trying to drag her back inside, he was able to finally appreciate what she meant.

For so long he had hated the rain. He hated the memories it gave him. But in that moment, chest pressed against Kie’s, as they both stood in the pouring rain, JJ felt that same love he felt for the rain when he was younger. And he felt the same love he had for the brunette in front of him he had when he was younger too.

His eyes fluttered open, glancing down at her only to find that she was staring back at him with those big doe eyes of her.

“Kie…” He trailed off but she lightly shook her head, lightly shushing him.

“I just need to know…even if it’s once.” She murmured before she raised herself up on her toes and quickly pressed her lips against his. In an instant, they had their arms wrapped around each other as they got lost each other and in the rain.

This is what they needed, what they always wanted. This is why this storm was different because it also knew. It knew that JJ and Kiara needed rain in their lives, that rain followed the big moments in their relationship.

And this time the rain showered down on the two friends that realised after all these years, their love was requited.

“We could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain.” JJ muttered against her lips once they pulled away a little to catch their breath.

“I didn’t see you complaining before,” She whispered back, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Plus, makes it more memorable.”

“You’re crazy.”

“But you love that about me.”

“I do.”

Now whenever JJ thought of rain, he thought of kissing the love of his life.

[lemonysharkbait]

Code of the Hills

Tianshan fanfic, au set in the Ozark region of the U.S. 

“Where’s your partner Red?”Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin. The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s leering face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.

- Warnings: Drug use, violence, dirty cops, lots of cursing, angst -

Read on OA3 for more notes

Guan Shan lapped at the blood pouring from his nose. He couldn’t taste shit, not with his gums numb and Click telling him to take another bump.

“This is Grade A shit Red. Where’d you say you get it from ‘gain?”

Guan Shan took the offered bump – his third in the about fifteen minutes he had been with Click in this fucking dingy-ass laughable excuse for a backroom at the local watering hole. He hadn’t had this much coke in years and it was already fucking with him, just like Click wanted it to.

“Told you being a cop came with perks.” Guan Shan turned and hocked a wad of blood and snot onto the floor.

Click laughed and hit Guan Shan between the shoulder blades with an open-palmed slap that was just north of friendly. “Get this man a whiskey.”

“Did’n think you’d come back te this place Red.” 

Guan Shan nodded to the women who proffered him a whiskey and took a gulp.

“Ever the polite man. Sam’s got tits from here to tomorrow and you’re on better behavior than the priest during Sunday service.” Click dropped his voice “Ne’ver believed ‘em but you don’t do yourself no favors Red.”

Guan Shan sucked at his teeth. “Saving myself for Jesus.”

Click burst out into a laughing fit. “Got’ damn Red. You haven’t changed a bit.” He played with the bag of coke idly. “So you got more of this shit?”

“More and then some.” Guan Shan nodded and pulled out a cigarette. He could feel his fingers going unsteady and his words slurring, tongue refusing to cooperate. 

Click smiled and it was deadly. “Sure thing Red. Sounds like we have some stuff to talk about. Why don’t you come back with us? We’ll drive you.”

Guan Shan didn’t respond. Just lit his cigarette and let the group of good ‘ol boys half push, half pull him out of the backroom, bantering like old friends, smiling like sharks. He was manhandled out of the bar and into the dark parking lot, shoved into a truck and closed behind the thunk of American steel. 

-

He Tian sat nursing his beer. A tittering group out on a girl’s night tried to grab his attention for a little while but his best sad and broken act had them off and dancing. He was alone with those words playing through his head.

They’re gonna take me to the back. They won’t do anything at the bar so just go in a little while after me. Keep your damn head down. I mean it. No flirting, no stories, no chatting up the locals. No one can remember you were there. You need to be forgettable. Just wait and blend in. They’ll take me to Click’s place. 

Follow without them knowing. Shouldn’t be too hard, they’ll be fucked up and won’t be expecting you. Then it’s your call. I don’t know how many there will be. If you can get the situation under control, do it. But if not just leave me. Finding out where this guy is based is more important. 

They did come out, just like Guan Shan said. He Tian shrunk as best he could into the corner. Guan Shan’s copper eyes were bloodshot and he was stumbling. The group was rowdy, shoving him with a little too much joy. A cajoling on the sharp edge of vicious. A smear of blood decorated Guan Shan’s upper lip and his pupils were pinpoints.

He Tian waited until they were through the door before slipping out. He caught sight of Guan Shan being shoved into a beater pickup with truck nuts. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to wait. It wouldn’t do Guan Shan any good to tip them off. 

The drive was easy, following the road as it dipped and rose, hemmed in by the thick woods broken only by sudden bursts of sheer white limestone breaking through at odd angles, ragged and proud. 

The moon was out and bright enough that He Tian could keep his headlights off and follow at a distance. They drove fast so it was easy to see they were turning when they slowed in a sudden tire-squealing crawl. The sides of their cars brushed the undergrowth creeping over everything.

So this was it. Asscrack of nowhere. Cicadas called out in an unending whine.

-

Guan Shan didn’t even try to catalogue where they were. He was too fucked up and anyways, Click was twitchy in a way that didn’t bode well for Guan Shan’s health.

They turned onto some hidden road and crawled through a winding path before the trucks stopped outside a meth den. The house was probably nice enough at one point. Dogs barked from somewhere and someone was yanking Guan Shan out of his seat. He was manhandled inside past a living room with a flickering TV into the kitchen. 

“Feel like home Red?”

Guan Shan grimaced. “Don’t see why you dragged me here for.”

Click laughed. “You can stop playing dumb boy. This is some goodass shit you brought me, so I’ll thank you for that little gift. But there’s no fucking way that’s what you came out here all the way into the goddamn boones for.”

Guan Shan let one of Click’s men pull his arms behind him and zip tie them together by the wrist. He was too tired and sideways feeling. If he was going to get the shit kicked out of him anyways he might as well cooperate enough to prolong the inevitable. 

“See’in as you aren’t saying nothing I’m gonna go out on a big-ass limb and say you agree?” Click said.

Guan Shan didn’t respond.

Click grunted out a laugh and kicked a metal chair over to Guan Shan. “Take a seat Red.”

With a hard stare fixed on Click, Guan Shan set his jaw and sat slowly.

“That’s a good boy. I didn’t think you’d go so easy. You’re either a complete dumbass or you have a death wish.” Click turned to the one guy who had followed them in, a big motherfucker bulked up from beers and red meat. “Tape ‘im down.” 

The brute grabbed a roll of duct tape off the gritty counter and dutifully taped each leg to a leg of the chair and ran a few around Guan Shan’s chest and the chair back for good measure. The rip of duct tape and a whining light filled a tense silence. 

It had been too long since he’d said something, but it was so hard to form words. The world swam and Guan Shan’s heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest, urged to flutter faster than hummingbird wings by uppers that felt worse than one too many cups of coffee. 

Click walked forward and leaned in close, the smell of stale cigarettes hitting Guan Shan’s nostrils like a mule kick to the chest.

“Where’s your partner Red?” 

Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin.

The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s learing face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.

“Oh there it is. There’s our red-headed devil.” Click hacked out a deep laugh that turned into a coughing fit as he wiped the blood off his face with a black paisley handkerchief. Guan Shan glared as best he could and Click just leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. Silence settled in.

“Bum me a square.” The words came gravely out of Guan Shan’s mouth but he was satisfied that his voice didn’t waver.

Click just laughed again, “I ain’t sitt’en here holding a smoke for you.”

“Gimme another bump then.”

Click’s expression turned sour. “You wanna be high for this Red? You’re a little shit, you know that? ‘Course you know that.” Click leaned forward. “You didn’ think we’d figure out you was with the DEA because you’re,” Click punctuated his words with a well-placed kick, “a dumbass,” another heel kick, the leather of his boots catching the ridges of Guan Shan’s ribs, “‘lil shit.” There was a special type of venom in the last word and the final kick that punctuated it was straight to Guan Shan’s gut.

Whatever was left in Guan Shan’s stomach came up onto the yellowing linoleum floor. The metal chair squealed halfway across the kitchen with the kicks.

Click looked pissed. “You can sing now or later, I don’t give a fuck Red. But we’re gonna get every little bit of information out of your dumb ass about why the fuckin’ DEA is out in the fuckin’ boones bothern’ us good folk.” Click placed his lit cigarette between his lips, nubby yellow crack teeth showing for a moment before he folded his arms and grimaced. “But first we have some other business.” 

Click’s gaze flicked up to the mountain of a man that had been idly standing by like he was at a particularly boring church service. Guan Shan’s heart sank.

“Go out there and find ‘im.” 

Guan Shan was knee deep into his next lie before he could think about it too hard, stemming panic from working its way in. 

“Fuck off Click. I knew you’d be cautious but this is fuck’in overkill. That coke’s real, how’d you think I get it? Ask the DEA all polite-like? Fuck-off man. It’s just you ‘in me and you’re sending Brick House here out there to crash around in the dark chasing after shadows. You’ve been hitt’in the pipe too hard. Melt’n you’re brain and shit.”

Click seemed to consider Guan Shan for a moment and his tall lackey hung between leaving and staying, waiting for the verdict.   

“So you admittin’ you’re with the DEA Red?” He took a deep inhale of his cigarette, the cherry lighting up with an audible crackling sound.

“Yeah. How’d you think I get this stuff? We busted couple hundred pounds of the shit I brought you tonight. And no one checks on it after it’s been logged. Everyone in that department is dipp’in into the shit we grab. Usually just for recreational purposes. But I can get you set up with a ‘lil bit here and there. Weed. Crack. Coke. Party pills. We get the big hauls ‘cause we go after the distributors. And there’s extra in it for you if you can give me some tips every once ‘n awhile.” 

Guan Shan wasn’t surprised by the fist that connected with his face. He was really gonna look like shit once all this was through. 

“You got’ damn motherfucker!” Click fisted his shirt, dragging him and the metal chair forward with a horrendous squeal against the floor.

“Did you just ask me to become an informant for the fucking cops? After everything I’ve done for you Red? Gave you a fuck’in home? Took you in? Then you go dissapear’n and we think you’re dead.” Click was really yelling now, his spit spraying over Guan Shan’s face. “We spilled blood over you Red. And then you show up fifteen-fucking years later looking like the day you disappeared and you have the fuckin’ balls to just think you gonna be welcome back here? You’re dead to us, Red.” 

Click turned to mountain man. “Find his fucking partner. He’s lurk’in out there somewhere in the woods.”

“Wait, no, Click I’ll tell you whatever the fuck you want but if he’s out there he’s just look’in for me. He don’ know nothin and it’s not gonna help you much to have to deal with two of us. You’re gon’ have a harder time covern’ up two miss’in people. He ain’t even from around here and you know who they’ll start com’in after first.” 

“Oh I know alright,” Click growled and brought his knee up hard into Guan Shan “I know ‘cause you’re here and we seen you come into town.”

Guan Shan was spluttering for breath, gasping, winded as he remembered the fucking truck stop. He Tian kissing him in the beat up Toyota and Guan Shan unwilling to push him off. Static of a station on the radio going in and out and crumpled chip bags crunching as He Tian leaned over the armrest. 

Click stilled and Guan Shan lost the thread. Click had flicked open a knife large enough to skin a deer but before Guan Shan could tense the knife was cutting him free from the chair and Click was hauling Guan Shan to his feet.

The knife was back into Click’s pocket before Guan Shan could process what the hell was happening and he shoved roughly out onto the front porch. Moths and June bugs flew through the muggy air outside, circling the porch light. Guan Shan heard the cold click of Click’s gun as he cocked it and pressed the cool metal to the side of Guan Shan’s head. 

“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.” Click yelled the words into the darkness beyond the porch.

Guan Shan squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Keep to the plan. Keep to the plan. Start your mother fucking car and get out of here. Get out of here. 

His prayers were in vain though. He Tian emerged into the porch light silently, hands up.

–

It had been quiet, which was good. Most of the group had broken off to go party somewhere or pick up more beer and drugs, obviously bored by having their night of partying cut short. That left Click with another giant of a man inside. Easy. He just had to wait for the right moment to get Guan Shan the fuck out of there. 

He Tian made a loop of the house, quietly checking if the back door was unlocked or if any windows were open. The house was locked up but again, it wouldn’t be a problem. He just had to wait for one of them to come out for a smoke or grab something from their car. 

It was too risky to just break in. He Tian settled in and listened. His fingers itched for a cigarette. He could hear the muffled voice of Click talking. That was good too. Hopefully that’s all they were doing, talking. 

He Tian’s first indication that things had gone south was the sound of metal squealing and Click yelling. Someone grunted and retched, a wet splattering sound punctuated by coughs and gasps. He Tian saw red. Breath. Breath. Stay calm and wait. You’ll put him in more danger if you break in now. 

He Tian wanted to move, adrenaline beating a tattoo against his veins. He was shaking with it. He Tian dug his nails against his palm, trying to distract his body from the need to move. It was a beat too late when he noticed things had gone quiet. 

The front door burst open and He Tian almost bolted for the assholes right then and there. Guan Shan was a bloody mess, barely able to stand up. His eyes were already swelling, purple bruises forming shapes Rorschach would be proud of. His dark shirt was wet with blood and the thin skin above his eyes was split and still flowing. 

But despite how much he wanted to raise his own gun and fill these fuckers with enough lead to down an elephant, he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Click pressing the muzzle of agun into Guan Shan’s bloody temple.

“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.” 

He Tian walked out with his hands up. Guan Shan made a noise somewhere between anger and despair. 

He had one chance at this. One chance before the mountain of a man next to Click got to He Tian, patted him down, took his gun and then hauled He Tian inside to share in a few miserable hours as a punching bag before becoming catfish food.

“There you are pretty boy.”

He Tian showed concern, fear, anxiety. Let them mask his face. Let them make Click think he was safe.

“Din’ think I would have such a fun night! Your partner here is a fuck’in dumbass. That’s it,  nice and slow.”

He Tian kept eye contact and suddenly, with enough slipping to seem real, tripped. And there it was. With the sudden movement Click reacted before thinking, swinging his gun from Guan Shan to He Tian. 

The rest was a blur of instinct and a prayer. He Tian rolled and pulled his gun, aimed and fired. 

–

It was over fast. Guan Shan stood stock still, trying not to pull Click one way or the other. It was only after Click slumped down and the mountain man crumpled did Guan Shan realize he was splattered in blood that wasn’t his. 

It didn’t matter though because He Tian was there, his hands all over Guan Shan. A quick flick of a knife and Guan Shans hands were free. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” 

He Tian didn’t respond, simply went about checking Guan Shan over, pulling his shirt up and grimacing at the damage splayed across Guan Shan’s body, head bowed. Guan Shan could feel He Tian’s hands shaking where they balled up in his shirt. 

“Hey, hey, come on. Let’s get out of here.” 

He Tian’s jaw clenched. “You said they wouldn’t do anything.” 

“Well I might have under calculated a few things.” 

“A few–” He Tian shuddered, cutting himself off and Guan Shan’s world swooped for a second as He Tian swung him into a bridal carry headed for the car.

“I can carry myself, hey!” He Tian had Guan Shan in the car and was around and in the driver’s seat in one swift motion. It started up on the first try and He Tian was peeling out of the gravel lot and hurtling down the dirt road. 

“Whoah, whoah, He Tian, where’s the fire? Slow the fuck down, we still gotta stay low.” 

He Tian slammed the car to the stop. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. 

“Is it your first time? You know, doing that.” The words came out as a raspy wheeze and Guan Shan winced. He definitely had a cracked rib. 

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s my first time dragging you as a bloody pulp out from a meth house where two motherfucking shit stains were ready to carve you up for entertainment.” 

Guan Shan didn’t know why he suddenly felt like fighting but he dug his heels in. “It was our only way in, and now we know Click’s not the one who’s been mixing up the fake pain pills that have been killin’ people.”

A muscle jumped in He Tian’s jaw. The truck lurched forward. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“No we fuckin’ ain’t! Get your head on straight, He Tian, we’ve got a good half hour before the rest of Click’s ‘lil possy comes back from wherever they’ve been gettin fucked up, finds two cold bodies in the dirt and finds me not there and puts two an’ two together.” Guan Shan reached for the cigarettes He Tian kept in the cup holder. “What we’re doin’ is going back to our hotel, packin’ up our shit fast as we can, gettin’ back in this truck and driving as far away from this god forsaken place as we can.”

He Tian didn’t respond. Muggy summer air whipped around them through the open windows.

They rolled into town and Guan Shan relaxed when He Tian turned towards the motel.

“Stay here.” He Tian was out of the truck and headed into the motel before Guan Shan could say anything. He slumped into the seat and lit another cigarette. 

Back on the road, orange street lights blurred by as He Tian pushed 100 down the highway. Guan Shan was crashing hard, his whole body ached and he knew tomorrow would be worse. He lit another cigarette, too tired to do anything else, too wired to sleep. 

“You’re quitting this case.” He Tian’s voice barely rose above the hum of the car hurtling down the highway. 

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout this right now.” 

“They could of killed you.” 

“Yeah, and they coulda killed you too. I told you this isn’t like the city. The hills have their own code and these people live by it. Ain’t anyone coming to help hill folk.”

He Tian snagged the pack of cigarettes, depositing them out of reach in his car door. “So you’ve got to, is that it?”

Guan Shan grunted. “I don’t know He Tian. I just know people are dying and I have connections here and I’m gonna use them so we can stop the son of a bitch who’s been poisoning people.”

The cover of night slipped from around them, the first hints of dawn lightening the sky. 

Guan Shan was somewhere between waking and fever dreams when He Tian spoke again.

“So what’s our next move.” 

Guan Shan cracked his left eye open, the right one was too swollen to see out of. 

“You’re sticking along with this thing? You ‘don seem like you like it much.” 

He Tian snorted as though it was obvious. “I just killed two men, Guan Shan, I should think it’s obvious that I’m in this thing.” 

Guan Shan closed his eye and hummed. “We’re headed in deep then, to a place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Where we’ll be alone. You ready for that?” 

“Lead the way Red.”

-

I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, questions- tell me what you think!

[melon-wing]

Dread Part 3

[PIRATE AU MASTERLIST] Doc had been restless for days now. He was short tempered with everyone around him and except for Ren everybody was trying not to cross paths too often with him. Every day he hoped news would reach him. He had sent more money than usual to his spy in the navy to make sure he'd find out everything he could about Grian. They should have rescued him by now. They should have found Bdubs by now. Why hadn't they? According to his informant the navy was still searching near the northern sea. And according to Doc's network of informants Bdubs was nowhere near that area. Why the hell where those idiots still searching in the wrong part of the world? If they had just saved Grian by now, Doc wouldn’t be such a mess.

Doc had been so close to giving the order to follow Bdubs. He had seen the hope in Ren’s eyes every time he had stepped out of his quarters about to change course. He had held back every time. No one was worth the lives of his crew. They were his family after all. They had always been there for him. They had been by his side through all the bad and good times when everyone else had abandoned him. He just couldn’t bear the burden of getting one of them killed, even if it meant losing Grian.

Sure, maybe their latest adventures had been only in the southern part of the sea, but that was just... just... Oh fuck, who was he trying to fool? He knew why. He wanted to be close by in case he decided to change his mind and sail straight into Bdubs’ trap. He didn’t want to endanger his friends, but a little voice had kept telling him that he should risk it. Or at least part with his crew and run in alone, try to bargain for Grian’s release if he himself stayed back as Bdub’s prisoner. He had always managed to suppress those urges, though he knew that his resolve was crumbling bit by bit every day without news of the navy rescuing Grian.

The door to his cabin flew open and Doc composed himself a little, slowly turning around to face Ren, whose face was as white as a sheet, his fist balled around a piece of fabric.

"Are there any news?", Doc's voice was strained. He had been asking that question too often lately. And he dreaded and hoped for news at the same time these days.

"Etho... Etho and False met with one of Bdubs’ men today."

Doc nodded, his lips a thin line. He should have known his crew wouldn't hold as still as he had ordered them to. He should have stopped their dangerous plans, but he had let them go on, because deep down he hoped it would help. "What did they find out?"

Ren hesitated and then held up his hand and what Doc had thought was just some old cleaning rag unfolded.

Doc’s eyes widened, his heart seemed to stop and then begin to race like crazy. No. No! This couldn’t be… But Doc would know that shirt anywhere. He'd spend so much time watching Grian…

The fabric on the back of the shirt was hanging in shreds and completely stained with blood. Doc took a step back, leaning against his desk, when he felt his legs beginning to shake. He could feel his breathing starting to become faster and he grabbed onto the desk hard, trying to calm himself. He took a deep breath, but every time his eyes travelled back to the blood, it felt like someone stabbed his heart, making it hard for him to stay composed. He knew Bdubs’ methods. He knew what the state of that shirt meant for Grian.

"Doc...? We have to-"

"No. No we don't." Doc's voice was shaking and so much higher than his usual commanding tone as he replied and he took another breath to calm himself, trying to push all his emotions down. He finally averted his eyes from the bloody shirt, knowing that looking at it would stop him from thinking rational. "We really don't. I don't want to see your clothes full of blood next, Ren. I can’t... Tell the crew to set sail. We are heading north. As far away as possible from them."

He just couldn't. He couldn't let his emotions win. No matter how much he wanted to. He was a Captain. Their Captain. He alone carried the responsibility to ensure the crew’s safety.

Ren stayed silent for a while and Doc sighed, lowering his gaze a little, not ready to face the disappointment he was sure to find on his friend’s face.

Suddenly a knife whizzed past Doc’s head, grazing his hair and cutting a few strands before burying itself into the wall behind him.

Doc's gaze snapped up and he looked at Ren furiously, his furry mirrored back at him on Ren’s face. “Now you listen, you little piece of shit-”, Doc growled out, but he was soon interrupted by Ren’s raised voice.

“No, Doc. You will listen to me. I’m gonna be blunt and talk to you not as my Captain, but as my friend.”

"Don't you already do that all the time?", Doc huffed, still annoyed.

"Doc. We will sail south. I will give the crew the order with, or without your permission. You are welcome to kick me off the ship once we rescued Grian. I know you want to protect all of us, but we don't need to be coddled. We all want you to be happy!"

"I am happy."

"Yeah... yeah you are. But you are happier when you are with him. Stop trying to pretend your feelings don't exist!"

"I..." Doc shook his head. "It's not like that."

"Stop lying to yourself. I know it, you know it. We all know it here. You love Grian. You're in love with him."

Doc’s anger faded from one second to the next, his eyes widening at Ren’s statement, all of his thoughts coming to an abrupt halt.

“What?”

Ren’s face softened as well, the anger all gone from their conversation. “Doc… You can’t tell me you never realised. You are treating nobody like him. The way you flirt with him.”

“I flirt with a lot of people!”, Doc protested. Sure, he was rather fond of Grian and enjoyed their time together. Grian was a pretty attractive guy and he wouldn’t mind having some fun with him, but in love? That was going a bit far… wasn’t it?

“Not since you met him. Every other conversation we have is about Grian. Since he’s been captured you’re falling deeper and deeper into a hole and it pains us all to see it. Doc, you are like a brother to me. All I want is for you to be happy, even if it means we are risking our lives.”

Doc couldn’t stop thinking about what Ren said. The word ‘love’ was constantly repeating in his thoughts. His gaze travelled to the fabric in Ren’s hand again and a cold realisation washed over him at the same time as dread grabbed his heart. “I love him…”

Doc paused and then pushed of the desk, a determined expression on his face as he walked up to Ren and took the shirt out of his hand, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Doc stepped past his First Mate and out of the cabin. Everyone on the deck stopped to look at him, waiting. Doc lowered his gaze, looking at the shirt. He took a deep breath, raising his head again, pressing the bloody shirt against his chest where his heart was beating in excitement.

“Set sail! We are heading south. Prepare yourselves for a battle!”

~

Grian was awoken with a sudden start, as a bucket of water was dumped over him. The water ran down his back and it cost him a lot not to scream, as the saltwater got into the wounds. He bit down hard, forcing himself to stay completely silent until the worst of the pain passed. Slowly he turned his head a little, looking into the smiling face of one of Bdubs’ crew members. It was someone else than before, so they must be watching him in shifts. He felt like he had seen this one's face before, but he really wasn't sure anymore. This torture had been going for hours now. The sun had long set, but every time he managed to fall asleep in this uncomfortable position, still tied to the mast, kneeling on the floor, someone inflicted pain on him to wake him once more. He felt like he was losing his mind.

"Wakey, wakey, little prince. No sleeping for you on the Captain's orders. He wants you broken beyond repair before you die."

Grian managed to glare at the pirate out of tired eyes, but kept his mouth shut. He knew that talking back only meant more pain. He had given up talking back after the second hour. It made him feel like he was failing. There was a hand on his back, fingers pressing painfully into his wounds and then nails were scratching down his back. He began shaking once more but kept quiet.

"Such a pity that we have to get rid of you. You are a good fighter. You could have been part of this crew. The Captain could have broken you and build you up again into a perfect little puppet. But since you won't be... You know I never got my revenge for you making an idiot out of me in front of the Captain."

Grian almost groaned in annoyance at his luck. That's why the pirate's face had seemed vaguely familiar. It was one of the men that had attacked him when he'd been with Keralis. Or rather one of the guy that Grian beat up without even breaking into sweat.

"It's your own fault, you got yourself into this situation, really. Getting involved with our Captain's former lover... Never a good idea.", the pirate taunted and looked even more amused when Grian's eyes widened. "Oh, little boy, don't tell me you didn't know? Our Captain and your lover boy go way, way back. I'm glad he decided on Keralis in the end. That weakling Doc wouldn't have been worthy of our Captain's attention."

"Doc... He and Bdubs...", Grian repeated, his voice raspy from the amount of screaming he had done. But he just couldn’t keep it in.

"Oh so now you can speak? Gotten curious?" The moment Grian opened his mouth again, those fingernails pressed deep into one of the worse wounds and Grian screamed loudly, his body shaking even harder. "Got you there, our little songbird. But try not to be too loud. The Captain and his Mate want to sleep. You wouldn't want to disturb them now, would you? Keralis is really moody when he doesn't get enough sleep. All he has done so far will seem like gentle touches compared to that."

Grian swallowed and shut his mouth once again, not daring to risk another sound passing his lips. The pirate grinned smugly, as if he was taking Grian's silence as a challenge. "It's a pity I'm not allowed to break you too bad. That honour goes to the Captain. But what do you say about playing a little game?" The sound of fabric rustling and then Grian flinched when cold metal touched his back. The blade of the knife gently traced over his back, not pressing down deep enough to break any more skin. Still Grian's breath hitched and he tried to press himself closer to the mast, to get away from it. "I will ask you a few questions. For every wrong answer I'll leave a mark. For every answer I don't like I leave an even bigger mark. Understood?"

Grian didn't react and the pressure on the blade increased, making his heart beat faster.

“Understood?!

"Yes...", he whispered against the mast, trying to steel himself for what was about to come.

“Do you have any navy secrets that could help us?”

“Most likely not more than the guys Bdubs is paying”, Grian shot back, his expression darkening at the thought of the traitor in their midst. If he could control the search efforts for Grian he must be pretty high up the ladder.

The pirate behind him only laughed in amusement. “Well that would be true. Isn’t that lucky for you? No secrets I can torture out of you.” The pirate didn’t really sound like he thought it was a good thing. He seemed to be rather disappointed. That was, until another question came to his mind.

"What's Doc's weakness? Despite you of course."

Grian pressed his lips together. His mind flashing back to his countless battles with Doc, to all of their interactions. To the way he went feral, when one of his crew members was in serious trouble, blinded by fury. The blind spot he had when Grian attacked from a certain angle.

"He has none. You weaklings won't stand a chance against him", Grian spat out and then pressed his lips together, knowing very well what was about to come.

"Wrong answer." The knife dug into his skin at his side, blood flowing as a straight cut was made downwards. Grian pressed his teeth together almost painfully hard, but he managed to stay silent.

"What a nice game you two are playing. I also have a question..."

Grian froze when he heard Bdub's voice and steps coming closer. They must have woken him up. Oh shit, he really was in trouble now. Because while all of the pirates here were cruel, they still held back. The pirate behind Grian stepped back, but it only took about a second for the blade to appear at his back again, this time lower, right above his waistband. Before he even asked a question, Bdubs already started carving, a straight line and some curves. He chuckled darkly and then stopped for a second.

"I’ve always wondered. Tell me, Grian. How come you are alive?"

Grian turned his head, trying to look at Bdubs in confusion.

"What...?"

"Wrong answer."

The blade moved once more, another straight line and a curved, like he was tracing some pattern. Grian whimpered in pain and he hated himself for once again showing this much weakness, but he refused to shed any tears, no matter how much his body wanted to betray him.

"I... I don't know what you are talking about. I really don’t!"

Bdubs huffed, sounding almost annoyed that Grian hadn’t gotten his vague question. His free hand caressed the cuts he just made in a mockery of gentleness, smearing the blood over Grian's back. "Let me refresh your memory then. Ten years ago. On Gedwyld Island." Grian's breath hitched and he could hear the smirk in Bdubs voice now. "Ah, so you do remember. How interesting. Your name is not a funny coincidence then. I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure until now. You really did grow up there."

"Why do you know about that? How...?"

"Oh Grian, isn't it obvious? I was there. I was part of the crew that raided your island. I was standing guard outside the orphanage where we were looking for the boy."

Grian's mind flashed back to the fire and the screams, to the pirates roaming the streets, to the two pirates guarding the main entrance of the orphanage. He couldn't remember anything about them. He hadn't even been able to see their faces, so focused on trying to hide. Could one of them have been Bdubs? How else was he supposed to know about all of this?

"Funny thing you know. We found a lot of kids there, searching for our target. And one of them told us his name was Grian. Pretty black haired boy. Real hero, making sure all his little friends escaped, promising to bring us who we were looking for if we let them go. My mate put a bullet through his heart. Tell me... How did you survive that one?"

Grian froze up completely. "What?" he asked, his voice breaking and unnaturally high.

"You heard me the first time, pet", Bdubs huffed as if he was speaking to a little child, carving one more curved line into Grian's lower back. Grian sucked in air and whimpered in pain. It wasn't as bad as the constant whipping. He could suppress his screams easier, but it still hurt like hell. "How did you survive?"

Grian swallowed. His mind racing with images of that day. The pirate and Taurtis standing in that room. Hadn't the pirate said something about Taurtis being the boy they were looking for? And Taurtis had agreed to that. Grian had always wondered what that had meant and why someone had been after Taurtis.

Did that mean...?

"Answer me now, pet, and you better not be lying." The knife was resting against his skin, the threat clear in Bdubs’ voice.

"They shot my friend, not me", Grian whispered, his voice shaking as it dawned on him that he had been the one meant to die that day and not Taurtis. "He... Oh god. He pretended to be me?"

Bdubs made a thoughtful noise behind him and thankfully didn't continue carving right away. "So we got the wrong one, huh? That guy really was an idiot believing some suicidal kid. If it had been me in there, I would have asked for prove. Still, what a foolish boy, dying for someone else. Was he your boyfriend or what?"

Grian froze, his heart racing, his breathing becoming quicker. The locket against his chest was feeling heavier than it had ever done before. Bdubs behind him was silent for a few seconds and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh you poor thing. Always loosing. No wonder you are not falling into Doc's arms already, playing the strong soldier. You are scared to lose him. Well too late, pet", Bdubs said, humming to himself and then the knife was back against his skin, just resting there.

"Now tell me, Grian. Who did you piss of so much that they sent a whole pirate crew after you?"

How was Grian supposed to know that? Up until a second ago he hadn't even known that the attack had been directed at him. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to think anymore. He stayed silent for a second too long and the blade dug into his skin again, carving a straight line and two curved ones and Grian gasped, at the realisation what Bdubs was doing behind him. That gasp turned into a whimper. It wasn’t just some random pattern he had been carving.

"No... Don't do that", he pleaded, earning himself another smug chuckle from the Pirate Captain.

"Finally noticed? Took you long enough, pet. We both now I can't stop now. We are almost done after all. But depending on your answer I might make the cut a little less deep."

Grian pressed his lips together, his whole body trembling. He wanted to cry so badly, but he couldn't show more weakness then he already had. Once he gave up, he'd break. And if he was to die, he at least wanted to die in dignity. Or as much dignity as he had left right now.

"I don't know why, I swear. I didn't even know that they were supposed to kill me. I'm... I'm just an orphan. I wasn't even in the navy back then. I know nothing about...", Grian trailed off, his voice growing quiet as he almost inaudibly whispered the last words, "... my parents."

"Oh?" Bdubs sounded even more interested now and Grian wished he had just kept quiet. Bdubs being interested in something would only be more pain. "What about your parents? Were they some big names in the navy?"

Grian shook his head, remaining silent and the knife broke through his skin once more, going deeper than before. While Bdubs had been quick with his cuts before he took his time now, slowly dragging the knife along in a curvy line. Bdubs other hand was also back at his back, fingernails digging into one of his open cuts. "Tell me what you know."

Grian wanted to resist, he really did, but he was tired and his back felt like it was on fire. And what good was resisting anyways? He was about to die in a few days. His information would be useless to Bdubs and not worth being in pain over it. The voice in his head telling him to hold on was getting smaller and smaller. Resistance wouldn't help him. There was no hope left.

"I don't know my mother... But my father was a pirate. The navy tried to keep me a secret for whatever reason”, he finally replied, his voice sounding empty, even to his own ears.

The knife finally left his back and a hand was back, tracing the lines on his back. He could hear the smirk in Bdubs’ voice. "See. That wasn't so hard. Now. Do you know by any chance who your father was?"

Grian shook his head, his whole body tensing, expecting another wave of pain to hit him for being unable to answer. The pain didn't come. Bdubs bent forward, his lips close to Grian's ear, making shushing noises, while gently caressing his back.

"Shhh. It's alright, pet. You did well. I'm proud of you."

And while he had held back during the torture and through all the pain, tears were now running down his face. He suddenly felt dirty and so weak. The hand on his back moved lower to the freshly made cuts, tracing them carefully.

"My name does look really pretty on you, my little pet."

[rockhoochie]

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean insists he has a talent of tongue. You decide to to put him to the test.

WC: ~1400

Warnings: light bondage (use of restraints, blindfold), voyeurism if you squint, no actual sex just lots and lots of dirty talk (which includes: masturbation, oral sex, squirting, ass play)

A/N: No set up, no plot, just Dean talking all kinds of filthy in a drabble that got away from me .@the-chocolate-moose, thanks for the prompt/request! Obviously got my juices flowing...Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Dean insisted he could make a woman come without actually touching her.

You insisted he was full of shit - it takes a lot more than dirty talk to actually get a woman off.

But he wouldn’t let it go, adamantly proclaiming it to be true, so sure of himself that he quipped, “wanna bet?”  Never one to miss an opportunity to be right, you accepted with an incredulous “talk is cheap, asshole, you’re on.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the dungeon, wrists and ankles gently but firmly bound to the chair you sat on, fully clothed, and one of Dean’s neckties stretched over your eyes. 

He’d been quiet for a few minutes now...you could hear his footsteps walking circles around you, hear his steady breathing. He was probably waiting for you to stop giggling like an idiot. 

You had to admit, you wondered if he was actually as good at this as he claimed to be. His looks alone were enough to whip any woman into a frenzy; add in some naughty words and saucy phrases tumbling from those plush lips, carried by that sexy, gravelly voice, and…

“You sure look pretty like this, YN, all tied up and eager. Like you’re ready for anything. Then again, you look sexy as hell all the time.”

Your eyes rolled up into your head, lashes fluttering against the silky blindfold. This wasn’t fair - you didn’t think he’d literally be muttering into your ear, the heat of his breath warming the skin just behind it, the lightest vibration of his lips buzzing against your flesh. 

“You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, sweetheart...to have a chance to tell you how much I think about you, tell you all the dirty things I think about…”

You exhaled, a little surprised at how ragged it sounded. And when you breathed in again, the air seemed warmer, thicker...it made your limbs feel a little heavy and your skin seemed to be covered with goosebumps.

“I think about you all the time, YN,” Dean continued, dropping his voice lower. “So beautiful...you got no clue how beautiful you are to me. Everything about you... the way you laugh, smile... I just love watching you do anything. Sometimes you drive me damn near crazy.”

All those words were somehow seeping into your pores. You could feel your nipples harden against your bra and you suddenly felt hot.  

“I got a confession to make... walked in on you in the shower once. You didn’t see me but I saw you, all wet and naked, hot water running over your perfect tits and down the crack of your tight ass... Christ, just the sight of you got me so fucking hard...thought about that for weeks. Still picture it when I’m jerking off, thinking about all the things I wanna do to you…”

You licked your lips and swallowed - your throat felt dry. And there was a tension crimping in your belly and you felt the faint the beat of your pulse between your legs. 

Damn it.

A whimper escaped your lips - you couldn’t help it. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, YN... you know, I can hear you when you’re fucking yourself. All those little moans and sighs...and I imagine you’re laid out your bed, one little hand playing with your tits while you have the other working between your legs, wet fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy... then I start wondering what I could do to get you to make those noises for me.”

You squirmed in your seat,  a flush spreading all through your veins.

“I know I’d kiss you first. Long and hard, just taking in the taste of your lips. And once I get my tongue in your mouth I’d start taking off your clothes, strip you down to your panties, and touch every single inch of your gorgeous body... sweetheart, you’re so soft and and smell so fucking good, but touching you ain’t enough...I gotta kiss you everywhere. Your neck, shoulders, fingers, your tits...I’ll spend time on your tits. Maybe suck on them for awhile, give those pink nipples a little bite.”

“Dean…” you whispered, hips rolling of their own volition, your core reaching out and coming back with nothing.

He hummed, planting little kisses behind your ear, lightly pulling your earlobe between his teeth. “Bet you’re getting so wet right now…”

“Please…” 

His lips found a heavenly spot on your neck, and you felt him smile right before his teeth grazed your flesh.

“Your skin tastes so good...bet your hot little pussy tastes even better.”

“Holy fuck, Dean…”

“I knew it,” he growled, “You love getting eaten out, don’t you, YN? Love a head between your legs and a thick tongue fucking your tight hole...It’s so perfect cause when I’m jerking off, and gettin’ close to blowing it, I just imagine what you taste like...probably like fuckin’ honey, all sweet and warm. I think about gettin’ on my knees while you’re all spread out, legs wide open, that beautiful pussy on display just for me, and I can see how soaked you are...fuck, it drips out of you, and when I get closer I can smell how bad you want it, so I get myself a slow, sweet taste and lick up your cream…”

You were completely gone, lost in the haze of Dean’s voice and the pictures he was painting with his sinfully delicious words, your breaths coming faster while your limbs strained against the ropes.

“Mmm, fuck baby, you taste so good...so fucking wet and I’m just devouring that pussy, licking up every drop... I just can’t get enough, can’t get my tongue far enough inside of you so I’ll slide my fingers deep into your hot cunt, find that sweet spot and fuck you with my hand...and you keep begging for more so I’ll bury myself three fingers deep...maybe slip one in your ass…”

The noise you made at that was beyond pathetic, but you just didn’t care. He was making you insane. 

Dean chuckled, nibbling at your neck, and running a palm along each of your thighs.

“Oh you’d like that, huh? Such a dirty girl ...yeah, I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll squirt, YN... I’ll keep nailing that sweet spot over and over, fucking your tight asshole with my finger and sucking your clit until you cum all over my face…”

You were trembling, back arching, moaning and sighing and begging. Slick had pooled at your entrance. Your clit was throbbing. The muscles of your cunt twitched and grasped at nothing, begging to be touched and filled and fucked…

“Then I’ll flip you over on your hands and knees, fuck you from behind and make you cum again... give you my thick cock so I can feel you clench and quiver all over my dick…and you’ll take it so good, baby, you’ll take every single inch of it nice and deep and you’ll be screaming it feels so good, the way I’m fucking you so hard...you’ll beg for my cum, sweetheart, beg me to fill up your pussy ‘till it’s dripping out of you…”

“Oh god Dean, fuck!” you cried, and almost out of nowhere, your climax flooded through you, hot and needy and electric, spreading from your core to the tips of your fingers. Your blindfold was lifted, restraints loosened and removed as you panted, satisfied from release but wanting and needing so much more. When you were finally able to focus, you noticed Dean staring down at you, his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth and his hand palming at the bulge in his pants.

Without preamble you rushed him, crashing your lips against his as he grabbed the back of your thighs, hoisting you up in arms. You were vaguely aware of being carried down the hallway, and soon you were laid out on his bed, legs wrapped around his waist as Dean stared at you with dark, emerald eyes.

“YN, I -”

“Shh,” you hissed, placing a finger over his lips. “Talk is cheap. Now put up or shut up.”

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